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hollyhomburg · 5 months

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Before I Leave You (Pt.64)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: “Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.” “Shut up Jimin you are not going to die.”

Tags: Angst, Blood, graphic depictions of violence, dead bodies, Gore, Maiming, violent acts described perpetrated by loved ones, near death experiences, near death experiences, No one dies, Jimin does not die, Hurt with just a little comfort, implied sexual content,

W/c: 8.6k

A/N: I'm sorry that this chapter is a little shorter than usual after such a long wait. i've been going through a rough patch™ which is why recently the updates have been 3 weeks apart instead of just 2 like usual. When i tell you the end of this chapter has a fucking twist to it that i love, you're not prepared!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

“I shot Minnie.”

It takes you a breath for the words to sink in. Standing in the bathroom in the half-grey darkness golden hallway light streaming in through the open door. It’s strange how inside of your body you feel at that moment.

That frantic fever urgency of your pulse, your breath, your everything when traumatic things are about to happen and when they’re happening.

For a moment you’re keenly aware of every molecule of your body. The tacky-sweet feeling of slick drying between your thighs, the cold smoothness of the slate tile beneath your feet, the too-long press of your fingernails as you grip the bathroom countertop to keep from falling to the tile floor. Everything in feverish detail.

you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, the light from Yoongi’s phone screen illuminates your face in blue. You look at the mirror, then down at your hands.

Minnie, a gun.

A bullet, Jin.

Your brain is whirling. Putting two and two together is like putting together a recipe. Only now you have the result and have to backtrack. How did you get here? Jin keeps talking, word vomiting down the line, and you miss a few sentences while you’re trying to put it together.

Butter, cream, sugar.

You, Jin, Jimin.

Jimin.

You think you might vomit tiramisu all over the bathroom floor.

You close your eyes, thinking hard while Jin talks. His words run over themselves with worry. “I discharged my weapon if we go to the hospital- they’ll- they’ll know and I don’t know if I can cover this up with just lies-”

“Is he dead?” Your voice is lethal in its quiet, so quiet that you think it might not go through the phone. Jin doesn’t hear it- too preoccupied with his own terror.

You close your eyes, quietly begging anything or anyone who might be listening. If god is going to take so much from him- the least she can do is give jimin this. One simple measly miracle is all you're asking for.

“Jin- tell me right the fuck now- Is Jimin dead?”

“Pup.” Jin sounds like he’s just been strangled. Like all the wind has just been knocked out of him. “Put Yoongi on the line.”

“No.” You're shaking, your heartbeat in your ears louder than your lofty hopes. Hand digging into the counter so hard that you feel it in your bones. “No, not until you tell me right now- is Minnie-”

“Hey pup.” Jimin’s voice is a quiet croak. You sag against the countertop and slide to the floor. It’s barely a weak whisper on the other side of the line. You’re glad it’s not a video call. You’re not sure you could handle seeing him if he sounds so raw. “Minnie- Minnie are you? does Jin?”

Does Jin know?

Jin must have taken back the phone because- “I need you to go get Yoongi. Now. We can’t be here any longer than necessary.” there's the muffled sound of shuffling, of hair grating against the speaker. "We're vulnerable here, I don't know if more people will come."

You move, leaving the bathroom and thundering up the steep stairs to the bedroom. There's the distant sound of Hoseok in the kitchen probably putting away the tiramisu. You head for the nest, rushing, falling to your knees in front of it, phone pinned between your shoulder and your ear.

“Yoongi isn’t here. He’s with Jungkook and Tae and Namjoon.”

“Hang up then and I’ll call Namjoon.” You peel back the nest skirt to get under it, where Jimin keeps his gun cases. They're there in the shadows, three of them black and plastic. A photocopy of his concealed carry license is taped to each on top. No one had been particularly happy about him storing them there (Namjoon especially) But now you’re glad to have them close on hand.

“No, not until you tell me where you are.”

“Pup this isn’t- you can’t-”

“Jin, please.”

You try the same code that Jimin has for his cellphone. You know it because you have a habit of going through his after your dates for some of the photos that he takes of you and Tae.

8-7-5-8.

The box clicks open and you roll your eyes. Alphas.

“Pup” you wait for him to say that he needs more help than you can offer, that carrying Minnie and keeping him alive is more than you can help with. You wait for him to say that you’re neither strong enough mentally nor physically to handle this.

But it doesn’t come. Jin’s tiny fraught sigh is there, but then-

“Alright.”

There are spots for five different handguns inside. Two missing vacant cuts into the foam. You take the smallest one, checking stock to make sure it's got bullets in it. You fumble with it, unsure and unused to this. You make sure the safety is on before you tuck it into your waistband.

“Send me your address. And if you need to- get rid of Jimin's gun- god only knows whats on that.” To Jin’s credit, he hardly splutters, hardly takes in another shaky breath.

“How do you know-” You descend the stairs slower. Screwing your eyes shut tight to keep from crying, leashing your voice into something gentle.

“Jin, Minnie is bleeding. You have more important things to worry about right now. We need to figure out how to keep Jimin alive and undiscovered.”

“You know-”

“Yes, I fucking know about Jimin, okay? We’re wasting time. Bye.”

You hang up on him. Your hands are still shaking and you spend a breath looking at them. You want to call Yoongi. Your body aching for your mate's touch, for how steady he makes you feel just by being there. the way he tucks your hair behind your ears, the way his hand is always hovering near the small of your back to guide you- to options that won't hurt and secrets that won't damage things.

You need your mate for this, already your pulse is hammering. The haze of a panic attack on the edge of your vision. One second foggy fear, the next heartbreaking clarity.

Maybe you know how this ends, you know why this is happening even if you try and ignore it. Maybe you realize just then what's going to happen. Not today but eventually, it turns you cold from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.

You might not lie to the pack (lying by omission doesn't carry the same weight) but you lie to yourself often.

You will call Yoongi, you decide. You pick the phone back up and navigate towards Tae’s contact. Your thumb hovers between her name and Jungkook’s. You don’t know if you’ll be able to keep your voice steady calling her but Jungkook will almost certainly be able to tell something's wrong just from your tone alone. He's perceptive like that.

Before you can make the call something moves in your peripheries.

There is a dark figure in the doorway, silhouetted by the light coming from the front door and the bay window. It makes you startle but at second glance it’s just Hobi. You look down at him 3 steps up the stairs. Yoongi's phone in your hand and a gun at the small of your back, covered by the fluff of his sweatshirt.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask who you were talking on the phone with. He just tilts his in question, eyes teaming with that warm sort of playfulness.

You have a decision to make; let his opinion of the pack remain what it is or change it for good. In an irrevocable way that you won't be able to take back. It feels like too much change too quickly. Barely an hour ago he was telling you he loves you and now-

The thing about secrets is that they’re terribly hard to keep.

Hobi notices, because Hobi always notices when there’s some sort of change in you or a shift in your mood- call it a survival instinct if you won't call it love.

The set of your jaw is less pouty neediness and more leashed discomfort. Your expression is the same one you had when tae came out and you sat with them at the table and told them for you. You'd think that telling other people's secrets would be easier but it isn't.

Hobi knows your tells. What it looks like when you're about to play your hand. Ace's and all.

You descend the last few steps, each one thudding, making sure you're on the same level before you slowly wrap your arms around his waist. You do it slow even though you feel every second like a gunshot wound. Like every second could be Jimin’s last heartbeat.

(thump thump thump)

Pulling yourself in tight. His hands smooth up and down your back. You could call Yoongi but-

Hobi looks down at you, pecking your forehead. He smiles softly, his lips twisting into something like a grimace because you smell a little bit sour. Doesn't mean he's not going to kiss you but-

You wonder how many times he’s kissed you already, it's only been a day but you’re already losing track of how many, maybe 2 dozen now. His eyes flicker from your mouth to your eyes then back again.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong? Or are you just going to pout at me until I go get Yoongi?”

You shake your head and close your eyes hard. "Don't get Yoongi."

Stealing yourself just a little and hold Hobi a little closer, a little harder. But there’s nothing you can say, no lie that you can tell that will make this better. No secret that you could confess either.

“Jin called and something bad has happened.”

You feel more than see the goosebumps on Hobi’s arms as you pull away, the visceral hard swallow as he looks at your face again, waits, expecting you to pull back say-“It’s a joke it’s nothing-“ But it doesn't come.

“You have two choices Hobi, you can go to the pizza shop, and hang out with Tae and Jungkook and Namjoon and Yoongi or-” Hobi searches your face for something he knows; the darkness in your eyes, the vague tremble in your arms around his waist. “Or you can help me and be scared. I kind of-”

I kind of need you

But Hobi should have agency in this and shouldn't just take this path because of you. After Yoongi, you've learned when and where to give people the choice to be dragged into things they'd be better off sidestepping. You don't say it but Hobi hears it all the same.

Hobi looks so earnest but asking this of him is no easy thing. It would be easier if you weren’t so keenly aware that you’re taking away something from him. You’re giving Hobi the choice you never got that Yoongi never got, and he'll choose the same path anyway.

He cups your face, skimming his thumb up and down your cheek.“I’m okay with being scared.” I'm okay with being scared so long as it's for you.

“This is serious, this is- you can’t ask questions until I have time to answer them, you just have to listen, understand?”

“Okay.” He nods, tousled hair fluffing, looking so innocent and eager to please that you almost tell him to just stay home.

But as much as you hate to admit it. If Jimin is injured, there’s a chance you and Jin might need a second pair of hands.

It’s a blur. Tugging on your shoes- the same ones Yoongi got you ages ago for your first date with Jimin and Tae. And when you stand, he’s holding out your jacket for you to step into. When you nuzzle into the collar there's the scent of vanilla there from where Jimin rubbed his nose to your throat when you were at the hospital. It doesn't seem possible that it was only yesterday. Everything is Jimin Jimin Jimin.

“Thank you,” you say, sounding vaguely hollow. He kisses the nape of your neck and you put your hand over it.

You point your feet in the direction of Hobi’s car and get in the driver's seat. Taking his keys from him because you need them, need to be the one who drives right now. Holding the steering wheel and controlling the acceleration. Pressing down as fast as a heartbeat.

Thumpthumpthump.

You pull away from the house with a screech hitting the curb with a bit of flying sparks. you don't even wait for it to warm up. Hobi’s hands are on the plastic console of the driver’s side, holding it to keep himself from bobbing before he's belted in. He looks over at you startled. But he doesn't ask you to slow down.

You keep your eyes on the road, blinking back tears. Controlling your emotions because you can’t drive through blurry eyes. Every inch, every tick of the needle, every second of pavement screeching tire means you're a second closer to jimin.

"Jin’s going to send you an address in a few seconds, and I need you to tell me which way to turn.”

Hobi looks at you and then looks at the phone. He doesn’t try to put on a playlist, he doesn’t try to do anything just stares at you and bobbs in his seat when you take a corner too fast.

“What are you looking at me like that for?”

“Nothing; you’re just driving like if we don’t get there in time, someone is going to die.”

~-~

Hoseok remains remarkably calm for the drive, barely saying anything except for the winces he lets out every time you do something risky with the car like take turns at 30 miles an hour or evade a break check by driving along the shoulder.

You start to pass by empty factory buildings. The wheels of his car thudding over cracks and dips in the road until it becomes dust and gravel and the smell of gasoline permeates the interior of the car. Questions building like the heat pumping from the vents.

But he did promise not to ask until later.

The fog covers everything like a balmy damp shadow, the snow going straight to sublimation. Pockets of old street lamp lights punctuate the darkness. Husks of metal rise like soldiers from the shadows. The sky burning rust orange from the distant lights of the city. Not a single star in sight.

Jin’s car is there; Hobi spots it. Its blue paint stands out through the overlap of grey brush as the car's lights roll over it. Jimin's car is another 50 feet away and buried in the darkness. Shiny and black like the husk of an insect.

You're about a mile away from where they must be doing demolition. A singular crane and floodlights shine across a narrow tributary casting everything; the river and the buildings, into a grey-slanted light.

You pull around in the yard in front of the largest and most intact building. You leave the keys in car tumbling out the second it glides to a stop.

“Stay here.” You say, but Hobi gets out anyway. He hasn’t noticed the gun tucked into your waistband until now. It makes his pulse tick higher when you take it out.

"Hobi, sink or swim?"

He looks down at the gun in your hand, "Swim." You shake your head like you're angry with yourself, not him but you don’t waste another second arguing. You head off following the disturbed dust and Hobi trails behind. Ducking from pocket of light to pocket of light.

He always wondered what happened to the gun you’d pointed at him that night you’d run away. That train ticket that still burns a hole in his pocket, a distraction maybe from larger questions he should have been asking.

The way you hold the gun is not practiced; and why should it be? The only one who knows how to handle guns in the pack is Jimin. But the way you walk; completely silent is heartbreakingly familiar. Hobi knows how and why you've learned to move quietly. It's almost a dance; the way you glide across the floor. The gun is an extension of your arms. Spreading and flaying like a wing. Pinky to trigger, your index finger balanced along the barrel.

Hobi had always assumed that it belonged to Yoongi. It was almost 6 months ago now, wasn’t it? Hobi had almost forgotten about it.

There are some things that you never forget. Trauma makes his bones quiet. He's not as good at walking silently as you are but if the crunch of his red Converse against the gravel bothers you; you say nothing.

Hobi feels like he should have asked more questions about it at the time, but now he just bites his lip and stays quiet. You'd promised. You'll tell him in time. Hobi trusts you.

That's the worst thing, isn't it? That Hobi trusts you.

Jimin is sitting in one of the puddles of light, leaning up against one of the containers on the ground floor. Alone. You let out a quiet bereft when you see him. You and Hobi pause in the doorway. Your hand on the gun goes slack

“Minnie!”

you run to him, tucking the gun back into your waistband and falling to your knees at his side. Fingers finding wet-dark fabric. Not water but blood.

Hobi stays there in the doorway, his pulse thudding through his ears, an odd sort of peace to him as he takes in the details. The blood that pools dark on the dusty floor.

Jimin’s half covered with dust himself. Something wooden and red in his lap. The blood that’s dripped down his shoulder gathering there. There is a dragged-through patch of dirt a few feet away, more blood, and Jin is nowhere to be found.

