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ceruark · 3 days

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general yandere headcanons - ratio, boothill, aventurine, sunday

notes: gn! reader. yandere! ratio, boothill, aventurine, sunday [separate] cw: general yandere themes - obsessive & possessive behavior, stalking, abduction, manipulation, blackmail, brainwashing words: 2250 a/n: one of these is longer than the others. can you tell i have a favorite?

VERITAS believes genius comes in many forms, and you exhibit some traits that could qualify you as being one. Whether or not you're a scholar, your ability to listen intently, ponder things deeply, and uphold meaningful conversation captured his attention and landed you in his favor. He thinks highly of you, and finds himself eagerly awaiting the next time he can poke your brain about some complex topic you feel like you aren’t equipped to comment on, but do so anyway at his insistence.

His obsession with you isn't apparent at first, not even to him. He tells himself it's simply in a scholar's nature to learn more about the things that intrigue them, and you're not special just because he seeks out information on you wherever he can. His research ends up paying off when he finds out that you desire more than the quaint life you've made for yourself, and he personally extends you an invitation to Veritas Prime.

When you accept, he insists that you attend as many of his lectures as humanly possible. Even if it doesn't align with what you're studying, he convinces you to show up anyway, fabricating some argument for how it will be useful for you in the future. Normally he'd be irritated with himself for giving a lackluster lecture, but he can hardly blame himself for being distracted when he has your undivided attention for hours on end. He's addicted to it, the way your eyes lock with his, the way you hang on to every word leaving his mouth.

Not that any of this is obvious to you. No, from your perspective, he's harsh and critical, always undermining your intelligence by insisting you need additional lectures and overseeing your studies himself. Obviously, he doesn't put much faith in your competency and thinks you'll fail unless you're being handheld the entire way. He may not outright insult you the way he does with others, but his "special treatment" is enough to make you feel insecure in your own abilities.

And that insecurity is a weak point he unapologetically exploits. When he feels like he hasn't seen enough of you lately, all it takes is a few bad marks from him to have you at his side, seeking out guidance and ways to improve. The worst is when he catches you spending too much time (which is any time at all) with those insignificant simpletons you call your friends. Clearly, you have too much time on your hands. Certainly you can assist him with his latest project, no? Well, if you'd rather slack off and lose all the progress you've made so far, that's fine, too.

You'll never know what his true intentions are until he's already involved in or controlling every aspect of your life, and at that point, you can't risk upsetting him. Your future success is contingent on how content you can keep him, and in this new phase of your relationship, you hardly know how to do that.

Better get to researching.

Threat Level: 3/5 Pet Names: darling, dear/dearest

BOOTHILL loves to make you laugh— it's the thing that drew him to you. He'll do anything to keep your attention on him, not caring how much of a fool he looks so long as you keep those gorgeous eyes on him. But beneath all the flirtation and humor is a deep desperation; he can't lose you, not after everything he's already lost. He stays on your home planet for as long as he can, but he has things to take care of, so he can't stick around forever.

To be fair, he tries. He makes the first few trips alone, leaving you behind to live your life— and every minute is agony. He doesn't know what you're doing, who you're with, or if you're safe. He's glued to his phone, constantly checking the news to make sure no tragedy has struck your home planet or the cozy town you reside in. Every night he wakes up from a nightmare, the sounds of bombs ringing in his ears and the illusion of your corpse still hovering before his eyes.

The next time he visits you, he takes you. You're coming with him— you don't have a choice. He can't live without you by his side, but he can't stay in one place, either. You can fight him all you want, but he's relentless, and his fear builds up into a frustration that causes him to be a little harsh. You're weak, vulnerable, and you can't be expected to protect yourself, so he has to. When he calms down, he tries to convince you that it won't be so bad. You'll get to travel the endless galaxy with the man you'd been so taken with just a few days ago. What more could you ask for?

Trying to escape him is futile. He's probably the easiest one on this list to get away from, but don't let that get to your head: he'll be hot on your trail, so you better hope those few days away from him are worth it in the end.

But with time you'll learn there is some truth to his words; if you don't try to leave him and keep him happy, then maybe you can trick yourself into believing that this is a life you chose for yourself.

Threat Level: 3.5/5 Pet Names: beau, gorgeous, sugar

AVENTURINE is like a moth to a flame, and your capacity for intimacy is the match. You're the first person in recent memory who treats him as a person, not as a commodity or a body, a wallet or another cog in the machine. Your first interaction was fleeting, but it replays in his mind every time he closes his eyes.

He watches you for some time, learning you inside and out— partially to satisfy his desire to know more about you, but mostly for leverage. He memorizes your schedule and interests, and subpoenas documents to learn more sensitive information, such as your medical history and anything pertaining to your family. He remembers everyone you interact with, making note of who's on the sidelines and who's part of your inner circle. He sees the way you openly bare your heart to them, keeping them comforted by its warmth, and he wants it all for himself. Hasn't he been denied something so pure for long enough?

He's charming in the beginning, using one of his many masks to slither his way into your mind and heart. He showers you with compliments and gifts, leaving you flustered after every single meeting. He knows exactly what you like, so it's easy to keep you fixated on him.

When you two finally make things official, he lures you into the palm of his hand. Your rent unexpectedly went up? No worries, he can start covering that for you— it's no trouble for him, really. Someone important to you had an unexpected health issue and can't cover the bill? He's got it, anything to cause you less stress. Is he sure it's okay? Of course it is. He only wants to see you happy.

When your friends start dropping like flies and even your family starts to distance themselves for you, he's by your side through the turmoil. Fate has been so cruel to the both of you, hasn't it? It's okay, he's here for you. He's not going anywhere.

By the time you catch on to his manipulation and realize he's behind your isolation from your friends and family, it's too late. You're too dependent on him, and he knows everything about you and anyone still sticking by you. Do you dare bite the hand that feeds you? Will you try to escape? Can you afford to pay the price if it all goes wrong?

What will you wager to get yourself back in his good graces?

It’s unwise to try your luck against his. Play along, and perhaps he'll show you the face that you fell for.

Threat Level: 4/5 Pet Names: babe, doll, sweetheart

SUNDAY takes notice of you because of your carefree nature. Being so trapped in his own head about the fate of Penacony and humanity as a whole, he's captivated by the way you seem unconcerned with matters larger than yourself. While you do plan for the future and have aspirations of your own, you still manage to live in the moment and take things one day at a time, possessing a liveliness he's never quite seen before, never been allowed to have himself.

He knows about you long before you ever meet him. Nightingales line every path you walk, sticking to the shadows and noting everything about you: the places you frequent, the food you like, the type of clothes you buy, your colleagues, your route home, and the little habits you have that he finds so endearing.

When he finally appears before you, you're starstruck— how could you not be? The head of the Oak Family is seated beside you at Dreamjolt Holstery, making small talk about your day and your life and your interests when he could be speaking to any of the other high-profile guests at the bar. You're flustered from the honor of having his undivided attention, and the butterflies in your stomach only worsen when he asks if it would be possible to keep in contact with you. Of course, you give him your number, and your impromptu meeting turns into another, and from there, into more.

He's so earnest in his adoration for you that you never notice how off-putting it is that he seems to already know what you like. Surely it's just a coincidence that he takes you out to all your favorite places and gifts you things that you'd been spending months saving up to buy yourself. It's nothing more than fate that you seem to bump into him at the oddest of times, on your way back home from a night out on the town, or during the day while you're heading out to meet with one of your friends.

It's only when you agree to a relationship that you start to get concerned. Describing his behavior as "clingy" would be putting it lightly; he tries to have you by his side in any way he can, talking you into attending a party with him or asking you to sit in his office at his side while he gets through paperwork. When you go anywhere without him, he's ordering a member of the Bloodhound Family to accompany you. He seems so distressed at the mere thought of you not being by his side, nevermind the thought of you being out in public by yourself— it's not healthy for either of you. Before you can even think to voice your concerns to him, he's wrapping his arms around you and reminding you that he just worries about you. The Family has many enemies, and they would be willing to use you to get to him. He just wants to make sure you're safe.

When Robin goes missing, things take a turn for the worse. He moves you into Dewlight Pavilion, and you don't get a say in the matter. If he's home, you're by his side at all times. Anything you have to tend to at this point can be done from within the comfort of the estate, and in his presence. Even if he's not there, he might as well be; the nightingales and their pervasive gaze are out in the open now, watching as you aimlessly wander the pavilion, getting lost in the maze and growing a little more desperate each time you explore your new home. You move through the mansion with an urgency, like you're searching for something.

Like you're trying to leave.

When Sunday's suffocating protection inevitably gets to you and you try to confront him, he gives you one more chance to see things his way on your own. It's a miscalculation on his end; you snap again, only this time, you manage to find an exit. You make it back to Golden Hour, but by the time you get there, there's already a group of Bloodhounds waiting to catch you and drag you back.

When you're shoved into his office, he's standing with his back to you, hands clasped behind his back. You can hear the heartbreak, the betrayal in his voice as he tells you how hurt he is that you'd endanger yourself after everything he's done for you. Out of guilt or fear, you can't tell, but you apologize and swear to him that you won't do it again.

And you won't— he'll make sure of it. Under the light of the Harmony, all is revealed: his undying love for you, your reciprocation, and the strength of his will over yours. You see it now, don't you? Everything he does is for your wellbeing. Clipping your wings while you're on the ground is just a way to ensure you'll never fall out of the sky. You're safe here, in this gilded cage he's tailored your tastes, with a kind keeper to tend to your every need and shower you with all the affection your heart could ever desire. How could you fault him for that?

You can't. After all, you don’t even remember why you were upset with him in the first place.

Threat Level: 5/5 Pet Names: angel, dear/dearest, dove

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sinsirellaxx · 1 day

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Can you do a toxic! Slyhterin boys where they found out y/n is actually pregnant? Cause let’s be honest, they wouldn’t be happy and sweet about getting their girlfriend pregnant

Slytherin Boys – Reacting to you getting pregnant

Warning: Toxic boys, mentions and talks of abortion, toxic relationships etc., not proofread (cause I'm lazy)

A/N: Thank you for the request! I totally agree with the idea that they wouldn't be happy at all!

Hope you'll like it!

Mattheo …

… glares down at your trembling hand holding the offending pregnancy test, his nose pulled up in disgust.

… suddenly views you as this stupid person that is unable to use birth control. If you aren’t on birth control and only use condoms, he’d still think you were the cause for this mess. Did you poke holes into the condoms? Did you want to get pregnant and trap him?

… would be so turned off by the idea of having a child at that age, that he’d project all that frustration and negativity on you – he’d start detesting you. Gone is the obsession he had felt for you and replaced by pure annoyance.

… stared at you coldly as he told you he didn’t want to see you anymore – that he didn’t want to be involved with anything regarding the child – his child.

Theodore …

… stares at his phone dumbly – his mind completely blank as he assessed the situation. Well, fuck.

… immediately blocks you – a poor attempt to push you and his new problem out of his life.

… desperately hopes you don’t try to confront him – he’s an asshole but he doesn’t want to be cruel to your face, duh. But obviously, you did confront him.

… rolls his eyes when you start crying in front of him, obviously scared and overwhelmed by the situation and his apathy.

… rudely interrupts you and tells you to fuck off – that he cannot have a child yet. If you refuse to just leave, he’ll obliviate himself out of your life. Problem solved, right?

Lorenzo …

… would get angry. Not at himself – no, he’d be mad at you. How could you destroy such a beautiful relationship?

… is desperate – he loves you but the thought of having a child make his balls shrink.

… would force you to make a choice: Him or the child. If you want to keep the child, he’ll break up with you – which further angers him, because he still wants you but if you decide to terminate he’d be back to being his usual loving and obsessed self.

Draco …

… enters panic mode. He knows his parents and he knows the chaos that would ensue of they found out, so he begged you to terminate. If you refuse to, he’ll try to gaslight and manipulate you into doing it.

… will hold a grudge if you do not terminate and his parents find out, which would result in you two having to get married.

… would be kind of put off by the thought of you carrying and growing a child and distance himself from you.

… would definitely cheat to satiate his desires and needs because his feelings for you were clouded by hatred.

Blaise …

… laughs in your face when you tell him. He thinks it is a joke. When he takes in the state you are in it quickly dawns on him that you aren’t joking after all.

… groans loudly as a string of profanities leaves his lips – why did everything have to be so complicated?

… suddenly accuses you of cheating on him because no way in hell could he have gotten you pregnant. He’d try to talk his way out of it – spewing lies about his fertility and turning the situation in a way that makes him look like the victim.

… tells you to leave and accuses you of being a filthy cheater.

Tom …

… will demand, no, force you to terminate – because he would not allow any mistakes. He doesn’t want to be a father – especially not out of wedlock.

… doesn’t give you a choice – because you can’t be trusted. He’ll help you through the procedure and ensures that you actually go through with it.

… he’ll not break up with you though but will put you on birth control and watch you take the pills every. Single. Day.

… does not show any remorse or empathy, because he simply cannot understand why you’d be this devastated. If he has to, he’ll obliviate you and make you forget about the whole incident.

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waayfo · 3 days

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LIE : sunday x reader

yandere!sunday, manipulation, gaslight, kinda penacony spoilers, obsessive, power imbalance (reader is sunday’s servant), pet names. this is my first attempt for yandere :”

The sound of footsteps getting closer, as well as you feeling like your death is getting closer. Petrified? Beaming? You don't even know what you are feeling right now.

Trapped in a dark and gloomy room, you can't do anything except face the man in front of you— Sunday, The benevolent and self-disciplined head of the Oak Family.

“My dear, why are you running away from me?” The voice that used to command called you. Like a servant who always serves him, you happily accept his call.

“I’m afraid that i don’t understand what you mean, My Lord.” He wasn't satisfied with your answer, but still give you his signature smile.

One of his hand was on your shoulder as if that was where it was supposed to be. “Is this what I get after I put my trust in you?”

The trust of the head of the Oak family feels fake and like there is a hidden meaning. “Did your mouth stop working after helping the IPC escape?” Aventurine.. You wonder how he is now.

“He won't be able to help you.” One of his hand was still on your shoulder, while the other was holding a few strands of your hair. “No one can help you now.”

“It's not that I'm being selfish, Dear. I just don't want your fate to be the same as my beloved sister's.” The look on his face became sad, and for some reason it made you feel devastated. “You know how important she is to me, right? the only family I have.”

Lie, lie, lie, lie.. You tried to repeat the words like a mantra in your mind. It's all lies, no one locks up and restricts their younger sibling's movements because of affection.

“Perhaps, you think i’m lying?” His always correct guesses make you even more convinced that he can read your mind.

Staring in horror, you observed the movement of Sunday's hand now stroking your head. “No, i—“

“—can you imagine how scared I was when I found out the bullet hit her neck?” Stop it— “And now she has to cover it up.”

“Paparazzi and crazy fans who don't know their limits always terrorize my beloved sister. I did it all for a reason.”

Sunday's gloved hands felt cold as soon as he pulled you into his arms. His grip tightened. "I don't want to lose anyone who’s precious to me again.”

“I will forgive you if you continue to stay by my side,” he whispered. You can only be silent and accept his affection.

“After all, you’re my servant. You’re mine.”

#konstelasiv fanfic #yandere hsr #yandere sunday #yandere sunday x reader #yandere sunday x you #sunday x reader #sunday x you #sunday x y/n #yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr x you #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x reader #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #hsr yandere

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sadesluvr · 2 days

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Ōrālis

Dr Jonathan Crane was a man of great restraint, but he wouldn’t hold himself back from indulging in your self-gratification.

Jonathan Crane x Reader

A/N: I’ve been secretly obsessed with Crane for a while, and just had to make something based off this post! Vaguely dark content (it’s Crane) so please read the tags before proceeding. Minors + ageless blogs DNI!

Word count: 3.1K

Tags: SMUT / DUB-CON / Manipulation / Power play / Misogyny / Abuse of power / Dom + Sub elements / Masturbation (fem + afab anatomy) / Scientific terminology / Dialogue heavy / Crane being weird and unsettling (canon) / Reader is wearing a skirt for logistic purposes

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

You never knew why you even bothered to show up to your sessions early anymore.

Before your previous therapist, Dr Spencer, had retired, you’d used the time to gather your thoughts, perhaps flick through the contents of the random assortment of magazines on the waiting room table, but never to actively contemplate dropping the process entirely whilst staring at a clock, wishing you were anywhere else. Wringing your hands, you shifted uncomfortably on the bench as you tried to suppress the painfully familiar feeling of bile rising to your throat. It was all Dr Crane’s - the Dr Jonathan Crane famed for his work at Arkham – fault, being an uptight, anti-social excuse of a psychiatrist, who, technically, shouldn’t have been treating you regardless. His mutual discontent for the matter was all too obvious, his blunt and borderline disinterested demeanour making you feel that your every thought, choice and emotion was a mistake.

You’d had a painfully exhausting week, from closing deadlines at your job to your cousins’ wedding plans leaving you feeling like you were on the brink of a breakdown. To make things worse, your bus had broken down on the way in, forcing you to walk four blocks of grimy Gotham streets in the rain.

Once the door opened – right on the hour at 5PM as usual – you felt like you wanted to die.

“Might I remind you that this is your time,” his smooth, yet commanding voice said. “If you’d like to waste it, then be my guest.”

You huffed and shifted in your seat, making small circles with your foot as you held back a frown. If it wasn’t his personality that made things uncomfortable, then it certainly was the fact that he was handsome; rather painfully so for someone in his position. He had dark hair, plump pink lips and a chiselled jaw, all of which were spectacular together but couldn’t compare to his eyes; striking, intense and a sharp blue. His eyes, whilst his best feature, was certainly one of the pitfalls of being in an enclosed room with him. They were always watching; staring into your soul and taking you apart, piece by piece, limb by limb.

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose before pointing your hand at him in a vaguely accusatory manner.

“Look, Doctor, I’ve had a long week. Can you spare being snarky for at least a minute?”

“Interesting that you characterise my frankness as ‘snarky’, Miss L/N,” he said, unmoved by your tone. “It seems like you’re not used to people being direct with you.”

“I have been, remember? You’ve been treating me for two months now.” You replied sarcastically.

“Yes, and I haven’t seen much progress,” he said flippantly, pausing to flick through a notebook before looking back up at you. “I suppose I’m now inclined to ask how you are.”

“I’m amazing,” you said pointedly. “Luck is on my side. I walked here because the bus broke down. Not to mention the fact that I’m four days out from my deadline at work, and I’m probably going to be sick for all of them because of the weather. And my cousin’s wedding is in a month and we still haven’t gotten invitations out, so God knows —“

Crane made a small humming sound that stopped your rambling, a small smirk on his face as he did.

“Did I say something?” You frowned. This man was so self-assured that he found menial, everyday things like this amusing. He probably pitied you.

“It’s clear to me that you’re doing a lot for other people,” he said. “Work is completely understandable, but preparing a wedding is not. You’re not under any obligation to do this.”

You blinked, brows furrowing in confusion as you tried to make sense of what he’d said. His lips were folded into a straight line as he watched you unscramble your thoughts, his oh-so powerful gaze making you feel as if you were a blathering idiot.

“She’s part of my family,” you said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Family help each-other…”

He angled his head in a small nod. “From my understanding, yes; with aspects such as parenting and homemaking.”

“Marriage is a kind of homemaking. It’s very common for families across cultures to be involved in matrimony.” You shrugged.

“Then, what do you suggest you do?” Dr Crane said matter of factly. “Slave over fickle things like necklines and bouquets? What do you gain from torturing yourself in this process?”

“It’s not about me, it’s about my cousin. She deserves to be happy.” You said through gritted teeth, now inexplicably becoming heated. It was clear that he wasn’t one who had many friends – if any – and a relationship with relatives seemed out of the question.

“That statement is almost entirely untrue,” Crane said bluntly, brow raised as he cocked his head in a knowing manner. “We as humans are made to be self-serving. I’m not denying that one such as your relative does not deserve to be happy, more that you want something from making her that way.”

You scoffed. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

He didn’t answer, but merely swallowed, breaking his gaze with you to look around the room cooly before focusing back on you.

“I say this because it’s not uncommon for women to experience envy in these positions. Some have the fickle idea that their assistance in the process will bring themselves further along to matrimony,” he stated. “Thus, your apparent stress on the matter paired with your reaction to my previous statement about familial obligation gives me reason to think that you’re particularly jealous of this cousin.”

You scoffed.

“That is not true.”

Crane hummed and adjusted his posture.

“Is there a significant other in your life?”

“No…” you replied, your voice practically a mumble at the statement. You were almost a hundred percent sure that he’d known that, given he had Dr Spencer’s files in-front of him. Like most things with him, it was just another way to make you feel small.

Again, he didn’t follow up the statement but instead moved on.

“I could go on about how jealousy is a one of the many products of fear, but I’m rather interested about this love life of yours,” he said, placing the notebook on the table below him. “A relationship is one thing, but nowadays there are other options to companionship.”

You swallowed.

“I don’t do hookups, nor friends with benefits. They’re too complicated.”

“I see,” he said. “I wouldn’t write them off too quickly. They can be a fix to what you’re currently experiencing.”

You raised your brows and shook your head at the implication. Not only was Crane making you feel borderline histrionic for simply having a stressful week but suggesting that you were just succumbing to your base desires was even more insulting. Insulting because on some deep level, you knew it was true.

Perhaps you just needed a good, old-fashioned fuck for that sweet boost of dopamine and mental clarity. Truthfully, you couldn’t remember how long it’d been since you’d had sex, let alone been in a relationship, to the point that if undoing your virginity was possible you would’ve been Mother Mary herself.

“Do you partake in masturbation?”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to ask me that.”

“Once again, Miss L/N, that’s untrue,” he said, exhaling as he took off his glasses and folded them into his pocket. “I’m a doctor, and my duty is to help you. Certain ways of masturbation can affect the mind, and I presume that’s one of the sole reasons you came to a therapist. The act releases dopamine, which is certainly good for the brain, not to mention it encourages blood flow to your pelvis,” he said precisely. “Therefore, I ask again. Do you partake in masturbation?”

He cocked his brow this time; piercing blue eyes fixated on your own. You couldn’t tell if he was getting off on your discomfort, the vision of you touching yourself, or a weird mix of somewhere in-between. For a small man, he had a tremendous way of making you feel alone, as if you were the world, yet so seen. You fiddled with your hands, avoiding his gaze as you answered to the ground, wooden flooring suddenly becoming interesting.

