#they were the reason behind messi leaving and they're the only thing stopping him from coming back

[getting-messi]

BREAKING NEWS🚨🚨🚨🚨

I AM ALIVE!!!🥳🤩💃🏾💃🏾

[fayerien]

What if He's Written Mine on My Upper Thigh

Only in My Mind? — Xavier

xavier x mc, sfw, slight angst (maybe lol), queen mc pov, messy writings and grammar T_T, not proofread!, inspired by Guilty as Sin? from Taylor Swift

*featuring xavier, omw to make a series with other LI too!

Everything he did was lie. You felt drained listening to all his empty promises, yet here you are, hurting alone. You waited for him, hoping him would return into your arms. But he didn't. You were staring at your unmoving, soulless body in despair? or was it regret?

'Am I really dead?' The question pondered in your mind as you felt totally hopeless and unable to do anything.

Is this a punishment for you? You thought that you were being too greedy, hoping that he'll be yours. Is this how you're going to atone your sins?

You stared at your own dead body and started to overthink. 'Maybe if I don't have this sickness, he'll stay with me forever. Is that too much to ask for?'

You left Uluru, your little planet as a wondered soul. You found this surprisingly lively and colourful planet called Earth. It's a different side of coin from Uluru which is very calm and quite. But you felt like your soul belongs here. You couldn't quite sure why but you have some sort of connection here.

Time passes quickly as you arrived here, the sun was starting to set at the horizon. It was absolutely a breathtaking view. As night took over the sky you stumbled upon something so familiar. Forget-me-not. You thought this kind of flower only exist in your little planet. Why is it here? No. That is a field of forget-me-nots— and they're blooming. Was it already spring on Earth?

You walked through the massive field, as the flowers gently caressing, tickling your skin— it was rather calming. You stopped on your track as you noticed that you weren't physically alone there. You spotted a guy, his back was facing you— no, he wasn't just a guy. That's him. Xavier. You felt your stomach clenching at the sight of him, anger and sadness flashed over your face.

Like a moth to a flame, you slowly approached him, though he couldn't even see you in this state. You stood in front of him, trying to read his expression but he showed something you can't quite comprehend. He looked... devastated? Pained? But it was clearly a heart wrenching sight to see.

You couldn't stand seeing him like this, your hands itching to hold his. Slowly, you brushed your hands against his, it felt like you're home again. The thing is he can't see—

"My queen..?" His voice rang in your head and it made you froze. Were you being delusional or did he really said that?

He smiled, you didn't actually know what he was looking, maybe those flowers? But it was impossible for him to see you as a ghost now right..?

"Are you here, my queen? I feel like you're so close to me." He asked again and that confirmed that he knew you were there.

Your touches on his skin was like gentle wind passing through the lonely night. That alone was enough to let him know you were there. He smiled again, it was really genuine but his eyes couldn't hide the sadness behind them. And that was really breaking you.

"I'm really sorry for making you wait, my queen. I failed you. I traveled through spaces— hoping I can find the aether protocore for you. But my efforts died in vain. I'm so sorry." Those words were like a dagger piercing your heart. You wanted to scream, telling him that he shouldn't apologize, it was you who doubted him for leaving you for no reasons. It was you who should apologize, but you doubted that he'll hear you.

He smiled again and said, "I grow these flowers alone because they remind me of you." You felt your throat dried hearing his words. He grew them..all alone?

"I wished I could show them to you, my queen. This is the least I could do to show how much I longed for you, craved for you." He stopped talking, looking at the stars like he was searching for answer. "If you're here, my queen, I hope you can forgive me." Xavier stop. Your heart shattered even more.

"I won't stop loving you my queen, even if you hated me in this life. Come back to me please, my queen. I'll be waiting for you. I won't fail you again this time, even if my time is short." You stared blankly at him, what did he mean by that ?

You woke up and realized that you've been falling asleep in the class. Your head hurt after having an odd dream, but it felt too real. You glanced at your side, seeing your tablemate staring outside the window, admiring the nature maybe?

He noticed that you were looking at him and a smile formed on his face. Somehow he looks very oddly familiar, the smile, the face and the expressions. And you wondered why.

ᯓ★masterlist

tags: @astrallkiss

[yooo-gehn]

A delirious man ranting about our fucked up selves

When it comes to relationships, do not chase perfect, perfect doesn't exist, it will never exist. Chase someone you can grow with. Chase someone you feel comfortable showing your true self with. Chase vulnerability. Cause chasing perfect will fuck you up, it will always show up at first, when what you know about a person is less than what they've actually shown you, and you will fill the gaps with what you want them to be, and they will sense it and willingly trap themselves there so that they don't disappoint you.

Which is why things tend to be magical at first then gradually turn to shit. Sometimes, it is actually a good sign that you have conflicts at the begining, because between 2 self aware mature people, that means they're adressing the issues that sooner or later would've been the doom of their relationship.

And by the way, a relationship doom doesn't mean divorce or even a break up, it means reaching a level where there's a total block of connection to each others. Doesn't matter then if you still sleep in the same bed.

People are fucked up, because as adults we carry around every fucked up wound we've ever had since we've been born, that is why therapits always bring up childhood, cause it's that time of your life when you were a helpless little thing and the most vulnerable to abuse. And guess what, you get abused anyway, and you keep carrying around your specific brand of abuse, till one day you acknowledge your shortcomings, and you start planting seeds of healing, seeds that most of the times takes a long, long time to flourish and prosper.

And with our fucked up selves, it is insane not to expect a fucked up person too. It is insane to have perfect standards, thinking you've came up with them all by yourself, you fucking idiot, they are a product of your own fucked up self.

Sometimes, and I know this may go against every psychology book, it feels like even abuse and red flags aren't always a deal breaker, they are warning signs, for sure, but they aren't always reasons to pack up and leave. You may have to endure tantrums, break downs, guilt trippings, passive aggressiveness, listening to "you never, and you always" pattern, and guess what, sometimes that would be the messy first steps of someone trying to get on their feet for the first time. So when we write off a person instantly for a red flag, we lose the opportunity to know which one of them are they. Abusive or a poor creature in the process of healing.

You would think "BUT IT'S NOT OUR RESPONSIBILITY TO DO THE PERSONAL WORK OF OTHERS", So first, don't yell at me, calm the fuck down. Second, guess what, I think there's work we can never get done on our own, especially when it comes to dealing with others.

There's definitely work only us have to do, I'm not talking about the "I can fix him" type, but there's another kind of work, that belongs to both of us. We. Are. Also. Responsible. For. The. Connection. We. Have. With. Someone. Else.

It feels to me like the best kind of relationships (more times than we realize) hide behind the work we have to do to have a healthy connection with a less than healthy person. But, BUT, that is only possible with people who are willing to grow with us. Which brings me right back to the same exact thing I started with, do not chase perfect, chase growing together and connecting your true selves together.

That means challenging your current notions of what a perfect relationship or partner should be, and instead explore the person and the relationship right in fron of you. I know, it's tiring, why do you think not many of us do it? Why do you think the blind date show is so popular?

Do you want to know who my favorite person is? It's someone who, in the middle of heated argument, stops for a second, and tells me something along the lines of "I see you where you're coming from, you make sense to me, and I love you very, very much". Try that the next time you're having an argument with a loved one, you might see something magical.

And you might not. And that's ok.

Magic doesn't have to happen at all times.

[yesterdayiwrote]

https://www.tumblr.com/yesterdayiwrote/762167834490077184/i-do-think-certain-people-within-mercedes-should?source=share you guys will believe everything and anything anyways whether that's concerning george or mercedes or f1 in general 💀 lmfao and yes you're over invested in f1 and in george like most of us fans we dont know these people they're privileged enough and rich enough to drive these things to be in this kind of environment and these people, yes including george are in places like monaco where they dont pay taxes while the rest of the world ( excluding the rich and powerful ) are suffering in paying.

you're WAY too invested in george to a point it is being so parasocial, that man doesnt give two shits at all ( whether you defend him or not nor him giving two shits about you lets be real, these people in f1 do not give two shits about social justice keyboard warrior fans ) because if he were and we know how he is, he'd be leaving that team if he thinks he's not fit there or if they're not treating him right, he's a grown ass man, stop babying him.

I've been torn between just putting a straight block on this or replying (because tumblr only lets you do one), but seeing as you think it's fit to come into my inbox and just send this shit to me behind cowardly anonymity, I just want to get this off my chest.

In the past few weeks, I've had anons telling me I care too much and I don't care enough. Telling me I'm over emotional but also telling me that I'm too cynical. Whatever I write I seem to get some form of shitty anon rushing to tell me how I've done or said the wrong thing.

I'm a fucking stranger on the Internet. I'm just some random girl with an opinion of no consequence, but I'm also a fucking human being. I try and be SO honest about my feelings and the facts are my feelings are complicated and messy sometimes. I've called myself out for being parasocial before. I've addressed multiple issues you've mentioned before because, guess what! It's possible to feel contradicting things! I've got a whole fucking essay on here from a few years back about how much the Monaco tax situation pisses me the fuck off (oh and guess what I got shit for posting that too!) I've admitted that whilst I try and be reasonable and logical that I'm not immune to my emotions and biases getting in the way, but I don't think I've done anything to deserve opening my inbox to this type of patronising, aggressive shit telling me what a dick I am actually.

If you don't like what I post that's absolutely fine. We all have posts we read where we think 'oop, don't agree with that really', but I am absolutely begging you to understand that piling in to someone's inbox, and hiding behind anon to try and make them feel shit about themselves by telling them what an idiot they are... its really not normal behaviour in any metric. I am not perfect. I'm not immune to doing or saying or thinking or feeling the wrong thing, so stop fucking expecting me or anyone else to adhere to some weird unwritten specific 'vibe' in order to be deemed "acceptable". Wouldn't life be fucking boring if we all behaved in exactly the same cookie cutter way?

[bowandcurtsey]

Helloooo~ I'm back to tumblr after a long break and man, i missed your blog so I read them all again:> hehe and i see that your request is open so... Can i ask for when they thought y/n is leaving. Like Yami, nozel and fue fought with their s/o and they said smth angsty to them and just walked out. But later they realized thag they're wrong so they came back to apologize but you're not there anymore so they thought that you've enough of them and decided to leave wjxhdhdh I'm sorry if it's messy wjcyshsh anyways i love your works, i hope you're doing well!!

Hello lovely bby!! First of all, welcome back to tumblr and I hope you're still here! I'm sorry your request took more than a month to complete, but hey I'm here now (o´∀`o)

Secondly, thank you for loving my blogs and rereading my works!! I'm happy that you love them!

Lastly, here's some angst to fluff for ya! It's not that angst, don't worry! If you'd like a more angst one, you could request one character and I could do a drabble instead of headcanons!

Yami | Nozel | Fuegoleon x F! reader

Yami Sukehiro

It was the very first time he shouted at you. He seldom got mad since this man was seldom serious on most things.

You didn't really remember what you were actually arguing about, but he started to make a joke which you didn't see eye to eye with and replied with a little too much sarcasm and before you know it, the both of you were arguing and hurling criticisms and bringing up past problems.

And then he shouted at you. "Just stop talking y/n!" He smashed his fist against the wall, walking out of the room.

He went to the basement and took the wild beasts out for a little run in the forest. As a took a drag off his cigarette and calmed down, he thought about the matter that started the fight.

Then he realised that you only meant well for him and that you nagged at him because you really cared for him. Yet he shouted and raised his fist to slam the walls and walked out on you.

He rushed back home, and back to your shared room, but you weren't there.

He thought you finally had enough of him. The black bull captain actually panicked a little. Until he heard you shouted at the wild beast from downstairs. "How am I supposed to play with you if you don't fetch?"

He looked down, watching his pets surround you with affection, wagging their tails and asking you for belly rubs and play.

He heaved a sigh of relief. He smiled at the sight before him. That is one of the reason why he loved you so; you were loved by everyone even by the beasts, because you were always kind and gracious with your love.

In one swift move he jumped from the room window, landing right behind you, engulfing you in a huge bear hug from behind.

Before you could say anything, he said, "I'm sorry, baby. I was an idiot."

"What a coincidence," you pouted a little as you reached up to hold onto his biceps that were around your torso and gave it a little squeeze, "I came down to look for you to tell you the same thing. But I found these three who wouldn't let me leave until I play with them."

You petted the beasts affectionately.

"Heh. I forgot about them when I thought about you getting upset."

The three beast huffed at their owner.

Nozel Silva

He didn't say a word. He walked out without even taking a second look at you. He summoned his Mercury Eagle and took flight.

Shit. You had crossed the line with your words. You took off after him, but he was way too fast that you had no idea where he went. You went to all the places he could be at; his office, the garden, the training centre but you couldn't find him.

Tears started rolling down your cheeks as the anxiety builds within your chest, every breathing getting harder and harder.

---

Just 5 mins after leaving on his Mercury Eagle, Nozel regretted it. How could he just walk out like that? Mama Acier raised him to be better than this. He turned back to the Silva residence, only to find the room empty.

"Where's y/n?" he asked a servant.

"she left awhile ago sir.." the servant hesitated with her words.

"and?" Nozel glared at her to continue.

"She was c-crying sir.."

Nozel dismissed the servant. He pinched the bridge of his nose as his brows furrowed. Did she leave? No. I have to explain myself.

The captain ran out in search for you.

----

After an hour, you found each other, right at the gates of the Silva residence. Both of you out of breath from rushing around like a headless chicken looking for one another.

You ran straight into his embrace and he wrapped you tightly in his arms.

"I'm sorry." you both said at the same time.

"I should have never walked out no matter how bad it got," Nozel stroked your hair, "I know you meant well."

"No, I shouldn't have been so nasty and mean with my words," you grabbed onto his tunic tightly, "I'm sorry."

Fuegoleon Vermillion

Fue was seldom angry, much less at you and even rarely would he speak of such strong and harsh words. But it was kinda your fault, you were throwing a tantrum about something and somehow it lead to an argument between you and your boyfriend.

"If you're that unhappy y/n, you're welcomed to leave." he said and he walked out.

You never had your heart ache that badly before. You sobbed until your voice turned silent. And then, after you were done sobbing, the sadness turned into anger again. How could he just walk out like that? You felt the fire rise up your throat again.

Fue flew back after an hour, his anger dissipated and it turned to regret. He shouldn't have left you like that, his words were hurtful and toxic, it was never what he meant!

He found the room empty. It was then the panic set in. She must have really left for good. I can't just lose her like that! The captain ran out, dragging salamander along with him.

"Sir Fuegoleon..." a servant came looking for him while he was searching for you, "Mdm Mereo is looking for you. She said come to the ultime volcano trail right now. It's urgent."

"Tell her I'm busy."

"I think it's regarding Miss y/n.."

The captain took off immediately

---

"OI! dumb brother, took you long enough to get here. Your wifey is destroying everything in my training ground!"

Fue blushed at the sound of you being called his wifey. He looked over his sister's shoulder, watching you rampaging through everything in your way. He was in awe every time he watched you fight, you were just so sexy.

"y/n!" he came closer to you.

You narrowed your eyes at him and then ignored him.

"y/n I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean it." he apologised.

"What did you say dumb brother?" Mereo was sitting on one of the rocks casually, watching on the both of you, clearly enjoying the show.

"He walked out as well!" you shouted to Mereo.

Mereo laughed, "you deserve this Fue boy!"

"Shut up, sister." he turned his attention back to you, "I apologise y/n, I was upset but I shouldn't have acted this way.."

"We're a couple! A couple shouldn't walk out on each other!" you suddenly stood still, arms akimbo.

"We..? You're not breaking up with me?" he blinked.

"You're the one that walked out, not me! Who's breaking up with who!" you glared at your boyfriend.

"Boohoo!" Mereo jeered at her brother, "apologise to your wifey for being dumb too!"

"I'm not your wifey!" you rolled your eyes at him, "not after you walked out like that."

Fue glared at his sister with his mana swirling around him, signalling that he was really losing patience with her.

Salamander let out a huff all of a sudden. He walked over to you, signalling for you to get on. Which you did. The beast spread his wings and grabbed his owner with his hands and flew off, leaving Mereo laughing in her training ground.

---

Sal brought the both of you home, huffing at the both of you for wasting his time over a trivial matter.

"I really thought you were done with this relationship when I came back and you weren't here, honey." Fue spoke in a solemn tone, "I'm really sorry, I can't imagine life without you."

A warm fuzzy feeling spread through your chest and your heart increased it beats at your man's words.

"I'm sorry for being mean, I was a little irritable today and it's not your fault. I panicked when you walked out actually.." you pouted.

Fue came over and pulled you into his arms, stroking your hair, "never again my love."

-end-

Salamander for MVP.

[qillmhi]

He likes that

2003! Raph x Reader

YAY I got another one! Slight NSFW action. The pic below is my all time favourite Raph moment😂

Raphael is one tough cookie. Always had and always will be.

He's brash. He's bold. Heck, his fists do most of the talking for him in basically every scenario that he finds himself in. He isn't afraid to show the bad guys just how bad he can be. For instance...

The Purple Punks has been quiet these past few days. Too quiet to be exact. Only to find out there's someone else taking them out. Although that would be good for the most part, his brothers would definitely agree. But Raph isn't very happy when someone else steals his prey. So just like any hot-headed mutant turtle would, he began his own investigation and tracked down the bozos that keeps on taking his fun.

Yeah yeah, say what you want but a turtle needs to bust some heads to unwind every once in a while too okay? Anyways, he started his own little hunting game. It took a while without Don's techno-geek machines but he found his way into an abandoned warehouse. Cliché. Now would he consider his options and call his brothers and prepare a plan?

Fuck no.

Obviously he came straight right in with his weapons ready to attack. He kicked the door and jumped right in, adrenaline pumping through his body. After that? To be honest, he didn't know what happened next. It was a blur to him.

And just like that, the predator became the prey.

Tied down to a chair, inside what looks like an interrogation room, making out, tongue and all, with a gorgeous girl on his lap.

Raphael felt his shell become tighter every time he heard those delicious moans of yours. (Damn that escalated quickly)

The kiss was hot and messy. He had no freaking idea who you are, how you manage to catch him off guard so fast or what type of interrogation you were doing, but damn did he like it. He liked the taste of your lips. He liked the way your hands sensually traced his arms and he is certainly enjoying the way your hips would occasionally grind against his.

It was addicting.

