#throwing himself to the ground and screaming because he has enough pent up emotions to literally spontaneously combust at any moment

[aurantiumred]

granting Jason full rights to scream at the top of his lungs during The Incident™ at the end of blood of olympus. i did too buddy.

he has rights to have at least one mental breakdown.

[minerviewrites]

How Arcane spends time with you :]

Sfw fluff with gn reader :)

Warnings: None that I can think of :))

❀ —————————————— ❀

Jayce- Pillow fights 100%. Jayce spends so much time hunched over in the lab that he just needs to let out all the pent up energy. Before you started dating he would go to the gym or forge, but he's found that he rather enjoys jumping around the house trying to dodge your barrage of pillows. It gives him the emotional relief he needs while hearing your giggles at the same time; the same giggles that turn to loud laughter after he tackles you to the ground and gives you a barrage of kisses instead of soft pillows

Viktor- Baths and some well deserved self care. Much alike Jayce, Viktor spends days at a time in the lab without breaks, much less a bath. Practically the first thing he does when he gets home is beeline to the bathroom; he feels the need to freshen up before seeing you as he doesn't want to smell badly around you. His favorite thing is when you wash his hair for him though; your fingers combing through the tiny knots and scratching his scalp is super calming. Also does face masks with you if you have any, though he complains a little at the slimy texture

Caitlynn- Volunteering at animal shelters with you! Cait has always had a soft spot for all kinds of animals, and sharing that interest with you is very important to her. She's visited the shelter in Piltover so much that the workers know her by name and know her favorite long term pets. She'll practically drag you around the halls of the shelter showing you all of the elderly cats and dogs; they all seem to love her, rubbing against her legs and trying to hop up on her lap. Cait will teach you how to calm the animals down and show them you aren't a threat. Overall very calm day lazing with some cats n dogs

Vi- Working out while watching movies. Vi has practically taken over the guest room with workout equipment- luckily she kept the bed and TV so you could hang out while she does various routines. Put on some kind of comedy and you have her HOOKED; she'll run on the treadmill for hours while complaining about how cheesy the movie is, even though he eyes have rarely left the screen. Vi might tease you a bit about watching a movie instead of watching her work out, but she'll definitely get flustered if you start watching her

Ekko- Playing horror video games with you! He's a little bit of a crybaby about it, but he'll always boot up the games with a smile on his face and a loving look in his eye. Ekko is super slow while playing the games and frequently back tracks on himself when scary music picks up. Usually has you sat in front of him while he wraps his arms under yours to hold the controller. You'll probably have to wear earplugs while sitting with him because he SCREAMS everytime something happens, even if it isn't scary

Sevika- Loves cooking with you over all else. She has a rough job, so being able to come home and do something actually normal is extremely relaxing for her. Sevika usually likes to bake rather than cook though, so if you don't mind, she'd love to throw a couple pies in the oven that you two made yourselves. She'll put her arms around your waist and rock back and forth while humming; it's a rare moment where she feels completely safe and content

Silco- Reading by the fireplace with you in his lap. Silco has very rare moments of peace, so he prefers to just relax completely and play with your hair. Having you just resting on his lap is enough for him; he doesn't expect anything grand like flowers or cuddles or a date out. He knows how unbearable living in Zaun can be, so he'll light the fireplace and make sure you're okay before finally settling down on the couch. If you play with his fingers he'll absolutely melt and won't be able to focus on the book in his hand

Vander- Napping with you! Hear me out- talking or impressing each other isn't needed here, all you both want is to settle down with some nice cozy blankets and maybe some warm coffee or tea. Vander gets exausted between work and the kids, so he just needs these moments with you to catch up on well needed sleep. He is a HUGE heater though, so there's no lack of warmth when you're pressed against his chest. Also grumbles a lot in his sleep and will cuddle closer if you somehow manage to wiggle your way out of his bear hug

[shydreamerwitch]

Baby I’m Jealous

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected Sex (Don’t be silly wrap your willy), angst, Oral (M! receiving), Spanking, Hairpulling. 

A/N: Sorry guys, I deleted the original one because for whatever reason Tumblr is being a dick. 

You can feel Namjoon’s glare on the side of your head. You’re purposefully ignoring him, hoping it’s making him squirm. You both are attending  an event at the Big Hit Building. You're obviously his plus one. At least that's what you thought, but when you both entered the party Namjoon’s attention was immediately taken from you by one of the stylists that works for him. You were okay with waiting for the conversation to end, but with the way her hand was glued to his arm and the way his eyes never left hers you decided it would just be better to entertain yourself. You would never tell him you were jealous, because he was yours, you had nothing to be jealous of. Right? Her high pitched giggle rang out in the air and you could see him laughing with her, which is what led you here, next to Jimin, your own laughter combating with hers, and Namjoon burning a hole in your head. Seems like he wasn't laughing anymore. You’re truly enjoying talking with Jimin, the both of you got along almost as soon as you had met over a year ago. You could easily say he is one of your best friends. “Uh Y/N, I think Namjoon-hyung is about to blow a gasket. If he clenches his jaw anymore it might shatter.” Jimin states worriedly. “Jimin, as much as I love how worried you are about him and his jaw, this is what he gets for ignoring me.” You and Jimin never really hide anything from each other, always open and honest. So when you first walked up to him and told him what was going on, he agreed to keep you company. “He’s walking over. I’m gonna die, he’s going to kill me Y/N. You should see his fa- Hyung! How are you doing? I see you were having a lovely conversation.” You refused to look up at him, but if Jimin’s face is any indication, you know he’s pissed. “Jimin-ssi. I’m fine. Seems like you and Y/N are having enough fun over here for everyone.” He is seething. You don't need to look with the way he shoots his words out, completely dripping with passive aggressiveness. You couldn't lie, knowing he’s angry at you turns you on. Very much. You were a brat, so what about it? “We were having so much fun when you decided to interrupt with your bad attitude. Why don't you go back to talk to your stylist noona, hmm?” You shoot back at him. He wanted to be petty, you could be worse. He scoffs at you. You feel him get closer to you, “You're kidding yeah? Is someone jealous?” He whispers in your ear. “I don't know Namjoon, are you?” You throw back at him. You are in no mood for this back and forth. Jimin who is there the whole time watching the two of you bicker finally decides to make an exit. “So I will let the two of you figure, whatever this is, out. I’ll text you later Y/N'' As he walks away you feel Namjoon grab your waist. Finally making eye contact with him you can see just how angry he is. “You done being a brat?” He has the audacity to call you a brat? “ Are you joking? Why am I the brat? You completely ignored me and then made our friend uncomfortable because you wanted to beat on your chest! So if anyone is the brat here, it’s you.” Namjoon clenches his jaw. 

He pulls you out of the event space and toward the elevators. My god, you can feel the heat radiating off of him as you both stand in the elevator saying nothing to each other. You shouldn't be so excited, but there was something about pissing him off that turned you on. The elevator opens up on the floor of his studio, Namjoon grabs your wrist and brings you toward his studio door. “Sit.” Is all he says when you enter the studio. You don't comply, instead choosing to stand in the middle of the room. “I wasn’t asking Y/N.” You roll your eyes at him. “ No, you don't get to command shit when you were being a dick downstairs.”  Calling him out of his name may have been too much, but at this point you don't care. He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Was I acting like a dick? Was I not being polite? Or Did you just get jealous, and decided to be petty by using Jimin as a tactic in your silly game? Thought I wouldn’t guess your silly game? We’ve been together too long for that Y/N.” He let go of your face and began pacing. You watch him move back and forth, just knowing he was thinking of a way to punish you. “We can talk about this, later. Right now, I want you on your knees. Now.” You are pent up, you already knew your behavior was going to set him off. You sink to your knees in front of him.Your dress riding up once you hit the ground. “Take it off. I want to see what you have underneath, princess.” You grab the hem of your dress, lifting it up slowly. You relish in the way Namjoon groans at every inch of exposed skin he sees. You wear his favorite red lace bra and panty set. Tonight was supposed to be special in a different way, but you are more than willing to take this impromptu session. “Oh baby. You look stunning here on your knees like a good girl. Why couldn’t you have been this good downstairs?” He moves towards you, squatting to your level. He places a kiss on your mouth before standing again. He maintains eye contact with you as he unzips his dress pants and pulls his cock out. Your mouth begins to water at the sight of it, tip an angry red, precum already leaking. “Like what you see? Open. Tongue out.” He says while he taps his tip on your appendage. You keep your mouth open, anticipating his next move. He gently slides his cock into your mouth, releasing a groan when you wrap your warm mouth around him, allowing him to go as far as he can. Once your nose hits his soft brush of hairs, and you can feel him at the back of your throat, he pulls back out. “Fuck Y/N your mouth is so good.” He praises. You say nothing waiting for him to take control. “I’m not going to hold back this time. So I suggest you get your pretty little mouth ready for a serious fucking.” He grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail in one hand and his cock in the other. He shoves himself into your mouth this time much rougher than the first time keeping his promise of not holding back. You begin to drool as his pace quickens, tears burning your eyes. You look up at him, his face in a state of euphoria. “Yes, what a good little brat you are. Seems like the only way to shut you up is to shove my cock into your mouth.” You moan around him. Suddenly he stops thrusting, pulling out of your mouth. “As much as I really want to see my cum all over your face, I want that pussy just a little bit more. Get up.” He helps you up and leads you to the couch. He bends you over, landing one slap on your ass. You moan out as your ass begins to sting. “You like that? You like when I spank you? You dirty girl.” At this point your underwear was sticking to you uncomfortably. Namjoon rubs his fingers over your covered slit. “Namjoon please. Don’t tease.” You beg. “Y/N please. Stop talking.” He retorts. You let out a growl of frustration. “Nam-Ah!” Your complaint dying on your lips as Namjoon moves your panties aside and shoves two fingers into you. “Fuck! Yes sir. Thank you.” You hear Namjoon laugh. “There’s my obedient girl.” He scissors his fingers into you at a rapid pace. His other hand grabbing a fistful of your hair. He turns your head to the side to look at him. “You like that? Like how I fuck this cunt with just my fingers?” You can barely comprehend what he's saying to you with how close you are to your orgasm. “Yes sir. I love it!” You scream. You're so close, just a few more thrusts, when Namjoon suddenly pulls his fingers away. It takes everything in you not to scream out in frustration. “Hmm, look who’s finally quiet.” Namjoon teases as he rubs his cock up and down your soaked folds. He allows his tip to breach your entrance. You hold your breath in anticipation, you were so close to being filled with him. Once you feel Namjoon fill you completely you let out a sigh of content. “My god. So good for me.” He praises as he shallowly thrust into you. “Yes sir. I just want to be good for you.” You cry, hoping he’ll move faster. “You weren't very good downstairs were you?” Namjoon says as he thrusts harshly into you. You let out a moan. “I’m sorry sir. I was jealous. I just wanted your attention.”  You could hear him laugh behind you. “Baby girl. Fuck. You know you’re the only one who always has my attention.” His thrust began to pick up in speed. Namjoon pulls out of you to lay you on the couch in the studio. He climbs on top of you re-entering into you. You moan out and look at him. You both maintain eye contact as he fucks into you. The way he’s looking at you has you feeling warm, any feelings of anger between the two of you now gone. There are no more words exchanged. Just the sounds of you both moaning, and skin slapping on skin. Namjoon slides his hand in between the both of you and begins to rub your clit. After being denied before you can feel your orgasm creeping up on you. “Joonie. I’m close. Please.” He nods at you, “So am I baby.”  His thrusts become sloppier the closer he gets to releasing. You wrap your legs around his waist. You feel your orgasm approach and before you can say anything Namjoon is pressing his lips onto yours suppressing any noises you were going to make. After a few more thrusts you can feel him spill into you with a moan of your name. Without removing himself from inside you, he switches positions so you're laying on top of him. He’s brushing any stray hair out of your face, before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “You know I love you more than anything right?”  He asks looking at you. You nod. “Yes, I know. I love you more than anything too. I just let my emotions get the best of me. The way she was touching you just made me so mad. I’m really sorry I didn’t just talk to you about it initially. But I’m not mad at the resolution.” He chuckles. “The sex was not the resolution jagi. It was just a quick respite from this conversation. I do wish you would have spoken to me, but maybe I should have handled the situation better. I’m sorry as well babe. Next time we can handle it better.” He said rubbing his arms up and down your arms. “Yes, conversations first.” You share another kiss before cleaning up and putting your clothes back on. You fix your hair to the best of your abilities, but a down do would be the way the night would be ending. You both go to exit the studio, but when Namjoon opens the door Jimin and Taehyung both stumble in. “Jimin and I were just making sure you weren’t fighting anymore. And before you ask. Of course he told me.” You both rolled your eyes at them. “So, did you fix whatever it was?” Jimin asks as you all walk back to the party.  

[wondernimbus]

tired — regulus black

pairing: regulus black x female!reader

prompt: regulus loses himself to the dark lord, but she won’t let him.

requests are open. gif credit goes to @elioperl. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

The entire castle seems to be asleep. No sound pierces the otherwise complete silence aside from the occasional hooting of an owl or two in the distance.

But in the Slytherin dungeons, a girl paces restlessly, eyes darting to and from the grandfather clock in the corner of the common room as though in anticipation for something to pop out. Worry is etched deep into the lines of her face, tugging the corners of her lips into a frown and weighing heavily on her chest.

She wrings her hands nervously the same way she has been doing for the past ten minutes now, chewing on her bottom lip and barely even registering the fact that she is beginning to draw blood. No, she can't register much, actually—not right now, when all she can think about is—

"Regulus!"

The door to the common room slides open and reveals from behind it the very person [Y/N] had been so anxious to see. Letting out a breathless sigh, she rushes towards Regulus and, without pausing to even look at him, wraps her arms around his middle.

Relief. It's a wonderful thing to feel.

"You're okay," she whispers into his chest, closing her eyes as she nods compulsively to herself. "You're okay."

[Y/N] feels the vibrations of Regulus's voice in his chest, feels his warm breath on her hair. "I'm okay, love," he whispers, placing his hand on the back of her head as he strokes her hair soothingly. "I'm okay."

The pair of them stay like that for several more moments, basking in the feeling of each other's presence. [Y/N] feels as though a heavy, suffocating weight has been lifted off of her shoulders. He's okay is all she can think to herself; it's the only thought that grounds her to reality, that keeps her sane.

When she finally finds it in herself to pull away, she keeps her hands wrapped around his torso and looks up at him.

Regulus looks tired. He always does these days, but [Y/N] still can't quite get used to it. The hollow bags, the dull hue of his skin and the suddenly more pronounced lines on his face are all signs that something is out of the ordinary, but perhaps what is most alarming is the lack of warmth in his expression. The regular person wouldn't be able to see it, but [Y/N] knows every inch of Regulus better than she knows herself, and the vacancy in his eyes is what makes her grip on his torso falter.

"What happened?"

[Y/N] doesn't know why she'd even bothered asking. She knows that like every other night he left the castle, Regulus had probably stood by the Dark Lord's side as he murdered yet another innocent person. And then a part of her wonders—had it been Regulus who had done the killing this time?

Her arms fall to her sides and she steps away from him, blinking stupidly at the thought.

Regulus's eyes skitter away from hers; she feels a mixture of dread and uneasiness blossom in her stomach like a hideous, deadly flower. He reaches up to adjust the tie around his neck, adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows and opens his mouth to say something—

"No, don't," [Y/N] cuts him off, sighing. "Just.. nevermind. I don't need to know."

And just like that, the night has turned cold and the relief of seeing Regulus alive and whole is gone. The tension between the two of them is palpable—or perhaps Regulus has gotten so numb to things that only [Y/N] can feel it. The idea sends a dull stabbing pain through her chest, and she swallows, bows her head briefly, and says to the floor, "I'll turn in for the night."

"[Y/N]—"

"I don't—" she purses her lips tightly, shaking her head. "I don't want to fight right now, Reg."

"I wasn't planning on it," Regulus mutters.

They fall quiet again. The silence is everything but comfortable; there are a million words between them that need to be said—that [Y/N] wants to say—but the cowardly part of her wants to hang onto the delusion that everything is as normal as it has always been. That Regulus isn't one of the Dark Lord's many ruthless followers—that he is the same Regulus she has always known.

But he isn't. [Y/N] turns around to head to her dormitory, and the thought reverberates through her head again like a plea begging to be heard: he isn't.

It's that thought that causes her to stop in her tracks, turn around and say in a pained voice—"What happened tonight, Regulus?"

He meets her gaze—and she almost wishes he hadn't, because the look in his eyes makes the answer clear even when he refuses to tell her.

"You don't need to know, [Y/N]," he winces. "I'll see you tomorrow—"

"What happened tonight?" she repeats, voice tight.

Regulus squeezes his eyes shut like he's in pain. "[Y/N]—"

"Tell me what he made you do. I want to know."

But all he does is shake his head and turn his body away like he can't bear to face her. [Y/N] doesn't want to walk away from this like it's nothing—with tears of suppressed frustration prickling at the back of her eyes, she takes a deep breath and says quietly, "Did you kill someone?"

Regulus looks up at her, brows furrowed. "No—"

"Did you watch someone get killed?"

"I—"

"Or did you sell one of the Order members out?"

He exhales heavily. "Let me—"

"Or—let's see," her tone of voice rises into a near-shout as all of the frustration she has felt for the past few days builds up in her chest and spills out of her mouth in the form of words; "Did you torture an innocent Muggle? Which one, Regulus?"

Regulus runs an aggravated hand through his hair and groans. "Why do you need to know?"

"Because I'm SCARED for you!" she practically screams, hating the single angry tear that leaks out of her eye. "Do you even realize the risk you're putting yourself in? Do you? Because I do, and I can't stand the thought of you dying or—or worse, losing your head and becoming a mindless serva—"

"I've already told you I won't," Regulus cuts her off through gritted teeth, fists clenching as he turns away. "I know what I'm doing."

"You think you do but you don't—"

"I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!"

She pauses. Regulus has turned around to face her, eyes blown wide as his chest heaves with deep breaths. With his fists clenched painfully tight and his brows pulled in together at the middle in a nasty scowl, he advances towards her and jabs a finger at her chest—"Did you think I went into this blind? You are daft for thinking you know better than me—I know fully well what I've gotten myself into—I know that I'm putting my entire life on the line and I wouldn't have decided to take that risk if I didn't bloody know that I COULD HANDLE IT!"

She should probably back off at this point. A part of her thinks about apologizing—considers reigning it in before things get worse—but [Y/N] is tired. This isn't the first time they've argued about this. She's tired of it—arguing—but beyond that she is sick of having to say goodbye to him whenever he goes on his little quests with the Dark Lord, not knowing when she'd ever see him again or if he'd even be able to come back to her.

[Y/N] is tired.

And because of this, she doesn't back down. Instead, using as much of her pent-up anger as she can muster, she shoves him by the shoulders. It doesn't have its desired effect—Regulus is much too strong for someone her size—but he does stagger back a little.

[Y/N] is tired.

She shoves him again—and again, and again, until he stumbles and trips over the table behind him, falling on his arse. [Y/N] can't put the anger in her chest into words; all that tears its way out of her mouth is a scream of frustration, and at that moment she wants to grab Regulus by the shoulders and shake him to his senses—

But she doesn't even want to touch him anymore at this point.

"I'm doing this—" she cries out angrily, speaking through the tightness in her chest, "I'm doing this because I care about you! Do you think you're special to him? Do you think you're his—what—his right-hand man?" she lets out a mocking scoff, shaking her head. "You're just a fucking puppet to him—"

"I—"

"Something he can throw away anytime he wan—"

Getting to his feet, Regulus seethes, "You don't—"

With a pointed finger jabbing into the air at each word, she shouts in a voice so broken it's a miracle she's able to form words at all, "YOU—ARE—DISPOSABLE!"

Regulus's arm lashes out, but not to hit her—no, he grabs a vase on the table and flings it across the room, where it breaks with an ear-splitting sound into a hundred tiny pieces. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he fumes, eyes wide with an almost manic kind of anger, "He needs me—"

A humorless burst of laughter slips past [Y/N]'s lips. "Don't kid yourself, Regulus."

"He needs me—you don't understand, you will never understand but he needs me—"

Feeling frustrated more than ever, [Y/N] takes a step towards him, spurred on by the white-hot anger in her chest. "I do too!" she chokes out, finding it harder to speak as the raging emotions inside her chest threaten to swallow her whole. "I need you too—that's why I'm doing this—" She's pleading. Pleading with him to listen. To understand.

But he doesn't.

Regulus shakes his head. He doesn't even look at her; he glues his eyes to a random spot in the room, gaze stony. "Not as much as he needs me."

Silence.

Oh.

Her shoulders slump. Her fists uncurl. She feels as though all the fight has died in her—and it has.

That's it, then.

[Y/N] nods, taking a shaky breath, feeling a thousand words die in her throat. There is nothing more left to say—she's tired. And she has heard enough.

"Okay," she swallows, hands trembling at her sides. "Okay. We're done."

Regulus doesn't look up.

"We're done," she repeats, more to herself than to him, voice now void of any anger or frustration or sadness—now she just sounds tired. "I'm done. We're done."

And then, turning on her heel, she leaves the common room.

Regulus doesn't look up.

[bunni-bino]

Aight aight, here I am HAHA so I have this litol prompt that I've been wanting for someone to write it out 👉👈 it's totally your choice with how you want it to be, whether fluff or angst or whatever HAHA feel free to do what you want, but as always it's a prompt for Zoro! "Roronoa Zoro, the man who not even death could bring fear to, has found the one thing he feared the most: losing you." Really excited to see how you would write it out 💖 feel free to fix the grammar HAHAHA all the best 💖

Zoro Being Afraid to Lose Someone

a/n : this was so cute 🥺💚 I hope you like this! :))

ngl, particularly somewhat proud of this one- 😊👉🏼👈🏼

summary : In the midst of battle, Zoro sees you sacrificing yourself and his heart breaks, coming to a realization and soon lectures you afterwards. not good with summaries-

-

“How could you be so reckless?!”

Choosing to remain silent, you just take in all of his shouts and pent up frustration built because of you. You couldn’t blame him either.

Did you regret it though? Not for a damn second.

You would do it again in a heartbeat, and unfortunately, Zoro knew that too.

“I’m fine. I’m alive, right?”