Minnie’s eyelashes flutter. “Alpha-” you say. Almost sobbing in relief that he's alive. Alive you can handle. Alive you can work with. You bend down, getting your hand on his cheek. "Hey- wake up for me a sec okay? We're gonna get you out of here-"

“Hey pup” he laughs half delirious with pain, wincing like making the sound hurts him. “You came to the party" he coughs. "Did you bring Tae?”

You pull back to look at him. “Tae?”

Jimin grins, eyes fluttering closed and his pretty face tipped up against the light. His lips have blood on him- and it looks like a disturbing imitation of Tae’s lipstick. The shadows she leaves on your mouth, on his.

“Yeah- wanna tell her I love her. Wanna tell her I’m sorry. Could you tell her for me?”

This is something Tied tourniquet tight around Jimin’s shoulder to keep him from bleeding out. something you didn't immediately notice. You stare down at the vest now- at the yellow patch letters slowly darkening with blood.

FBI, and then in smaller letters; Organized crime division, Dir. Kim.

Jin appears from around the corner, covered in dust and blood across his thighs, and his throat. So quick you barely have time to raise the gun and then put it down when you see it's not some stranger- someone sent from Yoongi's family to tie up loose ends.

Your hand tightens on the gun as you stare at Jin.

The sleeves of his button-down shirt are rolled up to his forearms and black nitrile gloves cover his hands; same as Jimin's- although one is ripped. His eyes flick from you to Hobi and he almost flinches.

“Jesus fucking Christ-” Jin looks back at you. “Did you have to tell Hobi?”

You bristle “I didn’t tell him anything yet. That’s how you properly protect people. Instead of you know-” The insult doesn’t make sense and neither does your anger. Jin is your pack omega but it doesn’t feel like it when you grab his lapel and shake him a little. He doesn’t move, You’re too slight to alter his course.

Hobi stumbles to your side, hand on your shoulder and Jin's. The pack omega almost flinches at the touch.

“Will both of you swallow your god damn pride and-”

The three of you fall silent when Jimin reaches up to grab your thigh.

Jimin's hand on your wrist goes vice-tight, and when you look down at him, he's more lucid. More there through the haze of pain and blood. "If anyone has any right to be mad at Jinnie- it's me."

You stare Jin down, and after a breath, he's the one who looks away from your glare, taking your hands from his coat and gently detangling them.

"Let's just get him to the fucking car." You bite out. And you get back on your knees to gently guide Jimin away from leaning up against the metal. Get your hand around Jimin’s good arm and start to try and tug him to his feet. His eyes follow you fever bright. “Tell Tae that yourself when we get you out of here.”

the three of you get jimin on his feet. Jin under his good shoulder and Hobi by his hip you there, grabbing Jimin's gun and the mask from the ground. Hobi almost trips on a piece of metal.

He’s being so good with this so- so normal. Making pregnant and stressed eye contact with you when you look at him but stay mostly silent.

Jimin’s car keys fall onto the dusty earth just as you get to Hobi’s. placing jimin gently into the backseat before you stop to pick them up.

“My car; they can’t find it here.” You glance at Jin, then Hobi, looking grey.

“Someone needs to be in the back of the car to stabilize you. you can’t just be flopping around when we drive to the-” You break off because oh this just got so much worse; there’s no way that Jimin’s going to be able to go to the hospital. Even with injuries like this.

You make eye contact with Jin again, and both of you realize at the same time, the mountain of evidence that must be inside it, but you're only the three of you- if you take Jimin's car and Hobi takes his and Jin takes his own- no one will be there to hold Minnie and keep him stable. But who knows when you'll have a chance to come back and get Jimin's car.

If the authorities find his car and the body still inside that building. There's no shortage of what they might be able to convict Jimin for. If there was ever a time that you needed another person it would be right now. You should have called Yoongi.

You look up at Jin, “Get rid of it, we just have to-”

“The river-” You stand there, two opposite sides of the same coin both grinning because it's a good plan.

“If we sink it, they’ll never find it.”

A couple of miles away where the floodlights shine, they must knock over something large because you hear the boom and feel the tremble in the earth.

You take everything out of the car first, throwing it into the front seat of Hobi's car. Hobi tries not to think about the items too hard. The sniper rifle, the 3 bulletproof vests, or the ski mask. There's a variety of other equipment underneath the false bottom, arranged perfectly, everything has its spot. An empty tranquilizer gun. Ropes and black trash bags.

The three of you work like a polished team. Moving the car as close as you can to the water Near an old dry dock that flooded, where the soil turns soft and spongy.

It’s hard to push even though you put the car in neutral. the three of you still have to put all your weight into it. Jimin waits in Hobi’s car, parked on the edge. Watching your sluggish procession.

“Take your time, it’s not like I’m dying over here or anything.”

“Shut up you are not going to die” You snap. The line of the doorframe digs into your shoulder as you push with all your might, putting all of your anger and betrayal behind it because it has nowhere to go otherwise.

Jimin really isn’t helping. Hand pressed over his bullet wound, blood slowly dripping from between his fingers.

Your feet fight against the muck, sliding through it, cold and gross around your ankles. Water soaks your socks.

“Seriously I’m bleeding all over the interior. gonna have to get it detailed after i'm gone.” Hobi picks his head up from the other side, grinning at you. You think it’s the first time you’ve even felt a ghost of a smile grace your face since you got the call. He has no idea how much you need that smile.

“It’s red, won’t stain. Don't worry minnie.”

“Your concern for me is glowing.” He's smiling but Jimin’s hand is knuckle-tight over his shoulder.

“Shut up.” you grind out.

Once you get going downhill it’s easy to push the car, down down down until you hit the muck, knee-deep in the fowl-smelling stuff. You walk with it into the icy water. Hobi’s sweatshirt is so big on you and it billows around you in the brackish water. Weighing you down like an anchor in a storm. You guide the car and the cold water is up to your waist. The car thuds and then shudders, bubbling as you get it deeper and deeper.

"That should be good. Come on."

You think you’re fine until you try to pull away from the side of the car and can’t.

Hobi is already cutting through the water back towards the shore, his back to you. You can’t move, and the car is sinking inch by inch. Slowly dragging you along with it. Some corner of your sweatshirt snagged on the doorframe or hooked.

Your hands move scrabbling. Trying to find the spot at your hip where you’re caught. But you can’t see, the water is so dark you can't even see your hands below the surface. Is it terror or just the cold that makes your hands so uncooperative?

You haven’t even had time to cry out before there is a body behind you, hand closing around the spot where you’re snagged under the water, ripping the fabric with strong hands.

Jin’s hands don’t leave you once he’s untangled you, grabbing your hips and dragging you back, back through the mud and up to the embankment. His hand on the back of your neck, “I’ve got you pup, you’re okay, you’re fine.”

Hobi’s already standing up there, soaking wet too. The dust pills on your pant legs and behind you, the car gives one last gurgle. Disappearing for good.

In the dusty darkness, you look at Jin. His gaunt face, soaked with muck like you are. The ends of his hair clumped together, muddy. You blink up at him and he blinks down at you, water in his eyes.

Jimin and Hobi wait, watching you both stand there. Suddenly the gun in your waistband feels too heavy to carry any longer.

Jin closes his eyes, screwing them shut tight like he's waiting for you to shove him again. “Before you yell at me, you should know that Yoongi already knows, about me being an FBI agent. He's known since the beginning."

there is a moment of silence where hobi looks from you to jin. But then You collide with Jin burying your face in the front of his shirt. He swallows past the lump in his throat. One bloody hand comes up to touch your hair and cradle the back of your head.

“Pup- we don’t have time, we have to go. Minnie-” You pull back, eyes wet.

“Alright- alright- just- we’ll meet you at home?”

Jin turns to Hobi, nodding. Hoseok stoops, putting Jimin's legs in the back of the car, they're shaking. All of Jimin is shaking. His body is in shock from losing so much blood and from the cold.

“Don’t speed, I’ll be right behind you. Don’t give anyone a reason to pull you over.”

~-~

(Namjoon.)

The inside of the pizza parlor is balmy with the smell of cooking dough, garlic, parmesan cheese, and Jungkook's happy sunny scent. So at odds with the cold outside.

Namjoon watches Tae and Jungkook giggle and act like pups. Heart clenching the way it always does when he looks at the pack. They smell like roses and honey, like spring days far away now in winter but Namjoon can already feel the spring warmth thawing his tiredness left over from work. A haze to the edge of his vision like he's feeling bumble-bee fluff and sucking honey from the air.

Hope is hot and necessary like sunlight, and Namjoon has a whole lot of it for the future right now. and good for him honestly- it's the last easy breathes he's going to have for a good long while.

He can't believe it. You and Hobi. His body gives an involuntary happy shiver.

Yoongi catches it and raises a knowing eyebrow.

The pack is willing to wait here and give you and Hobi a little more time to sort things out. They've given you hours, they'll give maybe one more. They've already taken Tae and Jungkook out for ice cream. Dessert before dinner has both of them sugar high and hyper.

The pizza parlor is mostly empty- there are no glares or looks as they laugh loud and try to imitate a dance, jungkook's phone propped up on a napkin holder.

Namjoon and yoongi don't join in, they just stare at each other. Yoongi looks like he might be a little bit in shock, the scent blooming every few seconds, sweet chocolate cocoa when he thinks of it, and salty worry when he reaches over to check Tae's phone- just to see if you've texted.

Namjoon knows, and so does Jungkook because Jungkook knows everything.

“I can’t believe they actually-” Jungkook snorts, this isn’t the first time Yoongi’s repeated those words, he’s been muttering it under his breath every few minutes for the last few hours, mostly to himself. Jungkook indulges him this time.

“I know- I thought they’d be emotionally constipated for at least another month.”

Jungkook’s hand is nearly permanently glued to the back of Yoongi’s neck, squeezing reassuringly every few seconds. Even as he and Tae giggle and fall into each other, watching back their video on Tae’s phone. Her sparkly phone case catches the light, and little bits of glitter fall and trickle slowly just like the snow falling outside.

Namjoon's thoughts slush slowly.

Namjoon feels settled down to his bones, in that deep-seated alpha way that he’s not sure he’d be able to articulate even if he tried. Nesting tonight is gonna hit so fucking well. Namjoon is going to scent both you and Hobi until he can feel the sex and pleasure on his teeth and tongue, might just need to taste your arousal for himself. He'll be sweet about it and give you a little wiggle room just to put you back in your places. He feels half feral wanting it already. If he's not careful a scenting like that might send Hobi into rut or you into heat.

Namjoon's almost trembling at the idea of it.

God fucking damn it, he's so in love it hurts a little. He’s sure that Yoongi feels the same deep calmness, the sense of rightness, thinking about you and Hobi.

Yoongi’s lopsided grin says It finally fucking happened. Namjoon’s dimpled smile says, I know, I’m surprised we didn’t have to orchestrate it. They don’t have to say it, the soft words would be swallowed up under the music playing over the loudspeaker (the idol group that Jimin guards- their newest hit).

Their knees are nested between each other’s on the too-small table and too-small seats. Namjoon’s big palm on Yoongi’s knee all tight. His hand over the pack alphas, tangling and playing together in a way that Jin would call flirting without words and Tae might call poetic.

The pack took one car to the pizza place, Namjoon's, gathering snow outside. Probably a bad move honestly because Namjoon is on call. The surgery this morning went off without a hitch, clipping aneurysms on a middle-aged alpha usually goes off without a hitch because Namjoon is quite good at his job. If anything happens post-op Namjoon will have to leave them stranded here.

As Namjoon watches something crosses Yoongi’s face that looks a bit like confusion, his hand leaves Namjoon’s to settle on his hip. Eyebrows pulling together.

Huh? Is it the mating mark?

Their food has just arrived, cauliflower pizza for Jungkook, a messy calzone for Yoongi, and his own meat-filled slice when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Namjoon smiles seeing Hobi’s contact, and answers it. It’s you on the line when he picks up.

“Whatever you do, don’t put me on speaker. Don’t react. Just go somewhere where you won’t be overheard by anyone.” Namjoon's smile falls instantly.

Something about your tone has goosebumps rising on his arms. inexplicable, whether it's instincts or just the fact that Namjoon knows your voice and has never heard you sound like this that tips him off he's not sure.

You’re in the back of Hobi’s car, Jimin sprawled across your lap, your fingers stroking down his cheek, your other hand putting pressure on his bullet wound. Jimin lets out these little hiccupping breaths and in the front seat, Hobi’s eyes flick to the two of you. Your pause your call to soothe him, letting him inhale big settling breaths of your scent. Nose and mouth pressed hard to your wrist. Teeth biting down because Jimin needs something to muffle his pained growl.

"Just hold on Minnie, I know it hurts. We’re almost back to the house."

Namjoon hears it, and his whole body goes cold.

You can say many things about the pack, about pack alphas and pack omegas, but listening goes both ways. Namjoon would never dream of disobeying you when you talk like this. Namjoon stands and walks to the door mechanically. Only when he’s outside, cold air swirling around him, does he speak.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something’s happened," Namjoon closes his eyes "-and I need you not to tell the others. I need you to come home and leave Jungkook and Tae. Jimin's hurt and we need you.”

Namjoon feels the moment the tense breath in his chest sticks there and he realizes you’re not joking. Jungkook looks up, furrowing his eyebrows at Namjoon in the dark window. The snowflakes falling catch the lamplight around him, dotting his red sweatshirt like the reverse of blood on snow.

There’s a pause and then, “There’s a lot you don’t know, but I need you to hurry.”

Namjoon nods then pauses when he realizes you can’t see. He’s not sure he’s ever heard you sound so serious.

“Do you understand why I’m asking you this Namjoon?”

Namjoon has always been an honest alpha, even when it doesn’t stroke his ego. “No.”

“Because if Tae sees what’s happening, she’s going to need someone to comfort her, and everyone needs to be focused on mini right now.” Your voice trembles, breaking. Below you, Jimin smiles, leaning into your arm. Babbling little and delirious from pain and blood loss.

“Love you so much Tae- wanna be your mate- wanna marry you too if y/n lets me- wanna have your pups."

"Jimin. You are an alpha. You can't get pregnant." Hobi says dryly from the driver's seat, making a very careful left turn that's so slow that it garners a honk from the people behind him.