With whatever limited movement he was able to do, Raph pulled away from your lips and started attacking your neck with rough bites and kisses. You sighed dreamily when his lips came in contact with your skin. Everytime his tongue brushed against your sweet spot, you'd grip his shoulders tighter. The turtle in red smirked. He'd tease you by ghosting a kiss or lick your sweet spot on your neck but never gave you the satisfaction of actually touching you the way you wanted. You looked at his eyes and pouted despite drowning in pleasure. Raph loves that look on your face. Eyes pleading, cheeks as red as his bandana and neck littered with marks. His marks. You were just begging him to eat you alive, and who is he to say no to that?

"Ahh~!" You moaned loudly when Raph finally gave in and bit you there harshly. You couldn't help but grind against him even harder with the way he was abusing your neck. It was driving you crazy!

Raph cursed under using breath. He sunk his teeth into your neck again, sucking and tasting the sensitive flesh to leave more marks. Your nails were scratching his plastron, mewling in pleasure. Damn you were loud. And he liked that. He liked that he was the reason why you were making those noises.

"Ya' like that, sweetheart?" He chuckled lowly. His breath was sending shivers down your spine. God he was so hot. His brooklyn accent alone was enough to send your body to overdrive without even trying.

You bit your lip and looked down at him out of breath but begging for more. "Yes. I love it~!" You moaned out licking your lips hungrily as you looked at him in the eyes.

Raphael growled animalistically when he saw you bit your lip. He was the only one allowed to do that little missy! But the moment those words left your lips, Raphael felt his brain go blank. And as if that wasn't enough, you had the audacity to lick your lips with that look? Goddamn. You really know how to press a turtle's buttons. Oh how he wanted to rip out his restrains and take you right then and there.

Just as when things are getting even more heated, you felt the slight vibrations of footsteps on the sole of your feet through your shoes. They were light and quiet yet quick and swift, you almost missed it. They obviously belong to individuals who are masters in the art of blending in the shadows.

They're here.

Damn it. You knew you should have taken his shellcell before going in. But seriously, how can you resist when he's right there and all tied up exactly the way you planned it? Oh well it was worth it though.

You pulled away, making Raph confused why you stopped and was even more upset when you got off his lap.

"Hey! Where'd ya' think you're goin'?" He grumbled, slightly breathless as he tugged against his bindings.

You looked back at your angry turtle friend and giggled. Aw he looked so adorable when he's desperate! You walked back to him, placing your hands behind the chair.

"We have company... But it was nice getting to see you again Raphie!" You placed a small kiss on his snout "Don't worry cutie. I'll find you again soon~"

Raph had no idea what you were talking about. You guys have met before? He had no memories of ever meeting you.

"Who are you?" He asked. You didn't answer. Instead you gave him a quick one last kiss then parted with your now sexually frustrated hothead.

Before Raph could let a word out, you had already jumped out of the window. Raph struggled against his binds and almost as soon as he did so, his brothers came in kicking the door off its frame.

"Raph! There you are!" Donatello exclaimed in relief as he went to untie his brother. Leo looked around suspiciously, expecting some sort of trap or hidden enemies to come out. Mikey on the other hand was blabbing on how they should celebrate rescuing Raph by making him buy the special five layered pizza. But Raph couldn't care less about any of that.

He bolted up as soon as his restrains where loose enough and ran towards the window. He squinted his eyes at the dark alleys and streets but there was no sign of you anywhere.

"You okay, Raph?" Leo placed a hand on his shoulder.

Raph grunted "Yeah... peachy." He then reunited with his brothers, ignoring their questions about what happened. He was too busy thinking about his little minx to even care.

He was sure he'd ran into you again. And this time he will be the one to kiss you.

And there is no way he's letting you get away.

[jyndor]

since you don’t mind anons sending you stuff I would like to talk about something that really bothered me in andor. I was very excited to see Cassian having a love interest on the show, when they released that document about Bix that said they knew each other since always and were meant to be together I got so happy because I thought he could have some good moments at least. But after watching the show I was so disappointed, not only they are not together but they’re also annoyed with each other… that scene on episode 7 made me so sad. It feels like they are making Cassian look like a bad boyfriend, someone who can’t keep a relationship and left Bix sad and heartbroken with his actions. But she also looks like a bitter ex who wants to blame him for everything and never accepted the fact that they are over? Idk, I thought they would have a nice relationship but now I don’t think they will ever be together again

As someone who had no hopes that a love interest would be given good treatment, that's why I was pulling for Adria to be playing his sister lol because at least his sister would be like idk alive although I'm not sure Kerri isn't alive. I didn't expect anything great because of how Cassian has to lose everything by Rogue One. Either Cass and Bix are former lovers who can move on from each other, or Cassian has to lose her in some horrible way... lbr fridging is on the table. So from an out of universe perspective, I had low expectations. If Bix lives and they just don't get along anymore, it'll exceed my expectations.

My feelings on Bix and Cassian's relationship is that they're definitely not fit for each other. If they can get to a place where they can be good friends again I'd be shocked. I always interpreted that document as they SHOULD have worked out, they SHOULD have been able to be together but shit just kept getting in the way. Is Cassian a bad boyfriend? Well I mean they're NOT together, and they broke up. She wants more than he is able to give her. That's not being a bad boyfriend, it's being human and incompatible. And it's more reasonable to me if you think of Cassian as 21 instead of a fully developed fully grown man in his mid twenties because being messy is very 21.

The only thing that confused me was when Cassian pointed out her injury and she said she walked into a wall like she does, which is likely a reference to her being abused at some point and I HOPE??? She wasn't making a dig at CASSIAN lol because hell nO cassian jeron andor does not beat women.

I don't agree that Bix seems like a bitter ex, either. Even though we all hate Timm, for better or for worse she loved him. She and Cassian have a history and she has been the one to put up boundaries - pushing his hand away at the pub, telling him they weren't talking about who they're seeing in the first episode, etc. They are exes who are friends - but circumstances are what they are, and I wouldn't be surprised if Bix has a hard time dealing with Cassian after this just from misplaced blame. In episode 7 she's grieving her lover, even if he died because he was a jealous xenophobic idiot. People don't just stop loving someone immediately - it takes time to move on. I feel like Bix is frustrated with Cassian (from her perspective he always leaves her behind and that sucks for her, she feels that she's a more supportive friend than he is). I don't think it's unrealistic for that conversation to have gone the way it did, and I didn't take it as her having trouble getting over him or vice versa.

I personally HATE on and off relationships, I find them really unbearable so I personally hope they don't hook up or try again lol it's such a tired trope to me. Also if they get back together I think Bix will definitely not survive season 2 and I'm not here for that.

Idk I understand where you're coming from anon but people are messy and first loves are usually best left to the past. I would love Cassian to have a nice relationship for an arc or two in s2, but I don't have a lot of hope for that.

There's a number of choices I don't agree with but I actually think this might be the only way Bix might survive lol.

[dragon-kazansky]

Dangerous | Helmut Zemo

AU! Race car driver Zemo 😎

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Masterlist]

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 2

Race day. The whole track was buzzing with excitement. Over the last two weeks, Zemo had been working hard and improving his car. Between all that, he was thinking about you.

It was strange how someone you met once, and hardly knew, made such an impact on your life. He wondered if you got the ticket. Would you even come?

He stood by his car. People had come to see him, but his eyes were only looking for one person. You had yet to make an appearance. Disappointment hung heavy in his chest.

Tony Stark stood across the way from him. He was chatting to his fans, smiling smugly and relishing in all the attention he was receiving.

If Zemo knew one thing, he wasn't going to let Stark win today. He glares at him as he takes a seat. He sighs. He had hoped you would have come. The thought of you helps cool his thoughts of the other driver.

It won't be long until they are called to the starting lane.

Zemo gets up and grabs his helmet, thinking to make a few last minute checks before they're needed. He would deal with the fact you were a once in a lifetime meeting and get on with the day. The disappointed had settled hard.

He turns his back and was about to make his way to his crew when a voice stopped him.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

He turns around quickly, relieved at the sound of your voice. He grins when his eyes land on you.

"You did, but you're here now. Though, I think you owe me for keeping me waiting."

You smile. "I'm sorry. Getting here was a hassle. I was worried I was going miss the race entirely."

He couldn't stop smiling.

"I'm glad you made it."

The cheering behind you caught your attention. You turned to see Stark climbing into his car. The crowd around him was being asked to disperse.

"I won't let him win today."

You turn to see Zemo looking at you, completely ignoring what's happening behind you.

"He really riles you up, doesn't he?"

"How could you tell?" He asked, not meaning for a reply, but surprised by your response a the same.

"You're clenching your fists and jaw. Is he, like, your enemy?"

Zemo gives a heartless chuckle.

"Something like that."

You stepped closer to him and smiled softly. This closely, he could smell the fragrance you had put on today. You leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"A good luck charm. I'll be cheering for you."

You're not sure where your bravery had come from, but you wanted to do something to get his mind off Stark. He looked a little surprised, but he looked more smug than that.

"My own little good luck charm? Perhaps things will be different today."

You smile as you step back. The drivers are being called to the start line. Zemo doesn't quite want to leave you yet, but duty calls.

"That's your stand," he says, pointing to the seating area above him. "I'll be back here when the race ends, meet me."

"Alright."

Zemo has someone help you up to your seat in the stands. He gets into his car as you go, looking up once before driving his car over to the start.

You don't take your eyes off his car.

That tense atmosphere seems to fall over the whole racetrack. It was just like last time. Only there was something more here for you. You were here for Zemo this time, at his request.

The silence was thick. All you could hear was your breathing, and then that beautiful sound. Those engines revving. It was as if at that moment you forgot how to breathe.

They were off.

You were already clutching your seat.

You had a little bit of research on Helmut Zemo. He had won a couple of races before, but had never beaten Tony Stark. There was a rivalry there. This had been going on a few months. Zemo was insistent on beating him at least once.

Maybe, just maybe, today will be that day.

Your eyes flick to the screen where the cars will be picked up now they're out of sight. You can feel your stomach dropping as you watch eagerly. Zemo and Stark are once again locked in battle with each other. They are ready so far ahead of the others and you wonder how they do that so fast. You bite your lip as you watch the purple car.

This would mean so much to Zemo if he beat Stark. It would put Tony down a few notches, maybe then he wouldn't be so high and mighty.

You have no idea what happened. It was as if you suddenly zoned back in to the race. Attention brought back to the screen at the sound of screeching tyres.

You tense up.

Luckily no damage had been done, but both Stark and Zemo had spiralled out of control, both cars now facing the wrong way. You could see them on the screen.

The others will catch up soon. They don't have much time to keep their places if they're going to get back into the race.

Stark's car sparks to life. You feel your heart drop as he takes off again.

Zemo cannot get his car to start again.

Banging his hand against the steering wheel he glares after Stark. Another race he will not win. No doubt Tony will have something to say later.

You can only watch as Helmut climbs put of his car and walks off the tracks. All the other cars speed past him. His car won't be crossing the finishing line today.

You don't care about the rest of the race, you leave tour seat and hurry down to the barricade. You would wait for Zemo like you said you would.

He doesn't return to the stop until the race is over, Stark's name being hollered from every direction. He comes over with a hard look on his face, jaw clenched in anger. His helmet was in his hand, hair slightly messy from it's removal.

He stalks over to where you are waiting. He doesn't even look at you as he drops the helmet and sits down, head in his hands.

"Zemo?"

He doesn't say anything. He just sits there and sighs. Your lucky kiss didn't bring him much luck.

There was no way you could be impressed with his skills after that. He had wanted to impress you today. He had wanted to cross that finish line for you. He failed.

He swears it's Stark's fault they collided like that. Now his team had to go fetch the abandoned car and fix it.

One day. One day he would beat that man.

"Zemo?"

He lowers his hands and turns his head to the side, looking at you with gentle eyes. He has a little smile on his face, but you could tell he was utterly defeated.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" You ask, confused by the sudden apology.

"For wasting my lucky charm."

You chuckle softly and sit down on the tarmac by his chair.

"It's not a big deal. I'm just glad you're alright. I know how dangerous this can be."

He nods. People can die in this job.

"You have been doing some research?"

"Yes. I wanted to understand your world better." You look down sheepishly. It felt strange confessing that to him.

"My world is fast," he says, voice dropping in volume.

You both ignore the cheering happening in the distance. Tony was receiving his reward as his team parks his car opposite you.

"I like the fast lane, I found out. I'd like to stay in it a little longer."

Zemo's gaze landed on you.

"Would you like to join me for a drink?" He asks, wanting to take his mind off the race.

"I would love to," you smile up at him.

"Wait for me by the gate, I'll pick you up once I've changed."

You nod and stand up. You make your way to the exit of the racetrack, waiting by the gate. Zemo goes to get out of his racing gear.

As you wait, Stark makes his exit. He spots you, grinning.

"Waiting for someone?"

"Yes," you reply curtly.

"You're wasting your time on him. You know that? Not only is he a danger on the track, but off it too." Tony peered at you over his shades, "consider that a warning."

"I think I can judge him for myself, but thank you."

Tony shrugs and drives off.

The nerve of that man! Granted, he didn't sound he meant ill feelings as he said it, but that fact he even felt the need to say that angered you. Sure, you hadn't known Zemo all that well, and everything you did know you got off the internet, but you felt more than capable to make a judgement yourself.

Tony was out of sight now.

You turned when you heard another car approach. It was a different one from the one he had two weeks ago. You smile as he pulls up in front of you. You climb in.

Zemo drives you both away from the track.

"What happened to the race car?"

"My crew will take it back and look at the damage. I'll check in with them tomorrow. I have some changes to make to it."

"What happens now? I mean, since you didn't cross the line," you ask, wanting to know more.

"I'll be set back a bit, but I'll overcome it. One day I will beat Stark. His winning streak will have to end at some point, and I would very much like to do it before the racing season ends."

"How long do you have?"

"There are three more races before the season ends."

"I believe in you."

For some reason those words set off something inside of him. He glances at you briefly as a smile spreads across his face. Perhaps it was fate that brought you to him. He would like to think that.

Zemo knee exactly where to take you. A good quiet place for drinks.

The bar was nice. Nothing flashy or loud, just a casual place for drinks. Zemo and yourself sat in the back, out of immediate eyesight of everyone else. He wanted to spend this time with you, and only you.

"What else did you learn in your research?" He asks, wanting to kick off the conversation.

"You've only been racing a handful of years, only being racing professional a few months, and yet you're super talented on the track. I had to look up some of the racers, most of which have been racing professionally for years. Yet, you're up there with them," you say, sounding impressed.

"I'm good at what I do, no doubt about that."

"How did you get into racing?"

"I love cars. Back home, I have a collection of classic models. You have only seen two of the cars I own. One day I decided to give racing a go. The thrill that runs through your veins when you're speeding around that track, it is unlike anything I've ever felt before. Adrenaline takes over once your foot is on the pedal. All you see is the track ahead."

You smile as you listen.

"I could get used to going to races."

Zemo looks at you with soft eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I would very much like it if you would."

"I can't guarantee I can be at them all. I have to work too. My job isn't nearly as cool as yours though."

"How about this, for every race you come watch, I take you out for drinks after," he offered.

"Are you... asking me out?"

"Only if you attend the races," he states.

You look down at your drink.

"I'll see what I can do, I suppose."

He chuckles, "I'll take it."

"So, there's only three races left, right?"

"Yes," he confirms.

"You have to win all three to beat Stark this season?"

"Yes."

"Can you do it?"

Zemo looks at you with focused eyes. His lips pulled into a smug grin.

"I'm going to do it."

"When is the next race?"

"Two weeks. They are two weeks apart each."

"Right." You read that online. "What's the plan from here. How do you spend the time between races?"

"Improving. Tomorrow I will meet with my crew and see the damages done to my car. I will do whatever I have to do to get it back in top form. I will improve it and test it. Over and over if I have to. I will beat Stark."

You smile.

"I know you can do it. You can."

"Well, if you keep saying it, then I know I can too," he winks at you. You chuckle and try to hide your smile by sipping your drink.

This was nice. You would get to do this again as long as you attended the rest of the races. You made a silent promise to do whatever you could to attend the remaining races. Work be damned!

When you finished your drink, Zemo drove you back to your hotel. Much like last time, you both lingered in the car before you went inside.

"Would you like to come to the garage tomorrow? I could show you what we do behind the scenes," he offers. If he was being genuinely honest, be just wanted to spend more time with you.

"Sure. I'm free tomorrow, but then I'll have to catch the next train home."

"I'm honoured you went to all the trouble to come see me race again," he smiled.

"You invited me. I wasn't going to pass up the chance to see you again," you blurted out.

You sit there in shock. Zemo looks extremely proud and smug.

"I mean-"

"No, no. Don't say any more," he laughs.

You're a blushing mess as you climb put of his car.

"See you tomorrow then?"

You just nod and head inside, embarrassed beyond belief. You can't believe you said that.

Zemo drives away with a smile.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406 @wilder-fangirl @nectav @whovianayesha @thesuitkovian @cathrin2405 @deathtothepatriarchy @belle82devart @dxrksxul06 @killeromanoff @alex-the-nb

[tastyykpop]

𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑢𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

•pairings: enemy, barista and student!jaemin x student and barista!reader

♡𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡♡

<next>

•warnings: dom!jaemin, brat!reader, brat taming, crying kink, hair pulling, choking, small praising, small size kink, degradation (slut, whore), dumbification (sexual and non sexual use) nanas kinda mean :( but gets a lil nicer :), jaemin refers to himself as nana a lot mostly when they do the dirty, bulging kink, pet names (princess, baby, baby girl, little girl, pretty girl), unprotected sex (please be safe), slight face slapping (he slaps her once), rough sex clearly, some sexual tension, I hope i got everything

You were fuming!

The boy in front of you not even batting an eyelash, just laughing at the mess dripping down your face.

You smelt like an iced americano.

People around you held their hands to their mouths in shock and others tried to hold back their laughter. Some even pointed at you or gave sympathetic looks.

It wasnt like people were surprised anymore. Jaemin always had something up his sleeve for you. But he never went as far as pouring his coffee on you.

"Aw poor baby. Do you need a napkin?" He faked sympathy with a pout and his friends began laughing. You just got up and walk by them, making sure to bump into jaemins shoulder on your way through.

It was almost everyday that Jaemin would do something so uncalled for. It was like he was made to push your buttons. Even as you're walking out of the college building, you can still hear the boy laughing at you. Or maybe it was the other students. Either way, you wanted to kill him.

