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mattscoquette · 22 hours ago

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𝑨 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻 | 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑻 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉.. you slowly notice your boyfriend is falling out of love with you

angst !! cursing, mentions of weed, smoking, arguing, glass breaking, kinda toxic!matt, breaking up

2.3k words

are we awake? am i too old to be this stoned?

the small sliver of sunlight that peered through your curtain danced across your face, causing you to stir awake slowly. a hand reached out, only to find the other side of the mattress cold. typical.

it wasn’t long before the strong reek of matt’s weed filled your apartment, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you peered at the clock next to you, the numbers 6:37 a.m. staring back at you.

slowly, you made your way out of bed and out to the balcony, where matt resided, still clad in his pajamas. a rolled joint was held between his pointer and thumb, dark smoke swirling around him.

“are you seriously high already?” you mumbled, sleep still coaxing your voice as you wrapped your arms around your middle as a means to stay warm.

matt simply looked back at you, his usual blue eyes red and bleary. he gave you a small shrug before holding the joint to his lips, inhaling deeply.

“i guess so.”

for goodness sake, i wasn't told you'd be this cold.

it wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to question if matt still loved you. you’d been together for a year and a half now, and it felt as though he’d only loved you for the first year.

it started small. little remarks you would tend to just brush off.

“you should wear this, it looks better on you.”

“why are you always in a bad mood whenever i’m around?”

but they never bothered you much. matt loved you. and you loved him. that was the way it always was, and you never seemed to think any different.

and matt was so sweet in the beginning. flowers were delivered to your door every week, along with a handwritten letter from him. your meals were always paid for, and you were almost certain you hadn’t touched a door handle for nearly half of the relationship. now, things couldn’t be more different.

when matt started being mean, you never questioned if he still loved you. he was probably having a bad day, or something heavy was weighing on him he just didn’t feel like talking about. it was never a question if he loved you or not.

but lately, you weren’t so sure anymore. it was rare for matt to be kind. he was also so angry and upset, and you couldn’t just seem to understand why. he acted like you were just an afterthought in his mind, a footnote in the story of his life. like you weren’t his girlfriend, like you weren’t his everything, like he always promised you.

you smashed a glass into pieces

that's around the time i left.

you lost count of how many argument you and matt had this week. there was always something. nothing could ever be okay with you both.

it was beginning to feel like matt wasn’t fighting for you relationship anymore. yet here you were, fighting tooth and nail, just for things to be even a little bit like how they used to be. it was an uphill battle, and you were losing.

you were angrily clearing off the table, not caring if neither you nor matt were done eating dinner. you weren’t even sure what this argument was about. something along the lines of matt bending over backwards for you, when you reciprocate nothing in return. although that couldn’t be further from the truth, you tried to listen. you tried to piece together what exactly it was that you did that made your relationship crumble.

“i just don’t get it y/n,” matt retorted as he stood up abruptly, bringing his dishes to the sink and dropping them in with a loud clank, “why is it that i’m doing everything for you, but the second i need something, it’s a big issue?”

you glared at him from you spot by the table, tears threatening to well up in your eyes. you didn’t want to argue anymore. you just wanted your boyfriend back.

he just scoffed as he turned back around, clearly not impressed with your lack of an answer. matt began to scrub the dishes bitterly, almost as if the plate had done something wrong and he was mad at it, as opposed to you.

“i do so much for you, matt.” you mumbled, keeping your head low as you wiped off the table. no matter how much you two argued, you never wanted him to see you cry. “i feel like sometimes you’re the one who can’t be pleased.”

that set him off.

“are you serious-” he began, throwing the plate down in the sink angrily as he turned around to look at you. the glass shattered, the sound piercing through the kitchen as you two fell silent.

it was an accident, you knew it, but it didn’t stop you from crying more.

you turned to face matt, your eyes red and cheeks blotchy as tears streamed down them. before he could get a word out, you were already announcing that you were going back home.

you said i'm full of diseases

your eyes were full of regret.

it had been a week and a half since matt broke the plate, and things hadn’t gotten any better. if anything, that was the first crack in the glass. matt seemed to be picking an argument all day, looking for anything to make a comment on. no matter what you did, you just couldn’t make him happy.

“can you stop hogging the damn blanket?” matt murmured as he sat next to you on the couch, his arms crossed. he tugged the fabric from your lap to his, shuffling even further away than he was before, his focus returning to the movie playing on the tv.

you looked at his side profile, his demeanor so cold and off putting. where you both used to be cuddled up together under one blanket when watching a movie, now you couldn’t so much as sit too close to him without starting something.

“sorry.” you mumbled faintly. that was starting to become a repeat word in your vocabulary. sorry. you had decided instead of arguing back, you could just be sorry. if matt felt like he was always right, he was sure to love you again the way he used to. how couldn’t he be?

“god, you’re just so annoying sometimes.” he muttered, fixing the blanket once more as his eyes bore holes through you. he watched the way your face fell, a knot twisting in his stomach.

how could he say something so mean to girl he loved so much?

in return, you sighed quietly and shakily, returning your eyes to the tv screen. you’d rather have matt be angry at you everyday than not have him at all.

you used to have a face straight out of a magazine

now you just look like anyone.

for a change, matt suggested you two go out. it was a breath of fresh air for you both. there was almost an unspoken agreement that you two couldn’t be fighting if you were in public. you could each play the part of the happy couple you once were.

you made every effort to look your best. your hair and makeup were done, your outfit perfectly put together after countless hours spent curating it. you took a step back from the mirror, smiling at your reflection. you felt really, really pretty. a small sense of optimism lingered in the air as you made your way down to matt’s car when he said he was at your apartment. he couldn’t possibly ignore you, not when you looked like this.

a small smile played on your glossed lips as you climbed into the car, your floral perfume strong. he offered the faintest of smiles, followed with a small kiss hello. to most girls, they’d be upset if their boyfriend reacted how matt did. they’d want him to compliment them, ruin their makeup. but to you, it was a start. you can’t remember the last time he made you feel how he just did.

the ride to the mall was peaceful. it was filled with small talk, the radio playing softly in the background. the day was just getting started, but you felt hopeful. you felt like today would be a really good day for you and matt, and your relationship was in desperate need of one.

and it was great. it felt almost like what you called “the good times,” the part of your relationship where matt actually felt like your boyfriend. when he actually acted like your boyfriend. he held your hand the entire time you walked through the mall, and carried every single bag for you. at the cash registers, his wallet was out before the total was even displayed on the card reader. the day was almost perfect. almost. the only thing missing was the compliments you craved from matt so badly.

in the good times, it seemed as if every other sentence coming from matt was a compliment. he loved to tell you how much he loved you. at one point, you had even wondered if matt remembered your actual name, because he was always calling you his pretty girl. his.

but today, that seemed to be the only thing lacking. instead, matt’s gaze seemed very preoccupied with the other girls in the mall. his eyes lingered at all of their bodies, the way they would show a little cleavage or expose their midriff. it didn’t take you long to realize the only reason matt was being so kind today was because he could distract himself with other girls who weren’t you.

i just sat in self-pity and cried in the car.

although you and matt had been having problems for as long as you had, you didn’t dare tell anyone. because when you were around friends, you and matt were good at pretending. nobody dared to question your relationship, because there was nothing to question. he seemed to love you the way he always had. it was only behind closed doors when you had problems.

but even though you accepted this was your relationship now, you couldn’t help but remember the good times. it would just hit you out of nowhere, the longing for something that didn’t exist anymore. something that could never be as it was. it was a crushing feeling, really, and the only thing you could do was let it consume you. it would eat at you for days, taking away your appetite and replacing it with a sinking feeling inside of you.

you often found yourself looking back at old pictures and videos, notes from matt and dead flower petals you saved. if you closed your eyes and focused hard enough, sometimes you could still feel the way you used to. you’d be lost in your thoughts, living in a deluded world where you and matt were still happy. one where he had eyes for only you, and made you feel like the most special person in the universe. you could still remember how tight he would hold you every night, how he’d look at you like you hung every star in the sky.

then, the reality would dawn on you that it wasn’t like that anymore. you were mourning a relationship that wasn’t even dead yet.

you played a part, this is how it starts.

as the days, weeks, months passed, you felt more and more detached from your relationship. you were waking up everyday next to someone you couldn’t recognize anymore. the spark you two shared was now put out, embers on the ground dying. he wasn’t the matt you fell in love with anymore.

you had stopped trying. maybe if matt noticed you were slowly fading away, he’d do something. but he didn’t. he never did. the two of you had no energy for anything anymore, your relationship on it’s last limbs.

oh, i just had a change of heart.

matt’s couch was something you’d grown accustom to over the last two years. it was your saving grace when he would push you to the point of no return, when you couldn’t even lay next to him to sleep. as the ceiling stared back at you, you heard small creaks in the floorboard as matt creeped into the living room. he looked a mess, his hair tousled in all different directions, the dark spots under his eyes more prominent than ever.

“can i lay with you?” his voice whispered in the darkness as he stood above you. he clambered in beneath the blankets when you gave a small nod, exhaustion falling over you fast.

he rustled around a bit, finally finding a comfortable position facing you. he studied your face, taking in every detail.

“it’s not working out anymore, is it?” he asked, his voice quiet.

you looked back at him. you watched the way his chest rose and fell, the way his chapped lips parted and breathing hitched.

“it’s not.”

you both remained quiet, as if you were soaking in the last moments of your relationship. the same way you try to remember everything about your hotel room when you’re leaving vacation, committing every last minute thing to memory.

you stared back at matt, waiting for him to speak. he opened his mouth to speak, closing it when no words came out. he tried again.

“are we done then?”

you inhaled shakily, your eyes fluttering shut. you nodded, feeling the weight of the world come crashing down on you. two years of your life, over like that. before you could even think about getting up, matt’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

“can…can you just stay with me one more night?” he asked. “i don’t want it to be over just yet.”

you peeled your eyes open, being met with matt’s sad ones. you nodded your head yes, feeling him instantly wrap his arms around your middle, pulling you into his chest. just like how he used to. his head rested atop yours, the rhythmic sound of each other’s breathing lulling you both to sleep.

you would both deal with it tomorrow. you would feel the unbearable feeling of heartbreak in the morning. but for now, you could still both be with one another the way you used to. just one last time.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ i know i was yapping sm ab needing a break but i wrote this in one sitting yesterday…. also a fanfic to the 1975 is sooo tumblr. pls lmk ur thoughts bc this is very different from what id normally write:) and thank u for 5.1k ! i love u all

#© mattscoquette #writing 𓂃 𝜗𝜚 #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo angst #sturniolo x you #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic

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dulcescorderitas · 2 days ago

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Hey, how are you?

I would like to ask something for Clark Kent, something where the reader, who is already Clark's girlfriend, feels that there is someone kind of psychopath following her and watching her, and she doesn't feel safe, she knows that Clark is Superman, but maybe he's solving another case and the reader didn't want to get in the way, but one day things go too far and this man who is following the reader tries to break into her house and she calls Clark? And our dear husband arrives at the reader's house in a few moments without even asking questions, he just wants to know that she is okay.

I love your writing, and thank you.

author's note: hiiii, hope it's not too short, anonie!

you had always known metropolis held dangers, even for someone dating clark kent—superman, the man of steel. yet nothing had prepared you for the creeping sense of unease that had settled over you in recent weeks.

it started with the feeling of eyes on your back, the sensation of being watched when you walked home from work. then came the notes—brief, ominous messages left under your door, each more unsettling than the last. you didn't want to burden clark. his days were already filled with saving the world, his nights stolen away by emergencies that only he could handle. so you bore it in silence, brushing off the cold sweat that broke out on your skin, telling yourself it was nothing.

but tonight, the facade cracked. the rattling at your window broke through your calm like a sledgehammer. you froze, heart pounding, as the lock twisted under the force of an intruder's hand. panic seized you. grabbing your phone, you dialed clark's number, your fingers trembling as you hit call.

"clark, someone's trying to break in," you whispered, voice shaking with fear.

there was no hesitation on the other end. "i'm on my way."

you barely had time to process his words before the front door burst open. the man stood there, eyes wild, a knife gleaming in his hand. he took a step towards you, and the world seemed to slow. your breath caught in your throat, every instinct screaming at you to run, but your legs felt like lead.

then, a gust of wind blew through the apartment. in a blur of red and blue, clark was there. his eyes burned with fury, the usual warmth replaced by a cold, steely rage. the intruder didn't even have time to react before clark had him by the collar, lifting him off the ground effortlessly.

"are you okay?" his voice was soft when he turned to you, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed the storm brewing inside him.

you nodded, tears streaming down your face as you collapsed into his arms. "i was so scared."

"he won't hurt you again," clark promised, his arms encircling you, a shield against the world.

the intruder, now unconscious, was left for the authorities. clark held you close, murmuring reassurances as he carried you to the couch, never letting go. the strength that could move mountains was now tender, cradling you as though you were the most precious thing in the universe.

"i should have told you earlier," you admitted, voice thick with emotion.

he cupped your face, his thumb brushing away your tears. "nothing is more important than you. next time, you tell me."

you nodded, resting your forehead against his, the terror of the night melting away in his embrace. in that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. there was only clark, your protector, your love, holding you as if he'd never let you go.

#lamy garden #clark kent #clark kent smallville imagine #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent x y/n #superman comics #clark kent x female reader #smallville #superman #smallville clark kent #smallville 2001 #tom welling #red!clark #red!clark kent #red!clark kent smallville

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thedensworld · 2 days ago

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Family Outings | K. Sy

Genre: Fluff, parents au!

Summary: In a family outing, Soonyoung finally able to make a proper thanks to his mother after trying to keep up with his sons.

Welcome to The Densworld Kwon Soonyoung 🤍🌼

Soonyoung’s life became a whirlwind of joy and laughter ever since he started a family with you. From the moment he got married, he always imagined himself as a quintessential "girl dad." In his daydreams, he pictured himself wearing a sparkly tiara, cradling a tiny teacup, and proudly sporting mismatched nail polish in the favorite colors of his daughters. He thought he’d master the art of braiding hair and join endless tea parties with princess costumes and giggles filling the air.

But life had other plans. The moment his first son, Kwon Yootae, was born, he realized he was destined to be a father of sons. And not just any father—he was made for this. The role suited him so naturally it even surprised him.

Got a kid who needs to burn off endless energy? Enter dancer Soonyoung, always ready to tire them out with moves no one asked for.

Need a little discipline in the house? Strict Soonyoung appears, balancing warmth with authority in a way that commands respect.

Kid having a bad day and needing a laugh? Comedian Soonyoung is there to clown around, pulling faces, cracking jokes, and doing whatever it takes to make his sons’ smiles come back.

“I could do this forever,” Soonyoung said one day, grinning ear to ear. “Raising boys is the most fun I’ve ever had.”

“It’s because you always act like you’re their age,” Jihoon retorted, deadpan as always, delivering a truth Soonyoung couldn’t argue with.

Soonyoung’s sons, six-year-old Yootae and four-year-old Gitae, couldn’t be more different yet somehow mirrored him in distinct ways. Yootae, the eldest, was calm and reserved, much like you. He had a love for books that made your heart swell with pride, often curling up beside you for hours, reading quietly. But his need for attention? That came straight from Soonyoung. Yootae had a knack for saying the funniest things or sharing bizarre, almost unbelievable facts just to make people look his way. And when he succeeded, his little face lit up, a perfect blend of your quiet charm and Soonyoung’s flair for the spotlight.

Then there was Gitae, your little firecracker. Gitae was the embodiment of pure energy, a whirlwind of flips, jumps, and splits that seemed to defy the laws of physics. The only time he ever slowed down was when he caught a cold—and you and Soonyoung dreaded those moments more than anything. You’d much rather have him bouncing off walls than lying listlessly in bed. “He’s like me on a sugar rush,” Soonyoung joked once.

The group chat was always buzzing with stories of Soonyoung’s adventures as a dad. One night, he shared an anecdote that left the members of Seventeen in stitches.

“You should see Gitae during family mafia games,” Soonyoung said, shaking his head in disbelief. “He’s just like me—so good at bluffing, it’s scary. Sometimes he gives me goosebumps.”

“Wait,” Jun interjected, shocked. “Did you just call your son a freak?”

“Well, he is! In the best way!” Soonyoung laughed, completely unbothered.

Raising boys had turned Soonyoung’s world upside down in the most beautiful way. It wasn’t what he initially envisioned, but it was even better. The bond he shared with Yootae and Gitae was special, filled with laughter, chaos, and tender moments that made him grateful every single day. Watching Soonyoung thrive as a dad, you couldn’t help but smile. He was the kind of father who made parenting look like an adventure, and your family was all the better for it.

"Dad, promise me you'll watch my drum recital next week," Yootae said, his small face filled with determination as he walked into the kitchen where Soonyoung was helping you prepare dinner.

Soonyoung glanced at him, smiling warmly. "Of course, I’ll be there. But how about you help me with something first?" He handed Yootae the utensils and gestured toward the dining table. "Set the table for me, champ."

As Yootae dutifully walked off to complete his task, Gitae was sprawled on the living room floor, eyes glued to a video of one of Soonyoung's dance practices. Mimicking every move with astonishing precision, he twirled, jumped, and hit every beat as if he were part of the team.

“Gitae, great move!” Soonyoung called out, beaming with pride as he caught sight of his younger son nailing one of the harder steps. Turning back to you, he leaned against the kitchen counter with a grin. “What do you think about him becoming an idol someday?”

“That’d be good,” you replied with a knowing smirk, stirring the soup bubbling on the stove. “We’ll send him to dance practice every time you bribe him with candy.” The sharp edge of sarcasm in your tone wasn’t lost on Soonyoung, and he winced at the memory.

You were referring to the night he’d given the boys candy—secretly, of course—before heading out to work, leaving you alone to deal with the sugar-induced chaos that followed. It had taken hours to calm them down and even longer to get them to sleep.

Soonyoung walked over to you, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. Sliding his arms around your waist from behind, he rested his chin lightly on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, baby. No more candy without your consent. I promise.”

“That includes donuts too,” you shot back, though your voice softened as his warmth melted away your annoyance.

Soonyoung nodded solemnly, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on your cheek. “And donuts. Noted.”

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly at his sincerity, even if you knew his mischievous streak wouldn’t vanish overnight. You were strict about what your kids consumed for good reason. You worked hard to ensure their meals were balanced, nutrient-packed, and beneficial to their growing bodies. Too much sugar turned them into tiny whirlwinds of energy, leaving them cranky and impossible to settle when bedtime rolled around.

