#and i knew i had made them myself and i remember them so vividly they were horrific and i just looked at them and started crying in such a

[lovsome]

i need to vent about SH (tw !!!!!) for a sec in the tags bc i am feeling very overwhelmed sorry

[fanficsformyfaves]

Now, You're Mine

Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader

WARNING: SMUT 18+, ANGST, Possessive!Rhea, Breeding Kink, Hickeys (R Receiving), Choking (R Receiving), Cum-Filled Strap On (R Receiving), Bulge Kink, Mommy Kink

PREFACE: Rhea and Reader were hooking up on and off, but Rhea wanted her all to herself

A/N: Rhea's P.O.V. in Bold and Colored!

Flashback in Italics!

Texts in Bold and Colored!

Some surprise appearances by other WWE Stars!

THIS HAD ME GRIPPING THE SHEETS FOR REAL

Kinda toxic, but eh

RHEA'S P.O.V.

She was all I've ever wanted. From how beautiful she was, to her kind-hearted nature and quick wits, she was nothing short of perfection. I remember the day we met vividly.

I had just gotten done with my match and was grabbing a bite to eat with my friends.

"I'll take-"

"The chicken tenders", I say in unison with Fin and Priest.

The three of us laugh, as Dom shook his head.

"Typical", Priest mocked,

"Hey, I know what I like, alright?", Dom argued.

Snapping the menu closed and handing it back to the waiter.

"I'll be back", I say,

Dismissing myself and heading to the bathroom, but as I did, somebody walks out.

Time came to a sudden halt, as I took in just how beautiful she was. It was as if everyone else disappeared and we were the only people there.

She gives me a shy smile, before walking past me and heading back to her table. My eyes never leaving her, as she took her seat.

YOUR P.O.V.

I immediately walk back to my friends, trying hard to hide my flushed cheeks.

"You good?", Nikki questioned,

"Yeah", I hesitantly answered,

As my gaze fell upon her once more. I couldn't help it, even if I tried. Besides how breathtaking she was, there was just something about her that intrigued me. Maybe it was the jet black hair or the tattoos that masked her hands, either way, I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

"What's got you all shy?", Brie questioned,

Taking me out of my head.

"What?"

She turns to try and see what I was looking at and immediately caught on.

"Oh, she's so your type"

"Dear God, please shut up", I pleaded,

"Who?"

It was now Naomi's turn to look and she also began teasing me.

"Oooh", she taunted,

Nudging me.

"Guys, come on. Let's not embarrass her", Nat ceased.

During the time of my friends poking fun at me, she looks over and sends another smile my way. If my heart wasn't racing out of my chest already, it surely was now.

Once we were done with our food and paid the bill, her table was also finishing up their dinner.

"Now's your chance, don't be shy", Nikki egged on,

"Nikki!", I warned in a whisper,

"Oh come on, what's the worst that can happen?"

"Um, she could hear me?"

"You're really gonna let her go?", she emphasized,

Pointing, when I smack her hand away.

"Keep your hand down!"

"Sorry", she whispered,

"I think you should go for it", Nat chimed in,

"Oh, not you too"

"(Y/N), you've got nothing to lose. She says no and then what?"

"And then I die of embarrassment"

Causing her eyes to roll.

"Look, nothing's gonna happen, if I don't talk to her"

"Exactly. Nothing's gonna happen if you don't talk to her, which I personally think is worse", she retorted.

I take a deep breath, slouching back against the booth chair, when I notice her table begin to gather their things.

"It's now or never, champ", Brie added on.

Was I terrified? Absolutely...but after battling with the anxious chill in the pit of my stomach, I ultimately got up and carefully made my way towards her.

Every step feeling like boulders strung at my feet.

Once I was less than a foot away, I clear my throat in an attempt to catch her attention. She turns around and somehow, she was even more breathtaking up close.

Her eyes reflecting baby blue skies in them, as her lips curled up into a grin.

"Hi", I greeted,

"Hello", she smiles down at me,

"I hope I'm not being too forward, but, I think you're...really beautiful", I struggled,

I knew my face had turned a bright red by the way she eyes my cheeks.

"Do you, now?", she challenged,

"Yeah", I chuckled nervously,

"Well", she began,

Taking my hand inro hers.

"I said the same thing to my mates earlier. You're quite the sight"

My heart was on the verge of giving out.

"What are you doing after this?"

"Um", I say,

Glancing back at my friends, who immediately turned away.

"It seems we have an audience"

"Don't mind them, they're just nosy", I reassured,

Making her laugh to herself.

"I'm not doing anything"

"Perfect", she said,

Gently leading me outside.

We head back to the hotel she was staying at and after letting my friends know where we went, she started up a movie for us.

Let's just say the movie had simply become background noise.

Since then, we'd been hooking up on and off, but in all honesty, I wanted more. Don't get me wrong, what we had was beyond my wildest imaginations, but I often caught myself daydreaming about being more than just 'friends'.

It didn't help, the fact that she fueled these delusions. Intentionally or not.

In those moments, post-sex, there would be a glimmer of softness that made me melt from the inside out. A contrasting difference from how she would usually treat me in bed.

Little gestures she'd do, like playing with my hair till I fell asleep or tracing mindless shapes onto my back. It all just added to the already burdensome weight in my chest.

The longer this went on, the harder it became to keep my feelings at bay. The harder it got to avoid the questions that plagued my mind.

Would she want that too? What if she didn't? Would she get upset and cut me off entirely? I could have all the time in the world and none of it would be enough to find a single answer.

I was planning to just keep my mouth shut and take this secret to my grave...until I heard about Liv. She was Rhea's tag team partner and at first, I didn't think anything of it, till I saw their backstage interview, where she kissed Rhea's cheek.

Alarms immediately went off in my head.

I knew she'd been sleeping up with other people, but to actually see her flirt with someone else was the wakeup call I needed.

I decided to keep my distance for a while and eventually, she caught on. For the last few weeks, I'd been responding less to her texts and have ignored her late night calls all together.

As much as I hated to admit it, I missed her, but I knew I had to hold my ground.

(SUNDAY)

Rhea: Hey

Seen at 5:06 pm

Rhea: I haven't seen you in a while, how's things been?

Seen at 5:25 pm

(MONDAY)

Me: Good, you?

Seen at 9:03 pm

Rhea: Pretty busy lately, aren't you?

Seen at 10:00 pm

But what I think finally made things click for Rhea was when I run into her at Dom's birthday party.

As it was being thrown at her house, I knew to come prepared, so I put on the dress I knew she liked and paired it with the perfect heels. Between my hair, makeup and outfit, I was undoubtedly sure to make some heads turn.

Not even a minute goes by, before Rhea spots me and makes a beeline toward where I stood.

"Ladies", she greets,

As they all nod, before heading inside. She eyes me up and down, before taking a few steps closer.

"(Y/N)", she grins.

I cross my arms over my chest, avoiding her daunting stare.

"Beautiful, as always"

"Thanks"

She goes in for a hug, when I simply brush past her, leaving Rhea undoubtedly confused. For the rest of the night, I stood by, watching my friends get wasted and have the time of their lives.

I, however, was too distracted by Rhea watching me from across the room. The slicked-back hair, the leather top that perfectly showcased her strong arms. I was intoxicated solely by staring at her.

Somewhere in the night, my friends had completely disappeared and I was left on the couch alone.

That was until Sonya took the vacant spot next to me.

"I don't like parties either", she spoke,

Finally ripping my gaze away from Rhea.

"Hey, Sonya"

"You know my name?", her eyebrows meet,

"Yeah, I saw your match with Nikki and John. They invited me to watch"

"Oh, cool, your Nikki's friend. I'm assuming you came with her and Brie?"

"Yup, but...", I say,

Quickly scanning the room.

"I have no idea where they went"

"Well, Brie's probably throwing up the drinks she chugged and Nikki's probably hooking up with Cena upstairs"

"Probably", I chuckled,

Sipping my cocktail.

"But, hey, at least you got me", she joked,

Playfully nudging me.

"At least", I agreed.

"I hope this isn't me coming on too strong, but would you like to dance?"

"Um..."

I go to look back at Rhea and it was almost as if she was trying to communicate with her eyes.

It was now my turn to have fun.

"I'd love to", I turn back to Sonya,

Grabbing her hand and leading her to the dancefloor.

RHEA'S P.O.V.

What the hell was Deville up to and why was (Y/N) reciprocating it? I knew she'd gone almost radio silent lately, but I didn't think it was this serious.

My blood boiled at the sight of Sonya twirling her around, as her eyes raked up and down (Y/N)'s body. Shamelessly staring at what was mine. I knew I had only myself to blame, but I couldn't help but seethe with anger. It should be me grabbing her hips that way. It should be me making her laugh like that.

Had I messed up by not owning up to how I really felt? Yes, but I wasn't going to lose her over that. She was everything I could ever want and I'd be a fool to just let her go.

Having had enough, I shove my drink into Priest's chest and made my way over to them.

"(Y/N). Deville", I address,

Interrupting their laughter.

"Hey, Ripley", Sonya replied,

As I respond with a sarcastic grin.

"I need to talk to you", I address (Y/N),

"I'm kind of in the middle of something-"

"(Y/N)", I cut off,

Causing her to be taken aback.

YOUR P.O.V.

I couldn't lie, the stern tone in her voice made my core ache and my knees go weak. I had no choice but to comply.

I follow her through the crowd and up the stairs, till we reach her bedroom at the end of the hall.

As we step inside, she closes the door behind her and leans against it.

"What do you want?", I questioned,

"Don't play dumb with me"

"I'm not", I egged on.

She scoffs, leaning off the door and taking a step towards me.

"Are we really going to do this?"

"I don't know...are we?"

I knew me challenging her was a risk, but it was one I was willing to take. I needed to know once and for all if this was something worth fighting for.

With a mischievous grin, she leans down to whisper in my ear.

"Do you really think Sonya, of all people, can treat you better than I can? Hm? Make you feel as good as I do?"

Her hands creep up to the small of my waist and pulled me in closer. I could feel my knees threatening to give out and was fighting so hard to stop it.

"Or was this all just to get my attention?"

She kisses up my neck and chewed on the lobe of my ear.

"You want me? You've got me"

Like I'd weighed nothing, she picks me up by thighs, causing a surprised gasp to escape me.

"All you had to do was say so"

She then carries me to bed and crawled atop me, kissing and licking up my legs.

"This dress. Fuck", she murmured against my thighs,

Before spreading them apart to discover my glistening core.

"I've barely started and you're already making a mess", she teased,

"Rhea", I whined,

"Yes, darling?"

"Please"

"Please what? You know I like to hear you say it"

I take in a deep breath, before finally locking eyes with her.

"Fuck me"

She smirks once more, before pulling away and walking over to her closet. I carefully observe her every move and once she was done digging through her clothes, she turns around, causing my stomach drops.

She's used straps on me before, but this one was...different.

"I've been saving this for something special, but of course you had to be a brat tonight", she says,

Stopping right before the bed.

"Take my clothes off", she ordered.

I crawl over to her, helping her out of her blazer, before unbuttoning her blouse and pulling her pants down.

Unbeknownst to me, she was already completely naked beneath her clothes. The sight of her exquisite body never failing to drive me crazy.

"My turn"

She pulls my dress off over my head, leaving me in just my stockings.

"No underwear? God, you are a slut"

And without wasting another breath, she pulls me in by my waist, whilst wrapping her lips around my hardened buds.

Desperate moans and whines escaping me as she did so.

"You're so much nicer when Mami's got a hold of you, hm?"

She then pushes me onto my back, before spreading my legs and ripping my fishnets down the middle. She must've sensed my concern, by the way her eyes flickered up to me.

"I'll get you new ones", she reassured,

Before pulling back and securing the toy around her hips.

I was practically drooling from how good she looked. From her inked hand rubbing up and down the dildo, to her insatiable eyes eating me alive, I could've cum right then and there.

"I need you, Mami, please", I pleaded,

Tugging her lips up into a smirk.

"I know you do. Why else would you try so hard to get my attention?", she teased,

Licking the shell of my ear and sending a chill up my spine.

In a flash, she throws my legs around her waist, dragging me in closer, whilst rubbing the tip of the strap against my entrance.

"Let's see if you can keep up"

She thrusts into me in one swift motion, filling me up to the brim and causing a cry to escape past my lips.

Her pace was immediate and rough, like the hand she snaked up my body, before settling around my throat. It felt like I was being split apart in the best way possible. The mixture of the pleasure and pain already causing tears to blur my vision.

"You're fucking mine", she grunted against my shoulder,

"Yes, Mami!", I cried out,

Grabbing her wrist.

With each merciless thrust, my orgasm was nearing faster and faster and I knew it was only a matter of time, till I came undone in her grasp.

"Fuck!", I whined under my moans,

"You're doing so good for me", she licked up my throat,

Reaching down to rub vigorous circles on my clit and yanking a final scream out of me.

"Do it. Cum for Mami", she demanded.

The stars in my eyes were all I saw, before being pushed over the edge.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, I feel her hand pull back to squeeze the base of the toy, causing it to spurt out ropes of warm sticky liquid all over my clenching walls.

I let out a surprised gasp, as Rhea chuckled against my neck. She looks back up and smashed her now-smudged lips against my own.

"Now, everyone here knows who you belong to", she teased.

My stomach dropped at the realization.

[kyuujo]

↳ thinkin of u <3

↳ sae itoshi, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro x fem!reader (separate) ↳ nsfw(ish) ↳ established relationships, nudes, descriptions of masturbation (fem), “sending them nudes/spicy vids while they’re in public”, slight sexting?, contains crack (sorry i can’t help myself), no explicit sex but lots of allusions to it, language, aged up characters, not proof read :x, my writing

↳ 1k words

↳ tbh i’ve thought about this trope for a long time and finally got the creativity and inspiration to write it! i’m not entirely sure of the quality of this as i’ve never written anything like this before, but i hope it’s still enjoyable! thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoy!! <3

“… now that you’ve played alongside japan’s u-20, would you ever reconsider your decision not to join? the people want to know.”

sae sent an icy glare to the reporter across from him; he’d thought he’d made his stance on this vividly clear, but obviously not.

“no.” sae said simply, reveling in the spark of indignation his refusal brought to the man’s eyes.

“well, why not—?”

sae lifted a hand to silence the man when his phone pinged twice — maybe that was rude, but sae had the feeling that whatever had just come through his phone would be a thousand times more entertaining and engaging than the sleaze across from him.

and boy, was sae right.

my wife: seeing you on tv has me all worked up. maybe hurry it along? 😘

my wife: [video attachment]

despite his current surroundings and the many cameras pointed at him, sae opened the attachment — it was a video, one without sound, but the muteness didn’t take away from the sheer tempting nature of it.

you looked so good, back resting against the armrest of the couch and legs spread lazily and slit glistening in the flash of the camera. your fingers teased at your clit lightly, and desire shot through sae’s body as he itched to replace them with his own.

sae didn’t even get halfway through the video before his phone pinged with another message — and then another.

my wife: SAE YOU ARENT SUPPOSED TO LOOK YET

my wife: YOURE ON LIVE TV PUT IT DOWN

sae smirked and gave the reporter a lazy wave before standing.

“my deepest apologies, but i’m cutting this short. i have some other business to attend to.”

sae couldn’t give two shits about the way both the reporter and his pr manager sputtered and desperately attempted to flag him back — his woman was waiting on him at home, and that was far more important.

shidou rarely ever felt bored during matches — but so far, this one had simply been a drag. the opposing team didn’t really offer much of a challenge, and shidou had scored more points off of them than he could justly remember.

by the time half-time rolled around, shidou was seething and sweating, feeling incredibly tense and antsy as he whipped into the locker room.

his teammates knew not to bother him when he was in a dip like this, so they cleared a path for him and avoided eye contact at all costs. if shidou weren’t so frustrated he would have found it amusing.

there was only one thing that may make shidou feel the least bit better — messages from you, something he was guaranteed to find at half-time. a trickle of excitement slithered down his body when he pulled his phone from his locker and plopped down on the nearest bench. his phone read ‘3 unread messages’ when he clicked the screen on.

shidou didn’t think twice about tapping open the chat log between the two of you, a smile instantly gracing his lips at your first message.

babygirl💕: hope your match is going well baby!! i know you’re gonna rock it

babygirl💕: but on the slim to none chance that it may not be, i want to give you some motivation ;)

babygirl💕: [video attachment]

shidou probably should have ensured his sound was off before opening it — but your legs were spread open so deliciously and your fingers were working your cunt at a desperate speed, what was shidou supposed to do? think rationally? tough chance.

lewd moans and whines of “shidouuuuu” filled the locker room and ten pairs of shocked eyes met his. shidou’s cheeks warmed and anger sparked in his chest at the knowledge that now his teammates knew how absolutely angelic you sounded in the throes of pleasure.

all it took was a heavy glare and they were clearing out of the room to give him and your video some privacy.

every single tiny box on the shelf looked exactly the same.

what was he even supposed to get again? he’d read over the front of every box at least three times. pearl, radiant, braided… none of those words rung any bells in his head. what was it you had told him before he left?

“maybe it was the pearl…?” nagi murmured to himself, eyes narrowed as if that would somehow help the answer become more clearer to him. he gingerly grabbed a box and examined it before promptly putting it back on the shelf.

nagi didn’t like to admit defeat, but he’d been perusing this shelf for nearly thirty minutes and still didn’t know shit from shat — he’d have to phone a friend, unfortunately.

nagi slipped his phone from his pocket and was just about to tap open his contacts when his phone pinged with a message; ironically, it was from you.

babycake <3: hurry home love. i’m waiting for you 💕

babycake <3: [image attachment]

nagi’s eyes nearly bugged from his skull when he caught sight of the picture you’d sent him — you, sprawled across the lush queen bed, donning nothing but his freshly washed jersey. if he looked close enough, he could see the faintest tease of your nipples perked up beneath the fabric, and the hem of it fell to your mid thighs, hiding the sweet spot between your legs.

nagi sucked in a breath and clicked off his phone screen, willing his half-hard dick to calm down — at least while he was in the store. with furtive glances down each side of the isle nagi powered his screen on and, while avoiding letting his gaze fall to the tempting picture, typed a quick response.

me: omw. don’t move.

your period wasn’t due for another week, anyway. nagi always had time to figure out the pearl-versus-radiant-versus-braided debacle before then.

i genuinely had so much fun cooking these up! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments and reblogs are not at all required but are much appreciated!! <33

[chwefan]

made4me | vernon

ex-babydaddy!vernon x fem. reader | 7.6k words

i do NOT condone having a baby with a man you're not married to. i do not condone having unprotected sex. please do not be like them omg. this is also a reworked fic of mine so don't worry i am NOT stealing from anyone other than myself.

contains: vernon is the father of your child, you two broke up, unprotected sex, pining, yearning, mentions of a failed realtionship

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

you don’t know how you ended up in front of vernon’s place. even if you were the one behind the wheel, the one shifting the gears, and the one rolling through red stop signs and impatiently tapping your wheel at the lights, you don’t know how you ended up there. 

you looked out your driver side window to the house across the street. a long time ago, back when the wooden mailbox had your painted hand print on the side, you used to call this your home. now the place almost seemed unfamiliar. the car parked in the driveway was not yours and the mailbox was metal now. atleast you were in your right mind enough to not park directly in front. but you also knew this was just as bad. a car rolling to an ominous stop in a residential area like this would flag the attention of the over zealous neighborhood watch. looking across the street at a house in the dead of night would not work in your favor.

you knew you could’ve gone home. you could’ve let out a deep sigh to clear your head and recenter yourself. then once you realized how crazy you looked you could’ve put your car back in drive and come back in the morning when you were supposed to. you could’ve picked up your daughter the next day and pretended like none of this happened. but you knew yourself better than that, and you knew that reeling from your failed date you came to the old place that used to bring you comfort. 

you turned towards your phone, hoping that something would distract you. but when you opened your phone you saw your lockscreen—your happy little daughter trying to hold a pumpkin the size of her body as you and vernon helped. instead of taking your mind away from the situation you were pulled deeper into it. you remembered how happy you were that day, the vivid memories of talking pictures and experiencing a pumpkin patch with your daughter for the first time. like you were a happy little family again you sat next to vernon with your daughter between the two of you, stealing the occasional glances before pretending like you two were only hanging out for the sake of your daughter.

vernon even found it in himself to have a heart to heart with you. while your daughter went off to play with the other kids he initiated the conversation, talking about how introspective he’s been lately. you watched him with wide eyes as he talked about how you two were too young to have a child, and at an awkward stage in life starting your careers to have a baby in the mix. you nodded your head as he nervously shuffled and looked down at the crackling leaves underneath his feet. you saw his shoulders visibly loosen when you repeated the same sentiment, that you wouldn’t trade your daughter for the world but you often wondered what your lives would be like if you had her later in life. the question hung in the air, you could see vernon contemplate asking you what would’ve happened if you met him later in life. 

you didn’t want to answer his question. the pang in your heart and the urge to reach for his hand made you leave his side all together, running to your daughter on the playground to get away from him.

you still didn’t have the answer as you sat in the drivers seat of your car. all you knew was that you still could vividly see your daughter holding vernons finger tightly in one hand and holding a small pumpkin in the other. 

you knew that your date didn’t stand a chance once he got you started on your little family, and that he didn’t try to hide the knowing look on his face when he saw that your ex was still very much involved in your life. selling the idea that you two were simply co-parenting was alot harder to sell when the three of you occupied your homescreen and lockscreen. he noticed your wandering mind, it was obvious in the way he cleared his throat after you stared at the picture for a little too long. 

trying to comprehend your relationship with vernon was difficult. when you were with him you thought about all the shortcomings in your relationship—the lack of communication, hiding your feelings, keeping things bottled up until they exploded. neither of you were able to save your relationship before it was too late, and it could be argued that you two were better apart. but when you weren’t with him, the only thing you could think about was trying to make it work. you saw pieces of vernon in the man you were seeing, you imagined he was with you in that restaurant. maybe it was the familiarity, maybe you shouldn’t have made the mistake of seeing vernon before going on your date. because the only thing you could think about was him, if he was going on dates in secret and if he was thinking of you too. you thought about your daughter, how much you wished you were with her instead of pretending the fancy food on your plate was good.

you knew the moment you started thinking about your family that the date was already over. when you walked yourself to your car you added another endeavor to your long list of failures, all you could think about as you sat in your car was how you gave up a day you had with your daughter for this. you deleted your message history with the man, staring at your most recent text conversations. vernon sat at the very top, his unread message appearing in the form of a tiny blue dot next to his picture-less icon. determined to keep it casual, even if he was the first thing you would see when you closed out of that app as well. 

you clicked on the message thread, revealing a series of pictures of your daughter and little updates through the night.

vernon: she likes strawberries alot.

vernon: playing zelda and animal crossing on the big tv.

vernon: she’s better than me at zelda now.

vernon: she told me mommy is going on a date?

vernon: i hope it goes well.

vernon: she ate all of her food. gonna lay her down for bed soon

you don’t know why you felt guilty reading the last message. vernon didn’t have the right to know, and you knew that. you had simply told your daughter in passing that you were going on a date night with your friends, knowing that she would repeat whatever you told her to her father. you typed your reply over and over again, trying to figure out what approach to take. 

lol i was going out with some of my friends from wo\

that’s none of your busin\

the date went we\

are you awake?

your mind came up with a million things to say, but none of them felt right. it felt like all of them were attempts at sounding casual. you threw your phone into the passenger seat beside you, and you rolled your neck to try and relieve some of the tension. you let out a sigh and turned your keys in the ignition, letting your car come to life around you.

you pulled out from the parking lot and headed down the road trying to go home. you were positive you were trying to get home, you just took the wrong turn. 

then the wrong light.

then the wrong street.

your mind confused on where to go from the restaurant, you were sure of it. when you had the chance to go back the way you let the thought come and go, and you continued heading down the same road. you took another turn, you even waited at the red light with an unexplainable energy as you tapped the steering wheel. the tension in your neck was gone as you accepted where you were heading.

you knew you didn’t have the right to act confused when you finally turned down vernon’s road.

you let your head rest against the steering wheel when you parked across the street. each time the thought of leaving your car invaded your thoughts, you gently shook your head, feeling the worn leather of the steering wheel cover against the creases in your forehead.