As you trudged towards your car, a sense of relief washed over you. A great happiness that only comes when you finished your classes and could go home. Only this happiness stayed for a good 2 hours until you have to go to your part time job at the cafe with your favorite person of course. But its not like you can quit. You need the money so you can live and get the education you need, no matter how hard it is being with him.

It was then when you sat in your car and the squishing in the seat made your face curl into a scowl, only made you think of ways to get away with murder. It was gross really. The seats were sticky, plus your hair and clothes were sticking to you like lip gloss. A shower would be perfect right about now.

"Hi y- oh..." Your roommate, jimin, stared at your messy state. Giving you a good up and down before shrugging his shoulders, "jaemin?"

You sighed, walking over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, "Who else? Its always him."

Jimin gave you a small smile and came closer as if ready to hug you but didn't because he didn't want to get sticky. "You know, maybe you should quit that job."

"No."

He groaned and snatched the water that you were about to sip, "Why? You'd only see jaemin in school. And you wouldnt have to stick with his bickering in work." He huffed, shaking his head, "Girls are so difficult sometimes."

You tried leaping up to grab the bottle from jimin, but all he did was hold it above his head. You stomped on his foot in return. Jimin huddled over and you snatched the bottle, smirking with victory as you put it to your lips.

"You fucking snake." Jimin hissed in pain.

A laugh fell from your lips as you walked by him, completely ignoring his words and his pain, "Im gonna take a shower."

Once you got to your room, the first thing you did was grab your work clothes, a towel, and underwear and got ready for the warm shower.

After you switched on the water and let it heat up, you stepped in and immediately felt at peace as the water cascaded over your body, cleaning off the almost dried coffee. Your hair felt lighter, like a feather and your fingers could now slip through the strands easily without an issue. The scent of your body wash overpowered the coffee smell and you felt much better. Water, soap, and coffee were beginning to fill the drain as you finished washing up. You rolled your eyes at the sight of the murky water. What a bastard.

For once you were actually happy to wear your work clothes after what had happened earlier. The clothes actually felt comfortable and jimin was becoming more and more confused as to why you were hugging yourself with a huge smile on the couch.

"No one should be that happy after a shower." He started flipping through channels on the t.v.

"Dont tell me how to feel, I dont smell like jaemins coffee anymore." You gushed overdramtically. Jimin could only role his eyes.

"Please...you act like he's a demon of some sort."

You squinted your eyes at jimin and flared your nostrils, "he is. Hes a nasty, dumb, annoying, self centered-"

"Okay okay I get it! You hate jaemin! The funny thing is you can never get his name out of your mouth." Everything stopped and your head snapped in jimins directions.

"What are you saying?" A frown found itself on your face, jimin leaned closer.

"Im saying that maybe you might like him."

You shrieked in disgust, blocking your ears with your hands. Jimin laughed at your reaction. Almost falling off the couch in the process. "Ew! Gross! Why would you even think that!"

"Like I said, you can never get his name out of your mouth. I think its pretty obvious you like him." He was still giggling at you except your face was anything but happy, more grossed out at how he thought you could like such a person

"I can't stand you. I'm leaving for work." You stood up and jimin did nothing to stop you from going. Even though you still had about 15 minutes until you normally leave. "Ill be back at 9." The door slammed behind you, leaving jimin alone with another laughing fit.

You got in the car and drove off to your work, still trying to come up with a reason as to why jimin is saying all this. Sure maybe you talk about jaemin a little lot but that doesn't mean you like him. Its very much the opposite and jimin should know that. It only frustrates you the more you think about it. Liking someone like jaemin? Please. That would be your nightmare.

As you pulled up to the cafe, there were only a few other cars parked. Few were from other workers but the majority were most like customers or people just trying to get a free parking space. Lucky for you, there were many open spaces, unlike when you come later and they're filled. Maybe leaving earlier wasnt such a bad idea. It saved you the 3 minute walk.

"Y/n! You're just on time!" One of your coworkers, irene, called out as you stepped inside the shop. "We need help back here!" You had no time to even begin to say your shift hasn't started yet when irene took you by the hand and dragged you to where the coffee was being made. "We have a bunch of online orders coming in so can you please help us with the coffee and food?" She tossed you a brown apron for you to put on and you nodded, trying to get your brain to speed up with everything in the world.

It was so quiet when you walked in that you never even realized that the back was busy. Coffee cups were filled and put into trays for orders, food was being heated or baked. It was a chaotic place right now and all you could do was help. So as fast as you could, you began with the first order on the screen. A large mocha with extra extra sugar, whipped cream, and chocolate curls. Easy enough you thought as you reached for a cup but a hand beat you to it.

Your eyes looked up at the person in front of you and just when you thought everything was going fine, it wasn't, "What are you doing here so early?" You asked bitterly.

"I always come in early. What are you doing here so early?" Jaemin asked whilst holding a death grip on the cup.

"Just felt like coming early." You muttered, watching as jaemin turned away with a scoff, quickly cutting the conversation short. "Bastard."

Jaemin was busy making what you were originally going to do, so you looked for another order to get ready. It was just two cake pops and a small strawberry banana smoothie. Something you've been craving recently from the lack of sweetness and fruit in your day to day life.

The cake pops and smoothie were quick to make and were soon sent off to the customer. You happily beamed and wished them good day once they left.

After then there was a familiar face with a friend right next to him, he was quite handsome you must say. He was indeed so handsome that he just looked unreal. "Hey jimin. Whose this?" You nodded towards the bright black haired man.

"This is taemin! He wanted some coffee so I brought him- hey stop staring at him!" Jimin snapped you out of your trance and taemin chuckled.

"Its okay shes cute." He eye smiled, showing off his perfectly white teeth. He's definitely not real.

Jimin tsk'd, "Until you get to know her."

"Yeah yeah... whatever." You smiled at him, completely oblivious to what he just said.

They both ordered and took a seat next to the window. You were still staring at taemin with your head in your hand until someone tapped your shoulder, "Who are they?" Jaemins voice rang in your ears, making you stand up straight.

"Thats my roommate, jimin, and his friend taemin." You glanced back at the boys, mainly at taemin and just stared like he was your first crush.

"Quit staring your gonna scare him away." Jaemin said earning himself a chuckle from you.

You stuck your tongue out, "He called me cute."

The boy smirked from ear to ear and leaned in close to your face, "He was lying." You grumbled and pushed him away from you, getting annoyed by his presence very quickly.

"Jaemin and y/n, get back to work we have orders to do!" Irene called out. Both of you quickly returning to your stations and getting things ready.

"Look at him. Hes basically waiting for me to come over to him." Seulgi, another person in this school you dispise, said as she looked at jaemin in the back of the room. She wasn't very quiet either considering you were only a few seats away from him. So it only meant that jaemin could hear her, but chose to ignore it. Typical boy.

"Honestly. He looks so good today too." Sana, her best friend, commented.

"Oh and did you hear what he was planning on doing today to y/n? Apparently he's gonna-"

"Class get back in your seats, we have much to discuss." The professor stood in the front of the class. Everyone shifted and moved to their appropriate places and waited for the teacher to begin. Unlike you, who was wondering what seulgi was going to say next. If its something worse than coffee being poured on your head, you may just have to bury yourself six feet under after this.

As you were taking notes something flung towards your head and hit you on the side, looking over was jaemin with a smirk was he held his fingers in a sling shot shape. A rubber band was laying on your lap. Then another one. One even hit your cheek creating a small smack sound as you winced in pain. Oh you desperately wanted to get out of this seat and punch the boy in the face.

"Excuse me sir!" You called out, raising your head. The whole class looked at you and your cheeks began to heat up. "May i go to the restroom?" The professor nodded and you headed out. Not until you stopped in your tracks from a loud smack to your butt, causing the whole class to turn around again.

Jaemin was enjoying this, the way you stared at him with wide eyes and open mouth, made him just want to do it again. He never thought this reaction from you would be so entertaining and he tried his best not show it, with only a small smirk covering his face.

You rushed out of the room, faster than ever and leaned against the nearest surface you could find. Not only were you questioning reality, but also why jaemin just did that.

"That little bitch." You said to yourself as you paced back and forth in the hallway, staring at the ground.

"Excuse me?" Jaemin voice rang in your ears as you looked up with a angry red face. Steam was even coming out of your ears and nose. "Did you just call nana a bitch?" He put his hands to his chest and pouted, "Little girl you need to learn some manners." Jaemin tilted his head to the side and began walking forward.

"Shut up." You had nothing else to say as you grit your teeth, looking at the ground.

Jaemin didnt like that and grabbed the back of your neck to make you look at him, "What? Did your stupid head stop thinking? Your normally so chatty for nana what happened?"

"Jaemin i-" you cut yourself off as you felt jaemin grip the back of your neck tighter causing you to moan in pain.

"Stupid girl." Jaemin whispered, forcefully pushing you away. It was not strong enough to make you fall but at least stumble.

You glowered, earning yourself a chuckle from him. "What will it take for you to leave me alone!?"

"Bring this to table 15 please! Thanks!" Irene smiled as she handed you a small cup of iced coffee and you took it, taking it to its designated place. What you didn't except was to see taemin again, gleaming up at you.

"Hi y/n." He smiled and you tried to remain calm.

God how is someone so beautiful?

"Hey, I didnt except you to come back." You returned the warm smile and started to play with the apron around your waist.

Taemin giggled, "I actually quite like this place, its cozy." He began to take a sip from the straw, eyes still trained on you. If only you weren't so awkward with him, you wouldve found something to say other than staring at him and indulging in the beauty before you. But lucky for you someone behind the counter called for you, quickly averting your attention back to work.

The next order was a shake, so you grabbed the correct ingredients and began using the blendor, when someone came next to you, doing the same thing "You seem like your having fun flirting around." The unwanted conversation with jaemin began, "makes nana kind of jealous."

"Hm funny." You ignored him and continued blending the ice cream.

Jaemin casually rolled his eyes and glanced down at your nonchalant face before returning back to the blender, "you know you really do piss me off."

You sneered and snickered to yourself, "what are you gonna do about it?"

"I was thinking of fucking you dumb or until you know your place but maybe thats a bit too rewarding."

The cup was removed and set aside from the blender with your hands placed on your hips, "Im sorry what?"

"Did I stutter?" Jaemin raised an eyebrow and also put the cup down. You went silent, not knowing whether or not to just laugh it off or quickly run away. "And I'm still waiting on my apology."

"One, I am not going to apologize to your bitchy ass. Two, even if I did let you, you could never 'fuck me dumb', it just wouldn't happen. Now stop trying to get in my pants."

Jaemin opened then closed his mouth about to say something, but didn't and just put on a sweet smile, "Go take these to table 7 for nana." He said like he was testing yoj.

"Why? You made them."

"Nana told you to do something little girl, now do it." Jaemins sweet smile was still plastered on his face yet it intimidated you enough to do as he said.

Taemin was long gone when you walked out and you were kind of sad as you weren't able to say goodbye before he left. You placed the shake down on the table and was ready to walk away when you heard your name being called.

"Y/n? You work here?" Seulgis voice spoke as you turned around. Both her and sana were looking at you with shit eating grins.

"Doesn't jaemin also work here seulgi?" Sana asked the girl in front of her and seulgi looked as if she got the brightest idea.

"Oh yeah! Y/n can you get jaemin over here? Pretty please?" She asked sweetly yet with a hint of sourness and you listened, not feeling like ignoring her at the moment.

You told jaemin that seulgi and sana were out front looking for him and he nonchalantly went out without question. Leaving you to do some of the work alone, which you didn't mind considering its jaemin, the annoying bastard who won't leave you alone, but he does help you whenever you need it. And right now, it was a bit busy, and you needed it.

After doing 4 more online orders and sending them off through the driveway, jaemin finally came back with a scowl on his face looking ready to beat someone up. "What the hell is wrong with you!?" He raised his voice only loud enough for you to hear. But you were quite confused on what was happening.

"What are you talking about?" You asked, tilting your head to the side like a puppy.

Jaemin groaned, "I knew you were fucking dumb but come on y/n! Why is seulgi covered in the shake i gave you?"

You paused for a moment, unable to answer that. Is he assuming you spilt her shake on her? Why would you even do that in the first place. Yeah you don't like her, but you're not going to stoop to her or his level. "I dont know."

He slammed his hand on the wall near your head, startling you a bit, "You dont know huh?" You shook your head slowly. "Seulgi and sana both said you purposefully spilt the shake on seulgi. Now answer me honestly. Is that true?" You shook your head again, feeling really small and helpless under his strong gaze.

"I-i didnt spill t-the skake." You muttered quietly.

He inhaled sharply, "Then who did huh? Or maybe you don't know because you're so dumb."

"S-stop..." you frowned, looking down at floor, but jaemin had other plans and made you look up at him. A single tear slide down your cheek and you swear you saw a small grin appear on his face.

"Tell nana what happened." His voice became softer as he swiped away the stray tear on your face.

You huffed, still afraid that he'd do something to you although you knew he wouldnt purposely cause you pain. "W-well she asked me to go get you, which I did, a-and her shake was perfectly fine when I left."

"Are you saying she purposely spilt the shake on herself to make me angry at you?"

"Y-yes."

"Ill believe my little girl for now, but if I find out you are lying, you will be in big trouble got that?" Jaemin lifted his hand off the wall and proceeded to walk back out of the room. Leaving you shocked at his words and still frightened by an angry jaemin.

You went to the cash register once jaemin left to get ready to count the bills until you heard jaemin and seulgi arguing. Lucky for them, no one but you and him were working right now. Irene went home earlier and the normal crew always leave around 6:30, leaving just you and jaemin.

"It was only a prank nana. No need to get so worked up. And besides you didn't even prank her today, be glad I did for you." Seulgi said smiling at the boy in front of her.

Jaemin physically cringed when he heard his nickname roll off her tongue, "you didn't have to do that."

You stood there watching, astonished how jaemin was standing up for you. Hes supposed to hate you. Jaemin didn't even bother going with the girls when they offered him a ride, instead he stayed with you and even helped close. Something he normally doesn't do because he leaves before you and gives you all the hard things to do.

"Hurry up and finish." Jaemin spoke. A little bit of anger still laced in his voice.

"Whats your rush?"

He sighed, "I wanna go home. Plus I can't stand this place right now. I'm pissed."

You finished wiping down that last table and walked over to him, "Just go home then."

"Not without you."

You gave him a dirty look, "im not going home with you."

Jaemin leaned down, his face only inches from yours and whispered, "Remember what I said earlier hm? I wanna fuck you dumb." He then grabbed your waist bringing you closer to him, if that was possible, "Can I do that pretty girl? Can nana fuck you so hard you won't even remember anything but my cock?" You were so lost in your mind that everything became a blur. Jaemins words sounded so sweet but were so lewd. And you were so close to kissing him until he put his finger on your lips, "But you have to wait." You frowned and were only getting more angry by the second. You went from not wanting anything to do with jaemin to just about ready to beg him to kiss you. Was it that easy for him to get in your head? Or were you so sex deprived that now jaemin seemed somewhat interesting?

You laid on jaemins bed getting bored with the constant teasing. He never did anything but that. Jaemin would get close to your lips and back away as you chased him. Hed chuckle and coo at you for being so desperate. But that wasn't the point of all the teasing. He really just wanted you to beg him to kiss you. No words will come out of his mouth telling you to beg, he just excepted it to happen sooner or later. But youre too stubborn to do so, so you grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down to kiss him, catching him by surprise.

Jaemins hands gripped your wrists and pulled them off his face, pinning them to the bed, "You didnt even ask to kiss me." Jaemin pulled away, raising his eyebrow high, "Dont you think thats a bit mean."

"So was teasing me, but I let you continue." You huffed, trying to free your wrists from his death grip but it was no use.

"You dont have a say on whether i continue or not. I'm in charge here and you take what I give you, understand?" You rolled your eyes. It was your intention to make jaemin angry. You wanted to push his buttons.

What you didnt know was that not answering jaemin correctly would earn you a slap to the face. And jaemin was not even fazed by it.

"Dont roll your eyes and answer nana." Jaemin smiled. "Can you say 'yes nana'?"

"Y-yes nana."

"Good girl." Jaemin muttered and began slowly kissing your jawline down to your neck, sucking here and there creating shades of purple and red marks. Oh how he loved the marks he was leaving.

You so desperately wanted to grip onto jaemins hair and pull it but he never budged his hands, only tightening his grasps. As he continued attacking your neck, you began to lift your hips up to get some sort friction. Jaemin noticed and shifted so that his thigh was in between your legs and rubbing against your clothed core. A spew of quiet moans left your lips but you wanted more. Jaemin was going to soft and slow for your liking.

"I thought you were going to fuck me dumb?" You said and jaemin lifted his head to give you a quick kiss on the lips.

"Patience baby. You aren't ready yet." He let go of your wrists and took your shirt off. The cold air made you shiver and jaemin chuckled. "I wanna make you cum at least 2 times before I fuck you."

"Then stop talking and do it." You replied, pushing your hips up to rub against his thigh, but they were pushed back down on the bed.

"Didnt I say to take what I give you?" Your head slowly moved up and down and jaemin smiled, "so why arent you happy with what nana gives you?"

"I want more..." you sighed as he started to slide your pants and panties off, discarding them somewhere in the room. His mouth slowly started kissing your inner thighs and you could feel your heat dripping with anticipation. You whined for more but only got a slap to the thigh telling you to be quiet. Needless to say you didn't listen and continued to try to get him closer to where you needed him most but pulling his hair.

Jaemin groaned grabbing your wrist again and pushed it away roughly. His patience was wearing out. You were more stubborn than he thought, but that doesn't mean he can't still break you. "Next time you do that, I'll flip you over and beat your ass till its purple." Your breath hitched and as much as you were tempted, you wanted to be able to sit for a few days so you stayed put and kept your hands to yourself.

But the desperation was getting to you and you wanted relief which jaemin wasnt giving you until you felt his two fingers circling around your clit. "P-please jaemin." You moaned as he flicked your clit with his middle finger. Then soon enough he stuck two fingers inside you. Your pussy automatically clenching around his digits as he moved at a steady in and out pace.

It felt so good. His fingers felt so good. They made your body twist in pleasure as more moans left your mouth. Jaemin was watching your face closely as it contorted with pleasure. He loved seeing your eyebrows bunched together, so focused on the way his fingers worked inside you.