"Yootae, don’t forget to line up the chopsticks neatly!" you called, glancing at your eldest, who was now carefully arranging the cutlery.

“Okay, Mom!” he responded, his voice cheerful.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Gitae attempting to replicate a more complicated move from the video, almost toppling over but recovering with a laugh. Soonyoung released you and clapped his hands in encouragement. “That’s it, Gitae! You’ve got this!”

In the middle of dinner, Soonyoung’s phone buzzed on the counter. He picked it up, his face lighting up when he saw who was calling. “It’s Mom,” he said, quickly answering. “Hi, Mom! What’s going on?”

His mother’s cheerful voice filled the room, audible even to you and the kids. “Hi, sweetheart! We’re planning a little family outing next weekend, but this time, we’re keeping it simple—just in the backyard. Your sister is coming too, and we’re hoping to see everyone there. It’s been too long since we’ve all been together!”

“Backyard barbecue?” Soonyoung guessed, grinning as he leaned back in his chair.

“Exactly! Dad’s already excited to fire up the grill, and I’m planning to make everyone’s favorite dishes. You should come early so the boys can play in the garden,” his mom said.

“That sounds perfect!” Soonyoung replied enthusiastically, his voice a little louder than usual as excitement bubbled through him. “The boys will love it. We’ll definitely be there!” His grin widened as he placed his phone down, and it was clear he was already imagining the day—the laughter of children running through his parents’ backyard, the smell of grilled meat wafting in the air, and the warmth of family all around.

He turned to you, his eyes bright and full of joy, as if the plan had already taken shape in his mind. “It’ll be great!” he said, his hands gesturing animatedly. “A cozy backyard gathering, all the cousins playing together, Mom’s food, Dad’s barbecue skills—how could it get any better?”

You smiled faintly at his enthusiasm, but the feeling of guilt that had been sitting in the pit of your stomach all day now weighed heavier. The truth you’d been putting off telling him clawed its way forward, demanding to be spoken. You shifted slightly in your seat, the clinking of your chopsticks against your bowl breaking the silence.

“It does sound lovely,” you started, choosing your words carefully. “But I have a work commitment that weekend. I don’t think I can make it.”

The happy buzz in the room dimmed just slightly. Soonyoung paused, processing your words, before flashing you an understanding smile. “That’s okay,” he said, his tone reassuring. “I’ll take the boys, and we’ll represent the Kwon family in full force. You can catch up with us after your work is done.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, guilt tugging at you. “That’s a lot to handle on your own, especially with Gitae’s energy.”

Soonyoung leaned closer, his signature playful grin returning. “Have you forgotten who I am? I’m Kwon Soonyoung—master entertainer, expert dad, and barbecue connoisseur. I’ve got this.”

Yootae, who had been quietly listening, looked up with a hint of concern. “But, Mom, you won’t be there to eat Grandma’s pie with us.”

Your heart sank, and you reached out to hold his little hand. “I know, sweetheart. I’ll miss that, too. But I promise we’ll have a special day just for us soon, okay? I’ll even make your favorite pie.”

Yootae nodded slowly, his lips forming a small smile. “Okay, Mom.”

Meanwhile, Gitae, who had been more focused on his plate than the conversation, suddenly perked up. “Can we play tag in Grandpa’s garden, Dad? I’m really fast!”

“Fast? Ha! I’m faster!” Soonyoung teased, ruffling his youngest son’s hair. “We’ll see who’s the fastest in the family on Saturday.”

“And no candy!” you interjected pointedly, giving Soonyoung a mock glare.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, a playful smirk on his face. “No candy, no donuts—scout’s honor. But, uh, maybe just one marshmallow from the barbecue…?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling at his antics.

As the evening wound down, the house quieted with only the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the settling walls. You had just finished tucking the boys into bed, each of them fast asleep after the day’s adventures. Soonyoung lingered by the doorway of their room, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of their tiny chests as they dreamed.

“They’re finally out,” you whispered with a small smile, stepping away and closing the door gently behind you.

Soonyoung turned to you, his expression soft in the dim light of the hallway. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he said, slipping his arm around your shoulders as you walked back to the living room together.

You leaned into him, letting out a quiet sigh. “I just wish I could be there this weekend. I hate missing out on moments like these.”

He stopped you in your tracks, turning you to face him. His hands rested lightly on your waist as his thumbs traced soothing circles through the fabric of your shirt. “Don’t feel bad, okay?” His voice was warm and gentle, and the way he looked at you made it impossible to doubt his sincerity. “You’re doing your best. You always do. I’ll make sure the boys have a great time, and we’ll send you lots of pictures. You won’t miss a thing.”

The guilt weighing on you began to ease as his words settled in. “Thank you,” you murmured, resting your forehead against his chest.

Soonyoung wrapped both arms around you now, holding you close. For a moment, you stood there, cocooned in the quiet intimacy of the moment. “You know,” he said, his tone shifting slightly, a playful edge sneaking into his voice, “with the boys asleep and the house so quiet… we have a rare opportunity here.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “An opportunity for what?”

He grinned, his gaze dipping just slightly as his hands slid down to rest on your hips. “To remind you how much I love you,” he said, his voice lower now, the warmth of his breath brushing against your cheek.

A soft laugh escaped you, but your heart raced at the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. “Oh, really? And how do you plan to do that?” you teased, your hands resting on his chest.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth as he whispered, “I have a few ideas.”

Before you could respond, he captured your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, his touch grounding and electrifying all at once. The worries of the day melted away as you lost yourself in the moment, his presence overwhelming in the best way.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his grin was unapologetically mischievous. “Feel better now?”

You chuckled softly, your cheeks warm as you nodded. “Much better.”

“Good,” he said, stealing one last quick kiss before stepping back and taking your hand. “Now, how about I make us some tea, and we see where this rare quiet evening takes us?”

You followed him, a smile tugging at your lips as you realized, once again, just how lucky you were to have someone like Soonyoung.

Soonyoung climbed into his car, exhaling deeply as if he’d already run a marathon, even though it was barely morning. Behind him, the boys were buckled into their car seats, brimming with energy and excitement. Their chatter filled the car, contrasting sharply with Soonyoung’s tired demeanor. The morning had been chaotic, to say the least.

Your work agenda had started earlier than theirs, leaving Soonyoung to manage the boys’ bubbling enthusiasm alone. Thankfully, you’d packed their bags the night before, neatly organizing everything they’d need for the outing. At least that spared Soonyoung from the added panic of forgetting something crucial amidst the chaos.

“Gitae, grandmother wants to see you in this shirt. Let’s put it on,” Soonyoung had pleaded earlier, holding up a neatly folded shirt. But his youngest had been too engrossed in his impromptu performance of Maestro, twirling dramatically in the living room.

“Yootae! Are you ready?” Soonyoung had called out to his eldest, only to freeze in disbelief when he entered the room. Yootae, still wrapped in a towel, was sitting cross-legged on the bed, a bottle of lotion beside him untouched.

“Did you put on lotion yet?” Soonyoung asked, stepping closer.

Yootae immediately pumped the bottle, rubbing lotion onto his arms with exaggerated slowness, his wide eyes locked on his dad as if performing under pressure.

Soonyoung sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. “Alright, let’s just have a light breakfast, shall we?”

At the breakfast table, a simple bowl of cereal finally bought Soonyoung a few moments of peace. The boys sat quietly for once, munching away. It was enough time for him to catch his breath, gather his thoughts, and—most importantly—get himself ready.

As they settled in the car, Gitae wriggled with excitement. “I’m going to beat Leena in tag!” he declared confidently.

Yootae smirked, ever the realist. “Leena is faster than you, Gitae. And she has longer legs.”

“My legs got longer after dancing to Maestro. Right, Dad?” Gitae grinned, looking to Soonyoung for validation.

Soonyoung chuckled, shaking his head. “Sure, buddy. Whatever helps you win.”

When they arrived at his parents’ house, the boys jumped out of the car with boundless energy, running straight into their grandfather’s open arms. Soonyoung carried the bags inside, his tired smile widening at the warmth of his father’s greeting.

“Y/n couldn’t make it?” his mother asked, noticing her absence.

“No,” Soonyoung replied, setting the bags down on the couch. “Her schedule pulled her out earlier than expected today.”

His mother chuckled knowingly. “You got them ready all by yourself, didn’t you?”

Soonyoung nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Good job, my son.” She patted his head affectionately before heading to the kitchen.

Not long after, his sister arrived with her husband and their daughters. The cousins immediately broke off into their groups—Soonyoung’s sons sprinting around the yard with their grandfather while his nieces calmly arranged their dolls on a picnic blanket.

Soonyoung settled on a bench beside his father, watching the kids. His mother and sister prepared the meat for the barbecue nearby, their laughter carrying on the breeze.

“Gitae looks so much like Y/n,” his father commented, nodding toward the younger boy.

“Everyone says that,” Soonyoung replied, smiling as he watched Gitae run across the yard.

“But he’s got your energy,” his father added with a laugh, shaking his head in amusement.

“I’m going to look like you when I get older,” Soonyoung teased, nudging his father.

His mother overheard and quickly interjected, “Don’t. Don’t be. Don’t embarrass your wife.”

Soonyoung burst out laughing, shaking his head as he helped his sister arrange plates and utensils. Despite their rocky relationship growing up, he’d found a sense of camaraderie with her since starting a family of his own.

“What’s it like having daughters, noona?” he asked, glancing at her girls, who were still engrossed in their dolls.

“I don’t get tired much,” she admitted, pointing out the difference. “Look at them—calm and quiet. Meanwhile, your sons…”

Soonyoung followed her gaze to Yootae and Gitae, who were racing around with their grandfather, Gitae screaming gleefully while Yootae laughed. He sighed, shaking his head.

“Getting them ready this morning was my biggest achievement,” he confessed. “It’s usually Y/n who handles that.”

His sister laughed, “They didn’t listen to you, did they?”

“Not even once! I told Yootae to put on lotion and underwear while I bathed Gitae, but when I checked, he was still sitting there with the lotion bottle.” Soonyoung rubbed his face in exasperation.

Their conversation was interrupted by a piercing cry. Gitae was on the ground, clutching his knee and wailing.

Soonyoung sighed deeply, already on his feet. “That’s alright, we’ve got you,” he said softly as he crouched beside his son, examining the scraped knee.

“It hurts!” Gitae sobbed, pointing to the bruise.

“I know, buddy,” Soonyoung said, scooping him up in his arms. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You’re my strong little guy, right?”

Gitae sniffled, nodding slightly.

The day pressed on, and the chaos only seemed to grow. After cleaning Gitae’s scraped knee and soothing his tears with a superhero bandage, Soonyoung barely had time to take a sip of water before Yootae tripped over the garden hose, landing in the dirt. Another round of comforting, brushing off dirt, and reminding him to be careful followed.

Meanwhile, Gitae had already managed to get himself into another predicament, climbing the low branches of the cherry blossom tree despite Soonyoung’s repeated warnings. By the time Soonyoung pulled him down safely, the boys’ shirts were dirt-streaked, their hair sticking up in wild tufts.

“I told you both to stay out of trouble!” Soonyoung exclaimed, his voice tinged with exasperation as he wiped sweat from his brow.

“But, Dad, we were just playing!” Yootae defended, wide-eyed as if the entire mess was beyond his control.

“Yeah, and I’m Spider-Man!” Gitae added enthusiastically, flexing his little arms as though they could shoot webs.

Soonyoung slumped onto the patio bench, exhausted, as he watched the boys dart off again, their energy seemingly endless. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a groan. His mother, who had been quietly observing from the grill, walked over with a knowing smile and set a cup of iced tea in front of him.

“You’re just like them, you know,” she said, sitting beside him.

Soonyoung looked up, surprised. “What? Me?”

His mother nodded, chuckling softly. “When you were their age, you were exactly the same—always running around, climbing trees, getting into every kind of trouble imaginable. I couldn’t take my eyes off you for a second.”

Soonyoung laughed weakly, leaning back against the bench. “That sounds about right.”

“You’d get scrapes on your knees every other day, and you never stopped moving,” she continued, her eyes twinkling with nostalgia. “Your father was just as tired as you are now, and I’d always say, ‘One day, you’ll understand.’ Well, here you are.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he watched Yootae and Gitae chase their cousins across the yard. “I don’t know how you did it, Mom. This is exhausting. I miss Y/n so much right now.”

His mother gave him a warm smile, patting his knee. “Of course you do. It’s always easier when you have someone by your side. But you’re doing great, Soonyoung. You got the boys here in one piece, and they’re happy. That’s what matters.”

Soonyoung smiled faintly, grateful for her reassurance, but the ache of missing you lingered. He thought about how you always handled the chaos with such grace, calming the boys with a single look or turning their tantrums into laughter. You’d have known exactly how to manage Gitae’s climbing spree or Yootae’s dirt-covered mishap.

His mother’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, dear. You’re learning, just like we did. And for what it’s worth, you’re a better dad than your father and I ever were at your age.”

Soonyoung chuckled, shaking his head. “I doubt that, Mom. But thanks.”

As he glanced at his boys again, he couldn’t help but smile. They were a handful, yes, but they were also a reflection of you and him—a mix of mischief, love, and boundless energy.

His mother stood, placing her hands on her hips as she looked out at the yard. “Now, go check on your boys before they turn that garden into a battlefield.”

Soonyoung groaned, standing up with a stretch. “Back to the front lines, huh?”

His mother laughed. “Parenting never stops, Soonyoung. But don’t forget to call Y/n later. She’d love to hear about how you survived the day.”

He grinned, already planning to call you the moment he could steal a quiet moment. He needed to hear your voice, to tell you just how much he appreciated you and missed having you by his side. For now, though, he had two little whirlwinds to manage.

“Hi, beautiful,” Soonyoung greeted you with a warm smile as you walked through the door. His voice was soft, and you noticed he was already in his pajamas—a pair of satin ones you hadn’t seen him wear in ages. They were expensive, gifted by you on your anniversary, and seeing him in them now made you suppress a laugh.

“You finally decided to wear those?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked, running a hand through his slightly messy hair. “Figured tonight was special.”

You stepped inside, slipping off your shoes, and immediately noticed something unusual. The house was too quiet—eerily quiet. “Where are the boys? I don’t hear them.,” you said, glancing around as though they might pop out from behind the couch.

Soonyoung raised his eyebrows, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Well… I intentionally—unintentionally left them at my mom’s. They wanted to have a sleepover, and since tomorrow’s Sunday, I figured why not?”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, and then a burst of laughter escaped you. “What? You left them with your mom? Oh my gosh, baby!”

He laughed along with you, closing the door behind you and grabbing your things. “Hey, they practically begged me. I video-called them earlier, and they seemed fine. Besides, they wanted to stay with their cousins. It’s good for them!”

You plopped down on the couch, still laughing, and Soonyoung joined you, setting your things on the coffee table. “Your poor mom,” you muttered, shaking your head. “She’s going to have a tough time wrangling five grandchildren tonight.”

“I know!” Soonyoung said, his voice full of mock guilt. “I even told her that, but she insisted it’d be fine. She’s a saint, honestly.”

You leaned back into the cushions, letting out a contented sigh. “It feels so strange to have the house to ourselves. Weird, but also… kind of nice.”

Soonyoung looked at you with a grin, his hand brushing against yours. “Right? I felt the same way before you got back. It’s like we’re dating again, just the two of us. But then I also started feeling guilty, like I was abandoning my kids or something.”

You laughed at his dramatic tone, turning to face him. “I feel relieved, but at the same time, it’s like, am I a bad mom for enjoying this?”

Soonyoung chuckled, pulling you into his arms. “If you are, then so am I. Today was rough, baby. The boys were a handful. I even performed a bow to my mom—the deep New Year’s bow we always do—just to thank her for taking care of me.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “No way. You didn’t.”

“I did,” Soonyoung said with a straight face, though his lips twitched with amusement. “I was that desperate. Honestly, I might perform one for you after this because I owe you for doing this every day.”

You laughed so hard your sides hurt, leaning into his chest. “You’re unbelievable. So, what was harder—getting them ready this morning or keeping them out of trouble all day?”

“Both!” he exclaimed dramatically, resting his chin on top of your head. “Yootae wouldn’t put on lotion, and Gitae was running around shirtless, singing ‘Maestro.’ I thought I was going to lose my mind.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, still smiling. “Well, you survived. And honestly, I’m proud of you, Love. I really am.”

He looked at you with such softness that it made your heart flutter. “Thanks, baby. But I think I’ll stick to choreography and leave the morning routines to you.”

You laughed again, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Deal. But tonight, you’re all mine. No interruptions, no kids.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips against your forehead. “I like the sound of that.”

Soonyoung's arms tightened around you, a playful glint in his eyes as he tilted his head to meet your gaze. “You know,” he began, his voice dripping with mischief, “after today, I’ve been thinking…”

You raised an eyebrow, already bracing for whatever ridiculous thought was about to leave his mouth.

He smirked, his tone mock-serious. “Maybe we should try for a daughter. I heard they’re way less frantic to raise. Calm, quiet, reasonable—can you imagine that?”

You let out an incredulous laugh, lightly smacking his chest. “Oh, so now you’re an expert on parenting daughters because your sister’s kids play with dolls instead of climbing furniture?”

“Exactly,” he replied without missing a beat. “I mean, just think about it. No running around, no wrestling matches over who gets the last donut, no dramatic performances of ‘Hit’ at 8 a.m.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “Uh-huh. And who’s going to handle the teenage drama when your calm, quiet daughter slams her door in your face?”

Soonyoung’s grin faltered for a second before he recovered with a sly smile. “That’s where you come in, baby. You’re the expert in dealing with drama. I’ll just be the cool dad who lets her eat donuts and—”

“Stop right there.” You cut him off, laughing as you poked his chest.

He laughed along with you, leaning down until his nose brushed against yours. “Okay, okay. But admit it—you’d love to see a mini-you running around here. With your big, beautiful eyes, your sharp wit…”

“And my temper when you don’t listen?” you teased, narrowing your eyes playfully.

“Exactly,” he said, grinning. “She’d keep me in line, just like you do.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he murmured, his lips brushing softly against yours. “But you love me anyway.”

You sighed dramatically, pretending to think about it. “I guess I do. But if we’re trying for a daughter, you’re taking the night shift for the first three years.”

“Deal,” Soonyoung whispered, sealing the agreement with a kiss. “Now, where should we start our daughter project?”

Your laughter echoed through the house, blending perfectly with the warmth of his embrace, the quiet night ahead promising nothing but love and playful chaos—just the way you liked it.

