#but the universe yanked the rug out from under my feet yet again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saratogaroadwrites · 10 months

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Adamantus (4/12)

Adamantus | saratogaroad rating: G+ total wordcount: 15,328 characters: Aulea Lucis Caelum, Regis Lucis Caelum, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ardyn Lucis Caelum relationships: Aulea/Regis, Aulea & Noctis other tags: Mother-Son Relationship, Character Death, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence warnings: Character Death Starts The Plot

When Noctis is three years old, Regis takes ill. The doctor tells her that he will recover, that all will be well.

It isn't.

Aulea Lucis Caelum is left to raise a son on her own, knowing that a Kingdom depends on her strength and will to survive.

She will not lose him, too.

"Aulea," Regis whispers to her, his voice a thrum beneath her ear, his heartbeat steady and alive beneath her cheek. She clings to him, unwilling to part so suddenly, so soon. He runs a hand through her hair, the sylleblossom scent on the breeze overpowering his cologne. "Aulea," He repears, "You must wake."

"I can't leave you," She whispers into his robes, "Not again."

"You must," He says firmly. He does not let her go, either. "Noctis needs you."

She stirs. Noctis....she raises her head and meets his eyes. He smiles that gentle smile she fell in love with so long ago.

"Wake."

"Majesty!"

Aulea has long outgrown rolling out of bed like a gangly teenager, tangled in sheets and duvet alike. She has yet, however, to outgrow tangling herself in her own nightgown as Asteria yanks her out of bed. Her mind clings to Regis, to the dream that was not a dream, and she blinks.

"What's--"

"We're under attack!"

Someone screams. A maid or staffmember somewhere in the halls. Aulea jolts awake; with Asteria still holding her hand she bolts from the room and into pure chaos. People are scrambling away, running through smoke filled halls for the stairs and elevators down, away from fire that seems to cling to the halls, the curtains, the rugs, the tapestries. Something explodes with a wave of heat that leaves Aulea sun-sensitive.

Daemons cackle. The Crownsguard pull upon her magic to summon their weapons, the binding ritual of the Crystal long since severed until they have no choice but to pull on her directly. She wavers, unsteady on her feet, and takes a step forward. She hears, distantly, Asteria calling to her son. Gladiolus responds in kind, his voice growing louder, but Aulea does not turn.

Noctis' quarters are down the hall that is on fire. She takes a step forward.

"Noctis!" She shouts, voice shrill, "Noctis!"

"Aulea!" Asteria grabs her by the arm and pulls, "Aulea, we have to go!"

Aulea twists and pulls, fighting like a wild Couerl, trying to pull free. Asteria just holds on tighter, Gladiolus clinging to her leg.

"Aulea!" She shouts again.

"Where is my son?!"

"Cor's gone to get him!" Cyril has to shout to be heard over the roar of fire and guards, Ignis held to his hip as he grabs Aulea's other arm, "They'll meet us in the courtyard--quickly!"

"Noctis!" Aulea shouts again as they drag her, skirts and hair trailing, down the emergency stairs. She must catch her footing or fall and so she does; she gathers her skirts and runs down fifty flights of stairs in what feels like an eternity but is really under ten minutes. When they arrive, the Courtyard before the Citadel is full of people coughing or screaming for their loved ones. Asteria wraps an arm around her shoulders, holding Gladio to her hip.

"Majesty!"

Cor. Aulea turns and her heart sinks to her feet. Cor is alone and looks like his world has come down around him.

"Where--" Her voice grows thick, tightens in her throat. "Where is Noctis?"

"The ways were blocked. I couldn't..."

Asteria gasps. Cyril, still holding Ignis to his chest, looks up with a curse. A window on the residential levels shatters in a ball of heat.

Aulea feels her world beginning to crumble. Her knees tremble, threaten to give way. First her beloved, and now her son? What more will the world take from her? What more do the Gods want?

Would they accept her life in exchange? She presses a hand to her mouth to try and hold back the keening wail building, a living thing clawing its way up her throat.

"Anybody lose a prince?" A young voice pipes up. Everyone turns and then--

"Mama!" Noctis shouts, running on bare feet up the stairs and straight into Aulea's arms. She collapses to her knees around him, skirts soaking in the evening dew. He's sootstained and there's a scrape on his arm, but he is alive. She sobs into his hair and holds him close, rocking him back and forth in an effort that is really more to comfort herself than her brave little boy. He clings to her with all his might, refusing to let go even as she manages to pull in a breath, compose herself enough to look at his savior.

Stars, he's just a boy!

Well, no, that's not fair. He's a young man, Galahdan by the look of his shaven and braided hairstyle, with kind eyes. He can't be any older than sixteen, soot-stained and hands reddened by heat, but his back is straight and he wears the soft night-black of the Crownsguard.

She doesn't recognize his face.

"What is your name?"

"Nyx Ulric, Majesty," He bows low, hand over his heart, "I was assigned to the residential detail three weeks ago."

One of Cor's hires from the citizens that now live in the Citadel, sprawling offices and conference rooms converted to apartments for those with nowhere else to go as the Wall continued to shrink and offer less and less protection for the outskirts of Insomnia. Refugees her Council suggested she turn away. Her heart had not allowed her the thought.

She knows now that was the right decision.

"Nyx saved me!" Noctis pipes up, but his voice is muffled as he doesn't pull himself out of the crook of Aulea's neck, "from the mean snake lady."

"Snake lady?" Cor blinks. Then he pales. "Gods..." He looks to Nyx, who nods.

"Marilith," He says with a frown, "Still up there, too. It was looking around his quarters for him, I think. He'd hidden under the bed until he saw my uniform and we made a break for it."

Reckless, but not stupid. He knew when to fight and when to escape. He also seemed to have a way with children. Aulea looks up and wonders, only for a moment, what Regis would do in her situation.

"How would you feel about a promotion?" She asks. Nyx blinks at her.

"Your Majesty?"

"I'm serious." She stands, holding Noctis close despite his quickly growing body, "You've proven you can handle yourself, and can think on your feet. You'd be assigned to Noctis directly." She looks at her little boy, who blinks back at her. "...It's clear he needs it."

"Your Majesty," Nyx breathes, "I..."

"You'll be compensated for the extra danger and hours on the clock," She says before he can say no, "And your family would be well provided for."

He smiles at her, a rueful quirk of his lips.

"With all due respect, your Majesty," He tilts his head a little, "I was going to say yes anyway." He looks at Noctis with fondness in his eyes, and Aulea knows she has made the right decision. "He's a good kid."

"Yes." She says, brushing hair out of Noctis' eyes. She tweaks his nose, making him giggle. "He is."

Nyx opens his mouth, doubtlessly having questions, but then he stops. Everyone in the courtyard looks up as sky seems to rumble. At first it sounds like thunder, but then the iridescent sheen that has always clung to Insomnia's sky begins to fade.

Without fanfare or cause, without warning or restraint, the Wall collapses.

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #ffxv fic #!fic #series: crystalline shards #fic: adamantus

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smutbunny119 · 3 years

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Cornered; Taeyong x Reader ft. Sungchan and Jaemin

Description: He was powerful, an idol with an established career, money, and a company that could brush this incident under the rug in 5 seconds flat. And what were you? A chubby college intern learning how to do makeup from the staff. You had no power. No power to make him leave you alone, no power to make him stop his insults. He hated you, but even worse, he wouldn’t leave you alone. Lee Taeyong was your worst nightmare. But could Sungchan, a young member of NCT be the one to save you? Or even more unexpected, Jaemin?

WARNING: Contains verbal and physical harassment, sexual harassment, bullying, degradation, non con, and smut, eventual fluff, hurt/comfort, yuh

Genre: Smut, Angst, fluff, hate to love, slow burn.

This is explicit, contains dark shit, and will contain non consensual sex. Reader beware. I do not condone these behaviors at all, it is simply for the story. If it makes you uncomfortable, do not read it.

Chapter One- Idol unleashed

You were dead set on becoming a makeup fx artist for a larger entertainment company. Hopefully big enough to make a living and be a real part of the industry before your late twenties. But for now, any offer would do considering you were a college student struggling to pay off her student loans and needed all the experience you could get. So when you got a partially paid internship offer at SM entertainment (14,000 won/hour on weekends) You said yes without hesitation, even though you had no interest in that type of makeup artistry. Credentials were credentials, and working at SM entertainment was great resume fluff.

When you first arrived at the SM stocking facility to receive a quick vetting from the older makeup artist supervisors, the eldest woman (who looked very chic), gave you a harsh look. “You understand that being a makeup artist of your age, 21, and working alongside idols your age, you are to have no verbal interactions with them that extend beyond professional exchange?” She asked, eyeing you up and down suspiciously. You were confused. Working on idols makeup? You didn’t realize you’d actually have to do idols makeup. You assumed it would all be intern shit like getting coffee and paperwork. You nodded tentatively.

Of course you had no desire to fuckin flirt it up with random k idols you were doing makeup on. You had never really been interested in kpop, although you listened to a couple girl groups here and there. You preferred international music, classical music, oh and you loved Frank Sinatra. Besides, you were not in the mood to be booted from your first internship ever on account of hitting on some fancy idol who wouldn’t look twice at you. No thanks, you had pride.

The makeup artist Senior nodded at you, satisfied with your response.”Alright, I’ll trust you young lady. We usually don’t hire unwed makeup artists on account of the risk, but your professors went on and on about your skills that we decided to bring you in to do some of the strobe makeup for NCT 2020. Understood?”

You nodded, feeling a bit giddy. This was actually going to be exciting.