"But Tae could at least try-"

You close your eyes against the lights of the highway, and across your lap you feel wet soaking into your pant legs. You don't look down, You know it’s blood. It’s so warm, spilling across your knees like sunshine. Bubbling up with every heartbeat.

You don’t know how much more blood Jimin can lose before it’s critical, which is why you need Namjoon.

“-And if Jungkook finds out the stress could make him have a seizure.”

Namjoon is silent on the other end of the line. Completely quiet. Frozen on the sidewalk outside of the pizza place. Above him, the pastel blue pizzeria sign buzzes and flickers. Namjoon inhales the cold air, his exhale coming out warm and steamy visible. When he turns to look inside Yoongi is already staring.

Namjoon must look devastated because Yoongi shoots to his feet. Saying something to the others before he heads out after Namjoon. The bell clinging until he's right there reaching for the phone.

“I’ll see you at home.” You shut your eyes tight. “Bring Yoongi too. I need him.”

The phone in Namjoon’s hands buzzes and when he looks the call has disconnected.

~-~

It's a good thing that most of the snow has melted off or else you’d have a harder time concealing Jimin’s bleeding form as you pull into the driveway. You’re barely outside for a handful of seconds. No curtains move in the shuttered windows of your neighbors. No one is in the cul-de-sac, not even Noodle is waiting for you on the rock wall.

There is no red trail in the snow, just a few drops that land on the dark slate walkway that you’ll clean up before morning. The porch light is off and Your hand leaves a dark imprint on the railing as you rush to open the door for Jin and Hobi, supporting Jimin between the two of them.

But the door opens before you can get to it.

"Joonie!” Jimin's tone drips with false cheer, grinning at the pack alpha and your mate standing just inside the house. As Jin and hobi half drag and half carry Jimin inside and out of sight. Blood dripps down the side of his face from his temple to his chin.

“Holy fuck” your mate mutters. Out of Jin and Hobi and you- you easily have the most blood on yourself. Your pants are soaked through with it and muck from the river, even your hair feels wet and sticky. You must certainly look like a sight, like something out of a nightmare or a bad memory- yoongi can take his pick.

(In truth, the sight of you blood soaked brings up only one other night in yoongi's memory; a night just as tense and pain filled as this. the night you killed Geumjae. This won't be the last time Yoongi sees you soaked in blood either. But at least next time the blood you'll wear won't be the packs and you'll be wearing it as a king and not a pawn).

The drive must have truly taken a toll on him because the second the door closes behind you Jimin’s knees give out and his eyes roll back, passing out as the last bit of energy vanishes from his body. Hobi almost falls with him, but Namjoon and Yoongi are quick to come to his aid.

“Quick- the table.”

Yoongi clears the dining room table with a simple swipe of his hands, sending the bowl of tangerines scattering, rolling like many mini suns across the hardwood floor. They put him down as gently as they can, but Jimin's a puppet with his strings cut. Namjoon swoops in, more trained than any of you, grabbing Jimin’s ankles and holding them up above his heart.

"Come on- Minnie- come on " Namjoon reaches over to tap Jimin’s cheek, gentle once and harder the second time, more of a true slap. Jimin gasps awake, but he’s only half conscious. It’s twilight, his eyelashes fluttering face pale. Mumbling Tae's name over and over again.

"Jin, hold his legs up for me- here"

You’ve never seen Namjoon move so mechanically, so professionally. He's already wearing sterile gloves. His black doctor’s bag cracked open and full of gauze and other medical paraphernalia. The skin around the bullet wound is pinched with blood. Gushing fresh as Namjoon cuts away as much of the tourniquet as he dares with a pair of kitchen shears.

Jimin’s head lolls to the side.

Namjoon lets out a single wet noise. You haven’t heard him cry in so long, you don’t realize that’s what it is until you look at his face.

Your mate’s face is pale and gaunt as he looks at you over the dining room table. “Didn’t you tell him anything?”

“No- I wasn’t sure what to say, I-” Yoongi’s eyes flicker down to Minnie, then up at Jin who looks like he might be about to pass out himself. Holding himself away.

“Who shot him? Did someone corner you? Jin-”

Jin lifts his chin about to confess but before he can Namjoon snaps “Everyone needs to be quiet- please.”

Namjoon places his stethoscope oh so gently to jimin's skin Even the slight action makes Jimin’s face twist in pain. The whole pack is quiet and still, like statues.

The moment passes syrup slow, And Namjoon moves his stethoscope an inch to the left, then the right. Only then does he toss it down onto the floor. Grabbing a sterile towel from his medicine bag and presses it hard over the bullet wound. Closing his eyes and grimacing before he stuffs it, fingers and all into the bullet wound.

Jimin jerks violently, howling, nearly thrashing in pain if it weren’t for Namjoon and Yoongi and you holding him down. He flails, hitting you in the face knocking you back.

Hobi catches you before you fall. “I’m fine, it’s okay just- help them hold Minnie" your hand over your hot cheek. It will probably bruise- but you don't even care as you watch as Namjoon pulls himself onto the kitchen table, putting his full body weight over the bullet wound to try and stem the bleeding.

“He needs a hospital. We need to pack it and then take him there. He’s lost too much blood.”

"We can’t- all bullet wounds need to be mandated reported.”

It’s not all that large of a hole to be honest. Maybe a finger with on the back side and a little smaller at Jimin's front because Jin shot Jimin at such close range. It’s a threw and threw. Even though Namjoon packed the front his back still leaks steadily.

“But Jimin will live, whatever’s going on-” Namjoon shares a glace with Yoongi Jin, then you- and you watch as it dawns on him. “wait- You do know what’s going on, theres something you're not telling me.”

It's accusatory but you nod while Jin and Yoongi stay placid. Namjoon looks once at Jin again then at you, deciding who he trusts more to correctly gauge the odds.

Namjoon looks at you, waiting.

“If the wrong people find out Jiminie is- that he’s-” you pause, and Jimin grimaces, there is blood on his teeth, in his mouth. “It might not just be him hurt by the end of it.”

“But we can’t just let him die.”

Hobi just stands by the couch, your nest just tousled as you’d left it what feels like a lifetime ago. for the first time that night- hobi breaks.

"Oh my god Jimin's going to die-"

Jin's hands are in his hair, yanking, "Tae is going to kill me-"

“Shut up, no one is dying yet. If he dies on us I’ll kill him myself.” you scoff, holding Jimin’s wrist, his hand. “I won’t even bother with a gun I’ll just..."

You fall silent with a sudden intake of breath. Yoongi's head whips in your direction. Jin too looks up from where he was just bowed, realization lighting his eyes up bright.

The three of you share a look and for a second, the only sound is Jimin's blood dripping. A little faster with every heartbeat. Down the leg of the kitchen table onto the floor in red rivulets.

Drip drip drip.

(What you don’t know about Jin and Yoongi’s tentative agreement is that even though they know about each other- they've still been on either side of this. They’ve never worked with each other, never shared querying glances like this. It's a special secret language that thieves and secret killers share.)

Yoongi follows your line of sight to the kitchen. The knives sit sheathed in the knife block. The same ones that he bought Jin as a fancy courting present years ago. The same one's Yoongi sharpens before he cuts the meat that the pack eats for samgyeopsal and bulgogi and shabushabu.

A sharp cut is an easy cut to fix, unlike a blown-apart cavernous bullet wound.

“No.” Is your first reaction. Even though it was your idea. “It’s too dangerous.”

"It won't work." is Jin's response. Namjoon glances from you to him. He hasn't yet realized what you're talking about. doesn't posess the same finess for bloodshed that the three of you do (the three of you could conquer the world, you just haven't' realized it yet)

"It will work." Yoongi straightens. there are whispers of darkness on yoongi's face. a childhood he doesn't talk about in his eyes. a childhood filled of blood and less kindness than you'd think; for it to have made a man like yoongi; who knows how to be gentle because he's felt every kind of unplesantness there is.

"I've seen it done before. A long time ago but still- it works."

“What,” Namjoon snaps. "Are you guys fucking talking about?"

“There’s another option.” Yoongi’s hands are on Jimin, holding his wrists down. his other hand tucking his hair behind his ears and kissing his bloody cheek. His hands are getting colder and there isn’t much time. He’s quiet for a moment, lips pressed to jimin's skin, before he looks up. None of you want to say what you’re thinking.

“A good stab wound with a larger knife, through and through will disguise the bullet wound. It will stop him from bleeding any more. No one will know that Jimin was shot and we can take him to the hospital."

Namjoon’s scent is sour, sour, and acrid and it makes Jimin arch in pain, face twisted. He still doesn't understand why no one must know that Jimin was shot. Still doesn't understand that it was Jin who shot him. He'll learn later over hospital coffee but for now, he misses the blood-soaked and cut up FBI vest laying in a heap on your dining room floor. No yellow left on it- just red.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m not letting anyone stab anybody."

Jimin’s head lolls on the table. His mumbled words fall on deaf ears. “Stab away….might as well…already stabbed through the fucking heart from Tae" (how could Cupid be so cruel?)

"Joonie look at me." Your hand is on Namjoon’s arm, his shoulder, the back of his neck and he rounds on you. Alpha aggression striking before Namjoon can reign in his instincts. He almost snaps his teeth at you. You don't react at the alpha baring his teeth in your face because underneath it all is the panic of a child, a pup who's terrified he's about to lose his family (a sinking feeling in his gut that says maybe, he already has.)

You understand, you know what it's like to feel that way.

Your voice is so calm and gentle. “Namjoon- you just have to trust me. If we take Jimin to the hospital and if they have a reason to take his fingerprints. There is a very good chance Minnie will go to prison. That I will go to prison- that Yoongi will too.”

Jin blinks, eyelashes fluttering. And Namjoon is silent, Hobi's silent too. All of them watching you. Your hands are steady, and your eyes are clear. The clearest they've ever seen.

“There is a lot we haven’t told you. But you need to trust me.”

It’s then that he spots it. Yoongi’s tone is dark as he yanks the wooden mask out of Hoseok's hands. Yoongi would know those masks anywhere; the one that the family gives its employees. This specific type is to delineate a non-relative. The specific kind is the mask that killers wear.

“Where the fuck did you get this?”

You look up at him, “it’s Minnie’s.”

Yoongi’s chest heaves, breath coming quick and fast. “No, it’s not- it can’t be.”

Namjoon’s teeth look particularly sharp when he snaps. “Does anyone but me give a fuck about Jimin right now? Or do you guys only want to pretend that you do?” The rest of the pack watches Namjoon as he ties a new tourniquet. A better one. he can't meet your eyes. quiet and furious as he pulls the knot tight.

“There are too many ligaments in Jimin’s arm, you could cripple him.”

“What other choice do we have?"

“So thats it?” your voice is a shred past hysterical, “we just take him to the hospital and let him go to jail, or let him bleed out and die here?”

The four of you stand over Jimin, on the kitchen table, the spot where you’ve eaten dinner and broken bread and loved each other for the last year. A place of nourishment and love now a place of pain and terror.

You walk three strides to the kitchen and grab the largest steak knife from the kitchen block. Your eyes dark and determined as you stare them down.

"I'll do it if you won't! I'm not letting Jimin go to prison!" you blink tears out of your eyes and there is a moment of silence, a moment where everyone just looks at you.

There is a warm body at your back, a strong chest and long arms that you know circling your waist to pull you back against them. Rubbing soft down your stomach as another comes up to guide your hand. long fingers that curl around your small fist. Grabbing the knife and guiding it, syrup slow out of your grasp.

"There we go" hobi says, words whisper soft.

It's like his words break the spell. “Give me that thing before you hurt yourself.” namjoon snaps.

Namjoon holds the knife and everyone watches as he walks to the pack's liquor cabinet. grabbing the nearest highest proof bottle that he can find and pouring it over the kitchen blade.

“If anyone’s going to do it, it should be me, because I know where Jimin’s joint is.” The pack nods, agreeing. Scattering.

You toss a rag to Jin. “Wipe the gunshot residue from your hands before we get to the hospital. Wipe Jimin’s too while you’re at it. Just in case.”

Namjoon holds the knife in the kitchen. You all have some amount of Jimin’s blood on you and he blinks from the table lucid.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon asks, staring down at Jimin, knife in his hand. “Go outside and warm up the car. You’ll drive because you have the steadiest hands besides me.”

You and Jin and Hobi are silent, everyone just watches namjoon for a second. Yoongi hesitates, turning back in the doorway. "Do it from behind that way Jimin can say he didn't see who stabbed him."

Namjoon nods, looking down.

There is Jimin’s blood on the doorknob and the floor. You wonder who’s going to clean it up.

“Yoongi,” Namjoon asks, and your mate starts, running out the door, leaving it open so that the cold can slip in. Namjoon’s hand tightens on the knife.

Jimin grins up at him from the table, eyelashes fluttering.

"Do it."

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 Every little bit of encouragement helps <3

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

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~-~

Notes:

the line "A faceless god, if you’re going to take so much from him- the least you can do is give me this." is a call back to a line all the way in the beginning of the series where tae writes "the least you could have done was leave me whole" about yoongi.

the beginning feels a little drawn out but honestly i feel like it's such a traumatizing moment that it makes sense. the beginning was one of those cases that i read it so many times i can't tell if its ass or gas- so it's up for you to decide. i like the later parts of the chapter a lot better.

All things said, hobi is taking this incredibly well.

I was such a sleepy bunny editing this this morning! i'm sorry if there are more errors than usual.

ooh they fighting~ this might be a little bit of a /oh shit/ confession- but i greatly belived that the m/c would have killed jin had she thought that he was actually trying to kill jimin for being involved with the mafia like- one wrong move on his part and she might have shot him. they're gonna forget about it and nothing will change between them but god- that moment where he comes around the corner could have gone so bad if she was a little more trigger happy.

honestly i started to hate this chapter halfway through editing it, if there was ever one that i needed you to show love to its this one god 😮‍💨 i never thought i'd feel out of practice writing this sort of thing.

are the funny parts out of place? do they break up the terror too much or just the right amount?

I cannot take credit for the methodology behind how they hide jimin's bullet wound. i will confess this is copied from an episode of Elementary- ie the american version of sherlock. i tried to look it up if you could possibly conceal bullet wounds this way and didn't find anything so you're just gonna have to trust me.