“don’t do it.” you said to yourself.

you looked back at the house again, looking at the window to your daughter’s room. you knew that on the other side of the house you couldn’t see, was the window to the room you used to sleep in. you started thinking about vernon in that big bed by himself, drowning in the california king that was too large even for the two of you. you started thinking about if he thought of you before going to bed everyday, if he thought about you tonight and where you were going in your pretty dress. 

“don’t do it.” you repeated.

saying it a second time was unnecessary. you said it purely for effect, trying to seem like your better senses were trying to put up a fight. but you didn’t even finish your sentence by the time you were taking your keys from the ignition. 

you had already taken your first step out of the car when you repeated the phrase again. you cleared the road quickly, hearing your heels click on the paved road with each step. by the time you made it to the sidewalk you had accepted your fate. you were still weary, slowly making your way across the lawn to the stoop. 

when you made it to the small set of stairs you looked to the door in front of you. the last chance you had to go back in your car before you undid all of your hard work. you knew you were being recorded by the ring camera beside the door. you could simply lie if vernon ever brought it up. you could just say you considered coming to get your daughter before realizing how late it was. vernon most likely wouldn’t believe you, and you would most likely lie some more trying to tell a convincing story. but your gaze went from the ring camera to the potted plant that stood tall beside you. you looked even lower to the painted rocks that circled the bottom. you let the ring camera catch you crouch down to your heels. the same hand that drove you here picked out the discolored rock that felt hollow. 

you held the rock in your hand, feeling the three engraved letters side by side. you held it away from your shadow, letting the moon illuminate the letters. you laughed to yourself for a moment before bringing your other hand to it, feeling for the split in the middle. it was too easy to slide the fake rock open, and to grab the key to the front door out of it.

you stepped through the door, turning the knob so it closed quietly behind you. you took off your heels at the door, hanging your jacket on the coat rack. you felt like an intruder, walking through the house on the balls of your feet trying to be as stealthy as possible. you lurched past your daughters toys in the living room down the hallway to vernon’s room.

“don’t do it.” you said one more time putting your hand on the doorknob.

you pushed open the door to vernon’s room slowly. you cursed at the creaky hinges, only letting it fully open when you saw that vernon’s bed was empty. you looked around the dark room, eyebrows furrowed and confused. when you didn’t see the light from the bathroom you pulled away from the door. you turned around, looking at the pink door of your daughter’s room. you ran your hand over the paint, remembering the day you spent painting it together. she was insistent on putting BOYS NOT ALLOWED on the front until she realized that included her father. it was the same day you painted the rocks outside. memories flooding your mind made you gently push the door open, looking for that home you so desperately wanted, the home that didn’t change even though you left years ago.

when you silently opened the door, you saw your daughter take up a majority of the bed. her stretched limbs forced vernon’s body to balance on the edge. his arm was slung over the side, and he was so close to falling that his hand touched the ground. vernon was on his stomach and your daughter was on her back, both of their snores filled the room. even when the sounds were disturbing the stillness in the air you felt at peace. you felt that sense of belonging, and you felt the pang of missing something so dearly it nearly took your breath away. your own flesh and blood laid next to shared history that was so massive it had it’s own gravitational orbit. 

another revolution and your heart started speeding up. you could stay here for the rest of the night, leaned against the doorframe gushing over the sight in front of you. but vernon was pulling you towards him without even knowing it. you started feeling 

all of your steps towards vernon were careful, walking on the flat part of your foot to not cause the floorboards to creak. the good memories replaced the bad ones as you looked at how blissful they were asleep. you had your eyes trained on your sleeping daughter, making sure she didn’t open her eyes while you crouched close to vernon’s body.

another revolution. his eyelashes casted the tiniest shadow on his face, and he looked so serene in front of you. everything was so familiar, even the things you thought you would’ve forgotten came back to you. he pulled you in even closer. you reached your hand in the space between your chest and vernon’s shoulder with no hesitation. 

you were frozen when you felt your hand rest on his body. looking at vernon and his cheek pressed into the mattress and his mussed black hair. you hadn’t seen him like this in god knows how long. after you called things off, vernon put his stoic resolve back up. he put on a mask for you, a facade of furrowed eyebrows and emotionless stares. you had been deprived of vernon’s softness for so long you almost forgot it existed. now you crouched next to your ex beside the flower lamp on your daughters dresser resisting the urge to run a finger over his soft parted lips or his smooth skin. you almost didn’t want to wake vernon up, afraid that you would once again have the gentleness taken away from you. 

you didn’t know you could miss the view of someone you claimed to hate so much. 

something inside of you wanted vernon to know you saw him like this, unsullied in middle of the night just like when you were together. maybe he would even talk to you in that raspy voice he’d always get in the morning. maybe if you woke him up fast enough you would be able to experience the vernon you loved before his mind fully realized to make him robotic towards you again. so you applied force behind your hand, touching his shoulder completely before you let your hand fully cover the area.

you shook vernon gently at first. his body was limp underneath your hand, moving whichever way you applied force. you looked past vernon to your daughter, who had at some point moved to sleep like you. you drew in a breath, applying more pressure behind your hand trying to rouse him. 

finally he did something, letting out a sigh before shrugging your hand his shoulders.

“go back to sleep baby,” vernon swallowed and turned his head, facing away from you. “we can play zelda in the morning, i promise.” he mumbled.

even if his voice was barely audible, you still clenched your teeth in worry. your daughter was by no means a light sleeper, but all it could take is mentioning one of her favorite things to have her head shoot up in the middle of her sleep. vernon ignored you trying to wake him up again, and you had to lean in close to the back of his head.

“vernon,” you shook him a little harder “it’s me.” you whispered.

as if you yelled straight into his ear, vernon shot up from the bed. you were spooked, almost letting out a sound when he turned to you with wide eyes.

“what are you doing here?” he sounded lost as he looked around your daughters dark room. his eyes were wide as he tried taking in his surroundings. “is something wrong?” he asked.

“no i just.” you looked over vernon’s shoulder to look at your daughter. she was still snoring, but had turned to face her father. if she woke up now she would never go back to sleep. “i need to talk to you.” you whispered.

vernon blinked hard before looking at the flower-shaped clock hanging on the wall behind you. he squinted his eyes trying to make sure he was reading the time right. he rubbed them just to make sure he was really reading it right.

“at two in the morning?” he asked, voice still raspy.

in that moment you realized it was a mistake coming. nothing good as ever happened between you and vernon after midnight. but you also realized it was too late to go back, and a small voice in your brain already convinced you that you weren’t sleeping in your own bed tonight. so you nodded your head again as vernon carefully moved off the bed to not wake your daughter. 

vernon motioned for you to walk towards his room but he still led the way. he didn’t care to walk on his tiptoes or avoid the creaky parts of the floor as he rubbed his face. 

you looked back to your daughter once more before closing the door behind you. she moved to the center of the bed, taking up the little amount of space vernon was occupying. you slowly pulled the door closed until you heard it click behind you. when you turned back into the hallway you saw vernon past the opening in his door, looking at you through the space. he was no longer tired and he didn’t have his eyes squinted in confusion anymore. he held eye contact with you from his room, still as he watched your every movement. the living room was the neutral area between the two of you, the common meeting space. you didn’t know the last time you had seen vernon in his bedroom, or when you were extended the silent invitation to come in. 

the implications made your bare feet timid in the hallway, lingering behind each creak on the floorboards. you looked briefly down the hallway to the front door. the last bit of pride you had was on the other side. you knew vernon, if you left now he’d never mention this again. you coming to his house in the middle of the night would just be another story of something more you two ignored to avoid feelings. he walked towards you, and you took another step. his gravitational pull made you clear the hallway and the threshold of his room.

as if you had never been in the room before, you waited by the doorframe as vernon closed the door shut beside you. he gave you a second to collect your thoughts, leaning against the closed door as he looked down at you. you tried matching his calm, leaning against the wall until the light switch poked your back. when vernon crossed his arms you breathed in deeply.

“what are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

you didn’t have an answer. all you could do was cross your arms against your chest and avoid his gaze.

“i don’t know.” you answered just as quiet.

you could hear vernon let out a dry laugh from beside you. even in the darkness of his room you could make out the framed photo of you two that sat at his work desk. he followed your gaze and cleared his throat when he saw what you were looking at.

“did you enjoy your date?” vernon asked.

“that’s none of your business.” you quipped.

vernon pushed off of the door, and your eyes followed his back as he walked towards his bed.

“i’ll take that as a no.” he said quietly.

when he turned around to face you, you shrugged your shoulders.

“i’m seeing him again.” you lied.

the smug look on vernon’s face didn’t fade away as he crossed his arms to match you. you saw him lean against your former side the bed, head tilted as he caught onto your lie.

“oh i’m sure.” he said.

you felt the familiar rage blossom in your chest. suddenly you felt regret, reaching beside you for the doorknob.

“this was a mistake.” you seethe.

vernon is quick to move in front of you. you can’t even turn the doorknob completely before he clears the space, coming so close to you that you can smell him. he gets even closer and you’re forced to look up at him.

vernon moves his hand to clasp over yours on the doorknob. the warmth coaxes you to let go of the, and he brings his other hand to hold yours. you can already feel the heat across your cheeks, and you can see the blush dust across vernon’s face the longer he looks down at you.

you don’t know why he humors you even though you’re no longer together. you don’t know why you feel so shy like it’s the first time you two have ever been intimate. you don’t know why he takes his time teasing you, to let the tension build to the ceiling. you came to him in the middle of the night in a tight short dress after a failed date. he could’ve taken you in the hallway or bent over the couch in the living room. god knows you deserved it. but he was flirting with you, bringing his hand to brush underneath your chin to keep your head tilted up at him.

“you look so pretty tonight.” he said.

even though the words rolled off his tongue awkwardly from not being in this situation for so long, your mouth still goes dry. your hands reach across to grab onto the bottom of his white shirt. he smiles down at you and you hold the fabric a little tighter.

“you really don’t know why you’re here?” vernon asked again.

you silently shook your head, hoping he’d show you why. he looked at your lips before going back to your eyes. your hands went to his waist, desperate to hold onto something solid as he pressed his leg between yours. 

the movement made your dress ride up. you spread your legs even wider. the thought of him taking you right here flooded your mind. as if you didn’t know the person you used to claim as the love of your life you thought he was going to only give you relief in the form of his clothed thigh. as if he didn’t buy you this dress you thought he’d be careless with it, telling you to leave it on as you rutted your hips desperately on his leg. torturing you would’ve been better. removing emotions from this situation would’ve been better, if this just became a desperate fuck then you could just chalk it all up to being horny after a failed date. 

but vernon started caressing your face before he moved his hands gently behind you to pull down the zipper of your dress. he still remembered that he had to hold the fabric straight to get the zipper to work, and he pulled it down in one smooth motion. 

you got up from the wall to aid him, and you didn’t protest when the dress became loose on your skin. you only continued to look up at vernon, feeling your eyes become glassy as the fabric pooled to your feet.

“you still don’t know?” he asked quietly. 

vernon brought his fingers to run over the trim of your bra, letting out a sigh when you tilted your head back in approval. you didn’t have to answer vernon for him to know your response. he didn’t even have it in him to laugh. something was serious as he bent down to graze his lips on the ball of your shoulder. 

when vernon moved to your neck you brought your hands to his shoulder. you kept him there, letting your legs bend slightly to rest some of your weight on his leg. he was strong underneath you, the flexing muscle in his thigh made you want to grind against him. before you could move your hips, vernon worked his kisses up to your ear then completely pulled away.

“let’s go to the bed.” he said.

you complied immediately, making your way to your old side of the bed as vernon walked around to his. 

both of your stood next to the bed, staring at the other. you waited for his instruction, but vernon stared at you waiting for your next move. the authority made you swallow your nerves, and you reached behind you to undo the clasp on your bra. vernon watched you fully clothed on the other side, completely still as you moved to your underwear. vernon watched you push your underwear past your knees and lower, until you could step out of them. 

as you brought your arms to cross against your chest, vernon let you watch as he pulled his shirt over his head. you looked at his toned stomach, how he ran his hand down his body before getting to the waistband of his sweats. you moved from foot to foot, trying to not make it obvious how much of a mess you were already becoming. getting undressed slowly made it feel like the first time again, both of you trying to remember what your bodies looked like now. you no longer felt like the young adult you were when you first met him as vernon pulled down his sweats to reveal his white briefs. as he reached for the waistband he motioned to the bed, silently telling you to get on first.

you pressed your hands into the foam and crawled to vernon’s side. you sat back on your legs, perched and ready to listen. vernon grabbed your hand that was balled up at your sides, kissing your palm after spreading out your fingers. you wanted to press your hand into his toned stomach and travel down until you could squeeze him over the fabric of his underwear, but you let vernon kiss every single one of your knuckles as he kept burning eye contact with you. when he let your hand fall back to the bed he reached into the top drawer of the night stand. when your mind caught on you shifted on your knees.

“i’m not seeing anyone.” you said quickly.

“what about your date?” vernon asked.

you shook your head, hoping that vernon wouldn’t make you say it out loud. the smug smile that blossomed across his face was enough of a response. he moves towards the bed and you make space for him, scooting over until you’re in the middle of the bed.

“so no condom?” he asked.

vernon eyed you carefully as he put the foil packet back down on the bedside table. the option was staring at you both. he watched you shrug your shoulders and look away, focusing on fluffing his pillows. he sat back on his haunches the same time you went to lay on your side. 

vernon watched you in silence as you started getting comfortable. too much time has passed since he’s seen you like this, naked and getting ready for him. seeing the line of your body settle on his sheets makes vernon want to tell you how much he changed. how he’s not the same twenty-year old who broke your heart by hiding his feelings. he wants to tell you that he’s a responsible adult now, and that his therapist tells him every session he’s making real progress. 

when you settle onto the mattress you turn to face him. vernon notices how you fail to hold eye contact with him longer than a second before turning away. your hand that was rubbing up and down your body goes to fraying thread on the sheets, and your eyes dart away to focus on the wall behind vernon.

“hurry before i change my mind.” you were anything but convincing. your words had no bite as you patiently waited for vernon to fall into his place beside you. “you should be thanking me. god knows when’s the last time you had sex.” you said.

even if you tried to seem threatening, vernon saw your body seize in anticipation when he shifted on the bed. he took his time, going to his back first to fully take off his underwear. he enjoyed seeing you trying to take quick peaks over your shoulder to look at his bare body and hearing your nails scratch the sheets to try and collect yourself. 

vernon put his hand on the side of your knee when he shifted his body again. he ran his hands up slowly, his touch light as a feather to try and make goosebumps erupt across your skin. he scooted his body closer to yours, his arm that was between his body and the mattress fell into place underneath your neck. 

the two of you went into your old routine, muscle memory of your past together in bed guided your movements. you both told yourselves your bodies were acting on their own accord. that was the excuse echoing around in both of your heads as you scooted your body back to meet vernon’s and why he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder blade. you gasped from the feeling, and suddenly the familiarity between you two filled the room. the closeness of your bodies was nearly blinding, you put your hand over vernon’s that had found it’s place on your ass. 

vernon foolishly thought that this position would protect him, that not being able to see your face would help him have emotionless sex with you. but feeling your fingers seamlessly intertwine with his made his heart pound against your back. each time he tried to slightly pull back you only followed him, chasing after the warmth of him against you. 

he thought fast to distract you from his heart thudding in its cage before you could point it out. he reluctantly separated his hand from yours to lift your leg, making it come over his. the change made you lean forward to put your hand on the mattress to stabilize yourself. vernon leaned forward, and bringing his arm that was under your neck to hold your chest to bring you close.

“the last time i had sex?” when your leg was locked over vernon’s he made quick work of you. ignoring everything else he used his free hand to reach between your legs. before he could even make contact, you preened your ass backwards, making a sound of embarrassment at how wet you were. “it was when i came over to put our daughter’s dollhouse together, remember?” he whispered.

vernon let the memories flood over you as both of your bodies shivered. it was months ago, you needed help putting together the dollhouse you got your baby for christmas. you were ever much of the handyman, and vernon wanted an excuse to come over to your new place. so while she was at daycare vernon was invited over, and just like now one thing led to another until you were on top of him. 

he remembers trying to kiss your knees that were bruised from being pressed to the ground and you told him to go away. he also remembers after the fact you used the excuse that you were lonely due to the holiday season. but now it was summer and you were moaning for him like you always used to. when vernon pressed his lips to the side of your face you didn’t tell him to go away, you only turned your head to give him better access.

“you said you hated me then.” vernon said.

vernon pushed two fingers into your heat and a satisfied smile spread across his face when your lips parted. he sees you nod your head, trying to form a coherent sentence.

“i do.” you respond.

you can barely get through your sentence without your voice pitching upwards. vernon feels you attempt to push your hips back to meet hie fingers. 

“you still hate me?” vernon slips in a third finger to try and change your mind. “after all this time?” he asks.

“i do.” you say, shaking your head.

vernon takes your mixed signals as a sign he’s doing something right. maybe by the third time you come to him like this he will get you to say no, maybe even have you initiate the kissing first. he uses it as motivation to keep pumping his fingers into your heat, and bringing you closer by the hand that’s on your chest. 

when you try wedging your hand between your bodies to find vernon’s dick, he moves out of the way. he shakes his head in the crook of your neck. he imagines the look of frustration on your face, the one that’s seared into the back of his eyelids as he lifts your leg further. you fall forward once again from the new angle and vernon lets you. 

“fuck me please, vernon.” you whine into the sheets. 

you use the rest of your strength to push your body back to its side and you moved vernon’s hand down to your chest. he can feel your heart jumping in its cage as you continue whining for him. his chest swells when he feels your desperate hand reach down again to grab his dick. he lets you and looks down to guide his dick to your hand. 

when you hold him it’s his turn to whine. he forgot what it was like to be touched by you that he has half a mind to ask you to just jerk him off. he wants to see if you’ll. get that same desperate look in your eye as your hand speeds up. maybe he’ll turn you around, just so he can see your eyes blow out with lust as he finishes all over your fist. but just like always does he keeps his thoughts to himself and lets you decide what you want. when you pull his fingers out of your hole he leans forward, letting his hard dick press against your ass.

both of you are so desperate your movements become rushed. vernon ruts his dick into your ass from the haste, and you clench your hand around his tip. you have to take a second to regain your composure before you pump his dick again. he thinks you’re doing it just to hear him sigh contently and feel him impatiently rut into your hand. you continue to do it, letting the slick sounds of his precum between your hands fill the room until his sighs turn to quiet whines. 

“turn around.” vernon kisses your shoulder, pressing his lips into your skin to muffle his words “look at me.” he begs.

you ignore him, even though you both know you can hear him. you both know that the spooning position you’re in currently is too intimate for people who claim to hate eachother. you both know that eye contact is dangerous, that it would only bring back feelings you both put so much energy into denying. so vernon lets you ignore him and plays off his pleads by lightly biting your skin. you moan from the pain that lights your body like a fire, and vernon puts his hand over yours to guide his dick the rest of the way.

“ready?” vernon asks.

vernon says it just as quiet as his previous plead. when you nod and whimper out a yes he feels his heart drop. he knows it was an act of self preservation, but he wished to see your face. he had to settle for his imagination and your sounds when he pushed his tip past your entrance, pushing every inch inside you you until his hips kissed yours. you sucked him in and kept his dick in place, fitting around him like a glove. there was no better feeling in the world, nothing tasted better than the salt from your skin that stayed on vernon’s lips. he put his hand on your ass to spread you out enough to draw his hips back. he heard you fist the sheets and he felt you grab his hand on your chest to steady yourself. he slid back in just as slow, cursing each time your walls seized around him. 

it had been too long. vernon was actively abandoning all of his instincts feeling you around him. he felt himself caring less and less about not wearing a condom the closer he got.