Your nonchalant tone seemed to irritate Zoro further as you only thought back to the cause of you being hospitalized in the first place.

-

“These guys are starting to piss me off.”

Growling under his breath, Zoro swung his sword with his right hand once more with ease, before running down the street in hopes to lose the growing crowd of marines behind him.

“Zoro!” Hearing a voice, Zoro snaps his head to the right and sees you running towards him in shock. “What the hell is going on? How’d you attract the marines?! Where have you been?”

“I’ll explain later, just run!” Zoro shouts, grabbing your hand in his and picked up his pace, hearing the angry yells and protests of the marines.

“Oi! Get back here, pirate!”

“Look, there’s another one!”

“You’re not getting away from us!”

“Tch.” Zoro turns the corner when a few of the marines were rushing towards them from the front.

“Oi, Zoro, let’s get the others, they’re still in town.” You call, managing to catch up with him and match his pace.

“Who cares, they’ll find out that we’re caught soon enough, so let’s just keep going.” Zoro says, swinging his sword once more, successfully knocking back a wave of soldiers heading their way.

“Alright!” You nod as you pulled out their own weapon and succeeded in knocking out a few more.

However, you were soon trapped by the coast of the island, having no where to run since the marines were quickly surrounding you.

“Give it up, pirates, surrender!”

“We have you cornered now!”

Smirking, Zoro scoffs and pulls out his Wado Ichimonji and brought it up to his mouth. Clenching his teeth onto it, his hands gripped his other two swords tightly.

Bringing the hilts of his two swords in his hands together, he began spinning them.

“Three-Sword Style...”

You stepped back to allow Zoro to attack and just focused on taking out the others on the sidelines.

“Three-Thousand Worlds!”

Almost instantly, the cries of agony and pain was heard loud and clear from the marines as they all dropped to the ground, sword cuts all over their bodies.

However, after Zoro was successful in his attack, a few other marines thought it was best to attack from behind him, making you widen your eyes.

“Zoro!” You call out, kicking the marine in front of you to the ground as you jumped over towards him.

Zoro had observation haki. He already knew what those marines were going to do.

But he couldn’t have known you were going to jump in to protect him. It was already too late before he could stop himself.

An ear-piercing, shrill scream of pain filled the air. But it wasn’t from the marines. It was from you.

His eyes widened and his pupils shrank at the sight of you dropping to your knees. A long gash spread across your back and blood was dripping everywhere.

“[NAME]!”

He didn’t know how to react, as he quickly took the sword from his mouth and knelt down beside you, picking you up in his arms.

“[Name]! Hey! What the hell were you doing?!”

He was just shouting at you now, panic and worry filling his body and voice as he grips you tightly, shaking you a bit. “Hey, stay with me, damn it! Why did you do that?! What kind of idiot are you?!”

He could only insult you now, not knowing what else to do. The marines were nearing him now, but fortunately, the crew had shown up just in time.

“Zoro! [Name]!”

You weakly brought your hand up and grabbed onto his shirt, breathing shallow as you tried to ignore the burning pain forming from you trying to say awake.

“Z-Zoro.. I’m fine... are you.. okay?..”

“You stupid woman! Don’t talk! Chopper, where the hell are you?!”

He stood up with you in his arms, his clothes soaking up in your blood as Franky, Brook, Luffy and Robin took care of the marines.

“[NAME]!” Chopper shrieks in shock and panic, seeing the sight of your body and injuries as he ran over.

“What happened?!” Nami shouts, but Zoro ignored her.

“No time, let’s just get back to the ship and get her fixed up already!”

“R-Right!”

And then, you lost consciousness.

Looking down, Zoro clenches his jaw and struggled to even think properly, straining to keep calm.

He wasn’t about to fucking lose you.

-

Zoro couldn’t believe it.

Staring over at your unconscious body, he felt mixed emotions running through him.

Regret, worry, anger and most of all, confusion.

Sure, he was always worried for his crewmates when they were in danger, even swirly brows, but they could handle themselves.

He knew they were strong, just like you.

So why was it different now that it was you especially, the one who was hurt? Who was in pain and unconscious with fatal injuries?

Was it because he’s the one who did it? He was the cause of it?

Or was it because you were different?... because he felt something else when he’s with you?

Was he in love with you?

Exhaling heavily, he closed his eye and leaned his head back against the wall.

All he knew right now, was that he just wanted you to wake up. To be able to see your smile once more and relieve all of his stress.

He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t lose you.

You were his life and without you, he was as good as a dead. He didn’t feel complete without knowing that you were alive and well.

He could only hope. But even then, he was losing it.

-

It was nearly a week and a half before you finally woke up, pain spreading all over your body.

Everyone was sobbing when they found out and lunged at you which only caused more pain.

Fortunately, Chopper gave you some medicine to help subside the pain for a bit and forbid anyone to come in unless it was important.

However, Zoro was an exception, and now here he was, lecturing you.

“You know, I don’t regret what I did.” You state, turning away from him and let out a sigh.

“Of course you don’t, but what if something happened? What if Chopper couldn’t save you on time?”

Hearing how angry he was made you frown. You weren’t sure how you felt.

“You were being attacked, I wasn’t going to let you be hurt.” You defended but he scowls more. “So you were willing to sacrifice your own life over mine?”

“Of course.” You responded with no hesitation, nearly startling him but he remained stoic.

“Your life isn’t something to throw away so easily, you know.” He scoffs, shaking his head at you. “And what about you?” You retorted, raising a brow.

“I already gave up my life when I made my dream to become the world’s greatest swordsman a goal to accomplish.” He states, crossing his arms and you roll your eyes a bit.

“Look, Zoro, you’re overreacting, okay? I’m fine, I’m awake now and—“

“You dumbass, what if I fucking lost you?”

Your eyes widen at his words, his tone softening just in the slightest bit, as he scowls and turns away.

But you didn’t miss the hurt and pained look behind his eyes.

“..I don’t think I could live with myself if I found out you died... Because of me, no less.” He continues, looking down as a shadow casted over his face.

“How can I even dream of being the world’s greatest swordsman, if I can’t even handle a small cut, having someone else I care about take it for me..”

“I don’t deserve to be part of the future pirate king’s crew, much less his first mate, If I can’t protect my crewmates.” He utters out, clenching his fists tightly.

Staring at him and watching him carefully, you feel your heart warming and chest beating quickly. A faint blush washed over your cheeks as you smile slightly.

“Roronoa Zoro..”

Zoro looks up questioningly when you said his name, seeing your smile towards him.

“The man, who not even death can fear him, has finally found what feared him most. Losing someone so dear to him.” You couldn’t help but tease him.

Zoro’s felt his cheeks turning pink at your words as he scoffs. “So you have the strength to start making fun of me now?”

“I’m not making fun of you.” You defended, giggles erupting from your lips as you shifted and sat up more, making yourself comfortable.

“I just think it’s cute is all.” You shrug playfully, a cute grin displaying across your lips as Zoro simply clicks his tongue.

“Honestly.. you’re such a pain.”

He scratches the back of his head, closing his eye as he makes his way towards you bed and sits down beside you, crossing his arms.

“Besides, it’s an honor to be that special someone you care about.” You laugh softly once more.

He rolls his eyes and made himself comfortable, ignoring your comment.

“Well, now that you’re awake, I’ll sit here and guard you. Make sure you aren’t moving with your injuries.” He firmly states, leaning against the headboard as he shifted to make himself comfortable and relaxed.

“Oi, I don’t need a babysitter, get out. But get me some food.” You hum, nudging his side and beginning to push him but he didn’t budge.

Instead he just spoke.

“Promise me.”

“Huh?”

Stopping your actions, you look confusedly towards the swordsman.

Zoro tilts his head to face you and opens his eye, his tone serious and low.

“Promise you won’t ever put yourself in danger again. Especially not when I’m around, you hear? Even if I die, I’ll protect you with my life, I don’t want you doing the same.”

Frowning, you went to protest but he simply moves his arm and wraps it around your side, forcefully pulling you into his chest.

“..please.. I don’t want to lose you.” He whispers quietly, his voice softening once more.

His hand went up to rest on your head as he discreetly leans his chin on the top of it.

Then he slowly leans down further and pecks the top of your head, making your heart melt at how soft and vulnerable he was being at this moment.

Closing your eyes, you nod gently and reach to grab his hand, intertwining it with yours and gripped it tightly.

“I promise, Zoro..”

Satisfied with your reply, Zoro nods approvingly. “Good. Now sleep.” He tightens his hold around you and leans back, closing his eye again.

“W-wait, but I’m hungry!”

-

a/n : AHHHH THIS WAS SO CUTE ACTUALLY OMG I hope you enjoyed!! 💚🥰

Sorry if it seems a bit rushed— ;-;

[yandere-ac]

What if the other villagers teamed up and broke into Raymond's house to take back the villager?

“You did wonderful today my dear. Simply amazing! I wish your voice where the only one I heard.” Raymond told you as you uncomfortably shifted in his grip. Raymond and you were currently lying in bed, him completely engulfing you in his grasp all while you laid there. Defenceless to do anything. He was praising you for today’s little show, you had sung Bubblegum K.K for him all while dancing around in the maid dress he gave you.

Well, it was less a dance and more of you trembling while trying to move around, bouncing up and down and doing a few spins all while Raymond observed in glee. Its been two years since you were first kidnapped, since then he’s gotten progressively more and more clingy with you. Nowadays it would seem like you didn’t get a second to yourself. And he sure hadn’t cut down on the affection either. He loved to touch you, from holding your paw to picking you up at random times out of nowhere. It was very easy for him since you were so much smaller than him. He was determined to make sure you knew that in every possible way, you were his. He made you wear clothing that he’d either bought or made himself, like you were just his little doll to dress up in whatever way he wanted. Usually the dresses he bought for you were pretty standard but you had found that the more dresses he made for you, the more progressively revealing they got. The skirt part of the dress In particular got shorter and shorter, as if Raymond was really starting to enjoy himself. By now you were pretty used to his possessive nature, so much that you weren’t that scared around him anymore. His looming presence made you uncomfortable and tense, but it wasn’t as bad as it used to be. You could be in the same room as him without hyperventilating. Because at the end of the day, Raymond was very predictable. He would ask you to do stuff for his enjoyment, if you refused, he would continue nagging you before making it perfectly clear that his word was final. And so, you would do his request, he would be overjoyed and compliment you afterwards. Ultimately, you didn’t have a choice. So you had learned to just get it over with, because you had no power in this situation.

“I’m thinking tomorrow I’ll go to the plaza to get some new songs for you to sing. While I do love the way you sing Bubblegum K.K. I’m curious as to how your lovely singing voice would sound with other songs. Im sure you can handle yourself while I’m gone.” So he was going away tomorrow. That’s always nice. Whenever he left to buy something was the only time that you were actually alone. You would usually spend that time crying and screaming, just letting all your pent up emotions out. You had learned the hard way to never under any circumstance let Raymond see you cry. Because he would always try to make you feel better, which would always result in you crying harder. You wanted so desperately to get away from him but at the same time, all hope of that ever happening had left you. You just wished that the desire would leave as well. Maybe then you could finally get used to this hell. But one thing that always held you back was your curiosity. You need to know what was happening outside. It’s gnawed at you like a dog to a bone. And it was driving you insane. “Tell me....how are they?” As soon as the question formed, the air became tense and heavy. You could feel Raymond’s grip on your waist get slightly stronger. “Why do you care?” His voice was cold, almost lacking of any discernible emotion, and it sent shivers down your spine. “I just...I miss them. And I’m worried for them. It’s been plaguing my mind for these past few weeks. Please just tell me, just once, then I’ll be quiet I promise.” You pleaded to him, hoping that maybe he’ll provide you with some sort of comfort. He let out a deep sigh, his hot breath brushing against your neck as he did so. “Well if you must know. They’re still just as crazy. Never shuts up about you. One of them have gone missing, Mr Nook says he moved out but I don’t believe that for one second. From the fact that his house is still up to the fact that Timmy and Tommy has inexplicably stopped selling ropes. You can probably fill in the blanks by yourself.” Was he insinuating that...no...no he can’t be! He has to be joking! “....w-who?” Your voice was shaky and barely audible. “Marvin I think his name was? Pesky little rat. Never did like him that much, he moved in without my permission and would refuse to leave. Never would have thought that I only needed to remove you out of the equation in order to make him leave.” Marvin. Hearing that name in this instance was like being stabbed through the heart. The grey mouse was your closest friend on the island, to hear that he would...that he. You almost let out a tear but desperately tried to keep it in. In the end you only let out a heavy breath that filtered through your teeth. Almost sounding like you were in actual pain. For whatever reason, Raymond either didn’t hear it or decided to ignore it.

“As for everyone else, nothing major has happened. That boy Damien has been pestering me a lot lately. He’s been making theories about where you might have gone. None have been correct thankfully. I think our priority should be to get away from this island as soon as possible. I don’t want to even think about what they would do if they found you here. Trust me, if you think I’m bad then you’ve only seen the top of the iceberg.” For once, you actually somewhat agreed with Raymond. While the idea of being completely alone with him on an island didn’t exactly sound comforting, the thought of eleven people being like Raymond was even less comforting. Especially since they’ve been without you for so long, even if they were your friends, and even if you missed them, you were scared of them. Because you didn’t miss what they had become today, not in the slightest. You had missed singing together with Tilly, you had missed giving blathers fossils, watching as his eyes lit up while explaining them to you, you missed visiting Damien and Bonnabelle, talking about life and such. You had missed going to talk with Tom about what to do whenever you felt stressed or sad, with him giving you advice while comforting you. You didn’t miss being tugged on each arm like a little doll. You didn’t miss your friends hurting each other to get to you, you didn’t miss being trapped with some of them for days on end. You just wanted things to go back to the way it used to be. But that would never happen. Your fate was sealed and you couldn’t change it. No matter what happened, you were doomed to be Raymond’s little love bunny.

Or so you thought.

Hours later you found that you still couldn’t fall asleep. Sleep deprivation had been a huge problem for you since you weren’t sleeping in the most comfortable position. If you ever did manage to catch some sleep you would often be woken up by nightmares. This particular night, the thought of Marvin was the one that kept you up. You didn’t want to believe that such a sweet and upbeat mouse would ever do something like that. It seemed so out of reach. You wished you never would have asked Raymond what was going on. You wished that you would have just kept your mouth shut, because none of the things he told you made you feel any better. In fact, they only contributed to this horrible cloud of despair that was forming over your head. Dripping sad and depressing thoughts on you that leaked inside your brain. As the night continued, you let the tears flow. Flow like the endless waves of hopelessness that was building inside you. But then. Something really unexpected happened.

CRASH!

The loud sound of a window breaking shook you out of your thoughts as you jolted. It also woke Raymond up, making him drag his entire body up while looking around the room rather hastily. The sound came from a window right in front of your bed. Scattered across the ground was shards of broken glass and attached to the apron of the window was...a grapple hook? It took a mere seconds for Raymond to bolt out of bed and rush at the window with the speed of a bullet. But he was not quick enough as the moment he got the the window and pulled the hook off, a big paw grabbed the edge of the windows frame. Before any of you could react, the person hanging onto the window threw them self in, shattering any part of the window that wasn’t destroyed by the grappling hook. As they threw them selfs inside, they knocked Raymond to the ground with them. Raymond let out a piercing scream as a piece of glass got stuck in his shoulder. While all of this happen, you sat in the bed, looking horrified at the sight before you. You knew who that was, you could recognise him anywhere. The figure, a black wolf, that was pinning Raymond’s body down to the ground, was Damien. His eyes were wide and his breathing was heavy. He opened his big mouth and tried to chomp down on the human underneath him. But Raymond managed to hold him back while grasping at the wolf’s face, making sure not to put his fingers anywhere near the sharp teeth that were currently snapping at him. You could see Raymond’s grip getting weaker and weaker and Damien getting closer and closer. Throwing yourself out of bed, you ran towards the wolf and tried to pull him off. “NO! DAMIEN! DON’T! PLEASE JUST- LET GO!” Once you placed your arms around his chest he finally seemed to slow down. Only to throw you off of him and instead scratch Raymond across the face. After that he started to repeatedly kick his shaking body, each kick forcing out a yelp or chocked sob out of Raymond. You once again tried to pull Damien off of him, but this time it was even less affective since you were still pretty dizzy from being thrown to the ground so roughly. You felt your mind start to skip, finding it hard to even stand up. One misstep while trying to regain your posture caused you to fall as your legs gave in. Luckily, a pair of strong arms caught you before you could reach the floor. As the world was becoming darker, the only thing you could hear was the persistent whimpers of Raymond as your sight got darker and darker. Just before you lost your tight grip on consciousness, you felt a hand stroke your face. And then you heard the voice of a vary familiar character.

“Shh Shh, no need to worry my dear. We’ve got you. Now let’s get you home yes, yes?”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The air was completely silent except for the very distinct sound of a clock ticking. It was the sound that eased you back into reality as you tried to open your eyes. As the first glimpse of light filled your eyes, you let out a small grunt and closed them again. But I’m doing that, you made your waking presence known to the person laying in bed next to you. Once you heard a deep chuckle, your eyes that previously felt heavy shot open. You turned around to see the familiar black furred face of a wolf. It was Damien. You couldn’t register what you were seeing, so for a few seconds you two just laid there, staring at each other. Until one of you broke the silence. “Good morning, my dear bunny rabbit.” He gave you a comforting smile as he leaned in and licked your cheek. Now this wasn’t uncommon for him to do, it’s how he showed affection, but in this context, this action made you shrink together into a tense ball. “Hm? Oh come on now. That’s not how you greet your old pal, now is it? Where’s that smile (N/N)~” (N/N), you hadn’t heard anyone call you that for two years. And yet, when you heard it, it did nothing to calm your nerves or reassure you. “W....where am I?” You asked, voice shaky, almost sounding minuscule when compared to Damiens. ”You’re in my and Bons house of course.” His and Bons house. It only just occurred to you that this was indeed their house. But if so, where was Bonnabelle? As if to answer your question you felt something shifting by your back. You turned your head over to look at the disturbance to find the small pink bunny named Bonnabelle looking at you with a smile. The much smaller bunny jumped up and climbed on top of you. “Hello ms/mr/mx Y/N!” The bunny beamed at you, but you didn’t respond. You hadn’t known how to respond. Why were you here? How were you here?! Where was-

Your eyes went wide as thoughts of last night reappeared in your mind. The sound of the humans whines as Damien kicked him repeatedly. The feeling of collapsing into someone’s arms. And the whole world going dark. All of that had led up to this. And that only made this predicament scarier. “Is something the matter bunny rabbit? You seem particularly jumpy.” The wolf told you while rising up from his lying position. You didn’t get a chance to answer as he pulled you out of the bed and into his arms, cradling your body close to him. “We shall go announce your awakening to the others. I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic. Come on now little bunny, keep up.” He turned to Bonnabelle who was already out of bed and bouncing up and down excitedly. Needless to say, she had no trouble with keeping up.

Damien carries you all the way to resident services, much to your dismay. You had tried to struggle, but unfortunately Damien was much stronger than you. Once the three of you entered, Tom and Isabelle both ran up to you, asking countless questions all while touching you in various ways. You weren’t able to answer. Isabelle ran over to the intercom where she announced that you where finally awake and that everyone should come to the resident services at their earliest possible convenience. And sure enough, villagers started to drop in, all of them rushing up to you, bombarding you with questions. Never once did Damien let go of you, he kept holding you close to his body, almost seeming hostile towards his fellow villagers. As the last person dropped in, all of them gathered around to discuss what they should do. They were all in unanimous agreement that they couldn’t keep fighting over you and that they had to find a compromise. It was then Blathers that suggested that everyone should get one entire day with you where they could do whatever they wanted without anyone else intervening. And while some seemed a little iffy about only being able to have you for a day and having to wait eleven more days to be with you again, most of them reluctantly agreed to the rule. Everyone but you. But you didn’t actually get any say in this. In fact, when you objected to this idea some had started to snicker at this, as if the thought of you having any say in this matter was so humorous.

That was five days ago. You where sitting on the floor of Raja the Cats house. He was still wearing the same scarf and coat that he had two years ago. The feline was showing you his flower collection that he started a couple months before you got abducted. Needless to say, his collection had grown quiet a lot. He was flipping through the pages of compressed flowers that where all kept in a big book, kept safely by a leather case that was currently laying on the floor. Raja was eagerly pointing at each one, like a child showing their mother a drawing they made. “And this! This is the white rose that you gave me! I still remembered that! Remember? Remember? I told you that I was starting a flower collection and you asked me if you could help and I said sure and you gave me this flower! Do you remember Y/N? I remember! I loved it! I was so happy that you would help me! I simply had to put it in immediately!” The cat continued with his blabbering, having to interrupt himself in the middle of his sentences just to take another breath. Your eyes trailed off to the pages of the book that was resting in his lap. There, filling an entire page was your white rose. It had seemed like Raja had drawn a formal frame around it, writing “Y/N’s rose” in calligraphy underneath the frame. On the page next to it was a bunch of small flowers. Underneath them stood the name of the flower and who had picked it. While most of them said Raja, there was one name that made a knot form in your stomach. There, in black ink, stood the name Raymond. It was a black rose, just as dried up and shrivelled as your white one. But seeing his rose, the one that HE specifically gave Raja, being dead. It brought a stinging feeling to your eyes. As much as you hated to admit it, you still cared for Raymond. Just like the way you cared for your friends here on the island. Because no matter how possessive Raymond was, no matter how much he scared you, no matter how much you wanted to get away from him. He was your friend. And you didn’t want him to die. But thinking back to that night, the night of your so called “rescue”. The sounds of his weak voice, his whimpers as Damien kicked him repeatedly. You had no reason to believe that he wasn’t six feet under at this very moment. But you doubted that any of them would have enough respect for him to bury him. You were sure that you’d be able to smell the rotten stench of his carcass if you walked close to his mansion. The thought made you sob, interrupting Raja’s ramblings.

