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solaireverie · 6 months

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cl16 | are we out of the woods yet?

summary: [ charles leclerc x f!driver!reader — social media au / fic ] after you get into a rough crash, charles is faced with difficult decisions

request: can i get a female driver reader injury/crash angst with daniel, seb or charles pls love your fics!

warnings: crashes and injuries, general medical stuff, unspecified mentions of death (implied to be jules and hervé), open/unclear ending

author’s note: hihi lovely!! tysm for requesting <3 hope this is enough angst for you ;) also i have no clue how to write injuries soooooo just roll with it

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ynupdates y/n has been taken to the medical center following her crash in the #brazilgp. no further news has been released yet. we're all behind you, y/n! 🤞

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user did anyone see if she was able to get out of the car by herself?

↪ user no, i think she had to be extracted by the medical crew 😬

user i hope she's okay...

Charles' phone is halfway out of his pocket when it starts ringing. Glancing at the screen, he swipes to accept the call when he sees that it's from your mother. He had called her a few minutes ago, when the sight of your crash had first appeared on the screens in the Ferrari paddock, but she hadn’t picked up. Her voice filters through the speakers of his phone, worry tinging her tone.

“Do you have news yet?” she asks.

“Don’t know,” Charles replies, “I’m on my way to see her now. It… might be good to book a flight — and soon.” He doesn’t want to alarm your mom but it seems inevitable and he knows that you would want her next to you.

“Okay,” she breathes shakily, “and Charles?”

“Yeah?”

“She better be okay when I get there.”

Charles winces. Of all the people in the world, he knows all too well why you can never make any promises, especially in Formula 1.

“I’ll do my best,” he says and ends the call.

There’s a marshal waiting for him in the tiny waiting area in the medical center. He’s pacing nervously and immediately strides towards Charles as soon as he sees him.

“Mr. Leclerc,” he begins, “the doctors wanted to see you before they take any further action. You have medical power of attorney for Ms. L/N in case of emergency, correct?”

Charles nods numbly. It had been a precaution at the time because you had insisted that out of everyone in the paddock, you trusted him the most. He had accepted it without thinking twice but now the weight of the responsibility settles heavily over his shoulders. He follows the marshal past empty treatment rooms until they reach one with its door thrown open.

Charles feels his lunch crawling back up his throat as he stares at your figure. You’re laid out on a stretcher and you’d almost look peaceful if not for the numerous medical apparatuses connected to you and the thin trickle of dried blood on your temple. He somehow finds his voice again.

“What happened?” he asks, almost afraid to hear the answer.

A paramedic steps forward. “Ms. L/N took quite a knock in her crash, I’m afraid,” she explains gently. “Something came loose in the cockpit and hit her head. We’re not sure if there’s any further internal injuries, but our professional opinion is that she should be moved as soon as possible to a hospital for further testing.”

Charles swallows around a lump in his throat. “Is there any particular risk with transporting her in this state?”

The paramedic shakes her head. “No more than the usual, which is relatively low compared to the risk that we run by keeping her here without knowing if there’s anything else wrong.”

Charles follows your ambulance all the way into the hospital in a haze. He barely registers the press grouped outside the entrance, pushing through them, always keeping you in his sights. He waits outside of the examination room they bring you into and follows as they wheel you around, receiving god knows how many tests.

After a while members of your team start showing up, although they keep a respectful distance from Charles. He’s glad. He knows, rationally, that you were just unlucky, but the irrational and protective side of him is screaming at him to place the blame at someone’s feet. He knows you wouldn’t appreciate him blowing up at your team, though, so he doesn’t say anything to them and keeps vigil by your side as the doctors poke and prod.

Eventually you’re carefully placed in a hospital bed and Charles is pulled aside by what seems to be the main doctor assigned to you.

“Unfortunately, it seems as if we will have to operate on Ms. L/N,” he says gently. “Someone else will go over the details with you, but long story short she’s bleeding internally and it’s imperative that we get to it as soon as possible. Of course, any operation of this size could potentially be dangerous, but I strongly recommend taking action sooner rather than later.”

Charles shakes his head, the words not yet registering in his scattered mind. “Is she going to be okay?” he mumbles, not meeting the doctor’s eyes.

He can feel the doctor’s pitying gaze on him and Charles doesn’t have it in him to tell him that he’s been here before — not this specific hospital, no, but he’s been on this side of the conversation that they’re having already, and it tears his heart up just as much as the first time. The only difference this time is that he’s the one who has to make the choice, not anyone else.

“We can’t make any guarantees,” the doctor cautions, “but it would significantly raise her chances of survival if we act now.”

Charles winces at the doctor’s words. Survival. Drive to survive, surviving to drive, the irony of the situation isn’t lost on him. He uncurls his fingers gingerly from where he had been unconsciously gripping his pants.

He wants to avoid the decisions he knows he will have to make in the next twenty-four hours. He wants to pretend that nothing happened, that you’re still on the track, passing everyone in your way. He wants to go back to this morning, when he had kissed you goodbye before jogging off to get ready for the race. He wishes he had taken time to do more than peck you and throw a “love you!” over his shoulder. Charles wants to hide from the cold, stark reality he’s faced with. Your life lies in his hands and Charles is so, so tired of bleak hospital hallways.

He wants to scream at the heavens. He’s suffered and given so much already. Is one shred of happiness too much to ask? Charles had known the risks going in when he started dating you — one Formula 1 driver was usually more than enough jeopardy in a relationship, let alone two — but he’d never really thought that the day would arrive where he would have to make decisions about you, without you.

Charles stares at your face through the window to your room, tracing the curves and slopes with his eyes. It’s the face he wakes up next to almost every day and he curses himself for not cherishing the time he’s already had with you more. His brain is moving a mile a minute, running through all the possible outcomes. At the end of the day, though, he’s only got one choice.

Charles Leclerc has always been selfish and he’ll be damned if he lets another person he loves slip through his fingers.

“Where do I sign?”

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

masterlist | taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora

#solwriting #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #f1 social media au #f1 imagine #f1 smau #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smau

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1800jjbarnes · 7 months

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◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟐 : 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤/𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 - 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 ◇

【Synopsis】 : Your two professors were more than happy to show you some tips and tricks to help you study.

『W.C』 : 1.36k

-> Genre: Colleg Au. Suggestive.

Pairing: Professor!Stucky x Student!Reader

[Warnings] : Swearing. Pet names. Hints of sex. Teasing. Dirty talk. Some man handling. Some pussy play hehe.

Masterlist | Kinktober List | Part Two

There was a secret code in college, an unspoken rule if you will. Never, ever, by any means, fall in love, or sleep with your professors. And yes, they might be handsome, and they might be only seven or so in age difference. But never, EVER, be romantically or sexually involved. And this rule stuck by most students and more professors. There were young girls who always fawned over the brooding, tall, and mysterious drinks of water known as their English or History teachers. And boys that would whisper among themselves who was the hottest, Ms. Romanoff, the Health and fitness teacher, or Mrs. Maximoff, the criminology professor.

But you? You swore the minute you only got barely accepted to the college―since you were late for the cut―that you would not look at your teachers in such an inappropriate and unprofessional way. Besides, you were one day going to be joining them as a professor once you pass your training exam. You always wanted to teach visual arts and Theater and this college has allowed you not only to study such majors and degrees but also train so that one day you’ll be able to teach them yourself to others.

You worked hard, studied instead of sleeping. Sleeping instead of hanging out with friends. Your life revolved around your work, and yet when you met the stand-in, since your normal teacher was away for a couple of weeks. It was like your brain no longer understood how to function. And the worst part…

Theres two of them.

Both are strong, tall, and deviously handsome. One had a voice so deep you could feel the vibrations of his vocals every time he spoke, and the other had eyes as piercing as the sun and a smile that could kill. To say they were your ideal type would be an understatement. And what was the icing on the cake? They are huge. Beefy broad shoulders, thick biceps and thighs, heavy chests. They were like super soldiers, and oh, how that made you swoon. Wanting nothing more than for them to pick you up and throw you around as if you weighed nothing. If you were to stand in between them, you surely would be caged in the best way possible.

You met them during the first term, six months ago. And every day since was a little unspoken game of cat and mouse. You didn’t flirt at first, still wanting to be professional but as your late hours at the library grew or the time spent sitting in an empty classroom for some quiet as your dorm was too loud to considerate became more common. Mr Rogers and Mr Barnes came to your aid to help you with your studies, of course. First, they would sit at the front of the classroom while you were at a row of desks. They would explain about being a teacher, cheat sheets of sorts, and tips for when to do your first training shift. Helping you understand the ins and outs of navigating college students. And then it slowly moved to one of them sitting next to you, Mr Rogers, you could smell his cologne, the musk of his natural scent. His arm would brush yours, occasionally making you see how his large biceps were. And they were definitely the same if not larger than your thighs. Your body felt so small next to him.

And then Mr Barnes sat on the other side of you. The feeling of being caged was coming to reality, and it was burning a fire inside of you. You tried to brush away these feelings. They are your professors, after all and one day, co-workers, not some school crush to dot over. But they were so smooth-talking, charming, with flirtatious smiles, and your mind couldn’t help but wonder since they are so naturally big, were they big else where…

“You get all that peach?” Mr Rogers's voice snapped you out of your lewd thoughts, redness suddenly pooling on your cheeks. You see that’s why Mr Rogers had given you such a nickname, Peach, was because of the shade of pink your cheeks would be whenever he made eye contact with you. Deep down you knew your professor shouldn’t be nicknaming his student but then again you didn’t take the classes they taught, and the longer you thought about it, the more okay it was to flirt back. After all, you were all adults.