“i’m gonna cum if you keep clenching around me like that” he grunted into your shoulder.

vernon moved his hand on your ass to press his hand deep into your lower stomach, causing you to push your hips further back. he swore he could feel himself inside of your stomach, and the sound that ripped from your throat made him believe you felt it too. the new angle let vernon push his hips further into you. you could no longer hold your head upright as you let it fall into the pillows to muffle your sounds. even now you held back, trying to keep some shred of your dignity.

vernon lifted his head to try and look down at you. he could see your eyes closed from the pleasure, and the thin layer of sweat that glistened across your face. the tiny beads and your supple skin caught in the moonlight. 

vernon bent down to kiss your cheek, trying to entice you to turn your head again. for the second time, he could tell you were ignoring him. he forgot what you were trying to protect yourself from as he felt your walls seize around him again. it was getting sporadic, and your breaths were turning into quick huffs. when your hand tightened over his vernon used his leg to raise yours even more. his hand on your stomach found your clit quickly, rubbing circles that complimented his thrusting. you finally turned your head from the mattress, you even turned a little further to look vernon in the eyes.

“i’m so close, sol.” you whispered.

vernon saw you close your eyes and catch your bottom lip between your teeth, another telltale sign of you trying to focus. you dragged his hand that gripped your chest to your neck. you looked down at you trying so desperately to take the tenderness from this moment. if vernon squeezed his hand around your neck like you wanted, it would be easy for you both to claim this was simply just a horny mistake, a borderline hate-fuck. he made that mistake the first time, hand around your neck as he told you how much he hated you. he looked into your eyes when he said it, trying to revel in the way your eyes flashed in pain between the moments of bliss. he didn’t mean it then but he definitely didn’t mean it now—like he said before he has changed. 

so instead of pressing his fingers into the veins on the side of your neck he traveled up to your chin, turning your head so you were forced to look at him. you were shocked, eyes so wide and your face so close to his vernon could see himself in the reflection of your pupils. he placed a kiss right on your lips, not pulling back until he felt your lips move against his. he sees himself in your eyes again, and he sees his spit glistening on your lips. he feels himself inside of you, and he feels your warmth cover his entire being.

“i think i was made for you.” 

vernon meant to say it quietly just for himself as a silent realization, but the way you nod makes him believe it to be true. vernon feels you get your strength back as you push your hips backwards to meet his hard and deep thrusts.

“you still are.” you moaned.

he tells himself that you are just talking to fill the void of silence. vernon also tells himself that you can’t bring yourself to ignore him for the third time this night when you’re looking him right in eyes. regardless, vernon can also feel himself getting closer as you clench repeatedly around his twitching dick.

“oh my god.” you moan.

vernon pulls your body closer when he feels you shudder against him. you start driving your hips back without rhythm, trying anything you can to keep the stimulation going. vernon still looks down at you as you cum, and he smiles at the irony of you trying so hard to keep eye contact. you give into closing your eyes when he slips a finger into your mouth, and he can feel the vibration of your moans around his digit. 

when you start getting weaker, and settling into vernon’s hold he pulls his hand from your clit to pull out. when you open your eyes again they’re glassy. they’re no longer half lidded as you grab vernon’s wrist, stopping him from pulling out.

both of you look down at your hand. you look almost as shocked as vernon, like something came over you to stop him from pulling out. vernon takes it in stride, pushing back into you with a force that has you moaning around his finger. you turns your head even further to face him. he kisses the apple of your cheek and then your lips, smiling against your pout.

“you want another baby?” vernon moved down from your cheek to your jaw. “you really wouldn’t be able to get rid of me then.” he whispered once he made it to your ear.

before you could say anything back, vernon latched onto the skin right below your ear, sucking and pressing his teeth in the area below your jaw. the stimulation made your lower half sink further down onto the mattress, until you were relying fully on vernon’s strength to keep your body up. memories flood back to vernon, but the way he still remembers how you sound and respond to everything makes him think he never forgot in the first place. both of your bodies move simultaneously, when he pulls away from your neck you tilt your head to give him access to the other side. you preen your neck towards him, whimpering quietly when he lingers above the spot.

“oh my god.” you start shaking and vernon feels your nails dig into his skin. “too much.” you whimper.

vernon turns your head back around to press let his face rest against yours. you still suck around his fingers, and he can feel you turn your head to kiss whatever parts of his face you can reach. you still clamp around him, your cum adds to the lewd sounds that fill the room.

“can i cum inside?” vernon asks.

vernon closes his eyes and focuses on everything about you. he hold back until he feels your head nod against his.

“please.” you bring your hand behind you to run through his hair. “i miss you so much” you whimper around his fingers.

“i miss you more.” vernon whispers.

he doesn’t hold back anymore as he empties into you. he turns to the crook of your neck, sucking harshly at your skin to relieve even more of the tension. when his hips still you take the lead, plating your hand onto the mattress to give your hips more stability. vernon grips your ass, kneading the flesh desperately to try and ground himself. he pulls away from your skin to whimper into your ear. 

you two can no longer speak, only communicating through the hushed sounds of euphoria. vernon brings both of his hands to wrap around you, bringing your body as close to his as possible. you can no longer push your hips back from the new angle and that’s exactly what vernon wants. he forces you both to stay still, to feel all of it—the way his dick pulses inside of you as he cums deep inside of you. even when vernon gives you all he has, you both stay in that position. you both settle deeper into the bed, catching your breath as your skin doesn’t break contact. 

neither of you want to be the first to speak or to force the other one to come back to reality. so you two remain silent as vernon pulls out. you don’t say a word when vernon turns your body around to face him, or when he pulls the covers over your sweaty bodies. he returns the favor by saying nothing when your nestle into his chest and you guide his arm to wrap around your body. 

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[sadnymi]

Lovefool p2

[part one] [Mattheo riddle x reader]

Summary: Being the only girl in the group, and now stuck in the middle of nowhere with them, you found myself in a tricky situation. You had to share rooms, and Mattheo, leaving no room for negotiation, insisted that you would share with him. The problem was, there was only one bed. From uncovering feelings to heartbreak, it was a night you wouldn't forget.

Warning: angst,fluff,strong language, hints of smut .

Words:5,5k + Bonus scene.

When we arrived back home, I quickly said goodbye to the boys, avoiding eye contact with all of them. I couldn't bear to see their pity or confusion. I just wanted to escape to the solitude of my room. Once inside, I shut the door and leaned against it, finally allowing myself to break down. Tears streamed down my face as I slid to the floor, clutching my knees to my chest.

There was only one week left before returning to Hogwarts, and I knew I would have to face them—most of all, Mattheo. The thought of seeing him again made my stomach churn. During that week, I waited for him to reach out, to say something, anything, that would make sense of what happened. But he didn’t. The silence from him was deafening, and it drove me insane.

All the other boys sent me messages as usual. Even Blaise, who had been so harsh, reached out, perhaps feeling guilty for his words. But not Mattheo. He ghosted me completely, and the pain was unbearable. Every time my phone buzzed, my heart would leap with hope, only to be crushed when it wasn’t him.

I spent days replaying our time together in my mind, trying to understand what went wrong. Had I misread everything? Was I just another conquest to him? The questions tormented me, and the lack of answers made it worse.

I remember that night vividly. The way he looked at me, the tenderness in his touch, the passion in his kisses—it all felt so real. But now, it seemed like a cruel illusion, a trick my heart played on me.

I tried to distract myself by throwing myself into reading, but every word I read seemed to blur into the memory of him. I’d catch myself staring at the same page for hours, lost in thoughts of his hands on my skin, his whispered words.

By the middle of the week, the weight of his absence was unbearable. I lay in bed, clutching my phone, scrolling through old messages, and torturing myself with his silence. The boys' messages were kind and casual, but they couldn't fill the void Mattheo left.

Enzo’s messages were the most frequent, always checking in on me, making sure I was okay. “Hey, how are you holding up?” he’d text, and I’d force myself to respond with a lie. “I’m fine, thanks,” I’d write back, even though I was anything but fine.

Blaise's messages were surprisingly considerate. “Sorry about the other day. Didn’t mean to upset you,” he’d said. I couldn’t bring myself to be angry with him; he had only voiced what I feared was true.

But Mattheo? Nothing. No calls, no texts, no attempts to explain or apologize. It felt like he had erased me from his life completely.

The pain was relentless, gnawing at me day and night. I felt hollow, like a shell of the person I had been before. I missed his voice, his laughter, the way he made me feel seen and cherished. I missed him so much it hurt to breathe.

The final straw came the night before we were due to return to Hogwarts. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and realized I couldn’t go on like this. I needed to confront him, to demand answers. I couldn’t start the new school year with this weight on my shoulders. I had to face him, even if it meant shattering my heart all over again.

I took a deep breath and picked up my phone, my fingers trembling as I typed out a message. “Mattheo, we need to talk. Please.” I hit send and waited, my heart pounding in my chest. Minutes felt like hours as I watched the screen, praying for a response.

But none came. The silence stretched on, suffocating me, and I knew that no matter what happened, I had to find a way to move forward. With or without him.

I boarded the train with a heavy heart, my eyes scanning the crowded platform. As soon as I found Enzo, I slid into the seat next to him, trying to muster a smile.

“Hi,” I said, glancing briefly at Mattheo, who was sitting across from us.

“Hey,” Mattheo replied, his voice neutral, his gaze avoiding mine.

Theo soon returned, his eyes lighting up when he saw me. “How have you been?” he asked.

“I’ve been okay,” I lied, forcing another smile. Before I could say more, Draco and Blaise joined us, making the compartment feel even more cramped and awkward.

“Hi,” Draco said, his voice soft, his eyes flicking between me and Mattheo. Blaise offered a similar greeting, his usual bravado toned down, as if he sensed the tension.

I tried to lose myself in my book, Emma another Jane Austen novel, hoping it would distract me from the unbearable atmosphere. But I could feel Mattheo’s eyes on me, and each glance was like a dagger to my heart. His stare was intense, and it made concentrating impossible.

“I’m going to say hi to Pansy,” I announced suddenly, grabbing my bag and book. I left the compartment quickly, not giving anyone a chance to respond.

As I walked down the corridor, I realized I couldn’t face Pansy either. She would ask questions, and I had no answers. I turned a corner, only to overhear a group of girls talking animatedly about their exploits.

“Enzo is amazing,” one girl said, giggling. “Blaise too, though he’s a bit too cocky for my taste.”

“Oh, Theo is a sweetheart,” another girl chimed in. “But Mattheo... God, he’s something else.”

My ears pricked up at his name, and I leaned closer, my heart pounding.

“What’s it like with Mattheo?” a third girl asked, her voice dripping with curiosity.

“He’s rough, but in a good way,” the first girl said, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “He barely looked at me, but I didn’t mind. It felt so good. He didn’t kiss me, though, just... did his thing and left.”

My heart pounded as I continued to listen, hiding behind the corner.

"God, I'd do anything to sleep with Mattheo again," the first girl said, her voice filled with a mix of longing and frustration. "But he doesn't sleep with the same girl twice."

"Yeah, he's got a reputation for that," another girl chimed in. "And yet, somehow, they all are so different with her you know??," she said, her tone dripping with disdain.

" Y/N right? What's so special about her anyway?" a third girl asked, her voice filled with venom.

"She's always hanging around them, like she's one of them. I can't understand how she managed to get in their group."

"I bet they all fucked her at some point," the first girl said, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Do you think they share her? She's their slut for sure."

"I know right?," another girl agreed, her laughter harsh and cruel. "I mean, how else would she keep their attention? She must be really good in bed."

"Or maybe she just does whatever they want," the third girl added. "So pathetic, really. Always trying to act like she's so special. I bet she’s just a desperate little slut."

My heart pounded as I continued to listen, hiding behind the corner.

"Yeah, spreads her legs for any of them at the drop of a hat," another girl sneered. "She's probably been passed around like a party favor."

"And they act so protective of her," the first girl said with a bitter laugh. "I can't imagine why. What do they see in her?"

"They must be playing some kind of game," the third girl suggested. "Maybe seeing who can screw her over the most."

My heart beat faster and faster, each cruel word piercing deeper. Tears blurred my vision as I stepped away from the corner, desperate to escape their venomous gossip.

The world around me seemed to blur as I walked faster, not caring where I was going, just needing to get away. I collided with a strong chest, and looking up through my tears, I saw Mattheo.

"Why are you crying? “ His voice was sharper than a knife

“Who did this to you?" He asked once more when I didn’t answer his hands gently cupped my face, his thumbs wiping away my tears.

I pulled away, my voice shaking. "I'm not talking to you," I said, the tears flowing freely. I turned to leave, but he grabbed my hand.

"Stop it. Let me go," I demanded, trying to pull free from his grip.

"Not unless I know what got you crying like that," he insisted, his eyes filled with the same loving and caring expression that had once made my heart soar.

I looked away, the pain and confusion overwhelming me. "Just go and ignore me like you have been for the past week, or whatever," I said, my voice bitter. "Pretend I don't exist. You're good at that."

His face fell, looking speechless for a moment. I didn’t wait for him to respond. I pulled away, breaking into a run until I found an empty compartment far away from everyone. I slammed the door shut and collapsed onto the seat, sobbing uncontrollably.

The cruel words of the girls echoed in my mind, mingling with the confusion and heartbreak of Mattheo's unexpected concern. Why did he have to care now, after leaving me in silence for a week?

As the train rumbled on, I curled up on the seat, hugging my knees to my chest. The weight of everything pressed down on me, and I felt utterly alone. I had no answers, only questions that seemed to multiply with each passing moment. Why had he treated me so tenderly, only to disappear? And why did it hurt so much to see that same tenderness now, when I was already so broken?

Why had Mattheo been so different with me? Cause I’m pretty sure I wasn’t imagining that night and from what I heard from those girls it seems like he’s a different person from the one they are talking about .

I had a long time trying to explain to the boys why I suddenly disappeared and never returned. They didn’t look convinced, and their probing questions made it clear they weren’t buying my excuses.

Days passed, and I tried to put some space between me and all of them. It wasn’t easy. Draco cornered me in the common room one evening, his eyes filled with concern. "Something happened," he said, his voice low and insistent. "Tell me what it is."

"I'm fine, Draco. It's just family drama," I lied, my stomach twisting with guilt.

"You’ve been skipping meals and acting different," Theo added, joining us with a frown. "This isn’t like you."

"I told you, it’s family stuff," I insisted, hating how naked I felt under their scrutiny. It was like they could see right through my facade.

"Just...let us help," Draco pleaded, but I shook my head, turning away from their worried gazes.

Over the next few days, I was in a bit of a slump. Not only did I skip meals, but I also skipped more classes than usual. If I could have, I would have skipped the whole week, but unfortunately, that wasn't an option.

I grabbed my bag and walked through the courtyard, I overheard a girl talking loudly to her friends. "She's such a slut," she sneered, and my steps faltered. "I bet she's been with every Slytherin boy."

I stopped, my blood boiling. I turned around and marched over to her, my fists clenched. "What did you say?"

The girl looked taken aback for a moment but quickly recovered. "I said you're a slut. Everyone knows it."

The rage bubbling inside me reached a boiling point. "You think you know me? You think you can talk about me like that? Here’s a newsflash for you: I don’t need your approval or your pathetic opinions.“

Before she could respond, a boy next to her smirked. “Yeah, I’d love to fuck you just like the whole Slytherin boys have. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

I stepped closer, my fists clenched at my sides. "Why don’t you come a bit closer and say that to my face?" I said, my voice trembling with rage.

The crowd that had gathered around us watched with wide eyes and open mouths. "What's wrong?" the girl taunted. "Truth hurts?"

“Do you think it makes you look strong, demeaning someone you don’t even know? Do you think you’re better than me because you can spread lies and gossip? You’re pathetic. You think I care about what you say? The only thing that matters is that I know the truth, and that scares you, doesn’t it? Because deep down, you know you’ll never be anything more than a coward hiding behind cruel words.”

The girl, emboldened by the attention, added, "Your family must be so proud of you. What a disgrace."

"Shut your mouth," I said, stepping closer, my eyes burning with anger. "I don’t care what you think of me, but if you ever talk about my family again, you’ll regret it."

She looked a bit scared but tried to stand her ground. "Or what? You'll hit me? No wonder why your dad left,""

I saw red. I lunged at her, my fist raised, but strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back. "Let go!" I yelled, struggling against the hold.

"Not her, not now, love," Mattheo's voice whispered in my ear, calming yet firm. He started to pull me away from the mess, his grip gentle but unyielding.

"Mattheo, let go of me," I insisted, trying to break free.

"Not until you calm down," he replied, his eyes full of concern. "I can't let you get into trouble over this."

He guided me into an empty hallway with a balcony, a secluded spot even the ghosts avoided. I was still shaking with rage, my breathing ragged. "Who do you think you are? Don’t touch me! Stay away!" I shouted, pushing at his chest.

"Just breathe, my love," he murmured, his hands cupping my face gently, thumbs stroking my cheeks. "Breathe with me."

His touch, his voice, started to pierce through the fog of anger. I took a shaky breath, then another, my heartbeat slowly steadying.

"Look at me," he said softly, tilting my chin up so our eyes met. "Every single one who talks bad about you is going to regret it. They’re going to wish they were dead before they ever said a word."

"Why do you act like this?" I demanded, my voice trembling. "You act like you care, like you—" I faltered, trying to find the right words. "Your mixed signals are driving me crazy! You pull me closer just to walk away after."

He looked pained, his eyes searching mine for understanding, but he said nothing.

"Say something!" I pleaded, tears welling up. "Anything!"

Still, he remained silent, and the silence cut deeper than any words ever could.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and the rest of the boys appeared. Blaise was the first to speak, his gaze flicking between me and Mattheo. "You okay?" he asked.

I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Theo stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "This happened before, didn't it?"

I took a deep breath, nodding again. "Yes."

Draco crossed his arms, his expression softening. "Well, that explains why you were acting distant. You should have told us."

"I didn't know what to say," I admitted, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Enzo's voice was gentle as he asked, "What happened before?"

I glanced at Mattheo, who was watching me with an unreadable expression. I couldn't bear his eyes on me anymore. Looking back at Enzo, I said quietly, "It was on the train."

Their eyes widened as I recounted the overheard conversation, the cruel words that had been said about me, and how it had all culminated in the confrontation just now. Mattheo's gaze never left me, and I knew what he was thinking, but I couldn't deal with it anymore.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice breaking. "I just... I need to go to my dorm. I'll see you all tomorrow."

Enzo stepped forward, his concern evident. "I'll walk you."

I nodded, unable to look at Mattheo as I turned to leave. Enzo fell into step beside me, his presence a small comfort amidst the chaos.

The next day, as I walked into class, I was met with an unexpected wave of greetings and offers of help.

"Hey, need any notes from yesterday?" asked one girl, her smile bright and friendly.

"I saved you a seat," another girl said, gesturing to the spot next to her.

"Do you need a quill? I've got an extra," someone else offered, holding out a shiny new quill.

I looked around, confused by the sudden change in behavior. These were the same people who had ignored me or worse, whispered behind my back just a day ago. Before I could process it, a group of girls approached, all smiles and compliments.

"Your hair looks amazing today," one of them said, her tone overly enthusiastic.

"Yeah, and your shoes are so cute!" another added.

"Thanks," I muttered, bewildered by their sudden interest.

Then, the girl from yesterday's confrontation appeared, looking hesitant. She took a deep breath and stepped closer. "I'm really sorry about what I said yesterday," she began, her voice shaky. "Please forgive me. I didn't mean any of it, and I feel terrible."

I stared at her, trying to make sense of this abrupt apology. "Why are you apologizing now?" I asked, suspicion creeping into my voice.

Before she could respond, I noticed him. The boy who had made that disgusting comment about me the day before. His arm was in a sling, supported by a wooden splint, and his face was a mess of blue and purple bruises. He had a black eye, swollen nearly shut.

"I, uh, fell down the stairs," he mumbled, not meeting my gaze.

I looked between the two of them, realization dawning. My stomach churned, and I felt the sudden urge to get out of there. Grabbing my things, I bolted from the classroom, not stopping until I was far from the castle. I found myself in a hidden garden, a place where I often went to think.

I sat down on the ground, trying to calm my racing heart and catch my breath. I wasn't dumb. I knew what had really happened. I knew who was behind the sudden wave of attention, the apologies, the broken bones. It wasn't hard to piece it together.

Mattheo.

But clarity seemed a distant dream. I leaned back against the tree, closing my eyes, and tried to find a moment of calm amidst the chaos Mattheo had left in his wake.

I stayed in the garden for what felt like hours, trying to find some semblance of peace amidst the turmoil. Eventually, I knew I would have to face him, to confront what had happened and what it meant. But for now, I just needed to breathe.

I felt someone approaching and sat beside me. I looked up and met Mattheo’s eyes. He was holding a book in his hand.

I felt someone approaching and sat up, my heart pounding. When I looked up, I met Mattheo’s eyes. He was holding a book in his hand.

"I—I got this for you," he said, his voice soft.

I glanced at the book, then back at him, and took it from his hand. It was Persuasion, another Jane Austen's novels. My heart beat even faster as I muttered a thank you. Then I noticed the blood on his hands, despite his clear attempts to wash it off.

He asked, "What were you reading on the train?"

I stared at him, incredulous. "You’re seriously asking me about my books while having blood on your hands? and probably terrorized the whole school before coming here!" I shouted.

He just smirked. "Are you insane, Mattheo? Seriously, what the hell?" I yelled again.

He raised his eyebrows, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I told you they were going to regret what they said yesterday, didn't I?"

"I can take care of myself. I don’t need your help," I snapped, trying to walk away, but he grabbed my hand, pulling me back until my back hit the tree.

"I know," he said.

I rolled my eyes and looked away, trapped between his hands on either side of my face and the tree behind me. His closeness was overwhelming.

"You’re insane," I muttered.

"Well, I need to talk to you, and you left me no other choice," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I chuckled sarcastically. "You kidding me? Because as much as I remember, you were the one who left after—" I stammered, my face turning red, unable to finish the sentence.