“I do... I-It’s just been a while...”

“I’d appreciate it if you answered to me rather than at the floor,” Crane replied before swiftly moving on. “I think we should use the remaining time to work on that.”

Your heart dropped at the statement, and you finally broke your gaze with the floor to stare at him.

“H-How —“

“Start by making yourself comfortable,” he began. “And place your legs up onto the table as you spread them.”

You felt ill, yet there was a painful curiosity in your loins that made you want to follow his every command. It was clear that he wanted to present yourself to him, virtually in a platter, and as much as it made you sick that this was a man you despised, you needed this. “Doctor, I don’t think this is necessary —“

“We’ve got forty minutes,” he interjected. “I suggest you make this quick.”

It’ll make you better, you thought to yourself as you placed your feet onto the table, leaning back as you allowed yourself to relax into the couch. The hem of your skirt rode up as you did, giving him an eyeful of your thighs and up towards your pelvis. Once done, you stared at him expectedly, and he hummed (one that judging by his frown of his lips were of displeasure) getting up from his seat and adjusting you himself. Nothing was ever good enough, something always needed to be fixed. Typical Crane fashion

His hands were cold on your skin as he spread your legs apart, adjusting your footwork so that he’d be able to see more of you. You shuddered as his fingertips momentarily lingered on your inner thigh, and you suddenly became self conscious of your clamminess derived from the sudden condensation of entering the building.

“Interesting,” he spoke, cocking a brow as he wrote something down. “You’re clammy to the touch and your legs are trembling. Is there something you fear?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t answer.

“Perhaps this will clear your head,,” he said softly, undeniably amused. “I’m going to guide you through your fears…Remove your underwear.”

His voice was noticeably more breathy and ragged than previously, and you took a quick glance down at his crotch, which, if you weren’t to be mistaken, was slightly raised, his usually smoothly ironed clothes now somewhat crumpled. Hesitantly, you shifted your hips up to slide your panties down your legs, quickly unnerved at the fact that you didn’t know what to do with them.

“Put them on the side,” Crane instructed. “Inhale, and place your hand between your thighs. As you exhale, I want you to place your fingers at the top, on your hood.”

Your chin wobbled nervously as you did so, eyes locked on Jonathan’s own. He swallowed, and you could’ve sworn that you saw his lip tremble in the process. You didn’t know to be scared or proud that he was seemingly anxious about it all.

“Now begin to stimulate the area as you would if you were alone.”

You nodded, using two fingers to rub small circles on your hood. Sometimes, when you’d tried in the past, it’d been apparent that there simply wasn’t enough lubrication.

Today that wasn’t the case.

The action gave you a tingle, but it wasn’t enough to make you feel better. Jonathan seemed to sense this.

“Use pressure. It’ll make you feel better.”

It did. The force of your middle finger down on your sensitive clit hood sent a pulse down you legs, building to a steady rhythm as you resumed your motions. You let out a broken sigh and bit your lip, your restraint a great disappointment to the man across from you.

“Why must you insist on running from your own pleasure? I want to hear you, and I’d appreciate it if I didn’t have to ask twice.”

Craning your neck, you willed yourself to let out a moan, finding that it was far easier than you’d expected. It was just one of the many things you let build up in your head.

“Good.” Crane hummed, and you could’ve sworn that he had unzipped his pants, relieving some pressure from his swollen bulge. “Now, move down to spread your labia apart. Allow yourself to indulge in your deepest fantasies, and use more fingers. I want you to explore yourself for me.”

Letting out a whimper, your eyes fluttered shut as you found yourself lost in the smooth timbre of his voice; sensuous, pointed, with a deep rumble. It pained you that this man – this antagonist – was the individual within your fantasies, much more the fact that he knew it. How long had he been waiting to do this?

There was a slight pain upon entering yourself; your walls moulding to accost themselves to the unfamiliar intrusion as you pumped your hands in and out of you. Your slow but methodic movements brought you a great sense of pleasure as you spread your arousal across your fingers, stimulating your hot sex.

Jonathan let out a slow hum as he watched your chest rise and fall, succumbing to his basic urges as he mindlessly rubbed his hand over his cock. He wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of taking it out; let alone masturbate in-front of you. No, that would come much later.

“Take your fingers deeper,” he instructed, subtly biting the inside of his lip. “I know it worries you. Too often we fear the unknown, but if you want to feel better, you’ll do it for me.”

You did, burying your fingers into yourself to the point that your first phalanges disappeared within you as you motioned your fingers in a controlled movement. Finding yourself growing a quiet confidence from Crane’s amused smirk, you began to fasten your pace, pistoning your fingers like a machine.

The wet sounds of your sex filled the room, the shine of your fingers undeniable as you spread yourself apart, baring your pussy just for him. This is what he wanted.

This was what you wanted.

Right?

Right.

“Very good,” the man crooned. “It feels good, doesn’t it? If this was all it took for you to be obedient, I suppose I would’ve introduced masturbation to our sessions a while ago.”

The differences were stark; all your spite from the beginning of the session had dissipated, and you were like putty in his hands. He’d integrated your mind like a parasite, a snake, and had carried out his word – he was making you better.

“Y-Yeah..” you whispered, mind blank as you found it difficult to keep your legs up. Crane was stimulating himself through his trousers, small breaths from his chest ragged as he spoke.

“Good girl,” he sighed. “Is my voice turning you on? Would you like me to bring you to release?”

You nodded, an uncharacteristic squeal escaping your lips as you brushed past your clit. Jonathan sighed again, his lips pursed as he fought the urge to do it all for you, just for a feel of your wetness and tight walls. Alas, unlike other men, he knew how to exercise control.

“Taste yourself.” he commanded without an ounce of hesitation. You winced, hands trembling as you removed them from inside of you and bringing them to your lips. Cautiously, you took a small lick of your juice, squeezing your eyes shut as you tasted yourself on your tongue. You’d never done that before.

“Now touch yourself again, only faster. Keep your legs up, I want to see you. All of you. In this room, in this moment, you belong to me.”

You wanted him to fucking consume you. Frantically, you switched between stimulating all of your zones, from your lips to your clit, a pornographic squelching sound coming from your nether regions. Crane bit down on the inside of his cheek, his nostrils flared as he palmed his cock, feeling spurts of pre-cum coat his pelvis.

He let out a restraint grunt, and for some reason it made your loins tingle, sending a pulsing heat to your core. Given the way your head spun, and your vision became jagged, you could tell that you were close, which Crane took great joy in.

“Perfect…” he hummed. “Look at me when you cum. Can you feel yourself lose control? This is what you needed, wasn’t it, you silly whore? Give yourself to me. All of it…”

Had you been in a clear state of mind, you would’ve taken that as a threat, but in your bout of ecstasy it was hard to not be intoxicated by the idea. His voice was so soothing, so controlled and yet menacing that you felt like you’d sold your soul to the devil himself. Perhaps in a way, you had.

Your legs were overcome by the force of your orgasm, quivering as you found it difficult to stay still. Squeezing your legs shut, you came around your fingers with a cry, your fluids spurting around your fingers and trickling onto your thigh and seeping down your legs.

It felt impossible to come down from your own palpitations, and Crane’s stare was far from useful in relieving your anxieties. The man had barely moved, but he looked somewhat flummoxed, his hair slightly curly and tousled from sweat, whilst his pink lips looked raw, as if he’d been gnawing on them.

Had he cum? Had he enjoyed this at all? Oh God, you were wondering if your therapist had cum from your private masturbation.

The reality of what you’d done was coming back to you now, and you truly didn’t know what to think. You wanted to stay; to be petted and showered with praise for your show, and yet run and hide completely. You’d only known him for two months.

And. He. Was. Your. Therapist.

And so, you found yourself glancing back up at the time again.

“That was…quite something,” Crane said slowly, clearing his throat as he nonchalantly polished off his glasses before putting them on. “I assume you’re feeling better now. I think I’d like to integrate this into our future sessions, starting with next week,”

There was his usual detached tone. You thought orgasms brought mental clarity, but Jonathan was an enigma.

“- It might be useful for you to wear a skirt, something accessible...I happen to like the colour you’ve got on now.”

#florence writes!!#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #jonathan crane smut #tdk! scarecrow #dc x reader

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shuenkio · 2 days

Text

Revenge lesson - ⩇⩇:⩇⩇

Paring: Heeseung X male!reader

Cw: Smut, rough sex, curse, nsfw.

Synopsis: Co-workers rival, he's mad at you and decides to teach you a lesson.

You're responsible for what you read (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)

{Heeseung} The Co-Worker rivals, who like to compete with each other in order to win the employee of the month title, compete so strongly that the boss was forced to include both of them on the list together.

Late at night at the company, you work overtime as per usual, even completing the paperwork for the next day. Same goes for Heeseung, who also likes to work overtime to earn his keep with the CEO. Unexpectedly, after finishing his work, he walks to your desk, his daily routine after work being to pester and annoy you. The conversation was harsh, and full of insults, today he's gone too far.

"Now i know why you don't have a girlfriend yet because you're a fucking manipulate, two face person who like take advantage of the other, with all those things of you, nobody would want to fuck with you, Mr LEE!" You fire back, standing up from your seat and shooting him a furious gaze, death glaring at him and waiting for his response.

Heeseung's face turns red as his veins are pumping, visible on his forehead. He scoffed forcefully and slammed his bag down to the ground, dropping it in an aggressive manner.

"Nobody fuck with me? Really? Ya!-if nobody will then it'd be you, now I'm gonna teach you a lesson, getting on my nerves, deserve a consequence baby" He let his tongue slide through, poking inside his mouth,With a swift motion, he unlatched his belt and lifts it off his waist. The belt slides smoothly off his body without any effort on his part, falling down to his side where it hangs limply by his leg.

"W-what are you doing!" You nervously ask, You feel your eyes go white, and your entire body starts to shiver with fear. The hell he was about to do?!!

"To fuck you of course, just like you said nobody wanna fuck with me so I'm gonna make you take this place instead" He replies seductively and looks at you like a hungry beast. His scary aura makes you more frightened and excited at the same time. You're shivering and fearful. find yourself too stunned to move, your life was about to flash before your eyes here.

He casually unzipped his pants, His red underwear peeked through the opening, hinting at his member soon to be revealed.

With a playful smirk on his face, he slowly pulled down his boxers just enough to expose a portion of his veiny hard cock, a small droplet of precum glistened at its tip. causing you to gasps.

"Tonight will decide whether we continue as enemies or as lovers, M/N" 🫦

As Heeseung noticed your hesitation, he quickly seized control of the situation. Grabbing onto your tie, he pulled you towards him with surprising strength. Before you knew it, you were standing face-to-face with him.Without warning, he spun you around so that your back was now pressed against his chest. In swift motions, he stripped away your pants and pushed you forward until you found yourself bent over the table in front of you.

The older grabbed a condom from his bag, he slid it onto his 10 inches with practiced ease. Holding your hands in one of his, he steadied your head with the other. Without any warning, he thrust his hip inside you - filling and stretching you in a single, forceful motion. The strength of his, left you speechless, but there was also an undeniable thrill in this passionate. It felt like your insides were being stretched open wider than ever before. His long 10 inches seemed to push deeper with each thrust, filling and stretching you in ways that left you breathless.

The sight of his bulging member against your stomach served as a visual reminder of the depths he was reaching within you.

"You love it don't you, my little M/N? I know it's your first time baby, which is why your ass squeezing me so tight" He leaned down close to your ear, his rhythmic thrusts continuing unabated, he whispered huskily His hot breath sent shivers down your spine, adding another layer of excitement to the already intense experience. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room,in each powerful stroke.

As you struggled to contain your moans, the pleasure building within you, it seemed to ignite his passion even more. His pace quickened, each thrust driving him deeper inside you with an urgency that spoke of desires left unsatisfied for far too long.

"W-why it's feel so good, i w-want to stop him but i also don't want to---" you speak in your mind, lip bitting, lose yourself in the world of ecstasy.

"FUCK YESSS, ohhh nghhh that's it, you feel so DAMN good m/n" His breath came in ragged gasps, mirroring the tempo of his unstoppable assault.

Despite your best efforts to stay silent, soft groans escaped your lips, revealing how deeply this fervent encounter was affecting you. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed more loudly in the quiet, shadowy office. Thankfully, all windows were tightly sealed and cameras remained unmoving, shielding you from potential disturbances or repercussions.

Heeseung raised one of your leg onto his shoulder, still back facing him, altering his position for increased depth. His rapid thrusts persisted without pause, he has no plan to stop by anytime soon.

Your moans harmonized with his, both of you reveled in the ecstasy of the moment. Even though he was technically your rival, there was no denying that he was giving you the hottest fuck ever, and it's your first time, you're that strong to handle his aggressiveness.

His hips picked up speed, driving into you with greater force than before. The imprint of his veiny cock became more obvious against your stomach with each thrust.

His breathing turned ragged, coming out in short gasps. Meanwhile, you allowed yourself to be swept away by the sensations flooding your body, rolling your eyes to the back of your head and losing yourself in the moment.

"Hell ughh-ahh, I'm gonna fill~ your fucking inside with my fucking cum right!!"

As he felt the urge to release growing stronger, he started to fuck into you with increased speed. When the moment arrived, he filled you completely with his seed.

At the same time, you too were overcome by a wave of pleasure, until finally both of you came together in perfect synchronization, before he collapsed onto your back, still intimately connected to you.

His cock remained buried deep within you as you both struggled to catch their breath.

"*Catching his breath* This is your first lesson M/n, if you dare to insults me again, I'm sure there's many more to come"

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️ Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

🗣️ crd to all pics&dividers

🗣️ My first time writing a smut 🫣 if there's some awkward moment, sorry in advance ~

Ps: I'm planning to write more content like this since my last work is blowing, comment down below who you want next 🤭.

#enhypen #enha x male reader #enha imagines #enha x you #enhypen scenarios #enha scenarios #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung #heeseung x reader #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enha smut #heeseung smut #enha fluff

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gaysindistress · 3 days

Text

Allies or Enemies - one

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: Dragonborn!bucky x f!reader

Summary: The reality of her cruel world is more evident than ever before when her stepfather sends her to her death under the guise of diplomacy. Y/n, the expendable daughter of a scared king, must find a way to secure her own protection among the Dragonborn and she will do that by whatever means necessary.

Warnings: mild cursing

Word count: 3.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist

taglist: @unaxv

“The king requires your presence.”

“But were I to require that he does not bother me, my request would be ignored. We cannot always have the things that we desire,” I sigh whilst continuing to read the journal in front of me.

The handwriting is terrible, so much so that I can barely finish a page in 5 minutes but given that the king has been demanding my presence at every chance that he gets, I continue with my struggles. An older woman stands in the doorway and I can feel her glare at me with a hatred that I imagine is reserved only for me. After all, my mother is the one who married her lover.

“Now.”

The finality in her tone would’ve caused a younger me to look up in fear but I’ve grown used to the stern reality of our world. As the eldest daughter of the queen, I’ve been educated in every form of manipulation that can be conveyed through the voice. As the child of the late king and the unwanted stepchild to the current king, I’ve been taught that I am the only protection that I have. No one will come to my aid or offer me guidance when I need it. No one will tend to my wounds when the cruel servants of the king lash me with their words. No one will care for me in the way that my younger sisters are looked after. No one would even bat an eye if I were to vanish into thin air. They might celebrate if that were to happen.

The woman whom I despise just as much as she me repeats herself with a heavy huff as if I have greatly inconvenienced her by breathing the same air as her or simply existing. Whether it be my existence or continued residence at the palace that is more vexing to her is yet to be determined I’ve decided.

The journal before me bound in precious leather and gold thread suddenly becomes unimportant. While it details the various races of creatures that occupy these lands and would prove to be useful in my studies, it will do nothing to shield me from the king’s wrath. My fingers drift away from the frayed edges and allow it to close by itself, prompting small dust specks to flutter around it. The black silk ribbon that I wound around the end of my braid is dangling above the curious journal, trailing its delicate ends over the monstrous illustrations hidden in its opulent bindings. The ribbon, much like my heart, yearns to open it once more and lose myself in its pages but is bound by duty to ignore such a yearning.

“Your highness,” she demands in a tight voice, “We are to leave now.”

Rolling my eyes would most certainly earn me a slap across the face but it doesn’t stop me from squeezing them shut in frustration. Standing up from my desk, I swipe at the dust on my lap, smearing gray streaks across the thick black fabric of my over skirt. She makes a small noise of disgust at the action, no doubt complaining loudly in her mind that being presentable is not something I know how to do. We make eye contact for a brief moment and she is quick to turn on her heel, forcing me to nearly jog to catch up so that I may follow this hateful woman to my certain death.

The Beloved King Anthony Starkov had been a wonderful king at first. After the invasion of the Dragonborn and the apparent failure by my father to protect his nation, Anthony seemed like a god sent. He rode in on a pure white horse with the head of the most fearsome Dragonborn knight on his sword as he declared that he was now king. My mother, the poor grieving widower queen, had no choice but to accept his proposal and promise to care for us. He’s doted on her, showered her with affection and gifts, and most importantly he treated me as if I were his own. Following my father’s death and living in fear of Dragonborn attack’s, a protective shield was all I prayed for. My mother could barely protect herself from the onslaught of the court’s cruel words and it became apparent that soon they would turn on me. It was not for a lack of trying surely but due to the fact that she was not a man. As the angry old woman who calls herself my advisor likes to remind me, a woman is only as powerful as the man that marries her and that meant my mother had no power until Anthony.

The moment that Anthony took the crown and later my mother’s hand, we’d all thought that this would be the bright moment in our bleak lives that we’d been looking for. The nation of York was at peace when it had been a foreign concept to me and many others after the Dragonborn had launched their attack. The love that Anthony and my mother shared burned brighter than the terror that my father had allowed into our land.

Until the rumors of his cruel actions behind closed doors began to spread.

The help always gossiped against themselves and no one truly paid any mind.

That is until evidence accompanies these rumors.

My mother did well to hide what she could but once again there was only so much that she could do to protect me. When my sisters came along, I presume that Anthony no longer felt anger towards her but instead towards me, the last reminder of the Failed King. I’d always had pitying stares and endured hushed conversations where my name slipped between their fingers as they whispered to each other.

Poor child.

I heard that she’s going to be married off as soon as possible.

I heard that she’s just as weak as her father.

Poor child.

I ignored them until I couldn’t anymore. I ignored them until I had been sent to live with a distant cousin to be “taught the art of diplomacy” and was told to never return to the palace. With this distant cousin, I did learn the art of diplomacy as planned but as the craft of cutting words and cunning actions. I’d grown rather talented at navigating the complicated relations of neighboring nations, so much so that foreign diplomats asked for me by name. My ability to seamlessly blend together warring cultures and broken bonds earned me fame beyond that of my late father. Of course like any wicked stepparent, Anthony demanded I return to court so that my talents may be best utilized to serve the nation.

What a wretched lie to shorten my leash.

So began my rebellion.

The older woman who is also my ill informed advisor, Pepper, stomps down the dim hall towards the grand battle room. Her reddish blonde hair hardly moves behind her as she makes a determined path to the king despite the curls it’s been styled into. It’s rather shocking to see her hair down at all considering she is usually the one to lecture me on the propriety of society and how as a member of the royal family, I must uphold that. After she’s red in the face and moments away from exploding with fury, I like to remind her that I’m the forgotten eldest daughter. No one thinks of me as the face of this family or that of modern society either.

Despite its name, the battle room cannot be considered grand by any stretch of the imagination. Much like the rest of the palace, it is old and worn from economic fatigue. Where gold used to be brushed across every inch, there are now only flecks of lackluster yellow. Where towering windows used to bathe the halls in sunlight, there are now curtains drawn to prevent the Dragonborn from seeing movement within the palace. There is no finery to be seen and what was once a regal sight to behold is the stark reminder that we are at war with enemies who have every advantage.

With a deafening boom, ragged guards who’ve past their battle prime push the battle room doors and alert the king to our arrival. Pepper stomps right to where the king is sitting among pillars of maps and letters and whispers something in his ear. I don’t need to know whatever lies she’s telling him because his expression tells me enough. His ever present scowl deepens when he looks up and settles his disgusted gaze on me.

Dust swirls from my skirts as I shift on my feet and hit the wood paneled floors beneath me with a silent loudness as he stares at me.

A single question hangs in the air as he attempts to peer into my soul, “Were you aware that the Dragonic bastards were planning to create an alliance with the Elven counsel?”

Of course no warm welcome or small talk. Straight to the heart of the reason he even dragged me back here in the first place.

“Was I aware of this alliance?” I calmly restate, arching a brow at the man who sits high on his worthless throne and judges me. “Had I been, I would have informed you the instant I knew, your highness.”

In truth, I had heard snippets of clipped conversations about something brewing between the two nations but nothing raised concern within me. Rather nothing could’ve convinced me to speak to this man willingly.

The throne is a disgusting sight to behold with its mangled wood and tattered black cloth that flows in the still wind behind it. Black as night and deafening as the ever present silence that fills when you’re dying, this throne is what haunted me as a child and whispers promises of my demise now as an adult. The throne smiles when it senses my anger and the man who is occupying it becomes a conduit for its emotions as that familiar sinister glint flickers in his dark eyes.

Anthony throws a glance to the dust that has fallen around me with disappointment before speaking, “Do not play games with me, child.”

My eyes narrow at his choice of words.

“I assure you,” I start as I take a step forward as the heels of my boots make light taps on the wood, “I am not playing games with you. As I said before, if I had heard anything about this rumored alliance then you would have been made aware as well but alas I did not know.”

Anthony’s hollow chuckle causes my hair to stand on end but my face is schooled into perfect indifference. I allow my expression to portray only mild concern for the safety of our nation and that gets under his skin more than anything.

“If that is the position that you wish to maintain, then so be it.”

I roll my eyes at him and his flash with rage for a brief moment. The king settles back into his chair as he smirks at me, “you are my most sought after diplomat, are you not?”

Where is he going with this? I think to myself while I nod.

