#and it would just be really comforting to hear someone's voice

[atzloverr]

Our unsaid truths - chapter 2

previous chapter - next chapter

series masterlist

pairings: poly!ateez x reader, atz x atz

cw: polyamory, teasing, mentions of sex, jealousy, use of Y/n, reader is flustered lol, that’s like it, I know this is really short but I promise next chapter will have more!!!!

The sun had just begun to peek through the curtains when you started to stir awake. An unknown but comfortable warmth surrounded you, and it took a few seconds for your sleep-fogged mind to register why you felt so… crowded.

Wooyoung’s arm was slung lazily over your stomach, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, while Seonghwa’s leg was tangled with yours, his deep and even breathing tickling your shoulder. You stared up at the ceiling, your heart beating faster than it should for someone who had just woken up.

The events of last night hit you like a truck.

“Oh my god…” you whispered under your breath. You tried shifting slightly, but Wooyoung pulled you closer to him, groaning softly in his sleep. Your cheeks burned as you realized the position you were currently in: pinned in between the two.

“Morning, beautiful.”

Seonghwa’s voice was smooth, carrying a teasing lilt as he looked up at you with half-lidded eyes. His hair was disheveled, and the smirk on his face made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

Before you could respond, a soft yawn escaped Wooyoung, his body stretching slightly against yours. You averted your attention towards him. He looked up at you and grinned. “Morning, gorgeous.” His voice was husky from sleep.

“Um… good morning,” you stammered with a small smile, feeling heat creep up your neck.

It was surreal, waking up sandwiched between two men who now seemed equally interested in you. As the moment stretched on, you started to wonder what this would mean for your relationship with not just Seonghwa and Wooyoung, but with the rest of the boys as well. You bit your lip anxiously at the thought.

The worst thing you could imagine was ruining something that was so perfect between them, so perfect between you and Seonghwa.

”Whatcha thinking about sweetie?” you heard Seonghwa ask, snapping you out of your dazed state of deep thought. You simply shook your head. ”Nothing special.”

Seonghwa and Wooyoung exchanged looks, was your lie too obvious? ”Whatever, I’m hungry,” Wooyoung said before groaning loudly, finally letting you go to stretch out his entire body.

”Will you let me borrow your clothes, hyung?” Wooyoung said, trying his best to use his puppy eyes, a large pout on his lips.

Seonghwa sighed but eventually gave in with a tired ’sure’. You figured he probably didn’t want Wooyoung to walk out completely naked. The thought made you pause.

Would the others know what went down last night? You knew the walls weren’t exactly thick, but would you have to walk out to being humiliated this morning? You decided to speak your mind, worry brimming within you.

”Do you think they’ll know? I mean, not that there would be anything wrong with that, but—” you stammered nervously. ”Hmm, maybe,” Wooyoung giggled, getting dressed in one of Seonghwa’s sweatpants.

”I don’t know baby, but I’m sure they won’t mind if they do know,” Seonghwa reassured. You sighed in relief at those words. It was sometimes as if Seonghwa knew exactly what you needed to hear and when.

You quickly threw on one of Seonghwa’s shirts, not bothering to put on pants, before the three of you started to make your way to the dining area. As you heard the sound of voices from the kitchen, you felt nervousness starting to creep up on you. Seonghwa’s comforting hand on the small of your back sure helped though.

As you entered the kitchen, you were greeted by the sight of Hongjoong and Yeosang cooking something by the stove, as well as some of the other guys spread out around the room.

“Well, well, good morning, Y/n,” Hongjoong greeted, his lips curving into a smirk. Yeosang gave you a knowing look, one brow raised as if he already had several jokes lined up.

“Morning,” you said, trying to sound natural, avoiding their gazes, pulling down the shirt to somewhat cover yourself.

“I see someone’s had an eventful night,” Yeosang said lightly, eyes focused on the food he was cooking. His words made you freeze, heat rising to your cheeks.

Before you could reply, Wooyoung’s voice chimed in from where he was standing by the fridge, getting some yogurt. “Why do you sound so jealous, Yeosang?” He said with a smug grin plastered across his face.

“Jealous? Of what, you being the loudest person in the building?” Yeosang shot back. You swallowed, feeling the embarrassment inside you grow for every word and glance the two exchanged.

“Loud?” Mingi suddenly piped up from the table. You turned your head to see his face filled with faux innocence. “Oh, they were definitely loud.”

You groaned and sank into the nearest chair, burying your face in your hands. “Can we change the subject?” you pleaded.

“Aw, don’t be shy,” Wooyoung teased, sliding into the seat next to you with his yogurt in hand. “I think we made a great team last night.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat aggressively made everyone pause. Seonghwa stood up, his expression calm but his voice sharp. “Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung cowered slightly, glancing at him sheepishly. “What? I’m just saying—”

“Don’t make her uncomfortable.”

Seonghwa’s tone left no room for argument, and Wooyoung held up his hands in surrender, though the playful glint in his eyes remained.

“Sooo, Y/n,” Jongho said casually, trying to break the awkward silence that had come to be. “Are you planning to make your rounds with the rest of us, or are you sticking with these two?”

You choked on your own breath, flabbergasted by his question. You felt your cheeks burning hotter for each second that passed. “Jongho!”

“What? It’s a valid question,” he said with a shrug. You heard Yeosang giggle at the man’s words.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, sinking further into your chair.

Yunho entered the room then, his hair messy from sleep and eyes still not completely open. “What’s unbelievable?” he asked, walking up to Mingi who had already prepared a cup of coffee for him.

“Y/n’s, well… expanding her social circle,” Mingi quipped, earning a chorus of laughter from almost everyone.

Yunho glanced between you, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung, piecing the situation together almost immediately.

His expression softened as he set his mug down and came to stand beside you, gently patting your head. “Don’t let them tease you too much,” he said kindly.

You gave him a grateful smile, only for him to add with a wink, “You’ll need your energy for the rest of us anyway.”

The room erupted into laughter, and you groaned. “I swear,” you glanced at the amused faces around you, “you’re all going to drive me insane.”

As breakfast continued and everyone eventually sat down by the table, you felt as if something was slightly off, or rather, someone.

You looked over to San, who silently ate his breakfast, and a thought struck you. He hadn’t uttered a single word this entire morning, which was very unlike him. He would always cling to someone, that someone usually being Wooyoung or Yeosang, but today, he seemed distant.

While the teasing had dialed down, Yeosang and Jongho still left some remarks about how much they heard and how they couldn’t sleep, but every time when the table erupted into laughter, you saw San sitting there, not even cracking a smile.

You were seated in between Seonghwa and Yunho, at the same spot you would usually sit at, and Yunho seemed to notice that you were deep in thought about something. ”What’s up?” he silently asked, making you blink when you returned to reality. ”Huh?”

Yunho giggled at your confusion, before a comforting smile coated his lips. ”What are you thinking about?” he asked, placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked around, and everyone was still caught up in their own conversations. ”Is San alright?” you almost whispered. You made it look casual though, not wanting someone to ask what you guys were talking about.

”Oh, so you noticed too huh?” Yunho smiled, pulling his hand through his hair. ”Hmm, I think he might be a little jealous, that’s all,” Yunho said quietly, still smiling widely.

”Jealous?” you echoed, starting to feel worried all over again. ”Don’t worry, Y/n. He gets like that sometimes, and you haven’t done anything wrong,” Yunho comforted, his hand rubbing circles into your shoulder. You took a deep breath while nodding, hoping that Yunho’s words were true.

”Who’s on dish-duty?” Hongjoong asked, grabbing everyones attention. You silently volunteered, but was immediately shot down by everyone else saying that you shouldn’t. ”You had a rough night, don’t you think you should rest?” Jongho said with a wink, making you roll your eyes before finally leaving the kitchen, still feeling flustered by the events.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

A few hours later you found yourself outside of their house, Seonghwa’s arms wrapped tightly around you. Seonghwa always got pouty when you were going back to your place. He wished you could always stay with them, but he also understood that you might want some alone time, where you’re not constantly the ”ninth wheel.”

He never wanted you to feel that way, and although you assured him that you didn’t, he still noticed that you still hesitated before staying at their house, even though he tried to assure you that you weren’t a burden.

”Hey, how are you feeling about all of this? With Wooyoung and everything? I feel like we haven’t gotten a chance to talk it through,” Seonghwa said, his hand rubbing your shoulders. You sighed heavily.

”I don’t know… I don’t want to complicate things for you guys, you know? I don’t know what they all expect from me now and—” Seonghwa noticed the shift in your emotions, and it made his heart ache.

”Shh, baby,” he brushed your hair away from your face, looking deep into your eyes. ”Take your time. There’s no rush into anything that you might not be ready for,” he reassured, placing a small kiss on your cheek. ”Just do what feels right.”

You nodded, feeling at ease from his comforting words. You placed a hand on his shoulder before kissing his lips. He pushed deeply into you, not wanting the moment to end. ”Call me anytime,” he reminded, watching you pick up your bags to leave.

”You’re leaving!?” the intimate moment was suddenly cut off by Wooyoung’s voice as he came scrambling out the door. You raised your eyebrows with a smile at his panicked expression.

”It’s not like I live here, I’m just going to my apartment, that’s all,” you laughed as Wooyoung wrapped you in a hug as if you were never going to see him again. ”You’ll come back right?” he asked, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

You ruffled his hair with your hand, finding his face adorably funny. ”Pf course I will.”

You were about to take off when Wooyoung opened his mouth again. ”A—And Y/n?” you looked back. ”Can I kiss you too?”

Your eyes widened slightly at the question, as you immediately looked at Seonghwa. The reaffirming smile on his face told you everything you needed to know. ”Yes.”

And with that Wooyoung rushed towards you to give you a short but sweet kiss on the lips, before you finally made your way to your car.

On the way home, you thought about everything that had happened. It felt so surreal, to now receive the same kind of affection that your only used to from Seonghwa, from Wooyoung too.


Maybe you had liked him this whole time, but you were just too scared to make a first move. Maybe you had liked them all this whole time, you couldn’t tell. But once you parked your car in your driveway, you had made one thing clear for yourself. You were more than happy to expand this relationship, however far it would eventually do so.

next chapter

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you’re excited for a brand new series!!! Love you guys💕

taglist: @wooyoungsbrat @dawn-iscozy @fairy-jojo

those who requested a part 2: @nightcat101 @oreoqueen @the-belching-toe @stolasisyourparent @freyaphoria

tell me if you want to join the taglist!!!💕 part 3 is already written and will be posted very soon!

masterlist

[i-dared-myself]

Uncomfortable

Stray Kids x reader

Requested by anonymous: hello, ash! would it be good if i request something, pls? i was thinking of a 9th member au with skz, could you maybe write a compilation of scenarios in which the reader is made uncomfortable and how the guys help her through it? idk if you'll do this, i hope it's not too much!

You love your job, that much you were certain of. You love your fans, as well. You work so hard in every dance and every song.

So when you step out on stage your heart swells in pride to see the thousands of Stays. Knowing that your group went from nothing to this is incredible.

And they’re all here to see you.

Well- not just you. The other members are just as, if not more, important than you. 

But at any given moment, thousands of eyes could be on you.

You had done many concerts before this. You had preformed more times than you could count. It had never bothered you before, and yet here you were.

You stand there in your concert attire, makeup and hair done. You look good and you know it, but what if people online didn’t think so? What if you were being recorded right now because there was a hair out of place?

“Hey.” Felix ducks down, using his body to cover the two of you from the crowd. “What’s going on?”

You force a smile, gripping at your shirt. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Chan says something into a microphone, and the crowd roars. You make a move to join the others, but Felix’s hand wraps around your wrist gently. He tugs you back to him and looks you in the eyes.

“You look good,” he says simply. He smiles and his freckles scrunch up in the Felix-way that makes you want to grin as well. “We all know that.”

Your voice seems to catch in your throat as you try to respond. You cough. “But… What if I do something wrong?”

“You’re won’t, first of all,” he firmly says. “And secondly, we mess up all the time. Stay still loves us. It makes us human and that’s what they love about us.”

You nod slowly and take a deep breath. “Yeah. The best memes are made when we… Yeah.”

Felix releases you. “Ready?”

You trail after him to the group, smiling as brightly as you can. After a minute it turns into a genuine expression, and you know you love your job.

The concert goes by with very minimal mistakes. You have as much fun as you hope the fans do, and the guys all collapse into a pile next to you when you’re done.

“Gimme,” Hyunjin rasps to Jeongin. The younger man gets the message and hands him his water bottle.

“Good job, everyone,” Chan praises. He stretches out his joints and groans. 

“Getting too old for this?” Seungmin arches an eyebrow teasingly.

Chan scowls and levels a finger at him. “Watch your mouth.”

You’re covered in sweat and feel sticky. You check the time and notice it’s very late. “I want to go shower at the dorms. Are we leaving soon?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Chan does a head count for some reason before guiding the group to the van. You clamber inside and pull your phone out, wanting to see what everyone thought of the concert.

“You did great,” Minho mutters quietly. His voice is low enough that only you can hear it. 

His words make your stomach tumble. You don’t get told often that you did good. Everything always what you could’ve done better. What someone else could have done better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You really aren’t in the mood for recording, but you sit patiently as your makeup is applied and your hair is manipulated. You’re given a set of clothes and once you put it on, you exit the changing room and rejoin the others.

“Uh,” Changbin begins, averting his eyes, “that’s an interesting outfit.”

You’re confused, but look down at yourself for the first time after rushing through getting dressed. It’s definitely the most revealing thing you’ve worn for recordings, and you’re not sure if you feel comfortable with that. 

You’re not one to judge those for what you wear, but this is different. This is your job. This is where you’re supposed to be professional, and you have to wear… this.

It has what can only be described as a boob window. You tug it up uncomfortably, before down again when some of your stomach is shown.

The miniskirt is just as bad, to a level where you want to hide. You’re used to having to wear clothing similar to this, but never this bad.

Changbin adjusts his T-shirt. “Uh… Are you good with that?”

You nod.

The stylists know what they’re doing, right?

It would be rude to question them, right?

You walk to Hyunjin’s side and stand in place next to him. The set of instructions for the shoot are given, and all you can focus on is your outfit.

“That’s interesting,” Hyunjin says, unable to hide his disdain. His upper lip curls before he smoothes out his expression. “That’s… Wow.”

“I know.” You swallow and fiddle with the fabric again. “Is it that bad?”

Hyunjin nods. “Yes. Very.”

You curl into yourself, shoulders slumping. “Thanks, Hyunjin.”

“The colour compliments your eyes,” he mutters once he catches the look on your face. Hyunjin hooks an arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to him. “I think you look good.”

“But she’s not comfortable,” Seungmin bluntly says. He gives Hyunjin a dirty look. “Obviously.”

“No! I’m fine!” You wave your hands in a desperate attempt to gather their attention before they went rampaging to the stylists. “They worked hard!”

“Yeah, but do you want people to see you in that?” Seungmin questions. When you falter over a response, he sighs. “Boundaries are important, even at work.”

Hyunjin hums. “He’s right. And that shirt is ugly anyways.”

Jisung approaches, scowling slightly. “Aren’t we starting soon? Where are the others?”

“In a little bit. They’re still finishing preparations.” Jeongin leans down to touch his toes. 

“Hey.” Seungmin pokes Jisung. “Give her your shirt.”

Jisung flinches back, clutching at his torso. “What? Why?”

“She doesn’t like hers.” Hyunjin pinches the material of Jisung’s clothing. “Too much skin.”

“I’m not wearing anything under this shirt.” Jisung winces and rolls out his shoulders. “Do we…”

Jeongin scoffs. “Wow. You’re not going to give her your shirt? You just want to stare at boobs, don’t you? You’re so misogynistic.”

“That’s not what that means.” You press a hand to your forehead. “Jeongin-“

“Fine then!” Jisung huffs. He strips his shirt off and flings it at you, putting his hands on his hips defiantly. “Happy? I love women!”

The staff all stare at him in confusion, while a couple of them shield their eyes with their hands.

“Jisung-“ You hold out his clothes, but Seungmin blocks you.

“Put it on!” Seungmin orders.

“But what about me?” Jisung pouts. “I can’t just be half-naked for the recording.”

“I mean, you could…” Hyunjin trails off. “Stay would love it.”

You step into a changing room, returning with Jisung’s shirt on. You hand him yours, which he struggles to put on. He keeps sticking his arms through the boob window, and Jeongin has to help him dress.

“It’s horrifying,” Hyunjin announces once Jisung is finished. 

“I think you look good,” Felix vaguely says as he walks past. He’s staring at his phone.

“Which one of us?” Jisung puffs out his chest in what’s clearly an attempt to make you smile.

It works.

Felix glances up, eyes widening. “Are you allowed to wear that?”

“They put her in it, so it’s their fault.” Hyunjin shrugs and runs his tongue over his front teeth. “What about the miniskirt?”

“I’m not wearing that!” Jisung hisses. “This is bad enough!”

“Felix!” Hyunjin sings, chasing after the other man. Felix looks back over his shoulder before sprinting away.

So when Chan returns to the group, Changbin following closely behind, he taps his chin.

“The stylists are getting very… unique,” he carefully says. Chan’s eyes flick over Jisung in your shirt, and Felix, who had been wrestled into the miniskirt. 

You frown, wearing Felix’s baggy pants. “Sorry. I can- I can put it back on if you want.”

Chan waves a hand, expression softening. “It’s fine. The camera we needed for the water scene broke anyway. We’re going home.”

Felix grumbles to Changbin about the stupid skirt as they trudge off to the van. Chan catches your arm before you can leave with them.

“And I’ll tell the staff that you aren’t okay with those clothes for filming,” he assures you softly. “Tell us if you’re ever uncomfortable with something, okay?”

“I will,” you promise him.  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long days were normal. Many long days with a lack of sleep were not. Chan usually tried to give everyone enough rest and time to themselves, but the last couple of days had been stressful.

So you find yourself with nine hours of sleep in the last three days. You have no idea how you’re even functioning, let alone cheery enough for a fan meet.

You’re seated across from a girl with curly brown hair. Her gaze keeps darting from your face, down to her lap nervously.

As you uncap your pen, you smile as warmly as you can. Considering the circumstances, that is. The lack of sleep and pure exhaustion were really getting to you.

“I- I saw the clips of your latest concert,” she nervously says. “I- You’re very good.”

“Thank you.” You scribble your signature out on what she wanted before sliding it across the table. “Anything else to sign?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I- You and Felix are close.”

Your tired brain couldn’t tell where she was going with this. So you hum. “Yeah. We are.”

She seems giddy at that. “R-Really?”

“Yeah. We all are.” You look over to your right, where Changbin appears in deep discussion with a fan about… bald eagles?

“But like… Close i-in which way?” She crosses one leg over the other.

You still can’t understand what she’s saying. It’s not wise of an idol to interact with someone and have no clue what’s happening, but here you are.

“Uh, a lot,” is all you respond with. “Do you have a favourite song, or album?”

“But Felix g-grabbed your arm the other day.” Her head ducks down again as her cheeks flush. “I- I saw videos of it.”

“Oh!” Your eyebrows shoot up with the realization. “Um- Have you ever been to one of our concerts before?”

“You l-look happy together.” She ignores your question.

“So… Chk Chk Boom?” you weakly say. “It’s pretty good, right?”

She doesn’t seem to get the hint. “He smiles at y-you often.”

“Did I hear someone talking about me?” Felix teases as he bends down. He props his elbows down on the table, some of his hair falling into his face. 

“What are you doing over here?” you ask in bewilderment. Isn’t he supposed to be doing his own signings?

“I figured you could use the company.” 

Which is code for: You needed help so I’m here.

You relax into your chair, leaning back. “I appreciate it.”

“So what were we chatting about?” Felix asks, more alert than you for some reason. You blame it on the energy drinks he chugged with Jeongin.

The rest of the meeting goes by smoothly. When everyone loads into the van, Changbin makes room for you in the seat next to him.

“You okay?” he gently inquires. 

You nod and let your eyes flutter shut. “Just miss sleeping.”

Changbin chuckles lowly. “Yeah, so do I.”

“Don’t worry, everyone will get their naps,” Chan calls from the front. “Our schedule is free for the next week.”

Jisung whoops, and Hyunjin covers his ears and whines from beside him. 

“That means actually sleeping,” Chan sternly says. “Jisung, I’m talking to you. Don’t binge an entire show in a night.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “We all know he’s going to do it anyway.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Minho ominously mutters.

Everyone side-eyes him.

“What are you going to do?” you warily question him. 

Minho’s eyes glint. “That’s for me to know and for him to find out.”

Jisung clears his throat. “I think I’m going to bed early tonight. Anyone else doing the same?”

You shake your head and sigh. “No, I have a live to do.”

The others all murmur their excuses, while Minho narrows his eyes at you. You shift nervously under his gaze.

When you get off to your room, you make sure to brush out your hair. When prop your phone up and sit on your bed, tucking your legs beneath you.

You greet the fans as they come pouring in, making sure to touch on the topic on the fan meeting. You talk for a little bit about how grateful you are for everyone coming, before moving on to just chatting.

It’s always odd doing a live by yourself. There’s no engaging with someone else, and you have to either read off comments, or come up with conversation.

You’re too tired for the latter, so you go with the former.

“Aw, my hair looks nice?” You beam at your phone, reaching up to your head. “Thank you very much.”

You read over a couple more rolls of comments on the screen before settling on another one to respond to. “No, I won’t give you spoilers. Nice try, though.”

You scrunch your nose up and adjust how you’re sitting. Everyone is going on about a new meme of Jeongin falling out of his chair. Some are asking you to recreate it, while others are asking if he’s okay.

“Yes, he’s fine,” you answer breezily. “It takes more than that to hurt him. He’s tougher than he looks.”

And time goes on. Your eyes are getting heavier and heavier, but you don’t want to turn it off. The more content you give them now, the less they’ll talk about you and Felix.

If any shipping gets too popular, you have to do damage control and-

“Hello, Stay!” Minho waves with both hands as he pops into frame. He blinks a couple times as the comments scream his name before his lips curl into a smile.

“What are you doing here?” You scoot over in case he wants to sit with you.

Minho remains standing. “It’s getting late. Do you know what time it is?”

There’s a string of people talking about air fryers, now. Others are warning you to run.

You straighten. “No, sorry. Is it really that late?”

“It’s past midnight,” he scolds gently. “It’s bed time. I already have Jisung sleeping, and it’s your turn.”

“But…” You don’t know how to voice your concerns. It feels as if speaking your worries aloud will make them true.

Minho says the goodbyes to your phone before shutting the live off. He scoops your phone up and slips it into your pocket before lifting you over his shoulder.

“Minho!” you shriek as he marches out the door. “What are you doing?”

“Rumours come with the job,” he says. He bounces you once, cutting off your protests. “The amount of times I’m shipped with Jisung is immense, but we’re fine. These things happen.”

“Yeah, there’s lots of that stuff.” You go limp and let him dump you in the bathroom. As soon as you’re on your feet, he hands you your toothbrush.

“See?” Minho raises an eyebrow. “You’ll be fine. And even if it does get out of hand, I’m sure Hyunjin would be glad to do something to get the attention off you.”

“You’re right,” you say around the toothbrush in your mouth. Minho waits patiently for you to spit into the sink before you’re back in his grasp.

“I don’t see why you made such a big deal about this,” you grumble as you change into pyjamas. His back is to you as you do so. “Why was Jisung so scared?”