"Yes, my love, after what?" he asked, smiling even wider.

"After I went down on you? Or when I had my finger deep inside you?" he continued, his voice low and teasing. I put my hands over his mouth, desperate to stop him.

"Oh, Lord, stop," I said, my voice a whisper. He kissed my hand, sending a jolt through me, and I pulled it away quickly, my face burning even more.

"Don’t go shy on me now, love. I’m pretty sure I kissed more intimate parts," he said, leaning closer to whisper in my ear. "I've had your taste on my tongue for weeks."

I tried to hit him in the chest, but he grabbed both my hands with one hand, pinning them above my head.

“Listen,” he said, getting more serious. “Enzo told me about what Blaise said that day.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I really want to know another tale about you with a girl in bed.”

“Another tale?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

I looked him in the eyes, my voice trembling with both anger and hurt. “I heard what that girl said on the train. About how good you were in bed, how you liked it rough, just did the job and left with no kisses. She wasn’t even complaining, Mattheo. She said she’d do anything to sleep with you again, but it’s too bad because you don’t sleep with the same girl twice."

“Did she now?” he said, smirking.

“Fuck you, Mattheo,” I said, trying to pull away, but his hold was too strong. “Fuck you so much. I get it. I was delusional to think it was more than a one-time thing for you because you don’t sleep with the same girl twice, you don’t—” My voice cracked, betraying my emotions.

"Did it look like a fucking one-time thing back then, Y/N?" he demanded, sharp and serious. I avoided his gaze, my anger and pain battling inside me.

"Answer," he insisted, his face inches from mine. I looked up at him, the intensity in his eyes making it hard to breathe.

"No," I admitted, my voice barely audible.

"Because it fucking wasn’t," he said. "It wasn’t a simple fuck. I was making love to you, and that freaked the shit out of me." The veins in his neck stood out as he spoke, his eyes blazing.

I blinked, trying to process his words. "So, yes," he continued, his voice lower but no less intense, "what the girl said was right. I’ve fucked other girls like that. Rough, fast, no strings attached. Just getting off and moving on. No kisses, no tenderness, just raw and dirty, didn’t look at them more than I had to.”

My breathing grew heavier as his words sank in.“So, does it look like that now?” he asked, his voice softer but still intense. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed.

“Fucking look at me Y/N,” he commanded, and I looked up at him, shaking my head.

“Every time I look at you, at those lips,” he whispered, his voice dropping lower, “all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you. How much I want to taste you. How much I want you in every way. It’s not just about fucking. It’s about you. Every part of you, that night... you were in my arms, and I managed to sleep. You have no idea how rare that is for me.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, my body responding despite my confusion. I could feel the heat between us, the undeniable pull that had always been there.

I looked at him, standing there, rain-soaked and intense, and the tears kept falling from my eyes.

“And no, I don’t want you to be my friend,” he continued, his voice rising. “I want to hear you moaning my name. I want to have you, all of you. To kiss every inch of you. To make you smile, to see you laugh. To put your happiness above anything because nothing else matters. Nothing but you.”

His words were raw, cutting through the rain and my confusion. The sheer intensity of his confession left me breathless, my heart pounding in my chest. I could feel the pull, the magnetic force between us, stronger than ever.

“I’ve tried to stay away, to keep my distance,” he went on, his voice breaking slightly. “But every time I see you, it’s like a punch to the gut. I’m fighting a losing battle. I don’t just want you. I need you. In every way possible.”

I stood there, soaked and trembling, unable to speak. His words had stripped me bare, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. The rain continued to pour, a relentless backdrop to his declaration.

“So tell me, do you understand now?” he asked again, his voice softer.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with emotion. The truth of his words was undeniable, resonating deep within me. I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself, and met his gaze.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I understand.”

He reached out, gently wiping the tears from my cheeks. “I will be so good to you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing my skin. “I would do anything for you. I fucked up, and I—”

I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his, cutting him off. For a moment, he was surprised and didn’t kissed me back, I pulled back, looking him in the eye. And as if a dam had broken, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer.

He leaned down, capturing my mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. His lips were soft but insistent, demanding and giving all at once. I felt his hands on my waist, lifting me effortlessly. My legs wrapped around his hips as he held me against him, the kiss growing more passionate. The rain poured down, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else.

His tongue parted my lips, and I opened to him, the taste of him intoxicating. He kissed me with a fervor that made my head spin, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me tighter against him. I could feel the hard lines of his body, the heat between us almost unbearable.

"Wait," I managed to gasp, pulling back slightly. "The book, the rain—"

"I'll get you a new one," he promised, his voice fierce, breathing heavily against my lips. His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling gently until my face tilted up to meet his gaze. Then he kissed me again, more fiercely this time, as if he couldn’t get enough.

I melted into him, my hands clinging to his shoulders as he devoured me. His lips moved over mine with a raw, desperate need, and I responded with equal fervor. The world around us disappeared, the rain, the cold, everything fading away until there was only him, only us.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled back, his forehead resting against mine. "Come with me," he murmured, his voice a soft plea. "Let's get out of this rain."

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest, his hand slipping into mine, and we ran through the rain. We found shelter under a nearby awning, the sudden silence after the roar of the rain almost surreal.

He looked at me, his eyes dark and intense, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. "You're soaked," he said, his voice gentle, as he brushed a strand of wet hair from my face.

"So are you," I replied, a smile tugging at my lips.

"Well, we make a pretty pair then," he teased, his hand settling on my waist.

I laughed, the sound light and carefree, a stark contrast to the storm still raging around us. "We do, don't we?"

His gaze softened, a tender smile playing on his lips. "I've never seen anyone look so beautiful soaking wet."

I rolled my eyes playfully, running a hand through his wet hair. "You're just saying that because you want to kiss me again."

He grinned, leaning in closer. "Maybe. But it's true." His lips hovered over mine, the anticipation making my heart race. "And for the record, I do want to kiss you again. Very much."

"Then what are you waiting for?" I challenged, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He didn't need any more encouragement. His lips captured mine in a kiss that was both sweet and passionate, his hand tightening on my waist, pulling me flush against him. I could feel the warmth of his body through the wet fabric of our clothes, the contrast to the chill of the rain making my skin tingle.

As the kiss deepened, his free hand slid up my back, tangling in my hair. I moaned softly against his lips, the sound making him groan in response. He pulled back slightly, his breath hot against my skin.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "The things I want to do to you."

My cheeks flushed, and I looked down, feeling a mix of excitement and shyness. "Like what?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I want to make you mine in every possible way," he said, his eyes burning with intensity. "I want to hear you scream my name, to see you come apart in my arms. I want to kiss every inch of you, to make you feel things you've never felt before."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I bit my lip, trying to suppress the blush that was spreading across my cheeks. "You're making me blush," I whispered, my voice shaky.

He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Good. I like it when you blush." He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "I like knowing I'm the one making you feel this way."

I closed my eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. His words, his touch, everything about him was overwhelming. "You're insufferable," I muttered, but there was no heat in my words, only affection.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. "You love it," he teased, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my neck.

I sighed, my fingers threading through his hair as I leaned into his touch. "Yeah, I do," I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I really do."

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine. "Good," he said softly, his hand cupping my face. "Because I'm not letting you go."

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the rain. "I don't want you to,".

"So, I really have done it in your Mr. Darcy way, haven't I?" he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I was always jealous of him, when you talked about him like that you know?"

Before I could respond, his mouth was on my neck, kissing and sucking gently, then more insistently. I let out a soft moan, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Perfect," he said, admiring his handiwork.

I laughed, breathless and flushed. "What was that for?"

He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes. "It's for Blaise. Since he loves to ask so much."

I rolled my eyes, unable to suppress my smile. "You know he went on a date last night, right?"

"Did he now?" Mattheo replied, his fingers trailing down my arm. "I want everyone to know you're mine."

The possessiveness in his voice sent another thrill through me. "And what if I don't want to be claimed like some trophy?" I teased, raising an eyebrow.

He pulled me closer, his lips brushing against mine. "Then I'll just have to work harder to prove I deserve you," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.

I smiled, feeling the warmth of his words seep into me. "You've already proven that," I said softly, kissing him again. "But I wouldn't mind seeing you try."

He laughed, the sound rich and joyful. "Challenge accepted."

We stood there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, the rain a distant memory. His hands roamed over my back, his touch sending sparks of electricity through me. I leaned into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my chest, and knew that this was where I belonged.

"We should get inside," I said, glancing at the castle in the distance. "Before we catch our deaths."

"Right," he agreed, but made no move to let go. "But just one more kiss."

"Just one more," I echoed, leaning up to meet his lips again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Bonus scene ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

As we approached our usual spot, I saw Blaise, Enzo, Theo, Pansy and Draco already seated, with an unfamiliar girl sitting beside Blaise.

I caught Blaise’s curious gaze fixed on my neck. He raised an eyebrow, a knowing grin spreading across his face.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Blaise said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Is that a hickey, Y/N?”

I felt my face heat up, and before I could muster a response, Mattheo leaned forward, his grin turning positively devilish.

“Yes, mate,” Mattheo said smoothly. “It is a hickey.”

Blaise’s eyes widened slightly before he broke into a laugh. “By whom, I wonder?”

Mattheo wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “By me, obviously,” he declared, his voice filled with pride. “Wanted to make sure everyone knows she’s mine.”

I blushed even deeper, but I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

Draco looked between us, his grin widening. “Well, it’s about time. I was starting to think you’d never make a move.”

Mattheo chuckled, his hand moving to rest possessively on my waist. “Trust me, I’ve made plenty of moves. Just decided it was time to make it official.”

He winked at me. “Just make sure he treats you right. If not, you know where to find me.”

Mattheo tightened his hold on me, his eyes flashing with a playful warning. “She won’t need to, because I’m going to treat her better than anyone else ever could.”

I laughed, the tension melting away as I leaned into Mattheo’s embrace. “I think I can handle him.”

"So," Pansy said, leaning forward with an impish grin. "Does this mean you're off the market, then?"

"Consider me taken," Mattheo said, his voice firm. "And very happily so."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

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@heelshiree @hoeforvinniehackerrr @cookiesex115 @mgchaser @mayamonroem @hereticdance @heelshiree @fallingblackveils @cardi-bre91 @sonnderlust @too-efn-old-to-be-here @gemizminee @broadwaybaby123 @howdyhowby@hisparentsgallerryy @sksksksk28

[h2llish]

⁀➷ ˖ tough love

notes ─── we love rollo <3 so this is my contribution to @cloudcountry 's event!

ROLLO FLAMME ─── if you don't care, you're not sure anyone will.

warnings ☆ fluff, some comfort, can be read platonic or romantic, gender neutral, reader is not yuu, playful teasing, lowercase intended, takes place after the event btw

the sky had become dashed with yellows and pinks as the sun began to set, and many of your peers began to retire from the rush of class. you would've liked to join them, but like clockwork, your routine left you climbing the belltower as the time on your watch struck six, with your books abandoned at the bottom for you to come back to. (if anyone stumbled across your belongings, they knew to leave it be, far too used to the routine of you and their president.)

you believe you had come to recognize every miniscule difference in the planks with how often you'd climb them, navigating the corners like your body had memorized every turn. and perhaps it has, since you've been climbing the belltower for more than a year every day to meet him at the top.

"there they are!"

you smiled and tilted your head respectfully as you reached the top of the tower, greeting the gargoyles that lived with the bell. they'd come to recognize your face, knowing you by name, and always waiting for you to reach the top at the same time, every day. ─ you'd only ever been late once, when you hadn't been aware of the quicker passage to the top. but since then, you'd always be there, even when you fell ill with a cold, or found it difficult to walk after a bad bout of food poisoning (specific, perhaps, but it did happen, and yet you still came at the exact time in which you promised you would. even if that did lead you to receiving a long scolding).

one of the gargoyles, who had always been more talkative, and seemed much older compared to the rest, waited to gesture over to the bell, where you could just barely see someone sitting on the other side. "we're especially quiet today."

"is that so." you sighed, gripping the bag on your shoulder with a lazy shrug, nodding at the gargoyle in your thanks.

rollo hardly batted an eye when you took up spot beside him, setting the bag down safely, and leaning back on your hands with an exaggerated sigh. "you know, having to climb all these stairs every day, gets exhausting." you said ─ a jab, you always made sure to poke at him. it was a test, something you've done since you were kids. you'd learned that his reactions to your jokes always told you how he was feeling, how open he was to talk to you.

"then stop climbing every day." he replied, rolling his eyes but not giving you the satisfaction of a glance your way.

you gasped, as dramatic as he'd known you to be, "but this is my time where i have you all to myself! i'm offended you'd say such a thing!"

"you're ridiculous."

"says the guy who is brooding all alone here in a tower." you snickered, and he finally looked at you, sending you a glare. but you hardly felt any anger behind it; at least not at you. ─ the anger you were used to seeing since the incident was always directed elsewhere, stewing, grieving.

"i'm not brooding." he scowled, and you raised your eyebrows, as if challenging that claim.

"sure you're not." you clicked your tongue and grinned.

he was talkative today, expressive ─ a rare occurrence with him. you'd consider it your lucky day if you didn't know he's only ever like this when his guard is down because he's simply too tired to keep it up. he's known you since you were small, you'd been there since the start of it all, and yet he still found it so difficult to relax. ─ you knew why, and you grieved for him when he could not.

he went silent, a scoff his final jab at your teasing, turning his head back out to the city that the bell overlooked, watching over it like a knight to its queen. the same city you can still vividly remember being covered in flickering flowers that drained you of the magic you built up if only to be at his side when he got into the college. ─ you remember being in the dorms, attending to any students who might need your help. and you remember when they started to fall unconscious. you remember looking outside as the flowers spread, until you too, went dark, only to wake sometime later with the mission of finding rollo to make sure he was okay. (he was, and you think you know why.)

"are you hungry?" you asked, crossing your legs and leaning forward.

"no."

"liar." you quickly rebutted, turning your head to him with narrowed eyes, "you didn't eat lunch."

"and how do you know that?"

"i know everything, my dear rollo." ─ you always made sure he was taking care of himself, always there to support even when he remained oblivious to it. you remember making that promise to yourself as a kid, to look out for him when no one else would, when he didn't know how to grieve, and he scowled and cursed at every mage that crossed your sight.

you grabbed the bag at your side and reached into it, pulling out sandwiches and bottles of water, "i brought you something to eat." you held it out to him with a look that told him he had to take it. he did, and he didn't need to say thank you because you knew that when tomorrow comes, he'll have your favorite pastry waiting for you, like he always did when you make sure to care of him where he lacked. "i would've cooked for you, but alas, i simply had no time."

"thank the stars." he sassed, and you would've gasped in surprise if you hadn't been expecting. ─ he really was so talkative today, lucky you.

"we are still sitting at the top of the tower."

"your threats have no effect on me." he scoffed, before taking a bite of the unwrapped sandwich.

you snorted and glared at him with faux annoyance, "see if i ever come back here."

a side glance as he chewed, before he jabbed back, "what happened to having me all to yourself?"

"i can manage."

"you're much too terrible at lying."

he's right, but you think that applies only when it came to your care for him.

and you know it will be the same tomorrow. ─ just as your watch strikes six, when the sky is painted with yellows and pinks as the sun begins to set, and many of your peers begin to retire from the rush of class. and although you would like to join them, you'd still find yourself at the belltower, like clockwork, with your books waiting for you to return to them, and a bag on your shoulder with sandwiches inside because you'd know he'd probably forget to eat lunch. and you'd find something else to jab at him about, to see how he's feeling, and know what he needs you to be.

because you made a promise to care for him, because you're not sure anyone else will.

do not repost, translate, copy, or run my writing through an ai

[loveandmurders]

Red string and crimson hands (Poly!Sinclair brothers x f!reader) - Part II

Hi everyone, this is the second part of this new soulmate AU requested by @mrstargayen09 . You can find part 1 here.

Hope you'll enjoy <3

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of violent killing, mentions of nausea, blood and yelling

You were like in trance when you grabbed a bag and started to put some of your belongings in it. You were feverish, your heart beating so fast you felt like it was going to rip away from your ribcage. You were about to do something that was going to change your life. You were going to jump into the devil’s lair. You were afraid, and yet you were determined.

You couldn’t properly think actually. It was as if the crimson string had finally found a way to make you its puppet. You needed to follow it. You needed to understand who your soulmates were and why you were supposed to stay away from them.

When you entered your car, a heavy downpour startled you away from your thoughts. For one brief second, you hesitated. Maybe you should go back home and grab a cold shower. Maybe you should listen to your parents and be a good girl. 

You started the engine and decided to follow the red string, like Alice followed the white rabbit down wonderland. You knew you would never come back from Ambrose - or wherever your soulmates were - as the same person you currently were. But it was okay. You couldn’t keep going that way anyways.

The darkness of the sky helped you see even more vividly the crimson string. A little voice inside your head told you that this scene looked like you were following a trail of blood. Perhaps it was the case, but you didn’t care for the moment. Your desire to be whole again wasn’t cruel anymore, it was freeing you.

Your mother felt something was wrong and she called you. You almost didn’t answer before deciding she deserved to know the truth.

“Hey mom” you greeted her

“Hey baby, is everything alright?” she asked you

“Yes. I’m feeling good actually” you replied

“Actually?” she hummed

“Yes. Since I woke up in the hospital bed, I always felt like… I don’t know, like if something was off. I wasn’t feeling that well, that happy. I struggle to remember what I used to feel before the accident, but I’m certain that I was feeling empty. And I know why” you explained

“Why?” your mother asked, getting more and more worried

“Because I tried to cut the ties with them, ties that can’t be cut.” you replied

“What are you doing?” your mother cried out

“I’m following the red string. And there is nothing you can tell me that will make me reconsider it. I finally feel like everything is going to be okay. Maybe it won’t, but I need to know. I need to meet them again, and to understand, and to give them another chance.” you told her “I promise I will keep in touch” you tried to reassure her

“Don’t do this. They could hurt you, they could kill you” you mother tried

“No they won’t. That’s the only certitude I have. Because they are my soulmates. Everything will be alright, mom, I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself” you said before hanging up.

You drove days and nights, barely sleeping, barely eating. Your eyes were never leaving the red string, as if you were afraid that it would disappear at some point, in some cruel prank pulled by fate. In reality, the closer you went to Ambrose, and the brighter the colour red was becoming. It truly had the appearance of a trail of blood swirling in the air to show you the way.

You passed by the House of Wax board ads and you had to stop the car because you suddenly started to suffocate. Your mind was close to exploding as you started to remember. You remembered the sculptures made of wax, you remembered a woman called Trudy, you remembered a masked boy. Flashes were hurting your brain.

You tried to take deep breaths and to focus on the sound the rain was making when it was hitting your car. You found your bottle of water and slowly sipped at it. You were so close to getting “home” now, you could feel it.

And a little voice started to whisper to you that it was still time to run away, to turn around and to come back home, away from the devil. You didn’t have to do this, you didn’t have to find the darkness to jump into its embrace.

But you turned the engine back on. The roads were tricky and you were glad fate was guiding you or you would have gotten lost. You could sense danger and clearly you wouldn’t have wanted to be lost, you wouldn’t have wanted to be anyone else wandering closer to the devil’s lair.

You finally entered Ambrose and you remembered a child who was showing you “cool” rocks and “pretty” dead animals, begging for your attention. You continued to drive, carefully. You finally parked in front of a garage and you had flashes of a boy telling you tool names and what they were for. You got out of the car, feeling lightheaded and nauseous. 

For an instant, you thought that the string was now laying on the floor, before you realised that it was actual blood. You tried to calm down, but you had to lean against your car for a little while. 

It was still time to get back in your vehicule - no one seemed to have spotted you yet. You should call the police too.

You took another big breath and started to walk around. You couldn’t call for anyone, you could just follow the blood. You found a dead body at the entrance of a house. A house you seemed to know very well, because you could guess where each room was. You could guess the decoration, you could almost recall the scent of a freshly baked cake.

If you had been in your normal state, you would have thrown up at the sight of the dead man - especially with the way his throat has been ripped open -, but your attention went on the name written on the mailbox. “Mr and Mrs L/N and their daughter Y/N”. 

It used to be your home.

You climbed the little stairs leading to the entrance, walking by the dead man before softly pushing the door open, like you did countless times before. For an instant, you felt like you were a teenage girl again, and you were coming back home after school, probably asking your parents’ permission to stay over at the… Sinclairs.

You didn’t have time to feel anything about this name, because loud noises brought you back to reality. You followed them, noticing how bright the red string was getting too, as if it was exciting you were finally where you should have been for so long. 

“How fuckin’ dare ya come into this house?” a man yelled as he was stabbing another man on the floor “It’s her fuckin’ home and ya fuckin’ stained it, ya piece of shit” he continued to cry out as a pool of blood was drenching the tiles and their clothes.

Two other men were attacking another person. They were violent, angry. They were covered in blood. It seemed that nothing could have stopped them. 

You should have run away, but the string was attached to their wrists.

Those three dangerous killers were yours.

And your fate was to be theirs.

You watched, in pure horror, quite afraid. You couldn’t move an inch, you could just take into the scene: three men beating two people to death, with their fists and with knives. Blood was scattered everywhere in what was a family kitchen. You remembered what your parents said: animals, monsters, violent and dangerous killers.

Yes, it was all true.

And now you understood why you decided to stay away from them, you understood why your parents thought it was a chance you didn’t remember any of this. You quite felt like your family didn’t know how badly things went in Ambrose, though, or they would  have stopped you. They would have called 911.

But at the same time, for the first time since you could recall, you started to feel at peace. You weren’t empty anymore. No more sorrow, no more despair. You promised yourself you weren’t going to be a coward, you were going to deal with whatever needed to be dealt with in Ambrose. And this time, if you had to leave your soulmates behind again, it would only be because fate decided to play with you four, and not because you had run away.

When you had left, you were just a teenage girl, but now you were an adult and you knew it meant being strong and facing what life gave you.