138 notes · View notes

ktownshizzle · 1 day ago

Text

A Christmas Encore | Part 2 of 2

Part of A Holly, Jolly Holiday with Min Yun-Kay collab with @yooglefics

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: You never thought you’d see Min Yoongi again, not in this lifetime, not in this place. He left years ago with big dreams and bigger talent, trading snow-covered Seollim Hollow for the city lights of Seoul. But now, with the cultural center—the heart of your hometown—on the verge of being sold to a soulless corporation, you’ll do anything to save it.

When Yoongi appears on your doorstep, it feels like a miracle wrapped in regret. But as the two of you work together to save the center, old promises resurface, along with feelings you thought you’d left behind. Can you trust someone who was never meant to stay? Or will you just get hurt again?

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Childhood Friends to Kinda Lovers to Kinda Strangers to Friends to Lovers (WHAT?! Yeah I got dizzy too) Second chances basically, Fluff, Smut, Mild Angst, Very Hallmark

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ only. Cheesy, sometimes theatrical dialogue (just roll with it please), Christmas cliches, Yoongi at the Christmas concert is this right here), mild angst, cursing, minor mention of the pandemic, penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it!), Yoongi's company/job is vague (it's fine!), did I say cheesy??

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: ~7k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting Date: January 13, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Hello ho ho. Sorry it took a while to get this out! I was being a little scrooge by the end of this (who knew Christmas fics can be super challenging?) I do hope you enjoy part 2 of my little Hallmark-inspired Holiday gift. Enjoy! 🫶🏼🎉

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

Yoongi doesn’t make a big deal out of your first date, but it still feels perfect. He takes you to a quiet café just outside town, the kind of place you’d never think to visit but where the coffee is rich and the pastries are warm.

The conversation comes easy—too easy, maybe. You laugh more than you have in weeks, just like old times. As you talk about the coming concert, an idea pops in your head. It’s not that serious, if anything, you just want to tease him a bit. “Maybe you and Hobi should do a breakdance routine at the show!”

He slurps the final dredges of his coffee, blinks up once, before blatantly ignoring you.

“Oh, come on, you really don’t miss breakdancing?” you try again.

“I don’t miss it. Do you?” He raises a brow.

“Miss what?”

“Miss him.”

Suddenly, you’re the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland. “Oh, Yoongi…”

He averts his gaze, lip curving in the barest of ways before he looks down, poking the base of his glass with his straw. He’s a little embarrassed.

You sigh, endeared to no end as you see the tips of his ears growing red by the second. You decide to take him out of his misery. “No, Yoongi, I do not miss Hoseok that way. We’re really just friends.”

Yoongi groans, slouching back in his chair, and, not gonna lie, it makes you feel some typa way.

You wonder if he sees you now as some homie hopper slash town harlot, which fuck him if does so you ask. “Does it really bother you?”

Probably sensing the weight in your voice, he leans forward quickly and takes both your hands to reassure you. “Fuck, no. I’m just… shit I’m so bad at this.”

“At what?”

“You’re really gonna make me say it?”

You shrug.

Yoongi huffs a laugh, shaking his head as he leans back, but his gaze lingers on you, his expression softening. “I’m glad we’re finally doing this.”

“Yeah, it took us only all of a decade and a half,” you roll your eyes. “A literal pandemic had to happen.”

He’s quiet for a moment, looking at you again with his piercing stare—apologetic, maybe. “I’m not too late, right?”

You think you might just melt if it wasn’t below zero outside.

When Yoongi invites you back to his parents’ house that night, you don’t hesitate.

You head straight to his room and it instantly feels smaller than you remember, even if you were just there weeks ago. But it’s still so homey and familiar, full of little remnants of the boy you used to know—the boy you loved before you knew what it meant to really love someone.

And then he kisses you again, over and over, against the poster-covered wooden door, and all the years you spent apart fall away like snowflakes dissolving against your skin.

The way you make your way back to each other is slow and careful, but it doesn’t take long for the tension that’s been building for weeks to snap. His hands are warm against your skin, his lips soft and insistent, and when he pulls you onto the bed, it’s with a gentleness that leaves you breathless.

He sits by the headboard, guiding you towards his lap. He bites his lip as you situate yourself over him, grunting when you make contact against his crotch.

“Is Teenage Yoongi losing his mind right now?” You joke lightly, straddling his hips as you start unbuttoning your blouse, revealing your red lace bra.

He growls, actually growls. “Who cares about that loser,” he pulls you to capture your bottom lip while you shrug your blouse off. “Present Yoongi is so fucking hard right now, do somethin’ bout it…”

“Ohhh shit, Present Yoongi gets to make demands?” You plant both palms against his (apparently) really toned chest. Who knew?

“Present Yoongi hopes you’d do something about it,” he amends, taking one of your hands to kiss the inside of your wrist, once, twice, then leads your hand where your bodies are connecting.

He was not lying. In fact he may even be underselling it because while you cannot wrap your head around his sheer solidness, you certainly want to wrap your mouth around it. Shit.

You clamber off him, taking him by surprise, and he looks like you slapped him across the face.

“Relax, I got you, baby,” you say giggling as you guide his legs to swing over the side of the bed. “Go on, take that off,” you gesture to his pants while you peel yours off with a shimmy. And when he sees that all that’s left is the matching lace panty, his clothes immediately fly off to join the rest of yours.

The sight of his cock leaves your mouth watering, and you sink to your knees without further ado. You grasp his thick, velvety shaft, pumping lightly before guiding the tip towards the warmth of your mouth. You suck on the head once like a lollipop, releasing it with a tiny pop, repeating it as your eyes lock on him.

“Shit, I knew you’d look good on your knees,” he goads, biting his thumbnail with a smirk playing in his lips.

You decide you wanna erase the cocky grin on his face. So you draw him in quickly until he hits the back of your throat, the skin of your lips almost splitting from the sudden stretch. He stutters. You let drool coat his warm cock as your tongue glides up.

His deep, gravelly fuck, baby spurs you on, but also makes your basement gush. His voice is just… Ugh. You’ll deal with your own needs later, because you are on a mission.

You suck him like you’ve got a point to prove. Like he shouldn’t have left you all those years ago. Like he should’ve parked his ass right here and maybe you could’ve given it to him every damn night. Just like this.

When you hear the shortness of his breath, you know he’s really getting to it. So you suck him so damn good he’s left wondering how you got that good.

“A-a-ahh, hold up,” he stammers, stopping your movements with a gentle pull of your hair.

You sit on the balls of your feet, wiping your chin with the back of your palm. It’s your turn to have a cocky grin.

“You…” he shakes his head, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “My turn.”

He yanks you from the floor and throws you into the bed. And the next thing you know your panties are almost ripped from your legs and you’re spread open on top of his navy duvet like a Sunday feast.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, nosing your pussy gingerly, before giving it a whiff. “Fuck you smell so good.”

“Yoongi,” you squirm, propping your upper body with your elbows to watch the debauchery unfold. Or at least you hope so, but it seems like he wants to make you beg for it with the way he's leisurely blowing air across your damp skin.

“Please…” you beg, body tingling with desire.

“I’ve thought about this, you know,” Yoongi says looking up at you, before licking a broad stripe across your cunt. “A lot.” He does it again, tongue digging a little deeper to flick against your clitoris.

“Shit,” you tip your head back, already in a haze of lust. “Me too…”

“Really?” He shifts his position, then runs his knuckles up and down your glistening folds, each joint nudging your clit as it glides.

A cold shiver travels down your spine. “Oh god yes…”

“How are you already this wet?” he chuckles, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thighs, pulling your leg up one shoulder.

“Yoongi,” you plead. “I didn’t tease…”

“Liar,” he says with a sinister grin, now toying with your hole with his index finger and looping your slick around like he has nothing better to do.

What in fresh hell is he talking about? And also, goddamit you need him inside you literally yesterday and he's still clowning around.

“I didn't tease you…” You whine, needy.

“Oh, but you did,” he mumbles against your skin, biting the soft flesh so close to your mound before laving it with his tongue. “Made me think you had a boyfriend, when all along, I could’ve given you this...”

You gasp as he inserts his finger inside you and already you clench around the lone intrusion.

“And this,” he adds another.

You don't even realize you're bucking your hips up until he guides you back down with an infuriating smile. “Easy, baby, we got all night.”

“But, your cock. Need it…”

“Maybe. You gon’ be a good girl for me?”

You nod. Yes, you want to be his good girl.

Finally he gives you mercy, and his mouth connects with your clit and sucks and you feel like heaven. Two fingers slide in and out of you in practiced strokes. You're already so wound up, it doesn't take long for you to kiss euphoria.

“Feels so good, Yoon…” You fist his sheets, back arching up, as you feel your demise fast approaching. He notices.

“Let go, baby.” he says, before the furious lashing of his tongue resumes against your nub.

Keeping the pace steady, he curls his fingers just slightly, allowing the pads to massage your walls until he finds the one spot that–

Fuck.

Light bursts behind your lids as you come, fast, hard, loud with a prolonged moan of his name.

Your back meets the bed’s plush as your orgasm washes over you. But before you come down, you feel a fresh surge of bliss as Yoongi takes a nipple inside his mouth, giving it tiny nibbles.

Your free arm reaches for his cock. He lifts his hip up slightly, so you can give it a few lazy strokes.

Before long, he shifts completely, leaning over you, his hair brushing against your forehead in feathery strokes. The ache inside you both lingers, unsated, but the world seems to slow around you. There’s a tenderness in the way he moves—his lips tracing a delicate path along your face. He presses soft kisses to your eyelids, your cheek, and the curve of your jaw, each one deliberate, each one unraveling you a little more.

“You’re still as beautiful as I remember,” he says before meeting your mouth for a kiss so sweet, your head is in the clouds again. “Do you still hate me, baby?”

You kiss him back, your reply coming in breathy cadences as your lips melt against each other. “I… don’t think… I ever could.”

And it’s true, wrapped around each other like this, the pains of the past slowly ebb away.

You feel a small smile on his lips, maybe a hint of relief. His tongue pushes in yours as you feel his cock rubbing up against your pussy lips, both of you breathing heavily with the delicious friction. He ruts up a few more times before you feel his blunt tip breaching your entrance, not going all the way in but teasing it in a way that leaves you wanting more, more, more and now.

“Get in me, Yoon. Want it…”

His reply is the push of this thick cock inside you, slow and slick, before he bottoms out with a grunt. You keen, your body bowing towards him on instinct, legs wrapping against his back.

He fills you up, wholly and completely, with every smooth stroke, your walls flutter around his girth and your heart is thumping against your ribcage, but you know it’s not just the ecstasy from your impending release. It’s from the way your eyes meet and you feel like you’re drowning again. Just like you did the first time. And you don’t ever want to come up for air.

“I’m so close…” your voice is strangled when you say it, your fingers clinging to his shoulders for dear life.

His mouth finds that sensitive spot under your ear, licking it, encouraging you to take it with whispers you can’t decipher. Your brain is so fucking empty, and all you know is every fibre of your being is submitting to him at this very moment.

“You feel amazing, fuck,” he grunts, tone as desperate as you are. “You gonna cream for me again, huh?” His thrusts get faster, deeper and it feels like your about to tip over the edge.

“Ah– baby, I’m coming…” Your entire body quivers against him as intense pleasure racks your body.

The rest is a blur as your eyes flutter shut, and Yoongi groans as he spills his seed against your clammy skin, hot liquid pooling on the inside of your thigh.

Later, after he cleans you up and gives you the cuddles your tired body craves for, you’re tangled together in the sheets. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You’re hit with de ja vu.

“Don’t leave,” you whisper.

Yoongi’s arms tighten around you, his lips brushing lightly against your forehead. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs.

This time, you believe him with all your heart.

The days that follow feel like they belong to someone else. Someone living a life where everything falls perfectly into place—where the person they once thought they’d lost forever suddenly fits back into their world like they’d never been gone.

The tree lot smells like pine and cold, sharp winter air. You rub your hands together to keep them warm, your breath fogging in front of you as Yoongi stands a few steps away, examining a tree with a furrowed brow.

“This one’s perfect,” you say, pointing to the lush, symmetrical pine beside him. The store owner even added some gold tinsel on it to dress it up for buyers, making it look super sunshine-y and brilliant.

He turns, glancing at the tree. “It’s too… obvious,” he says, his lips twitching. “Look at it. It’s trying too hard.”

You laugh. “How can a tree try too hard?”

“It’s trying too hard to make you take them home,” Yoongi says, moving down the row. He stops in front of a shorter, slightly scraggly tree, with whitish branches and paler pine needles. “This one’s got character.”

“It’s literally lopsided… and so pale…”

“It’s cool,” he counters, brushing snow off one of the branches. Strangely, they even have the same height. “This is the underdog tree. You should root for it.”

You cross your arms, pretending to consider. “Or… we could go with a tree that doesn’t look like it fought a bear and lost.”

Yoongi looks back at you, his dark eyes narrowing in mock offense. “Nah, you’ve got zero vision.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of vision,” you retort, stepping closer. “You’re the one who—”

Before you can finish, he shakes a branch, sending a spray of snow directly onto your face.

“Yoongi!” you shout, jumping back and wiping at your eye, careful not to smudge your perfectly drawn eyeliner.

He smirks, unapologetic. “Underdog tree got bite.”

Later, back at your place, the tree you agreed on stands in your living room. When it’s finally lit, glowing softly in the corner of the room, you look over at Yoongi and find him watching you, his face softened by the light.

“What?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

He shrugs, his gaze lingering. “Nothing.”

Your eyes move towards the tinsel and the lights, “Underdog tree does have character.”

“I fuckin’ told you.” He grabs you from behind, excited that you finally saw his vision, and plants several kisses on your cheek.

“This is a terrible idea,” you mutter, gripping the railing like your life depends on it.

“You’ll be fine,” Yoongi says, already gliding onto the ice with an infuriating amount of ease. “Just let go of the railing. You’re overthinking it.”

“Overthinking it?!” you sputter, inching forward like a baby deer learning to walk. “This isn’t natural. People weren’t meant to stand on blades and slide around!”

Yoongi smirks, skating backward so he can face you, his movements smooth and effortless. “Aren’t you the one who’s lived here forever? Shouldn’t you be the pro?”

You shoot him a glare, your knees wobbling. “Skating and living in Seollim Hollow are not the same thing.”

“Sure they aren’t,” he teases, extending a hand toward you. “Come on. I won’t let you fall.”

You eye his outstretched hand with suspicion. “If I fall, I’m taking you with me.”

“Deal.”

Reluctantly, you release your death grip on the railing and grab his hand. The ice feels impossibly slippery beneath your feet, and your balance shifts precariously as you stumble forward.

“Whoa—” Yoongi steadies you, his grip firm. “You really suck at this, still.”

“I told you, ughhhh,” you grumble, trying not to panic as he starts pulling you along.

“You just need to loosen up,” he says, clearly holding back a laugh. “Stop thinking so much.”

“I’m going to die,” you say flatly as your skates skid in opposite directions.

“Not on my watch.”

Yoongi’s hand tightens around yours as he leads you into the center of the rink. Despite your protests, he doesn’t let go, guiding you with patience as you wobble and shriek your way through your first lap. By the time you’ve gone around twice, you’re still far from graceful, but at least you’re no longer clinging to him for dear life. -ish.

“You’re getting the hang of it.”

“No thanks to you,” you retort.

“The fuck?” he says, letting go of you abruptly and you shriek, flailing.

But he captures you effortlessly and spins you around and suddenly you’re hugging in the middle of the rink. You’re still catching your breath when you look up at him, then he leans down and kisses you.

“Is this some kind of fantasy you’re trying to fulfill, Min Yoongi?”

“I’m just trying to make up for lost time.” Then, he leans in again and from the corner of your eye you spot a mom shielding her son from the sight of you and Yoongi, before your eyes flutter shut.

“I forgot you always liked to yap during movies,” Yoongi says, mouth forming a straight line.

“This movie’s so boring,” you reply, gesturing at the screen. “How can you be into this? It’s so… predictable.”

“That’s the point,” he says, leaning back into the couch. “Christmas movies are supposed to be predictable.”

Despite your apprehension, you find yourself sinking deeper into the couch, tolerating the movie and before you know it you’re engrossed with the plot, because, umm, it’s actually so good?!

“Omo! He came back for—” you turn to him and well, he’s fallen asleep, like the bobblehead toy on your car’s dash.

You move his head gently against your shoulder, his breath evening out. For a moment, you consider waking him, but instead, you let yourself relax, leaning slightly into his warmth.

From this view you can see his long lashes, the gentle slope of his nose, the soft curve of his lips and you’re suddenly flooded with emotions that you thought you buried so long ago. Maybe it’s meant to be this time. So you allow yourself to quietly admit it.

“I love you,” you whisper, even though he can’t hear you.

The snow crunches softly beneath your boots as the two of you walk side by side, the cold air nipping at your cheeks. The town is quiet at this hour, the streets lit by the faint glow of holiday lights, and for a while, neither of you says anything.

“I used to hate this,” Yoongi says suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Hate what?”

“Winter,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. “The cold. The snow. I felt… stuck. Like nothing ever changed.”

You glance at him, your breath fogging in the air. “And now?”

He shrugs, his gaze fixed on the snowflakes drifting lazily from the sky. “It doesn’t feel so bad anymore.”

The words are simple, quiet, but they satisfy you in a way you don’t expect.

At some point, Yoongi bends down and scoops up a handful of snow, tossing it lightly at your shoulder.

“Fuck! Did you just—”

“Snowball fight?” he interrupts, smirking.

You retaliate immediately, grabbing snow and throwing it at him with no hesitation. The two of you dissolve into laughter, dodging and weaving through the empty street until you’re both breathless and covered in snow.

“Truce,” Yoongi says, holding up his hands.

“Fine,” you reply, grinning as you catch your breath.

For a moment, you just stand there, the snow falling softly around you. Yoongi’s eyes linger on yours, his expression softer now, and your heart stumbles at the way he looks at you—like he’s trying to memorize this moment.

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

“For what?”

“For this,” he murmurs, gesturing around him. “For reminding me why I came back.”

You and Yoongi fall into an easy rhythm, one that feels almost too good to be true. Mornings at the cultural center turn into afternoons spent working side by side—him scribbling notes onto sheet music while you answer emails and manage ticket sales. Sometimes, you’ll both stop to grab dinner at the little diner down the street or head back to your place where you cook something simple while he steals pieces of food off your cutting board.

Nights are quieter. Softer. When the world feels too still, Yoongi finds his way to your side—whether it’s a late phone call or the two of you under your duvet.