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straykidsholicleigh · 4 months

Text

warnings: cunnilingus, penetration, felix is sweet af, soft dom!felix, felix calls reader baby 🥺, basically showers the reader with compliments, crying (naurr)

a/n: I was feeling soft and I needed to feel loved

You felt loved when you were with Felix. He never judged you or made fun of you and he was always sweet to you. Whenever you would fight hed never raise his voice at you or yell at you, when you were sad he was like your emotional support pillow. Overall, he was just an amazing boyfriend.

And the sex? He is the most gentle when it comes to your body, taking his time in appreciating every curve and mark. He'd make sure not one inch of your body was left unsatisfied, making your whole body feel special. To him, he wouldn't prefer to call it sex, he prefers to call it “love making”, because he's showing you his love by making you feel pleasure, relaxed and his heart just jumps knowing that you trust him so much to see you naked and exposed, all for him.

So that's where you are now, fully displayed on your bed with Felix between your thighs, eating you out like a starved man. His hands were hooked under your thighs, sucking at your clit and kneading the flesh. Soft, lewd moans left your mouth the harder he sucked, followed by breathy moans as your hands entangled into his long blonde hair.

He looked up at you through hooded eyes, smiling against your cunt. “My pretty baby,” He mumbled against your warm cunt, removing his hand from your thigh and reaching up to grab your boob. You let out a satisfied sigh, hand moving down to cup his cheek as he looked up at you.

You wanted to cry with the way he looked at you, with so much love. His eyes soft as he looked at the most precious and harmless thing in this world, you. He loved you so much and you could tell just by the way he looked at you and treated you. You sniffed, tears already streaming down your face as he pouted, moving to kiss you on your cheek as he held you close.

“My darling, sweeter than anything that has ever walked the earth, my precious flower, my moon, my stars, my light, my love,” He whispered, his voice deep and soft, almost sounding like a lullaby itself. “Don't cry,” He continued. “Let me make love to you, hmm? Show you how much I adore you, yeah?” You just nodded your head and smiled, nuzzling into his palm that rested against your cheek.

He kissed your forehead, positioning your legs to rest flat on your feet, your knees facing the ceiling. He positioned his cock over your dripping cunt, gently pushing in as both of you moaned in unison. Once he was fully in, he started moving at a gentle pace, moaning at the feeling of your tight cunt.

Your hands rested on his back, black painted nails scratching his back everytime he hit your cervix. He rested his head against yours, biting his lip. “F-felix, gonna cum. Can i p-please cum?” Felix couldn't help but smile, licking his lips as he moved his head to the side for a second before looking back at you. “Don't have to ask sweet baby, cum for me.” He gently said.

You felt your orgasm approaching, a silent scream leaving you as you gasped, his name spilling from your lips as you flooded his cock, the sheets getting wet in the process. Felix groaned, throwing his head back and feeling his own high approaching as he felt your essence around his cock. He positioned you to lie down, pushing your legs up against your chest as he fucked into you a little harder.

“F-fuck, I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry c-cant help myself,” He panted, apologizing profusely as he went even harder, fucking into you at a brutal pace. “I'm so sorry baby, bare with me please!” His moans became more breathy as he chased his own high. You whimpered, feeling stuffed and overstimulated but happy nonetheless. “Gonna cum lixie?” Your voice sounds so soft and cute, which made Felix weak to the knees as he busted inside of you, eyes rolling to the back of his head in disbelief as he let out a gasp, followed by a shudder as his body shook.

He dropped his head between your neck, your hands on his back as you practically hugged him, both of you catching your breath as kissed you on your cheek. As he got up he kissed your knee, lying down next to you and wrapping his arms around you, pulling the blanket over both of you and giggling as you both drifted off to sleep, the sound of rain hitting the concrete roads fading in the distance.

#stray kids #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids smut #felix smut #felix soft smut #felix x reader #felix x y/n #felix soft hours #felix #feeling kinda soft today #hes too cute #hes so beautiful wanna kiss him #wanna make love to him hmm yes #for someone whos never gad sex before #how tf am i good at explaining it 👁👄👁

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x-ethan-lxndry-l0v3r-x · 9 months

Note

can you do fem reader x ethan landry are best friends and they both like eachother and its obvious to everyone but them? but ethan or reader says or does something that makes the other person either insecure or think that they like someone else? ending in smut and fluff if you can please :) thank youuu

“My bestfriend is very special to me.”-E.L

A/N: Hopefully this lives up to what you’ve asked for, I think I missed out a bit but hopefully it’s still good :))

SUB!Bestfriend!Virgin!Ethan Landry x DOM!fem!reader

⚠️MINORS DNI⚠️ Includes; begging (Obvs Ethan), specific words used for specific areas (😉 if you catch my drift), oral (m receiving), a lil bit of angst (I think idk 🤷‍♀️), no actual p in v (sorry to disappoint, I might make a part two where more, hardcore stuff happens) besides that it’s pretty fluffy.

She sat on Ethan’s bed scrolling through her phone, as he sat at his desk doing reviewing his notes or studying for econ. It wasn’t unusual for the two of them seeing as they did this almost every Friday night.

“Come on Ethan! It’s a Friday you don’t have to do all of that work.” She complained to him.

“Yes I do Y/n.” He spoke, not looking up from his work, scribbling down notes in his textbook.

“But which one is more important? Your whatever the fuck you’re doing or me?Y’know I come here to hang out with you not to sit and wait for you to finish your work.” She complained once more.

“I have to study for econ Y/n.” He sighs.

“Come on Eth!” She whined, moving over towards him, standing behind him, looking over at his work. “You’ve done like a dictionary books worth of notes, Ethan! Just come and hang out with me.” She gently grabbed at his arm trying to get him up.

“I guess I could do with a break.” He admits, and finally gives in to her complaining.

“Yay!” She grins wrapping her arms around his neck loosely in a hug.

“Yeah, yeah, you owe me.” His arms snake around her waist.

“I don’t owe you shit.” She hums, “Hey Ethan, you’re a guy right?” She asked.

“Last time I checked yes.” He replies, curious as to what she was asking.

“Well, there’s this boy I really like-no I love him, but I don’t exactly know how to tell him, do you know how I could tell him, attempt to woo him into loving me?”

He felt as if his entire world just collapsed, she loved this unknown man? It took everything within him to not fall to his knees and cry, he had loved her for so long, and she was going to choose someone else? “Um, I, uh, guess just try and be yourself?” He spoke through a slightly shaky voice.

“But what if he doesn’t like me back, what if he doesn’t like who I truely am?” She asked with a saddened expression on her face.

“If he doesn’t like you for who you truely are then he doesn’t deserve my best friend.” He felt tears burn at the waterline of his eyes, he was going to watch her love another man, in a different way than she loved him, it hurt because he wanted her, he wanted to be the one that she loved like that, in a romantic intimate way.

“I’m going to go use the bathroom.” He stuttered out, a lump forming in his throat as tears welled in his eyes.

“Okay then, I’ll be out here.” She softly smiled, “Thank you for being my friend and constantly being here for me Ethan.” She spoke gently.”

He gave her a weak smile before going into the bathroom locking the door behind him, as he sunk down to the floor his knees against his chest as he pressed his back against the door and silently sobbed, “Thank you for being my friend Ethan.” The words she spoke repeatedly replaying in his mind, “friend.” That word pained him, he wanted to be more than her friend, more than just her best friend.

“Why not me?” He murmured to himself still silently sobbing, tears streaming down his cheeks, leaving his dark brown eyes glossed with tears, his bottom lip slightly quivering.

She knocked on the bathroom door, “Is everything okay E?” She asked in a soft concerned tone.

He wiped the tears off of his cheeks clearing his throat, “Uh, yeah, everything’s all good!” He spoke opening the door.

“Oh okay yes so I put on the movie- have you been crying?” She asked sounding worried. Seeing the redness of his nose and his tear stained cheeks.

“Um, no of course I haven’t been crying!” He lied, it was obvious he was hiding the truth.

“Ethan, I’m your best friend, whatever it is I’m sure I can try and help.” She offered her guidance.

“That’s the thing, ‘best friend’, I don’t want to be just your best friend, I want to have your love, the way you love that man but you love him not me and its just-.” He was cut off by his own loud sob, tears streaming down his face, staining his cheeks.

“You want to be more than my best friend?.” She asked her voice laced with surprise, brushing away one of his tears that fell upon his cheek with her thumb.

“I’m so sorry I’ve made you upset.” She guides him back down to his bedroom, sitting him on the mattress.

“Do you want to know who I was talking about?” She asked him.

“Chad?” He asked, the mere thought of his roommate and his best friend the girl he had a massive crush on together like that just disgusted him.

“No silly, not Chad.” She softly chuckled, “You.” She brushed one of his loose brown curls behind his ear.

“What? Me?” He was genuinely shocked, but also relieved.

“Mhmm.” She hummed in agreement. “I think using words as an apology isn’t anywhere near enough as good as actions, do you agree?”

“Uh yeah I guess so, why?” His voice still shaky slightly tears stained his cheeks, her eyes wondering there way down to his lips, how they were a nice pink colour.

She pressed her lips against his. Her strawberry lipgloss smearing upon his lips as they kissed, flavouring the intimate moment with hues of the berry taste. Her hands resting in his curly hair, pulling him closer to her as they kissed.

She pulls away from the kiss, her forehead pressing against his, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” He smiled.

“That wasn’t how I was going to apologise.” She whispered in his ear, her hand mindlessly trailing down his chest which was covered by the blue material of his shirt (that’s right his wearing the same shirt as he is in the pics above because, he looks mighty fine in it 🤭). “H-how were you going to apologise?” He asked curiously, (this woman makes him hella nervous bc she’s so gorgeous :D ).

“I was thinking maybe something,” She palmed his cock (I hate using that word 🥲) through his jeans, “Like this.” Her action earned a small gasp from him.

She unbuttoned the button on his jeans, unzipping the zipper, gently tugging his pants down. Slipping her fingers under the waistband of his boxers.

“Do you like this pretty boy? Hm?”

He softly whimpered and nodded his head awaiting for her to touch him where he needed her.

“I need a proper answer, or I might just have to stop.” She teased, her hand slowly moving back out from his underwear.

“Yes, love it.” He quickly responded his voice sounding slightly croaky, he wanted her to continue from what she was doing.

Although she didn’t do that, “Please Y/n..” He gave her those cute puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t worry E, m’gonna give you something even better.” She whispered seductively into his ear, pulling his boxers down his legs, which then exposed his erection to her, he wasn’t massive, but he was big, the tip of his dick, pink with precum oozing out the tip, it curved upwards at a perfect picturesque angle. “Never had someone else touch it for you pretty boy?” She asked.

He shook his head, “No.” He spoke shyly, a bit embarrassed by the fact that he was still virgin.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it real good.” She sunk down to her knees, his thighs spread out just enough for there to be enough room for her shoulders. She held her hand out towards his mouth. “Spit.”

“W-what?” She looked at her with a surprised expression.

“You heard me, spit.” She waited, before he dribbled his saliva into the palm of her hand, she took her hand back down, wrapping it around his shaft, giving it a nice squeeze, “A-ahh!~” He choked out a moan, she began slowly pumping his length.

She gave his slit that was leaking a bit of precum a small lick, swiping away the clear-milky fluid on her tongue. Which made him moan.

She then took his tip in her mouth swirling her tongue around the pinkness, he sworn he could’ve just cummed by the sight, “Ohh fuck.~” He moaned as she sucked his tip, before she took him completely into her mouth, the tip of his cock, hitting the back of her throat causing her to gag, as she slowly began bobbing her head, the feeling of her warm wet mouth on his sensitive member was so good it almost hurt, as she felt him fist the back of her hair as she sucked him off, bobbing her head faster, as his grip tightened on her hair.

“M’close! Please don’t stop! Please!~” He pleaded her through broken moans, the sounds of wet squelching echoed the room as she kept sucking him off.

“Ohh fuck! M’cumming!~” He cried out, his pretty bambi-like eyes rolling into the back of his head as he came into her mouth.

She felt his release hit the back of her throat causing her to choke slightly pairing with the fact his dick was inside her mouth, as she took him out, cum coated her lips in patches, as she looked up at him, showing him the cum on her tongue, before swallowing it down, it was bitter and thick, but it was Ethan.

She at back up giving him a kiss on the lips, her lips tasted like strawberries (from her lipgloss) and his cum, (what a take on berries and cream 😩).

“So, how did I do, is my apology good enough?” She teased.

“You did, so so good Y/n.” He sounded fucked out, she understood though, he was a virgin after all, so she wasn’t surprised it didn’t take a lot to wear him out.

“You tired now pretty boy?” She asked laying him down onto his bed.“You look so fucked out, so pretty as well.” She spoke softly, she laid next to him, resting the tired boy’s head on her chest.

“Thank you..” He buried his face in her chest. “Anything for you pretty boy.” She kissed the sleepy boy’s forehead.

“I love you Y/n..”

He mumbled before he drifted into a sleep, these words surprised her a bit, in a good way.

“I love you too Ethan.”

———————————————————

-It took me 2 days to write this, I sincerely apologise if it’s crap, this is the first time I’ve ever written smut before 💀, still taking requests <333

#ethan landry x reader #sub!ethan landry #ethan landry x reader fluff #ethan landry x reader smut

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byalexisness · 10 months

Text

☆cry for me

Ryusei Shidou x gn! reader

@ringasm pookie gave me so many idea istg‼️

content warning: yandere themes, sadism, ryusei is mean only to be soft again, toxic relationship, emotional manipulation, dacryphilia

Ryusei tried.

he really tried.

he tried to be a gentle, caring boyfriend for you, his little angel. his pretty, lovely, precious, fragile significant other.

but that's exactly why he wasn't good with being gentle.

don't get him wrong, his love for you was imense, intense, overwhelming, but most of all it was sick. he loved you so much, he loved seeing you so fragile and easy to break that he couldn't stop.

ryusei loved seeing you cry, fat tears streaming down your pretty, red cheeks, so hurt by his harsh words and his cold attitude.

it stirred something in that sick heart of his.

it sent blood rushing straight to his cock, the sight of you being so broken, on your knees before him, begging him so prettily between your weak and pathetic sobs. begging him to stop insulting you and calling you names, to be gentle with you.