“Is something wrong? What’s the matter?” He asked you, looking at you with his big orange eyes while pushing up his round glasses slightly. “I....I’m....” you were trying to answer the cat but no cohesive sentences would form in your head. Unfortunately for you, you would never get to answer him. As the loud sound of a high pitched shriek could be heard from outside. You both turned your heads towards the door and you ran out to see where the scream came from. Raja followed you, still holding his book, shouting at you to stop but you where already at the door before he could do anything. With one swift swoop you pulled the door open and ran out. And the sight before you struck you with pure unfiltered terror. Outside, scattered around the ground laid several dead bodies, from Blathers, to Isabelle, to Bonnabelle to even the dodo brothers. They laid there, cold and unmoving. And right in the centre of your vision were the two people you dreaded the most. It was Damien the wolf and Raymond the island rep. Raymond had him pinned to the ground, knife a mere inches above his chest. Damien had an iron grip on Raymond’s arms, trying to block the slowly approaching knife. But Raymond wasn’t giving up, he put his full weight on the knife, almost leaning on it while simultaneously pressing it down. As Raja looked at this, he let out a shocked gasp while dropping his book. “Damien! No!” He cried out. But what he didn’t realise was that he caused a distraction, making Damien look over at you two and giving Raymond the opportunity to drive the knife straight into Damiens stomach. As the knife penetrated his skin and lodged deep within his body, Damiens mouth opened as his eyes went wide. He tried to scream, to cry out. But all that came out was the hacky sounds of barely audible gasps. He coughed up blood which went straight into Raymond’s face, but Raymond didn’t even flinch as the blood splattered across his face, he just watched, eyes intense and breath heavy. Raymond kept the knife in place, leaning closer to Damien in order to watch the life leave his eyes. And as Damien began to slip away, Raymond started to twist the knife, making the wolf let out one last whine of pain. There was a few seconds of silence, you had been frozen the entire time. No matter how much your mind was screaming at you to run your body refused, too shocked to move after seeing the gruesome scene. The silence broke when the soft sound of Raja falling to his knees filled the air. Only then where you able to turn your head and look at him. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as violently as a waterfall. What happened next shook you out of your paralysed state. Raja let out a loud scream, a pained and sorrowful one that shook you to your core. But that scream also broke Raymond out of his momentary daze as he quickly and rather violently whipped his head towards you two. He quickly rushed at you. You tried to run but Raja grabbed ahold of your leg, looking at you in desperation. “DON’T LEAVE ME-“ he was cut off as Raymond tackled him to the ground, releasing your leg and giving you the opportunity to run. And ran you did, you ran as fast as you possibly could. You ran and ran until you could feel your legs start to give up. Your chest was hurting, your legs were hurting, everything was hurting. But you couldn’t stop, you had to get out of here, you had to get away from him. He snapped, he finally snapped. And you weren’t going to be on the receiving end of whatever blind rage he was going to inflict.

You were hiding, cowering in fear inside of the museum. You were in the shark department, hoping that the darkness would serve as camouflage until you figured out what to do. You knew you couldn’t hide away forever, this island wasn’t all that big, you had to figure out a plan of some sort. There had to be a boat or ship or anything that could take you away from here. Maybe you could get Pascal to help you? You would swim if you had to! You just needed to get away from here as fast as possible! If you stayed here, you would surely die!

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat.

Oh god. The haunting sounds of footsteps were echoing throughout the exhibit, each step making you more tense. You brought your knees close to your chest, hugging them as you buried your head in fear. You could hear him getting closer, and closer, and closer and-....they stopped. The sounds stopped, filling the air with dreadful silence. Silence which was interrupted one you felt someone grab you by the collar and roughly pulling you up to your feet before throwing you back to the ground. Raymond had found you and had thrown you to at the stairs nearby. You let out a loud cry of agony as pain filled your lower back, spreading throughout your entire body. Raymond approaches you slowly, knife in his hand and hunger in his eyes. Soon he was towering over your helpless body that you were sure he would make into a corpse. “R-Raym-m-mond! P-please! D-DONT! I-I didn’t mean to- I thought you were dead! I-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence as Raymond drove the knife downwards.

SHINK!

You closed your eyes, awaiting the pain. But there was none. As you opened your eyes you saw Raymond, a couple of inches away. He was breathing heavily, hot breaths brushing against your lips, and only now did you see how unwell he really looked. His hair that he was so adamant about keeping neat was scruffy and disheveled. He had a black eye and tons of scratches on his body. It had seemed like Damien really messed him up back at his mansion. He had bags under his eyes, and he smelled...strangely. You couldn’t quite place it put it was far from the usual aroma that he had. He was sweating, eyelids giving off a slight twitch every so often. He had driven the knife right into the hard stone floor, making the tip of the knife pop right off and making a few scratches to the flooring. He had missed, on purpose. By now your heart was beating so fast, you could barely form any words, only small sounds. And Raymond did nothing to ease your nerves once he started to laugh. A laugh which started out as quiet and breathy but soon turned loud and deranged. You quickly started to struggle, flailing around while trying to get away from him. But Raymond grabbed ahold of your throat, pressing you down into the ground, not hard enough to choke you but hard enough to leave an impact. As your feeble attempts died down, so did his laugh. All he was doing now was looking at you with a deluded smile. “...hah...haha...ha....did you...think you could get away from me...that easily?” He told you. You were crying and hyperventilating at this point, unable to answer him in any valuable way. He brought the knife closer to your face, stroking your cheek with the blade while chuckling. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” This statement made your heart leap out of your chest. “WHAT?! NO! PLEASE DONT! PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU! I DIDN’T WANT ANY IF THIS I PROMISE! I SWEAR! PLEASE DONT KILL ME!” Raymond let out yet another chuckle. “Your begging is so cute my dear. I love you Y/N. I love you I love you I love you! You just don’t know how to appreciate it yet...but you’ll learn...yeah...you’ll learn...after all. We’ve got all the time in the world right now don’t we? It seems that private island dream isn’t so far away now huh? I’ll have to check this place to make sure no one else is left, but after that. Oho my dear! We can make this place our own!” He was rambling, all while being dangerously close to you and playing with his knife. He stopped mid sentence, eyes becoming blank and unfocused, as if he was thinking.

“....however...you did disobey me...and well, I just can’t let that go unpunished do i?” Your eyes grew wide as he told you this. Raymond leaned down, smashing his lips onto yours rather violently as he let out deep breaths. He was holding you down, making sure you couldn’t move while he kissed you. Some blood that was on his face dropped off and landed right on yours, Raymond looked down at you, noticing the drop of blood that had splattered on your cheek. He leaned down and licked it off of you. “Now then. We’ll worry about that later. Poor thing, you look exhausted. I bet these freaks really took a toll on you hm? Let’s get you to bed, I’ll figure out a proper punishment tomorrow. For now, just relax. But know my dear...” he let out yet another chuckle. Staring deep into your eyes. “If you ever...EVER! Run away from me again...” he leaned in and whispered in your ear. “I won’t miss....” three words. The words was all it took for more tears to come flowing out of your eyes. Tears which Raymond also licked off your face. He picked your shaking body up and walked away, presumably going back to your house. But your stomach twisted when you realised that. Because you knew to get to Raymond’s house, you had to go past Raja’s house. So you closed your eyes all while he carried you. You didn’t want to see them. You never wanted to see them like that again. But even as you closed your eyes, you could smell them. You could smell their already decaying corpses. The smell made you gag. And that was enough for Raymond to bring you closer to him. “Such a waste. They dug their own grave when they took what was mine...” his voice was low and unfeeling. The way he spoke, it made you anxious. He really did only see you as a toy. “Would you look at that, it’s the rose I gave him...look Y/N. Look.” You kept your eyes closed, letting out a small whine. But Raymond wasn’t having it. “LOOK!” Your eyes shot open as he yelled at you. A yelp escaped your throat as you saw the scene before you. Raja was laying dead on the ground. There was blood seeping out of him and it had covered the base of his flower collection. It would seem when he dropped the book it opened on the page of you and Raymond’s roses.

“Huh...ironic. You know, in some cultures, a living black rose is supposed to represent the beginning of new things and major changes. But a shrivelled and dead one represents death.” Raymond used his foot to close the book before looking at Raja. “Tsk. Such a foolish individual. I’m sure you’re happy to be rid of him.” Looking at the dead cat, something sunk in. You felt hopeless, you were now officially stuck with him. Forever and always. Until either one of you died. Only them would you be free from this hell. You wished you could just disappear. But he wouldn’t let you. He would be sure you stayed with him at all times. You remembered what he had told you years ago when he found you on that deserted island.

“You should move to my island! I promise you, you’ll be treated well! We’re all really kind and you would love it there! I see the pain in your eyes Y/N. You’ve been treated badly. But I assure you! On my island you’ll be treated like royalty!”

Like royalty. More like a gem. A gem that had to be locked away at all times.

All this time. You’d never thought that Raymond would go this far. You thought that he peaked at abducting you. But no. This was so much worse. He had reached the point of no return. What was he going to do with you now? Now that there truly was no one there to stop him? And what punishment was he planning? Was he gonna hurt you? Was he gonna make you clean up your friends dead bodies? What truly was his limits? Because as it turned out.

Raymond wasn’t as predictable as you first thought

////////////

Y’all want some O C S ? Thanks for the request, this was really fun to write. Sorry that it took so long lol. It’s been a while since I last posted ac. Don’t worry, I haven’t completely forgotten about it. I think the next one is gonna be Danganronpa. And it’s gonna be ANGSTYYYY! But yeah 🔊Raymond simps come get y’all juice🔊

[lyssismagical]

would you be so kind (as to fall in love with me)

Flash knew he shouldn’t have thought what he did when he saw the nerdiest kid in school, but damn the boy was cute. With curly brown hair and doe brown eyes and the biggest heart and endless intelligence. It really wasn’t Flash’s fault for finding himself with a mild crush on his classmate.

He knew he was gay. He’d known for a very long time, but it’d been easy enough to keep a secret when he’d never seen someone that caught his eye. It’d been easy enough to pretend to think girls were attractive to him and that boys were just boys and not crushes.

But then, on a dreary autumn morning, he’d seen Peter Parker wearing a dorky outfit and thick glasses and carrying a stack of books in his arms, a ratty backpack slung loosely over his shoulders, and laughing at something his friend had said.

It really wasn’t Flash’s fault for his crush, he blames Peter entirely.

*

He wants to be Peter’s friend. He just hasn’t worked up the courage to talk to the boy in his AP Chemistry and English. He doesn’t know how.

But all of his long-distance pining comes to an end one day when his father picks him up after school.

He sees Peter sitting on the front steps of the school with Ned, a stack of books at his feet and glasses crooked on his nose, looking just as pretty as ever in the afternoon sunlight to Flash.

“Don’t cross paths with those kinds of people,” his father says. Flash hates the way he stresses Those Kinds like Peter is less than them.

Outside, Peter laughs, bright and innocent at something Ned says.

“Of course not,” Flash agrees because he doesn’t quite know what to say.

“What a fag,” his father mutters before they’re peeling out of the parking lot and away from the school.

Flash doesn’t know how to do anything but agree, shame filling him to the brim.

*

His father’s never hit him, has never laid a hand on him, but the way he shouts, the disappointment in his eyes when he sends Flash up to his room, the shame.

It feels worse than a punch would.

*

Something inside him snaps when he sees Peter one day, riddled with guilt over his hidden secret and angry because his father shouted at him for hours the night before.

He shoves Peter when they’re walking down the stairs out of school.

He’ll never forget the sad and confused expression from Peter, rubbing his bleeding palms and staring up at Flash, making Flash feel like he kicked a puppy.

But his father smiles at him when he gets into the car, congratulating him for putting the freak in his place.

Is it worth it? No, he shouldn’t be so selfish as to ruin another kid’s life just to get his father’s approval. That’s not who he is. But he doesn’t care. His mother will be home in just a few days and all hell will break loose.

He’s right, of course he was.

As soon as his mother arrives home, the shouting begins once again.

“I can smell the cologne on you!” his father shouts, grabbing his mother’s discarded jacket off the back of the couch. “You were seeing another man!”

“You’re just jealous because I’m the only woman who would ever be with you!” his mother screams back, ripping the jacket out of his hands. “And I didn’t sleep with anyone! I went to an office party!”

“Like I’d believe any of your lies,” his father snarls. “And for your information, I could get any woman I want! I saw somebody just a few weeks ago!”

There’s the echoing noise of shattering glass, probably his mother throwing another dish. “You saw another woman?! Probably some drunk twenty-something-year-old slut you dragged to bed in exchange for a couple hundred bucks, right? You don’t deserve me!”

“I don’t deserve you?! You don’t deserve anything!”

The shouting is endless. Almost always escalating to throwing things, slamming doors, and Flash cleaning up the mess left behind.

Flash knows he can’t take out his pent-up anger on Peter, but the last thing he needs right now is for his family to find out about his crush on the nerdy dork from his high school. The last thing he needs is for them to find out he’s gay.

*

No matter how much Flash tries, Peter won’t hate him. He won’t fight back. He won’t shout at him or call him out or punch him. He just takes all of it with so much ease. He’ll listen to the words Flash throws at him and he’ll pick his glasses up off the floor and wince at yet another crack in the lenses. But he never fights back.

And no matter how hard Flash tries, his crush on Peter won’t fade away like he hoped it would.

Every time he sees the dork in his AP Chemistry or in English, his heart skips a couple beats and his breath hitches because somehow, every single day, Peter manages to look wonderful and smart and nerdy and cute and beautiful. And every single day, Flash has to endure two hours of trying not to stare.

*

He took it too far.

He knew it would happen eventually.

Tired of all the fighting happening in his home, including his father going as far as inviting his new fling over to make Flash’s mother jealous which ended in Flash driving the woman home and his father to the hospital to stitch up his hand where a shard of plate had cut him open when his mother threw it.

He knew he’d be angrier than usual and he knew he’d take it out on Peter for looking so fucking pretty in spring colours, hair tousled and messy.

“Stop- please- I can’t-” Peter’s sitting on the floor, head between his knees as he tries to get his breathing under control. There are tears staining his flushed cheeks and his hands won’t stop shaking, nearly as badly as his shoulders when a sob is pulled from his throat.

Flash reaches out to comfort the teenager, but Peter flinches harshly away from the hand, nearly smacking his head into the lockers behind him, and Flash pulls his hand away like it was burned.

“I’m sorry- I’m- I’m sorry,” Flash tries, guilt welling up inside him like it always does.

He locked Peter in a locker. It was supposed to be just another thing, like he always does. Something to take the edge off his anger and to make his feelings a little less intense. But Peter had started to cry when he’d gotten the door closed. And by the time Flash was able to open the lock again, Peter had already fallen pretty deeply into a panic attack.

Ned’s sick and Peter doesn’t really have any other friends to Flash’s knowledge, so either Flash leaves him totally alone or he stays.

“I’m sorry. I- I didn’t know- I didn’t-” Flash tries again, hands hovering uselessly in the air between them as Peter continues to steady his breathing carefully.

“Go. Please. Just- I- I just- I can’t- Please go.”

That answers his question for him. Flash isn’t about to push more than he already has, so he apologizes a few more times as he backs out of the room.

*

“I can’t do this anymore!” Flash shouts over the chaos between his parents.

“This isn’t for you to deal with, Eugene,” his father spits, barely looking over at him.

His father’s never been anything but angry with him, so Flash might as well push it over the edge, right?

“I’m gay,” Flash says, clenching his jaw and fists, trying not to let the emotions show on his face. He repeats it, more confidently to their shocked and confused faces, “I’m gay.”

*

He touches the swollen, purple skin around his eye, wincing at the spike of pain. He dabs away the blood on his split lip, frowning at his reflection in the dark window of a closed shop.

His parents finally agreed on something. Flash can’t really count that as a win, considering now he’s wandering the streets of Queens by himself in the middle of the night, nowhere to go.

No home. No family. Nothing.

Just his own shame and guilt.

The tears start falling before he can think to stop them, slipping down his cheeks and mixing with the blood on his lip.

A squeal of tires catches his attention and a sleek, black car pulls up on the sidewalk beside him. His first thought is that he’s getting kidnapped or mugged or murdered, just to add the cherry on top of the godawful day.

But then Peter fucking Parker steps out of the car, eyes wide and worried, reaching out towards Flash.

“Are you okay? What happened to you?” the younger boy asks with the kind of wide-eyed innocence Flash would hate to ruin. “Were you jumped?”

Flash can’t help but roll his glassy eyes. After everything, Peter still cares. “It’s nothing, Peter.”

A smile somehow spreads across the younger boy’s face.

“You called me Peter,” he murmurs before quickly snapping out of it. “Do you need a ride home? You live nearby, don’t you?”

“No,” Flash says. “I don’t live anywhere.”

He tips his head to the side in confusion, bambi eyes wide with concern. “What do you mean?”

“I got kicked out,” Flash admits. He gestures to his face carelessly. “My father’s doing.”

Peter’s face falls and before Flash knows it, he’s being gently nudged into the black car.

There are two men sitting in the front seats. Flash is too tired to try to introduce himself so he lays his head against the cool window and finds solace in the warm fingers on his forearm, grounding him.

The car pulls away and soon, they’re parking outside a shabby apartment near the heart of Queens. Peter’s place probably.

“C’mon,” he says, voice warm and low. “You can have my bed for tonight, I’ll take the couch. We can figure out what to do in the morning.”

Peter gets out of the car, but before Flash has the mind to follow, the man in passenger turns around, revealing Tony Stark.

“Hey, kid,” Tony says softly. “Your dad did that to you?”

Flash nods wordlessly, touching his swollen eye with cold fingers.

The hero nods like this is just what he expected. “I don’t do the whole heart to heart thing, but I get it. My dad never said he loved me, never even said he liked me. I would take out my anger on the people around me and on myself. I hurt a lot of people before I realized I needed to break the cycle.”

“This was the first time,” Flash finds himself admitting. “He’s never hit me before.”

Tony offers a sympathetic smile. “What did you do? Forget to do the dishes? Failed a test?”

“Came out as gay.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and wrong.

“I’m sorry, kid.”

“Me too.”

*

Flash sits down on the edge of Peter’s bed. His room is exactly how he imagined it to be. Nerdy and dorky and small.

“You can sleep here for tonight,” Peter says, collecting some extra blankets from the top shelf in his closet. Flash hates that he watches Peter’s shirt lift and show off his pale slender hips. “I’ll take the couch.”

Flash wants to say that it wouldn’t be fair, after Everything. But he’s too tired to argue.

Peter’s suddenly there, kneeling down in front of him, eyes wide and soft and brown like coffee, small warm hands on his knees, worry seeping out of him.

“Are you okay?”

How is Flash supposed to answer that?

He’s spent two years bullying the teenager in front of him to hide his own sexuality. He’s made the boy cry more times than he can count. He made him have a panic attack. How is any of that okay?

And yet, at the end of it all, Peter’s the only one here for him, the only one he has.

How is that okay?

Flash’s voice is hollow. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay too,” Peter murmurs. He moves away from the bed, back to the closet and pulls out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He pushes them into Flash’s hands and offers another one of his gentle smiles.

“I’m sorry-”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Peter says, voice soft as ever, like a blanket settling over him. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Flash repeats. He needs Peter to understand the amount of guilt that’s filling him up and making him sick to his stomach. “I’m so fucking sorry and I- I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you.”

“It’s okay,” Peter repeats, just as sincerely as before. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I just hope we can move on from that.”

Flash nods quickly, that’s the only thing he wants. He wants to forget about the past two years of hatred and fighting in favor of friendship.

“I’m gay,” Flash admits. He might as well. If Peter hates him for it, he might as well get it over with now. His head is murky and he’s tired. He doesn’t care about anything anymore.

But Peter smiles instead of all the other possibilities. “Hello, Gay. I’m Bi.”

And then he laughs, still quietly but full of so much life, Flash wishes he could have some of that life that Peter seems to have endless amounts of.

“Get some rest, Flash. Bathroom’s across the hall and I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”

He’s never loved anyone, has never been loved before. His parents barely gave him a second thought, his friends are all just acquaintances, he’s only ever had one crush.

But he’s overcome right then and there, sitting in Peter’s bedroom and looking into Peter’s bambi eyes, that he loves him. He loves Peter Parker.

*

Walking into school, side by side with Peter, turns a lot of heads.

Flash is wearing Peter’s jeans and Peter’s shirt with a nerdy science pun written on the front and he smells like Peter’s shampoo and body wash, a mix of vanilla sugar and mango.

And Peter’s at his side, arms touching they’re walking so close together. The bruise on his eye is still there, still swollen, still a dark purple color, a reminder of what happened the night before.

But if he had to take a few punches to have the courage to apologize to Peter and to admit to himself that he loves him, then so what. He’d take a beating every day for the rest of his life if it means being allowed to walk the earth with Peter at his side.

“What are you doing?” Ned demands when they reach Peter’s locker.

Flash looks up, knowing he must look like shit, but Ned recognizes his jeans and shirt and the bruises on his face, and something must click.

“What happened?” he asks, a lot quieter. People seem to always want to talk to him quietly now.

“It’s nothing, Ned. Don’t worry about it,” Peter jumps in. “I’m going to go to the bathroom before class. I’ll be back in a few.”

The moment he’s turned the corner, Ned turns on him angrily.

“If you’re using him or if this is some fucking joke, I want you to back off right now. Peter’s too nice for his own good and he’s too naïve. So please, for the love of god, just leave him alone.”

“I’m sorry,” Flash says. He has a lot to apologize for, but he hopes this will be enough until he can get his thoughts straightened. “I don’t want to hurt him. I’m sorry.”

“What are you doing then? If you don’t want to hurt him, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Flash doesn’t know how to answer without outing himself. “I’m sorry.”

“You sound like Peter, jesus, I don’t want an apology. I just want to know why. Yesterday, you called him more names than I can count and you locked him in a locker. And now you’re best buds? I don’t get it. And Peter’s my best friend, so I need to know why.”

“I got kicked out,” Flash whispers, eyes dropping to the floor, watching Ned’s tapping shoes. “My parents kicked me out and he- he let me stay with him… I- I’m sorry about everything.”

Ned’s face falls. “Oh. Jeez, Flash, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s- It’s whatever. I just- I’m sorry.”

“Do you mean that? Are you really sorry or are you just sorry because you need him?”

There’s a long few tense moments of silence before Flash admits it, panic and desperation engulfing him. He just needs to say it.

“I love him,” Flash blurts. “I- I’m gay and I- I’ve liked him for a really long time. I just- my parents and I- I-”

“You don’t have to explain, Flash,” Ned mumbles. “I believe you. You’re an honorary part of our Losers Club. But if you fuck anything up, that’s it, okay? Peter would forgive you in a heartbeat, but I have to protect him.”