“You seem a bit distracted today?” Mr Barnes grumbled behind you, making a shiver dance down your back. My god, if that man sounded like that on a regular, you wondered what his bedroom voice sounded like, or even better, his morning voice. “Is something bothering you?” he asked, placing his large hand on your shoulder, stopping you from turning to the side to see him. No, instead, he slowly rubbed his fingers deep into your tense muscle, making you feel relief surge through you. You almost forgot to answer the question, too focused on the older man's hands doing wonders on your shoulders.

“I-I uhmm…” You were lost, suddenly feeling Mr Rogers's hand grip the top part of your thigh, rubbing circles on your exposed flesh where the hem of your shorts are. “It’s just. M-mr Rogers…”

“Don’t worry, Peach, and I said already. Call me Steve. We are going to be co-workers soon. You should address me and Bucky as such.” He included his friend and co-worker at the end, letting you know what you’ve been told for the thousandth time, call them by their first names. “You seem tense, darling. What could ever be the cause of so much tension in this pretty body of yours.”

Your eyes snapped open now, looking at Mr Rog―uh you mean Steve―in his intense stare. Did he just call you darling? Now, your face was definitely redder than a tomato at this point. “S-Steve…”

Steve groaned, biting his lip while rolling his eyes slightly. he had to pull back for a second before returning his hand to your thigh. “God, my name sounds so good when you say it.”

You looked away for a moment, feeling your heart was going to beat right out of your chest. The next thing you knew, a pair of large beefy arms pulled you by your waist until your ass was placed onto a board, hard, lap. “Say my name Doll Face. I wanna hear what my name sounds like coming off your pretty lips.” All barriers were gone and lines were being crossed. But none of you cared anyone. The flirtation became too much, more so for the men it seems and with Bucky's lips finding the sweet spot behind your ear you couldn’t help but moan;

“Bucky…”

“Fuck, that’s it. Such a good girl.” The hold Buck had on you got tighter, and his huge biceps caged your back against his heavy chest. Your mind was spinning at the sheer thought that all Bucky and Steve had to do was squeeze you tight enough that you’d break. They are so much bigger than you, stronger than you. They could throw you around and do as they pleased to you and all you could―would―do is lay back and take it.

“We knew you’d be such a good girl for us peach. Just look at you, head empty already when we have barely touched you.” Steve chuckled, squeezing your thigh, letting his long fingers slip towards where you needed them most. “you want us to touch you, darling? Teach you some real lessons?” He emphasized the word ‘real’, all knowing that He and Bucky were going to teach you anything but a real lesson in this moment.

“Please…” you retched out for Steve, gripping his perfectly iron button-up, pulling him towards you. “Please show me…” He drew his lips to yours quickly as Bucky bit down onto your shoulder while his hands loosely move to open your legs, letting Steve cup your entire wet cunt with his huge hand. You were most definitely in for a night of your life.

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genderentvy · 2 years

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Me: why does my hand hurt

The internet: you have MS

#trying to decipher why my body does things is impossible #also idk if its possible but whatever hand thing i have going on right now might also be connected to the thing that makes my skin burn #which is apparently a thing with ms #or diabetes #but like...youd think theyd start with diabetes lol which is far less scary #it would be no surprise if i have it since 90% of my family does #its probably just a pinched nerve #like my sciatica lol

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randomness-is-my-order · 4 months

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been seeing alot of discourse ensuing in the fandom about the pjo tv show and here’s the thing: there is alot of impetus about what the show didn’t get right but isn’t it absolutely amazing how much the show did get right????

yes, gabe is a bit different. yes, annabeth didn’t show percy around camp. yes, grover snitched on percy. yes, ms. dodds transforming could be a bit underwhleming.

BUT

we also have this: percy being an actual kid with sarcasm and sadness and anger and trauma. he’s not one-note. he’s just trying his best and his inner conflict is so painfully and wonderfully portrayed. grover being a nervous wreck at times but also sweet and earnest and guilt-ridden and brave in his own way. annabeth being a little girl wise beyond her years, with a stoicism that feels like something she was forced to practice and the spark of a dream driving her actions. luke being a likeable teenager with actual empathy towards percy which will drive home his fall from grace that much deeper.

chiron being a mentor figure who still makes questionable choices and can’t always say the words percy wants to hear, despite his best intentions. mr. d being an asshole who is still likeable, if only for his humor. sally jackson being a fierce mother with both tenderness and strength, who isn’t perfect but might as well be in percy’s eyes. clarisse being the unpleasant bully that she is, with all the rage and pettiness that she held within when we were first introduced to her yet with the promise of something more.

camp halfblood’s set and the cinematography deserve their own medals. they’re quite literally perfect.

soooo, where i’m getting at is this:

i don’t believe that all criticism pointing out inconsistencies with the books is just nitpicking. alot of it is well thought out and politely presented, too, and i think it’s important to point it out so the showrunners know where they went wrong and can try and rectify those errors–however small or big–in the next season. at the same time, undermining the entire show, discounting all the efforts made to remain faithful to the source material just because they strayed from a storyline that didn’t land as well as it could have–that’s a bit overblown, yes?

like it is an adaptation, not a word-by-word recreation from page to screen. of course, there will be changes because some things in a book don’t always translate well in a story told on the screen. for me, most changes aim to enhance rick’s work, not undermine it or take away from it in some misguided attempt to appeal to the larger audience like the movies did.

at the end of the day, it is very important to recognise the 90% of the show that depicted our beloved scenes from the book as faithfully as possible instead of constantly criticising the 10% of it that changed directions for a certain end goal that serves the screenwriting for a tv show. there can be balance of both praise and criticism and i’m very much in support of people pointing out genuine problems with the storytelling of the show but these conversations should also try and acknowledge the myriad of aspects in which the show excelled. like just the fact that i get to see so much of my imagination take form in front of my eyes, through a screen, with so much of the same authenticity that the pjo books are inlaid with–that’s genuinely mind-boggling to me.

#pjo tv spoilers #pjo tv series #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo fandom #pjo #percy pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy and annabeth #walker scobell #leah jeffries

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ja3hwa · 7 months

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♡ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟐: 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤/𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 - 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐢 ♡

【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : Your two professors were more than happy to show you some tips and tricks to help you study.

『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ��ᴏᴜɴᴛ』 : 1.36k

-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Colleg Au. Suggestive.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Professor!Yungi x Student!Reader

[ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs] : Swearing. Pet names. Hints of sex. Teasing. Dirty talk. Some man handling. Mingi and Yunho are HUGE.

Thank you, @mixling-blog, @yugy-oh, and @senpai-of-doom, for requesting Mingi and Yunho for this day. ♡♡♡

Note: I actually forgot to finish this day, and I'm so sorry. So I'll be making a part 2 once kinktober is done cause I had this whole idea but i just lost track of all the fics and this one got put on the bottom of my list by accident ahhhh.

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List

There was a secret code in college, an unspoken rule if you will. Never, ever, by any means, fall in love, or sleep with your professors. And yes, they might be handsome, and they might be only seven or so in age difference. But never, EVER, be romantically or sexually involved. And this rule stuck by most students and more professors. There were young girls who always fawned over the brooding, tall, and mysterious drinks of water known as their music or mathematics teachers. And boys that would whisper among themselves who was the hottest, Ms. Kim, the science teacher, or Mrs. Park, the criminology professor.

Theres two of them.

You met them during the first term, six months ago. And every day since was a little unspoken game of cat and mouse. You didn’t flirt at first, still wanting to be professional but as your late hours at the library grew or the time spent sitting in an empty classroom for some quiet as your dorm was too loud to considerate became more common. Mr Park and Mr Jung came to your aid to help you with your studies, of course. First, they would sit at the front of the classroom while you were at a row of desks. They would explain about being a teacher, cheat sheets of sorts, and tips for when to do your first training shift. Helping you understand the ins and outs of navigating college students. And then it slowly moved to one of them sitting next to you, Mr Song, you could smell his cologne, the musk of his natural scent. His arm would brush yours, occasionally making you see how his large biceps were. And they were definitely the same if not larger than your thighs. Your body felt so small next to him.

And then Mr Jung sat on the other side of you. The feeling of being caged was coming to reality, and it was burning a fire inside of you. You tried to brush away these feelings. They are your professors, after all and one day, co-workers, not some school crush to dot over. But they were so smooth-talking, charming, with flirtatious smiles, and your mind couldn’t help but wonder since they are so naturally big, were they big else where…

“You get all that peach?” Mr Jung’s voice snapped you out of your lewd thoughts, redness suddenly pooling on your cheeks. You see that’s why Mr Jung had given you such a nickname, Peach, was because of the shade of pink your cheeks would be whenever he made eye contact with you. Deep down you knew your professor shouldn’t be nicknaming his student but then again you didn’t take the classes they taught, and the longer you thought about it, the more okay it was to flirt back. After all, you were all adults.

“You seem a bit distracted today?” Mr Song grumbled behind you, making a shiver dance down your back. My god, if that man sounded like that on a regular, you wondered what his bedroom voice sounded like, or even better, his morning voice. “Is something bothering you?” he asked, placing his large hand on your shoulder, stopping you from turning to the side to see him. No, instead, he slowly rubbed his fingers deep into your tense muscle, making you feel relief surge through you. You almost forgot to answer the question, too focused on the older man's hands doing wonders on your shoulders.