That afternoon, you collected your supplies from you *official* SM makeup cubical. It was amazing products you were allowed to keep! High quality brushes, velvet foundation, BB cream, glitter in pots, shadows, tints... your dream. Still clutching the quality products in your shaking hands, you walked to the elevator which lead to the 8th floor- The floor you’d be doing 10 of the 23 NCT 2020 members makeup. You had to admit, although you were by no means an NCT fan, doing the makeup of such talented and handsome men would certainly be nerve wracking. You had the concept and instructions on a sheet of paper for each member’s makeup, and you had already memorized it~ Yuta was getting bright red eyeshadow on the very edges of his lids with Mimimal dewy makeup, Jaemin was getting subtle glitter on his under eyes with a brown shadow and natural lip tint- The only problem was, you didn’t know which member was which. You sighed. Oh well, you’d get the hang of it eventually. The elevator doors opened, and a heavy scent of setting spray, hairspray, sweat, hot lights, and a bunch of other smells flew into your face. You quickly exited the elevator into the room with a bunch of idols-23 to be exact- doing a variety of things. Getting their hair done, their makeup applied, changing their clothes (You quickly averted your eyes), and stretching. The minute you walked in though, everything went silent, and their eyes were fixated on you. Mixed expressions of confusion, annoyance, and fear on their faces. It took you a minute to realize that they must’ve not been used to younger women being their makeup artists, and assumed you were either a sasaeng... or confused rando.

The makeup senior woman quickly ran to the front of the room, grabbing you by the arm and yanking you towards the center. “Everyone, listen up. This is Y/L/N. She is a sophomore at Chengdu University of Arts, and will work for the next few months as a makeup artist. I understand you are not used to having college students work as your stylist, but she is very... gifted, and highly spoke of at her college. She has won several awards in the arts, and seeks to expand her portfolio. Thank you!”

You smiled curtly as the makeup Senior gave you a firm pat on the back. You looked around the room with a thin professional smile, nodding slightly to indicate respect and distance. Your eyes were briefly caught on one of the members, you weren’t sure who but he was looking at you very coldly, and began unpacking your supplies. You checked your member list hastily to find the first name on the list. “Sungchan.”

Looking up blankly, you scanned the room for some indication of a “Sungchan.” Realizing you had no clue who this could be, you walked up to a member who looked a bit younger than you with white hair, clearing your throat. The member looked up at you with a awkward smile. “Hello, sorry about this but would you mind directing me to the member who goes by ‘Sungchan?’ I’m not familiar entirely with memeber names yet.”

The idol looked back at you questioningly, before nodding. “Of course. He’s over there by the guy with medium brown hair on the vanity. I’m Jaemin, by the way.”

You nodded politely. “I will be doing your makeup as well Jaemin. I will return shortly.”

You walked quickly away from the idol, feeling your heart flutter slightly at the interaction. He was very handsome, with clear tan skin and a great canvas for dewy glittery makeup. He was gorgeous, and you couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of applying makeup to such a clean and fresh face.

Smack

You went crashing into a taller figure, stumbling as you crashed beside them. Instantly panic arose in your body, scrambling to your feet to help the person up. The minute you looked down at the person, your blood ran cold. It was him. The guy you had made awkward not-so-friendly eye contact with. Looking at his face, you were filled with a sense of uncomfortable dread. His narrowed cat like eyes were cold and black. He was gorgeous, easily the most beautiful person you had ever laid eyes on. With dark brown hair, pale smooth skin and an angular unreal face, you would already be intimidated enough to see his face in general. But he was glowering. Full on glaring at you, a look of pure contempt as he ignored you outstretched land, getting to his feet gracefully. Looking you up and down, the beautiful boy narrowed his eyes and leaned in menacingly. You took a step back, nearly tripping on your sneaker laces. “I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to be so clumsy. My mistake.” You sputtered out meekly, bowing your head as you felt your face burn.

“Stop it.” You looked up as you heard his low gravely voice spit out the harsh words. You looked at him confusedly, tilting your head. The boy scoffed, leaning in once more.

“I honestly can’t believe the nerve. You walk in here, with your sloppy hideous clothes and pudgy body. You act as if you have never heard of us like some innocent little makeup artist. Cut the shit. Don’t ‘accidentally’ bump into me. Don’t look at me. Filthy sasaeng.”

You gawked at him. You? Sasaeng? You didn’t even know this boy’s name.

“Taeyong hyung, stop it.” You heard a voice from behind you and you turned around to see Jaemin, clearly concerned for the harsh words being spat at you.

The boy named Taeyong just glared back at Jaemin, eyes flicking between you and him. “Jaemin, zip it. Look at her. Fat little crazy fan girl who thought she’d get a chance with her favorite idol by stalking them. The nerve of her to come here looking like that. Dressed like this.” He made a disgusted face as you hung your head low. You weren’t the most confident in your looks, but you didn’t think you were hideous. You had always been a bit pudgy, but standards here were so strict. You liked your appearance.

The boy named Taeyong walked by you, shoulder knocking into the side of your arm as you scurried away from him towards the guy named sungchan. You were fighting back tears and embarrassment, and you pulled your hair hastily into pigtails before snapping on some latex gloves to keep your makeup sanitary. The guy in front of you, Sungchan, who had observed the whole thing (Everyone had), had a look of concern on his face.

Whipping out the medium beige foundation, you dabbed some of the glossy product onto you back of your glove with the brush. The guy named Sungchan looked at you expectantly, but you didn’t meet his gaze. You weren’t in the mood to be screamed and degraded again, so you wouldn’t take your chances. Dabbing a smooth hydrating toner onto the boy’s flawless complexion, you couldn’t help but feel a few tears slip out of your eyes. It was embarassing, but you were human. You had feelings, and self esteem. Well, you did have self esteem. Sungchan seemed to be concerned, or maybe he just thought you were weird.

“Hello, Y/L/N, I’m Sungchan. How old are you?” He asked kindly, bright smile on his face. You were shocked at the warm introduction, and returned his smile. “Nice to meet you, and I’m 19,” You replied, smoothing the product across his face. The boy’s smile widened, and he glanced at you in the mirror while you began to apply a light eyeshadow across his eyes. “So you’re my age then. Let’s speak informally then.” He responded, making you nearly drop your brush.

This idol wanted you to speak to him informally? Was he serious? You couldn’t help but blush at his friendly personality, and couldn’t keep a smile off your face as you continued applying the shadow. “Alright Sungchan, sounds great!”

***********

As you made your way down the list of idols, you found most were very kind to you. They were all stunning, and you found your eyes glued to their faces even when the makeup was finished. You did makeup for Yuta, who was so polite and courteous, Haechan, who was simply adorable, and the rest of the 6 idols. Including Jaemin, who chatted with you throughout the entire ordeal, complimenting your pink grubby sneakers, awkward hoodie over skirt with sweatpants outfit, and even you messy ponytail. You thought he was just trying to be nice after everything Taeyong said to you, but you still appreciated the gesture. After finishing the older boy’s makeup, there was only one more name on the list. Lee Taeyong. Your stomach lurched as you realized you would have to be near him, touch his face. As if he would even let you. Gulping dryly, you zipped up your products and snapped a new pair of latex gloves on. Your hair was tied back, you roughly put on a mask to minimize exposure to the idol. You didnt want him to stare at your face.

Walking curtly over to where he sat, you bowed politely before unpacking your makeup. Pushing on a pair of glasses to make your work as good as possible, you heard the idol’s chair push away from the desk. “Are you fucking with me?” He asked loudly, causing everyone in the room to glance his way, quieting instantly. “I don’t want this sasaeng’s sausage fingers anywhere near me.” He spat, making you cringe at his wordchoice. The guy you had done makeup on by the name Jaehyun sighed, leaning across the table. “Hyung, she’s a very quick makeup artist. You can request to have a different makeup Noona do your makeup next time.”

You gripped the brush tightly, anger and embarrassment searing through your body. You shouldn’t have to take this. This idol shouldn’t be talking to you this way. The idol scoffed and sat down loudly, causing your makeup bag to crash to the floor, colorful pallets clapping open, makeup spilling everywhere. You just stared at the colorful mess, feeling your face heat with anger. You couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks as you picked up hundreds of dollars of beautiful, destroyed makeup. Makeup you would never be able to afford otherwise. You looked up through your teary eyes at the idol. He was smirking at you, arms crossed and legs spread in a entitled position. What a jerk.

Plopping the wrecked makeup onto the table, you yanked a plumping toner out of the side pocket, shaking some onto a face pack. You felt his eyes on yours. Luckily the mask hid your sniffly nose and quivering lip, but your read teary eyes were on clear display. “Take off the mask.”

His words cut through the once again quiet air. You heard someone across the room stand up from their chair. “Jaemin sit down.” You heard another voice say.

Taeyong looked up at you expectantly. “It’s rude to hide your face from your clients.” He said again, amusement across his face. You ripped the mask off your face, holding back more tears. Your face was undoubtedly puffy and red, not exactly the most flattering. You took the face pack out of the toner solution and lifted it to Taeyong’s flawless face, hiccuping still. He looked at you intensely, with an unreadable expression. “How old are you Noona?” Taeyong asked, and you nearly recoiled. Noona? You were six years younger than him. Was he insulting you? “19.” You replied sharply, ignoring his scoff. “I suppose you think I’m going to let you call me oppa.” He said, making a face to himself.

“I’d rather not.” You replied, dotting the makeup onto his skin. You felt a large hand grab your wrist, gripping it uncomfortably tight. “Cut the shit. You are younger than me.” He said, glaring up at you. You ripped your hand from his grip, slamming your makeup onto the table. “Do not touch me.” You said more harshly than you intended. Taeyong briefly had a look of shock on his face, and you could feel the tension in the room. “I will refer to you as Taeyong-Nim. If that is unsuitable I can do Taeyong Ssi instead.”

His face contorted into an expression of rage, and you resumed patting the product into his face. You were doing your best to ignore his gaze, but then you felt a hand on your stomach. you flinched back as the hand gabbed your lower belly, and you shrieked.