Flash nods. He understands. He’s been hurting him for years, it’s fair that nobody will trust him. He doesn’t even deserve this much from this, let alone genuine friendship from them.

“Thank you,” he says before adding another. “I’m sorry.”

He wonders if he’ll ever stop being sorry.

He doubts it.

*

Peter’s a great friend. He’s genuine and sweet and forgiving and he’s always making jokes and smiling. (And he just looks so pretty and beautiful, wide bambi-brown eyes sparkling, tousled curls- Flash can’t help himself from staring.)

Ned’s hesitant and he watches Flash watch Peter as the younger boy laughs and reads and talks and does his homework and smiles and answers all the questions in class.

It’s different and everyone stares, but Flash is too busy staring at Peter to really notice any of it.

*

Flash stays at Peter and May’s apartment while he tries to sort everything out. He can’t go back home, he tried to call his mother, but she didn’t even bother to pick up the phone let alone pathetically listen to him plead.

He doesn’t really have a lot of family he can rely on. His father doesn’t really have any family, all of them alienated from their rich lifestyle, and his mother has one stepsister who has dual citizenship in both Canada and the US while pursuing her acting career.

He’d somehow have to convince her to move to Queens just for him to stay somewhere until he can graduate and live by himself.

Peter says she’ll say yes, of course she will, but even if she doesn’t, it’s not as though he’ll be back on the streets again. He’s allowed to stay with the Parker’s for as long as he needs to.

He could never be more grateful for what they’ve done for him.

*

“Hey,” Flash starts, sitting anxiously on the edge of Peter’s bed. They’ve been taking turns on the bed and couch after it turned into a more long-term thing. “It’s, um, it’s Flash.”

“Flash?”

“Eugene,” he rephrases. “I go by Flash now.”

Tessa lets out a quiet laugh. “Don’t like the family name anymore?”

“I got kicked out,” Flash admits quietly. He knows this isn’t a good place to start, but Peter’s comforting and warm at his side, bambi-brown eyes a constant safe haven. “I came out as gay and they kicked me out.”

He’s found that the more he says it, the easier it is to say. He’s had one bad and one good experience. He doesn’t really care how Tessa reacts because either way, he has a place to stay here with Peter.

“Oh, hon, I’m so sorry. I thought my sister was better than that, but I guess not,” she says, an obvious eyeroll in her tone. “Your father, though, I didn’t expect much more than the worst. Do you need somewhere to stay? I’m in Toronto right now, but it’s only a few hours flight to get down to Queens.”

“Would you?” Flash asks, hating how pathetically young and small he sounds. Peter’s hand tightens in his.

“Yeah, of course, you shouldn’t have to go through something like this. That’s awful. Do you have somewhere to stay?”

Flash explains how he’s been staying with Peter for the past couple weeks and how he just needs someone a little more permanent, but that she can take her time since she’s moving her whole life just for him.

“I’ll get a flight down this weekend then, honey. No worries. I’ll let you know when I get there, okay? I love you, kiddo. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Tessa says. “I’ve gotta go to talk to my manager, but I’ll book flights as soon as everything’s settled.”

“Thank you,” Flash murmurs. “I love you too.”

When he hangs up, he wants to say it to Peter too, who’s sitting right next to him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, but he doesn’t. He settles for a simple thank you.

*

It felt like it was turning into an obsession.

I love you he’d think when Peter would get him breakfast before school.

I love you, on the tip of his tongue when Peter would smile and lean over to help him with their AP Chemistry homework.

I love you the only thing on his mind when Peter would laugh at his jokes and let him borrow his clothes and cover for him whenever his thoughts dragged him back to bed in the mornings before school.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love-

He loves Peter Parker more than he can handle.

*

He meets Tony Stark for real the day before he’s supposed to be moving into his aunt’s new apartment which just so happens to be the building over from Peter’s.

Peter takes him to the tower to visit Tony who’s apparently been asking about him. It’s just for a few hours before he’s getting picked up by Tessa to start shopping for furniture.

“Hey, kiddos. It’s been a while since I’ve seen either of you,” Tony greets, sitting them down at the dining room table and opening up two boxes of pizza. “Everything going alright?”

“I’m moving in with aunt officially tomorrow,” Flash explains quietly, averting his eyes. Peter’s warm at his side, having dragged his chair a few inches over to sit shoulder to shoulder. “I couldn’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me-”

“I’ve said it a thousand times,” Peter says, softly and breath warm where it fans out against Flash’s shoulder when he turns his head. “You don’t need to thank me for this. It’s the least I could do.”

“I was awful to you.”

Peter shrugs like it’s no big deal. Like he hasn’t cried dozens of times because of Flash, like he hasn’t sported bruises Flash gave him, like Flash hasn’t caused panic attacks and breakdowns in the school hallways.

“You were trying to protect yourself; I understand why you did what you did. I did some pretty awful things after my uncle… And anyways, you’ve apologized, and I forgave you,” Peter says, offering a smile, looking pretty and eyes sparkling, so close to Flash, all he can think about is Peter’s warm breath and trusting bambi-brown eyes.

He wants to kiss him. He wants to say the words aloud.

I love you, he thinks. I love you, I love you, I love you.

*

Flash moves in with Tessa in the apartment across the alley from Peter.

They walk to and from school together, they hang out at Peter’s apartment after school, they go to Academic Decathlon together, they even hang out on weekends frequently.

And Peter with his sparkling wide bambi-brown eyes and his tousled curly hair and the biggest heart and endless intelligence, has all of Flash’s love.

Flash wouldn’t want it any other way.

*

I love you.

I love you too.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spideyspeaches @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @misskirkstark @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl101 @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled @fallenstar07 @gyurolls @sdottkrames @you-did-it-sir {Lemme know if you wanna be added or removed}

[untitledtheunknown]

Not my best work, but ya know trying. Umbra torture porn, just him solo jacking it to Execution Time and some of his own archives.

Words - 2267

Not super graphic, but normal blood and suffering would expect him to be into. I am full of regret, so enjoy.

For most the screams would have been ear splitting, the sight too much to take in, but for some this was their fantasy. For Umbra, it was welcoming company now, the normal names popping up in chat, clipping moments, discussing the details. The screams continued as the electric volts shot through the victim, their head snapping back as their spine arched. Straining against the restraints on the chair holding them in place.

Umbra is sat propped up in some dark corner of a run down motel, blood smears on the wall and used needles shoved under the mattress. Some place you stay to hide for the night or die, a place where nobody recognizes names and has never seen faces. The internet is solid though and that's all he really needed.

Laptop screen illuminating the darkness, image of the fried body reflected in his black eyes. Chat continued to scroll, eddies being passed around on bets, messages on how the eyes popped, begging the cameras to be moved closer. Umbra shifted on the filthy mattress taking in the smoking form of the dead man before him. Part of the thrill, knowing that could be him, could be any one of the pervs in chat. He loved it, watching the filth who got caught be killed, survival of the fittest, and the fit sat laughing at it.

The screen goes black as the next execution is queued up. A quick section on the criminal, what state they're out of, and method of execution. Lethal injection. Chat sparks up immediately with links to place bets on the time, money being thrown around to switch out the vials. Arguments starting that they should just use bleach, an internal cleaning for the damned. Umbra can't help but smirk at some of the messages flying through, people so deep into the BD addictions they were no different than him. Wanting to witness torture, suffering, felt morally right because these were criminals. He knew they couldn't separate reality from their fiction though, that this was all content and nothing more. A few may be just as twisted as him, enjoying it for what it was. As he began to learn though it was all just an addiction now, another chase for a different type of high, the line between morals skewed and erased. Was all just content, entertainment, nobody was in the wrong here.

He sits in silence, metal fingers tapping across the keyboard on the laptop. Sending messages back to a small group engaged in more graphic types of execution. The screen eventually comes back and a woman is standing in front of the camera. Final rites are being performed, whatever follows for the legal course. Everything is muted, but he can tell by the look the woman doesn't care. No remorse, no fear, she's accepted her fate and just wants to get it over with. She moved back to sit in the execution seat, leaned back and arms bound to the armrests. Umbra watches intently, head tilted to the side playing with a ring weaved into his dreadlocks. He can see the furrowed brow, the annoyance on the woman's face. The doctor comes up and injects the needle and she spits in his face. Chat lights up with people laughing, emotes and money flying bye, both cheering her on as one of them and chanting for her death.

She looks dead into the camera after that, waiting for her death to come. Something washes over him at that glare. It mimics his own, a reflection he's seen in the mirror so many times. He smirked back at the screen, pushing the laptop to the side, adjusting himself on the bed. Watching as the injection is given, his hand moving to grope himself through his pants.

Free hand running up his side to the exposed vent, metallic fingers dancing across where synthetic flesh meets metal. Fingers slipping in and his system lights up, hud display flashing a warning that he quickly dismisses. He knew his limits, how far he could push his system before it went critical. The first jolt has him rolling his head back, squeezing his cock through his pants. Had been too long since he found pleasure, the sensation feeling almost foreign.

He watched with interest, intent, imagining what the prisoner was feeling. He could see the rage in her eyes, not about her death but that she had been caught to begin with. She was a fighter, and this was a pathetic way out. Only riled him up more. Could tell the moment the poison hit her system, the veins jolting out, the sudden attack to her body. He sunk further into the filthy mattress, groping at his stiffening cock. Free hand running along his body, under the torn tank-top and along his torso. Metal fingers catching at the splits of skin where the metal peaks through, metal bones shifting just beneath the flesh, body responding to the touch.

Doesn’t take long for the woman to succumb to the poison in her system, final moments of struggle leaving her body, fading out as she goes slack in the seat against her restraints. It's all too quick he thinks, there’s nothing involved in this method, it's just a glimpse and then everything is over. Finds himself siding with the chat, should have used bleach or some acid, given a real show for the money they’re throwing around.

Doesn’t take long and the next stream is up, another hanging, but the scene has him perked up. Prisoner has blood on his forehead and the guard has a busted nose, another bastard with some type of fight to the very end. Everything is harsh with how they move him, the positioning, they tighten the noose too tight around the convict’s neck and he knows where this is going. They’re going to make his last moments hell, make the poor gonk suffer to his death.

Anticipating he can feel his cock twitch under his grip, straining up against his pants. Final rites are given and Umbra is pulling himself out, kicking his pants off to the side of the bed and letting his legs fall open. Stroking slowly as he watches for the drop. When it does he’s not disappointed, the eager twitch in his palm as he squeezes his own grip. His free hand finding the ends of his dreads wrapped around his neck, tightening them to the scene. Neck only cracked, convict very much alive swinging as dead weight as its up to suffocation to take him. Body jolting in a natural display for survival as everyone simply watches and counts down the seconds.

His pace picks up on the strokes, chin lifted as a display of his own throat, dreads pulled tight to the resistance of metal. It's enough though, barely, he can feel the edge somewhere deep down and a faded high he’s chasing. Stroking himself to the dying heartbeat, to every twitch, to the look of pain and horror. Everyone is a tough bitch until death is consuming them, then the begging starts, the tears, the pleads. Oh how he loves it, how he wishes he could hear their thoughts, the bastards pleading to be spared.

Doesn’t take long for him to get into the motions, hips jerking up to meet his strokes. He’s seen enough people hung he knows how it all goes, but when the vendetta is met where it becomes personal- makes it all the much better. Hips jerking up as his hand squeezes down around the base, straining for friction, wanting so much more. What he wouldn’t give to have a warm body beneath him. Have his toy taking the brunt of his frustration, pent up rage and lust. The snapping of a neck has never sounded so good.

His cock twitched in his hand, a bead of precum dripping down from the head. Robotic fingers stretching to smear it down his shaft. Slow stroke up and teasing the head. Shifting as he watched the body twitch, the final moments of life dying out. His cock pulsing in his hand as he pulled tighter on the dreads around his neck. Felt teased at this point, executions were too quick. Nothing drawn out and truly painful. Feel the frustration boiling over in him. Pulling up a separate tab and plugging himself in, split screen of his own archives. Decades of interrogations, torture sessions, and murders. Attention flickering back to the execution page for what's to come.

Spitting into his hand he leaned back, laptop screen illuminating his face with footage and pictures of his own doing. The second screen comes back with another 3 women to be hung. Stroked himself slowly to the tears, the pleads, the bruises and blood. His grip tightened around himself as the nooses were secured around the women's necks.

A glimmer of a moment, where oddity would set in. That this was wrong, but the fixation of death is what always did him in. Those seconds where people would stand in the in-between. That's what he loved the most out of it, all he could get from these sites. Watching those like him, lessers to him, be met with such a fate, riled him. Watching others be tortured and murdered at his hand was only the next substitute to get him over.

Feelings were rare, he just needed to get off and be done. Transfixed though, dragging it out, choking himself, fingers slipping into his side vent and his hips bucked up into his fist. Jaw clenched tight as he steadied himself. Twisting his fist down his shaft, squeezing at the base and twisting at the swelling head. Warm metal against hot flesh, watching intently at every move on screen. The words meant nothing, but the silence he knew what was about to happen. The floor falling out and the last seconds of misery wiped away.

All dead within seconds, necks snapped and twisted around the ropes. Feet twitching as the body processes its over. Umbra lets out a long slow breath, grabbing his cock at the base and slapping it against his abdomen. Attention shifting to his own videos, the blood spurting out of open gashes, gurgling up from the throat. Desperate hands trying to fight him off, watching the last of their strength fade away, the life in their eyes go dull snuffing out, and their hands falling back to the ground.

Flicking to the next capture, the next memory, biting hard enough on his lip to draw blood. He remembers the man, a corpo in the wrong place at the wrong time. Trying to find his dealer and stumbling upon a monster feasting. A low moan escapes between parted lips and he doesn’t recognize it as his own. The sheer look of horror, the panicked scream and tumble as he tried to turn on heel and run. Blade sinking into the man’s ankle dragging him back into the mess. Then it's just blow after blow, blood spraying up with each pull of his fist. The point of submission came too quickly and he had backed off.

Umbra groaned as he watched the scene, the man spitting up blood from busted teeth and broken nose. The perfect façade broke as he laid there suffering on the floor. Long slow strokes speeding up, fisting at his cock as he watched, fingers again playing with the vents at his side. The electric racing through his body, making him arch back into it, hips stuttering up into his fist. Tongue flicking out smearing the blood from his lip, only making it all feel so much more real.

See himself climb on top of the corpo blood coated hands running along his beaten face. The soft hush and broken whimper, grasping him with such care, thumbs stroking over bloody cheeks before pushing them into his eyes. Screams engulfing the room, and Umbra can’t stifle the moan that wracks through him. Watching himself pull back to admire the scene, blood running from the eye sockets, mumbled pleas to be let go. Was no fight to begin with, but the man made such a pretty image. Watching him slowly bleed, removing the knife from his ankle and slicing a clean line across his chest. Only drawing a whimper but soon the front of the shirt stains red, and another gash joins it.

He’s close then, such a simple action, a simple kill and it's got him spiraling over. He watches as the knife comes up, the pathetic cry for it to end, and then it's over. Knife plunged deep into his chest, twisted and ripped back out. Throwing his head back as his cock strains and pulses, stroking himself over the edge. Moan leads to a choked off scream as he cums, body shaking with the climax. Ropes of cum spilling onto his abdomen and up to his chest. Stroking the last of it out up to a squeeze on the swollen head. Wiping what ends up on his hand onto the mattress and just falling back onto the bed. Slapping the laptop closed, over the whole thing.

Lays there in silence for several minutes, staring up at the ceiling. Part of him really hates himself, not so much for getting off but only being able to at his own work. Yet only able to think of that corpo, if it wasn't for the heat of the moment, would have dragged it out. Such a waste of a pretty face. Then the smile cracks, that dangerous laugh, and he’s floating. He’s got another.

[athrialuxegna]

Stronger than she thinks Part 2

Triggers warning: mental and physical abuse, violence, swearing

Part 1 | Part 3

Fanfiction | Archiveofourown | Wattpad

It was 6 a.m when I walked out of the cafeteria and nearly choked on my saliva when I saw Eric and Brent. They were laughing at some joke. I couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge in my stomach. If only Eric knew what monster Brent was. Who was I kidding! Eric would not give a shit about this. They stopped in their tracks when they notice me. My face contorted with disgust at the sight of Brent’s horny eyes looking up and down my body. A cold shiver ran down my spine.

“Christine, long time no see.” Brent’s smirk was full of himself.

He had me cornered. Eric was staring at our exchange. It was really bad. If I backed away it would give too much information and the same if I retorted. Ugh, one week of more or less peace wasn’t enough. I became a real ninja since my encounter with Eric. I have succeeded to avoid both men, but my luck was wearing off today.

“My life was brighter without the sight of you. Such a shame you just ruined it.” My sarcastic tone enraged him, his ears turned red and his eyes shot fire. Good. Then he smirked. Oh, crap.

“You know you miss me, Chrissy.” His voice was hushed and seductive.

All color was drained from my face. My nails were digging in my palms, blood slowly spilling from the crescent wounds. This nickname rang a bell. He had called me that when he was all over me. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood in my mouth. Motherfucker!

“I have something better to do than talking to a prick like you.” I hissed back, turning on my heels.

“You’re so hot when you’re angry Chrissy.” He called after me.

A wave of entangled emotions was bubbling inside of me. It won’t be long before I break down. I began to run when I turn the corner. I went straight to the roof. The rain was pouring hard. Thick drops fell on my face and soaked my clothes. I screamed at the top of my lungs to the raging sky. I couldn’t take his attitude, his face nor his fucking nickname. I took out all my pent up anger and desperation onto the wall beside me. My knuckles hit the wall harder and harder until my knees gave out.  I imagined his face, as bloody as my hands, as shattered as my soul. I wish I could just disappear or forget what happened. Hot tears were streaming down my cheeks. Okay, maybe I was not drained yet.

“Why did you do this to me?” I asked to the raging sky, defeated.

“Why who did what to you?”

Eric’s deep voice startled me. He was standing right at the door, the only escape from the roof. Wonderful. I sighed deeply. I am so fucked, I thought. I felt like I was ready to jump from a cliff without a safety net awaiting me at the bottom. Everything was crashing down around me. I had nothing to lose now. Still, a part of me refused to admit what happened. My bruised ego wasn’t willing to let go. I closed my eyes a second before answering, my back still facing him.

“It’s none of your concern Eric,” I replied dryly.

The tears had stopped as soon as I heard his voice. I appeared weak enough right now to not turn around crying my eyes off. Eric came in front of me, crouching down to be near my level. His eyes more intense than usual as if he was trying to read my thoughts. I wished I wasn’t in the cafeteria earlier. I wished Eric would just ignore me.

“I know this is related to Brent.” I hold my breath at the name. “Tell me, Christine, what did he do to you?” His cold voice chilled me to the bone.

I shivered but held his gaze nonetheless. I shook my head in complete denial. Eric was the last person I wanted to confess to. Eyebrows furrowed and teeth clenched, I held my ground.

“Nothing.” My voice was surprisingly strong.

Eric huffed then closed the gap between us. His breath fanned my face, our noses nearly touching. My breath quickened at the sudden intrusion into my personal space. Tears brimmed in my eyes and I cursed my body for trembling like a leaf. Eric’s eyebrow quirked up, his piercings glistening at the movement. His icy blue eyes tore into my soul, curiosity burning inside them. However, his face was void of any emotion.

“Now, tell me why are you in such a state? You can’t fool me, Christine.” His low voice reached a deeper octave.

Seconds passed, I couldn’t bring myself to tare my eyes away from him. Even though I hated him to follow me up here. Didn’t he have better things to do? I closed my eyes and whispered finally.

“Brent raped me.”

My surrender cost me a lot. It was the final straw, the confirmation that my life became a living hell. Silence followed my confession. I found the courage to open my eyes. Eric was fuming, his gaze fixated on the ground. A hole would appear any second in the concrete at this point. His clenched jaw and fists told me that he was on the verge of losing his self-control. I didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing. Was he angry at Brent for doing this? Or was he angry because Brent might lose his job as his consultant? So many questions swirled in my mind when his sharp voice cut the dreadful silence.

“When?”

“Monday night,” I replied curtly, not trusting my voice further.

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered under his breath. “We have to report to Max. Brent has to respond to his crime.”

His words held a finality that scared me. Will he report with or without my consent? His entire demeanor screamed that he was ready to bolt for Max’s office any second. I shot him a wary look and shook my head. It can’t be happening so fast. I hadn’t processed the whole thing yet.

I needed some time to prepare myself for the incoming battle. Should I say the truth or should I lie? An investigation won’t do anything without my word. Brent set up the whole thing, there was no proof. Unless… I went to the infirmary to be examined. No way, no one would ever touch me again or see my lady parts.

“Max won’t know anything. Brent can’t be judged for his crime because of the circumstances.” I retorted with annoyance.

“What circumstances? Rape is rape for fuck’s sake.” Growled Eric.

“You wouldn’t understand because I can’t even figure it out myself,” I admitted bitterly. “Cowardice is my crime.”

“What do you mean?” Something flickered in his eyes.

“While he was…” I trailed off. “I couldn’t move a muscle, my body won’t cooperate. I was helpless, an empty shell. I could just watch and... feel.”

The words ran out of my mouth before my brain could register. I wished I could disappear or that Eric would magically teleport somewhere else. I felt my cheeks burn from embarrassment and shame. I lowered my gaze onto the floor, I couldn’t look at him after saying this.

“It is pretty common during a traumatic experience. Your brain shuts down to protect you, it’s a defensive response.” He explained with a rather know-it-all voice.

A surge of unknown anger bubbled inside of me. His nose side triggered something deep. I huffed and threw my arms around to avoid punching him. His psychological bullshit wouldn’t help me to get rid of my guilt.

“I was a coward nonetheless and I’ll remain as long as I can’t forgive myself. Where’s the Eric I know, the ruthless leader? He would just say to suck it up and get on with my life or I would end up Factionless. Why do you care anyway? Just throw me over the roof already to end my misery!” I yelled.

Eric stood still, unfazed by my sudden outburst. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and waited until I calmed a little bit. His eyes boring holes into my skull.

“Enjoy, this is the only chance you’ve got to shout at me.” He smirked briefly. “No matter what you think of me Chris, this is part of my job to ensure the security of all Dauntless members. The only way to protect you and other women is to send him to justice.”