When the man who yelled at the now dead man spotted you, you should have been ready to escape, you should have been terrified. But you simply looked at him. He quickly got up, his pants soaked with blood; his hands and face weren’t looking better either.

He stopped in his tracks - that was to attack you - to observe you. You couldn’t read his expression but you saw something lighting up in his eyes: hope.

The other two men noticed his movement and turned toward you after having followed his line of vision. One of the men was wearing a mask so you couldn’t know what he was feeling, until he knelt down in front of you. You weren’t too sure if it was to worship you or if it was because his legs couldn’t carry him any longer. Maybe both.

The last one, the youngest one, it seemed, carefully walked closer to you, until he noticed what he looked like: a man who just killed someone.

“Y/N?” the first man whispered and your attention went back on him

You simply nodded, not trusting your voice under the intensity of his baby blue eyes.

“Ya… Ya shouldn’t be there… I mean, no, ya should be there, but ya shouldn’t've seen that” the one who was the closest to you added “We should've been more careful” he apologised

“But they got inside your home” the other one tried to explain

“A red string leading to bloodthirsty killers, it does track” you thought out loud

“The string? Ya still saw it? That’s why ya came back?” the man asked, hope shining even more in his eyes 

At the instant you nodded again at the question, the three men seemed to be relieved and to relax. The man who was kneeling got up and started to sign to the two others, before turning towards you. He signed to you as well but quickly realised you didn’t understand him.

“Ain’t rememberin’ ASL?” the youngest asked you, tilting his head to the side in surprise

“I… I got in a bike accident. Don’t remember my past… Don’t remember Ambrose or… you three actually. My parents thought it would help me stay away from you but… I guessed it doesn’t work that way when you see a red string all the time, not knowing where it leads” you explained

The three men exchanged a look. They didn’t know what to feel about it. They hated that you didn’t remember what you used to share, and that you didn’t come back thanks to the memories of them taking good care of you. They were even more upset that the first fresh memory of them was them brutally killing people. But at least you were back to Ambrose. You were back home. And they were going to make sure you wouldn’t want to leave again. They were very much aware that fate granted them a new chance to have you back and they weren’t going to screw it up, even if it wasn’t starting very well.

“Don’t be afraid of us, 'kay? It’s true it ain’t lookin’ good, but we’d never hurt ya. I’m Lester, and they're Bo and Vincent” the man presented the three of them “We’re brothers and we’re sharin' ya as our soulmate, but ya already know that” he tried to smile at you

“Sinclairs” you hummed and the men smiled at you, your memories didn’t seem to be that far away after all.

“Look darl’, how ‘bout ya go to our house and grab a shower? Ya relax while we… take care of the mess here. And after that, we’ll get you something to eat and we’ll talk, yes?” Bo offered

You noticed how none of them dared coming too close to you, they didn’t want to stain you with their crimson hands. They didn’t want to watch you run away from them like last time. 

“I don’t know which one is your house” you replied

“Les’ll show ya. One room is yours, always has been and always will be. We’ve got no secret for ya, so ya can freely look 'round” Bo continued but Vincent quickly signed to him “Oh yeah, maybe don’t go in the basement. Ya’ve seen enough horror for today” Bo tried to smile at you but it looked more like a grimace.

You simply nodded.

Your attention went to Lester before turning back to leave the house. Lester quietly showed you the way to the Sinclairs home. You stayed silent, watching around the two of you. It was strange to not be bothered by the red string anymore, it was as if your eyes could finally see a scene in its entirety.

Lester stopped in front of a house and you realised you would have been able to find it actually, because your whole being calmed down at the sight of it.

“Just gonna grab my bag in my car” you told Lester who nodded, he bit on his bottom lip, debating on telling you something, so you simply watched him, waiting for him to say what was on his mind.

“Don’t be that quiet ‘round us, ‘kay? Ya stopped talkin’ to us ‘bout what was on your mind right before leavin’. But really, we need ya here, so talk to us and we’ll do whateva ya wanna” Lester told you

“Were you killing people already when I left?” you asked and Lester looked away

“No, yes. It’s complicated. And maybe we ain't needin' talkin' 'bout this subject right away. Maybe we can first remind ya that we were good soulmates to ya” the man continued and it made you smile

“Before that, ya’ve got a crime scene to take care of” you replied, and you realised it almost sounded teasing.

Lester bit on his lips again, before nodding and leaving you, no matter how wrong it felt to him to do so.

--

Part 3

--

Taglist: @staley83 - @joyfulllittlething

[vanilladollette]

Hii! Could you make a fic where fem!reader is a new doctor that came to work in the same hospital where Yeo-jeong works and he slowly starts to fall for her? Maybe she somehow found out about arrangement between Dong-eun and Yeo-jeong and she wants to help them and maybe three of them enter poly relationship later (if you're okay with that, if not, then just Yeo-jeong and reader).

Revenge Is Sweet But Love Is Sweeter

Pairing: Moon Dong-eun x female reader, Joo Yeo-Jeong x reader, Poly Dong-eun x reader x Yeo-Jeong

Summary: A dedicated neurosurgeon, drawn to the intricacies of the human brain, finds herself entangled in a complex and quiet relationship with a brilliant plastic surgeon, Yeo-jeong, and his mysterious partner, Dong-eun.

Word Count: 2.5k

Author's note: I was thinking about writing a Poly Dong-eun x reader x Yeo-Jeong. You came at the right time XD Also, I'm not very familiar with Medical stuff. I just googled things so don't came at me pls 😭🙏🏻

As a child, I had a clear sense of direction about what I wanted to be when I grew up. The idea of becoming a doctor captivated me from an early age, not just because of the opportunity to help others, but because of my fascination with the intricacies of the human body. I became especially drawn to neurosurgery, a field that seemed to combine precision, science, and problem-solving in a way that was both challenging and profoundly rewarding. The idea of being able to make a difference by performing delicate surgeries on the brain or spinal cord fascinated me endlessly.

I remember vividly the first time I saw a documentary about neurosurgery, watching in awe as skilled surgeons navigated complex brain structures with such care and expertise. The more I learned, the more I was fascinated by the brain's complexity and the way even the smallest mistake could have such significant consequences. This mixture of high stakes, incredible responsibility, and the possibility of saving or improving someone’s life made neurosurgery feel like the perfect path for me.

I spent hours reading about the brain, watching medical shows, and talking to doctors, always seeking more information. The idea of understanding how the brain works, diagnosing conditions, and performing surgeries to treat them became my dream. It was clear to me that this was more than just a childhood aspiration—it was a passion that ignited a deep curiosity about the world of medicine and the human body. I knew that one day, I wanted to be in the operating room, making life-changing decisions, and helping people through some of the most difficult moments of their lives.

When I began medical school, the reality of becoming a neurosurgeon hit me. The long hours, the exhausting rotations, the never-ending studying—each moment felt like a test of my endurance. But every time I walked into the operating room, the adrenaline would hit, and I would remember why I was there. Even after countless nights of little sleep, I never lost sight of my goal. It wasn’t just about performing surgery; it was about saving lives, offering patients a second chance, and showing them the potential of their own recovery.

My journey wasn’t without its challenges. There were moments of self-doubt, especially when I saw my colleagues excel or when I stumbled through a procedure, unsure of my next move. The pressure of the profession is immense. Every decision you make could determine the course of someone’s life, and the weight of that responsibility is unlike anything you experience in other fields. Yet, as time passed, I began to gain more confidence, not just in my abilities, but in my calling. I started to trust my instincts and approach problems with a level of calm that was necessary in surgery. It was a quiet confidence, earned through countless hours of practice, observation, and mentorship.

Eventually, I reached the point where I was no longer just observing surgeries—I was performing them myself. The first time I was handed a scalpel during a procedure, my hands shook. It was the culmination of years of training, but at that moment, it felt like all of my hard work had finally come to fruition. I was responsible for someone’s life, and the weight of that was immense. But as the surgery progressed and I felt the rhythm of the operation, I knew this was where I was meant to be.

I soon started working at Seoul Joo General Hospital. It was there that I met Dr. Yeo-jeong.

At first, he was a name I had only heard in passing—a brilliant plastic surgeon with a reputation for being both meticulous and compassionate. What intrigued me most about him, however, wasn’t just his skill—it was the quiet depth in his eyes. Beneath his easy smile and warm demeanor.

We first crossed paths when I was assisting on a case that required both neurosurgical and reconstructive expertise. Watching him work up close, I was struck by his precision—each movement purposeful, his mind always three steps ahead. He had a way of speaking to patients that instantly put them at ease, as if he truly saw them, not just their injuries.

Our conversations started off clinical, strictly professional. But as time passed, I found myself drawn to him in ways I hadn’t expected. There was a gentleness in him, a kindness that felt rare in a field where detachment often became a survival mechanism.

Though Yeo-Jeong wasn't the only person I began to notice. I started to notice Yeo-Jeong sneaking off to speak with a woman with light skin, dark brown eyes with double eyelids and sleek, straight bobbed black hair, that she usually wears loose, she has a thin figure and is of average height.

It wasn't that Yeo-Jeong was talking to a woman, it was that he seemed to be doing something suspicious with her.

The first time I truly took notice of the woman, it was late in the evening. Most of the hospital had settled into its usual nighttime rhythm—dimmed lights, hushed voices, and the ever-present hum of monitors. I had been reviewing post-op scans when I saw Yeo-jeong slipping out of the staff lounge, his posture subtly tense in a way that felt out of character for someone so effortlessly composed.

He met the woman near the end of the hallway, in the shadows between the vending machines and an emergency exit. Their conversation was quiet, but the intensity in their body language was undeniable. She had a stillness about her, a careful control that felt measured, as if every movement was calculated. Yeo-jeong, on the other hand, carried a weight in his eyes—one I recognized only because I had seen it before in patients who bore wounds too deep for sutures to mend.

Something about their exchange unsettled me.

At first, I told myself it wasn’t my business. Everyone had their secrets, even doctors who seemed to have it all together. But then, the next day, I saw them again. And the day after that. Each time, their voices were hushed, their gazes heavy with meaning. The curiosity gnawed at me.

One evening, after finishing a particularly grueling surgery, I found myself walking toward the hospital’s rooftop for some air. I hadn’t expected to see anyone there, let alone Yeo-jeong and the woman standing at the edge, their conversation just low enough that I couldn’t make out the words. But I saw the way she placed a hand on his arm, the way his jaw clenched before he finally nodded.

It was then that I knew—this wasn’t just a friendship. This was something far more complicated.

I wasn’t reckless. I knew better than to pry into things that weren’t my business. But the next time I worked alongside Yeo-jeong in the operating room, I couldn’t stop myself from stealing glances at him between incisions, watching the way his hands moved with precision even when his mind seemed distant.

When we finally finished and were scrubbing out, I broke the silence.

"You've been distracted lately." My tone was casual, but the weight behind my words was anything but.

Yeo-jeong paused mid-motion, his fingers still slick with soap. For a moment, I thought he might deflect, offer a charming smile and change the subject. Instead, he sighed, his expression shifting into something more guarded.

"It’s complicated," he finally admitted.

"I’m a neurosurgeon," I replied, rinsing my hands. "Complicated is what I do."

He let out a quiet laugh, but there was no real humor in it. He dried his hands, then turned to face me fully. "It’s not something I can explain in a few words. But she—Dong-eun—is someone I owe a lot to. And I made a promise to help her."

There was a heaviness in his voice, a history I wasn’t yet privy to. But I had seen enough to know that this wasn’t a simple matter of old friends reconnecting. There was something deeper—something painful.

"If you trust me," I said carefully, "I want to help. Not just with whatever this is, but with you."

He studied me for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether letting me in was a mistake. Then, finally, he nodded.

"Alright," he murmured. "But if you step into this, there's no turning back."

The words hung between us like a thin wire stretched too tight, trembling under the weight of something unspoken.

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t waver. I met Yeo-jeong’s gaze with steady resolve, even as a quiet storm brewed in his eyes.

“I’m not the type to turn back,” I said simply, drying my hands on a towel before tossing it aside.

For a moment, he only studied me, his expression unreadable. Then, with a quiet exhale, he nodded, a silent acknowledgment that I had just crossed an invisible threshold.

I didn't press him for details right away. Trust, especially in a place like this, was a delicate thing—built slowly, piece by piece. And though I had caught glimpses of something shadowed beneath his usual warmth, I knew better than to demand answers before he was ready to give them.

Instead, I did what I did best: I observed.

I watched the way his fingers tensed when his phone buzzed in the middle of rounds. The way his smile, so effortless around patients, sometimes faltered when he thought no one was looking. The way he always excused himself at the same time every night, vanishing for long stretches, only to return with a quiet, unsettled air about him.

I didn’t need to be a neurosurgeon to recognize the signs of a man carrying a burden too heavy for one person to bear.

And so, I waited.

It wasn’t until nearly a week later—late at night, long after most of the hospital had emptied—that he finally spoke.

We had just finished assisting on an emergency case, our scrubs still damp with sweat, adrenaline still lingering in our veins. Sitting side by side on a bench in the on-call room, he rolled his shoulders back, exhaling slowly before turning to me.

"You really want to help?" His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it. A final chance to walk away.

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Something in him shifted then. A slow unraveling of whatever had been keeping him silent.

And so, he told me.

Not all of it—not yet. But enough.

Enough to understand that the woman I had seen him with, Dong-eun, wasn’t just some acquaintance. She was someone he had sworn to protect, someone whose pain ran deeper than any wound a scalpel could mend.

Enough to realize that this wasn’t just about him. That whatever battle he was fighting, it wasn’t over.

And that if I wanted to be a part of it, I needed to be sure.

After that night, things changed.

Yeo-jeong didn’t shut me out anymore. He didn’t keep his distance. If anything, he seemed to seek me out more often—whether it was a quiet nod in the hallway, a brush of his arm against mine during surgery, or the way his gaze lingered just a second too long when he thought I wasn’t looking.

And then there were the nights.

The stolen conversations in the dimly lit stairwells. The moments of quiet honesty between shifts, where he would let his guard slip just enough for me to see the exhaustion beneath.

It wasn’t just attraction—not in the fleeting, surface-level way I had once assumed. It was something deeper, something built on trust and understanding.

And maybe that’s what scared me the most.

Because the closer I got, the more I found myself drawn into the gravity of him—of them.

Dong-eun remained a mystery, always just out of reach. But I saw the way she looked at Yeo-jeong when she thought no one was watching. The way he softened around her, in a way I had never seen him do with anyone else.

There was love there.

A complicated, tangled kind of love.

And yet, when Yeo-jeong looked at me, I couldn’t ignore the way my chest tightened, the way my own feelings had begun to shift into something I wasn’t ready to name.

It was past midnight when it happened.

A brutal, hours-long surgery had left us drained, our bodies heavy with exhaustion as we stumbled out of the OR.

We should have gone home.

Instead, we found ourselves in the empty rooftop garden, the city stretched out in glowing lights beneath us.

Yeo-jeong leaned against the railing, rubbing a hand over his face before exhaling sharply.

“She wants to meet you.”

I blinked. “Dong-eun?”

He nodded. “She doesn’t trust easily. But she knows I do.”

Something in my chest tightened.

This was more than just an introduction. It was an invitation—into something neither of us fully understood yet.

"Okay," I said.

His lips twitched, almost like he was surprised I hadn’t hesitated. "You don’t even know what you’re agreeing to."

I stepped closer. "I know enough."

For the first time that night, he smiled. A real smile—soft, almost disbelieving.

"You’re something else," he murmured.

And then, before I could second-guess it, I reached out, my fingers brushing against his wrist. A test. A question.

He didn’t pull away.

Instead, he turned his hand over, palm up, letting my fingers slip against his.

A choice.

A beginning.

Meeting Dong-eun was like stepping into another world.

She was everything I had imagined—sharp, observant, carrying an aura of quiet intensity that made it clear she had spent years learning how to survive in a world that had never been kind to her.

She didn’t trust me. Not yet.

But she trusted Yeo-jeong.

And for now, that was enough.

The three of us fell into something unspoken, something fragile yet unbreakable.

Late nights in the hospital turned into stolen hours outside of it. Quiet conversations over coffee. Moments where lines blurred between friendship and something deeper.

I could feel it in the way Yeo-jeong's hand would linger on mine just a second too long. The way Dong-eun’s gaze would soften when she saw the way I looked at him.

We never spoke about it—not directly.

But I could feel it, thrumming beneath the surface.

A choice waiting to be made.

A step waiting to be taken.

It wasn’t a grand declaration. It wasn’t some dramatic, life-altering moment.

It was quiet. Subtle.

A late night at Yeo-jeong’s apartment, exhaustion heavy in our limbs, the space between us shrinking until there was no space left at all.

Dong-eun sat across from me, studying me with those sharp, knowing eyes before finally exhaling.

“You really want this?”

She wasn’t just asking about him.

She was asking about us.

I met her gaze, unflinching. “Yes.”

Yeo-jeong let out a quiet breath, his fingers brushing against mine where they rested on the table. Dong-eun looked at him, then back at me.

And for the first time since I had met her, she smiled.

It was small. Almost imperceptible.

But it was there.

A beginning.

And this time, there really was no turning back.

[ibetonlosinghuskies]

patience and pleasure pt 3

summary: after dealing with a tough injury, azzi is just hoping for some stability. after their plans fall through, paige finds a creative way to give her just that.

warnings: angst, suggestive language, brief mention of injury.

disclaimer: as always everything i write is fictional!

word count: 2.9k +

author's note: sorry for the long wait, thank you for being patient. i tried something a bit different here, i hope you all enjoy <3

~flashback to november ‘23~

azzi’s pov:

i know everyone loves to believe their best friend would do anything for them, but paige really would.

i knew it from the day i tore my acl. the way paige was crying for me, i thought she got hurt.

i’ll spare you the details but recovery was hell. the worst part was seeing how much of it paige took on. she was at every physical therapy appointment and check up. she called me every night to make sure i was doing my recovery exercises.

between school and practice, paige managed to check in on me at any opportunity.

and the crazy part is...she made it all look effortless.

i didn't want paige to feel like all her hard work was going to waste, so i refused to let her see me when things got really bad. which as of recently, has been the case.

it felt like i was losing years of progress day by day. sometimes i'd lay down and physically feel the time and dedication being stripped from my body. i poured myself into this sport just for everything to be taken from me in an instant.

everything except her.

i remember one night in particular so vividly. i’d spent all day resting and watching enough reality tv to numb my mind.

paige called me every chance she got. seriously, you would’ve thought she was the one injured.

“AZZI, HOW WE FEELIN TODAY,” she yells through the phone.

“oh i’m doing great, p. thanks for asking,” i said sarcastically.

“you know what day it is right?” she asks, her excitement rising.

every year, we’d pick a day in the fall to drive out to my favorite restaurant, charlie’s. they have this amazing fresh basil pizza that i would (no lie) kill somebody for.

the tradition started after paige and i tried to learn how to cook at my house and almost burned down the place. after that, we agreed we'd just make the trip at least once a year. the only bad part was that charlie’s was about two hours away.

“yes, paige. how could i forget?” i say trying not to let her hear my smile through the phone.

“just making sure, i’ll pick you up in an hour,” she responds.

i started getting ready, carefully avoiding my leg. i wouldn’t say this to paige but i’d really been struggling. as much as having her here was great, playing with her was when the magic happened. so i’ve been really looking forward to this, at least some things didn’t change.

i was almost done getting ready when i got another call from paige.

“hey…azzi, bad news,” she speaks softly as if she might scare me. “charlie’s got shut down last month.” she sounds almost as disappointed as me.

“oh,” i respond. it feels as if my world had just collapsed.

i can’t think of anything else to say.

“i’m so sorry azzi, we’ll do something else. i know how hard everything's been recently,” she pleads frantically. she almost sounds like she’s gonna cry.

“nah p, it’s fine really,” i try to sound happy.

