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strawwritesfic · 2 years

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The Tenth Doctor x Companion!Reader: Kiss

Summary: You can only hope he’ll give you more credit in the future...and maybe more kisses, too.

Rating/Tags: All (Post-Rose; Human!Reader; Mechanic!Reader)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Notes: Hey! I only saw Doctors 9 and 10, and the latter I stopped watching after Martha left due to becoming a busy college student who wanted to spend most of her time sleeping and watching anime with her friends. Thus A) This is probably not all that accurate and B) Please don’t send requests for more Doctor Who-related things, because I haven’t watched a single episode since, like, 2010, and I’m not likely to start again now.

Kiss

Would it be cliché of you to remark that, when you decided to run away from your Podunk town hand in hand with a who-knew-how-powerful alien, you had not expected so much running? Yes. Yes, it would. Besides that, the Doctor had made it pretty clear just how in shape you needed to be on that first little adventure of yours back on Earth. What you had not expected, even after several weeks, months, years (you weren’t really sure how long it had been), was that the save of the day would once rely on your running.

“Get back to the TARDIS!” the Doctor snapped, when you’d spun about to help him.

The entire venture had been your idea–a mechanical planet? Well, it turned out to be more a planet inhabited by mechanical beings, a bit like Cars, but not ridiculous–and that seemed to rankle him more than usual. You stood, blinking at him, until the ground began to shake underneath your feet. The Doctor gestured wildly for you to run off.

“You’ve got a better chance of getting it going in this mess than I do," he said. "Go!”

You knew better than to ignore a direct order. The Doctor had reminded you only that morning that failure to obey him would land you right back home working endless hours at the body shop with no hope of bigger and brighter things ahead. Still, the thought that you could fix the TARDIS was laughable, and you figured that the Doctor only wanted you out of the way long enough to prevent you from getting crushed.

Sure enough, the only problem was that the Doctor had left the emergency brake on. Again. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out (unless said genius hadn’t spent enough time reading the manual to decipher the mess of wires and handles). You wrenched the brake into the off position with your heart hammering. Twisting back around toward the doors, you expected him to come sprinting in to start the process of leaving.

All you got for your efforts was another massive explosion that rocked the floor so hard you nearly shoved the emergency brake back on.

From the sound of things, the fight outside wasn’t going well. You were far enough away that you couldn’t hear the Doctor, but the metallic screech of what was after him sounded off every few seconds.

What if he didn’t come back?

Oh, the Doctor would come back. You didn’t have to fret over not having someone getting inside to get you off this planet and back to the relative safety of the void of time. But it might not be the Doctor that you were used to–the one that told you time and time again that his regenerations were like death.

“Sure, my memories will still be there,” he would say when the silences between you got too long, “but they’ll be inside some other man’s head.”

What if that other man didn’t want you coming along? Worse still, what if you didn’t get along with him? What if he stuck you back on Earth without so much as a goodbye?

Even as such frantic thoughts bounced around your head, you cast about the TARDIS’s interior for something you could use to help. You were just a run-of-the-mill human, nothing that could take on the gigantic Transformers-esque beasts outside!

Then you saw it: the damaging beam weapon you’d thrown together a few days ago from parts lying around the place.

“No,” the Doctor had said firmly, wrenching the enormous bazooka-like item from your grasp. When you tried to protest, he’d scowled. “Too much like a gun! I didn’t bring you along to weaponize my ship.”

But he hadn’t turned it into scrap yet, and, given how busy things had been since, probably hadn’t had time to disable it either. You grabbed the object without a second thought and burst out of the TARDIS while still struggling to heft your “gun” into place.

Outside, the noise was nearly deafening. The fight was closer now, too. You vaguely thought you remembered this whole thing beginning when the robot-alien-things (you had a mind for figures and parts, not names and species) decided the TARDIS probably had parts that could help the planet’s inhabitants along with their invasions, but you didn’t know for sure.

The large figure continued to stampede, shaking the ground tremendously; the Doctor darted about, stabbing the air with his screwdriver to no discernible affect. As you watched, the creature made a grab for the Doctor that had him stumbling backward. It was time for you to act or resign yourself to whatever regeneration came next.

You chose the former. Without even knowing if you were in a range close enough to do any damage, you yanked the trigger and kept running forward.

A massive white blast erupted from the other end. Did it do anything? You had no way of knowing. The kickback was much more than you expected; it sent you not only backwards, but up.

What went up, must therefore come back down. Your back collided against the planet’s rocky surface, knocking all the wind from your lungs. You lay there gasping for breath and staring up at the red sky, hoping that you’d managed to take the alien out and not your road trip buddy. The fact that you could no longer hear the grinding and explosions from before was somewhat heartening, but you could also just have lost your hearing in your fall.

Then the Doctor appeared right above you, frowning one of his angriest frowns. You’d seen it thrown at no small number of beings that got too big for their britches, but never at you.

You didn’t care. He was okay and himself, as far as you could tell.

Without waiting for you to speak, he grabbed your hand and yanked you to your feet. You lost no time in grabbing him in a hug and burying your face in his chest. He did not return the gesture, but also did not shove you away.

“I told you to go to the TARDIS,” he said.

“I did! And I ‘fixed’ things. But you didn't come back, and I was so worried!”

“I regenerate!” He pointed out waspishly. “You won’t!”

At last, he pushed you an arm’s length away. Still frowning, he looked you up and down. Your face stung from several small scrapes, and your back felt terribly bruised. You tried not to let that show, however; you would hate it if the Doctor decided to abandon you back on Earth because you were unfit for further adventures.

Unfortunately, whatever he saw there, he wasn’t pleased.

“[Name], I told you just this morning when you asked if we could come here that you had better do everything I say unless you wanted to go back home. You have directly disobeyed my orders and put both of us and the TARDIS in danger!”

He continued to go on, spouting off a list annoyances so fast that you could hardly understand them. You weren’t trying to anyway. Your relief was still too strong. The fact that it was still your familiar Doctor standing in front of you and reaming you out was worth every bit of his frustration–not to mention that you felt a certain amount of satisfaction over being the rescuer yourself for once. As the Doctor’s tirade went on, you stood on your tiptoes, pressed his cheeks between your palms, and brought his face down for a kiss, right on the lips.

When you pulled away, you were panting nearly as hard as you had been after being knocked to the ground. The Doctor looked no less out of breath, though he recovered much more quickly to give you a look of utmost incredulity.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. “You can’t kiss me while I’m lecturing you! You could have died, and–”

“And I didn’t!” you said all in a rush. Your elation was starting to break through your anxiety. You could almost have danced, you were so happy with the situation, the Doctor, and yourself.

After a moment of staring at you as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, the Doctor cracked a smile. More than that: A second later, he let out a whoop of laughter. “And you didn’t!” He grabbed both your hands and leaped once into the air. “We did it!”

“We did it!” you crowed. Both of you were still alive! The TARDIS was fine! The Doctor was the same one that you’d seen that morning over breakfast!

And he felt it too, even if he didn’t admit so with words. He kept his hand around one of your and led you back to the ship. You hummed as if to pretend that you weren’t there to interrupt the mood, but the Doctor refused to play along. He hummed, too, and every so often he would lean down and kiss the top of your head.

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celira · 7 months

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day 31(!!!!!!!!!!)

Camilla stares at the wall. She’s probably memorized its contours at this point, if she’s actually been looking at it all the times she’s been looking at it, but it’s just as likely that she’s been seeing through it. Pyrrha hasn’t clocked the difference between her one, five, and thousand-yard stares yet.

Pyrrha eyes it briefly, herself. Standard-issue shitty drywall. The splotch at the top right looks like a shuttle, kind of, and looks like water damage, definitely, and either way, this is a waste of time.

“Hect.”

Camilla doesn't flinch, exactly, but she gives the barest impression of a start, and the cold-earth eyes slant toward her.

"Take it easy. It can't hurt you."

The joke lands about as well as she'd expected and worse than she'd hoped, but it had been worth a shot. Camilla looks unimpressed – still, that's an improvement over the leashed misery broadcasting from behind an almost convincing layer of holding it together.

Almost. It's hard to convince someone who's had thousands of years to perfect what this kid has been working on for months at best. Pyrrha can't even bother pretending she doesn't feel an affinity for the untethered cavalier who she's been unlikely roommates with for a week.

She decides to deploy her second favorite tactic, which is to recommend that people do as she says and not as she does. "You're going to snap if you keep whatever you're chewing on bottled in, you know. It's not going to leave you better off – it just means you'll have less control of when and how it comes out."

Camilla says nothing for a long moment, and just when Pyrrha starts to wonder how stubbornly the younger woman can wait her out, she says, “I thought that I was getting better.”

Pyrrha doesn't ask what she's getting better about. She's seen the roughspun canvas pouch, has enough necromantic familiarity kicking around – doesn't even strictly need necromantic familiarity – to know that some kind of unfinished business around her and her necro is looming over her. She knows that feeling all too well, too.

"Well," Pyrrha says, "it can take more time. What do you need to get better for? Is it a problem I've got intel on?"

Camilla's eyes fix on her more firmly, and she gives her a measuring glance in the truest sense. Pyrrha can all but feel it, smothers her surprise at its intensity; if this is what it feels like to have Camilla Hect's full attention, after all, that means she hasn't truly had it before this moment, and she wonders again what kind of necro she had, to warrant such laser focus.

Apparently she's found adequate, and Camilla squares her shoulders with the affect of a person making a decision, and upends Pyrrha's day with her next question. "What can you tell me," she says, "about the River?"

What in-fucking-deed. Pyrrha has a familiar feeling – the swoop of adrenaline that feels like her stomach sinking and her spirits lifting at the same time; the tone of voice with which some people say interesting, when it sure isn't healthy but it'll sure be a trip.

"Well. What are you trying to do?"

"Bring back someone who kept himself from going in."

Pyrrha thinks cold eyes, thinks landmines, and squares her own shoulders. Sooner or later, there's going to be an impact.

For now, she dives.

(a/n: holy shit! this is my first time participating in and completing a month-long fanworks prompt exercise. thanks to those of you who have read along for any part of it! now, onto endless editing November...)

#whumptober2023 #no.31 #lyric #“I thought that I was getting better.”#quote #“Take it easy.”#the locked tomb #fanfic #fanfiction #tlt fanfic #tlt fanfiction #the locked tomb fanfiction #lira does a thing #camilla hect #pyrrha dve #nona the ninth #i am sad and so is camilla hect #palamedes haunts the narrative

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rjhpandapaws · 2 years

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Like a Rose Something will Grow

//TW: Low Self Worth, Self Deprecation, and mild suicidal thought

Link has always been a light sleeper, or at least it feels that way. He's been a light sleeper since he woke up in the Shrine of Resurrection, he doesn't know if the Link he was before that was a light sleeper, and he doesn't care to find out. Since coming back to his house in Hateno it's been worse, the slightest noise will set him awake for the rest of the day. Unless it's raining. The rain reminds him enough of Zora's Domain that he can manage a few hours of rest despite the noise beyond the walls of his house. Which is why he finds himself surprise to be woken up by something despite the heavy spring rain. His ears flick as he resigns himself to being awake and listens for what his mind tells him is a threat. Instead he hears Sidon's voice, "I promise I mean no harm, I am looking for my friend Link. Prince - Queen - Zelda told me he often resides in this town when he isn't traveling." He can't hear Boulson's response over the crack of thunder but shortly there after he hears the bridge creak dangerously. It wasn't meant to carry the weight of anything much larger than a horse. He prayed it wouldn't break as Sidon crossed. That thought was immediately followed by the realization that Sidon had found his house. Found him.

Link hadn't expected him to come looking. When he had gathered his senses and teleported away, he assumed that would be the end of it. Everyone else had moved on without him. Was it so cruel of him to expect the same of Sidon? He sighed and braced himself for the knock that was sure to come to his door. Sidon was never good at letting him sleep, but it never comes. Well not at least until the sun is well over the horizon. "Link, I know you're here. Your horse is in the yard." Sidon's voice has a hitch of, something, to it. "I just want to talk. Apologize, actually, for my outburst at the river. Please let me in." Link rolls out of bed, might as well get this over with. Sidon will apologize for reacting to his sadness, remind him that he is a hero, and over a place to stay if he needs one in the same strained way everyone else has with the hopes Link never takes them up on it. He won't of course, he has this house and it's nice enough, and sometimes it even rains enough for him to sleep.

When he opens the door Sidon is crouched almost comically to fit in the frame. Link steps aside and gestures for him to enter. It would be better for Sidon if they had this conversation outside, he wouldn't have to bend uncomfortably; but Link would rather not have the whole town witness his weakness. Sidon takes a seat on the floor once Link has closed the door, he's less at risk of bashing his head on the ceiling like this. Worry pinches his brow as he looks Link over. And Link pretends not to notice. He knows how he looks. His hair is in a loose bun and uncombed, he's in an old shirt that's seen much better days, and pants that are in the same state. He's got dark circles and he hasn't been eating enough. He knows this already. "You look unwell my friend." The gentleness of Sidon's voice threatens to pull him apart at the seams.

'I'm Fine.' He signs sharply, but it doesn't matter because Sidon's eyes have landed on his sister's spear mounted safely on the wall. Unused since it was gifted to him. "You are not fine." Right, Sidon had a wide field of vision, "I won't ask if you don't want to tell me, but I cannot leave you on your own while you are like this." 'You Should.' He replies dryly, 'You Have Better Things To Worry Over.' Sidon bares his teeth, and Link knows he's crossed a line, but as soon as the anger is shown it gets buried, "Let me decide what is worth my worry Link." There's a coolness to his words that keeps Link's hands firmly at his sides, "I wanted to apologize for the scene I made at the river, it was rather undignified of me to declare I still needed you when you've had so little time to recover. I am sorry I made you feel like you had to hide from me." 'Not From You.' Link signs carefully, 'I'm Just A Coward.' Sidon opens his mouth but Link beats him to it, 'Don't.' He signs sharply, 'I Do Not Want Praise. I'm Not The Hero, He Died In The Castle. I Am Just Link. I Am Afraid.' He paused, 'Let Me.'

Zora can't cry, not physically at least, Link isn't sure why or how he knows that, but he does; despite this Sidon looks like he's ready to shed heavy tears at Link's words. He closes his eyes for a long moment and Link watches him collect himself. When his amber eyes open again there is a distance to them that hurts Link more than Ganon or any of his blights had. "If that's what you want." Sidon says quietly, "I will be out keeping watch until you are ready to reach out." He struggles with the door for a moment, his large claws are too big for the handle, but once he has it open he's out quickly enough that someone might have thought he'd been burned. In a way, Link supposed he had. He settles in the pond as promised and the door closes between them. Link lets it.

He loses count of the days eventually. Link catches another glimpse of him through the loft window and sighs quietly. Of course he hasn't left. On some level Link knew he wouldn't. Not until he knew Link was well. Guard sleep, Sidon had called it once. It was a common practice among Zora who were particularly close. One would guard the sleeping pool of another until they recovered. Be it from illness, injury, or low mood. He should have been honored that Sidon cared enough to do this for him. Except Link couldn't see himself coming out of this anytime soon, and that pond was far too small for Sidon. There wasn't much to come out of, there wasn't much of anything. He'd saved the world. There was nothing left for him to do except wait for any one of the deaths he had cheated to come back for him. Sidon didn't need him, despite his outburst at the river. He was strong and had his whole life ahead of him. He could get through this. He just needed to let Link go, like everyone else had.

By the time spring had turned into a sweltering summer, Link couldn't look outside without feeling some form of guilt. This weather was far too warm for Sidon, this much time in it had to be bad for his health. Still Link waited until he was properly asleep before leaving the house. He'd made ice pillars with the slate and put them on either end of the pond. The chill it seemed was enough to wake Sidon. He spotted Link in a matter of moments and gave a weak smile, "You're here." Link wasn't sure how to respond to the weigh of relief in his voice, and pulled up the warp screen on the tablet. Sidon was faster and grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the water. "No running this time." He took the tablet and set it on one of the pillars out of Link's reach, "I've done my waiting and we need to talk."

'Then Talk.' He signs flatly. "Why do you hate me? If it wasn't the river then why?" He lets go of Link if only to clench his fists, "I don't understand, I've given you space, and my words, nothing seems right." 'You Don't Want Me.' Link signs, all his old anger bubbling over, 'You Want Champion. Hylian Hero. You Want Savior, Dear Friend. You Do Not Want Link.' A sob rattles up between them and Link isn't sure who it came from, 'I Am Not Hero. I Am A Corpse With Too Much Time Left.' Sidon is quiet, truly quiet for a very long time, and Link learns from his silence, that it's him that's crying. He curls in on himself as if that would be all it took to hide this from Sidon. "No, Link... I never meant to make you feel that way." Sidon says and it's barely above a whisper, "I thought.... I'm not friends with the Hero of Time. I'm friends with a ridiculous little Hylian who doesn't sleep enough even for the dead, and solves most of his problems by setting them on fire. I'm friends with someone who's still learning who he is, and one of those things needs to be how dear he is to me. My hands are full enough with him that I wouldn't have time for whatever hero may come my way. So please don't cry."

Link feels something break, whether its something physical, or just one of his many layers of armor he isn't sure. But he finds himself crashing into Sidon and finally letting go. Sidon, as kind as he is, holds him while he cries and when he's collected himself Sidon gives him back the slate. "Let's head back." He says kindly, "You could use some real sleep, and I have rather missed my resting pool." Link nods before grabbing Sidon's hand. They fade into blue light together and when they arrive in Zora's Domain again, Link almost feels like putting down roots.

#breath of the wild #Breath of the wild fic #Sidon #Link #Sidlink #low self worth tw #self deprecation tw #tw suicidal ideation

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starsmuserainbow · 1 year

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Verse Information - Starfire in 'Nice Means Weak'

This idea is coming from an anon that I got, asking about headcanons for an evil Starfire AU.

Origin: Her background story stays the same up to the point when she was caught. She didn’t manage to escape and thus didn’t come to Earth, instead she was send into a prison. She tried her best to make clear that she isn’t guilty and would never do such a thing; and firmly believed that if she keeps being honest and kind someone will believe and help her. It didn’t come like that though, instead she was bought as a slave after a few weeks, and from then on treated worse than in prison, also was branded on her right arm. Again she didn’t want to give up her kindness and tried to be a perfect slave and do every task as quickly and efficiently as possible; hoping for a chance to explain herself and make her ‘master’ understand that she doesn’t belong here. As she finally got the chance to do that, it only lead to even worse treatment to make her ‘accept her place’. Eventually, her kindness was completely crushed and only anger, hate and fury were left. Now finally rid of good conscience, she was quickly able to get rid of her ‘master’ and any guards trying to stop her. She returned to Tamaran immediately, demanding answers for why no one helped her. At first she encountered her old caretaker, Galfore. He didn’t want to believe that she changed so much and was happy to see her, until she started attacking him demanding answers that he couldn't give. She left him behind badly wounded since he didn’t use much of his powers to fight her, when her sister arrived at the scene of the fight. Blackfire got there just as Starfire was about to finish Galfore, she stopped this and invited her sister inside to talk. She told her that she couldn’t try to get her out of prison because it would have then been obvious that it wasn’t she who killed her father. It was a lie to protect Tamaran from emerging into the next war, since there had been people from Earth sent here that killed him. (Which of course wasn’t true, but Blackfire had a grudge against earth ever since a few special powered people there fought her off as she once approached earth and tried to declare that she’s the ruler of the whole planet now; this happened sometime while Starfire was a slave.) And Blackfire said that she had to put the guilt to someone of her own people, and since her sister had left she didn’t expect her to be found. Full of rage and fury, Starfire headed for earth after this talk. Determined to destroy the whole planet if needed; she just had to find the ones responsible for all of her suffer. She had to fight some heroes; maybe even the same that Blackfire fought. After she had managed to defeat some of them, she was finally defeated by the rest of the group, and they put her into custody. Of course she’s planning her escape ever since landing in there, although her treatment here is way better then in her time as a prisoner or slave.

Her looks are still the same, though you won’t see her happy very often. I might more often use her icons from the episode Go than the others, because that outfit just works well for this verse.

Her current location: I would imagine something like being imprisoned somewhere in sight of some superheroes (free to choose which ones). She’s always trying to get out, but they are able to block her powers and she has almost no chance of ever getting out of this. Or does she…? Also she completely doesn’t understand why she is treated this good in here, as a prisoner.