I growled inwardly. He was right. Brent should be stopped as soon as possible. He could do worse in the meantime. I sighed deeply and bowed my head. I was conflicted. Part of me wasn’t willing to give in. My intimacy had already been violated. I didn’t need a nurse looking down there now. I was selfish, I knew, but it was easier to ignore it than to face it. Tell me about being Dauntless, huh.

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready to report this,” I muttered.

Eric’s lips twitched up at the corners in an almost genuine smile. My heart skipped a beat at the sight, his face always tight and closed was a bit relaxed. Bewitched Eric returned. His changing demeanor was unnerving, I didn’t know what to expect next.

“We should go back inside to take care of your knuckles. Unless you want to catch the flu.”

He turned on his heels and stalked away. He didn’t seem bothered by the rain drenching his clothes and hair. I followed him down in the compound. The cold hallways made me shiver. My soaked clothes clang awkwardly to my body. I certainly looked like a penguin with a stick shoved up his ass or a pathetic excuse of a cowboy, walking after hours of riding a horse. We didn’t say a word until he took a turn I hadn’t expected. He was leading me down the leaders’ quarter. I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Why do you bring me here?” I questioned warily.

“You prefer Marlene’s questioning?” He retorted coolly.

I began to walk again. Marlene was the head of the infirmary, a curious young woman who couldn’t hold her tongue. Eric’s smirk returned to his lips. He was himself again. Good. We entered his apartment. It was huge, tidy, and neat as if no one lived here. There was classical furniture, a black leather couch, a table, a full bookshelf. Three closed doors faced us, which lead to the kitchen, the washroom, and the bedroom, I presumed. Eric went into one of the rooms to get me spare clothes.

“You can use the bathroom to take a shower and change. We’ll take care of your knuckles after.” He pointed to the door closest to me.

I nodded and took the clothes from his hands. He disappeared quickly through the same door. I guessed he had a bathroom connected to his bedroom. Perks of being a leader. The hot water hit me and washed my emotions. Reality dawned on me. Eric knew. He was the only one other than Brent. How will it go between both men? They were working together, how was this supposed to go well?

I hoped that Eric would not do anything impulsive. It would only worsen the situation I was in. I didn’t even know what was the law regarding rape. Did it even exist? I wasn’t sure. Rape was a rare occurrence in Dauntless, exceptional trials that I’ve never seen in my twenty-five years here.

I tried to escape from my thoughts while drying myself. I get changed. Eric gave me one of his shirts, a large hoodie, and jogging. It smelt like him, his scent surrounded me. A mix of mint and leather. A strange sense of security settled in me. A knock on the door resonated.

“Are you finished?” Eric asked through the door.

“Yes, you can come in,” I responded, slightly surprised by his thoughtfulness. He could have barged into the room with no care in the world. We were in his apartment after all.

The door opened and Eric walked in. He changed into a similar outfit to mine. I couldn’t recall the last time I’ve seen him in anything other than his leaders’ attire. His tight shirt outlined his toned chest and his jogging hang low on his hips, I could catch a glimpse of his smooth skin. I adverted my eyes elsewhere, disturbed by my wandering mind. I was raped a week ago and I drooled over him. Something was definitely wrong with me. Did Brent hit me too hard?

I’d lie if I said that he wasn’t handsome, but Eric was Eric. He was untouchable, a leader, and most importantly the bearer of my secret. I needed to suppress the reminiscence of my crush on him. It wasn’t the time nor the best circumstances and, let’s be real, Eric could have any other Dauntless girl. So why bother with me?

Eric opened a drawer and took a first-aid kit without glancing at me. I had washed all the dry blood from my hands. The cuts were visible now. I let him take care of them. His rough hands were gentle and he kept space between us. I appreciated the gesture even though his changing behavior unsettled me. He bandaged my hands then cleaned all the supplies.

“If you want to fight find a real opponent. Next time the wall will win. Your bones are not that tough.” He remarked, his eyes resting on me.

“I wish I could kill him with my bare hands but it would do me no good.” I huffed while rolling my eyes.

“You could call me next time.” His voice light as a feather.

“What? You’ll do worse than the wall, Eric.” I responded, crossing my arms over my chest.

His laugh filled the bathroom. I’ve never heard it before. I was stunned for a second, processing what I was witnessing. I must’ve looked at him like he had grown two heads because he composed himself and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” The ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

“I’ve never heard you laugh before,” I said without thinking.

His serious expression returned as well as his cold blue eyes. The Eric I knew was finally back.

“Now get out of here. I have work to do.” He dismissed.

I was about to leave when I look at him with worried eyes. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Come on, I won’t do anything about your secret without your consent.” He practically growled.

“Thanks, Eric.” I nodded slightly then walked out of the apartment.

Once alone dread fell onto me. I went to the tattoo parlor, my safe haven. Tori was cleaning her stuff when I walked in. She smiled at me and beckoned me to come with her to one of the tattoo stalls. I joined her and sit on the tattoo chair as if I belonged in here.

“Hey, Chris you want something today?” She asked, taking a sit by the chair I sat on.

“Yop Tori. I think I’ve got an idea.”

I explained to her what I wanted. She drew the design, it was better than what I have expected. The buzzing of the machine soothed me. It was a tough pleasure to get tattooed. The needles were in and out of my skin, the dull ache growing in my back. Tori hadn’t talked since the beginning.

“Now, would you tell me why you’re wearing man’s clothes and have your knuckles bandaged?” She asked out of nowhere.

I tensed slightly then relaxed not to mess up the tattoo.

“I ended up getting caught in the storm outside. Someone get me spare clothes. ” I answered carefully.

Tori hummed in response. Silence fell upon us once again. I must have fallen asleep because Tori woke me up by shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see a large smile on her face.

“Good nap, sleeping beauty?” She mocked.

“Sorry, I won’t do it again,” I replied, stretching my sore muscles.

“Don’t do promises you can’t keep, Chris.” She laughed.

Every time Tori tattooed me I fell asleep in no time. I smiled and get up to see my back in the mirror. The beautiful Phoenix, wings spread, was looking back at me. It was stunning, the fine details made it seem real. A masterpiece that took my entire back. Satisfied and happy, I turned to Tori.

“This is wonderful. Thanks, Tori.”

She nodded and was called by another customer. I waved goodbye and took my leave. I didn’t know what to do on my days off. Even more so now that I didn’t have any friends to spend time with. I missed hanging around with Jenna and Kate. I have encounter neither of them since their visit in my apartment. A dull ache crushed my ribcage, I was alone. Brent took everything from me. He took more than my innocence, he destroyed my life. I couldn’t trust anyone, not fully at least. There will still be a doubt, a “what if” that will ruin my relationships. I wandered in the Pit like a lost soul. It was becoming full. I sat on a rock and watched Dauntless members passing by.

A hand fell on my shoulder. I jerked away and turned around to face Four. My eyebrows furrowed as my heart calmed his frantic beats. He looked tired, working in the control room took its toll on him. He seemed more dynamic when he was training the initiates. He arbored a somber expression, his eyes boring into mine.

“Chris we have to talk about something. In private.” He muttered.

I gulped, it wasn’t something good. Four had to know something to appear out of nowhere to talk. He had seen something. Cameras were all over the compound. Brent couldn’t avoid all of them. I didn’t want anyone to see what happened. If they were a trial, it would be watched by so many people. My body shivered and I get up to follow Four in an empty hallway. We stood a few feet apart, staring at each other, choosing our words carefully.

“Chris, I saw what happened Monday night. Eric and I were talking about the next initiation when the screens showed you and Brent.”

Eric knew before I confessed. I felt betrayed that he didn’t tell me. I swallowed thickly and shook my head. The situation was getting out of my hands. I needed to get out of here. The pitiful gaze Four cast on me made me sick. I couldn’t take his soft eyes. I turned around and ran as if I was chased by a werewolf.

I turned the corner and crashed into a strong body. My eyes settled on Brent. He had his arms wrapped around my waist to keep me from falling. His intense brown orbs plunged into my emerald irises. My body stiffened and I wriggled in his grasp to get free. It only made him tighten his grip.

“Oh Chrissy, I knew you would run after me.” His low voice rang in my ears.

I tried to pry him away from me to no use, he was way too strong. His lips graced my neck, a cold shiver ran down my spine.

“Brent get off me. I don’t want you.” I growled.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Brent let me go and I bolt out of here. Eric was right. Brent had to be brought to justice or he will continue. I went into my apartment and closed myself for the rest of the day. I didn’t eat this evening. I was feeling sick at the idea of explaining what happened to Max and the other leaders. My night had been restless, haunted by horrible nightmares.

[echo-hiraeth]

“Will you just shut that kriffing mouth of yours and listen for a second?” Din Djarin x GN! Reader

Summary: Reader was forced to kill someone when a bounty retrieval went rogue and is pestered by memories of the scene. Din tries to comfort them to the best of his abilities.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, mentions of violence and blood, injury, death, some fluff to balance it all out (:

Masterlist

It was supposed to be an easy job but it had (not surprisingly) turned into a complete shitshow. Karga had slid the puck across the table, informing the Mandalorian that it was just a harmless quarry. Din was eager to accept it and take things slow from there on out. Because for months now everything had been pure chaos and hecticness, it started to take a toll on the three of you.

The baby started getting more fussy and restless, sensing the stress and pent-up frustrations within the Crest. It had sounded like a dream, the perfect opportunity for the both of you to take a break.

“No matter what happens, stay in the ship”, Din ordered while slinging his pulsar rifle over his shoulder. “If you need anything, talk to me.”

He slid a tiny device into your clammy hand, a commlink. You looked up at him, giving him a half smile. No matter the stakes or risks, you always hated it when he left.

“Just be careful, please?” You gently rested your hand against his chest plate.

The bounty hunter tilted his helmet, trying to reassure his partner. “Don’t worry cyar’ika. It’s an easy job, should only take a couple hours.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. He’d survived way more dangerous trips, he’d be fine.

The Mandalorian turned to leave, opening the hull and promptly stepping outside. He reminded you to start up the ground security protocol and with that he took off. The shine of his beskar slowly fading away as he ventured into the distance.

Another bounty, another day alone on the ship. Well, that was until your foundling woke up and accompanied you. You spent an hour cleaning the ship, picking up dirty clothes and quickly sweeping the floors. By the time you got around to the small kitchen, you heard cooing and whining coming from Din’s cot.

As you opened the door you were met with those big brown eyes, melting your heart on sight.

“Good morning little one”, you mused, picking him up to press a gentle kiss to his fuzzy head.

He reached out, tiny hands cupping your face, as if trying to reciprocate the gesture. You chuckled, absolutely smitten by his antics. A chuckle of his own left his throat upon seeing you so relaxed.

“Let’s get you some breakfast ad’ika.”

 Karga was right, the bounty didn’t even fuss when Din went to collect him. He simply nodded and extended his arms, cooperating as the beskar-covered man secured the handcuffs around the quarry’s wrists. He was human, and if Din had to guess maybe in his sixties, face covered in wrinkles and scars, each telling a story of their own.

“I hope you didn’t have too much trouble getting here, the sandstorms tend to be quite intense.”

Din sighed, helping the quarry stand up and slowly guiding him out of the cantina. He rolled his eyes underneath the helmet, steadily becoming more and more annoyed with every attempt at conversation that left the old man’s mouth.

“Do you ever take that bucket off?”, the man questioned, gesturing towards the helmet.

“No living thing has seen my face since I swore to the creed”, the Mandalorian replied in a monotone voice.

“Oh so you can talk, you’re just stubborn.” The man let out a laugh, amused by his own remark.

The bounty hunter decided right there and then that his new guest would spend his time on the ship in the carbonite freezer, in silence. As the Crest came into view, Din started to pick up his pace, not caring about the sand starting to obstruct his visor.

“That’s the start of a new storm, if we don’t find cover soon, we’ll both be dead!” The man yelled, the sound of the harsh wind picking up almost drowning him out completely.

“Less talking more running”, the Mandalorian commanded, dragging the bounty by the collar of his shirt. Their bodies colliding in the process.

He tapped away on his vambrace, the hull of his beloved ship starting to open. Distracted by the storm, Din was surprised by the sudden laser blast flying past him.

“Give me my father and I might just let you live”, a female voice spoke.

Within a second he whipped around, face to face with a small woman, a blaster in each hand. She wore a mask, hiding her face from him and goggles to guard her eyes from the sand.

“I’m not asking again, Mandalorian.”

“I’m afraid I don’t negotiate easily”, Din sighed, reaching for his own blaster, only to find it missing.

“I suggest you listen to my daughter.” The man spoke, blaster held in his cuffed hands. He must’ve apprehended it when they’d bumped into one another.

Din tried to assess the situation and its possible outcomes. He quickly wrapped his arm around the man’s throat, holding him in a threatening chokehold while hastily grabbing the blaster from his hands.

He mentally scolded himself for being so uncaring and distracted. He could clearly use a break as well.

The girl quickly fired at him, pulling him out of his own head, aiming for the weak spot between his helmet and right pauldron.

He stumbled back a bit, hissing at the burning flesh.

“Next one won’t miss”, the daughter threatened, taking a few confident strides in his direction.

Without hesitation he fired his blaster, barely missing the girl who moved at a surprisingly fast pace.

She pointed the blaster at him once again, but before she could pull the trigger, she fell down. Din hit the quarry in the head with his elbow, his unconscious form falling the ground.

“Cyar’ika..” Din started, looking at your trembling form, blaster still aimed at the woman.

“There’s no time, get them inside, storm’s getting worse.” You’d tried to sound confident despite the obvious shake in your voice.

Din was left alone, quickly dragging the bodies into the hull of the ship while you went to the ‘fresher. Locking the door you had to hold on to the metal counter to steady yourself. Your knuckles turned white with the intensity of your grip. The sound of your shallow breaths filled the small space, only causing you to panic even more.

Meanwhile, in the hull of the ship, the Mandalorian had put the bounty into the carbonite freezer. He then kneeled beside the woman’s body, carefully removing her coverings. He shook his head upon seeing her face, she was young, just a kid. Despite being seen as a cold killer, he hated this, he hated having to involve innocent people into other people’s messes.

As he went to stand again, he felt a dull ache in his shoulder and remembered the injury he’d sustained earlier. He quietly made his way over to the fresher, while cautiously removing his pauldron. He stopped dead in his tracks upon hearing your soft sobs.

“Are you hurt?”, his modulated voice was faint and low.

You gasped, quickly wiping your eyes and splashing your face with some water.

“N-no, I’m fine. Are you?” You slid the door open, and were met with a tilt of his helmet that you interpreted as nothing but concern for you.

“You did what you had to do, to protect me, us.”

Your shoulders started shaking at his words, sobs filling the silence. He was never good at this but wanted nothing more than to help you, so gently, he put his arms around you. His embrace was gentle and soft, almost as if you would break if he were to hold you any tighter.

The tears freely streamed down your cheeks now and fell onto the beskar, rolling down his chest plate as your body trembled.

He winced a little when you went to wrap your arms around his neck. Your eyes quickly found his visor. His heart ached when he saw your glassy eyes, which were otherwise so vibrant and full of life.

“Is she dead?”, you croaked out, never averting your gaze from the visor.

Din hesitantly held your hands in his, slowly nodding.

“A-are you injured?”, you asked trying to regain control over your emotions.

“It’s just a scratch, I can take care of it, you sho-“

“Let me help you, please,” you begged while extending your arms towards the med kit.

“You really don’t have to.” He spoke softly.

You forced a smile, guiding him back to the hull and froze upon seeing the body, the woman. Her face was bare, revealing a young girl, a teenager, a kid. Scoffing, you looked up at the ceiling in an attempt not to break out in tears again.

“Let’s get you patched up.”

 After you tended to Din’s wounds, the storm had passed. He suggested you throw the body out of the ship, but you insisted he wouldn’t. A loaded silence filled the cockpit ever since, until he prepared the ship to take off.

“Y/n, you need to process this, seeing her body will only make it harder.” He reiterated, trying to convince you to leave her behind once more.

“She deserves a proper burial, just get us to the outer rim of this hellhole”, with that you’d left him and the baby in the cockpit, disappearing into your cot.

As you went to lay down and close your eyes, sleep quickly settled in, the sheer exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you. The earlier events plagued you, the scene replaying over and over again. Except she screamed and cried for mercy in your nightmare, which made you jolt awake. Your hands rested over your eyes as you started to sob again. You never thought you’d have to shoot, let alone kill someone, but here you were, a murderer, not even strong enough to face the consequences of their own actions.

Din rushed to your side upon hearing your cries and screams.

“What happened?”, he removed your hands form your face, wanting you to look at him.

“How can you stand to even look at me…”, you spoke through gritted teeth, voice laced with self-hatred.

“You did what you-“

You shoved past him while interrupting: “No Din, that’s not what I meant. How can you stand to live your life with someone so weak and pathetic.”

“What do you mean?”, he questioned, grabbing a hold of your wrist to keep you from leaving the small cot.

“What good is a partner if they can’t even kill to save their life.”

“Stop it.”

“I mean it, you should’ve just left me back there to perish in the sand.”

“I said stop that.” He grabbed your jaw and made you face him. “For Maker’s sake, will you just shut that kriffing mouth of yours and listen for a second.”

Your eyes started brimming with tears again as you slowly nodded your head.

“If I wanted someone to help me with the bounties, I would’ve gotten someone from the guild. I didn’t hire an assassin and I don’t need you to be one either. You’re here because I want you to be. You’re here because I couldn’t stand to not have you with me. You’re here because you keep me grounded.”

You took a step towards him, tears threatening to spill.

“Din I-“

“I’m not finished. The way you care for the kid.. the way you make sure that I always have food and water, the way you take short showers so that I have hot water as well. The way you pick up after us, how you tend to our every need and desire. You made this ship into a home for the three of us, with your love and care. I don’t want you to be okay with what you did because you wouldn’t be the cyar’ika that I’ve grown to care about.”

He stumbled back when you practically hurled yourself into his arms. His gloves hands rested on your lower back as you stood in a comfortable silence, the only sounds being his frantic breathing. A modulated chuckle escaped his armour as he sensed you nuzzling into him.

“Thank you”, you whispered into the space between his helmet and shoulder.

“Close your eyes y/n.. let me kiss you”, he murmured, hands gripping onto you more tightly.

You hummed, doing as you were told and soon you heard the clang of beskar against the floor. Before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours. He wanted them to speak for him, afraid that his words would fall short in trying to describe the complete and utmost adoration he felt for and because of you. His movements were eager and desperate, the lack of touch and affection over the years encouraging him to kiss you even harder. Your teeth accidentally grazed his lip, which startled him a bit. This caused the both of you to break apart, his hand quickly coming up to cover your eyes, just as a precaution.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum”, he breathed, panting as his lips found yours once again.

You didn’t know what it meant, but you know that if he said it in Mando’a it must’ve been something he wasn’t ready to have you know just yet, but you didn’t mind, you had all the time in world.

[anotherhargrovebitch]

i’m not your baby anymore : b.h

part three of don’t call him baby mini series! thanks for all the love and support - i hope this does justice (2.2k) 

oh and shout out to @belledawnidk who asked to be tagged!

o n e //  t w o //  t h r e e 

* stranger things writing *

bold/italics - past events 

“Come to think of it, there’s a good pool at er, Motel Six. It’s very quiet, very private.” Billy focuses on Karen’s lips, watching as nerves rise in her expression as she darts her eyes from his growing smirk. “Shall we say tonight, eight o clock?” He chews his gum, meeting her doe eyes. 

Karen shifts her weight from one foot to the other, fiddling with her towel as she averts her gaze. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” She states calmly, ignoring her heart rate increasing as Billy raises an eyebrow, his face still in close proximity to hers. 

“Can’t have fun?” Billy chuckles, and the two continue to flirt ignoring everyone else around them. 

As Karen Wheeler walks away, Billy can feel that familiar pit in his stomach returning, knowing he’s got one more thing to do before he can put everything aside for the night.

*

Taking a deep breath, Billy pulled up down the street. It was a spot he had gotten used to, even if your neighbours opened their curtains and stared at him. Sometimes he’d have the courage to wave and force a smile, but other times he ignored them in the hope they’d allow him some privacy. 

This was the last chance he told himself. One more time of giving himself the opportunity to talk to you, rather than watch you from a safe distance.

“Come on, dick.” Billy mutters under his breath as he lights a cigarette, inhaling deeply before exhaling, filling the car with smoke. 

It was becoming harder to ignore you as Summer was progressing. He felt like he could no longer avoid you like he once did in the corridors of the school. Billy saw you everywhere, small details or things you had mentioned. Every time it happens, Max finds out. 

Seeing Billy so lovesick isn’t something Max ever anticipated witnessing. She knew Billy as a bit of a dick to girls, a womaniser or something slightly perverted. But when you came along, everything seemingly changed for the better and now, now everything has come to a halt in his life. 

“You know, she asks about you sometimes,” Max rests against Billy’s door, keeping her eyes trained to the pieces of ash buried in his carpet. 

She knew she was edging close to dangerous waters, unsure whether to take the leap or let the currents rise. 

Billy shuffles, taking his fingers away from the locket he still wears. “She does?” He questions, forcing himself to sit upright as he faces Max. Biting his lower lip, he tries to stop his heartbeat racing inside of his chest. “What, what does she ask?” He stumbles over his words, something Max smiles at. 

“She, she asks if you’re doing alright. Like, with the lifeguard job and if you’re seeing anyone.” Max says quietly, listening to Billy huff as his whole demeanour changes from something soft to more aggressive.

Clenching his bedding tightly, Billy refuses to meet Max’s eyes. “Dumb bitch.” He mutters forcefully as he rises to his feet, looking down as Max’s face is filled with fear. “Move, Maxine.” He spits and she complies, rising to her feet and leaving the room. 

“Billy, don’t do something you’ll regret!” She yells after him as he grabs his keys and jacket, slamming the front door behind him. “Shit.” She whispers as she runs down the stairs and opens the door, only to see Billy already speeding off down the street with his music blaring. 

He shouldn’t be angry at you, but he can’t help it. 

You got to move on, you had the chance to restart but he couldn’t. Billy didn’t want to. Yet, despite it being over a year, you still ask about him? 