“I-I uhmm…” You were lost, suddenly feeling Mr Jung’s hand grip the top part of your thigh, rubbing circles on your exposed flesh where the hem of your shorts are. “It’s just. M-mr Jung…”

“Don’t worry, Peach, and I said already. Call me Yunho. We are going to be co-workers soon. You should address me and Mingi as such.” He included his friend and co-worker at the end, letting you know what you’ve been told for the thousandth time, call them by their first names. “You seem tense, darling. What could ever be the cause of so much tension in this pretty body of yours.”

Your eyes snapped open now, looking at Mr Jung―uh you mean Yunho―in his intense stare. Did he just call you darling? Now, your face was definitely redder than a tomato at this point. “Y-Yunho…”

Yunho groaned, biting his lip while rolling his eyes slightly. he had to pull back for a second before returning his hand to your thigh. “God, my name sounds so good when you say it.”

You looked away for a moment, feeling your heart was going to beat right out of your chest. The next thing you knew, a pair of large beefy arms pulled you by your waist until your ass was placed onto a board, hard, lap. “Say my name Doll Face. I wanna hear what my name sounds like coming off your pretty lips.” All barriers were gone and lines were being crossed. But none of you cared anyone. The flirtation became too much, more so for the men it seems and with Mingi’s lips finding the sweet spot behind your ear you couldn’t help but moan;

“Mingi…”

“Fuck, that’s it. Such a good girl.” The hold Min had on you got tighter, and his huge biceps caged your back against his heavy chest. Your mind was spinning at the sheer thought that all Mingi and Yunho had to do was squeeze you tight enough that you’d break. They are so much bigger than you, stronger than you. They could throw you around and do as they pleased to you and all you could―would―do is lay back and take it.

“We knew you’d be such a good girl for us peach. Just look at you, head empty already when we have barely touched you.” Yunho chuckled, squeezing your thigh, letting his long fingers slip towards where you needed them most. “you want us to touch you, darling? Teach you some real lessons?” He emphasized the word ‘real’, all knowing that He and Mingi were going to teach you anything but a real lesson in this moment.

“Please…” you retched out for Yunho, gripping his perfectly iron button-up, pulling him towards you. “Please show me…” He drew his lips to yours quickly as Mingi’s bit down onto your shoulder while his hands loosely move to open your legs, letting Yunho cup your entire wet cunt with his huge hand. You were most definitely in for a night of your life.

-♥︎

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 2 months

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Hiii! This is one of my first request like ever so idk if I'm doing it right lol but I was wondering if u could write percy x hades!gf hcs, I never see much of hades sadly lol but if u can't or don't want to I perfectly understand and hope you have a lovely day<333

⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x daughter of hades! reader hcs

content: percy jackson x daughter of hades! reader hcs warning: talk of death??, minor angst at the end kinda sorta not really, author's note: i liked this one. i feel like this was a nice balance between silly goofy and seriously good takes. ALSO i would like to apologize in advance for those last few lines, i was feeling emo and sad and that's what came out of that. really rounds the whole thing out tho. also, honored to be your first request and i hope it's everything you want a more!!

i'm sorry but bro pulled both the children of hades??? hello??

he said imma 'make that family tree fall in love with me'

i just know every time percy does something hot, you and nico just share a glance that said 'this WILL be discussed before bed tn trust'

also, you and nico??? the best siblings

literally so cute together, so much love, so much trauma-

wait, what was that last one-

don't think about it too much

just like nico, you're a daddy's girl at heart and visit home (of the dead) as much as possible

and since hades is such a big gossip (you know its the truth) you just know he's prying you for information about your relationship

"but like...he treats you well, right?"

"yes, dad, obviously. if he didn't, he'd be dead."

"that's my girl."

and and even tho the hades cabin looks kinda sketchy and totally creepy, ideal nap and cuddle place.

like, cabin three is cool and all but the cabin thirteen is legit so perfect for naps bc built in blackout curtains and it's always cold so you can just cuddle up under your blankets with your snuggly son of the sea god and youre out like a light

until nico comes in banging cymbals that he got from gods know where, chanting 'GET OUT OF MY CABIN! GET OUT OF MY CABIN!"

"ITS OUR CABIN NICO!"

"I WASN'T TALKING TO YOOOOOOOU!" he yelled back, emphasizing his words with more cymbal crashes and pointed looks at percy, who was seizing with laughter

no one at camp really knows when you and percy became you and percy

just one day he was attached to you at the hip and no one asked questions

and when new campers ask the two when they got together, you both just share a glance and shrug.

anniversaries are celebrated randomly through the year, simply because you cannot remember dates to save your lives.

like, you'll just walk to breakfast and percy will present you with flowers and gifts and everyone cheers but as you give percy a kiss on his cheek you're like

"which one is this for?"

"i'm going with first date but tbh i have no idea."

"yeah, no, that sounds right, lets go with that."

just two idiots in love

two deadly idiots in love

but really, they only become a problem when you hurt the other

like you try stay out of fights as much as possible but the second percy has so much as a scratch, you're raising hell

literally

legions of hell will be raised to protect your man

he being helped off the ground by abe lincoln and princess diana fr

(not that im saying they in hell, they were just the only two famous dead people i could think of)

(don't shame me, i can feel it through the screen)

(SHUT UP-)

anyways

yeah, mr salt water and ms bones are in love and happy the world is spinning and they totally have no trauma at all

(percy doesn't want her anywhere near him sometimes, feeling like he can only bear bad news for children of hades)

(you get worried that percy might be too good for you, that you're tainted with the blood of the dead and there's no coming back from that. the blood of death is your blood is the blood of death. they are one in the same. you are death as death is you.)

very happy here, nothing to be concerned about 😀😀😀

dont worry, you guys talk through these issues and find healthy ways to deal with all the childhood trauma.

a couple that grows together, stays together.

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #nico di angelo

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piedinthepiper · 2 months

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Prima Ballerina ˖ ⊹

Yandere!Jimin x ballerina!reader

Summary: What’s the difference between a great ballerina and the greatest ballerina? The answer is Park Jimin. And he had his eyes on you in more than a professional way.

Warnings: heavy dubcon, Jimin is super cocky and thinks he knows everything (misogyny?), cursing, corruption, Jimin is also a creep, age gap (reader is of legal age), stalking (non descriptive), smut

Wc: 4.3k

A/n: Written for this request. I love black swan and ballet so I had to do this! Hope you enjoy! Don’t be a silent reader! Like, repost and comment!

Disclaimer: This is 100% fiction. I am in no way saying that this is how any member of bts would act. Nor do I condone the actions detailed in the story. This is purely for entertainment purposes only. If any of the warnings trigger you, or you’re under 18 ¡do not read! I’m not your mother, and I don’t take any accountability for what you decide to read online!

Another disclaimer: I know nothing about ballet except for whatever ballet they show in the Barbie movies. Everything is off Google, so some technical terms and such might be incorrect.

You did a final jump before the dramatic music came to an end. His eyes were piercing through you. Watching your every movement, your every step, your every breath. But he watched you all, you thought to yourself. Everybody had to be perfect for the premiere of Swan lake. The hardest and most demanding ballet you had ever danced in your career. The choreography was almost impossible. So Mr. Park had yet again kept you there for hours overtime, and all of you were exhausted.

“Agh, my feet hurt. I hope this was the last round.”

Your friend, Maria, whispered to you. You smiled at her and was about to answer, when a loud clap was heard throughout the room. It silenced everyone.

“Ms. Sanderson, do you have something to tell the company?”

Mr. Park locked eyes with her. Staring her down from across the room like a predator. She looked a bit tongue tied for a second.

“Ehm- no. No, Mr. Park.”

He nodded at her answer.

“I do think I heard complaining back there, are you sure you didn’t say anything?”

She looked down to the floor and carefully shook her head.

“I don’t believe you, you’re pathetic. Out of my studio!”

He yelled at her and pointed a sharp finger towards the exit. Her eyes continued to stay on the floor. Accepting her fate.

“I said it!”

You yelled back and raised your hand. His eyes turned back to you.

“Bold of you, Ms. y/l/n. Thanks to you all the swans have to practice for another hour. The rest are dismissed.”

The room was filled with sighs and groans.

“Ok, let’s make that two.”

No one uttered a single word, afraid that the time would get longer.

“That’s what I thought. You, come with me.”

He briefly pointed at you, before he started to walk out of the practice room.

“The rest of you can take a 10 minute break.”

Maria looked at you with a apologetic look.

“Thank you, y/n.”

She said and grabbed your hand. You gave her a small smile. Of course you would stand up for her. She was your best friend in the company.

“Yeah, thanks a lot y/n.”

One of the other girls said sarcastically. You didn’t pay it any mind, you would also be furious if someone made you stay two hours overtime when you already were on overtime. You grabbed your leg warmers.

“No worries, you know I got you.”

You comforted Maria, before you started walking towards the exit. You knew Mr. Park went to his office. It wasn’t your first time being scolded.

“Sit down.”

He said once you entered. He was already sitting behind his desk. You sat down opposite of him, leaning down to slide into your leg warmers.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Park.”

You started off with. Trying to sound as apologetic as possible. He sighed.