This verse will be tagged with #✫ Nice Means Weak ✫ | Evil!Starfire AU

#✫ There are so many Universes out there to explore! ✫ | Verses #info-post for the verses page here; more to come over time #✫ Out of Characters ✫ | OOC #✫ General Tag (Starfire(Canon)) ✫#✫ General Tag (Blackfire(Canon)) ✫#Blackfire isn't really the focus here but mentioned; so I guess I should use the tag

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opalesense · 3 years

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How would the genshin Bois, zhongli, childe, diluc and kaeya react to a fem traveller stuck in a wall after a harsh battle, they'll help her get out right?...right?

a sight to behold

zhongli, childe, diluc, kaeya & f!reader (NSFW-ish)

1.9k words • ~13 min. read

warnings: just a lot of teasing & dirty thoughts

notes: i was practically rubbing my hands together with evil intentions when i saw this request but i’ll spare the graphic details for another time, otherwise this will be extremely long!! also i wrote them separately here BUT i wouldn’t be opposed if someone requested them to be grouped together instead... anyway, i hope you enjoy this!! >:)

THE WIDELY FEARED PRIMO GEOVISHAP was certainly a sight to behold from above. You quickly understood why so many people often avoided interacting with this beast – it was intimidating even while it slept soundly, its loud snores echoing throughout the cavern despite being so far down. As you stood on the platform above its sleeping form, you studied its details, noticing the element it possessed and strategizing your combat plan quickly, thankful that you could manipulate an element that targetted its weakness. Once you made up your mind, you let out a huff as you took a leap of faith down, letting your glider save you at the last second before you could actually make contact with the ground.

Your companion followed behind swiftly, the two of you moving gently around the walls of the cavern, careful not to wake the beast from its slumber. In a low whisper, you began to describe your strategy to your partner, but alas, the beast suddenly awoke and interrupted your planning with a ear splitting roar.

Without a second thought, the two of you dashed to the creature, loosely following the details of the plan you had based on what you were able to say before you got interrupted. The battle was fine at first, but you soon realized how out of sync the two of you became as the fight progressed. Your elemental reactions were getting poorly timed, and it was difficult to keep an eye on each other’s movements with the beast constantly thrashing about and blocking communication.

In normal circumstances, the two of you excelled in combat together without needing any other support. Maybe it was bad luck, or maybe you bit off more than you could chew this time, but you noticed you were getting knocked around easier than usual. Things were obviously not going your way and you had to think of a solution fast.

But before you knew it, your distraction with your own thoughts got the best of you. One single swipe of the geovishap’s tail sent you flying across the cavern towards the opposite wall then tumbling on the ragged, rocky edges of floor, certainly leaving cuts and bruises for later. To make matters worse, one more aggressive roar from the beast shook the walls of cavern enough to send chunks of rock tumbling down towards your injured body. Unable to form coherent thoughts, you knew you didn’t have the strength to escape the avalanche. Instead, all you could do was lay there, helpless and bracing for impact, praying to the Archons that you can be saved.

zhongli

Zhongli made quick work of the beast, using his shield to deliver an extremely effective counter attack and finishing it once and for all. The creature wailed in pain in its dying moments before disintegrating into dust. He expected to see your face on the other side but alas, you were nowhere to be seen.

“[Y/N]?” his face tensed as he tried to think of where you could have disappeared to. As his eyes darted around the cavern, he immediately noticed a tiny speck of color amongst the rocks on the wall that resembled your clothing. He quickly sprinted towards you, lifting some of the boulders off of you effortlessly using his geo manipulation.

He began to subconsciously slow down once he saw the way you were displayed in front of him. Your legs were propped up slightly from the rocks underneath you that caved in from the impact. The way your hips curved up caused your skirt to fold back onto you, leaving you completely exposed under his gaze.

Ungodly thoughts began to race across Zhongli’s mind. He couldn’t help but slowly undress you in his mind, thinking about all the things he could do to you in this moment of vulnerability.

You poor thing... If only we were not in such a potential dire circumstance of life or death, what would stop me from keeping these rocks on top of you, grabbing those hips, and pressing myself against you? It would be the perfect opportunity to keep you still while I have my way with you... Perhaps I should check to see if you’re okay first, and maybe I can trap you with these rocks myself instead. Certainly I could even lift you in a better position for a better fit...

“Stay with me, [Y/N],” Zhongli snapped out of his fantasy and continued to lift the boulders off of you, wondering if he should really go through with his urges. “You will be okay...”

childe

Childe had noticed you fly across the cavern in the corner of his eye, and watching you land on the floor at such a fierce impact only fueled him to keep fighting. In a fit of a rage and frustration, he summoned his dual blades and quickly turned the tides of the battle towards his favor. He didn’t even need to watch the beast die to know it was dead within seconds, and after his final blow he quickly dashed towards where you landed only to find out you had been crushed by more rocks.

He let out another yell of frustration, grabbing the boulders one by one and pushing them off of you. “[Y/N]? Can you hear me?”

“I’m fine, just get these off of me!” you managed to call out from underneath the pile. Relieved that you were alive and well, he managed to push most of the boulders off but hesitated once he got a good look at the way you were laid out in front of him.

With your legs dangling off the edge of the pile, your ass was comedically exposed towards him, the rest of your upper half still trapped within the remains of the avalanche. Funnily enough, the hem of your skirt had even got trapped above your hips that you were completely exposed, causing Childe to grin evilly.

“Well, well, well,” he slowly walked over to you and placed a gloved hand on your bare cheek, still slightly out of breath from the heavy lifting. He gave a gentle squeeze, eliciting a gasp from you. “Is this my reward for helping you? If so, I’ll gladly take it now...”

“Did you forget that I’m stuck? What if I’m badly injured?!”

“In that case, I’m sure I can make all the pain go away and replace it with pleasure instead,” he gave one final squeeze and chuckled before walking away to grab another boulder. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding... But once you’re out, don’t expect all this help to come for free, you know.”

diluc

Diluc watched you tumble across the floor with panicked eyes, immediately worrying about your safety but not letting that distract him from the task at hand. In the heat of the moment under the influence of rage and anxiety, he summoned his pyro manipulation to set his claymore ablaze and deliver multiple final blows to the creature, smashing its figure into bits. The beast cried in its final moments and when he was sure it was dead, he dropped his sword as he sprinted towards you.

Pure panic settled in once he saw you had been crushed underneath the pile of rocks. He pushed himself to run faster, feeling tears form in the corners of his eyes but ignoring it. He didn’t want to lose you – not this easily.

“[Y/N]!” he called out once he reached the site, “Can you hear me?”

“I’m here, Diluc. I’m fine,” you reassured him. He deeply sighed in relief as he began to push the boulders off of you. Thank Barbatos you were alive and well! He shook the thought of you being fatally injured away from the forefront of his mind to focus on getting you out of this mess, using his strength to his advantage. But after a few rocks were pushed off of you, his eyes widened at the sight of you, a sight he will never forget.

While your legs and upper body were still trapped underneath the pile, the first thing Diluc revealed was your ass, exposed by your skirt that was coincidentally trapped above your hips. Your thighs were pinned together, rubbing gently as you squirmed in the rubbish, trying to wiggle your way out. Or at least, he wanted to believe you were wiggling for the sole purpose of getting out, and not to tease him.

With a nervous gulp, he averted his eyes away from you and resumed his work on the boulders. His mind couldn’t help but drift away into sinful corners, though. He envisioned the way he could firmly grab your thighs, pull down your underwear and...

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he took a more lighthearted tone to cover up his urges, “I thought you were surely dead.”

kaeya

After briefly witnessing you get thrown across the cavern, Kaeya managed to finally stab the beast in such a precise weakness point, making it wail in pain until it slowly withered away in its dying moments. He took no time at all to rush over to you, sprinting faster once he saw that you had been crushed by an avalanche.

“[Y/N], talk to me,” he subtly asked for reassurance that you were still alive as he began to analyze the situation and pinpoint exactly where you were in all this rubbish.

“I’m okay,” you weakly muttered with a grin, glad that he had come to your rescue, “Just a little bruised, that’s all.”

Following the trail of your voice, he put his mind to work. He started to strategically push certain rocks so that others would naturally fall off of you without him needing to lift too much. After awhile, he began to spot one of your arms, then your other arm, and with each rock tumbling down he soon revealed the full picture.

Or at least, a fraction of the full picture.

He was relieved to see that you had wrapped your arms around your head for protection before the crash, avoiding what would have been an extremely dangerous injury. With your entire body from the chest down still trapped, you felt the need to stretch out your arms in the newly freed space and take a deep breath, glad to finally have some fresh air. “Good morning,” you joked on your bed of rocks.

Even though he certainly felt some relief, he couldn’t fight the urge to tease you as he cooed over the sight of you so helpless underneath him. With an evil smirk, he pulled out one of the rocks that was supporting your neck, leaving your head hanging off the edge and eliciting a gasp from you. Before you could protest, he propped himself up against the wall with one arm, his body hovering over you and his crotch just inches away from your face.

“Look at that pretty mouth of yours... You tempt me even in the most dire situations, sweetheart,” he let his free hand run slender fingers across your scalp, slowly massaging you. “Now that I think about it, I do deserve a prize for saving you, don’t I?”

“Quit running your mouth and just help me get out of here,” you scolded him jokingly. He laughed and shook his head dismissively as he walked away to get back to work, fighting that strong urge to use your throat in such a vulnerable state.

“If you say so, sweetheart. Maybe some other time.”

#zhongli #childe #ajax #tartaglia #diluc #kaeya #zhongli x reader #childe x reader #ajax x reader #tartaglia x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #mine #bang

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captains-simp · 3 years

Note

Can your write a longer version of the Romanov (Romanoff) teacher x fem reader and/or with Carol Danvers or Yelena Belova? (I know she is her sister but they aren’t really)

And I’ll buy you two cups of coffee. Or if u do All three characters, (not at once but maybe eventually in another story), I’ll buy u 4 cups 🥰

F-four cups?? Bdosskdskssosjs I'm on it!!

2.8k words

Warnings: teacher!Natasha X student!reader, teacher!Carol X student!reader, unhealthy power dynamic, dub-con (not really?? Putting it to be safe) age gap (R is 18), smoking, being caned, praise, degrading, strap on sex, oral on strap on, gagging and overstimulation

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Your head fell back against the brick wall as you exhaled heavily and let the thick smoke escape your parched mouth. You stared up at the clouds amongst the perfectly blue sky and made out various shapes the clouds displayed, each telling their own story. You smiled when you spotted a laughing dragon.

"Y/n." Came a snappy voice that pulled you from your daydreaming. You recognised the voice instantly and clenched your teeth together as you dropped your joint to the floor and stepped on it.

"Yes, Miss Romanoff?" You rolled your eyes and glared at the teacher approaching you.

"You know smoking is not permitted on these grounds. Neither are the those." The redhead stated as she eyed the the packet in your pocket and held her hand out for it. You begrudgingly handed it over.

"Detention. 7 o'clock. Do not be late." She warned before heading back towards the old building. You continued to glare daggers into her back as you watched her leave, those damn hips swaying with every step.

You would be the first to admit your teacher was hot. With all those curves and a look to kill, yes you were attracted to her. But there was a lot of teachers at the school that were easy on the eyes. The difference with Natasha was she seemed spent on making your life at that school a living hell.

It felt like she was always out to get you, giving you detentions left and right and shouting at you for seemingly nothing. So being attracted to her while she played the role of the your own personal guardian devil wasn't easy. Plus: it was beyond frustrating being horny at a boarding school.

The day dragged by after that. Every time you looked up at the clock on a classroom wall it had barely changed. You just wanted the day to be over with.

Finally, 7 o'clock came and you dragged yourself to Natasha's classroom a few minutes late. You would be lying if you said you hadn't deliberately been late to piss her off. Not to mention you had made it quite the habit with your teacher. You were a sucker for tradition.

"I do hope that one day you'll learn the importance of being punctual." Natasha said from her desk where she didn't look up from marking.

"I guess today just isn't that day." You said as you slouched down in your seat in the back row.

You frowned as you noticed a workbook wasn't placed on your desk already. That was usually all your detentions consisted of, you doing more work. You looked up and saw Natasha watching you darkly. You struggled to hold her gaze for more than a couple seconds.

"On the contrary, y/n. I think today is exactly that day." She said with a small smile you didn't trust at all. You rarely saw her smile. Brief, forced ones towards her colleagues was all you thought she was capable of. But the one she gave you, it was hiding something.

"Come here." She said suddenly and you found yourself getting to your feet rather hastily.

You made your way down the room and stood infront of your teachers desk with some nerves. While you had never strived to piss off any teachers, their threats never seemed to scare you because you knew there was nothing they could really do. It never got any worse than a series of tedious detentions. But you found yourself not wanting to test your teacher that evening.

Natasha stood up from her chair and put the papers to the side before walking around the desk and past you. You didn't look back to see what she was doing but you could hear her open the door to her supply room. There was one in every room in the generously sized school. All stocked with books and alike, but you had never seen the inside of Miss Romanoff's supply room, it was always too dim.

Her heels clicked against the wooden floor as she made her way back to you. You still didn't dare turn around, maybe if you had Natasha wouldn't have pushed your back down with alarming force that had your front pressed against her table in less than a second.

You gave a startled cry in alarm and went to get back up but Natasha's hand stayed firmly between your shoulder blades and forced you to stay flat against the desk.

"Miss!" You called but she didn't respond. Instead, her other hand wandered up the back of your left thigh. Her touch was light as a feather and it brought out an involuntary shudder from you despite the screaming in your head.

Natasha then hiked your skirt up over your hips. You stayed silent at the act. In shock more than anything else. Perhaps part of you wanted to know what she was planning.

What you didn't expect was to feel a sharp sting across your ass and a cracking sound echo across the room. You cried out again and tried to get off the desk but your teacher was too strong.

"What the fuck was that?" You demanded as your ass continued to sting furiously.

"I thought some old school punishment would fit you better, y/n. Nothing else quite seems to suffice." She explained and brought the cane back down on your thinly covered ass. You jerked forwards and gripped on to the edge of the desk firmly as another cry was ripped from your throat.

She hummed in consideration for a moment, most likely pausing for an extra second just to taunt you, before dipping her fingers under the waist band of your panties and pulled them down your legs. You whimpered quietly and pressed your thighs tightly together, not wanting your teacher to see any possible and surprising signs of what her actions were doing to you.

When your panties were at your feet you breathing became more shallow and you awaited the next strike in fear.

"I think ten strikes will suffice." She declared and your eyes widened. "But let's not forget I also have to teach you the importance of punctuality. How many minutes late were you, y/n? Seven?"

"Please." Spilled from your lips. You weren't sure you could handle seventeen strikes from the devil crafted stick in you teacher's hand.

"You can take it, darling. After all," She started as she leant forward to whisper in your ear, "Daddy knows best." You shivered from her words and tried to ignore the way they seemed to travel through your body.

A harsh strike came down suddenly and you cried out pathetically and gripped on to the desk like a lifeline. The cane in harsh, random strikes after that, each one as unpredictable as the last and all of them hurting more.

Tears sprung to your eyes and yet every hit added to your arousal that filled you with shame. You were sure Natasha noticed it because every time you pressed your thighs together she kicked your legs apart again, surely seeing your wetness as she did so.

"That's it, sweetheart, it's done." Natasha cooed as she ran her cold hand over your throbbing ass. "You took it so well." You flinched from the contact but luckily she didn't linger too long on the broken skin, instead letting her hand drop further down.

You couldn't help the breathy whine that escaped your lips. "Perhaps too well." Natasha mused as her slender fingers glided over your glistening folds. You leaned back into her touch and was partly surprised that she let you, consequently slipping the tips of her fingers through your folds.

You whined louder at the teasing contact but Natasha withdrew her hands and instead smacked your pussy hard. You lurched forward and moaned at the impact.

"Come here." Natasha said but didn't give you much chance to respond because she gripped the back of your shirt and hauled you through the room. You stumbled the whole way but didn't dare question your teacher. She pushed you into the storage room, much to your confusion, until you stumbled into what felt like a table and the dim light flickered on.

Your breath caught in your throat as you caught sight of all the packed shelves around the room. There were more sex toys in the surprisingly small room than you could even process with more range than you could ever beging to fantasise about.

You admired as many as you could in the time Natasha stripped herself of her clothing and stepped infront of you to pick out a dildo to attatch to the harness she wore. Her eyes raked over the large collection and landed on one of the biggest with a confident smirk on her face. She grabbed the toy and some lube and stepped behind you again where she attatched the toy and prepared it with the lube before tangling her hand in your hair to hold you against the oak table.

"You like my collection, sweetheart?" Natasha asked as she ran the strap through your folds. You hummed vaguely, too caught up in the thought of her using the toy on you.

"Answer me, slut." Natasha said lowly and thrust the strap in.

You moaned loudly as your teacher pushed more of the inches in and you squirmed beneath her. She gave another harsh thrust and burried the rest of the strap in to your pussy.

"Well?" She asked teasingly as she withdrew the toy only to slam it back forwards harshly.

"Yes!" You cried out as you squeezed your eyes shut.

"Yes what?" She tested.

"Yes, daddy!" You moaned in bliss and desperation.

"Fuck, this pussy's so tight." Natasha smirked above you, no doubt knowing the slight buzz of pain you were feeling at the stretch of her toy. You moaned in response as she continued to thrust the toy in at a merciless pace.

You were so lost in the overwhelming pleasure Natasha was giving you you were unaware if anything that wasn't her or the toy. Even the cold surface of the table pressed so harshly against you had slipped from your mind. So it was no surprise you didn't hear the heavy footsteps entering the room.

"Evening, Danvers." Natasha greeted and your eyes snapped open. You tried to look back at who ever Natasha was talking to but she gripped your hair tighter and held your head down against the desk making you whimper.

"You finally did it, huh." Came the voice from behind you that you definitely recognised. "And I thought you were chicken shit." She mused.

You whimpered when you felt a hand snake down to your clit and rub the neglected spot slowly. But it was gone barely a second after it came.

"Wait your fucking turn, Danvers." Natasha spat at the blonde but you whined desperately.

"Please, daddy!" You begged, missing the contact instantly.

"I think the little whore wants me more." Carol chuckled and Natasha snapped her hips particularly hard at her words.

"Oh but she's going to cum all for me now, aren't you, y/n?"

"Please, please!" You begged more as Natasha's pace increased and you moaned more frantically, still trying to get a look at the blonde.

"Fucking cum." She demanded and at that, you lost all control. You clenched around the fake cock and trembled on the table as the brutal waves if your orgasm washed over you again and again.

But to your distraught, Natasha pulled the strap out as you came and effectively ruined the full effects of your high. You whimpered again at the loss but your legs felt too numb to fully do anything about it.

"Don't be so ungrateful." Natasha warned as she slapped your pussy making you jump slightly.

Carol stood infront of you as she started to unbuckle her belt and freed the strap she had been packing underneath.

"You're gonna use that slutty mouth to get my cock ready for your pussy now, Princess." Carol explained as she tapped the head against your cheek. You happily obliged and opened your mouth for the strap that Carol wasted no time in easing in.

She held your head in place where Natasha had let go and pushed the strap against your gag reflex. You coughed around the toy but the blonde shushed you as she kept pushing forward in a thoughtful silence, admiring the tears that sprung to your eyes.

"You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth." Carol muttered as she withdrew the strap slightly only to snap her hips forwards to effectively fuck your mouth. "You want it in your slutty hole now?" She asked with faux sweetness.

"She'll take whatever you give her." Natasha mused. You looked up and saw her in a dark red chair against the wall facing you, her eyes glued to your form.

Carol slipped the strap from your mouth when she deemed you had done a good enough job. It glistened in the dim light and disappeared from sight when your other teacher strolled back behind you.

You locked eyes with your red headed teacher as you felt Carol's presence behind you. Natasha pulled something from the cabinet besides her that you instantly registered as your amateur cigarette and the little tobacco that was still in the bag. She chuckled at the rookie joint you had made yourself but you didn't have much chance to feel any embarrassment or annoyance because the woman behind you gripped onto your hips tightly and pushed the entirety of the toy in in one thrust forward.