He smirks at you, facing you again. “Wanna find out?”

You stare at him momentarily before sliding beneath your sheets. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Minho pulls the blankets up to your chin. He walks to the door, holding up your phone. “You’ll get this back in the morning after a chat with Chan about positive thinking.”

You groan and throw your head against the pillows. “You really are cruel!”

Minho laughs before flicking your lights off. He shuts the door softly.

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght

[fortunekookie07]

Stay

Hey guys! So I know I'm supposed to be working on my requests, and I am, I really am! I've had this story floating around my head for a few weeks now. I was finally able to write out the ending thanks to Caleb's return. His appearance is small, but it added just the right element, in my opinion.

This is gonna be a long one, a very long one. Quite easily, the longest I have posted here. So without further ado, I present to you Stay.

****************************************************

In the final moments of your life, you supposedly have your life flash before your eyes, and in a way, that was what was happening to you.

You knew your body was flying through your life's experiences trying to find the way to save you now. It wasn't going to happen. This time, you were really going to die. You didn't regret the way you were going to die. The Wanderers were now gone. You'd managed to save everyone.

For the first time in your life, you were grateful for the Aether core in your heart. It had given you the power you needed to repel and destroy the last of the Wanderers. Chansia would be able to rebuild and go on now.

If there was something you regretted, it was your parting with Sylus. Your hand felt empty without the comforting weight of his ring. You hoped someone else would take up the case of finding your brother and grandmother's murderer.

The edges of your vision were going dark. Blood was seeping between your lips and down your chin. Lying on the ground in the ruble of what had been an office building wasn't exactly comfortable, but it wouldn't be long now.

You could hear shouting, people were calling your name. You couldn't hear clearly enough to make out who was desperately searching for you. You wanted to call out and let then know you were here. But any attempt to speak resulted in coughing up more blood.

You knew your ribs were broken. Most likely at least one had punctured your lungs. Your leg was definitely broken. Being thrown had caused the rib break. Having heavy debris falling on you had caused the leg break.

The calling grew louder. They had almost reached you. At least you wouldn't be alone in the end. A smile tugged your lips upward.

Using what little strength you could muster, you managed to grab a rock and toss it a bit. The resulting clatter echoed in the otherwise silent space.

"Over here, she's here"! The voices were accompanied by footsteps and sliding rocks.

People came to your side moments later. You were surprised at the faces you saw. "Sy... lus?" You managed weakly trying to lift your hand again.

The last time you saw him came rushing back as tears gathered in your eyes. You remembered every detail of the last fight.

*******************************************************

CRASH

Luke and Kieran turned in the direction of the master's study. They were at it again, this would be the fourth time this week an argument had broken out.

"I'm going on this trip, Sylus, and that's final"! Your voice echoed down the hall to the library where the twins were sitting.

"How do you think it'll end this time?" Kieran asked his twin. "Same as always." Luke said looking back down to his book.

You were fuming, blood racing as your heart pounded. "I am not a child, Sylus. I am going on that trip!" You shouted at him hands splayed on the surface of his desk as you leaned over it glaring back at him. He was just staring back at you. Eyes hard, a deep frown on his brow. A fist was clenched near his temple.

"I said no. It's too dangerous." He responded in his faux calm, even sounding voice. You clenched your hands into fists. Nails digging into your palms. "It's my damn job. I have to go, and I will be going to Chansia." You'd been trying to tell him about the mission Captain Jenna was sending you on all week to no avail.

Everyone knew how bad the situation was there and how poorly understaffed and under-equipped to deal with the outbreak they were.

They needed help and Jenna was counting on you and six others to go. She had put you in charge of the team and given a rundown of their immediate need. Metaflux was out of control and Wanderers were running rampant in the city. Total lock down had been imposed and people were advised to stay inside and defend themselves in whatever way possible.

You would be teaming up with the Chansia hunters and begin reducing the Wanderer numbers. Rescuing those in desperate need was the second objective. Updating their metaflux barriers was the final goal.

Captain Jenna had stressed the extreme dangers you would be going into and the importance of maintaining personal safety. How this had happened in the first place was unclear, news was slow coming from the city. What did trickle out was only a plea for assistance.

It wasn't like you didn't understand Sylus' concerm for your wellbeing. You'd endured injury after injury fighting the Wanderers. Had broken almost every bone in your body to date. The worst of which had earned you six weeks in the hospital. One of which was in the ICU.

What had made you so angry was his immediate no, when you first brought it up. He couldn't go with you this time due to conflicting schedules and no other flights could be scheduled to Chansia until the situation was resolved.

Your flight was supposed to leave early in the morning. Originally you'd planned to spend some time with Sylus and get him to take you to the airport, but since he was being an asshat, that was no longer an option you wanted to explore.

Storming out of his study you angrily dashed up the stairs to the bedroom. Your anger was such that you didn't even want to be under the same roof as him right now. You shoved all of your clothes into one of your bags and began throwing random items into another.

You didn't need to turn and look to see him standing in the doorway watching you angrily buzz around his bedroom.

"Just where are you going?' He finally asked after several minutes watching you. "I'm going home!" You said throwing your slippers off and stuffing your feet into your boots. "Wait, just wait a minute. You're not leaving..". He began before you cut him off.

"The hell I'm not! You don't get to tell me what to do Sylus. I am not your underling or employee." You push past him with both bags. He tries again to stop you. "Wait, don't leave now. It's raining." Again he tries to prevent you from leaving but you keep walking.

"I'm going home to sleep and then I'm going to Chansia in the morning." You tell him resolutely daring him to try and stop you.

He follows you all the way to the front door. You set your bag down and reach for the knob and then see the ring he'd given you a few months prior. You pull it off your finger and turn around.

You throw it at his head. "Take your ring back, I don't need someone who does not respect me. I'd rather be completely alone. Tears sting your eyes as you catch his expression.

It's just a slight change in his demeanor, but after two years together you can read him like an open book. He's hurt by your actions, deeply hurt. The ring you just threw at his head had been one he personally designed and picked all materials for.

When he'd give it to you, he admitted it had taken him six months to find the red diamond that was the center stone. He'd wanted it to be absolutely perfect, and you knew how high his standards were.

Saying yes to his proposal had been one of the happiest days, but looking at that ring now just hurt. He had no confidence in you and he didn't respect your desire to help others. How could you willingly marry a person like that? The answer seemed simple, you couldn't.

You slammed the door behind you and dashed over to your car. Slipping into the driver's seat, you threw your bags into the backseat and started the engine. Waiting for the heat to kick on, you sat there for a few minutes trying not to cry.

You will the tears to stop, urging yourself not to shed one more second of sadness for him. Sylus did not respect you or your wishes. He had made that abundantly clear tonight. So why should you grieve his loss? Like flipping a switch, the rational part of your brain took over and your tears stopped. Drying your face as you pulled out of the parking spot and flipped the car around. Headed back down the long drive of his ridiculously huge home.

Twenty minutes later you were back in the familiar brightly lit, Linkon downtown area. It was late, almost one thirty now. Thankfully You'd be at your complex in less than five minutes.

As you were getting out of the car you heard your phone beep with a new message. Glancing down, you saw it was from one of the numbers the twins liked to use. It said 'just making sure you made it home safe.' The rustle of wings and a caw had you looking up into the huge tree.

You knew then, that the twins weren't the ones to send the message. Sylus had, and just like always he was checking up on you. A gesture that used to make you feel warm, now left you cold.

In your anger you typed out, don't bother. My actions are no longer your concern.

You couldn't bring yourself to send the text. Instead you tossed your phone onto the bed and then flung yourself down after it. Sleep was going to be a must for the long flight to come in a few hours.

What felt like only minutes later, your phone was going off. You groaned and looked at the screen. Why did this always happen before the alarm sounded? You glanced at the screen, surprised to see Captain Jenna calling so early.

You sat up, now wide awake and answered the call. "I'm sorry for calling so early and right before you head to Chansia, but this couldn't wait". She says before you can even great her.

"What's going on"? You ask, concern pulling your brows into a frown. The seriousness of her tone is putting you on edge. "I've tried not to pry too much, and I know you're investigating the murder of your grandmother and brother, but your frequent trips to the N109 Zone have caught attention. I'm being questioned now. If you weren't headed to deal with an emergency today, I'd be required to pull you from this mission and brought in for questioning." You can tell that she doesn't like saying any of this to you.

"You're one of our top hunters and consistently have the most rescues and time put in, but it's drawn some bad attention to you. I'm so sorry, but when you get back from Chansia, I'll have to bring you in and before all of the commanders and even the chief". The silence following her words is loud. Your heart is thudding in your chest.

You want to blame Sylus for this, but the fault lies with you. You'd known that eventually someone was going to see your location constantly in a place it shouldn't be, and now they had noticed.

"Thanks for the heads up Captain." You tell her somberly, resigned to the fate you'd chosen. "Just take care of yourself, whatever that means for you". Her words carried a weight you were unable to place at that moment. After wishing you a safe flight, the line went dead.

You got up from the bed and began rechecking your bags, trying to ensure you'd forgotten nothing. For some reason you couldn't shake that you wouldn't return to this place again. One last glance around and you were headed out the door.

You heard a car pull up as you locked the door followed by a horn. Glancing behind you, the taxi that you'd requested was right on time. As you approached, the driver got out and helped place your bags in the trunk. A short while later and you were speeding down the highway towards and uncertain future.

*******************************************************

Sylus sat in his chair after you had left, fingers holding up his head and a deep frown on his face. In front of him on the desk, sat your ring. Gleaming back at him, almost mocking him with your absence.

He was tempted to go after you, the thought of following you all the way to Chansia appealed to him greatly. It would mean postponing his trip to Italy, but he could always go there after getting you.

Finally after thinking over his plan and getting all the details straight, he called in Luke. "Make sure the jet is fuled. We're going to make a little detour. He was coming for you, one way or another.

*******************************************************

The situation in Chansia was so much worse than what you were prepared for. Your plane couldn't land in the city because the airport was no longer there. Part of it had collapsed and it looked like a bomb had gone off.

When you finally made it into the city the other hunters were waiting to escorted your group to their secured temporary base. You could tell they were exhausted. Constant fighting with little to no rest had drained them greatly.

That had been three days ago, now your group was equally running on empty. Rescues were slow going. The few families you'd managed to get to had been safely evacuated. Combined efforts had resulted in some success at the very least. Part of the city on the western side was no Wanderer free. Patrols roamed the freed edge ensured thay it remained safe.

"We need to put together a small team and head straight for the center of this mess. If we can stabilize the mwtaflux and implement the reinforced shield then no new Wanderers will appear." You were sitting at a make shift table with Captain Willow and a few others. "It's a suicide mission!" One of the Chansia hunters objected.

You sighed heavily, this had been the argument for the last half hour. Rubbing your temple you spoke again. "Look, I understand your concerns and objects very clearly but you need to remember this. If we don't do this, the Wanderers will keep appearing and our efforts to evacuate will turn into a retrieval for the deceased. My team and I cam here with three objectives. I will do this myself if I have to, but it's going to be done." You had tried being nice, and you had even tried negotiating, but the same hunter again and again stood in your way.

"Captain Willow, you can take this down as defying a direct order from yourself if you wish, but I am going to get that shield up. Even of I have to do it without support."

Looking at the stubborn and set faces of the Chansia hunters you got up from the table. "So be it then, stay alive." You tell them and leave the tent. You make a brief stop by your own tent. Simone is waiting for you.

"I take it they are still opposed to heading to the metaflux center then?" She asked, but not needing an answer. You just nod and enter the tent, gesturing for her to follow behind you. "What will you do no?" She asked sitting on the cot beside you.

"No choice, I'll have to do this alone. I can't risk the safety of the entire team on a small chance of success." You flop back onto the cot and throw your arm over your eyes. "I can go with you." She said softly. You lift your arm just enough to see her. She is grapling with something.

"I can't let you come this time Simone. You're my partner, so if I can't find a way then you'll have to lead the team. I won't leave them without direction." You stand up and pat her shoulder.

Simone has worked with you for almost a year now. She was a very capable and reliable partner. If you couldn't do this, she might be able to.

You started packing a backpack, making sure the Flux stabilizer and shield were secured. If they were damaged, then saving Chansia would become a hundred times harder. The odds already seemed impossible. If only Xavier were here now. He could get you to the center.

You shook your head. Xavier had been on an extreme mission for the last year now. It's how Simone became your partner. With Xavier otherwise occupied the spot beside you had become vacant and some missions were just too dangerous to do alone.

With a map of the city and a goo understanding of where the Wanderers were concentrated, you plotted your route with Simone. It was going to be easy, damn near impossible, but if you could stick to this, the faintest hope existed that Chansia could be saved.

Having everything you needed, you made one final stop to Captain Willow's tent. She seemed to know to expect you. "I won't report you for insubordination, I know you are trying to save the city. Even if I don't agree with your methods. Captain Jenna has told me of you. It's not like your reputation is unknown to us. I wish you luck." She turned and went into the tent after.

Picking your way through the east side of the city was easy going at first. The sun was up so at least the nocturnal Wanderers were not active during the day. The further into the city you got, the harder it became to go unnoticed by the Wanderers.

Battling them seemed to attract more attention. It had been four hours since you left the campsite. You'd managed to get only halfway to the target.

The sun was starting to set. The longer this took, the harder it would get. Depending on the type, nocturnal Wanderers could be up to ten times more dangerous. There was one type of Wanderer that you prayed would not be in the vicinity. You wouldn't be able to take it on alone. It just wasn't possible.

After another hour has passed you finally arrived at the building, or what was left of it. This was where the strongest distortions in the metaflux were coming from. No doubt this was also the most dangerous place in Chansia city.

The first two floors of the building has collapsed. Surprisingly, at least from what you could see, the thrid floor now resided on the first. Making your way over sections of broken wall and scattered glass, you headed for the hole in the wall that would get you inside. Much of the floor was still in tact.

Well from what you could see. Unsurprisingly, there was no power. Shadowy darkness awaited you past the hole. With the rapidly sinking sun, you did not have much time.

Carefully you made your way inside, a flashlight leading the way. You occasionally swept the bright light around, checking for any lurking Wanderers. You breathed a sigh of relief, not noticing the large tail coming up from behind you.

*******************************************************

Finally he'd come back, the urgent mission taking him deep into the tunnel was over. He smiled looking at the back of his phone. A picture of the two of you as kids was displayed in the case.

In it you were hugging him, caught in a laugh and your eyes closed. He remembered thay day well. Every moment was precious to him.

Who knew that Jospehine adopting the two of you as her grandchildren would bring him a world of joy? Nothing was more precious to him than you. His precious sister, one of the only good things to come out of his life.

His work was dark and devoid of the light that seemed to always grace you with it warm love. He was always reaching for thar sun, for you. "Just wait for me, I'm finally coming home." He whispered to himself before getting up from his seat and heading for the ships open bay doors.

An hour later and he felt nothing but frustration. You weren't home, no one seemed to know where you were. Deciding to just cut to the chase, he was headed to association headquarters when a story played on the TV.

"Our latest breaking story, Linkons finest were deployed to Chansia city several days ago and since then no information has been received as to their fate. Reports have trickled in over the latest disaster to befal Chansia city. An Ignus wrymlord was spotted yesterday in the cities center. Unconfirmed pictures of the Wanderer have been provided to us but we've been unable to verify the identity of the creature seen in Chansia's vicinity. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the men and women fighting to save the lives of the people still trapped. Please stay safe."

After the report ended for a moment the picture was displayed on the screen. He froze, blurry picture or not. It could only be one thing. He picked up his pace running to headquarters hoping against hope to find you there.

*******************************************************

Your ears were ringing and your fingers came away wet from the side of your head. You didn't know exactly what had happened. Only that you'd been thrown into the side of the wall. You hadn't seen what had attacked you either. The flashlight was gone and so was the backpack you'd been carrying.

The first attempt to get up had your stomach curling.

So you lay there for several minutes. Waiting for the ringing to subside.

It was when you attempted to stand that you finally heard it. A roar so loud it had you crouching down and trying to block your ears. It felt like the very ground was shaking.

Fire sprouted to life moments later, lighting up the space all around you. Any hopes of leaving you previously had vanished. Ten feet in front of you nesting in the huge creator in the ground was a creature that resembled a dragon.

Your brain whispered the correct name for this monster but your eyes couldn't make sense of it. No Wanderer of this magnitude had been seen on this side of the Deepspace Tunnel since their appearance sixteen years ago. Only petrified remains could be found in the older parts of Linkon city, but even then. None of them were the size of this one.

Easily thirty feet across, with a wingspan of at least a hundred feet. It's tail flicked behind it, and you knew this had been what knocked you into the wall.

Without the stabilizer you couldn't even drive it off. Much less fight it, but lacking any other choice you stood your ground and waited for it to make a move.

Maybe you could deal it enough damage that someone else could finish what you started.

This time you were ready for the tail swipe. You just barely managed to dodge. You drew your weapons and fired, the bullets ricocheted off the scales not leaving so much as a scratch.

You began trying to recall your studies in the academy. They had taught you about every known Wanderer. Ignus wrymlord being the most dangerous one.

A nocturnal type, vast firepower, highly intelligent and calculating. Territorial and temperamental, all of these things made for a very aggressive Wanderer.

Tightening your grip on your favorite guns you stared it down. You were going down fighting, refusing to give in to fear. Let your efforts cast the die of fate in Chansia's favor.

Standing to your full height you took a deep breath and dashed forward.

*******************************************************

Explosions rocked the ground, and at first Sylus thought it was an earthquake. For how frequent it was and the fact that it seemed to come from one part of the city every time, he crosses that off the list.

It was only when a bright light lit up the sky, blazing as bright as the midday sun, did he know something was very wrong. He felt his heart constrict in his chest and cold fear wash over him. It was coming from you.

You were unleashing the power in your heart, all of it and all at once. This would kill you for certain.

As he emerged from the side of the building he ran into a few other people. The two women he recognized immediately. Tara your chatty best friend and Jenna leader of your unit. The man he thought looked familiar, dark hair and piercing purple eyes. He was almost as tall as he was.

"Name yourself!" Jenna shouted at you holding her gun aloft. Her shouts attracted some attention. Approaching behind them was a large group of low level Wanderers. Like it was reading his thoughts his evol took shape and raced past them, cutting down the first wave easily.

Getting to you wasn't going to be easy.

*******************************************************

You got to your feet again, your body protested as another wave of pain threatened to knock you over. Numerous cuts and gashes had taken you over. There was hardly a patch of skin on you not soaked in your blood. One of your guns had been lost the last time you'd been thrown against the wall.

At least you'd managed to deal it damage too. It's wings were shreaded and bent at odd angles. It's tail could no longer throw you around either. Being trapped under a huge section of the ceiling. One of its eyes had also been taken out.

You may be worse for wear, but this Wanderer certainly wasn't unscathed. Your body felt heavy and your mind was becoming hazy. Briefly you wondered if it was because you'd lost too much blood.

It roared again, shaking the ground and knocking you off your feet. You heard your other gun hit the ground and silently cursed its loss. Now out of weapons, ideas and strength, you sank to your knees. Your evol had been drained to empty awhile ago.

You thought back to everything you'd ever learned about protocores and Aether cores. To when you'd first met Sylus after sneaking into the N109 Zone. He'd told you that the Aether core in your heart could provide unlimited energy. What was preventing you from using it to destroy this Wanderer?

The moment that thought popped into your head and idea began to take place. Quickly setting to work in provoking the Ignus wrymlord into striking several load bearing pillars brought the upper floors down with a crash.

The light of the moon shone down through the clouds of dust. The Wanderer roared in fury at having its lair destroyed. It began attacking you indiscriminately.

Trying to tap into the power of the Aether core in your heart had never been easy. Sylus had tried many times with little to no success. He used his own freely but couldn't understand why you were unable to do the same.

You realized the answer quickly. It wasn't that you couldn't. Rather that you shouldn't, his thinking before that, you had very similar Aether cores was wrong. They were vastly different. Sylus' provided strength. Yours was meant to protect, the answer seemed so obvious now. It was a wonder it alluded you before.

Once you understood that, it was as simple as breathing to draw out the power. Slow going at first as you imagined the power gathering in your hands. Opening your eyes, that was exactly what you were doing.

A golden ball was in your hands. Growing in size as you gather more and more power. When you had it all you stared, dazed at the explosive energy dancing just over your palm. You smiled faintly, this would surely save all those still trapped in Chansia. This Wanderer wouldn't hurt anyone else.

With that thought in mind you fired the ball of energy at the Ignus. Once again you were knocked off your feet, but this time there would be no getting up.

*******************************************************

"Stay with me, Kitten." Sylus said as he took your hand. You blinked slowly as your vision refocused on what was in front of you. You glanced to the side and saw Tara. She was crying and doing a poor job of hiding it. "It's ok, you're gonna be fine!" She said voice cracking. Jenna had a grim look on her face to she could only scrunch he'd fists and try to hide the worry in her eyes.

It was then that another person made his presence known. "C... Caleb?" .... You asked, voice unsure as you stared at him. Unable to believe he was real, and this was not his spirit coming to guide you.

"Hey pipsqueak." His voice lacked it's usual cheer. You could see the worry all over his face, it wasn't like him. "Ca..leb?" You say softly reaching for his face trying to smooth the worry from his brow. "S'ok I'm fine." He grabs your hand and holds it firmly.

"Of course you are. A medical will fix you right up. You won't even have a scar afterwards." You can see that he doesn't believe what he's telling you and you try to smile at him, but coughing takes over. More blood is seeping between your lips.

"Where's that damn medic?" Glancing back at Captain Jenna as she anxiously looks around for someone. "I'm fine, it doesn't hurt anymore." Your arm goes limp as you can't hold it up anymore. "I'm jus gonna take a lil nap." You whisper and your eyes slide closed.

Sylus grabs your hand tighter in his grasp. "No, you need to stay awake now. Kitten stay with me." You manage to wrench your eyes open again but you can hardly see now. Everything is hazy and even though you're laying down the room is spinning. "It's ok, just let me go." Unable to keep your eyes open anymore they close again. In the silence that follows he can hear your heart stutter and then stop.

"No, no!" He shakes your shoulders trying to rouse you again but you don't wake up.

Finally the medical finds his way to your group. He begins cpr immediately. After ten minutes he stops and calls it. "I'm sorry, there is nothing more I can do. Her injuries are extensive. With the rib fractures and lung puncrure alone, I can't perform the surgery here. She'd die of infection. I'm so sorry for your loss." He gets up quietly and retreats.

Sylus sits there holding you, unable to accept that you are leaving him permanently. "No, you aren't leaving me behind again. Not this time." He said ans leans over to lay you back down on the ground.

*******************************************************

As you sit next to Sylus and Caleb, quietly observing the procession a strange feeling comes over you. "Is this how it feels for everyone to believe you're dead?" You ask softly. Sylus only shrugs not offering a verbal response. "Can't say pipsqueak, I didn't attend my own funeral." You sigh, this was your own idea after all.

Almost the entire city of Linkon had shown up to pay respects to you today. Your services to the city were no small collection of deeds afterall. Captain Jenna had first suggested this after your miraculous recovery. Although he would not tell you how, Sylus had said you were connected now. If he dies, so too would you and vice versa. No amount of begging and pleading would budge him on the matter. Eventually you'd stopped asking.