“Do you think I do this for fun, y/n?”

You got up from your crouched position and looked him in the eyes.

“No I don’t.”

He was one of the best ballet teachers and directors in the whole world. It was obviously an honour just to be able to dance for him. But you knew he had a soft spot for you for some reason. That’s why you were comfortable taking Maria’s place.

“I would much rather be at home as well, relaxing and eating a good meal. But there would be no Swan lake, and there would be no good ballerinas without me.”

He pulled his hand through his black hair in stress. It was slicked back like usual, but throughout the day a few strands had loosened.

“If everyone stopped practicing at five o’clock like scheduled, the premiere would be nothing but chaos. Do you understand that, y/n?”

You nodded. He looked you up and down for a second. Taking in your form. He slowly got up and walked towards you. He grabbed your chin harshly, making you look back up at him.

“I’ve been observing you for the last days, you truly are far too beautiful and talented to be just a swan.”

You raised your eyebrows at his sudden compliment.

“You’re prima ballerina material, for sure.”

His hand slid to the side of your face, cupping your jaw.

“Too bad I have to fire you.”

“What?!”

Your eyebrows crossed as you shook your head out of his grip. His hand went into his pocket, making him look surprisingly relaxed.

“The two of us, let alone the entire company, knows that this isn’t your first time being sent to my office.”

You looked at him in shock. You couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“If I don’t give you the consequences, it’s going to look suspicious.”

You shook your head. He was going to fire you just because something as simple as complaining?

“You can’t do that.”

“I’ll do whatever I want with my ballerinas.”

He smirked again, before walking to stand right in front of you. You looked up and down his long body. Before looking back at him with your most innocent, but still sultry eyes.

“Please don’t fire me, Mr. Park. You wouldn’t do that to me would you?”

He cocked his head at your plea. Scanning you up and down yet again. He had a puzzled look on his face.

“Don’t test me.”

You grabbed his hand as you fell down to your knees. You knew he liked it when you begged. And since this was a life or death situation for your career, you didn’t mind being a little extra.

“I’ll do anything. Please just let me continue to dance for you. I’m nothing without you. I can’t- you can’t-”

You knew what buttons to push. His ego was too big to not take the bait.

“You’re right. It would be a shame to waste your potential.”

He lifted your head up again by your chin. A sudden sexual tension hit you, once you saw the outline of his bulge. You knew your actions had an effect on him, but not to that extent.

“It would be a shame to waste such a pretty face.”

You tried your best to look him in the eyes. It was hard to not shy away at a situation like that, even for you.

“Please, Mr. Park.”

He inhaled sharply, before he broke out in a smile.

“I forgive you, y/n. I can’t live with myself if I don’t give you another chance.”

You smiled up at him as well, preceding to get back up on your feet. But his arm found your shoulder and stopped you in your ascend.

“Wait.”

He warned you, and you quickly sat back down on your knees.

“I like seeing you like this, it’s not often you look so- submissive.”

Chills ran down your spine at his words. You definitely did not take that as a compliment. You were quite fiery, yes. And in any normal situation you would never let a man speak to you like he did. But the fear of losing your job, combined with the reverence you felt towards him, made you defy yourself.

“After this season I want you to take private lessons with me. Every Tuesday and Thursday.”

You nodded carefully, not looking up at him.

“Don’t look so down, darling. I’ll make you my next prima ballerina.”

“He said what?”

Maria half whispered in shock.

“Ms. Sanderson.”

Mrs. Petrova, your instructor, who was so old she probably was alive when swan lake was composed, hushed her. Maria looked at her before looking down at her moving feet. The company was warming up, standing in clean lines against the railing, moving to the rhythm of the slow classical music.

“Not only did he not fire you.”

She whispered once Mrs. Petrova was at the other end of the room.

“But he also said he would make you a prima ballerina?”

You nodded.

“Switch to third position!”

The two of you switched.

“Wow, you are so lucky. Mr. Park hasn’t had a prima ballerina in years.”

You smiled at her, and lifted you head higher when Mrs. Petrova walked by. You remained silent until you knew she was far enough away.

“I’m happy of course, it’s just- I don’t know. There’s something weird about him.”

“Yeah he’s like really cocky.”

She answered and held back a laugh.

“That too, but he’s just eerie. Like I don’t know if I want to spend so much time with him alone.”

“Ms. y/l/n! Would you like to share something with the company? Or do I have to send the two of you to Mr. Parks office?”

Mrs. Petrova suddenly bursted out. You locked eyes with Maria. Not knowing what to answer the old hag.

“We were just talking about-“

“Boys, just boys.”

You interrupted Maria. Not wanting her to say anything about you or Mr. Park. Mrs. Petrova gave the two of you a strict look, before the music started playing again.

“Please focus on your movements, not the opposite gender.”

She scolded before walking away from the two of you.

“And fourth position!”

“He just kept looking at me weirdly, and telling me that I’m beautiful and shit.”

You said as the two of you were walking down towards the cafeteria for lunch.

“Oh my god! He probably has a crush on you or something!”

Maria said a little bit too loud. You poked her in her side with your elbow.

“Please, keep it down.”

She started laughing, and you quickly followed. As you turned a corner you crashed into something. Or rather someone. A hand snuck around you waist, keeping you from falling. You looked up, finding the familiar brown eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Park. I didn’t see where I was going.”

He looked at you for a second, before smiling. He didn’t let go of your waist, and when you became aware of that you awkwardly stepped away from him.

“No harm done.”

He simply said and walked away. You looked over at Maria.

“I get it.”

She simply said as you started walking again.

“Right?”

You asked, looking back at her as she tried to keep up with you.

“What ever look he just gave you was not the look you give to someone you have a crush on.”

The season had ended, for a minute you felt relief. Knowing you had time off now to just relax before the next season. But as you read the message on your phone, you felt that relief fade away.

“Studio 5, next Thursday at 07.00 am. Don’t be late.”

You sighed, was this really what you wanted? Of course it was a dream come true to potential become Mr. Parks new prima ballerina. But you couldn’t help but feel weird about that time in his office. It seemed like he had other intentions in mind. Mr. Park was an attractive man yes, but he was way older than you and you didn’t want his attention in that way. He was your teacher, your mentor. Not a potential hook up. You didn’t see him in that way, and you hoped against all odds that he didn’t see you like that either.

What you didn’t know was that in that moment, outside on the dark street. He was there. Looking at you through your window. Watching your puzzled look at his text. He didn’t know his intentions fully yet either. But he did know they were not good.

“Higher.”

He simply said as he watch you dance to the music. It was your fifth lesson together, and everything was going well. You hadn’t seen the side of him that you saw when he proposed this idea. And you were enjoying yourself, getting these private lessons had really helped you improve. In the next second arabesque, you lifted your leg even higher. Showing him that you listened. But he still shut the music off. You stepped down from your tips, looking at him as he walked up to you.

“Turn around.”

He said once he reached you. And you did as instructed. You looked at him through the big mirrors.

“Do your second arabesque.”

You stood back up on your toes, and gracefully bent into a second arabesque.

“Look at yourself in the mirror.”

He said, and you did. You instinctively pushed your leg even further up, once you saw your own reflection.

“Now back to full position.”

You moved your face upwards again, looking away from the mirror. You felt his hands touch your waist. He straightened your back, before one of his hands went to your lifted leg.

“Look back at yourself.”

He almost whispered in your ear, now with one hand on your waist, and the other holding your leg higher than what you were comfortable with. You smiled once you saw yourself. Your arabesque looked different, more sophisticated.

“When you do your second arabesque, or any arabesque for that matter. Remember this. Straight back and high leg.”

He said in a low comforting tone once he saw your smile. You nodded, and stepped down from your tippy toes. He let go of your leg, but moved that hand to the other side of your waist.

“Think of me holding your waist, it’ll help you stabilise.”

He whispered now, you felt his warm breath on the back of your neck. You turned to look at him.

“Thank you.”

You muttered. His eyes immediately fell to your lips, and in a split second his lips were on yours. You were caught off guard, and didn’t respond at first. But once it dawned on you what was happening you quickly moved your face away from his. You felt his hands on your waist tighten.

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

You looked up at the mirror, wanting to see his reaction. He was looking you dead in the eye, with anger written all over his face. He leaned down to kiss your bare shoulder, still maintaining eye contact. Before he deeply whispered.

“I’ll do whatever I want with my ballerinas.”

His hand moved up to your face as he turned to kiss you yet again. You pushed him away, and tried to make a run for it. But he snaked his arm around your chest.

“Let me go!”

You struggled against him, now scared of what would happen if you didn’t get away. Your fight or flight instinct kicked in and you elbowed him as hard as you could in his side. His hand loosened and you ran. But not quick enough. He grabbed you by your arm and threw you into the big mirror. It was pure luck that it didn’t shatter. His body locked you in.

“Hush, I won’t hurt you.”

He said, and for a second you stopped fighting. You were out of breath, but still managed to give him a death glare.

“Let me go!”

You tried once again. He shook his head.

“Do you think I just give away free lessons? Don’t you think you need to repay me?”

You felt something hard against your abdomen. You wanted to cry, you didn’t know what to do. His face shifted once he saw your eyes watering.

“No, no. I’m not a rapist, y/n! God no. But if you want to be my prima ballerina. You have to get your priorities straight.”

You clung onto the little bit of relief you felt from his words.