You moan was bordering on a scream at the action. Carol set about a merciless pace that rivalled your other teacher's and had you trembling instantly. You gripped on to the edge of the table tightly and babbled incoherently about how good it felt and pathetic pleas not to stop, all of which Carol had no issue aiding. She pounded the strap into you and revelled in your pleasured cries all while you tried desperately to hold eye contact with Natasha.

The red head was looking through her cabinet again until you brought out a box of Humidor cigars that probably cost more than a year at your school. Your cheap tobacco had been thrown to the side as she lit the expensive cigar all while smirking at you and your limited responses to her.

She brought it up to your lips with a knowing smile but you had no energy or ability to make an annoyed comment about how unfair the teacher student hierarchy was because Carol's pace seemed to increase.

"Don't stop!" You managed to cry out to the blonde. You clenched around the strap desperately as your breathing increased and.you could feel your high approaching at a fast rate.

"Cum, slut." The blonde ordered and with that, you fell apart again. You bucked back against the strap as Carol fucked your through your orgasm and kept going. You were becoming sensitive from the intense pleasure you had been feeling and all of a sudden it became too much.

You thought Carol stopped when she pulled out, but she swiftly flipped you on to your front and sunk the strap back in. Your head threw back as you moaned lowly and instinctively wrapped your legs around your teacher's waist to help you handle her deep thrusts.

"I want to see you cum this time." Carol said as she eyed you greedily.

You felt a pair of soft lips meet your exposed neck and turned your head away more to give Natasha's wandering lips further access. Her hands crept up under your shirt and massaged the soft skin contained by your bra. She pinched your nipples as she sucked and lightly nipped at your neck, all while the blonde continued to fuck you into your next orgasm.

You gasped before giving a long moan in relief as your third orgasm washed over your body. You trembled in the women's gripped as they guided you through your high that had you seeing stars.

Your head fell back against the table with a light thud as you tried to steady your breathing.

"Fuck." Carol smirked as she combed her hair back away from her face and grinned down at your body arrogantly. "We're going to have to do that again." She sighed as she pulled the strap out slowly making you whine.

"You want that baby? You want to be our secret slut?" Natasha muttered into your ear and bit down gently. You groaned and nodded your head in response.

"Please." You whispered, your voice going hoarse.

"That's a good girl." Natasha praised as her hand wandered down your body again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Taglist: @caroldanvers2 @marvelwomenslut @marvelwomen-simp @likefirenrain @grxvitye @emilyprentisslittlewhore @lostandsearching @toastisawesome13

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yandere-sins · 3 years

Text

Charred

Horrortober Day 7: Shock “You look like a deer caught in the headlights.”

Ah yes. Angels. Complicated beings, I love them. Randomizer sure gave me an interesting combination for this day, but I am not complaining :D Also, if you are one of the people leaving a comment on my posts, please just know you are everything. I love you ♥ Even if they are in the tags, I am so happy to read your thoughts and feelings, it really helps so much to stay positive and motivated! ;;

Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapping, Corrupted Angel, Mild violent outburst Characters: Simeon x Reader

Angels aren't human.

How could you have forgotten?

Running through this godforsaken hallway, you were constantly blinded by lights. Little remnants of Simeon's power, one you didn't know he had. "I should have known better," you thought as you shielded your eyes from another flash caused by an orb to your left. If only the holy magic Simeon was able to use wasn't that harmful to your vision. If only he wouldn't use it on you. If only you never let it come this far.

But how could you have known? You thought you two were friends and like-minded people when you got closer to Simeon as you two attended RAD as exchange students. You weren't that kind of sinner; you never gave yourself hope there could be anything beyond friendship. And you weren't looking for it either. But to dismiss his exalted status as well, that one was on you. Of course he could use magic that was dangerous to you, especially with how little Simeon could understand human emotions.

Sure, he could crack a smile at a joke, show sadness, and give comfort, but he only did what he learned to do, feigning his sympathy. He didn't mean to hurt anyone with it, but it just wasn't in him to feel as humans do, or else it was threatening to defile them. Angels aren't human, they couldn't feel emotions like you did, and when they did, well, this is what happened.

Simeon was a mess. He was beside himself, trying to figure out what was wrenching his body. Ironically, it had been Lucifer who warned you about this. He kept himself brief when talking about angels and corruption, not wanting to open his own wounds. But he still made a point to tell you that it was overwhelming and maddening to have lived for centuries and only then regaining an emotional conscience. It war pain. Suffering. A change that would take months and years to overcome.

And it was all the scarier how quiet it made Simeon.

He didn't tell you what was happening, and you didn't notice it, busy with your duties and the brothers. You should have seen it! You blamed yourself for not being more careful as his friend, but it was already too late. When he started to demand more of your time and attention, glaring at the others for taking up his space by your side, it should have rung some alarm bells. It was almost painfully obvious that him getting more touchy when you were together and antsy when you pulled away was a warning of what was to come. Maybe you chose to ignore it. Perhaps you thought your friendship could survive him being irrational and angry, snapping at you and others at times.

But by the time Simeon became what he wasn't supposed to be, he had already kidnapped you somewhere strange and magical, just as twisted and scary as he was now. It was like an endless dark, ancient castle. Rooms with high ceilings and tall windows looking into the nothingness around the building. The insides were decorated, but the colors everywhere were constantly shifting, nauseatingly so. Sometimes white, sometimes grey. Gold accents, then copper. The temperature was hot when you were awake and cold when you slept. You knew it was magical and tied to Simeon, but that made it all the more uncomfortable and scary. You didn't want to experience this. You never asked for it! Part of you knew what was going on, and it made the realization worse.

There had been moments of clarity in his eyes when you pleaded with him to get a grip, but they fogged over with emotions an angel shouldn't have. When you tried to reason with him, he got jealous over the argument that others would come looking at you. "You're mine!" he screamed, and then his eyes cleared as he regretted his words, leaving you alone abruptly before you could say another word. He was ashamed and scared, you had seen it in his expression, but he still came back as if nothing happened.

On the surface, he was still the Simeon you knew. The one you loved. But he was so quickly offended and angered by now that you only grew more worried every day. Suddenly he started locking your room or would sit and watch you sleep, and you were scared of this angel that wasn't an angel anymore.

So… you ran.

At the first opportunity, you ran. The hallway seemed endless, and you didn't know where you were going. Flashes went off every few steps, and you ran into a few amenities blindly. Even if it was pure madness and wouldn't help either of you, you couldn't do this. The longer you stayed, the worse Simeon got. You needed to find help for him—and for you. That was the only way. The others would know what to do! They could do something for Simeon that you weren't able to, give him stability and support him in these hard times. You were just a human and didn't know if Simeon could remain an angel after all that happened, but if he could, that's what you wished for him from the bottom of your heart. You never intended any of this to happen, and secretly, you didn't want to be the reason for it.

"AH!" with a loud shriek, you were caught by a slice of light right in front of you. It was like a slit opening up, but even brighter than the orbs that had exploded before that. You could recognize magic when you saw it by now. Simeon's magic. Flashy, dazzling, unbefitting of the tumult he was going through. Simeon was far stronger than you expected him to be, but you realized now that you took his calm and sweet demeanor for weakness, when really, it was mercy.

Tumbling backwards, you landed on your side, your arm throbbing as you slowly tried to get up again. It should have shocked you more to see the person slowly stepping out of the light, but you could barely see anyway, only recognizing the voice as he spoke up. "My, you look like a deer caught in the headlights."

Finally, the light shining at you terrifyingly bright vanished, leaving only you two behind in the warped hallway. It took you a few blinks to recover from it, tiny sparks flying through your vision when you looked up at Simeon. Other than the dark corridor, Simeon was wearing his pristine, white clothes. Pure and amiable. Nothing like the inner tumult he was battling, and still, he looked nothing like the Simeon you knew. The kind Simeon. The one you loved.

You feared he was already gone.

Around you, the colors of the castle shifted to nightmarish black while accents turned into a deep red, all while you and Simeon never broke eye contact. He was walking towards you, hand on his chest and smiling in greeting. You once loved his reassuring smiles, the encouraging message they delivered. But this one was menacing and cold, as was his voice when he spoke up again.

"Where are you going?" he asked curtly, right to the point. Biting your lip, you only looked away. You wanted to argue, but good could come out of that? When you cracked your room's lock, you thought it would take him longer to find out. Long enough for you to form a plan, but it only now crossed your minds that the lights you encountered could have been like security cameras for Simeon to check in the case you ever did break out.

"There is no leaving this place, my dove. You know this. Why are you testing me."

"Why are you keeping me here?" you asked the same question he ignored so many times. Though this time, he indeed had something to say to it.

"It's dangerous out there. Demons will get to you, blemish your skin with their marks and rob you of your life. Aren't you worried at all?"

"I'd like to see for myself what I can do out there," you retorted firmly. "I think you're losing it, Simeon. You are nothing like you were when we were students."

Confronting him may not have been the best idea as his once so kind eyes turned moody, smile turning into a frown as you mentioned the past. "No, I am better. I can protect you now. I take care of you. You owe me more respect if you think I've gone mad. The only thing making me mad is you!"

Gulping, you looked at him. He was prideful now too. It was painful for you.

Simeon was slipping further and further. Every passing second was destroying him.

"Simeon, please," you whispered, pleading with him from the bottom of your heart. "I want to help you! B-But I don't know how! I need help to help you, I need to get out!"

"You're not going anywhere," he decided, cutting his hand through the air in a gesture signaling finality to his word. Kneeling down before you, he pulled you roughly into his chest, pressing your head against him. If there was any good that came out of the change, perhaps it was how open he was now to touches. You longed for this, for something longer than just a hug when you two met. But your heart was throbbing out of devastation now, rather than jumping from joy.

"Please get help," you pleaded, gripping his clothes. "I won't leave you, but please ask the brothers or Lord Diavolo for help, Simeon!"

"Never say their names again," he hissed at you, an unfamiliar hostility in his voice that brought you to tears. But Simeon held you as you cried into his chest. His comfort wasn't helpful, but what else did you have to cling to? If not for him, you would be alone and abandoned in this realm, and you had to painfully admit that he was indeed taking care of you. Good care. In his own, twisted way.

While you were still crying, Simeon carried you back to your room, laid you in your bed, and tugged you in. He did so with a frown deeply lodged on his beautiful face, the wrinkles so unfitting for an angel. But a small hope remained inside of you that you crying would make him see reason. Instead, he sat by your bedside as you two stared at each other, eventually muttering that he was going to get you some food before leaning down and kissing your forehead. You hated this affection. Actually, you hated that it was under these circumstances.

When Simeon got up, he left you without another look back over his shoulders, and you sniffled, the tears never drying out as you looked after him. So cold, so… lonely. He was in pain too, he must have been. If only there was a way to reverse it. To make him see reason and to calm his aching. You wished you could have helped him, at least a little bit. As a human, was there nothing you could do? Maybe just take some of the sins he was living through! As normal as they were for you, they were killing him from the inside.

The intense light from before flashed up as he opened the door to your room, blinding and stinging in your eyes. Still, you were already crying, and it was hard to avoid your gaze from Simeon even now. It was the first time you noticed his wings, usually concealed by magic, but as he used them, they came into plain view. You had believed until the last second that maybe there was a way to help him. To save him from this. But you were a little wiser as you looked at the feathers sprouting from his back. His beautiful, large wings.

Charred-black.

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teawithkpop · 3 years

Text

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 7

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6 - pt 7

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 5.4k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: swearing, a lot of emotional turmoil, talk of pregnancy scares (birth control, contraceptives, etc.), implied discrimination towards sex workers (not by any of the boys dw), mentions of sexual acts

slowly hands you a cake that says "I haven't updated this fic in 14 months and I don't know when the next part is coming but here's an update thanks for being patient" in comic sans

-------

The rush to the hospital goes by in a blur of tears and shouting and panic and questions that you can't bring yourself to answer. The only constant is Min Yoongi's hand, firmly locked in your own throughout the ordeal, tethering you to reality.

You now sit in a private room on a sterile medical table and wait to be seen, too numb inside to feel the sting of the cold metal as it cuts into the backs of your thighs. Yoongi stands beside you, still holding your hand, his fingers are laced through yours and squeezing as if it could sap away the fear that eats away your insides, leaving you hollow and empty.

"It'll be alright. Don't worry about a damn thing, okay?" He shifts his weight anxiously, betraying his own underlying worries.

You barely remember him throwing his jacket over you before being rushed out of the house, and you don't feel deserving of the modest coverage. Though the leather is worn and soft against your skin, all you can feel is the harsh metallic zipper, scratching at your chest as though reminding you of your wrongdoings.

"Yoongi…" you start to say, but he cuts you off, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Don't you fucking dare. Don't apologize."

You feel tears well up in your eyes. Your chest grows tight with the words he's forbidden you to say.

"I've already called Namjoon, it'll all be fine. Don't worry." He works his jaw and rubs your hand with surprising tenderness, glancing to the little window in the door every other second.

He's been assuring you with those same words for the past half hour, but it feels like it's been an eternity. As you glance at the clock on the wall, watching the hands tick by, you imagine a scene like that of a health documentary. Tiny sperm, swimming up your insides… fertilizing your previously dormant eggs.

Fuck. You've fucked up.

You might be pregnant with Min Yoongi's child. Your Opticon birth control implant could send you into toxic shock at any moment.

You don't see how things can get much worse than this.

The door finally opens, and what appears to be a nurse steps inside. She holds a clipboard, and examines it while she lets the door close behind her. "Let's see now, Miss..." Her shoulders slump marginally as her eyes reach your name. "Oh, right. The PhysCom."

You don't have the energy to ignore the change in her tone from friendly to disinterested, and simply nod. However, you feel Yoongi stiffen beside you.

The nurse lets out a brief sigh and dons a professional expression. "So, what appears to be the problem?" She directs the question to Yoongi.

"We think her birth control implant isn't working." Yoongi explains, his eyes darting furtively between you and the nurse. "She, um… she reached orgasm."

You flush at the memory, ashamed of your failure to adhere to even the most basic of rules set before you.

The nurse makes a noncommittal noise and jots something down. "Says here it’s an Opticon. And you didn't turn it off, sir?"

He shakes his head.

The nurse touches the end of her pen to her mouth, a note of sympathy forming in her eyes. Not for you, but for Yoongi. "How long have you had her?"

"Excuse me?" Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

The nurse tucks the clipboard under her arm, giving him a weary, patient smile. “With PhysComs, we have a list of probable scenarios we’re supposed to check for, to better inform the doctor of the situation, and speed along the treatment process.”

She barely spares you a glance before returning her attention to Yoongi, her voice lowered just a fraction. “It’s not uncommon for newly hired female PhysComs to try and… well, intentionally get pregnant from their clients. Especially if those clients have any amount of wealth or status.”

Yoongi seems lost for words.

She nods as if to agree with his surprise. “It’s some psychosis associated with the job,” she says with a shrug, then straightens her posture once more. “So has she been acting strangely at all? What are her symptoms?”

Your ears burn a bit at being talked about like you’re not in the room, but this isn’t the first time you’ve been in such a position. Oftentimes checkups during training were the same way, the physicians would speak exclusively among themselves and Madame while they examined every inch of you, inside and out.

Yoongi, however, is not used to such an experience.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” He says, in a voice much calmer than you would have expected. But one glance at his face tells you all you need to know. His eyes are burning like hot coals. Molten and dangerous.

The nurse doesn’t pick up on his irritation, and busily flips through the pages on her clipboard. “I need reliable information, sir. If you please,” she prompts him.

You can feel Yoongi’s hand clench around yours, and you turn to quiet him.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, hoping to reassure him enough so he’ll talk to her, but he stands his ground, his eyes glued on the nurse.

“Get out,” Yoongi says.

The nurse does a double take. “Excuse me, sir?”

“I said get the fuck out of here.” He points to the door. “Send us someone who will actually help.”

She fumes silently for a moment, but decides not to argue with him, and heads for the door in a huff.

Yoongi scoffs as you two are left alone once more. “What the fuck kind of bedside manner was that supposed to be?” He mutters, staring at the door.

“It’s okay.” You place a hand on his arm.

“No, it’s not.” He’s adamant, and you sigh wearily. How do you explain that this is only what can be expected?

You pick out a few haphazard words from the maelstrom in your brain, too tired to find the best phrasing. “Medical personnel… they don’t really get it.”

“Get what?” He asks, turning to you in outrage. “Being a fucking decent human being?”

You flinch, withdrawing your hand. You’re too tired to try and get your point across. But he notices you wilt and immediately comes closer, lowering his voice and placing both his hands on your arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the edge of anger fading away to gentleness. Kindness. “What do you mean?”

You sigh, looking off to the side. You don’t deserve to have him look at you like that.

You carefully remove his hands, trying to maintain some semblance of a professional distance, even in the face of disaster. “Most hospitals don’t look favorably at PhysComs. We were given a few lectures about it in training. We use up their resources and time that could instead be given to patients who didn’t willingly put themselves at risk.”

You remember how your fellow trainees had reacted after those discussions. Many of them found the treatment to be unfair, but you yourself felt that, in a way, the medical field’s viewpoint was reasonable. Your choices are what landed you here.

“What the- what are you talking about?” He huffs, still seemingly in the dark. “You didn’t ask for this… this scare. It wasn’t your fault.” He tries to meet your eyes, but your gaze is fixed firmly to the linoleum floor.

A mirthless smile paints your lips. “But I chose this life. And these risks along with it.”

Before he can question you further, the door bursts open and Kim Namjoon enters the room, both his dress shirt and his hair are rumpled, and his eyes are frantic. “Sweetheart?” He rushes to your side and crushes you in a hug. “Are you alright?”

You hear Yoongi let out a breath of relief. “She’s okay, for the moment.”

Something about the way Namjoon holds you feels like a lamp being held against your cold skin. You’re too damp inside to light a flame yourself, but his own body warms you from the outside in the meantime. You want to let yourself enjoy it, but the memory of your unresolved questions leaves you limp in his arms, filled with nothing but misery and confusion.

He pulls back after a moment, checking you over for signs of injury. His eyes are wide with concern. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

A flare of shame rises up in you at the notion of telling Namjoon about your rule-breaking and everything that occured since this morning.

Thankfully, Yoongi seems to sense your hesitance, and he fills in most of the pieces for Namjoon. Namjoon’s expression remains stoic as Yoongi recounts what happened - you being brought home unconcious, seducing Yoongi - up until the mention of your orgasm. Namjoon’s jaw slackens slightly at this, and his eyes scan your face, searching for something.

It’s at this moment that the doctor walks in, a different nurse at his side. He’s a slightly older man, a few wrinkles creasing his brow, and a smile that appears kind until it lands on you. His face is then tinged with that same indifference that most medical professionals give you.

You wish it was your usual physician, but since this was an emergency, you didn’t have time to take the trip to your usual practice. Whatever hospital is nearest, that’s what Yoongi had told the driver.

The man turns to Namjoon, who arguably commands more presence than Yoongi, and the kindness returns. “Sorry for the delay. Busy night. From what I understand, your PhysCom has malfunctioned, is that correct?”

“Her Opticon malfunctioned, yes.” Namjoon corrects him. His diplomatic tendencies are a blessing right now. You just want to know if you’re pregnant or not. You want to know if you’re losing your job. You want to go home.

The doctor runs a few physical tests on you, feeling your breasts, peering down your throat, and examining your vaginal canal, checking for any other symptoms of malfunction from your Opticon. “All’s well so far.” He says, pulling his forefingers out of you, snapping off his gloves, and disposing of them. “May I take a look at the ComGear?”

You feel a flash of panic, waking you out of your stupor. Fuck, was it still in the group chat? You pull out the slim device, heart hammering as you check. Nope. Just settings. Thank god.

You hand it over, and then remember with a looming feeling of dread exactly why it might have been left on the settings page...

“You do so much for us, jagiya.” Taehyung keeps his hands braced on your arms, his thumb rubbing gently against your skin. “You’re always there for us. Always giving… Now it’s time for you to receive.”

“I’m sorry! It’s my fault-” Jimin’s eyes fall to your compromising position, Yoongi’s dick still out, your leaking core exposed, and claps a hand over his mouth. He looks like he might cry. “Oh no...”

The pieces fall into place, and there’s no doubt in your mind. They must have switched it off.

But why? Why, why, why…?

The doctor - you’re too frazzled to read his nametag - pulls out a pair of reading glasses and takes a look at your ComGear, poking around the device with his pointer finger. “Hm. Strange.” He squints. “The Opticon does appear to be switched off.”