Jenna had told you I'm detail what exactly was waiting for you if you returned to the Association Headquarters. A full scale investigation, dismissal as a hunter, possible jail time, and some other things.

Being pronounced dead however, the Association had organized this massive funeral service and posthumous award ceremony following the service. Few people would know that you had survived the ordeal with the Ignus wrymlord. The second known person to fight one and live to talk about it. Lumiere being the first and only other one.

"What am I going to do now? Being a hunter was all I'd ever wanted to do, even as a kid." Sylus takes your hand and squeezes it softly.

"Just stay." He looks down at you and kisses your forehead. "Just stay with me."

[glassartpeasants]

One Piece Asylum Au .02

Eustass Kidd, Monkey D. Luffy, Roronoa Zoro, Vinsmoke Sanji, Trafalgar Law, Killer x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, self mutilation, medical malpractice, blood/gore, mentions of murder and death, mentions of cannibalism

A/N: i am NOT a psychiatrist so i don't know anything about that career field other then things I've looked up.

~~~

Luffy’s session seemed to fly. It didn’t take long to see how truly deep he was in his pirate delusions. The whole session was him talking about these adventures he’s been on with his friends. From fighting monsters to fighting the government. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find his stories enjoyable. His vivid imagination is seemingly a blessing and a curse in its own right. Using his imagination to hide the reality of him being all alone. Loneliness is truly a disease that can destroy someone. 

“Well, Luffy, that sounds like an adventure for sure. May I ask you a question? I wanna redecorate this old room to something more friendly. What do you think we could add to spice this room up to feel more comforting?” Perhaps asking the patients themselves would be the better solution. Knowing what they enjoy could drastically help in making them more open to speaking to you.

Luffy looks off for a moment, his straw hat still attached to his head. Black strands of hair poking out from under it. “Have a buffet! Full of meat!” Luffy’s eyes go wide with excitement.

A chuckle leaves your lips. “Oh my, really now? And where would I get so much meat?”

“Sanji says there are millions of pounds of meat outside of here! Once we get out of here, he’ll cook it all up!” Luffy smiles wide as his excitement echoes through the room. His comment about Sanji had your interest piqued. Millions of meat outside of the hospital? Was he talking about animal products out there? He must be because you couldn’t think what else he’d be talking about.

“Sounds like a big ordeal. Where would we put all the meat? And what kinds would there be?” Luffy goes on with a new ramble before stopping himself as he yawns

“Tired?” 

“No! I’m not…tired.” He continues to yawn. Based on what he told you earlier that day, it’s possible he could be refusing to sleep. Instead choosing to sleep deprive himself just so he wouldn’t dream of his brother. Sad, but it wouldn’t be uncommon or the first time you’ve heard of such measures taken. You’ve learned a lot of cases with these symptoms. Especially ones with such intense trauma like Luffy.

You can’t help but feel your heartache as you watch him struggle to keep his eyes open. Picking up your walkie-talkie, you speak into it. 

“Does anyone know the last time 101 has slept? He’s with me and on the verge of passing out. Unable to keep his eyes open.” There was silence on the other end before you heard the nurse respond.

“The file says the 15th Dr. (L/N).” Your brows furrow.

“The 15th? It’s the 19th right now. Are you sure that’s correct?”

“That's what the file says.”

“Has anyone tried to help him sleep?” You hear the nurse hum before answering.

“It says Dr. Cross has tried to stick meds in his food, but he always spits them out.”

“I see. Thank you.” Turning off your walkie-talkie, you look at Luffy, puzzled about how to help him. Sleep is a vital thing for the human body, and for him to avoid it with such determination it made you begin to theorize that the reason he avoids it is due to seeing his brother not in a dream-like setting but rather a nightmare. Maybe even replaying the accident over and over again.

“Luffy, can you tell me the reason you won’t sleep? Is there any way I can help?” With a soft voice, you try to encourage Luffy to give you a better picture of his side instead of just your theories. 

Yet he stayed silent. Silent and still. Getting up from your battered seat, you walk over to him when you hear the wispy noise of an almost quiet snore. 

Realizing he had passed out made you freeze. While you were happy he had fallen asleep, even if it was for a moment, you didn’t know how long he’d be asleep, how hard he slept, or what to do now that he’s asleep. If you could, you’d leave him in here to sleep, but it’s not safe enough and you have someone next to attend to, but you were afraid to move him in case he woke up.

A knock on the door makes you jump and rush to the door as quietly as you can. Not wanting to wake Luffy or keep whoever it was from knocking again. Upon opening the door, your met with Dr. Cross and a security guard.

“Dr. Cross, what are you doing here?”

“A nurse told me you were asking about the last time 101 slept, and I figured we might be lucky enough for him to be asleep. I brought Bruce here to help carry him back to bed.” Nodding, you move away, allowing the guard to grab Luffy.

“Be careful, please. I don’t want him waking up and hurting you or himself if a night terror arises.” Only giving you a grunt, the guard grabs him and carries him out of the room. 

Letting out a sigh, you look at Dr. Cross. “I hope he stays asleep.”

“I, as well. I’ve given him pills, but he just spits them out, which leads to situations where he hasn’t slept in days. Like this one.”

“Has he told you what the dreams are about by any chance? I have a quick theory, but I wanted to do a peer review with you.”

“When he was first sent, his grandfather told us he had recurring nightmares of the day his brother was murdered. And another one where he’d see said brother standing over his bed while he slept. The same way he looked when he was murdered and even imagined when versions of his brother's corpse decayed.”

Making a mental note, you continue to ask her questions. “I know it’s not really our place to know, but what exactly happened? Maybe if we knew, we could try to make a plan that’d help him more?”

“Hmm. There could be something. I wasn’t told exactly what happened, so you’d have to go online or ask the police station.”

“Thanks. Will do, Dr. Cross.” You watch her leave the room before speaking.

“Also, when you speak to 102 and 103, make sure you keep your distance from 103. He has a habit of biting and not letting go. Has bitten several nurses, which led them to bleed.” And with that, she left, leaving you to grapple with the knowledge that many nurses don’t put in incident reports since there was nothing on 103’s that mentioned biting.

“Oh, one more thing!” Dr. Cross’s head pokes back out from behind the door. “Your full access will be instated tomorrow!”

“I…didn’t have full access before?”

“No. We don’t give full access on the first day. Simple safety protocol. That's all now.” Once again, she left you to grapple with even more things about the patients you didn’t know about. What else could there be? It shouldn’t be much, right?

With a deep breath and putting your hair in a different style, you knock on 102’s door. “Zoro? Hello? It’s me, Dr. (L/N). I’ve just come to talk to you-”

“What the hell do you want? Can’t you see we’re busy?” When you open the door, you see him facing the left wall, looking as if he were talking to someone. If what you remember, there were notes about him having hallucinations involving his deceased lover.

“Very sorry about it. Perhaps we can all talk? Even about something silly?” You speak calmly, not wanting Zoro to explode like this last time the two of you met. From what you can also remember, he’s still in seclusion as you're unable to bring him to the decaying room you call your own. Which could be a plus since maybe a familiar setting would help him open up more.

“How about your favorite thing to do? I like (----).” There was an awkward silence as you sat on the floor facing him, keeping a safe distance between the two of you.

Zoro remained quiet, refusing to answer while looking away from you. The silence was suffocating as you struggled to try and think of something. You didn’t want to just give up on him, but you didn’t want to push him either. Taking a deep breath, you try to rethink your approach.

"Would you like something to drink? I’m sure being in this stuffy room has you quite parched?” He looks over at you, and while he looks like he might say something, he stays silent. After another failed attempt to talk with him, you agree in your head that if he doesn’t want to talk, you won’t make him.

“Well, it was nice to see you even if we didn’t talk. I suppose I’ll leave you to it. Hope you have a good day, Zoro; see you soon.” Waving goodbye, you leave the room, closing the door, and to your happiness, there wasn’t the sound of an upending ambush rushing towards you. 

Locking the door, you make your way to the next patient. You didn’t have to walk far as 103 was just next door. Pulling your walkie-talkie out, you send a message to the staff. “Dr. (L/N) here, are there any restrictions or rules on 103 that I should know about that have been implemented since this morning?” There was a silence on the other line before you heard Nurse Mallory’s voice on the other side.

“Nope! Same as always! Just the security guard.”

You were taken aback, not knowing about the need for protection. “I was unaware of this? It said nothing about it in the reports or his files?”

“It must not be up to date then. He’s been needing one since July.” July? It’s October now? How could they not have updated his file in that long? He’s needed a security guard for 4 months, and no one has thought to write it down.

Maybe you're being too harsh. Maybe there was a miscommunication, and they thought someone else had written it down when no one had. Things happen, and it's not like you haven’t had a problem with miscommunication before.

“Alright. Please have a security guard sent to 103 on Pine Wing. Thank you.” Turning off the radio, you await the guard to escort you to 103 as you put your walkie-talkie back into your back pocket. Looking down at your clipboard, you reread Luffy’s notes and glance at Zoro’s empty sheet, feeling a sense of failure at the lack of progress. But you should have expected it. You’ve only started today, your a stranger. He has no reason to trust you. And perhaps the rest will be the same way. Quiet and untrusting. But you were going to work your hardest to help them and be the safe space they could rely on.

~~~

Finally, after what feels like eons, you see a security guard approaching you. “Ah, thank you for coming. Is there anything you can tell me about 103? I'm getting the feeling I'm missing some crucial information, seeing as I didn’t know he even needed a guard.”

The man shifted his cap as he looked at you. “Keep your distance. He’s a freak. I’ve seen him stay right next to some doctors and look like he wants to eat them.” The sense of unease digs into your skin as goosebumps adorn your arms. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you grab the door knob and open the door. What your met with was something that made you scream.

There, sitting on his bed, was Sanji. His maroon scrubs were drenched, and his arm missing a chunk of flesh. It didn’t take long to put two and two together when you saw how his mouth and teeth were stained and crimson red.

“Quick! Stop him!” You cry out, hoping the security guard will safely restrain him from hurting himself more. It was barely even a second before you were on your walkie-talkie.

“I need medical assistance right away! 103 is bleeding severely and needs to see a doctor immediately!”

“God damnit, I told them not to leave him unsupervised!” Dr. Cross’s voice comes over the radio. The frustration evident in her voice. “Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself more!”

You felt frozen. While in school, you were warned of patients with tendencies like this, but you never thought you’d see it so early. And so much blood. The urge to vomit has you leaving the room before you bend over and lose your lunch on the linoleum floor. A bleeding finger or a bloody nose was nothing compared to the horror that was Sanji’s arms. The mangled flesh was burned into your mind.

Hurried footsteps rush to you, and see both Dr. Philip and Dr. Cross approaching with a nurse behind them. A kit with a red cross on the white box.

“Dr. (L/N), are you okay? Do you need to sit down?” The nurse comes up and pats your back while rubbing it.

“I wasn’t…so much blood.” The nurse sighed.

“I’m sorry you weren’t told about that. I thought they would’ve told you about his…habits.” You look up at her with wide eyes.

“He bit off a piece of his own flesh! Why wasn’t that in his report?! Why wasn’t I told this was a common occurrence?!” Standing up straight, you demand answers. There was no excuse for this lack of awareness. Lack of documentation.

The nurse looks down in guilt, fiddling with the helm of her scrubs. “We’ve just been really busy, Dr. (L/N). There’s not a lot of nurses compared to patients, so there's never really time to chart.”

“This has been a problem since when? The fact he’s needed a security guard since July and it hasn’t been noted is unacceptable. And biting himself unnoted as well is exactly the same. Who’s in charge of this wing of nurses? I know each wing has its own crew of nurses.” Crossing your arms, you look at the nurse, who still refuses to meet your gaze.

“It’s Nurse Mallory, Emily, Louis, and Brady, ma’am.” Squinting your eyes, you make a mental note to talk to them. To them and Dr. Cross, hoping there could be something done. 

“Alright, and what’s your name?” You ask in a stern voice.

“I’m a CNA; I’ve only been here since August. I’m on Maple Wing. I’m Indigo.” Sighing, you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“They pulled you from Maple Wing to Pine Wing? Where are the nurses actually assigned to this area?”

“I don’t know.”

The air was tense with your frustration and the CNA’s nervousness. Only one day in, and you already want to scream into a pillow. “What do you know about 103. Leave nothing out. Cause obviously the files are unreliable.” Look forward to Dr. Philip, you speak. “I’ll be taking Miss Indigo to my office to help me update files.”

“Are you sure? We may need her help with 103.”

“Call his nurse. They should be on station 3. I need Indigo to tell me undocumented things that haven’t been filed.” Turning around, you motion for the CNA to follow you. She quickly scurries to your side before walking next to you. Keeping her head down and quiet.

Upon entering your office, you tell her to grab a chair and sit next to you. Closing the door, you sit in your chair and unlock your computer.

“Alright, start talking, Indigo, and start off with what the hell happened in 103.”

Squirming in her seat, she answers. “I’m sure you know why he’s here. But in the deeper files, it says the entire case.”

“Deeper files? What are the deeper files?” It’s then you remember how Dr. Cross mentioned that you don’t have full access due to your only being one day in. Could those be the said ‘deeper files’? Well, you couldn’t wait till tomorrow. Hopefully, it’ll help you as you are only halfway through your patient list, and two of them didn’t even talk.

“Well, in 103’s chart, it says the full story.” Taking a deep breath, she continues.

“As you know, he was sent here after the court deemed him unfit to stand trial. Especially considering his disposal of the bodies.”

“Disposal?”

“He…ate them. Everyone except his sister. He had fed them to her without her knowing.” Your eyes widen as you struggle to comprehend it all. “His father and his three brothers.”

“What about his mother?”

“She was already deceased by this time. She had gotten sick and passed. It’s where many believe the spiral started.” It wouldn’t surprise you if what she was telling you was the truth. Such a traumatic event could cause damage and proceed to worsen over time if not properly cared for.

“I see what else? Can it explain why he took a bite from his arm?”

“Well, he wanted to be a cook, and so as a way to dispose of the bodies and increase his skill, he made them into dishes. Anything you can think of, he probably did. It was gruesome. His words about it all stick with the people who he talked to when he recounted how it went down.”

“And after?”

“He said there was nothing like the taste. How unforgettable it was. That he’d do anything to get another bite of it.”

Your stomach churned at the revelation. It was one thing to massacre your entire family, but a whole different type of monstrous to cannibalize them and feed them to his sister.

The horror and trauma she must be going through, you couldn’t even imagine. Knowing all her family is gone and, it was the cause of her brother. 

“He said it’s what they deserved for what they did to him. For how they treated him?”

“So he…ate them?” The CNA nodded, letting out a shaky breath.

“Yes. He’s also shown much favoritism to the…female staff.”

“Ah, I see. Well, if that's the case, I want male nurse staff only for his care. And since there is no male therapist and Dr. Philip is a medical staff member, I’ll be the one to talk to him as Dr. Cross has assigned me to him.” The sound of typing echoes in your office as you write notes and another incident report. Needing to document everything.

Name: Vinsmoke Sanji

Age: 21

Height: 5’11

Location: Floor 1, Room 103, Pine Wing

Incident Detail: At 12:05 pm, I was entering room 103 to get started on his first session. Upon opening the door, I was met with a gruesome sight. There was a huge chunk of his arm missing after he had bitten into his own flesh. His scrubs were drenched in, and his arm was covered in red. I managed to call Dr. Philip, Dr. Cross, and CNA Indigo to the scene. The security guard helped stop Sanji from continuing self-injury. Dr. Philip and Dr. Cross have begun to clean his wounds.

“Alright, that's done.” Sighing, you rub your eyes. There's gonna be some changes around here. Cause this kind of negligence can not go unchecked. Especially not with the field of work you're in right now. Everything needs to be specifically documented. You turn to Indigo.

“What else do you know?”

“Nothing else, ma’am, I swear! I’m never usually over here, and I’ve only heard bits and pieces of the people on Pine Wing. Nothing that isn’t on basic files!” Narrowing your eyes at her, you try to decipher if she’s lying or not.

“Fine. Who would be the best to ask about this?”

“Nurse Mallory? She’s been here longer than I’ve been alive. I have no doubt she can tell you everything about every patient.”

“Okay.” You groan before waving a dismissive hand. “You can go back to Maple Wing. Thank you for the info, Indigo.” Not needing another second, she rushes out, the pressure and nerves fueling her run back to her original station.

“Dr. (L/N)? Have you finished with Miss Indigo? Rooms 104, 105, and 106 have yet to be seen.” The walkie-talkie buzzed. Dr. Cross’s voice is on the other line. Picking up the radio, you bring it to your face.

“That I am. Do I NEED to bring any security guard to them as well?” You can feel your nails digging into your palms as you grit your teeth. It wasn’t that you didn’t want one; you’d like to be safe, but the lack of noting and important documentation is what ticks you off. “As you did send that schedule to talk to each patient in order of rooms.”

“Ah yes, well, I suppose I worded it wrong. I meant most difficult to deal with. SO my apologies for the misinterpretation. But the only one I suggest bringing a guard to is 105, as he has a history of aggression.”

“Alright. Thank you, goodbye.”

Breathing heavily, you adjust your shirt and pants, holding your clipboard to your chest. Rolling your shoulders, you knock on 104’s door.

“Hello? Law? I’ve come to introduce myself.” You say, slowly entering the room. A chill runs over you as you look around the room. You see him sitting in the middle of the room, facing you head-on. “My names Dr. (L/N); I’ll be your new psychatrist. It’s a pleasure to meet you finally.”

Smiling, you enter the room, closing the door behind you before sitting down on the ground about nine feet away from him. While you knew you should bring him back to your room like protocol calls, it just didn’t seem like a good space to start introductions. You wanted them to be comfortable and calm, not so on edge.

“So I hear your favorite food is Onigiri, right? I haven’t tried it yet, but I'm curious as to what it tastes like?” Trying to get the conversation going, you start by including something he likes. Hoping to get him comfortable enough to talk to you.

If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be surprised. Not when you heard his reason and backstory for being here. If you were in his shoes, you’d probably be untrusting too. Then again, you don’t think you’d do unethical experiments on your patients or make your lover forcefully sick on purpose. There would be a lot of things you’d do differently. But you're not him, and that's why you're here. To help understand and get him through the problems and trauma he’s carried for so long.

The silence is deafening. His golden eyes started right into your soul. Studying you, judging you. “Well, I heard you’ve studied at Provon University. I also studied there. Only just graduated three weeks ago. So I say we have something in common?” Still nothing. His face is one of neutrality; he is just looking at you, uninterested and annoyed.

It stretched out for another minute longer, the silence crippling, and just as you were about to give up. “Does Professor Coop still work at Provon?”

His words were a shock to you. You didn’t think you were gonna hear anything from him, but you were pleasantly grateful for being wrong. Even if it was a question about a professor at the college you both went to.

“The last time I checked, yep. I even had a class with him. First Aid and CPR, right? He always gave little heart-healthy suckers.” Law nodded, and you swore if you looked a little harder, you saw his mouth twitch to a small smile.

‘Progress! This is great!’ You were thrilled by the small amount of success. It was difficult not to get all giddy and overly happy as you didn’t want to overwhelm him or go back into his shell. So, all you did was make a mental note for now.

“Do you have any other professors that you enjoyed?” You ask, hoping to strike up another conversation. “I liked Professor Harp and her public speaking classes. It really helped me to speak better in public offices and such.” Law gave you another nod, and it only makes you more confident in growing an appropriate relationship with Law as his psychiatrist. 

“Do you have classes or things you minored in? I minored in art and took a lot of art classes.” Smiling, you await him to respond. Yet as time goes by, the silence gets loud, and it feels as if you had perhaps said something wrong. Did you say something that caused him to go back into his shell? Maybe changing the subject would help?

“Have you watched those hospital dramas? I heard that it's nothing like working at a hospital. Then again, it's for entertainment, I suppose.” Another unanswered question passes through the room as Law ignores you.

“Well, Law, I say we stop here for today, huh? Lunch starts soon, and I don’t want you to miss your favorite food. I can walk you there if you’d like?” Nothing. All You got in response was a never-ending stare into your soul.

“Alright…guess I’ll see you later, okay?” Sitting up from the floor, you make your way to the door, open it, and slip out. “Have a good rest of your day, Law, and if you need anything, just ask me, okay?” Smiling, you close the door after waving goodbye.

Once the click sounds, you let out a sigh. You didn’t know whether you made progress or anything. It was stressful not knowing them and worrying you were doing something wrong. You just graduated college, and this was your first job as a psychiatrist. You knew what you were getting into when you went into this field, so it shouldn’t have surprised you. Then again, the world is full of surprises, and this job has easily shown how much it can give you. 

“LUNCH IS READY! PLEASE ESCORT PATIENTS TO THE DINING ROOM! LUNCH IS READY! PLEASE ESCORT PATIENTS TO THE DINING ROOM!”

The ringing of the bland voices echoes among the hallways of the Pine Wing, letting everyone know it was time to eat. Footsteps of nurses come down your direction, with some holding trays and others there to escort the safe patients to the dining room.

“AH! Dr. (L/N). How has it been since she last talked?” The sickly sweet of nurse Mallory drawing your attention. Turning, you see her walking towards you with that same bright smile as the one from earlier.

“It's been…interesting. Many unique personalities here.” It was the best way to describe your experience so far. From Luffy’s talkative nature to the distressing scene of Sanji’s self-mutilation. Knowing you still had two more rooms to finish filled you with a heavy pressure you tried to ignore. You chose this career, you chose this place, and hell, you were only one day in! It just happens to be a slightly hectic first day. Besides, you knew this place was where the more difficult cases were. Everybody in the city of Sabaody knows that. And you made a promise to help those in need. The ones the public left behind, and god damnit, were you gonna stick to it!

“But I’m glad I’m meeting everyone. I have 105 and 106 still left. Have any tips I should look out for?”

“Nothing you haven’t already learned yet, sweetie. Oh! Don’t forget the remote when you go into 105! He’s got a nasty temper and is extremely violent when not restrained. It’s either that or a security guard.”

Ah. You remember your orientation, and you couldn’t help but feel the crippling unease that runs up your spine. The sound of his pained screams and the neutral face of Dr. Cross as she pressed the button burned into your memory. No way in hell would you do something like that. Not only has it been proven an insufficient method of treatment, but it’s also inhumane. 

The thought of causing any of your patient's pain even accidentally feels like bile rising in your throat. S,o you can’t imagine intentionally causing them pain. Why would you want to hurt someone you're supposed to care for? It didn’t make any sense to you. It’d go against everything you stood for as a psychiatrist. Your goal was to help, not hurt and you weren’t planning on causing harm to any of your patients as long as you were caring for them.

“I think I’ll stick to the security guards. They’ll wait outside while I speak to 105.” Facing Mallory again, you put on the nicest smile you could. Her willingness to hurt patients with a controlled shock didn’t sit right with her bubbly persona. 

“Are you sure? I’d hate for you to be hurt or defenseless!” taking a step towards you, she looks at you with a seemingly shocked expression at your lack of ‘protection.’

“I promise Nurse Mallory, there’s no need to worry about me.” You hold your free hand up in defense. “I’ll call some guards to stand outside his room, and I’m sure everything will be alright.” Trying to assure her, you smile nervously. 

“If you say so. Did you want to talk to him while he eats or afterward?”