You heard loud laughter from him, and you looked up in horror. “Holy shit your stomach is so fat. What the fuck you are fucking chubby as fuck.” You sat there, face numb and body shaking. He had touched your stomach. “God i hate fat and ugly bitches, you are fucking disgusting.” You felt tears finally stream down your cheeks. You couldn’t do this. “Taeyong hyung that’s enough!” Someone yelled across the room and you looked up to see Jaemin running across. He put a hand around your shoulder and lifted you off the ground carefully. You were grateful he was defending you, but you honestly were too scared to thank him. Taeyong took a step towards you, eyes dark and angry. “Stay out of this Jaemin,” He iced, hands clenched tightly into fists. Jaemin didn’t budge.

“Taeyong Hyung please. I really think it’s enough.” Jaehyun spoke to Taeyong over his shoulder, and finally Taeyong clenched his jaw, turning away from you. He stood up, stretched, and peeled off his shirt, letting it fall to the ground. He turned to you and walked past, unclothed shoulder bumping into yours as he passed. He was going to get changed for the show.

Originally posted by haechan

******

The next few days were... hell. From harsh remarks, from Taeyong’s aggressive attitude which was solely reserved for you. It seemed never ending. In addition, Taeyong had begun encouraging you to do his makeup as opposed to avoiding you. Constant insults on your work, appearance, outfit choice, weight.

At night you had nightmares about the pretty boy insulting you, yelling at you. His harsh words and insults seemed never ending.

The following day you walked into work early, hair pulled back in two sleek pigtails and faint pink makeup applied. You were to attend a special party later that night, so you had a fluffy baby pink sweater on with a short white tennis skirt, pink floral necklace, and adorable espadrilles. You may not have looked sexy, but you certainly look adorable. Your older brother had commented on how you looked precious when you FaceTimed him. When you walked into the near empty room you plopped your products onto Taeyong’s makeup table, collapsing onto the chair with exhaustion. It was only 4 AM, and work didnt start for another 2 hours. You tried to focus on staying alert, but before you knew it you were out cold.

You woke up to find a figure standing over you in the chair. You were groggily aware of your surroundings, and noticed the “5:36″ time on the wall clock. Snapping to your senses, you nearly tripped out of the chair when you realized the figure standing over the chair was Taeyong.

“I knew it.” His voice was like ice, and the only light shining behind him in the room made him a shadow, unable to make out any of the features on his face. As he stepped closer and his face came into the light it was like a villain coming out of the shadows. Pure terror clutched your body as you shuffled away from the intimidating figure frantically. Leaning down towards you, you saw the coldness on his expression. The blank gaze that lay behind those beautiful, horrible eyes.

“Stop it Taeyong, that’s enough!” You yelled, trying to push yourself off the ground. Taeyong laughed coldly at your pathetic state, and you felt his large hands shoved you back into the wall painfully. “Dropping honorifics, are we?” He asked, pacing back in forth like a predator. You attempted to run to the door but his hand intercepted you, shoving you back again. “No. You came here early just to rub yourself all over my chair. You really do want me, don’t you you ugly bitch?” He asked, a combination of disgust and crazed amusement on his face.

“I was tired!” You nearly screamed, shoving him back with just as much force. His lips curled with disgust as he continued glaring at you. “I don’t buy that shit. I’ve known enough sasaengs in my life to recognize one.”

You glared back at him. “Taeyong, leave me the fuck alone. I’m done putting up with your unprofessional behavior. I have no interest in your childish games, and I refuse to do your makeup any more.”

Taeyong’s eyes widened in shock for a brief second, and then it was replaced with rage. But you were done. You walked up to your makeup bag to move your stuff over to Doyoung’s desk. He was your first client for today, now that Taeyong was no longer- “You have no right to refuse me.”

Your blood ran cold as those words came from directly behind you, and before you could whirr around you felt yourself harshly pressed into the vanity in front of you, large hand shoving you. You screeched, kicking back to break from Taeyong’s hands, but he was a much stronger than you. “You are nothing, you ugly slut! If I tell you you’re doing my fucking makeup, you’re doing it!” He was full on yelling, and you could barely breathe under his crushing hold.

“T-Taeyong Ssi, st-” You croaked out, shoving him back. He flipped you over, anger and derangement flooding his eyes, You felt his hand wrap around your neck, and you began to gasp as it tightened. He was strangling you, you couldn’t breathe. What the fuck was this psycho thinking? You faintly heard a clinking sound, the clinking of a belt. Your stomach filled with dread as you realized what was happening. He wouldn’t.... would he? You thrashed harder. “Fucking bitch” You heard him say when you landed a kick to his thigh. In an instant you were thrown to the ground, and he was on top of you, straddling your torso. You fought with everything you had, screaming and crying with everything in you. He was so much stronger and taller than you, and you had no defense against him. “Stop, stop stop!” You sobbed, hitting him on the chest, only to have your wrists pinned over your head. Taeyong leaned over so his face was directly above yours. Those dark, soulless, empty burning eyes. Cutting into you. Looking at your fear, your pain, smiling. With his free hand he undid his jeans, eyes never breaking contact with yours. You felt your skirt being hiked up, and you underwear was ripped from your body. You cried harder, begging someone to help you. Taeyong swallowed your cries with a violent kiss, tongue fucking into your mouth painfully. You couldn’t breath. You couldn’t see anything but those eyes, those dark eyes you had thought were so beautiful.

He shoved into you agressivly, fucking into you with violence and anger. Ripping your comfort, your happiness, your freedom away from you. With every painful thrust, your tears came faster. His kiss was bruising, and his lower body’s connection with yours was stretching, painful and cruel. It felt like it lasted for hours, when finally his thrusts became sloppy, uneven. He began moaning, placing a hand around your throat as his grip around your wrists became tighter. You were drooling, tears spilling out and eyes glazed over just hoping for it to end. You couldn’t think, not with him hurting you over and over and over. He let out one final breathy moan and came deeply within you, head throne back and semen spilling out onto the floor. When he finally released you from his iron grip and pulled out of you, you heard him utter “Show you your place fucking bitch,” Before neatly buckling his belt and walking away. As he walked out, he bumped into Sungchan, who said, “Whoa dude, why are you all sweaty and shit?”

Taeyong didn’t reply, only walking out. When Sungchan walked over to his vanity, he heard raspy breathing from across the room and walked behind Taeyong’s vanity. There you were, lying on the ground, skirt hiked over your hips, neck bruised and purple, drooling with blood and cum dripping out of you onto the floor. Sungchan paled, covering his mouth from shock. Rushing to your side, his hands hovered over your body, confusion and fear on his face. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, and you rasped out, “T-Taeyong. He f-forced himself inside me and wouldn’t stop. I t-tried to stop him.” You could barely get out the words. Sungchan was as white as paper, and he grabbed a cloth off the table, hastily cleaning your thighs and skirt. “I’m so sorry Y/N, I never would’ve guessed he would ra-... do this.” Sungchan looked sick.

You looked up at Sungchan, feeling sick to your stomach. You didn’t deserve to be treated like this, you were not a piece of meet, or a punching back, or a fucking flesh light. You were a human being, and you were not going to let Taeyong ruin your career, let alone your life. Gripping Sungchan’s face with a cupped hand, you spoke softly. “I have no intention of quitting. And no intention of submitting to Taeyong’s cruelty.

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

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Somewhere (6/?)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.6k

Part Summary: It’s over a year later on the eve of Lily and James’s wedding. Sirius and Y/N have been together for a while now and are starting to discuss their future.

Masterlist

Autumn 1979...

I can't believe Sirius and I have been together for over a year. Believe me, it's been no small feat. Keeping it a secret from my family and friends has been nearly impossible. Thankfully, I started university last fall, and living away from home has made it easier. After my first year, I moved in with Sirius. Brady and Lauren believe I rent the apartment alone to be closer to campus. We only just moved in last month, so we've managed to keep them from visiting thus far. Yet, I'm sure they'll pop in for a surprise eventually and we have a game plan ready for that. I'm just happy to be living with Sirius. A year and four months have flown by.

Gathered around the living room of Lily and James's new house, all of us celebrate the night before the big day. Lily and James are finally getting married! We pass around various bottles of firewhiskey, filling our glasses repeatedly.

"I think... I think the... non-magical world is..." Sirius slurs beside James.

"Superior?" Remus conjures up as he lays on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Sirius points at the boy dramatically. "Bingo was his name-o!"

“Oh, so now you have a change of heart!” I tease, making Lily giggle next to me.

Lily, Marlene, and I are slumped on the couch across from the boys. Marlene barely holds onto consciousness as she balances a bottle on her leg.

Sirius shrugs, "eh, you guys have some interesting bits."

“Well, I prefer the magical world,” I declare.

“Even with-" Peter leans forward from the armchair to whisper. "You-Know-Who gaining power?”

“It’s not all bad,” I whisper back jokingly, even hiding my mouth as I say it.

“Says the girl who gets to go back to her ordinary home at the end of the day,” James sasses, earning a nod from his best friend right beside him.

"Yeah Y/N, you're human, you're safe," Remus comments, rolling onto his back and spreading out his limbs like a star.

"Why wouldn't you all be too? You're just civilians," I question in genuine confusion.

Everyone peers at me as though I spoke gibberish. Even Remus and Marlene pop their heads up to address it.

"You haven't told her?" James mutters to Sirius.

"Told me what?" I ask in all seriousness.

Sirius whispers something to James and the two exchanged rushes mumbles. Sirius swats James on the arm and the two face me swiftly, awfully suspicious.

"Never mind," James clears his throat nervously.

"You humans have credit cards!" Sirius blurts out like an accusation.

I scoff, he really believes credit cards are more compelling than magics?

"You can still have a credit card and use magic! I only have the card!"