“hey i’ll talk to you later, k?” i hang up before she can hear my voice break.

god, why does everything have to be so terrible right now.

paige’s pov:

when i found out about charlie’s, my heart broke for her.

i'd been visiting or calling azzi almost every day since the accident. i know she's gotten annoyed by my overly enthusiastic phone calls but it's the only way i've been getting a smile out of her.

i still remember the first time we went together. from outside, charlie's didn't look like anything special. just another hole-in-the-wall joint tucked between a pawnshop and a laundromat.

but my god, the way her eyes lit up when we stepped inside.

the small interior illuminated by the warm glow of an excessive amount of lamps and chandeliers. none of which followed any cohesive style.

vintage southern soul records croon from the speakers with a gritty authenticity.

i wasn’t a fan of the food to be completely honest, the basil pizza azzi raved about tasted like...pizza to me? the real beauty of charlie's was the ambience.

azzi was the air that breathed life into this place.

a honeyed glow kaleidoscope refracted on her face, her smile still brighter than the surplus of lights. while we ate, azzi gushed over the art covering the wall. effortlessly naming different artists' with the ease of a soul singer.

despite looking like they hadn't been watered in years, resilient dark green vines twisted around bookshelves and counters. the rebellious desire to bloom.

a pale imitation of my admiration for her.

the drive back home was my favorite. a peace seemed to have washed over her, clearly satisfied with our trip. with a special kind of softness only azzi had, she'd hum to herself.

i'd sneak looks at her while driving, watching as the sun flickered on her face through the trees. a slight breeze carrying her curls. the drive was long and boring but moments like this made it all worth it.

so when i found out about charlie's closing, i knew exactly what i needed to do.

it only occurred to me after i'd been deciding between tomato sauces for a half hour, that i might have a thing for her. i stood in the aisle, comparing two nearly identical cans, scanning ingredients like a mad man.

get it together, bueckers. its just pizza.

but it wasn't. it was the way her eyes darted around the room. the slightly higher pitch she took on when she talked about it. the velvety texture of her laugh.

it was her.

i just want everything to be perfect. she deserves it.

i bought both cans just to be safe, plus i needed an extra just in case i burn the first batch.

i must've looked like a crazy person, repeating the list of ingredients under my breath. finally snapping out of my trance, i locked eyes with a bouquet of flowers. the same kind of flowers she'd put in her hair when we went on vacation.

a postcard from simpler times, laced with her careless joy.

without a second thought, i threw them into my basket. the hard part would be what came after. i can't cook to save my life.

after countless attempts and enough youtube tutorials to last a lifetime, i finally had something. a misshapen pizza in the vague form of a heart.

at the very least, it'll make her laugh.

the second hard part was picking an outfit. i usually had no trouble finding an outfit to fit any event but tonight was different. it felt like i had sifted through my entire closet when i finally spotted it– one of azzi tank tops.

would it be weird if i showed up to her house in her clothes?

all things considered, i think it'd be the least strange thing i've done for her tonight. i lifted the top over my head slowly, letting myself catch a hint of her perfume. an earthy vanilla haze coating my thoughts, heat rushing to my face. i'm almost jealous of the damn thing for getting to be so close to her.

if i focus hard enough i can almost feel her touch.

despite my own preferences, i left my hair down. shaking out my roots so my curls fell a bit out of place.

she'll fix it for me anyways. she always does.

i know her. her warm brown eyes will scan my hair and she'll try to ignore it until she can't anymore. she'll let out a big dramatic sigh and roll her eyes then tuck one of my loose curls behind my ear. maybe even throw in a comment or two about charging me for being my personal hairstylist. but behind her sarcasm, azzi's touch carried a kindness i'd never seen before.

i tapped my fingertips anxiously against my steering wheel when i pulled into her driveway. i took a sharp deep breath before stepping out of the car. i'd been to her house hundreds of times, but there was something different about this.

i just hope i did everything right.

my hand shakes slightly as i ring her doorbell.

azzi's pov:

my body flinched when i heard my doorbell. i had been trying to take my mind off of charlie's closing by finally reading one of my favorite thrillers. a bit paranoid after reading so much suspense, i took a deep breath before walking to the door.

i swear if it's another one of those salespeople again. like how many times do we gotta say we're not gonna get solar panels? and at this time of the night? that's some persistence.

as i swing the door open, and my words catch in my throat. paige stands there, fighting off a soft smile. in one hand she carries a small glass container, her nervous fingers fidgeting with the foil on top. in the other hand, golden yellow and red flowers peek out from behind her.

she didn't.

"i just thought i'd– " before she can finish her sentence i fling my arms around her neck nearly knocking both items out of her hands.

feeling her arms wrap around my waist, i nearly cry. my eyes sting and i take a steadying breath into her ear.

paige might just be an earth angel.

my heart swells in my chest, a sweet ache. with my head on her shoulder, a familiar scent wafts toward me.

was that my perfume?

i hug her for a beat longer when i finally pull away, her fingers trace my waist.

she wears my clothes like they were made for her.

"you could've told me you were gonna get all dressed up," i tease, eyeing my shirt.

"we always get dressed up for charlie's," she shoots back with a smile.

and just like that, i'm okay again.

holding the door open for her, i get a good look at her outfit. my gaze lingering on her curves, the fabric melting around the rough edges of her muscles.

even in my porch light, she looked like a supermodel.

watching her plate the food, i felt something deeper than my usual admiration for her. she carefully finds a vase for the flowers. she could navigate my kitchen blindfolded. her fingers sorting through my silverware, a domestic intimacy. things were always so easy with her.

for a moment, i could see our future– not as a new vision, but our inevitable path. a kitchen of our own, shared tableware, late night cooking. i felt a claim to this future like it was promised to me.

shit– i've been staring at her this whole time. i should help her with the food.

i bend over the counter to grab the plates, letting my body drape over her forearm for a moment. i feel her eyes trace my body, a nervous awareness of my movements. straightening my spine, i caught her eye. a carnation-pink dusting her cheek, she snapped her eyes to the floor.

oh, i'm definitely gonna have to catch her staring more often.

as she unwraps the container, i finally get a good look at the pizza: an irregularly shaped crust, with slightly burnt edges.

is that supposed to be a heart?

a giggle bubbles up in my chest and i turn my face to hide it.

"paige, what happened here?" i say between laughs. my eyes softening out of genuine sympathy.

"hey!" she's immediately defensive. "this is a piece of modern abstract art, you're into that stuff anyways," she pokes my side smiling.

"ah, yes. was picasso an inspiration for you in this piece?" i tease.

the fact that paige can't microwave popcorn without setting off the smoke detector but managed to make a whole pizza for me is...impressive to say the least. i almost don't believe it was her.

did she really learn how to cook for me?

my heart swells at the thought of her checking the oven anxiously, flour dusting her cheek. the image is so sweet, it makes my head hurt.

"well, i think it's perfect," i finally let her off the hook.

"that's not all either," she grabs her phone out of her pocket.

a playful smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she scrolls. finally tapping her phone, a few familiar notes of a song plays. it takes me a moment before i recognize it– "loved by you" by kirby.

oh god, she wouldn't–

but of course, she would. grabbing a wooden spoon as a microphone, she belts in right before the chorus.

"cause i heard that heaven ain't easy to get to…" her voice cracks but from the look on her face she's completely tone deaf.

i take a seat, raising my eyebrows at her while holding in a laugh. she beams at me, dramatically taking a deep breath before the next line.

"closest i'll get might be right next to you," she drags out the last note. her wooden spoon microphone in one hand, she cups my face with the other. i can't help but flash her a smile, her thumb falling into my dimple.

a loving warmth radiates from her touch, i have to resist the urge to lean into her palm.

only paige could look this gorgeous while being so ridiculous.

there's something so special about seeing her like this. dancing around my kitchen with the confidence of veteran performer. unabashedly herself, pouring out her heart just to make me laugh. this is when she looks the most beautiful.

"paige, my neighbors are gonna think i'm torturing small animals in here," i taunt.

"boo, you're such a hater," she laughs between verses, still singing.

her hair falls out of place slightly, just adding to her beauty. standing up, i take the strand and tuck it behind her ear. her singing softens to a whisper when she feels my touch.

breathless, her eyes flicker to my lips, and i swear i could hear her heartbeat race. i search to meet her eyes but they remain intently on my lips. her sweet nervous breath tingling against my cheek. she sways ever so slightly, and my breath hitches, thinking she's gonna close the gap.

"azzi–" she closes her eyes briefly.

she's so close to giving in, i can see the indecision on her face.

"how have you been, like really," her eyes open, filled with tender worry.

her question catches me off guard. i thought i'd been doing a good job keeping all this to myself.

she sees right through me.

after everything she's done for me tonight, i owe her a bit of vulnerability. i take a deep sigh before answering.

"it's been... tough. yeah. i haven't been doing great." i respond, recalling countless days i've spent wishing i could get back to normal.

"you know, i'm here for you, right?" her words carry intention, i know she means it.

"i know, i just didn't want to be a burden," i feel my words catch in my throat. my eyes start to water.

"oh, azzi–" she pulls me into a deep hug. "never say that again."

paige has this amazing ability to make my worries disappear in just a few sentences.

i melt into her hug, my body going slack in her arms. a few tears land on her shoulder. i can't think of the right thing to say, caught between thanking her and apologizing.

"whatever you want, okay? i'm here. even if it takes a million of those little picasso pizzas," she laughs softly, stroking my back.

"speaking of which, they're probably getting cold by now," i pull back collecting myself.

she nods, giving my hand a squeeze before letting go. despite its shape, the food is great. dare i say it may even be better than charlie's, but i wouldn't tell her that.

like always, we fall into an easy conversation. in just the span of a dinner, i can feel weeks of heavy apathy fall off my shoulders.

how did i get so lucky?

paige's pov:

seeing her smile was the highlight of my night. even if it was just for a few hours, i'm glad to have my girl back.

empty plates sit forgotten on the counter as we lounge in her living room. sitting as still as i possibly can, azzi's head rest on my shoulder. her breath slows to a sweet hum. i watch her chest rise and fall like waves crashing on the shore as she dozes off.

of course, she also looks pretty when she sleeps.

i hate to interrupt this beautiful moment, but it was getting late.

"azzi," i whisper to her, trying to wake her gently.

"hm," she whines, slowly blinking.

"i should probably get going," i say, hoping she can hear the reluctance in my voice. knowing if she said stay, i would.

"okay..." she responds finally sitting up. "just one more thing."

anything. whatever she wants.

"yeah, what's up," i try to sound nonchalant like i wouldn't drop everything for her in an instant.

"can you help me take my brace off so i can change clothes?" she sounds almost embarrassed for having to ask.

"yes, of course," i respond, failing to hide my eagerness.

she stands in front of me, using my shoulders for stability. my fingers work at the straps gently. my movements are deliberate and careful as i grip her hips. as she changes, i find a spot to stare at on the floor respectfully.

"better?" i ask.

"yeah, thanks" she replies bashfully.

i stand to hug her goodbye. i swear it hurts a little more each time i leave.

"thank you...for all of this," her breath tickling my shoulder as she speaks.

"always." i hope she knows i mean it.

loving azzi was the easiest thing i've ever done in my life.

[cwgl418]

My mother taught me English on her own until I was 6. We used an English learning program called: “World Family”. It was an interesting program. Filled with songs, videos, and colorful textbooks to learn from.

Each of them had different levels. And if I pass the test, I could move on to a different level and I’ll receive a cap as an reward.

My mother told me, “We were learning English very optimistically when you were a toddler.” But I don't have any memories about that. The only thing I remember, is that she would yell at me, constantly.

Why? Because I couldn't remember the meaning of a word.

She would yell at me for the smallest things, I feel like her yelling could be heard for all of the neighborhood. And when she gets extremely mad, she would lock herself up in her room. I would cry and write an apology letter to her.

She would never hit me, she never did. Because she thought it was cruel and wrong. But what made this abuse worse was when she told me “That's enough, I'm going to move to New York and leave you.”

I knew my mother loved New York. It was her obsession. But she would never actually leave me, right?

Until I couldn't find her.

I panicked. I thought to myself, “Did she actually leave me? Is she really gone?” I searched for my mother, but she was nowhere to be seen.

So I took my grandmother into the night, being piggybacked by her, and searched for my mother.

I did find her eventually, I suppose she was just in somewhere in the house and I just happened to missed her presence.

Nobody remembers this. Not my grandmother, not even my mother. They think I made it up. I'm the only one who remembers.

Do I like English? I used to think I do. Because that's what I excel at. I even majored in English. But the truth is, I don't. It’s just my way to communicate.

Then why did I continued to learn English, you say? Because I was a fighter. I didn't wanted to just quit. My mother used to yell at me, “Then why don't you just quit?!” when I said, “I don't like this!”. But then I’ would yell back at her and reply, “No! I WANT to continue!” and that's why I didn't quit.

I graduated this program when I was 6 years old.

My mother wrote on the graduation paper magazine, that “They had moments when they cried and tried to quit, but they managed.” or something alongside that.

It's gone now, but I vividly remember reading that. That was my only evidence for my child abuse.

The thing is that, I was so proud of my English level. I was constantly being praised by my classmates and my teachers. I thought no one, no one could beat me with my English. Even the students who lived abroad would ask me, “Have you ever lived abroad?”

And oh, I loved that moment so much. I felt like I was the superior one.

However, I was such an anxious, shy child. I was always alone. I tried and make friends and have a conversation through my art. But I was always so anxious. When my teachers told me to make a pair or a group, I always ended up being alone. And then I would feel so guilty and think, “Oh no, I've intruded them. I know they don't want me in their group…”

But the moment when someone praises me for my art and English, I felt so proud, it almost felt like my personality completely changes when it came to something I excel at. Looking back, I was being so narcissistic. Maybe not as extreme as Narcisstic Personality disorder, but my narcissism was definitely there.

I wonder, how could these two personalities co-exist? But they did for so so long.

One day, in my adulthood, my mother told me, “The reason why I wanted to teach you English was because I had an English complex. I pushed my dreams onto you, and I'm sorry.” I didn't accepted her apology.

Do I hate her? Yes. But do I love her? Also yes.

I don't understand why I feel this way. My love and hate relationship of her is so so complicated.

At one hand, I don't forgive her for what she made me face. But then, I don't even dream about it or have nightmares about it. I barely remember my childhood. So does it even count as trauma? Does it count as abuse? I would constantly think and wonder.

And then there's part of me, that I'm obsessed with her. I would kiss her on the cheeks and hug her every single day. I would even age regress when I'm around her. I wonder if it's some form of trauma response.

I did read a similar experience in “My Lesbian Experience in Loneliness” by Nagata Kabi though.

I'm disabled and mentally ill. I have autism, OCD, Social Anxiety, insomnia, and Bipolar II disorder. I do wonder time to time it is the result of my abuse.

My mother is so overprotective about me because of that. She always try and do stuff for me since she loves to be in charge, but I feel like she overdid a lot. And the lack of experience makes me feel anxious when I try something new and legal, because I don't know how to act and where to start.

But on the other hand, I do feel like I'm safe with her and I’d rather stay with her and make her do everything for me since I don't even know what to do on my own.

Part of me is saying, “Lilith, you should leave her and try and live on your own and prepare to live without a family.” but the other part is saying that “No, Lilith. You need to keep depending on her. You don't even know what to do on your own. And what about your precious stuff? There wouldn't be any space.” My mind is conflicted.

I feel like I'm obsessed with my mother too much. But I do hate her for what she's done. And I do hate her some times how she tries and brush off her past abuse to me. So why do I keep staying with her? Why am I so obsessed with her? Why can't I be independent?

So I ask myself again, “Why do I hate and love my mother?”

I will never not know.

[resident-idiot-simp]

Honda Odyssey rant aftermath

Thinking about the Honda Odyssey rant again as per usual. I have talked before about the consequences of it and I want to talk more about it.

Logan was having a good day all things considered except for the fact Wade had been off all day. Logan had done his best to figure out what was wrong but some days Wade was just...well slightly off.

Althea had told him the first time it happened when he was living there that it happens every once in awhile. Logan could understand he too had those days. It was a toss up what the issue was today however. Sometimes he knew or was told or could possibly even figure it out. Today he wasn't as lucky.

Wade had been distressingly silent today and it was putting Logan on edge. He had done his best to prompt conversation and It had failed. Althea had tried to give him a understanding look and it kinda helped. He had become so accustomed to the incessant background chatter that the silence made him extremely uneasy.

Logan wishes Wade would talk he wanted it so badly and he did eventually get the courage to ask, "Wade you know I like hearing you talk right?" It was damn near the equivalent of opening his rib cage and tearing out his heart and offering it on a silver platter to Wade.

Wade had just tensed at the insinuation. No innuendo, no sarcastic quip, no nothing. Logan had to fight off the urged to make a wounded noise because fuck that hurt more than he thought it was going to.

Wade took a deep breath and Logan felt hope bloom inside him.

"I thought you hated my chatter."

Logan blinked taken aback sure he always jokingly told Wade to shut up but he never meant that Wade knew he never meant that. So what the hell is this about.

"you know I don't." Logan responded measuredly, unsure of what was going on.

"Do I?" Wade shot back and that only pissed Logan off.

Logan knew damn good and well Wade knew he was joking. He growled at the insinuation.

"YES YOU DO BECAUSE WE ALL LAUGH YOU KNOW I DON'T MEAN IT SERIOUSLY BECAUSE IF I DID I COULD MAKE YOU SHUT UP!"

Wade matched his volume as he shot back, "DO I ALWAYS LAUGH OR DO I JUST AVOID EYE CONTACT AND BREATH DEEPLY?!"

Logan could think of a few occasions of that...yes, but it was always a joke...well ok almost always a joke, but he just couldn't handle the chatter sometimes. But that wasn't the point no the point was-

Wade locked eyes with him and Logan felt his heart drop at the cold look that meet him. Wade who he had gotten so accustomed to looking at so warmly. Warmer than anyone else had ever looked at him without a doubt.

"I thought I was a joke? I thought that was why no one wanted me. I remember vividly you telling me I was a ridiculous, immature, half-wit moron. That you had never met a sadder, more attention-starved jabbering little prick in your entire life. That Cassandra was right I could never save the world. That I couldn't even managed to save a relationship with a stripper. That you wished I would die alone, but it was one of god's best jokes that I can't die, except that's on everyone else."

Logan frozen Althea froze even the damn dog froze.

"...Wade you know I didn't mean that." Logan said softly. It was a lie... He had ment it he had meant every word at the time. He had been pissed, sober, and mad at the world. It didn't stand however of course it didn't Wade was one of the best people he had ever met.

"Don't lie to me."

"Wade you know that was directed at myself." Logan tried because it had been. He had been projecting but also he knew full well that it would wiggle into all the cracks he saw in Wade and fester. He had been able to spot the same issues he had and use them because he knew violence best.

"Maybe, but don't act like I'm stupid. I know full well that was directed at me as much as it was directed at you. You meant every word."

Logan didn't know how to fix this God help him he didn't. Althea was dead silent and it just made it worse.

"You know." Wade started conversationally and Logan just knew this was going to hurt.

"The talking is just a part of me It's my personality. I can't turn it off trust me I've tried others have tried too. But no matter who beat me or how much I tried to kill myself it never works."

Logan felt his heart drop once more and he couldn't breathe.

"I however can't. And you know it gets to a point where it starts really hurting I mean you would assume you would get used to it right? That you would get used to the comments and the complaints and the whispers, but it's just not possible."

Wade took a shaky breath eyes tearing up.

"And I've had a lot of time to think about it and I've come to the conclusion on why it hurts so much. It's because it's intrinsically me. The talking it's just what makes me...me. So when people keep telling me to shut up It's not just the talking they hate it's me they hate."

Logan feels as his world tilts slightly left as pieces click into place and past experiences come to the forefront.

"Why is it so bad that I'm being myself? Why do people hate it?" Tears slip from his eyes and Logan hates himself with a sudden fervent passion.

"Wade fuck I could never hate any part of you it's not possible. I'm sorry I said those things I really fucking am I wish I could take them back. I was pissed and detoxing in that damn car and was lashing out." Logan croaked.

Wade just blinked letting more tears fall and Logan wanted to prove himself like a damn dog because he never wanted this. He had never wanted to hurt anyone especially not the man he had come to love.

"...I know what you mean Wade I do. The amount of times people have just labeled me as a weapon like that was my only designation. Like I wasn't human wasn't worth even the dignity of being half referred to as one. At the mansion they would call me that sometimes and fuck it hurt."

Logan took a shaky breath.

"They didn't mean it to demean me but that's what it felt like every time. Even if it was a joke it very rarely hit like it was meant. It just brought back flashes of..... before....of the mindless killing the programming....of everything."

Another breath

"I hadn't even considered it and that's on me. Out of everyone I should have realized."

Logan met Wade's eyes once more and saw understanding.

~

Anytime after this when anyone would ever make a pass in comment about Wade's inability to shut up. Logan was there calling them out telling them to mind their business that they had no right to say that.

And every time Wade looked just that little bit happier.

I have realized this qualifies as a drabble and will be posting this tomorrow on ao3

[estapa-edwards]

YOU LOOK GREAT - N. MOLDENHAUER

paring: Nick Moldenhauer x fem! reader

word count: 6.6k

requested? yes - "Sorry for borrowing your clothes" "Dont be. You look great in them" w/ nick moldenhauer

warnings: use of y/n. change of povs. 1st to third

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As I stepped onto the University of Michigan campus, I was filled with excitement and nerves. College was a whole new world, and I was eager to dive into everything it had to offer. Little did I know, one of the most impactful aspects of my college experience would be meeting Nick Moldenhauer.

Nick and I met during freshman orientation. He was a towering figure, with a friendly smile and an easygoing demeanor that instantly put me at ease. We were both assigned to the same dormitory, and as luck would have it, our rooms were just a few doors apart.

​​"Hey there," he greeted with a casual wave, his voice carrying a hint of Midwestern warmth. "You must be Y/N, right? I heard we're practically neighbors."

"Yeah, that's me," I replied, trying to match his easygoing tone. "It's nice to meet you, Nick. Looks like we lucked out with our dorm assignments."

Nick chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Definitely. Who knows, maybe we'll end up being the best of friends."

Little did I know, his words would ring true in the months to come. As we settled into our respective rooms, the proximity of our living quarters made it easy for us to strike up conversations whenever we crossed paths in the hallway or kitchen.

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One evening, as I struggled to navigate the maze of laundry machines in the basement, I bumped into Nick sorting through a pile of clothes.

"Need a hand?" he asked, flashing me a reassuring smile.

I nodded gratefully, relieved to have some company in the otherwise deserted laundry room. As we waited for our loads to finish, we chatted about everything from our hometowns to our favorite sports teams, discovering shared interests and mutual acquaintances along the way.

At first, our interactions were limited to passing hellos in the hallway or brief chats in the communal kitchen. But as the weeks went by, we found ourselves gravitating towards each other more and more.

I vividly remember one chilly October evening when Nick and I found ourselves studying in the common area of our dormitory. With textbooks spread out on the table between us and the soft glow of overhead lights casting a warm ambiance, we delved into a deep conversation about our respective majors.

"So, what made you decide to major in sociology?" Nick asked, genuine curiosity coloring his voice as he flipped through the pages of my textbook.

I shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I've always been fascinated by human behavior and societal dynamics. Plus, I figured it would give me a better understanding of the world around me."

Nick nodded thoughtfully, his blue eyes reflecting the flickering light of the nearby fireplace. "That's cool. I never would've guessed you were interested in that stuff. I always pegged you as more of a science person."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Believe it or not, I actually considered majoring in biology at one point. But sociology just felt like the right fit for me."

Our conversation meandered from topic to topic, spanning everything from our favorite books and movies to our most embarrassing childhood memories. With each passing day, I found myself drawn to Nick's infectious energy and genuine kindness, his presence becoming a source of comfort and joy in the whirlwind of college life.

Before I knew it, our interactions had transitioned from sporadic encounters to regular hangouts. Whether it was grabbing lunch between classes or meeting up for late-night study sessions in the library, Nick and I were practically inseparable.