You don’t talk about what happens next. You don’t ask if he’ll stay when the concert is over, and he doesn’t offer to explain.

The night of the concert is perfect.

The performers are brilliant—the children’s choir sings their hearts out, the folk band gets the crowd clapping, and the dancers earn a standing ovation. Yoongi’s arrangements tie everything together seamlessly, each note lifting the room higher and higher until it feels like the entire town is glowing.

Before he goes on stage, Yoongi gives you a mini heart attack. He tells you that he’s playing a different piece. Trust me, he says.

You don’t say much after, because while you don’t like to be blindsided for an important night like this, you also trust his judgment.

And when Yoongi takes the stage, sitting at the piano under the soft glow of the stage lights, you think you might actually cry. He adjusts the mic, shakes his newly dyed black hair, and starts to play. It’s a song you’ve never heard before—something gentle and wistful, the kind of melody that wraps itself around you like a memory. You watch his hands move across the keys, effortless and sure, his expression soft with focus, and you realize you’ve never seen him look more himself than he does in this moment.

Suddenly Jungkook’s angelic vocals slide seamlessly through the melody, “Was it honestly the best…”

For the first time in years, you let yourself hope that the best is yet to come.

When the concert ends and the crowd finally clears, you and your team stay late, cleaning up the venue, storing props, and celebrating quietly with a bottle of champagne Jimin “borrowed” from the local bar. Yoongi stays, too, quietly helping to pack away cables and lights while Jungkook regales the group with exaggerated stories about the night’s performances.

It’s not until the clock hits two in the morning that you’re finally back home, exhausted but still buzzing with the afterglow of the show.

When you wake the next morning, it feels like the entire world is holding its breath. Today is the day. Today, you’ll know if it was enough.

The cultural center feels too quiet as you sit at your desk, staring at the final numbers. Your chest feels tight, the numbers swimming on the page no matter how many times you try to tally them.

You didn’t raise enough. You’re 10 per cent short.

The realization hits like a punch to the gut, and you have to close your eyes for a moment to steady yourself. It’s so close—painfully close—but it’s not enough. And you ran out of time.

You swallow the lump in your throat and grab your coat.

Mr. Choi doesn’t look surprised when you tell him.

“You did good,” he says, though his voice is heavy with finality. “But it’s not enough to match their offer. I’m sorry.”

“There has to be another way,” you insist, the desperation creeping into your voice. “What if I talk to the buyer? What if they’ll accept—”

He sighs, shaking his head. “You can try,” he says reluctantly. “The buyer’s representative is still in town.”

Your heart skips. “Who is it?”

He flips through a file on his desk, his tone casual as he reads the document, “Min Yoongi.”

The room tilts. You stare at him, uncomprehending. “Who?”

“Min Yoongi,” he repeats, glancing up at you. “He’s the representative for the corporation looking to buy the property. I can give you his e-mail address…”

The words hit you like ice water, each one sinking deeper until you can’t breathe. Yoongi.

It doesn’t make sense. How could he—?

Why would he—?

You don’t even remember leaving the municipal office. You don’t remember driving to Yoongi’s house, pounding on the door.

“Yoongi.”

“Hey,” he starts, his expression shifting when he sees your face. “What’s—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “Don’t act like everything’s fine. Just tell me the truth, Yoongi. Were you ever going to tell me you’re the buyer?”

The color drains from his face. “You found out.”

“That’s all you have to say?” you snap, your chest tightening as the hurt spills out of you. “You fucking lied to me, Yoongi. This whole time—why? Why would you let me fight for this place if you were just going to take it away?”

“I wasn’t going to take it away,” he says quickly, his voice strained. “Not anymore.”

You stare at him, disbelief crashing into you. “What does that even mean?”

Yoongi exhales, running a hand through his hair. “It means I didn’t know what this place still meant to you when I came back. I thought it was just another deal. Another property my company wanted to acquire.”

“And when you did know?” Your voice cracks, your anger laced with pain. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Yoongi hesitates, his hands curling into fists. “Because I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Well, congratulations. You ruined it anyway.”

“Stop,” he says softly, reaching out, but you step back. “Let me finish.”

“No.” you say. “This,” gesturing to him and you, “is finished.”

The next few days are a blur of misery. The maknaes try to distract you, but nothing works. Yoongi’s absence feels like a physical thing—an ache that sits heavy in your chest no matter what you do.

The memory of his voice echoes in your mind, soft and broken, but it only makes the pain in your heart worse.

When you hear from his mother that he’s left town, it shouldn’t surprise you. Of course he’s gone. That’s what Yoongi does.

But somehow, it hurts more this time.

Christmas Day comes and goes.

For the first time in forever, you don’t get a post card from Yoongi.

The glow from your phone illuminates the room as the opening chords of Last Christmas begin to play through your Bluetooth speaker. You’re on your bed, surrounded by chaos—crumpled tissues, a mostly empty tub of ice cream balanced precariously on your thigh, and the infamous box of postcards from Yoongi spilled across your sheets.

The postcards feel heavier than they should, each one like a tiny punch to the chest. You pick one up at random—a simple postcard of a Seoul skyline dusted with snow. Yoongi’s neat handwriting is scrawled on the back: Merry Christmas. Hope you’re staying warm.

Snot drips onto the edge of the card, and you yelp, scrambling to wipe it off. “Oh my God, I’ve hit rock bottom,” you groan, tossing the tissue into the general direction of the trash can but missing entirely.

You glance at the box again, and the next card catches your eye. You sniffle harder, and your vision blurs again.

Your eyes land on one of the Polaroids from the box, its edges slightly bent from years of flipping through them. It’s an old selfie Yoongi sent—his mint green hair poking out from under a beanie, but his sharp eyes and stupidly pretty smirk still visible. “I hate you,” you mumble, though the ache in your chest says otherwise.

You grab a Sharpie from your nightstand and draw devil horns sprouting from his head, a dramatic handlebar mustache, and, for good measure, a pitchfork in the corner.

Three sharp knocks sound at the door, startling you. You quickly swipe at your face, sitting up. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Hoseok’s voice calls through the door.

Oh no. You glance at the mess around you—the tissues, the ice cream, the pile of Yoongi memorabilia that screams pathetic. “Go away, Hobi! I’m fine.”

The door creaks open anyway, and Hoseok steps in, his ever-present sunshine energy cutting through the gloom of your room. You forget he knows where the spare key is hidden.

He takes one look at you—puffy eyes, snotty tissues, Wham still crooning in the background—and doesn’t bother to hide his grin. “Wow. This is a whole ass vibe.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, tossing a pillow weakly in his direction.

He catches it easily, stepping further into the room. His eyes fall on the postcards scattered across the bed, and his teasing expression softens. “So it’s true, then.”

You blink. “What’s true?”

Hoseok sets the pillow down and walks over, sitting on the edge of your bed. He doesn’t say anything right away, just glances at the Polaroid still clutched in your hand. “I’m not even gonna ask about that. Yoongi told me what happened.”

Your stomach twists, embarrassment rising like a tidal wave. “Great. Now everyone knows how much of an idiot I am.”

“Hey,” he says gently, nudging your shoulder. “You’re not an idiot. Yoongi’s the idiot.”

That gets a weak laugh out of you, and Hoseok’s smile widens. He leans in, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. It’s so warm, so comforting, that you let yourself melt into it, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know how much he means to you.”

You sniffle. “Why do you sound like he’s dead?”

Hoseok laughs, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Because you’re acting like it.”

“Did he send you here?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“No,” Hoseok says quickly. “But he… he wants you to hear him out. He messed up, yeah, but…” He glances at the postcards again. “You guys are made for each other. That’s obvious. Even to a third party like me.”

You groan, throwing yourself back onto the bed dramatically. “It’s not that simple, Hobi.”

“Nothing about love is simple,” he says, lying down beside you. His gaze moves to the ceiling as he continues. “And honestly? You two are the most disgustingly in love people I’ve ever seen.”

Your head snaps toward him. “We are not—”

“Oh, really?” Hoseok interrupts, his grin returning. “Because I saw you and Yoongi making out in the middle of the skating rink. Right there. In public. In front of children.”

Your jaw drops. “You what?”

“Yeah. Had to shield my eyes from the sheer amount of PDA,” he teases. “I almost called it in as a public disturbance.”

You can’t help it—you laugh. A real, genuine laugh that feels like it breaks through the heaviness in your chest. “You’re so stupid.”

He glances at the mess on your bed one more time before standing. “Look, I’m not saying you have to forgive him right now. But at least let him explain. You deserve to know the truth.”

He pats your head lightly, like a parent soothing a child. “Now, go wash your face. You look like Mrs. Claus who failed a breathalyzer.”

“That’s a dumb joke!” You chuck a pillow at him again, but this time, you’re laughing as he dodges it and disappears out the door.

For the first time in days, you feel a little lighter.

When Mr. Choi calls you the next morning, you almost don’t pick up.

“The offer’s been retracted,” he says, his voice calm but tinged with disbelief. “The cultural center is safe.”

You blink, stunned. “What?”

“Not only that,” he continues, “but the previous buyer left a donation to help fund renovations. You can expand the center. Improve it.”

Your heart stops. You didn’t need to ask who.

You already know.

It’s New Year’s Eve. You don’t know why today of all days you finally get a grip on your emotions. You figure today is just as good as any other to do something crazy.

You clutch your phone in your hand, Yoongi’s name glaring up at you in your call history, unanswered. You don’t know what you’ll say when you find him, or if he’ll even want to see you, but you have to see him. You have to know why he did this—why he left, why he pulled out of the deal, why he did it all without saying a word.

The hours stretch long and thin, and by the time the bus pulls into the station in Seoul, the city is already blanketed in a soft layer of snow.

The snow falls softly around you as you stand in front of Yoongi’s apartment building (his eomma was more than willing to text the address), your breath clouding in the air. When he opens the door, his eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t say anything—he just steps aside, letting you in.

“I heard what you did,” you say quietly, your voice trembling. “The center’s safe. You even donated to help renovate it.”

Yoongi exhales, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

He looks at you, his dark eyes soft but unsteady, bags underneath it from many a sleepless night. “Because it was the right thing to do. And because I owed it to you—to the town—to make up for leaving the way I did.”

You shake your head, your chest tightening. “You didn’t owe me anything, Yoongi. You could’ve just told me.”

“I know,” he says softly, his voice tinged with regret. “But I didn’t know how to. And I was scared. Scared that if I told you, I’d ruin the one good thing I’ve had in years.”

“Yoongi…”

“I stayed quiet because I thought I could fix it,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “I knew if I told you the truth, you’d hate me. And I didn’t want that—I couldn’t risk losing you again. So I started looking for another way. I’ve been talking to my company, trying to get them to pull out of the deal, to reallocate the funds to save the center instead.”

You blink, his words sinking in slowly. “You… what?”

“I’ve been trying to undo it,” he says, his dark eyes heavy with something you can’t quite name. “I tried to help in whatever way I could, because you—you deserve to win. You deserve to have that place. I just…” He exhales shakily. “I messed up.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, confusion swirling in your chest.

He takes a step closer, his gaze steady now. “I’m sorry. For everything—for leaving, for lying, for not trusting you enough to tell you the truth. I just…” He hesitates, his voice faltering.

“You didn’t have to leave,” you say, your voice trembling. “You didn’t have to run. I know I pushed you away when I found out that you were the buyer. But if you told it to me in the first place, I would’ve understood,” you admit, the words catching in your throat. “I would’ve believed you.”

Yoongi watches you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he takes another step forward, close enough now that you can smell the faint musk of his cologne.

“Would you have asked me to stay?” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, unable to look away. “Yes.”

The word hangs between you, suspended in the air, and something in Yoongi’s gaze softens.

“I’m here now,” he says quietly. “I’m not running. I’m not leaving. I don’t want to.”

He reaches up slowly, hesitantly, and brushes a snowflake from your cheek with the back of his knuckles. The touch is light, fleeting, but it sends warmth spreading through you, curling in your chest and settling deep in your bones.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You just stand there, inches apart. And then Yoongi leans in, closing the distance between you, and kisses you. Your lips slide against his, your hands curling into the front of his sweater as the rest of your worries fall away.

When you finally pull back, breathless and trembling, Yoongi rests his forehead lightly against yours, his hands still cradling your face. Before he can lean in again,

“Come home,” you whisper, the word escaping before you can stop it.

Yoongi looks at you with something so raw, so vulnerable, it takes your breath away. “Okay,” he says softly, his voice deep. “If you want me to, I will.”

You nod, your tears spilling over now. “I really do.”

“Good, because I’m out of a job and I need you to fund my unhealthy caffeine addiction.”

“What?”

“It’s ok, I’ve been thinking about it for years anyway.” He shrugs, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “I came to Seoul for music, but somehow I got roped into the capitalism I’ve always hated. Moving back feels… right.”

Later, you find yourselves on his rooftop, bundled together under a fleece blanket as the fireworks light up the Han River below. You share his bougie white truffle parmesan & rosemary popcorn (it’s actually good, though) and a bottle of chardonnay. You lean against his shoulder, link your hands together, hearts full of the promise of a new beginning.

You settle in your seat as the bus begins its journey back to Seollim Hollow. Yoongi had to stay behind for a few days to tie up loose ends, but the promise of his return lingers like a heartbeat in your chest.

As the city fades into the distance, your phone buzzes with a new message.

Yoongi: Check your coat pocket

Intrigued, you reach inside, your fingers brushing against something small and stiff. When you pull it out, your breath catches.

It’s a postcard.

His handwriting is as familiar as ever, the letters neat but tilted just slightly to the left. This time, though, the message is different.

Not a simple Merry Christmas.

Not a quick Hope you’re well.

Not some generic line he thought you might want to hear.

This one has only three words.

I love you.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at the card, the edges soft from where it’s been handled. The words feel heavy, monumental, a promise etched onto paper.

You press the postcard to your chest, your eyes stinging as the bus carries you closer to home. Though, when you think about it, home feels like a person you just left in a high-rise in Hannam.

A week later, you find Yoongi standing on your doorstep, that gummy smile you love lighting up his face. His suitcase sits at his side, snowflakes caught in his hair, and he looks at you like you’re the answer to every question he’s ever asked.

“Hi,” he says softly, his voice warm despite the cold.

“Hi,” you say, leaning against the door frame.

And in that moment, you know—this is it. The chance to start over. The start of something real, something you both waited for, something you’ll build up piece by piece.

And finally, you’ll live a life you’ll both love.

Together.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed my first Holiday fic ever. If it feels extra cheesy and sappy than my other stories, it’s Hallmark-inspired so it needed to be that way. 🙂 As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments section. A reblog would also be amazing!

Thank you so much for reading this you lovely, beautiful human xo

And I know it’s already been days since we kicked off 2025, but I hope you have had an amazing start to the year and the rest of the days are filled with love, laughs, and Bangtan! 💜✨

Permanent Taglist (Part 1)

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie

The rest to follow in a reblog.

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emsdevs · 2 days ago

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Bear and Bug pt 2

a/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON PART ONE I already love this little au so much so I love that y'all are loving it too! Again I'm more than happy to share my thoughts on Bear and Bug anytime! Enjoy pt 2 :)

Bear and Bug Masterlist

After Jack’s draft, the two of you decided to live up all the time you had left together that summer. Once again, you two were attached at the hip. It was rare to see one of you without the other. You spent your days out on the boat, at the golf course, or finding fun adventures to go on. You spent your nights partying, having game nights, or having a quiet movie night together, relaxing after an eventful day.

Meanwhile, Quinn was pushing down a hurt that he didn’t fully understand. He knew you’d be spending a lot of time with Jack this summer (he was your best friend after all), so why did he feel like he was being left behind? Was he just some sort of stand-in for when Jack wasn’t available? No. No way. You would never do that. You cared about the entire Hughes family way too much for that, so why didn’t that lift the heavy weight he was feeling in his stomach? Quinn spent those weeks growing more and more irritated each day, watching you and Jack having the time of your lives while he wondered where he stood with you.

As the end of the summer neared and you would all have to return to the real world soon, your time with Jack instead became family time. Everyone deserved to spend time with Jack before he boarded a flight to New Jersey until the next summer. However, moments that should have been filled with happy family memories were ruined by Quinn’s sudden sharpness toward no one in particular. He had become incredibly snippy with everyone, mainly you, causing many arguments between the two of you in those last two weeks.

You couldn’t understand it. The two of you had been so close, and you felt like there might have been something between you. Now all of a sudden, he was throwing insults at you that genuinely hurt your feelings a few times. It got to be too much, and you gave up, ignoring Quinn altogether. It hurt you to do it, but it felt like your only option. Everyone could sense the tension between the two of you.

The summer ended with heartfelt goodbyes to most of the Hughes family. Gentle hugs for Ellen and Jim, and since Luke was apparently too cool for that now, he got a dap up and his hair ruffled (you couldn’t resist). You and Jack shared a longer hug, filled with encouragement for both of your life paths and promises to keep each other updated until June. Quinn, on the other hand, got an incredibly awkward wave from five feet away, complete with terribly hidden grimaces from the rest of the family.

You all returned to your normal lives after that. Well, mostly normal. Jack was adjusting to the big leagues, and you’re feeling like you’re going through a breakup, even though you and Quinn were never even together. Still, it seems like such a great loss knowing how long the two of you have known one another.

It was nearing the end of October the next time you saw Quinn. The Canucks had beaten the Red Wings in Detroit that night, and knowing there wouldn’t be practice the next day, Quinn knew this was his chance to close the distance between you. Late that night, he found himself standing outside of your dorm, remembering his mom saying something about you scoring the same one as last year. Before he could think too much about it, he knocked. Just as he began to debate walking away, the door slowly opened, revealing a very confused, and equally as angry, you. Quickly glancing around to check if anyone would see, you yank him into your dorm, grateful your roommate was at her boyfriend’s place that night.

“Quinn, what are you doing here?” you sigh out.

“I needed to talk to you, Bug.”

“Oh, we’re still doing the nicknames? You were horrible to me those last few weeks of the summer,” you could feel the anger flaring up.

“Well maybe if you didn’t spend your whole summer kissing up to Jack, the rest of us could have been in better moods,” he shrugged, beginning to raise his voice as well.

“You were the only one with a problem! And there’s no way you didn’t expect me to spend my summer with Jack when we all knew I’d be losing him to New Jersey in August!”

“Of course I knew you’d spend time with him! Excuse me for thinking you’d save some time for the rest of us too!” Quinn’s resolve was slipping, and he knew the truth would come out sooner rather than later.