“I’ve tried my best to stay away, y/n. I really have. But there’s just something about you.”

You felt his hips grind against yours.

“You make me fucking crazy. I can’t wait any longer. I need you.”

He let out a small moan at the friction. A tear fell down your face.

“Please, Mr. Park. Let me go.”

You sobbed. He hushed you again.

“I’ll let you go. Just listen to me.”

You took a deep breath, collecting yourself as much as you could.

“By next Thursday I want an answer. Either you show up or you don’t. Don’t be late.”

He pushed himself off the wall and gave you one last look before slowly walking out the studio. Leaving you alone in the big dance room. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

“I don’t know what to do, Maria. This is like a fucking nightmare!”

You said sobbing onto Marias lap as she comforted you. You called her the minute you got home, knowing that she already knew most of the backstory. She immediately came over to your place, wanting to be there for you in a situation like this. You were forever great full for having a friend like her.

“You have to report this. Surely the police could do something about him.”

She said in a calm voice, stroking your hair lightly. You sat up in your bed, wiping your tears away from your swollen face.

“Would they though?”

You asked defeated. Mr. Park was a rich and famous man. You wanted to believe Marias theory, but the hard sad truth was that you didn’t stand a chance against him. Especially with no proof.

“Either I don’t show up and give up my career or-“

You paused, collecting your thoughts.

“Or you give that bastard what he wants.”

Maria finished for you. Knowing exactly what you were thinking.

“Look, being Jimin Parks prima ballerina is huge. It really is, but- I don’t know, is it really worth it? Is it really worth loosing your dignity for a life of fame?”

She asked you with a worried face. You blinked away your tears, not wanting to cry anymore.

“What else would I do? I’ve been dancing my entire life, everything I’ve ever done has lead up to this moment. I can’t-“

You shook your head, not letting the emotions take control over you again.

“I have to show up, I have to talk some sense into him. I can’t give up now. I just can’t.”

You looked down at your hands in your lap as you felt a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“You could go to college, get a degree, get a nine to five. Anything but this, please I can’t watch you go through with this. It’s not safe to see him again.”

You looked up at her again.

“And be a complete failure? Not only to my parents, to you, to the company, but also to myself. This is all I’ve ever dreamed of, Maria.”

“You won’t be a failure! You’re an amazing dancer, you have real talent. But it’s not worth it.”

You shook your head. You had already made up your mind.

“I’m sorry.”

You mumbled. Maria sighed and got up from the bed.

“You do you, girl. But you better not call me crying next Thursday. I won’t feel bad for you.”

She said before walking out your room. You were alone with this now. But like you told her, you couldn’t give up on your dream. No matter the cost.

Thursday. You were sweating. A lump had formed itself inside your stomach, and it was impossible to to ignore it. You took what felt like your last breath before you opened the door to the studio. He stood in the other end, hands crossed over his chest, with a smirk plastered on his lips.

“You’re late.”

His voice rang through the big room, leaving an echo. You stepped into the room, the door shutting behind you. Another echo filling the otherwise dead silent room. You didn’t walk towards him, you stayed by the door. The silence making the lump in your stomach grow even larger.

“What are you doing?”

He asked, still with a slight smirk.

“Come here, we have dancing to do.”

You didn’t know what to do. Your entire body was screaming for you to run out the door and never look back. But your brain didn’t let you move.

“Come over here, y/n. Right now!”

He said in a strict tone, once you didn’t listen. Your own feet moved against your own will, as you slowly started moving forward. You put your bag down on your way.

“Good girl.”

He said, barely audible. But you heard it. All your senses were sharpened. He watched you like a predator, as you can closer and closer. You stopped at a reasonable distance. Close enough to have a conversation with him, but still just out of reach.

“Why so gloomy? You’ve made the biggest decision in your life, baby.”

He stepped closer to you. Every single muscle in your body tensed as his hand met your face in a loving embrace.

“I’m going to make you a star.”

He whispered. You shook your head.

“I don’t want to have sex with you, Mr. Park.”

His smile faded at your words. You straightened your back, trying your best to seem confident and not afraid of the man standing in front of you.

“This is all I’ve ever dreamt of. It’s all I’ve ever worked for. But I refuse to think that this is the only way I can get what I want.”

You said as you tried to conceal the shaky breath escaping your mouth.

“Please, I don’t want to sleep my way to fame. I want to earn it. So tell me, do you see a true and genuine prima ballerina in me. Or am I just a piece of meat?”

He looked at you directly in your eyes. You didn’t break eye contact. You were not giving up, not yet. He broke out in laughter after a few seconds of staring into your soul.

“Oh, y/n. Please.”

He continued laughing, as if this whole thing was a joke. You stayed as serious as ever.

“This is what I like about you. You’re so stubborn, so strong. You don’t see that often around here.”

He turned serious in a split second.

“Why would I be lying to you? Huh? I can sleep with whoever I want. If I wanted just a one night stand I’d pick one of the other girls. Someone easier to manipulate.”

His hand slid around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“I’m a man of my word, y/n. I see potential in you, I wouldn’t just say that to anyone.”

His eyes flickered down to your lips. You instinctively turned your head away, opting to looking at the two of you in the mirror. He looked back at you in the reflection.

“I see my next prima ballerina.”

He said and pointed at the mirror.

“You’re not just beautiful and talented, you have a strong mind. You’re perfect.”

You sighed, looking back at him.

“Why would you waste it all?”

He asked and softly caressed your chin. Your gaze flicked down, wanting to look anywhere but him. He was right, why would you waste the opportunity to have everything you’ve ever wanted?

“It’s honestly a package deal. You get fame and fortune, and good sex. I don’t see what the problem is honestly.”

You looked back up at him again. Trying to conceal the ick you just got.

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

His face turned into a devilish grin.

“Join me in my office.”

He hastily got rid of your bollero, throwing it onto the floor. The second you stepped into his office his lips were on yours. Your fate was sealed, there was no return now. He grabbed at your hips harshly, digging his fingers into you with desperation and lust. He lifted you up, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. He walked over to his desk, leaving your lips for a moment to push whatever was on it onto the floor. It all hit the floor and made a loud crashing noise. He placed you onto the desk, continuing his heated attack of your lips.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long, baby.”

He said in between kisses. Working on your wrap around skirt and tights. You lifted yourself off the desk so he could slide your garments off. Leaving you in your underwear and tank top.

“You have no idea how crazy you’ve made me. How many sins I’ve done in your favour.”

His lips crashed back onto yours. You started thinking of your career as you heard him removing his belt. Preparing yourself for what was to come. He pushed your upper body down onto the desk, making your head dip over the edge of the desk. You looked at his office upside down, staring at the expensive painting hanging on the wall. You felt him sliding your underwear to the side.

“What a pretty pussy you have, baby.”

He said before sliding himself into you, making you moan as you felt yourself being filled up.

“Better than I ever imagined.”

He groaned as he started to slowly move. You continued to look at the painting of the ballerina with a bouquet in her hands bowing down in a gracious pose. Your hands found his forearms, digging your nails into his skin. Your breath got heavy as you felt his speed increase.

But still you focused on the ballerina. You imagined it was you. Maybe that would be you after this. Bowing deeply to the applause of hundreds, maybe even thousands of people in the audience. They all applauding you. You moaned loudly once he hit a good spot.

“You like that? You want it, huh?”

“Yes.”

You said in a shaky voice. You wanted this, you wanted this more than anything. This was all worth it in the end. You would be a star, a prima ballerina. Someone little girls looked up to, and adults wanted to be. You would be like that ballerina in the painting. Gracious and beautiful in every way. Everything you ever aspired to be. Everything you were meant to be.

“God, I’m gonna-“

You belonged here. On that desk. In that studio. Alone on a stage, bowing to the audience after the greatest performance of their lives. You were Mr. Park’s new prima ballerina.

——————————————————————————

Thank you for reading! Do you want to read more?

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lildoodlenoodle · 9 months

Text

Some random Hobie information from the comics! I’ve specified where the movies might come in and fanon stuff!

Hobie, despite having a British/cockney accent in the movie and in the comics, lives in NYC in the comics(movie might b different).

Hobie is a homeless teen(I’m pretty sure his parents died) radicalized by his dystopian world.

He’s been Spiderman for 3 years(movie so most of his comics have probably passed) and his world is a weird combination of 1970s-1990s.

Canonically bad at naming things.

His friends/band are tired of his shit and regularly make fun of him for saving the multiverse.

The cops in Hobie’s world all have the venom symbiote, he uses his guitar to play frequencies that disrupt the symbiotes.

He kills Norman Osborn twice.

Yes he kills cops.

Full name is Hobart.

Originally he hated being called Spider-Punk.

He works with his worlds Daredevil(Mattea Murdock), Captain America(Captain Anarchy), Hulk(Robbie Banner), Ironheart(RiotHeart), Ms. Marvel, etc.

Most people in his ‘band’ can’t actually play lol.

With facism one of his other greatest enemies is capitalism and being ‘marketable’.

Hobie’s design was originally meant to be Spider UK, who later became Billy Braddock.

He also got a symbiote dog called Spider-Mutt in his latest run.

Gwen Stacy was a famous rockstar who died in his world, Hobie was a fan!

He was originally recruited to what I affectionately call the ‘Interdimensional Spider Death Squad’ run by the Superior Spider with Spider Noir (and eventually Miles and Jessica joined right before the teams merged)rather than the other group of spiders.