"My pretty slut. Taking nanas fingers so well." He gushed, still watching your face. Jaemin could feel himself get even more painfully hard but he didn't want to fuck you just yet. He meant it when he said he wanted you to cum 2 times. So he picked up the speed with his fingers, your hands landing on his forearm that was resting on near your hip. "Are you gonna cum for nana princess?"

You frantically nodded your head as a wave of pleasure washed over you. You could feel your cum leak out of you as jaemin leaned down and began eating away at your cunt.

"J-jaemin! So...go-good!" Your head flew back as his tongue sucked on your clit and a loud moan filled the room.

Jaemin smirked against your heat, "I haven't even fucked you yet and your already sounding like a dumb whore. Its so easy to break you princess."

"N-no its j-ju-...." you whimpered as your brain wasnt even trying to help you function right. His tongue was extraordinary. "Mmmm."

"Aw my dumb little princess is so cute." He muttered diving back into lapping at your soaked cunt. It was almost as if on cue and without warning, you were cumming again. Jaemins hasty tongue took it all. Groaning at the taste of you in his mouth.

He sat up over you, grabbing your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss. You tasted yourself on his tongue. Deepening the kiss by grabbing the back of his hair, jaemin couldnt help but moan a bit as his cock brushed against your thigh. He felt big. Bigger than the few guys you've been with and you were ecstatic.

You tugged on jaemins pants and shirt as a way to tell him to take them off and he did after getting off of you and sitting on the edge of the bed. His abs were more defined than you thought and when his cock sprung free, your mouth started watering. Jaemins smirk only grew watching you stare. He was starting to get cocky

"What? You wanna suck my cock?" Jaemin asked sweetly.

"Yes please." You reached over to try and touch him but he didn't allow you. And smacked your hand away. It was a way for him to tease you and you hated it.

"So kind for nana now. Ealier you were so cock hungry that you decided to be a brat. Did nana finally break you?" Jaemin whispered as he moved a piece of hair out of your face, looking at you with fill admiration.

"No you didn't break me. But I wanna suck you off." You whined as jaemin picked you up and sat you just above his cock, the tip teasing at your entrance.

"Too bad. Now I want you to sit." Jaemin said looking into your eyes. You obeyed with a little hesitation. His cock was surely going to hurt you so you took it slowly and started lowering your hips. "Fuck...thats a good girl." Jaemin praised, watching his cock dissappear between your legs and your tummy get full with his cock. "My baby's so tiny you can see my cock in your belly." He said, pushing down on the area where he was imprinted in you.

Slowly you started moving, lifting your hips up and down. You were wet enough that he could easily slide in and out with no problem.

Jaemins head fell back as he sighed with relief, grunting as you picked up the pace, "So tight for nana." He whispered and you moaned back loudly. His cock stretched every inch of you to the point where it felt like you'd split.

"More more more." You whined against jaemins neck, gripping his shoulders tightly. Carefully jaemin flipped you both over so he was on top and continued pounding into your destroyed cunt. He kept a hand around your neck squeezing it every so often as a choked out moan left your throat.

His cock was so deep and fast that you couldn't think straight. You kept blabbering about his cock. Only thing on your mind was how nice he felt inside you. Jaemin bit his lip as he smirked at you, grabbing your hair and bringing your face close to his, "Now will you admit that I fucked you dumb and say your nanas dumb slut?"

"Y-yes, I'm na-nanas dumb sl-slut." You cried, tears falling down your face from how good he felt inside and if you thought jaemin couldn't go any faster, he did. His thrusts were hard and rough, sure enough to hurt your thighs tomorrow as he pounded relentlessly. "So close." Your voice came out choked as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You held on to jaemins hand that was on your neck as he helped you with your orgasm.

Jaemin wasnt far behind you with his and groaned loudly, "fuck, where do you want it princess?"

"I-inside." You moaned as the feeling of hot cum was shot inside you. Jaemins hips kept moving him through his orgasm until he slowly came to a stop. Both of you panted loudly, there were even a few tears falling down your cheek here and there.

Jaemin slowly pulled out, making sure not to hurt you, and he laid beside you. "You did so well." He kissed your forehead. "Cmon ill carry you to bathroom so we can take a bath." He said picking up your worn out naked figure with so much care. Making you forget he was your enemy.

[majwrites]

Beauty Standards

Don Flack x Reader (Romance)

Summary: Reader gets insecure about their looks and contemplates ending their engagement with Flack.

A/N:This one was requested by @sirishavenigalla. I'm not that experienced with writing romance, so I hope it turned out alright.

Warnings: Reader struggles with their self image, fighting in a relationship, some angst

Something about Don Flack seemed off today. Danny had noticed that his friend wasn't the attentive, focused detective he usually would be. After Flack had snapped at Mac Taylor, didn't eat anything for lunch and left all paperwork unfinished in a messy pile, Danny decided he had to confront his friend about this: "Don, we need to talk". "Why, what is it", right now Flack sounded only sad and tired. "Something is going on with you. It's not only that you are not focused on the case, you're wearing a Stone Temple Pilots shirt to work. It's nothing you'd normally do and I know that this shirt is not yours but (Y/N)s", Danny wasn't only worried about Flack, but also about (Y/N). It was well known that Don Flack and (Y/N) (L/N) had a tendency to make really emotion based decisions. Flack waited for a bit before he started talking: "(Y/N) left me behind". "What do you mean?", Danny was confused, it had always seemed like (Y/N) and Don had a picture perfect relationship. They had met at a concert. Sam had dragged him there and he hadn't really been in the mood for a concert but that had changed once he saw (Y/N) in the crowd. Three years had passed and they had recently gotten engaged. Why should all of this be over now?

Now the answer to this question wasn't an easy one. We live in a society where people get judged by others and feel pressure to meet beauty standards that are often impossible to achieve. (Y/N) was usually aware of the fact that everything they saw in magazines was usually photoshopped to a point where it wouldn't even be possible to fit all important organs into the model, but ever since one of their family members had asked them if they put on more weight, (Y/N) started to feel more and more insecure about their weight. They had suffered with body image issues a lot when they were younger and now they feared that they weren't good enough for Flack. They loved him so much and right now (Y/N) was so convinced that they couldn't make him happy that they made a rushed decision. (Y/N) left the shiny engagement ring on the kitchen table and added a note.

Donnie, I'm very sorry to do this, but I need space to think about something. I'm only doing this for you.

-(Y/N)

And so, (Y/N) left the apartment to spend the day somewhere else.

"Did you try calling them?", all of this seemed very odd to Danny, "you definitely have to talk about this". "They won't pick up the phone and they're very vague in the answers to my texts. I don't know what to do anymore, maybe this is all my fault". "You should go and find them, our case is closed anyway and we have the rest covered", Danny sounded very convincing. "Thanks Danny, I'll go and try to fix this", Flack left the CSI building.

He finally found (Y/N) at a motel, sitting on the chair in front of a mirror. He wanted to go in for a hug immediately but as (Y/N) stood from the chair they pushed him away. "Why did you just leave? I was worried sick about you, is it something I did?", he sounded angry for some reason. "You wouldn't understand it anyways", the last thing (Y/N) wanted was a fight but it just happened. "What do you mean, (Y/N)? Am I not good enough?", even Don Flack gets insecure when it comes to the love of his life. "No, that's the problem, Donnie. You're perfect. You're the best boyfriend anyone could ask for and you deserve so much better than being with me", (Y/N) started crying and they hated it. Flack just stared in confusion as (Y/N) continued: "Just look at me, I'm boring and ugly and as my family never fails to tell me, I've been putting on weight. I don't deserve someone as good as you, in fact I deserve to be alone forever, because no one could ever love me". Flack needed a moment to process everything that (Y/N) had just said. Then he pulled them into a hug and this time they just let it happen. He started to ramble: "(Y/N), please don't think like that. I love you more than anyone else on this planet. Whatever other people say about you doesn't matter. You're perfect to me just the way you are". (Y/N) started crying even harder but Flack just held onto them. He continued: "I love the way you look at me when you get really excited about something, and I love how you sing along to every song and can always tell me what a song is called when I only know three words and the melody. You're the most kind and caring person I know and I love the way you look, you're the most beautiful person to me even when we take a walk at night and the only light comes from a street lamp". "Do you really mean all of this, Donnie?", (Y/N) leaned their head against his shoulder. "Every single word. And what's really impossible for me is to stop loving you, so will you please stay with me?", he looked at them with a pleading expression. "Of course I will. I love you so much. I'm sorry for reacting like this", (Y/N) felt a little embarrassed about it now. "Don't apologize, it's not your fault", Flack fished (Y/N)s engagement ring out of his pocket and slid it back onto their finger.

"Do you want to come back home with me?" "Yeah, let's go", and so they left the motel.

[kristoffs-lullaby]

I know that a lot of people want it to be true but if I'm honest? I really don't want Sun Wukong and Macaque's strained relationship to be a result of a miscommunication. Like I think it'd be a huge cop-out from what they're already building up with Sun Wukong. Do I think he actually killed Macaque? No. But I also don't think that their troubles started there. Macaque speaks as though he's harbored resentment for Wukong for a WHILE and for a variety of reasons that eventually all circle back to the kind of friend that Sun Wukong was. As we've seen in the show up to this point, it feels like they're showing us that-- while Sun Wukong is a good person-- he's also INCREDIBLY messy with the way he handles not only problems but his relationship with people too. Not to mention that they keep bringing up how Wukong managed things in the past (i.e. his legacy being built on him being reckless) and how he really hasn't.. changed. S3 had Mei straight up tell him that he doesn't see how he keeps hurting the people who care about him the most. So no it wouldn't surprise me if he really did end up doing certain things that led Macaque to feel like he was nothing more than this Hero's Shadow.

S1 when we first get introducted to Macaque, during the final fight, Macaque makes the statement: “The real Sun Wukong would’ve leveled this whole mountain to try and stop me! but you’re scared because you think you’ll hurt some kid!?” The emphasis on "some kid" makes more sense when you take in the context that they give us during S2 about their past with one another. Macaque and Sun Wukong were friends who fought alongside each other. And if this is the case, then Macaque wouldn't have made a statement like that unless he knew what lengths Sun Wukong would go to in battle even if sometimes that meant putting the people around him in harm's way (and people he cared about at that). Which is why it baffles him that Sun Wukong holds back during their fight because MK is a kid SWK only just met a few months ago. The SWK HE was friends with wouldn't have cared to put HIM in danger.

Then we get Shadow Play where Macaque's whole deal is that he's been watching as MK begins to leave his friends behind. And a lot of this lesson to MK felt PERSONAL. As if he knew what it felt like to be the friend on the sidelines as he watched the hero take on the burden all on his own, forgetting that he has people behind him. Which is what MK was doing. In the Spider Queen episode, as soon as MK saw that Pigsy didn't open shop he immediately freaked out because Pigsy never forgets to do that and thus he comes to the conclusion that he's missing (which he was correct about)! But during Shadow Play, when he comes across Pigsy's closed shop he doesn't bat an eye. He doesn't realize that hey. Maybe my friends didn't ditch me at the theater because why would they have done that in the first place? And I get that MK was going through a lot at the time and was trying to process it, but I get the feeling that it was kind of the point. Macaque was watching as MK followed in Wukong's footsteps and isolated himself to the point where he took it upon himself to be the hero on his own. He has all this power now and suddenly his friends can't help him with that anymore? He's purposefully keeping things from them and Macaque sees this. Because maybe it's the same thing Wukong would do.

And its clear through Macaque's little Shadow Play that Macaque had some insecurities in their friendship based around playing second fiddle to Wukong. He keeps mentioning how Wukong eventually forgot about him or cast him into his shadow. And yet.. Wukong throws this exact thing in his face on multiple occassions. "Aren't you ever going to get tired of living in my Shadow?" Not to mention the hints we get during S3 that further drive home the fact that he fully believes that Sun Wukong is the type of person to cast someone aside unless they were useful to him. And while that might not have been Sun Wukong's intention with whatever actions he took to get Macaque to ride that train of thought, it is still evident that perhaps he has in the past been careless with his friendships.. as he is with MK's group which led them to where they ended up during the S3 finale.

And the last thing I want to point out is the interaction between MK and Macaque as Mei is being consumed by the Samadhi fire. Macaque tells MK that they need to go and MK retaliates stating that he would never leave Mei when she needs him because she's his best friend. Or something along those lines. And Macaque looks on at him like he can't believe what he's hearing. It's almost like "This isn't something I'm used to because this isn't something I was given as a friend". And it's shocking to see this! Which!! further solidifies in his mind what he said to MK during S2 "You know.. you are just that BIT too much like him [Sun Wukong].. buuut its good to see there's SOME potential" because in his relationships, MK will always look to his friends first and foremost. Monkie kid 101 is doing things together and sticking together.

THIS KINDA DERAILED FROM MY MAIN POINT I THINK A LITTLE BIT BUT. BASICALLY. I hope Macaque's resentment does come from like. Actual conflicts with Sun Wukong and not just a misunderstanding. I think it would add to an arc with SWK where he realizes "You keep doing things the same way you always have and it doesn't work out for you. Something needs to change because you've hurt people in the past and you'll continue to hurt people in the present unless you start approaching things differently". You know? It'd be more impactful if we've got more instances from the past where he's clearly messed up but never knew how to grow from it.

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Alone at the Edge of a Universe - Komaeda x Reader

Summary: You were in an accident before everything went to hell. You don't remeber how it all started. Now you live in a small apartment with a strange man who seems to be trying his best to look after you, but doesnt know how to take care of himself.

AKA: oh my god they were roommates.....Despair Edition TM

Word count: 7169 Contains: fem reader, no pronouns usage, explict sexual content, unsafe sex, very mild blood/injury, panic attacks, despair era Read on AO3 ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

There’s an explosion outside your window, and something huge tumbles to the ground. Everything in the apartment is shaking, Knick-knacks wobble and fall off the mantle, smashing on the floor, the bed frame shakes and lurches underneath you. Your fingers are digging tight into the quilt, trying to find purchase somewhere in the quake.

It is not your first collapsing building, and you fear it will not be your last. The world outside the apartment is dangerous and frightening, layers upon layers of horror folded together into the culmination of true despair. You don’t remember how it happened. It was some time ago (weeks? Months? Years?) that you woke up in a hospital, weak and emancipated, barely able to walk. You had been in some sort of accident, whatever happened to the world, started while you were still comatose and all the doctors were long gone when you finally came to. The fact that your life support was even still running was a stroke of luck.

There’s another thundering outside, but this one doesn’t make the house shake. Another building? You can't be sure, it was too far away to be of any danger to you so there is no reason to think about it. Instead you pull yourself up from the bed, bringing one foot down on the floor and being absolutely sure that there won't be any aftershocks before standing up properly. There are little broken pieces of glass and china all over the wooden floorboards, you cross the room on your tip-toes, careful to avoid any of the more dangerous looking shards. It is as you feared, your favorite knick-knack had also broken. You drop into a crouch, trying your best to gather the shattered pieces of what had once been a small glass jar full of little keepsakes.

Your housemate (if you could call him that) frequently brings back little presents from his adventures out into the fractured city. But this had been your favorite, a blue jar with a cork stopper, full of buttons, beads, marbles. Any pretty trinkets he could find for you. The shattering of this particular gift hurts something terrible, because you know it took him a very long time to collect it all. You manage to find a sturdier jar that survived the quake (it was once holding three stems of lavender, long since dead) and scoop as many of the shards and trinkets that you can inside. It isn't as pretty, but it will do for now.

He’s been gone for a week now, and you are hoping he will be back today.  

When he first brought you to the apartment, you couldn't even stand. Confused and scared about what had happened to the world during your coma, and having trouble remembering what your life was like before either. The apartment was a mess when he first found it, but there was a bed and clean sheets in a closet, so it was fine. He sat with you for hours, barely moving, just watching as you slipped in and out of consciousness, as the world finally came into focus. At first you were afraid of him, of his dishevelled appearance, trembling limbs and wide watery eyes. He never made any move to touch you, he sat there and would answer questions if you asked them, but otherwise just watched.

Once you were able to move on your own, he started heading outside for longer stretches of time. He used to just leave for a few hours each week to bring you back enough food until his next trip, but now he is often gone for days at a time. You wonder how long it will be before you can go outside with him. He is strange, but given the state of the world outside, you can’t imagine anyone else is faring much better.

You manage to salvage a decent amount of the broken trinkets and either pour them into a vacant jar or the trash and are in the middle of sweeping away any remaining shards when you hear a shaky knock on the door. He has a key, but he always knocks anyway. You let the broom drop to the ground and dash over to the door to let him in.

“Hey…” you say, pulling the door open. His red striped sweater has more holes in it than it did last you saw him, his hair curled and messy, more grey than white. His disheveled appearance means little, you are thrilled to see him, “Welcome home.”

His eyes are desperate as he looks you over, crossing the threshold of the apartment and closing the door behind him, “The quake...are you okay?”

“I stayed in bed the whole time, I’m fine.” You attempt to take his rucksack from him, to help him carry it to the kitchen. He pulls it away from you and carries it on his own, “A bunch of the gifts you brought me fell off the mantle, though. I should have been keeping them somewhere safer, I’m sorry.”

He wheezes, giggling under his breath as he starts pulling food out from the rucksack and onto the bench, “Don’t waste such sweet apologies on me. I can find more gifts if you want them.”

With you standing in the sitting room, and him unloading groceries in the kitchen. In a different time, this may have been domestic. Your heart warms at the thought, “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to cause you any more trouble.”

“Trouble?” He doubles over with laughter, the sound is scratchy in his throat, “You could never cause me any trouble.”

He doesn’t look like he belongs in the nice clean apartment. He stands in the middle of the room, all shaking limbs and wheezy breaths, clutching his own arms like it’s the only thing still keeping him together, but you can tell he is trying, he doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable around him.

“Are you okay?” You ask, “you were outside when it happened”

He giggles breathlessly, gnawing on the cuff of his sleeve, “you are worried about me?” His knees shake like they're about to give out and he buzzes with manic energy, “Aha! the extent of your hope, it’s incomparable!”

You suddenly notice a line of blood running down from his forehead, curling down past his eyebrow and over his cheekbone. You rush over to him and take his face in your hands. His skin is pallid and sickly, his lips chapped and bleeding. You push his mess of dirty hair away from his forehead and gasp, “you’re really hurt, why didn't you tell me?”