"p-please, r-ryu, you promised..." you sobbed desperately, looking up at him with red eyes. you couldn't take it anymore, his cruel words sliced right through your heart over and over again.

"awww, is my little toy crying for me to stop? you want me to be gentle?" he said mockingly, bending down to your level with a smirk. his cruel eyes looked into your teary ones and such a blissful passed through his body. "such a cute thing i have, only mine, only for myself. isn't that right, love?"

"ryu, p-please..." you whispered as you looked at him. "s-stop being like this..."

"oh, my dear..." he chuckled meanly and got closer to your face, grabbing your chin tightly. "i'm afraid i can't. beg me a little more, i wanna see those tears more. cry more, can you that for me, hmm? or, perhaps, you are too stupid for it?"

the blunt, mocking tone, the way he wasn't even trying to hide that he was enjoying this made you whine and more tears fell down your cheeks.

after tormenting you more, making you cry hysterically and yell for him to stop, ryusei decided that he had enough. his demeanor changed suddenly and he pulled you into a warm hug, rubbing your back and hushing you—treating you just like you wished to be treated.

"shh, 's okay, my pretty thing. 's okay, i won't do it again..." the same phrase every time, in the same sweet tone, so sweet that it's obvious it was fake, but you always fell right into his trap, too desperate for his comfort.

it made Ryusei think—humans are weird, really. how can someone that brings you pain, also bring you comfort?

but he didn't care. when he felt you cry into his chest, sniffling pathetically as he rubbed your back in a false sense of comfort, he felt himself twitch in his pants.

you were his favorite.

and he wasn't going to stop breaking you, comforting you after, only to break you worse next time.

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morganbritton132 · 1 year

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Hi! I love EMTTS and devour every single word!

I was wondering if after the Eddie falling asleep and Steve taking care of him incident some of the hate towards Steve kinda dies down a little, or if there is more love and appreciation for Steve from the fans, or both since they can see how much Steve really loves Eddie and loves taking care of him?

Have a nice day!

There is definitely a lot more love in the fandom for Steve than hate, but you know… a few bad apples ruin the whole bunch.

I think seeing such an obvious displace of love and care, especially because it’s obvious that Steve is not aware that anybody is watching him, would make the people who are already enamored with him love him even more and soften up the people on the fence.

There are always going to be fans that hate the partner of their favorite celebrities and nothing Steve is going to do is going to change that, but what’s interesting about that particularly moment of the live-stream is how many times it gets shared.

Fans make their own Tiktoks of that moment and make jokes about needing to find someone like that. Some post videos about how nice it is to see Eddie taken care of and how much Steve loves him, and that it proves all the naysayers wrong. It ends up in a few compilations of that weeks sweet moments or something, and a new source even talks a bit about it.

It makes enough of a splash that Steve comes across it and is just like, “What the hell, Eddie?”

Eddie looks at what he’s watching and is just like, “Oh, yeah. I was streaming. There’s like ten hours of me sleeping on the internet. Your hair looks great there though.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Steve said, frowning at the video before giving Eddie a little shove, “Geez, Ed. It’s like I’m living in my own Truman Show with how much you’re filming me without me knowing. I’d kiss you right now but who knows who will be watching.”

Eddie leans into Steve’s space, speaks in that voice that still makes Steve a little weak in the knees, and says, “Just an audience of one tonight, baby.”

Steve leans in too, lowering his eyes to Eddie’s lips when he catches sight of his phone in his hand, “Are you filming me right now?”

“No!” Eddie exclaims, tossing his phone. “Just - checking to make sure.”

#Eddie’s just like: moment ruined?#and Steve is like: obviously #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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tomkaulitzssgirl · 8 months

Note

can you do something like Dom!Tom x F!reader but Tom is a bit sadistic. And its ends with a aftercare and a cute fluff (thank you and have a wonderful night!)

Pain = Pleasure | Tom Kaulitz

warnings: rough sex, sadism and masochism, swearing.

you stood infront of him, naked as he was sitting on the bed, palming himself through his black boxers.

his eyes were wild and lustful, he looked ready to eat you, a predator looking for his prey. he was ready to ruin you again and again, over and over, with no mercy for you fragile and small body.

you got down on your knees, ready to take him in his mouth and make him feel how much you worshipped him, but he shook his head.

he loved when you gave him blowjobs but now it was not the time, he had something different in mind.

he pointed to the floor, right infront of the mirror. “face down, ass up.” were his only words and you quickly did as he said, like always.

he loved how submissive you were to his every demand, you were like a puppet on a string, him being your master and moving you like he wanted.

tom came right behind you, looking down at you before making eye contact through the mirror. your big, innocent-looking eyes made him weak.

he positioned himself to your entrance, but not going in, just teasing you with his tip.

“tom, please.” you whined, you needed him more than ever.

“who’s tom?” he arched his eyebrow at you, stopping his teasing. you understood what he wanted.

“i-i meant daddy.” you almost whispered, suddenly feeling shy. it wasn’t the first time you guys did this but every time it felt new.

“aw, are you embarrassed?” he said mockingly seeing your red cheeks, “are you embarrassed of being such a horny slut?”

his words only made you moan, and he laughed. “look at you, moaning without being touched. you’re dropping already.”

“please i can’t w-wait anymore!” you cried out arching your back even more, literally throwing your ass in the air.

tom grabbed both of your cheeks and squeezed them before spanking you, leaving a big red mark on it. “count to three.”

all you did was nod frantically and began counting, “o-one…”

“t-two…”

“thr-“ and there it was. his length all inside you at once, taking you by surprise. you moaned out loud, almost crying since he didn’t give you time to prepare.

tom was already pounding in you harder and harder, admiring how your skin connected and loving the sounds it made. “you’re so tight. fuck.”

he groaned throwing his head back. you watched him through the mirror, biting your lower lip at the sight of you two. he looked so majestic as his dick went in and out of you, his muscles contracting because of the strength he was using and his big hands gripping your hips tightly.

he noticed you looking on the mirror and smirked, making you blush since you were caught. you tried to look away turning your head, but he grabbed your hair and forced your head down on the floor.

“no, look at you as i fuck you like the slut you are.” his voice was so demanding and stern. it made you go crazy.

“h-harder! please go harder!” you pleaded, starting to bounce back on his length. tom grabbed by your hair, getting you up forcefully, your back against his chest.

with the other hand he picked up his belt from the floor and wrapped it around your neck, making you gasp for air.

his other hand went down your clit, starting to finger you. you started crying, it was just too much. everything was making you overwhelmed.

suddenly he let you go and you fell down gasping and coughing. but nothing seemed to stop him.

tom flipped you over on your back like you weighted nothing and started pounding in you again, this time your legs on his shoulders.

“oh my g-god tom! t-too much!” you couldn’t even form correct sentences from the overstimulation you were feeling. he slapped you, grabbing your jaw.

“speak only when spoken to.” he said before opening your mouth and spitting in it, closing it for you.

you swallowed as tears streamed down you face, your cheek burning. you were sure he had left a mark, but you didn’t care.

the reality was, you and tom always had this dynamic, he loved being the dominant one, making you his slave, your body an object for him to use.

and why not add a little pain to it? you both liked it anyway. he liked inflicting it, you receiving it, that’s why you went together so well.

“i-i c-can’t anymore! please!” he knew it wasn’t true, since you knew your safe word to use when it was really too much.

“what did i say? fucking shut up!” he growled, grabbing the belt again, this time folding it in two.

soon it came in contact with the skin on your thighs making you scream and arching your back. tom chuckled darkly, “learn to listen to me next time.” he said, hitting you again on the same spot.

at this point you were a mess, only sounds were coming out of you and sometimes words or phrases that didn’t make any sense. tom attacked your neck with biting and sucking, leaving red spots all over it. he loved marking you as his. all this bruises he left were his way of saying and telling others that no one could touch you. “s-so pathetic, getting off me whipping you. you’re all mine. say it!”

“i-i’m yours!” you whined as salty tears never stopped falling.

soon you both came, you from the mix of pain and pleasure you were receiving, bringing you to the finish line. tom from using your body in his own liking.

he fell on top of you when you finished, breathing heavily. you were trembling, your legs felt like jelly.

after some minutes tom got up and picked you up in his arms, taking you to the bed. he kissed you on your forehead, wiping your tears away. you nodded going under the bed covers.

“wait a second.” he said walking out of the room, coming back some seconds later with water and your favourite chocolate snacks.

he made you drank water and then fed the snack to you, eating one of it himself. he knew you were too tired for a shower so he said fuck it, you guys could’ve showered the next morning.

“i love you baby. are you alright?” tom tilted his head looking at you.

“yes, i’m just tired. are you okay?” you smiled at him sweetly, making his heart flutter.

he liked the fact that you always asked how he felt too after a session, especially the rough ones like this. you understood that even doms had the right to the aftercare.

“i’m alright baby, let’s just cuddle and sleep okay?” he said speaking softly, such a contrast with his stern tone just some moments before.

“can you spoon me?” you asked while turning on your side, making him chuckle.

“you don’t need to ask.”

hope you liked it <333

#tokio hotel #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz #fandom #writing #fanfic #masterlist #tom kaulitz dom #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kualitz x reader

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lunarw0rks · 9 months

Note

hi! i have a request with ghost or könig, where one of readers parents die, and they start freaking out, crying, panic attack and all. and one of them is there for them through it? if it's not too much, thank u sm and love ur writing!

Summary: After losing someone close, your roommate, König is your support system.

Warning(s): panic attacks, grief, parental death, hurt/comfort, roommate!König, GN!Reader, no use of y/n

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: My first König work :) [mein Engel = my angel] I hope you don't mind, I chose reader's mother to be the one who passed.

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ KÖNIG MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver.

Saying Goodbye // Drabble

It was supposed to be an average, mundane day.

Eight hours at work, then stumbling into your apartment with sore muscles and a desire to relax until it all repeats again tomorrow. It was hard enough making it from the door to the couch, especially when barely able to keep your eyes open.

When you did, your eyes fluttered shut nearly instantly. Finally, you were getting some much needed sleep until—

You groaned loudly, palming around the sofa for your phone ringing at full blast. Inside, you cursed yourself for forgetting to silence it, and now you were debating on answering the call. An unrecognizable number, probably spam. The last thing you needed was another problem, another hitch in your relaxation.

The gut feeling you had was unmistakable; you should take the call, something was wrong.

With a hesitant thumb, you pressed the accept button and raised the phone to your ear. You’re wide awake now, you might as well get off the couch and pace while the scammer chews your ear off.

At least, that’s what you wanted to believe at first. It wasn’t a scammer; it was a nurse.

She asks your name, says they got your number from your mother’s phone. That instinctual feeling you had was proven true now—in the worst way possible. Though the nurse was hesitant to get the words out, as if the news hurt her more than you, your brain was scrambling with every possible bad scenario.

A car accident, a heart attack, perhaps even a mistake on the hospital’s end. The logistics didn’t matter, how she got your number, knew your name. It couldn’t be your mother, it had to be a mistake, right?

“I don’t understand.” You wavered, finding any excuse to dismiss her words—if you could call them that, they overlapped and mixed together with the haze in your mind.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Her voice is strictly professional, but to imagine her on the other end, she’s cringing at giving news like this over the phone, probably more than once today.

“You can come down and claim her belongings anytime. The administrator will help you with the arrangements… Do you have anyone—”

You terminated the call before she could continue, phone dropping to the floor below you. How could this happen? Why you, today of all days?

Tears were blinding you, coating your vision in a misty gloss. Next, it was your knees buckling beneath you when the dizziness was too much. Third, it was your inability to catch your breath; heaving and gasping as the sobs became too much for your body to handle. Above all, it was the thoughts and memories of your mother, how this could’ve happened so suddenly.

You hadn’t heard the door opening behind you, your fatigued roommate coming up behind you with concern. His large hands hovered over your back a few seconds, before he gently placed them to get your attention.

“What happened, mein Engel?” He asked softly, eyes wide with concern.

In all the months you’d lived together, conversations were quick but respectful; many days, your schedules would overlap, resulting in rarely seeing one another, or sleeping when you were home at the same time. But that didn’t matter to König, he couldn’t help but involve himself now.

“My mom…” Your weak voice finally spoke, tears streaming from your eyes down to the neckline of your shirt.

His observant eyes flicked over to the scene before him; you, distraught and struggling to breath, your cell phone dropped next to you.

Calling family members of the deceased, informing them of the horrible news, it’s something he’d done before for his job. It never gets easier, but he’d never seen the grieving person on the other side, often it ends with the call ending mid-sentence, just like you had done.

Now, he was face to face with it, and it was personal.

König’s brows furrowed empathetically as he listened to your cries, each one cracking his tough and intimidating exterior. He felt he was awful at comfort, only doing what came naturally to him—which wasn’t verbal.

Instead, it was physical comfort; a perk of his abnormal size.

He used one of his hands to push your head into his chest, while the other remained tightly wrapped around you. You could kick and scream, pound against his chest, get it all out of your system, and he remains still, allowing you to mourn in any way you have to.

He lifted you both up, letting you stand there and grieve against him. König’s eyes shut as he listened to your roars of sorrow, yearning for the parent you would never get back.

This went on for a few minutes, the room silent except for the sounds of your cries against his chest.

His strong arms kept you upright with ease, even though you were visibly trembling. “It will be okay, I promise… I promise…” His Austrian accent was soothing and gentle, a stark contrast to the way he looked.

You lifted your head, eyes bloodshot and quivering open and closed. You weren’t to the point of clarity yet, but the initial violent shock of the news had begun to fizzle; your mother was alone right now, in a hospital bed waiting for you. “I need to go see her, König. She’s all by herself.”

Your shaky hands found the entry table, reaching for your keys, but his hand gripped your arm before your fingers touched the cold metal.

With a shake of his head, he drops his hand. “I’ll drive you, okay?”

—

The city passes as a cynical blur; bars and restaurants packed with partying patrons, neighborhoods with playing children and family get togethers. Then, you, still distraught and with a tightening chest. Each street, each turn, each street sign pointing in the direction of the nearest hospital.