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One chilly evening, with the soft glow of the library's reading lamps casting a warm ambiance, Nick and I found ourselves huddled together at a secluded study table, surrounded by towering stacks of textbooks and piles of lecture notes. The gentle hum of students whispering and keyboards tapping provided the perfect backdrop for our intense study session.

As I struggled to make sense of the dense sociological theories sprawled across my textbook, I couldn't help but steal glances at Nick, who was engrossed in his own set of notes, his brow furrowed in concentration. His tousled hair caught the dim light just right, casting shadows across his chiseled features, and I couldn't deny the flutter of excitement that stirred within me.

"So, what do you think about this concept?" Nick's voice broke through my reverie, pulling me back to the task at hand.

I blinked, trying to focus on the page in front of me. "Um, sorry, could you repeat that?" I stammered, feeling a blush creeping up my cheeks.

Nick chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I asked what you thought about this concept. You seem pretty lost in thought over there."

I bit my lip, trying to come up with a coherent response. "Honestly, I'm not sure. It's a bit abstract for my liking."

Nick nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary. "Yeah, I get that. Sometimes these theories can feel a bit...out there."

His playful tone sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but meet his gaze head-on, the air between us suddenly charged with tension. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though we were the only two people in the world, lost in our own little bubble of shared laughter and lingering glances.

As the hours slipped by and the library grew quiet around us, I found myself drawn to Nick in a way I couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was the late hour or the adrenaline of exam season, but something about the way he looked at me made my heart race and my palms grow clammy with anticipation.

And as we packed up our belongings and made our way out into the cool night air, I couldn't shake the feeling that our study session had been about so much more than just academic pursuits.

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The anticipation buzzed in the air as I made my way to the University of Michigan hockey arena, the excitement palpable with each step I took. It was game day, and as I navigated through the throngs of enthusiastic fans decked out in maize and blue, I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for my friend Nick and the rest of the Wolverines team.

As I settled into my seat, the energy of the crowd enveloped me, filling me with a sense of exhilaration unlike anything I had ever experienced. The stadium lights illuminated the ice rink below, casting a mesmerizing glow over the gleaming surface, and I found myself holding my breath in anticipation of the game to come.

And then, as if on cue, the players burst onto the ice, their skates slicing through the frozen surface with effortless grace. Among them was Nick, clad in his signature jersey and helmet, his eyes focused and determined as he prepared to face off against the opposing team.

I couldn't tear my gaze away as the game unfolded before me, each play more thrilling than the last. From bone-rattling body checks to lightning-fast slap shots, the action was relentless, keeping me on the edge of my seat with every twist and turn.

And through it all, Nick was a force to be reckoned with, his skill and athleticism shining brightly as he darted across the ice, deftly maneuvering the puck with precision and finesse. With each pass and shot, he seemed to defy gravity, his movements fluid and effortless as he propelled the puck towards the opposing team's goal.

As the game reached its climax, with the score tied and the tension mounting, I found myself cheering louder than ever, my heart pounding in time with the thunderous roar of the crowd. And when Nick scored the winning goal in the final seconds of the game, sending the arena into a frenzy of cheers and applause, I couldn't help but leap to my feet in sheer elation.

Amidst the jubilant celebrations that followed, I made my way down to the ice, eager to congratulate Nick on his stellar performance. And as he skated over to greet me, his face flushed with exertion and his eyes shining with excitement, I couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride for my friend and all that he had accomplished.

"Great game, Nick!" I exclaimed, unable to contain my enthusiasm as I wrapped him in a tight hug.

Nick grinned, his breath coming in short gasps as he returned the embrace. "Thanks, Y/N," he replied, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I’m glad you came.”

Nick's gratitude washed over me like a warm wave, filling me with a sense of contentment that I hadn't realized I was searching for. His words echoed in my mind, each syllable imbued with a depth of emotion that tugged at my heartstrings in the most unexpected way.

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I pulled back slightly to meet Nick's gaze. "Of course, Nick," I replied, my own voice filled with genuine affection. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. You played amazing out there."

Nick's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with appreciation. "Thanks, Y/N," he said, his voice soft and sincere. "Having you here means a lot to me. It's like having my own personal cheering section."

I laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep within me. "Well, consider me your number one fan," I declared, playfully nudging him with my elbow. "I'll be here cheering you on every step of the way."

As we stood there, basking in the afterglow of the game and the warmth of each other's company, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between us. There was a newfound closeness, an unspoken bond that seemed to transcend the confines of friendship and venture into uncharted territory.

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I fumbled through my pockets, panic rising in my chest as I realized that my dorm key was nowhere to be found. With a sinking feeling, I recalled setting it down on the coffee table in my friend's dorm room across campus earlier that evening. It was already late at night, and the thought of trekking all the way back across campus to retrieve it was daunting, to say the least.

"Shit," I yelled, frustration boiling over as I glanced at my watch, the hands ticking closer and closer to midnight. How could I have been so careless?

Just then, I heard footsteps approaching from down the hall, and before I knew it, Nick appeared in the doorway, concern etched across his features.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with worry as he took in my distressed expression.

I sighed heavily, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "I forgot my dorm key at Sarah's place across campus," I admitted, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up my cheeks. "And now it's too late to go back and get it."

Nick frowned sympathetically, his brow furrowing in thought. "That sucks," he said, his voice tinged with empathy. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt for inconveniencing him. "I don't want to bother you, Nick," I replied, my voice tinged with regret. "It's my own fault for being so forgetful."

But Nick simply waved off my protests, his expression determined. "Nonsense," he declared, his eyes sparkling with determination."I'm not letting you wander around campus alone in the middle of the night. Besides, my dorm is just down the hall. You can crash on my couch for the night."

I blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his unexpected offer. "Are you sure?" I asked, feeling a rush of gratitude wash over me.

Nick nodded, a reassuring smile gracing his lips. "Absolutely," he replied, his voice warm and sincere. "Consider it a sleepover. We'll watch some cheesy movies, raid the vending machine for snacks, and before you know it, morning will be here and you can go get your key."

His words filled me with a sense of relief, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for my friend and his unwavering kindness. "Thank you, Nick," I said, my voice soft with emotion. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Nick grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You don't have to thank me," he replied, his tone gentle. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"Right," I echoed softly, my voice tinged with gratitude. But beneath the surface, I couldn't help but feel a subtle shift in the air, a flutter of something unfamiliar stirring in the depths of my heart.

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As the movie played in the background, the dim light casting a cozy glow over Nick's dorm room, I couldn't help but notice the oversized hoodie I was wearing. It was soft and warm, the fabric carrying a faint scent of Nick's cologne that enveloped me like a comforting embrace.

"Hey, you're wearing my clothes," Nick remarked with a playful grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gestured towards the hoodie I had borrowed.

I felt a flush of embarrassment creep up my cheeks as I glanced down at myself, suddenly self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Sorry for borrowing your clothes," I murmured, feeling a pang of guilt for invading his personal space.

But Nick simply waved off my apology, his expression warm and reassuring. "Don't be," he replied, his voice gentle. "You look great in them."

His words caught me off guard, sending a rush of warmth flooding through me. In that moment, bathed in the soft glow of the TV and surrounded by the comforting scent of Nick's cologne, I couldn't help but feel a sense of closeness that went beyond mere friendship.

And as we settled back into the couch, our shoulders brushing against each other in the intimate space, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between us, something unspoken and electric that lingered in the air like static electricity.

As the movie wound down and the credits rolled, Nick stretched his arms above his head, a contented sigh escaping his lips. "Well, I think it's about time I hit the hay," he said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "Got an early practice tomorrow."

I nodded in understanding, the warmth of the hoodie he lent me providing a sense of comfort as I curled up on the couch. "Yeah, I should probably get some sleep too," I replied, stifling a yawn.

Nick bid me goodnight with a gentle smile before disappearing into his bedroom, leaving me alone in the dimly lit living room. I closed my eyes, hoping to drift off into a peaceful slumber, but as the minutes ticked by, sleep eluded me.

Suddenly, a shiver ran down my spine as a vivid nightmare gripped my subconscious, sending me tumbling into a world of darkness and fear. I jolted awake, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggled to catch my breath, the remnants of the nightmare still haunting me.

Without hesitation, I sprang from the couch and made my way to Nick's bedroom, my pulse racing with a mixture of fear and desperation. I knocked softly on the door, my voice trembling as I called out his name.

"Nick?" I whispered, my hand hovering uncertainly over the doorknob. "Can I come in?"

The door creaked open, revealing Nick's concerned expression as he peered at me from the darkness of his room. "Y/N, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I recounted the terrifying nightmare that had shaken me to the core. Without hesitation, Nick pulled me into his embrace, his arms wrapping around me in a comforting cocoon of warmth and safety.

"It's okay, Y/N," he murmured, his voice soothing and reassuring. "You're safe now. I'm here."

And as we settled into his bed, our bodies pressed close together in the darkness, I couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over me

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As I blinked away the remnants of sleep, the warmth of the bed enveloping me in its comforting embrace, I couldn't shake the feeling of confusion that lingered in the air. Where was I? And why did everything feel so... different?

As I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, it dawned on me—I was in Nick's bed. Memories of the night before flooded back, the nightmare that had shaken me awake, and Nick's comforting presence as he held me close, soothing away my fears.

But as I looked around the room, I realized that I was alone. Nick was nowhere to be seen, leaving me feeling a pang of disappointment and confusion. Had it all been a dream?

Without hesitation, I reached for my phone, my fingers trembling as I typed out a quick message to my friends, recounting the events of the night before and the unsettling feeling of waking up alone in Nick's bed.

But as I made my way to the bathroom to freshen up, the sound of the front door opening caught my attention, sending a rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Was it Nick? And if so, where had he been all morning?

My heart pounded in my chest as I approached the doorway, the anticipation almost overwhelming. And then, as I stepped into the living room, my eyes widened in surprise at the sight before me.

There, standing in the doorway with a sheepish grin on his face, was Nick. He was clad in a rumpled t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair tousled from sleep and a guilty look in his eyes.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted, his voice tinged with nervousness. "I, uh, didn't mean to leave you alone this morning. I had to run out for a bit, but I'm back now."

I blinked in confusion, unsure of how to respond to his sudden reappearance. "Oh," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "That's okay. I, uh, was just... surprised to wake up alone."

Nick's expression softened, a hint of regret flickering across his features. "I'm sorry," he said, his tone sincere. "I should've let you know where I was going. I just went to get your key.” 

As Nick's words washed over me, a wave of relief flooded my senses. The tension that had been coiling in my chest loosened, replaced by a sense of gratitude for his thoughtfulness and consideration.

"You went to get my key?" I repeated, my voice tinged with disbelief. "But... why?"

Nick shrugged sheepishly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I know how much you hate running across campus alone, especially at night," he admitted, his tone earnest. "And after everything that happened last night, I just wanted to make sure you didn't have to go through that again."

His words struck a chord deep within me, stirring a swell of emotion that threatened to overwhelm me. Here was Nick, going out of his way to ensure my safety and well-being, even after a night that had undoubtedly left him exhausted and drained.

"Thank you, Nick," I said, my voice soft with emotion. "I... I don't know what to say."

Nick smiled, his eyes lighting up with genuine warmth. "You don't have to say anything," he replied, his tone gentle. "Just knowing that you're safe is enough for me."

Feeling Nick's arms wrap around me, pulling me into a warm embrace, I couldn't help but let out a shaky sigh of relief. His presence was like a comforting anchor in the midst of uncertainty, grounding me and soothing away the lingering traces of fear and doubt.

For a moment, we stood there, locked in a tight embrace, our bodies pressed close together as if seeking solace in each other's warmth. And as I buried my face in Nick's shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne, I felt a sense of peace settle over me like a soft blanket.

"Thank you, Nick," I murmured, my voice muffled against his chest. "For everything."

Nick squeezed me tighter, his grip firm and reassuring. "Anytime, Y/N," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear. "I'll always be here for you."

And in that moment, surrounded by the gentle rhythm of Nick's heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as I had Nick by my side, I would never have to face them alone. With him, I felt safe, cherished, and utterly, unquestionably loved.

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The euphoria of victory pulsed through the air as Nick and his teammates celebrated their triumph on the ice. The cheers of the crowd still echoed in his ears as he made his way through the bustling streets of campus, the adrenaline of the game fueling his every step.

But amidst the jubilant celebrations and congratulatory pats on the back, Nick couldn't shake the feeling of restlessness that gnawed at his insides. Despite the victory, despite the adulation of the fans and the pride of his teammates, there was a sense of emptiness that lingered beneath the surface—a void that seemed impossible to fill.

So, without giving it a second thought, Nick found himself wandering aimlessly through the familiar streets of campus, the cool night air washing over him like a balm for his weary soul. With each step, he felt the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of freedom and exhilaration unlike anything he had ever experienced.

And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Nick found himself standing before Y/N's doorstep, his heart pounding in his chest as he hesitated for just a moment before reaching out to knock.

The sound of his knuckles rapping against the wood echoed through the stillness of the night, sending a rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. What was he doing here? What had possessed him to seek out Y/N in the dead of night, with no explanation and no plan?

But before he could second-guess himself any further, the door swung open, revealing Y/N's surprised expression as she took in the sight of him standing on her doorstep, breathless and disheveled from the night's festivities.

"Nick?" she exclaimed, her eyes widening in shock. "What are you doing here?"

Nick's throat felt dry as he struggled to find the right words, his mind racing a mile a minute as he searched for an explanation. "I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I needed to see you."

Y/N's expression softened, a hint of concern flickering across her features. "Are you okay?" she asked, reaching out to gently touch his arm.

Nick nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, I think so," he replied, his voice steadier now. "I just... I wanted to be with you." 

As Y/N ushered Nick inside, a surge of tension crackled in the air between them, palpable and electric. There was a raw vulnerability in the way Nick looked at her, his gaze searching hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

"Thanks," Nick muttered, his voice husky with emotion as he stumbled into the warmth of Y/N's apartment. "I appreciate it."

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as she guided him to the couch, his movements unsteady and uncertain. She couldn't help but notice the way his hand lingered against hers, the heat of his touch searing her skin even through the fabric of her clothes.

As she settled Nick onto the couch, a flood of conflicting emotions washed over Y/N—concern for his well-being, frustration at his reckless behavior, and a simmering undercurrent of something more, something she couldn't quite put into words.

"Here," she murmured, her voice soft as she handed him a bucket in case he needed it. "You should probably drink some water and try to get some rest."

Nick nodded gratefully, his gaze lingering on Y/N's face for a moment longer than necessary. "Thanks, Y/N," he said, his voice hoarse with gratitude. "You're too good to me."

Y/N forced a smile, her heart twisting with a mixture of longing and regret. "It's no problem," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just... try not to make a habit of it, okay?"

Y/N's heart clenched as she watched Nick settle onto the couch, his features softened by the haze of alcohol. She wanted to reach out, to erase the troubled lines from his forehead, but she held herself back, the tension between them too thick to ignore.

"Goodnight, Nick," she murmured, her voice tinged with a mixture of concern and hesitation. "Call out if you need anything, okay?"

Nick nodded, his eyes heavy with exhaustion as he mumbled a barely coherent reply. And with a heavy heart, Y/N turned away, retreating to the solitude of her bedroom, where she could grapple with the whirlwind of emotions that threatened to consume her.

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But just as she was drifting off to sleep, a loud retching sound shattered the silence of the night, sending a jolt of panic coursing through her veins. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Y/N bolted upright, her heart hammering in her chest as she rushed to Nick's side.

"Nick, are you okay?" she asked, her voice trembling with worry as she knelt beside him on the couch.

Nick groaned, his face pale and clammy as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I... I think I puked," he admitted, his voice thick with shame.

Y/N's heart went out to him, her own discomfort forgotten in the face of his distress. "It's okay," she reassured him, her voice soft and soothing. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Together, they worked in silence, Y/N fetching cleaning supplies while Nick slumped against the cushions, his face drawn with exhaustion and embarrassment. And as they scrubbed away the evidence of his indiscretion, a quiet understanding passed between them, unspoken but palpable.

"I'm sorry," Nick whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of running water. "I didn't mean to..."

Y/N placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her touch a silent reassurance that he was not alone. "It's okay," she replied, her voice filled with compassion. "We all make mistakes. What's important is that you're okay."

As Y/N finished cleaning up the mess, she turned to Nick, her expression soft with concern. "Nick, do you want to take a shower?" she asked gently, her voice filled with compassion. "I can go grab you some fresh clothes while you clean up."

Nick nodded weakly, gratitude shining in his eyes as he met her gaze. "That... that would be great," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a reassuring smile, Y/N helped Nick to his feet and guided him towards the bathroom, her hand a steady anchor against his trembling frame. She couldn't help but feel a surge of sympathy for him, his vulnerability tugging at her heartstrings in a way she couldn't quite explain.

"Here, I'll go grab you some clothes," she said, her voice gentle as she squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Just take your time in the shower, okay? I'll be right back."

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As Y/N slipped into Nick's dorm room, the air felt charged with anticipation, her heart pounding in her chest with a mixture of nerves and excitement. She had come here with a singular purpose—to retrieve some clothes for Nick—but as she stepped inside, her gaze fell upon something unexpected.

There, sitting on Nick's desk, was a small velvet box, its lid slightly ajar to reveal the glint of polished metal within. Curiosity piqued, Y/N approached the desk, her fingers trembling as she reached out to lift the lid.

And then, as she gazed upon the delicate piece of jewelry nestled within the box, her breath caught in her throat. It was a dahlia pendant, its petals crafted from shimmering silver and adorned with tiny sparkling diamonds. It was exquisite, a breathtaking work of art that seemed to shimmer and dance in the dim light of the room.

As Y/N's eyes fell upon the exquisite dahlia pendant nestled within the box, her breath caught in her throat. The pendant glimmered in the dim light of the room, its delicate petals crafted from shimmering silver and adorned with tiny sparkling diamonds. It was a breathtaking work of art, a testament to Nick's thoughtfulness and attention to detail.

But as quickly as her eyes had landed on the pendant, Y/N felt a pang of guilt wash over her. She had never intended to stumble upon such a personal and intimate gift, and the realization that she had inadvertently invaded Nick's privacy filled her with a sense of unease.

With trembling hands, Y/N carefully closed the lid of the box, her heart heavy with regret. She had no right to pry into Nick's personal affairs, no right to intrude upon the sanctity of his space. And as she turned to leave the room, her mind filled with conflicting emotions, she vowed to keep the discovery to herself, to respect Nick's privacy and his right to keep his secrets.

Y/N reentered the room, her heart still fluttering with the weight of what she had discovered, yet determined to maintain a facade of normalcy. "I got your clothes," she announced softly, holding out the bundle she had retrieved from Nick's closet.

Nick looked up, a grateful smile spreading across his face as he accepted the clothes from her outstretched hand. "Thanks, Y/N," he murmured, his voice hoarse with gratitude.

Y/N returned his smile, though her mind was still reeling from the unexpected turn of events. She couldn't help but steal a glance at the closed box on Nick's desk, the image of the dahlia pendant etched into her memory.

But she quickly pushed aside her curiosity, focusing instead on the task at hand—helping Nick get cleaned up and settled for the night. With practiced ease, she guided him towards the bathroom once more, offering him a reassuring smile as she left him to his privacy.

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As Y/N entered the living room, her steps cautious and tentative, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease gnawing at her insides. Nick was still there, slumbering peacefully on the couch, his features softened by the light of the morning sun.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N approached him, her heart aching with a mixture of concern and affection. She couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for leaving him alone on the couch all night, but the events of the previous evening had left her emotionally drained and uncertain of how to proceed.

"Nick?" she murmured softly, reaching out to gently shake his shoulder. "Are you awake?"

Nick stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he blinked up at her in confusion. "Y/N?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "What time is it?"

Y/N checked her phone, noting the time with a furrowed brow. "It's almost noon," she replied, her voice tinged with concern. "You've been asleep for hours."

Nick groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sat up on the couch. "Sorry," he muttered, his voice sheepish. "I must have passed out."

Y/N shook her head, offering him a reassuring smile. "It's okay," she said, her tone gentle. "You needed the rest."

Nick nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thanks, Y/N," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "For everything."

Y/N returned his smile, her heart swelling with warmth at the sight of him. "Anytime, Nick," she replied, her voice soft. "Anytime."

As Nick rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Y/N couldn't help but notice the fatigue etched into his features. "You look exhausted," she remarked, her concern deepening. "Did you sleep okay?"

Nick nodded, though there was a hint of hesitation in his response. "Yeah, I guess so," he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I just... I've been feeling a bit off lately."

Y/N's brow furrowed with worry as she took in Nick's weary demeanor. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Nick hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away before meeting hers once more. "It's just... everything feels so overwhelming sometimes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like I'm constantly struggling to keep up, to meet everyone's expectations. And... I don't know, I guess I'm just tired of pretending like I have it all together when I really don't."

Y/N's heart ached at the raw vulnerability in Nick's words, the weight of his struggles evident in every syllable. Without hesitation, she wrapped him in a comforting embrace, holding him close as if to shield him from the world's harsh realities.

"You don't have to pretend with me, Nick," she murmured, her voice soft with understanding. "You can be yourself, flaws and all. I'll still be here for you, no matter what."

Nick's shoulders sagged with relief as he leaned into her embrace, the weight of his burdens momentarily lifted in the warmth of her presence. "Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Y/N held him tighter, her own heart swelling with affection for the man who had unwittingly stolen it.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

As Y/N made her way to the arena, her heart fluttered with a mixture of excitement and anticipation. It was the biggest game of the season—a chance for Nick and his teammates to prove themselves before the playoffs—and she was determined to be there to show her support.

The atmosphere inside the arena was electric, the air crackling with energy as the crowd roared with excitement. Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as she watched Nick take to the ice, his determination evident in every stride.

As the game unfolded, Y/N found herself on the edge of her seat, her heart pounding in time with each pass and shot. The tension in the air was palpable, each moment filled with the promise of victory or the threat of defeat.