He doesn’t say anything, he’s just staring at you with wet unblinking eyes as a wide smile tugs at his lips. Shuddering under the soft grip of your hands. The gash on his forehead is shallow, but blood is gushing out of it quite quickly and you aren’t really sure what to do. As you look closer at the wound, his eyes flutter shut and you feel him leaning into your palm. Your heart thunders in your chest, he’s cute under all the dirt and grime.

He cares for you a great deal, you aren't sure why. He won't even tell you his name.

“I’ll wash it out for you. Okay?” You say, taking one of his hands in yours and tugging him towards the bathroom. The one gentle tug on his hand is enough that he almost topples over, but he rights himself quickly. His hand is quivering in yours.

“Oh! You don't need to do that!” he protests, but continues obediently following after you, “I’ve dealt with much worse, aha! Don't bother dirtying your hands to fix something that will only break again.”

You grab him by the shoulders and lower him down onto the toilet seat. His big eyes peer up at you from behind the mass of hair now tumbling down over his face, he watches you with a pointed devotion that might make you uncomfortable if you weren't already used to it. He brings his sleeve up to his mouth to chew on it again, you take his hand in yours and lower it before he gets the chance, “I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry.”

His nails dig into the meat of his thighs and he is shivering again. You can feel his legs bouncing as you lean forward to take a better look at the gash on his forehead, he whines when he feels your fingers brush his hair away from his face. You sigh at him, “You know this will get infected if you don't clean it, don't you?”

He whimpers, practically rattling as his tremors get worse, “How kind of you to notice! But I have more important matters to attend to of course.” another bout of laughter boils through him, shaking his bony shoulders,“like you, for instance!”

You drop to a crouch so you can meet his eyes, resting one hand on his shoulder and holding his hair back with the other, “You can't look after me if you’re dead.”

“Oh I won't die.” He breathes, the depths of his eyes shining with a shocking lucidity, “Not yet.”

He really believes that. You can see it on his face, “Either way. I’m going to clean it. Sit tight.”

Sitting tight is not possible. To his credit, he doesn't move on purpose, but he is still shaking intensely as he waits for you. His protruding knees knocking as his legs bounce up and down. You purse your lips and wet a cloth in the sink, the water is a little brown, but all of the water is a little brown so there isn't much you can do about it.

“Okay.” You say, turning back to him and lifting the cloth to his forehead, “Let me know if it stings too much, alright?”

He nods, smiling up at you pleasantly as you bring the cloth down on the gash. There is a lot of blood, the coppery smell is overwhelming but you try your best to seem like it isn't affecting you. If there is any pain, it doesn't seem to be bothering him, his eyes are closed again and he is leaning gently into your touch. Your heart warms for him, and the hand you are using to hold his hair out of his face starts gently scratching his scalp. You hear him gasp, but he makes no move to stop you. His hair is soft, you can feel the grit of dirt and smoke caught up in it, but under that...he is so soft. The blood running down his face is well clean by now, but you don't stop. The washcloth falls from your hand with a splat and his eyes snap open. One of your hands is buried in his hair, combing the mess through your gentle fingers, the other traces the sharp line of his jaw, all the way up to and then down his cheekbone.

“What are you doing?” He asks, you are dimly aware that his shaking has stopped. At least for now.

Your pointer finger runs up the bridge of his nose and over his right eyebrow, now you are the one shaking, “I...don’t know.”

“You’re touching me.” He breathes

Your voice is barely a whisper when you reply, “I am.” you let your hand drop, “I’m sorry. I don't know why i did that.”

He reaches out and takes your hand in his, pressing it firmly to his cheek. His eyes are wild, “You can do whatever you want to me! I don't mind!”

His suggestion raises an unwarranted heat to your cheeks. You gently tug your hand from his grasp, “There’s some vodka in the cupboard. Give me a moment to disinfect you.”

You pick the cloth up off the ground and leave it on the side of the sink as you walk over to the kitchen. All of the food he brought back with him is still strewn about on the countertop, abandoned when you realised how badly hurt he was. You worry about him. Constantly. He was the one who found you half crawling, half stumbling through the desolate remains of the city mere hours after you woke up in the crumbling shell of the hospital. Since then he has been so careful of you, making sure you are well fed, bringing you gifts or clothes, anything he can find out there. He clearly doesn't extend the same olive branch to himself. You stand up on your toes to grab the alcohol from the top shelf, it was already here when he first found the apartment. Half empty. You hope whoever lived here before you had enjoyed it.

“This is going to hurt.” You warn as you step back into the bathroom. He nods loosely and you wring the cloth out as best you can before dousing it in the vodka, “Are you ready?”

“Pain or pleasure,” he starts, looking up at you with a loopy smile, “anything I feel by your hand is exhilarating.”

Oh. You liked that . It made something in the pit of your stomach twist.

You clear your throat and crouch down in front of him, pushing his hair out of the way. His eyes are half lidded, and you can tell he is uncomfortably lucid. He intimidates you a little like this, there is a sharp intellect behind his big green eyes that feels like he is dissecting you with his stare alone. Even though he has stilled quite a bit, his hands are still jittering at his sides. You gently press the alcohol soaked rag to the gash in his forehead, he hisses through his smiling teeth, but the sound teeters dangerously close to being a moan. You swallow, continuing your ministrations.

“Did you get hurt anywhere else?” You ask, purposely focussing on cleaning his wound so you don't have to meet his eyes.

“No.” He says. It doesn't sound like he’s lying.

“Okay.” You reply, “I trust you, but you can't hide these things from me. I have a duty to keep you safe, too.”

A shudder runs through him at your words and his eyes flutter shut. Like he is savoring it, “You are too generous, truly.” his voice is so breathy, and your positioning makes it sound like he is whispering in your ear. You bite your lip.

“It is not generosity.” You laugh a little, your fingers tangling in his hair again, “It’s selfishness. You are all I have and I don't want to lose you.”

He is shaking again, his long fingers grasping at nothing. Like he desperately wants to hold you but knows he can't . His arms wrap around himself instead, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket as he rocks back and forth, “Aha! A regular Pylades you are, looking after trash like me!”

You have long since abandoned any pretense. Not even pretending to be tending to his wound anymore, your fingers brush through his hair unhindered, “Pylades?” you ask, twisting a lock of pale hair around your index finger. Surprised with how much classic literature he’s managed to remember through all this tragedy, this is not the first time he has quoted one such piece to you.

“From Euripides!” he’s grinning now, lips curled almost painfully wide, “You need me to jog your memory, hm?” He asks, leaning forward. He is very close to you now, and your hand freezes in his hair, “Orestes says ‘it’s rotten work’ and Pylades replies-”  

Oh. You do know this one.

“Not to me.” You breathe, heart thumping in your chest and mouth going dry. Your hand slides down from his hair to cup his cheek, you can feel his pulsepoint racing like a hummingbird under your thumb. He is so close now, you can see flecks of gold in his eyes. You can count his eyelashes. You are shaking, “Not if it’s you.”

For a moment, you think you are going to kiss him. For a moment, you want to kiss him. Instead you let your hand drop from his cheek and stand back up, “It’s um...it’s as clean as im going to get it. Might need stitches, but i dont have the means or the skill to do that for you.”

He brings his arms up in a shrug, “No matter. So long as you’re satisfied.”

“This isn't about my satisfaction.” You say, crossing your arms, “You need to take better care of yourself out there. Look, maybe next time i should come with you and-”

He shoots upright, suddenly towering above you, all quivering limbs and sweaty palms, “Nonononono. You have to-” he sucks in a wheezy breath and shakes his head, “-you have to stay in here. For you to be tainted by the world outside, the despair it would-” a breathy laugh escapes his lips, growing and growing in volume, his hands tanging his hair pulling strands out at the roots, “-It would be glorious .” He growls, shaking and panting as he starts hitting himself in the head with his fist and a crescendo of, “nononononononono” is erupting from the cavern of his mouth.

It is frightening, but you are used to it. He gets in these fits sometimes, but has never attempted to hurt you, it’s more like he’s fighting himself. You wrap both your hands around his wrist, holding his arm still so he can’t use it to hit himself anymore before slowly bringing it back down to his side. He is still shaking with a mania that seeps out through every pore, but at least he isn't hurting himself. His mouth runs a mile a minute, arguing with both himself and people you have never met. He talks to them a lot, these other people, you don't want to ask him about them.

“Hey.” you whisper, “I’m here. It’s okay.”

His big eyes turn to you, but he doesn't calm. He is still muttering and shaking, but this is okay. You start slowly rubbing your hands up and down the length of his forearms, “You’re doing fine, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

He whines and brings one of his sleeves up to his mouth to gnaw on it. You don't stop him, when he gets like this it’s one of his less destructive habits. It's preferable to scratching. You keep rubbing his free arm, your other hand curled around his hip. His eyes are slowly growing less wild, drool is dripping down his chin, “Alright. We’re going to move to the couch. Nice and slow.”

You loop his arm over your shoulders and tuck your other hand into his back pocket, slowly walking him over to the couch. This is the main reason you haven't left the apartment, the door unlocks from the inside so if you really wanted to, you could leave at any time. You’re scared though, both of what is waiting out in the city, and of what will happen to him if he comes back one day to find you gone. He is finally starting to calm when you lower him down onto the couch, still chewing absently on his sleeve, but his breathing has slowed a little. A soft smile tugs at your lips, and you tuck some of his hair behind his ear.

“Why do you worry about me so much?” You ask, more to yourself than to him. Stroking his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb, “I am no one to you.”

He is tired now after his episode, his arm is slow and shaky as he reaches out to you, resting his hand in the dip of your waist. The warmth of his skin seeps in through your shirt, your heart climbs up into your throat when he squeezes , “You are hope. You are everything to me.” his eyes are half lidded, and his smile is soft, “The corruption, the despair it...haahaa...it tainted us all, but you-” he takes a deep, shuddering breath, “-you slept right through it. You’re still hopeful...still perfect…”

“And if I hadn't. What would I be to you then?”

“Dead, most likely.” He sighs and it rattles through his chest, “Is there even a point to talking about what might have been? In my experience it has never helped any.”

He’s right. You hate the idea of a reality where you never meet him. This realisation makes your stomach turn. Familiarity breeds comfort, but when what is familiar is a man who is (under dirt and grime and sweat)  incredibly beautiful, you find that it breeds something else as well. You give the hand on your waist a pat, and he lets you go.

“The sun is setting.” You say, trying to distract yourself from how much you want his hand against you again, “I’m going to light some candles before it gets dark.”

“Oh! Before you do.” He manages to pull himself up from the couch and stumbles over to his rucksack, bending over and rummaging through it some, “I hm...i found something for you.”

You stand in the middle of the room, the last dregs of daylight are casting an orange light over his shaking form. He comes back over to you, holding out his offering, for a moment you're not even sure what it is.

“Oh my god…” You whisper, turning it over in your hands. It’s a polaroid camera, a little banged up but it looks like it will still work, “thank you.” you smile up at him, heart melting to nothing in your chest, “thank you so much.”

He laughs a little, shaking as he passes another two objects over to you, “I only found two film cartridges, but i can look for more!”

“No! This is perfect, I'm amazed you even managed to find two.”

“My luck may not be worth much.” He says with a sad smile, “but if i’m able to bring you some happiness with it, then i'm glad!”

“Here, just...give me a second.” Your hands are shaking as you fumble with the first cartridge, popping open the back of the camera and clicking it in. Before he has a chance to protest (because you know he will) you lift the camera up to your eye and snap a photo. For a moment he is dazzled by the flash, but then immediately starts wheezing.

“Wha....What?” His knees are wobbling again, his eyes are wide and unblinking.

The photo slides out of the camera and you grab it between your index finger and thumb, giving it a light shake, “I took a photo of you.”

“Why would you do that?” He’s laughing, but it sounds more confused than it does manic, “You only have two cartridges of film and you would waste a photo on garbage like me?”

“I don't think it was a waste.” The photo has just about finished developing, the light from the flash doesnt do his already pale skin any favors, but you smile all the same, “Sometimes you’re gone for a long time, and if i can't come with you then...i dunno, it’ll be nice to have.”

“You...miss me?”

You see no reason to lie, “I miss you.”

He is just staring at you now, eyes slowly examining every inch of your face. Your heart is racing. He takes a slow, shaky step towards you, practically vibrating with nervous energy.

“I shouldn't.” He says, even as his trembling hand rests on your hip, the pads of his fingers slipping up under your shirt to stroke your skin, “I’m disgusting for even thinking about all that I want to do with you.” His grip on your hip grows tighter, and you feel a warmth in your stomach, “If you knew...eheh...if you could see what i was thinking right now.” his breathing has quickened, and the hand on your hip is trembling. So are your legs, “you’d kick me out of this apartment like the...the...haahhaa...the perverted trash that i am.”

Any thoughts within you about resisting or denying him have long dissipated. You do not even hesitate as you loop an arm behind his head, digging your fingers into the back of his hair, “I wouldn't.”

He doesn't say anything, he’s just looking at you and trembling. A whiny moan escaping his lips.

“The things you want to do to me…” You start, fingers slipping under his striped sweater, just enough to feel his skin, “Show me.”

His hand joins its brother on your hips, and he tugs you towards him. Your lips colliding in a desperate kiss, all tangled tongues and nipping teeth. You moan into his open mouth, your fingers tangling even tighter in the mess of hair on the back of his head, he groans when you tug a little harder, slipping one of his hands up the front of your shirt and palming you over your bra. You cling to each other like two lost sailors adrift in the sea, attempting to find purchase in a world long gone. Your kisses open mouthed, wet and sloppy, desperate and needy. He is moaning and shaking, his long fingers tightly squeezing your breast as his other arm wraps around your waist and somehow tugs you even closer. He is so thin, pressed up against him like this you can feel his bones shifting under his skin. You bite his neck so hard you taste copper on your tongue and a moan explodes from his lips.

“Yes... yes! ” He stammers, drooling and shaking. His mouth pulled in such a wide smile that his lips tear and bleed, “hurt me...hng-hahAHA... destroy me !”

Your hands become frantic, grabbing his jacket and tugging it down his arms. His sweatshirt soon follows, ripped up over his head with a tenacity you didn't even know you had. You want to feel his skin, to suck, to bite, to bury your nails in it. Desperation is building inside you, almost ready to overflow. His skin is salty with sweat when you run your tongue over the length of his collarbone, fingers on your left hand running over each jutting rib as you slip your hand down to grasp his hip. The bone is sharp under the soft skin of your palm. Despite all his sweating and panting, his flesh is still cold under your hand, you want to warm him up. You tug your own shirt up over your head, chucking it behind you and unclasping your bra.

A wheezing laugh escapes him, he pushes his hair away from his face but it immediately falls back down again, “You...you’re…” his breath hitches, his pointer finger traces the underside of breast, shaky and cold, “you’re so soft...so warm .” he moans, licking his lips, “my goddess...would you permit me to pleasure you with my mouth?” he purrs. His eyes are swirling with arousal, his hand creeping up to massage your breast in his palm. It feels so good, he feels so good. He looks at you with this endless devotion, like you are something precious to be protected and loved .

“My guardian angel.” you whisper, tucking a wisp of hair behind his ear, “Whatever you want to do to me. Do it.”

His ghostly green eyes are blown wide, and he is wheezing again, “You just...what did you just call me?”

“I would have died out there on my own. You know that right?” You say, leaning in close enough that the tips of your breasts brush against his bare chest and cupping his cheek in your palm, “You saved my life. You are my guardian angel.”

“You are too kind to me, truly.” He whispers, his cold hands moving to your shoulders as he guides you backwards, “I am little more than garbage after all.” the back of your knees hit the couch and you collapse onto it, “Just a bug under the heel of an ultimate’s shoe...but you...hm…” he drops to his knees in front of you, his grin is all sharp teeth and drool. Some people might have been afraid of him, you thought he was the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen, “you deserve to be worshipped .” he breathes against your skin, leaning in and wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. His mouth is warm and wet, you throw your head back in a wail, digging your fingers into the mess of hair on his head.

His hand slides up the side of your ribcage, thumb rubbing small practiced circles around your other nipple. A needy moan escapes your lips, and your legs drop open almost instinctively. He scrambles forward to nestle himself between them, the sharp angles of his torso dig into the soft flesh of your thighs and his free arm wraps around your waist to tug to two of you even closer together. A strangled cry rips through you as the bare skin of his chest presses firmly against your sex, hips bucking against him almost involentarily, overcome with a desire to just feel him . He laughs against your breast, sinking his teeth into your flesh as his tongue continues lathing across your pert nipple.

“Mm...you’re so soft…” He whispers, resting his cheek on the plump skin of your breast, “your skin is so smooth…” His other hand is still toying with your nipple, rolling it in between the calloused pads of his thumb and forefinger, “haaAAH...I’m so lucky. You permitting scum like me to pleasure you? Your kindness is...hm, how could I put it?” his tongue darts out to give your nipple a lick, you shiver, “It is inexorable ”

“Wrong again.”, You laugh breathily, carting your fingers through his unruly hair, “This is no kindness. This is desire, unflinching. I want you so badly, selfishly .”

A raspy giggle escapes him, shaking his shoulders as he pulls his arms from you to wrap them around himself instead, “Someone like you getting so riled up over someone like me...eheh…” His hands are shaking when he brings them back down to your waist, gripping the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, “The ideas I have - the things I want to do with my fingers,” he starts pulling your pants down. You lift yourself up a little to help him pull them over your hips, warmth blooming in your cheeks, he moans at the mere sight of your panties, “f-fuck…” he whines, all drool and sweat, “i want to finger you until i die . Oh... oh god… ” he’s kneeling lower down now, you can feel him shaking between your thighs, “you smell so good...i want to eat you until there's nothing left. Like you’re my last meal…” his hands come up and grip your thighs tight, he leans in closer to your center and you can barely hold in a moan when you feel his nose bump against the wet spot on your panties. You don't hold in the moan when you feel his tongue. You aren't sure you could if you tried, it tears out of you, the one swipe of his tongue over your soaked panties is like a bolt of lightning to your cunt.

He continues like this for a while, moaning and shaking as he drags his tongue up and down your panties. Occassionally suckling your clit through the fabric. His bony fingers dig so tight in the soft flesh of your thighs that you swear you’ll have bruises tomorrow morning. After one particularly brutal suck, all you can do is sob, pulling his hair so tight that his lips are torn away from your centre.

“Something wrong?” He asks, playing innocent, but the look in his eye is cool and intelligent.