Slamming his car door, Billy throws his cigarette butt to the ground as he grinds on it with his boot. He locks the door, taking one last look at his reflection in the side mirror. 

Licking his lips, Billy runs his fingers through his curls before shrugging his jacket and walking down the path he could follow in his sleep. He takes a look up to see only your bedroom light illuminated inside of the house, and no sign of Harrington’s car. 

“Now or never.” Billy tells himself as he nears your house, this having been the closest to you he’s been in months. 

Looking down at his feet, Billy stands on the welcome mat. It’s Thursday evening, and some things never change about you or your family. He can still hear the wind charm blowing, the sweet notes it produces from the side of the porch whilst your dog barks at the sound of Billy’s movements. 

He raises his fist, forcing himself to knock as he turns around, wondering if it’s too late to make a run for it. 

“I’m coming!” You cheerfully yell from the other side of the door, oblivious to whom you’re about to be faced with. 

Billy tenses as he listens to the locks turning, all three being unbolted as you open it with a bright smile, only to have it falter as Billy stands in front of you. “Hi.” He manages to breathe out, his mind clouding over as you hide most of yourself behind the door, barely looking him in the eye. 

“Billy, what’re you doing here?” You question coldly as Billy blinks rapidly, hearing his name being muttered in sorrow as opposed to joy.

“I was just passing,” He looks back over his shoulder, feeling all of your neighbour's eyes watching him closely.

In his head, he imagines they’ve all heard the stories about him, that your Mom would’ve gossiped about how he broke your heart by cheating. He didn’t have your Mom down as a bad person, but she definitely would be the sort to twist facts like your breakup. 

You raise an eyebrow to him, your smile remaining dormant from his view. “You were just passing through this part of town, where nothing is?” You respond, crossing your arms as you open the door a slither more. “What’re you really doing here, Billy?” You reiterate your former question, knowing he can’t avoid the truth forever. 

Billy exhales loudly, burying his hands deeper into the pockets of his leather jacket. “I wanted to talk to you, Y/n.” He admits, the pet name so close to rolling from his tongue but he bites it back. “I know it’s been a long time, but can we just talk about some things?” He asks you calmly, hiding his pent up anger as he grips the cigarette box in his left pocket. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you focus on the time. You know there’s enough time for you to both talk, for you to scream and cry and him to leave before Steve comes. But you want to be selfish and say no. 

“Come in, Billy.” You lower your head as you step back, pulling the door toward you as he walks in. 

His eyes roam around, noticing small changes decorating the hallway. 

“You changed it up in here.” He comments, looking back as you nod softly before walking into the living room.

Billy remains on his feet as you take a seat in the armchair, watching as he seems unsure of himself for the first time. “You can sit down, Billy.” You tell him, and as soon as you state that he obliges. “So, what’d you wanna tell me then?” You get straight to the point, not wanting to dance around the topic. 

Shuffling in the seat, Billy sits on the edge of the three-seater sofa. He focuses on his shaking knee, unaware of you watching intently at the small details that have changed about him.

Your eyes roam over his face, picking up the freckles that always reappear in the summertime. How that slit in his eyebrow as scarred from one of Neil’s punches. There are fewer cuts and bruises for once, but you know that they must be concealed beneath the layers of his clothing. 

“I wanted to apologise to you, Y/n.” He starts, still unable to look you directly in the eyes. “As I never did properly, I mean, I tried but understandably, you didn’t wanna talk.” He states, glancing up to see you nod in response. “And, and Max says you ask about me sometimes?” 

Billy looks over, seeing your hand grip the arm of the chair as he mentions his stepsister. “I, I just wanted to know if you’re doing okay.” You shrug your shoulder, playing it down from what it really is. “Just, I see you around Hawkins but I never know if you’re putting up a facade.” You comment, and Billy swallows the yell in his throat. 

“That all you ask her?” He toys with you, dangling it in front of your face. 

A loud huff leaves your lips as you mirror his body language. “What’re you asking me, Billy?” The words leave your lips with venom. You never liked the games he played, especially when it came to your emotions. 

“Do you still care about me? Ask about if I’m seeing anyone?” His voice rises as you rub your temples. “Seriously, Y/n?” He scoffs as he stands up, pacing around the room. “After all this time, you still care about me? After all I did, I’ve sulked over losing you, only to see you all over Harrington of all people! And yet, you still have the audacity to ask about me!” He yells, unaware of you standing in front of him with glossy eyes. 

“No, Billy.” You state coldly, trying to keep yourself composed. “I was a mess when you broke my heart. Steve, Steve is my best friend. He’ll always be my best friend, even if we’re dating- which is none of your business anymore by the way. You, you lost the privilege to be apart of my life when you slept with another girl.” You spit at him, feeling those old wounds being reopened. 

“So why ask about me then?” He retorts, moving closer toward you. 

“I ask because I still care, Billy!” You yell. “I’ll always care about you deep down, no matter how much shit you do or how much you hurt me. I’ll always fucking care you piece of shit.” Your yells mix with tears as you hit his chest repeatedly, only for him to take a hold of your wrists. 

“Hey,” His voice lowers, close to whispering as you cry. “don’t.” He says, only for you to look up at him as tears stream down your cheeks. 

“You ruined me, Billy.” You whisper, forcing your wrists from his grip as you take a step back. “And yet, I still care.” You laugh to yourself as you wipe your eyes. “How that works I do not know.” 

“Y/n,” He mutters your name, reaching out as you collapse down to the ground. “I’m so sorry, for everything.” His voice is soft, the delicate tone you once heard in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep. He would’ve curled up into you, his lips against your ear as he’d whisper sweet nothings. 

“You should be.” You look up, focusing on those blue eyes you once got lost in. 

“Do, do you still love me?” His eyes search yours, desperation oozing from his lips as you shuffle away from him. 

“Billy, don’t.” You ask him quietly, shaking your head. 

But Billy can’t help it. He moves closer as your back hits the armchair. “Do you love him like you love me?” His eyes remain fixated on yours as the tears continue to glide down your cheeks as you blink, knowing the answer will break his heart.

“I, I’ll always love you, Billy.” You lift your hand, resting it against his cheek.

Naturally, Billy leans into your soft touch, missing your delicate hand against his rough skin. 

“But,” You continue, breaking Billy from his dream, bursting the bubble of what he hoped to be the end of that sentence. “you were and always will be my first love. I, I’ve moved on.” You explain quietly, watching as he pulls away from you, your hand dropping from his face. “You need to move on, Billy. You, you’ll always have a place in my heart, but I’m still healing.” Your hand rests over your chest, and Billy simply nods. 

“I, I should go.” He mutters as he stands up, looking at you briefly. “I’m sorry, Y/n.” He says, knowing you understand that he truly means it. “I, I’ll leave you to it.” He heads toward the front door, knowing you won’t follow him. 

Deep down, you wish you could. That part of you will always wonder what would happen if you ran after him. 

Instead, you listen as the door closes quietly, leaving you in solitude as you cry into your chest over the boy who broke your heart, and whose heart you broke in return. 

Billy sits in his car, glancing down to see the time as he wipes his face. It is seven O’clock. He pulls away, knowing the exact route to Motel Six from your house, having spent many nights there with you but tonight and like every night from now on, he won’t spend it with you. 

Deep down, Billy knows he’ll willingly spend it with anyone just in hope that the hole in his chest might heal up someday. That the heart you broke will heal, and he’ll have another chance at finding someone else.

[jenonctcity]

Mr Right

Lee Jeno – Smut

Bestfriend-to-lovers!AU

Warnings: Oral, Fingering.

Word Count: 2.2k

Request: Requested by anon – Reader has feelings for Bestfriend!Jeno and goes on dates and flirts with other men.

 The gentle click of Jeno’s bedroom door opening made him glance up from the glaring light of his computer. His glasses situated on his nose, the chunky headphones placed over his head and his hair covering his forehead gave him an innocent air to his look, one that made your stomach flutter with a stampede of unwelcome butterflies. You smiled timidly, his lips pulling up to give you an identical look. Turning to close the door behind you, you took a deep breath, putting on a fake façade as you had your back to him. You put on a big grin and skipped over to him.

“Hey Jen.” You threw yourself onto his bed, laying on your side with your head propped up on your hand.

“Hey.” He glanced back at you before putting half of his attention back on the monitor in front of him. “Where have you been all day? You usually come over a lot earlier on a Saturday, I was starting to worry.” He asked curiously, playing battlegrounds the best he could while trying to have a conversation at the same time.

“I was on a date.” You spoke nonchalantly with a shrug, acting as though it was nothing.

“Another one?” He spun around on his chair once more, pulling off the headphones at the same time. All of his attention on you now and his game being forgotten about.

“Yeah, it’s hard trying to find Mr Right.” You let out a dramatic sigh, flopping onto your back with a huff.

“Was it that guy you kept flirting with last week at the bowling alley?” He took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands to try and make the tiredness from staring at a computer screen all day fade away. You stared at him whilst he couldn’t see you, admiring the way his hair fluffed up as his fingertips brushed through it. Jeno never failed to make your knees go weak, palms go clammy, butterflies to flap around in your stomach, and your heart rate to beat like a drum, the sound pounding in your ear and making you nervous that he could hear it. But you never had the guts to tell him this though, worried it would completely destroy your friendship with him if he didn’t feel the same way about you.

“Yeah, he’s super-hot.” You didn’t mean to rub it in his face that you went on a date with someone, but you didn’t realise he felt the same way towards you as you did to him. It was starting to rub Jeno up the wrong way. But it wasn’t jealousy he felt, it was sadness and pent up frustration. For the past year he had to listen to your stories about all the wonderful dates you went on, only for you to tell him you didn’t actually like the guy that much. It irritated him that you couldn’t see the perfect man for you had been right under your nose since you were both learning how to read. He never told you how he felt because he didn’t think you’d be interested in him since you keep going on dates. “I don’t think he’s right for me tho-”

“That’s what you always say.” He snapped, interrupting you and folding his arms across his chest, the fabric of his t-shirt stretching across his muscles and causing your stomach to drop. “I’m fed up of hearing about it (Y/N).” He shrugged, finally reaching the end of his tether and frowning deeply at you.

“Bit rude.” You mumble, frowning back at him, but he heard you loud and clear.

“I’m just saying, you whine about not finding the right man, but you go on one date with them and then don’t give them a chance. I’m fed up of hearing you moan about it!” He stood up, pacing around his room as his heart sped up, not having expected himself to have let all his pent-up frustrations out in the form of words. You listened to him and sat up on his bed, your face heating up in slight embarrassment from being called out like this. “Bet you spread your legs for them all too.” He grunted, keeping his back to you and almost immediately regretting his words.

“Lee Jeno!! That is none of your business.” You stood up, throwing one of his pillows at his back and stomping towards his door. “You’re an asshole, don’t bother contacting me until you want to apologise.” Before you could get to the door you turned around to look at him again, seeing that he’d swivelled his body around to watch you leave and was looking at you with a dark look in his eye. “Why do you even care Jeno? It’s my life and if I want to g-” He cut you off once more.

“Because I’m in love with you!!!” He shouted loudly at you, finally letting go of everything he’d been keeping deep inside of him.

“Stop interrupting me!” You screamed back at him and then gasped when you realised what you’d just heard. “Holy shit…”

“Just get out.” He frowned, shaking his head and running his hands through his hair in frustration mixed with anxiety.

“Jeno I-”

“GET OUT!” He turned to you, his aggression surprising you and making you take a step back, your back hitting the door. He gulped, realisation of how he was acting hitting him suddenly. “(Y/N) I’m sorry…” He slowly approached you, watching as you stood your ground and raised your chin to him. You cleared your throat and sighed, stepping towards him so you were face to face with him.

“I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to make you so wound up about it…I actually kinda love you too.” You twiddled your thumbs nervously, glancing away to look at anything but him. He reached forward, cupping your cheek in the palm of his hand. “I only went on dates to try and get over my feelings for you, but I guess that didn’t work.” You laughed weakly, glancing down at your feet apprehensively. He used your distracted eyes to swoop down and place a kiss to your lips. The kiss wasn’t perfect, you looked up at the wrong time so he only half kissed your chin, and you didn’t feel the stereotypical fireworks that everyone in movies spoke about when they kissed the person they loved. Once he’d readjusted your lips to fit together better, it felt right. You felt like you’d been waiting for this for so long that the relief of your feelings being out in the open was enough to make you relax into the kiss. After pulling away a few times to smile at you and trace his eyes over your features, he pressed his lips to yours with more heat behind the gesture. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip until he had full access to flick his tongue against your own. His hand trailed down your back and rested on the small of your back momentarily, before continuing its journey down south. The gentle pressure he put on your ass cheek made you press your body into his own, the warmth of his chest adding to the flushing of your cheeks.

“I’m a virgin.” You mumbled against his mouth, wanting to clarify that fact to him because of what he’d said to you earlier about you spreading your legs for loads of men. He pulled away an inch, his eyebrows raised and his adams apple bobbing as he gulped.

“I-I didn’t mean what I said…” He looked worried, hoping that you weren’t offended by his immature accusation.

“I know, I just thought I’d tell you because I can tell where this is going.” Your cheeks felt hot, leaning in to kiss him again.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to?” He spoke his words in a questioning tone against your lips. “This is going quite quick.” He stopped kissing you, gazing deeply into your eyes with his own curious orbs.

“Maybe we could just…do some stuff?” You suggested, too shy to say what it was you were talking about.

“Like?” He prompted you, a small smirk making his lips rise.

“You know…” You glanced away, trying to hold in the giggle that was building behind your mouth.

“Do you want me to put my mouth here?” His voice dropped lower as his hand cupped your heat over your shorts. You gasped, gripping onto his shoulders tightly in surprise. You felt a rush of butterflies’ flurry from your stomach down to your core, your clit suddenly aching like never before. Of course, you’d played with yourself and experimented, but having someone else touch you there was a completely different thing. Along with the feeling of his touch, the feelings of your emotions towards him came with it, intensifying the feeling of lust. “Or do you want my fingers?” He whispered, trailing kisses from your lips down to your neck. He placed a soft, lingering kiss to the juncture where your shoulder and neck met, before attaching his lips and sucking onto your soft skin.

“Surprise me.” He laughed lowly against your neck after you spoke, both of his hands travelling to your thighs before he swooped you into his arms, carrying you by your thighs to his bed. The sudden weightless feeling you felt made you squeak. He’d definitely taken your words seriously. He threw you on the bed, your head hitting the remaining pillow that you hadn’t thrown across the room in your rage. He stood at the foot of the bed, staring at you with a hungry look in his eyes. He licked his bottom lip, climbing on the bed and crawling up it slowly, teasingly, taking his time to keep you anticipating what he was planning. He parted your legs, situating himself between your legs and unhurriedly popping open the button of your jean shorts, taking the zip down with them at the same time. Grabbing them tightly with your panties he dragged them down your legs tantalisingly. He bit his bottom lip as he threw the clothes to the floor haphazardly, laying on his front and shuffling closer to you.

“So pretty.” He whispered, a finger slowly tracing your slit from top to bottom. He dipped the tip of his finger inside of your leaking hole, a huff of air leaving his mouth as he tried to contain his excitement. Instead he gave you a smug smile, spreading your wetness over your folds. You watched him intently, your mouth hanging open, the pleasure he gave you making you speechless. He used two of his fingers to part your soft folds, leaning his head forward and placing a gentle kiss on your clit.

“Shit.” You breathed out, your chest quickly rising and falling as he took your swollen clit between his lips and sucked it, his eyes flicking up and locking with your stare. His finger dipped back inside of you, steadily pumping in and out before he added another finger. He dragged his flat tongue from bottom to top, flicking it against you with a soft laugh.

“This okay baby?” He paused for a moment, waiting for you to give him your blessing. You nodded quickly and muttered a brief approval. The rhythm of his fingers and tongue mixed together perfectly, ripping a long moan out from your chest.

“Jeno!” Your back arched and toes curled as his ministrations didn’t let up, only causing a white-hot heat to rip through you faster than ever before. You came on his fingers, his tongue lapping up your juices as he withdrew them from you. He sucked his fingers clean and decided now he was going to be shy. His cheeks went red and he cleared his throat, quickly excusing himself from the room and coming back a minute later holding a wet cloth. He cleaned up what he didn’t get with his tongue and grabbed a pair of his clean boxers from a drawer. He dressed you in them and smiled cutely, his eyes turning into their signature crescent moon shape. You felt the heat leave your body, cooling down as you caught your breath. You felt giddy, a soft laugh coming from your mouth as he cuddled up to you on his bed.

“You just ate me out, now you’re pressing your erection into my thigh and you choose now to get all quiet and cute.” You pinched his cheeks, leaning forward to press your nose against his. He whined endearingly and wrapped his arms around you, still acting bashful.

“I’m just happy, leave me alone.” He sniggered, rolling his eyes and turning his back on you playfully. You kept your attention on him, laughing loudly when he turned his head to see if you were indeed watching him.

“Such a baby.” You slapped his ass hard, causing him to squeal and roll back to face you.

“Oh, you’ve started a war now.” He rolled on top of you and began tickling your sides, leading you to thrash underneath him widely. After the tickling stopped and you were snuggled into his chest, you spoke about everything you both felt and came to the decision that your next date would be with Jeno instead of some random man.

[thepandapopo]

Weak - Sylvix Week Day 2: PDA

Sylvain and Felix embark on the road to becoming a couple in typical Sylvain and Felix fashion – completely backwards and embarrassingly obvious.

OR

Felix is weak for Sylvain.

OR

Four times Sylvain initiates PDA and the one time that Felix does instead.

i.

Felix really should have known better.

He should have known that this joke, this mockery of his pent-up feelings, would become more than a one-off thing. But he is weak; so very weak to Sylvain and even if he could, Felix doesn’t think that he would have put a stop to it anyways because despite all his hissing and cursing, he really is touched starved for the fool.

Yet here they are again, about to ride off into yet another battle – because that’s what war is; just a never ending string of blood and death and loss – and Sylvain is leaning down from atop his warhorse, looking every bit the intimidating Dark Knight that he is with his black armor shining boldly in the afternoon sun, and threading one large hand between the inky strands of Felix’s hair to bring his face closer to his prize.

Felix has lost count how many kisses Sylvain has bestowed upon him in the calm before the storm. It’s a testament to just how many battles they have gone through together, how many wordless promises they have made to each other to come back alive and whole after the blood has finished soaking into the earth beneath their feet.

However, no matter how many times Sylvain brings his warm, soft lips to Felix’s own rough, chapped ones, Felix still feels the strength drain from his legs and all his senses hone in on the heat of lips on lips, sliding easily over each other with practiced movements slicked with spit.

“Come back to me alive, yeah?” The words are murmured so close to him that Felix can feel the brush of Sylvain’s lips even as the hot air escapes between them, flushing both of their faces with soft crimson.

Felix scoffs – a typical Felix response – and that’s more than enough of a promise for Sylvain who straightens back on his horse and gives his lance a practice twirl with a grace that belied his fierce strength.

“I always do. You’re the one who needs to be careful, what with your dismal training regimen.”

And it’s true. Felix always keeps his promise and comes back to Sylvain. After all, he thinks to himself, he still has yet to confess his feelings for his childhood friend and Felix knows, just as he knows that the sky is blue and that Sylvain’s hair is more beautiful than any sunset will ever be, that he will always come home; home to Sylvain.

How else will he get another kiss?

ii.

Felix is weak for Sylvain.

But then again, that was something that Felix had already established early on in his life – even before they had made what Ingrid liked to call their ‘morbid childhood death pact’.

Not many could say that they could annoy the Fraldarius heir to the point of sputtering without making an immediate acquaintance with the sharp end of a blade. Even fewer could get away with initiating physical contact with Felix outside of training, much less casually throwing an entire arm around his shoulders and then proceeding to whine like a child about anything and everything.

But the most telling sign of Felix’s softness towards Sylvain is the fact that the Gautier heir is the only person who is allowed to touch his hair.

“Tilt your head down a little.” A calloused broad hand cradles the back of his head gently and pushes Felix’s forehead to meet the warm muscle of Sylvain’s shoulder. They must make an intimate picture, Felix thinks to himself as he inhales the warm citrusy scent of bergamot and honey that he has come to associate with his childhood friend. They are in Felix’s room behind closed doors and it is still early morning. Were anyone to enter his room, the sight of Sylvain kneeled at the edge of the bed between Felix’s legs with his hands buried in raven locks and Felix with his face in Sylvain’s shoulders would have invited more than a few salacious rumors to the monastery grounds.

“Ow. Be careful.” Felix hisses at the not-so-gentle snag of fingers against a tangle.

“Sorry, Fe.” The puff of hot air grazes the back of his neck and sends shivers down his spine.

In the back of his mind, Felix recognizes that it’s probably a colossally stupid idea to let Sylvain tie his hair up every morning while he is recovering from a broken arm. The fact that the Fraldarius heir allows himself to indulge in their pre-battle kisses is already torture enough; but letting Sylvain run his long fingers through his raven strands to pull and tame them into his customary ponytail?

It isn’t an exaggeration to say that Felix’s nights have since gotten more restless.

“Your hair is longer now.”

It’s a plain statement. Neutral grounds in terms of speech, but the sinful way Sylvain tugs his hair, landing a little on the side of deliciously hard, makes the words drip with suggestion and invitation.

Felix must be going crazy if he thinks he can hear anything other than plain, factual observation in Sylvain’s tone. But if it is the madness that conjures images of the Gautier heir yanking his hair to expose the expanse of his neck and suck his claim… then he decides that insanity must not be half bad.

It is both an eternity and not long enough when Sylvain finally announces that he is done with a breathy whisper. Reluctantly, Felix pulls back and reaches his good arm up to pat the neatly tied strands under the pretense of checking Sylvain’s work. If Felix secretly revels in brushing his fingers along the lingering warmth clinging to his hair, then that is his own business.

A familiar strip of leather lays on the desk to the side.

“You didn’t use my normal hair tie.”

Sylvain smiles as him just a little too wide. Wide enough that Felix is suspicious.

“Yeah. I figured it was starting to get really old so I got you a new one.” Sylvain says very matter-of-fact. The sincerity in his voice sends Felix’s heart thumping wildly in his chest and he feels the heat in his cheeks even as he scowls.

“I am perfectly capable of buying my own hair ties.”