"I'm with Y/N on this one," James sides with me for the first time.

"Me too!" Marlene jumps in.

Remus raises his hand, "team Sirius!"

"Same!" Lily adds.

I nudge the girl with a huff, can't believe she's betraying me. She holds her hands up in surrender and mutters something about charms.

Everyone's heads turn to Peter and the boy rocks in his chair nervously. His eyes flicker between Sirius and me. "I...I...uh... team..."

"It doesn't matter, Peter," I assure the timid blonde.

"Speak for yourself," James grumbles, sending his friend a warning glare.

"Team Y/N!" He gives into James's pressures.

"Seriously!" Sirius huffs, throwing his arms up.

"Team Sirius!" He changes, afraid of Sirius's reprimand.

"Ha!" Sirius laughs in my face.

"That doesn't count!" I protest. "He said me first! You just intimidated him!"

"James and Sirius aren't on the same team. We'd be here all night if we made Peter pick between them," Marlene points out, followed by an eye roll.

"Wizarding world!" I assert, claiming it the winner.

"Non-magic!" Sirius declares, raising his bottle of firewhiskey.

"Mythical creatures!" I name as a reason the wizarding world is better.

"Guinness!" Sirius tosses back, raising his voice.

"Butterbeer!" I state the better equivalent.

The intensity of the competitiveness grows at an exceptional rate amongst the otherwise uneventful bunch.

"Airplanes!" Sirius challenges, shifting forward in his seat.

"Flying brooms!" I fire, handing my bottle to Lily.

Sirius growls, handing his bottle to James, and leaps up from the couch.

"Rocket ships! Space exploration! Take that!"

"Ha!" I mock him, rising to my feet. "Time-Turners! Time travel!"

"Have you told her everything about us?" Remus questions from the floor, sounding a bit offended.

If he didn't speak every so often I would think he's passed out.

"Honestly, enough you two," Lily laughs, pulling me back down to sit beside her. "So each society has great aspects, it's beneficial for everyone!"

James yanks on Sirius's wrist and the raven-haired boy drops onto the cushions. He snatches his bottle of firewhiskey back from James and takes a swig.

"Woodstock..." he mumbles under his breath.

"Quidditch Cup!" I fire at him in passing.

Sirius flies up from his chair again. I follow his action and everyone groans.

"Here we go again," Remus whines, rolling over to hide his face in the rug.

"Computers!" Sirius challenges.

"You have wands!" I laugh at his poor attempt.

"Oh for the love!" Lily groans, rubbing her temples.

"It's like there's two of him." I hear Marlene whisper to Lily.

James leans back in his chair, amused by the display before him unlike everyone else who wishes we'd stop yelling. Sirius and I are so similar. We're both highly competitive and when we get our minds stuck on something we can go at it for hours.

_________________________________________________

The wedding was beautiful. It had to be smaller for obvious reasons considering the war. I was so appreciative that Lily and James asked me to be a part of it. I'm sure it was mostly Lily's idea as I'm Sirius's date. Plus, we've grown close over the last few months. We see each other multiple times a week, whenever I'm with Sirius. James has warmed up to me somewhat. Since it's been months since Sirius and I met, I think he's pretty sure now that I'm in it for the long run.

The reception is in the backyard, similar to the ceremony. Flowers of various sorts are positioned around the space. Beautiful candles float above the yard, creating a golden shimmer. Lily did a lovely job with making the quaint occasion into something grand and memorable.

Remus and I dance to the upbeat melody, likely looking ridiculous. The boy was shy to dance with me at first when I asked to him dance. He was sitting at a nearby table sipping on his drink when I caught him off guard.

I twirl the tallboy around and dip him dramatically.

"Y/N, I'm supposed to do this to you!" He laughs as I swing him back up.

"But where's the fun in that?" I question, offering him a wink.

After all of the slow dances, I needed a good partner to release all of my energy with and no one would've been better at it than Remus.

The song comes to an end and Sirius appears beside us. He's been dancing with his old professor McGonagall for the last few dances. He insists I call her Minnie, but following Lily's advice, I deny the offer.

"Mind if I steal her away, Moonie?" The raven-haired boy asks his friend.

Remus hands me off to Sirius with a smile, "by all means."

Remus brushes his hand across my back kindly before stepping off the dance floor. Sirius brings me in close for the slow dance that begins to play. Lily and James appear next to us, dancing. James ruffles Sirius's hair playfully in passing, knowing how much he hates it. Lily and I laugh, watching the pair of best friends messing around. Then, James reaches out and gives my arm a nice squeeze as he winks at me. Lily and I exchange compliments as the four of us part. Sirius and I turn back to each other still laughing. As a calm comes over us, his face changes to experience evident admiration.

"Do you ever think about it?" He asks me, a content smile on his lips.

I can't help but smile at him. "About what?"

"Our wedding day," he says so casually.

"On occasion," I admit and I feel my cheeks blush.

His face lights up. "What do you imagine it looks like?"

I shake my head, too shy. "You go!"

"I asked first," he insists.

I roll my eyes. "Ugh, fine. It would be just us, no big ceremony. We would be away somewhere. Simple, us, real," I describe, seeing it perfectly in my mind.

"That's what I want too!" He practically jumps with joy.

My eyes grow wide. "Really?!"

"On the water somewhere under the stars, you and me. We could celebrate with everyone later, but the ceremony would be just the two of us," he describes the perfect day.

"We have one problem though," I remember, biting down on my lip nervously.

"And what's that?" He smirks, thinking it's something mild.

"You'll have to ask Brady for my hand," I nearly wince at the thought.

Sirius sucks in air between his teeth, appearing nervous at the idea. "Oh.. you're right." Then, he expresses a confident grin and leans down to press a kiss to my lips.

"What was that for?" I laugh as soon as we part.

"For saying yes," he answers and twirls me.

When I return to his chest, I giggle. "But you haven't asked me yet."

"I know," he plants a kiss on my forehead. "But I will and when I do I know you'll say yes. That's enough of a reason to celebrate, don't you think?"

I get lost in his jet black eyes as I nod my head, utterly in love with him. One day. We keep telling each other that one day we'll be together forever and it'll be just us. We met last June and were in love instantly. Ever since our weekend in Paris, we were certain we'd be together for the rest of our lives. Now, it's just a matter of time until forever.

________________________________

Masterlist

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

Text

Pillow Talk

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Characters: Levy McGarden, Gajeel Redfox

Requested By: @we-are-deathcleric (Tumblr)

That didn’t stop her from standing at the edge of the bed, arms crossed and foot tapping angrily against the rug, and glowering at his snoring form sprawled out across every inch of their shared mattress. Her lips were pursed into two plump semi-circles, pressed together so tightly that there was a thin line of pink ringing the pale pink. A shower. All she had desired was a shower before their nightly routine of cuddling while Levy read her latest-acquired novel. Gajeel had haughtily declared that another twenty minutes was nothing to him, yet here he was… limbs slung out in all directions, drooling all over Levy’s pillow, and snoring like a freighter. Levy didn’t doubt that he had passed out like this in three minutes; he was deep in slumber and had been for a while. He looked peaceful, really. It would be a shame to wake him from such a deep and restful sleep. That’s what someone who loved him would think.

Levy loved him, but that sure as hell didn’t stop her from yanking her pillow out from under his bush of coarse black hair and slapping him with it hard in the stomach.

“Gajeel! You dummy! Stop slobbering all over my pillow!”

Levy’s pillow was made of memory foam and therefore very, very heavy. Gajeel jerked up into a sitting position, wheezing as all the breath was forced from his lungs and clutching his assaulted abs. He looked around wildly for a few seconds, feral from having been so unceremoniously jerked from his slumber, before his bleary and wild-eyed gaze settled on the disapproving Levy. She puffed out her cheeks in a chastising look and hugged her pillow to her chest. “I thought you were going to stay awake, but instead, you’re taking up my side of the bed and drooling all over it too? It’s a wonder I didn’t hear you snoring from in the bathroom.”

“I don’t snore,” he grumbled begrudgingly before a long, loud yawn split his face. He sleepily covered his gaping mouth with a hand and squinted at her through a slightly teary eye. “I wasn’t even asleep. I was resting my eyes.”

“That’s the biggest sack of bull I’ve ever heard!” she retaliated and raised the heavy pillow over her head threateningly. Gajeel yelped and hastily shimmied to his side of the bed, pulling back the covers for her in a pitiful effort to earn himself back into her good graces. Levy snorted but dropped her weapon down on the bed; it was stupidly heavy and her thin arm had begun to wobble precariously after only a few seconds of holding it. She climbed up onto the tall bed with a small hop and settled herself into her spot, smoothing the creases in the comforter before pulling them up into her lap. She plucked her reading glasses from the nightstand and slipped them onto the bridge of her nose. Levy had perfect eyesight, but she once read an article by an optometrist the literary magazine she subscribed to that reading glasses could reduce eye strain while reading fine print even for those with 20/20 vision, so she had bought a pair. She retrieved her novel from the nightstand as well and wiggled around a bit to make herself comfortable, then opened it to the marked page.

“What’s this one about?” Gajeel sniffed as he rolled onto his side and hugged her waist, pressing his cheek into the meat of her forearm to stare blankly at the pages. Levy smiled contentedly as she flipped the page.

“This happens to be a parenting guide.” The dragon-slayer’s face instantly took on a bubblegum-pink hue, and a giddy grin split across his face. That sure woke him up, she chuckled to herself and continued absorbing the print on the soft pages. She was distracted, however, when she felt him shifting excessively and looked down to inquire what his deal was; he was curling his body up against the headboard like a cat so he could crane his neck as far as possible into her lap, staring at the words contained in the pages with great interest. Levy laughed at his cuteness and adjusted the book so he could read without a muscle spasming in his neck. “You could’ve just asked me to read it a loud to you.”