You heave a shaky breath, staring down at him, “Take them off. Please! ”

You swear you see his hips twitch at your demand. Eyes glazing over and tongue lolling out of his mouth as he hooks his fingers through the legs of your panties and tugs them down, leaving them to dangle off your left ankle. A whimper escapes you at the feeling of his breath against your wetness, his hands are hovering above you, shaking in the air like he isn't sure what to do with them. He wants to touch everything, he just can't decide where to start.

In the end, his left hand comes to rest at your hip, while his right middle and ring fingers push their way inside you. Your head lolls backward and your mouth drops open with a long moan at the feeling. His fingers are longer than yours are. A lot longer.

“I can feel you... twitching around me.” he makes a strangled noise, half a laugh, half a moan and pistons his fingers slowly in and out of you. The sound it makes is obscene , but it seems to only encourage him further. He leans in, and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking gently and occasionally flicking it with his tongue. Your hips buck reflexively, trying to get closer to his mouth.

“Ahh - ah! You taste so sweet...” he whispers against you, his breath cold on your burning flesh, “I - mmph...i feel like adam biting the apple...or persephone swallowing the pomegranate seeds...haah…” he removes his fingers, and his tongue slips inside you, swirling around before he returns his attention to your clit, “But which do you think it will be, hm? Will i be forced to leave you, or will i be bound to you for all eternity?” his eyes meet yours, boiling with passion and desire. He looks godlike between your thighs, grinning up at you with sharp teeth and the sheen of your own slick all over his chin. All you can do is shake and moan, quivering for want of him, “Care to try your luck answering the million dollar question, my goddess?”

“Never leave me…” you say, chest heaving. You reach down and cup his face in your hand, “I will never ask you to leave me.”

“Never?” he asks, his smile growing manic and his nails digging into your thighs. You hiss at the pain, “A dangerous promise.” His tongue enters you again and he moans sinfully against your skin, slowly thrusting the wet muscle in and out of you. His hands slip down under you and he lifts you up by you ass, pulling your sex even closer to his face. You whimper and moan and grind against him. Fingers tangled in the mess of his hair as he tongue fucks you into oblivion.

He’s whining and groaning, devouring you like a man starved, and when you feel the couch lurch, you realise he is also desperately grinding his cock into the front of it. You tug on his hair again, weaker than last time as the wobbly feeling of pleasure has overtaken you. He slowly draws back from your sex, licking his lips and staring up at you with his intimidating eyes, “Mm?”

A shaky breath rattles through your lungs and you lean forward to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips, “I want you inside of me. Would that be okay?”

“I was already inside you.” He says, smirking and sticking out his tongue as a reminder.

“You know what i mean.” Your eyes flit down to the tent in his jeans, making what you really want even more obvious than it already is.

“You spoil me.” He breathes, pressing a wet kiss to your jawline, “You couldn’t possibly know how desperately I want to sink myself inside you...but I- haaahh ...I am not worthy of such an intimate act.” His fingers reach out, and slowly begin circling your clit, you choke on a moan, “I am more than happy to pleasure you like this...no need to worry about my satisfaction.”

“But I want to see you come undone.” You hiss as his index finger circles you entrance, “I want you on top of me, inside of me. I-“ his finger pushes inside and your breath catches, “-I want you to fuck me. Please .”

A giggle bursts from his lips that quickly grows into a cackle. His shoulders shaking with its intensity, a line of drool dripping down his chin, he throws his arms wide and shoots you a manic grin. All teeth and gums, “If that is what you truly desire, then it would be pointless to deny you any further!” He clambors up from the floor, stumbling a little as he struggles to remove his jeans, “After all, I want you as well.” He purrs, his jeans and boxers dropping to the floor, “More than that…” he breathes, lowering you by your shoulders until you are lying back on the couch and nestling himself in between your open legs. Your heart is racing, he is hovering over you now. His lips barely a breath from yours, and the head of his cock brushing against your sex. He groans, “My goddess, I hunger for you.”

He hisses a breath in through his teeth as he starts pushing himself into you. Hips shaking as he resists the urge to shove himself in with one long stroke, his eyes roll back into his head and he moans. The feeling of him slowly entering you, combined with watching the strangled ecstasy on his face, it’s the most aroused you’ve ever been. You can feel yourself clenching around him, your own hips quivering as he finally bottoms out inside of you with a raspy groan, “So wet…” he hisses, “You feel so good around me…” he slips one of his hands down between the both of you, rubbing gentle circles around you clit. You keen loudly at the feeling and his hips stutter into yours, “Y-you like that, huh? I felt you tighten around me…”

You nod loosely, struggling to speak through your moans, “Please...move…”

He visibly shudders at your request, slowly inching his hips backward, and then forward again at full force. A moan that shifts to laugh halfway through escapes his lips, and he finally sets his rhythm. His hips snap against yours with a desperate fervor, he whines and mewls above you, his hair bouncing delicately with the movement. Eyes half lidded and drool slowly dripping down his chin. You look up at him in absolute awe, he looks and sounds like an angel . Covered in grime, twisted and tangled, but an angel all the same. His fingers return to your clit and you moan again, digging your nails into the skin of his back, tracing the protruding vertebrae with your fingertips.

A particularly deep thrust causes a choked sob to break forth from his lips, his head lolls forward and he nuzzles into the join between your shoulder and neck, “You’re perfect .” he breathes, hips still pumping, “I’m throbbing...can you feel it? Can you feel what you are doing to me?”

You can . You can feel the warmth of his cock pulsing inside of you. His arms are trembling and his breath is a rapid staccato, he’s trying to maintain his composure, “You feel so good, sweetheart.” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. He breath hitches when you call him sweetheart .

“You are so kind to me…” He wheezes, his breath warm against the column of your throat. You shiver, a strangled moan escaping you as his dexterous fingers circle your clit even faster. Your thighs tighten around his narrow waist, hips grinding against the meat of his palm and deeper onto his cock. All you can do is shake and moan, the muscles in your stomach tight and only growing tighter. He looks at your face, visibly euphoric, “are you close?”

You nod and he drags his tongue up the shell of your ear, “Jeez...I can’t believe trash like me is going to make you cum.” His eyes are wide when they meet yours, lips pulled tight in a grin, “You’re going to cum for me!” His hips move against yours at a frantic pace, his hands groping any part of you he can reach, a laugh in his chest building to a crescendo as he hits deeper and deeper inside of you, “You’re going to cum around me and I’m going to feel it...I-haaaaHAAAAA-“ he can’t speak any more, he’s laughing and moaning and fucking into you with an unbridled desperation.

“You need to...cum...Ah~ I want you to cum too…” you swallow, words catching in your throat when his fingers start working your clit again, “Cum inside me, angel. Please .”

“In-Inside?” He stutters, breath heaving and teeth clenched as he grows closer and closer to climax, “You would permit me to soil your insides with my filthy seed?”

“I don’t just permit you. I’m begging you! ” Your hips are canting up to meet his, wanting to feel him as deep inside you as possible. Drawing yourself tantalisingly close to orgasm, “I want to see you, to feel you. Come undone for me, please.”

His breath hitches, and his eyes grow dark. His fingers begin circling your clit at a brutal pace, his mouth collides with yours in a desperate kiss, all tongue and clicking teeth. You moan loudly into his open mouth, legs twitching underneath his frantic ministrations. His fingers on your clit, his cock pumping in and out of you, his tongue tangled with yours. The heat in the pit of your stomach is boiling, your breath is coming in gasps. It feels so good.

“You’re mine.” He whispers against your lips, and you swear you hear a sob catching in his throat, “accept me, please. Cum for me, my love.”

With those words, he kisses you firmly, thrusting deep and slow inside of you, and the coil in your stomach finally snaps as you cum with a strangled moan. Dragging your nails down his spine and curling your toes, warmth settles through your entire body and it feels like a perfect finality. He whines against your lips, grinding and writhing as you walls clench around him, then his eyes flutter closed and his mouth drops open in the most beautiful moan you’ve ever heard, and he cums .

His face softens in that moment, and for just a second, he looks normal. Like someone you might pass on the street or sit next to in class. You see him , and your heart turns to butter. You love him. Slowly, the speed of his thrusts peter out and he heaves a breath, eyes half lidded, giving you satisfied (albeit sleepy) smile. You return it, brushing your fingers down his cheekbone.

“Thank you.” He whispers, eyes moist with what will soon be tears.

You curl your hand around the back of his head and tug his forehead down to your lips. His skin tastes like sweat, “No. Thank you .”

*

He leaves the next morning. Unlike all the other times before, he never comes back.

[justasimplesinner]

Ok first of fucking all I love the way you write, it's really hard to find a writer who can make a character or topic im not particularly interested in actually worth reading. Fucking spot on my guy 👌. Secondly, I was wondering if you'd be up for a request with Mof Johnathan and Arkham Eddie? If you could write a scenario were he's sitting down at his workspaces or couch working on something villain related and they feel a full blown breakdown coming on. Like they're really fucking stressed for whatever reason (take your pick) and the fact that they can't even focus on their own work is making it worse. Their s/o walks in and all it takes is a glance in his direction to figure out they've stumbled upon a ticking time bomb. So, as a spur of the moment attempt to distract him, they plop themselves into his lap and start whispering sweet nothings and praise while they stroke his hair (your choice whether it gets saucy from there or not). I'm a soft bitch and I need you to quench my thirst for hurt/comfort fics.

nothings better than making grown men break down. also, despite being short, this took so god damn long, i swear. but writing eddies pov is just so enjoyable, thats rewarding enough. he's such a stupid fuck its adorable

Masters of Fear!Jon getting comforted hcs:

It didn't feel right. At all. Nothing felt right. Everything was wrong. Every scratch of his pen on the paper felt like nails on a blackboard and his ears were ringing. His hands were shaking and instead of words, there were just crooked lines, like a hand-written ECG record. Every little sound from outside made him jump, every little drop of rain falling onto the window felt like a small bomb going off right besides his ear.

Ever since he woke up today, everything felt so wrong. You weren't in bed when he woke up, your side already cold because you left for work. Because he slept in and couldn't even say goodmorning to you. Or goodbye. And if something happened to you? It was Gotham, everything could happen to you. And he didn't even get the chance to see you, talk to you, kiss you. And the scrambled eggs he reluctantly made for breakfast almost made him vomit. He didn't eat them. Actually, he hadn't ate at all. Nothing. Not a crumb. It made him sick.

It's like he felt something coming, but he had no idea what. Like a storm, like danger. The feeling you get when you're being watched. The feeling he always got when he heard those specific footsteps in school hallways. Very specific. Measured, every move thought out - the trait of a sportsman. But heavy. Not clicking on the floor, but thumping. Very loud and very obvious. The footsteps that made him freeze in place because even if he tried, he wouldn't outrun them. They would follow. The pain would follow. Thump, thump, thump on the floor, foretelling nothing good, right around the corner, right... behind him!

He jumped up high in his seat, whipping his head around, eyes trying to scan the room but it all felt foggy. The only clear thing was the loud crack of the pen breaking in his clenched hand. And the first thing he saw was a hand, reaching out for him, maybe for his throat, maybe to thrash him around - he didn't know, but it was too close.

– Jon? – it was like something snapped in him when it was your voice that rang in his ears and his breathing stilled when he realized you were lightly rubbing your right hand. Did he hurt you? He wanted to ask, he needed to know if he hurt you, if he fucked up again but when his eyes finally looked up into yours, he couldn't say anything. 

The best thing was, he didn't even need to. It's like you already knew. Like he didn't have to do anything and you just saw it. Knew it. Sensed it. And when you got closer this time, he didn't push you away. There was no pain. No pain when your brows furrowed in genuine concern. No pain when your hands cupped his face to look him in the eyes. No pain when you slowly lowered yourself onto his lap. You never brought pain.

– Oh, baby... – your tone was condescending in the best of ways, and your fingers glided up into his hair so gently, nails scratching softly at his scalp, and it's as if his eyes shut on their own accord as he curled into you, wrapping his arms tight around your torso to press you closer. Keep you there, in that exact spot. So that you would never leave.

– I'm sorry I hurt you. – he practically cried into your neck, pressing his face hard into your skin to remind himself that you were there for him. He had you right in his lap, and yet he had to fucking remind himself still. Why was he so fucked up? You didn't have to put up with this. You didn't have to care. He wasn't your responsibility, he was nothing. And yet...

– You could never. It's fine.

You hugged him tight, one hand combing through his messy hair, tangled from him pulling on it, and the other one tracing up and down his back, making up shapes as it went. There were spirals, zig zags, waves, straight lines - he focused strictly on the feeling of your fingers, imagining every little shape they drew.

He kind of wished his shirt was off. So that he could actually feel you on his skin.

– I'm sorry. – and he was, because you just came back from work, probably exhausted, and now you had to baby him since he couldn't even fucking take care of himself. Why was he like this?

– Don't. You don't have to be sorry for feeling something. It's what humans do.

How did you always know what to say? How did you always know what to do? What has he ever done to deserve even an ounce of what you gave him? Did it matter? He was so fucking glad you were back home.

Arkham!Eddie getting comforted hcs:

Mistake. One after another. Each one followed by the next, like a chain reaction. The only thing he fucking did today was mistakes. All the measurements were wrong. All his coding was wrong. Every single little thing was at least a little bit off. He didn't accept 'a little bit off'. It was either perfect, or it was nothing to him. He was nothing. Nothing but a fucking failure, constantly fucking things up, unable to perform even the simplest tasks. Every last idiot could programm a computer. And he wasn't an idiot. Or was he?

A groan ripped from his throat, the hand in his hair tightening.

If he wasn't an idiot, why couldn't he get anything done? If he wasn't an idiot, why did Batman, of all people, outsmart him? If he wasn't an idiot, why hasn't he won yet?

It's like his body wasn't his own when he let out a pathetically high-pitched growl and his arm instinctively threw the first thing it gripped at a wall. The coffee cup smashed into little pieces upon the impact, coffee splashing everywhere, blemishing everything. You brought him this cup. And the one before that. You put it there. You did yet another thing he hasn't asked of you. Why couldn't you just listen for once? Stop disturbing him? It was all your failt that he couldn't focus, because you were constantly going in and out of his workshop and he clearly told you to stay away.

Oh, speak of the fucking devil, he could already hear your thumping footsteps nearing the door, probably lured in by the sound of his cup shattering. Because you were 'worried', as if he would be stupid enough to injure himself or do anything reckless! He furiously pushed some old scraps of metal to the floor, making them clink loudly, feeling a slight sting on his forearm. Great, now he fucking cut himself because of you-

– Eddie, baby? You alright? – the sound of your gentle voice echoed in the room, overpowering the earlier noise. He didn't even grace that with a response, just sighed heavily, annoyance seeping out of him, as he leaned his head on his palm. Why did you have to ruin everything?

And then, just to spite him, you moved closer. Close enough for your sweet scent to fill his lungs, your fingers dancing over his shoulder and he almost shook them off. Instead, he abruptly leaned back in his chair, gritting his teeth. You wasted your chance to get out of here without a scratch.

What he didn't expect however, was your legs slowly, yet suddenly straddling him, hands on his shoulders, digging in lightly to massage and manipulate them into whatever it was you wanted. He felt his stomach churn, his blood boiling to the point where he felt hot all over and his hands almost, almost shot out in your direction. To push you off.

– If you haven't realised yet, I'm working. – it was a blatant lie and you knew it immediately. He wasn't working, not at all, only tinkering with things and fucking them up further. All because of you-

Your hands slowly travelled up, surprisingly careful not to tickle his neck, grabbing his face on both sides with that gentle, motherly fucking smile of yours. Like he was some child. Like you were trying to lure him in and... and... kiss his forhead, and... push your own against it, and- argh!

– Maybe take a little break, hm? – you muttered and he felt it more than heard it, your lips moving lightly against his skin, your nose soon nuzzling his long one and it's as if his head moved along on it's own accord.

This was such obvious manipulation-...!

– I don't need a break! I-...!

– I know you don't, Eddie. – you rudely cut him off, thumbs caressing his cheekbones – But I'm asking you nicely. I miss you.

Even if he protested, you wouldn't've let him go. It was obvious in the way your arms slid around his neck and shoulders, hugging him to your body, almost suffocating him in your chest and he just had to brace his hands on your back. And maybe he would've even pulled away, but you were so... warm. Soft. Like a pillow. And it made him snuggle in further.

– You're so clingy sometimes, you know that? – he muttered, his arms wrapping around you tighter, fingers hooking into your flesh and he felt your fingers slide into his hair, gently massaging his pounding scalp, making the ache almost instantly ease off slightly. His muslces started relaxing, too, his spine finally having a break from holding up his weight.

– You know you like it. – he clearly heard a chuckle in your voice, and it made his hand slide up to the back of your head to push you further into in, to quiet you, as his chin found it's place on your shoulder. Your nails dragged up and down his back, sneakily creeping under his clothes sometimes, and it made a violent but pleasant shiver run through his body, causing his arms to tighten around you.

Maybe he could take a break. You clearly needed him, it would be unwise to ignore you for too long. You could feel neglected, abandoned even - that could cause... problems. He didn't have the strength to deal with problems now. He could just indulge you for a little bit, no harm done. And so, his grip tightened, his body curling around you so every possible part of it was touching you.

You so obviously needed the comfort, and truly, he could never deny you.

[artxyra]

Ok so I don't know if your still taking requests but if you are it's daminette and marinette is over so the whole wayne family and her are chilling and they think they hear someone so they do a heartbeat scan and they count an extra one so they're searching they manor and they're on guard they alfred ask all the girls if they're pregnant and the guys are nervous because one of them could be a father so they scan all the girls and they find out mari's preggo and it's a whole chaotic ordeal

Note: Sorry this took so long, I was trying to figure out the best way to tell this story and I finally got the idea after watching TT episode Fear Itself. 

Whoever’s idea was it for the family to watch a horror movie during a fucking thunderstorm, Marinette just wants to end their lives. She was having a good day despite feeling sick in the morning, so being informed that tonight’s movie was horror-based was interesting. The majority of the time, a horror movie wasn’t a bad idea, but the moment the film ended, and the lights randomly shut off, the screaming begins.

For a house filled with heroes vigilantes, they sure do know how to scream and act like they’re in a horror movie real quick. Marinette could feel the need to throw up grow as the sense of someone watching her suddenly grows. At first, she thought that it was Damian or any of his brothers, but how could that be when everyone disperses the second, they heard movements that were not from either of them. Damian was reluctant to leave Marinette to her own device, but since the manor was so large splitting up was the best option.