“Perhaps I’ll give him the food to him and leave before going back.” Nodding, she tells you where to find his food in the cafeteria. Wasting no time, you move to the location she told you to.

~~~

Upon finding what you're sure is his food, you grab the plate and his drink, keeping your clipboard under your arm. You pass by nurses, patients, and kitchen staff as you walk back to 105. The feeling of your heart beating against your ribs has your nerves running hot. You remember how angry he was yesterday, and while you were on edge, you wouldn’t give in to the fear.

KNOCK KNOCK

“Hello? Kidd? I’ve come to bring you lunch. I heard it’s your favorite, cabbage rolls?” Pushing open the door, you're greeted with an even more shocking sight.

There he was, sat in the middle of the room, glaring at you. His amber orbs staring into your soul. His one arm was hooked to a chain that was plated to the wall of his room. The fiery red hair draped down his scarred face. But what got you the most was, no doubt, the expensive black bulky thing around his neck. It didn’t take you long to figure out it was the despicable shock collar that you saw and heard Nurse Mallory talk about.

Putting down his food slowly, your eyes can’t help but focus on the collar. It’s a simple existence infuriating you to your core. You needed to get that off. The collar was horrible enough, so seeing it paired with the chains that kept him restrained only made your blood boil hotter. While you originally wanted to wait till after he ate to fully introduce yourself, you don’t think you could go on for another minute now seeing and knowing about the collar being truly real.

You crouch to his level, trying to seem as unthreatening as possible. The thought of calling security lost on you as the last thing you needed was outside influence.

“Hello Kidd, I’m Dr. (L/N). I’ll be your new psychiatrist, so we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other now, I hope.” Looking down, your gaze meets the raw skin of his neck where the collar is tightly wrapped his neck. 

“Get the fuck out. I don’t need a damn doctor or psychiatrist! I need to be let out of this shit hole!” Jumping a bit, you almost fell over when he spoke so suddenly and aggressively. 

“Woah, hey, okay. I understand you're upset, but can you hear me out real quick? How about you take a bite of your food? If you eat real quick, then we can talk about all that mumbo jumbo?” Lifting your hands up to show no malicious intent, you continue. “Is it okay if I ask you something? Or rather, can I check something?”

“No! Piss off, you stupid bitch! Don’t fucking touch me!” He yells, his chains rattling as he reaches out to grab you, only for the chains to stop him as you aren’t within his reach. Angry, he grabs his drink and throws it at you.

Thankfully, you managed to duck in time for it to crash against the door. The water cup slammed against the metal door and discarding its contents. 

‘Jesus! Glad it was just water in a paper cup.’ Turning your gaze back to Kidd, you see him grab another handful of food to throw at you.

“Woah! Hey, let’s not do that! I’ll leave, I’ll leave, okay? Just eat your food, okay? I don’t want you to waste it and have to go hungry.” Taking steps back, you kept eye contact with Kidd. His blazing glare against your hesitant one. The lack of progress was upsetting you. You desperately wanted to go up to him and take off that collar around his neck, but you didn’t want to upset him more. So, with a sigh and a heavy heart, you grab the discarded water cup.

“I’ll have someone else bring you water. Until next time, Kidd.” Opening the door, you leave the hostile man’s room. Grabbing your walkie-talkie, you turn it on.

“Hello? This is Dr. (L/N). 105 needs a new water cup. I accidentally dropped it on my way to give him his food.”

“I’ll be right there! Worry not Dr. (L/N)!” Nurse Mallory’s voice comes through the radio.

“Thank you.” Ending the conversation, you put it back in your pocket and wait for her to arrive. Stress and worry are biting you as you can only imagine the last patient of the day would bring. 

‘That last interaction was my fault. I let my emotions get the best of me, and I pushed too much for a man who’d never met me. I should have known I wouldn’t have gotten the collar off today by myself. And I highly doubt the security guards will help me take it off if they’ve been okay with him having it on.’ Rubbing your face, you sigh and take a deep breath to calm you down. ‘Okay. Get your shit together (Y/N). I can’t be letting myself get swayed by emotions when dealing with already emotionally unstable patients. Step by step, no matter how little.’

[httpvomitello]

hii, would you write a Fred Weasley one were they have been friends for a really long time but are too afraid to confess and when someone else flirts with her Fred gets a bit jealous so he decides that it is time to confess?

Hello, hello! Hope you like it ~ ♡

My First Love *⁠.⁠✧

fred weasley x f!reader

Summary: You and Fred Weasley have been best friends for years, but the unspoken feelings between you both have always been left unsaid. When someone else shows interest in you, Fred realizes he can’t hide his feelings anymore.

You sat on the worn-out couch near the fireplace, your Transfiguration textbook on your lap, but your attention far from the words on the page. Fred Weasley was sprawled on the armchair beside you, tossing a small ball into the air and catching it lazily. It was a scene that had played out countless times over the years, the two of you sharing an easy comfort that only years of friendship could bring.

But lately, something had shifted. At least for you.

You had been best friends with Fred since your first year, and over time, the playful banter and late-night conversations had started to mean something more. You’d catch yourself staring at him a little too long, your heart fluttering whenever he grinned in your direction. But the thought of risking your friendship terrified you, so you kept your feelings to yourself.

Fred wasn’t much better. He’d always been protective of you, but lately, he’d noticed how his stomach twisted when someone else made you laugh, or how he’d find excuses to be near you even when he didn’t have to be. He told himself it was just friendship, but deep down, he knew better. He was head over heels for you.

The weekend came, and with it, a lively atmosphere in the quidditch area. You were sitting on the floor, laughing at something Jordan had said. Fred had been watching from afar, his lips quirking into a smile at the sound of your laughter. But his smile quickly faded when he noticed a Hufflepuff boy—Jason, he thought his name was—walk over and sit beside you.

Jason leaned in close, clearly trying to flirt, and Fred felt his chest tighten. He wasn’t sure what Jason was saying, but whatever it was, it made you laugh. Fred’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening around the broom he was holding.

“Looks like someone’s jealous,” George said, nudging Fred with a smirk.

Fred scowled. “I’m not jealous,” he muttered, but his eyes never left you and Jason.

“Sure you’re not,” George teased. “You might want to do something about it before someone else does, mate.”

Fred didn’t respond, but George’s words stuck in his head.

Later that evening, the common room had emptied out, leaving only a few stragglers. You were still sitting on the couch, flipping through a book, when Fred plopped down beside you.

“Hey,” he said casually, but you could hear the edge in his voice.

“Hey, Fred,” you replied, glancing up at him with a smile.

He hesitated, his fingers drumming against his knee. “So… you and Jason seemed pretty friendly earlier.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the comment. “We were just talking. Why?”

Fred shrugged, but you could see the tension in his shoulders. “Just curious,” he said, though his tone suggested otherwise.

You tilted your head, studying him. “Fred, is something bothering you?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t planned on doing this tonight, but the thought of someone else stealing your attention—stealing you—was too much.

“Look,” he began, his voice lower now, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while. I just… I’ve been a bit of a coward about it.”

You frowned, setting your book aside. “Fred, what’s going on?”

He turned to face you fully, his brown eyes locking onto yours. “I like you, Y/N,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Not just as a friend. I mean, I like you more than that. I’ve liked you for ages, but I didn’t want to ruin what we have. And then tonight, seeing Jason talk to you, it just… I couldn’t take it.”

Your heart stopped, his words sinking in slowly. “Fred…”

“I get it if you don’t feel the same way,” he continued quickly, his voice tinged with nervousness. “I just needed you to know because I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

You stared at him for a moment, your mind racing. Then, without thinking, you reached out and took his hand. “Fred,” you said softly, “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

His eyes widened. “You have?”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “I’ve liked you for ages too, but I was scared to say anything. I didn’t want to lose you.”

A grin spread across his face, the tension in his shoulders melting away. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” he said, his voice lighter now.

You laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “So… what now?”

Fred’s grin turned mischievous. “Now, I think I owe you a proper date. How about Hogsmeade next weekend?”

You smiled, your heart swelling with happiness. “I’d like that.”

[poetlus]

PROMISE — ex!kenma x reader

SYNOPSIS: you and kenma don’t know how to be exes, but you also don’t know how to be together. so, you made a promise to yourself: this is going to be your last time.

WORDCOUNT: 1.4k

A/N: hrrnnng not proofread but ive been through all this.. so source: trust me. probably ooc kenma

You and Kenma had been on and off for.. a while. The two of you didn’t know how to be exes. You didn’t know how to move on. There was so much history, so much chemistry. How could you be as comfortable with anyone else as you were with each other? How could you love someone else as much as you loved him?

Despite breaking up over and over again, the two of you didn’t love each other any less; However, you were starting to get tired of this cycle. You didn’t want to feel like you had the world in your hands one day, and nothing the next. It was exhausting being with Kenma, but it was even more so being without him.

So, you made a promise to yourself. No matter how much you missed him, how much everything reminded you of him, how many times you thought about texting him, you wouldn’t. You weren’t going to go back, this was the last time.

The last time.

“Kenma, I can’t keep doing this. It’s so hard to keep this cycle up. It’s hard for the both of us.. You know it.” The boy was quiet, much like he always was when you were arguing. Quiet and passive. You hated that about him, how he would always let you do the talking. You wanted him to fight for you, dammit. Tell you that you were in the wrong. Keep you. You wanted him to keep you.

“If that’s what you want, okay.” He said, nodding. There was no expression in his face– he was never one to show his emotions. Your lip began to tremble and your eyes welled up. Dammit. There you go again.

“This– yeah. This is what I want. This is what we need.” He nodded once more. You turned around and began walking away. You were hoping for him to shout your name, grab your arm, anything to indicate that he wanted you to stay. But he didn’t.

The next few days were spent in your bed. You didn’t want to go anywhere, do anything, in case you saw him. Seeing him was the worst thing that could happen right now. His recognizable two-toned hair, hearing his soft voice, seeing his gorgeous eyes– the ones you fell for when you first saw him.

Those gorgeous, calm, golden fucking eyes.

You wanted to resent him. You wanted to be angry with him and you wanted to loathe him, but you just couldn’t. That boy, no matter what he did, was an angel. He was your best friend, your anchor. Someone you could go to no matter what, and now that’s gone. Now you had nobody.

Sixteen days.

It had been sixteen days since you and Kenma broke up, and the wound was still fresh. You were still heartbroken. You had been out in public and had seen him, and every time, your heart was torn even further. You kept him unblocked on everything, as did he. You were still easily accessible, and yet he did nothing.

You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone when you looked at the clock. 1:14AM. You should definitely go to sleep soon. You were just about to set your phone down when you got a text from an unsaved number.

You decided to answer it, you had nothing better to do anyway.

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx:

Hey

You:

Who is this?

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx:

Lol, deleted my number?

I didn’t think you were serious.

Ig I was wrong

You:

???

Who is this??

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx:

It’s kenma, sorry

I didn’t think you’d answer

Fuck. What were you going to do? You promised yourself that you wouldn’t get back together with Kenma, but you missed him so fucking bad. You were always the first to break no contact, but it was him this time. Maybe something was wrong? You should at least check if he was okay.

You:

Oh

Hi

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx:

Sorry

I thought you wouldve had my number saved

You:

No, I really was serious this time lol

But r u ok?

Yeah, use short messages– to convince him you were being genuine about ending the cycle.

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx:

Ya

R u?

You:

Yup

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx:

That’s good.

You:

Y did u text me?

Kenma:

Wanted to check up on you

And it’s cold outside

You:

?

Why does the temperature matter lol

Kenma:

Ok this is gonna sound completely crazy

But

Im outside

Like of ur house

And I was hoping you could talk to me in person?

But its ok if u dont

But I just wanna lyk im sorry

For everything

Is he being serious? He’s outside?? You peeked out of your bedroom window and there he was, a dark figure sitting on the curb across the street from your house. Were you going to go out there? Maybe just for a second. Maybe just to hear him out.

You:

I’ll be out

Moments later, you walked out of your front door in your pajamas and a hoodie. Feeling the cool breeze flow through your clothes made you shiver.

“Kenma?” You spoke, your voice slicing through the cold night like a sharp blade. He looked up from his phone and sat up, walking towards you.

“Y/n,” He said, almost sounding relieved. He walked up to you and you shied away from him, avoiding being too close. Kenma took a step back in turn.

“So, um, like in my text… I wanted to say that I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Kenma, you have nothing to be sorry about. I–”

“No, I do. I wish I had treated you better. I wish I had made an attempt to keep you with me, I wish I did everything differently. I wish I made you want to stay.”

In all honesty, you were shocked with how much Kenma just confessed. You never knew how much he was holding back, or even how much he cared. You knew he cared, but not this much. You never knew such a blank expression was carrying so much emotion.

“I– Kenma.. You were perfect. You’re an angel.” He furrowed his brow and shook his head, a street lamp illuminating his almost frustrated face.

“If I’m so perfect, why do we break up so much? What am I doing wrong?” Kenma reached for your hand and you hesitantly pulled away, pulling him out of his emotional mind. His facial expression softened and he looked sorrowful. “I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to yell at you.. I should go.”

When he took a step away from you, you muttered a small, “wait” Just barely loud enough for him to hear. He turned around silently.

“I want to talk about what we did wrong. And… how we can fix this. Us. Because I hate being without you, and I love you with my whole heart, I really do. I see you in everything, Kenma. I look for you in every stranger I meet and I think about you in everything I do.” Before you could stop yourself, the words were flowing out like a spilled glass of water– and your tears were spilling, too. You wiped your face with your sleeve and as you’re about to continue on, the warmth of Kenma’s body heat engulfs you.

“Oh, honey.” He says as he pulls you closer to him, letting you sob into his jacket. He begins to tear up, too, thinking of something to say. “Why are we doing this to ourselves?” The boy pet your hair and kissed your head until you got quieter, and eventually pulled away from him

You wiped your face once again and looked at him, the moonlight reflecting off of a single tear on his cheek. You cupped his face in your hands and wiped his tear away with a thumb. Instinctively, he leaned into your touch, letting more tears fall. Despite being with Kenma for so long, you had never once seen him cry, nor show this much emotion in general. You felt more connected to him than ever.

“How are we going to fix us, Y/n?” Kenma sniffled.

“Oh, Kenma, I have no idea.” You chuckled as you looked into his eyes. Those gorgeous, calm, golden eyes.

“I promise, I’ll try my best to fix us.” Kenma took your cheek in his left hand. He held his right hand out with his pinky up. You smiled and intertwined your own pinky with his.

“Me too, Kenma. I promise, this is our last time breaking up. We won’t ever again after this.”The two of you sealed the deal with a kiss and another hug, smiling warmly at each other.

“So…” You trailed off. Kenma looked curiously at you. “why were you outside of my house at 1AM? Were you—”

“No.. I was just taking a walk and ended up here— it’s not like that, I promise I wasn’t being a creepy ex.”

“Okay, whatever you say.” You looked at him suspiciously and then broke out into laughter, filling the silence of the night with your love for Kenma.

[chaoticbooklesbian]

It's totally normal to be convinced that asking your friends for help will make them hate you, right? That's a totally normal thing to be convinced of? It's completely normal to spend an hour doing the emotional calculus of whether or not you've been Perfect for long enough to ask the group chat if anyone's around to talk because you're kind of having a weird ass week mental health wise and could really use someone to talk to, only for someone else to message something unrelated in said group chat and make it so you can't ask until it's been long enough after the end of that conversation that it wouldn't be weird? That's all normal, right?

[moe-broey]

Winter concpets.....

(these first ones are At Least a year old 😭😭😭)

First up, a Winter Sharena concept!

And a little comic about it

The last panel would have been Sharena begging to "steal Alfonse's body warmth" while Alfonse subtly/sarcastically teases her about it, Moe trailing behind them (I lost steam/focus though 🥲)

This was The Year Of Bruno as well, and I was testing out/playing with the scenario presented (From the Tempest Trials and from what Winter Bruno says, it seems Alfonse and Sharena spent the holiday together while the Summoner was spending it with Bruno the Envoy)

(funny aspect of this is I don't even really enjoy "why does so and so call you babygirl" jokes anymore LMFAOOO like. Nothing wrong w em and was a decent set up here, but Moe would Not Fucking Say That skskksk) (also you can Tell this is Early On in Moe's development bc its fangs aren't even piercings 😔)

This year I Did revisit Winter Concepts, espp wanting to redo my Idea of a winter Moe who's helping out Bruno with Envoy Duty

All it needed was to become more of a furry and some loose BDSM gear inspo 👍 I was also thinking about a few different things! Like how Bruno's fit is literally just his regular outfit with some Santa suit on top LMFAO. But I was also thinking about how Moe is probably not meant to be recognized here? If it is hanging out with Bruno? Who is actively avoiding being seen by Alfonse and Sharena? So Moe keeps the shoes/tights, but little else!

Final version would have most closely resembled this one!

And another little comic

Once again I'm parsing how okay well how are they interacting with each other. What's the vibe here?

I wanted to draw a bigger piece of them hanging out, maybe spending the night together by the fire with hot cocoa after a hard day's work (again thinking about how it's implied the summoner spent the holiday separately from Alfonse/Sharena). I may revisit the concept again, I feel like there's a lot of potential story-focused comic wise here.... and a lot of set up for some funny conflict later.

[widevibratobitch]

.

[chuluoyi]

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

- sylus x reader

you and your lover are hailed and feared, but who would have guessed that behind closed doors, both of you are just that — lovers?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, making out, fluff, comfort, period cramps, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), loosely based on sylus' secret times: midnight warmth & exclusive care!

note: very self-indulgent bye pls don't look at me :') this fic is a companion to assassin!reader series (strictly (un)professional and jealousy incarnate)

“Who’s ther— lord! Missus! What happened to you!?”

On a rainy night, you staggered into the base, drenched and covered with dirt. Your steps were unsteady as you made your way through the front door, and the first person to see you, Luke, was so shocked by the sight that he rushed to your side.

“Kieran! Call Boss!” he shouted to his twin, who immediately sprinted off to find him, steadying you. “Are you injured?”

“No,” you hissed, wincing as you clutched your abdomen. “Let go, I’m fine—” But before you could finish, you missed a step and—

—fell into Luke's arms.

In that very instant, Luke genuinely feared for his life. He squeaked and stammered, incoherent sounds escaping him, because oh lord— if Boss sees me ever touching his woman—

“What are you doing?”

And there came his nightmare. Sylus’ deep voice cut through like a blade, marking the arrival of doomsday itself.

“B-Boss! It isn’t what it looks like!” Luke quivered, desperately trying to explain himself.

However, Sylus paid him no mind and exhaled sharply, immediately moving over to pull you out of Luke’s grasp. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted, pulling away from him while staggering. “I’m not wounded or anything. Just... I just need a bath, please.”

Sylus eyed you from top to bottom. You had just been out for a reconnaissance, and yet you looked as though you had been through a tornado and back. Disheveled, your dress was smeared with mud and dirt, and even grime clung to your hair.

“Did you fall into a sewer or something?” he questioned, and he knew he had hit a nerve when you shot him a glare.

But you spared him no answer, walking away with labored breaths and a hand pressed against your lower belly. It was clear you were in pain, and the sight tugged at him as he followed you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern growing. “What hurts?”

“You don’t have to fuss over me—” your breath hitched, feeling exhausted, and ashamed all at once. “Just my period, nothing much,” you murmured in a quieter voice so the twins wouldn’t hear.

As you reached the stairs to the second floor, you felt like collapsing. Did you really have to climb these stairs, too?

As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a sigh, but you nearly squealed when he lifted you into his arms.

“You’ll get dirty!” you rebuked, even as he took large strides up the stairs. “Sylus!”

“Just hold onto me.” He shot you a pointed look. “You can’t even walk without gasping for air, and you still want to climb the stairs? You’ll end up rolling and breaking your back.”

Despite your protests, your lover immediately brought you to his bathroom and sat you down on the sink. He turned the hot water on and then faced you.

“So? What did you get yourself into?” he asked, his red eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You were fine, and you didn’t face anyone.”

You pressed your eyes shut, leaning against the wall, resigned to explain. “Fell into mud. Totally idiotic, I know, but my cramps started right before, so…”

“I don’t recall you experiencing this before. What brought this on?”

You met his gaze indignantly, retorting, “Well, a certain someone banged me so hard last night, and I got my period right after.”

It was quite unexpected, but still answered his concern. So, to that, Sylus snorted and tousled your hair, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, sorry, I guess?”

You pursed your lips, aware of how unapologetic he was. He smirked and added, “Now that I’m dirty too... I suppose we’ll have to take a bath together.”

“Are you mad? Do you want to get covered in my blood?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not—”

“No,” you retorted firmly, clearly irked. “You take the bath after me, and that’s final.”

. . .

“Put your arm around my neck,” Sylus commanded when you both emerged from the bath and already dressed in silk bathrobes. You complied, and he swiftly lifted you into a princess carry, bringing you to the bed.

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at his action. He set you down gently, and the moment your back met the soft surface, you relished it and let out an involuntary moan. “Ahh...”

Your voice was soft and sultry, though tinged with a hint of pain. Sylus placed his hand gently on your face. “Your cheeks are warm,” he noted. “And you still look pale.”

"Mmm," you mumbled, suddenly the total fatigue catching up to you as you leaned into his touch. Seeing you so pliant like this seemed to flip a switch inside him, and he immediately settled next to you and placed his huge hand on your lower belly, pressing down on it.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“I’m giving you a massage,” he replied. “Stop squirming. I’m trying to pamper you here.”

“You don’t have to…”

“My woman is in enough pain that she doesn’t talk back to me. It’s feels off.”

“...actually, you suck. You’re too rough.”

Taking your whine into account, he adjusted his touch, softening his pressure. "How is it? Better?"

You didn’t immediately reply, indulging in the warm sensation, letting out a sigh as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Mm... Yeah, it feels good now. Don’t stop…”

There was something quietly erotic about watching you, usually so defiant, surrender to his touch like this. Sylus felt a deep, protective satisfaction as he continued his gentle ministrations—

But after a while...

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of the bath foam you had just shared. “Mmm…”

You were caught off-guard and shivered at his breath tickling your skin, eyes fluttering open. “Sylus…” you murmured, a mix of protest and surprise in your voice.

But he didn’t pull away, his lips lingering against your skin, his gaze fixed on your bare neck, whispering, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Then, when he suddenly nibbled on your neck, you jolted awake. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race.

But he didn't stop there, as Sylus trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, the only sounds filling the room were his quiet sighs and the soft noises of his lips as he continued to bite and pepper kisses on your skin, over and over.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“Hold me,” he gruffly whispered, and as if bewitched, you clung to his shoulders. He let out a husky chuckle. “Not too hard, or you won't be able to sleep later.”

“And whose fault would that be?” you quipped, entangling your legs with his, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I... sweetie?” he murmured amidst kisses, his tone laced with intrigue and his burgundy eyes flashing with a glint. “Just let me have my fill for a while.”

If you had a mirror, you’d see the hickeys forming on your neck, but instead of fighting him, you pulled him closer, letting out breathy moans freely and massaging his scalp as if urging him to go further.

“Naughty vixen—you are,” Sylus rasped deliciously in your ear, thick with desire and restraint as his grip on you tightened. “Tempting me, knowing full well I can’t do anything to you…”

A low giggle slipped from your lips. “Unfortunately… I learn from the best.”

Hard to get, snarky, taunting... You were the bane of his existence, and yet Sylus wouldn't have it another way. Your defiance and teasing only deepened his affection, making every challenge you presented feel like an irresistible part of what drew him to you.

He knew when his patience was on the verge of snapping, so to end it, he sucked hard on your shoulder one last time, making sure to leave another mark there. The squelching sound reverberated through both of you, before he pulled away and planted a firm kiss on your forehead, a gesture of both dominance and fondness for you.

“Now sleep,” he grounded out. “Your body has been through enough.”

“Mngh...” you whined, curling into him in contentment, your head nestled against his toned chest where you could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. “Really unfair...”