“It’s fine. This won’t work if you do everything.” It was a simple statement, one made in passing, but nevertheless is made Levy’s heart swell exceptionally with love. Gajeel had been a little wary at first, thinking his personality too grating to be a father, but it was moments like these that made Levy wholeheartedly believe he would fall into the role seamlessly. Just looking at him, his dark eyes attentively scanning the passages with nothing short of enthusiasm, made little happy tears well up in the corners of her eyes. After he finished the entire page, he pushed the book down in her lap and rolled onto his other side to stare lovingly at her belly. It had not begun to swell yet, but nonetheless, he gazed at it with an expression bursting with affection. One of his big hands smoothed over the fabric of her nightgown to rub her stomach fondly. “You’re gonna be a wonderful mom, Lev,” he breathed with his gaze flickering up to meet hers. “You already love this baby so much, to read parenting guides so early.”

“So do you,” she smiled eagerly. His other hand reached up to tuck a swathe of her damp blue hair behind her ear as it fell into her face. His hand lingering there, palm falling against her cheek and thumb swiping over the bone to catch her cheek. “Ah, I’m just really happy,” she laughed dismissively. “I’m really happy to have a man who adores his future child so much.”

“Even a man who falls asleep snoring and drooling on your side of the bed?” Levy giggled and rolled her eyes, then leaned down to kiss his forehead and the tip of his nose.

“Even a man like that,” she confirmed with another giggle. She squealed as he suddenly enveloped her waist again and flipped her around; they tussled around in the bed for a second until they were both laying on their bellies, heads near the foot of the mattress and feet kicking up against the headboard. Gajeel propped himself up on one beefy arm and held the small parenting book in the other, in the perfect position for both of them to read simultaneously. Smiling cutely, Levy snuggled up to him and leaned her head against his thick bicep, and he in turned rested his cheek atop her head.

“I love you, Gajeel,” she murmured as she skimmed her fingers over the skin of his arm. She felt him grin and drop a kiss into her hair, then resume his position.

“I love you too, Lev. I love you more every minute.”

“I love you more every second.”

“Don’t start that. I love you more every- wait, what’s smaller than a second?”

“A millisecond.”

“Yeah! That.” Levy snorted piggishly with laughter and kicked his calf with her foot playfully. He countered by bonking her head with his own, which made her yelp in mock pain.

“Hey, now! You know your head is big and harder than any iron, right?”

“Yeah, if the kid takes after me you’re gonna have a hell of a time pushin’ it outta yo- Ow! Lev! I’m sorry!” She interrupted his crude joke by yanking hard on his tufts of black hair. He laughed riotously and grabbed her by the waist to pull her impossibly close, smothering her face in more kisses. Levy squirmed and shrieked and giggled under his assault of affections right up until the moment he settled back down and flipped the book to the next page. Quietly, he began to read with renewed interest, falling into a studious stupor. Levy gazed at his focused expression for a few moments, appreciating how it softened his hard features, before returning her attention to the advice book as well.

Levy loved Gajeel. She loved him more than life itself. She loved him with every fiber of her being, down to the miniscule molecules that made up her cells. She would go to the ends of the universe to fetch the rarest stardust if he but asked her for it. She loved, loved, loved Gajeel, more than she ever thought it possible to love someone. Still, that didn’t stop her from falling more in love with him with each passing day.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork @searchfortheonepiece

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ragnarachael · 4 years

Text

i’ll live to see another day

Pairing: Stephen Strange x ER Nurse!Reader

Word Count: 2,093

Summary: You're finally back in your apartment from your long shift at Metro-General, but your mystical boyfriend decided you couldn't take a break yet.

Warnings: we got sum INJURIES, BLOOD, INACCURATE MEDICAL TALK, and stephen strange feeling guilty for even asking you to do this. he loves u. he promises.

MASTERLIST ! FEEDBACK !

You unlocked the door to your apartment, expecting it to be empty.

Yet Stephen Strange stood in your kitchen, the smell of coffee wafting through the air.

“Stephen?” You questioned, letting out a soft sigh as you placed your bag down, tossing your keys on the small hallway cabinet you had near the door. You heard him call back when your eyes caught some drops of red. You shuffled alongside the small trail that seemingly led to the kitchen.

That's when you found Stephen, who was hunched over your kitchen counter, dressed in street clothes for once in his mystic life, holding on tightly to a novelty mug you got from a trip to Universal Studios.

His shirt was absolutely drenched in blood, which was what made it clinging to his left side.

“Jesus Christ, what happened to you!?” You were quick to walk to his side as he grunted, standing up straight as your hands found the bottom hem of his shirt.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Stephen hissed out in retaliation as you got his shirt up to see what looked like a stab wound. You had half the mind to keep your eyes trained on your hands, quick to switch into nurse mode.

“Do not sweetheart me right now, Stephen.” It was quick, stern, and Stephen definitely knew he was in deep shit.

You’d probably make him repay you by cleaning up his blood from your floors while you clean the counters.

Stephen let out another gasp as your hands let the shirt fall back down, a quick mumble of an apology heard before you were off rushing to your bathroom for your first aid kit.

You were still in your scrubs from your shift, and Stephen was already blaming himself and feeling guilty. But he had nowhere else to go.

He couldn’t go to the hospital, too many wandering eyes along with the fact that he was too proud of himself for not going to Metro-General again. Claire was out helping an apparent mutual friend named Mike, whoever the hell that was to Stephen, and Christine was out of town.

You were the only option left, and he didn’t like having to subject you to cleaning him up when he’s hurt since he knew you couldn’t stand seeing people you love in pain.

Just like him.

“Okay, was it a regular blade or another magical one that will make me want to strangle you for even trying to fight off?” You asked suddenly as you flew back through your living room from the bathroom, navigating without even looking up from the medical pack back to the kitchen, digging through the bag.

“It seemed like a normal blade,” Stephen replied. “Do you need me to—”

“No, I got it,” you said in a motherly tone, pointing to one of the dining chairs you have with your small table in the kitchen, “sit. Maybe take your shirt off so I can use it as a rag. And yes, I can get the blood out when I’m done.”

Stephen tried not to feel dejected when you denied his help and did was he was told once he put the coffee mug down, suddenly very happy he already shrugged his jacket off when he first sling-ringed in.

You placed the bag along with some extra supplies on your small dining room table as Stephen yanked his shirt off, trying not to make any noises of pain before the grey fabric was held out your way.

Thanking Stephen as you grabbed the shirt, you decided to kneel between his open legs to have better access to his side. You started getting to work by gently dabbing the wound with his shirt to soak up most of the excess blood before starting to sanitize.

Watching you work was always a treat for Stephen. He’s been told multiple times by you that it’s weird that he likes watching his girlfriend as she’s sewing up his wounds that he could have wound up dead from.

You were good at what you did, was his instant reply. Stephen was never one who complimented doctors or nurses on their techniques much, before and after you met him, but you took his word almost as law. If Doctor Stephen Strange said you were good at what you did, you must be pretty damn good.

“What’d you even get this from?” You asked in exasperation, moving to dig through the med pack again for what Stephen could only assume was a needle and thread. It was a deep wound, he was sure of it.

“I uh, was on a mission with Stark and his boy band,” Stephen started, shifting with a grunt working it’s way out of his throat, “had a tussle with Loki.”

You didn’t hesitate to hold back a scoff. “That’s bullshit.”

Stephen loved you, even if you could call out his bullshit.

“You’re right, it’s bullshit,” Stephen replied almost directly after you spoke, clearing his throat. “Wong and I had this thing to attend at Kamar-Taj and it got ruined by some intergalactic stuff, got stabbed by one of our own who we believe was an insider on the whole ordeal.”

“Ah,” you mused, both in response to Stephen’s story and finding the needle you were looking for, “more Mystic Art’s lingo I don’t get, gotcha.”

Stephen let out a small laugh, tilting his head back. “Mystic Art’s lingo? I expected to hear mumbo jumbo.”

“All I heard were the words intergalactic and Kamar-Taj and I knew.”

Stephen was about to let out another laugh before he let out a loud hiss of pain just as the needle went through his skin.

“You’re smart though, you know bigger words than those, Y/N.”

“Not when I’ve just gotten off an almost 24 hour shift, Stephen,” you responded, Stephen more than likely detecting your undertones of annoyance.

It was quiet between the two of you for a bit after that, smoothly stitching Stephen up just as the sun started to rise. He shuddered, your abnormally cold hands constantly moving.

“I’m sorry.”

Stephen was sincere. He usually isn’t with Claire, for the two of them love verbally sparring. Christine doesn’t take it, but with you he always finds himself apologizing constantly, even if you never prompted him for it and already reassured him that he’s fine.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, finally finishing the last stitch. “I’m just happy you didn’t bleed on my rug.”

The both of you shared a laugh.

“I knew you’d kill me, the kitchen was my only option.”

“Why didn’t you go to Claire’s? Usually she takes care of this.” You expertly finished off the stitch before grabbing scissors to cut the excess thread.

“She’s uh.. She said she’s with our mutual friend Mike?”

“Oh! Mike!” Your face lit up the second the name was mentioned, slowly shifting into a squatting position so you were already on your feet before to place the needle down and grab the big bandage you laid out previously. “How’s he?”

“Wait, who’s Mike?”

Your face when you looked up at him almost made him laugh.

“Mike? Are you joking? Are we not remembering the codename talk?”

“Codename talk?”

You groaned dramatically, peeling open the bandage as Stephen just now noticed you were wearing gloves. It made sense, your hands were never that cold when you touched him.

It took him a moment to remember what you meant by the codename talk, but when he did he sat up a little straighter which helped you conveniently place the bandage on his freshly stitched wound.

“Oh! The codename we use on the phone!”