“Come on, Mari, you’re Ladybird, stuff like this is nothing.” Marinette murmurs to herself in an attempt to keep her nerves at bay. That doesn’t go well, as the creaking noise suddenly fills the hallway. She sure hopes that it’s the air conditioner making those sounds. Marinette was slowly regretting not taking Alfred’s lead and follow him to the kitchen, at least she knows the kitchen area better than the damn halls. The amount of time she still gets lost in the halls just to find the gym is an outlandish number.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

Clenching her teeth, she fumbles to unlock her phone. Despite using it as a flashlight, she also didn’t want to accidentally turn the only source of light off. The second her phone unlock, thunder and lightning decided to join forces making her jump at the sudden flash of light and a loud boom.

“I am so killing Jason…” She mutters. Finally, she is able to see the notification. It was a series of messages stating clear and the location. There were at least five out of the nine that were currently in the manor. They had invited Duke, but he opted out the second he realizes who was picking out the movies. Apparently, any movie chosen by Jason could only mean bad things and Duke, surprisingly, wanted nothing apart of it.

The creaking noises remain active, something that made walking down the hall and looking for a potential intruder much more difficult. Had the creaking stops, this would have been much easier to delegate which room needs searching.

Back downstairs, the Bat-family all decided to meet up in the living room. Marinette had yet to make an appearance. Damian was growing impatiently worried for his beloved, so much that he was practically stabbing the ground with one of many katanas.

“Master Damian,” Alfred chastised seeing the new marking on the floor. Great another reason to keep buffering the floors at least twice a month. Alfred knows that everyone’s worries were running high. They still had yet located the cause of the sound—a potential intruder—and it’s not like they would go into the Batcave without a problem, but they didn’t want to take that chance.

“She should have been here by now,” Damian grumbles placing the sword back into its sheath.

“Demon, we’re talking about Pixie, the girl literally has problems getting to the gym every once in a while, and that’s with light.” Jason’s words slowly dawned on the family. He’s right. Marinette may be officially apart of the family now, but the designer literally stays in like five places within the manor: hers and Damian’s room, the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom nearest to her, and the Batcave. Beyond those options, it’s better for Marinette to have a guide, which is usually Titus, and sometimes Alfred when he doesn’t have anything to do.

“I got the tracker ready, sir. Should I place it on heartbeat mode?” Alfred shows them the tracking device with a knowing look on his face.

The Batbros race to the device only for Tim to grab it and put it in the right settings.

“Hold on, wouldn’t it better to search for heat signatures?” Dick asks—well he was thinking aloud for the most part.

“Ideally yes, but the readings can become messy if we’re all in the same room or if what we are dealing with doesn’t radiate heat. It’s best to go with a pulse or in other words a heartbeat. Got any more questions, Dick.” Tim states glaring at his oldest brother. They were all worried about Marinette, but it was upped times ten. “Now are we going to try and find ‘spresso and whoever even dared to enter the manor?” Tim was a man on a mission. In fact, they all were.

No one dared to object to Tim’s claims. Damian was impatiently tapping his feet against the ground, and soon there were thirteen pulsing dots going off the tracker. Tim mentally did a headcount, with him included there were nine people in the room with him which means four of the dots are in unknown locations.

“So, which one do we follow?” That was the question on everybody’s mind.

“We go to the one that is alone, with a faint pulse.” On the device, several feet away is a flickering dot as if there was some interference in picking up the heartbeat. It wasn’t stable.

“Damian, where are your animals?” Barbara asks typing away on her phone. She may not be at the bat-computer, but she can still manage with Wi-Fi and a portable device.  

Damian wasn’t sure where his animals are. He knows for a fact that Alfred the cat was in his room, Titus disappears to hang out with Ace every now and then. The rest of the animals are most likely outside in their miniature houses that he keeps at the manor for nights like these.  

“No time to argue, we got to move.” Tim was already ahead of the family following the path guided to him by the tracker.

The bat-family follow the strange signal until they reach a dead end. All the doors were shut, and the thunder was booming with no means to stop. They haven’t seen or heard from Marinette since they disbanded earlier that night. Soon, the faint pulsing signal grows stronger as they approach the final door. No one, aside from Alfred, could remember what was behind that door. It was a bedroom.

“Whoa” Tim yelps, looking down at the tracker. There are now twelve pulsating dots on the device. They all filter into the room. It was practically empty which put them all on edge. Marinette was somewhere in the manor and now there were in an empty room with no clues on where to start.

Using their flashlights, they scan every inch of the place and still found nothing. Alfred takes the device away from Tim who protested but when he realized that it was Alfred he calms down.

“I don’t think there is another person in the manor,” Cass states looking around the room. She was eyeing the large wardrobe. If her hunch is correct, then she knows where the newest pulsing signal is coming from and that makes her giddy.

“I concur with Miss Cain.” Alfred walks over to the second door that is in the room and opens it revealing a certain black Great Dane wagging his tail happily yet protectively. He barks but upon seeing his owner, he calms down. “It appears that one of the signals is Titus and with him being her it only means that Miss Marinette is in this room. Perhaps in the wardrobe.”

The second the word “wardrobe” escapes the butler’s lips, all the bat-bros rush over to the item. Damian was quick to open it and there she is. Marinette’s small enough to fit comfortably on the base and stay hidden had there been any clothes on the rack. In her arms is a small pup, probably the intruder that has been haunting them. The pup’s nails are long and need to be cut. Marinette was sleeping which made it easier for Damian to scoop her into his arms.

The pup wakes up and begins barking yelping up a storm causing Marinette to stir in Damian's arms. Her eyes flutter open and a yawn escapes her lips.

“Is it morning already?” She yawns once more rubbing her eyes. Damian shakes his head causing Marinette to pout and try to find comfort in Damian’s arms to fall back to sleep to, but the pup in her arms wasn’t having it. “Oh quiet, you.” Marinette laughs and tightens her hold on the pup.

“That doesn’t explain the strange pulsing signal?” Steph states looking over Alfred’s shoulder and once more a signal was faltering without a constant beat.

“That’s because I believe, Miss Marinette is currently with child.” Alfred places the device down for everyone to see. “We have the heartbeat tracker on pulsing signals that can be easily translated to a heartbeat. If Miss Marinette, is indeed with child, the interference to this signal is the pulsing from the fetus.”

Alfred pause for a second giving everyone to process the news. Damian’s exe. was broken as he stares at his wife with love and shock. The rest of the family, aside from Cass, was blinking away the shock. Five, four, three, two…one. Then they all break out in shouts of excitement.

“Oh my god, we’re going to be uncles!” Dick exclaims bouncing in place. He even wraps his arms around Damian, who was still frozen and gives him a side hug knowing full well that he can’t protest.

Jason looks like he was about to kill someone—more or less Damian for a matter of fact. Marinette was his sister in everything but blood. Yes, he’s excited for the incoming member of the family, but he doesn’t know what to do.

 Tim was trying to wrap the news around his head. He hadn’t had any coffee since before the movie night started and with the power being off, there’s no way for him to make his usual late-night cup of coffee.

“Will you shut up; I’m trying to sleep here,” Marinette growls bring the attention back to her. Damian did the only thing that came to mind, he places a kiss upon her lips. Marinette moans and she would have playfully hit him had her arms weren’t holding the pup.

“So, no one is going to question how a puppy got into the manor?” Steph asks pointing to the pup still in Marinette’s arms. She was tempted to coddle the pup and leave the room to return to her own and news come back to life in the morning.

“Titus’s doggy door, most like. I won’t know until I check all the cameras.” Barbara says wheeling herself over to the couple, “Congratulations Damian…I’m going to bed.”

“We are so talking about this in the morning,” Dick claims as he walks out the room pushing Jason and Tim along with him.

Soon it was just Marinette, Damian, and the dogs alone in the room. Damian had a few options to consider, stay the night in this room or walk through a series of halls to return to their own bedroom. It’s late, so he chooses the former. Placing Marinette on the bed was easy once the newly introduced pup jumps out of her arms and onto the bed.

He makes sure she’s comfortable before joining her. Titus curls at the foot of the bed barking at the pup to come to him to which the pup did. Damian pulls Marinette into his chest and whispers, “Thank you, Angel,” into her ear.

“You’re welcome, Demon.” Marinette murmurs back before going off to sleep.

Who would have thought that this is how his family would find out that Damian and Marinette were expecting? This would go down as the best accidental reveal in their family history.     

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[adorablele]

wrist aches; h.rj

hello!! could you write a renjun fluff where they're like soulmates and they finally meet each other? your works are literally so cute uwu 

↬ genre; fluff // soulmate!au

↬ word count; 1.8k+

↬ summary; your wrist aches every time he paints about you

↬ a/n; THIS GIF OF RENJUN EXISTS AND I ONLY KNEW ABOUT IT NOW?? he looks so ~boyfriend material~ ahem, let me collect myself for a second,,,,,right, so this ended up being longer than I planned it to be, but please enjoy painter!renjun

“why are you hurting?” you mumbled, staring at your right wrist.

your frown deepened, the ache in your wrist similar to a growing pain but not quite the same. you closed your eyes, stretching your arm upwards, letting it hang in the air. it was three in the morning, and all you wanted to do was sleep.

nothing changed, even after five minutes.

you sighed, letting your arm drop and turning your body to lay on your back. just as quickly as it came, the pain went away.

-

renjun gasped awake, afraid that he was going to get hit by that girl’s arm. he stared confusedly at the paintbrush in his hand and was even more confused at the finished painting in front of him. the last time he checked, he fell asleep in his bed.

and oddly enough, he found himself wanting to kiss your ache away.

“that’s amazing, ‘sung!” you told your brother, leaning forward on your balcony railing. you looked at your wrist, the ache starting to bother you.

“it was magical,” jisung dreamily sighed. you knew your brother’s eyes matched the starry night sky.

“I believe that this is the first time I’ve ever heard someone say that getting punched in the face was magical,” you chuckled.

he was silent.

“hello?” you asked, moving your phone to see if he disconnected.

“have you gotten your soulmate mark?”

you swallowed, the throb in your wrist increasing, “it’s late, you should go to sleep.”

“y/n-”

“goodnight, ‘sung.”

you hung up, brushing a hand through your hair. stretching your limbs, you held onto the railings. the various buildings of the city mushed together in front of you.

you looked up, closing your eyes as a shooting star passed by.

“I’m getting impatient,” you sighed, “find me soon.”

-

renjun blinked his eyes open, another painting finished. he stared at his outstretched hand and brought it back to his lap. why couldn’t he see your face?

he sighed, looking out the window. how was he supposed to find you if he didn’t know what you looked like?

well, at least he knew your name. his phone let out a ding.

‘I know a place you can display your art!’

you ignored the giggles of the girl to your left.

“stop,” she quietly told the guy next to her, continuing to fold clothes.

“but my girlfriend looks so cute,” her boyfriend smiled, snapping more photos.

did they have to do coupley things at 3 in the morning? you chucked more clothes in the washing machine. couldn’t they leave you to wash your clothes by yourself? you aggressively added the laundry detergent, gritting your teeth at the ache in your wrist.

“no! don’t post that,” the girl whined, trying to grab the phone from her boyfriend. he watched in amusement, stretching his arm to make it out of her reach.

you slammed the washing machine door closed. the couple jumped, looking over at you. you continued to ignore them, picking up the empty basket.

“would you take cute photos of me?” you whispered to yourself, eyes trailing to your aching wrist.

-

renjun tilted his head at the painting of you, your back towards him, yet again.

“most definitely.”

“another night without sleep,” you frowned, adjusting the ice pack on your wrist as the clock glared 3:46 am.

you closed your eyes, laying your head down on the table. you thought about the instagram account jaemin showed you today.

“this is the artist’s account,” he explained, giving you his phone.

“who are you?” you read. the post showed a painting of a girl laying down on her side, her back in view. her right arm was stuck up straight in the air and her hair was a mess on her pillow. purple, iridescent sparkles glowed on her wrist, floating around in the air and trailing to her open window. an empty spot on the bed sat next to her, almost beckoning someone to lay with her; it felt rather cold.

there was something about her that made you feel funny, like you knew the girl.

“that’s one of the paintings we’re hanging tomorrow,” jaemin commented.

“huang renjun,” you sighed, finding it odd how smoothly his name rolled off your tongue, “your gallery is in two days and you haven’t once met with us.”

-

who knew his heart would race this fast because you said his name? or maybe it was beating fast because you uttered the words:

“‘haven’t once met with us?’” he repeated, eyes wide as he stared at the painting.

“does this girl seem lonely?” you frowned, head tilting at the painting you were hanging.

the girl was at a laundromat, right hand clenched around the washing machine door. her wrist had the same glow of purple as the one in his instagram post. although you couldn’t see her face, her tense shoulders gave off the vibe that she was annoyed by, you presumed, the blurred out couple to her left.

“what makes you say that?” jaemin asked, adjusting another painting.

you pointed at the girl in his painting, “well, she’s alone in all of these.”

jaemin chuckled, “there’s a lot of people alone in pictures.”

you shook your head, “but doesn’t it feel like she’s looking for something- someone?”

the girl in the painting held onto the balcony railing, her right wrist glowing the same purple as the shooting star in the sky. her head was tilted up, back towards the viewer. the purple sparkles were sprinkled lightly around the cluster of buildings in front of her.

“and what about this one,” you told him, pointing to another painting. the girl was sitting at her kitchen counter, an empty seat across from her. her face was tucked away behind her left arm, her other arm stretched across the table with an ice pack resting on her glowing wrist. the spotlight of the lamp above her did nothing but accentuate the fact that her apartment was empty.

“don’t you want to hold her hand?” you mumbled sadly.

after a moment of silence, jaemin spoke.

“well, I don’t think she’s alone.”

“why not?”

“don’t you see all the purple? it’s on her wrist, right?” he shook his own wrist, “that’s where most people have their soulmate marks.”

you stared at him, still confused, “what’s your point?”

he rolled his eyes, “I think the artist is trying to say that even if you feel like you’re alone, you’ve got your other half there with you.”

-

“is this everything?” you asked, hanging the last canvas.

you looked over to jaemin, confused as to why he looked nervous, “I think we forgot one.”

“well, he can just bring when he comes here, right?”

he frowned, “he’s not coming in today.”

“we’re supposed to open tomorrow! how are we supposed to-” you inhaled sharply, pain suddenly shooting through your wrist, “I’ll just go to his studio.”

“renjun?” you called out, knocking on his door. you clicked your tongue, your phone going to the automated voice message system.

“hello?” you called out again, surprised to see that his front door was open.

you wandered inside, not seeing his shoes by the door, but you did see the painting you forgot.

“is anyone home?” you shouted, picking up the canvas.

there was a girl on it, her knees hugged to her chest. her purple glowing wrist covered her eyes, the tears still dripping down her chin. a crumpled wedding invitation laid next to her on the wrinkled bed sheets, words glimmering under the moonlight. a weird sense of deja vu swirled in your stomach and the ache in your wrist worsened.

“am I going to be alone forever?” you wailed, fridge empty of any ice cream that you could use to eat away your sorrow..

chenle held his fiance in his arms, the both of them smiling as they looked into each other’s eyes. it didn’t help that you just finished watching a kdrama that made you feel single AF.

you dropped the wrinkled piece of paper next to you, hugging your knees tightly to your chest. the ache in your wrist was nothing compared to emptiness in your heart.

“just got myself until then, I guess.”

you placed down the painting and shook away the memory. “I can give you a ride to the museum,” you announced, exploring further into the apartment. sketches of a girl littered his apartment, none of them revealing what her face looked like.

“renjun?” you asked, slowly pushing open the ajar door, the ache in your wrist dulling away.

he was there, facing away from you. he sat in front of a canvas.

“it’s you.”

your furrowed brows soon rose in shock when he turned around, revealing a painting of you. you stood in the open doorway, face caught in surprise.

“you’re way more beautiful in person.”

“that’s...that’s my face,” you dumbly replied.

renjun chuckled, “I believe it is.”

your face felt hot and you wished that he didn’t looked so good with messy brown hair that shined under the sun. you really hoped you weren’t drooling.

his eyes crinkled with joy and held the same relieved look as yours. for a moment the two of you stared into each other’s eyes, the world put on pause.

“wait,” you suddenly said, everything clicking in your head, “are you the reason why my wrist hurts?”

he chuckled, stepping closer to you. he gently grabbed your right wrist, giving it a peck, “sorry ‘bout that.”

if possible, you felt your face heat up even more, “you can make up for it with a date.”

you stepped away from him, “but not before we add the final touches to the gallery.” you quickly turned away from him, annoyed that your face hasn’t cooled down and that your heart was still pumping like you just finished a race.

“let’s go,” you mumbled, hurrying out the door.

renjun raised his brows, taking the painting of you and the other painting that you initially came for.

“can’t forget these, can we?” he reminded, meeting you by the elevator.

you blinked, away your daze. “of course!” you told him, looking ahead. did he have to be so handsome?

when the two of you got into the elevator, you stood in the farthest corner, away from him.

“you know,” he started after a few moments of silence, “for someone who seemed very eager to meet me, you sure act like you don’t like me.”

you turned to him, his teasing smirk making the butterflies in your stomach go wild. “well, being around you makes my mind go blank.”

the elevator dinged and you didn’t waste any time to bolt to your car. you scrunched your face in embarrassment, hoping that maybe the earth will swallow you up.

“if it makes you feel any better, I can’t think straight when you’re naturally adorable like that,” he told you, easily catching up with you.

“don’t say things like that,” you pouted. your face was burning hotter now.

“but it’s true! you’re acting cute right now,” he laughed. your heart thumped at the noise, the most joyous sound you’ve ever heard.

you sighed, opening your car door. this boy will be the death of you.

[janekfan]

Hello friend!! I thought of a prompt, and if you like it, it's yours!! What if Tim was kidnapped by the circus with Jon?? They're having a bad time together; Tim is hostile. Eventually, Jon starts to get quieter, and Tim thinks he's in a mood. Jon complains of a headache, and Tim thinks he's being a baby. Until he finds out he's burning up and was just too afraid to say anything because he didn't think he could take Tim telling him he didn't care 😭 (but, begrudgingly, he DOES) 💖

oooooooh this prompt! Had me feeling things! Thank you @taylortut!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26400745

It was Tim who woke up first, unsure of where he was, still with the residual anger he’d had on his way to confront Jon about all of this nonsense still burning incandescent. Hindsight being 20/20, he probably should have taken the anonymous tip on Jon’s location with a grain of salt and a fistful of caution but he was just so angry it was filling him up like a poison, overflowing with nowhere to go, and it was so much easier to focus on his boss because it was his fault they were in this mess.