Namjoon blinks. “That’s impossible.”

“I’m afraid that’s the case.” The doctor shows him the setting, the toggle very much in the off position. Namjoon takes the device and looks at it in shock.

The doctor coughs. “I know that, um… for some individuals, the temptation and the… risk associated with no protection during intercourse can be sexually arousing. It’s not the first time we’ve gotten a case like this.”

He removes his glasses, folding them back into his pocket. “However, I would remind you and anyone else who uses this one’s services that although Physical Companions may be virtually expendable, it can become quite expensive for your own sake to impregnate them on a whim, using and discarding them, what with the standard fees for breaching their contract and-”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Namjoon interrupts him, and you notice the iron grip he now has on Yoongi’s arm. Likely the only thing restraining him from throwing a punch. “We’ll be more careful.” Namjoon glances at you, confusion making a little crease between his brows. “Is there some sort of morning after pill she can take, or…?”

“I’m afraid the lingering effects of the Opticon implant render any outside hormone blockers ineffective.” The doctor says, his smile turning thin. “It’s a bit of a blessing and a curse. The hormone production and ovulation suppressant in the Opticon normally make the chance of fertilization zero percent while in use. After it’s switched off, chances are still fairly low at 30 percent, for up to 24 hours. But the chances of fertilization after taking a morning after pill are significantly lower than that, at only five percent.”

He shrugs. “We’ll just have to wait and see. Chances are, your PhysCom will be right as rain and ready to pleasure clients again in about a week.”

A week.

First a week of suspension on Namjoon’s terms… Now it’s on medical advisement.

“A week? What should we do until then?” Namjoon voices your very thoughts, Yoongi seething silently beside him.

“Well, we won’t have any results until three to five days from now.” The man clarifies. “But I highly recommend you leave the implant switched off and keep her on traditional contraceptives until we know for sure. I strongly recommend utilizing other PhysComs in the meantime, just to be safe.”

You’re finished.

The doctor hands Namjoon a paper bag, most likely containing birth control pills and condoms. “She may be somewhat volatile for the next few days. You can bring her in for another checkup in a week.”

You’re weak.

“Thank you.”

You’re numb.

-------

It was a silent car ride back to the house, and as Namjoon helps you step out of the vehicle, one hand holding yours for stability while the other rests on your lower back, you can’t help feeling utterly useless. Detached from your surroundings.

What’s the point of any of this now? There’s no way they’ll want to use you until this is resolved. You’re of no use to them as a sex toy until at least a week from now, and by then it’ll be far too late to earn their favor back.

“We need to have a meeting. Call the others into the living room.” Namjoon speaks to Yoongi in an undertone, and you feel a small ache of hope. Maybe things will work out if everyone just talks to each other.

But when you enter the house and Namjoon begins to steer you upstairs, you finally find your voice.

“No.” You resist against him, turning around at the base of the stairs. “No, I want to be part of the meeting.”

The surprise quickly fades from his face, instead turning to concern. “You need to rest."

Something about the look on his face, about being told yet again through his actions that this doesn’t concern you, it causes something inside you to snap, your apathy vanishing in the wake of this new beast beginning to rear its ugly head within you.

Your throat closes up and a scream erupts from your aching chest. "You don't know what I need!"

Namjoon matches your desperation with an infuriatingly patient look of sympathy. He approaches you, his hand outstretched, but you stagger back away from him. He smiles sadly and drops his hand. "Stay here. It's what's best for you."

What's best for you.

The words throb in your mind, like the memory of an old wound. They bounce listlessly off the walls of your grandiose prison long after Namjoon shuts the door, sealing you away again.

You don't know what comes over you as you see visions of launching yourself at the door, pounding and scratching at the wood like a wild animal.

You could just open the door and follow him downstairs. Some part of you does register that.

But you want them to hear you. You want them to hear you rip your throat raw as you exorcise your demons.

You blink and you're standing still.

You haven't moved.

Your spacious room feels stifling. Like the walls are closing in on you, suffocating you.

Silken ropes sway in the dusk, catching your eye from beyond the balcony window. Your escape route from earlier that day.

You don't think twice before stuffing a few meager belongings into the long forgotten backpack kicked beneath your bed.

You need to leave this place.

You can't stay here.

-------

It had started drizzling not long after you left the house, and even now as you sit on the damp curbside, waiting for the next bus to take you far away from this place, it strikes you as funny, in a way, that the weather is crying for you, since you can't muster any tears of your own.

It's cold and misty, a foreboding atmosphere, by all accounts. It makes you question if what you're about to do is the right call.

But you shut down the arguments in your head as quickly as they appear.

Second guessing was what had gotten you into this situation. You need to follow your instincts.

And your instincts are telling you to flee.

It won't be so bad, you try to convince yourself. After the first night on the road, you'll eventually find a new town, a new home, a new place for yourself in this fucked up world. You've done it before, you can do it again.

You're considering suitable aliases for your new persona, when you sense another person approaching, their shoes tramping through the wet grass.

You don't look up at them, hoping they'll pass by and leave you alone. But they come to a stop beside you.

You keep your gaze on the road, droplets rippling the puddled potholes.

Then the stranger goes to sit on the curb too, and you can't help but look at them.

You'd recognize those lips anywhere, even beneath a baggy hooded sweatshirt.

"It's a bit late to run errands, don't you think?" Seokjin says, pulling his sleeves down to keep out the chill as he perches beside you.

He glances at you, then looks ahead at the road, the same way you were. You return your gaze forward, too exhausted to make a run for it. Though you don't get the sense that he would chase after you, even if you tried to escape.

Maybe that's exactly why you decide to stay put, but you don't give the suspicion any more thought.

"What do you want?" You finally ask, your voice croaky from being silent for so long.

"Nothing."

"Liar," you mutter, hugging your knees to your chest. "Everyone wants something."

He chuckles. Rests back on his hands. "I guess you're right about that."

Damn right you are. You didn't study the human condition through your years of training to be fooled so easily by pretty words.

"So?" You prompt him, still staring at the dreary horizon.

He takes a moment to respond. The silence is punctuated by the distant noises of traffic, an occasional car passing by, its headlights shimmering in the mist before disappearing down the road.

“The others are all out looking for you, you know,” he says simply. “Why do you think that is?”

If it were anyone else that had run away - their manager, a friend - you know what the answer would be. Because they care about that person. But how can you believe that about yourself, when you know you can never amount to anyone with that level of importance to them?

Ironic, since you’re the person with which they can be most intimate and vulnerable.

“I’m a liability,” you reply halfheartedly.

His silence serves to confirm your suspicions. A runaway PhysCom? Far too risky for a group at their level. You could become one of those anonymous sources like you saw in the news. A firsthand account of the BTS members’ secret sexual urges. Unacceptable. Snatches of words from the NDA you signed buzz around the edges of your mind like stray flies.

But since you're no longer connected to your network, then your tracker is probably disconnected. If the bus had come just a little earlier, you might already have escaped without a trace.

“You really think that’s the only reason?” Seokjin’s voice pulls you back to the moment.

His abysmal attempt to divert from the problem gets a hollow laugh out of you.

“Any other reason has ulterior motives. It’s just business.” You check the time on your ComGear. The bus should be here any minute. “I’m leaving, and I won’t let you stop me.”

“I don’t intend to,” he agrees, to your surprise. “God knows you’ve been put through enough.” He then leans forward, resting his forearms across his legs. “But for what it’s worth, you deserve to know the truth.”

Your ears perk up at this.

Seokjin seems to take your silence as permission to continue. “The reason we decided to suspend you. It wasn’t… entirely selfless.”

You purse your lips in irritation and fix your gaze upon the horizon, settling your chin beneath your crossed arms. “Right. Ulterior motives, like I said.”

He clicks his tongue. “Touche.”

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't.

Your curiosity gets the better of you.

“So, what… were you planning to replace me?” You ask, trying to sound contemptuous. “I heard you all having your little group meeting in the kitchen. There are plenty of shiny new whores at your disposal, take your pick.”

He still makes no noise.

You wait, preparing to accept a bitter confirmation of all your fears.

But then he finds his voice. “We could never replace you, dear.”

You stop. Look over at him. His eyes are half lidded, his smile bittersweet as he stares off into the distance. After a few moments, he fishes around in his pocket and pulls something out, then hands it to you.

His smartphone.

“Here,” he murmurs, sympathy in the quirk of his lips. “In case you need to call anyone. Those devices they give you don’t have a cell plan, I assume.”

He seems to sense your wariness, and waves the phone a bit in a gesture of insistence. “I can buy a dozen new ones. It’s no trouble.”

You very hesitantly take it. “Thanks.”

Of course, he has no way to know that your ComGear is now jailbroken, for all intents and purposes. But… is this a trap? What if there’s a tracker in the phone? But why would he need to put a tracker in it if he doesn’t know your ComGear is off the grid?

The rumble of an approaching motor pulls you out of your cyclical thoughts, and you get on your feet, slowly coming out of your dissociative sulk.

But you still feel numb. Nothing matters anymore.

Nothing at all.

Jin gets up along with you, slipping his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Stay safe, alright?”

You give a brief nod of acknowledgment, only half in his direction as you shrug your bag onto your shoulder more securely. The hydraulics of the bus screech as the vehicle comes to a stop and lowers slightly, allowing you to step onboard.

You glance back, fully expecting Jin to stop you. But he doesn’t. He blinks raindrops out of his eyes while you board, and gives you a small smile once the doors close behind you. He lifts a hand in farewell, then turns and starts to walk away down the street.

He’s really letting you go.

You pay your fare and find a seat towards the back of the nearly empty bus. Rain pelts at the windows, picking up in earnest, and it feels like yet another layer, another barrier, separating yourself and creating an ever-growing chasm from the life you knew up until yesterday.

You pull out Jin’s phone, staring at the dark screen and wiping away stray raindrops from the surface with your sleeve. Why had he come to find you, if not to stop you?

“But for what it’s worth, you deserve to know the truth.”

Maybe he felt guilty. Or remorseful for the hell you’ve been put through recently. You would normally have felt immense satisfaction at such a thought.

But you can’t feel much of anything right now.

You don’t think you’ll be able to feel properly again. At least not for a long, long time…

Hm? The screen lit up. You must have pressed a button by accident. You swipe at it again, and to your surprise it unlocks. Who doesn’t put a passcode on their phone?

Is it possible… he disabled it before he gave it to you? Maybe. Whatever. You’re so tired of thinking, playing investigator and second guessing people’s motivations.

You scroll over to the phone icon, and tap on it, briefly considering calling your parents. But the wetness on your fingers messes with the touchscreen and you open the messages app instead.

You’re about to wipe the screen and try again, but… the most recent messages are… all about you. You tap on the group chat among the seven of them, currently bustling with activity.

[ Kim Namjoon ]: has anyone found her [ Park Jimin ]: hyung I’m so sorry [ Park Jimin ]: it’s all my fault [ Min Yoongi ]: she’s not at the studio [ Kim Namjoon ]: we’ll talk about it later Jimin [ Kim Namjoon ]: everyone keep looking [Jeon Jungkook]: manager said they can call her network to track her down [Kim Taehyung ]: should we do that? [ Jung Hoseok ]: no! she could get in trouble :( [ Min Yoongi ]: she’s not a stray pet [ Kim Namjoon ]: exactly [ Kim Namjoon ]: we need to keep this quiet for her sake [Kim Taehyung ]: she hasn’t replied to my texts or calls [ Min Yoongi ]: me neither [Jeon Jungkook]: hyung... will she be okay? [ Kim Namjoon ]: everything will be fine don’t worry [ Kim Namjoon ]: we’re going to fix this somehow [ Min Yoongi ]: whatever it takes [ Jung Hoseok ]: where could she have gone... [ Park Jimin ]: what if she doesn’t come back?

You scroll further up, past days and weeks and months of texts between them… not even a day between mentions of you. Wondering if you’re alright. Hoping you’ve eaten enough. Wanting to do more with you.

The thread of texts Jimin sent to Seokjin just yesterday.

Hyung I wish things were different I want to hold her I want to tell her she’s enough I wish I could kiss her… I think I love her Do you ever feel that way?

And Seokjin’s reply.

I do I know just what you mean Why do you think I turned those secondaries away last night, hm? No one can compare She really is special…

He didn’t… fuck the secondaries? After you broke at dinner, he… didn’t...?

You switch to his thread with Namjoon from a few days ago.

I know you’re our leader but I don’t think this is the way to go You need to be more cautious

Namjoon’s reply.

What we need is action, hyung If we work together on this, we could get rid of these unnecessary rules We could all have what we want Including her It’s what’s best for everyone

Seokjin took several minutes to reply.

You’re going to lose her.

Jin knew. He tried to talk Namjoon out of writing that stupid essay, or maybe it was about your suspension.

Either way, he defended you.

You open his thread with Hoseok. Dimly, you recognize that you shouldn’t be snooping, but you’re too absorbed to stop.

Hyung, I think she really wants this All of us ♡ I don’t know how, but we need to show her that it’s okay That we want it just as much

How do you know that’s what she wants?

I can’t say ♡ But I know now She wouldn’t reject us Our feelings She feels something too

The date and time lines up with this morning. The morning after he made love to you.

He didn’t tell them. He kept your secret.

“Our feelings”? What does he mean? Him, Jimin, Taehyung… Seokjin? Do they all��?

Your head spins, the hollowness of your heart filling with a rush of jumbled emotions, like a tide crashing in. All your numbness is washed out with light, just a pinprick at first, that grows rapidly into a ray of warmth as you consider what all this could mean. The chasm starts to narrow, and you get the urge to jump ship, to turn back and figure this shit out. To know once and for all what they want from you. What you mean to them.

But how can you trust this isn’t a trap? How can you be sure?

The answer is as simple as they come.

You can’t.

You can’t be absolutely certain that their intentions are pure… that this is the right thing to do… that you won’t be hurt again.

But maybe... trust isn’t about being infallible. Being right. Being sure.

Maybe it’s built on what ifs. On trying again, even with no guarantees.

Guarantees are only as good as their word, and talk is cheap. Lies are easy. Your Opticon had a 100% guarantee, and look where that got you.

But you remember the way Hoseok held you that night, and made love to you like you’ve never felt in your life... When Jimin kissed his way down your body, with only the best of intentions. Namjoon’s strong arms embracing you when you felt powerless. Yoongi’s hand never leaving yours, even while you waited in the hospital. Jungkook carrying you home after you fainted, breaking your door to make sure you were safe in bed. The look in Taehyung’s eyes when he finally kissed you, breaking the ice you’d been growing around your heart.

How Seokjin let you go.

Maybe...

You get up with a start, rush to the front of the bus, and hastily ask the driver to let you off, much to the old man’s disgruntlement, but the moment the doors whoosh open, you take off at a run.

You want to go home.

You want to try again.

No matter how much you try to bury it, to forget the way they make you feel, you care about them. All of them. On a much deeper level than that of a PhysCom and client. And it scares you.

But you’re done running from fear. From uncertainty.

Now you’re running towards it willingly, as you give chase down the torrential streets, searching for that familiar hooded figure and hoping you’re not too late. You’re embracing the doubt, the fear, the uncertainty, the paranoia... letting their shadowy claws sink into you until they can’t hurt you anymore. Until they fade away, cowering under the glow of your determination.

You’re setting some new rules for yourself, no longer letting fear control your thoughts and actions, barring you from any chance of happiness.

You see Seokjin in the distance, trudging home through the pouring rain. You run faster.

You’re fucking terrified. But you’ve never felt so free in your life.

“Jin!” You shout to get his attention, still a block away. He turns around, and shakes his head, seemingly confused, but a smile starts to appear. You smile too.

Finally, you catch up to him, and without warning, you throw your arms around his shoulders. Damn, he’s always taller than you remember.

He laughs, shocked by your change of heart. “What are you doing?”

“I want to hear you say it.” You reply, looking up at him as rain dashes down your face. You don’t know when you started crying, but you’re grateful to the weather for masking your tears.

“Say what?” He asks, his hands resting on your waist to support you. Thunder rumbles in the distance, rain sliding down his perfect face.

“How you feel about me.” You reply, studying his eyes. “Be honest.”

He seems to sense the gravity in your words. He holds you closer. His eyes soften.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

For the first time since all of this started, you sense no deception in his words, no double meaning, no hidden agenda.

Because you aren’t searching for reasons to doubt this time.

You’re searching for reasons to trust, and you find them.

You want to kiss him. So you do.

#bts #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader smut #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts ot7 #bts ot7 smut #bts smut fic #bts fic rec #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #thank you all for waiting ;w;

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somnambulants · 3 years

Note

Hi! Can i request something along the lines of R feeling neglected because Natasha is giving them less attention or something like that? But then they make up? No problem if not though!

notes: im actually the biggest sucker for some angst with a happy ending so i hope u enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it! word count: 1.4K

You start to notice it slowly; first Natasha staying back late at work, then taking on more and more and more missions that progressively get longer as time passes by and then, finally, she stops coming home at all some nights and you don’t see her for days at a time.

And you get it – you really do. She’s doing the kind of work that saves so many lives. The kind of work that would make you a shitty person for confronting her about it. You wouldn’t do that; couldn’t do that. You know how much what she does means to her.

In a way, it makes you love her that much more because you can clearly see how much she cares, especially when missions don’t go quite right or there’s casualties because she always returns completely blank-faced and quiet; so, so quiet.

All of that doesn’t change the fact that you miss her though. So much. You miss coming home to her – miss the quiet domesticity of lying on your sofa together and running your hands through her hair as she tells you about her day.

You just miss her presence around you.

This goes on for months before another thought starts to take root in your mind: what if it wasn’t that she was busy? What if she just didn’t want to come home? To you? What if you were the problem?

Weeks and weeks pass and progressively, you grow more and more anxious until you feel like you’re walking on eggshells all the time.

Every time you come home and she’s not there is just another nail in the coffin -- or somehow even worse: when she actually does come home but then looks straight through you like you’re not even there. Every time it’s just yet another blow to your already breaking heart.

There's only so much a person can possibly take and so eventually, as hard as you’ve tried to keep it together, you finally break.

You’d decided this morning when you’d woken, her side of the bed still perfect and clearly unslept in for the sixth day in a row, that you can’t live like this anymore.

You love Natasha more than anything in the world and the thought of losing her is unbearable but you kind of already feel like you have.

It’s almost four in the morning the next day when she gets finally returns home. She’s so quiet – so good at sneaking around now -- that you barely hear her enter the room and probably wouldn’t have if not for the quiet click as the bedroom door opens.

Immediately, you roll over and flick the lamp on as you sit upright.

Your heart starts to race a little as your eyes land on her face because as mad as you are, the exhaustion clear on every plane of her body is enough to almost make you want to postpone this conversation and pull her into your arms.

Almost.

Still in her tactical gear, Natasha stops right beside your bed, clearly not expecting you to be awake.

She opens her mouth, and you steel yourself; you tell yourself you don’t want to hear whatever she has to say, that you don’t want to listen to whatever bullshit excuse she’s got on the tip of her tongue this time.

Firmly, you tell yourself: No. She needs to hear you this time.

“We need to talk.” Natasha’s face doesn’t change but something in her eyes shifts. You can’t quite identify the emotion. Irritation? Fear? “Can it wait?”

“No,” you say, a little too loud in the silence of your room. “It can’t. I barely see you anymore, Natasha, so ‘waiting’ could mean weeks at this point. What the hell is going on with you?”

Clearly surprised, Natasha stares at you, her mouth moving soundlessly for a second. “I – nothing.”

You let out a growl as your frustration starts to overflow. You know she must be able to see it on your face too. You wonder if she can see the hurt you're trying to suppress as well.

“What do you mean nothing?” You demand. “Do you think I’m that stupid? That I wouldn’t notice you never coming home anymore? What is going on?”

Not even looking at you, Natasha doesn’t say anything. Instead, with her spine ramrod straight and head bowed, she stares at the carpet and just stands there silently as your voice gets louder and louder until you’re outright yelling at her.

“Is it me?” now you’re the one who can’t look at her anymore, afraid of what answer you might find on her face. “Do you not want this anymore? Me?”

There’s a sharp intake of breath and out of your periphery, you see as Natasha reaches out for you before she recoils when you flinch a little. “No – of course. Of course I do.”

For a split second all you can feel is relief so strong is threatens to overwhelm you. “Then what is it?” Still, Natasha hesitates, looking uncharacteristically anxious. Against your own will, you feel yourself soften in response. “Please talk to me, Nat,” you beg. “Please.”