“Of course you are. You have your father’s legendary silver tongue. I should think that you would be the perfect person to forge an alliance on the nation’s behalf.``

My heart stills while my body becomes completely frigid. Suddenly the thick fabrics of my skirts and tight corset are useless against the chill that has begun to creep up my spine. The king holds back an all out grin and clenches his jaw. The action tightens and sharpens his already pronounced jaw, giving him the appearance akin to a statue. A crown of graying black waves adores his head but it does nothing to soften the severe look on his tanned face. “I have arranged for you to travel to the Dragonic capital and broker a peace treaty of sorts between us and them. We cannot allow this war to rage on any longer if they intend to ally themselves with the Elven counsel. This nation will not survive.”

“You expect me to do what?” I snarl with a curl of my lip which sends the entire room on high alert. Pepper gasps as she steps behind Anthony and the guards have arranged themselves in a defensive circle.

The king on his feet in seconds, brandishing a dull sword and pointing it at me albeit still a safe distance away. My gaze makes a slow path from the pathetic sword to his furious face. It is not the first time that he’s drawn a weapon on me and I doubt it will be the least.

“Your father is the reason this nation is all but decimated and it will be you who corrects that mistake. You will do as I demand of you and you will do it well if you wish for your mother to live.”

“You would not dare.” I hiss at him as I step closer. He steps back and says my name but I interrupt him with a roar of anger.

“You cannot expect me to willingly walk into a viper’s den, provoke the beast within, and survive, let alone make it obey me. You must know that this means almost certain death for me and I will fail. It is an impossible task, your highness. I will not do it.”

He hesitates, something that I haven’t seen him do ever, and I want to take pride in being the one to cause his hesitation but it’s short lived. His lip curls up into a nasty smirk as he sneers at me and circles his desk to stand mere inches from me.

“We might share blood but you are not my step daughter or family in any sense of the word. You are an abomination, a blight upon this earth. You are a dark stain in the fabric of our history and one that I will spend the remainder of my reign trying to scrub clean. You are a beastly girl who knows no discipline nor manners and nothing can forgive the torment that you've put this court through. Understand that is a blessing and that I should sentence you to death outright for simply being the offspring of the Failed King.”

Too caught up in the king’s self-serving monologue, I’d failed to hear the sound of thundering wings and the dreadful slap of scaled boots marching towards the battle room. I’d missed how the palace seemed to shrink around us in fear while its enemy stormed its halls with permission. I’d missed how only Anthony and I remained while the others had fled for their safety. I’d failed to notice that the air grew hazy and thick with smoke instead of tension as I had assumed.

Just as I catch the scent of burnt embers, I turn to glance over my shoulder and see the most important thing that I had failed to notice; a knight clad in iridescent black armor who is standing just behind me.

Towering above everyone and everything in the room, the knight seems to be almost double the size of any mortal man I know. As I spin to face it, the hulking frame shrouds me in complete darkness. My eyes make the nearly seven foot long ascent to where a face might be if it weren’t for the helmet that chills me to my core as I recognize it.

It’s the helmet of a Dragonborn knight.

They all wear the same sleek black helmet that resembles their beastly forms; six large horn-like spikes that stretch from the sides and top while the chin comes to a narrow point like a dragon’s nose. The helmet is otherwise plain with engravings or markings to decorate it aside from two sets of ruby glass eyes that stare down at me. It covers the knight’s entire face and head, leaving not even a sliver of skin or strand of hair to be seen. Save for the nature creases where the armor is cut to allow for movement, it lacks any decorations or embellishments much like the helmet. I’d once been told that it’s iridescent quality was due to the fact it was made from their dragon form’s scales instead of metal like mortal knights’ but I’ve never been close enough to one to ask. This is the first time I've been close to a Dragonborn at all, knight or not. My father had allowed a handful of their diplomats into the palace before his death but they’d used they’re mortal forms and only stayed for however long was absolutely necessary. I scarcely remember them aside from their silently menacing presence that would engulf rooms before they walked in and the scent of burnt embers that clung to their skin. Aside from those few past encounters, my knowledge comes from the journals I’ve snuck into the palace but nothing would’ve prepared me for this moment.

The knight simply stares down at me with those double ruby eyes before lifting its head to look at Anthony. With its gaze off of me, I look around it to see that there are only three more Dragonborn knights. Given how hostile our nations’ relationship has been, I would’ve expected to see a small army. Instead it seems that their leader did not think they would face much resistance or maybe these knights are more vicious than I’d been led to believe.

Anthony lets out a shuddered breath before he speaks, “You will leave with them in two days time.”

The knight glances back at me. The clawed gauntlets that cover its hands make a small noise when they come to rest on the hilt of a onyx greatsword. It stiles a cord of deep rooted terror within me that I can’t stop from setting ablaze to my nerves.

they’re not like us

It echoes throughout my mind while we stare at each other. The knight cocks its head and I can only assume it's studying me as I am it.

Anthony’s unsteady footsteps stop me from getting caught up entirely in the knight before me.

“She’ll never forgive you,” I whisper without looking away from the knight. I don’t need to look to know that my cowardly stepfather is retreating to safety and leaving me with these monstrous knights.

“She’ll be more thankful that her true daughters are alive.”

The other knights approach us, causing Anthony to let out a shaky chuckle in fear and stumble as he steps back.

One speaks, his gravelly voice rumbles the walls of this weak palace and shakes dust all around us, “The binding ceremony will take place tonight. Have you made the preparations as requested?”

I hear Anthony mumble something along the lines of ‘yes’ with a rambling of nervous explanations. The only words I can focus on are “binding ceremony”. They fall off my tongue in confusion and disbelief without me realizing.

“For your protection,” another more guttural voice answers. It’s quieter, one could not call it gentle but the low tone might be considered such to their kind. The knight before me waits for me to say something and when I don’t, he adds, “you will be safe with us. No harm shall befall you under our guard.”

A sarcastic chuckle wants to spill out but I keep my lips sealed. Safety is an illusion for any member of the royal family and it’s one that I saw through many years ago. I have no doubt that the knights will protect me as long as I prove useful but the moment an alliance is forged, that protection will end. Anthony will kill me the moment I step foot back into his nation and I have no allies of my own to rely on me.

The reality of this cruel world is more evident than ever before; I must find a way to secure my own protection and I will do that by whatever means necessary.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #dragon x reader #dragon au #dragon x human #dragon Bucky x reader #allies or enemies #allies or enemies Bucky x reader

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rainba · 2 days

Note

I'm literally in love with your OCS and I'm honestly a whore for lore sooo can you tell us a bit more bout their past? Or maybe just little snippets of their present day life! I'm so curious about them (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

-🗝 anon

Help… I get so nervous about posting lore for my OCs because my brain’s first reaction is, “who cares?” 😭 Except……. I care…… And I’m really glad you asked! ( ´ ꒳ ` )

I’ll try not to say too much.... Even if it's tempting to ramble.......

Luka has always been more closed off and unemotional– he's been like that since birth. When he was little, he was often bullied by his peers, being called weird and even a bit creepy. His expressions were always unreadable, his eyes devoid of life.

In an attempt to stop being picked on, Luka would constantly practice facial expressions in the mirror late at night. He often wondered if he was broken.

As he grew older, the bullying only grew worse– and it only ever stopped when he finally stood up for himself and fought back, nearly killing another kid. It happened when he was around twelve years old.

Honestly, sending another person to the hospital actually boosted his reputation more than anything. Instead of being just some slightly off-putting, emotionless guy, he became somewhat 'cool.' He was rewarded for his actions.

People suddenly started talking to him; they wanted to know more about him. Luka took it as his chance to finally "fit into society." He participated in sports, learned how to communicate with people, and worked towards mastering the art of manipulation. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

However... Luka has only ever had one person in his life that he’d truly call a “friend.” (¯▿¯)

As for Kairos… He was often nothing more than a shadow. Constantly ignored, always left behind, never spoken to. Kairos often made friends with little bugs that he’d find, and he’d keep his mind occupied by drawing hundreds of little pictures in his notebooks.

Every time he tried to talk to someone, they’d just call him a freak, giving him weird looks before walking away. After a while, he just stopped trying all together, fighting really hard to be content with living a lonely life.

Kairos felt like a shadow even in the comfort of his own home. His parents never acknowledged him- the most he could ever get from them is a glance or a few words. That's it. It'd be rare if he ever got to see them at all. They would often either be at work or going out to places without him. (｡•́︿•̀｡)

Kairos has spent most of his life wondering why he was ever born.

#ask #kairos posting #luka posting #:3 #i tried not to ramble but I rambled anyways....#my apologies........

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nervocat · 3 days

Text

“Big Brother Sunday, What are you Thinking?” (cws: slight manipulation (only mentioned once), pretty major hsr 2.2 spoilers - wc: 340, platonic/angst, gn reader)

Sunday. He was an interesting man, one who people couldn't quite read — not even you or Robin, his younger siblings. He cared, sure, and was a great older brother, you just wondered what he thought.

Robin was away quite a bit, causing you to be with Sunday when he himself wasn't busy. You wandered the Dewlight Pavilion a lot when he was, not knowing what else to do.

You were young, about mid to late teens, yet Sunday still had some things over you. He had no ill will, you knew this, but you couldn't help but feel you were being manipulated in some way — lied to. You would be right.

Sunday, he who followed the “Order”. It was a shock, really. Robin and you wholeheartedly believed in the Harmony and you thought Sunday did too, but he had chosen a different path and went the wrong way about making a dreamscape for people to lose themselves in.

You couldn't help but not love him still though. He was your older brother, after all, and he never harmed you in any way. He took care of you and Robin, but was just led a stray.

“Big brother, what do you think about?” you'd ask him. He'd just laugh as he pats your head, ruffling it a bit with his usual smile adorning his lips. It always seemed softer around you and Robin and less forced (though that may just be you).

“They're thoughts for a reason, my dear sibling,” you smiled at him and playfully swatted his hand away, laughing with him.

And now you know what those thoughts were, but you wish you didn't.

You look at your brother, a frown on your face. Robin had already spoken to him, and you had decided you also wanted to talk with him before he went to the IPC for trial.

“Big brother Sunday, why?” the hurt in your voice stung Sunday a bit.

He didn't want his little siblings to see his thoughts like they did, but now they were out and about, so why not divulge you a bit?

[ ★ notes: idk why I'm having sm motivation to write platonic stuff but I'm not complaining :33 writing platonic Sunday angst 🙏🙏 HOPING I GOT HIS CHARACTER RIGHT.. I LOVE IT SM I DON'T WANNA MISCHARACTERIZE HIM 😰😰 I got less and less proud of this (kinda) as I went but it's not my worst 👍👍 feedback for this one is welcomed :,)) ]

★ — © nervocat || I appreciate any reblogs made, and pls don't repost or translate my works anywhere, ty — ✦

#🗯️ ͏— ⌗stars' tales . ★#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#hsr angst #hsr x gn reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x gn reader #honkai star rail x reader #sunday x reader #platonic hsr x reader #platonic hsr #platonic honkai star rail #strictly platonic #platonic angst

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pynkgothicka · 1 day

Text

ＫｎｅｅＳｏｃｋｓＫＮＪ

Pairing - Tutor! Dark! Kim Namjoon x AFAB! Reader

Synopsis-Based off Parasite, your korean teacher leaves to go on a work study trip, and leaves you with his best friend to be a replacement teacher. Part 2 of the movies series.

Featuring - Brandon Perea (Angel From Nope)

Word Count - Around 3k

Tags and Warnings - age-gap, manipulation, murder, fingering, tutor/student relationship

Authors Note - As you can probably tell, the stories are majority very loosely based on the stories with me throwing my own twists into it all. Also Joon is a conglomerate of all the Parks (the poor family) into one character! Enjoy:3

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! These depictions don't pertain to reality. This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

“So you want me to basically be your substitute?”

Namjoon eyed his friend as he ate from the bowl of ramen in front of him. One of his old high school friends, Brandon, stopped by his apartment out of the blue. And of course, Namjoon was embarrassed, the place looked like a dump.

Which is exactly what it was.

A dump.

“Yeah, listen I know you're smart. And I know you need the pay.” Brandon said taking a bite out of his ramen. He used his chopstick to point at Namjoon. “Also I trust you man.”

Namjoon groaned out leaning back into his couch. “Trust me? With what? Don't tell me you got roped into something fucked up.”Namjoon complained. Brandon had that look in his eyes, Namjoon could tell when he was being shifty.

“So maybe I've kind of got something going with the girl, she's sweet, super sheltered, like the perfect girl,” Brandon says leaning back long with Namjoon. ��I plan on asking her out when I'm back okay? I just need you to be so you man. All scholarly and shit.”

Namjoon thought about it for a minute. “How's the pay?”

“Around 500 a session. Trust me her family has the money to blow. They want the best and they trust me to have good recommendations. Also, the mom is a bit of an airhead anyway.”

“Fine, you're lucky I need to make rent.”

📖

You sat in your room bored out of your mind. Your mother told you that Brandon had found someone to continue your studies while he was away. You knew your mom was probably annoying the poor man downstairs. She had a habit of talking too much.

Curiosity got the better of you as you found yourself heading downstairs to your lavish mansion kitchen. You sat on the stairs, peering through the railing.

Your new tutor was handsome, slightly built with a buzz cut. He reminded you of men you see in movies, rich CEOs who would fall for their secretaries. Or even a dangerous boxer who has a soft spot for the ballerina.

Lost in your trance, your mom spotted you. “Oh! Sweetheart come down, Mr. Kim here would like to meet you.” You curse under your breath as you stand up and walk the rest of the way downstairs. Almost tripping as your socks slipped on the hardwood floor. You catch yourself walking over to the side of the island.

Mr. Kim looked at you for a moment before smiling. “Please call me Namjoon, Mr. Kim makes me sound old.” He said extending a hand. You take it and give him a slightly firm handshake.

“She'll call you Mr.Kim, respect always remember sweetheart?” Your mom cooed passing you a bowl of pomegranate seeds. You nod towards her as she smiles. “Okay now go study, Mr. Kim is a very smart man by the sound of it. If you need anything call me upstairs.”

You were already walking upstairs with Namjoon following close behind. You led him into your bedroom and sat down at your desk. You pull out the notebook that you and Brandon used. “Sorry if my mom was annoying you, she's ditzy like that.” You mumbled going to the practice test you were doing before Brandon left last session.

Snap!

You jump at Namjoons snapping right in front of your face. “I want you to focus. From what you're mother is telling me she wants you to pass with Korean as a foreign Language for college next semester correct?” You nod at Namjoon. You focus back in on the practice test.

It was a particular problem you stared at, and it was something you couldn't figure out. You were about to circle A but you were stopped by Namjoon grabbing your wrist. “Are you certain that's the answer?” He asks leaning next to you. You shake your head, no, your breathing rising in speed as his hand holds your own in place. “Then why are you answering it?”

“Because it's the next question?” You say your voice peeking as you finish the statement. It comes out like a question and more so it comes out as you being rude to him. You shake your head looking up at him. “Sorry… I mean… it's true I just didn't want you to take it as me being rude to you.”

“Focus.” He reprimands. “Look at the question and think again.” Namjoon let's go of your wrist and you reconsider the answer. It's D. The answer is D. You circle it and look back at Namjoon expecting a response. You're welcomed with a warm smile. “Very good.”

His hand digs into the bowl of pomegranate seeds and he pops one into your mouth. You blush as you feel the tips of his fingers touch your lips and the action in general. Not even Brandon did something that bold. “T-Thank you Namjoon.”

He gives you a warm smile, showing his dimples, something you just caught. “Good, now continue answering the rest of the questions, you don't want to do bad you're first day with me do you?”

📖

Once Namjoon got his pay and started his trek home he realized something. Brandon was right, you pretty much were the perfect girl. Just from one lesson, he realized he enjoyed teaching you something he's become so familiar with.

While he was lost in thought Brandon called him and Namjoon picked it up. “Hey, how was your first class?” Namjoon didn't want to tell him that he was secretly fond of the girl that Brandon liked and that he felt something for her as well so he chose to be as bland as possible.

“It was good. We just kind of reviewed what you guys already went over before.” Namjoon said crossing the street and walking into his apartment complex. He checked the mail seeing that he had nothing.

No one usually contacted him unless it was some bill.

“That's good, is she ok? I know I kind of left on short notice.” Brandon said into the phone. Namjoon hated that he felt indifferent towards Brandon's concerns. It wasn't really like him to see his friends whining about nothing in particular. “God I must've hurt her so bad.”

“I mean if she's hurt she didn't say anything about it, I mean I guess she was nervous,” Namjoon said entering his apartment. “I mean it's nothing bad for her to not be upset. Maybe she'll ask about you later?” God, he hated giving Brandon hope.

But Brandon took it as is. “Thanks, man, I really appreciate you doing this for me. Call you later.” And before Namjoon could even wish him goodbye the phone hung up in his face.

He let out a sigh before pouring a bowl of cereal. He wished you were there for him. You wouldn't have him eating this, you'd probably want him to eat better. Namjoon caught himself thinking in that way and he caught himself. He knew this would end badly. There is no other way it could go.

📖

Namjoon had taught you for about a month now, and you couldn't stop thinking about him. Even now as he sits next to you while you study what he taught you today, you couldn't help but fantasize about him.

You sat with your head down reading over the pages in your notebook. You poked your lip out, hoping he would notice you. It was fruitless of an attempt but you at least had to try.

“Namjoon, have you ever been in love?”

He looks up at you cocking a brow. “What does this have to do with Korean?” You look away at his question, keeping your eyes glued to the notebook. Namjoon takes his thumb and tilts your eyes to look into his own. “Look up here, Answer the question.”

Your eyes look away. “It was a dumb question, I shouldn't have asked it.”

“But you did. Why?”

You let out a sigh before responding. “Well, I was just wondering if you had, you don't have to answer it, I know it's off-topic.” You blabber on, Namjoon letting your head drop.

“Well, yeah of course. I'm 29, and I of course have had a few relationships. But they always just don't get it you know?” Namjoon rests his head in his hand, elbow resting on your desk. “They didn't want to change for the sake of our relationship. I guess I just have a bad taste in women huh?” He ended with a chuckle.

“Yeah, I mean what do you like in women…? I can probably be a good judge of character for you.” You add playing it off as being nice towards him. Maybe if he told you what he liked, you could change to fit his standards. Namjoon seemed to be a perfect man, and maybe you being almost 20 could be perfect in his eyes if you did.

He turned to look at you. “Well, I like my women of course pretty. Smart, shy, well… I mean that's too much already.” He said throwing his hand up to brush it off coyly. You put a hand on his thigh, looking into his eyes as to encourage him.

“Tell me, I want to know.”

“Well, I don't think it matters really. Unless you think that you're right for me.” Namjoon said leaning down to get closer to you. “Are you baby? Are you the right person for me?”

You nodded getting closer, your lips ghosting over his own. Namjoon does the final push, connecting your lips together. His hand goes to your hair, tangling his hand into it. His tongue brushed over your teeth, pushing into your mouth. You were messy, clunky, and unsure of what you were doing. As he pulled away, his chest rose and fell. “Do you think you love me?” He finally asks. “Is that why you asked me if I had ever been in love?”

“Mhmm, you're just so… amazing and wise… I've looked at you since you showed up in the kitchen…”

“Good, I think that you're amazing, and I want to see where this goes, I think you're the right person… the one I've been looking for,” Namjoon said before connecting your lips again.

📖

From that day on, every time you had a class with Namjoon, it was really spent cuddling and enjoying your time with the older man. Laying in bed, you two would usually talk about life, normally letting Namjoon talk and praise you. Maybe it was due to the fact you usually went along with whatever he wanted to do.

Like now.

You dug your nails into his arm, his hand dug into your panties, fingering you. He quieted your moans with his lips, you sitting in front of him, toes curling as they hang off your bed. “Joon…” You whine into his mouth, trying to be as quiet as possible. “It f-feels so good…”

His fingers curled, blunt nails hitting at your walls. “Yeah? Doesn't it feel good to be loved?” He said placing kisses down your neck, sucking a hickey to join new and faded ones. He usually couldn't keep his hands off of you, no matter what, usually liking for his hands to dig into your thighs, thumbs brushing over the top of your knee-high socks. But now he wanted to give you pleasure, something he called a gift since you two were together.

You nodded as you feel your cunt gush around his thick fingers. “Please let me cum… I need it, sir.” You moan quietly into his mouth. Namjoon only liked to be called sir when messing around. He told you that it made him feel empowered and that you being there made him feel so much better than usual. You saw nothing wrong with that of course, isn't that the role of a lover?

“Do it for me, baby, all over my fingers.” And you do, as soon as he says that, you throw your head back on his shoulder. You collapse onto him, Namjoon adjusting it to where you laid on him in bed. He stuck his fingers into his mouth, sucking off your juices. You couldn't help but blush. “You taste amazing, like always.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Are you still going to be able to make it to my party? I know my parents invited you and stuff.” You ask, hand playing with your boyfriend's cheek. Of course, coming from a rich family meant you'd have large parties for your birthday. It's not like you wanted them but, they also told you they invited your tutor who just so happened to be your boyfriend.

Namjoon swatted at your fingers, chuckling a bit. “Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world. We just won't pretend to be a thing.” He says. You nod in agreement, knowing your parent's reaction would most likely ruin the party in general.

“Yeah… okay! We should have around 30 minutes left, and I really just want to nap.” You say closing your eyes and laying down your head. Namjoons hand stroked at your head soothing you to fall asleep.

📖

The day had come for your party, and Namjoon couldn't have been more excited. He put on a brand new suit, one he brought with the money he made from his newfound job. As he arrives at the home, he spots that people have already shown up and that it's an outside party at that. Namjoon walked towards the backyard patio, your father setting up a backdrop for pictures.

“Mr, Kim, just the man I wanted to see,” Your father behind raising up to hug the man. “I'm glad you made it, hey can you head inside to grab the champagne buckets? They should be in the cellar in the basement.”

Namjoon nodded. “Yes, of course, I'll be back.” Namjoon makes his way to the back door seeing a table of women who blew kisses at them. He smiled before going inside, taking his phone out to send you a quick text.

Namjoon: Just arrived! Ur dad is already putting me to work lol

Baby🤍: Oh goddd I'll get on him about it.

Baby🤍 Still getting ready though, so just work for him a bit until I finish. Luv uuuu!!!

Namjoon chuckled at your texts as he made his way into the kitchen.

“So when were you going to tell me you started fucking her?” Namjoon put his phone down to look up, seeing no one other than Brandon. He stood at the kitchen island leaning on it, a drink in hand.