It was his fault Sasha was gone.

It was his fault they were all trapped.

“T’Tim...” Barely an exhale and if the room they were contained in hadn’t been dead quiet, he’d ignore Jon. Still might. Let him sit in the guilt and shame of having inflicted whatever this was on yet another assistant.

If he even cared.

“Where...are we?” There was some light to see by, but not nearly enough to determine the answer to that even if he’d wanted to speak to him in the first place. Based on his own headache, Tim assumed that Jon had been knocked unconscious as well and corroborated it with the hiss of pain drawn sharply between his teeth.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” Snapping callously and surprising even himself at the harsh bite in his voice, Jon flinched hard, turning with it to examine the space.

“We’re tied up.” He remarked, nonplussed, and Tim heard him pulling at his bonds. It wasn’t rope, but something softer and before he could think on it further a shaft of light fell upon Jon as a being, not quite a person, stepped through a door. “Nikola.”

“Well acquainted are you?” Tim scoffed.

“Not by choice.” And he didn’t look anywhere except straight at the thing he’d named, vitriol in his eyes, in the firm set of his jaw.

“Oh, Archivist. Don’t be like that.” Her smile was inhuman, too many teeth, not quite right. “And please do stop frowning like that.” Jon turned away from the fingers claiming his chin and Tim had once been so close to him that he knew he didn’t like to be touched unless he trusted you. Like Tim had trusted him. “I want you in pristine condition for the show.” She snapped once and several mannequins surrounded and released Jon from his bonds. They tried to drag him through the door and Jon fought like a beast possessed, wild and feral and loud and no match for their sturdy yet gentle grip as they carried him off against his will. It left Tim alone in sudden silence, a little stunned and more than a little worried and he’d take that to his grave, thank you very much.

With nothing else to focus his attention on, Tim could only think of how awful Jon looked illuminated in that cold beam with that monster leering down at him. Could only think about how hard he fought before he was hauled away in cold, plastic hands and wondered if that was the last of him.

But he was returned, quiet and haunted, still and silent when they tied him back down and resisting the water they held to his lips until they forced it on him by holding his nose, sputtering and hacking as they poured it down his throat. Calm, Tim took his ration, puzzling over his strange behavior and trying to get a closer look, but Jon just hid behind his overgrown hair, using it like a curtain to shield his face and visibly shivering.

“Given up already?” He sneered, trying to get a rise out of him.

He failed.

Time waxed and waned, strained and stretched, dilating like a pupil in the dark whenever Tim tried to keep track of it. Eventually, he gave up. It didn’t seem like there was any rhyme or reason regarding when they took Jon, but he assumed it was at least once a day. Each time he raged against them with everything he had and each time they overpowered him like he was a child and hurried him off to god knows where. Each time he was tied back down he had an odd blank look in his eye that gradually cleared until it didn’t, trembling finely and Tim used it as a way to needle him, goad him, tried to make him do something, anything. Without a response he didn’t know if he was getting through to him, but it made him feel better to take out his frustration on Jon.

Days passed. Inexorably slow with nothing to do save yell at his sole companion. Jon still tried to make his taking as difficult as he could, but he was slowing down, losing strength on a diet of bread and sips of water. Now when he returned he shook with the effort of weeping without sound, turned away as far as he could and spilling sorrow down the front of his shirt.

“Oh, little Archivist.” Nikola purred one day, lifting his face with a delicately placed fingertip. “Do you know why he hates you?” A new game they were forced to play. Because they were held captive by the Circus. And the Circus had taken Danny. And Tim screamed himself hoarse demanding answers from Jon when he'd been told.

“You’re lucky I’m tied down, Jon! I would take my answers by force if these fuckers would let me!” Jon never said anything other than apologies and it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t fair and when Jon cried it made him that much more furious because what right did he have to be upset when he was the one doing all this to them!

“We can’t have that, Tim.” She would smirk, placing her hands over his shoulders in a mock massage, tone soothing and so understanding. “We need him to be perfect.”

“Perfect.” Tim spat. Perfect. And Jon shook harder at Nikola’s cryptic words until she turned her machinations toward Tim because, after all? If he’d kept a closer eye on his precious family, would he have lost him at all?

“It’s really your fault if you think about it.” Tim tried his damndest to get closer, grappling so hard with his bonds he fell over and still tried to take a chunk out of her with his teeth. She merely laughed, ridiculing them both.

“Leave off!” Jon shouted, Tim’s chest was heaving against the floor as he twisted and bent himself into all manner of shapes in a fruitless attempt to attack her again, blind with rage and hate.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” Nikola caressed his skin and Jon bit his lip until blood ran in rivelets but she left.

“I’m so sor--”

“Save it. Don’t think this changes anything.” Uncomfortable and sore and still seething, Tim laid there until they came for Jon.

Whatever they were doing was taking a visible toll and Jon’s resistance began tapering off and he became too tired to put up a fight. He’d developed a cough that kept them both awake. It began small, chronic and dry, but no less obnoxious and only Jon could find more ways to make this captivity more difficult.

“Stop it.” Clipped and bitter.

“Sorry, sorry. Smoking, you know.” Tim didn’t answer and Jon’s attempts to stifle it were sorely lacking, bursting from his chest like a gunshot.

“You know what they want, don’t you.” Surprised, he looked up, nodding slowly, brow furrowed. “Well?”

“It’s. It’s.” Real fear raced across his face before he could stop it and he swallowed thickly.

“Lemme guess. It involves you.” Tim’s ire began to rise because of course it did.

“Yes.”

“And you won’t just give it over to save us?” Jon looked away, eyes shut tight.

“No.” He tried to take a deep breath and it lodged somewhere in between. “But it’s becau--”

“Save it. Coward. It’s enough that you won’t consider it.” Resentful, Tim again wanted to get his hands on him because of course he’d refuse. There wasn’t a more selfish man in the archives. “So this is it then? We go the way of Sasha?”

“I--”

“Because you didn’t help her either. Didn’t even notice.” It was his turn to hide because he’d be damned if Jon saw him cry. “Maybe if she’d been the Archivist, it would have been you.”

Jon didn’t, couldn’t fight this time and was more lifeless than any time before when they secured him which seemed to please Nikola and she praised him, dragging fingers through his messy hair, pulling sharply on the tangles.

“Ah, you’ve finally learned, Jon." And she tapped his cheek, sickeningly tender, before finally leaving him alone.

“Giving up so soon?” Tim scoffed; ‘so soon’ being weeks into their capture when Jon was clearly exhausted, sleeping more and more in between waking enough to hack up a lung. He could hear the wheeze on his breath from where he was across the room. “Figures.”

“Jus’… m'head hurts.” Laughing bitterly, Tim told him to keep it to himself. Dealing with Jon when he was in a mood or whining for the sake of it hadn’t made it onto his agenda. But the part that cared, that he’d tried to stamp out and fill with hate, reminded him that they were both dehydrated and hungry.

Reminded him that Jon was getting quieter and quieter, going long stretches between speaking and this time when he was carried away, he was frighteningly lax and loose, head thrown back and gasping, overbright eyes half lidded. This time, when they dragged him back and tied him up, he was crying openly, shaking fit to fly apart and eerily quiet. But the tears were there, streaming down his face and gathering on his chin before his trembling got the better of them.

“Jon?” If anything, he sobbed harder, the sound choked off as he tried so, so hard to be quiet.

“Please s’stop, Tim.” And his whisper was so broken, so small and sad, that Tim shut his mouth, because Jon was at his breaking point and he’d helped push him to it.

Now Tim couldn't stop looking at Jon and it made the other man self conscious when he was awake enough to notice, trying to keep his head turned away when he had the strength and it wasn't thrown back over the chair while he gasped like a fish out of water.

The few times Tim caught him looking his way were fraught with weariness. Jon's red rimmed eyes, bruised and ringed with shadow, held a constant question and reminded him too much of his paranoia. Truthfully, the stare was heavy and he was uncomfortable with the weight of it leveled across his shoulders.

"What're you staring at?" But it was a half-hearted attempt at inflicting hurt and Jon shrugged, blinking and a few times as if to clear his vision.

"You okay?" It sounded like he'd been swallowing gravel, rough and low and painful.

"What do you think?" And Tim couldn't stop responding in anger, swearing to himself that Jon's defeated expression meant less than nothing.

Jon wasn’t well.

He’d been unconscious for the better part of a day and Tim hadn’t been able to rouse him; shouting at him from the other side of the room wasn't enough but he tried once more out of desperation.

“Jon, buddy. Jon!”

“Mmwha'Tim?” Cracked right in the middle, it was forced through a deep wet cough that sounded bad. Really bad. The effort left his narrow chest heaving with every difficult pull for air, like he was breathing through a straw.

“Oh, thank god.” Even with the distance between them Tim could see his face twist up in confusion. “You weren't answering me.”

“Talkin t'me?” Panting and pale in the weird light, Jon’s features seemed carved from shadow and sweat.

“Yes, who else??” More than used to Tim’s frustration and annoyance, Jon just let his chin tip forward on his chest. “Jon, what's wrong.”

“Head hur's.” Slurring badly, Jon gave up words altogether in favor of letting his dark lashes flutter closed.

“You've said! What else?” Yelling and angry and helpless, the guilt rose in him like a slow and deadly tide when he saw tears slipping down his face. Tim was scared and he was mean, shouting and demanding, because of it. Because he thought he was done caring about this paranoid menace who had posed as his friend and gotten them into this mess. And he wasn't, oh he wasn't and something was seriously, seriously wrong and he was tied to a chair two meters away and couldn’t do anything about it. “Jon! Don’t, hey! Don’t go to sleep!” But it didn’t matter, he was already gone.

“Well, don’t you look tetchy.” Tim ignored Nikola’s jab the next time she and her clowns came to visit and through a surge of protectiveness he hadn’t felt in so long for anybody, he spoke on his behalf.

“Please. Jon, he. Something’s wrong.” She didn’t look impressed.

“He’s stopped his fighting.”

“Let me check on him. Whatever you need him for, he won’t be any use if he’s dead, right?” Nikola laughed, cruel smile striking fear into Tim’s heart for the first time.

“It wouldn’t matter, truly. But. Well," grabbing a fistful of hair, she forced his head back and forth to get a good look at him. "I just don’t think he’s done yet. And that would be a shame--I do so wish to look my best.” Tim was no closer to figuring out what was happening but it didn’t matter anymore. “I assure you, if you try to run.”

“I won’t.” Swiftly promised, they’d escape another time. Somehow, someway. “Untie us?”

“Us?” She chuckled and in the end, only released Tim but it would have to do, and once he was sure she was well and truly gone, he stumbled on numb legs to stand over him.

“Jon?” Gently, like he might break under the weight of his hand, Tim laid it over his forehead, brushing back through his tangled hair when the heat of it met his palm. He was a furnace, burning away to nothing and very sick. “Jon?” He tore a strip off the bottom of his shirt, wiping away the sweat because there was nothing else he could do until he finally came around. “Hey, Jon.” Jerking away with enough force that Tim had to catch the chair, he coughed with his shoulders hunched around his ears like--

Like Tim was going to strike him.

“Oh, no, no.” What a mess they’d made. “Hey, none of that.” When he went to apply the compress again, Jon flinched, shaking, muttering breathlessly:

“Don’touch, please, don’touch me any’anymore. Pl’please.” So now he was free, free to see up close the terror and fear, faced with it plainly enough to question that Jon wanted any of this at all, or if he was just as caught in it’s spiraling web. He wore himself out, body slumped uncomfortably where he was tied as he lost consciousness and Tim was at a loss as to what to do. He wasn’t able to pick apart the knots, didn’t have anything to slice through his bonds. No medicine, no water. Nothing, and so he finally relegated himself to pounding on the door, shouting, pleading for water because Jon was out of his mind with fever and wouldn't let Tim touch him. Of course it went unanswered, and instead he found himself sitting crisscross at Jon’s feet. “Don’...don’touch…”

“I won’t, I promise. Not, not until you say I can.” Wringing his hands, remembering every time they'd helped each other through a sick day at the institute. Remembering when he was free to touch and free to comfort. Jon ruined that. But it shouldn't mean he was afraid of him.

“T’tim?” The whimper of recognition made the fist around his heart squeeze. “They...they’re. My skin. Take it. G’g’gonna take it.”

“Calm down, you’re not making sense.” And shaking so hard with chills his teeth were chattering.

“It’s going to, to hurt. She, Ni-she.” Worked up, Jon was hyperventilating, barely getting any air between his coughing and rambling but he wouldn’t listen to Tim. “It’s, it’s. I, I, I don’wan’to h’hurt anymore…” Delirious, he had to be, paranoid and ill and delusional and he said as much.

“Okay, Jon? That’s not going to happen.”

“Why Tim!” Nikola’s delighted voice rose up behind him and he startled. “He didn’t tell you? This ritual requires a special ingredient, a costume! Of special power and distinction and you,” she tapped his forehead sharply, “just don’t fit the bill!”

“Costume?”

“Of course!” When she clapped her hands together it made a sharp plastic clatter. “Our Archivist here will have the most lovely skin when we’re through with him.” Tim felt sick to his stomach. Jon. He’d. He’d called him a coward. Wished awful things on him and maybe it would be impossible to be friends again but, but they’d been friends once. Been close once. And.

“Please. He, he needs water.” His voice shook. “His--” skin “It’ll be better if he’s had enough water.”

“A wonderful idea!” She turned away from where she was tracing lines over his body, “to think I wanted to kill you upon arrival, when you’ve been so useful in keeping our mutual friend in line!”

“Slow, slow Jon.” He pulled the cup away when it seemed he’d try for the whole of it at once, “you’ll make yourself sick.”

“T’Tim...need.”

“I know, be patient.” Jon’s brown eyes were piercing even glassed with fever, all his limited focus directed at Tim.

“N’no.” He paused to get enough breath to speak. “Run. You n’need to run.” Days ago, Tim would have done so in a heartbeat but the thought of abandoning him now. He couldn’t.

“I cant.”

“Tim”

“No, not without you.” His gaze was devastating and he dropped his head.

“Why?” He didn’t have an answer and thankfully didn’t need one because at that very moment a yellow door appeared where one had never been before and through it stepped a man who both was and wasn’t, face ever changing, limbs elongating in strange intervals and he had to look away.

“I’ve come to kill you, Archivist.” A distorted echo that was also not an echo filled up the room.

“Get in line, you’re not the only one who wants a piece.” The being seemed taken aback, tickled that a human would even dare, and Jon used the gap in their conversation to draw its attention.

“Michael.” The thing that was Not What It Is shifted focus, oil on water. “Tell me.” And while Jon couldn’t say anything more than that, he did and instead of killing the archivist, Helen saved him, using sharp fingers that warped and writhed to slice the bonds and send him sprawling to the ground. Or would have, if Tim hadn’t caught him. He wouldn’t respond to Tim’s shaking and shouting and when Helen offered to grant them both safe passage as a favor to her favorite Sims (her only Sims, Tim figured) he lifted him into his arms and stepped through the door.

And into his own flat.

“Do tell him I say hello, would you?”

“Uh, yeah. ‘Course.” Awkwardly, he waved with his arms still full of Jon. “Thanks.” When he was sure his flat had only the same number of doors it came with, he laid his burden down on the couch, heading to the medicine cabinet for any fever reducer he could find and filling a glass with water on the way. It took too much time to wake him and he wasn’t aware enough to parse the instructions Tim was trying to explain, that dreadful whistling almost deafening this close and the crackling in his lungs like dry leaves in autumn. So he propped him up against his shoulder, body blazing through their clothes, and slipped the pills onto his tongue one at a time so he could swallow them with small sips. Replacing himself with several pillows shoved behind him, Tim wrung out a cool flannel and smoothed it over his forehead, ignoring the sluggish, enquiring gaze until it disappeared behind heavy lids and his face relaxed into sleep.

There wasn’t anything in the fridge that survived his absence save for the bicarbonate of soda and beyond that, Tim didn’t want to take a chance opening anything. The bread was moldy, but a packet of biscuits with peanut butter helped dull the hunger and, though he would never admit it, gave him a reason to stay up to watch over Jon. Flushed and fevered, he mumbled nonsense in his sleep, and Tim recognized enough that he soon decided not to listen, the horror of it too much to bear just yet. He fell into his own bed, relaxing sore muscles and glanced at the clock blaring too bright numbers that he didn’t want to read, his last conscious decision that they’d been gone this long, what was one more night before telling everyone else they weren’t dead.

The sun, blessed sun, fell across his face and he let himself have a lie in until he remembered who was passed out on his couch and he dragged himself towards responsibility, a knot of apprehension tight in his throat, relaxing when Jon looked, well, not well, but better. Apparently sensitive to being watched, their eyes collided briefly before ricocheting away and Tim was irritated by it and the way Jon was avoiding him again.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were that sick?” Though Tim stood over him, Jon continued to look at his hands, tracing a finger over the rough scar spanning his whole palm. He took his time, thinking, so long that when Tim shouted “well?!” he jumped, eyes wide, breath catching.

“You. You said.” Coughing into his elbow, he needed a moment to recover. “Said t’to keep it to myself.”

“When you were complaining about a headache!” Jon shrugged with one shoulder, curling into himself small and fragile, somehow more so in the late morning light.

“Didn’t think--”

“No, you didn’t, you never do, Jon!”

“--you’d want to know.”

“Jon.” But would he have wanted to know? Would he have ignored it like he had his anguish? What reason had Tim given him when he’d used everything he experienced in that room and out of it as a weapon against him? Jon was looking up at him, wan and pallid, waiting for whatever Tim had to say and he knew he would take it like he’d taken it in their captivity. He sat on the low table in front of the couch. “Jon. I’m. You know I’m angry with you.” He nodded. “I’m sorry for, I took it too far. But, I’d still have wanted to know.” He pressed the next dose of medicine into his unblemished hand and made sure the water glass was within reach. “Take those.” Before he slipped into the kitchen and away from their shared mistakes, but he could still hear.

“Thank you, Tim.”

“Oh,” he popped his head back into the sitting room. “Helen says hello.” And chuckled when Jon threw an arm over his eyes with a groan.