Ten miles; five miles; one mile; then, the bright red sign displaying Emergency illuminated the lot and König’s car.

He pulls into the closest visitor’s space, though most are already occupied. You pull the handle and step out, but the door remains open as you watch the bustle of the emergency room through the large windows.

You meet his blue eyes again, a black surgical mask concealing his true identity. “Will you come in with me?” It’s more of a despairing plea than an honest question.

He kills the engine and removes his hand from the wheel, giving a wary nod. In the face of a panic attack, he’s there for you in an instant. But by your side as you say goodbye? He began to wonder if he was the one you really wanted as moral support.

Your shoes scrape against the pavement, as if your feet are just as hesitant to face the situation.

The fluorescent lights overhead cast an unforgiving glare on the sterile white walls, reflecting the urgency of the environment. The constant hum of medical equipment and the beeping of monitors merge into a symphony of urgency, while the faint scent of bleach hangs in the air.

Nurses and doctors dart from one patient to another, their faces tense with determination, occupied with those in need of more attention than you, here to claim a body, for lack of better words.

The desk in the entrance is just as chaotic; the corded phones going off with an endless stream of calls, papers and clipboards stacked atop the other, and the loud typing of the receptionist’s outdated computers.

The woman behind the counter looks up briefly, carelessly pointing to the waiting area beside the desk rather than speaking to you. Her typing continues, as if no concern for what you might be here for is left, especially after a long shift in this busy chaos.

You look over at the waiting area—depressing and packed with patients who have been triaged and are awaiting further care, and filling the rest of the seats, distraught and impatient family members waiting for results on their loved ones. Some are praying, some sobbing, others clutching minor injuries, but most stare blankly as they tap their feet against the beige tile.

“Actually, I’m here for my mother. She passed.” You tell the bored receptionist, practically forcing her to pay attention to your dead expression.

The once unsympathetic stare she had, now turned the opposite. But once again, without words, she pointed to the elevators in the direction of the ICU. Her pity only lasted seconds, before she raised one of the phones to her ear, full attention on the other line.

You looked back at König for reassurance, who merely kept walking with you, eyes straight ahead with uncertainty.

As the elevator doors close, a sense of tension fills the confined space.

The panel of buttons displays various floors, but the one that stands out is the one labeled "ICU" in bold, red letters.

Inside the elevator, there's a mixture of people, each carrying their own burden of worry and concern. Family members clutch tightly to their belongings, their faces etched with anxiety and sorrow. The atmosphere is heavy with anticipation, despite the icy chill of the ventilation causing goosebumps on your skin.

A few forced smiles are exchanged among the passengers, trying to find comfort in each other's company, but the worry in their eyes betrays their attempts at reassurance, though you keep a straight face, already privy to what lies ahead of the doors.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the elevator slows down, and the doors open to reveal the ICU floor. It’s a morbid contrast to the emergency room; eerie quiet. Nurses and doctors roam, small groups of family members visit, and most of all, patients without any visitors hooked up to the machines.

König’s steps mirrored the pace of yours as you walked down the aisle of rooms, reading each chart until you found the one belonging to her.

You stopped in front of it, seeing her in the bed through the glass window overlooking the room. Your eyes, which had just gone dry, began to tear up again. It was a different feeling, seeing it in person, rather than imagining it over the phone.

“Let’s go inside, alright?” His voice is low and respectful as he takes a step around you, sliding open the pocket door, allowing you to go inside first when you are ready.

The door wooshes shut behind you as you approach the bed. Her chest is rising and falling with each hiss of the ventilator, but there are no signs of life anywhere else. Her hands are cold and lifeless, as is her skin—now drained of any memories and creases of age.

When the nurse steps inside and begins explaining the process to you, you only nod in response, keeping your eyes on the loved one in front of you. It would be your decision, to unhook her and say a final goodbye, or keep her like this, nothing but a corpse breathing through a machine.

“I’ll be here, whatever you decide.” König places a hand on your shoulder, ushering you to the chair beside the bed, while he remains standing in the corner, attempting to keep a respectful amount of distance. He didn’t know her, and now this would be all he knew of your mother—this harrowing image of her, with you beside her.

The silence passed by, hour by hour you spent listening to the beeps of the machines, the wheeze of her departed lungs mechanically filling with air. The warm hand you placed on hers, met with no returning caress, only her stillness.

König would make small efforts, a cup of coffee from the cafeteria, or small comforts in your ear, but they were futile against the waves of grief engulfing you. They were recognized, but not reciprocated with thank you’s or smiles—only silence.

—

The night you said goodbye, he left the room out of respect. He spent about an hour in that busy waiting room, hands folded in his lap as he waited for your return. It was best if he left you to the details, only there in terms of comfort.

He looked up curiously each time the elevator dinged and visitors piled out, until eventually it was you coming out to meet him. Swollen, reddened eyes, and a stack of funeral pamphlets still clutched in your fist.

The moment the ventilator let out its final hiss, the moment they unhooked the tubes, the moment you removed your hands from her—all a constant replay in your mind. He was to his feet instantly, pulling you into an embrace similar to the one in the living room, letting you know he would be there every step of the way.

König remained silent until you both reached his car again, opening the car door for you as he waited for you to climb inside.

You turned to face him, staring up into his sympathetic gaze, “thank you. I don’t know what else to say, except thank you.”

His blue eyes softened, as if shocked by your gratitude. He thought it was a given, being there for you, driving you to the hospital, even just showing you kindness, but it was clear you hadn’t expected that from him.

“You don’t need to thank me.” He mutters softly, his large hand resting on your arm, giving it a light squeeze. He hunches over and places his head on your shoulder, rubbing circles up and down your back.

“I’m always here, hm? Whatever you need to get through this.”

#mw2 #mw2 fanfic #call of duty #task force 141 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig x reader #konig x you #cod konig

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fortheloveofbuddie · 1 month

Text

Fuck it Friday/ Inspiration Saturday ✨

Thank you to everyone who’s been tagging me in this past week, I love seeing your works 🥹 I’ve once again been freakishly busy and haven’t had much time to write. I’m still not doing too great mentally but I’m working through it ™️

Today I had some writing beans for the asthma fic and wanted to share some 💕

Prev snippet here

Buck topples over, his knees and hands hitting the uneven ground, gravel boring into his skin. He digs his nails into the dirt, small pieces making their way under his nails and then he feels a hand on his shoulder. But he doesn’t recognize it.

He lifts his head slightly and shakes it a little because right in front of him… is himself.

He really must be out of it now.

But he’s no older than eight with chapped lips and ruffled hair, gasping for breath like he is right now. A look of panic and pain is written all over his face as he glances to the side, almost if he’s trying to warn him. Buck blinks twice only to see his mirror image pressing a finger against his lips, telling him to stay calm, to stay quiet.

The weight of a child’s hand disappears and is replaced with a much firmer touch, almost gripping onto his shoulder. Fear fills his body instantly and he pulls away, almost losing his balance as he scurries backwards, ahead from the touch. He’s going to get hurt. He did a bad thing. He wasn’t being a good son. He was drawing attention to himself in all the wrong ways. He shouldn’t do that.

“Don’t, please, I’m sorry. I-… I’ll be quiet. Don’t touch me-… Don’t touch me” He scrambles to find his words and to run away. At this moment, he remembers everything.

Every harsh word his father has ever said. Every time that he did something that he shouldn’t. Every time that he couldn’t breathe and his father gripped his shoulders, shaking him and telling him to quiet down. He remembers the pain of his fathers fingers digging into the back of his neck, holding him in place and telling him how much of a disappointment he was. He remembers sitting in the corner of his room, hiding underneath his desk while struggling to breathe. He remembers Maddie’s soothing voice and touch, her warm fingers combing through his hair. He remembers how much he was crying.

And he remembers the instant relief washing over his body as Maddie quietly brought him his inhaler, urging him to use it. And he remembers refusing it, feeling like he deserved the aching in his bones.

“Buck, hey, it’s me” Eddie attempts a different approach, kneeling down in front of Buck without touching him. “It’ll be okay, baby. It’ll be okay. I’m going to take your hand and put it on my chest, so you can feel my heart, okay?” He says but doesn’t get an answer.

He hadn’t expected one but he had hoped for one.

(…)

When he slowly reaches out for Buck, the panic in his eyes doesn’t seem to settle and Buck presses himself further back against the truck, weakly holding up his hands as if to shield himself. “I was bad, I know I was bad. I-… I’m sorry. I’ll be better, I’m sorry” Every word that comes out of Buck’s mouth is followed by a forced breath, an almost inaudible crackle resounding in his chest.

Warm tears are streaming down Buck’s face and gasping breaths mix with sniffing as he tries to compose himself, to apparently be good. He presses his eyes closed and shakes his head aggressively, weak hands holding onto the side of his shirt. It seems to only further restrict his breathing but he does it so that he can be quiet again. He needs to be quiet and he needs to be calm and he needs to be good.

Maybe it would be easier if he just stopped breathing altogether.

Tagged by @tizniz @disasterbuckdiaz @diazsdimples @spotsandsocks @wildlife4life @theotherbuckley @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @cal-daisies-and-briars @daffi-990 @dangerpronebuddie @watchyourbuck 🤭

Tagging!! @giddyupbuck @puppyboybuckley @jesuisici33 @honestlydarkprincess @thewolvesof1998 @butraura @loserdiaz @maygrantgf @elvensorceress @underwater-ninja-13 @loveyourownsmiilee @fiona-fififi @monsterrae1 @steadfastsaturnsrings @extasiswings @spagheddiediaz @nmcggg @buckbuckgoose @evanbegins @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @athenagranted 🦋🩵

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 on abc #buddie wip #the asthma fic #fic: ill kill myself trying and im not scared of dying #fortheloveofbuddie writes #hello friends #I’m here shsjsjskjs

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wehaveimagineshere · 5 months

Text

~If I die before I wake~

Astarion x G/N reader

This is a collab between Ren & Frost and this fic is just straight up sad. Read at your discretion. Based off this TikTok

You and Astarion have been together for years, but now it’s time for you to go. Astarion decided to go with you

CW: DEATH & SUICIDE

You and Astarion had known each other now for what felt like an eternity. Blissful, beautiful years full of love and hardships that you came over together

You had gotten married after a few years. It was beautiful and everything you both had ever wanted

It’s an outside wedding that started just after sunset. The final hues of orange and pink fading into black, the stars starting to shine brightly in the sky

Everyone you both loved and felt like family were there

Your fingers twitch the curtains again, Shadowheart smacking them away with a huff. "Try again and I swear I will rip your very expensive attire."

"Shadowheeaarrrttt," you whine, twining your fingers together nervously. "I'm so curious. I want to see!"

"And I want to keep my head." Crossing her arms, she gives you a look. "Astarion told me to keep you here until it's time to walk, so that's what I'll do."

"You're doing what Astarion tells you?"

Sighing to the heavens, she rolls her eyes. "For today I am, gods help me."

Chuckling, you give your friend a once over. Decked out in a gossamer black dress with a beautiful silver lined bodice with layered skirts and see through sleeves, you'd think she was the one getting married. Flashing a quick smile, you quickly follow it up with another sigh. "I'm going to go crazy if this doesn't start soon."

"You're already crazy, marrying a vampire." Smacking your hand away as you go to mess with your hair, she hisses, "If you make one strand of hair out of place after I spent two hours getting it right we will have problems."

Giving her a pout and raising your hands up in surrender, you start pacing. You get three laps in before Wyll pokes his head into the room, the biggest smile you've ever seen painting his face. "It's time."

"Thank the gods," you say as Shadowheart links her arm with yours.

Swinging the door open, Wyll's eyes soften as he looks at you. "You're breathtaking. You're going to make everyone out there fall to their knees."

"I outdid myself, I know," chimes Shadowheart with a smug smile, patting down your outfit proudly. "We went to every boutique in the city before we settled on this."

Quietly, Wyll says as you pass, "You're going to bring him to tears."

As you walk down, the only thing you can focus on is the beautiful man you’re in love with, tears streaming down his cheeks as he smiles and looks as you

You feel your eyes burn as tears also flow down your face. Your eyes start to blur the closer you get to the alter. Astarion reaches out for you and the moment you take his hand, you feel complete

You’re hardly listening to the words the officiator is saying. All you can focus on is Astarion’s warm hand and his beautiful ruby red eyes staring at you with so much love that it makes you feel a bit bashful

You were so lost in each other that Gale had to clear his throat to get you back into the present. You both say I do and when you kiss, you know you never want to be apart from him

Several years have passed since then. You had moved into a nice cozy home in Baldur’s Gate and even adopted the two stray cats you’ve seen; Myshka and Malta. Though they have a great fondness for you, they both greatly dislike Astarion

They’ll even take most of his side of the bed from time to time, leaving him to sleep on the tiny little sliver they leave for him. He tried to move them once, but you discovered scratches all over his hand the next morning

But your blissful time together was entering its final chapter. You were growing older. While Astarion never changed, you became more lethargic. More and more gray hairs taking over your natural color until one day that’s what your hair was

You had become extremely weak. The old age you had reached took a toll on your body. Skin sagging off your bones, your legs unable to withhold your weight without Astarion’s assistance

It breaks his heart to see you this way. He knows your time is coming. Seeing you become but a shell of yourself over time takes a toll on him. He doesn’t want to lose you. He can’t lose you

Staring at the food with tears in your eyes, you know this is it. It's too hard to lift your hands to grab the fork, too hard to lift it to your mouth, too hard to chew, to swallow. Even breathing had become a conscious effort - in, out, in, out.

Sniffing, you relax into the pillows propped behind your back, letting the tears fall before Astarion returns. For years you've felt yourself failing, and even now when you're at your dregs, you can't help the squeezing in your chest.

You'll be leaving him.

An inevitability, you've both known. But so easy to ignore the marching of time.

No longer.

Blinking the tears out of your eyes as the door opens - you couldn't hear his footsteps - and watching as your husband steps in, eyes darting to the untouched food, you place your hands together and smile. "Welcome back." Your voice is so raspy, even to your own ears.

"You haven't touched your food." Sitting down beside you, he takes the fork. "Do you need help?"

You go to shake your head, but find no energy to do so. "Astarion..." Darting your eyes away, you say quietly, "I can't."