“Christ, it took you that long?” You quipped as you carefully smoothed the bandage down before rubbing the edges.

“It’s been a long day, okay? And Matt’s doing fine as he can get if Claire’s helping him out,” Stephen replied as he looked down at your gloved hands, watching you smooth the edges down that you had missed.

“Very true. Sad that on Claire’s only day off she’s still technically doing her job.”

“You would prefer a blind vigilante climbing through your windows and ask to be stitched up instead of me? I’m hurt, Y/N. Truly hurt.”

“You can’t climb through windows, Stephen. You sling-ring in and come in unannounced. At least with Matt I’d know if he came in,” you explained playfully before placing your hands on his spread knees to help get back up on your feet before taking your gloves off.

“Not all the time!”

“Yes, all the time!”

“No!” Stephen exclaimed again as if he were a child, holding back a grunt as he moved to try and sit normally, his hand flying almost instantly to his bandage.

“How’d you get in here?” You questioned sternly, placing your hands on your hips.

You definitely got your answer when he didn’t reply right away.

“My point exactly.”

“Matt’s footsteps are light! Remember the one time he came in through one of the windows of the Sanctum and scared the hell out of me?” You let out a laugh as you tossed the gloves into your trashcan, walking to your cabinet where the mugs were.

“You had your headphones in, Stephen, why else would you be scared? I could do that with or without powers!” You exclaimed with a quiet snort, opening the cabinet door before looking over at Stephen as he tried to find the will to get up. “Do you need help, baby?”

Stephen just groaned in defeat from your statement before slowly rising to his feet from the chair as you picked a mug he’d bought you from a small souvenir shop when he actually did go on a mission with Stark and his circus.

“No thank you, dear. Should be fine,” Stephen confirmed as he started to slowly pad over to where you stood, watching you hesitantly reach for the hot coffee pot.

“Are you sure? You have the too much gene, remember—”

“Y/N, I’m more than sure my stitches won’t reopen just from me walking around.”

You let out a soft sigh before nodding to yourself, a quiet okay coming from under your breath.

Stephen could still hear the worry in your voice and couldn't help but feel his heart tug with guilt again. Grabbing his still warm mug, he decided to lean against the counter to watch you make your coffee in what felt like a record time.

You were placing the small container of sugar you have back where it belonged when Stephen spoke up again.

“Thank you.”

“You already said that,” you replied gently, starting to carefully stir your coffee with a smaller spoon as you turned around to face Stephen.

“I know but.. I’m just feeling thankful.”

You squinted at that sentence and felt your hip jutting out. “Are there more injuries I need to fix?”

Stephen could tell that your eyes were inspecting his bare top half just as he sipped his coffee.

“No. I just love you.” Stephen tried to hold back a chuckle as he watched your eyes roll, a fond smile growing on your face.

“Shut up. Do you want a fresh shirt?”

Stephen smiled smugly as he lifted his mug to take another sip. “Nah. I think you like this view.”

“I do, but that doesn’t mean you can’t put a shirt on, Strange,” you quipped, finally stopping your stirring motion and tapping the spoon on the side of the mug. “Pink Floyd?”

Stephen placed his mug on the counter top of your kitchen counter, a soft thud left in its wake as you innocently placed the spoon you used in the sink.

“That’s where it went? Don't tell me you stole my Led Zepplin shirt, too."

He heard a second soft thud of a mug after you took a sip, starting to walk towards the arch way of the kitchen to get out and grab something for him to wear.

"That's a secret I'll never tell." You smiled innocently as you stopped in your tracks just in front of him before getting up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. "Hang tight. I'll get the Pink Floyd shirt for you."

Stephen couldn't help the smile that crept onto his face after he felt your lips one last time on his before you walked out, heading to the direction of your bedroom. He was quick to call out another thank you, to which you replied with a thumbs up sticking out from your bedroom doorway just as you walked in.

#stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x ER nurse!reader #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange imagine #stephen strange imagine #marvel imagine #marvel writer #rachael writes

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thecoddiwomplingnoeur · 5 years

Text

A Voice To Command Armies.

Fandom- Twilight

Pairing- Tanya Denali / Bella Swan

Universe- Canon Divergence.

Work- One Shot.

Autumn’s last rays slowly slid from the horizon, tendrils clinging to barren branches and fallen leaves. The twilight was cold already, the hand in Bella’s doing little to combat it. Crushed pebbles of gravel ground under their feet as they made their way up the Cullen's drive to the front door in comfortable silence. Birds were silent, nests and branches occupied and little heads finding their way under fluffed wings. It was the perfect autumnal day, the atmosphere crisp and fresh.

It wasn’t a particularly special day, except retrospectively. School was out, homework studiously ignored, the drive had been pleasant with Edward’s hand never leaving hers.

Perfect.

Normal.

Until Edward growled.

Bella stiffened, wincing as the hand caging hers tightened just a little too much. The closed-door before them swung open, and Edward took a step back, tugging Bella along with him and swiftly behind.

“Edward.” One word was spoken with a well of tapped authority, screamed of age and knowledge. Bella couldn’t see the owner of such a voice. Such a voice as to send shivers down her spine, to draw soft patterns on her skin that coax goosebumps out. Edwards voice was unrecognisable, low and hissed. A cornered animal with its food source threatened.

“Denali.”

That voice chuckled, low and throaty. Bella dropped her head forward, breathing out a sigh as her insides squirmed, stomach tugging at that tone. Edward tried to swarm her backwards, pushing against her front. He stilled his efforts when that voice spoke again, humoured.

“Now, Edward, that’s not a nice way to greet your family.” A drawl, accented. Intoxicating. Something in Bella shifted. She tried to pull back from Edward, his hold, his herding, making the panic flail in her chest. He was cold, hard. Hard enough to draw her blood forward, hard enough to bruise her where they connected. She tried to take a step back, but her feet slipped on the stairs up to the front door.

Bella fell with a yelp, body crumpling with no footing to ground her until she was yanked up by her arm. Her wrist was still trapped in Edwards effortlessly constricting hold, and she hung from it like a ragdoll.

There was a cry that echoed Bellas, and she dropped. Cold dead fingers pulled off her tender hand. Instead of angular concrete bruising her flesh, she was captured by two arms. Held against something cool and solid, something… safe.

Instead of Edward’s concerned gaze she was expecting, instead of his short coppery hair and angled pale face. Instead of that, Bella found herself cradled by a woman. She had beautiful blonde hair curved around a strong face, piercing amber eyes and a soft smile that could stop a heart.

Bella gulped, breath rapid, heart likewise and shivers licking her stomach.

“Now then, little one,” So that’s who the voice belonged to. The soft smile curled a little further, sharpened teeth peeking out. “Who are you, and why has our dear Edward been keeping you from me?”

“What?” Bella whispered, caught in the vampire’s gaze like a fly trapped in honey. She’d never heard her own voice so soft, so wonderstruck.

“Your name, little one.” Amber eyes were so… gentle on Bella’s face. Voice commanding, and yet oddly affectionate. It set a spark a light in her, a sizzling warmth that had her breath catching at the back of her throat. “What is your name?” A cool hand lifted to gently tuck Bella’s hair from her eyes, stoking smooth fingertips over the curve of her cheek. Bella pushed into the fingers, seeking attention, and then froze, blinking down at the caressing digits strangely.

“Bella…” Bella murmured as she lifted her hand gingerly touch the cool one that lightly cupped her flushed cheek. She didn’t understand how warmth could emanate from the dead hand, or why Edward always chilled her to the bone. The vampire grinned, dazzling white teeth pinching her bottom lip as she bit it and eyes lighting.

“Bella. How very fitting. Very fitting indeed.” Her words were soft, musical even. “My name is Tanya Denali.”

“Beautiful.” That gaze turned almost bashful at Bella’s wide-eyed look and words.

“I think you’ll find, that’s your name, little one-” A growl, low and inherently dangerous sounded. Tanya tightened her hold. Tighter, but not too tight. Tanya lifted her, holding Bella against her chest as she spun.

Edward, crouched low, missing an arm. Eyes black. He wasn’t the boy Bella knew, not right now.

He was a direct threat.

There was a cry from inside the Cullen’s house: Alice. Tanya ran. Bella flung her arms around Tanya’s neck and held on as the world blurred around her. They moved at speeds that stole away Bella’s breath, leaving her gasping at the crook of the vampire’s neck.

She heard the smack of diamond-hard flesh on diamond-hard flesh, like a clap of thunder, an avalanche of boulders.

It felt like only a second, ten at most, before the speed was reduced. Care for Bella’s human capacities displayed in the slow descent, instead of a dead stop.

Tanya righted Bella, arm staying supportively around her lower back as the human gulped air and fought the wave of nausea that was yanking at her insides.

“Are you okay, Bella?” That voice asked, its resounding timbre comforting in its concerned tone.

“Yeah, yeah. Just, motion sickness.” there was a seconds pause, then Bella's spine stiffened, and she drew herself together. “What happened? Where’d you take me, where’s Edward?” Bella staunchly questioned, and frantically demanded all at once. She straightened, pulling away from Tanya, the feeling of loss surprised her, and pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. She winced, the purpling bruise stinging as she accidentally put pressure on it. Bella winced, jerking her hand away to inspect the damage and she felt the telltale welling of tears. Frustration and pain but equal contributors.

“Bella, just stay calm. It’s okay.”

“I’m not not calm! I’m asking what’s going on. Who even are you? You with your perfect hair, and- and your god-damned hypnotic eyes. Who are you?”

“I’m…” Tanya seemed… lost. She looked down, nervously blinking at the ground and then glanced up at Bella. “I'm Tanya Denali.”

“Well, Tanya Denali, do you make a habit of stealing random humans?” Bella asked, exasperated, accusing.

“You're not ‘random’. You’re- well… you're my mate…” At that Bella outright scoffed, but it wasn't as convincing as she would have liked.