“You're going to feel better soon...” he sighed, one hand soothing your back and the other resting on your waist. “And as soon as you do...”

A wicked grin curved his lips.

“I'll pick up where I left off.”

[nottsangel]

blood moon — t.n. & m.r. part 1

pairing: dark!theodore nott x fem!reader x dark!mattheo riddle. (mattheo makes his appearance in pt2)

warnings: smut 18+, dubcon, breaking and entering, violence, blood, knives (cutting into skin), rough oral sex (m. receiving), mask kink, mentions of murder, swearing

word count: 4k

summary: purge night— a night you’ve feared all year despite coming from a rich and powerful family. but when six masked men show up at your door, are you really as safe as you thought?

the purge au… moodboard. nav. more.

“This is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System. Announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the Government. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorised for use during the purge; all other weapons are restricted. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and Emergency Medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m, when the purge concludes. Blessed be our new founding fathers—”

“Blah, blah, blah… we get it. Same shit every year.” Pansy sighed dramatically through the phone, her tone dripping with annoyance. You could tell she was rolling her eyes, and you didn’t need to see her to know she was slouched lazily somewhere. 

Not much later, the ominous, bone-chilling sirens blared violently through the entire city, blasting through the walls and echoing in the still-empty streets. The all so familiar sound never failed to give you goosebumps all over your stiffened body, instantly raising your heartbeat. You briefly closed your eyes, trying to steady your racing heart as you struggled to control your shaky breathing. 

“Hellooo? Are you still there or have you been murdered already?” Pansy joked with a taunting laugh. Your eyes snapped open, her static-filled voice dragging you back to reality, and her humorous tone nearly making you forget the reality of this cruel night. 

Because it wasn’t just any regular night— it was Purge Night. The one night you’d been dreading all year, every year, in which all crime becomes legal for twelve long hours. Logically, you were well aware that you had nothing to fear. Your parents were successful entrepreneurs with plenty of money to afford the most advanced security equipment, keeping you safe from any outside danger.

Yes, to protect you, and only you. Not them— they were out at a purge party, the details of which you didn’t even want to know, shamelessly networking with other high-profile elites while the poor were brutally murdered in the streets surrounding them. Everything about this night gave you a sickening feeling in your stomach. But of course, you knew it would be fine. All you had to do was survive— survive in your mansion, surrounded by unbreachable security. Nothing was going to happen. 

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.” you responded, your voice tinged with irritation as you hurried from your bedroom down the wooden stairs to the security room, figuring that if you could check the cameras around the house, it might calm you down a bit. You couldn’t shake the feeling of needing to tiptoe carefully down each step, as though someone might hear you— which was ridiculous, considering how large and heavily secured the house was. 

The eerily quiet house was broken by the first distant, chilling screams of pure terror from outside, making you grimace as you opened the creaky door to the small room, your eyes instantly squinting at the many bright screens that made your eyes burn. 

“It’s just… I hope this night will be over soon, that’s all.” you continued, one hand holding the phone close to your ear while your eyes fleetingly scanned over the security cameras, which were strategically placed to cover every corner outside the house. 

“Oh please, don’t be such a scaredy-cat! Every year it goes just fine, so this year will be no different. When has anything…” Pansy chattered in her usual attempt to comfort you, completely unaware that her words were only doing the opposite, when her voice slowly faded away into the background and your eyes narrowed at one of the top-right screens, which was focused on your front door. What the fuck?

With your heart nearly pounding out of your chest and your hand shakily gripping the phone, you inched closer to the screen, moving as slowly as possible, almost as if the slowness would somehow alter the nightmare playing out before you. A sudden coldness washed over you, your eyes rapidly blinking. No, no, no… this can’t be happening. 

On the pixelated, dark screen, you saw six masked men standing in front of your door, their heads tilted as they stared right at the cameras. You felt lightheaded, your left hand reaching up to lightly clasp your throat, the panic threatening to overwhelm you once you noticed the various weapons they were holding— baseball bats, knives, axes, and god knows what else.

“P—pansy… I, uh… there are people standing in front of my door…” you stammered shakily, still staring at the screen, your body frozen in place with your hand gripping the phone so tightly that your knuckles turned white and your breathing became ragged and uneven. 

“Oh, they’re probably just trying to scare you, babe. I mean, come on, they can’t even come in for fuck’s sake!” she let out a mocking laugh as the chaotic thoughts in your head raced a hundred miles an hour, leaving you paralysed with uncertainty. 

“Pansy, what the fu— you know what? Forget it.” you snapped, your trembling fingers tapping frantically at the screen before finally ending the call, frustrated at not being taken seriously by your best friend— though, to be fair, when had she ever? 

You hastily slipped your phone into your back pocket, already dreading the snarky text she was sure to send you for ending the call, before shifting your attention back to the screen. One of the men removed his mask, prompting you to move even closer with narrowed eyes, your forehead nearly touching the cold glass. 

“Good evening.” he called out in a stoic, chilling voice, his shiny black hair neatly styled, and his stance tall, commanding and unmistakably intimidating. 

“Sorry to bother you at this ungodly hour, but let me kindly introduce myself. My name is Tom, and these guys— they are my friends.” The scene you were intently staring at filled you with pure terror— this unknown man named Tom, surrounded by men in masks, each carrying weapons that could easily kill you, weapons that were already completely soaked in blood, the dark droplets dripping ominously onto your front porch. 

“This can go one of two ways; you simply let us in, and we will steal— sorry, I mean take whatever we desire, and then, we leave! Or…  we can do this the hard way. But I can assure you, you will not survive the latter.” His tone was almost amused as he finished speaking, and through the grainy pixels, you could see a controlled, sinister smile spreading across his pale face. 

“Do not think you are invincible. We can enter any home we want. And we will want, as wanting is our will on this fine purge night. Do not force us to hurt you.”

His menacing words sent tingles across your skin, all the muscles in your body tightening. And for a good ten minutes, they did nothing but stand there, staring straight into the camera, waiting—expecting—for you to open the door for them. 

It was a chilling sight. Almost as if you were staring at a photograph, the men stood completely still, their blood-covered hands tightly gripping their equally blood-soaked weapons, knowing your blood would be next to splatter across them, mixing with that of other poor, helpless victims. 

When they realised you weren’t going to open the door, Tom gave his men a quick signal, waving his finger in the air, which caused you to cock your head in both curiosity and unease.

“Alright then.” He said, the sinister smile on his face growing wider. But it was fine. You knew they couldn’t come inside anyway. Your house was so securely protected, there was no way they could come in and— Is that a fucking blowtorch? 

“Yes, we are prepared. And you— oh, you chose the wrong option.” Tom coldly stated as if he could read your mind, dragging the words in a chilling tone. Two of his men quickly got to work, the blowtorch slowly cutting through the thick metal doors, meanwhile, Tom continued to stare directly at the camera, his evil, dark smile never faltering, his soulless eyes not blinking once.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” This was when real panic set in, your eyes flickering with pure terror as you slowly backed away from the screens, gripping whatever furniture was nearby to steady yourself. You hurried out of the room, realising this was the time to hide.

Quickly but silently running up the stairs again, you heard the agonising sound of the blowtorch cutting through the metal, sending shivers all over your body and urging you to move faster. 

You burst into your room, breathless, slamming the door behind you and you panickedly scanned the small space, frantically searching for the best hiding spot. There weren’t many options, but the closet seemed like your only chance, so without hesitation, you flung the door open, stepped inside, and crouched down, wrapping your trembling arms tightly around your knees. 

“It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine, it’ll be fine.” You kept repeating to yourself in a quiet, trembling voice, desperately trying to gaslight yourself into believing it. But who the fuck are you kidding? They were inevitably coming in, and then… well, you didn’t even want to think about it.

You gasped loudly at the sudden sound of a loud bang, followed by distant voices and approaching footsteps downstairs. Nibbling on your bottom lip and one hand clutching your throat, you struggled to calm your ragged breathing, but hoping to make out the conversation happening downstairs— although you weren’t even sure if you wanted to hear it in the first place. 

“We are coming, aha! And we will find you, you little fucking bitch” an unfamiliar voice taunted from down the stairs followed by a menacing laugh, clearly relishing the undeniable fear they were instilling in you as the footsteps and faint chatter grew louder with every passing second.

“Mattheo, control yourself. Search for the girl downstairs, and Theo, you check upstairs. The rest of us will take whatever is valuable and leave for the next house.” You heared Tom instruct two of his men, his voice stern and cold, before adding, “Oh, and whatever you do, make it as painful as possible. I want her to suffer.” 

Goosebumps covered your entire body hearing the chilling words, and you could tell that these guys didn’t fuck around. Everything about them was incredibly organised and prepared. This wasn’t their first time purging. No, they knew exactly what they were doing.

Heavy, resolute footsteps then made their way up the stairs, each deep step resonating through the house, making the silence feel like it was closing it. Theo. There was no way out of this. The only thing you could do was pray that he wouldn’t find you. But deep down, you knew he would. 

“You can’t hide from me, piccola.” a deep, husky voice teased, his voice slightly muffled by the mask he wore. It surprised you to hear a foreign accent— Italian, you guessed. And fuck, you could punch yourself in the face right now for finding it… hot. 

The steps grew louder, tantalisingly slow, until his footsteps reached your room. Your hand flew to your mouth to keep yourself quiet, your brows furrowed as you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on steadying your breath. Your heart beat out of your chest, and you worried it was beating loud enough for him to hear. 

Then it was quiet. No sounds. You swallowed, your mouth feeling dry with tears brimming at your waterline, and you gasped when you suddenly heard his voice so close to you. Thank fucking god you still had your mouth covered. 

“You’re here, aren’t you?” He said in a dark, knowing manner, and the only thing you could do at this very moment was repeat ‘please don’t find me’ in your head while only hoping your death would be less painful than Tom had ordered it to be. “I know you are...” 

The closet door then abruptly swung open, causing you to let out a loud, surprised gasp. The tears you had so desperately tried to suppress now uncontrollably streamed down your cheeks as your head shot up. Soft ‘no’s slipped from your lips when he grabbed you by the arm and aggressively pulled you out of the closet, the words barely audible and you panickedly shook your head, feeling lightheaded due to pure fear. 

“Shut up, cazzo.” he muttered irritably as he threw you on your bed with exasperated aggression. And you immediately complied— not only because he asked you to, but because you didn’t want Matthew to hear you, knowing that Theo had found you, worried of what he might do to you. Matthew… Was his name even Matthew? 

He stood still before you, and for the first time, you took him in, scanning him from head to toe as his imposing, tall frame loomed over you, casting a shadow over where you sat on the bed.

A white mask fully covered his face, and in his right hand, he held a bloody, sharp knife, causing you to gulp in fear. Oh, he looked fucking terrifying— but there was something else, something other than fear deep inside of you. A feeling you desperately tried to suppress. A feeling you felt ashamed to feel. A feeling you could not bring yourself to admit. 

“Huh.” he commented, his head tilting slightly to the left. “Tom didn’t tell me you were such a pretty little thing.” he reached his hand out, his thumb brushing over your cheek, causing you to instinctively pull away, stiffening under his touch. 

“Così carina.” he chuckled mockingly, and your eyes were drawn to his hand that was expertly spinning the knife. His other hand then abruptly gripped your hair, making you gasp, and he slightly tilted your head to expose your neck. 

From your peripheral vision, you could see the bloody knife drawing closer to your neck, making you instantly shut your eyes with furrowed brows, knowing this was it. 

“Can’t wait to see these white sheets turn red.” Theo taunted, but you were shaking, crying and nervously biting down on your lip so hard that blood welled up, waiting for the moment you finally felt the sharp knife against your delicate skin.

And then you did. You felt the cold blade lightly dig into the skin of your neck, the sharp, stinging sensation causing you to tightly grip the sheets, followed by fresh, crimson droplets of blood slowly trickling down your skin— but then he stopped.

“Hm. You know what, bella?” Theo paused for a moment, crouching down to get on eye level with you. The closer he got to you, the faster your heart raced, your whole body heating up with a mix of fear and something else. The deep sense of guilt you felt for feeling… this way gnawed at you from the inside. 

“I might just have other plans for you.” Your head snapped toward him, and you hissed at the fresh cut stretching open, your hand instinctively reaching to the wound, carefully dabbing your fingers on the blood still trickling out.

“You wanna live?” He questioned, and you reluctantly nodded, still unable to shake off the feeling of unease, even as a slight sense of relief—or maybe hope— began to grow inside of you. 

“Then I advise you to get on your knees before I change my mind.” You blinked rapidly, unsure if you heard him correctly. Surely not. 

“I— what?” You stammered, breathing in so fast you nearly choked on air as your heart pounded out of your chest. 

“Oh, you heard me.” He rose to his feet, and your eyes intently followed his every movement. The way the moonlight seeped through the blinds illuminated him, and for the first time, you could clearly see his ocean-blue eyes gazing down at you with intense focus— the only feature of his face that was visible through the mask. 

He reached the knife out again, causing you to flinch, but this time he pressed it under your chin to lift your head, the pointy end digging into your soft skin.

“You don’t think I noticed?” he began, and you sat frozen, knowing that a single movement would press the knife deep into your skin. 

“You don’t think I noticed the way you looked at me with those pretty eyes?” You raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, unsure of what he was hinting at, and you absolutely hated this— the vagueness of his words. You hated having to guess what he meant. It made you anxious. 

“I have purged a lot of people, bella. And there is one thing aaall of them have in common— they all have this same, fearful look in their eyes.” he continued, and it made you wonder what he saw in yours. 

“But you… cazzo. With you, I see something else sparkling in those pupils.” The way the mask muffled his voice made you unconsciously lean in closer to hear him better, and he did the same, but for an entirely different reason, until you were merely inches apart. It was a strange observation to make in such a moment like this, but oddly enough, he smelt nice, very nice. A pleasant, musky cologne with the undertone of cigarettes filled your senses. 

“With you I see… lust, yearning, desperation.” he whispered into your ear, the knife digging deeper into your skin, yet still not deep enough to draw blood. Your eyes shot wide open before locking with his, and you felt caught. He hit the hammer right on the nail. 

“Go on, tell me I’m fuckin’ wrong.” but you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him he was wrong. Because he wasn’t. Your eyes darted nervously around the room, unable to meet those intense, piercing eyes as the ache between your legs only grew stronger. 

“Yeah… that’s what I thought. Bet your panties are soaked already, aren’t they?” you heard a muffled, condescending chuckle coming from under his mask as he slowly twisted the knife under your chin. You so desperately wanted to bite back, to defend yourself, to tell him that he was being ridiculous— but the words were stuck in your throat.

“So… back to where we were.” he growled as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down, suddenly remembering Matthew wandering around downstairs and being able to walk in at any time, causing him to rush. 

“C’mon sweetheart. I need to feel those pretty lips wrapped around me if you want to live, a’ight? If Mattheo finds us, it’s over for you.” Ohhhh, Mattheo… right, right.

You hesitantly walked over to him before getting on your knees right in front of him— right in front of his already hard erection trapped in his boxers, desperately wanting to escape as the tip formed a wet patch of precum on the fabric. 

“Well… you know I could just kick you in the balls right now and run away?” There it finally was— the words that had been stuck in your throat, and the boldness inside of you that had finally come free. It was that unexpectedly tender demeanour of his emerging in brief moments, causing you to see him in a humane light, which stilled your fears. 

He scoffed before aggressively gripping your hair and pulling your head back, causing you to hiss at the fresh wound on your neck stinging at the movement. He drew closer to you before suddenly holding the knife to your throat again, the softness you’d glimpsed earlier vanishing in an instant.

“Oh yeah? You don’t think I’m gonna find you and cut you open? Go for it. Give it a try. Let’s see how that ends.” he warned in a low, menacing tone, your brows furrowing as you clenched your teeth, staring right into his narrowed eyes. 

“Acting as if you aren’t practically begging to suck me off right now, tsk. Hurry the fuck up.” he ordered in a harsh tone, abruptly letting go of your hair and retracting the knife from your throat.

Realising you had no other choice but to follow his orders, you stared up at his masked face, before your gaze fell on his boxers. You could tell he was big just from the imprint through the thin fabric— oh, there was no doubt in that. Reluctantly, you drew your head closer to his crotch, teasingly using your teeth to pull the waistband of his boxers down before slowly sliding them off. 

“See, I knew you were a fucking slut.” he growled, his amusement evident as his erection sprang free against his toned abs, precum glistening at the tip. Oh, well fuck. He was indeed huge, causing your eyes to widen momentarily as you swallowed hard. You glanced back up at him one more time, and he gave you a sharp nod, his hand on the back of your head pressing insistently, urging you closer. 

Your head slowly inched closer to his intimidatingly large cock, and you started with placing soft kitten licks on the tip, tasting the salty precum, when suddenly a mischievous smile began to curve your glossed lips. In one swift, unexpected motion, you wrapped your mouth around his throbbing length, firmly pressing your teeth into the skin while at the same time your hand darted to his balls, your sharp nails digging deep into the sensitive flesh. 

“That fuckin’ hurts, you bitch. Cazzo!” Theo cursed, aggressively pushing you back until you hit the bed, yet the same mischievous smile on your face only widened. It confused him how the terrified, weak girl he saw earlier had transformed into… this. 

“Didn’t expect you to be such a fucking pussy.” you challenged him, fire burning in your eyes. Not because you wanted to die, but because deep down you knew you weren’t going to. If he wanted to kill you, he would’ve done that already. With the precum leaking from his painfully hard erection right in front of you, you knew the only thing on his mind was finding his release. He was a man after all— simple, driven by his desires.

“You better shut that little mouth—” 

“Or what? You're gonna threaten me again with that stupid little knife—” before you could even finish your sentence, he grabbed you by the hair, yanking you roughly towards him, his cock forcing its way into your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat instantly, triggering your gag reflex as you struggled to breathe around his thick, aching erection. He quickly set a brutal rhythm, bucking his hips aggressively into your mouth, and you felt your eyes well with tears, saliva running down your chin. 

“If you stop, I’ll make you fucking regret it.” His hand gripped your hair in a tight ponytail, pulling you to meet his thrusts as he relentlessly fucked your mouth. Gagging sounds filled the room as he forced your head down as far as possible, groaning at the sight beneath him— a sight that could so easily make him come already.

“You wanted this from the start, huh? Such a pathetic—” Theo’s sentence was then abruptly cut off when the door suddenly swung open and slammed against the wall, causing you both to freeze and stare, wide-eyed and horrified. A chill ran down your spine as you noticed another masked man standing in the doorway, holding a blood-soaked baseball bat while casually leaning against the doorframe. Oh no.  

“Well, well, well… look what we have here. You really thought I wouldn’t find out, Theodore? How cute.” 

Mattheo. 

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

a/n: thank you sm for reading ^_^!!!!!!! this was supposed to be one long fic but i decided to cut in into two (or maybe more if needed) parts! im not sure when the next part will be posted but ill try to work on it soon !!! <3

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[mondaymelon]

₊⊹ 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 ♡. | genshin!various x gn!reader

「 "𝐚𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐩…"」

— in which you kiss him ... accidentally, and indirectly.

𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 — kazuha, gaming, FREMINET, THOMA, KAVEH, chongyun, gorou

— "Ah, wrong cup."

It's a warm morning, yet the shade of the light canopy of trees provides ample comfort. At your words, however, the amicable conversation halts. Gingerly, you place his cup back on its saucer, uttering a quiet apology. "Sorry, sorry..."

Ugh, a quiet moment with someone you'd been pining after for ages, and you likely just sabotaged any chance you had. Making someone uncomfortable is surely not a way to have someone fall head over heels for you. You cautiously glanced upwards, catching the sight of... something you didn't expect...!?

He hid in his hand, raised and flush against his face. It was rather insufficient in the whole "hiding" department, however, for you could still clearly see the fluster on his features and the red cast across the tips of his ears. Just above the cover of his fingers were his eyes, hurriedly averted from yours. His mouth was slightly ajar, but in the moments that passed, his lips moved to form whispers you couldn't quite catch.

You stood, frantic. Really, every one of your plans was going awry. "I'm sorry! I, I'll go get you a new cup-"

"He caught his hand in his before you could fully depart, clutching it tightly. His usually cool skin was warm. "N, No, I- It's fine..."

He watched your face brighten with relief as you sat back down, completely cheery again, and released a breath quietly.

Ah, how was he supposed to tell you that the mere sight of your lips touching where he had put his made his heart skip a beat?

— It simply wasn't fair.

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 — HEIZOU, KAEYA, CHILDE, venti, ayato, LYNEY

— "Wait, let me try..."

Word had gotten around of a new drink, supposedly "the best in all of teyvat"... naturally, that called for a timely visit. It didn't exactly matter who you went with, though who were you fooling, it did, and he'd been the first one that came to mind when you were drafting a letter. Now, he stood by your side, leisurely swinging his arms while he walked and smiling smugly.

The reason? The moment you reached into your pocket to fish out your wallet to pay the fee for two drinks, you'd found your pockets empty, and that's where he had swooped in, graciously handing over his mora instead. The moment the two of you exited the vicinity of the drink stall, however, he somehow materialized your wallet once more and placed it in your hands with a cat-like grin. That little... you'd be sure to treat him to a meal sometime soon, a favor like that couldn't just be gone unpaid.

...That, and it was a convenient excuse to spend another outing with him.

"Hey, you got the limited edition flavor? C'mon, give me just a sip..." You beamed when he handed said drink down towards you, taking a sip from his straw — until you realized just what you'd done, of course.

It wasn't like it was something dire, not by any means. You were rather the romantic, and the fact that... well, hadn't the two of you just kissed indirectly?

You didn't voice your thoughts, only meekly retreated after handing the bottle back to him, growing even more flustered when your fingers brushed against his in the process. He seemed to hear them, however, and a smirk made its way onto his lips.

"Oh, don't tell me you were aiming for an indirect kiss all along?"

"W- No!" Ugh, that twinkle in his eyes was dangerous. It's easy to see that he doesn't believe you in the slightest. Yet, before you can dispense another rebuttal, he reaches a hand up to your hair and makes a mess of it.

— "Aha, who knew you were so sly~"

𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 — alhaitham, XIAO, albedo, diluc, neuvillette

— "Is something wrong?"

Well, not exactly "wrong", per se. Instead, there was definitely something wrong with you in particular.

The situation started off like any other would. You found the man in his usual place, and greeted him with a smile, to which he nodded in response. He was a busy person, so you'd decided to take the initiative and make him a boxed lunch, only planning to give it to him and then let him carry on with whatever tasks he needed to complete — only... hey, wasn't it too out of character of him to ask you to feed him??

He glanced up at you, his head subconsciously tilting to the side. Just with that simple movement, a figurative arrow struck your heart. "If it's too much trouble, nevermind-"

You awkwardly coughed into your fist, trying to disperse any awfully hopeful thoughts of "hey, isn't this so romantic!?" in your head — yearning for him was one thing, but projecting your imagination of him would be another entirely. "No, it's fine- I was just caught off guard, is all..." At this point, you were more so convincing yourself than him. You dipped your head in a nod to yourself. Of course, he was so swamped with duties that he couldn't spare the time to feed himself, that was the case, wasn't it?

"Here, open wide..." You took a portion of the food and lifted it up to his lips, and he ate it agreeably. Hamster. He's like a hamster, a thought you really shouldn't be having considering how his disposition was, but seeing him swiftly chewing the portion in his cheeks... you cleared your throat, only to flinch with a start upon realizing he'd taken the utensils from you. Now, he held some of the lunch up to you, gesturing it to your mouth.

"Eh, but this is for you-" You declined, yet the insistence in his gaze only grew.

"You brought it for me, so you should have some as well."