The room silent for a while, to the point that you begin to think she’s not going to answer you then, just as you’re about to give up, Natasha’s shoulders sag in defeat and she lets out a breath she’s clearly been holding.

“I’ve done so many bad things, you know. So many,” she begins stiltedly, not looking at you. “I just want to do something good. Be good. That’s why i've been taking on more work. I want to do better. To be worthy. Of you.”

For a second, you genuinely can’t breathe as you slowly comprehend what she’s saying. Her words gut you. You feel like someone’s reached into your body and just flayed you right open right there.

In some twisted way, you realise it kind of makes sense now – her behaviour. Somehow it makes you feel even worse to know this is how she’s felt all this time but this is quickly burned up by white-hot anger that you can feel all the way to the ends of your feet.

“How dare you?” you don’t even recognise your own voice as you whisper the words. Alarm ripples across Natasha’s face, before what seems like resignation replaces it. Her shoulders cave in further and you hate it. Hate how little regard she has for herself. “How could you say that about yourself?”

Now looking close to tears, Natasha bites her lip. “ I –"

“You deserve to be happy, Natasha,” you interrupt, so fiercely, so angrily, that it surprises you. It seems to surprise her too because her jaw shuts with a distinct click. “You deserve to live a good life. You have nothing to prove. Not to me. Not to anyone. All I’ve ever wanted from you is you.”

There’s a beat of silence before she says, in a small voice that does nothing to convince you she in any way believes what she’s saying: “…I know.”

You look at her searchingly. “Do you?”

Natasha’s expression crumples and she breaks your gaze to look down, blinking rapidly. “Yes. I - I don’t know. Yes. I want to believe that.”

You shift, moving so you’re on your knees on the bed in front of her, cradling her hands in your own. You hope your face conveys how much you mean what you’re about to say.

“You’re good, Natasha Romanoff,” you tell her softly, pressing a kiss to each of her knuckles. “So good. Better than any of us deserve, you know that? And If I have to remind you that every day for the rest of our lives, I will.”

The next morning when you wake, to your surprise, you’re not alone. Natasha is still here. You can’t even remember the last time you’d woken up to her in the house, let alone still in bed beside you.

When you roll over, looking at her in undisguised surprise, Natasha gives you a tentative smile. “I told Fury I needed the day off,” she says, her expression turning hopeful. “I thought we could spend it together.”

Your heart swells until you feel like it’s going to burst right out of your chest and you lean in to pull her into a kiss that she quickly reciprocates.

“I’d love that.”

#Natasha romanoff x reader

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vgilantee · 3 years

Text

i'm right here {simon kalivoda}

requested by anon

word count: 1.8k

a/n: a large chunk of this was hand written on various a6 pieces of paper while i was at work, or when i was in the middle of a lecture, i won't lie. (if i miss any warnings please let me know!)

warnings: blood, nightmare/night terror

pronouns: [none used], petnames 'baby' and 'sweetheart' used

You ran until your legs were arching, lungs pinching as you desperately sucked in the frigid night air. With every step, you were physically closer to the building, but it never seemed any nearer. There was a light on in one of the downstairs windows which, especially for the hour, was strange, but you didn’t care. He was behind you, running at the same pace, a game of cat and mouse, one where the cat never drew closer, but never fell behind.

You opened your mouth to let out a scream, hoping to alert the occupants of the house that you were there and needed help. But instead, you let out a garbled cough, spitting up blood as you did. Bringing up a hand to wipe away some of the blood from your mouth, you were met with more. It was darker, some of it dried. The adrenaline thundering through your system had you all but forget about the wound in your side.

You let out a sob, before trying to scream again. The noise that followed was loud and bone-chilling, and for a second you didn’t realise that you had made it.

Another light flicked on in the house, this one upstairs, and you let out a sigh in relief that quickly became a sob.

At the new light, the literal sliver of hope that peeked through the gap in the curtains, you got a second wind, another burst of energy, and you pushed to sprinting harder and faster than you had all night. And finally, the house seemed to draw closer.

But the heavy footsteps behind you didn’t seem to get any further away. In fact they-

A tiny dip in the ground, the smallest of inconsistencies in the dirt, but it was enough to catch you, your ankle rolling out, and with all the momentum that you had built up, you crashed into the ground with a roll. The angle you landed on had to have been bad, because up through the ankle that rolled to the knee, and in the opposite wrist, was a sharp, shooting pain. Another scream, not as loud but just as haunting as the pain seared through.

“No!” Your voice was hoarse and wet with tears and blood. “No, no, no, no, no.” You begged as you tried to scramble to your feet. But your knee couldn’t support your weight, so you crawled. Fingers digging into the rough dirt in hopes for purchase, you dragged yourself forward. Your wrists screamed with every pull, your leg protested with every kick, and you were vaguely aware of the blood dripping from your nose. And through the roaring of blood in your ears, you could only just hear the sounds of the footsteps of your soon-to-be murdering closing in.

A hand wrapped around your injured ankle as you kicked out, and gave you a sturdy tug. Your fingers dug in further to stop the man from pulling you to a halt and you screamed again, ignoring the feeling of your nails struggling to grip.

There was a dull thump noise before another hand dug its fingers into your side and in a fluid motion, rolled you onto your back. In a single, harsh motion, he dropped so his knees hit the hard ground on either side of you, all his weight on your knees and shins, and you screamed at both the weight, and the way your knees bent back to press flush to the grass beneath you, and your already aching leg flared with a new pain. You desperately clawed at his hands, his arms, his face, but he ignored your nails pulling at his flesh. The attempt at defence was weak, not only because the digging and pulling of your nails was ignored, but because even if you did manage to get him off of you, you would still be completely unable to run.

“Please! No!” It was pointless to beg, especially when it was obvious that your pleas were falling on deaf ears. He let out a growl, inhuman and shuddering, and you let yourself cry and sob freely. Between the flailing of your own hands trying to push him away, and his hands grabbing at you, you were finally able to see the man who had been chasing you. His features were vague, looking almost smeared. As if someone dragged a paintbrush through a wet painting. His strong nose was pushed to the side with a blur, and his mouth was only defined by his snarling teeth. But his eyes. His eyes were terrifying. Like the rest of his face, the outlines of his eyes were blurred, undefined, but the eyes themselves were defined, a stark contrast. The whites were crisp and bloodshot, and his pupils were so blown that his already dark irises were almost black. There was nothing behind his eyes, no indication of anything human left, but they glared at you with complete concentration. There was a pause, a split second where you were distracted by how clear his eyes were, and that pause allowed him to grab your wrists in his large and bloodied hands.

“No! Please!”You twisted your wrists, trying to break free, but he had the advantage and pulled your hands under his knees, flattening them and pinning you down. You screamed again as you felt the bones shift and crack under his weight. With your hands crushed under his knees and you completely unable to fight back, he grabbed the axe from where it had been dropped to his side.

“Please!” He moved slowly, readjusting his grip so that the axe was held firmly in both hands. As the axe swung down, another hand met your shoulder, one that was warm and familiar. The hand gave you a firm shake and your eyes flew open as the pressure of the man sitting on your legs and hands disappeared.

You squinted, trying to adjust your eyes to the darkness of the room. You took shallow breaths, as you scrambled to sit up, expecting there to be pain from the various injuries you had collected. Instead, there was nothing. No pain, bar a scratch in your throat.

“Hey.” Beside you, a soft and very concerned voice caught your attention. Simon. He shuffled closer to you, cautiously to avoid further starling you. You whip your head to face him, and only when you tried to make eye contact with your very concerned boyfriend did you realise that your eyes were still very full of tears. You hastily wiped them away, still on edge.

“Simon?” Your mind was still a little fuzzy, in that in-between state when you wake up from a vivid dream. With the little visibility you had in the room from the streetlight outside, you could see him shift closer and raise his hand. All his movements were slow, as to not startle you in your clearly on edge state. Gently, he ran a thumb under each of your eyes, getting rid of the tears that were beginning to dry in their place on your cheeks.

“I’m right here, baby.” You hiccupped before rolling into his chest, fists curling up in front of you. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you, rubbing slow circles on your back as you shook. Every time you closed your eyes again to squeeze out any tears that fought to stay, you could see his face again. The cold eyes determined to kill you. The dirty, bloodied hands white-knuckling the axe as it swung down to meet your skull. You jumped slightly at the sudden feeling of Simon resting his lips on the top of your head, but quickly relaxed even further into him.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe.” His words were warm against your head, and he pulled you closer to him. “You don’t have to tell me about it, but just know that I’m here, with you. I’ll keep you safe.” He pressed a kiss to your head between every sentence, and you gave him a small, feather-light kiss to his chest in gratitude.

Eventually, your breathing slowed and you stopped shaking, and Simon would have thought you had fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the occasional kiss you placed on his chest, just above his heart. He pulled back and you looked up at him with bleary eyes. His eyes softened even further and he leaned forward again to kiss you on the forehead.

“Better?” You gave a small nod in reply, rubbing your eyes with the ball of your palm. “Sleep?” You shook your head, nod ready to go back to sleep yet.

“Dunno if I can.” You moved your arms from being curled up in his chest, to wrap around his back.

“That bad?” That was something you cherished about Simon. With a few words, he could communicate with and understand you like nobody else. He could read you like a book and you, him.

“It was the curse.” You nodded slightly as you spoke, eyes watering as the vivid memory of the nightmare resurfaced again.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He gives you a light squeeze, his voice breaking. It had been a couple of years since you had helped Deena break the Shadyside curse, but trauma is trauma, and no matter how long ago it was, those few days were ingrained in you.

“I know, I know.” Your tone was defeated, said like an apology for bothering Simon or waking him up again. He stops you from continuing your thought with a hand placed on your cheek.

“It’s okay, I promise.” It wasn’t like Simon hadn’t woken you up in the middle of the night, thrashing with night terrors and memories that were too dark to talk about with anyone else. But you still had that guilt. You always felt bad when you woke him up with your own screaming and thrashing. It was worse in the beginning. When the memories were fresher and it was still on the news. You could barely sleep a full night, and Simon was the same. So when you started sharing a bed, there wasn’t a night for months where the pair of you got a full nights rest.

The nightmares were less common now, but the guilt of waking him up never left.

“I love you.” You said it softly, whispering them to him as the room began to slowly light up with the sunrise.

“I love you too.” Simon broke out into a goofy smile, still in disbelief that you did really love him. “And I’ll be here, always. Through every nightmare and early morning, I promise.” He pulled you down slightly so that you were laying in bed again, your head resting on his shoulder as his arms pulled you close. You knew you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, not when your cruel brain kept showing you the image of the man with an axe. So instead you and Simon talked in hushed voices, as if trying to avoid waking the air, and watched as your room slowly warmed up with the orange tones of the early morning.

#simon kalivoda x reader #fear street simon x reader #fear street simon kalivoda x reader #fear street x reader #char writes

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hihellogoodbyebruh · 3 years

Text

Mother’s Day Drabbles

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!Reader, Miguel Galindo x Black!Reader, EZ Reyes x Black!Reader, Obispo Losa x Black!Reader

Summary: Four drabbles with my four favorite men from Mayans MC commemorating Mother’s Day with their loves.

Warning(s): Grief, loss of a child in the last drabble (sorry to my bishop girls) but the other ones are all fluffy goodness

Word count: 1,545

AN: It’s almost Father’s Day so y’know what sounds good? Reading some EXTREMELY late Mother’s Day drabbles!! lol. I haven’t posted anything in so long and these were in the drafts so here we are. Enjoy these random ideas that popped into my head. Trying to force myself to get into shorter form writing like drabbles and headcanons. As always, questions, comments, and concerns are welcomed. Happy reading! xo

Breakfast in bed - Angel (fluff)

“Daddy shhh! You gots ta be quiet.”

“Lo siento princesa.”

You fought to keep your eyes shut and not smile as they tried and failed at surprising you. You wouldn’t ruin their efforts so you just listened as they came into the bedroom and something was set on your nightstand.

It was silent for a moment before a ball of energy landed firmly on top of you, knocking the wind out of you and fully waking you up.

“Good morning mommy. I made you breakfast in bed.” Your beautiful little girl told you once she saw your eyes open.

A throat cleared and your eyes connected with your husband’s.

“Oh, Daddy helped too.” She added, getting comfortable in your lap as you sat up against your headboard and adjusted the bonnet on your head.

“Oh he did? Well thanks for helping Daddy.” You teased, as he took a seat on the bed next to you.

“Anything for you. Happy Mother’s Day.” Angel leaned in and kissed you on the lips once, twice, three times. The last peck lingered a little too long and the princess was not amused.

“Let her eat! The food is gonna get cold.” She grumbled, and you broke down in giggles. That daughter of yours was a sass machine and she stayed on her daddy’s head. He loved every bit of it.

“Okay, okay.” He relented, a grin on his face. Anything for his girls.

Coming home to a spotless clean house - Miguel (fluff)

As your driver pulled into the driveway of your large home, she sighed knowing your day had only just become. After a full day of work, she knew as soon as you stepped foot in the house you would need to pick up after the kids from their time running the nanny ragged. Then, you’d have to get dinner cooked before wrangling the kids to eat, bathe, and then sleep. No clue if you’d see your husband or if he was having a late night.

You loved your life. You loved your family. Sometimes things could just be a little tiring. But you put that smile on your face and you made your way into the house.

The quiet was the first thing to hit and surprise you. Your home was never this quiet at this time of day. You slowly walked further into the house, your nose guiding you to the kitchen where a delicious aroma caught your attention. As you rounded the corner, you were shocked to see your husband standing at the stove.

“Miguel?” You asked, confused at his presence and the state of the house. Everything was clean and put away. He was at home at a decent time and not off somewhere handling business. Something was going on.

“Hello mi amor.” He walked closer to you before grabbing your face and kissing your lips. You’d missed him today so you added a little pressure to the kiss, but it didn’t last long as there was a burning question on your mind.

“What’s going on? Where are the kids?” You asked, head swiveling, as soon as you ended the kiss, to see if you could spot them. You didn’t even notice Miguel maneuvering you onto one of the kitchen stools.

“The kids are in their rooms, dinner is cooking, the house is clean and you are going to enjoy this chardonnay I bought for you.” He handed you a glass and you took it without complaint. A sweet smile spread across your lips as you realized he did all of this for you.

“You do so many wonderful things for this family. I want you to enjoy your night to yourself. I will handle putting the children to bed and you will relax for the night. Your dinner should be done by the time I get back downstairs but in the meantime, I know you’ve been wanting to catch up on the new season of A Black Lady Sketch Show. It’s queued up in the living room.”

A kid wrangling free night? Your favorite tv show and wine? He already bought you everything you could ask for but this? This is so much better than any present he could have come up with. “How did I get so lucky?” You pondered, a dreamy smile on your face.

“I ask myself the same question every day. Happy Mother’s Day.” He replied, kissing you again before going to fulfill his promise.

Spa day for expectant mom - EZ (fluff)

Knowing what comes with being pregnant and actually experiencing the symptoms are two very different things. You don’t wanna say you underestimated things, but you were in the middle of your third trimester and you weren’t handling things very well.

“EZ!! EZEKIEL!” You hollered for him, from where you sat propped up on the couch. Your back was killing you, you couldn’t see your feet but you knew they were a hot mess, and you just generally felt uncomfortable. You knew it would all be worth it in the end, but the end was taking too damn long to get here.

Your boyfriend had been incredibly understanding of your constant mood swings. When you first told him you were pregnant, he went out and bought a bunch of pregnancy books. He was always reading one that first trimester. Angel would tease him and say he could just google everything, but EZ had always preferred having physical copies of text. He wanted to know everything you’d go through so he could help you deal with it.

You call him now and he doesn’t respond. You grow annoyed, but also slightly concerned because he never doesn’t answer you.

It took several tries but you manage to get yourself off the couch and head back towards your bedroom. When you push the door open, a wide smile breaks out on your face. The lights in the room were dimmed and your favorite candles were lit, bathing the room in a soothing scent. Songs from your ‘self care day’ playlist filled the otherwise silent air. On the bed was the biggest, fluffiest robe you’d ever seen in your life. There was also a basket filled with goodies including face masks, different color nail polish, massage oil, and your favorite snacks.

“What is all of this?” You asked your boyfriend who had almost as big a smile on his face as you did.

“You didn’t seriously think I’d just let your first Mother's Day go by with no acknowledgment, did you?”

You blinked somewhat in surprise. “I...I mean yeah I guess. My first Mother’s Day is next year. Baby Reyes isn’t even here yet.”

“So? You’re carrying our child. You gonna let me spoil you or you gonna keep making excuses why I can’t?” He asked, his eyebrow raised and a sly smirk on his face.

“Spoil away then.” You grinned, holding out a hand for him to take before pampering you for the rest of the night.

Cuddles - Bishop (angst, heed the tw up top please)

The ray from the television was the only light source illuminating the living room. You were laying on your side on the couch, eyes on the tv but not truly paying attention to it. The light from the tv reflected off the tear stains left in her cheeks.

Bishop came back from dealing with club stuff and leaned on the doorway just watching you. He knew it was a rough day for you. Everyday was hard, but today was especially hurtful. He’d be feeling the same way just next month.

He placed his kutte onto the armchair and slipped off his shoes before climbing over you. You jumped a little at his presence but he just gently nudged you up so he could squeeze between you and the back of the couch.

One arm slid under your head and the other rested on your waist as he settled in. The hand on your waist reached out and gently ran a thumb over the little face in the picture frame you held tightly in your hands.

“Our sweet boy.” He whispered, a sad smile on his face.

Your breath hitched and your shoulders began to shake as you silently cried. You missed him so much. The whole day you stayed inside hoping to avoid all the mother celebrations, but that didn’t help. The hurt ran deep and no amount of avoidance could stop it. This day was a special slap in the face and every year the last three years have been spent like this.

Bishop curled the arm under your head until his elbow laid on your clavicle. He wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you tight against him.

“You’ll always be his mother. That love is forever.” He softly but firmly stated before pecking your shoulder over and over.

You released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in at the feel of him squeezing you tightly. It was comforting. He was always holding you together. He understood your pain and even though it hurt worse some days than others, you knew you had to continue on.

But for right now, you would cry in your man’s arms and hope next year went better.

#mother's day drabbles #angel reyes #ez reyes #miguel galindo #bishop losa #obispo losa #black reader #hhgbyebruh fics

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from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

Text

here lads have an angsty supercorp soulmate story

It starts exactly 24 hours after Kara’s departure.

It’s subtle at first. It actually reminds Lena of the first few days after they met.

The slow but steady build-up of pain manifesting itself into little things; shaky hands, dizzy spells, chest pains. The pills help, of course. She’s already ingested 5 pills in the span of 3 hours and she’s contemplating taking more. Just to keep the pain—threatening to overtake her—at bay. But what good would she be if Alex finds her passed out on the floor? Veins chock-full of narcotics?

So, she wills her hands to stop shaking and pushes on. She sends a text to Jess to send a shipment of pills to her home address; tells her to be discreet.

She can do it. She’s done it before. She can fucking do it again. And she will bring Kara home.

Because every moment that passes with them apart, means a step closer to Lena’s death.

You might think she’s exaggerating, but really she isn’t. See, Kara’s her soul mate, not just in the figure of speech wax-poetic sense but literally Kara’s her soul mate.

But her being a Luthor of course, soul mates wouldn’t come easy. None of it had ever been easy. Why would this one be an exception? It wasn’t unheard of, no, there were a few rare cases of it being recorded. Of course, Lena would be one of those people. Why wouldn’t the universe add shitty soul mate luck into the long list of misfortunes in Lena’s life? What’s one more curse, right?

See, Kara’s her soul mate but...Lena isn’t Kara’s.

“You look like shit, Luthor. You’re allowed to take a break you know?”

It’s Alex who breaks her out of her reverie. She prays to God that Alex doesn't notice her shaking hands. She’s well aware she looks like shit. She feels like shit, she doesn’t need Alex of all people to point that one out. But now, Lena notices that the whole place is empty, she didn’t even notice J’onn slip out. She didn’t even notice Alex coming in too, really.

Brainy had long passed-out in one of the beds in the MedBay in the 2nd level of The Tower, Nia taking up the opposite bed. There was a brief moment when she walked in that made her feel tempted to occupy the third bed and take a break. But then, her chest tightened and a flare of pain lit up her whole insides, it was reason enough to keep her feet moving and back unto the computers trying to pinpoint Kara’s location.