“No… no, I'm Edward’s.”

“No one owns you, Bella” Tanya’s eyes bled deeper, darkness swelling and swirling around her iris, but her voice remained soft. Whispered, almost scandalised. “I'm not- I mean, from the moment I saw you I've been yours. Even if you think you are his .” She practically hissed out ‘his’, eyes turning flinty before landing on Bella’s hunched shoulders and defensive posture. She softened like butter under the sun. “I'm yours .”

“You've only known me for a minute at most!” Bella exclaimed, turning from Tanya and her crestfallen, almost heartbroken expression. She stared out over the land; the trees spread below her from the mountain Tanya had somehow run them up. This was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous, there was no way Tanya was her… mate or anything of the sort. In fact! Bella had basically just been kidnapped by an unknown vampire! Exactly why she wasn’t panicking is beyond her.

“A few minutes was all I needed. I’ve waited for you for a thousand years.” Came the whispered response. It felt wrong, that such a voice would be lowered to such a tentative murmur. A voice to command armies lowered for Bella. She didn’t like it.

She didn’t know why.

“This is ridiculous.” Bella denied, ignoring the stab in her chest at Tanya’s admission.

“Call me ridiculous, then,” Tanya replied instantly.

“I mean, seriously. You just… just expect me to up and leave Edward, for what? I don’t… You literally kidnapped me! I don’t know where I am, or who you’ve been hanging around with this century, but I do not feel safe! Just… just take me home .” Bella ignored her and ranted on.

“Okay,” Tanya acquiesced quickly, eager. She stepped forward slowly to carefully pick up the stiff human, one arm under her legs, and one behind her back. Bella looped her arms around the vampire’s neck, face turned into her own shoulder, and she tried to forget how warm Tanya had felt, even compared to herself.

Tanya ran slowly. Perhaps, Bella considered, slower than was strictly necessary for her human self. The world didn’t blur into sickening swirls of colour, so Bella could see the towering trees, the tumbling boulders that lay dormant from their once quick tumbling down the mountain.

She didn’t feel herself relax into Tanya’s steady hold, but the vampire cradling her did.

Soon the view of the forest land and the rugged, snow-capped mountains was swallowed by the forest’s drowsy shadows. Deep emeralds and mint hues twirled together in an epic dance of nature. Pillars of mossy bark support the ceiling. The sunlight shining through almost looked like light trickling through stained glass, casting the world below in lime greens and pale yellows.

Tanya shifted her grip slightly as she ran, effortlessly adjusting Bella, so she was cradled close to the vampire's neck. Bella automatically buried closer into the hollow created between the shoulder and neck. Bella could barely tear her gaze from the sight around her, never having seen such a land untouched by humanity. How far had Tanya run with Bella? How fast must she be?

And as if thinking of the stunning vampire was enough, suddenly all Bella's senses tuned into her. She felt the ivory hardness of her skin where she held Bella, the coolness that wasn't cool, that lit fires along her nerves. The slight tickle of blonde hair against Bella's cheek and the smooth pad of a finger that pressed to the hot skin of Bella’s hip just under her shirt. She caught the scent that hung around the vampire even as she ran, the all-consuming warmth and the… Bella could begrudgingly admit, the rightness that clicked in her bones. Bella turned her head slightly, enough to catch a glimpse of Tanya's golden eyes in the filtered sunlight. It was… she was…

Those eyes turned to meet her sneaky look. Dark pupils expanded as she blinked down at the human slowly. The amber hue of her iris shrinking. The dark of her eyes was almost hypnotic, growing with every blink and every deep breath of Bella's scent.

Bella really wanted to deny the tug in her stomach, the flutter in her chest, but she was sure Tanya could feel her heart stutter.

“Can I show you something?” Tanya asked softly, barely a twitch of her jaw. Eyes never straying. “I think you might like it, and it wouldn’t be too out of the way. I'll get you home, I promise.” and Bella explicitly, and without doubt, believed her.

“What do you want to show me?” Bella demanded with as much force as she could. It was a genuinely pitiful amount. Tanya just smiled slightly, only the faintest uptick of her lips and shook her head. Pale hair danced, tickling across Bella's cheek and it was hard to be annoyed.

“Just… can I show you?”

Bella nodded.

Tanya held her tighter, focusing on something further away, concentrating. Then the speed picked up. The world blurred, but not uncomfortably so. A couple of seconds, a slight direction change and then they were there.

Tanya slowed, gently placing Bella onto the forest floor behind a rambling bush, her hand settling uncertainly on the small of the humans back. She inched forward, quieting Bella's protests and questions by coaxing her along until Tanya could slowly pull the branches aside to reveal the inner clearing.

Bella's breath caught.

In the clearing, neck bent to drink steadily, elegantly, was a doe and foal. They watched the foal's ears flick, nose twitching as it nibbled young blades. It was such a peaceful picture, a snapshot of the forest’s every day. Something Bella was sure she would never have seen without vampiric help.

Again, despite the beautiful scene in front of her, Bella found herself glancing sideways, glancing at Tanya. At the soft reflecting of light through her hair and through the leaves up above, at the smooth perfection of her pale skin, the soft pink of her lips that seemed to alive in juxtaposition to her complexion. She ever found herself looking at how one elegant hand supported Tanya on the first floor, the definition of thin bones and gentle cushions of flesh beneath rock hard skin. The hand on Bella’s back suddenly felt inescapable, and what worried Bella most, is that she had no real desire to run from it.

Nervously aware of her rather unsubtle staring, Bella quickly looked back at the view by the river, of the frolicking calf and indulgent mother. How many times had Tanya run across things like this? How many times had she ended scenes like this with swift flicks of her wrists and two sharp fangs? And yet, Tanya had thought of Bella, and brought her here to see it for herself. It was… sweet. Thoughtful, and surprisingly caring for someone she’d only just met.

With a deep breath, Bella chanced a glance over at the vampire beside her and- oh. Swirling black eyes met her own, caught them in an embrace Bella really didn’t want to leave. A thin, flecked ring of amber was the only thing that separated Tanya’s look and the look Edward had given her. That and something more profound than the physical, something Bella couldn’t place. Some feeling of safety. Of wholeness. Of- oh.

Tanya really was… she really was her mate.

Oh.

As if the realisation played on Bella’s face like the finest Shakespeare, Tanya smiled that soft little smile. Like she knew.

She probably did.

Archive Of Our Own- LachrymoseLake

Thanks for reading! xx

#twilight #fanfiction #fanfic #lgbtq #wlw #writing #creative writing #short story #vampires #cannon divergence #au

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wonderlustlucas · 6 years

Text

dancing through our house - kim yugyeom

⇢ prompt Feet don’t dance like they did with you.—“ghost of you” by 5 seconds of summer ⇢ pairing yugyeom x female reader ⇢ word count 2.5k ⇢ genre some fluff, but mainly heavy angst ⇢ warnings main character death; descriptions of anxiety & depression ⇢ summary In which some things are impossible to forget. ⇢ a/n this be hella sad i think i cried the whole time writing this. listen to the song for optimum sadness. my friend read this earlier and told me to quote what she said sooo: BUT LIKE EVEN THOUGH IT HITS YOU AT THE CORE AND YOUR LIKE WOW THIS IS SO GOOD YOUR ALSO LIKE FUCK THIS AUTHOR CAUSE WOW IM CRYIN

“You’re too pretty for a shitty place like this,” you commented boldly; however, no trace of humor laced your tone and, casual as ever, you took a long gulp from your red plastic cup as Yugyeom leaned against the marble island, speechless because he was the one that spent hours planning for this moment. He was the one that had an insufferable crush on your pretty face from the moment he tumbled headfirst, literally, into your life. Days had rolled into weeks which rolled into months and he simply could never bottle up all his feelings and serve them as they were, “Today’s the day,” he told himself practically every morning, yet as soon as he marched into the lecture hall with the courage of an ex-One Direction fan slash current K-pop fan and found you so, so effortlessly beautiful amongst your circle of friends, his tail shot between his legs and, alas, “Tomorrow. Tomorrow’s the day.”

And so, when Yugyeom’s first ever university end of year party rolled around, BamBam, Jeongguk, and Mingyu thrust an absurd amount of shots down his esophagus and propelled him like a rocket to where you concocted some sort of drink, he was ready this time. He was going to grab the bull—no, not a bull, you’re too pretty to even be labeled as some sort of animal—by the horns and spill out every last ounce of his emotions until his lungs collapsed, whether you remembered him from the first day of freshman orientation nearly six months ago when he oh-so-gracefully smacked your iced coffee right out of your hands or not. He was here now, prepared to do whatever it took to sweep you off your feet, not vice versa.

“You didn’t give me a chance to get to the good part of this conversation,” Yugyeom grumbled, ruffling his hair with his hands, he saw—he saw your eyes follow the motion and his heart absolutely picked up to a detrimental rate. “Wait,” you smiled—or was that a smirk you were hiding?—and added an ungodly amount of rum to your cup, “I think this is where you’re finally going to tell me how you feel and I’d rather embarrass myself drunk than embarrass myself sober because, I’ll have you know, I nearly shit my pants every time I see you.”

Suddenly Yugyeom’s tongue was pulsing like a heart in his very dry mouth and he most definitely misheard you—right? “Is that a good shit, or a bad shit?”

You laughed, a sound so sickly sweet he fleetingly considered smashing his head through the wall until your answer blessed his ears, “Nah, it’s a good shit. I heard you were head over heels for me, or something like that, back in January and I thought you’d come talk to me but—ah, never mind. Needless to say, we were both dumb for not just speaking up.”