"Well... alright," not willing to bother with an argument you were not likely to win, you ate what he hovered before you gratefully, trying to ignore the way he was staring at you as you ate.

W, Wait, hold on, isn't that the same cutlery he used-

"Your face is red. Did you choke? Here, let me-"

"No, it's just that- we, just now- ah, it's nothing."

— "Mhm."

( a/n ) new post format and its silly ( i hate everything about this ) :stareyes: ahahah anyways. trying to revive myself so. you guys get ( poorly cooked ) food :>

𝐭 𝐚 𝐠 𝐥 𝐢 𝐬 𝐭 : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader,@fiannee, @aether-darling, @ceneid, @avensuersa, @solxima, @sangoqueenkoko, @haliyamori ...

[fairyysoup]

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again. 

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever. 

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. 

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world. 

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing. 

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you. 

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you. 

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt. 

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture. 

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough. 

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you. 

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him. 

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else. 

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me. 

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?” 

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.” 

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.” 

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur. 

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear. 

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.” 

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t. 

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now. 

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected. 

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin. 

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier. 

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate. 

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is? 

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet. 

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window. 

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes. 

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins. 

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?” 

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now. 

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder. 

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again. 

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan. 

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs. 

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue. 

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief. 

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.” 

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.” 

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it. 

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again. 

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you. 

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap. 

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness. 

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head. 

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does. 

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down. 

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet. 

To keep you quiet. 

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.” 

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table. 

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other. 

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss. 

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear. 

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

[soobnny]

right side of my neck — jeongin x reader ; established relationship (0.6k words)

your touch hater bf just wants to kiss you

happy holidays !!!!!!!!!!!

“Innieeeee.”

He’s falling deaf to your whines, one ear and out the other.

“‘M trying to sleep.” You mumble with sleep-riddled voice, trying to push the boy’s face away from yours.

He isn’t quick to give up.

“And ‘m trying to kiss my girlfriend.”

Jeongin’s someone that rarely craves physical intimacy despite having the most beautiful hands and the most perfect lips.

Not that you minded.

You think it’s endearing how he reserves it for you, in the comfort of baggy clothes and the security of his room.

You can’t help but giggle at him. Your touch-hater boyfriend practically begging to keep kissing you. You should relish in this moment a bit longer.

Because apparently he can’t wait until morning, or at least certainly not when he’ll have to be shaken awake in the early hours of dawn for practices and schedules.

His lips stay attached on your skin, open-mouthed kisses pressed on anywhere he can get access to—cheeks, forehead, lips, chin, neck, lips, shoulder, ear, lips.

“Let me kiss you?” Jeongin leaves a trail just before landing back on your lips, hovering. You don’t know what time it is, but you know it’s past midnight when he’s soft and malleable like this, and begging in slurred vocabulary.

“Please?”

This man is going to kill you one day.

“Okay.”

Your one-word response doesn’t even have time to fizzle out into the air when your boyfriend latches his lips onto yours in an almost neediness.

He’s hazy-eyed, limp-tailed in your arms, and he doesn’t continue down to any more than kissing like he usually does. He knows that you’re tired, so he keeps it at just making out.

It goes on longer than you have the breath for it.

Jeongin allows you the liberty of taking in more air, pulling out to look at the messy plump of your lips, and then your eyes.

He thinks, he should really let you sleep soon.

“One more, promise.”

He whispers, attention span not rich enough to say another word before he’s chasing your lips for the last time. And his hands stay gently at your waist, that it makes you feel warmer than you already do.

Then, when he’s sure he’s kissed you enough to suffice missing your lips during practice, he releases you, and breathes out, “Mkay, you can sleep now. Thanks, baby.”

His fingers hold your body in place that you’re still pressed against him, and it’s really such a delight to witness his droopy eyes and his love-drunk smile and the bashful tint of his cheeks. He dips into your hair, a smile ghosting his lips when he gets a trace of the shampoo he uses.

“Hm, goodnight my Innie.” Your head finds his neck like it’s routine, but he can still hear you mumble against his skin.

“Don’t call me that if you don’t want me to kiss you again.” Jeongin makes a complaining noise, always been weak when you put a possessive determiner before his name.

You can only laugh with your exhaustion.

If any of the boys were to walk in his room, you were sure they’d be surprised at the sight they’d be subjected to. The reminder of their youngest pointedly making attempts to avoid their hugs, just to beg for yours—Han Jisung would throw a tantrum.

(“He must really like her,” Minho says after a chance encounter finding you and Jeongin asleep on the couch.

His hair tickles the skin of your neck at how close he is, and there is a fond smile on Minho’s face at the sight.

“Don’t let Sungie see this.” Felix laughs.)

Jeongin falls asleep before you do. Turns out he wasn’t as awake as you thought he was, but your heart tingles at the thought that he’d spent his last remaining moments of consciousness kissing you.

That, instead of resting to get at least a decent amount of sleep before his schedules, he’d chosen to meet your lips.

“Goodnight, Innie.”

(You let him kiss you again, dumb and needy and soft and knowing, the next evening.)

[ja3yun]

Please Be Real | P.JS

ex!jongseong x fem!reader warnings: angst, smut(mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, begging, hurt w comfort, petnames (baby, princess), mentions of intoxication, alcohol, heavy conversation around wanting children, badly written, reupload, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: you never thought you would hear the name park jongseong again until you get a call from one of his friends begging for your help a/n: hi! this is a reupload!! so if you think you've read it, that's because you have <3 i didn't edit this one and i think you will be able to tell since my writing is a little sloppy compared to now but i love this fic a lot. i was actually planning a new one today (sub jake) but i fear that one isn't finished yet! so please enjoy. as always, comments, feedback and reblogs are all welcome! love u <33

A sharp, jarring noise pierces your ears, the peaceful sleep you were in rudely disrupted. You groan out loud, covering your face with your covers but it does nothing to stop the ringing from your phone, it doesn’t even dull it a little, the little black device only echoing around the room louder.

Disoriented and groggy, you fumble for your phone on the bedside table, clumsily searching for it in the darkness. It isn’t your alarm, the usual peaceful tones of the birds chirping would be a welcomed sound, one that eases you into the day; no this was a phone call.

Finally grasping your phone, your eyes fight themselves open as you blink away any remnants of sleep, trying to find any sort of centre from your dizzy awakening. You look at the name on your phone but your vision is so blurred you can’t make it out but answer it anyway, knowing that whoever is phoning at this ungodly hour is clearly in need of your help.

“Hello?” you ask quietly, as if you don’t want to disturb the quiet of the night, unlike the person on the other end of the call.

“Uh, Y/N? It’s Jake.” His soft Australian accent drifts from your phone speaker into your ears. He sounds unsure whether he is supposed to be making the call, which to be fair, you understand because you haven’t heard from him in months, not after…

Letting out a sigh, you rub your forehead with the base of your palm tiredly, “Jake, why the fuck are you calling me at…” you pull the phone away, inspecting the time now that you’re more alert, “3.36am?” you ask with a hint of disdain. Normally, you would welcome the boy’s surprise call, after all, you did miss him. But considering he woke you up from a good dream involving you, Jeongin from Stray Kids, and a happily ever after; he wasn’t exactly your favourite person right now.

You can faintly hear some music in the background as he stays silent and you swear to yourself if this is to give him a ride home from a concert turned party, you’ll have his head.

“Listen, I hate to ask you this but can you come to Haven?”

“The nightclub? Why?” Your earlier suspicions are proving to be right, he does want a lift home. That would be an acceptable request if you guys were actively talking every day and the best of buddies but he isn’t even your friend, not really. 

You can hear him shuffling around on the other end of the line, his voice can be heard trying to calm someone down but his words are obscured as if the phone is wrested away from his mouth, leaving only disjointed fragments of speech drifting through the receiver. 

This sounds like more than just a simple ride home and it causes you to snap to attention, your senses heightened with concern. 

Jake finally brings his attention back to you, letting out a sigh of discontentment, “It’s Jay, he’s a mess and he’s calling out for you.”

Jay. Park Jongseong.

It’s been so long since anyone has dared to mention his name to you that it almost sounds like a foreign word.

Seven months ago, you and Jongseong had decided to call off your six-year relationship, both of you reaching the understanding that it was for the best considering your battling differences and needs within the relationship.

It wasn’t easy, the furthest thing from it actually. You and him had been inseparable since high school and once you both got together in year 12, it was always you and him against the world. He was the love of your life, that once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that only happens in fairytales. Your souls were both painted from the same brush stroke.

But he wanted a peaceful, routine life - a classic white picket fence dream. Evenings would be spent with friends, savouring white wine and casual conversations over dinner. His heart was set on imagining the echoes of your future children's laughter filling your home, family trips to the seaside, and comforting them with kisses and band-aids when they got hurt.

And you craved spontaneity, to embrace life with vigour, travelling the world together was your dream, free from the responsibilities of parenting, cherishing moments just for yourselves. You longed for random midnight trips to Tesco for birthday cake simply because you could. All you wished for was to be with him, just the two of you.

Suddenly, your brain clicks into an important detail and you hurriedly check the calendar on your phone and the date makes you slump in your bed.

Today is Jongseong’s birthday, well technically not anymore given the time, but that means he has lived his first birthday without you by his side in so long. You would always celebrate his big day by doing something from his handwritten bucket list he has had since he was a child. Over the years he has added more to the list, each birthday scoring one out to add another.

The list wasn't extravagant; it was filled with simple yet heartfelt desires. You bought him a bundle of guitar lessons and a Taylor 114e electric guitar to fulfil his wish of learning to play. When you noticed the Download Festival marked with gold stars on his list, you surprised him with tickets for the year Metallica was headlining. And when he expressed a desire to cook a meal from scratch for his mum, you gifted him a kitchen knife engraved with his name and took the time to teach him how to prepare her favourite dish.

His birthdays were the most precious when you were in them, and you weren’t there with him.

“Y/N?” Jake’s sweet voice draws you back to his attention and out of the memory lane swirl your brain has put you in. He knows this is a tough call for you to take considering you and Jongseong said to cut ties completely; it’s better to act like you both didn’t exist than keep a thread tethered to one another that would only hurt you more.

As Jake and Sunghoon whisked Jay away for his birthday celebration, their intention was simple: to help him let loose and have a good time. Jay had been buried in overtime work lately, leaving little room for socialising. Since the breakup, the idea of going out without you - dancing together, stealing kisses in the taxi ride home - seemed unappealing.

Waking up that morning, Jay realised it marked the first birthday in six years without ticking something off his bucket list. The familiar, worn paper lay dormant on his desk, a stark reminder of your absence. He had no desire to celebrate today without you by his side. If he could fast-forward through the day to escape the weight of his birthday, he would eagerly do so.

Yet, with two very persuading friends and a whole lot of whiskey later, here he was, curled up outside Haven, yearning out for you.

“Y/N please, at least come and convince him to get up and come home with us,” Jake pleads. You can hear the cries of your ex-lover more clearly now as Jake kneels beside his friend, checking in on him.

With a resigned sigh, you nod, “Okay. Keep him warm, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

Hanging up the phone, you quickly put a brush through your hair and change into a baggy top, one you bought for Jongseong before breaking up, and a pair of grey sweatpants. This is a bad idea, you know it is, but you also can’t leave him to wallow in the middle of the street. You don’t think you could live with yourself if you didn’t help and Jake wouldn’t call unless it was something he couldn’t handle. 

You don’t want to see the state Jongseong is in, his wailing cries that you could slightly hear over the phone already made your heart clench in hurt.

As you drive to Haven, your heart races in anticipation with each mile that passes. Is your heart ready to face him after all these months? Staring into the love of your life’s eyes once again might break you even more. You’ve done a good job in keeping yourself together, at putting on a facade that everything is okay, when deep down you know that if one person asked you about Jongseong you would crumble and fall apart. 

He wasn’t the only one throwing himself into work to forget. You’ve worked hours and hours trying to keep your mind off the heartbreak, you thought that if you just focused and kept your head down, the phrase time heals all wounds would kick in and you’d be free of the torment of losing your first love. But it hasn’t worked out that way, you know that now as you speed down the empty roads to console the one person you are trying to forget.

As you reach Haven, you can vaguely see three boys under the illuminating sign, almost as if shining a spotlight on them to add to the spectacle that Jongseong is making. Onlookers are watching as your ex-boyfriend cries on the pavement, wishing you would come home.

With a quick exhale, you step out of the car before doubts can creep in, determined to be there for him. Jake and Sunghoon's voices float to you, attempting to soothe him and inject some sense into the moment. Bracing yourself, you approach, ready to offer whatever comfort you can, despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.

Sinking onto the balls of your feet, you lower yourself to Jongseong's level, meeting his strained figure. Instantly, the sight of his distress instantly shatters your heart into a million pieces.

An abundance of tears cascades down Jongseong's reddened face, obscuring his features like a relentless waterfall. His clenched jaw and the prominent vein on his forehead portray the intensity of his distress as he struggles to draw each laboured breath. Curled into himself, his body seems to contort with the weight of physical agony, mirroring the emotional pain that ripples through his trembling form. He’s been keeping this in for so long that his body doesn’t know how to cope with it.

Reaching out to grab his clenched fist, you shuffle forward carefully, “Jjongie?” you say calmly, trying to pull him out of his dispaired state and avoid startling him. “It’s me, baby, look at me,” 

Jongseong's body tenses at your voice and he slowly lifts his head, his eyes bloodshot and filled with an overwhelming mixture of sorrow and longing. For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in his eyes before they cloud over again with anguish.

He doesn’t believe you’re actually here, considering the long nights where he has conjured up the idea of you, clinging to his imagination on the lonely nights he wishes for your touch. But as you squeeze his hand, he realises this isn’t a dream-induced sighting, you’re really here in front of him.

"Y/N..." he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion. Tears stream down his face in torrents, some landing on your hand that holds his. His cries reverberate through the air, each wail a sharp stab to your chest.

Cupping his cheek, you settle yourself between his legs, ignoring the stinging discomfort of the rocks beneath your knees, your focus solely on him. With a sad smile, you attempt to mask your own hurt, your touch a gentle reassurance amidst his storm of emotions.

"Hey, hey, enough of that now," you hush him softly, your voice a soothing melody in the tumultuous night. Using the pad of your thumb, you tenderly wipe away his tears, though they continue to flow unabated.

Jongseong leans into your touch, “I miss you so much, Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads as you feel his warm breath against your skin. He desperately nuzzles into your palm, seeking solace in the familiar sensation of your touch, the very thing he has been yearning for.

It’s hurting you just seeing him like this, the man you once knew to be strong-willed and resilient, keeping his emotions under control unless he’s sharing sweet vulnerable moments with you under the covers, is now a shell of himself, stripped bare by the weight of grief.

Turning to look at Jake, you offer him a small smile, “I’ll take him home.”

“You sure?” Jake asks with a raised brow, knowing that it’s a dangerous game for you both if you do.

“Yeah, I don’t think he’s going to move unless I do,” you chuckle sympathetically but there’s a bubble in your throat as Jongseong’s whimpers flow into your ear from beside you, pathetic and distressed.

Nodding, Jake gestures to Sunghoon, silently enlisting his help in the task of ferrying the drunk man to your car. The weight of Jongseong's limp form proves difficult as you all struggle to navigate his dead weight, his limbs hanging heavily without offering any assistance.

"Let's get you home," you murmur softly, your hands pressing gently against Jongseong's chest to steady him, aided by his friends who lift him onto their shoulders.

His eyes lock onto yours, an intensity burning within them. "Please be real," he whispers, his voice trembling with desperation. Despite feeling your touch and catching hints of your scent, doubt gnaws at him. If this is merely a figment of his imagination, he knows he'll never forgive himself. You're so close, so tangible - it has to be you.

With much struggle, the three of you get him to your car, putting him gently in the backseat so he can lie down, but he wraps his arms around your waist as his legs stay situated outside of the vehicle, holding you close to him.

"Come on, Jjongie, lie down for a minute," you coax gently, guiding him to stretch out along the seats. But he remains unmoving, clutching onto you as if fearing you'll slip away if he lets go. With a soft sigh, you stroke the back of his head, your hands moving in a soothing rhythm. "I promise, I am not going anywhere," you whisper, your words a tender vow to him.

Yet, your attempts to reassure him seem to go unheard. His face burrows deeper into your stomach, his words muffled by the fabric of your t-shirt and the weight of his tears.

You exchange a worried glance with Jake and Sunghoon, “How much did he have to drink?” you ask, scared of the answer they will give. Your ex-boyfriend has always been so good at holding his liquor that it must have been a hefty amount if he’s this bad..

“Like…two weeks' wage worth,” Sunghoon winces as he says it, his neck tightening as he looks at his best friend. It was hard to watch him, pound spirit after spirit, and be helpless in telling him to stop. He’s not exaggerating either, he must have spent at least £600 in there. Each round was a triple, accompanied by a few shots to wash the Jack and Coke down.

"Oh, baby," you sigh softly, returning your attention to Jongseong. You press a tender kiss to the crown of his head, hoping to offer some comfort amidst his distress. In some way, the scent of his shampoo also gives you some ease within the chaos. His response to your affection is to cling to you even tighter, his sobs echoing against your chest as he seeks solace in your embrace. There’s a crushing wave of empathy that you feel wash over you right at this moment. It hurts, seeing him like this and hearing of his struggles - ex or not - you care about him, and you also understand his pain.

You need to get him home. He’s a fucking mess and the longer he stays like this, the more it’s going to wear all four of you out. So, with a gentle hand, you pull him back and lift his jaw up to look at you. It was probably the worst decision you could have ever made. He looks…broken.

"I've got you, Jjongie," you whisper softly, squeezing his chin as almost a gentle pinch, to prove you’re not letting him go. This instantly relaxes Jongseong, though, his hands still grip onto you for dear life. His friends go to help you, break him away and buckle him in the backseat, but you halt them with a firm gesture, "You guys can go, I've got it from here."

Sunghoon shakes his head, heavy concern etched on his face. "No way. He's too heavy, Y/N. You won't be able to manage him into the apartment without us.”

But you stand your ground. This is your and Jongseong's mess, and you can’t let others help you clean it up. "It's okay. You guys have done your shift for tonight. Go home," you insist, your voice resolute and brooking no argument.

Reluctantly, Sunghoon and Jake nod, still teetering on the edge of arguing with you. But, they know better and bid you goodnight before going their separate ways home, leaving you alone with Jongseong and the weight of your shared history.

Taking a deep breath, you hoist him in, his body listening to you a little more now that you’ve reassured him you aren’t leaving him. He sprawls over the backseats and lays still, the alcohol consuming him into some form of comatose. You’ve been in this state before too, so you can recognise the blackout glaze that he’s trying to fight away as he keeps his eyes on you. He’s so scared you’ll just vanish into thin air. “I’m right here. Go to sleep.”

Surprisingly, he listens to your reassurance, closing his eyes and drifting off, allowing you to slide into the driver's seat. You turn the keys as the engine begins humming to life beneath you. Glancing at Jongseong's slumbering form in the rearview mirror, you steel yourself for the journey ahead.

_____

Arriving at his house fills you with a nervous energy that tightens in your chest. This wasn’t just his flat—it used to be your shared home. For two and a half years, this place held countless, irreplaceable memories, moments you thought you’d cherish forever.

You were the one who left, finding a new place closer to work and convincing yourself it was the practical choice. But deep down, you knew the real reason: you couldn’t bear the constant reminders of him that lingered in every room, every piece of furniture, every shadow of your life together.

Looking back now, it feels selfish. You left him here, surrounded by the remnants of your relationship, without considering how he might feel. While you escaped to a fresh start, he was left to live among the echoes of what you once had.

Lugging him into the flat, his legs are working in tandem with you now unlike before but he still isn’t proving to be the easiest person to carry. The last time you had to hold his weight like this was when he got drunk at your prom after taking sneaky shots in the hotel garden with his friends. It was funny, but you blame him for some of your back pain that you’ve endured in your early twenties.

As you push open the door and step into the living room, a wave of nostalgia washes over you like a tsunami. Though only seven months have passed, it feels like a lifetime since you last stood in this space with him by your side. Everything remains unchanged, frozen in time since the day you left. 

The same couch sits in its familiar spot, adorned with throw pillows and blankets you bought for last season. Photographs of you both, captured during Christmases and holidays, adorn the walls, each one a snapshot of happier times when life seemed so simple and easy. Even the vase that his mum had gotten you both for your housewarming gift, one that you loved and he hated, remains in its pride of place on the mantlepiece.

You shake the thoughts away and guide Jongseong toward the bedroom. Each step feels heavy, as you’re encompassed with memories that surround you. He’s been living in a time capsule, and while you’re struggling to look at it all now, you wonder how he has managed to endure it for all these months.

His arm is slung over your shoulder as his weight presses down on you, however, it’s the feeling of his nose brushing against your hair that nearly stops you in your tracks. He breathes in deeply, and for a brief moment, it feels like he’s trying to ground himself in the familiarity of you.

You help Jongseong onto the bed, propping him up carefully. “I’m going to grab you some clean boxers, okay?” you say softly. He doesn’t respond, lost in his own haze, so you move toward the drawers on the other side of the room.

Walking over, you spot a familiar t-shirt lying crumpled on your old side of the bed. You make a b-line to investigate it and as you pick up the crumpled t-shirt, a flood of memories washes over you, transporting you back to simpler times. Your fingers trace the familiar fabric, still faintly carrying the scent of you, now mingled with his cologne. You piece it all together pretty quickly, the way it still smells faintly of you but is not starting to be overpowered by his cologne. He hugs it at night to find peace of mind.

“Oh, Jjongie,” you sigh, heart reaching out to him. You’re no better, you have one of his hoodies that you snuck into your luggage as you packed and wear it when you’re at home. Just like your t-shirt, his hoodie is starting to lose its scent from the amount of times you’ve hugged yourself to sleep in it.

You’re no better, though. You think of the hoodie you tucked into your suitcase before you left, the one you’ve worn so many times on nights when the loneliness felt unbearable. Its scent is fading too, just like this shirt, but you still cling to it, just as he clings to this. Both of you, in your own quiet ways, are holding onto the fragments of a love neither of you has been able to let go of.