You know his face falls. "What?"

"I can't anymore." Looking at your hands, you elaborate, "I'm... I'm too tired. To chew. Swallowing is hard. And... I'm not hungry."

You feel those tears again, threatening to spill onto the blankets, the hand he wraps around yours, but you hold it back. Even as all the adventures you had together, all the stolen kisses and shared smiles and echoing laughter play behind your eyes. Shadowheart first pointing out Malta, Gale teaching Astarion a cantrip and stating it was the worst decision of his life even on his deathbed, Halsin leading you both on hikes, Jaheira taking everyone out on the town until everyone was so drunk they couldn't stand up.

A life, full of new and routine, love and companionship.

Feeling gentle fingers brush your chin, your eyes are guided to Astarion's, and what you see there threatens to break you.

It’s then that he decides he’s going to join you in the afterlife. There’s absolutely no way he could love another as viciously and passionately as he’s loved you

He had been contemplating it for a while anyway

He brings up how you two first met. Both of you chuckling as you remember him tackling you to the ground and holding a knife to your throat. How he almost killed you the first time he drank your blood. Who would’ve ever thought that you two would fall in love and spend your life together as you have

You smile to yourself as you lean your head on him, suddenly exhausted. Your heart is slowing. Tears spring to Astarion’s eyes as he realizes you aren’t going to make it through the night

He slowly lifts you from his shoulder as he turns to fully face you. You look into his beautiful eyes. Eyes that have always been so beautiful and have shown you so many emotions

He leans in to gently press a kiss on your wrinkled lips. The kiss is full of emotion and love. After a moment you both pull back and he tells you how much he loves you. That he wishes he was able to turn you back then so that you could spend an eternity together

The only regret he’ll ever have about not ascending is the fact you’d never be together forever. He knows he made the right choice. But he can’t help but be full of emotion and regret in these last moments you’ll ever have together

You tell him that it’s okay. That you know you’ll reincarnate and you’ll try your best find him again. He feels a pang of guilt surge through him

You don’t know that he’s going to follow you when you go. He doesn’t have it in him to tell you, but he knows that he must. There’s no secrets between you, and he’s not going to start now

When he tells you, tears spring to your eyes. You slowly, painfully, turn your whole body towards him and tell him that he can’t do that. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves to find love after you’re gone

He smiles sadly and tells you that there’s nothing else for him here, you were the only reason he had a reason to live. The only reason why he wanted to live

You can see in his eyes that he is determined to do this. That he won’t budge no matter how much you cry and plea for him to stay alive. You look away and shake your head as the tears begin to fall

You don’t want him to follow you. You want him to live and be free. To find new love and go on new adventures

He reaches over and wipes the tears off your cheeks. You turn to him and give him the most heartbreaking smile. Tears start to well up in his eyes and you both look at each other with so much love that’s now bittersweet

You wish you could live forever with him. What was a rocky start has turned into the most beautiful love story anyone could ask for. So you tell him okay. And that you’ll be waiting for him on the other side

As you both lay down in your bed he leans over and kisses you again. Softly, passionately. He knows this is the last kiss he’ll ever receive from you. He kisses you over and over, not wanting to part from you as he hears your heart struggling to keep beating

After a moment he pulls back and kisses you on your forehead. He takes you into his arms and whispers sweet nothings into your ear and you start to drift to sleep

Astarion can’t will himself to rest. His mind is racing a mile a minute, thinking about all the memories you’ve had together while feeling your body start to turn cold. Your blood flow slowing. Your heart had finally given out

It's so quiet.

So, so quiet.

A quiet he hasn't experienced in so long. A silence that pressed on him when punished under Cazador, trapped in a coffin, screaming, begging to be let out and answered with such a profound silence that stripped him to nothing.

This silence, though. This is worse.

So, so much worse.

The scream, the guttural, anguished scream that rips from his throat makes the very house shake. His fingers curl into claws as he grips you - gentle, always so gentle - and it's all he can do to keep himself from coming apart completely.

It's unbearable, the silence.

It's not until this moment where he realizes how much comfort your heartbeat had given him. Had become. How he could pinpoint your heartbeat within a crowd, no matter how big. How he'd wake up and hear that thrum and find a peace he never thought he'd ever have.

A peace he's lost, now. A peace now forever out of reach.

A shaky inhale is all he has as he turns to look. Your face, once always full of life and emotion, now only has a small smile. If it wasn't so quiet, so quiet, he would think you were just sleeping, and in an hour he would see the stars in your eyes as you looked at him.

Light taps at the windows, starting to lighten the night, and he knows he doesn't have much time left. A detached sort of numbness overcomes his heart as he stands up, walks to the closet, and takes out your favorite sweater. It doesn't matter anymore, he knows he knows, but you can't ever be cold, ever be uncomfortable.

The weight threatens to cripple him as he slips your arms in. As he slides the material over your head, careful to not mess up your hair. As he lifts you gently to pull down the edges.

It's when he brushes hair from your forehead that he realizes his hands are wet. His arms, too.

Distantly, he touches his face.

Wet.

Gently, he lifts your body into his arms and walks outside. The cold, crisp morning breeze biting his cheeks as he sets you down on a bench you have on your patio. Your head falling listlessly against his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you

He takes your now cold hand into his, rubbing your knuckles as he looks out to the scenery. The sun starting to rise above the mountains. It was the most beautiful place to live. And an even more beautiful place to enter the afterlife

It was this view, he remembers, that had you picking this house.

"I know you can't really see it," you'd laughed, throwing your arms up and gesturing toward the horizon painted in black, "but the dawn here is something to die for."

As the sky starts to turn a brighter color he sits there in silence. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life, except for being with you

The first touch of sunlight makes him flinch, a small, brief, hollow echo of self preservation pinging down an empty tunnel as he sits there. Feels the heat of the sun once more on his skin.

Feels it burn.

His eyes turn to that horizon you'd boasted about, and he must agree that you were right.

Reaching up, splaying a hand, he watches as the sunlight edges his fingers in gold. Even as they burn, turning black, ash catching in the wind.

His gaze turns to you, always turns to you. It's been so long since he's seen the sun in your hair, lightening your features. Pressing his lips to your temple, wondering briefly how much of his body remains, he drinks in your smile, the quiet of this moment, the color of the world.

The world you helped him see. The world you helped him explore.

One last time, he breathes you in deep, the scent of your shampoo tickling his nose. Your laughter echoing in his memory as the wind steals the rest of him, dusting him across the yard.

A golden wedding band falls to the ground at your still feet, wobbling along its round edges before coming to a stop.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion/reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #tw death #tw suicide

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1-800-hwahui · 1 year

Text

shower thoughts with junhui

read the sfw version here!

member | bf!junhui x reader genre | headcanons (bullet points), smut, fluff kinda word count | ~550 warnings | afab reader, fingering, penetration, sorta dom!jun sub!reader? notes | lowercase intended. this is part of a request on my sfw blog @junkissed! as i do not write nsfw requests on that blog i posted the nsfw section here :) - 💒 june

minors dni - you will be blocked

join my taglist!

although he likes showering with you without doing anything extra, he also loves when you want something more

when he's in that mood he would be so shy about asking to shower with you but as soon as you're under the hot water his hands are all over you

he’ll start by pouring body wash into his hands and massaging your skin

he likes to stand behind you and play with your breasts, letting the water roll down your body, getting even harder when he sees the soap lathered along your chest. the soapy bubbles trickling down your body, slowly being rinsed away by the stream of warm water

next he’ll slide his fingers down, squeezing and pulling your hips back to grind against him, so you can feel how hard he is for you and only you

if he’s feeling extra dom or he’s still worked up from earlier, maybe he’ll slap your ass a few times. he loves the way your ass looks when the water bounces off it from the force of his hand

even if you’re already stretched out enough for him to slide into you, he’ll dip his fingers into you and toy with you for a little bit first

if you have a removable showerhead oh boy he’ll go to town. wrapping one arm around you and holding you tight against his chest so you can’t move, can’t even squirm, and putting the stream of water directly against your clit until your legs shake at the constant pressure

if not he’ll still hold you tight as he fucks his long fingers in and out of you, scissoring them back and forth and spreading your pussy open

he’s a big fan of having round 2 in the shower. after you’ve exhausted yourselves in bed, bodies sticky covered in sweat and cum, he lets the water wash away the evidence so he can continue his work on a clean surface

it gives him a head rush seeing the glass shower door and the mirrors fogged up, so the water is always scalding hot

he’s not the only one affected by how good you look, standing naked beside him in the shower. you trace his shoulders, drawing your fingers along his collarbones, his neck, his adam’s apple, running your hands along every inch of his body and seeing him shudder at your touch. he loves how needy you get just from seeing him

if your legs are too weak to stand from previous rounds or you’re just too tired, he’ll sit you right down on the floor of the tub and fuck you in missionary. it’s a little cramped and you’ll probably end up with an ache in your lower back, but he’s more than happy to give you a massage (and maybe a third round) after you’ve gotten out and dried off

but if you still have just as much energy as he does, he’ll lean you against the wall or the shower door, hooking one hand behind your knee and pulling you against him so he can fuck himself into you

he’ll do all the work because he doesn’t want your pretty little head to worry about anything. all you need to do is let him hear those pretty moans of yours so he knows how good he’s making you feel

taglist | @shuatm @yeosayang

#💒 june #junhui smut #jun smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #svt x reader #jun x reader #junhui scenarios #junhui x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt jun #seventeen fic #wen junhui smut #moon junhui

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mlmxreader · 1 year

Text

Nothing Will Be the Same Again | Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader

anonymous asked: hello, how are you?, could you make an imagine with simon and reader with the phrase """Stop looking at me like that." "Like what?" "Like I mean everything to you.""

summary: you're not ready for this moment, sitting with Ghost in a hospital room and sobbing your eyes out - you're not ready.

tws: death, blood

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Nervously, you chewed and pulled the flesh from your bottom lip as you did your best not to become distracted by everything around you; by the lifeless and dull room you were packed into, throat dry and the stench of hand sanitiser clogging your already blocked nose.

You couldn't believe that it was all happening, a stinging and pounding headache at the very front, body aching as the last few sobs were ripped from the back of your throat; snot so thick on your sleeve that you could feel its cool lick against your skin, nose burning and itching from being rubbed against the coarse material of your jacket far too many times.

You could hardly see anything, it was all blurry and white when the LED lights caught your eyes. You kept begging, kept pleading, asking the guy upstairs if he could just do you one favour and not take your beloved away from you.

"Not my baby, please," you would whisper, voice raw and hoarse as you shook your head, chest aching. "Please, anyone but my baby. Please, that's all I'm asking, just not him."

You knew there would be no answer, you weren't sure if you really wanted one anyway, but that still didn't stop you from begging and pleading; you needed to put the blame on someone, needed someone to scream at so at least you could make some sense of the cruel and unjust fate you were being subjected to.

The senseless and needless heartache that made your body tremble, bottom lip quivering every second, breaths ragged; you wondered if the doctors and nurses would barge in and demand to know who you were screaming at, but that thought soon faded when you wiped your eyes and saw the condition he was in.

Strapped up to dozens of monitors, drips feeding into his arms, tubes in his nose; his eyes weren't the same, cloudy and almost entirely a greyish blue, even the whites. He wasn't telling you army jokes that made you roll your eyes, refused to eat and drink.

You knew it wouldn't be long, but you didn't want him to leave.

His breathing was ragged and quick, panting more than anything, gasping and wheezing with every single breath that he took; he was in pain, wincing and seething even though he still tried to hide it. You could hardly bear to see him like that, collapsing into the navy blue chair beside him, holding on tightly to his hand as you sniffled and wiped your nose on the knee of your jeans instead.

"Don't go," you begged softly, bottom lip quivering yet again. "Please, Simon, don't go anywhere. I can't follow you if you do."

He was weak, and he was fading fast, you could see it in his clouded eyes, in the panicked and racing breaths, in the painful way that he coughed and spluttered; when he had the strength, he could talk but it took far too much out of him to say even just one word. You didn't wonder where the team were.

Gaz, Soap, Price. They had left hours ago, when the final cracks of sunlight were still streaming through the straight and unmoving curtains; they told you that you were there if you needed anything, but none of them wanted to hang around. They knew how much you and Ghost needed to be alone, they understood.

You whimpered, grasping his hand and holding on tightly as you sniffled and swallowed thickly; your throat was sticky, and it was nearly painful to so much as try and force the words out from the back of your throat. You had known Ghost for years, his only friend from childhood, his only partner in life. You were meant to be getting married soon, everything had already been planned.

Now, he was getting ready to leave you all alone; a life without Ghost. Home wouldn't exist anymore, just a sore and weeping wound; a gash where the bed was. A stab wound where the kitchen used to be and where you used to dance together; the same kitchen where he asked you to marry him.

Flowers wouldn't be as bright without him in your life. Love songs would only make you feel resentment and anger. You wouldn't be able to drink coffee without him making him every morning. You wouldn't be able to steal his hoodies and grin when he said that you looked so much better in them than he did. The smell of his aftershave and cologne wouldn't stick to the bedsheets.

"Simon, please," you growled, hot tears streaming down your face, snot dribbling from the tip of your nose as you gently shook his hand. "Simon. Don't... don't leave me all alone."

Ghost slowly shook his head, spluttering as he coughed and struggled to sit upright. "Stop it."

"What?"

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I mean everything to you," his voice was so hoarse, every syllable was barbed wire against the roof of his mouth and the soft flesh of his throat. The taste of blood heavily on his tongue as he let out a long and hard wheeze. "Let me go, sweetheart."

You shook your head, able to feel your stomach drop and all energy fade from your body as you whimpered; he sank down against the scratchy bed and pillows, and let out a few more splutters. He was so tired. "I can't let you go... what am I gonna do without you?"

You knew what he would say if he could; that you were smart, a lot smarter than he was, and you would figure it out with time. You knew he would try and ease your pain with words of reassurance, but as you watched the last breath leave his lips, the monitor going flat and starting to drone, you knew.

You knew, more than anything, that there would be no reassurance.