He was the one that brought Miles back into the ‘spider society’ when the inheritors came back.

In the comics he lives in a Welfare center in Brooklyn he and his friends/band operate, in the movie he lives in a boat!

Hobie has an interdimensional band with Gwen(drums), Pavitr(keyboard), Noir(bass), Anya(1616 vocals), and Ham(air guitar)

I can’t remember Hobie having any romantic interests in his universe, but fanon wise he is often shipped with his canon gay friend, Captain Anarchy aka Karl Morningdew, but Karl does have a canon boyfriend. But outside of his universe there’s a whole host of possible ships and some do include: Hobiemiles / punkflower hobiepav/chaipunk hobiegwen / ghostpunk

#just fun little details to add for fanfic and drabbles #most of this is from memory so lmk if anything is wrong #I’m like 70% sure it’s referenced in the comics that he’s British and it’s mean to be a throw back to the spider UK design #Hobie brown #spider punk #spider band #punkflower #chaipunk #goldenpunk #is that the new ship name?#ghostpunk #noirpunk

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angelicyoongie · 4 months

Text

lovesick (XIII)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 6k — warnings: yandere, obsessive behaviour, other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late.

Previous - Next

You flip to another page in Jungkook's textbook. You absentmindedly worry your bottom lip between your teeth, concentration high, as you look for any information that might be helpful for his assignment.

Despite the pleading look he gave you when he asked for your assistance, you know that he would be able to handle the paper perfectly fine on his own. It feels like another lifetime ago now, but you do remember how quickly he finished up the shared assignment you had in Ms. Eun's class. Jungkook had practically written the whole thing in just a matter of days.

But, even though you know you're not needed, it's still nice to feel included; like you're doing something that matters instead of just wasting away in the cabin. As long as you ignore the crackling fireplace next to you, you can almost imagine that you're back on campus, working with Jungkook in the library like you did back then. You can't even begin to describe how much you miss doing things that aren't just playing house.

The thought makes a burst of irritation flash through you as you turn to another page, causing you to bite down too hard on the soft flesh of your lip.

Jungkook yelps on the other side of the table as he feels the sting, instinctively touching his mouth in an attempt to soothe the pain.

"Y/n, are you okay?" He gives you a worried look.

You release your lip with a soft pop, chuckling awkwardly to hide your souring mood as you say, "Sorry, I think I was concentrating too hard."

Jungkook furrows his brow with a low hum, eyes lingering on your mouth. You feel like you can see the thought that forms on his face, his eyes lighting up as he gets an idea.

"Ah!" He makes a small noise, quickly clambering to his feet, "I think I know something that can help. I'll be right back!"

"Sure," You nod. You plop your head back to rest on the couch behind you, watching out of the corner of your eye as Jungkook hurries to the kitchen.

You let out a soft sigh when he's out of sight, the sounds of him opening and closing different cupboards fading into the background as you stare up at the ceiling. The past week has been weird. You don't want to call it unexpected based on what caused it, but the last seven days have been surprisingly nice at the cabin. The boys have started giving your tight leash some slack, allowing you to stay in a room alone if they need to leave it to grab something. It's not for more than a few minutes at the time but with how they've been constantly watching you for a month, it's been a more than welcome change. They've given you a sliver of trust and you're finding yourself desperate to hold on to it.

You know what the reason behind it is, of course, you'd be a fool not to.

The shift was notable in the air that morning you awkwardly shuffled out of Jimin's room, the back of your neck sore from the hickeys he had proudly decorated your skin with. You felt awfully exposed by the six pairs of eyes that scanned you from top to bottom, burning with jealousy as Jimin came up behind you to plant a wet kiss over one of his marks. Namjoon's eye had twitched as he pulled back, Jimin no doubt sporting a smug smile behind your back.

It had only taken a second before Hoseok had stormed over to wrap you up in a hug, pulling you away from Jimin and over to the rest in the common room. They felt like territorial puppies with the way all of them made sure they got to touch you and hug you as if they were leaving their own marks behind too. As you were passed between arms you kept catching them looking at your neck, their eyes longing. It was only when all the attention started getting a little overwhelming that you ran away to the bathroom, escaping under the guise of needing a shower.

You hadn't had much time to think about what happened with Jimin until you came face to face with yourself in the mirror, the evidence of the night before staring right back at you. Leaning on the sink, you studied how your skin proudly displayed the marks left behind by Jimin's lips, how your eyes held a shine that you hadn't seen in a long while. Your soul and by extension, your body, was glowing in the aftermath of your intimacy with Jimin.

Guilt climbed its way up your throat so fast it made you gag. You knew that spending the night with Jimin – letting him touch you like that – was terrible, that you were letting yourself down by giving in, but even then you couldn't find it in yourself to hate what had happened. You didn't feel disgusted and that in itself made you feel even more ashamed. How could you not feel bad about letting your stalker, one of your kidnappers, get you off like that? How could you like it? You could blame the bond all you wanted but perhaps it was time to face the fact that you were just weak; easily broken by the connection you had always craved.

You rub your forehead with a sigh.

Jungkook is humming a low tune in the kitchen, the sound of crinkling plastic accompanying it as he pours something into a bowl.

You can mull the situation over all you want but you doubt you'll ever get a definitive answer. What you do know is that there is no use denying that your night with Jimin didn't change anything – for them and you. Despite your best efforts, you are starting to grow fond of them and as much as it pains you to admit, you doubt that it'll be the only time you let any of them touch you. Jimin's touch felt right, good, and you're tired of feeling lonely and isolated.

You think the others have noticed your wavering will, their affections increasing in turn. They have slowly been testing your boundaries, stretching them thinner and thinner day by day. You've come to expect the hands that slip under your shirt when someone leans in for a hug, warm fingertips caressing your waist and back as they hold you close. They let their touches linger longer too, gauging how long you'll allow it before you start to grow uncomfortable. Hoseok and Seokjin have taken a particular shine to resting their hand possessively on your thigh whenever they're seated beside you, the placement inching a little higher every time. Even so, there's still some resemblance of respect in their actions, in how they always stop whenever you show signs of discomfort. It's obvious they're impatient to share the same kind of intimacy with you as Jimin did, but they seem to understand that letting you come to them on your own terms is the best option.

You lift your head as Jungkook returns from the kitchen, straightening yourself up as he rounds the table to plop down next to you on the ground.

"Here!" He exclaims as he places a bowl in front of you, filled with a colourful variety of your favourite kind of candy. "I brought the chewy gummies you like! If you chew on those then you won't hurt your lip if you get distracted again."

The unexpectedly sweet gesture sends a rush of warmth through your body, your cheeks heating under Jungkook's adoring gaze. He reaches out, taking your hand in his. A small furrow appears between his brows, his lips pouting slightly as he says, "I saw you spacing out, are you okay?"

"I know you're upset about missing out on so many assignments but you don't have to be! Namjoon hyung has already applied for you to postpone your studies so you won't lose your spot. I'll help you catch up whenever it's time for you to go back, I promise."

You blink, taken aback that Namjoon had the forethought to do so. You figured you must've already been thrown out of your program by now, having missed out on too many important midterms in just your first month here. The fact that they cared enough about the after to do this for you, does give you a glimmer of hope that you will get out of this cabin at some point, that you will be able to rejoin society in some capacity once they deem you ready – broken – enough.

Jungkook has such an earnest expression on his face, like he genuinely believes they've done you a favour as he says, "Hoseok hyung even quit your job for you! You don't have to worry about anything, Y/n, we have it all under control."

They have it under control. The reality of the situation feels like a smack to the face. While their intentions may have been pure, at least in some aspects, the truth is that the boys have been slowly cutting off all and any ties you have to your old life. The implication is obvious; when you're allowed to go back, it won't be to anything you know.

"What about my apartment?" You ask.

What about my things? My life?

"We're keeping it for now. It would seem weird if we break the lease early when your friend–" Jungkook cuts himself off with a strangled cough, "I mean, the lease is up in a few months anyway! So Jimin hyung said it's better to just grab the rest of your stuff then."

Your stomach sinks at the off-handed mention of Heejun and Jaemin. They haven't been brought up at all since that night but you can tell it's only a matter of time before you'll have to reach out to them. The frown on Jimin's face seems to grow deeper with every return from his shift. It's obvious your friends have no intention of backing down and that Jimin is reaching the last of his rope trying to fend them off.

You still have no idea how you're going to successfully get Heejun to back off. You know your friends, you know they'll see right through you if you try to convince them that everything is fine, so how in the world are you going to accomplish this? It's not like you can ask any of the boys for help, either. You're in this alone and only you can keep them out of harm's way.

You startle slightly as Jungkook squeezes your hand, bringing you out of your ruminating thoughts.

"Do you know why I'm so close to Dasom noona?"

It takes you a second to realize that Jungkook has jumped to another topic – that he's talking about Ms. Eun. He's not subtle in his attempt to distract you from your troubled mind, but a small part of you appreciates it all the same. You've been thinking about Heejun and Jaemin so much that you feel like you've started to go backward, like the solution is slipping further away with every new idea that strikes you.

"No," You shake your head.

"You know I'm not close with my parents, that they didn't treat me well," Jungkook adverts his gaze down to your joined hands, "They have a lot of money, so my aunt and uncle always bent themselves backward trying to cater to their whims. They were desperate for something extra to fill their pockets with so they didn't care that their joy came from my suffering. I wasn't the son my parents wanted, I c-couldn't be. I wasn't perfect, so in their eyes, I wasn't worth the trouble. My parents' obvious distaste for me painted a target on my back and my family is known for being ruthless when there's something they want."