“Does this mean if I ask you on a date you won’t reject me?” Yugyeom let out a shaky laugh, mesmerized with the way your skin glowed under the kitchen’s dimmed lights, he fought the urge not to cup your face and instead opted for stepping closer, breathing in your rosy perfume and nearly losing his shit, when you responded with a bashful smile.

“Yeah,” you sighed, much more breathless than you’d like to be, “you don’t have to worry about that anytime soon. Unless, of course, you’re a total dickhead or a terrible kisser,” you snorted, a noise usually found unpleasant but Yugyeom wanted nothing more than to prove to the world no fresh-out-of-the-pussy puppy was cuter than you; however, his prize-winning grin faltered when you went on, “which by the way, I think we should totally test that out. You know, in case you are a terrible kisser and I have time to back out of this dating proposition.”

Yugyeom didn’t need to be asked twice and yanked you forward so quickly you yelped, but, the gentleman he is, steadied you against his chest and dipped down to kiss you without a single drop of hesitation. His lips found yours effortlessly, heart singing with joy when you gasped against his mouth but melted into his arms nevertheless, his tongue ran along the seam of your lips, and he could just barely taste a hint of Doritos cheese as—

The shrieking of his cellphone like an angry rattlesnake renders Yugyeom’s peaceful dreaming of the beginning of his relationship with you nearly 3 years ago cut short-lived, he lets out an aggravated groan, slapping around the mattress aimlessly for the device before pressing down on the off button to shut the annoying blaring off.

Brain still clouded with sleep, Yugyeom flips onto his stomach and sighs blissfully, stretching his arm out to the pillows on the left side in order to determine whether you’ve already left for work or not.

Upon feeling the icy touch of the sheets Yugyeom rolls over to your side, relishing in mornings like these: he’s home, you’ll be home soon, he can spend the rest of the day—the whole day!—with you. Cheek pressed against your pillows, Yugyeom inhales a hefty breath of your scent, filling his lungs and brain with the jasmine and vanilla perfume from your shampoo. He smiles into the coolness of the downy pillow, contemplating whether he wants to send you good morning meme until, like a shit ton of bricks dumped on his head, the weight of the world falling on his shoulders, the realization hits Yugyeom slowly, cruelly.

He realizes, upon impact, that whether he texted your phone or not—you won’t answer. He could text you a million times a minute, call you even, and you wouldn’t answer because you’re not here. Eyelids fluttering open within milliseconds, Yugyeom jerks away from your side of the bed with a choke, clawing the sheets as he flies from the bed, nearly crumbling to the floor but catching a grip against the windowsill. You’re gone.

Breathless and with your smell multiplying like cells in his senses, Yugyeom reaches for the closest thing—one of his pillows hanging lopsided off the mattress—and pelts it to the wall across from where he stands, heaving, watching with disappointment as it thumps against the brick lightly and, consequently, not unleashing any of his pent-up emotions. Your beautiful heart isn’t even beating.

But he knows if you were here, you’d tell him he would be just fine.

The red and black and white grain muddling Yugyeom’s vision begins to clear as he chokes on air, the briny taste of tears enters his mouth when he licks his chapped lips and when did he start crying?

Six feet underground. Like the past thirty-three days, Yugyeom blinks away the rest of his tears and waits until they’re dribbling down his cheeks to wipe them, he lets out a shaky breath and proceeds with his day, plucking up the pillow and setting it back on the bed like you would’ve asked him to.

When he leaves the bedroom and makes way for the kitchen, he winces at the eerie silence of the apartment aside from the incessant percussion of birds singing outside the living room window and occasional creaking of the attendants an apartment above and decides some Chris Brown could do. Swinging open the refrigerator door, Yugyeom sighs at what’s inside—or, better, there lack of—and decides, he really needs to go grocery shopping; a half-empty gallon of milk, three eggs left in the carton, what’s left of the sliced bread, and four bottles of soju that has turned into medicine to cure his headaches and panic attacks rather than a way to enjoy nights like he used to with you.

Despite the persistent growling from his gut, Yugyeom only reaches for the milk, sets it down on the counter and hums—he hums!—something so insignificant but something he hasn’t done since your accident as he reaches for the dishwasher and pulls the door open. His humming stops when he catches sight of your coffee cup inside, mauve lipstick stain faded even more from the day before and he knows if he wants it to stay he has to stop using it every morning, but a part of him cannot help but reach for it because it’s just another part of you.

His stomach churns and keeps churning and suddenly Yugyeom’s head is heavy and saliva is flooding his mouth and he’s burning hotter than the star that keeps our planet alive and he scrambles to the stainless steel and heaves into the sink, expelling everything from his belly, which, ultimately, is nothing. Yugyeom dry-heaves, once, twice, before inhaling a shuddering breath, drool dripping from his lips and down his chin until he hastily wipes it away. With his appetite stolen like a rug whipped away from beneath his feet, Yugyeom slams the dishwasher door closed, the contents angrily rattling inside, and leaves the milk on the counter for he could not give less of a shit.

A cold shower fixes everything, love, you would say, the cold-shower freak yourself, he nods to himself, a cold shower will do, Yugyeom makes way for the bathroom and strips from his clothes that seem to stick to his sweaty body, twists the shower knob just slightly so the stream is at its coldest possible temperature before whipping aside the curtain and stepping inside. Yugyeom shudders at the contact of water against his skin, goosebumps spreading across his body head to toe and he presses himself against the wall, shivers wracking his body, squeezing his eyes tighttighttightuntil it all goes away, until he’s numb, until your standing beside him again.

His body, at some point, numbs to the frigid water and he finally backs away from the wall to stand underneath the shower head, running his hands through his raven hair, rubbing the crust away from his eyes, washing up quickly and using your body cleanser instead of his own. When Yugyeom’s finished, he dries off quickly and wraps the towel low on his hip, but frowns when he enters your bedroom because you’re not there to tell him how hot he is and how lucky you are, in which he would tackle your cute ass and smother your face in kisses, which, eventually, lead to his towel on the floor and your clothes dropped next to it.

A dinging notification from Yugyeom’s phone still buried beneath his pillows snaps him back to reality and he wanders over, scrolling through his notifications from the newest to the oldest.

DabDab🤮– 1:42 PM Hey bud. Hope ur getting there. Call me

Missed Call from DabDab🤮 – 11:23 AM

Missed Call from 🅱️eon 🅱️eongguk – 10:14 AM

Yugyeom sighs—he knows he should be grateful his friends care, but he simply does not care enough for himself to constantly answer their nagging questions. He contemplates ignoring it, he could shove the device back under the pillows and answer it tomorrow like he usually does, but he’s gone three days without talking to one of them and so, guilt makes up his mind and he’s tapping away until BamBam’s voice disturbs the deadened ambiance Yugyeom’s created in your bedroom.

“Hey! You called,” BamBam’s voice fills the hair, Yugyeom can almost see the smile, and falls back onto the mattress.

“I called.”

“I know you don’t want to talk, which I understand. But I want you to do me a favor,” BamBam goes on, Yugyeom pinches the bridge of his nose, biting back a sharp retort, “I want you to use that damn well-spent studio the two of you have in your apartment and freestyle. Just an hour. I know you were coming up for a choreo to something, I don’t know, but go do that.”

Yugyeom pauses, considering the idea, but shuts it down quickly because he does not want to do anything but lie here, “I can’t. Not today.”

“Yugyeom, you’ve said that to everything. I know you’re not doing anything, and I don’t blame you. But if there’s one thing you still have and love, that’s dancing. And I’m not arguing with you over this. Please, just do this. For me.”

Yugyeom hears the crack in his best friend’s voice, he can feel the pain through the phone, another ache to add to his poor heart, “I can’t go in that room without her, Bam.”

“You’ve had dance before you had ___, Yugyeom. You shared dance with her, you grew with her from it. You can do it without her. Do it for her, she’d be proud. Okay?”

Yugyeom swallows the lump in his throat, the tears threatening to spill from his burning eyes and his bottom lip trembles, “Okay.”

“Okay. Don’t say okay again, I’m not Augustus Waters,” BamBam chuckles, sniffling on his line and Yugyeom knows he’s crying too but manages to crack a smile, “okay. Fuck! I said it again. Alright, go dance your heart out for a little and take care of yourself. Also, don’t be a stranger. Please.”

Yugyeom nods, digging his knuckle into his eye to stop the tears, he croaks out, “Okay. Thanks, man. See you.”

He hangs up a moment later to let the tears spill freely.

An hour later, Yugyeom stands in the doorway of his—your—dance room, glaring questioningly at the mirrored walls around him, his pitiful reflection staring back at him. Do it for you, he tells himself, stepping inside and clicking the door shut behind him.

Yugyeom stretches his tense muscles, avoiding looking at himself in the mirror in fear he’ll back out or conjure up a mental image of your bruised and bloodied body in the hospital, he mustn’t think about it or else it’ll only get worse. He scrolls through his downloaded songs, zoned in on something other than you for the first time in weeks, going back and forth between a few options before caving in to another Chris Brown bop he cannot get away from.

Just like before, Yugyeom tells himself after his first slip-up, swinging his leg too far to the side and so he begins again, carrying himself with utmost grace and sharp, fluid movements but he shakes his head a minute and a half in—not good enough. “One, two, three, four,” he whispers to himself, starting from the top for the seventh time, he glides and twists and pulls and—

And he blanks hardly thirty seconds in, pausing, staring into his reflection, shuddering for oxygen, long hair tousled from the quick movements, limbs screaming at the sudden usage, and he can’t wrap his mind around what follows next.

“I can’t do it,” Yugyeom says to no one in particular, balling his fists at his sides before collapsing onto the smooth laminate, he looks to the corner of the room and if he squints hard enough, he can imagine you standing there, telling him he can do it, but his tears blur his vision so he buries his head between his knees, “I can’t do it without you.”

And Yugyeom cries for the thirty-third day, for his feet don’t dance like they used to with you.

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