Jongseong has always been reserved, his emotions carefully guarded behind a facade of reason and rationale. To see him like this, vulnerable and raw, strikes a chord deep within you. If he had always worn his heart on his sleeve, perhaps it would be easier to understand. But the complexity of his emotions only serves to deepen the ache in your chest.

You place the t-shirt back on the pillow before opening the dresser drawer and retrieve a clean pair of boxers, his favourite ones with the faded Hello Kitty print that you've always teased him about.

Gently, you begin to undress him while he rambles incoherent nonsense that you can’t understand between the mix of tears and drunk slurring. The top half is easy but the bottom half proves difficult as he only looks up at you, whispering pleas as he stares at you, keeping his bum firmly sat on the edge of the bed.

As you finally manage to remove Jongseong's jeans and boxers, leaving him naked, a new layer of vulnerability settles over the room. He sits before you bathed in the soft glow of the hallway light, his silhouette outlined in the darkness.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his voice a gentle plea as his hands begin to roam your sides, tracing the contours of your body beneath your shirt. Each touch ignites a flurry of sensations within you, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

His beauty, illuminated by the faint light, is both captivating and heartbreaking. The familiarity of his form, once etched in your memory, now lays before you in the flesh, a tangible reminder of the love you still harbour for him. How could you not still love him? He was perfect in every way possible.

He pulls you onto his lap, your sweatpants becoming the barrier between his cock and your pussy. Yet, none of you are really thinking about that right now, all you both want is to hold one another again.

“Jongseong, we broke up, and for good reason,” you rationalise with not only him but yourself as you find yourself sinking into his touch as his hands roam your back.

Nuzzling his nose against yours, he begins to cry softly again, his face rubbing itself against yours as his tears transfer from his cheeks to yours, “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he 

mumbles as his lips ghost over yours. 

He doesn’t just mean tonight, he means forever. A tear from your eye cascades down your face, getting lost in the mixture of his, your empathy for him overwhelming you because you feel the same way he does. You need him in every way, you need to be close to him, to feel his heart beating in synch with yours once again.

But you know better than this. You’re both just prolonging heartache if you succumb to being with him again. You can’t give each other what you need.

“Baby, don’t do this,” you beg him, knowing that he has the power to pull you back into his life with the click of his fingers, that resolve you have worked so hard to build up now hangs in the balance, “Let me get you changed and then into bed, yeah?”

Reasoning with him is a lost cause, his arms now hugging you tightly like before as he ignores your suggestion. The last thing he wants is to put on those boxers because he knows when he does that you’ll leave. 

"Please, baby," his voice is raw with emotion, his desperation palpable in the air between you. And as you look into his eyes, you see the depth of his longing mirrored in your own. 

His plea hangs in the air, a heavy weight pressing down on your already burdened heart. You feel torn between the overwhelming desire to give in to his request and the harsh reality of the situation.

With a deep breath, you summon the strength to gently extricate yourself from his embrace, feeling the weight of his disappointment lingering in the air. His hurt expression tugs at your heartstrings, but you shake your head firmly, "Just tonight, okay?" you assure him, your voice soft but resolute.

Curse you and your heart that caves into his pleas so easily.

You disregard getting him dressed and instead, remove your sweatpants and replace them with those very boxers you planned to adorn him with and swap out your t-shirt for the one on your old pillow. Jongseong clumsily climbs into his covers, getting comfortable and finding some happiness in the fact that you’ll be in his arms at least for a little while. 

Once you climb into your side of the bed, he instinctively hugs you from behind, the comfort of your body pressed against his. He spoons you from behind, tucking his face in your neck as he exhales in contentment. This is all he has been craving since that night you left and he couldn’t be happier. All the turmoil and anguish from earlier slowly depletes as he finds himself sinking into a much-needed sleep.

You can’t deny you feel the same, his arms wrapped around you feel like home, like you’ve been on a seven-month business trip and you’re now finally back where you belong. You sink into him further, relishing his skin against yours.

“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you whisper, bringing his hand up to kiss it before intertwining your fingers with his.

_____

Waking up, Jongseong feels like his whole body has crashed into a brick wall. His bones ache and his head feels tight, but there is a weight that feels so familiar yet foreign, his legs tangled around something and his arms holding it close. This feels different from the t-shirt of yours he clings to every night, this has more substance.

Please don’t be some random girl he thinks to himself, scared to open his eyes. 

Even if he wanted to open his eyes, he couldn’t - they were sealed shut, held together by something stubborn. Had he been crying last night? Wait, what did happen last night?

Fragments of the evening begin to resurface as he sifts through the haze: Jake and Sunghoon dragging him to Haven, the chaotic vibe of the bar, and the questionable decision to ride the mechanical bull. After that? A blank.

As he struggles to piece it all together, you watch him futilely attempt to pry his eyes open. Deciding to help, you gently swipe your thumb across his lids, clearing away the dried remnants of tears and sleep. His body tenses at your touch, his expression clouded with confusion.

Was he hallucinating? The sensation felt so real - too real. Or maybe the girl he brought home last night had a touch uncannily like yours. God, he hoped it was the first one.

Opening his eyes with your help, he blinks away the blur and sets his eyes on your face, his expression reading one of relief that quickly turns into astonishment.

“Y/N? Baby?” he whispers, his hands instinctively reaching for your cheek, “Please be real.” The same words he pleaded out last night leave his lips again. Jongseong has spent so many nights dreaming of you, wishing in an alternative universe that he can hold you again, so much so that this doesn’t feel real.

You don’t know what to say but obviously, you have to say something. It was one thing to confront drunk Jongseong who didn’t have a wit about him but now it feels like there’s a boulder on your chest as you try to conjure up the courage to speak to a sober, semi-alert Jongseong. 

All you can do is nod, no words escaping your dried lips. You look down to see you and his limbs mangled together just like they used to be, the feeling of his body pressed so tightly against yours almost feels like heaven.

He takes in the sight of you, the lines of disbelief on his features soften, replaced by a glimmer of hope. Slowly, almost tentatively, he reaches out to you, his fingers brushing against your cheek as if to confirm your presence.

The touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, he’s caressing your cheek so tenderly it reminds you of the time you had the shift from hell and Jongseong held you the whole night, whispering sweet words into your ear and stroking your tears away, just like this.

Except there are no tears this time, you’re all cried out - months of mourning the loss of your relationship will do that to you.

As Jongseong's eyes meet yours, a flicker of recognition passes through them, followed by a wave of embarrassment. His voice is soft as he speaks, a hint of uncertainty lacing his words, "What are you doing here?" he asks, his tone laden with confusion.

"You got pretty drunk last night," understatement "And Jake asked me to come pick you up."

You can feel the tension in the air as Jongseong processes your words, his expression a mixture of shame and regret, "Sorry, I don't usually drink that much," he murmurs, his voice tinged with remorse.

The explanation stings, not because Jongseong has been drinking more, but because of the distance it creates between you. It's as if he's explaining himself to a stranger, rather than to the person who once knew him better than anyone else. The past six years you’ve known how he knows his limit and that he doesn’t tend to breach it, not subconsciously. 

All you do is nod, accepting his explanation as you slowly start to detangle yourself from him, “I better get going.”

“Y/N, please let's talk,” he pleads as his voice wavers, his grip tightening around your waist, and his desperation palpable as he pleads for your attention. But you've made up your mind, and no amount of persuasion can sway you from the path you've chosen.

"Jongseong, please, let's not do this," you implore, your voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and resolve, "We're only going to hurt ourselves again."

You both know the reasons behind your breakup are deeply rooted, immutable truths that cannot be changed. It's not a matter of cheating or petty disagreements - this is about fundamental differences in desires and aspirations for the future.

But Jongseong refuses to accept defeat, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he breathes his love out, "Princess, we can work it out, I know we can," he insists, his words heavy with sincerity.

You steel yourself against the onslaught of his love, knowing that to give in would only prolong the inevitable pain, "We want different things, Jjongie," you remind him gently, your voice tinged with regret.

“I can do without them. It’s you I can’t live without…I can’t breathe without you here by my side.” His words are sincere and you know it, but you can’t accept it. When you both discussed your future, he looked so excited at the prospect of kids that your heart broke instantly. You knew right away that you couldn’t give him what he wanted most.

Closing your eyes and sucking in the bottom of your cheeks, you steady yourself to have this conversation yet again, “You can’t give up the idea of having kids. Having the life you want is much more important than me. You can find someone who can give you that.”

It hurts to say but you need to rip the bandaid off quickly. 

“You think I want that life with anyone but you?” His voice raises lightly, hinting at the anger rising into his chest. He needs you to listen to him, to understand him, “Y/N, if it’s not with you then I don’t want that life.”

Shaking your head determinedly, you sit up, “But I can’t give you that life, it’s not what I want.” You feel like you’re reliving the argument that ended it all those months ago.

“That’s okay-”

“No, It’s not,” It’s your turn to get angry and interrupt him, your eyebrows lacing together as you try to read him. How can he say all of this so easily? Like he wasn’t trying to promise you that he would change his entire life plan just to be with you. Is it romantic? Sure, but it’s also fucking stupid. No one should change just to keep someone they love because if they were meant to be, then their values would align…right?

"It's not that simple, Jongseong," you argue through the silence, your voice tinged with frustration, "You can't just sweep aside your dreams for the sake of our relationship. What about what you want? What about your own happiness?"

Jongseong sits up, the covers hiding his naked lower half; he hadn’t realised he was naked and it only adds a new layer to his vulnerability. He is truly laying himself bare to you.

But Jongseong's gaze remains unwavering, his determination evident in the set of his jaw, "Since we broke up, I've realised that you are the life I want," he declares, his words carrying the weight of his conviction, "Whatever that looks like for you, I want it."

You feel his words like a pickaxe, slowly breaking away at the wall you’ve spent months building around your heart and reason. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions sweeps over you. On one hand, his declaration of love sparks a glimmer of hope amidst the ruins of your fractured relationship. Yet, on the other hand, doubt claws at your insides, gnawing away at any semblance of certainty, the pure love that you have for him only wishes to make sure he’s happy and gets everything he wants in life.

"Jongseong, I..." you start, your voice wavering as you grapple with the turmoil inside. How do you express the depth of your feelings?

Grabbing your face with his large hands, he kisses you, his soft lips now coating yours. You’ve missed him so much that you become overwhelmed by his actions, a soft tear leaking from your ducts.

So much for being all cried out, you think to yourself.

"It's you, Y/N, I only need you," Jongseong whispers against your lips, his urgency evident as he seeks solace in the warmth of your embrace, stealing kisses with a hunger born from longing.

In spite of yourself, you find your lips responding to his touch, drawn in by the familiar sensation of his mouth against yours. Your arms instinctively wrap around him, fingers grazing lightly over the muscles of his back as you hold him close; your brain is telling you to push him away but your heart is pulling him tighter to you. 

"It's not fair to you, Jjongie," you murmur, the words weighted with a sense of guilt and remorse.

"I'd rather be with you happily than with kids and someone else miserably," Jongseong confesses, his words carrying the weight of his heart's deepest desires.

Jongseong wishes you could see it from his point of view; of course, he has wanted kids and a comfortable life for so long but the idea of achieving that when you are not his wife seems fucking ridiculous. There is no one in this world he wants to be with other than you and if that means he has to be an uncle rather than a dad, so be it.

You are all he has ever wanted. To grow old with you, to experience each of your accomplishments together and have you close to him. He wants to protect you and look after you the way he knows he should and that is his new life goal. This isn’t a decision he has made lightly but a decision he wanted to make.

His hands glide down your sides, trailing over your thighs as his kisses continue, each touch a manifestation of the craving that has consumed him. His need for you is overwhelming, every fibre of his being yearning for you in every possible way. Another moment without you feels unbearable, as if he might die.

You surrender to his touch, sinking back onto the bed as he hovers above you, his grip on your thighs firm yet tender. The intensity of his desire leaves marks, but in this moment, you welcome anything he offers.

It's astonishing how the feel of his lips on yours dismantles your resolve, scattering your apprehensions like leaves in the wind.

Slowly, he removes from you the t-shirt that has absorbed his tears on countless nights and the boxers you borrowed from him, leaving you exposed beneath him. As he looks upon your naked figure, his eyes drink in every curve and contour, offering silent gratitude to the heavens for letting him have you like this. You are everything he wants and more.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he whispers into your mouth as he presses his body hard against yours, his member rubbing itself against your folds. 

The feeling of him rubbing against you is enough to elicit a moan. No amount of toys was enough to satisfy you, not the way Jongseong could. Over the years you learned about one another’s bodies so intimately that no one could ever know you the way he does, not even yourself. 

You couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with someone else, even if you and Jongseong had broken up, your heart couldn’t do it. You never even considered a one night stand because deep down you knew that your body belonged to Jongseong and no one else.

He moves his hips, slowly rubbing himself against you, the bell of his cock grazing your clit teasingly. It feels like a dream for him to touch you this way again, and the fact that you were coating his cock with your wetness was enough to tell him that you need this too.

Kissing you desperately, his tongue darts into your mouth and swirls with yours as he seeks to taste you, his buds dancing along with yours. He moans into your mouth and acts as an echo of his love for you.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers as his hips continue to move slowly, teasing your hole with his tip each time he draws back. It’s becoming increasingly obvious how much it’s starting to irritate you, your need to have him inside you is evident in your whines of frustration.

"I missed you too, baby. More than anything," you confess, your hand finding his cock as you press against him, seeking to create greater friction between you. With each movement, the pressure builds, sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you.

With each synchronised movement, the tension between you mounts, the desire for one another lingering in the warm air. His hips continue their slow, teasing rhythm, each brush against your core sending sparks of want up your heat and into your chest.

Feeling the urgency building within you, you guide his cock with precision, pressing it against your eager entrance. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the head of his length dip into you only slightly, the anticipation of being filled with him heightening your senses.

"Please," you whisper, your voice laden with need and longing, a plea for him to take you.

With a teasing grin, Jongseong relents to your plea, but not in the way you expected. Instead of thrusting into you the way you want him to, he trails his fingertips along the curves of your body, igniting a trail of fire in his wake. His touch is light and tantalising, tracing patterns across your skin as he savours every moment. He wants to take his time with you, no matter how much his dick longs to be surrounded by your walls.

You like to be teased even for a little bit, the payoff at the end always hits the right spot.

You squirm beneath his touch, aching for more, but he continues with deliberate slowness. His fingers dance over your heated flesh, exploring every inch of your body with an intimacy that leaves you breathless. Each caress sends shivers down your spine, building the anticipation to unbearable heights. God, you missed his hands all over you.

As his right hand dips lower, he begins tracing circles around your sensitive clit and you can't help but arch your back in pleasure, a soft moan escaping your lips. The sensation is electrifying, sending waves coursing through your body as he expertly teases you.

Feeling your body tremble with anticipation, his touch becomes more urgent as he presses his fingers against your throbbing clit h and with practised skill, he begins to move faster, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you writhing beneath him.

“You look so fucking perfect, all desperate and whiney like this, Princess,” he says as he leans down to kiss you, breathing in deeply through his nose as he tries to fill each of his senses with you. It wasn’t just enough to feel you, he wanted to taste you, to inhale your scent, to hear you cry out for him, to see you unravel beneath him.

Your breath catches in your throat as the intensity of his touch sends you spiralling towards the edge of bliss. Each stroke of his fingers drives you closer to the brink, your body humming with the need to let go.

But just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, Jongseong suddenly slows his movements, drawing out the pleasure with agonising slowness. It's a torturous tease, the brief moments of intensity followed by long, drawn-out strokes that leave you gasping for more.

“Please, please, please, Jjongie,” you whimper in frustration, your body aching for release as Jongseong continues to play you like a symphony, alternating between fast and slow, building the tension to unbearable levels. Just when you think you can't take it anymore, he finally gives in, his fingers dipping into your heat and thrusting into you at a rough pace, your pussy soaking his digits as he coaxes out your orgasm.

“You’re clamping down on my fingers so hard, Baby, you gonna cum?” he asks arrogantly, knowing that with each curl of his finger, he is watching your body lose control and surrender to him.

Nodding quickly, you pull him down for a long, searing kiss as his thumb joins the party and flicks your clit rapidly, “Oh my god,” you moan out into his mouth through bated breaths, “I’m gonna cum, Jongseong, please can I cum?”

“You never have to ask baby,” he moves his mouth to your ear and lightly nibbles your lobe, “Cum for me, Princess,” he gently commands.

Jongseong continues to work his magic, his fingers moving with expert precision as he guides you through the throes of ecstasy. Your vision blurs and every nerve in your body hums with pleasure as you reach the pinnacle of bliss.

With a final, desperate cry, you let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You arch your back and cry out his name as pleasure consumes you, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.

His fingers remain still inside you, but his thumb maintains its relentless pace, each swipe sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. Your hips instinctively twitch in response, your nub throbbing with sensitivity and yearning for a respite. Yet, Jongseong shows no signs of letting up, his determined flicking only intensifying.

"You like that, baby?" Jongseong's voice is hoarse with desire as he intently watches your reactions. His eyes are dark with need as he continues to work you with wild desire. 

Your senses are overwhelmed by sensations pouring through you, so you can only respond with a gasping nod. Every single nerve in your body is buzzing with ecstasy, and all you can think of is the delicious agony of his thumb against your delicate clit.

"Tell me what you want, Princess," he asks, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear, "Do you want more?"

You can only make a frantic plea, your words barely comprehensible in the middle of intense pleasure. "Yes, please, Jongseong... More..."

Jongseong's lips curl into a wicked grin as he hears your plea, his confidence growing with each breathless gasp that escapes your lips. With a teasing twinkle in his eye, he moves his fingers again, pressing them against your contracting walls, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he speaks.

"What do you want, Y/N?" he whispers, his voice dripping with anticipation, "Tell me, and I'll give it to you."

Your mind is a haze of desire, but amidst the fog, one thought stands out clear and demanding. You need him inside you, filling you completely with his presence. With trembling hands, you reach for him, your fingers curling around his cock, guiding him to where you need him most, pushing his hand out of the way.

"I want you," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "I want all of you, Jongseong." When you utter the words, there’s a deeper meaning to them, a meaning that Jongseong is clinging to.

The way your fingers wrap around his rock-hard member elicits a hiss from him, your touch mixed with your words only fuels him to give you everything you need. 

Jongseong lets out a guttural groan, entirely surrendering to your touch and words. His eyes darken with want as he watches you take control, and his breath quickens with anticipation as you guide him inside you. His breath coming in ragged gasps, he looks into your eyes with a mixture of desire and adoration, "God, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice rough with need, “You feel so fucking incredible. I’ve missed how you just suck me in like this.”

You look down and watch as his entire length gets lost in your heat, his cock’s head hitting deep within you. You’ve missed how he fills you up so much but you hadn’t realised just how badly until right now as he shallowly thrusts into you.

You respond with a low moan of pleasure, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer, urging him to go deeper. "Yes, Jongseong," you whisper, your voice laced with longing, "just like that. I need this so much, I need you."

With each thrust, he grunts in response, his movements becoming more desperate as he seeks to satisfy your every desire, "I'm yours, Y/N," he declares, his voice filled with raw emotion, "completely and utterly yours."

As he lifts your legs and closes them, gently draping them over his left shoulder, your warmth envelops his shaft, drawing him in closer. Jongseong relishes the sensation of your tightness, revelling in the snug embrace of your canal around him. And you too find delight in the pressure of his girth, relishing the way he stretches you further with every powerful thrust.

Each movement of his hips is deliberate, each one designed to bring you both closer to the edge of ecstasy. As his hands stroke your legs tenderly, contrasting with the intensity of his thrusts, you find yourself lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving as one.

His jerks grow more intense, the pace quickening as he drives deeper into you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge, "You feel so good," he groans, his voice filled with unrestrained passion, "so fucking perfect for me, Princess."

In response, you curve your back and meet his thrusts with equal conviction, the heat between you building to an almost euphoric level. "Jongseong," you exclaim, your voice a symphony of fulfilment, "don't stop, please don't stop."

Jongseong intensifies his efforts with a wild growl, each movement driven by a burning need to push you to the edge of satisfaction and beyond. At this moment, there is only you and him, burned by the fires of passion.

With a swift motion, your lover bends you in half, positioning your legs by your head as he quickens his already rapid pace. Lost in a whirlwind of desire, your eyes roll back and your hands instinctively grip his shoulders, your chest heaving with each forceful thrust of his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving marks on his shoulder blades as you cling to him, lost in the intensity of the moment.

Feeling the sting of your nails, he grits his teeth and strains his neck, the veins in his temples pulsating as he fights the overwhelming urge to release inside you right then and there.

“Fuck, claw my back, Baby,” he growls, his voice thick with desire, “make me yours again.” With determination, he continues to pound into you, each movement bringing you closer to your shared orgasm.

After hearing Jongseong’s go-ahead, you dig into his back, dragging your nails across his skin, leaving fiery red lines in their wake, just like he wants. It burns him in the most delectable way, making his cock throb inside of you.

Your breaths combine in the air, creating an ensemble of desire as you both reach the edge. The tension between you grows with each thrust, a crescendo of want reaching its peak.

As he slams into you furiously, his voice fills the room with urgency, "You gonna cum again, Princess? You want it?" His words are a mixture of want and domination, starting a fire inside you that threatens to consume everything in its path.

With a firm nod, you meet his gaze, your eyes brimming with want. "Yes, Jongseong, please," you beg, your voice a frantic appeal for release once again.

In response, he increases his efforts, his motions growing more frenzied as he propels you both to your orgasms. And then, with a final, strong thrust, you shatter, your body convulsing from the ferocity of your release. Jongseong follows closely behind, his own climax mirroring yours as he finds release within you, “Fuck!” 

His body stills as he shoots his seed into you, the tremble of both your bodies vibrates the bed beneath you. Finding it hard to keep himself up, he falls onto you, moving his cock into you further, only drawing out a final moan from your lips.

After a couple of minutes, Jongseong rolls over, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. God, he missed the way you feel under him, he could go another ten rounds if you asked. 

But that would mean you would stay, and is that even something you want? He doesn’t want to ask, your answer being the deciding factor of whether he goes on his life with misery or happiness.

He knows he can’t force you into this relationship but he hopes he has done enough to convince you that you are all he wants.

“Please be with me again, Y/N. I can’t live without you,” he whispers into the air, not daring to look at you.

You on the other hand only want to look at him, to see if you can really try this again, “Even if it means no kids? No playdates with other parents? No family trips to Jeju?”

“Even without all that.” He does look sincere, his eyes now burning into yours with a new lease of determination.