“Oh, your back? I thought you'd be gone longer.” Namjoon commented before turning to head to the basement. He wasn't going to deal with Brandon and ruin his girlfriend's day.

That thought was before Brandon shoved Namjoon into a wall. Brandon held Namjoons shirt. “Don't play dumb with me, I went to see her. I was gonna gift her a letter and she said she already had a boyfriend. And I know the only dude she would see constantly was you. How could you? I asked you to do one thing and you couldn't even do that?!” Brandon said, getting in Namjoons face. He whinced, Brandon's forearm resting on Namjoons neck pushing down. There was no way he was going to die this way, not from Brandon's rage.

Namjoon pushed him off, then shoved him down the basement stairs. Namjoon stood there as he watched Brandon fall, head hitting the wood. He waited until the last thud, Namjoon slowly walking downstairs to see what he had just done. Once he reaches the bottom, Namjoon smiles, the sick sight of Brandon writhing on the ground groaning. A puddle of blood formed around him, the impact from hitting the concrete probably giving him a concussion.

The bottom of Namjoons shoes clicked as he made his way to the cellar. He took the metal branding tool used to mark the barrels. The sound of metal shrieked as he dragged it towards Brandon's beat-up corpse. “I'm sorry I have to do this, but you're in my way now. And we can't have that now can we?” Namjoon taunted raising the iron. Brandon's eyes opened slightly as he saw the iron come down on him.

Namjoon felt tears pour down his cheeks as he began to beat Brandon in.He coughed up blood, and Namjoon didn't stop beating Brandon until he was certain he was dead. Once he came to that conclusion he dropped the iron. "Why did you make me do that huh?!" Namjoon yelled at no one. "You ruin everything, god, im happy you're fucking gone."

Namjoon claimed himself wiping his eyes of tears. He got up and grabbed the champagne buckets. He looked back before heading out of the basement, locking the door. He lets out a sigh before leaving, not looking back. He had bigger plans now, and Brandon wasn't in them.

He couldn't be in them.

Namjoons eyes trailed over your form, stopping at your socks as you laughed with your family. Outside the patio, you see Namjoon carrying the ice buckets and wave him over. He smiles at you before signing and returning to his girlfriend who he plans to keep forever.

Let me know through a dm or ask to be included in my official Taglist- @darkuni63 @captainengineer-trixie @chimmisbae @iloverubberduckiez-blog @mageprincess7 @looneybleus @whipwhoops @mayvalentine33 @devilzliaison

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things-arent-what-they-seem66 · 2 days

Note

Drunk adorable lucifer comes home later after a work meeting. Adam had recently told him to stop sleeping on top of him.

Lucifer comes home late. He steps up to the bed and frowns deeply when he sees Adam sleeping on his front. Huh. Guess he was serious about Lucifer no longer sleeping on his chest after all. Time to use his greatest weapon!

Lucifer: Adammmmmm!!!!!

Adam, waking up: er what?

Lucifer: Do you love meeee???

Adam: I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t

Lucifer, hurt: you married somebody else??? Whoooo

Adam becoming done with his shit: look you either get into bed or I’m leaving to sleep on the sofa

Lucifer, gasp: you’re going to leave meee tooooo?

Adam: I will if you don’t go to bed

Lucifer, seriously: I can’t Sir, I’m happily married

Adam, completely done: I’m going to sleep on the sofa. Since you’re so drunk, I think it’ll be best if you sleep in the bed

Lucifer, crying: you can’t leave meeeee!!! Adammmm!

Adam: get in bed then

Lucifer: I can only get into bed with my husband

Adam: that’s it! I’m sleeping in the sofa

He stomps out ignoring Lucifer and settles on the sofa with a pillow and blanket. He closes his eyes only to feel somebody staring at him

Adam: go to bed lucifer

Lucifer: Adammmm come to bed now

Adam: I am in bed. You need to go to bed

Lucifer: the sofas toooo small for both of usssss!!

Adam, annoyed and tired: please just leave me alone

Lucifer: nooooooo!!! I can’t sleep withoutttt youuu !! Adammmm!!!

Adam, lifted the blanket with a frustrated expression. Wordlessly Lucifer climbs on top of him and snuggles into his chest.

Adam: fucking manipulate asshole

Lucifer: you knew what you were getting into when you married me

Adam: I knew you weren’t that drunk. You were trying to use your cuteness to your advantage

Lucifer: don’t ever take what’s mine away again otherwise I’ll do this every night. You’ll never get a peaceful nights sleep again.

Adam: fucking asshole

Lucifer smirks. He always wins

Lucifer knows how to get his way especially with Adam lol

That being said, Adam can play him right back to get his own way, most of the time that is lol

#adamsapple #lucifer x adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #ask

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magicshopaholic · 2 days

Text

Drowning (Namjoon x OC)

Summary: You give Namjoon a piece of your mind and you both discover your feelings have gone nowhere.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Genre: Angst, hint of fluff

Word count: 9.6 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, insinuations of sex

A/N: As requested, including appearances by Taehyung and Dilara. Takes place two weeks after A Day in the Life.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "cold/mess" by prateek kuhad

namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

All it takes is a fifteen second phone call from the concierge to the penthouse suites for Kaya to be escorted upstairs.

She tries not to let her impatience show; the concierge is walking at a normal pace, all straight-backed and poised, and Kaya simply wants to tell him to hurry up.

“I can take it from here,” she says abruptly when they reach the door of the suite. “Thank you.” The concierge looks vaguely surprised at being ushered away, but nods and leaves.

Swallowing, she stares at the door. Now that she’s actually here, she doesn’t know what to do next, besides the obvious. She doesn’t know what to expect or even whom to expect - all she has is Seokjin’s text telling her to hurry over because -

Buzz.

Kaya rings the bell and waits for less than five seconds before the door swings open.

“You came!” Seokjin sounds more surprised than relieved, stepping aside to let her in.

“Where is he?” Kaya asks, striding into the suite to see only Yoongi sitting on the sofa with a laptop on his knees. She looks around the living room, possibly bigger than her entire apartment, and towards the bedrooms - but there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here. She turns to Seokjin. “Well?”

“You actually called her?” Yoongi asks, sounding just the slightest bit wary.

Kaya frowns. “Wait, you didn’t know?” she asks, but Seokjin interrupts her to answer Yoongi.

“Yeah, I - I had to. I didn’t tell him, though.” He turns to Kaya. “He’s in the other suite. His suite.”

“Well -” Something is off. “Then… let’s go. Why are we - wait, what did you mean you didn’t tell him? Is he… awake?”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “He’s on a conference call with management so I hope he is,” he answers dryly.

“Okay, hold on.” Kaya bites her lip, a small part of her brain telling her she’s been tricked somehow. She fixes Seokjin with a look and is somewhat glad to see him look nervous. “You told me he collapsed. You said I should hurry and when I asked to talk to him, you said he wasn’t in a position to talk.”

Seokjin nods slowly. “Um, okay, so… he did collapse during the group interview we were doing because we’ve been travelling and he hasn’t been getting a lot of sleep - and is London going through some kind of heat wave? Because I don’t remember it being this bad -”

“No. Focus.” Kaya is sure now she’s been lied to, or at the very least manipulated. “You said he couldn’t talk. I thought he was unconscious or - or on a drip -”

“No, he couldn’t talk because he was on the phone with his mum - but, wait, Kaya -” Seokjin says hurriedly. “I didn’t lie. I just - I couldn’t think of any other way to get you here unless I… shit, what’s the word?”

“Exaggerated? Embellished? Aggrandized?”

“Lied,” supplies Yoongi, barely looking up from his laptop.

“Shut up, Yoongi,” mutters Seokjin through his teeth. “Look, Kaya… I’m sorry. But he honestly hasn’t been doing great, okay? He hasn’t been eating all that well and the travel back and forth is crazy and he’s constantly up at all hours writing, so it’s not even a surprise that he finally cracked under the pressure -”

“But he’s fine!” she exclaims. “If he’s taking work calls and bossing people around then all he probably needed was some Gatorade and a cookie! God, I can’t believe you lied to me,” she mutters, shaking her head and pulling out her phone. “You just cost me eighteen pounds to get here, Seokjin.”

“Look, he’s not a good place right now -”

“That’s not my problem anymore! He doesn’t need a babysitter and he definitely doesn’t need me hovering over him because he got light-headed for a second. This was really low of you, you know,” she snaps, turning around and heading towards the door but he stops her at the last second, sliding in front of her and blocking the door.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I did not want to lie to you and I understand why you’re angry, but…” He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “You actually came here,” he blurts out. “You thought he was sick and you dropped everything and you came to him, even though you two aren’t on good terms right now. Kaya -“ He makes a motion as though about to grab her shoulders, but stops himself at the last moment.

“Seokjin -“

“Timing is everything,” he interrupts her, and his eyes look completely serious, almost manic. “You don’t know when you’re going to run out of it or - or when all of a sudden, you’re strangers.”

“What?” Kaya frowns incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s a mess,” he repeats, and his voice cracks a bit. “And I know you are, too, so while it’s not really any of my business, just please… please talk to him.”

Kaya has the distinct impression that this topic has run away from him entirely, but his audacity makes her hands shake. She turns briefly to look at Yoongi, who’s staring at Seokjin with his eyebrows raised, clearly as much in the dark as her.

She turns back around. “Seokjin,” she says in a low voice, “with all due respect, you don’t know the half of what happened between Namjoon and I. Okay? He ended our relationship. He did that. And we have nothing between us anymore. Now - please move so I can leave.”

Seokjin swallows and he looks hurt - but Kaya neither knows nor cares what that’s about. He lowers his head and shuffles to the side; Kaya opens the door and storms out, feeling sad and cheated and relieved all at once - only to be faced with Namjoon exiting the room on the opposite side of the corridor.

Kaya’s heart stops for a moment. Namjoon looks more surprised than ever, almost as if he’s seen a ghost.

“What - what are you doing here?” he asks, sounding a bit breathless.

She doesn’t know where to start. It’s just occurred to her how long it’s been since she last saw him, but she doesn’t want to stare. Her eyes fall slightly to his hands by his side, one of them holding a brand new phone.

“Ask Seokjin,” she says shortly, turning to leave.

“What? Wait -“

Kaya shakes her head to herself as she continues walking away, even as she hears his footsteps on the carpet behind her. She’s so annoyed at Seokjin - it’s hard to be outright angry at him, especially when he looks so pitiful - but whatever he’s working through is not her problem.

Without realising it, her feet slow down. Sighing, she turns around.

“Are you really not eating? Seriously?” she asks, not meaning to sound so exasperated. But now that she actually looks at him, plain white t-shirt and faded blue jeans, his hair a silvery-purple and brushing the collar of his t-shirt, she can see it. He’s getting thinner and his face is pale and while his frame is still broad, there’s no muscle left near his shoulders and chest.

Namjoon’s eyes shutter over slightly. “I’m eating just fine,” he mutters, looking away. Even the veins in his neck look more prominent. “Is that why you came here?”

“I heard you fainted. Or something.”

“I didn’t faint,” he clarifies, rolling his eyes. “I got a little dizzy and fell, kind of. I’m fine. Wait, is that why you’re here?” He frowns, but there’s a flash of hope in his eyes.

Kaya feels her cheeks grow warm. He’s looking at her like he’s just registered she’s here in the flesh and he looks relieved. Or disbelieving - either way, she feels the need to look away.

“Seokjin made it sound a lot worse. And I was already in London, so…”

“Work?”

“Kind of. Class off-site.”

Namjoon nods and takes a step forward. “It’s really good to see you,” he says, voice softer than before.

An old, familiar flutter passes through her stomach. Hooking her thumbs into the back pockets of her jeans, she hunches her shoulders slightly. “The purple suits you,” she replies, feeling the corner of her mouth lift up slightly. Namjoon smiles, too: a small half-smile but enough to make his dimple pop.

They hold each other’s gaze for a few moments before Kaya feels her smile fade. Heart hurting, she turns around and resumes walking away.

“You’re still mad at me,” he says from behind her. “Even now?”

She doesn’t stop, but slows down. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters.” His answer is instant. His voice is closer now and even after all this time, Kaya’s entire body tingles when she thinks about their proximity.

“Why? It’s not going to change anything, right?” she asks, shrugging and finally turning.

Namjoon bites his lip. “I -” He stares at her, as though really studying her, before dropping his gaze to the floor. “It’s been six months,” he murmurs. “It might be too late to change anything, anyway.”

“What does that mean? Wait, no - you know what?” she adds quickly, her heart jerking. “I need you to stop doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Reeling me back in. Constantly. Saying these things and - and coming over and -” She sniffs without meaning to. “Your friends luring me to your hotel to - what? Talk? You’re just making it worse. This is what you wanted.”

He scoffs. “No, I didn’t. Believe me, this -” He gestures to the space between them “- is definitely not what I wanted. I made one decision which was -”

“And it was a dumb decision!” she exclaims. “And I wasn’t even a part of it. But you made that call - so live with it. You don’t get to keep acting like you care about whether I’m angry -”

“Act? What the hell, Kaya? I’m miserable,” he argues, “and I hate myself for how this turned out but I had to do something. This wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me and I can’t go back in time but I can try not to make it worse! Being miserable is worth that.”

Kaya scoffs and folds her arms across her chest. “So that’s what this is about. You’re punishing yourself,” she states. “And it doesn’t matter that you hurt me in the process, too.”

Namjoon shakes his head, looking drained. “This isn’t about me.”

“No, it is.” Something about how defeated he looks is only making her angrier. “It’s about your self-inflicted sense of responsibility where everything is your problem, anything that goes wrong is your fault, and the only person that can fix it is you.”

“Fucking hell - do you think I like being wired this way?” he demands and his mouth trembles a bit. “Do you think I like not being able to sleep because I have people depending on me, or - or constantly worrying if I’m doing the right thing for everyone? The onus is on me and so is the blame. I hate it but I don’t… I don’t know how else to function,” he finishes, his voice cracking. “And I’m sorry you’re mad and I’ll let you hate me for however long you -”

“I don’t hate you. Jesus Christ,” she mutters, but she can feel her throat beginning to hurt. “And I never blamed you. Not once. What would I blame you for? I didn’t even get hurt last time - I was just freaked out. And then you bailed on me - some might call that cowardice.”

He flinches, like she’s slapped him. “Call it what you want, Kaya. And, yeah, maybe that wasn’t bad enough for you to blame me,” he admits. “But what about when it gets bad enough that you do blame me? Because you’ll be right. And I’ll have nothing - I’ll have no way to fight for us because you will be right to blame me and I will lose you, knowing that I did nothing to try and stop it. At least this way, I know I tried to do the right thing by letting you go.”

Kaya stares as he turns away, looking up at the ceiling and sniffing. It’s been three years but it’s still shocking to see him break down in front of her, her tall, strong boyfriend with the world on his shoulders. It takes her another moment to remember he’s not her boyfriend anymore.

“Okay,” she murmurs, hearing her own voice shake. “I’m going to say this for the last time, because… I’m so tired, Namjoon.” Walking towards him until she’s right in front of him, she hesitates before reaching for his face. Up close, the bags under his eyes are more prominent but she forces herself to meet his eyes, which look both confused and longing at the same time.

“I love you,” she says, waiting for the words to sink in. “I love you… and I want to be with you. And I want to marry you and I want to have your children and I want to grow old with you and die together, eighty years from now. But I’m so tired, Joon,” she repeats in a small voice, searching his eyes for something familiar. “If you ask me to leave right now, then… I’ll go. I’ll go and we’ll lead our separate lives and everything we were can just stay a nice memory. But -” She swallows, feeling her voice break again. “But if you ask me to stay… I promise, I will never leave you. It’s okay to be the one taken care of, Joonie,” she whispers.

Namjoon closes his eyes and touches his forehead to hers before opening them again. His hands are big and warm on her shoulders, long fingers curling around her arms like he’s still convincing himself, even now that she’s really here.

“I love you,” he whispers, but his eyes fall to the floor. “And I will always love you, but… Kaya, can we -”

Kaya shakes her head, not wanting to hear anymore. Ignoring the tear that escapes her eye and clenching her jaw to stop herself from sobbing, she lowers her hands, her heart breaking because now they’re really done.

“Goodbye, Namjoon,” she murmurs, reaching up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

It’s closure, or maybe it isn’t. Either way, it feels like the end.

—

It’s too warm for London; Kaya doesn’t remember ever feeling this hot in her two years living in this city while she was getting her Masters, but maybe global warming really is catching up with them. The air conditioner in Dilara’s apartment is extremely effective, though, so despite the fact that she’s been in shorts and a thin off-shoulder all day, she cradles a cup of steaming green tea in her hands, barely feeling the heat.

A knock sounds on her door and jerks her out of her numbness.

“Hey,” says Dilara softly, poking her head in. When Kaya nods in acknowledgement, she steps inside. “You alright?”

Kaya considers this. “No,” she answers honestly. “But I wasn’t really expecting anything different.”

While Dilara doesn’t know the details of what transpired earlier this evening, it seems as though she’s guessed the general gist of it. “Well… we’re going to get drinks in a bit. Do you want to join? Get your mind off it?”

We, meaning Taehyung and her friends Lexie and Chris. “I’m good, thanks,” mutters Kaya, privately thinking it’s the last thing she wants to do right now. “I think I need to just be alone and… process. Or forget.” She takes a sip of the tea but it’s tasteless. “I want to get it over with before I leave tomorrow. By the way,” she adds, setting the tea on the bedside table, “thank you for letting me stay while I’m here.”

“Of course,” says Dilara, like it’s obvious. “Whenever you’re in London, just give me a ring. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us, though?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay.” She nods, looking slightly doubtful but thankfully not pushing. “Well, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. Liquor is in the cabinet by the dining table. Food… not much of it. Booze - a lot of it.”

Kaya nods, giving her a small smile as she moves to leave.

“Oh, um.” Dilara stops. “By the way, I just want to let you know that while I really like Namjoon… if it comes down to choosing sides, I’m on yours.” She shrugs sort of sheepishly as she says it.

“Oh.” Kaya pauses, not expecting this. “That’s… not necessary.”

“Maybe,” she admits.”It’s just… I know that Tae and I are disgustingly into each other right now, but not too long ago, we were broken up, too. And as much as I love the guys…” She sighs and purses her lips. “They’re one team and they will stick up for each other, no matter what. And it can be a little intimidating,” she adds. “So, just to clarify, I’m on your team.”

Kaya doesn’t quite know how to respond to this. “That’s really nice,” she says at last. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

She sighs and runs her hands over her face. “In any case, I don’t think it’ll ever go there. We’re pretty over. And believe me, the last thing I want to do is be the cause of any conflict between you and Taehyung.”

Dilara shakes her head. “Are you kidding? We fight over everything. It’s kind of become a thing now. Besides,” she continues, “being on opposite sides, opposing teams… can you imagine how much hotter the sex would be?”

“Okay,” mutters Kaya quickly, chuckling despite herself. “Glad to help.” But she’s grateful for the momentary lightness.

Dilara grins. “You have a really pretty smile.”

Disney princess eyes. “Thanks, Komyshan.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies in a sing-songy voice, stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind her. Not a moment passes before it opens again. “Oh, also?”

Kaya tries not to sigh; she’s very fond of Dilara, but she really needs to be alone right now. “Yeah?”

“Um…” Dilara cranes her neck to look at something outside the room before stepping inside and closing the door again. “Don’t be angry, but… Chris let me in on a little secret.”

Kaya freezes. “He did?”

“Yeah…” she says slowly. “Don’t be angry with him. I’m one of his closest friends and… this is the kind of thing he’d need to tell someone.”

“Jesus.” Her heart is still racing from this unexpected turn in conversation, but she’s too tired to care much about it now. “You know what, it’s fine. Just… don’t tell Namjoon.”

Dilara shrugs. “Of course. It’s none of my business.” She pauses. “I just hope you’re being careful. And like I said, I’m on your side, so if you need anything -”

“I know.”

She nods and opens her mouth to respond when the doorbell rings. “Hang on,” she mutters, disappearing out of the room.

Kaya closes her eyes and drops her face into her hands, sad and exhausted and empty. She appreciates Dilara’s concern but right now, she just needs to be alone. She hears the door open and Dilara’s voice say something, before she calls out her name.

“Kaya?” Dilara appears in the doorway again and the delicate look on her face is telling enough. “It’s for you.”

It’s almost an out of body experience, hearing her own footsteps on the hardwood floors and stepping out of the guest bedroom to see Namjoon at the end of the hallway. Part of her gets it now, why when she’d arrived at the hotel, he’d looked like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. It seems surreal that he’s here now, and her chest feels like it’s being crushed with sadness and fury.

She barely registers Dilara muttering something and leaving them alone, disappearing into her bedroom, no doubt to give Taehyung an update. For a few moments, there is silence. Kaya doesn’t want to look at him anymore; the rejection is fresh and cuts like a knife, and no part of how broken he looks means anything to her anymore.

When a few more seconds pass and nothing happens, Kaya folds her arms across her chest and scoffs, looking away. “Are you here to break up with me some more? Because believe me, I get the message, alright?”

Namjoon seemingly ignores this. “What did you mean when you said you didn’t get hurt last time?” He takes a step forward. “The break-in - that was the only time, right?”

Kaya frowns, momentarily unsure of what he’s talking about. But his gaze is unwavering and even when she remembers her own words, she doesn’t answer. “You are unbelievable,” she mutters.

“Kaya, I’m serious.”

“I don’t care,” she snaps. “I don’t owe you any answers, about anything. Not after you expressly asked me to leave.”

“I didn’t, actually,” he points out. “I couldn’t. And I know you don’t owe me anything, but -” He breaks off and looks around, presumably for the words, but eventually just hangs his head. “Please. Did something else happen?”

“How is it - why do you - what are you even going to do with this information?” she asks incredulously. “How does it matter? And why did you come all the way here -”

“Why did you come all the way to my hotel when you thought something happened to me?” he interrupts.

Kaya falls silent. Her heart hammers; she thinks of his words an hour ago, of the last time he’d come to Amsterdam, of Chris Park and feels moments away from crumbling.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she whispers. “I don’t know what you want anymore.”

“I want you to be safe,” he answers immediately. “And I don’t know if this is the way to go about it but I had to do something. How inadequate of a boyfriend would I be if I did nothing?”