As usual, Sylvain is an expert in understanding Felix-speech and simply laughs. You’re welcome rolls off his tongue with ease born from years of enduring harsh words and learning to read the subtext behind barbs.

Even as they walk through the monastery hallways together down to the dining hall, Sylvain rolls with the punches and their conversation doesn’t so much as falter for even a moment, instead slipping into a familiar and achingly comfortable banter that hides years of unspoken emotions.

No one mentions anything about how Sylvain seems to stick more closely to Felix now that his arm is in a sling.

No one mentions the bright Gautier-red leather strip that stands out so glaringly obvious against the dark canvas of Felix’s hair.

No one mentions anything when Felix hands Sylvain that same hair tie the next morning to complete their new morning ritual, the unspoken subtext wrapping soothingly around them as Felix once again bows his head in the only surrender he will ever acquiesce.

I’m yours.

iii.

“Felix!”

Pain. Screaming. Panic. Sylvain.

Where is Sylvain?

“Fe! Fe, stay with me. Don’t you dare die, you stubborn asshole!”

The part of his mind that is still rational and conscious tries to cajole the rest of his body into letting out an indelicate snort, but all that comes out is a wet cough that sends pain and blood spilling out his mouth.

“Mercie? Lin? Marianne? Healer, please, anyone! I need a healer!”

Felix’s arms feel more like dead weight than limbs at this point given the numbness of his extremities, but that doesn’t stop an agonizing lance of pain from shooting through him as he feels his body lifting up and being cradled against a cold metal chest plate.

A low moan manages to slip its way unbidden past his chapped lips.

“I know, Fe.” Warm honeyed words wash over him. Even in his half unconscious and delirious state, Felix can hear the unbridled fear that lurks beneath the forced calm. “You’ll be okay. I’m gonna get you to Mercie and she’ll fix you right up, okay? Stay with me.”

Sylvain’s voice cracks at the end along with Felix’s heart.

He doesn’t like it when Sylvain is in pain.

With herculean effort, Felix manages to pry his eyelids open just enough to look at the underside of Sylvain’s clenched jaw.

Huh. When did he get on a horse?

“Are you… okay?” The words are harder to wheeze out than Felix is comfortable with, but he forces his lungs to work with him because above the pain and fear for his own life looms the overwhelming need to make sure that Sylvain is unhurt.

Otherwise the axe he took to the side would have been for nothing.

Sylvain lets out a choked laugh, “yeah. Yeah, of course I’m alright. Fuck Felix, you shouldn’t have pushed me out of the way like that.”

You should have trained more, is what Felix wants to reply, however his mind and body are no longer working in tandem and somewhere along the line his heart decides to step in instead.

“Don’t…cry, Syl…”

In all their years together, Felix can count on one hand the number of times he has seen Sylvain cry; most of them in their childhood before Glenn dies. The last time Sylvain had allowed his emotions to bubble up to the surface was the day he shoved his lance into Miklan’s chest in an attempt to give him a merciful ending rather than living on as a demonic beast.

But none of those times can compare to the wrecked look and unending rush of tears that are carving their way through the grime and gore on Sylvain’s cheeks.

Felix doesn’t hear the reply that Sylvain gives, but knows that he must have said something given the comforting rumbling he feels against his cheek.

The world is dark now. There is nothing but a large black pool of nothingness and Felix can feel himself slowly sinking down, down into the depths.

He does not know how much time passes, but through the empty void Felix can hear fragments of words from someone he knows is important, but for the world cannot seem to remember.

Stay with me, sweetheart.

Don’t leave me, please. I can’t do this without you.

I love you.

Come back to me, Fe. My heart.

Felix clings to those words and the warmth that they bring. It takes an eternity, and slowly but surely, he manages to pull himself from the darkness and into the light.

When he wakes, he wakes with a full body ache and in the familiar arms of his crush, who apparently is still dripping salty tears on him and refusing to let him go despite Mercedes insisting that he’s fine. Of course that idiot is too busy sniffling to notice that he’s no longer unconscious.

“I told you to stop crying, didn’t I?” Felix croaks, bringing both Mercedes’ and Sylvain’s attention to him.

A new batch of tears well up in his favourite honey brown eyes and piercing relief crumples Sylvain’s expression like a house of cards in the wind.

“Fuck, Felix. Don’t ever scare me like that again.” Sylvain’s voice wobbles as he clutches at Felix just a little tighter, pressing his head to his chest as if trying to hide him away from the world.

The rapid staccato thumping against his cheek stays Felix’s hand and he lets himself (in what is starting to become a concerningly frequent habit) indulge in the physical display of affection, not caring that the rest of the world inside the infirmary can see them.

Right now, there is only Felix, Sylvain, and their beating hearts. And if that’s what Sylvain needs to chase away his fears, then Felix will happily concede because there is nothing that he wouldn’t do to protect Sylvain from the world and his own demons.

iv.

For a person born in the second coldest region of Faerghus, Felix does not do well when the temperature plummets.

Although his regular outfit consists of at least three separate layers - one of which is fur lined, for crying out loud – the cold somehow still manages to seep its way into his bones, rattling his entire core with shivers.

“Shitty night to not have a tent, huh?” Sylvain laughs humorlessly from where he is huddled up beside him, his long legs folded up as close as possible to his chest to conserve heat; his Gautier crest emblazoned cloak is thrown of his shoulders as are two more thin blankets that also cover Felix as well. Their sides are pressed together like two halves of a whole and on a regular day, Felix would have spontaneously ignited at their close proximity, but right now the heat that is radiating off of Sylvain is the only thing that keeps his body from succumbing to the cold. At their backs, Sylvain’s trusty warhorse acts as a third source of heat and also as a sturdy wall to lean against.

“Fucking bandits just had to torch our shit.” If they weren’t already lying six feet under buried in a shoddy, half assed grave, Felix would have personally saw to it that every single one of them died a horrible and painful death by his blade.

All around them their friends and comrades sat in huddled pairs, much like him and Sylvain. The sad, dismal fire they had managed to start did little to stave off the chill, but when literally everything around you is wet with sleet, it is already a small miracle that there is any fire at all.

“At least we’re together and alive though, right?” Sylvain smiles at him and it’s the small genuine one that Felix recognizes is specially for him; the one where burnt sienna glows molten and the corners of his eye crinkle with rarely used crow’s feet. “It was a pretty nasty ambush and we’re honestly pretty lucky that we had a small enough unit to quickly mobilize and pivot.”

Felix scoffs but it comes out as more of a pathetic chattering of teeth.

He doesn’t know when it happens, but he and Sylvain have become closer over the last few weeks. Close enough that Sylvain’s eyes no longer hold a shadow of doubt whenever he leans in for his pre-battle kiss, as if he now knows that Felix will give into him even as obligatory protests escape his lips. Close enough that Sylvain doesn’t even ask for permission anymore, but instead just silently reaches over to play with stray locks of hair that have escaped his updo after a long day.

Close enough that Sylvain now just takes whatever he wants from Felix because there is a mutual, silent understanding that no matter how much Felix protests, Sylvain just needs to look into his golden irises and find all the consent he needs from there.

“Come here, Fe.”

Felix often forgets that despite his awful training schedule, Sylvain is still a soldier through and through and is much stronger than Felix thinks. Such strength Sylvain currently demonstrates as he is quickly lifted like he is no more than a sack of potatoes, and gently deposited in a very warm lap.

If it weren’t for the cold, Felix would have run his childhood friend through with a sword for his audacity.

Of course, it’s only because of the darned cold that Felix’s hands slip under the outer layer of Sylvain’s armor to fist themselves in the fabric of his undershirt.

And it’s only because of the darned cold that Felix instinctively cuddles up to the human furnace next to him and presses his nose into the warm divot at the base of Sylvain’s throat, causing the older man to shiver at the hot puffs of air against his neck.

Yes. It’s only because of the darned cold.

“Better?” Sylvain’s voice is rough even as his words smooth over Felix like a balm. The one hand that isn’t curled around Felix’s back and supporting him reaches over to pull the two blankets around them so that they are swaddled in a little cocoon of warmth, leaving only their heads visible above the swathes of fabric.

Although a large part of his brain is screaming that this is wrong, dangerous, and too close; Felix cannot stop his body from betraying him as the shivers slowly subside and he begins to melt into Sylvain. Underneath the blankets and hidden away from the world, a gloved hand moves to settle near his upper thigh and rubs hot little circles that sends heat of a different kind flushing through him.

It’s unfair how his heart and body have decided to stage a mutiny against his mind.

Fuck Sylvain and his stupidly beautiful smile and his stupid velvet voice.

“Yeah.” Felix mutters, squeezing his eyes tight against the orange glow of the fire.

He practices counting his breaths using the meditation technique Glenn taught him back when he was only ten years old and manages to wrangle his heartrate into less of a sprint and more of a steady gallop. Whether Sylvain notices or not, he makes no indication that he can feel Felix’s heart trying to escape his chest, though Felix is pretty sure he can tell based on their proximity.

Instead, Sylvain lets his body curl loosely around Felix’s until his chin rests on the crown of midnight hair, barely disturbing the tresses even as his breath evens out and he falls to the persistent clutches of sleep.

Of course, it’s because of the darned cold that eventually Felix also lets himself be dragged under into dreams of memories long past when he never used to be fear being touched.

v.

It was quite well known that Margrave Gautier was not a patient man.

It has not even been three moons since the fall of Enbarr when a letter arrives at the Fhirdiad castle sealed shut with ink the color of crimson and emblazoned with the Gautier crest.

“Father wants me to return home to meet a potential suitor.”

The teacup clatters loudly against the table, spilling Almyran pine over the dainty white tablecloth. In the pits of his stomach, Felix can feel the claws of jealousy and anger sink into his gut and travel up into his throat.

Perhaps it is because his mind is still in a daze trying to process the fact that the war is finally over, or maybe it is because Felix is half delirious from lack of sleep (no one had told him how much more exhausting cleaning up after a war would be than actually fighting it) that the words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“I’ll go with you.”

And fuck if Sylvain doesn’t light up like he was just told it’s his birthday, the millennium festival, and Valentines day all in one.

Felix is weak for Sylvain.

No matter how many times Felix repeats it in his mind, that statement has gone far beyond simple fact now into the realm of absolute truth. And it is exactly because it is an absolute truth that Felix rides with Sylvain non stop through the night all the way back to Gautier castle, and it is because it is an absolute truth that Felix finds himself eavesdropping outside the large oaken doors leading to Margrave Gautier’s study where he is introducing some noble girl to Sylvain who looks like he would rather be anywhere else.

“Olivia here is the daughter of a minor lord from the Gideon territory. Their family has done well with managing their lands and they have also made a name for themselves through the war.”

The margrave prattles on, completely ignoring the increasingly uncomfortable look on Sylvain’s face even as he tries his best to plaster on his signature fake smile.

From his position, Felix can only see Sylvain and his father through the tiny gap where the door sits ajar, but thankfully he does not need to strain to hear the conversation.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Gautier.”

Of course her voice sounds like wind chimes. She’s also probably fucking beautiful too given the Margrave’s tastes. It makes Felix want to dry heave just listening to this and he can’t imagine how Sylvain must feel having lived this exact situation hundreds of times.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Sylvain replies without missing a beat even though his voice comes out a bit strangled.

“The war has been rather unfortunate with our people and crops this year, but Olivia’s father has mentioned that their lands have an overabundance of yield that he has agreed to share with us should the wedding take place before the first snowfall.”

“What?” For the first time, Sylvain’s mask falters and there is an abject look of horror in his eyes.

“Preparations will need to be made immediately, but –“

“Father, this is too sudden. I cannot –“

“You will hold your tongue and stay silent. I have given you time to find your own wife, but you have done nothing but squander my generosity. This is no longer a choice you get to make.” Venom coats his words and the poison seeps into Sylvain’s veins as his mind automatically falls back to the terrified little boy who could never disobey his father.

Sylvain is pale and shaking, his eyes darting around frantically looking for, at the very least, a physical escape from this hell that he has walked into.

“As I was saying, preparations will need to be made immediately. I have already sent for a caravan to retrieve the dowry, but when it arrives, you will need to accompany them to ensure that they return safely. I expect that you will inform his highness of your engagement prior to your departure so that he has ample time to ensure his attendance.”

“I… no – this… I don’t…”

“Shut up, boy. I am your father and you will do as I say.”

“Like fucking hell he will.”

The door slams loudly against the wall and all three occupants jump at the sound. They whip around to stare in various expressions of shock as Felix stomps up to them burning with a fury that he has never felt before.

His heart is pounding out of his chest like it wants to escape, but the only thing Felix can focus on right now is trying to stifle the overwhelming urge to draw his sword and cut down the Margrave where he stands.

“Fraldarius.” Like the reptile that he is, Margrave Gautier hisses his surname and spits it out like venom.

“That’s Duke Fraldarius to you.”

Sylvain chokes on his own spit.

“Duke Fraldarius-” ugh, just hearing his voice makes Felix’s hand twitch for the hilt of his sword. “-I would implore you to keep your nose out of business that isn’t yours. This is highly improper to interrupt-“

“I don’t fucking care if it’s improper.” Shifting slightly, Felix positions himself closer to Sylvain while engaging in a stare down with his father. Eye contact be damned, Felix will not let himself lose this silent battle of wills even though all he wants to do is look away. “Sylvain is not marrying this girl.”

“Oh? You dare to come to my home and tell me what I can and cannot do with my son?”

His blood is boiling and images flash across his mind, filling his head with memories of a younger Sylvain looking so scared and sad every time the summers came to a close and he has to return home.

No. Never again. Felix will never let Sylvain go back to a life where he is shackled and beaten into submission by a family that only conditionally tolerates him and uses him for their own benefit.

“Sylvain is not marrying this girl,” Felix repeats adamantly.

“And why not?”

This is the moment.

Felix can feel the tension in the air; he can feel the Margrave’s furious and challenging glare on him, daring him to speak and make a fool of himself; he can feel Sylvain standing rigidly next to him, barely a hair breadth’s away watching with wide, fearful eyes (Nonono Fe, stop it please, I can’t let him hurt you too. Never you).

It might be 26 years late, but Felix finally figures out how he can give Sylvain the home that he has always deserved.

“Because…”

Confidence blooms in his chest and Felix is proud when the gloved hand he extends to tangle in the collar of Sylvain’s jacket does not shake nor tremble under the weight of what he is about to do.

“…he’s mine.”

Felix yanks and tilts his head up to catch Sylvain’s lips as he stumbles forward, their noses slotting against each other like two puzzle pieces and their lips meeting in the same practiced way they’ve done hundreds of times.

The kiss lasts only for a moment, but when they part, Sylvain is gasping for breath like Felix has stolen all the air from his lungs. Honey brown irises are nearly eclipsed by blown out pupils and the strong jaw that Felix so desperately wants to nibble is hanging agape in shock.

Felix doesn’t wait around for the aftermath of his actions. Immediately locking his fingers with Sylvain’s, his cloak flutters around him as he spins on his heels and proceeds to walk out the door with a shell-shocked Gautier in tow.

Later, it occurs to Felix that he didn’t even spare a look at the girl, so he will never really be able to confirm whether or not she was beautiful.

Not that it matters.

Right now, as Felix makes a beeline for his guest room to retrieve his belongings, the only thing that matters is getting Sylvain out of this wretched place and back to Fraldarius where he will never have to deal with that pathetic excuse of a father ever again.

“Felix, wait. Felix!” Sylvain tugs on his hand forcing him to turn around when they are finally behind the safety of closed doors. “Holy shit. What the… holy shit.” Reluctantly, Sylvain releases Felix and instead settles one hand in his own hair, tugging on it as if trying to ground himself with the pain.

“Go pack your things, Sylvain. You’re not staying here with that pathetic waste of space anymore.”

“What? But where are we going?”

For the first time in years, Felix allows the walls around his heart to come down as he looks as Sylvain. He has wasted too much time already punishing himself by depriving himself of the one thing he thought he could never have, but after five years at war with only stolen moments to motivate and push him towards survival, Felix would be a fool to ignore this bond between them any longer.

“What do you mean, where are we going? We’re going home, idiot. Back to Fraldarius.”

Sylvain freezes for a second as if he has misheard, but when auburn eyes detect no hint of a lie, the smile that blooms on his face is one that Felix has never seen before. It is radiant and genuine and everything beautiful that Felix knows is Sylvain.

And just like that, Felix is falling for him all over again.

“Hey Fe?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“…I love you too, you idiot. Now go pack.”

 BONUS:

Halfway to Fraldarius territory, Sylvain hums thoughtfully and turns to his now-boyfriend.

“Hey Fe?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I be your trophy husband?”

“Shut up.”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 95

95

   The hotel room was as nice as the first one. Lance loving the plush bedding as he sprawled out, feeling stupid for being such a cry baby. He’d definitely noticed he’d been feeling more emotional of late, probably thanks to his birthday. Following him in, Keith paused long enough to close the door behind them, before dropping himself down on the end of the bed

“Babe...”

“Come up here and cuddle me”

Holding his arms out, Keith climbed up, flopping down beside him and wrapping his arm around Lance’s waist

“This was going to be a surprise later, but all morning I’ve been thinking about you”

“I missed you”

“I missed you, too. I’m sorry I wasn’t very good boyfriend today...”

“You’ve got a lot going on”

“That’s no excuse. It’s your birthday and I wanted it all to be perfect”

“It got off to a rocky start, but it’s gotten better now”

“Really?”

   Kissing Keith’s forehead, his boyfriend looked up at him

“I don’t deserve you”

Krolia hadn’t wanted him to break up with Keith. Keith probably thought a hundred and one things about the conversation, but looking down at Keith right now, Lance could see he was too exhausted for an in-depth discussion

“Maybe and maybe not... but that’s for us to figure out. Right now I’m happy to be here with you”

Shimmying up, Keith’s kissed him. Some initial shyness to begin with, until Lance deepened the kiss. He really loved Keith. That’s why it’d hurt so much to see him angry. Letting the kiss evolve to more, his boyfriend shifted to cage him beneath him. Keith has the sweetest kisses, Lance’s ridiculous amount of pent up frustrations pooling in his belly. If they didn’t stop now, he wasn’t sure he could.

  Breaking the kiss, they stared at each other

“We should stop...”

For a moment Keith looked hurt

“... because I don’t think I can if you keep kissing me like this”

“I’m doing things backwards, aren’t I?”

Now Lance was as confused as he was aroused

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t want to stop, but I haven’t even wished you a happy birthday”

Snorting, Lance leaned up, kissing Keith again, Keith breaking the kiss this time to lean back, sitting in Lance’s lap as he unzipped his hoodie

“You still haven’t”

“That’s because I’m about to give you the best orgasm of your life”

  Lance blushed. That wasn’t “happy birthday”, but he could definitely get behind that

“Is that so? You’ve already given me all the best orgasms of my life”

Keith stripped his hoodie, throwing it off the bed... damn, that really shouldn’t have been such a sexy move

“I’m going to make you fall apart until you’re chanting my name...”

“Mhmm... then what?”

“Then I’m going to cuddle the fuck out of you, and when you’re all smiley I’m going to wish you a happy birthday”

Keith was right. He was doing everything backwards but it was so him

“I like the sound of that... I’ve been pretty pent up...”

Keith ground against Lance’s crotch, smirking as he did

“I can tell. I was going to wait to tonight, but I don’t think I can”

“I don’t want to wait... unless you do”

“I should be saying that to you...”

Reaching up, Lance brushed back a stray strand of Keith’s fringe

“I really do respect you... I’m not very good with birthdays, but I feel so much better with  you”

“Me too... you’re... you’re really important to me. I do trust you... I just get so stupid sometimes”

“That’s only because you worry about me. Now... come back down here... I do believe you said something about the best orgasm of my life?”

“Yep. You better be ready”

   Keith had cooled right down from his outburst. His boyfriend taking his time to undress him. Lance finding it frustrating when all he wanted was Keith to hurry the fuck up, but it was sweet. It was Keith’s way of trying to tell him he was special with his actions instead of words. Giggling when his boyfriend failed to undo his laces enough to get his left shoe off, he knew he was in trouble from the silencing scowl Keith gave him. Sex with Keith was always more than sex. The anticipation had his body feeling like he was running hot. Each touch of Keith’s cool hands across his skin only served to make him hornier

“Patience”

Keith had no right to tell him to be patient. His boyfriend still had his boxers on, but he was very much into what was happening. Starting at his neck, Keith nipped and sucked his way down, toying with Lance’s libido as he nearly killed it by tweaking his nipple a tad too hard. Moving from straddling him to kneeling between Lance’s legs, Keith wasn’t shy about sliding those perfect lips of his down Lance’s dick.

   Whoever taught Keith how to give head deserved a medal... until the bastard pulled off Lance whining softly, drawing a breathy laugh from Keith

“I can’t keep sucking if there’s somewhere else I’d rather put my mouth”

Lance’s lips formed a silent “oh”. His scent strong enough that his head felt muddled. His body completely at Keith’s mercy and he trusted him completely to do what he wanted. Lifting Lance’s legs onto his shoulders, Keith pulled him up, burying his face between them. Running his tongue across his opening, his body screamed for more as he let out a sort of moaned mew. The cramping hadn’t started, but the need for Keith to do something only continued to grow.

  Fucking him slowly with his tongue, Lance fisted the sheets beneath them. Keith’s blow job game failed in comparison to the way his boyfriend worked him open. Keith was filthy in all the right ways... an act that so many deemed dirty had Lance shaking with pleasure

“You’re so fucking wet for me...”

Blush redden Lance’s cheeks. He didn’t like that his body got wet, but his lover loved it. He turned into something hot rather than embarrassing...

“Reckon you could come from me eating you out alone?”

Fuck yes... nodding quickly, Keith’s tongue pushed back in, and holy fuck if he didn’t nearly come then... making the mistake of watching Keith, his boyfriend had one hand in his boxers...

“Keith... fuck... don’t...”

Somehow that translated to “Keith keep going”... then Lance coming. Thighs trembling, stomach muscles rippling, head dropping back as he came across his chest

“Fuck...”