Jungkook lets out a bitter snort, jaw tense as he soothes his thumb across your knuckles. "The only one that made family gatherings bearable was my oldest cousin – he was too grown to be swayed by my parents. He was the only one that ever cared, the only one that never mocked me for my s-stutter."

The pain in Jungkook's voice is almost tangible. You can't imagine having your entire family turn against you just because of a small speech disorder; just because you're not cookie-cutter perfect. From the small glimpses Jungkook has shared from his past and tidbits of information you've overheard over the past months, you think it's safe to assume that Jungkook is part of the Jeon family – the ones that run the city, pulling strings behind the curtains without ever showing themselves on stage. They're the definition of old money, seemingly satisfied to have complete control over a decently sized city instead of fighting for power in the major ones. You don't doubt they would be willing to cut Jungkook loose if they notice his strings fraying, desperate to uphold their perfect image. It's clear the trauma of it all runs deep for Jungkook, his stutter always becomes more prominent whenever he brings up his past.

"Oh, Jungkook," You murmur, heart squeezing at how such a sweet person could be so horribly mistreated by his own family. It makes sense that Jungkook would latch on to the other boys so firmly, idolize them, if they're one of the few who have given him the love and comfort he never got at home.

Jungkook shifts a little closer at the sound of your voice, subconsciously seeking comfort as he picks at old wounds.

"When my parents finally cut me off and left me to fend for myself, I lived on my cousin's couch for a few months before Seokjin hyung hired me. My cousin had been dating Dasom noona for a little over a year already then, so we had briefly met a few times. I felt terrible for always being in their business but noona said she was always thrilled to see me – that I was like the younger brother she never had," Jungkook smiles softly.

"I moved out as quickly as I could to give them privacy but I never lost touch with them. They're part of the reason I'm able to attend university; they're covering half of my tuition. My cousin held a big speech about how he's investing in the future or something like that, he refused to take no for an answer," He lets out a fond snort, shaking his head. "I really care about them a lot. Hyung and noona are planning on getting married next year, but I hope she keeps her own name. She's too good to be a Jeon."

"They sound like they're pretty great," You murmur.

"They are," Jungkook agrees. His face suddenly brightens up as he seems to recall a particular memory, "I ran into my mom once, after everything that happened. I was out with hyung and noona, and Dasom noona was amazing at telling her all these half-truths that made it seem like I was thriving without my parents. She insulted my mother to her face over and over in the sweetest way possible and I doubt my mom realized what had even happened until she was already on her way home."

"Good," You allow your lips to quirk, "I'm glad she stood up for you."

"Yeah," Jungkook glances up at you, his big doe eyes staring you down for a second before he swallows thickly. His cheeks flush as he quietly admits, "Dasom noona was the first person I told about you. I know I shouldn't have but I didn't know how to approach you, so noona offered to help. She came up with the idea to pair us together for our project when I realized we were taking the same class."

"Please don't think too badly of her, she only wanted to help!" He hurries to add, gripping your hand tightly.

You know Ms. Eun – Dasom – to be impressive just from the many awards and accomplishments she has rightfully displayed around her office. But, listening to Jungkook sing her praises like this, it makes you realize that it takes someone very special to practically adopt your boyfriend's cousin as your own brother and love him as such. It's no wonder they seem so close, why Ms. Eun was so protective of him. Jungkook has a kind heart, she said. Even with his stalker tendencies, you know that to be true.

"Hyung and noona don't know about our.. uhm, c-circumstances, just that we're spending time together to work on our bond. The wedding will be happening in the spring and noona really wants us to come, if you want to. She's very excited to see you again!"

Spring. It's not that far away. Maybe four, five months? You have no idea what the boys have planned for you, but Ms. Eun's wedding might be one of your only chances at seeing people again. If you play your cards right, you might even be able to slip away. Escape.

You try to tamper down the rush of emotion that courses through you, the adrenaline urging you to go go go. Five months is a long time, long enough for you to break, to lose yourself entirely if you're not careful – but also enough to win their full trust.

"I would love to, Jungkookie," You grin, elated that you finally have something to look forward to. A small light at the end of this endless, dark tunnel.

A brilliant smile blooms on Jungkook's face at the use of his nickname, his eyes sparkling like tiny stars. He drops your hand in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest. It's comfortable, comforting even, to feel his muscular arms holding you steady, your chin hooked over his shoulder. Closing your eyes, you melt into Jungkook's embrace, hugging him back.

"Thank you, Y/n, that's going to make Dasom noona really happy," Jungkook murmurs. He tucks his face against the side of your neck, inhaling deeply before he sighs and says, "And it makes me very happy too."

You make a non-committal sound in return, stroking his back. It's not the wedding you're excited about but there is no way you're going to tell Jungkook that. You know how devastated he'll be once you run away, so you can spare him the hurt for now.

Jungkook isn't innocent in all of this but he isn't the mastermind behind everything either. His betrayal still stings and you think it always will, but the months you've spent here have slowly been mellowing it out, making it more bearable. Enough that you almost find yourself willing to forget about it.

"Can I ask you something?" Jungkook's voice is soft against your skin.

"Yeah," You say.

"That night with Jimin hyung, did you... did you kiss him? It's okay if you did! I'm just– curious."

The unexpected question gives you a slight pause. You figured Jimin would've told the others everything by now but it appears he hasn't. You're honestly surprised that vague is even a word in Jimin's dictionary.

"No, we didn't kiss."

"That's good. I mean–!" Jungkook pulls back, expression panicked as his gaze flits across your face. "Sorry, that's not what I meant. You're allowed to kiss Jimin hyung or any of the other hyungs if you want, it-it's not my business. Well, it is? But also not!"

"It's okay, Jungkook. What are you trying to say?" You ask, half-amused.

Jungkook shyly ducks his head, palms warm against your middle as he says, "Sorry. What I want to say is; Can I be the first to kiss you? Please? I-I'd really like that."

"Yeah," You breathe, the answer coming a little too easy, a little too quickly, "You can kiss me."

You can perhaps fool yourself into thinking it's all just a means to an end, but the way your heart skips a beat as Jungkook brings a hand up to cup your face, fingers shaking, doesn't lie. You want to kiss him. Perhaps it's your soulbond, perhaps it's just Jungkook, but a part of you likes him. Enough to make your heart flutter whenever he's near.

Jungkook always looks at you so reverently – like you're something precious. Something to be cherished.

You can't help it. You're only human, after all, seeking love and comfort where it's easily available to you.

He wets his lips, nervous, as he slowly begins to lean in. His brown eyes are glued to your mouth, wide and wondrous as if he can't believe that he's allowed to kiss you.

Your eyelids flutter shut as Jungkook thumbs across your cheek, tilting your head just so before he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft, warm, and Jungkook's mouth tastes faintly of something sweet. He moves his mouth cautiously against yours, testing the waters for what you'll permit.

There are no sparks that fly when your lips meet, no fireworks that ignite behind your closed eyes – but a steady warmth that slowly engulfs you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. It feels like part of you is coming home, like an important piece is slotting into place. Your head feels light and airy, heart thumping in your chest as if it's trying to reach out for Jungkook.

You clutch the back of his shirt, leaning into the kiss to deepen it. Jungkook lets out a soft whimper when you part your mouth, your tongue teasing at his bottom lip until he lets you in. You're not sure if it's Jungkook's breaths or yours that are shaky when you slip inside, your tongue brushing just the faintest touch against his.

"Y/n," Jungkook suddenly pulls back with a gasp.

You open your eyes to find Jungkook's screwed shut as if he's in pain, cheeks flushed as he quickly retreats his hands into his lap.

"Are you okay?" You hesitate to reach out to touch him again, having yanked them away at the sound of his gasp. You tentatively settle a hand on Jungkook's knee, seeing his nose scrunch as he lets out a labored breath.

"I'm fine," Jungkook awkwardly shifts away from your touch, his hands moving just enough to expose the bulge straining against his jeans.

"Oh," You clear your throat, heat rushing up the back of your neck. You barely kissed and Jungkook is this affected by it?

"Have you not?–"

"No. I've been with people before, it's j-just–" Jungkook shakes his head, biting his lip in embarrassment at having to clarify that he's not a blushing virgin, it's just that, "It's not the same. Everything feels more when it's with you."

"Jungkook," You breathe, a little stricken at the confession. It's hard for you to fathom that your kiss was that special. You don't feel the bond in the same way as they do, your feelings dulled by six other souls pulling you in their direction. For the first time since all of this started, you almost feel bad for them. You can almost understand their desperation in wanting to share something with you, even if they know you'll never fully feel the same way as they do.

"Please, um– Just excuse me for a minute? I-I need to go deal with this," Jungkook seems too lost in his embarrassment to have picked up on your mood shift. His eyes stay glued to the floor as he jumps up, hands awkwardly covering his crotch as he hurries to the bathroom.

You slump back down against the couch, dragging a hand over your face. You slow as you reach your mouth, lips tingling as you press on the soft flesh. You shouldn't have kissed him. You shouldn't have let Jimin touch you either. But it's too late to change any of it. And the matter of the fact is that you wanted it – them. It's exhausting having to war with yourself over every single decision you make, especially when you know that your control over them is very limited. You're only trying to make the best out of your situation, to keep everyone you love safe. Perhaps losing yourself in the process isn't the worst sacrifice.