“I know,” she replies, “But it’s really not necessary, Alex. I’ll rest after.”

She doesn’t need rest, what she needs is Kara to be here.

She refuses to look at Alex, fingers flying across the screen. Alex shifts closer to her, lays a hand on her right arm prompting her to stop. Her eyes land on Alex's hand and continue up to Alex’s eyes.

“We’ll find her, Lena. But you have to rest. I’m serious, Luthor. Come on,” Alex persists, wrapping her hand more firmly and tugging at Lena to follow her.

She doesn’t say that rest will do her more harm than good. She doesn’t say that if she closes her eyes all she would see is Kara’s body floating all alone in space and the pain would start anew.

First, her chest and then travelling up the rest of her body until all there is is pain.

She doesn’t say that she needs to work in order to distract her from the pain.

Instead, she holds her tongue, lets Alex bring her to the 2nd level and tries to have the most fitful sleep of her life.

***

It gets worse on the 5th day of the second week. It really isn’t a surprise considering this is the longest she’s had to go without Kara around.

She’s taken mega-doses of painkillers in anticipation for today. Last night was a nightmare, she had to bite down on a hand towel as waves of pain assaulted her, again and again and again.

When morning came, it slowly subsided. Once feeling had returned to her legs she ran into the kitchen and swallowed 3 pills immediately.

It doesn’t matter if she’s taken 3 or 4 or a whole bottle today, because it will just get worse and worse the longer Kara isn’t by her side.

And so, she drags herself into The Tower again, because she needs to finally find a way to bring her back.

She tries to ignore the tightening of her chest even though she’s really having a hard time breathing now. Not to mention the pain behind her eyes that is bit by bit making it difficult for her to coordinate with Brainy’s computations.

She’s taken to keeping a bottle of pills on her person now. Opting to take them dry as if they were mint candies to keep her tongue moving while programming lines of codes.

She thinks she’s still being subtle.

Well, she is.

Until she isn’t.

She crumples to the floor in front of everyone and a guttural scream of pain breaks free from her lips.

***

When she wakes it’s to Alex sitting by her bedside.

She lets out a groan in response to the sore feeling of her entire body. It’s like the time they were forced to do team building exercises all day in Mt. Helena and Lena nearly passed out.

Alex hands her a bottle of water. She sips greedily before handing it back and wiping her mouth.

“Hey? How you feeling?”

“Like I wanna die.”

Alex sighs and Lena intentionally avoids her eyes.

“It’s Kara isn’t it?” Alex says and Lena doesn’t bother with lying anymore.

“It is.”

“How you survived almost two weeks away from her, I wouldn’t know. Two days away from Kelly—” Alex breaks off, inhales deeply and then sighs again, “That’s already torture for me.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” She retorts flatly, hands fiddling with the rough edges of the blanket. Alex looks like she wants to say something about that but Lena beats her there.

“How?” She asks, gesturing to the IV drip. How am I not feeling pain right now? How am I still breathing? How am I still alive?

“The DEO created a special fluid for agents,” Alex reveals, “They distribute it to agents on field assignments. That way, them and their partners don’t die from pain. Good thing, J’onn had a stash hidden here, well, we always thought it would be for me and Kelly. Never expected you, Luthor.”

Lena takes that in for a moment. So, the DEO had a special formula of Dextrose to stave off the pain of soulmate separation and apparently she’s using up all the remaining bags of it.

And it’s not even supposed to be for her.

“Don’t worry about it. Brainy can replicate the formula.”

Worry must’ve shown on her face. So, she works on schooling her features again, she knows that Alex is itching to ask her questions but is trying to be polite.

There’s really no use hiding anything now though.

“K-Kara’s my soulmate,” she finally says out loud, and she’s always thought that it’s supposed to feel cathartic and freeing but instead it just feels heavy.

“But I’m not hers,” she quickly finishes, better to rip the band-aid off. She briefly looks at Alex, whose face doesn’t give her anything; mouth a tight line and eyes shining with curiosity.

She doesn’t know if Alex had ever had a conversation with Kara about soul mates before. Had they talked about it? Had Kara ever mentioned Lena acting too clingy whenever they don’t see each other for a short period of time? Had Kara ever told Alex if she would want a soul mate of her own?

But the look and silence from Alex’s side makes Lena refrain from asking.

Instead, she starts to tell her how it had hit her the instant Kara walked in her office. How there was a zing! and her brain had immediately screamed HER. That’s the one. She’s the one.

How when they met eyes and Kara had told her her name it felt like Lena’s soul finally found her home.

“I asked for her name and I kind of thought she’d wait for me to get out of the office,” Lena trails off and Alex takes it for what it is.

Their first meeting was all sparks for Lena but then, the conversation kept going and going and Clark had tried interrogating her and Kara didn’t do anything.

Didn’t approach her afterwards, didn’t show any reaction that might’ve given Lena a clue that she felt the way Lena did.

A conclusion was easily reached.

Kara was hers but she wasn’t Kara’s.

After the initial shock settled in, Lena set to work. Because that was what she did best. Work out a solution to everything and anything that poses a problem.

How many people have dreamed about meeting their soul mate? How many years had Lena sat there hoping that tomorrow maybe, maybe she’ll finally meet them? She never expected this, never expected her soul to find a home that isn’t hers.

Staying away from Kara was a non-starter, it’s only been a day since they parted but Lena can already feel the beginnings of pain. Slow but sharp shots of throbbing from behind her eyes then came the shaky hands then the dizziness and then—

They became friends and Lena made sure Kara didn’t know anything about her growing need to be close to her; didn't let Kara know about the fact that the universe made Lena its most epic punchline yet.

She agreed to scheduled game nights and movie nights and lunch dates. She never knew the pain of soulmate separation during those early days. Kara was always around; bringing her a salad, covering an L-Corp gala, crashing on Lena’s couch.

“It was easy, you know? Kara was always there. What are friends for?” Lena mimics Kara and then repeats somberly, “It was easy, Alex.”

Or at least, Lena kept telling herself it was easy. She had it easy. She didn’t have to think about painkiller pills or cutting her business trips short—because the pain becomes unbearable too soon—like so many of her board members do.

She had it easy with Kara, she can just call and she’ll be there.

Until, Kara started going MIA. And for three days pain overtook her entire life. The pain made her unable to think clearly, the pills kicking in at the last minute.

“You haven't been around. Supergirl's been there for me. Person who judges me on the very premise of my last name, but my best friend hasn't,” she accuses because Goddamnit Kara has no idea what kind of shit Lena had to endure with her going away with no warning.

Logically, Lena knows it’s partly her fault.

She knows that if she only just told Kara that she needs her to live, Kara would stay. But she doesn’t want anything to change.

Of course, Kara would stay, it was the kind of thing a person like her would do.

Kara would take care of her, whatever Lena needed she would give.

But Lena didn’t want things that way.

She wants Kara to want her the same way she wants her.

But no, Lena’s not going to tell her that. She is never going to know. She will find an alternative. So, she injects as much venom as she can into that accusation, “B-but maybe it’s better if I leave.”

She makes Kara leave.

She just got her cure back and immediately Lena had pushed her away. The moment Kara stepped out of the door, a dull throb already kicked in her chest; as if telling Lena she was making a big mistake.

She regretted that night so much, Jess had to drag her drunken body out of her office.

Then it became normal again and Lena went back to not worrying about body pains again.

Because a different kind of pain is trying to make itself known.

A gaping hole in her heart that is entirely unrelated to the biological consequences of being separated from your soul mate.

She was falling in love.

She was falling in love and she wasn’t prepared for how it would hurt to have Kara not love her back. She can endure the physical pain, there are pills for that.

But there wasn’t any type of medication to see your other half everyday and not have them see you as theirs.

When Lex told her Kara’s secret. Something broke inside of her. Which was saying something, considering she was getting her heart broken every single day that Kara wouldn’t look her way.

But to know how stupid she’s been? To realize that the flutter of her heart whenever Supergirl was near was her brain telling her it was Kara?

There was no word for that.

“I think, I kept rejecting the idea of Supergirl being Kara you know?” Lena huffs out, laughs drily, “Imagine how fucking painful it would be, Alex, if Supergirl was my soul mate. This person who didn’t trust me wholly, who lies behind my back, imagine if she was my soul mate? It would have felt humiliating. My body knew better, though,” she admitted sadly.

“When Lex told me, all the little painful outbursts every time Supergirl flew away? It made sense. Everything made sense, but at the same time? Everything hurt too.”

She tried hurting her back. Created Hope. Experimented with Q-waves. Foolishly used Myriad. Teamed up with Lex.

But even through all of those? The separation pain never knocked her out.

Even when they were fighting, Kara was still always around. Even when the world—the fucking multiverse got reset. The pain wasn’t enough to knock her out. Not like today.

Because Kara was always lingering around convincing her not to join Lex, crossing paths in CatCo, flying into her home even if it was to call her a villain.

All of those interactions were still sustenance for Lena.

But this? This separation? This knowledge that Kara was somewhere out there, unreachable. That she could be lightyears away in space and it has been two weeks since Lena had last saw her, it has her every molecule shouting to go find Kara.

“It’s never been like this before,” Lena confesses, “I thought I could do it without-”

“Help?” Alex supplies and Lena finally turns to her and she feels a hand squeeze her.

“Yeah.” She mutters back softly.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Luthor. You’re part of the team now whether you like it or not. We are going to help you, we’re going to find a temporary solution for that pain and then we’ll get back to work and we’ll find Kara.”

#im thinking if i'll continue this after the 2nd ep but hmm we'll see #anyways hope u liked that little blurb #the reckless writer writes #a supercorp ficlet of sorts #supercorp fic #soul mate au #supercorp #rcklss writes

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

FeralObi anon here. How do you come up with these so fast?? Are you an infinite number of ideas and worlds in human-shaped form? I love both of those ideas. The first one kills me tho, Obi gets his first kind touch in years from lil Anakin. Also you can have lil Anakin coming home one day with a skulking, snarling nonverbal murder puppy and saying brightly, "He followed me home, can I keep him?" Schmi thinks this is definitely worse than the time he brought a krayt dragon home.

ah! hello! yes this is the first idea of a feral obi-wan who meets anakin when he's still on tatooine. i will also still do the second idea because like. i liked them equally as much rip me

but i told myself these were going to both be very short snippets and instead this one is uh 2k so i'll post the second one tomorrow instead of tonight!

(ficlet where obi-wan is captured by pirates/unspecified forces at a young age and then tortured for a decade before he escapes to tatooine when anakin is like 6. obi-wan, after a decade of torture is....not alright in this fic though he's only here at the end) (2k)

Shmi had known that when she sent her little Anakin away to follow after the stern-faced, warm-eyed Jedi Master, that this would not be the last time she ever saw her boy. She couldn’t explain how she knew, just as she had not been able to explain how she became pregnant, but she knew beyond a doubt that one day, she would see her little boy back in her arms.

She just hadn’t known it would be so soon.

“He died, Master Jinn died,” Anakin mumbles into the front of her dress, unwilling to move his head far back enough from her hug that he could talk clearly. “On Naboo. And the stupid Jedi council refused to train me even after I was so amazing in the air. Mom, I destroyed a blockade! Entirely! And they wouldn’t--they didn’t--” his little face scrunches up and then he’s bawling into his hands.

A slave, a born slave, knows intrinsically the injustice of the galaxy. It is not often they know hope.

“Oh my boy,” she whispers, smoothing a hand over the top of his head. She has questions. She has so many questions about everything he’s just said and what those strangers have put her son through, but the most important thing is a question she cannot wait until he has cried himself out to ask. “Is your chip gone, Ani? Did they remove your transmitter?”

Because she had sent him away from her so that he could be free. And that had been her own twisted version of hope, that her son could know a life she never would again. If the Jedi masters had proven to be just like every other master in the world, she would find herself sobbing into her own hands.

“Yeah,” Anakin sniffles and wipes at his ruddy cheeks, pulling back a few steps. “They removed it and everything. And--”

He pauses and drops his satchel to the ground in front of her. “They gave me credits. To buy you. For my trouble.”

He spits out the last three words like they’re the most disgusting thing in the entire world. As if Shmi’s freedom isn’t laying at their feet, mere centimeters away.

“Republic credits are no good here,” she hears herself say faintly.

“Padme, the handmaiden you met, she talked to the queen about me I guess,” Anakin mumbles, kicking his feet. “And when the queen learned that the Jedi didn’t want me even after all that, Padme says the queen says I’ll always have a place on Naboo. Me and my family. And then she took the Jedi credits and gave me these instead. It should be enough, Mom.”

Shmi sits down on the floor. With shaking hands, she opens the bag and looks inside. Yes. Yes.

There’s more than enough.

There’s enough to buy her freedom and take her boy away from Mos Espa. There’s enough to take her boy away from Tatooine completely.

“I…” she says. “Ani, I…”

“Padme said she’d send a ship for us,” Ani reports as if their lives are not changing right in front of their eyes. “In two days ‘cause I told her it might take a little bit of time to get Ben to come with us. But we can’t leave without him.”

This is said fiercely and with his arms crossed tightly over his little chest.

Shmi stares at him.

“I’ve already left him once!” Anakin says, stomping his foot. “But that was okay, because I knew you would bring him food and water and stuff. But if we’re both gone, no one’s going to be there for him.”

Shmi bites at her lip. There’s a lot of things happening very quickly right now, and she doesn’t know how to process half of them.

Her son has come back, after only being gone for a week and a half.

He has apparently either endeared himself so much to the queen of Naboo that she was willing to give him the money necessary to buy his mother from slavery and also promise him sanctuary on her planet. He says he’s done this by single-handedly ending a blockade, which is something she just cannot even think about right now.

He has told this queen--queen--that he will gladly live on Naboo with his family. Yes. Alright.

His family seems to include his imaginary friend, Ben.

Anakin has been talking about Ben for years now, ever since he was six and a half years old and sent by Watto to retrieve any scraps he could from what looked to be a crashed pod in the Wastelands. She’d let him ramble on about the ghost of a friend, because she’d known it to be something all children go through and experience. She hadn’t thought Anakin a lonely child, not with the friends he made in Mos Espa, but she’d always known that Anakin had a wandering spirit, ill-suited for Tatooine. If he liked to imagine an older man from a strange world hiding in the caves of the Wastes, then she wasn’t going to say anything.

“You have been leaving him food, haven’t you, Mom?” Anakin asks, almost accusatory. “I told him to expect you and everything.”

No. Shmi has not been traveling to the edge of the Wastelands every day during her precious few hours of free time in order to leave food to be picked apart by womp rats and desert critters and not her boy’s imaginary friend.

“Ani,” she says cautiously, quietly, “we cannot...we won’t be able to bring Ben with us when we go.”

Anakin, predictably, does not react well. “Why not!” he yells, backing away from her even further and looking as if she is the enemy. “Padme’s fine with it!”

“Aren’t you a little old for imaginary friends?” Shmi asks desperately, feeling cold suddenly even though the heat of the mid-morning sun has not abated at all.

If anything, her son looks more offended. “He’s not imaginary! Saying...saying that he’s not coming with us...is...is a bunch of poodoo!”

“Anakin!” Shmi gasps.

“Come on,” her boy says forcefully, grabbing at her hand and tugging her towards the door. She gets on her feet reluctantly and has half a mind to pull back just because he needs to learn that this sort of behavior is not okay, war hero or not. “We’re going to buy you from Watto. And then we’re going to go visit Ben!”

---

Buying her freedom takes less time than Shmi Skywalker ever thought it would. It feels distant as well, as if it’s happening to someone else.

It doesn’t help that her Ani is impatient and surly by turn, spilling the coin out onto Watto’s counter and barely waiting for him to finish counting it before he’s looking at the price of renting a four-person speeder parked outside.

“You won’t survive out there on your own,” Watto sneers, even as he’s passing her the kill-switch of her own slave chip. “Days. It’ll be days until the Hutts find out there’s a newly freed slave with no connections out there in the open. Ripe for the pickin’.”

Watto doesn’t have to tell her any of this. She knows. Gods, does she know.

But Anakin seems so sure about possessing the favor of the Queen of Naboo, or at least her handmaiden, which might be close enough to the same thing. She thanks Watto--she thanks him and then doesn’t even know why--and meets Anakin outside.

He’s bouncing around the speeder, little hands clutching his satchel to his chest. “Good!” he says when he sees her, hopping onto the machine and putting the parcel between his feet. “I got Ben something called a fig on Naboo, but I don’t know how long it’ll take for it to go bad. Apparently they’re sweet.”

Shmi goes along with it. Shmi doesn’t know why she goes along with it, but she does. She can see this is important to her boy, and though she’d rather spend the afternoon and early evening saying goodbye to her friends, she will allow Ani to say goodbye to his imaginary friend. Maybe she’ll even talk to it. “Hi, hello, I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed the imaginary blue milk and delicacies I’ve left out for you this past week and half. Oh no, it was no bother. My son insisted.”

The ride is quick--Anakin has always been a driver to push the limits of any engine he comes across--and before she knows it, he’s dismounting on a piece of desert and rock that look exactly the same as the last four pieces of rocky terrain they’ve past.

“Ben!” Ani calls, satchel clutched firmly in his hands as he makes his way deeper into the crevices of the landscape. “Ben, it’s Ani! I’m really sorry that I left! Ben? Ben! I’m back now! Ani’s back!”

It’s actually...quite pathetic, to watch her boy speak so pleadingly to the cold stone faces of the rocks around them, but if this is what he needs to do to say goodbye to his life on Tatooine, Shmi won’t say a word.

“Ben--” Anakin draws in a breath to call again, but then there’s movement out of the corner of Shmi’s eyes, and something jumps from the rock down to land on her boy.

She screams and darts forward, but the thing on top of her son snarls at her in guttural warning.

“No, Ben,” Ani coos, stroking at the face that yes, is human, now that it’s not in unnaturally fast motion. “That’s my mom, Ben.”

Ben--Ben??--growls anyway, pinning the boy--her boy--beneath him with his legs and arms.

“She’s fine,” Ani murmurs gently, one hand reaching up to stoke over the beginnings of a beard on Obi-Wan’s face “Oh Ben, I’m sorry.”

The man on top of Shmi’s child finally looks away from her and at her boy, which is both better and worse.

“Ani,” Ben drawls out, as if the word--or perhaps forming the word--hurts him.

Anakin is happy. Shmi can tell he’s happy without even being able to see much of him. It’s like the very air vibrates with his joy. “Yes!” her son says. “Ani. Ben.” He taps the man’s chest. “Ben. Ani.”

The man buries his head into Anakin’s hair, hands rubbing up and down his sides and his arms and his face.

Shmi needs to say something, wants to say something about this strange man touching boy like he owns him, but the memory of his growl and the flash of his golden eyes stops her from stepping forward.

“Anakin, get away from him,” she hisses instead of stepping forward and tearing the stranger off of her son. She has the distinct feeling Anakin wouldn’t let Ben go anywhere, not with the way his little hands are holding so tight to the man’s shoulders. The man’s shoulders that are covered with one of her old tunics that Anakin had told her became unsalvageable after its last wash.

“No,” Anakin says, tightening his hold on his...friend. “He says you didn’t give him food the entire time I was gone! He’s hungry.”

Shmi thinks there’s a very good possibility that this Ben is going to eat her, but she knows not to say anything of the sort. Not when it’s two against one.

“He hasn’t said anything!” She cries instead.

Anakin huffs at this and pats at the feral’s head. “Maybe not to you, but he talks to me.”

Shmi stares at him and wonders if there’s something she’s supposed to be doing or saying here. The man won’t allow her to tear him off her child, she knows that automatically. But she can’t--she doesn’t know--

“Anakin,” she tries, desperately.

But Anakin doesn’t even look at her, too busy petting over the man, who has at least allowed him to sit up. “Hey, I’m sorry, I thought she would,” he tells him in an undertone. “I really thought she would, but I’m back now. I’m not going anywhere without you again--”

He extends his hand and Ben presses his cheek against it with enough force that it pushes him back slightly.

“You’re coming to Naboo with us, Ben,” Anakin promises, clutching at the ends of the man’s long hair. “Or I’m not going at all.”

To Shmi, it sounds like a threat.