Kaya shakes her head. There are too many things she can say in response to that but it’s hurting too much to argue. “You bought a new phone?” she asks instead.

“What? Yeah.”

“What happened to your old one?”

“It broke.”

She raises her eyebrows, albeit not very surprised. “How?”

Namjoon hesitates. “I threw it at a wall.”

It’s enough to give pause. She wants to ask if it was on purpose; something in his expression tells her it was and if it was out of anger, she can’t think what would have set him off that badly.

She decides she doesn’t want to know. Fishing her own three year old iPhone out of her back pocket, she taps on the screen. “If I toss my phone to you, will you catch it? Because a new phone is not something I can afford right now.”

Amidst everything, a shadow of doubt passes across his face. “I mean, I can - I can try.” He bends his knees slightly and holds his hands in front of him, like a wicketkeeper, looking tense. For a brief moment, Kaya almost smiles.

“Okay.” She glances at her phone screen and bites her lip. If she shows him this, there’s no going back. Then she shakes her head. “Here goes,” she mutters, carefully tossing her phone in a clean arc and aiming as closely as she can for his hands.

Namjoon winces and still fumbles it, but thankfully manages to avoid it hitting the ground. Sighing in relief, he straightens up and turns the screen towards him, and she can see him type her security code with his thumb. Kaya watches him carefully, her heart sinking when she sees his expression drop and all the colour leave his face.

“What - what the hell is this?” he asks, his voice hoarse, and looking nauseous.

“Read it,” she says quietly. The characters on the piece of paper are foreign to her but aren’t to him, and the moment she’d seen it, even through the shock, the first thing she’d done was snap a picture of it. “Out loud.”

“No, I’m not going to read it out loud.” He shakes his head, looking paler than ever. “Kaya, what is -” His voice cracks.

“It was taped to my front door a couple of weeks ago,” she says listlessly. “I tried translating it on Google but nothing made sense, so I asked Dilara’s friend Chris to help me out.” She recalls Chris’s confusion at her pointed question, followed by horror and embarrassment. She’d had to urge him to be honest with her and he’d finally, after a long time and profuse apologies, typed back in English: you’re dead namjoon’s whore.

Namjoon is staring at her phone screen, motionless except for his hands shaking. “I just don’t understand,” he whispers, closing his eyes and lowering the phone, “why you still want to be with me. After all this, after being stalked and now this? After getting actual threats?”

She rolls her eyes even as her stomach twists with the memory of that day. “Who says I still want to be with you?”

He ignores this, exhaling shakily. “Are you okay? Did you - wait, how did this even happen? I put out a statement that I was single.”

“Maybe they didn’t know. Maybe they didn’t care - I don’t give a shit. But it happened.”

Namjoon swallows. “Fuck. What - what do we do? Tell me what I can -“

“You don’t have to do anything. The person who did it got caught on the building’s security camera. I called the cops and they charged her with harassment and I got a restraining order, too. But I guess my apartment is truly a loose cannon now, so…” She sighs. “I’m moving. I found a new place that’s closer to campus. It’s a little more expensive so I probably won’t be able to afford food for a while,” she adds with a roll of her eyes. “But, yeah. I’ve been staying on campus since then. I officially move in this weekend.”

Her explanation is followed by almost a minute of silence. “You’re staying on campus?” he asks softly.

Kaya notes the change in his voice and knows exactly what he’s referring to. “I don’t have a choice. But… it’s not so bad. I don’t stay out too late unless I’m with someone.” She bites her lip. “It’s only for a couple of more days.”

“Fuck. That’s incredible.”

“Yeah. Hard as it is for you to believe, I can actually take care of myself.”

“I’ve never doubted you or your ability to take care of yourself, Kaya. I only -“

“No, you just doubted me enough to make a decision to end our relationship all on your own.” Kaya scoffs quietly, even as her chest feels lighter. She’d asked Dilara not to tell him but now that he knows… it feels right somehow.

“It took every bit of strength I had in me to leave you, Kaya,” he confessed. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“What are you talking about?” she bursts, her frustration exploding. “You were on tour! You were working but you dropped it in a second for me when I called you! You missed a fan meeting, you took an eight hour flight from a different continent - you did everything! Every single thing I could’ve asked of you! Until you left,” she finishes abruptly, feeling her eyes start to well up again.

Namjoon’s eyes flicker. “But… I didn’t - that’s not what I -“

“I was terrified after the break-in, Namjoon,” she reminds him, “and the only thing that was keeping me going was that you were still there. But after this, I -“ She shakes her head, the debilitating fear reappearing in flashes. “I was terrified all over again but this time I couldn’t call you.”

He steps forward. “Kaya, you can always call me -“

“No, I can’t,” she interrupts him, snapping incredulously. “You’re my ex - I can’t run to you if I’m in trouble anymore. That’s what it means to break up. God, Joon, I didn’t need you to fix it for me - I just needed you to be there. You think you were an inadequate boyfriend because of the break-in?” She scoffs. “You were the perfect boyfriend for the first eighteen hours after that. This was when you let me down, because you weren’t there for me when I needed you!”

Namjoon shakes his head slowly, his lower lip trembling. Through everything, his devastation at her words is clear as day. Placing her phone on the side table in the hallway, he takes a hesitant step forward, then another, and doesn’t stop until he reaches her. Their eyes meet briefly before he wraps his arms around her and for a moment, he takes her breath away.

She can feel his heart pounding through his chest, just under her palm. It’s fast and irregular, but it’s still familiar and for the first time in two weeks, Kaya closes her eyes and feels some of the heaviness in her chest disappear.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice hoarse and trembling against her hair. “Fuck, I fucked up. I’m so sorry, Kaya. I’m so, so sorry…”

She nods silently, not wanting to cry out loud because the relief - even a momentary relief - is so overwhelming that she just wants it to last a little longer. From living on a college campus after years to having to leave her small, cosy haven of an apartment, she exhales shakily into his shoulder and finally relaxes because this… this is safe.

“I love you,” he murmurs, “and I wish I could keep you safe from everything, baby, but I just don’t know how.” His voice cracks on the last word.

“You can’t,” she answers thickly but firmly. “And I don’t expect you to. But… Joon, you broke my heart,” she confesses, sniffling.

“Please don’t say that,” he whispers, holding her tighter. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry…” He takes a deep breath, lips pressed to the side of her head. “Did you really mean what you said at the hotel? Even after all this? Because if you did… I’m yours, baby, if you’ll still have me.”

Kaya’s heart skips a beat. “You’re really fucking skinny,” she murmurs into his neck. “What the hell happened?”

Namjoon scoffs quietly but doesn’t answer. Slowly, as though it’s the biggest struggle in the world, his arms loosen. “Kaya,” he says.

She sighs and steps out of his arms, hating every moment of it. “I did mean it,” she admits. “But I don’t know how to be in a relationship with someone who won’t let me be a part of it.”

He shakes his head. “That was never my intention. I just wanted to help - I know I went about it the wrong way but that’s all I wanted. I swear.”

“No, Joon, I’m not doubting your intentions, okay? But it’s not fair. It can’t just be your decision every time. You’re the leader, the point of contact, the eldest son, big brother - whatever. I don’t care,” she says flatly. “But you are not in charge of this. Of us. You don’t have to be,” she adds after a moment, softer.

Namjoon lowers his head, his gaze on the floor, and nods. “I understand what you’re saying,” he says slowly, “but it’s really hard to see a piece of paper calling you… that -“ he says through his teeth, jaw clenching “and not feel angry about it.”

“You’re just going to have to try.”

“Yeah? Do you remember at your friend Alex’s birthday when you “accidentally” -“ He puts quotation marks around the word “- spilled that guy’s drink onto his phone? The one who thought I didn’t understand English and called me an Asian wannabe who should stick to math instead of playing at rap?”

Kaya feels her face go slack. “That - that was an accident. Not to mention completely different,” she tacks on when he gives her a look indicating he doesn’t believe her. “I was pissed but I didn’t take it out on you.”

“I - I know. You’re right, Kaya. I’m sorry,” he repeats, sighing and running a hand through his hair. “I get it. My guilt, my problem.”

“No,” she disagrees, seeing him look up in surprise. “No guilt at all. Namjoon, if I choose to be with you, knowing what I know, then it’s my decision. And if there is guilt… God, just talk to me about it. Because this whole suffering in silence thing? I’m over it.”

Namjoon nods. “You and Yoongi both,” he mutters dryly. When she simply sighs and looks away, he speaks again. “So, are you? Choosing to be with me?”

Kaya takes a deep breath, finding it hard to meet his eyes now. “I don’t know. God, I am so mad at you,” she mutters, dropping her face in her hands.

He doesn’t argue. She can feel his eyes on her but doesn’t want to get swayed, not by how horrified he looked when she showed him the note, how disappointed he seemed in himself when she unleashed her frustration at him, or now, with so much doubt and vulnerability in his voice.

A sound startles her out of her silence and she turns to see Dilara poke her head out from behind the wall in the direction of the master bedroom.

“Heeeey,” she says slowly, as Taehyung’s head appears similarly above hers. “Didn’t, uh, mean to interrupt… but we kind of have to…” She points to the front door sheepishly.

Kaya nods jerkily, having sort of forgotten that they are in Dilara’s house. Her face heats up when she thinks about how much they might have heard; she takes care not to meet either of their eyes as they traipse out, fully dressed for a night out.

“So… are you sure you guys don’t want to come?” Dilara asks doubtfully. “It might be fun?”

“We’re meeting Chris and Lexie at a bar,” adds Taehyung helpfully, ignoring Dilara when she corrects him with “pub” and tosses his long bangs out of his eyes, “… in case you need a drink.” He raises his eyebrows.

Kaya can’t think of anything she wants less than to be in a crowded pub, but she turns to Namjoon anyway who’s looking back at her with his hands in his pockets.

“I think we’ll sit this one out,” she answers after a moment, watching him for his reaction. “We… kind of need to talk.”

“Okay, then.” Dilara pulls out her phone. “I’ll text Chris that we only need a table for four, then.”

“The same Chris?” Namjoon mutters to Kaya, who nods.

“Yeah. Buy him a drink on me?” She suggests to Dilara. “Kind of owe him.”

Namjoon half-chuckles without humour and Dilara raises her eyebrows. “Oh, you told him?” When Kaya nods, she sighs. “That’s a relief. I was feeling sick keeping it to myself.”

“Wait, you knew?” Namjoon frowns, his jaw sharp.

“Well, yeah - Chris is my friend and he is terrible at keeping secrets so I had -“

“Hang on - how could you not tell me?” he interrupts her, and she falls silent. “Dilara, seriously?”

“I didn’t -“

“Hey, don’t talk to her like that.” Taehyung steps in front of her, frowning handsomely. “Hyung,” he tacks on after a moment.

“Namjoon, come on,” says Kaya, grabbing his forearm and pulling him back a step. “I asked her and Chris not to.”

He opens his mouth to say something but then simply sighs and shakes his head, hands on his hips. Behind Taehyung, Dilara glares at him.

“Now I really need a drink,” she mutters, starting to head towards the door. Taehyung gives Namjoon a knowing look as he follows her out and the front door closes behind them.

Namjoon sighs. “What is wrong with me?” he mutters, running his hands tiredly down his face.

Kaya bites her lip. Under different circumstances, she would be pulling him into a hug right now, ignoring his half-hearted protests until he gave up and hugged her back, his hold getting tighter with every passing second.

But things are different now.

“I have a theory,” she says finally. “Come with me.”

—

Namjoon watches as Kaya examines Dilara’s kitchen cabinets, frowning and humming to herself. She stands on her tiptoes and rummages inside a box and he hesitates before looking away, distinctly feeling as though he hasn’t yet earned the right to check her out without her knowledge.

“Insanely understocked,” she declares, retrieving a box of Pop Tarts and heading towards the toaster. “But we’ll make do with what we’ve got.”

“Sure.”

She glances back at him briefly. “Are you sure you don’t want a beer?” she asks him, gesturing to her newly opened can, the condensation still only just forming. “It’s terribly hot.”

It is and he would love a beer right now. But he shakes his head. “I don’t think I should be drinking Dilara’s booze right now,” he mutters, wincing inwardly.

Kaya’s eyes linger on him for a moment before she turns around and starts placing the Pop Tarts into the toaster. “You can have a sip from mine,” she offers.

Namjoon shakes his head. “That’s okay.”

“Okay.”

They stand there in the kitchen, the six feet of distance between them feeling like a chasm. But it’s the closest he’s been to her in months and he can’t help but take in her presence, drinking it in for as long as he can.

Kaya casually picks up her can and takes a long sip, eyes fluttering shut momentarily. “Oh, that feels good.”

Namjoon suppresses a chuckle. “Alright, then. I’ll have a sip.” His heart skips a beat almost painfully when a smile flashes across her face and she silently hands him the can.

“Oh, God,” he mumbles, swallowing a sip and pressing the cold tin to his cheek. “Oh, man, this is everything.”

Kaya raises an eyebrow but says nothing, moving to pick up the toasted Pop Tarts. Piling them onto a plate, she pushes it towards him. “Eat.”

“What?”

“Eat,” she repeats, dropping another batch into the toaster. “It’s good.”

Namjoon’s gaze falls on the packet, the huge animated chocolate staring back at him. “I - I’m on tour,” he murmurs, a little apologetic.

Kaya looks as though she’s about to insist but then simply shrugs. “Okay, then.” Picking up a Pop Tart, she takes a small bite.

Sighing, Namjoon takes one, finishing it in three bites. It’s better than he’d anticipated; he takes another, and another after that and before he knows it, he’s eaten six.

“Wow,” he says, staring at the crumbs on the plate.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll burn that before the next concert, right?” he asks hopefully.

“I doubt it. I can already see it hitting your thighs.”

He gives her a look that she returns, still finishing her second Pop Tart. She heads to the fridge and retrieves another can of beer, sliding it to him.

“Just drink it,” she tells him before he can decline again. “Dilara has a whole carton in here. And I have her express permission.”

Pausing for a moment, he cracks open the can and holds it up. She clinks hers with it and they drink together in silence. They don’t speak again until they’re out of the kitchen and in the softly lit dining room.

Kaya takes a seat at the head of the table, lifting her feet up on the edge of the chair and hugging her knees. Namjoon sits on the adjacent chair, wishing he could pull her chair closer to him.

“How’s tour going?” she asks softly.

Small talk. She’s trying, and Namjoon’s heart fills with cautious hope. “Tiring,” he answers. “I can barely keep track of which city we’re in. But I’m writing a lot,” he adds.

She tilts her head. “Can’t sleep?”

“Not really.”

“Jetlag?”

“Sure.”

He waits to see a flicker of knowing on her face before smiling back at her. Before the break-in, they had discussed Kaya joining him on tour for some of their European concerts. He wonders if she still remembers, and how different the tour would be right now.

“I heard you got published,” he says, adoring how she smiles involuntarily at it, part shy and part proud. “I can’t believe it. Or, I can. Just - congratulations,” he says sheepishly. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks. It was a lot of work and a lot of iterations -” She shakes her head and takes a drink. “But career-wise, it’s a pretty decent step. And I get royalties on it, so that makes two of us now.” She raises his eyebrows in satisfaction. “It was worth the late nights.”

Late nights. Namjoon wants to ask and he has a feeling she wants to talk about it, but he doesn’t want to presume. Hesitating, he places his arm on the table towards her, his palm facing up. Kaya doesn’t move, though, and for a moment he can feel his throat close up.

But then she gingerly lifts her hand, pauses, and eventually places it in his. It’s unsure and guarded, but it’s more than he could hope for. His thumb runs over her knuckles, soft and delicate, and he’s more grateful than ever that she doesn’t move away.

“Do you still stay late in the library?” he asks.

Kaya’s eyes stay on their hands as she shakes her head. “I prefer working out of the dorm room. It faces the river so the breeze is much cooler. And my roommate plays a lot of old school rock so that’s nice, too.” She nods to herself, her gaze unmoving. “I don’t like being there,” she whispers.

Namjoon says nothing and simply squeezes her hand. Ordinarily, this would again be one of those moments when he would have stood up and pulled her to him, wrapping her in his arms and silently letting her vent.

“I can’t sleep either,” she confesses after a moment. “So I guess that makes two of us, too.”

He tilts his head, hoping she’ll look up at him. “I get why you couldn’t call me before. But you can now. You know that, right?” he asks gently. “For the next few weeks, we’ll actually be in similar timezones for once.”

She cracks a smile but still doesn’t look up. “I might just take you up on that. I’ll start moving my stuff into the apartment the moment I get back, anyway, so when I actually get possession, I’m done.”

“That’s a good idea. Actually, if you want,” he ventures hopefully, “I could help.”

“Help me move in?”

“Yeah. If you want,” he repeats, trying not to sound nonchalant. “Our concert isn’t till Saturday and we’re supposed to have a radio show on Friday but I can take a couple of days off to -”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,” she starts to say, but Namjoon shakes his head.

“I don’t think the company will mind,” he offers, thinking privately that even if he does have to argue with them a bit, how completely worth it it would be.

Kaya bites her fingernail, observing him. Then she shrugs. “Alright. If you want.”

He nods slowly, continuing his attempt at the nonchalance. “And, uh… I’ll book a hotel. If you want,” he says again, “you can - you can… stay. Over.” He bites his lip. “If you don’t want to stay on campus.”

Some of her casual facade breaks. “Really?”

“Yeah. And - and don’t worry, it’ll be big enough so you don’t - I mean, we don’t -” He breaks off and cringes inwardly.

Kaya raises her eyebrows. “Separate beds?”

A half-chuckle passes his lips, for it sounds ridiculous. “Yeah. Separate beds.”

“You don’t think we can control ourselves in the same bed?”

“I think it’ll take everything we have in us to do it,” he admits boldly. “But I think we can.”

She doesn’t answer but tries to suppress a smile. On the table, her hand feels looser in his. He’s just about to say something when her phone buzzes next to her and she automatically reaches for it, letting go of his hand.

“Everything okay?” he asks when she clicks her tongue.

“Yeah,” she sighs, scrolling through a message presumably. “Got a quiz to grade by the weekend. And it’s a finance elective so I’m going to need the prep material from - from the professor.” She sets the phone down but doesn’t look up at him again.

Namjoon lowers his hand as well, something like a dark cloud feeling like it’s just appeared above them. “Are you sure you’ll be okay staying with me?” he asks in a low voice, looking at his knees as the incongruity of the question creeps into his chest. “I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t feel any pressure.”

He nods. “It’s just… I know we were - are technically apart for a while. It wouldn’t be strange if you… you know.”

Kaya takes a few moments before answering. “Well, I’m not,” she clarifies. “And also… Namjoon, I didn’t have sex with Adam.”

Namjoon feels his gaze freeze on the leg of her chair. “What?”

She sighs hugely, turning away when he slowly looks up to face her. “I didn’t sleep with him. I just said that to piss you off,” she confesses. “It was stupid and petty and childish, but… yeah. I lied.”

There’s a roaring in Namjoon’s ears, like a sugar rush in his veins after months of dieting. He feels like he could sing, and the restraint to not jump to his feet and yell in relief almost causes him to have a hernia. Clenching his fists in gratitude at his sides, he nods with difficulty.

“Oh. That’s - that’s… interesting.”

Kaya narrows her eyes and gives him a look, clearly not fooled by his forced nonchalance. But Namjoon doesn’t care. The sleepless nights and never-finding flights where his own brain continued to punish him by generating the most traumatic images feel like nightmares from a different lifetime.

“We did kiss,” she admits after a moment, and Namjoon’s heart sinks a little. “After a few drinks. But we agreed it was a mistake. And I’m not saying you were right,” she adds quickly, as when he rests his chin on his palm and places his fingers over his mouth, “because he didn’t push or get weird about it, but there’s a chance you may have been… kind of… on the right track.”

Namjoon could kick him - but then again, by her own admission, it sounds like the least troubling thing to happen to Kaya over the last few months.

“Okay,” he manages.

She pauses, then looks at her hands. “What about you? Have you…”

“No.”

“Not even…”

“Nope.”

“Oh.” She takes another sip of her beer, a big one, and doesn’t speak for a few seconds. “Are you hungry?” she asks suddenly. “There’s, like, a crazy amount of ramen in this house.”

Namjoon doesn’t know if it’s because he hasn’t been around ramen in a long while, or if it’s because it’s Kaya who’s asking, but for the first time in a long time, his stomach rumbles.

—

It’s nearing one am when Dilara returns home.

Namjoon is jerked out of the small, comfortable, familiar bubble with Kaya on the sofa where they moved after consuming two steaming bowls of soupy ramen. A glass of rosé each, they’re sitting face to face with their sides against the back of the sofa, only their knees touching ever so slightly to maintain the distance.

“Wait, no… it’s this part -” Kaya pauses and concentrates on the song playing at a low volume from the neighbouring apartment. “... can’t help… falling in love with you… and that’s the trumpet,” she finishes, the UB40 cover coming to a peppy end. “This was dad’s favourite song - I know it inside out.”

“Fine, you were right,” he admits. “Whoever this is probably has the most varied music taste I’ve ever seen, though. Eminem, Guns N Roses, Camilla Cabello and then Elvis?”

“And Nsync before that,” she adds. “Maybe it’s multiple people. Oh, wait - I know this song.” She wrinkles her nose as the guitar picks up, apparently having mistaken it for something else, when the front door opens. “Shit,” she mutters, startled.

“Hey, we’re back,” calls Dilara, sounding slightly wary. Multiple footsteps follow her in, followed by a mixture of conversing and laughing.

“Komyshan, is yesterday’s pizza still in the fridge?” Chris Park asks, shuffling in and taking off his jacket.

“Check for yourself, Park,” mutters Lexie, kicking off her shoes. “Hey, guys,” she says to Kaya and Namjoon, who wave back. “Wow, the neighbours aren’t even trying to keep it quiet, are they?”

“Oh, wait, I know this song!” Taehyung exclaims, and he and Dilara look at each other in excitement before breaking out into grins.

“I haven’t heard Tous les garçons et les filles since… wow, since that day?” She beams when he winks at her and starts swaying by himself to the music, shoulders and all.

Namjoon raises his eyebrows as the renewed chatter and chaos in the apartment continues, and he can’t help but feel a little sorry that the rare time he was having with Kaya has been cut short.