The truth is, you’ve missed him so much that it hurts. Behind the strong facade is just a girl who misses her lover. Being without him is like being in a fire with no escape, constantly fighting your way out of a blaze while your lungs collapse. He’s the clear path to fresh air you desperately need, there is no denying it. And clearly, he thinks the same about you. 

Seeing him last night so fragile and broken engulfed you in the flames, burning you alive because you know that you feel every ounce of hurt that he is. It was a mirror to how you were feeling and you don’t think you knew how badly you needed him until that moment. You were trying to be so strong about it all, giving yourself only a short amount of time to grieve that as you looked at Jongseong last night, you know he has done the same.

You need one another to extinguish the fire.

“Jongseong, truly think about this, this isn’t me saying no to letting you go on a lads holiday, I’m denying you the opportunity to be a father,” you plead with him one last time, giving him an out to all of this as you lay it all on the table.

“Princess, I have had seven months to think about it. I am not compromising or altering my needs for you, this is a decision that I have made on my own. If I truly wanted the life I thought I did, I wouldn’t be begging you to be with me right now. I know this isn’t an easy choice but I have never been more sure about anything in my life.” 

Jongseong kisses all over your face, each one a receipt of his sincerity.

His words strike straight into your heart. He’s serious. A part of you wants to still feel guilty like you’re forcing him into this but on the other hand, he’s right. You’ve given him a multitude of opportunities to leave and find a girl who will cater to him, but he hasn’t. 

He doesn’t need to because all he needs is you and your love, to Jongseong, that is all he needs in his life.

“Okay, but if you ever change your min-”

He interjects with a kiss, one filled with so much happiness and love that it’s almost intoxicating; either that or all the booze in his system has transferred its way into your bloodstream. 

You giggle as he rolls over on top of you again, peppering loud and wet kisses all over your face and neck akin to a dog licking you from utter joy. Your hands try to fight him off playfully, your laugh growing louder as he nuzzles into your neck.

“Oh, wait!” Your lover's sudden pause catches your attention, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he swiftly rolls off the bed and rushes over to the messy pile on the chair by his dresser.

Curious, you crane your neck to see what he's up to, watching as he retrieves something from the floor.

“What is it?” you inquire, intrigued by his enthusiasm.

Turning back to you, Jongseong holds up the familiar torn sheet of paper that you recognise instantly, his smile lighting up his face. He grabs a pen from the desk and returns to your side, handing you both items.

“Tick it off,” he urges, pointing to the bottom of the page where a new addition was made yesterday morning. Despite his internal conflict about the list, he couldn't bring himself to tear it up. If he never saw you again, this would be a precious memory to hold onto.

So he added a new aspiration at the bottom.

Taking the pen from his hand, you read it slowly, “Make Y/N mine again..”

You gaze up at him in awe, understanding the significance of this gesture and how much the list means to him, “You wished for this?” you ask, to which he simply nods at your question, “Then you need to tick it off.” You push the pen and paper back to him but he stops you.

“No, you made the wish come true, so you need to tick it off,” he replies, the corners of his lips upturning slightly.

So, with the pen, you draw a line over the words, scoring it off once and for all as you beam proudly, happy that both of your souls are now joined together again. You pull him in for a long, deep kiss, the bucket list discarded as you lose yourselves in the moment once again.

“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you say, even if you are a day late.

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

PLEASEEEE MORE POSSESSIVE JELOUS DRACO🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️YOUR BAD SANTA FIC WAS LITERALLY EVEYTHING. POSSESSIVE MEN GOT ME WEAK

thank you for the request!! hope this is satisfactory 🫶🏻

Flutterby Baby | D.M.

feat. Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Draco finds out another student sabotaged your Herbology project.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, draco’s pov, established relationship, possessive!draco, bullying, hurt/comfort, men suck, sort of rough fingering & piv, affectionate degradation if you squint (he refers to her as a plant), blood/fighting

masterlist

Draco watched as you pushed your pasta around your plate, staring absently at the whirls of sauce on the porcelain. You’d been quiet the entire meal, only speaking when directly spoken to by your group of friends, and even then, it was half-hearted, brief answers.

Both were unusual for his talkative, carb-loving girl.

He placed a light hand on your thigh, leaning closer to you. The warmth of your skin, the sweetness of your perfume, beckoned him even closer, but he ignored his impulses. “Everything alright, darling?” He asked, low enough that your friends couldn’t hear.

“Yes, just not very hungry,” you said in your pretty little voice, placing your hand over his and pecking his cheek.

He didn’t buy it. “I can track down some takeaway and we can eat in my dorm, if you’d like,” he offered, wondering if the commotion in the Great Hall was a bit too much for you.

You shook your head, another stunning development. You never turned down takeaway. “I’m fine, baby. Thank you, though.”

“Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I’ll make one of these sod’s fetch it for you,” he teased, hoping to get a smile out of you. He didn’t.

Draco sighed, pressing a kiss to your temple before turning back to the conversation he was in the middle of with Theo and Pansy. He continued to watch you in his periphery as you started to play with his fingers, twirling his signet ring around and around. As much as he enjoyed the mindless contact, the delicate brush of your skin, he knew this was a nervous habit of yours.

He had half-a-thought to excuse you both, but he knew that would only draw more attention to your melancholy state, which would likely make you feel even worse. He could pick your brain later. Right now, he needed to make sure you were fed.

Casually, he picked up his fork, twirling a bit of his own pasta around the tines. Without breaking away from his conversation, he held the fork up to you, hoping you’d take a bite without really thinking about it. It was a small ritual the two of you developed during lengthy family dinners, something you often did automatically if he offered food to you. He felt you shift forward, your mouth wrap around the small bite, and you ate it.

He squeezed your thigh, a flare of affection making his heart pound. Good girl, he thought, but refrained from saying aloud.

The rest of dinner continued like that, Draco keeping your friends talking and distracted while he fed you small bites of his own dinner, your fingers twined with his in your lap. When he held up a bite and you gave small shake of your head, he knew it was because you were actually full, and he set his fork down, satisfied. For now.

That night in the common room, you were curled up in your chair by the fire, a book open in your lap while everyone pretended to study around you. He watched your eyes, your hands curled around the cover, and you were motionless. No pages turned, no lines devoured.

His worry deepened. Blaise seemed to notice as well, and gave him a curious look, dark brow raised. And of course, Theo caught the exchange, but turned back to his work, pretending he didn’t.

A prickle of suspicion climbed Draco’s neck. Typically, Theo was the first one to make a fuss over someone being in a sour mood due to his inability to tolerate negative emotions, but this time, he stayed silent.

Very odd, indeed.

But he could worry about Theo later. Draco lifted himself from the couch and walked over to you, dropping onto the floor in front of your chair. He tilted his head back, resting it against your shins. You reached down, dragging your fingers through his hair while you continued “reading” your book. He let his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and tried to think of a way to draw you out of your head.

Lips pressed against his forehead, your perfume wafting over him, and he hummed in appreciation, reaching up to cradle your face. You leaned your cheek into his palm, and he titled his head back a little further to connect your lips in a soft kiss.

Your lips moved against his, brief and tender, and some of his tension unwound. It didn’t seem that you were upset with him, which was a relief. But, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out what exactly was troubling you.

“I’m going to go to bed,” you murmured in his ear, and he blinked in surprise, checking his watch.

It wasn’t even nine o’clock.

“So early, love? Are you feeling alright?” He turned to face you, rising to his knees. The group noticed, but he was too concerned to care. He placed the back of his hand on your forehead, your cheek, your neck, but you waved him away.

“I’m fine, D. Just tired,” you said, averting your eyes from his and rising from your chair.

“Baby—”

You leaned down and kissed him again, cutting off his protest. “I love you, I’ll see you in the morning,” you said, pecking his cheek one more time before walking towards the girls dormitory and ascending the stairs.

Draco slumped back to the ground, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What did you do to her?” Pansy accused after a moment of tense silence.

“Nothing,” he snapped, though it was mostly toothless.

“She was acting strangely at dinner too,” Blaise noted. “She didn’t even have dessert.”

“Yeah, and she loves those chocolate things—what are they called?” Theo chimed in.

“Cauldron cakes,” Draco answered, glaring at them, irked that they were paying that close of attention to you. That was his job.

“Are you going to follow her?” Blaise asked, glancing at the stairs.

“No, he should give her some space,” Pansy said, giving him a pointed look.

“I’m perfectly capable of managing my girlfriend’s needs. Thank you,” he bit, and they fell quiet. He would leave you be, for now, but if you were still in a funk tomorrow evening, he’d be forced to intervene.

You were decidedly still unlike yourself come the following morning, and when he saw you during your shared Potion’s class. He continued to monitor the situation, trying to be patient like you often asked him to be, but that went out the window when you returned from your Herbology class with Theo in tears.

As soon as Draco saw your red and puffy eyes, he was on his feet. You ran straight into his chest, burying your wet face in his robes and digging your chilled hands into his back, trembling as your tears returned in earnest.

“Darling, what’s happened? What’s going on?” He cooed, wrapping his arms around your shaking torso, petting your hair in an attempt to soothe you. You didn’t respond, just held him tighter as you cried.

Theo tried to slip around the two of you, but Draco pinned him with a glare.

“What happened?” Draco hissed at him.

“Her Flutterby bush is dying,” Theo whispered, and you started to cry harder.

Shit. You’d slaved half the semester over this Flutterby bush in Herbology, it was your pride and joy, and you often stayed after hours with Professor Sprout to tend to it and the rest of the greenhouse. You had the greenest thumb Draco had ever encountered, and that plant was your baby. There was no way it would just suddenly die.

Draco raised a brow, and Theo made a ‘tell you later’ face. He nodded his head to dismiss his friend and turned his attention back to you, his poor, sensitive girl.

“Baby, it’s going to be alright. I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s going on—”

You shook you head. “It doesn’t make sense,” you sniffled, your voice muffled by his shirt. “It was perfectly fine. There’s no bugs or blights, I don’t understand.” You lifted your face, cheeks streaked with tears and lashes spikey, your eyes rimmed with red. The state of you made his heart ache.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs and pressing a kiss to your nose. “If anyone can save it, you can. You’re brilliant, love.” He used his sleeve to wipe your eyes and your nose before bundling you into his side. “Come on, relax for a bit with Pansy. That’ll help you think a little more clearly, yeah?”

You nodded, letting him deposit you on the couch beside your friend, who immediately abandoned what she was doing to fuss over you.

He kissed the top of your head, satisfied that you were well looked after for the time being. “I love you, I’ll be right back, okay?” He murmured, and you nodded again.

Theo was waiting for him in the hall. “Okay, so don’t get mad,” he said, holding his hands up.

Draco’s anger instantly flared. “Don’t give me a reason to get mad then.”

“She told me not to tell you because she knew you’d get all—” Theo gestured vaguely at Draco. “All…this.”

“Out with it, Nott,” he growled, fully prepared to punch his best friends nose through the back of his skull. What could you possibly want to keep from him?

“We think someone poisoned her plant,” Theo said, grimacing.

Draco froze, rage flaring so suddenly it darkened his vision. “What?” he snarled.

“We can’t say for sure yet,” Theo said hurriedly, trying to get ahead of the oncoming storm. “But there’s this one guy—”

“Who?”

“Reinhardt? Renfield? Something like that, I don’t know, he’s a Gryffindor. But he—Draco, where are you going?”

Draco was already halfway down the hall, formulating a plan in his mind about how to find this guy, and how to make him wish he’d never been born.

Theo grabbed his shoulder. “Listen, I have a better idea than storming the Gryffindor common room,” he said, and Draco paused.

“Go on.”

Draco loitered outside the Greenhouse, hidden by some trees, a stupid plastic ear in his hand. Theo had the other tucked into his robes, and Draco could hear Sprout beginning her lecture through their connection.

Draco sighed. This was ridiculous, he should just waltz in there and figure out exactly who this—

“Hey, y/n,” he heard someone mutter, an unfamiliar male voice, and he immediately held up the ear to listen. “Flutterby’s not lookin’ so good. Maybe I could help clear away some of the dead stuff?”

Draco's ears started ringing so loudly, he almost missed your response.

“I'm killing it just fine on my own, Renley, I don't need any assistance from you.”

He heard Theo snicker in the background, and Draco smiled. Atta girl.

“My mandrakes are thriving, thank you,” Renley replied, his voice tight with indignation. “It's a real shame about yours, though. Probably would have gotten you top marks.”

You didn't respond, and Draco gripped a tree branch to stop himself from charging through the glass to get this audacious fucker.

“Fuck off, Renford,” Theo warned, the feed clouded by his robes rustling.

“It's Renley,” the prick corrected, his voice a little louder, and Draco could practically hear Theo roll his eyes. “So, what do you say, sweetheart?” Sweetheart? Oh, this fucker was a dead man walking. “I'm willing to stay after and help you out. I'm good with poisons—”

“Poison’s?” You asked, a snarky lilt to your voice, and Draco loosed a relieved exhale despite the implication. For the first time in days, you sounded like yourself. “Who said anything about poison?”

“Oh, I—uh—”

“Reindeer, how did you know her plant was poisoned?” Theo prodded, his smirk audible.

“I don't! It's obv—it’s probably not p-poison!” Renley stammered.

“What's this about poison?” Sprout interrupted at the same moment Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from the treeline.

“Check fucking mate,” Draco mouthed, grinning.

“Professor Sprout, I do believe Renley here just confessed to poisoning y/n’s beloved Flutterby bush,” Theo said.

“Is this true, dearie?” Sprout asked you.

“Yes ma’am, it explains the strange phenomena we noted, as well as the sudden nature of the ailment. Renley’s been taunting me for days, and finally his mouth got ahead of his brain,” you said, poised as a Queen, and Draco was so proud of you it hurt.

Sprout gasped. “Mr. Renley! To Dumbledore's office this instant!”

“Crabbe, Goyle, grab him,” Draco ordered, stuffing the ear into his robes.

The two of them lumbered over the door, staying out of sight until the culprit stepped out into the sunlight, and Goyle grabbed Renley by the shoulders and started to drag him back around the Greenhouse.

“Hey! What the fuck—” his words pinched to a strangled whine when he saw Draco and Blaise waiting a few feet away, arms folded over their chests, completely hidden from the rest of campus.

Goyle shoved him to the ground at Draco's feet, and the coward was already sniveling.

Draco crouched down, nose to nose with the fucker that made his girl miserable, and smiled. “Was it worth it, Renley?” Draco asked, his voice low.

“Look, Malfoy. I didn't mean to—”

Draco didn't give him a chance to finish his paltry excuse and cocked his fist back, slamming his knuckles square in the side of his jaw. The bone crunched under his fist, sending Renley flying sideways in a spray of spit and blood, and Draco rose, clenching and unclenching his aching hand.

Normally, he'd step back and let the others get their hands dirty, but you were his girl. And if anyone was going to defend your honor, it would be him.

“No, no please!” Renley begged when Goyle hauled him back up. Draco punched him again, dead on the nose, then the temple, then the sternum. Goyle let Renley fall, groveling and weeping as blood ran down his face, his eyes already half-swollen shut.

Draco grabbed him by the hair, lifting his head up so he could whisper in his ear. “You're lucky it wasn't poison,” he snarled, and dropped Renley’s head into the dirt. “Leave him on the front steps of the castle,” he said to Crabbe and Goyle, who immediately pulled the boy up and started dragging him back towards the castle.

Blaise chuckled. “That was fucking brutal, mate.”

Draco looked down at his bruised and bloody knuckles, the pain bright and deliciously satisfying, his signet ring splattered with red. “Like I said, he's lucky I didn't decide to poison him.”

The chatter of students filled the air, and he looked up to see the Greenhouse emptying. Theo headed straight for them, glancing at Draco's knuckles and the blood in the grass before breaking out in a wild grin.

“Sorry I missed it,” Theo laughed.

“Where is she?” Draco asked.

“Staying behind to administer the antidote. Sprout is leaving her to ensure Renley is dealt with accordingly.”

“Well, she certainly won't be disappointed,” Blaise snickered.

“So she’s alone?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. He was hoping to clean himself up before seeing you, but wasn't sure he could resist the temptation. Not with his blood still running hot and your smart little voice echoing in his mind.

“Yep.” Theo smirked. “See ya’ back in the common room.” He and Blaise turned and started heading back to the castle, leaving Draco alone.

He rounded the greenhouse, knocking with his sore knuckles so he didn't startle you.

“Draco? What are you—saints, your hands!” You cried, rushing over to open the door for him. You grabbed for his hands, face pinched with worry.

“I'm fine, love,” he cooed, letting you fuss. The air in the greenhouse was thick and warm, coaxing him in like a embrace. It smelled fresh and lush, sweet soil and green leaves, like you.

Merlin, he couldn't think straight with you looking at him like that.

“Who did—” you paused, eyes narrowing. “Renley?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

“Draco!” You huffed, dropping his hands. “I had it under control!”

“I know you did! You were amazing! I just...accelerated the consequences.”

You glared at him, but he could see you softening by the second.

“Baby, I'm fine. And he'll be fine in like, four to five business days.”

“Draco!” You shouted, but you were smiling. He fucking loved what you called his name in that exasperated but undeniably affectionate voice. “You don't have to get involved all the time. I'm perfectly capable of fighting my own battles, and Professor Sprout was working with me to solve it and—”

Draco reached out, pinching your cheeks with one hand, pursing your pouting lips and dragging you closer to him. “I'd do it again in a heartbeat. No one fucks with you so long as I'm breathing, is that clear?”

You nodded, eyes round and sweet like honey.

He released your face, sliding his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck and craning your head upwards. “Can I kiss you now? Or would you like to keep telling me off?”

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a playful, smiley kiss. “Anything for my hero.”

“Anything?” Draco purred, walking you back into the long work table. You gasped, arching against his chest, and he caught the sound with another kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips to taste you.

Your tongue tangled with his, so eager as you pulled his tie to bring him closer. He guided your tongue into his mouth, sucking lightly before releasing you to bite your lip, toying with your mouth like he owned it.

And he could feel how much you loved it, your hips pressing against his as your hands wandered his chest, unable to pick a resting place.

He smiles, moving his hands to grip your hips. In a quick movement, he spun you around. Your hands slapped onto the table to catch yourself, your perfect ass pressing back against his rapidly hardening cock.

“Draco,” you whined, trying to look over your shoulder at him.

He tsked, sliding up your skirt, admiring the way his ruined knuckles looked against the soft flesh. “Do you want me to be gentle with you, darling?” He already knew what your answer would be, especially after a few stressful days, but he felt inclined to double check.

You shook your head side to side, pressing your ass back into his hands. “No.”

He smiled, squeezing the ample flesh, then delivered a swift slap that made you gasp. “That's my girl. You want me to scare away all those bad thoughts? Turn your brain off for a bit?” He slid his right hand between your legs, gliding two fingers over the damp spot on your panties.

You nodded, nails scratching along the wood when he applied a little pressure, moving his hand in a slow circle.

“Words, love,” he said, pausing his movement.

“Yes, baby. Please,” you whined, and his cock gave a painful lurch against his thigh.

“Colloportus,” he murmured, flicking his wand to lock the Greenhouse door. “Don't move,” he ordered, then walked over to the sink, washing the blood from his hands and muttering a quiet episkey to fix most of the damage on his skin. Some cuts remained, and his hands were still sore and slightly bruised, but it wasn't nearly as bad.

Satisfied, he turned his attention back to you, where you remained perfectly still, nibbling at your lower lip. In quick movement, he pulled down your panties, letting the fall around your ankles, and kicked your feet further apart, forcing you to lay your chest against the table.

“There we go,” he purred, bringing his hand back between your legs.

You were already soaked, hot and slick as his middle finger swiped through your sex. He started massaging your clit, quick, light circles that had you moaning breathlessly.

“Better, darling? Nothing to worry about besides being my good girl.” He moved away from your clit and eased his middle finger inside of you, his signet ring kissing your entrance before he curled his finger up. Your walls fluttered around him, sucking back against his finger when he pulled it out, only to graciously stretch for him when he added a second.

“Fuck, D,” you moaned, rocking your hips against his hand. “You said you wouldn't be gentle “

He smirked, enraptured with the way your pretty little cunt yielded for his battered hand. “Just so pretty,” he hummed, leaning down to whisper in your ear, pressing you harder against the table. “Can't help but worship you a little.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he slammed his fingers inside of you, drilling into your channel with sloppy, punishing strokes. You cried out, feet sliding around on the floor, but he had you pinned and at his mercy.

“This better, brat?” He growled, nipping at your ear when you keened for him, unable to formulate a response. “Oh, how that fucker wishes he could see you now,” he drawled, straightening while his fingers fucked into you. “What'd he call you? Sweetheart?” He chuckled. “Sweet doesn't begin to cover it.”

“How did you—”

He slipped his fingers out to work your clit, the bud swelling under his touch as your orgasm built, and your words twisted into a moan. He tried to stay focused, keep you on the edge until he was sheathed inside of you, but couldn't bring himself to stop just yet.

“Are you sweet, baby?” He asked, swatting your ass cheek, enjoying the way your flesh rippled.

“Only for you,” you gasped, starting to tremble as that knot wound tighter and tighter.

“That's right,” he praised, undoing his trousers and taking his cock in his hand. He was insanely hard, the head a deep pink, pearly precum beading from the slit. He pumped himself twice to relieve some of the ache, then notched himself at your entrance, not pausing his assault on your clit for a moment. “All fucking mine,” he growled at the same moment he thrust inside of you, burying himself to the hilt.

You cried out, muscles contracting hard around him, and he groaned low in his throat. You were so fucking tight, gooey and supple when you weren't squeezing the life out of him. He drew back a few inches before snapping his hips forward, gripping your ass cheek in his free hand to keep you spread for him as he pounded into you.

He felt your orgasm hit the second before you did, your cunt clamping down on him a heartbeat before you screamed, your whole body locking up before going completely limp. He didn't let up, no matter how much you shook, how much you begged. Your tears left damp spots on the wood, your knees trying to buckle inwards, but he planted his feet on the inside of yours, forcing you to stay upright.

“Good fucking girl,” he rasped, snaking a hand up your spine to grip your hair and pull your head back. “Doing so well for me, sweet thing.” He was panting, the heat of the greenhouse coupled with the exterior making sweat collect around his hairline and drip down his spine. His knuckles burned from the salt, hands ached from being used long past when they should have been bandaged, but he didn't give a single fuck.

“Draco, shit—fuck me so good.” You reached back for him, nails dragging along his forearm, and he felt himself teeter on the edge of release, his balls drawing up tight as liquid heat spread through his pelvis.

“Give me one more, baby. I know you can. Then I'll water my favorite plant.”

Your pussy clenched at his words, a wanton moan falling from your lips, and he smiled. You were such a little freak, his little freak, and he loved you all the more it.

“You like being my pretty little houseplant? All mine to take care of?” Fuck, he was close, rambling in an attempt to distract himself and spend just a little longer in the delicious heat of your body.

“Yes, yes—fuck!” You were coming again, your whole body convusling as it ripped through you, and he was done for. He came with a yell, hips stuttering against your ass as he pumped rope after rope of release into your spasming cunt.

“Bloody hell, baby,” he moaned, bracing his hands on the table as he came down, his hips involuntarily rocking into your greedy warmth. You, poor thing, were left drooling and trembling, completely boneless, held up entirely by the table and his hips. He leaned forward, pressing kisses into your hair. “Did so good, love. So fucking perfect,” he murmured, throat tight with affection.

“Squishin’ me,” you giggled, squirming beneath him, and he straightened, nearly toppling over himself at the weak feeling in his knees.

“Sorry, darling,” he chuckled, and you groaned, pushing yourself up on trembling arms. He moved his feet, letting you close your legs, and he hissed through his teeth at the new tightness around his softening cock, stealing a final thrust before slipping out of you.

“Mm, how did you know he called me sweetheart?” You asked, peeking over your shoulder at him while he grabbed his wand to clean you both up.

“I have my methods,” he replied, righting your clothes and helping you stand up, relishing in the lingering tremble in your limbs.

“Were you spying on me, Draco Malfoy?” You teased, tugging him down by the tie so you were face to face.

He smirked. “Perhaps.”

“What a horrible invasion of privacy,” you snickered, giving him a playful peck.

“You want to punish me for it?” He nipped at your lower lip and you grinned, pushing lightly on his chest.

“Enough you, I have to administer the antidote before my plant gets any sicker.”

“Good thing I already cured mine,” he teased, and you swatted him before slipping out of his arms.

“You're insufferable.”

“And you're adorable.”

You grabbed some items from the shelves and a watering can, then paused, turning to look at him, a deadly serious look on your face. “Can we get takeaway after this?”

He snorted, his heart doing a giddy little flip. “Of course we can.”