“So you said all those mean things to me because you were jealous? Are you serious, Quinn? Do you know how much some of that hurt me?” Quinn could see the tears lining your eyes now.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just didn’t know how to deal with these feelings,” his voice softened.

“What feelings? What do you mean?” your tone now matched his, and you were trying not to get your hopes up, still blinking back tears.

“You know,” he didn’t want to have to say it out loud.

“I don’t. I need you to tell me, Bear.”

“Look I know I never should have let it get this far, especially since you’re Jack’s best friend and I would never want to come between that, but I can’t help how I feel. You’re so engrained into everything I do now, Bug. Every part of my life, I see you in it. I don’t think you could ever understand what I feel for you, mainly because I’m not sure I do either, but what I do know is that, yes I was jealous of Jack. I was used to talking to you almost daily, to knowing every detail of your life, but summer hit, and suddenly I was in the background,” he took a breath.

“Bear you weren’t -” Quinn cut you off.

“Let me finish,” he waited for your nod. “I got in my own head, let myself think I was just some kind of understudy for when Jack wasn’t available. I know that’s not true, and I even knew that then. But this gnawing feeling wouldn’t go away, telling me that Jack would always be the better or more interesting sibling, whether I was the oldest or not. That’s why I got so snippy with everyone, not that that’s an excuse because no one deserved that, you the least. I just… I just think I might be falling in love with you, Bug, and I’m not sure I know how to handle that,” finally he finished, slowly looking your way, trying to gauge your reaction.

“You know I was waiting all summer for you to say that to me?” you started. “I was hoping you’d pull me aside, tell me that you felt the same way about me that I feel about you. I guess that’s kinda on me though because I did spend a ton of time with Jack, so I understand that you might have felt like I didn’t actually need you or that you wouldn’t have a chance to tell me. Either way, though, I can’t completely look past the way you treated me at the end of the summer. I seriously hope you know none of those things you thought were true. You will always, always be important and interesting, if not to anyone else then to me. I think… I’m falling for you too, Bear, but you’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to. I just need you back,” he let out a shuddered sigh.

“We’ll work on it together. Okay, Bear?”

“Okay, Bug.”

#em's writing #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #qh43 #bear and bug au

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lookingfts · 21 hours ago

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Dialogue Game - Prompts #7 and #8

#7 – "I can't swim." (fitrahgolden)

“I can’t swim.”

She winces as she says it. One of those stupid little things that children are taught, and everyone insists she has to know, but Kate has never seen the point in rushing to learn. She doesn’t need to know as long as she just…doesn’t go into deep water.

“Really?” Anthony’s face is teasing, but only a little. There’s more of that soft look on his face when she’s said something that endears him. It happens astonishingly often.

“Shut up,” Kate says, poking his shoulder even as heat rushes to her cheeks. “We’ll just stay in the shallows.”

It feels wonderful in there anyway. The water is just cool enough to whisk away the warmth on her skin, lapping gently against her waist. Her feet are firmly on the sand, and she likes it that way.

But Anthony pulls her into his arms, and she already knows he’s about to try and convince her of something. “Do you trust me?”

“Usually.”

“Then just hold on to me. We won’t go too deep, I promise,” he says genuinely, and Kate finds herself nodding. She jokes, but she trusts him implicitly. With her body, with her heart, even with her life, if the situation calls for it.

Kate tenses as they move further into the waves, the water rising to her shoulders. It’s scary, overwhelming, but Anthony is embracing her so tightly that she knows he’ll never let her go.

“Just kick your feet. You’re fine, I’ve got you.”

Her toes lift off the sand and she inhales sharply, but she’s floating for a moment, Anthony’s hands firm on her waist. Kate laughs as she wraps herself around him, legs twined over his hips, and buries her face in his neck. “That was terrifying.”

“But you did so good,” he praises, slowly moving them back to solid ground. “That wasn’t so bad, right?”

She shakes her head, smiles. “With you?” she says breathlessly. “Nothing’s that bad.”

#8 – “Happy anniversary baby. Open your present” “Anthony we’ve been dating for a week” (Anonymous)

“Happy anniversary, baby.” He tugs the wrapped box from behind his back, and presents it to her with a flourish. “Open your present.”

Kate looks between him and the box, her mouth parted in surprise, and then she bursts into laughter. “Anthony,” she says with a fond sort of exasperation. “We’ve been dating for a week. What is this?”

He shrugs, holding the box out to her. Maybe there was a time that he would have retreated back into self-doubt at her reaction, convinced himself that he was overwhelming her. But it’s been the best week of his life, and Kate has never been spoiled like she should be. So maybe they both need this. “We kissed a year ago,” he points out.

Her face scrunches up. It was neither of their finest moments; a slightly drunken kiss in the courtyard at one of Colin’s parties, followed by fifty-one weeks of lying to themselves and to each other. But now they’re making a proper go of it, so he doesn’t see why it shouldn’t count.

“Are you going to make an anniversary out of every one of our terrible decisions?”

“If the mood strikes.”

Kate rolls her eyes, but her expression is amused, not irritated. She takes off the blue wrapping paper so delicately that it’s barely torn, as gentle and meticulous as she is in everything.

Setting the paper aside, she opens the box, the delighted smirk dropping when she sees the delicate chain holding a gold teardrop pendant. “Anthony,” she says, but that’s as far as she gets.

“I just saw it and I thought of you. It wasn’t wildly expensive, I promise.” A one-week anniversary gift is a big enough swing. One day, he’ll buy her something truly extravagant, if only to show her that she’s worth it. But he can wait awhile.

“Our definitions of expensive might be different.”

“Pretend I got it out of a claw machine if that makes it easier to accept it.”

Her laugh is thick as she turns her back to him and sweeps her hair aside. Anthony clasps the chain around her neck, and she runs her fingers over the pendant. “Happy anniversary of the best terrible decision I ever made,” Kate murmurs.

He kisses her shoulder, smiling into her skin. “Likewise.”

#prompt game #bridgerton #kanthony #kate x anthony #anthony x kate #bridgerton fic

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slixqrta · 1 day ago

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yandere! roommate x reader

synopsis: a series of photo online runs your entire life, forcing you to be fired and become locked inside home to prevent harassment from the public. now, you have no way of providing any income, but no worries! your roommate is there to save you.

TW: 18+ writing, noncon, gn! reader, amab! yanderes, manipulation, violence, isolation, leaked photos of mc, implied non consensual somnophilia, harassment, forced exposure due to photos, reader not having a good time overall.

a/n: so this took way more time than i expected, sorry for the lack of updates (Ｔ＿Ｔ) but it’s okay, i promise to become a bit more productive and active on this blog as i have more projects incoming, i swear! but for now, enjoy this new work of mine. and hit me up with a dm if anything is off about this post!

off all the ways you expected to get money to pay the rent, becoming financially dependent on your roommate to avoid eviction was the least thing you expected. however, you can’t find a job anywhere you go.

from gaining twice the minimum wage at an office job, ready to gain a promotion after years of working to be fired after a series of pictures of your body in compromising positions were released online.

you don’t remember taking them, but you can recall how people began looking at you. their eyes were full of malice or hatred, calling you names that no one should be referred as and some even going as further in asking if you are willing to do it again for the ‘fans’.

it took any two days before your boss fired you, calling you a ‘freak’ as he kicked you out with a box full of your belongings. none of your former colleagues defended you, they stared at you like you were nothing and so, you lowered your head and walked away from the office.

and the thousands applications you send to numerous companies are all rejected, they keep calling out the photos of you online as an excuse to not hire you. while others immediately ignore your existence.

that happened weeks ago, leaving you unemployed and incapable of helping joshua with the rent. you feel horrible having to be financially dependent on him. it’s reminds how your life is now ruined and yet, joshua—your beloved roommate and friend who is more than willing to help you.

his words assuring that you don’t need to push yourself so hard in finding a job fail to make you calm.

after hours of crying of another rejection, joshua is there to hold you in his chest. he keeps telling it’s not your fault, words of comfort coming out from his lips as he cleans the remains tears of your face.

he tells that things will go back to normal soon, even though he knows that is not true. no sane work place would hire someone who has photos leaked online, it doesn’t matter if was against your consent or not, enterprises prefer having a criminal than a victim between them.

and joshua is more delighted to be aware of that.

the rare occasions you leave the apartment ended shortly after your last attempt in finding a new job. a groups of men spotted you and tried to drag you to a nearby alley, they kept saying words that made you scared of they would do to you.

but before they hand could reach for your clothes, joshua showed up to save you. his fists knocked the men away, making them scatter away from your vision as he helped you getting up. he even cleaned your tears once again, making you feel better as he guided you back home.

“you should stay at home for a while, [name].” his hands touch your hair, replacing the dirty from the earlier incident by a fragrance of flowers. it’s makes you blush by how gentle he is with you, not to mention the fact he is the one giving you a bath right now. “people out there still recognize you, they will hurt you if you leave our place…perhaps you will be safer here. a place where no one can hurt you.”

you nodded.

joshua is right. the outside world is too dangerous for someone so fragile as you, you need to stay inside where it’s safe.

unknowingly, you enter a new routine by staying at the apartment. with no need to going out, you become in charge of doing most of the housework, almost like you were some sort of stay at home spouse…

times goes on, perhaps a couple of months (you don’t really know, there is no clock at the walls and you still have fear in use a phone) when joshua gains a promotion at his job. the blond already gained a lot of money before, but now he is doing way much more than any person in his age would.

he started searching for a new place. according to his words:

“even though it’s just the two of us, don’t you think we deserve better? i mean, you do so much at home and my salary isn’t there just to show off. not to say, but i don’t want thin walls when we began getting closer at bed…”

joshua was already touchy with you. it’s perfectly normal to have friends that hugs you when returning home from work, right? he has always been like this since the first day you moved to the apartment.

there were times where movies night happened in his room and you were in between his legs. joshua has the habit of resting his chin on your head, making comments how small you are compared to him before he tickling you.

you were a fool to believe that joshua had no second intentions by being so physical with you. and you were an idiot to not understand his real intentions by moving the two of you to a ‘better’ place.

you take a deep breath, grasping onto joshua’s sheets as another harsh thrust hits you from behind. tears won’t stop coming from your pretty eyes as joshua forces your body underneath him, forcing you to take his weight as he continues to pound on you.

“don’t cry, sweetie.” he muttered, a cruel twist of his lips hinted at his satisfaction. he learned in closer, his hands gliding over your skin, slow and ruthless. before you could pull away, yelling of pain, he manages to catch a glimpse of your ruined face.

“listen to me, [name].” he forces you to to accept another rough thrust of his, this time making you cry louder. “there is no one around to hear us. remeber? our little sweet home is a bit too far away from the city, so there is no around to hear us. isn’t that exciting?.”

you shake your head. this isn’t exciting, you just want to leave, to kill him and to pretend this is only a nightmare. not having your trust violated by your friend who you considered to be like a family member.

another thrust hit you inside, and this time your vision began blurring.

the black spot appearing in distant as joshua continues to assault your hole, not caring about your discomfort nor pain. he solely focuses upon his pleasure as he forces your head back to the bed, making it worse to your state.

lungs are giving up, no air coming from them as joshua’s hands find themselves on your neck. he keep forcing your body to taken him, pressing your legs against your torso to another harsh thrust.

he is enjoying seeing you struggle with this new position, eyes sparkling of tears and whining when his lips touch your skin. joshua leave plenty of kisses at your face, making sure the first time between the two of you will be unforgettable.

“[name]—“ he moans into your ear, smirking as his hands reach out for something that you don’t bother to look—too busy in trying to maintain your consciousness. “don’t move.”

a series of flashes of his camera captures the worst expressions and poses you could’ve imagined of yourself. the angles of your naked and marked body isn’t something you want to anyone see online, much less after the previous incident died down and after learning that joshua is responsible for it.

somehow, you manage to gain some strength to speak up to him. “p-please don’t,” it’s not what you sounds like usually, too weak and too embarrassed, but there is nothing else you can do now. “d-don’t post it online, please!” then a few hiccup escaped from your lips, making it even more painful for to joshua to see.

he stops taking the photos, putting his camera away before putting a pause with his assault in between your thighs. there is a small hint of regret, but not enough to make him feel guilty about keeping you away from the world and free you.

“oh my [name],” the smile replacing his precious expression scares you. “i won’t post anything more, i swear. all photos that i began taking from now on will be part of a personal collection…”

it’s sound better, right? you don’t have to worry anymore about people seeing your worst version any longer, just joshua will have the pleasure to be witness it.

he will be the only person to see many expressions coming from you for a longer time of your life. isn’t that exciting?

“now, my dear…” he picks the camera once again, a bigger smile on his lips as another flashes makes you uncomfortable. “smile for me.”

taglist -> @kiiyoooo

#slixqrta works #tw yandere #tw: yandere #x gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x gn y/n #yandere #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere x reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #my oc #TW noncon #tw: noncon

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sturniololuvrer · 1 day ago

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𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔…𝙱𝚎 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚎 — 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘 18+ 𝙼𝙳𝙽𝙸 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 (1/?)

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: shy!, virgin! Matt x fem! reader

𝙿𝚕𝚘𝚝: you and the triplets are practically best friends, you met them in LA, where you live. You and Matt unknowingly have feelings for each other, so when they go back to Boston for a whole month, you both realize how strong your feelings really are…

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: fluff, smut, male masturbation.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 1,729

𝚊/n: This is my second fic ever! I’m still working on the way I write my plot, but other than that I think I’ve improved! This will be most likely only be two parts…it just depends on how much I decide to write lol. The next part should be out soon…enjoy! xx

You hear the knock on the door of your apartment that you’ve been dreading. Nick, Matt, and Chris are going back to Boston to see their family for an entire month and they’d just arrived to say goodbye to you. You quickly check your appearance in the mirror before padding out of your room to the front door.

You open the door and they file in, the morning light cascading a golden glow on the white walls of your living room. They don’t bother sitting since they’re on their way to the airport already. Nick breaks the silence and hugs you. He was the reason you became friends with all of them in the first place, so you’re closer to him.

“I wish you could come with us.” Nick mutters into your hair with a huff. “Me too…” You say softly as he pulls away. “I couldn’t just get a whole month off of work though.” You snicker softly, trying to lighten the mood. They all chuckle at that and Chris chimes in. “Yeah…I guess that’s the perks of us being our own bosses.”

When he finishes his sentence, he walks up and hugs you as well. As Chris hugs you, you catch Matt’s eyes over his shoulder. He quickly averts his gaze, his cheeks dusting a soft pink. Chris pulls away and sighs, “Okay…we have a flight to catch…”

You nod softly and Nick speaks up. “We’ll text you or call you all the time…well I will at least…” You smile at him, thankful to have a friend as sweet as him. Nick gives you one more quick hug before he and Chris walk out the door.

You think for a moment that Matt might just walk away and leave you here without saying a word, but when he gets to you he wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you as tight as he can without hurting you. You can’t help but gasp at his suddenness, feeling electric shocks everywhere he’s touching.

You wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him back. After a while, he pulls away, his cheeks red as he realizes what he did. “S- sorry…I’m just gonna miss you…” He says softly, still avoiding your gaze. You smile up at him. “I’ll miss you too…you text me, okay?”

He nods quickly. “We’ll all text you. I promise.” As he finishes, you both hear Nick shouting from the car. “Let’s go, Matt! We’re gonna miss our flight!” Matt’s eyes widen as if he forgot he has somewhere to be. He quickly pulls you into another hug.

“Bye…We’ll tell you when we board and land.” You nod softly as he pulls away. “Okay…have fun. See you later…” He gives you a smile before walking out the door and getting in the car. Nick hangs his head out the back window, waving and yelling goodbyes as Matt starts to drive, making you laugh and do the same as they disappear. You stand in the doorway for a few moments before sighing and heading back inside.

About a week later, you’re lying in your bed on your day off, staring at the ceiling. You’d usually be hanging out with the triplets on days like this, but they’re still in Boston. You huff, you thought you’d be missing Nick the most, but all you can think of is Matt. You’ve had feelings for him for so long, but you never thought you’d be in a state like this where you weren’t able to ignore them. But right now, for some reason, all you want to do is be near him.

You start to get frustrated, not liking the feelings coursing through you. So, you decide to text one of your friends. You ask if she wants to go out with you and she immediately agrees, rushing to your house.

Your friend does your makeup for you, saying she’s doing her signature ‘getting laid’ look. You groan at that, but let her do as she pleases. She helps you do your hair, leaving it down and just fixing it up. She picks out the shortest, tightest dress in your closet and pairs it with your black heels.

Once your friend deems that you’re ready, she begs you to make a TikTok with her. You begrudgingly agree and she sets her phone up on your vanity and makes you show off your outfit, spinning you around and showing you off like her prized possession as you laugh. You let her post it, thinking nothing of it and you pack your purses and head out to some new club she wants to go to.

Matt is relaxing in his room before bed since it’s later at night for him. He’s mindlessly scrolling through his TikTok feed, bored. His interest is piqued when he sees the video your friend made of you two.

His jaw hangs open at the sight of you and his eyes practically bug out of his head. He’s had feelings for you for some time, but he’s never felt the need to act on them…until now. He doesn’t understand how the 10 second clip of you does it, but he feels a stirring in his pants as he watches it over and over.

After a while, he opens up his messages app, quickly texting you. “Hey, what’re you doing rn?” Your phone buzzes in your purse as you’re sitting at the bar at the club, sipping on a drink. You take it out and your heart skips a beat at the sight of his name.

You open the message, quickly typing a response. “Hey! I’m at the club with my friend. What’s up?” You send a picture of yourself from an angle above your head to show him where you are. You think it’s just a friendly gesture, oblivious to the fact that the top of your tits are pushing out of your dress in perfect view and your thighs are out on display from the short dress, squished slightly from the stool you’re on.

Matt’s mouth goes immediately dry at the sight and he just stares at the photo in shock for what feels like hours. He starts to shakily type out an answer as that previous stirring in his pants turns into an insistent throbbing.

He groans, just giving a haphazard response to end the conversation. “Oh that sounds nice! Have fun and be safe!” You heart his message before sliding your phone back into your purse and going on with your night.

He immediately pulls the picture you sent back up. He feels guilty for it, but he zooms in on your tits, his cheeks flushing. He bites his lip softly, his hips shifting slightly as his pajama pants start to get uncomfortably tight.

Matt swallows hard, his cheeks darkening more as he feels even worse about how hard he’s getting. You’re one of his best friends for fuck’s sake! He can’t just jerk off to you! That’s wrong…right?