“I’d hang out but I’m exhausted,” groans Lexie, downing an entire tall glass of water. “And drunk,” she adds after a moment. “So I’m going to bed but I’ll see you all in the morning. Goodnight.” She glances deliberately at Chris before departing in the direction of her room.

Namjoon frowns as Chris nibbles on the last of a pizza crust, while Dilara raises an eyebrow at him. “Goodnight, everyone,” he mutters abruptly, following Lexie. A moment later, they hear the sound of the door closing.

Dilara rolls her eyes and gently pushes Taehyung in the direction of the kitchen. “You should drink some water, too, babe…”

Taehyung faintly says something in response and floats towards Dilara’s room instead but Namjoon glances at Kaya, who silently cocks her head towards the dining room. Nodding and feeling vaguely anxious, he gets up and goes over to where they were sitting earlier and talking. Dilara is bringing out a bowl of fruit, piled high with apples, bananas and grapes when she catches sight of him and quickly looks away.

“Hey,” he says gingerly, stopping at the dining table where she continues bustling around, twisting her long curly hair into a loose knot. “How was your night?” When all he gets is a shrug in response, he places his drink on the table and rallies. “Thanks for… hosting, I guess. Your apartment’s really nice.”

“Mhm.”

With renewed respect for Taehyung, Namjoon continues. “And, uh… oh, Kaya talked me into a glass of this wine. It’s delicious. Where did you get it from?”

“Harrods.”

“Great. I think we drank about a fourth of it tonight. Can I buy you another one to replace it?”

Without warning, Dilara turns around on her heel and places one hand on her hip. Despite being a foot shorter than him, she startles him into taking an automatic step back.

“Are you bribing me?”

Namjoon swallows and frowns, pressing his tongue to his upper lip. “Is it working?” When she narrows her eyes at him, he sighs. “I’m sorry I snapped. That wasn’t right of me.”

“You’re not the only one who cares about her, you know? Why do you think I invited her to stay here?”

“I know. You’re right. It’s just…” He runs his hands through his hair. “It’s been an emotional night.”

Her features soften slightly. “Been apologising a lot tonight, have you?” But she doesn’t sound sarcastic - more curious.

He glances at Kaya who’s still in the living room, leaning against the arm of the sofa and watching them, her glass of wine now empty and resting on her thighs.

“Kind of.” He lowers his head. “Guess I had it coming, though. But it’s been a lot better than I expected,” he adds, realising as he says it that it’s true, that even the distant, cautious dynamic was miles ahead of what he could have hoped for.

Dilara raises her eyebrows. “Are you back together?” she asks in a hushed voice.

“Not yet,” he admits, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But soon, maybe. I hope.”

She purses her lips. “Well, she’s angry, I suppose. But she’s missed you, too,” she adds after a moment. “And she knows why you did what you did… even if it was a shit idea.” She smiles innocently when he gives her a look. “Her words, not mine.”

“Alright.” He exhales, reaching over and affectionately grabbing her head. “Are we cool, though?”

“I guess.” She pauses, then rolls her eyes dramatically and accepts his hug, the top of her head just about reaching his shoulder. “But only if you do the robot at least once on stage at your next concert,” she decides as they separate.

“What’s that now?”

“You heard me. Oh, and it has to be during a sad song, not a dancey one.”

“I - fine,” he agrees, rolling his eyes and privately dreading the next performance already, grateful for Kaya as she joins them.

“Everything okay over here?” she asks delicately. “Because it kind of looked like you were going to get your ass kicked for a second there,” she tells Namjoon.

“Oh, no,” says Namjoon. “It’s much worse. I have to do the robot on stage on Saturday and possibly go viral for looking like an idiot,” he guesses, fixing Dilara with a pleading look, who simply shakes her head.

“Forgiveness has its price,” she says wisely.

“It’s like placating a kid,” points out Kaya. “Which kind of adds up, probably - you used to say you were kind of like a babysitter to these guys.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes again and, without thinking, places an arm around Kaya’s shoulder. There’s a moment of awkwardness when he remembers where they are and he’s about to drop it, but then she seemingly leans into it out of habit, and he lets it stay.

“Hey, what are we talking about?” Taehyung appears from behind them and accidentally brushes Namjoon’s arm. As he makes way for his group member, Namjoon has no choice but to drop his arm to his side. “We’re out of toothpaste, by the way,” he says, nudging Dilara’s shoulder.

“We’re talking about what it’s like to have kids,” offers Kaya. “And the lengths you have to go to for them.”

“Kids?” Taehyung frowns slightly as he pops a grape into his mouth before looking straight at his girlfriend. “I’d like to have kids with you.”

All traces of the smirk on Dilara’s face drop at his words. “That - that isn’t even close to what we were talking about.”

“I always used to think three, but I think four is a nice, round number.”

“Taehyung,” she interrupts him, while Namjoon snorts and Kaya watches in amusement, “shut up. We were only saying that -”

“We’ll need a minivan to fit four, though. With three we still have a chance to have at least one boy and one girl, no?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Of course. Three, minimum,” he decides seriously. “And I think we should name the oldest one Princess. Even if it’s a boy.”

Dilara glares at him before rolling her eyes. “That’s my cue to leave. Goodnight,” she states.

She turns around and leaves, Taehyung casually following her. As they disappear around the corner, Namjoon can hear him go, “But, jagiya, think how gorgeous you’ll be pregnant…”

“Shut up, Tae, I’m serious…”

There’s a fading sound of rustling and groaning and giggling before the sound of a door closing shut. Finally alone again after a fifteen minute fever dream of some truly unexpected chaos, Namjoon glances at Kaya.

“You must be tired,” he murmurs.

She shrugs. “I guess.” She starts to walk towards the guest room, the only one in the main area of the apartment, and stops a few feet away from the door. “My flight’s tomorrow evening,” she says.

He nods, reasonably sure of why she’s telling him this. “I’ll be there on Wednesday morning. If, you know, you’re still okay with…”

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Cool. I’ll have to be back Friday for rehearsal, though,” he says, slightly apologetic.

“That’s okay. I appreciate the help.”

There’s a silence, an expectant one. They spent hours talking today, with topics ranging from their relationship to the most minor, unimportant things. But there’s no avoiding it now - whatever happens next feels foundational.

Namjoon’s brain is working in overdrive, trying to decide the right thing to say, when the sounds begin. Kaya’s jaw drops and she turns her head halfway before shaking it, her eyes wide.

“Is that -”

“Unfortunately,” he mutters tightly. “In a happy coincidence, Taehyung’s room is right next to mine at the dorm, so this is… not the first time,” he informs her, squeezing his eyes shut.

When the muffled sounds only get louder, Kaya covers her mouth in shock. “Okay, I’m going to bed,” she says quickly. “Um, goodnight.”

Namjoon’s heart skips a beat. “Yeah, okay. Goodnight, Kaya.” There’s a painful pause after which he takes a hesitant step forward, raising his arms slightly.

Kaya exhales and meets him halfway, reaching up and hugging him. It’s comforting and hopeful and Namjoon holds her tight, trying to block out the sounds but instead becoming more aware than ever of the shape of her body against him, the coconut and vanilla scent of her hair and her bare legs under her shorts.

They separate slowly, and she takes a step back. Giving him a small, silent wave, she backs up and opens her bedroom door. Namjoon watches as she steps inside and moves to close the door when she pauses, and a moment later, leaves it open.

He frowns. It takes him a beat. Then two. The sounds from Dilara’s room seem to be in no position to stop anytime soon and in a split second, Namjoon makes the decision to follow Kaya inside, closing the door behind him.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#namjoon x oc #namjoon fanfic #taehyung fanfic #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #k-vanity #houseofddaeng #hyunglinenetwork #namjoon angst

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days

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girls just wanna have fun 4

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

Summary: your struggle to push back against your controlling father result in a misguided crush. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson

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

Bucky emerges with a tray and you try not to break your cool demeanour. You don’t want to try too hard. You hear him before you see him, grumbling at Sam who as always, won’t shut up.

Shelby’s bottle is already empty as she squeezes it between her hands. She sits upright on a chair, teetering on the edge as if she might flee. You wish she’d chill out. As Bucky puts down the tray, you sit up, letting the towel catch on the chair and pull down from your chest.

“Mm, looks yummy,” you say, trying to look at the chocolate marshmallows and not Bucky.

You ignore Sam’s scoff as Bucky faces you. You grab the towel and stand, “oops.”

You open it before you readjust it, showing off your red bathing suit and how little it covers. You notice Bucky look but his reaction is less than you want. He looks away whereas Sam lets his tongue poke out like some stupid horny frat boy.

You roll your eyes and knot the towel firmly. You grab your bottle and drain it, catching up to Shelby as she lingers at the edge of the scene.

“Another?” Sam offers.

“Sam,” Bucky hisses.

“What? Those things aren’t that strong. They're all sugar,” Sam is already reaching into the cooler, another grunt from his stoic friend. “Come on, ladies, help yourself to something sweet.”

You hesitate and Shelby gulps loudly.

“The smores,” Sam chuckles and offers both you and your friend a new drink.

You take yours but give Shelby a long look as she accepts hers. She’s only supposed to be moral support, you can’t send her home blitzed. Oh well, your dad won’t care if she stays over.

“More for me,” Bucky shrugs and turns his attention to the tray.

Shelby peers over at you. She’s always waited for you to take the lead and you always did so reluctantly. Not anymore. You’re a woman and you’re making this world what you want. She could take a lesson or two. You take a drink then set your bottle down.

You come up next to Bucky as he skewers a marshmallow and you do the same. He’s orderly in how he has his little sandwich. The graham crackers are placed neatly side by side and chocolate on top of one, waiting.

“Did you fix your hose?” You ask, mustering some small talk that makes you want to cringe.

He doesn’t answer right away. You poke a skewer through a marshmallow and he shrugs, “need a new one.”

You repress a sigh as he goes to the fire. You hear Sam laughing. You look back but you can’t tell if it’s aimed at you or Shelby as he stands across from her. Oh well.

You follow Bucky and put your marshmallow over the fire with him.

“Like I said, you can borrow ours,” you smile.

“Mm, should I ask your dad?” He challenges as he looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“I’m an adult, it’s my house too,” you insist.

“And he’s okay with you being here?”

“Wow, you know, you’re sounding a lot like him. You two might get along if you tried.”

“Hm,” he hums and retracts his skewer, “you weren’t always this mouthy.”

He leaves you by the fire, stunned. You look over your shoulder and pull back the stick, your marshmallow a flame. You blow it out and hurry over to the table. You scramble to make your own sandwich as your host perfectly slides his marshmallow onto the chocolate. Your own is a skew and you burn yourself trying to get the marshmallow off the skewer.

“Shoulda done that first,” he shakes his head.

You give him a look. He is quickly breaking the fantasy. You don’t need another father, you need to fuck. Or at least, think about fucking. Ugh, this is a disaster.

“Thanks, I’ll do better next time,” you smile again. His cheek ticks.

He takes his sandwich and backs off. You look at yours. You don’t want it. You grab a napkin and put it under the melting stack and carry if over to Shelby. Sam is getting closer, looming over her.

“Hey, Shel, I made you one,” you offer her the sticky mess.

“Mm, definitely not the culinary type, are you?” Sam scoffs, “won’t make a housewife of you.”

“It’s a smore,” you say defensively as you hand over the sandwich.

“The top is cracked.”

“Yeah, and? It’ll just break when she bites into it,” you put your hands on your hips as you face him, “like, mind your own business or whatever.”

He chuckles, “God, you girls are fun.” Shelby slumps further down as Sam’s gross leer dips down in her direction, “not too late for a swim, you girls could come for a dip.”

Shelby doesn’t say anything and you push your shoulders straight. You can tell she’s uncomfortable and you can only assume what he’s been saying to her. You expected as much but in the moment, you’re not so alright with it all.

“She doesn’t have a suit and the water’s cold,” you deflect, “but thanks. You’re welcome to go dive in by yourself.”

“Oh, I can do whatever I want,” he rebuffs, “but I know what you’re looking for, huh? You just wanna see me take my shirt off. All you have to do is ask, baby.”

He peels off his tee shirts and your grimace. You look at Shelby as she holds the uneaten smore and her half-empty bottle. Oof, slow down, girl.

You look back at Sam as he puffs his chest out. Ugh, this isn’t supposed to be about him. You look over as Bucky sits on the foot of a lounger and nibbles on his smore, staring into the fire. The flicker casts his features just perfectly. Goddamnit!

“No one wants to see it--”

“I know exactly what you want, baby,” he growls and steps closer. You can't deny that his chest is nice, even for his age. He still has a good amount of muscle, though a touch of softness in his stomach. “Don’t worry, I can handle two at a time. She’s kinda sexy, you know? That t-shirt with the turtles is getting me going--”

You shove him, slapping his chest. That is not alright. Not just him, but you. You shouldn’t have brought her here. You might know what you’re getting into but she didn’t. You’re a lousy friend.

“Come on, Shelby, let’s go home before my dad gets back.”

“Oh, yes, run home, but daddy’s right here,” Sam taunts.

You roll your eyes and wave at Shelby, “come on.”

“Can I keep the smore?” She asks. She’s tipsy.

“Sure,” you grab her elbow and take the bottle away from her. You give it to Sam and send him one last scowl. You turn and lift a hand, “bye, Mr. Barnes, see you around.”

“Baby, you know I can get you what you really want. Just think about what I said,” Sam intones as he steps closer.

You elbow him away and drag Shelby up the lawn muttering. Fuck. That was so stupid. What a fucking dud. You let yourself through the gate and circle around to your house.

When you get Shelby through the front door, she has marshmallow and chocolate stuck around her lips. She chews a mouthful as she falls onto the bench by the shoe mat.

“I’m sorry,” you lean against the wall across from her. She just munches. “I shouldn’t have taken you over there.”

She looks at you and nods. She’s sleepy. She’s not going to forget any of this and even if she did, you won’t.

“You don’t get it, Shel,” you push away from the wall and sit next to her. “I don’t know but I just... need to break out. I need something,” you put your elbows on your legs, “it’s not fair to bring you into it but I swear, Shel, by the end of the summer, I am going to fuck Mr. Barnes.”

“What?” She croaks and chokes down her last bite. “You--”

“It’s all I think about. I don’t know, I’m so fucking horny all the time. It’s like one day I just woke up and had this need--”

“Oh?” Her eyes widen again.

“Don’t look at me like that. Tell me you never got any sort of... urges.”

“Well, yeah, I guess, but I just... deal with them. Play some switch and forget,” she shrugs, trying to wipe the stickiness from her mouth drunkenly. She seems so childish in tweaks doubt in your chest. Are you out of your depth?

“I mean it, you know? I’m sorry,” you sit up and lean your head back. “I’m a shitty fucking friend.”

“Mm,” she hums, “tonight you were, but not always.”

You smile softly, “how about you kick my ass at some MarioKart?”

#bucky barnes #sam wilson #dark bucky barnes #dark sam wilson #dark!bucky barnes #dark!sam wilson #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #drabble #series #au #silverfox au #girls just wanna have fun #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #falcon and the winter soldier

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youbutstupid · 3 days

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Spencer Reid, of course, suffered a lot of blows to his mental health throughout the show, and a lot of people take this to mean that he put himself in harms way because he was depressed. Whilst I think this can be true to an extent, I think it’s more complicated than that.

The best way to look at how Reid views his own safety and his own determination to keep living his by looking at his body language when he is put in danger.

Above is a photo from the first time we see Reid’s life put in danger which is 1x06. In this scene Reid is timid, he scrambles to put his hands up before kneeling on the floor as he is told to do. He only lifts his head to look at Hotch or when the unsub is directly addressing him and he avoids eye contact when he can. He stays looking at the floor in the hopes that he will get out of this alive.

Then above we have 2x15, Revelations. Here, whilst Reid puts up more of a verbal fight, he is of course still begging for his life. He is begging for Tobias to front again and to not be given the drugs, he is crying which are all standard reactions to being in his situation.

Then we will fast forward to 4x03, when Prentiss and Reid are held hostage together. At this point, Reid has already been through a lot, but his self preservation is still very much there. He has more confidence now because he knows best how to navigate and manipulate these situations, but there are still moments where he shows timidness towards his captor because he is unsure what he will do next. He stumbles over his words at times and is hesitant.

This is a big time jump but to me it shows the most contrast and that is; Reid’s prison era in season 12! At the beginning he is weary and he begs for help where he can, but this is where he truly breaks and we see that in this photo. Here, he is no longer submissive to the people endangering him and in this photo he has just stabbed himself in order to get his biggest threat taken away. He is looking up with a smile on his face, he is no longer cowering or reacting to the pain, this man just stabbed himself and all he can do is look in the eyes of his biggest threat and grin.

Then we have 14x01. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t necessarily want to die, but he knows what the two outcomes are by now; die or be saved, and he has been through it enough to accept both. His head is high, he is looking at his captors with no fear, just contempt that this is happening yet again. He’s not scared anymore, he’s not wanting to die either, he’s just tired.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #ldsk #revelations #1x06 #2x15 #4x03 #14x01

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litnerdwrites · 3 days

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Cassian thinks Prythian would blessed to have Feysand as High King and Queen yet the dude can’t even govern his own territory properly. If he can neglect and disregard two thirds territory and justify it without complaint, from the ic, then he has no business taking over more territories for any reason! Do you know what would happen if he did?

It’s safe to assume that Winter, Summer and Day would receive preferential treatment. Mostly due to Mor and Amren’s ties to Vivienne and Varian, but also because of how valuable Helion is with his libraries and skills. However, it's likely they'd be extremely weary of him at the same time, for those exact reasons. Maybe they'd even convince Nesta to dance with him as a form of manipulation?

Meanwhile, he’d probably be indifferent to dawn, though their aerial legions may be forced to join with the Illyrians so they’re be able to fight cohesively together. It would also mean they'd be able to keep an eye on the Peregryns that way, with the Illyrians keeping an eye on them to prevent revolt, if Rhysand has any fear of that.

It's been mentioned that Thesan only has a 'small legion' of them, and while small doesn't necessarily mean fewer than, given that Rhysand's armies seem to be made up of darkbringers and Illyrians, with no indications of anyone else. And after what Amarantha did to them, along with how pregnancy is really rare for fae, it's reasonable to assume that their numbers have thinned even more, meaning that the Illyrians likely outnumber them by a decent amount.

Meanwhile The Spring and Autumn courts will be the new Illyria and HC. Or they’d serve the same fundamental purpose at least. They'd be the ones who suffer and are stuck with the role of monsters just to promote Rhysand as a hero/saviour/victim/whatever else he needs to appear as that week. It's likely that Tamlin, Beron and Eris would be forced to give up their titles and authority, along with whatever wealth they have, if not imprisoned all together for whatever crimes the IC accuse them of. They likely wouldn't even acknowledge the abuse of Eris and his brothers, simply chalking it up to him being just as bad as Beron and straight up killing them.

Plus, there’s no telling how the land would react and what would happen to the symbol or station of High Lord. If they are no longer leaders, are the ambassadors to the high king? Will that become an inherited position? I mean, given the kind of power the HLs have, letting them remain private citizens is unwise, while giving them power as aristocracy makes Rhysand seem like somewhat of a figurehead, bringing whatever authority he claims into question. Meanwhile, having the jobs of ambassadors or advisors be inherited positions based on who the land choses to give power to as opposed to skill, and ability seems just as dangerous and foolish.

All it would do is prove that Rhysand is every bit, if not more, the monster that they made him out to be. There's no way they'd agree to it, so Rhysand would have to use force. It would mean a period of civil war, before any semblance of order or peace was regained.

They'd have to Force Nesta and Elain into another war, even if they don't end up wanting anything to do with one, given that it's through their, or even mostly Nesta's, powers that Rhysand is to take his supposed to take this throne.

Would Varian still be able to have feelings for Amren, knowing that she put this idea into Rhysand's head, encouraging him to do it? How would Vivian look at Mor and still consider her a friend after such a betrayal? Would Rhysand and Feyre even care about the innocents that died during that war? No. To all of the above, no.

Typing all of this out, makes it seem like Feysand becoming HK/Q would result in the Nc basically becoming Panem. They even have a mock Hunger Games through the blood right, while Velaris is basically The Capital. Anyone who's watched/read THG can tell you how that ended.

#anti inner circle #anti rhysand #nesta deserves better #anti morrigan #anti ic #anti amren #anti mor #anti cassian #anti nessian #anti rhys #anti sjm #anti feyre #anti elain #anti high king rhys #It's a disaster waiting to happen #I'm telling you

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t-r99 · 1 day

Text

Obsessed

Oliver loves you so much, why can't you see that?

Oliver Aiku x fem reader

College au

Aiku is lowkey a lunatic (completey delusional & unhinged)

warnings: stalking, mental torture, manipulation, deception, gaslightning, coercion || anxiety, paranoia, brief panic attack || dub con bordering on non con (blink and you miss it brief and tame smut at the end *whispers* spooning)

This was supposed to be pure porn but I changed my mind. It did not turn out the way I wanted.

Quick background: mc is being stalked by someone who keeps texting and sending pictures and has been for weeks.

Given that this is a blue lock fic, all of readers friends are guys heh.

wc: 10k

God, why did I stay so long? You think. You usually don't stay at the library for this long, preferring to quickly find the books you need in the moment then leave.

Staying this long means you'll walk home well after sunset. Hours after sunset means it's dark. Darkness means it's easier to follow people. Following someone walking alone means-

I'm overthinking again. You sigh.

This is torture.

It's been a few days since the last text you received. You can't help but to open your phone several times a day and read all the shit the person has sent in the past few weeks, hoping to figure out who they are.

It feels like you're being watched.

You take in every last little detail of your surroundings.

A few people are out and walking who knows where, some of them familiar. You've seen them at school.

Almost home, You tell yourself. The apartment building you call home is less than a minute away.

You turn to look behind you, but no one is following you like you thought . . . and it feels like you're going crazy.

At this point, you expect a text from another unknown ID welcoming you home. The guy on the other side does it sometimes. It's bad enough that he knows which building you live in, you just hope he doesn't know which apartment is yours. You may as well dig your own grave if he does.

The elevator feels suffocating when you step in. You're alone but you keep expecting it to stop before it reaches your floor and that someone else will step in.