You reach out for the gummies Jungkook left with a shake of your head, unwrapping one and popping it into your mouth. A sour-y-sweet filling is released as you bite into it, coating your tongue as you mindlessly chew on the candy. You swear you have tasted that slight strawberry flavour somewhere else, somewhere more recently. It's not until the gummy is gone and you swipe your tongue over your lips to catch the last of the sticky filling that it hits you.

Of course.

You throw your head back with a groan, muttering a curse under your breath.

It tastes like Jungkook.

The air in the common room feels suffocating. It's only a few days after your talk, and kiss, with Jungkook that you find yourself here; sitting on the couch in the middle of Seokjin and Taehyung, the rest spread out in a janky circle around the coffee table. Your gaze finds Jimin's as he steps forward, his expression carefully blank as he places your phone down in front of you. Your fingers twitch in your lap, itching to grasp onto the freedom that is now so close, yet so far away.

Seokjin seems to mistake the motion for nerves as he gently takes one of your hands in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. "It's going to be okay," He murmurs, mindful of the tense atmosphere.

They're all here to oversee your call to Heejun, to make sure you don't attempt to drop any hints of what's really going on. It's obvious that they don't like Jimin's idea, that they're scared of something going wrong, but it's the best option you have. Heejun will never stop looking for you unless you give him a reason to do so. This is easier for all of you and less messy. The boys will finally get rid of the one person that's trying to ruin their plans and you won't have to live with your friend's murder on your conscience. It's a fucked up, terrible, win-win.

"Whenever you're ready," Namjoon nods.

You reach out for your phone with a trembling hand, picking it up. It feels almost foreign to hold a phone after so long, your fingers clumsy as you type in your password. You balance it on your knee, your other hand still occupied by Seokjin. His grip is tight, tense, like he's hoping it'll prevent you from doing something stupid.

You brush your finger across the screen, aiming for the phone but the slight shake to it makes you accidentally touch your texts instead. Your stomach drops as you quickly scan down the list of unanswered messages; Heejun and Jaemin have sent you the most, but your friends at work are a close second. You can see that the last text in the group chat with your parents is from you – the message only a few days old. You're certain Namjoon is the one behind it.

You swallow thickly, heart aching, as you swipe out of the app. You miss your parents and your friends something terribly, but all of this is for them. You're the only one that can keep them safe.

You quickly switch over to your calls, thumb hovering over Heejun's name and the hundreds of missed calls next to it. Jaemin has placed nearly as many, as if Heejun figured you might pick up his boyfriend's calls instead of his. It's such a Heejun thing to do that it makes your chest tighten.

"Go on, angel," Seokjin says, squeezing your hand.

You suck in a deep breath as you tap his contact, quickly putting the call on speakerphone. Part of you hopes he won't pick up, that perhaps it'll spare your heart some pain if you don't hear his, but the much bigger part of you prays that he will. You need to hear that he's okay.

As the loud rings echo in the quiet cabin, your hands begin to clam up, your heart thumping harshly against your chest. It rings once, twice–

Heejun picks up, sounding breathless as he says, "Y/n?"

The sound of his voice wraps you in a chokehold. The glass walls you've built around yourself in an attempt to pretend that everything is fine come tumbling down in an instant, shattering into the silence.

"It's me," You rasp.

"Y/n, gods! What happened? Are you okay? Where are you, we've been worried sick that–" Heejun rambles quickly and the poor service you have out here in the woods struggles to pick up on all of his questions.

You glance up as you notice Jimin shifting on his feet, his previously blank expression growing more and more annoyed with every question Heejun fires off. Not good.

"Heejun," You cut him off, barely more than a whisper, but your best friend goes quiet immediately, "I'm okay."

You hear Heejun let out a rough sigh. He sounds pained as he says, "I don't believe you."

Taehyung's hands curl into fists, vexed that Heejun isn't accepting your story as easily as they had hoped for.

"Trust me," You plead, eyes flickering between Jimin and Taehyung's evident annoyance.

Please trust me, please, please, please.

"How?" Heejun huffs, "You've been gone for months – months! – without a word! The last thing you told me was that your stalker was after you and then you're suddenly gone! Disappeared off the face of the earth. Y/n, please, what's going on?"

"I–" You falter, the explanation you had come up with only hours before stuck in the back of your throat. You don't want to lie. You want Heejun to know – to know that you're not okay, that you don't want to be here, but you can't. You can't and you think lying might tear your heart apart.

There's an ominous silence on the other side of the phone, the line so quiet you're worried he might have ended the call. Heejun's voice is hard, seething, as he finally asks, "Is he there?"

Jungkook straightens up in his chair, doe eyes wide with panic. Seokjin's grip on your hand grows so tight you think he might be cutting your circulation off, the tips of your fingers taking on an ashy tint. Yoongi and Namjoon look like they're two seconds away from jumping over the table to take your phone back, their bodies taut with tension as they stare you down.

"No," You rush out, clutching your phone as hard as you can. "Heejun, I–I chose to run away." The lie feels like it's flaying your throat open as you force it out.

"Y/n, please–"

"Listen to me," You say, the desperation in your voice catching Heejun's attention, "I ran away because I didn't want you or Jaemin or anyone else to get hurt. This was the best thing I could do. It was the only thing I could do."

You screw your eyes shut, swallowing hard. You know this is the only thing Heejun will believe. There's no way in hell he would ever accept you just growing bored of him or losing interest in your friendship – the only thing that would ever convince him is self-sacrifice. Gods knows you've both done your fair share of that over the years.

Heejun pauses. "But why take so long to reach out to me?"

"I couldn't. Things had to settle down first. I'm so sorry, I wanted to, but–" You cut yourself off, "I'm sorry."

"I don't care about all of that, I just care about you, Y/n. Are you safe?"

Are you?

The cabin is so silent you could hear a pin drop. You seek comfort in the darkness behind your closed lids, biting down on the inside of your cheek so hard you know that it hurts the others. The truth is this; the situation you're in is not safe, but you also know that the boys would never intentionally hurt you. Your bond is too strong to ever allow that to happen. In some ways you are safe, in others, you are not.

You can settle for a half-truth then, just like those Ms. Eun is so good at inventing.

You open your eyes slowly, skin crawling as you stare down at the floor and say, "Yes. I'm safe right now."

".. Okay," Heejun murmurs. You can't quite tell if he believes you or not.

The boys let out a collective sigh of relief, some of the tension draining out of their bodies. You notice Jimin giving you a sign to hurry up out of the corner of your eye, your pulse kicking up speed as you realize your time with Heejun has come to an end.

"I have to go," You choke.

Heejun tries to protest, but you cut him off. The longer the conversation goes on, the higher the risk of him figuring out that something is wrong.

"I'm sorry. I'll call you again later, okay? I promise. Just.. take good care of yourself and Jaemin. I'll come find you when it's time. I miss you," Your voice wavers as your vision grows cloudy, tears blurring your sight.

You don't want to let him go, you don't want this to be the last time you ever hear his voice. You miss him and you're scared. Scared that things will never go back to what they were.

"Miss you too. Please be safe, Y/n. Protect yourself, not us, okay?" Heejun sounds defeated, as sad and broken, as you feel.

I can't promise you that.

"Bye, Heejun," You whisper instead, a half-sob. You hear your own name being murmured back at you as you touch the red button to end the call, the line going dead.

"Was it enough?" You sound feeble even to your own ears.

"I think so. We'll find out soon. As long as your friends don't show up at the station anymore, we should be fine," Jimin says. His mouth is downturned, upset, like he doesn't like seeing you cry.

You can only nod in return, not trusting your voice.

Hoseok steps closer, gently taking the phone out of your trembling hand. He hands it off to Namjoon before he settles his fingers on the top of your head, stroking your hair. He hushes you as the first tear escapes you, voice tender and proud as he says, "You did well, sunshine."

You feel sick. You want to scream and claw at the hands touching you, you want to pull your own treacherous heart from your chest and stomp on it until it stops beating for them and it's yours again. The emotions bubbling up under your skin feel like burning hellfire, scorching your insides. You hate this. You don't want this and yet–

The fire quells as more hands reach out to touch you, to comfort you.

Taehyung pulls you into his lap, rocking you gently as you begin to sob. You should be running away, but instead, you find yourself curling closer to his chest, seeking his warmth. He presses fluttering kisses to your hair, murmuring about how good you are, how perfect, how well they're going to take care of you.

And for the first time since you woke up trapped in the cabin, you actually want to believe him.

Anything to make your reality hurt a little less.

a/n: happy new year!! lovesick is finally back after a few intense months of exams and other happenings. this chapter shed some more light on jungkook's backstory and he even got the first kiss from the mc! the conversation with heejun was the final nail in the coffin so to speak for the mc, so we'll see her being more open to accepting the boys' affection from here on out. the poor girl is starting to get worn down :( the next chapter will be more taegi-focused and the mc will finally learn more about their soulbond!

please leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the chapter!! it means so much to me 💖

(and you know the drill, please excuse any mistakes until i have time to go through and edit!)

#yandere bts #bts x reader #yandere x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere jimin #yandere hoseok #yandere taehyung #yandere seokjin #yandere yoongi #yandere namjoon

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