  Keith said it perfectly... fuck if he hadn’t needed to come... shit... his head was still muddled. Forcing his fingers to release the sheet, his right hand coming to his belly... he needed Keith in him... he needed his boyfriend to take away this feeling... finding his shirt, Keith wiped his chest off, shooting him a quick smile before moving

“Let me get a condom”

   Keith rinsed his mouth with a bottle of water before climbing back on the bed. Lance still able to taste himself as his boyfriend pulled him up to kiss. Whining softly, he didn’t want to be patient long enough for Keith to put the condom on, half trying to climb into his lap. Beneath his arse he felt Keith trying to brain enough to use protection, forcing him to behave. Suddenly Keith was breaking the kiss and making to move

“We need lube”

“Don’t need it”

“Babe, it’ll hurt”

“Don’t care... I need you”

“Babe”

“I can take it... I want you...”

Dropping his head to Keith’s shoulder, his fangs raked lightly of the soft skin of his boyfriend. He’d lie. He’d deny it. And sometimes he was maybe terrified by it, but he wanted to bite Keith. Not just like a normal lover, but to taste him

“Let me know if it hurts... I don’t think I’m going to last”

“Don’t hold back...”

  Taking him by the arse, Keith slipped twice as he tried to sink into his heat. Lance finding himself lapping at the small beads of blood pearling where his teeth had grazed. His eyes widening as Keith finally started to push in, body tensing

“Babe?”

“Keep going... want you so much”

Forcing himself to relax came easy when his body realised it was getting what it wanted. Lance crying out as he suddenly bottomed out in Keith’s lap...

“Babe?”

“Move... fuck... you feel good...”

  Holding Keith’s head to his chest, Lance’s hips moved on their own. His legs wrapped around Keith, using his strength to ride him. Fingers digging into Keith’s back... he wanted to kiss him as he came. Keith had to have come, but that slutty side of him wasn’t done. He was so needy like this... so close to coming too

“Babe... kiss... god... fuck... Keith...”

“Show me your face”

He couldn’t quite let Keith go, hands going to his sides as he ground against his boyfriend as he came, Keith kissing him, lips bloody from Lance’s fangs. Hooded purple eyes staring up at him with that smooth throat exposed. Scrunching his eyes closed, Lance buried his face against Keith’s hair, inhaling his lover’s scent around the scent of blood. Keith’s hands on his arse forced him to keep moving, his boyfriend growling his hips stuttered.

   Finally satisfied, Lance went limp against Keith, nuzzling his hair as he panted. Shit... everything felt nicely spent. Keith supporting him, despite how much his thighs must hurt. Rubbing his against Lance’s cheek, Keiths hands slid up from his arse to rest loosely over the small of his back

“Happy birthday”

Lance snorted out a laugh, he loved Keith so fucking much. His head was still hazy, words kind of jumbled

“Thanks... birthday... fuck... I’m fucked”

“Are you okay?”

“Mhmm... just hot... wanna cluggle”

“Cluggle?”

“Wanted... snuggle... cuddle... no brain...”

“Cluggles it is... lemme get you cleaned up”

“Best boyfriend...”

   Lance was content to doze under the covers once Keith had cleaned him up. Cuddling into his boyfriend, he listened to Keith’s still somewhat racing heart

“Did you come?”

Keith’s fingers were lazily running over his shoulder, the feeling nice and comfortable

“Twice... you?”

“Mhmm... I didn’t notice you come the first time”

Keith went slightly stiff

“Babe?”

Keith sighed, voice low as he answered

“I came as I pushed in... it’s embarrassing”

“Nah... it means you wanted me...”

“Only you could think that”

“That’s because sex isn’t like in porn... it doesn’t last for hours”

“I didn’t even last ten seconds inside you”

“Must be my glorious arse”

“It is pretty glorious...”

“How do your lips feel?”

“Sore, but okay...”

“I’m sorry about my fangs”

“It’s fine... I was more concerned about your arse”

“It’s fine...”

  They fell back into a comfortable silence. Lance nearly drifting off when Keith’s phone started ringing

“That’ll be Shiro telling me it’s time to come in”

All of a sudden Lance was hit with the feeling of insecurity. Swallowing hard, he had to stop himself from begging Keith not to go

“I better get it. I’m sorry”

  When Keith slid out from under the covers the bed felt too big. Lance pulling as much of the blankets up around him as he could. He didn’t know why he felt so insecure... or teary. He just really didn’t want Keith to go and his body was starting to cramp up. Burying his face in the blankets, he listened to Keith take the call, confirming he’d be there shortly. A low whine slipping from Lance involuntarily. Chuckling over the sound, Keith sat down on the bed, resting his hand on Lance’s hair, as he talked to Shiro a few moments longer before ending the call

“I have to go now. But the room’s totally paid up, so you can rest here. We’ll be late to dinner but I’ll be there... I wish this wasn’t happening on your birthday”

Lance wished it too. His silence hung loudly between them

“Hey, babe. Look at me”

  Raising his head, he knew Keith saw his tears

“Hey, no. I’m coming back. I’m not even in the ground crew”

That wasn’t it all. Beneath the sheets he was getting horny again... his body starting to cry out of Keith, but his scent was lost in how much of his scent had filled the room. Wobbly, he whispered

“Be safe”

“I will. I’ll give you your present when I come back. Is there anything you want while I’m out?”

“Blankets... and pillows?”

“Are you cold? I could probably find more”

That wasn’t it. There was a lot of “wasn’t it” and a lot confusion with it

“Just... can you pick some up... the bed feels so big without you”

“I’m going to come back. I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t have to. Now gimme a kiss”

The kiss was small. Lance fighting not to reach out and grab his boyfriend as Keith moved again, this time to shower quickly and dress. Why did he miss him so much and feel so small? And why wasn’t his body calming down?

[charonaraccoon]

Maverick Viñales, Luca Marini (if possible others VR46 riders) + mafia!au + meet messy + "suck on that.”

Okay, so this just happened, don’t ask me, why. It’s a bit bloody and certainly messy, but also a little more than a drabble, so I hope, you like it, anon, thank you very much for this difficult and still so amazing prompt, it’s been a pleasure! <3 

Luca Marini has been one of the PD’s brightest hopes of the century. He’s young, has acquired his forensic degree at 20, been part of more than one nationwide and famous investigations and specialised in the mafia to an extent, which outshined his colleagues’ by a mile. But what impresses Valentino Rossi, leader and the mainly responsible person for the IAMTF – the Italian Anti-Mafia task force – the most, is how Luca has deserved this spot in his team like no one else. Despite he’s his brother – or maybe even because. Because they are related, Luca has always tried his best to never have people talk behind his back. So when they arrive in Spain to follow a lead from Sicily over Naples all the way to Figueres, it’s no surprise Luca is Valentino’s second man in the field, shadowing him around the van and closer to the huge abandoned building in the outskirts of the Catalonian city. They followed all kinds of hints here, bogus money, weapons and drugs and they all seem to lead to Maverick Vinales, a young thug taking over more and more of the Spanish-Italian mafia. Valentino counts his men, Marco and Luca to his left and right, further back Franco with his fedora pulled into his face as far as possible. Stefano exhales cigarette smoke through his nostrils and he’s never seen the young detective this nervous. Vale nods at Luca. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, we’re just taking down the most dangerous Mafioso in the world. What makes you think, I wouldn’t be okay?” The way he says it and the way his eyes twinkle in the darkness of the unlit street make Valentino smirk. Luca has hunted down Maverick for years now, following his every step on European soil and his attempts to get a foothold in North America, New York to Las Vegas. They’ve placed spies and cons, listened to conversations and got their hands on documents. Once they’ve got him, he’ll spend the rest of his days in prison. Luca is more than ready to lead this charge, and still- “Alright, Bambino. Be careful. After me.” Valentino checks his old colt, completely tranquil now and back into the mode of a seasoned and experienced cop, and with a wave of his hand leads half of his task force to the back entrance. Luca takes a deep intake of breath, stubs out his cigarette and nods, before following his brother and boss into the building. They get a good look at Vinales behind the ceiling-high racks, checking on some documents with furrowed brows. Luca feels his legs shake beneath him, as he sees the Spaniard nonchalantly letting cigarette smoke escape from the corner of his mouth, fedora sitting lazily and crooked on his black hair. Damn, I never realised he was that hot. But Vinales isn’t just hot, he is endearing in his perfectly fitting dark-green suit, the loosened tie, the brown-green eyes behind black glasses. Luca has his difficulties looking away, until Marco stops him in his tracks. Before he can scoop closer to his colleague and look for Valentino to wait for his signal, he realises Franco hissing. The door behind them opens with a loud creak and Pol Espargaro, Vinales second man, catches them red-handed. “What the fuck?!” he yells, before someone (Migno, given the quick fuse) pulls the trigger and the projectile hitting Pol’s chest makes him stumble backwards through the door. That’s it, their cover is blown.

“NOW!” Valentino yells and the members of the IAMTF jump out of their hiding spots and into action. Luca doesn’t know what happens next. Shots are being fired, wounded policemen and gangsters alike drop to the floor, blood pouring from lighter or more severe bullet holes. All Luca focuses on is the man he hunted like an animal over the past five years, the man he holds a personal grudge against for throwing his hometown into a turmoil of violence and corruption. He shoots one of his foot soldiers, one of the Marquez-boys, as it seems – Taller, Alex, shit. He jumps at Vinales and wrests him to the ground. He loses his gun, as Vinales kicks his arm, but he manages to place a hard punch against his stomach. He grips his brass knuckles and hauls them at his face. The loud groan and drippling of blood, as Vinales’s lips immediately start bleeding makes utter euphoria rush through him. “Suck on that, fucker!” But the Spaniard doesn’t give in, he stumbles to his feet and knocks all air out of Luca’s lungs with a blow to his solar plexus. He catches a glance at him and hesitates. A loud gunshot makes them both startle. “No!” Luca yells, as Vinales wrestles himself free from his grip and storms out of the door. “Go, go, go!” Valentino screams, voice pained and Luca comes to a halt with squeaking dress shoes, as he realises, his brother got shot. Valentino has a hand firmly pressed against his stomach, blood dripping from his fingers. Next to him Jorge Lorenzo sinks to his knees, holding onto his bloody hand with a pained groan – Valentino had managed to shoot him while they fought for the gun. “Go, Luca, damn it, GET HIM!” Luca swallows, taking a long look at his brother, before he picks up his colt and storms past the gangster. The night is icy cold and ripples of ice cover the brick wall, when Luca jumps down the staircase and onto the nightly black tarmac. A few feet in front of him stands Vinales – unmoving and with his back tuned to him. Luca swallows a mixture of panic and blood, when he lifts his gun and points it at the Mafioso’s head.

“IAMTF, show me your hands!” Luca has expected a lot from this night, but certainly not to see Vinales’s shoulders drop and him to turn around after the very first order. What surprises him even more is the deep hurt in the gangster’s eyes, the tiredness looming there in the green-brown. “I’m sorry.” “W-what?!” “I don’t want to hurt you.” “Why not? I’m cop, you like killing cops, don’t you? You hadn’t had an issue with it before.” And Maverick takes his gun, pulls the slide back and clear silver bullets ripple to the ground, all eight of them, the whole magazine. Luca stares at the bullets in utter shock, rain drops reflecting on the metal shells like diamonds. “You haven’t shot once…” “No.” “W-why?!” “I’m not meant for this kind of life. I want out.” “You’re just saying that so I let you go.” But Luca’s hand around his colt trembles, his heart is in his mouth. Maverick sighs. “Then shoot me.” But Luca can’t. He sees this man in front of him, the suit rumbled, hands shaking and eyes still so inexplicably sad. “I deserve it, come on.” And Luca, whose whole life has revolved around this moment, lowers his weapon and spreads his arms. “No. I’m arresting you.” “They’ll kill me in prison. If you arrest me, I’m a dead man, you could as well just shoot me now.” It’s not the hunt, which fascinates him any longer, it’s these eyes staring at him in the darkness of the alley. It’s the simplicity of that, the truth so blatantly being spread out in front of him, which makes Luca’s breathing hitch. At the same time, Maverick doesn’t plead, he doesn’t sink to his knees and beg for his life, he’s kept his pride and backbone. Luca can’t look away, until he does, facing the building and fading shots reverberating through the night. Luca functions on autopilot, when he throws his gun at Maverick. “Shoot me. The shoulder or the leg. They’ll believe me, when I tell them, you overpowered me. Take the gun. The roadblock is South from here, head Eastward.” Maverick catches the gun, but stares at him with wide eyes. “W-why..?” He asks this time around, equally astonished as Luca has been mere seconds earlier. “Because I think, you’ll make it up to me.” And he does. All of it. The bullet pierces through Luca’s skin and goes right through his left upper-arm. Maverick merges with the shadows of the night, as he flees through the dark alleyway. Luca does return to find his brother pissed, but alive. They do believe his story. The team is ordered back to Italy – empty-handed apart from both Marquezs and Espargaros. Luca resigns from the task force and returns to his second passion. He repairs and sells motorbikes. They never hear a word of Vinales again, he’s gone like the wind. Two years later Luca finds a hand-written letter in his mail box. He bows down to pick it up and feels the old familiar sting of the bullet wound. He tears open the envelope, cigarette smoke clouding his vision for a second. It’s a one-way flight ticket to Buenos Aires. One thousand dollar cash. And a note. “Come and find me, detective.” And Luca does. He finds Maverick on a deserted beach outside of Palermo. He looks different in the loose white shirt and longer hair, but way better. When he takes off his sunglasses, Luca realises his eyes are lively and warm. “I hope the money for the flight ticket was clean.” “You found me.” “You knew, I would.” Maverick nods and points at their surroundings with a wide gesture. “It took me a while, but I’m legit now. I kept my promise. Will you?” And Luca sees his own reflection in Maverick’s eyes, before he dives into his arms and the kiss so full of pent up emotions it makes them stumble over the sand. When they part Maverick has a hand buried in Luca’s unruly mob of blond hair and Luca clings to his loose shirt. So the kiss wasn’t enough then. “I think the only crime you can commit now is run away.” “Never.” Maverick whispers into his hair, before pressing a kiss to Luca’s forehead. “Be it from violence, my family or who I am at heart. I’m done running.” We both are.

[cialbi]

What You Didn’t See

Summary: he only showed you what he wanted you to see. It’s what you didn’t see that truly mattered.

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: character death, mentions of illness

A/N: my first BTS fic! I’m so sorry.

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“Let’s break up.”

You saw the lucid look in his eyes as you searched them, desperate for any sign that this was a tasteless, joke. You waited for his bright shit eating smile to appear and he’d poke your tummy for being so gullible as to fall for something so obviously untrue. Then you’d smack his arms playfully in revenge and the two of you would tickle fight it out, rolling around on the bed like lovesick teenagers.

The very bed you were sitting up in, blanket draped over your bottom half like a white silken waterfall. The very bed he was sitting on above it’s tapestries, hands folded on his knee.

“I don’t understand,” you almost whispered. The air around you felt so fragile that you feared the mere sound of your voice would cause everything around you to shatter like glass.

“There’s not much to understand y/n.” He replied coldly his lips pressed together into a fine line as he repeated “I don’t love you anymore. Let’s break up.”

You swallowed thickly. So you had heard him correctly.

This wasn’t some sick joke he decided to wake you up for at 5:30 in the fucking morning before the sun had even come up. He had given no leading conversation prior to this confession of un-love, which had left you momentarily dumbfounded, the words taking a minute to sink in. You had laughed it away, sleepiness slowly evaporating as you realized he wasn’t laughing with you.

“Why?”

Hoseok sighed. “I just told you,” his eyes bore straight into yours, a shiver ran down your spine they were so cold, “I don’t love you anymore.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

This was the man that just the other day brought you a bouquet of flowers just because he felt like it. The man who splurged on a box of Godiva chocolate (the expensive kind) just so the two of you could eat the entire box together and watch reruns of Friends. This was the man who cried during Friday the Thirteenth because Jason Vourhees life had been so unfair. The man who would look at you with all the love in the world as you emerged from a shower without a hint of makeup and hairy legs cause you just didn’t feel like shaving that day.

The man you saw before you was a man you didn’t recognize. Devoid of emotion, lips paper thin as if suppressing the world's ultimate secret. You couldn’t believe this was the same man you loved with all your heart, the man you loved so much it hurt. The man you thought felt the same way.

“I don’t believe you.” You whimpered, the tears starting to fall as the weight of his words began to settle.

You cupped his cheek softly causing Hoseok to breath in, eyes breaking contact from yours as he spoke. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be y/n.”

It felt more like he was stabbing you in the chest with an icicle than breaking up with you. Suddenly there was a wall between you two that had never been there before and as hard as you tried, you were failing to break it down.

More tears fell as your breathing quickened. Hoseok went to remove your hand from his face, and in desperate retaliation your grip tightened. Your free hand joined in as you smashed your lips onto his. His breath hitched slightly in surprise but other than that he remained motionless as you moved your lips against his. Your eyes remained open, searching, for a lick of desire, want, love, anything that proved he was lying. You just couldn’t believe your boyfriend, your Hoseok suddenly fell out of love with you within a day. There had to be some explanation, some sign that there was a deeper meaning to his actions. But whatever front Hoseok was putting up, he wasn’t breaking.

After a minute of nothing, you pulled away tasting salt on your lips as you licked them. Your stifled sniffles turned into full on sobbing as you pressed your forehead to his, as if by doing so you could read his thoughts. He was so distant you couldn’t stand it. This wasn’t the man you knew.

You tried kissing him again, a few quick pecks between sniffs and sobs, trying to elicit any form of emotion, any answers from him that he hadn’t given you already.

Hoseok sighed again, turning his head away as you went in for another kiss. “Stop it y/n.” He said plainly, “We’re done here.”

His face was bored. Like this was a game he was tired of playing. And that broke you even more. Your choked cries made you feel pathetic but you couldn’t stop them from echoing throughout your small apartment bedroom. Everything ached so badly and you just wanted—just needed it to stop.

“Hoseok—Hobi” he flinched slightly at the nickname “please, I—”

“Enough.” Interrupting your plea, he brushed his hands against yours still holding his face, his touch lingering a few seconds before he promptly removed them and let them fall to your side.

You watched helplessly, your sobs filling the room as he got up from the bed you two shared countlessly. The bed full of happy memories, sad memories, memories filled to the brim with your love for each other. He turned his back to you, to them, and made his way to the door of your bedroom then stopped. His head turned slightly as if he had an afterthought, and for a split second you felt hope that he had changed his mind, that this really was a cruel joke. He would turn around with his goofy smile, tongue sticking out and two thumbs up as he yelled “gotcha baby!”

That hope was immediately crushed as two words left his lips. “Forget me.” He paused. “I’m sorry.”

That was the last time you would ever see Jung Hoseok. Stiff shoulders and messy brown hair disappearing behind a closing door.

What you didn’t see was the pained expression he made as he turned away from you. The sheer unadulterated despair breaking across his face once you were out of his line of sight. You didn’t see his beautiful features contort in unmistakable agony as the facade he held up so well began to crumble. You didn’t see the tears he so expertly contained as you broke down in front of him, finally streaming down his face as the door clicked shut behind him.

You didn’t hear him scream bloody murder as he reached his car, no longer able to stand it anymore. His whole body shaking in release of pent up emotions as he keeled over the hood of his mustang. You didn’t see him punch a dent into its side, blood caking around his knuckles as he drove off.

You didn’t see him barrel into the dorm of Big Hit Entertainment, kicking his shoes off before falling to the floor and releasing another strangled cry. Throwing his bag to the ground in a fit of rage, sob after sob ripping through his chest. You didn’t see him ransack the kitchen throwing dishes at the wall and breaking anything within his reach. You didn’t see him crumple into a messy ball of snot and tears in the middle of the room, throwing all cares to the wind, because fuck it.

What you didn’t see was Kim Namjoon, face sleepy and confused as he entered the room, just barely missing the broken shards of ceramic and glass at his vulnerable feet.

“Woah.” You didn’t hear the rapper say when he took in the current situation. “Dude, what’s going on?”

You didn’t hear the silence that momentarily fell amongst the two men.

You didn’t see Min Yoongi followed by Kim Seokjin shuffle half asleep into the kitchen a few minutes later, the oldest yelping them both completely awake as he stepped on a piece of broken glass. You didn’t hear the murmurs of concerned words and questions as they took in the destroyed living space before them. You didn’t hear Kim Taehyung shout from his room for everyone to shut the fuck up, it’s 6:30 in the morning!

You didn’t see Yoongi get punched in the face as he attempted to console the quivering, angry, man laying on the floor like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

“Hoseok, what the fuck?” You didn’t hear Jeong Jungkook exclaim as he dove to help his fellow band mate.

“What’s wrong with you man?” Yoongi hissed wiping blood from his swelling lip.

“Fuck off! You don’t know…., you don’t get it— just fuck off” he had screamed at them, but you didn’t hear that either.

You didn’t see Park Jimin enter the premises clutching a hospital receipt addressed to Jung Hoseok which he handed tentatively to their leader. A look of realization crossed Namjoon’s face as his eyes scanned the document. While Hoseok continued heaving on the floor, the members exchanged the paper at the same time exchanging worried and sympathetic looks.

“Hey Hobi—“ Jimin began, reaching out his hand only to have it smacked away.

“Don’t call me that.” He shrieked. Because you called him that. You called him that very nickname as he ruthlessly broke you down until you were nothing but a sniveling bundle of nerves. You called him that as you reached out for him and all he did was rip you apart.

Because goddamn him if he pulled you into this with him.

Goddamn him if he made you watch him fall apart, drag you through the agony and darkness that was steadily approaching him. His boys were one thing, but you? You, he needed to save. You, he needed to see happy even if it meant hurting you in the process. He’d rather you grow to hate him for decimating your heart in hopes that you’d find someone else to pick up the pieces. Someone who could hold your hand forever because that man was no longer him.

You didn’t see the days to come. The chemo, the needles, the crying coming from everyone around him. You didn’t see him at 2:00 in the morning down in the studio, falling over himself as he tried to dance the new choreography. You didn’t see as Jimin had to carry him back to their room after he had fainted from over exertion. You didn’t watch him break down in tears at the realization that he could never dance again.

You didn’t see the sunshine that was once Hoseok lose his hair along with the life from his once life-filled eyes.

You didn’t see him, skin ivory white and cheeks sunken in as cancer consumed his body and soul. The struggle everyday to wake up, to use basic bodily functions; the endless pain it was to watch someone you love fade away at a painfully slow rate. You didn’t see him slowly die.

You didn’t see it, because he didn’t want you to.