What if he steps in? What if you end up alone in this tiny little box with your worst nightmare and-

Ding.

You gasp at the sound, only staying still for a half a second before stepping out.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. What if he's is behind you? What if he's waiting for you to open the door so he can push you in and trap you?

You turn around, heart pounding.

There's no one there.

Just as you unlock your door, another opens a few steps away and you hear familiar voices. Out of the other apartment steps Aiku, and then you see Otoya, they're saying bye for tonight. It's the latter's apartment, you remember.

Aiku spots you but you look away and ignore him. You know them both, not that you particularly like them or enjoy their company, it's just that you share the same friends. You almost wish you were actually being followed for a second so Otoya and Aiku could beat the guy senseless.

Otoya pops his head out the doorframe and asks if you're okay when he sees that you're stressed.

Ignoring them both, you step inside and close the door behind you.

Home.

You're home.

I'm home, You tell yourself, repeating it iver and over for a few seconds.

There's a knock on the door and your heart almost leaps out of your chest.

It's him, it's him, it's him, it's hi-

You hear a familiar voice call your name, followed by, "Everything okay?" It's Aiku.

You gulp and take a deep breath before cracking the door just enough to see his face. Otoya is standing behind him and asks, "Something happen?"

"I'm fine, I," You gulp again, feeling lightheaded. "I just need some rest."

"Sure?" Aiku asks. "You look a bit pale."

"I'm fine, I promise." You insist. "I'm going to bed."

"'kaaay," Otoya gives a peace sign. "night."

You close the door and take a moment to try to calm yourself.

Outside, Otoya strains to not laugh out loud. He can't help it, though, forced to slap a hand against his mouth to muffle the sound of his amused giggling.

Aiku hushes him and smirks. "Shut up, you'll ruin everything." He says.

"Seriously, dude, why do you even bother at this point?"

Who knows? Maybe Oliver has gotten a bit obsessed. He won't give up until he gets what he wants, and he wants you.

Aiku doesn't just want sex. He wants you.

"It'll be worth it." He says.

Sure, you don't want him yet, but you will soon.

You feel a bit better after a long and warm shower, not a lot, but at least it's something.

You haven't eaten. Honestly, you can't find it in you to eat these days. Sometimes two or even three days pass before you realize you're starving. You've been losing weight for weeks, and looking in the mirror now you see just how much it has affected you.

Aiku was right, you're pale.

Look at me. You feel disgusted by the sight.

It takes you a few moments to force yourself to look away and leave the bathroom to go get dressed. Despite living several floors above the ground, with no buildings facing your bedroom window, you still feel the need to pull the curtain to hide.

What if he is watching? It's impossible to know.

You quickly get dressed, not comfortable with being naked even in your own bedroom with the windows covered, and then it happens again.

Two quick vibrations, the sound of a text, make your heart stop for a second.

Again, two vibrations.

Another two . . .

That's three texts.

Your hand shakes as you reach out for the phone that you honestly just want to smash up. You want to throw away all your electronics and find a cave out in the wilderness to hide in so no one will ever be able to contact you again.

The first one says exactly what you expect, Welcome home.

He was watching you walk home.

You shouldn't be out alone in the dark, it's dangerous. The second text is almost funny.

The third makes your blood run cold, Don't worry. I'll protect you.

When will this end?

While you're holding the phone, he sends a picture. This is the fourth time he's done this exact thing, having written, I don't know where you live. Maybe I should come in and knock on every door until I find yours.

It's a picture of the entrance to the building.

There's a knock on your apartment door.

. . . No.

You dare not move.

Should you look through the peephole? What if it's him and you finally get to see who it is? It could be someone you know, or maybe a complete stranger.

Another knock.

Go away. You want to scream. You want to yell at him to leave you alone.

No more knocks follow.

You don't know how long you stand frozen in your spot, taking slow breaths and standing as still and as quietly as you can.

Only when your feet hurt from standing there for so long do you finally snap out of it. You take your phone and set it to airplane mode, and you lock yourself in the bathroom.

There you remain until morning.

Of course you don't sleep.

You think about calling a friend to come over so you won't have to walk to school alone, or maybe you should just skip today and stay home.

Please . . . You curl up in the corner and sob. I can't take it anymore.

It feels like an eternity has passed when you leave the bathroom.

Staying home felt like the best thing to do. At least he doesn't know which apartment is yours so you can just stay in and not go out where he can spot and follow you again.

Your phone is still on airplane mode and you contemplate turning the function off. Will you only find texts from your friends asking why you didn't show up today or will you get more messages from him?

I'm hungry. You didn't eat last night.

There's very little in your kitchen and your heart sinks when you realize you have to go get some groceries soon.

There's a knock . . .

You gasp at the sound and turn to look at the door. It's the middle of the day so there's no way it's him. He only fucks with you after dark so-

Another knock.

You faintly hear someone call your name. "It's Otoya, you okay in there?"

That's a relief.

The front door cracks open and you look up at him. Otoya rarely shows much emotion on his face but you actually see some worry in his eyes. "Everything okay? You didn't show up at school."

You gulp. "I don't . . . feel very well." Your voice is hoarse and your throat feels rough, itching as you speak.

"I noticed last night. I just wanted to make sure you were all right so I knocked but you didn't answer."

Oh, it was him? It was just Otoya, not the guy on the other end of the phone. "Sorry," You say quietly. "I must've fallen asleep." You lie.

"No worries. Just come over if you ever need anything, yeah?"

"Yeah." You murmur. "Thanks."

You wonder just how messed up you look if it's enough to make Otoya of all people worry.

I'm going crazy. You close the door and sniffle, eyes welling with tears.

A few quiet days pass and it is actually nerve wracking. Normally you would be happy, no texts, no paranoia and the feeling of being watched, but after those texts and the picture of the building entrance you just can't relax.

It feels like the calm before the storm.

You can't shake off the feeling that you're being watched everywhere you go, on campus, on the road, sometimes even when you're at home, feeling the need to check every inch of the apartment multiple times a day to make sure you're actually alone.

"You okay? You've been staring at the textbook forever." Chigiri's voice pulls you from your thoughts.

"Hm?"

He looks worried. Everyone has been worried about you lately, it makes you feel hopeless and pathetic. "More stalker texts?"

You shake your head. "Not for a few days." Your voice is small, heavy with sleep deprivation. "But everytime someone calls or texts or," Just talking about this makes you nauseous. "whenever someone knocks on my door I don't know what to think."

Before Chigiri can say anything else, a few of the other guys show up. Isagi comes and reminds him that they have training soon.

Why does it feel like all eyes are on you?

You're uncomfortable.

"I think I'll go home." You say. Before it gets dark.

"Sure you'll be okay on your own?" Chigiri asks.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's fine." You clear your throat and close your textbook. "I'm fine." You insist.

Keeping your gaze down, you ignore everyone and mutter a quick bye, missing the way a pair of dual coloured eyes watch you walk away.

Thank goodness that the sun is still high in the sky as you walk home.

Is this to be your new normal? Are you supposed to live the rest of your life in a constant state of panic?

Still no texts. No creepy pictures of your building. No knocking on the door. To be fair, it was Otoya, not some creepy lunatic of a stalker.

You sit down on your bed with a defeated bed then fall back.

"I hate this." You whisper.

It's been a week since the night you spent terrified in the bathroom. He has still not sent anything, and for once you're actually in a better mood. Maybe he got bored of me, You think, and you truly hope that that's the case.

The days are growing shorter and colder. Winter is right around the corner and you wonder how you'll feel once it starts getting dark outside earlier. Your mind drifts back to the text that said, You shouldn't be out alone in the dark, it's dangerous.

Yeah, it can be dangerous alright. You haven't felt safe in a long time thanks to the bastard.

You're getting ready to eat, reaching up to the cabinet to grab a plate when there's a knock on the door.

Is it him?

Fuck, what if it is?

No, nothing has happened lately, You tell yourself.

More knocking . . .

You set the plate down on the counter and go to the door, wondering if it's one of your friends. Quite a few of them live in the same building, cheap and close to campus.

Upon opening the door, you find that there's no one there.

Oh, God . . .

Fuck. Shit, shit, fuck.

Your phone vibrates and the sound makes you jump.

You don't want to check it.

No.

Damn it.

When will this stop?

It's kind of funny. Otoya peers over Aiku's shoulder and cracks up. "Dude, you'll end up giving the chick a heart attack one day."

What Oliver wants is to be there when you need someone and be the one you lean on for emotional support. He'll have you depending on him in no time. "Hey, you told her to come over if she needs help, right?"

"Uh huh."

Aiku hopes you'll do it now. He's going at this pretty hard and doubts you'll stay alone in your apartment when you think your stalker is in the building. Everyone you know in the building live on other floors while Otoya's apartment is the only one close to yours. Come on, doll, don't disappoint me now.

Oliver wants to jump and pump his fist in success when he hears a knock on Otoya's door. He stays on the couch while his friend goes to open, hearing him say, "Hey, you okay?"

Aiku gets off the couch and goes to the hall where you're standing right outside. You're trying to keep yourself calm but he can see panic in your eyes, those beautiful eyes that should be on him and only him. "Have, uhm . . ." You close your eyes and take a deep breath. "Have you heard anyone outside?"

"No, why?" Otoya feigns ignorance. "Are you sure you're okay? You're shaking."

Oliver almost feels bad, but he just needs to make sure his plan works. If everything ends up working out then he's only a few days away from being able to call you his and hold and comfort you. "Stalker again?" He asks.

Aiku doesn't like using that word. It makes him feel like a creep. He's not a creep, he just wants you to be his but you're not making it easy for him.

Your only reply is a small nod.

Otoya steps aside. "Okay, come on. Come in." He urges you to step inside and you're more than happy to. "What happened this time? Did he text again?"

"I- I think he . . . I think he's i- in the building."

Oh, you poor thing.

Oliver tells you to sit down on the couch. You're holding your phone, clutching it tightly.

He doesn't need to give Otoya a look that silently asks him to help out. His friend already knows what to do while Oliver talks to you and tries to calm you down.

Your mind is racing with a million questions, but it goes blank when your phone vibrates in your hand and you look down at it in terror, too scared to check the text.

Oliver looks down at it. "Here, let me." He offers. Your hand is shaking when he takes it from you. "It's okay, I got you." He takes your hand in his and rubs soothing circles on the back. What did Otoya text, he wonders.

Aiku wants to laugh when he reads it. It includes the number of Otoya's apartment, followed by, Is this your place? I can hear your pretty voice coming from inside.

Damn, he really couldn't have asked for a better bro.

"What . . . What does . . ."

Oliver hushes you gently and locks the phone instead of showing you. "It's okay, we'll deal with the guy."

Otoya steps behind the couch. "What's up?"

"You want to check if there's anyone in the hall?" Oliver asks. He's still holding your hand.

"I got it." Otoya gives a thumbs up and heads out. You want to tell him to stay inside, scared that the stalker might be dangerous, but your voice gets caught in your throat.

"Hey, it's okay." Oliver says softly. "Everything will be okay." He lets go of your hand and puts his arm around you instead when you exhale shakily and sob hopelessly.

You're just tired at this point. The past several weeks have left you so paranoid and terrified that you can't sleep. You don't eat, barely drink, you struggle to take care of yourself. It's beyond tiring. "I'm scared . . ." You whisper.

Oliver holds you close. He feels all warm inside like this, loving the feeling of your smaller body in his embrace like he's wanted for so long. He looks down at where your cheek is pressed against his chest and put his other arm around you comfortingly.

You're his.

You don't know it yet but you are his.

I fell asleep . . . Your eyes flutter partially open. You wonder when you did, and how you even managed to given how scared you were. How scared you still are.

A pair of arms are around you. You open your eyes further and see that you're in an apartment you don't recognize, then you look up and see that you're being held by a sleeping Aiku, and you remember that you're in Otoya's apartment.

You don't exactly dislike the two, it's just that you don't like their womanizing and their attitudes. Who would have ever thought that you would go to Otoya's place in a panic and be comforted by Aiku of all people?

Oliver wakes up when you move in his arms. "Hey," He clears his throat and blinks. "Hey, you feel any better?"

A tiny bit maybe. "I guess." You say in a small voice. You still don't want to go back to your own apartment where you'll just end up hiding in the bathroom at the sound of your phone receiving a text or a knock on your door.

Aiku can easily see that you're still shaken up and he hopes you'll let him hold you like this even longer.

You exhale shakily. "I don't want to be alone . . ."

"You're not alone, I got you." He rubs your back gently.

It feels nice . . . "Thank you." You whisper, relaxing further against him.

Oliver bites his bottom lip and smiles. You're starting to warm up to him, it's perfect.

It's been a few days and you can't stop thinking about that night. Otoya didn't find anyone in the hallway so you still have no idea who he is, but the one thing you can't stop thinking about is how comforting it was to be held by Aiku.

You feel ridiculous for it, even more so whenever you see him and feel your cheeks heat up.

He asks how you're doing everyday now and if anything else has happened since that night.

It's embarrassing how you almost immediately relaxed so much you actually fell asleep in his arms back then and it makes you want to avoid him.

Oliver hates that. He was so happy to have finally managed to push you to him for support, but now you don't talk to him other than short answers where you tell him you're doing okay whenever he asks, and he can't stand it.

He hates having to scare you so much. Why are you being so stubborn? Why do you try to hide how much it affects you? All you're doing is forcing his hand at this point. Why won't you just let him in?

He contemplates sending a text or two or maybe a picture of your apartment building. Those don't usually do much, though. Aiku exhales heavily as he tries to think of something more effective.

The door knocking was enough to get you to go to Otoya's apartment, but no more than that.

What to do? What to do?

Oliver doesn't want to threaten you. He doesn't want to scare you like that. You're his special girl, after all.

What to do?

It's gotten dark, You think grimly.

Classes are done for the day and now you're forced to walk home in the dark. The boys have training in a bit so you can't walk back to the student apartments with any of them, and all your other friends live in the opposite direction. It would be rude to ask someone to accompany you home and in turn force them to walk twice as far back to their own place.

Damn bastard.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you pick it up.

The colour drains from your face when you unlock it and open the text you've received, a picture of you right this moment.

The picture has been taken from your left. You turn in a flash to see if you can spot the stalker, but you only see your peers. Some are standing in groups and talking to their friends, others are looking down at their phones as they're leaving for the day.

Who is it?

Who could it be?

Where is he?

"Hey,"

You spin around with a sharp gasp at the feeling of someone touching your arm.

"Shit, did something happen?" It's just Aiku. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He steps back to give you space. "What happened?"

You're breathing too fast for comfort now, unable to speak. All you manage to do is point in the direction behind you and look down ar your phone.

"Again? What the hell does the guy want now? Show me."

Hands shaking, you take a moment to unlock your phone and open your texts. Aiku takes your phone and reads the message from the No Caller ID that says, You look really good today. He open the picture and takes a sharp breath.

"Sick fuck." He spits. "Hey, don't look down at it. Look at me." He holds your shoulder. "Look at me. It's okay, I'm right here. You're not alone now, okay?"

You're not alone.

Aiku is with you right now and that brings you comfort.

"'m scared . . ."

"I know," He says softly. "I know. Everything will be okay, we'll figure out who the guy is."

You've lost any hope of that happening.

"Hey, come on, I'll walk you home, yeah?"

You gulp. "B- But . . . practice . . ."

"It's fine. I can skip this one time. You shouldn't be alone right now."

You only nod at that, grateful to not be on your own. Having Aiku walk next you makes you feel safer than you have in months, but you honestly feel guilty about all this and want to apologize for having go through all this trouble just because you're too scared to do anything on your own.

"How you holdin' up?"

You look down at the ground as you keep walking. "I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Oliver turns to you. "What for?"

"For . . . all this."

Why are you apologizing? You have nothing to be sorry for. "What, for being scared?" Aiku asks. "For needing help? I'd be surprised if you weren't scared. Everyone needs support sometimes, it's nothing to be ashamed of."

You're fighting back tears. "But I . . . I- I shouldn't need to be walked home like this."

Oliver frowns at that. Does that mean you don't want him there? You're really not making this easy for him. "It's okay, I don't mind."

You finally look up and turn to him, eyes glossy with unshed tears. Aiku wonders if you'll let him wipe them from your cheeks if they fall. He would love nothing more than to comfort you like a man and hold you close. He can't even begin to imagine how good it would feel.

When you turn away from him to look ahead again, Oliver carefully takes his phone and does his utmost to make sure you don't spot it.

He sets his caller ID to hidden and types away . . .

You're startled by the feeling of your phone vibrating. You've grown to hate it. Most of the time it signals a text from a hidden number from your nightmares.

You read the text. It sends chills down your spine. Got a boyfriend, huh? Did you forget about me, sweetheart? It says.

You freeze in your tracks and Aiku stops a step later.

"You good?"

No. No you're not.

You simply hold the screen out for him to read. Aiku puts a hand on your shoulder and pulls you closer to him. You look up at his hard face, he's looking all around you. "Damn psycho." He mutters harshly. "Come on, let's hurry."

He doesn't need to tell you twice.

Terrified out of your mind, you reach both hands out and hold his arm for safety. It's not much, but it does make you feel a bit better.

Oliver swears his heart skips a few beats at that. He has to use all his strength to restrain himself. Fuck, you're killing him with how long this is taking.

He stays by your side all the way up to your apartment, and there you find it impossible to let go of his arm. "Will you be okay from now on?"

Of course you won't. You shake your head in reply.

"You know," He feels warm. "I could stay over and make sure nothing happens until tomorrow. And Otoya will go home soon enough, I'll call for him if something does happen."

You really don't want to be alone. "I . . . You don't have to."

Sure, you might be saying that, but your body leans even closer against his and you let out a shaky breath.

"I'm staying." Oliver says. It's not a question. "I can't leave when you're this shaken up."

Maybe Aiku can finally scare the stalker away. "Okay . . ." You truly hope he can because this is getting ridiculous and you're exhausted.

Once he's inside, Oliver wants to yell out in triumph at how easy it was to get you to agree. Only a few more days and he won't have to keep at it. All you need to do is let him all the way in and he can put the whole thing to rest and enjoy you.

Your apartment is cute, just like you are. Oliver could stay here forever, and if his plan succeeds then he might just be able to.

Oliver decides not to send anything for now. He hates scaring you so much, and you were pretty shaken up on the walk to your apartment. It wouldn't hurt to prepare in advance, though.

You're currently taking a quick shower.

Aiku steps into your bedroom and takes a deep breath. He's never felt like this before.

He listens carefully to make sure the shower is still on.

Only a few minutes later, you step out of the bathroom with no idea of where Oliver went just minutes prior. He's still on the sofa and watching tv, just as he was when you left to shower.

Strangely enough, you don't feel uncomfortable with him there. Only a few months ago you would have rather drank acid than let him into your home, but now his presence puts you at ease.

He notices you and offers a smile. "Feel any better?"

"Yeah, a bit." You say softly.

Oliver exhales slowly when you turn around to go to the kitchen. You really are the prettiest girl he's ever seen. He can't stop thinking about what you look like under your clothes and how pretty you would luck under him.

You're his beautiful girl. He's counting the seconds to when he can finally say it outloud.

"Do you want anything to eat or drink?" You ask.

"Nah, I'm fine." Oliver shakes his head.

What he wants is you.

Earlier, he decided to give you a few days of peace, but now he wants to send only one text. If you get anxious again then he can be there and hold you and help you calm down.

You drink some water and take a moment to think about everything. You're lucky to have friends who care, even when you insist you're okay on your own. Even Aiku of all people is going out of his way to make sure you're not alone.

It's actually not as awkward as you thought it would be. He doesn't annoy or pester you with endless questions, instead talking to you about other things in an effort to get your mind off things.

It works, for some time.

"Are you sure about staying? I feel like I'm just inconveniencing you."

Once again, Oliver thinks you don't want him there and he feels like he's been punched in the gut. "If it helps you feel any safer, I'm more than happy to." He says. Oliver won't let you push him away now that he's so close to getting what he was.

It's getting late.

You've brought a pillow and covers for him sleep on the sofa, and for the third time today your phone receives a text from a hidden caller ID.

It's a short text that reads, Good night, pretty girl. Sweet dreams.

Oliver frowns next to you when you tense up. "What is it? Show me."

When will it end?

He takes your phone from you and set it down on the table in front of the sofa. "The guy better pray I never find him." He mutters quietly. "Okay, c'mere, I got you." He puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close.

You're even more grateful to have him there now. If you were alone you would probably lock yourself in the bathroom and cry your eyes out again. "I can't take it anymore . . ." You whimper into his chest.

Oliver hushes you softly and puts his hand on the back of your head. He leans back against the sofa and pulls you with him, now rubbing your back soothingly. It feels so good to hold you like this, he can't get enough of it.

This feels oddly calming.

Like this, all you hear is the sound of his steady heartbeat. It's soothing, helping you relax with each soft thump.

You finally manage to slow your breathing down and sigh, going limp against him. "Thank you . . ."

Oliver smiles down at you and combs his fingers through your soft hair. "Close your eyes," He says softly. "I got you."

You wake up the next morning and find that you're still in Oliver's arms. He has pulled the covers over you and is awake, running his fingers through your hair.

When he notices that you've woken up, he smiles softly. "Hey there, how do you feel?"

You want to die.

Death would be preferable to being constantly watched by some lunatic out there.

You close your eyes again. "I'm tired." You whisper. Tired of being scared, tired of constantly looking over your shoulder, tired of feeling helpless.

"Sleep well?"

The feeling of him playing with your hair is a nice one. It's weird to see such a soft side of Aiku when you've known him for a while and seen his goofier side with your shared friends. "Yeah," You mumble. "thank you."

Oliver is loving this.

Strangely enough, the following several days are quiet.

Neither of you actually agreed to it outloud, but Aiku now accompanies you on your walk home from campus everyday and it becomes a routine. If he's busy with practice or has classes after yours have all ended then you wait, and it feels nice to have him walk by your side.

You get suspicious when you don't receive any texts from the stalker, wondering when he'll send you something again and what the text will say. Ever since Oliver stayed over that night it's been radio silence.

Your friends are just as confused by the lack of texts and a few are hopeful that it means the stalker just grew tired of tormenting you, the rest are worried about what he'll send in the future.

"Bitch ass." You mumble to yourself. You hate the guy more than anything and you wish the worst for him.