He lets out a soft whimper as he continues to stare at the photo of you, wanting so badly to be respectful, but you just look so hot. He groans, unable to take it anymore as he hesitantly pushes his pajama pants down. His black boxers are tented obscenely, a small wet patch already forming where his tip rests.

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he slowly pushes his boxers down, his red, leaking cock slapping against his stomach. He inhales sharply as the cool air contrasts harshly to the heat his dick is giving off.

His chest heaves and his cheeks flush as he hesitantly wraps his hand around his shaft. He lets out a soft, desperate noise as he holds his phone up with his free hand to look at the picture of you as he starts to slowly stroke himself.

He huffs, throwing his head back against his pillows as a waves of guilt and pleasure shoot through him. The pleasure outweighs the guilt as he speeds up his hand, letting out soft moans.

He moves his fingers over the photo of you, zooming in on your thighs now, wanting nothing more than to be between them, in any way you’d let him. He slides his thumb over his tip, whimpering as he spreads his precum over his cock.

He pants harshly, all the guilt leaving his body as he pumps himself faster, pushing his thumb over his tip with every stroke. He bites his lips harshly to muffle his noises, his phone falling from his hand and landing face down on his upper chest.

His noises get louder as he strokes faster, bucking his hips up into his hand as he mewls. He tightens his fist around himself, pushing his thumb against his tip harder.

He gets even louder, hoping his family is asleep as he can’t seem to hold them in. After a few more strokes, he starts to feel that familiar build in his lower stomach, his thighs tensing. He fists his sheets with his now free hand, his eyes shut tight as he imagines your mouth on him or you bouncing on him instead of his own hand touching him.

His noises get whinier as he gets closer, his hips bucking even faster into his fist. “F- fuck ’m so- close-“ He whispers into the air as if you’re actually there. Soon, he’s gasping out a needy whimper of your name as he cums, bucking into his hand forcefully as he paints his stomach and hand white.

He pants harshly as he comes down, giving himself a few more lazy strokes before letting himself go. He lies there for a few moments, feeling like an idiot for jerking off to you before getting up and going to the bathroom, cleaning himself off.

When he comes back, he puts on a fresh pair of boxers and slides back into bed. He picks up his phone from the bed and it’s still on his messages with you. He thinks nothing of it before he looks closer and realizes he’s sent a four minute voice message to you 5 minutes ago.

He almost screams as he clicks it and hears himself moaning. He frantically moves to unsend the message, but he looks down and sees the read receipt. You’d seen it the minute he’d sent it.

“SHIT!”

𝚊/n: I really enjoyed writing this one! Part two should be out soon! Let me know if you want to be tagged in it or if you have any ideas for it! As always, any critiques or tips on my works and layout are always appreciated! I’ll try to answer any asks and comments left as well! Thanks! xx

#Spotify #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #smut

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loveforeren · 3 days ago

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୨⎯ If we only had more time⎯୧

Pairing: Eren Yeager x Sick!Reader

Synopsis: You and Eren had been together since your sophomore year of high school. You guys were now in your sophomore year of college when you got devastating news. You were sick, and not just any type of illness. You didn't have long to live. They told you that they don't know what the illness is or how to treat it. So all you can do is wait for the day you die. There's only one problem you have approximately 2 months lefts and you've been avoiding Eren due to it. You haven't told him, and you were being put in the hospital..very soon.

Content Warning: Sick Reader, Angst, Small Argument, Unknown Illness, Sad Ending.

A/N: I wrote this because I was bored...I don't write angst often loves. I'll be posting a either longish Kokushibo fanfic or another Miguel snippet soon. Also, yall should listen to Promise By Laufey.

You look out the window to see Eren's car pull up in front of your small townhouse. Your body shakes at the thought of telling him. You watch as he walks to the door and knocks. You take a deep breath before slowly creaking open the door.

It's been months since you got the devastating news. The news you weren't going to live much longer. They don't know what the illness is or how to cure it. The only thing they know is it's causing your body to break down and destroy itself at a rapid pace. They're trying every medication they can think of and nothing works. When you told your parents they broke down in tears begging the doctors to help their child. When you told your friends they cried for hours and promised to make the most of the time you had left. There was one person you didn't tell, Eren, your boyfriend. You couldn't bring yourself to do it. You couldn't bare to tell him, but you couldn't put it off any longer. You were being put into the hospital sometime this week or next and you couldn't put off telling him any longer. You knew he was worried because, for the past few weeks, you haven't been around him as often. You couldn't the pain your body was in was too much to bare. You had to tell him today. You had no choice.

"Hey Ma." He said with a grin.

His arms wrapped around you and he buried his face into your neck.

"H-hey Eren." You stumble over your words. Your body shakes and your chest starts to hurt slightly.

"What's wrong? You're shaking." Eren points out as you tried to calm yourself

You pull him over to the couch sit him down and sit next to him. Your heart was beating out your chest.

"Eren...I need to tell you something." You murmured loud enough for him to hear.

He looks at you with his beautiful green eyes piercing you. Your chest started to hurt more and more by every passing second.

"So..I-.." Your words get caught on your throat.

Eren notices this and puts his hand on your thigh.

"Ma, calm down. Take your time." He said.

You took a few deep breaths and started bouncing your leg to calm yourself.

"A few months ago, I went to the doctor for a small little check-up. You know I was in pain for some reason." You say trying to keep your tears in.

Eren nods, and you can already tell he's getting anxious by the way your acting.

"They didn't know the cause of my pain, so they ran a few tests...They made a discovery. My body has been destroying itself slowly..and-" you words get caught in your throat but you force yourself to continue.

"They said I don't have much longer to live.." you say quietly looking away from Eren.

"Baby. What do you mean you don't have much longer to live? You're sick? Why didn't you tell me this?" Eren asked question after question.

You look back at him and see his beautiful green eyes starting to flood with tears. His hair became disheveled from him raked his hands through it trying to calm himself.

"I..couldn't tell you." You said now tearing up too.

"Why not!" His voice boomed through the small place you were in. His tears finally escaped and ran down his face rapidly.

"Because I was fucking scared Eren! How can I tell the man I love I was going to die? I didn't know how and I didn't when to tell you." Your voice raises as you start to cry too.

"Y/N you're fucking dying! I deserve to know the love of my life is dying!" His voice cracked.

"I know. I know I'm sorry Eren I didn't know how to tell you." You rasped out.

"I-isn't there any medicine you can take?" Eren stumbled over his words.

You watch Eren's face scrunch up. You thought he was mad at you until he pulled you into a tight hug. His arms snaking around you. His head on your shoulder.

"We've tried everything..nothing is working." You say as tears pour down your face.

"I don't wanna lose you. I can't lose you." He cried.

You cried just as much as your body ached slightly but you didn't even care at this point.

"I'm sorry Eren. I'm so sorry." Your voice cracked.

‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It's been a few days since you told Eren. Ever since then, Eren stuck to your hip. Going to every appointment, sleeping over at your house, going with you to the store. Wherever you were Eren was bound to be. That was until the doctors advised you to stay in the hospital full-time.

"Eren I have to go the doctors said I should stay in the hospital." You said as he hugged you tightly.

"I know...I just-...just let me hug for a few more minutes and I'll drop you off there." He rasped out trying to not cry.

He stayed there hugging you tightly for a few more minutes then let go of you. His beautiful green eyes filled with sadness.

"I'll drop you off now.." he said looking down his fist clenching slightly to stop himself from crying.

The drive there was silent besides your stuff the doctor said you could bring rattling around in the back of the car. Eren's hand stayed on your thigh the entire time. You could feel whenever he was getting extremely anxious because his grip on the thigh would strengthen.

When you guys finally made it there you watched as Eren parked the car and then rested his head on the steering wheel.

"Eren.." you say quietly.

It seems like he's in a trance because he didn't hear him.

"Eren." You say again.

His head snaps up to look at him and you see his eyes filled with tears again. His eyes were red as tears spilled out.

"I'm sorry. I'm trying to calm down before we go in there." He says.

Your heart was breaking. You hated seeing him like this because of you. You hated that you were going to leave him so soon.

Your hand went up to his cheek, and he nuzzled his face into your hand. His lips kissed your hand gently. As he took a few deep breaths to pull himself together.

"I love you...I love you so much Y/N" He said his voice laced with worry.

"I love you too." You kiss him gently as he tries to calm himself.

It's been a few weeks since you've been in the hospital, and Eren was there every single day. He only went 3 places his house, school, and the hospital. You could see the stress eating away at him. Especially when you have coughing fits, or your body would randomly aches for hours. You didn't want to tell him just how painful it was. If you had to explain the pain in one word it would be excruciating, absolutely excruciating. You couldn't tell him that though worrying him would only cause you more stress. Today the doctor was going to ask you about the pain again, usually, Eren is at school. This time he was here and you knew you couldn't lie. The doctor has caught you in your lies at least 4 times. There was no use in trying to lie.

‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"So Miss Y/N, How has your body been feeling lately?" The doctor asks with a clipboard in their hand.

"Ah...Doctor Hange...My body..uhm.." you try to tell the doctor but Eren's presence was scaring you. You didn't want him to worry.

"It hurts a lot when I breathe in the left side of my chest, my legs ache if I stand for too long, my head hurts a lot, and...I've been experiencing dizzy spells. If I'm being honest...my whole body hurts..ears are constantly pounding.." you say quietly.

You watch as Eren's face turns into a sad frown and his hands fidget together.

"I see...I'll come back to you after I look at the test that we ran the other day," Hange said walking out quietly.

Eren quietly scrambled over to you and laid on your lap. Your hand strokes his head as he shakes.

"Ma, I..I love you.." he whispered.

"I love you too 'Ren" You smile bitterly.

He lays on your lap for about 10 minutes before Hange came back in trying to hide their grim expression.

"Miss Y/N I would like to speak to you privately." They said.

Eren looked at you about the protest but you sighed.

"Eren..go please you can come back in once we are done."

︵‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

Doctor Hange told you the most devastating news you could hear. Your body seemed to be deteriorating even faster than before. Your pain was only going to get worse and worse. They said there was some more medicine you could try but it wasn't guaranteed to work. They also quietly stated you could get euthanized but they were strongly against it. They told you that they didn't want you to stress and to tell them what you wanted when you were ready. You quietly stated that you wanted the pain to end early, and that if that was the only way then so be it.

After Doctor Hange was done, Eren walked back in frantically. His eyes shoot to your very troubled expression. As of that moment, he didn't know that you had chosen to end your life. You had to break the news to him, and you hated that.

"Hi, Eren." You say with a say sad smile.

He quickly scrambles by your side and holds your hand.

"So...I was talking with the doctor, and they said I had two options.." you stated eyes looking down to avoid his sad expression.

You explain them and watch as his face darkens. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was either when you were in bad condition to basically pull the plug or to let you suffer. Both options were terrible.

"There's...nothing else we can do..?" He asks quietly gripping your hand.

"No...I'm sorry.." Hange said.

‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Days have passed and like Hange said you've only got worse. You lost so much weight, you were pale, your eyes could barely stay open, you threw up everything you ate and drank, and your breathing was labored. Eren stayed through it all. But unfortunately, it was the time your vitals weren't looking good, and the doctors could tell.

All of your friends and family were there to say their last goodbyes to you. It was bittersweet they knew you'd get peace but they'd also lose you. Eren stayed in the room watching from a distance with a grim expression. He wanted to cry but he simply couldn't as of now. His body wouldn't allow it. Maybe it was saving up for when you departed. Or maybe it was because he cried so much that he simply couldn't anymore.

After all your family and friends left, Eren came to you holding your hand gently. You smiled sadly. He lay there in a comfortable silence until he felt you fell asleep. He soon after followed suit. The exhaustion taking over.

‿︵‿︵ ‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

"Eren~" you giggled.

Eren turned to see you smiling brightly and hugged you tightly.

"Baby, please don't go.." Eren begged.

You smile softly and kiss all over his face gently. Each kiss you whispered something you loved about him.

"I'll never truly leave you, my love." You said sweetly.

You were shining so brightly like when you guys were in high school. He knew this was goodbye. You turn to hear someone calling you and smile. You began to walk away fading in the distance as Eren chased you.

"Y/N!" He screamed stumbling to the ground.

Eren jolted from his sleep and saw you with a sweet smile on your sickly face. He put his hand on your face you felt cold. His body froze shockingly still.

"Baby?" He said his throat beginning to tighten

"Nurse!" He screamed so loud that entire side of hospital probably heard.

"No, no, no please!" He cried

You died with the illness finally staking its claim on your life. Eren never truly got over your death. How could he? Still, that dream gave him some comfort.

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paintedkinzy-88 · 2 days ago

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I really hate to be this person, but my cat has to get surgery and the cost is really going to wipe us out, unfortunately, so…

I’ve been working on making a RedBubble for prints and such, and I’ll probably get stickers set up on Etsy as soon as I’m able to, but for now I set up a Ko-Fi for a sort of commission-like opportunity.

Until January 16th, I will draw a dragon design for a character of your choice for $25! Not like a full reference sheet, I wanna have the time to get to as many as I can if I need to, but still fully rendered like above. Dragons are the one thing I think I can draw consistently and repeatedly, so I’m sorry it’s nothing more broad! 😭

Rules are under the cut, PLEASE READ THEM before you do anything! ❤️ I am very new with this, so please be patient with me.

Link to my page is here, and I’ll put it on my Masterpost as well.

Thank you, whether you can donate or not. I appreciate all the support you guys have ever given me. (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

REQUEST RULES:

You can place your orders under the Requests section!

The listing will close after January 16th, 11:59 PM PST, and I set my max request slots to 15, so I’m not too overwhelmed lmao.

Leave your Tumblr account in the description box of the request, alongside the requested character, so I may contact you and/or tag you in the completed drawing’s post! If you want to remain anonymous, though, that is totally fine as well.

I will send updates/process pictures unless you tell me otherwise, or you go the anon route!

If you have a certain dragon character already in mind, want an OC done, or have any additional requests for the piece (pose, dragon type, any sort of design specifications), tell me in the instructions! There should be a section for images as well. Or you can message me here, of course!

I WILL be posting every finished piece here, unless told otherwise!

If you do not send specifications, I will design the dragon(s) as I see fit to the character! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

I cannot promise any kind of time frame for when the drawing will be complete. I do have other things that take up my time. I will try to complete them ASAP!

Should you want more than one character in the same shot, I’d say it’s an extra $10 for each additional design (in the listing). But, if you want each character on their own page, that is a separate order, $25 each.

These are for fully rendered pieces in my style, no backgrounds, and no reference sheets. If you want other options for cheaper, like just a colored sketch, message me first and we can talk about that as well. :)

Depending on how this week goes, I may choose to do this again in the future with more formality and flexibility! This is just a bit of an emergency. ;w;

Message me/send an Ask if you have any questions!!

The Ko-Fi also serves as a sort of tip jar, should you simply want to donate a $5 coffee instead. By all means, if you cannot or don’t want to donate, PLEASE don’t. I just don’t really know what else to do. :/

The above image is one of the designs I made for Ink in UTMV. Further examples of my work are below!

(Note that the drawings will be more like these first two examples!! For price reference, the two characters would have been $35, and the five $65)

#sorry this is kinda informal…#I’ll be better the next time fbjsnfjsn #I’m trying to be as thorough as I can #but I’ve also never done this before #hella nervous but kitty is worth it!!#commission #dragons #dragon art #dragon designs #dragon design #dragon balance au #dragon au #rottmnt #undertale multiverse #undertale #curse of icarus

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spidermans-l-o-v-e-r · 1 day ago

Text

✨Strawberries and Cream Presents✨: A Kinkmas mini episode

How The Grinch Stole Christmas

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word Count: 5k

Notes: Have y’all seen Mufasa yet? That movie is G O O D anyway I miss strawberries and cream just as much as y’all do I PROMISE. I’m working on it again and hoping to get da juices flowing 😤😤😤

You pull up to the front of the mansion and park the car, a big smile on your face as you turn to Eddie. You’d set up this entire little present for him for Christmas. He’d always done nice little things like this for you, and you felt like it was time to pay him back.

“Tada!!” You squeak excitedly and he jumps a little at your enthusiasm but bends forward to look out of the car anyway.

He stares at the large house in front of him, it’s gorgeous, more gorgeous than he’s ever seen in his life. He can hardly believe a place like this even exists in your snowy home state, but it does and he’s here and what the fuck. It’s even nicer than that one couple friend’s house he always takes you to.

“H-how did” His mouth is gaping as you giddily hop from the car and shut the door, going back to the trunk.

“How the heck can you afford this”

He knows it’s rude and he knows this was a present but he has to ask. Because this is Hollywood-level living- this is Kardashian-level living.

“A certain actor friend of yours helped me pull some strings! It’s ours for two whole weeks!”

“T-two? Two weeks?” His brain is melting as you drag the large suitcase over to his side of the car and go back for the others

“Yeah! I also happened to work things out with Bobby and we agree you need this time off. And the state agrees you need time off! So you were granted the time and boy am I taking advantage of this”

You drag two suitcases over before he finally realizes “Oh I should be helping” and gets out of the car, he grabs the suitcase from your hands and sets it on the ground

“Hey don’t worry I can-“ You’re cut off by him kissing you, he holds your face in his hands, pouring all his love and adoration into the kiss and your heart melts for him.

He pulls away slowly, kissing the tip of your nose and you chase after him, pecking his lips one more time.

“I love you, we should get married”

You wave the diamond ring on your finger in his face and smirk.

“We are silly, I’m wedding dress shopping while I’m here remember? Since the rest of my friends are here”

“Without Buck?” His hands are on your waist now and you roll your eyes, your cousin would have killed you had you not worked out that minor detail

“He’ll be here, he’s gonna be staying with us for three days and then he’s heading back. Oh and Maddie!”

“Yeah that sounds like him”

You both grab a couple of the bags and then you take Eddie’s hand, pulling him toward the house

“Come on!! If you think the outside is nice?? You have to see the rest”

He drops the bags at the door the second he steps in, you let go of his hand and start dragging them out of the way as he walks in with his jaw on the floor

“Holy shit- Hooooly shit” He just keeps repeating it as he spins around slowly, it’s like a mini villa, like the ones he would see when he visited his cousins in Mexico when he was younger. He reaches back blindly and takes your hand

“Come on I wanna look around!”

He drags you around the house with childlike enthusiasm, running from room to ornate room, there’s so much more space than he thought there would be, there’s even a pool outback.