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d0g0r0t · 7 months

Note

HEYYYYUYY I loved ur Toby put in the silly bin post. Can u make a follow up post on when he escapes and finds his s/o? If not an NSFW Toby HCs? PLEASEEE TYTYTYTY <33

When Toby got institutionalized Pt2

TW: suicidal thoughts. Death. Nfsw.

Pt 1

Pt 3

OMG I LOVE THIS U GUYS SO CREATIVE!!!!!

Part 1 on my page :D

He couldn't do anymore. He had enough

It was either he got the fuck out of here or suicide.

He missed you so much and the fact he was stuck in this dumb human zoo unable to see his one and only

He HAD to get out

He was going insane, sure he was already insane but not having you in his arms and not having you in sight at all times made him snap.....Again

A few minutes before lights out he took his chance. Quickly tackling a female nurse and taking advantage of her weakness. he quickly stole the pocket knifes all workers carried and without a second thought killed her with one clean slice

The screams and yelling echoed the room as he quickly stood up and saw nurses surroundings him. But the one he went after was the poor old lady who was calling security

Stab after stab one by one body's were dropping and the white walls soon turned a deep red.

The screams slowly faded out as he was left standing there with body's all around.

Oh but he wasn't done yet

Not at all

Slowly walking down to the main office almost jumping with excitement as he let out deep and cracked laughs

Barging open the door he sees the head of the facility

"You.... motherfucker HOW DARE YOU TAKING ME AWAY FROM HER!?"

With in seconds he was over the desk and straggling him with all his might almost able to snap his neck

Watching his face turned blue as he let out struggled cracks and sobs put a smile on his face

Seeing the man go limp in his chair he quickly grabbed the keys and he was out... he actually did HE ACTUALLY FUCKING GOT OUT!

Frantically running threw the door almost slipping on his way out he ran as fast as he could threw the forest to find you...

Finding you..

_______________________________

Panting like a exhausted dog he finally stumbles his way to flimler territory

"Y/n..."

He mumbled out to himself. Looking around the forest in sight of anyone at this point. It was dark and foggy and he could feel tears stream from his cheeks becoming panicked that he couldn't find you

"Y/N!!..."

He sobbed out loudly. Feeling his knees going weak and giving out on him as he ran threw the woods like a mad man. His breathing becoming hyper.

"Y/N WHERE ARE YOU!!!!..."

"Toby?...."

Turning around and seeing you.. seeing your gorgeous hair seeing those tried and soft eyes of yours seeing your gentle hands... he stared at you like it was a dream.

He quickly ran over to you, tackling you to the ground in a tight hug. The wind being knocked out of you as he wrapped himself around you. Trembling and so happy to see you

"Y/n...."

He cried out. Feeling all those pent up emotionals you've been holding finally pouring out of you as you hugged him tightly letting out happy crys.

He placed weak and quick kisses all over your face and down your neck as he laid on top of you like a puppy.

"I-I missed you s-s-so much.."

He whimpered against your cheeks as he let out soft cries finally coming down. Running your fingers threw his hair as you returned the kisses along his forehead. You couldn't help but smile with every kiss you plant

NSFW TIME!*@,@>,$

-----------------------------------------

After you two calm down he instantly RAILED you in the middle of the forest.

He honestly had to he was so painfully hard

He would grab at your body taking chuncks of your flesh in both hands as he pins you up against a nearby tree

Praising you and giving a a handful of compliments

"Oh God your so pretty" "you take me so well" "please. You feel so good"

Yk 😋 just silly Toby things

He can't get enough of you. Drinking you in like a depressant

He trys his best not to hurt you but being away from you for so long he couldn't help but slammed himself balls deep in you.

He would be on the verge of tears you feel so good. Whimpering and whining as you take him so well

His hands would be shaking and all over you. Grabbing your chest and ass and hair.

He would leave so many kisses on your skin. Your like his little dessert. You were so sweet to him!

He would wrap his arms around your waist and moan in your ear as he pounds you in the tree

Bros a little silly

_______________________________

ANYWAYS THANK U 4 THE REQUEST SORRY IF ITS NOT THE BEST! AND SORRY THIS IS SO LONG 💀

#ticci toby x reader #toby rogers #ticci toby #creepypasta #x reader #slenderman

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ocdeeznut · 3 months

Text

Commander and his second. (Red and Blue.)

(-A first draft stream of consciousness melancholy fever dream. I have not slept it is 7am.-)

Lance shoulder-checks the door on his late night stumble into the hallway, gasping a yawn into an unfurled hand before elegantly smearing it down his face. Dry skin, tacky eyes, a weakness in his legs. He recalls scraping his alarm clock with his knee, the time reading something completely incomprehensible in Altean. 'Maths is universal' my ass, he muses, puling out his phone and blinking at it headily as he walks. 3:30. Ouch. They're up at 6 for group training, now that Keith is parking his ass in the castle for longer than 60 seconds at a time. He snorts to himself, and briefly wonders if tired-piloting is the same as tired-driving, and if it could land him a fine. He debates slipping down to the hangar, just to sit with bl- red. Red. Right. He's the red paladin now. The right hand. Keith's right hand. He looks down at his phone again, nearly buffing the wall as he rounds a corner, hankering after a good cup of coffee.

What a load of bullshit-

THUNK.

His phone hits the ground before he does, sprawled out atop his own limbs like a baby giraffe in space. And there, towering above him - like he always is - Keith Kogane. Still in his Blade's issued uniform, he reeks of stale blood and B.O. Those dark eyes have the nerve to look pitifully down on his second as he extends a hand. Lance, in what he thinks is appropriate cool-and-smooth fashion, slaps it away, awkwardly cobbling himself back to his feet.

"Keith. Wasn't expecting to see you up this late." Red comments, curtly. "Ditto." The black paladin crows. His voice is creaky, thick with exhaustion. Now that Lance gets a good look at him, he's... lacking fight. Haggard and pale, new cuts and bruises glanced across the scarce amount of skin Lance can see. The red paladin wonders briefly just how many scars Keith is hiding from him, under that sleek black leather. "What time is it?" "Like 3:30-something, last I checked." ".. Fuck." "Don't say 'fuck' Keith, it's crass."

"Fuck, sorry." He is not, arms over his chest, fingers curled against his biceps.

Touché.

"We're up in a few hours, so uh. Get some rest." Keith samples leadership.

"If that was gonna happen, dude, I would not be stood here with you in this dark, dark hallway." Lance spits it back out.

"Right, no. Of course. Do what you have to, and don't be late tomorrow." "Today." Red helpfully supplies. "You're uh, dismissed..?" The subject of said dismissal gawks. "You can't dismiss me from a -hallway- in the ship I sleep in, this isn't a board meeting." Lance grimaces, and steers himself back onto course - the main kitchen. He was getting coffee, Keith or no Keith. Quiet footsteps fall behind him, and then louder ones as the black paladin remembers he doesn't have to hide his presence in the castle. What a strange person he'd become. Their fearless leader, living a life of concealment and solitude. How lonely that must be. He shakes away the sympathy before it makes a home inside him.

The bright lights of the kitchen hurt his eyes, and Lance bemoans such to himself, making every effort to keep his griping from Keith's prying ears. They'd made the tactical discovery recently that the man's hearing was almost twice as effective in range and clarity as the average human's.

Which would be sick, if it wasn't Keith.

But he hears him, like he always does, and stalks off to fix the problem in that begrudging, duty-bound manner that's supposed to make him seem long suffering and martyred. He scans something against the indent below the light fixture, and smacks away at an airborne keypad for a few seconds. The atmosphere around them shifts to an admittedly much more tolerable dim yellow. Lance grumbles his thanks, and Keith just nods his head sluggishly, dead on his feet. "Why don't you take your own advice, hm? Go to bed. We need the black lion operational tomorrow. That can't happen if you're passed out until noon."

"Don't tell me what to do." "I wouldn't have to if you weren't so pig-headed. You're still in uniform, man. You reek." Keith actually has the decency to sniff himself, and Lance bites down on a laugh as he recoils from his own underarm. "Message received. But I'm not tired." "Bullcrap. You look exhausted."

"I am."

And Lance understands what he means. Hell, he's feeling it too. There's this odd collision of interest now, and he goes about making his coffee in silence, with dark eyes watching him from the corner.

He pulls open a stiff drawer at hip-height, crouching down to reach inside for his stash of dark roast coffee - sourced from a space-mall excursion a few months ago. He keeps it sealed in an airtight container, in a paper bag, in the back of the most neutral temp cupboard on deck. It's not great stuff, some cheap American bastardisation of actual dark roast, but it'll do.

"If you're going to stay, please stop staring at me." He pokes his head up and hauls himself back to his feet. Where was that sugar again..-

"Alright."

It's in Keith's hands, apparently.

"How did you-" "Café cubano. You think you're good at hiding the coffee, but it smells strong. I sometimes follow the smell into the kitchen. From there, the awful mess you leave behind makes it pretty easy to guess what you were making. Who takes an espresso pot into space?" "Not me. I had Hunk and Pidge make it for me. It's a lot more advanced than I need it to be. It actually lowers the boiling point of the water, without blanching the coffee's flavour. Might be why the smell is so strong, though."

Lance chooses to rise above the slight on his cleanliness.

"Huh. Go Hunk and Pidge."

"Seriously. Genius freaks, the both of them."

Red smiles.

Lance sets his whisk down, and pours off the dark coffee from the jug in his left hand, sending azuquita frothing and bubbling to the top of the pot. It floats, sweet and bitter, as he transfers it to an oddly shaped Altean mug, and takes a sip. It's boiling, and it burns, but it's good.

Just like Keith had described, there are spoons and whisks and bowls and dustings of sugar and coffee grounds strewn across the tabletop, and the Red paladin flusters as Black swoops in to clean. Something about this felt entirely too personal, domestic. Like they weren't fighting a war. Like they weren't fighting eachother. He scoops up his mug, and turns heel. "I'm going to the bridge."

Keith is silent except for a hum of acknowledgement.

Loud footsteps approach him again, hunched over himself, hair fluttering from his eyes with each heavy breath. His coffee still half-drank, to be savoured. He preferred to finish his drinks in company, but it wasn't like he'd been expecting Keith to follow him.

So why he isn't at all surprised when Keith slumps down beside him is anyone's guess.

The stars are, well, about as starry as usual. The air is a comfortable degree and the floor hums quietly as the belly of the metal beast around them croaks and groans, driving them through empty space.

Keith is looking at him, and the mess of his hair, those dark, impossibly bright eyes... it all feels so Keith. He smells a little better, and he's back in his usual t-shirt and jeans, jacket forgone for informality's sake. For just a moment, Lance can pretend it'll be Shiro waking them both up tomorrow. As equals, tired and late to dash into the hangar. Keeping score, neck and neck.

"Your coffee's gonna go cold." Keith snips at the silence.

"Oh, so what I'm hearing is that you wanna make the trek back to the kitchen to reheat it for me?" "Shut up.. You wouldn't drink it even if I did." "You're probably right, Mullet."

Lance pauses for a moment.

"Why'd you come down here?" "Why haven't you told me to fuck off yet?" "Not sure." "Ditto." Touché. Again. Conversation starts to feel a little easier now.

"Fuck man. This is so bad. We're in for it tomorrow. We quite literally will not have our head screwed on straight." Lance laughs at his own joke, swiping a hand through his hair and leaning back on an open palm.

Keith laughs too, rolling his eyes up into those remarkable bangs.

"Not to mention we'll be keeping the rest of the team at -arm's length-'."

Keith's turn to laugh at his own joke, while lance digs his fist into the other man's shoulder. "Boo! That was lame. You're lame, Kogane. Lame Kogane is what I'm calling you now." "How will I ever recover." "Try and sound a little hurt."

They're both laughing now. "No- no, really, I'm slighted." "You sound like you're reading the fucking weather forecast!" "You said fuck!" "Fuck off!" "Hah! Said it again."

And there it is. The film that keeps them bound by duty is broken, and they come undone into something far deeper than 1st and 2nd.

Blue bites and red bites back harder, but they never break the skin.

They're on their feet now, dancing around the deck under the intimate gaze of a hundred-thousand burning stars. Surrounded by life, yet completely and totally alone.

"I'm not drinking that-! Lance, I'm serious- Lance!" Red warns, hands extended to keep Blue at arm's length. (He'd appreciate the call-back.) But Lance, brandishing cold coffee and an impish grin, is quicker, and likes to watch the impenetrable fortress that is Keith Kogane crumble. He vaults the central control panel, to Keith's shrieking horror, and manages to dump half the remaining cup down the back of the other's shirt. It elicits another delightful shrill from Red, as he wrestles with his own skin in an attempt to flee the sensation. Lance swears that for a moment, there's something glinting yellow in Keith's eyes. He bares his teeth and grunts in a way that is decidedly inhuman.

It should scare him, but it only excites him, fills his blood with ice-hot curiosity, intrigue that borders on an inescapable infatuation. SO much about Keith that he didn't know. So much that he wanted to find out.

"Sorry!"

He wanes, half-heartedly, still in fits of laughter as Kogane manages to wrest his shirt off, wearing a flimsy navy tank underneath. He'd have preferred red, but space makes fashion a slim-pickings ordeal. Lance finds it brings out his eyes.

Somewhere along the way, they ended up like this. Lance shifts his arm from where it's pinned under Keith's head to check the hour. 5:30. They're running out of time. Red and Blue will be packaged up neatly again, and in thirty minutes Black and Red will take the helm and shoulder of a beast they have no business knowing how to fly.

Lance aches, body and mind. They're sprawled out in Allura's holodeck, heads side by side as they stare up at a night sky so very different to the ones they see from the castle. It's earth, just a few miles south of the Garrison. A cliffside overlooks the desert, and Blue can almost feel the dust under his fingers, sweeping through Keith's hair as it ruffles against his cheekbones.

Blue pulls red just a little bit closer.

Just twenty minutes more.

Neither of them are ready to lead.

Chiselled soldiers made of hollow glass. Lacking experience, robbed of simple youth.

They are driven by duty. It pumps their lungs like great bellows, keeps their legs moving when their hearts have stopped.

Ten more minutes.

Lance feels his eyes slip shut, damp and tired. He curls into red and lets himself dream for a few minutes more.

#vld lance #voltron #odesrambles #keith voltron #lance mcclain #voltron legendary defender #voltron fanfic #klance

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