The way her son’s eyes flash an unfamiliar golden color makes her feel cold as a Tatooine night. She shivers, but no one notices.

#asks #feral!obi-wan #cw: torture aftermath #its really quite vague tbh #i wanted to use shmi as a narrator because i never really have before #but that means nothing but shmi's perspective gets shared #i mean obviously #but its defo outside perspective here #but this was fun #im not gonna tag it as obikin because anakin here is nine #but yeah i see them living on naboo and healing together from their traumas #and being the most important person to each other #and eventually when anakin is like 25 maybe even older #they kiss #but that's the story i didnt write lmao

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 3 years

Text

Touch it for Real, Part 7

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Angst / (Eventual) Smut 18+

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / idiots to lovers / unresolved sexual tension

A/N: DON'T YELL AT ME ABOUT THE TENSION. I KNOW IT!!! Be nice.

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8

Nothing had changed.

Nothing outwardly had changed. Baekhyun moved about as he always did.

Nothing had changed at all about your home life and yet you had been stumbling around on two unsteady feet for the past week with this new and terrible ache building inside of your belly and yet, nothing had actually changed. It was a longing. A desire to possess something that you could not have.

It was as if the realization that you loved him and had loved him for a long time had turned up the brightness on your view of him. He was luminous. You’d been wearing dark shades for so long and when you took them off you were blinded by him.

You were aware that you were acting weird around him. How could you not be aware; it was turning into an obsession at this point. You woke early and slept late, eager to find any reason to be around him for the simple pleasure of watching him.

Things you’d found annoying in the past, his crazed deafening outbursts while gaming; the sloppy way he took too-big bites and stuffed his cheeks with food as he chewed, barely able to close his lips; the half dazed foot shuffles through your home at two in the afternoon when he’d just rolled out of his bed and moved like a zombie toward the fridge for water and sausages from the cupboards; all of these things that made you roll your eyes before were now doing something else to you that you couldn't excuse. You found yourself smiling just thinking about him. You were looking at him now with new eyes. Eyes that were biased and eyes that were crazy.

You were so very drawn to him.

It felt like a new hobby; 5am wake up with a buzzing alarm on your phone, shower, change, slip over to his door and press an ear to the wood for a chance to catch the sounds of his voice speaking into an ear piece to someone on the other side of the world. A soft knock against the wood and a low voice, his grunted voice returning your knock and you’d slip into his space for what you could only describe as a sick voyeuristic chance to watch him play his game. You just wanted to look at him. The urge was so strong; to see him. You just wanted to look at nothing but him; the first thing you saw in the morning and the last thing you saw at night.

Baekhyun would turn around to look at you as you crawled sleepily into his bed and you’d pretend to fall asleep until he turned back to his game and then you would just watch him.

You liked the shape of him when he sat at his desk. You liked the broadness of his shoulders and the curve of the back of his head. How could his back be so attractive? He had a strong and reliable back. You felt an immeasurable comfort in the rapid, rhythmic sound of his fingers typing on his keyboard and the way he lowered his voice into his headset when he thought you were sleeping in his bed behind him. Sometimes you’d actually drift off though. Lulled into a deep comfortable sleep that felt so much better than any sleep you’d managed in your own bed until you’d be lightly roused by a hand on your shoulders and the sound of his voice calling your name in a whisper.

“Bug, it’s almost time for work,” he would urge and you would groan and stretch, surprised that you had slept so well.

You’d stay there every possible second until you had to report to your work on your own computer.

It was late in the afternoon on a Thursday. The weather had been cold and miserable all week but through your window for the first time all season you felt the warm sun rays landing against your face. How long had it been since you felt the sunshine? You thought perhaps this called for a celebration. Maybe winter would be short this year and you could celebrate a little early with a dinner time barbecue out on the terrace. You knew the wind might still be cold despite that warm sunshine that peeked through the cloud cover but you could handle that much.

It was your turn to make dinner and you hit the final keys on your work assignments and rushed through your room getting ready for a quick trip to the market. You’d get some meat for grilling, some delicious fresh veggies and maybe a bottle of alcohol to sip on. Nothing too crazy, you didn't really trust yourself drunk.

Outside, the air was crisp but at least it wasn’t raining, or worse, snowing. This would do just fine.

When you returned from the market with your arms full of shopping bags your happiness about the unseasonably warm weather outside and your excitement for a tiny cook-out spread rapidly to your roommate who was happily pulling on a soft cable-knit sweater to go outside with his little bluetooth speaker as he set up the portable grill out on the patio table.

The buzz you felt inside of your chest while watching him was incomparable. His smile was wide and beautiful. His teeth were white and perfect and the way his eyes closed up when he really got to smiling wide made your heart do little flips. You couldn't contain your own wide smile when his eyes bounced over to touch yours and that smile on his lips pulled even wider — it sent a jolt straight through you — he was electric. He was a lightning bolt and you felt so high up, of course you were hit first.

The meat was sizzling on the grill and Baekhyun was sitting across the table from you just watching as you snipped the long strips of pork and beef into smaller bite size chunks with scissors and flipped them with long cooking tongs when they started to turn brown.

He was unusually quiet as you worked and it took nearly all of your fortitude to keep from staring at his face openly with an obvious love struck expression. You were thankful that it was your turn to cook this dinner and Baekhyun didn’t even try to take the tongs away from you and take over the grilling. At least you had something to do that wasn’t just staring into the softness you caught in his eyes across the table. You wondered what had to be on his mind that made him look at you this way.

Some of the meat was done and you moved it toward a cooler section of the grill pan, motioning with your tongs toward the quiet man to grab it and eat it but he just sat there with a disconnected look on his face.

He was moving so slowly today. Maybe he wasn't that hungry. You hoped it wasn’t getting too cold out here now that the sun was slipping lower in the sky.

When he didn't immediately move, you sighed and grabbed a piece of lettuce, wrapping the meat inside with some veggies and some of the fillings you knew he liked and you stood up in your seat, holding the wrap up to his face, expecting him to lean forward and grab it with his hands and begin eating already.

When he finally did move it was preceded by a bright smile and he leaned forward and opened his mouth, grabbing the food firmly between his lips, he bit down with his teeth and you felt the brush of his soft lips against your fingertips as he took the bite of food into his mouth straight from your hand.

You could feel the warmth and it was instant. As if someone had turned on a space heater in front of your chest and turned it on full blast.

The ghost of that tiny brush of his lips against your fingers lingered and your mind grabbed hold of it, echoing the sensation again and again with each pound your heart made inside of your chest.

Baekhyun was chewing and he hummed out in appreciation at the deliciousness of the meal you’d provided. You lifted your glass of wine to your lips to hide the smile that took over your face and you noticed he finally picked up his own chopsticks and began building himself another bite to eat. He was grabbing meat, two pieces, added a dab of sauce on top and grabbed a few delicious additions and he was carefully wrapping the tasty package into a tight ball with his fingertips.

You’d just swallowed the wine and had looked down to flip the meat when you caught his movement. He stood from his chair and he leaned, in the exact same way as you had done and you laughed out loud at the sweet expression you saw on his face as he held the food up to your face.

“Ahh,” he said and you leaned forward to receive his offering.

When your lips parted, his fingers pushed forward and your brain buzzed in chaos when his thumb grazed slowly along your bottom lip. He moved too slowly. His fingertips lingered. You let out a breath of air through your nose and his fingers did not break contact with your lips until you’d closed your mouth up and started to chew the food he’d given you.

You felt as if your face was burning. You chewed quickly, hardly even tasting the food that was in your mouth as your eyes tracked his movement; you could not look away from him if you tried. He sat back in his chair with his empty hand held up and the pad of his thumb brushing back and forth over his fingertips, the fingers that had just touched your mouth so carelessly and as he sank into his seat he brought his hand up to absentmindedly touch along his bottom lip.

Your thoughts were fuzzy. Everything outside of his brown eyes took on a soft dreamlike blur.

The eye contact he was holding broke suddenly and he inhaled sharply and closed his eyes, dropped his hand from his lips and looked down at the table of food spread out before you both.

He had a glass of ice water beside him and he lifted it to pull the cooling liquid into his mouth.

You watched the way his jaw worked when he swallowed. You watched the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in and out.

You had lived with Baekhyun for more than two years and you’d never been quite this affected by the man having a drink of water before.

He set the empty glass down roughly on the table and the noisy thud the glass made woke you from the silent reverie. It sharpened your mind and lit a match under your tongue fueled by a growing curiosity that had been filling up your every waking thought lately.

“Baekhyun,” your voice came out a whisper and the sound of his name made his eyebrows lift and he looked across the table at you. “Have you ever fallen in love?”

You weren’t sure where this question came from or why you were suddenly so bold to ask him such a thing, but you were burning with curiosity about the man. Maybe it was the half of a glass of wine that had already made its way into your bloodstream as you sat here and picked at this delicious meal you shared with him.

He was chewing now and the corners of his lips had turned up into a small smile as he looked across the table at you.

There was a strange pause in his movement to reach for the water pitcher so he could refill his glass.

“Yes,” he said softly after he swallowed his food he continued his reaching, finding the pitcher and pouring more water inside his empty glass. His small answer quenched a small bit of the thirst you had inside of you and this new found knowledge about him made you feel warm inside.

He drank and you smiled wide and genuine, somehow elated at the idea that he’d felt this wonderful feeling at one point in his life. The idea that this beautiful man knew exactly how good this feeling of love was; it made your head swim.

You reached for your wine again, draining the rest of your glass and immediately followed it with a big spoon of rice to somehow combat the alcohol with the only weapon you had to fight it. If only the wine hadn’t tasted so damn sweet on your tongue. You’d drank the glass too quickly and you considered the waiting bottle that sat beside you on the table, begging you to give in to just one more glass.

“Have you?”

It was Baekhyun’s turn to ask now and you turned away from the begging bottle to look into that tempting softness he had in his eyes. What was this mood he had fallen into? Was it the sunset? The clouds rolling in front of the setting sun created a beautiful scene. You saw purple, blue, red, and bright orange. The view was absolutely perfect.

“Have you ever fallen in love?”

His voice was so quiet and the warmth of his tone was enveloping you entirely.

“Yes,” you said. You reached for the bottle and tapped into some source of super-human self control you hadn’t known you had in you; you poured only half a glass.

This one, you would sip. For your own good, for the love of God, you would sip it.

“How do you love someone?” Baekhyun had leaned forward in his seat and his eyes tracked the movement of your glass as you lifted it to your lips and you took your first sip. Sweet wine, sweet man with sweet looks in his eyes and sweet questions on his lips. For the first time you wondered if you might be in real danger of making a mistake tonight.

Your brain kicked in. He was asking you important life questions now and you looked upward toward the darkening sky as you pondered this. This must be one of his life lesson questions. Maybe he wanted some advice on how to treat a girl he loved properly. You considered your words thoughtfully.

“Umm...I think...people show they love someone by—”

“No, not that,” he interrupted your answer, stopping you with a raised hand. Then he pointed a finger across the table toward you, “not other people. How do you love someone, Bug? What is your love like?”

Oh.

It was such a raw question.

You were suddenly thankful for the wine you’d already had to drink because you’d never been asked something like this. Not by him or by anyone. In fact, you’d never even thought about it.

How were you, when you were in love. What kind of a lover were you? He was watching you as you considered and your lips opened and closed twice as you tried to think of the perfect answer to this very difficult question.

You thought about your past relationships. Honestly it was hard to remember the good in hindsight. The bad times seemed to jump out at you. The childish way you sometimes acted, the selfish things you’d done and blamed it all on love at the time. Maybe you had been too young to really know what love was. This was part of the reason why you felt so resistant to it. You’d never had a love that hadn't turned bad and burned you from the inside. Maybe you just weren't cut out for love.

And now, with him, the pining, the scheming, the watching, and daydreaming. The fantasies of his touch, of his laugh, of his kiss. Going out of your way to make him smile. Little things you would do just to get him to look at you. The ache you felt in your fingers to touch him. The sweet satisfaction of actually doing it. You’d do anything for it. For him. You’d been doing anything; slipping into his bed just to smell him all around you.

“Shameless,” you said out loud — because you’d do anything. You didn’t even know what you were capable of yet, but you felt like a dangerous woman just thinking about it.

His focus drifted and he exhaled a puff of air through his lips. You heard the smallest chuckle from his throat and a smile pulled at his lips.

“Shameless?” He asked with a bounce of his eyebrows. His water glass was in his hand and he lifted and poured the last few drops into his mouth. It had been hardly anything at all and you watched him curiously as you forced another bite of rice down your throat.

“What does that mean? How do you love shamelessly? Explain that to me.”

You’d been watching his hands as he talked. There was an electricity buzzing around in his eyes that felt almost challenging and you’d expected him to reach for the water pitcher again to add another tiny sip to his glass and make a big show of drinking it down but instead of reaching for it, his hand shot across the table to grip around the neck of the wine bottle.

You were positively transfixed. He lifted the bottle and brought it to his side of the table and you heard the glass spout clink against the rim of his empty glass and the steady glug glug glug of liquid poured too fast through the small opening and he filled his glass most of the way full with deep blood-red liquid.

It was at least as much as you had had to drink already.

Baekhyun was drinking with you. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a long pull of the alcohol into his mouth and he swallowed roughly with his eyes closed. You felt amused by the sight. Strangely comforted by his company even more now that he had joined you inside this bottle of wine.

When he looked up into your face, your shocked expression must have been funny to him because he laughed just once before opening his mouth to speak again.

“Go on,” he said as he lifted his hand across the table toward you. You couldn't tell if he meant you should drink your wine too or if you should answer his question so you lifted your glass to your lips for a big swallow and then you opened your mouth to put your thoughts into words.

Baekhyun was still drinking the wine in his glass and you hoped his full belly of meat and veggies would keep him from becoming too wasted too quickly. You were enjoying his company too much for him to suddenly hit the table and pass out. You were also pretty sure it would be difficult to carry his body into his bedroom if he was unable to walk himself. While you’d never seen him wasted, you’d always assumed he abstained from drinking simply because he could not handle the alcohol.

“I’m shameless, I mean,” you began, trying to find the words to explain what a disaster you were when you fell in love without incriminating yourself too much, “I’m dumb. I’m jealous. I’m clingy and needy and desperate.” This was sounding awful. Why were you such a mess when you fell in love. “I’m probably very annoying to whichever poor soul...”

Baekhyun had emptied his glass as you talked and he licked his lips, leaving behind a telltale red hue along his bottom lip. “Sounds brave to me,” he said quietly to the inside of his glass.

“But, Peanut I thought you couldn’t drink.”

“I never said I can’t.”

The wind changed suddenly and a surprising gust flew over the table, taking a napkin and tossing it across the surface of the table. You reached for it at the same time as he reached and his reaction time was faster. As he gripped the cloth, your hand landed over the back of his warm hand and the surprise of that unintended warmth of his smooth hand made you recoil quickly.

If he noticed he didn’t react. For all you knew this struggle was taking place entirely inside your head. Baekhyun was just having a casual dinner conversation with his dumb roommate who had just acted like his hand was fire as she’d just been singed.

“But you don’t,” you said carefully, coming to some new realization about the man’s habits in self control. In his own personal dos and don’ts.

With this Baekhyun smirked and nodded his head once.

“Not usually, no. I try not to, at least.” His lips pulled wide. It wasn’t a smile, but more of a grimace. When he moved again he was gripping around the wine bottle once more and you left him to it. He refilled his own glass and your eyes followed the movement as he tipped the bottle over your wine glass and emptied the remaining liquid into yours.

So much for only one drink. (OKAY, one and a half. Shut up…)

“So what’s got you drinking tonight?”

It occurred to you that while you had been lost in the ocean of your silly crush on him, Baekhyun might actually have something on his mind that was troubling him.

Something that had turned his mood quiet like this and something that had bothered him enough to be drinking half of your bottle of wine tonight.

The last time you’d seen him drink wine was after he’d bombed that first phone call with Mia. The taste of her name on the back of your tongue soured the sweetness of the wine some.

“Nerves, I guess.” His small confession traveled on the chilly wind and you felt a tiny raindrop on your cheek that signaled trouble.

Baekhyun lifted his glass to his lips once more. It was almost empty now. The light in his eyes was much dimmer than when this evening started. He pulled his lips wide with a wince, “the date...on Saturday.”

His words were sticky as they made their way across the table and you felt another cold rain drop. Was he feeling this too or was it just you.

He must not have felt what you did because he kept talking, “do you know I’ve been stood-up before?”

The wine seemed to have loosened his jaw. Baekhyun didn’t usually talk openly about the embarrassing dating failures he’s had. He definitely didn’t smile ruefully with a deep wounded sadness in his eyes as he did it.

The sad smile pulled his lips wider and he found your eyes across from the table as he lifted both of his hands and raised his fingers. He was counting something. Showing you a number with seven fingers raised and he mouthed silently, “seven times,” and he licked his lips and bit down on his bottom lip and hung his head with his chin down to his chest.

You were shaking your head widely. Madness, that any woman in her right mind would look at this man and find enough fault to stand him up. That someone with half a brain in her head wouldn't jump at the chance to go out with him.

“What if,” he mumbled and the wind picked up again blowing your sweater tightly around your arms and your chest.

“She will come.” You said confidently, interrupting his anxious thoughts with your determined certainty at what you were positive was true. Mia liked Baekhyun at least as much, if not more, as Baekhyun liked Mia.

He was watching your face now. Waiting for the cold wind to die down enough for you to hear what he was saying to you without having to raise his voice.

“What if she doesn’t?”

You didn’t like the defeatist attitude he was sporting now. He was losing this fight without having ever set foot on the battlefield. It filled you with even more determination than you had when you started this whole dating coach thing.

“If she doesn’t show then she’s a fucking idiot and we’ll just have to ditch Ben and go have our own hot date; just me and you.”

At last he laughed. It was a single guffaw straight from his chest and it sounded glorious. Somewhere off in the horizon you caught a flash in the clouds. A storm was coming.

“You’d do that for me, Bug? What if I’m too upset to be any fun? What if I get bad again?”

At the mention of his moods you felt a pang in your heart. The darkness that sometimes followed him around when he stayed locked in his room for days, hardly ate anything and refused all attempts you’d made to coax him out.

It hadn’t happened since you’d grown close to him and you had begun to think you’d dreamed such occurrences that felt like such a distant memory to you.

“I won’t let you. I’ll do whatever you need me to do to make you feel better. Hell we can even practice making-out in the back of the theatre.”

This made him laugh harder. His cheeks were pink and his smile was beautiful.

“That would certainly take my mind off of anything, LoveBug.”

You knew he said it as a joke. He was laughing and everything when he said it. Yet the words he said paired with the nickname that always sent your heart racing had a rapid effect on you. Your breath quickened and you were so thankful that the sun had gone down and taken with it all of its incriminating lighting that would allow him to see you clearly. You were certain that you were blushing and you’d now gone completely silent.

But Baekhyun was still giggling to himself at the thought and you felt the smallest tinge of disappointment that he found the idea of making out with you in the back of a movie theater like a couple of high school kids so hilarious that he was still laughing about it. You lifted your wine glass and shook the last few drops into your open mouth. The bottle was empty and you were consumed by a mountain of regret at only buying the one.

It happened in an instant. The cold air quickly picked up speed around you took on a crisp fragrance and in that same moment there was a flash of bright light with an instantaneous loud boom that echoed inside your eardrums and made you scream as you covered your head from the loud scary noise. It echoed inside your chest and you could feel the shaking inside of you at the shock. It had been so fucking close you could feel the hairs on your arm standing upright. Without realizing it, your scream had turned into a quiet cry of fear and you could feel the trembling in your fingertips as you tried to wrap your arms around your body protectively.

“Shh...Let’s go inside,” you could hear Baekhyun’s voice against your ear and you could feel the warmth of his arms wrapped around your shoulders. His arms were rubbing calming motions up and down your back as he steered you carefully around the corner toward the doorway that led to your bedrooms. As quickly as the lightning strike had filled you with a trembling terror happened the skies then opened up and a thunderous deluge of freezing water fell from the heavens and instantly soaked you both from head to toe.

“Shit,” he cursed out loud. Ice cold rainwater slapped hard against your skin. Frigid winds whipped the streams of rain over your head, biting and stinging against your face and you both ran for cover as his hands found the door and pushed it open in front of you and you stepped inside the silent darkness of his bedroom with two or three steps in with Baekhyun pushing through the doorway behind you. You heard the grunt and the effort behind you as he pulled the door closed tightly and when the door was shut you were bathed in complete still blackness.