The large arched windows in the last room let in a massive amount of the sunset, warming things up and Eddie takes your hands, pulling you over to the California King Size bed

“I wanna sleep in this one” He claims it, nuzzling your nose and you giggle, slipping your arms around his neck

“Okay, seems perfect to me! You wanna keep looking around? Maybe get unpacked and go to the store?”

“That,” He turns you around slowly, and picks your hips up, setting you on the bed “Sounds so boring”

He falls on top of you and you open your legs, letting him settle in between them with a sweet smile on your face

“We won’t have dinner” You play with his hair, your tone soft and soothing

“I can think of plenty of things to eat, two in particular”

“Eddie!” You squeak and laugh when he growls and bites your neck, you shove at his chest and he pins your hands to the bed, moaning exaggeratedly as he grinds his hips into yours. Your back arches a little bit, and he wraps his arms behind you, growling in your ear and sending a wave of sexual tension through your body.

You slap his butt like bongos and he snickers into your shoulder before rolling off of you. He spreads his arms and legs, making a snow angel in the sheets and you push off the bed and flop down across him.

“Eddieeee” you wriggle on top of him and he slaps your ass, making you yelp as he squeezes it

“Alright okay okay we’re going” He whines while you crawl off of him and he gets up, smacking your ass one more time before grabbing your waist and putting you over his shoulder

“To Target!”

Not that Eddie ever could, but he truly can’t get enough of you. You’re sat together on the fluffy brown couch. Your legs are in his lap, your back against the armrest and he’s got his arms around you, snuggling into you. He peppers little kisses all over your face and you blush, cupping his cheeks and kissing him softly.

“This is really amazing Sugar Cube,” He says into your neck as you run your fingers through his hair, combing it back.

“Hey, it's what you deserve” You kiss his forehead, resting your lips against it and he pulls away, looking up at you

“What about you huh? What about what you deserve?” He runs his hand down your thigh, squeezing gently and you shrug

“Look at this place!, I think it’s just as much a vacation for you as it is for me…besides, we finally just get to spend some time alone together. After….after what happened I feel like there’s never enough time with you”

Eddie smiles sadly, thinking about what you two had gone through a couple of years ago, something that had left a scar on both of you even if you’d learned to work past it, even if the nightmares had finally stopped.

“I know what you mean… sometimes I feel that way too, but… we can’t let it rule our lives. We’re okay now Sugar Cube”

He rests his forehead against yours and your eyelids flutter closed, taking in a deep breath. His cologne fills your senses, calming you embarrassingly quickly like it always does and you smile

“I know”

You sit comfortably in his lap, listening to him hum along to the song playing through the speakers, as he kisses your neck, leaving behind a pretty necklace in his path. He takes your wrist, his fingers sliding over your pulse and you look up at him, a soft smile on your face.

“Hi”

He looks at you, studying your face, all the little things about it that he’s come to love after all of this, he understood it- Nero’s obsession, understood why he couldn’t let her go. Because looking at you now? Your eyes sparkling with life, your heartbeat strong under his fingertips, that ring on your finger…

He’d do what Nero did too.

“Can I have this dance?”

He gets out from under you, standing in front of you and listening to the beginning notes of the song playing, he does a little bow and winks at you as he reaches out.

You shake your head, getting up and taking his outstretched hand, he twirls you into his arms, your back against his chest as you move your hips with his. His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer and you reach back, cupping his face. He smirks and puts his hand over yours, kissing from your palm to your shoulder, before taking your hand and spinning you away from him again.

You look at him, a lusty fire in your eyes as you come back to him, he slowly wraps your arms around his neck before sliding his hands down over your sides and holding your waist again.

You roll your hips against him, and he shakes his head pretending to be disappointed but grinds against you anyway, letting you feel the bulge in his pants.

“That’s not how you properly bachata, you know this corazòn” he playfully scolds you, sliding his hands down to your ass as you dance together

“Uh huh, you’re getting on me? Your form is terrible. This is my dance space,” you take a step back from him and gesture “And this is your dance space”

He yanks you back toward him and you squeal as you both go down to the floor,

“When was the last time we watched Dirty Dancing anyway??” He’s laid out on the floor and you’re in a little heap with him

“Me and Buck watched it like three weeks ago”

“You watched dirty dancing without me?!?!!”

“Oh no I think I hear the alarm for the pizza oh no, oh gosh, oh no”

You try and scramble away from him and he grabs your waist, letting you drag his body with you

“Oh my god let go!”

“You’re not getting away from me that easily!!! I can’t believe you guys would do that to me! After everything you both constantly put me through!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” You finally make it to the kitchen with his arms wrapped tightly around your leg.

“Two Buckleys?! Two and you’re asking me what I mean by that”

“Technically three if you count Maddie” You peek in the oven at the pizza, rubbing your hands together evilly

“It’s Maddie, she doesn’t count. She’s like, the least annoying”

“Have you met their parents?” You snicker as you grab the oven mitts and finally shake him off, he rolls away a little so you can open the oven

“I have. Wasn’t impressed, glad you three seem to have not gotten the short end of the stick”

You take the pizza out and set it on the stovetop before turning around and looking down at him

“You ready for dinner?”

“Doesn’t it have to cool?”

You walk around, standing on his toes and reaching for his hands

“Waiting for pizza to cool is for the we-“

You scream as he yanks you down on top of him and rolls over on you, holding himself up as he attacks you with kisses. Your protests are muffled by his lips until they eventually die down when you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back.

“Oh come on Sugar Cube… I think we can make a little time for it to cool…don’t you?”

You whimper softly as he rolls his hips against yours, grinding his clothed cock into you. He reaches down to pull down your leggings and you freeze, pushing him off you and pretending to karate chop him

“Hold up, wait, wait, wait, we can’t!! I’ve got a surprise!!”

He groans as he lays on his back, letting out a long sigh

“If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure!” You get up off the floor and he rubs his hands over his face, his cock straining clearly against his sweatpants.

“Not even just the tip?” He asks sweetly and you snort, laughing and helping him up

“Not even the tip, cowboy”

You wait until after dinner to put your little plan into action. You’re lying on Eddie on the couch as you watch Dirty Dancing, it’s just getting to the part where Baby finds Penny in the kitchen when you sit up, stretching a little and pausing the movie

“Hey, What’s up?” He asks quietly, setting his hands on your hips, and you grin, feeling the warmth of them seep into your skin.

“Oh, I’m just…I’m kinda cold” You shrug and he sits up, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch

“We can cuddle more if you want, though you’re lying on me so I really don’t know how much closer we can get” He chuckles and you take the blanket, easing it from his hands.

“I had a better idea! If you’re up for it” You get off of him and step away, dropping your cozy leggings to reveal a simple red thong, Eddie’s jaw drops as he watches you take off your shirt, the matching bra has pretty white lace lining it.

“You’re like a really kinky Santa’s little helper aren’t you?”

You cackle and hold your sides, laughing at him as he gets up from the couch and walks toward you, you back up slowly, still snickering and he starts to walk faster.

“You’re making this not sexy!” You wheeze between laughs and he looks at you, his pretty brown eyes clouded with lust, a dangerous hue washing over them.

“No, I’m not. I love your laugh.” He says it…so sickly sweet it snaps you back to the way he’s walking, the slow, precise steps, his incredibly relaxed demeanor… how he’s very slowly starting to crouch down like he’s gonna pounce.

“E-Eddie?” You gulp, letting out a nervous little laugh “Whatcha doin'?”

“I’m just standing here Sugar Cube”

He is most definitely not just standing there.

“You know there’s uh- a part two right? It’s not just this?” You gesture to yourself, backing up faster and he follows right after you

“Oh?” He stalls a little and you take that as an opportunity to take a big step back

“Yup! There is absolutely most definitely a part two and if you’d just let me make it there alive, I can show you”

“By all means, lead the way” He winks at you with a flourish of his arms and you stare at him suspiciously before leading him through the house. He sheds his clothes along the way and your mouth waters at the idea of what you’re going to turn around to.

He watches you walk in front of him with a hungry gaze, biting his lip as your ass jiggles with each step… oh he could get used to this. You lead him outside, down the fancy stone stairs to the pool, it’s lit up beautifully as you walk him past it. He gets a teeny bit distracted by the fact that he’s absolutely doing laps in that pool tomorrow morning.

You walk down another set of stairs, stopping for a second to unclasp the front of your bra, you let it dangle from your finger before dropping it. You ease off the thong, holding the ends of it to bounce your cheeks for a second before letting it drop from your body.

You walk over to the in-ground hot tub that overlooks the entire valley you’re staying in and slip off your shoes before stepping into the hot water and turning toward him. Your breath is caught in your throat, you knew he was taking off his clothes of course… but now he’s standing in front of you, slipping off his shoes too and stepping into the pool. You reach over and tap a button on the side and the jets turn on, bubbling immediately around you.

You sit on the little bench and look at him, biting your lip as he comes and sits next to you.

“Skinny dipping in the hot tub huh?”

“I thought maybe we could have a little…round two, from my first time? You remember right?”

He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. You can feel the energy radiating from his body, the intense need to just take you. But he kisses you like it’s the first time like he’s still a bit shy, doesn’t know if you’re gonna reciprocate and it just about melts your heart.

“Of course I remember” He nuzzles his nose against yours and you giggle, doing it back “One of the best damn nights of my life”

Your cheeks flush a pretty pink and he pulls away a little just to stare at you, to stare at the love of his life… the woman he’s going to marry.

“Mine too,” you say quietly, not breaking the hushed tension that’s fallen over you two. It’s so thick you could cut it with a knife, and when you look into his eyes, a heavy weight settles on your chest. It’s comfortable, familiar, like he’s curling up in your soul, and he’s there to stay.

“I love you” He breathes, cupping your face with a wet hand. You smile and crawl into his lap, setting your arms on his shoulders

“You know? What a coincidence! I just happen to love you too”

“What a great turn of events we have here” He snickers and holds your waist, putting you properly in his lap so you’re straddling him. He drags his hands slowly over your curves, the hot, bubbling water causing a deep desire to settle in the pit of his stomach.

“I wonder what we’re gonna do…with all this love” He mumbles, leaning down and kissing your breasts, his moan is mumbled as he buries his face between them, his hands coming up to squeeze them on his face

“Eddie Diaz!” You squeak and he places soft kisses on them.

“Yes? Mrs. Diaz?”

He grins wickedly when he feels the way your hips stutter against his, your cheeks flushing

“Oh…oh you like that don’t you Sugar cube?” he kisses your neck, squeezing your sides and you arch your back a little

“Mrs Edmundo Diaz“ He inhales your sweet perfume, his eyes rolling back a little as his hips move against yours. His hands flow down your sides and push your ass against him, your breath hitches and he smiles, looking up at you with all the adoration in the world.

“You’ve got little hearts in your eyes” You giggle, pulling him closer to you and settling against him

“So do you” He teases, letting his head rest against the ledge of the pool while you attack his neck, sucking and biting at his sensitive skin, causing his hips to buck against yours

“Why can’t you be Mr. Y/N Buckley? Because personally, I feel like Eddie Buckley is cute” You interrogate and he hums, gasping when you bite down on the soft spot on his neck.

“Uh…I mean-“ Your tongue trails over his Adam’s apple and he groans quietly, losing his train of thought completely.

“Or maybe… we can be both” You reach down, stroking his cock and he melts into your hand, slumping further into the water

“Hm?”

Your thumb swirls over the tip as you massage his cock, watching the way his mouth falls open slowly and he jerks into your hand

“We can be Diaz-Buckley, that way you’re happy… and you know, Buck is happy”

“Please don’t mention your cousin when your hand is on my cock”

You snort into his shoulder, and he smacks your butt, squeezing your cheeks and you squeak, pushing at his hands

“Hey! Watch those paws!”

“Right, so you can jerk me off like a little tease but I can’t touch you back? Is that what we’re playing at?”

Your jaw drops open and closed as you stare at him, he smirks and you want to rip his stupid mustache off

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about”

“I think that’s enough foreplay” You yelp as he gets up, holding your waist and turning you over. He manhandles you into position, your knees spread, hands braced against the smooth walls.

He leans over you, pressing his body into yours and sliding his hand between your legs, you whimper softly as he spreads your folds, sliding his fingers against your slick clit easily. Your head falls forward and he uses his legs to push you forward a bit. Your hips roll against his cock as he nudges you forward more and you turn your head back

“Eddie what are you-“ Your spine snaps straight and he chuckles, listening to you moan sweetly as he pushes you toward one of the jets. He keeps your hips in place and you spread your legs wider letting your head fall forward again as you roll them against the water stream.

“Ohh my god” You purr and Eddie lets go of your hip, stroking his cock a couple of times. He leans forward and kisses your shoulder and you shiver, looking back at him

“Thought you said foreplay was over” You mutter and he kisses you, his tongue swirling with yours and sending you spinning

“For me, I don’t mind watching you come undone though”

“Is it because you can only last six seconds?”

“Oh haha, hehe, so funny.” He rolls his eyes, lining himself up with you and dragging his cock through your folds, hissing when he feels the jet against him

“Uh huh,” You giggle “feels so-so good doesn’t it” You pant, grinding your ass into him. He groans and squeezes your hip tighter, thrusting his cock between your legs for a second, letting the jets kiss his tip.

“Feels almost as good as you do” He moans, burying his face in your shoulder, you feel him line his cock up with your entrance and you eagerly push back, slipping the tip inside you.

“Jesus Sugar Cube” His voice cracks and your heart pounds in your ears as he pushes into you, his breath hitches and he lets out a soft whine, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. He wraps one arm around your waist and the other slides between your breasts, his long fingers wrapping around your throat.

“Gonna make love to my pretty girl” He pants in your ear as he moves his hips, thrusting slowly at first. You grab his arm, digging your nails into it as his thrusts get harder, he angles his hips deeper, kissing your cervix with every rough snap.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to your size” you pant, your head bouncing on his shoulder and he smirks, trailing his lips down your neck

“And I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving this tight little pussy” He slides his arm down your torso, rubbing your clit in circles

“Shoulda done this for your first time anyway” He bends you forward and makes you brace your hands against the wall, then lifts his leg, planting his foot on the cement seating and pushing into you deeper. You let out a high-pitched shriek as he suddenly pounds into you, his hands gripping your waist and your shoulder as he takes you.

The water is splashing all over the place, you’re sure Eddie is bruising your hip, and your knees are getting a little scraped up but you can’t bring yourself to care and neither can he. You open your legs further, bouncing your hips to meet each thrust and he growls in your ear, sending a shiver up your spine as you curl your toes

“I’m gonna cum baby” He rubs your clit faster and you moan your back arching

“Inside me, please please inside me” you beg and he grunts, his hips stalling for a second and he looks at you

“I mean… I can’t do it in the pool, that’s probably gonna like…throw off the pH balance or something…”

“Eddie Diaz!”

“I’m just saying!! I was a Cabana boy one summer as a teenager okay! I had to clean out the pool and the pool guy taught me all that”

“So what you’re saying is after we’ve fucked in this for the next two weeks you can fix it?”

“Absolutely”

“Wow, that’s actually really interesting!” You put your hand on your chin, resting your elbow on the edge of the wall and he grins

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do! You gotta tell me more….you know after you freaking cum in me and we finish the whole having sex thing”

“Oh my god I totally forgot about that”

“Yeah, I kinda thought so” You smile at him and he blushes, pulling out of you and turning you around. He sinks back into you, his breath hitching while he rubs your thighs as you wrap them around his waist.

He holds your hips, while you wrap your arms around his neck, staring into his eyes. He smiles and leans forward, nuzzling his nose against yours and kissing you softly. Your fingers thread through his short hair, tugging at the soft strands as he sets a lazy pace. He wraps one arm around your waist, making your back arch and places his other hand on the side of the pool.

“Still remember how we fucked like animals for days after your first time” He pants, rolling his hips and you moan, letting your head fall back

“Uh huh” You squeak when he starts to thrust harder, thinking about how tight and innocent you were

“You remember-“ Eddie’s voice catches as his hips speed up, sloshing the water around again. “You remember when I came home for lunch and pinned you down to the kitchen floor?”

He grins wickedly, loving that sweet little blissed-out smile on your face, loving how you always get so cock drunk on him. He pulls you closer to him, your chest bouncing against his as he attacks your neck, biting and sucking at the soft skin, leaving behind his mark.

“You remember the way you tried to crawl away from me after your third creampie and I just kept dragging your hips back?” He hisses in your ear, you feel his grip on your body get tighter, knocking the wind out of you with each intense thrust and You nod fast, because god how could you forget that day? He left you on the floor, cum spilling from your poor, abused pussy while you passed out for a much-needed nap.

It was also super funny when Eddie came home with flowers and a worried look on his face, asking if he’d gone too far, if you were okay and that he’d make it all up to you. You graciously accepted the flowers, giving him a little kiss on the cheek and reassuring him that you definitely would have made him stay if you needed him to. He still felt a little guilty… so he ate you out for hours that night, holding your hand as you climaxed over and over again.

“Can we do that again?” You moan out. You can feel that pressure almost ready to pop and you know he can too when he lets you go, making you put your hands on the cement seating and puts both hands on your hips again, slamming you down on his cock faster and faster

“Fuck I was hoping you’d ask that, You’re not gonna be able to walk this whole trip baby, gonna have my cock inside you every moment” Eddie’s fingers slide over your thigh before brushing against your clit. Your body jerks and he does it again, using his long fingers to rub your clit. Your toes curl and your back arches when he uses a third finger to grind against your clit and you let out a high-pitched scream as you come undone around him.

You meet his thrusts as you ride out your high, mewling and gasping and squirting on his cock. He groans loudly, impatiently waiting for you to start to come down before grabbing your hips with both hands again and slamming into you, you cry out his name and he cums with a loud moan.

His hips don’t stop until he’s shoved every last drop inside you. He pulls out just enough to turn you over on your hands and knees again and thrusts right back inside you, letting out little whimpering noises as he cums again. He rolls his hips, grinding them into yours as he fills you up, cursing your name softly, almost deliriously as he finally finishes.

He doesn’t pull out, instead he pulls your limp body against his chest and plops down on the bench. He slouches a little and wraps his arms tightly around you.

“You okay Corazón?” He pants softly, running his hands over your sides and you nod, still fully blissed out on his cock, especially loving the way you can feel it still inside you

“I think so”

Your voice is a little scratchy and he chuckles, kissing your throat

“I’m sorry I was so rough…you just get me so excited” He peppers little kisses over your neck and you giggle

“Trust me I know the feeling… you remember what else we did?” You play with his fingers and he lets his head fall back against the wall

“No? What?” He asks and you smirk, snuggling down into him

“I guess it’ll just have to be a surprise”

“Anybody home??” Buck enters the house, setting his bag down on the side of the door and slipping off his shoes. You’d left the front door open for him in case you and Eddie were out back in the pool or something. He’d texted before he got on the plane and when he got off, you hadn’t responded to the one where he said he was on his way to the house and he was incredibly suspicious.