And then, in the final moments of the game, with the score tied and the clock ticking down, Nick seized his opportunity. With a burst of speed and skill, he maneuvered past the opposing defense, his stick connecting with the puck in a perfect shot that sailed past the goalie and into the back of the net.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the game and a hard-fought victory for Nick and his teammates. Y/N couldn't contain her excitement as she joined in the celebration, her heart soaring with pride for the man she had come to care for so deeply.

As the players made their way off the ice, Y/N caught sight of Nick making his way towards her, a triumphant smile on his face. He pulled her into a tight embrace, his joy infectious as he spun her around in a whirl of excitement.

"We did it, Y/N," he exclaimed, his voice filled with elation. "We won!"

Y/N laughed, her own happiness bubbling over as she returned Nick's embrace. "I knew you could do it," she replied, her voice filled with pride. "I'm so proud of you, Nick."

Nick's smile widened at her words, his eyes shining with gratitude and affection. "Thanks, Y/N," he replied, his voice tinged with emotion. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at his words, her smile widening as she gazed up at him. There was a warmth in Nick's eyes, a tenderness that spoke volumes without him having to say a word. In that moment, she felt closer to him than ever before, their bond strengthened by the shared experience of victory and celebration.

As the crowd began to thin out and the arena emptied, Nick turned to Y/N with a serious expression, a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes. "Y/N, there's something I want to talk to you about," he said, his voice low with intensity. "Something important."

Y/N's curiosity was piqued, her pulse quickening with anticipation. "What is it?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

Nick glanced around the nearly empty arena, his expression serious. "Can we talk after I get out of the locker room?" he asked, his voice tinged with urgency. "It's... it's something I've been wanting to say for a while now."

Y/N nodded, a sense of excitement tingling in her veins. "Of course," she replied, her heart pounding with anticipation.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

As Y/N waited outside the locker room, her anticipation grew with each passing moment. She couldn't shake the feeling of nervous excitement that coursed through her veins, her heart pounding in her chest as she wondered what Nick wanted to tell her.

Finally, the door swung open, and Nick emerged from the locker room, his expression serious yet determined. Without a word, he gestured for Y/N to follow him, leading her to a quiet corner of the arena away from prying eyes and curious onlookers.

Once they were alone, Nick turned to face Y/N, his gaze searching hers with a mixture of apprehension and longing. "Y/N," he began, his voice soft but filled with emotion. "There's something I need to tell you. Something I should have said a long time ago."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the seriousness in Nick's tone, her pulse quickening with anticipation. "What is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nick took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers as he spoke. "I love you, Y/N," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion. "I've loved you for as long as I can remember, and I can't imagine my life without you."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she took in Nick's words, her heart overflowing with emotion. She had waited so long to hear him say those three simple words, and now that he had, she felt like she was floating on air.

"Oh Nick," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I love you too."

Without hesitation, she threw her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace as she buried her face in his chest. In that moment, surrounded by the quiet of the empty arena and the warmth of Nick's embrace, Y/N felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

And then, as they stood there together in the quiet of the arena, Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. With trembling hands, he opened it to reveal the dahlia pendant, its delicate petals gleaming in the dim light.

"I want you to have this," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "As a reminder of my love for you, and everything we've been through together."

Tears streamed down Y/N's cheeks as she reached out to take the pendant, her fingers trembling with emotion. "It's beautiful," she whispered, her voice filled with wonder.

Nick smiled, a tender expression on his face as he gently fastened the pendant around Y/N's neck. "Just like you," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

I got a little too carried away when writing this. oh well, who doesnt love moldy

[witchy667]

TDLR- My first awakening with my wolf when I was about 9 years old.

(TW for mentions of intense Christianity and some swearing)

So I don’t know when exactly I started feeling so connected to wolves. I partially think that it’s because I’ve always been animalistic/wolfish. So there wasn’t much of a “separation” when I was young cause that’s just who I was if that makes sense. I never thought my behavior to be odd cause I just did it. I had a lack of self control with impulses and instincts as a child. That plus my wolf tendencies and natural chemical imbalance made me seem a bit concerning I guess. I started collecting stuff and making art for wolves starting at age 6. I actually taught myself how to draw because I loved wolves so much. Learned just so I could draw wolves. So by age 9, I had a good collection of wolf affiliated items. I kept them in my windowsill. Had a mask I made by hand, a tail, snowglobes, stuffed animals: you name it. Around the age of 8 to 9 I was also looking into witchcraft to figure out a spell to change me physically into a werewolf. I would memorize different spells so I didn’t even have to read it off the paper while under the moonlight of the full moon at 12 AM. So I could focus fully and send my energy. I tried this multiple times. Being a kid, not knowing that the Internet had history my dad and stepmom found out. They thought that I was possibly possessed and was worshiping the wolves as a false God or idol.

They first forced me so sit down and watch quite a few possessions along with exorcisms after they “found out”. After that semi traumatic experience they forced me to get rid of all of my wolf stuff. Legit sold everything then made me physically destroy and rip up my art. I remember vividly ripping up a mask I worked on for months that got me attention in an art show. I was bawling and so angry but I’d rather me destroy it than them. I still regret that to this day, but what choice did I have? After that my dad and step mom no longer allowed me to behave “wolfish”. No more walking on my tiptoes, no more wearing a tail, no more rough housing, no more running on all fours in any regard, no more wolf books, somehow I was blessed they didn’t take my forest privileges away completely. They deadass even took my door OFF its hinges. For like a year straight. 🥲🙏 So it’s started being a huge fight to be my full self. But I never gave up regardless of their restrictions.

(Now to the awakening, lol. Sorry it’s so long, context was just needed to understand fully this next part)

One day my dad and step mom when on an out of town trip for a few days. (I was 9 at this time) So they hired our baby sitter Jenna to watch us. She decided to take us to the zoo to do something fun. (This was in upstate NY so it was a big zoo with lots of people, NOT NYC though!! lol) We got to the zoo and walked around for a while, obviously I only cared about the wolves. But I think Jenna knew that so she wanted to look at the wolves last. We make it through a majority of the zoo and I see the wolf cage. I’m immediately excited, I noticed right away as we were approaching that there was hella people and kids around the cage howling to get the wolves attention and to come close. I also noticed the wolves on the side of their enclosure eating, I don’t remember what it was expect it being red meat. So I knew that the wolves didn’t care as they were being fed the one or two times they could be in the day. Lastly, I somehow knew in my soul; in my bones; that if I stepped up to the cage it wouldn’t matter. They would come.

Then the world kind of drowned out. I didn’t really comprehend or see all the humans around me or even notice/care about my babysitter or brother’s presence. It was like I moved without thinking and just did what my instincts told me without thinking about it as I do it. I walked up to the cage and tilted my head back and just howled with my whole being. I shit you not both wolves stop eating and came over and sat right in front of me and stared at me. I opened my eyes and see them and I almost started crying. I noticed all of the strangers staring at me in disbelief along with my brother and Jenna. I felt in that moment that I am a wolf and no matter what they take from me they can never take me from me. They can never take the wolf away because I am a wolf.

So when my parents came back from their trip and my babysitter told them about the experience, it was so validating because after everything that they tried to do to break the connection it still didn’t work. And it just helped me know that no one can take it away. And it was the biggest fuck you and the wolves are with me. And I’ll cherish that memory forever.

Sorry for the super long wall of text I just really wanted to express this here because I thought it could potentially be relatable in some aspects. Along with this is definitely a part of my wolf journey.

[princessanonymous]

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

First Chapter

17. 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽

From that moment on, (Y/n) clung to the new arrivant. While Dorian was relieved to know his partner had gotten over his initial dislike for the girl, he wondered what had been the catalyst for this change. The other day, the child had another nightmare. In the middle of the day, she had entered their room and made a beeline for Killian's coffin. The dark haired vampire had comforted her, while Dorian had smiled at the sight fondly. He preferred not to dwell too much on the cause of this positive outcome ; it was better not to look a gift horse in the mouth, as they said. Everything was good; everyone was in their place. It was almost perfect.

The girl would turn twelve in two weeks and the next blood moon would be a week after that. He knew Killian probably still planned to leave, but Dorian knew the other vampire well. His dear companion was so predictable. His compassion would make him stay. For their girl. He wouldn’t leave her. The blond just had to find a way to make him stay until the girl's turning.

He gazed out one of the study's windows and observed the silhouette riding on a horse outside in the night. He smiled, resting his chin on his hand as he followed Killian's path with his eyes. The dark haired vampire had always been one for the outdoors, even as a human. He had fascinated Dorian, and still did to this day. He could still vividly remember their first meeting, a memory that would never leave him.

· • —– ٠ ⏳ ٠ —– • ·

Humans, Dorian found, were quite interesting beings; they had this way of living — always in motion — that baffled him. Despite the specter of impermanence hanging over them, humans embraced life with a tenacity that Dorian found intriguing. They indulged in pleasures, sought out joys, and painted their existence with vibrant hues of experiences. It was a paradox that resonated with him on a profound level — the knowledge of an eventual end, yet an unwavering commitment to savoring every fleeting moment. It made him wonder if he had acted the same way once. 

There was a time, one or two forevers ago, when he too had been part of this vibrant dance of life. He had been human, a mere mortal swept up in the currents of time. He didn't remember much of his time as a human; his turning had erased most of his memories. Disappeared in an ember, a burned tableau turned to ashes dissolving in the wind of eternal change, leaving behind a void where his mortal past once thrived. He had started anew as a blank canvas; his own sire abandoning him carelessly only days following his turning.

"Tell me more about yourself, Monsieur de Beauvoir," a voice pierced through his contemplations, and he turned to regard the lady who had initiated the inquiry. Despite his charming smile, her name had already slipped through the crevices of his recollection.

"I am sure there are more interesting discussions than listening to the stories of a man such as myself, milady," he responded in a melodious voice.

The human giggled, as if that had been the funniest joke she had heard. "You are too humble, Duke de Beauvoir," she gushed. "What brought a Frenchman such as yourself to England ?" The lady asked, stepping closer.

 "I merely wished for a change of scenery," he replied vaguely, his tone carrying an air of mystery that only fueled the lady's curiosity.

The lady's words, laced with a hint of flirtation and delivered in a sultry voice, hung in the air like a delicate perfume, enveloping the space between them. "A great reason to make new acquaintances," she insinuated, her gaze locked with Dorian's, her proximity closing the gap between them.

In response, Dorian allowed a playful glint to flicker in his eyes, acknowledging the unspoken invitation. He was always willing to be entertained. He considered the possibility of continuing their exchange in a quieter corner of the palace, away from the prying eyes and curious gazes of the other attendants.

"A great way indeed," added a new person who inserted himself into the conversation, "Charlotte, why don't you introduce me to this fine gentleman ?" 

Dorian, accustomed to the art of captivating an audience, turned around with practiced grace, ready to unleash his signature charming smile. The voice that had interrupted their conversation had piqued his interest, and he welcomed the attention with a subtle anticipation. Among vampires, pride was a prevailing trait, and Dorian, in particular, relished the spotlight. The knowledge that others hung on his every word, that he could control the narrative and reveal only what he wished, provided him with an exhilarating rush.

As he prepared to unveil his charismatic persona, Dorian's poised demeanor faltered ever so slightly at the sight before him. Long wavy auburn hair lazily gracing his shoulders; sharp yet beautiful features and striking hazel eyes. Truly, a sight to behold. True beauty was something hard to come across, yet here it presented itself to him, in such unforeseen circumstances. The mortal put an arm protectively around the lady’s shoulders and Dorian narrowed his eyes slightly, unsure of their bond.

"Brother," Charlotte greeted with warmth, introducing the mysterious man at her side. "This is Duke Dorian de Beauvoir."

Dorian inclined his head with a polite acknowledgment, his charming smile remaining intact. "Bonsoir, it is a pleasure to meet you," he trailed off, trying to catch the name of the stranger.

"Killian," he supplied. "Killian Ambrose-Hart."

"Ambrose," he mused inwardly. An ancient name, steeped in history, meaning Immortal. Everlasting. The serendipity of the encounter was not lost on Dorian. His lips curled up. This must have been fated. Dorian's eyes, still retaining their playful gleam, lingered on Killian for a moment longer. 

"Why don't you join us," the blond suggested, gesturing at an empty seat at their table.

"Brother, sir de Beauvoir is from France," Charlotte informed him. "He was about to tell me more about himself."

"Nothing quite interesting, I'm afraid," he responded a bit dismissively, turning his attention back on the brother who had sat down reluctantly. "London is grand and lively, nothing like what I am used to from France. I would need someone to show me around to get accustomed to the new scenery."

When the other didn't seem to get the hint, the conversation continued, the sister trying to get Dorian's attention while he had been ensnared by the unsuspecting brother. The siblings eventually departed and the blond was left bitter.

Now that Dorian knew he existed, no other man would suffice. The heart wanted what it wanted, and his ? Well, his wanted this elusive human.

· • —– ٠ ⌛️ ٠ —– • ·

"Are you almost done ?" (Y/n)'s modulated voice brought him back to reality.

His eyes landed on her, adorning a magnificent rose red dress that complimented her complexion. She posed on a black chair, elegant and youthful. He looked back at his tableau.

His first and last human portrait of her. Her skin still glowed with colorful warm hues, her eyes lacked any hint of red and her teeth were dull compared to that of vampires. He rarely captured life, but he was willing to make an exception for his child. Soon she would be different. For the better, but nonetheless different.

He wondered how she would react to her turning. He would ensure it would be as painless as he possibly could. This would certainly be a night to remember, and perhaps even the first she would remember. Dorian wondered if like him, she would be among the few who lost their memory of their human life following their turning. He hoped she would. Starting anew with her would be the greatest gift that could be given to him. He could educate and mold her properly; no pesky memories of her parents and her peasant life. She would only know him and Killian.

He turned back towards her. "Not yet, doll," he answered and chuckled as she sighed. "Be patient— and smile."

"Do you often paint ?" She asked, perhaps trying to make the time pass faster.

"For as long as I can remember," he answered. A talent he must had retained from his human life, he supposed. "All paintings on display on this floor were made by me."

"Really ?" She turned around, pointing at one portrait of him and Killian in the room. "Even this one ?"

"Indeed," he confirmed with a smile, then added: "Stop moving, doll."

"Isn't it easier to bring in a painter to paint you and him together ?" (Y/n) asked, settling back into place.

"We tried," he acknowledged, "but we found mine always turned out better."

Painters had this ability of picking up small details most didn't see. Teeth too white, fangs too sharp, skin taking a deathly color. They saw too much. They showed too much. They accentuated it all too much, peeling away the carefully crafted façade created by them. Presenting what wasn’t meant to be shown ; what they didn’t want to be shown.

"They really are pretty," she complimented.

"Thank you," he smiled. "We are almost done."

[ladyofthebears]

To add this this whole Jace discourse I just want to say this:

I am the result of an affair my grandmother had with a native american man whilst my pappy, who raised me, was in Vietnam during the war.

As a white passing mixed kid, i was not called names often. I was looked down on, i was treated like an outsider in my own family, sneered at with whispers spread behind my and my brother’s backs.

I have been called a mongrel only a few times but i vividly remember the first time it happened.

I was small enough that my brothers could still trick me into thinking i was adopted because of my pale skin and light hair. After a family gathering (of my Pappys side of the family), i asked how everyone in the family knew we were our father’s children immediately.

My brother smiled very sardonically at me and sprouted something about him and our other brother sticking out like sore thumbs. I was confused, because they knew i was my father’s daughter as well, despite how i looked. I asked why they ignored us and were mean and looked at us like grandma looked at the dead snakes in her garden. He laughed at me and said

“Guess life is just harder for filthy mongrels like us”

I remember that phrase so vividly. And maybe my brother meant it to be joking, but those words stuck with me for years. Stuck with me through puberty when i wore even PALER foundation and put blonde streaks in my hair. Stuck with me as i grew up further in a racist religion that specifically makes indigenous people out to be evil. I remembered it when i finally started interacting with more native people in college to reconnect, remembered it when a white girl told me that “if i wanted to be taken seriously as an Indian i should dye my hair black and start tanning”

Those words have haunted me for a long time and they have only helped to make me despise myself and how I came to be.

I hate being stuck between two things- i hate looking white and having all the unfairly given privilege it grants me over my brother. I hate how i am seen as a pretendian for trying to interact with my culture. I hate knowing i can never get tribal affiliation because of the affair.

I know i have immense privilege because of how i look, but those words still haunt me. Because at the end of the day, thats how i see myself at my lowest moments.

I know that on twitter there is major discourse about Jaces words and actions.

And while yes, this is a fictional show, Jaces struggle is one i am intimately attuned to. I said things and did things i regret looking back out of anger for my own situation, i acted in immature and childish ways. But at the end of the day, i can look back and recognise that because i lived through it, and grew through it. I was constantly confused and hurt and torn between differing worlds and families and peoples and it took me a long long time to come to peace with it.

I am still not fully at peace with it.

So- while you may criticise the writing all you want, please realise that Jaces hurt and anger are feelings that can be very very real for some people. Jace, is obviously a fictional character who doesnt have real world feelings. But your mutuals, the people who see your post on discover page are, and your words about a fictional character can hurt them too.

I am not saying mince your words and center your world around sensitive snowflakes- i am saying, have some empathy- even if it is for a stupid fictional character. Because maybe along the way, you can find empathy for other real world people too.

These were the kids that were made to feel like dirty mongrels.

[iggyartsblog]

A small vent about marble hornets and creepypasta becoming a recent trend

Tw for description of psychosis, gore description

Read if you wish, if not just enjoy the gifs

Marble hornets is on its 15th year anniversary this year and because of this it's resurfaced and there's a wave of new age fans that enjoy the web show and have delved deeper into creepypasta lore as well as the slenderverse. On a normal person level I have no issues with this. I don't believe In gatekeeping analogue horror from back in my time from today's generation, especially something as good as marble hornets.

My issue is this (Trauma dump incoming) : from the age of 7 I was suffering deep psychosis as a result of using creepypasta and marble hornets as a way of coping with trauma and the stress I was under with neglect and having to look after my sick parent and having no healthy friendship in school. Yes, I was one of those kids who wished with all their hearts that the slenderman would come and take them away and make their problems disappear. The problem was I wanted it too much so my brain just made it happen. I was suffering from really bad derealisation as well as auditory and visual hallucinations of the characters. They would talk and interact with me, just not in the way I wanted them too. I remember so vividly washing up after dinner one night and seeing laughing jack break through the door and stab me in the stomach. I remember watching as my stomach and intestine dropped out of my body as he picked them up and swallowed them by the handful while still managing to maniacally laugh in my face. I screamed until my dad came in and told me jokingly to shut up, clearly not seeing my distress.

These hallucinations impacted my social life too. It was clear to me that there was a handful of them that were not out to get me and wouldn't hurt me if I played along with them. The most normal thing I had to do was just not ignore them. I hallucinated ticci toby a lot, especially in public. I had learned that if I didn't talk back to him he would get agitated and I would have nightmares of the slenderman murdering me so I would always talk back. This made going out with friends difficult because I had to respond to him no matter what. This lead to a lot of bullying from my friends and not many people wanting to talk to me.

For years, until I was 12, I kept slipping through the narrative I was either schizophrenic or actually one of the followers of the slenderman (I used to call myself a proxy, now the word makes me feel physically ill). This belief is probably what made the hallucinations last as long as they did. I wasn't aware at the time how deep in psychosis I was as I refused to talk to my parents about it in detail as my mum used to threaten to take me to a mental hospital as a small child when I used my imagination and said I could see a butterfly, for example, that wasn't really there. My sister knew and so did her friend but I'm sure they both thought it was some game.

So, I'm speaking in the past tense. This is behind me, right? Well, it was for a good few years. I was able to do this via limiting myself all access to anything creepypasta related or marble hornets related which was very hard because it was like my safety blanket for so many years. I tried to not put myself in rooms alone without music or something playing in the background so I can concentrate on that and not give anything the chance to harm me. When I did hallucinate I would take videos to prove to myself nobody was there and in time I was able to ignore them completely and the eventually went away. This took about a year or so of discipline and I think it only worked because it was psychosis and not schizophrenia.

However, the reason I'm talking about this now is it's all come back to me. I'm hallucinating again, I'm being hurt again and I'm unable to sleep properly because of the nightmares that plague me due to it. The reason is very clear to me. Media consumption has caused me to relapse. My girlfriend is obsessed with marble hornets and won't stop showing me stuff about it, which is totally fine because she shows me things she likes out of love. However, when I open Tumblr after it's full of marble hornets and creepypasta. It's the same story for other social media. I'm totally okay with people enjoying the fandom and I'm okay with seeing it from time to time but I do feel so bombarded with it all that's it's triggered me into psychosis yet again. And the way people enjoy this media isn't making me feel any more comfortable online either. You cannot imagine what it's like seeing IRLs of monsters that's harmed you physically and mentally roleplaying and twinkifying the character like the character hasn't killed people or tortured people in their source. I can't stand people simping over Tim from marble hornets after I've repeatedly been assaulted and tormented by a figment of my imagination with the exact same face. Having Jeff the killers bloody and broken face sting like a fresh wound in salt over my eyes when I fall asleep seems like a complete contrast to the hot fuckboy version that people put in their pfps and dirty talk on character ai. I'm not saying you can't be thirsty for a man with no eyelids, my point is it's really strange from my point of view.

Now that you've listened to my rant I just want to make it absolutely clear that if you enjoy marble hornets or creepypasta or the slenderverse you have all the right to keep loving that media. I don't want to put people off or make it seem like I'm trying to gatekeep. I do just want to share a very brief overview of my experience with this media and how it's affected me in hopes it might prevent someone else from going through something similar. This is also a reminder for all horror fans to take a break once in a while to cleanse yourself of all violence and fear for a while and look at some positive media to rest your brain once in a while.

I doubt anyone would be interested in hearing more about my experience with psychosis but if you are ill gladly talk more about it. I'm going to do everything I can to overcome this unwanted sequel and I will over come out weather social media and the people around me let me or not. I've done this before and I'll do it again.