“The power’s out,” you heard him say through chattering teeth and after a second of rustling sounds a beam of light from his raised cellphone illuminated the darkened space.

It felt so foreign to you. This room was always a hum of lights and sounds and noise and everything was just dead. The plug pulled; the life snuffed out, you were overwhelmed by just how loud the silence in this room felt. It was suffocating.

You were shaking where you stood. Too cold and still trembling too hard from the close call with the lightning to feel comfortable moving, you jumped and yelped when the sounds of Baekhyun moving around his room shocked you again. He was moving through the darkness, using the flashlight from his cell phone to see. You heard so much movement but could hardly make out what all was happening until you felt someone tugging at the soaking wet hoodie you wore.

“Take this off before you catch a cold.” Baekhyun was speaking to you in the darkness and you felt cold slim fingers pushing dry garments into your hands.

The light from his phone went out and you were bathed in darkness again.

“Hurry and change, you’re shaking too much.”

You could hardly grip the hem of your soaked sweater with how badly your hands were shaking and you had dropped the warm dry clothes he had given you somewhere down at your feet.

“B-Baek, I d-drop-ped — c-can’t s-see,” the chattering of your teeth felt violent. You felt as if you could bite off your tongue or crack a molar with as hard as they were chattering. Was this just the cold or had you been hit by that lightning outside and were you about to drop dead from the electric currents running through your body?

A person appeared before you. You felt him there. Your eyes were beginning to adjust to the blackness and occasionally flashes of lightning through the window would illuminate bits here and there. You could make out the outline of his broad shoulders. There was a flash were you saw his skin. Another flash with a fresh shirt pulled over his head and you were beginning to feel numb to the cold. Numb and dizzy feeling all over; like you could drop to the floor right here.

“Lift your hands.” His voice called to you and you did as you were told, feeling the sticky way your clothes clung to you and tried to hold on. Your skin below was icy and bare. Fingers that were so much warmer than your own slipped down your hips, pushing wet garments down. Heavy soaked jeans. Wet panties. You even dropped your arms to let your bra fall to the floor at your feet and a warm fluffy towel wrapped you up quickly as he rubbed over the surface of you, drying your skin and warming you with the friction.

It felt like life. Like you might just make it.

“I don't have any underwear for you, I’m sorry. Just put these warm pants on.” You stepped into the legs of the pants and looked down at the sight of him crouched down on his knees before your nakedness. A flash of light illuminated the room for a fraction of a second. Just long enough for you to catch the drift of his eyes. Just long enough for his eyes to lift into your own and you knew that flash had been enough to imprint the image of you completely bare before him into his memory.

You did not have enough heat in you to blush. He was moving faster, pulling a long sleeve sweatshirt over your head, covering your breasts and belly with the soft warm fleece.

“Come lay down,” you were pulled by both arms. Your bare feet felt like ice cubes but they moved where you were led to lay down under the warm covers of his bed.

Despite the fluffy blankets and the soft mattress below your feet, you still shivered. It was awful. Nothing you tried seemed to make you warm and Baekhyun had disappeared somewhere in the darkness.

“Baek,” you called into the black but it was silent. He did not respond. You could feel a fearful panic begin to rise up. You just couldn't get warm enough. Where was he?

The wind shifted and you heard the rain hitting the windows of his bedroom harder and somewhere in the distance you heard a sound. It sounded like a struggle between a man and a patio door. Banging and thumping and cursing right out loud and then he barged back into his bedroom breathing hard and soaking wet again.

“Here Bug, catch.”

Something was coming. You felt panic then. You absolutely could not see anything in front of you and he’d just said the word catch which told you he was about to throw something at you and you screamed and buried your head deeper under his covers.

You felt a light thump land over your chest. Something small. How dare he throw something at you during a blackout. You slipped your hand out cautiously and felt a plastic cylinder. It was a small flashlight.

You turned it on and shone it across the room and Baekhyun was standing in the center of his room with his arms tight around his stomach, dripping wet from head to toe again from whatever he felt he needed to go back outside for.

You could hear his heavy breathing and the shaking from across the room.

“Baekhyun, get over here. You’re shaking.” His teeth chattered audibly and he rocked back and forth on his legs where he stood but he still wouldn’t move.

“I h-had t-to get th-the st-st-stove—”

You didn't need his explanations right now. He needed to get those wet clothes off and get under this blanket with you right now before he died of hypothermia.

“Byun Baekhyun shut the fuck up and take off the wet clothes right now. Come here and get warm. I swear to God if you die—”

Finally he was moving. Your threats must have sounded serious enough for him to move close to the bed. The will to survive was strong. You clicked the flashlight off when he pulled off his shirt. Through the limited light from the windows you caught the drop of his pants and you pulled your focus up on the blackness of the ceiling above you when you felt the blanket move and the bed beside you dipped.

The temperature of his body was a shock. He was so cold. All over; his skin was absolutely freezing and you turned into him as soon as you felt it. You laid your arms and legs over him and pulled his bare shoulders into your chest in a tight embrace. The hair on top of his head was very wet and you used the blanket to rub over his head, hoping the friction would help some; hoping to dry some of the wetness.

He was shaking so hard. Small vocalizations came from his throat with every other tremble as he tried to control it and you tried not to jump when you felt his icy fingertips make contact with your bare stomach when he’d reached for your warmth and the loose sweatshirt you wore had shifted to expose your skin. His fingers did not pull away. The desire for your warmth was too strong and his entire palm laid over your bare skin. Cold. So cold. You shifted then, moving your own hand over his own to cover where he was frozen. To warm him back up. The spot of your skin where his hand laid had lost too much heat and you gripped his hand in yours and placed it up higher on your rib cage where you had more warmth for him.

You knew this was about survival.

He was warming up. You could feel the change as his chest stopped shaking and he stopped moving his hand up higher on your skin. He’d stopped just short of your breast and your heart was racing so fast in your chest you figured he had to be able to feel it.

The desire was a raging fire inside of you. His hands were warmer now and yet he was still touching so much of your bare skin. His legs had given up the vibrating tremble and you still felt the tightness of his thighs holding your legs hostage.

The storm roared outside and inside here you both cocooned under this warm blanket in this shared bed and slowly, little by little you felt the warmth return to his body as it had returned to yours.

He had gone motionless when his shaking stopped and his breathing evened out. You’d briefly considered that he might have fallen asleep until you felt a slight flex in his fingertips. His hand flinched and moved and you felt a delicate sweeping motion in his fingertips that touched the warm skin over your rib cage.

Your eyes were closed as you focused on that movement and a small gasp of breath betrayed you when his thumb brushed along the underside of your bare breast.

You had to breathe. You had to inhale to stay alive and the act brought with it the heady fragrance of his body that joined you under this blanket.

You longed for more. You craved it. Shamelessness. With your eyes closed and his body heat pressed against you this way, what you wouldn't give to succumb to the desires that were flooding your body with more warmth than you could stand right now.

You moved a hand then, trailing your fingertips lightly up his shoulder, curving toward his neck to lightly touch the softness of his cheek.

His face turned with the feeling of your touch and you felt the hot breath from his parted lips that you touched with your fingertips. His breathing was heavy and it matched the labored breaths that came from your own chest.

Baekhyun’s lips were soft to touch. You felt the motion of them as he pursed them lightly and kissed the tip of your fingers that touched his mouth so freely like this.

You couldn't even remember what it felt like to be cold now. Every inch of your skin felt like it was burning.

“I’m...dizzy,” his low whisper filled the air with more warmth and on his voice was a whining complaint, “I...think I am drunk.”

His words made you pull your hand back down from his lips and you rested it over his chest as your mind whirled.

Baekhyun rarely drank any alcohol at all. He’d consumed a half a bottle of wine, had an encounter with near hypothermic temperatures and now you had him naked in his bed with truly wicked and shameless intentions. While it didn't start out that way, the situation had quickly escalated and you’d done nothing to stop it.

You were at war. Your desires and your conscience and you knew, you knew which one was on the right side.

“You feel so warm,” his whisper was back and he leaned into you as he said it against your ear. Against your neck he breathed in deep and spoke again, “mmm...fuck — you smell so good. I feel like I am making a mistake. This is a mistake. Please, not like this — not drunk.”

You had never felt this frustrated and this turned on in your entire life.

He shifted then and you felt the dip as the bed moved and Baekhyun pushed up with his arms and pushed with his legs and he rolled over you on the bed, placing a knee between your legs. As he rolled you felt the push of his hips where they landed perfectly between your thighs.

You wanted him. He felt so good on top of you. He fit perfectly between your parted legs, you wanted him.

You wanted to kiss him and hold him and you wanted the sex; you wanted to wrap your arms and your legs around his waist and pull him down into you but his words were protesting. You knew, you knew this could not happen.

You wouldn't do that to him. You would not, absolutely would not let his first time be a drunken mistake. You had more self control than that.

Something on the bed rolled when he moved and it knocked against your hand. Something hard and plastic. You reached for the flashlight and clicked the button, sending a burst of illumination up into his face where he hovered over you on the bed.

His eyes shaped shut at the sudden brightness and you struggled to keep yours open.

“Baekhyun,” you said through clenched teeth. Your own breathing was too ragged to try and sound calm as you spoke and he dropped his face, turning away from the bright light.

“We can’t.”

You bit down on your bottom lip. You were insane. You had lost your entire mind. You were in love with him, he was so beautiful and he was practically begging, begging you to fuck him right now. You felt the push of his hips between your legs and everything. But his words. And when his eyes opened you could see how glassy and disconnected his focus was. He was drunk and you would not do that to him.

“We can’t do this.”

It took a palm placed gently on his face for him to look into your eyes with any real focus and realization. “You know we can’t.”

With his chest heaving and his cheeks pink and flushed he looked into your eyes and nodded his head, knowing that you were right. Knowing that this had been a weak moment brought on by alcohol, made worse by the storm and the compromising position you had found yourself in and you felt him shift and push himself off of you.

You turned off the flashlight as he moved; in some attempt to save your sanity from having to relive the beautiful image of his naked body positioned on top of yours. It didn't really help. You were a mess anyway.

When he was off of you and covered on his bed, your only course of action was to leave this place. You could not stay so close to the temptation that had nearly undone everything. You could not even imagine waking up the next morning after such a drunken occurrence had occurred. At least you were leaving with your pride still intact. At least you would be able to look him in the eyes tomorrow morning and still feel like you were a good person.

You sat on the edge of his bed for a moment. Willing the chaos inside of your body to slow down some so you would not stumble as you walked out of here.

It took some doing. You could still feel it all over your body and you turned to look behind you at the man laying on his bed fighting whatever internal battle he was fighting and you found his eyes open, watching you.

He moved a hand and laid it over your own, squeezing lightly with his fingers.

“Thank you,” he said, “I’m sorry,” he added with a wince on his pretty face.

A wave of distaste rose inside at the sight; a feeling so powerful it led your movement down to him.

You leaned into him and you pressed your lips into the softness of his cheek, kissing him once. It took considerable strength to pull your lips away from him. It took even more strength to push yourself into a standing position and walk out of his bedroom, but you did it. You would even be okay eventually. After a shower and a glass of cold water, you would get past this and you would be able to keep living here without having fucked up the only good thing in your life during a moment of weakness.

You would be okay.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8

Tag list: @j-pping @blahblahblah-boo @his-mochi-cheeks @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13 @baekinmylife @insta1010 @nana-banana @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth @totallynerdstuff @byunbabybaek @maijinki @bbyunz@theclawofaraven @kingkushdealer @uhobob

#baekhyun #exo #baekhyun Fic #baekhyun fanfic #exo fic #exo fanfic #baekhyun fluff #exo fluff #baekhyun smut #exo smut #baekhyun series #exo series

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delimeful · 3 years

Text

(dont) take this the wrong way (6)

warnings: misunderstandings, trauma responses, illness

Patton and Roman went in circles for a moment on who should carry Logan, eventually settling on Patton, since Roman was the quicker between the two of them and they were alarmingly unsure of what the small mer was planning— or how negatively that plan would affect the little guy.

Roman couldn’t help but be a little jealous anyways at the sight of the human pressing his tiny face against the palm of Patton’s hand, still mostly unconscious despite the jostling. It was unfairly adorable, and he never got to hang out with humans that weren’t terrified or fled at the sight of him.

Logan had started off scared too, sure, but after they’d cleared that little misunderstanding up, the human had shooed him away with an itty bitty stern look.

He’d listened, of course, he certainly owed these two that much, but internally he was gleeful at how bold Logan was when hanging out with them. Maybe he’d even come back and they’d learn more of his language and he could needle the nerd into telling him more about surface life—!

But of course, that required that he get better first.

It seemed obvious now, with the feverflush to his skin and the subtle tremor even as he slept, but the signs were so tiny on him, they might not have noticed for ages yet. He was inordinately grateful that the little mer had brought it to their attention, even if it also meant learning just how lowly the little guy thought of them.

When they returned from the air room, the tiny mer hadn’t twitched from his spot, though he looked as though he wanted to vibrate right out of his skin.

Agonizingly, he only seemed to get more stressed at the sight of Patton’s cupped hands, gaze darting between them for a moment before he flitted forwards and pressed an earfin to the makeshift airseal, staying in place only long enough to catch the sound of Logan’s little raspy breaths.

Roman opened his mouth, arms sliding up to gesture, and the tiny mer shot all the way back across the room like quicksilver. He had a moment to realize that with that speed, they’d never have ‘caught’ him in the first place if he hadn’t been trapped by that net, and then he felt immensely guilty for clearly spooking the little guy.

“How about you lead the way?” he asked, trying to distract their flighty little friend before he started tearing hair out. “The exit is one cave down, we’ll follow to wherever you think is the best place.”

He was shaking his head before Roman even finished. “No, I’ll follow, you— whoever stole him, you have to take him back to that beach. You remember... right?”

Roman turned to glance at Patton, who nodded firmly. “I’ll get us started then, kiddo.”

He cradled his cupped hands to his chest and swam deeper, easily twisting through the exit tunnel into the open ocean. Roman nodded at the little mer and followed, hoping that the little guy wouldn’t just vanish.

Only a moment later, he flitted out after them, and Roman caught the desperate longing that crossed his expression for a moment at the sight of wide open terrain. It vanished after a single glance at Patton’s cargo, replaced by a grim scowl.

If it weren’t for the human, Roman had the feeling that the mer would have turned and vanished, too quick and small for them to ever see again.

Instead, he hovered carefully out of lunging reach as they traveled, watching their every move with narrowed eyes. Every unconscious twitch of Patton’s hands seemed to make him flinch in response, as though he was expecting something horrible would happen to the human at any moment.

Normally, Roman would have been quite offended about this implied slight against Patton’s character, since his friend was just about the gentlest guy he knew. With circumstances what they were, however, he remained silent. He knew that this wasn’t really a reflection on Patton, but rather someone else entirely, a phantom presence that was still haunting the small mer.

Roman let out a breath of relief when they finally resurfaced, a human beach visible nearby. Patton unfolded his hands as soon as they were above water, and they both peered nervously down at the human.

“He doesn’t look like he’s gotten any worse,” Patton murmured, angling his hands so their small tagalong could see as well. “This is fairly close to the beach I found him at!”

“It seems the early hour has served us well,” Roman added, making sure not to gesture as he usually would. “There doesn’t appear to be anyone else around. Should we set him on the beach?”

The tiny mer jolted when he realized that they were both looking to him, flitting back and forth in nervous motions. “Uh, yeah— Yes. But be careful. And make sure you put him high enough that the tide can’t drag him back.” He continued in an undertone, “With his luck, it’ll be ages before another human appears.”

“I’ll do it!” Patton announced, already pushing forwards to shallower waters. “Roman’s likely to beach himself if he goes too far inland, and that’s shore to make things difficult!”

Roman groaned, flicking his fingertips at the siren. “That was one time! One-time incidents don’t qualify for pun-based bullying!”

Patton’s muffled laughter got quieter as he shifted to lay vertically, scooting forwards until his chest was scraping the sand and his arm could extend to set Logan gently against the beach incline. Logan’s head lolled to the side, but he seemed unlikely to go anywhere, and was in plain sight of anyone passing by.

Roman glanced down at the tiny mer, who was staring over the waves at the human, finally looking a little less stiff and stressed.

Patton wiggled back until he could tread water upright again, sharing a little cheer with Roman at a successful quest. Their guest’s tension returned immediately, that little shadowed gaze snapping back onto them.

Roman and Patton exchanged a glance, uncertain of how to proceed, but before anyone could speak, they heard a small, hacking cough.

Logan was awake, just a little too late for him or Patton to say goodbye. He probably wouldn’t have understood, but it would have been nice anyhow. Roman watched as he rolled to something resembling upright, his limbs trembling weakly. He was looking back and forth, not just noticing the new decor, but searching.

Roman glanced down to the small mer, who had set his shoulders and continued looking firmly away from the beach. He sunk a little lower in the water, trying to make eye contact. “Would you like to go and say goodbye before he leaves? Or, tell him what’s going on, perhaps?”

He shook his head once, sharply, and Roman felt a little pang of sympathy at the way his ear fins kept angling back at every noise the human made.

Logan was calling out now, the same word repeated at increasing levels of urgency. “Virgil?”

The mer still refused to glance back. “I’m not breaking the deal. You upheld your half, and you’re going to keep upholding it, and I’ll uphold mine. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’d drifted closer to Roman as he spoke, but it didn’t feel like any sort of progress. He’d tucked all those extra flares and frills away, smoothing himself down as though he was calm— or resigned.

Roman glanced up at the beach, where Logan still called. As he listened, that little voice cracked midword, desperation slowly turning to despair. He moved to cup his hand underneath the little mer, his heartstrings pulling at the way he let out a slow, shaky breath and closed his eyes, even as Roman lifted him up from the ocean entirely.

Patton opened his mouth as if to speak, but Roman met his eyes and shook his head, promising with his gaze alone that he knew what he was doing. His friend glanced down at the little guy worriedly, but held his tongue.

With one strong push, Roman slid up to the beach’s edge, grimacing slightly as the water became shallower and shallower. His arms were longer than Patton’s, though, and so he had little trouble reaching over and depositing his handful of seawater & tiny mermaid directly next to Logan.

“Virgil!” the human said, relieved, and he reached out to latch onto the mer, confirming Roman’s name suspicions.

‘Virgil’ had yelped like a baby seal upon being upended onto the beach, and he was now blinking between Roman and Logan with an air of extreme bewilderment.

“Virgil,” Logan said again, now in a very different tone. He wore a tiny, furious expression as he launched into what sounded like a somewhat-feverish lecture. He also reached over and pulled the mer into a hug, confirming Roman’s ‘he had no idea Virgil was going to pull this’ suspicions.

Roman was so right about so many things today. Everyone should listen to him all the time!

He wriggled back a little, intending to give them some privacy to talk, and made absolutely no progress. Uh oh. He glanced down at the others.

“I am just a little bit, slightly, somewhat, completely beached again,” he told them, his face growing hot. “I hope you two appreciate that I did this even though Patton is absolutely never going to let me live this down.”

“Need me to reel you back in, kiddo?” Patton called, right on cue. Roman sighed, planting his face in the crook of his elbow for a moment.

“Just a moment,” he called, and then met Virgil’s wide eyes from over Logan’s shoulder. “It seems like there’s still much for you both to discuss, my undersized acquaintances. We shouldn’t stay so close to land for long, but I imagine you’ll feel better if you keep him company until someone comes for him, right?”

Logan’s brief spark of energy seemed to be flagging, but every time Virgil attempted to disengage from the hug, he clung on tighter. After a brief moment of hesitation, Virgil conceded to the clinginess and simply nodded at Roman, still half-braced for something awful.

Roman gave him his most reassuring smile. “Then that’s what you’ll do. You know where to find me or Patton, if you need us!”

“Really?” Virgil asked, hands fisting in the back of Logan’s shirt. “You’ll let me-- you’ll leave us alone? Just like that?”

Roman nodded, lips twisted in sympathy. “Just like that.”

Virgil’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, fins flattened against the sides of his head-- and then he took a deep breath, loosened his grip just slightly, and nodded back.

#dtttww #dont take this the wrong way #my writing #ts virgil #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #sanders sides #g/t #mermaid au #might edit this one later its a little short

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