It's the weekend and you've been studying ever since you came home from school.

Your phone vibrates next to you but it's not from the stalker, it's Oliver calling you.

Never in a million years would you have ever thought that seeing Aiku's contact calling you would make you feel all warm inside.

He's asking how you're doing and if everything's okay.

"Everything's fine," You say. "I try not to think about all that now that it's quiet."

"Fucking finally. Let's just hope nothing happens."

"Yeah." You sigh. "I think I'll go to bed, I'm getting tired. Thank you for being there."

"You don't need to thank me, doll, I'm happy to help." Oliver says. "I didn't want to bother by coming over, but I'm at Sendou's and getting ready to leave. He lives two floors below you."

While he talks, your phone quickly vibrates in your hand and you quickly set it on speaker to check the text you've received. It makes you jump in your seat and quickly turn around to look around in the room.

Oliver hears you shuffling around as you stand up and storm out of your bedroom to turn all the lights in your apartment. He asks if you're okay but you don't hear his voice in this state.

He is there.

He's there, he's in there, he's in your apartment.

He's watching you, you can feel it.

It feels like he'll pop out and grab you any second now.

I can't breathe. Your head feels light, like everything is spinning. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

You drop your phone and try to reach the door instead. You can't stay in there, not when he is in the apartment and watching you.

Suddenly there's loud knocking on your door and you almost scream when the sound startles you.

Is he outside or inside right now? Is he in the apartment or knocking on the door to get in?

Where is he? Where?

You hear your name being called.

The voice is familiar.

It takes you a few seconds to find the strength to stand up and reach the door, your hands shaking as you try to unlock it.

A few seconds pass and you look behind you, vision blurry and cheeks wet with tears.

There's no one behind you.

Where is he?

Finally unlocking the door, you fling it open and find Aiku and Sendou standing outside and looking worried. Oliver reaches out to hold your shoulders but you step forward instead and cling to him as your legs go weak and give out.

"Hey, hey, what happened? What's going on?" Oliver quickly asks. "What's wrong?"

"H- Here . . . Here . . . He- He's here . . ." You can't breathe. You can't breathe.

Oliver hold you close and hushes you by your ear.

You hear Sendou walking down the hall and knock on a door. It opens, Otoya, and Sendou tells him to follow. They enter your apartment while Oliver sits down on the hallway floor with you in his arms. "Easy now, I got you. I got you, you're safe, I'm right here." Oliver says softly.

You sob into his chest, terrified.

"There's no one in there." You hear Sendou's voice. "Here. Look." He shows Oliver the text on your phone that's still unlocked.

You've got a nice apartment. I really like your bedroom. It's cute.

Sendou doesn't know what Oliver has been up to these past few months. No one except for Otoya does.

"Hear that?" Oliver looks down at where you're still sobbing into his chest. "There's no one in there."

That doesn't make you feel any better. You don't want to go back inside your apartment, you don't want to stay and sleep there. You shake your head and whimper, fisting his shirt at the mere thought of going back inside. Oliver hushes you again and puts a hand on the back of your head.

Sendou says, "I don't think it's a good idea for her to stay here right now." Oliver knows that Sendou genuinely worried about you, but he has no idea just how long Aiku has waited for this.

"How about staying at my place tonight?" Oliver ask in a gentle voice. "How's that sound?"

You only nod in response.

It still feels like you're being watched, you can't shake the feeling. It has you holding Oliver's hand while you walk and clinging to him desperately for safety. You're outside his apartment and feel the need to look behind you to check the hallway while he unlocks the door. "It's okay, I won't let anything happen to you." He squeezes your hand and leads you in. He closes the door and immediately turns to you, pulling you in for a hug. "You're safe here. Nothing will happen to you."

You haven't said a word since leaving your building.

"Come on, doll, let's get you to bed." He pulls back and cups your flushed cheeks where fresh tears have started running, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks gently to wipe them.

Being able to finally call you his is just within arm's reach.

"Oliver . . ."

Fuck, you're killing him.

He leans his forehead against yours, still caressing your cheeks. "I'm right here." Oliver whispers. He pulls you into another hug and waits for you to lean further against him. You even put your arms around his neck which is more than he could have asked for in the moment. "C'mere," He doesn't waste any time, moving an arm down to pick you up and hold you close. "I got you."

You keep your arms around him and your face hidden in the crook of his neck as he carries you through his apartment, only looking up when you feel something soft beneath you.

It's his bed, but you don't want to be alone right now.

Just as Oliver goes to lean back from you, you tighten your arms around him, whimpering out a desperate, "Please don't leave me."

Shit, shit, shit. Oliver is sure he's going to die now.

"You sure?" He asks, voice low.

"Please . . ." You whisper.

Oh, this is fucking perfect. This is much better than Aiku expected.

Oliver lets you lie down on his bed, and he doesn't know how to handle the view of you down there, then gets down next to you. He lets you rest your head on his arm, putting the other around your smaller frame and pulling you into his chest where you instantly close your eyes and sigh in relief. "Try to get some sleep now. You're safe here." He whispers.

"Thank you, Oliver."

He's so close to finally getting what he wants in life. What he needs.

You're my beautiful girl, Oliver thinks and smiles down at you. You look so pretty like this, eyes closed and features soft and relaxed. Aiku has finally managed to turn himself into your safe space.

"Oliver . . ."

He moves his hand up to brush away the hair that covers your beautiful face. "Yeah?"

You open your eyes to look at his, dual coloured and mesmerizing. "I'm . . . I'm so scared these days."

For a moment, Oliver feels conflicted. He just wanted this, to be the one you will always seek out and rely on, but he also wonders if he's taken things too far. Seeing your pretty eyes all teary like this is breaking his heart, but he's more than happy to help you heal from this and build you back up again.

Oliver has all the time in the world now. You trust him, he knows that, and he'll never let you leave his side. "I'm sorry this is happening," He caresses your cheek, touch soft. "I'll help in any way I can."

Please, please just let him do this.

Aiku needs only you in life, why does he have to do so much to get what he wants?

Please don't push him away.

Oliver leans closer to you, eyes still locked with yours. It's a wordless plea. He's asking you if it's okay.

Please don't say no.

If you push him away now he won't know how to handle it. He doesn't want to keep scaring you.

"Oliver . . ."

He's so close.

When you don't push him away, Oliver closes the space between you and finally presses his lips to yours.

Maybe he should've waited a bit longer and given you some more time to calm down, but he can't take it anymore.

He needs you.

Oliver doesn't push for more. He breaks the kiss after only a few seconds, but it's enough for now. "That okay?" He whispers, heart pounding against his chest.

You gulp, feeling dazed. "'s okay."

Perfect.

You wake up the next morning with Oliver's arms wrapped around you. This is the third time it has happened, and by now you've grown to enjoy the feeling.

He's still asleep.

You can't help it, but you end up laying there and just watching him.

Oliver is a handsome guy, yes, but you've never looked at him like that before. You don't know when that changed during the chaos of the past few weeks, but it's not the worst thing ever.

You reach out absentmindedly and brush his bangs from his eyes. His hair is softer than you imagined, you want to run your fingers through it forever.

He stirs a bit and takes a deep breath as he wakes up, eyes fluttering open and softening as soon as they meet yours.

"Morning." You say softly, hand on his cheek.

He smiles tiredly and closes his eyes again. "Morning, doll." Oliver puts his hand over yours and traces small circles on the back of your hand. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah." Much better than you have in months.

Oliver loves that he's the reason why you feel safe enough to have a good night's sleep now. "Stay here for a few days," He opens his eyes. "I don't want you to feel like that again."

"You sure?"

"Mhm." How could he ever want anything else? "How would you feel about it?"

"I don't want to be a burden."

"You could never be." Oliver is confused by that. How could you ever think that you would be a burden to him? He leans closer to you, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. "Stay here until you feel better."

Staying with Oliver? You wouldn't exactly hate that.

Oliver has never felt happier.

You've been staying with him for a few days now, showing no signs of wanting to leave. He knows it's because he makes you feel safe, something no one else manages to do.

He does his best to make you feel comfortable in his apartment, never pushing things too far and being careful not to say the wrong thing. The last thing Aiku wants is to scare you away.

You can't leave him.

You cannot.

Oliver wouldn't know what to do without you now that he's gotten a taste of life with you by his side. He would never forgive himself if he ruined this.

"You okay?" Your soft voice pulls him from his thoughts. "You look stressed out."

That's right. He stresses himself out every time he thinks about losing you, but he will not lose you so he should stop tormenting himself. "Just a bit tired." Oliver says. He's sitting on the couch and you're standing right next to him.

Oliver wants to hold you.

He takes your hand and pulls gently, bringing you down to hin. Aiku puts his hands on your waist, like he's been doing every now and then these past few days, and leans forward to nuzzle into your shoulder.

He always feels overjoyed when you let him do this. The first time he did he was scared you would push him away.

Oliver swears he's in heaven when he feels your fingers comb through his hair.

"Thank you for letting me stay." You thank him once again.

Oliver hums softly against your shoulder then turns towards you to place a kiss on the side of your neck.

He wants you so fucking badly.

"No need to thank me." He wraps his arms around your waist. "I'm just happy you're feeling better."

Oliver doesn't need to send you any more texts as long as you're with him. Everything is perfect this way and will stay as such so long as you don't leave.

He needs to make sure you'll stay.

Oliver waits until you decide to go to sleep. You did feel bad after your first night at his place, but all he needed to do was wait for you to start overthinking again and then he could hold you in his arms all night long.

Maybe he can finally try to take it a step further.

He'll never get tired of seeing you in his bed.

Oliver loves holding you like this more than anything. Your body fits in his arms perfectly because you were made for him and him alone. My beautiful girl. Oliver caresses your cheek.

He can't get enough of you.

When he first started doing this a few days you would blush and avoid his gaze. Now, it makes you smile up at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours.

"It feels like all I'm doing these days is just thank you over and over." You say. "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't been there."

Oh, if only you knew just why he was always there every time you needed someone.

Oliver feels bolder than he did days ago now. He leans down and slots his lips against yours, and it's the best thing he has ever felt.

He's careful to not push for too much and make you uncomfortable, but fuck, it's hard to restrain himself.

Oliver hopes you won't say no next.

He pushes gently on your shoulder to get you to move onto your back, and when you comply he moves on top of you. You don't seem uncomfortable or even shocked, thank fuck for that, and it spurs Aiku on.

He breaks the kiss and pulls back to look down at your flushed face. You look so pretty like this, Oliver has never felt like this before.

No one can compare to you. He regrets wasting his time on other girls when he could've focused all his attention on you instead.

"'s this okay?" He whispers.

You feel hot. Oliver makes you feel things you've never experienced. "Uh huh . . ."

He's so close to getting what he's waited for since the day he met you.

Oliver kisses you again and you welcome it eagerly, pulling him closer by putting your arms around his neck.

You're so perfect.

You're perfect.

Oliver needs you more than he needs air. He can't live without you, he loves you so much

Oliver loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

Oliver wakes up to the sound of his phone vibrating softly on the nightstand. He sighs, annoyed, reaching out to pick it up.

Otoya.

Oliver gets out of bed carefully, making sure you won't wake up as he leaves and goes to open the front door where Otoya is waiting outside and smirks in amusement when he sees Oliver. "Mission accomplished?"

"Almost." Oliver yawns. "What's up?"

Otoya holds up the phone Oliver bought to text you with most of the time a few months back. "I keep forgetting to give this back at campus but I was close by and remembered it a few minutes ago."

Oliver takes the phone. "Thanks, bro."

"Well you seem happy." Otoya notes. "Score yet?"

"No, she's more than that." Oliver would never see you as just another girl to sleep with. You're his precious love and he'll never let you go. He doesn't need anyone else, only you.

Aiku doesn't know that his special girl woke up from him getting out of bed.

You're confused by what the boys are talking about, standing by the bedroom door and listening.

"Well, be careful with that thing." Otoya nods down at the phone. "I don't want to see the hell everyone will raise if they find out her creepy stalker is actually her precious Oliveeer." Otoya puts on a sweet, girly voice and makes a cute face.

Otoya's words hit you like a punch in the gut.

Oliver slaps the side of Otoya's head playfully and says, "Shut up, that won't happen."

"Here's to hoping." Otoya fistbumps him. "Later." He turns around and waves as he walks away.

Your mind goes blank.

Oliver?

What?

Otoya's words echo in your mind, "I don't want to see the hell everyone will raise if they find out her creepy stalker is actually her precious Oliveeer."

Your legs go weak.

". . . her creepy stalker is actually her precious Oliveeer."

You slide down to the floor.

The front door closes.

You gasp, eyes going wide.

Footsteps . . .

Oliver is coming back to the bedroom. His bedroom. The room you've been sleeping in for days. The bed you've laid with him in. The bed he's held you in every night.

". . . her creepy stalker is actually her precious Oliveeer."

It has to be a joke right?

Right?!

"Oh?"

Oliver's voice makes your blood freeze.

"Hey, what are you doing on the floor?"

You look up at him, eyes wide. Otoya's words fill your mind again, ". . . her creepy stalker is actually her precious Oliveeer."

"What are . . . you . . ." Oliver realizes.

You heard.

You stare up at him in terror.

It's him.

What kind of a cruel, sadistic joke is this?

It all suddenly makes sense, how could you be so stupid? Every time something happened either Oliver or Otoya would be there. Otoya was in on it, too.

The texts, the pictures, the knocking . . . all those times you felt like you were being watched . . .

Just as Oliver moves, about to walk up to you, you shake your head. "Please don't hurt me."

"No, no, no, I would never hurt you." Oliver kneels down in front of you but you back into the wall. "I'd never hurt you, doll."

The room suddenly feels too small.

You can't stay in there, the room where you've been sleeping in Oliver's arms on his bed when he's been playing you like a damn fiddle all along.

You push yourself off the floor and try to leave the room but he stops you by grabbing your arms. "No! Let go!"

Oliver can't let you leave. You'll never come back if you run away now. "Please just listen to me for a minute," He pleads. "let me explain-"

"No!" You cry. "No, no!"

Oliver lets go of your arms to hold your face in his large hands instead. "Please, doll, listen to me." He forces you back against the wall and cages you in, wide frame preventing you from running away. You can't leave, you can't.

If he could torment you over the course of months so easily, what else is he capable of? The thought terrifies you and you can't stop the tears from running. "I trusted you . . ."

Oliver's heart breaks at the sight of your tears. Maybe he did take some things too far, but it's okay. All he needs to do is show how much he loves you. "You can still trust me, baby girl, I'd never hurt you, you know that."

"Oliver, please . . ." You whimper. "I'm scared . . ."

Scared of what? Of him? "You don't need to be scared, doll." Oliver says softly. He wipes the tears from your cheeks. "Please don't cry."

"O- Oliver . . ."

He's the one who turned you into a shell of your former self who spends every moment terrified for your safety.

Why would he do this?

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Oliver whispers over and over again. "I'm sorry for scaring you, doll, I'll never do anything to hurt you again." He promised. "You're the most important person in my life, I can't live without you."

How can you trust him after learning all this?

"Please don't hate me." Oliver begs desperately. He is beyond terrified now. He can't let you leave, it would kill him. "Please don't hate me, I love you so much. I love you, I love you, I love you."

If he loves you so much . . . why would he put you through all this? "Y- You . . ."

"I love you." Oliver breathes. He prays you won't push him away, then leans down to kiss you desperately. "I love you," He whispers against your lips. "I love you and only you, I love you so much."

If you were in your right mind right now you would condemn him for him actions and demand answers, but you're not. You look up at Oliver, in a daze from the kiss. "Y'love . . ."

"I love you." Oliver kisses you again. "You know that I do, don't you? You know how much I love you, doll, yeah?"

You see nothing but panic and desperation in his mismatched eyes, the same ones that have only looked at you with pure adoration for weeks now. "Y- You love m- me . . ." You murmur.

"Yeah, that's right. That's right, I love you. You're the only one I've ever loved." Oliver captures your lips in a heated kiss.

There is still a tiny voice inside you that is telling you to get a grip, yelling at you to push him away. Aiku is the one who put you through so much shit that you nearly lost your sanity, the one who scared you so much you broke down.

Oliver kisses you like his life depends on it. He needs too show you just how much he loves you, he needs you to know.

"Oli- Oliver-"

He's scared that you will tell him to let you go and he can't take it. Oliver will never let you leave, not when you're finally his.

You're still crying and he hates himself for being the cause of your tears. Oliver brushes the fresh tears from your cheeks and whispers against your lips, "You'll let me love you, won't you, doll? You'll let me show you how much you mean to me, right?" He moves his hands down your body.

He loves you . . . Oliver loves you, you can see it in his eyes.

"You'll let me, won't you, baby?"

A small nod is all you manage to give as a reply.

You gasp when you feel his warm hands on your skin. He pushes your tank top up to finally feel your soft skin. Oliver has waited for this for so long, he'll be damned if it ends before it even begins. "Let me show you."

"Oliver . . ."

He steps back from the wall and pulls you with him, guiding you to the bed and pushing you down. You're overwhelmed and want to tell Oliver to wait, but he doesn't let you say anything and kisses you again.

You push on his shoulders lightly. "W- Wait . . ."

"What's wrong, doll?" Oliver coos down at you, cupping your cheek. "Just let me take care of you, I'll make you feel better."

He leans back enough to sit on his knees for a second, pulling his t shirt off and throwing it away. The sight makes you feel hot and he can see the effect it has on you. It swells Oliver's ego to know you like what you see, even if you don't say it outloud.

There's a part of you that wants to push him away but . . .

Oliver can see the doubt in your eyes.

He leans back down and brushes his lips against yours. "You want me to make you feel good, don't you?" Aiku pushes your top up. It tingles where his skin meets yours and you exhale shakily. "I'll make it all better, doll. That's what you want, ain't it?"

You gulp, and you nod.

"Yeah?" Oliver smiles and presses a quick peck to your now swollen lips. "Want me to make it better?"

"Uh huh . . ."

He has you now.

Oliver has you and he will never let you go.

Everything feels so hot . . .

You can't breathe.

You can't think.

All you feel is Oliver Aiku.

Your discovery is long forgotten. He's doing everything he can to make sure that you will never care about it again, and it's working. Every time he feels you tensing up or sees the doubt in your pretty eyes he does something new to get your mind off it.

You're on your side with his toned chest pressed against your back as he litters your nape and shoulder with kiss, one arm under you and holding you tight while his free hand roams every inch of your burning skin.

Oliver moves his hand down between your thighs that are pressed together. "O- Oli . . ."

He can't get enough of you. He's never felt so good in his life. "All f'me," Oliver whispers by your ear. "I want you so fuck'n bad, doll."

Oliver is skilled and experienced, you know that, and you should have enough common sense to not let that bother you but it does. It means he's been with plenty of other girls before you and you hate that.

He shifts his arm under you to move his hand up to hold your face, forcing you to turn your head and look back at him. "C'mere, doll." He kisses you hungrily. Oliver actually moans when he feels how wet you are.

All for him.

"Feels so good to hold you like this." Aiku pants. "You're so good for me. My good girl."

Oliver's gaze moves down to the marks on your shoulder. There aren't enough of them. You're not covered enough. He needs to leave enough marks for the whole world to know that you belong to him.

He grabs a handful of your plush thigh. "Spread 'em."

"Oliver . . ."

"You said you'd let me, remember?" He says softly. "Remember, baby? You said you'd let me love you."

That's right . . . you did.

"Here, we'll take it slow." He's okay with waiting a few more minutes if it means he can make you more needy in the process and eventually have you beg for it. "See? Just like this."

Oliver urges you to press your thighs together again. He's sure that being buried deep inside you would feel a lot better, but he doesn't mind fucking your pretty thighs for a while. They’re so soft and feel so good around his cock, everything about you feels like paradise.

You keep rubbing your thighs together to relieve some of the tension in your body. He's only making it worse by rubbing against you like this, you're desperate for release. "Oliver . . . please . . ."

Every time he moves forward he nudges your sensitive clit and it has your thighs shaking.

You spread your legs and Oliver is quick to take advantage of it. "This is okay, right?" He pants, struggling to restrain himself.

Even now, there's still that tiny voice inside that begs you to stop.

Oliver kisses your shoulder. "I can do it, right?"

You . . .

He needs to make you his.

You're scared.

Oliver feels it in the way you tense you slightly, but he's so close, it's practically almost done. "Hey, doll, how do you feel?" He kisses your shoulder again and stops for a moment. "It's okay, right?"

It's Oliver . . . Oliver loves you, you know that now . . .

You don't say anything. Instead, you reach your hand back to the back of his head and turn to kiss him again.

Oliver will take this as a yes.

You tense up and gasp when he pushes in. He's a lot bigger than you expected.

Oliver swears he's dying, he can't handle it now that it's finally happening. You're so warm and so tight, it feels so good.

"Y'feel so fuck'n good, doll." Oliver whispers against your lips. "So good for me, my good girl."

You can't think of anything other than the feeling of Oliver's cock deep inside you, filling you perfectly.

He moves at a slow pace, whispering sweet nothings and praising you for being so good for him. You're his perfect girl, so sweet and so beautiful and all his.

Oliver knows he has you now.

"How's it feel, doll? Feel good?"

You feel hot. "Oli . . ."

"Deep breaths for me, baby, easy now." He murmurs softly, hitting that perfect spot inside you.

"F- Feels good . . ."

Yes.

Oliver has never been happier. He finally has you and it was worth the wait.

You cry out his name and it makes Oliver's heart flutter and he practically melts against you. You're the only girl who can do this to him. Everything about you is addicting, he could never get enough of you. Now that Oliver finally gets to bury himself inside you he never wants to pull out. He wishes that he can stay like this forever.

Aiku moans against your nape at the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him, as if you never him to leave.

Shit, it feels so good, he won't last.

He whispers you name breathlessly and moves at an even slower pace in favour of giving harder thrusts.

Your sweet voice bounces off the walls and in the room, the sweetest sound Aiku has ever heard.

"G'na cum f'me, yeah?" Oliver pants, so close. "Come on, doll, cum for me. Give me everything."

You belong to him, just as he belongs to you.

You're his and he is yours.

Oliver loves you so fucking much, he can hardly handle it. He needs you to live.

"I love you."

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock oliver aiku #oliver aiku #oliver aiku x reader #oliver aiku x you #oliver aiku smut

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