He walks through the place, his mouth falling wider as he goes through each room, they’re all more beautiful than the next.

He’d been calling out but there was still no answer… okay so maybe you guys were in the pool… but this house is so huge it’s no wonder you didn’t hear him. He takes out his phone to just call you when he finally comes to the door at the end of the hall

“Where are those two freaks, I’m hungry I wanna go to lu-“

“You’re doing so good for me baby” You moan, as you run your hands over Eddie’s thighs. Your hands trail up to his chest as you thrust into him slowly. His breath hitches and he lets out a low whine when your hand wraps around his cock, jerking him off.

“Fuck Mommy” He blushes deeply, throwing his head back on the pillows

Suddenly you hear the snap of a camera and Eddie’s head shoots up.

“I FUCKING KNEW YOU WERE A LITTLE BITCH”

#words by rhys #rhys writes #911 x reader #eddie diaz #911 fox #eddie diaz x reader #911 show #911 abc #evan buckley #strawberries and cream #kinkmas 2024

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lila-lou · 3 hours ago

Text

✨High School Sweetheart - Pt 8✨

Summary: You come face-to-face with a ghost from your past—Dean Winchester. Five years after he vanished from your life without a word, and now he´s here. But neither you nor he are teenagers anymore.

-Listen to "Chance with you"-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, Fuff, Angst

Word Count: 7663

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

Eight years.

It was both a lifetime and an instant, a stretch of days and nights where you had convinced yourself to move forward, one step at a time, learning how to let go of someone who had left, without letting go of the memory. And now, with your thirtieth birthday approaching, the ache you’d buried so deeply seemed to surface with each text from your ex-fiancé—the one who, mere weeks before the wedding, had shattered every vow he had promised to make. He was asking you to forgive him, to take him back, but the messages only served to reopen wounds you thought you’d managed to close.

You spent that night, as you had so many Thursdays since Dean left, at the bar with your best friend. It had become your quiet ritual, your way of remembering a part of yourself that had stayed frozen in time. For years, there had been a sliver of hope each time you walked in, a faint, persistent thought that maybe—just maybe—he’d be there, that he’d come back. But as the years passed, the hope dulled, replaced by a kind of bittersweet acceptance that this would always be your memory alone. Dean had become like a quiet ghost in your life, someone who was woven into every moment even when he was nowhere to be found. Again.

It was as if he was a part of every breath you took, his shadow cast over every milestone. The memory of him lingered, surfacing in the moments that should have felt the most whole: on first dates that left you hollow, on the day you said yes to a man you thought you could build a life with, even in the small, fluttering joy of seeing yourself in a wedding dress. He was a thread stitched into your life, his presence felt in every quiet moment, every whispered “what if?” you couldn’t quite ignore.

Your friend watched you, her gaze soft as she took in the look in your eyes. “You know, it’s okay if he’s still there”, she said gently, her voice barely audible above the bar’s din. “Some people leave marks on us that don’t fade. Doesn’t mean you’re broken”.

You took a shaky breath, the weight of your friend’s words settling over you, pressing into places you’d tried so hard to keep safe. “But I am”, you whispered, the admission slipping out, raw and unguarded. The words surprised even you, like a truth you’d been holding back for too long, finally surfacing. “I thought I’d healed, that I’d moved on. But sometimes… sometimes it feels like I’ve just learned how to live with a broken heart”.

Your friend sighed softly, her eyes filled with a gentle empathy. She reached over, giving your hand a comforting squeeze. “Someday, your person will come along”, she said, her tone both hopeful and certain, like she was trying to will it into existence for you. “Someone who will stay. Someone who’s meant for you”.

You shook your head, a sad, wistful smile touching your lips as you looked down at the rim of your glass, tracing it with your finger. “I already met him”, you murmured, your voice barely audible over the noise of the bar, as if saying it too loudly might break something inside you all over again. “I met him, and he slipped away. Two times”.

The words felt like letting go of a truth you’d carried all these years, a truth so heavy it had woven itself into your very being. You’d tried to move forward, to build a life around the empty space he’d left, but no matter how much time passed, Dean was always there, a quiet ache in your heart, a memory you couldn’t erase.

Your friend’s eyes softened, understanding settling in as she squeezed your hand once more. “Maybe he was a chapter”, she said gently, her voice thick with empathy. “A chapter that helped shape who you are. And maybe there’s another chapter waiting for you”.

But as she spoke, you knew that some chapters never truly end, no matter how many pages you turn. Some people come into your life and leave marks that can’t be erased, no matter how hard you try.

Dean was that for you—the person who taught you love in its truest form, and in losing him, you’d learned heartbreak in the deepest way possible.

You lowered your gaze, voice barely more than a whisper. “No one will ever come close”, you murmured, each word heavy with the weight of years. Saying it out loud felt strange, almost like an admission, as if by putting it into words, you were sealing off a part of your heart forever.

Your friend’s eyes softened, her expression both understanding and sorrowful. “I wish I’d met him”, she said softly, the words carrying a weight of their own, as if meeting him might have helped her understand why he still haunted you after all this time.

You gave her a faint, bittersweet smile. “I wish you had too”. Your voice wavered, and you took a steadying breath before continuing, almost as if the words themselves needed coaxing to surface. “He… he´s just… so much. More than I thought I’d ever find in someone. He saw parts of me no one else ever did. I think a part of me thought it would always be that way. And now…”. You shook your head slightly, the pain raw, open. “It’s like every person I meet is just an echo, a shadow of what we had. And it doesn’t matter how hard I try—no one will ever fill that space”.

Your friend’s hand squeezed your arm gently, her silence full of compassion. “A love like that…”, she began, her voice low, almost reverent. “It doesn’t just disappear. It doesn’t just fade. It becomes part of who you are”.

A tear escaped, and you brushed it away quickly, feeling both embarrassed and strangely grateful to say it out loud. “Sometimes I wish I could just let him go, like I’d let go of a memory, you know? But he’s… he’s not just a memory. It’s like he’s in everything. And everyone else just… falls short”.

Your friend pulled you into a quiet hug, her arms warm and steady around you as she held you close. She didn’t say anything else—she didn’t need to. Just being there, sharing the silence, grounding you, was enough. And you stayed like that for a while, your sadness finding a place to rest, comforted by the quiet presence of someone who understood that even if Dean was gone, his love had left a mark on you that would never truly fade.

A few days later, you found yourself standing in your bookstore, running your fingers over the spines of old ghost stories and folklore collections, the comforting, worn feel of the covers grounding you. You’d blocked your ex, finally severing that last fraying thread, though pity texts from friends and family still trickled in, each one a small, bittersweet reminder of the future you’d once thought was set in stone. You tried your best to let it all go, focusing on the life you had here, in the quiet refuge of your shop.

But standing there, lost in thought, you could almost swear you smelled Dean—a faint, familiar trace of his cologne that lingered like a whisper in the air, bringing with it a flood of memories. You closed your eyes, letting yourself drift into that feeling for a moment, imagining him here beside you, as though he’d just walked through the door with that half-smile that made your heart race.

The door chime rang, and you opened your eyes, your heart skipping a beat as you glanced up, half-expecting to see him standing there. But it was just a customer, nodding politely as he browsed the shelves. You let out a quiet sigh, reminding yourself that ghosts didn’t come back—no matter how deeply they lingered in your memory.

Still, as you moved through the shop, the feeling wouldn’t leave. It was as if his presence was woven into the walls, each corner of the room holding some fragment of him, some unspoken reminder of a love you’d never fully let go. And you realized that, despite everything, Dean had become more than just a memory; he was a part of you, woven into every quiet moment and lingering thought.

As the evening drifted into night, you found yourself in your old apartment, the one place that felt like a time capsule of your life before everything began to change. You hadn’t even intended to keep it; when you’d moved in with your ex-fiancé, it had seemed redundant, an echo of a life you thought you were leaving behind. But now, with the failed engagement and a lifetime of memories wrapped up in these walls, you were grateful you’d held onto it.

The quiet hum of the city night drifted through your windows as you moved around the small kitchen, where every drawer and shelf held stories and memories you couldn’t quite part with. You’d set a pot to boil, watching the bubbles rise and fall absently, your mind drifting. Your phone buzzed on the counter, another message from a friend who’d been slated to attend the wedding, a quiet expression of sympathy. You turned the screen over, trying to ignore it, instead focusing on the simple task of making pasta. Something about this ritual—the warm scent of garlic, the gentle clinking of silverware—had a grounding quality that steadied you in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

The minutes slipped by as you filled your plate, glancing up at the clock. Five minutes left. Just five more minutes, and this birthday would be behind you. Thirty. You’d imagined this moment so differently, once upon a time, picturing yourself settled and content, surrounded by love and the promise of a future. But reality had been messier, filled with sharp corners and unexpected losses. The silence of your apartment felt especially heavy tonight, every creak and hum magnified in the stillness.

As you lifted your fork, about to take that first bite, a knock at the door cut through the quiet, startling you. You froze, fork in mid-air, your gaze fixed on the door as if it held a mystery you hadn’t yet prepared yourself to solve. It was almost midnight—an odd time for visitors—and a part of you knew you should be cautious. But despite the voice in your head reminding you to leave it alone, something else, something deep and instinctive, urged you forward.

You set the fork down, slowly rising from your chair and crossing the small space to the door. Each step felt weighted, like you were moving through water, the anticipation building as you reached for the handle. Taking a breath, you turned it, bracing yourself for whatever lay on the other side.

Dean stood outside your door, his heart pounding in a way that felt foreign, unsettling. It had been eight years—a stretch of time he had spent moving from town to town, living in motels, the Impala his one constant. But here he was, back in a place he never thought he’d see again, staring at your door like it held the answer to every question he hadn’t dared to ask himself.

It was the wedding invitation that had done it.

He’d found it a few days ago, tucked in with some other things at Bobby’s place, the only adress you had from Dean, as if fate had decided to throw one last curveball his way. He remembered the flood of emotions that hit him as he held it in his hands, reading your name alongside someone else’s. The thought of you in a white dress, a life planned with another man—it made his chest ache in a way that went beyond regret.

It was loss, pure and simple, an emptiness he hadn’t wanted to confront.

He’d spent the next few days trying to talk himself out of coming, but no matter where he went, no matter how much he tried to push it aside, the idea gnawed at him. He couldn’t bear the thought of you walking down the aisle without at least telling you… something. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say, but he knew he couldn’t let you slip away without one last goodbye. It felt selfish, maybe even foolish, but he needed to see you.

As he raised his hand to knock, every insecurity he had ever buried bubbled to the surface. He imagined you opening the door and slamming it shut in his face, telling him that his time had passed, that he was nothing more than a distant memory, a ghost of a life you’d left behind. And maybe he deserved that. He’d left, after all, made choices that took him far away from any semblance of normalcy, from any chance of a life with you.

When he finally knocked, his hand was trembling, a vulnerability he hadn’t felt in years laid bare in that one, simple action. He told himself he’d leave if you didn’t answer right away, but as he heard faint footsteps approaching from the other side, he felt rooted in place, a strange mix of hope and dread tying him there.

The door opened, and the light from your apartment spilled onto him, illuminating every unspoken feeling that had lingered between you. The moment your eyes met, a torrent of memories flooded back—nights spent in whispered conversations, the feel of your laughter filling the air, the warmth of holding you close. He could see the surprise, the shock, and then something else he couldn’t quite name in your gaze as you took him in.

Eight years had passed, and yet standing there in front of Dean, it felt like only days.

He looked older, more worn, the lines on his face deeper, like the years had left their mark in ways you couldn’t imagine. His hair was a little shorter, the familiar scruff darker, and his eyes held a weight you hadn’t seen before, a quiet burden that made your chest tighten. You could feel your heart beating faster, your throat dry, and as you held onto the door for support, your hand trembled, the gravity of the moment pressing in around you.

Dean’s gaze flickered as he took in your reaction, a slight hesitation in his movements, like he wasn’t sure if he should turn and leave or stay. His mouth opened, then closed, and finally, he forced a quiet, almost hesitant smile, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“It’s… it’s late”, he started, his voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t be here, I know that. I… I tried to talk myself out of it a dozen times”. He shifted his weight, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before he forced himself to look back up at you. “But I got the invitation. Saw your name on it… and I just—”. He paused, his voice breaking slightly. “I just wanted to wish you the best”.

The words fell heavy between you, and you could feel his heart breaking with each one, as though each syllable was a piece of him he was giving up, a part of himself he was laying bare. Dean had always been the strong one, the one who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders without a second thought. But standing here, you could see the cracks, the vulnerability he was trying so hard to hide.

Your throat tightened further, and you swallowed, struggling to find your voice. But all you could do was stare, caught between the overwhelming emotions of seeing him again and the reality of what he was saying. The thought of him simply wishing you well, like a distant memory, cut deeper than you’d anticipated.

The silence stretched between you, thick and unbearable, as Dean stood there, waiting for anything—a word, a glance, some sign that this wasn’t the end he feared it might be. But your voice was caught in your throat, the shock and surge of emotions rendering you speechless. He could see the struggle in your eyes, the unspoken words you couldn’t manage to say, but after a long moment, the light in his eyes dimmed, a look of quiet defeat settling into his face.

He cleared his throat, looking down as if to gather the last shreds of his strength. “I just… I just hope you’re happy”, he whispered, his voice breaking with an ache so deep it was almost palpable. “I hope tomorrow goes exactly the way you’ve always dreamed it would”. He hesitated, searching your face one last time as though he were trying to memorize every detail. “You deserve that life you always wanted”.

There was a bitter smile, barely a shadow of his usual smirk, but it held a vulnerability he couldn’t hide. He turned, each step toward the hall feeling like he was walking away from the last piece of himself. But as he began to leave, something inside you broke, the words finally escaping, not in sounds but in movement.

Before he could take another step, you reached out, your hand wrapping around his wrist, tugging him back to you. He turned, eyes wide, surprise mingling with a glimmer of hope that he tried so hard to bury. But you didn’t need words—you didn’t have any. Instead, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him close in a way that held everything you couldn’t say.

The hug was fierce, desperate, as though you were holding onto him to keep the last eight years from slipping away. Your fingers dug into his back, your face pressed against his shoulder, and the tears you’d held in for so long finally broke free, trailing silently down your cheeks. The scent of him—the familiar mix of leather, whiskey, and that faint, lingering cologne—wrapped around you, grounding you in a way that felt more real than anything you’d known.

Dean stood frozen for a moment, as though he couldn’t quite believe you were really there, holding him. But then his arms wrapped around you just as tightly, his chin resting on the top of your head as he closed his eyes, letting the moment sink into him. His hand traced gentle circles on your back, a silent apology, a quiet promise, and as he pulled you closer, you felt the subtle shudder of his own unspoken grief.

You clung to him as if letting go would mean losing him all over again. In his arms, every year, every quiet ache and memory, every whispered wish that you’d both buried so deeply came rushing back, filling the silence between you with the weight of all the words left unsaid. His hand ran up and down your back in a comforting, steady rhythm, grounding you as your tears soaked into his shirt.

Neither of you spoke; words would have shattered the fragile beauty of the moment, made everything feel too real, too final. The silence carried everything—an understanding that went deeper than any explanation ever could, the kind that grows only from loss and longing, from the ache of wanting someone in the spaces life wouldn’t allow.

Dean held you as if you were the last thing tethering him to this world, his own breaths uneven, his hand clutching the back of your shirt in a desperate bid to keep this moment alive. His chin rested atop your head, and you could feel him take in deep, unsteady breaths, as though he were trying to commit your scent, your warmth, to memory. You knew he was hurting just as much, and that knowledge both broke and healed you, stitching together the pieces of your heart in the quiet intimacy of his embrace.

The embrace seemed to suspend time, the two of you wrapped in a cocoon of shared grief and unsaid words, until finally, something in you snapped. You pulled back, eyes brimming with unshed tears as a new wave of anger surged up inside you—a fury at all the years lost, at the pain of him leaving, at the emptiness you’d carried for so long. Without thinking, you shoved him hard against his chest, not knowing the bruises and barely-healed ribs hidden beneath his shirt.

Dean winced, a brief flicker of pain crossing his face, but he didn’t stop you, just let you push him back, his expression open and remorseful. Your fists came down again, landing on his chest, small but relentless. More tears broke free, streaming down your face as you struck him.

Dean stood there, taking each hit, his face twisted with regret and a pain that mirrored your own. He didn’t try to defend himself, didn’t even flinch; he just held his ground, letting you release every ounce of hurt and anger that you’d bottled up over the years. Your fists slowed, the strength leaving you and finally, you stopped, your hands falling to your sides, trembling.

You looked up at him through wet lashes, your lip trembling, anger and heartbreak mingling in your gaze. The silence between you was deafening, filled with the weight of every year he’d been gone, every moment you’d thought of him, every word left unsaid. And before you could even begin to process it, he reached out, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you back tightly against his chest.

You resisted, tried to push him away, your hands pressing against him as you struggled to break free. But despite the bruises and pain he felt with every movement, Dean held you tighter, his grip unyielding, almost desperate. He seemed willing to bear the physical hurt just to keep you there, close enough that he could feel your heartbeat against his own. His touch was a plea, silent and raw, as if holding you could somehow make up for the years lost.

Finally, your strength waned, the fight slipping from you as you surrendered to the comfort of his arms. The anger softened into sorrow, and you let yourself collapse into him, your tears soaking into his shirt once more as you clung to him. The weight of every heartache and every unanswered question pressed down on you, but in his embrace, there was something almost soothing, as if he were absorbing the pain alongside you.

After a while, Dean’s voice broke the silence, a slight tremor running through it, whether from the physical pain of your head pressing against his bruised chest or the emotional weight of everything you’d both just shared. “You done?”, he mumbled softly, a hint of teasing in his tone, though it was laced with raw vulnerability. “That little tantrum of yours… you got it all out?”.

You let out a shaky breath. “Maybe”. The word came out quietly, almost sheepish, but there was a warmth beneath it.

The two of you chuckled softly, the sound barely more than a whisper but enough to lighten the air between you, if only for a moment. The laughter was fragile, shared with a sense of relief and a touch of self-awareness—an acknowledgment of the absurdity of it all, of how even now, in the midst of all this pain and longing, you could still find comfort in each other.

Dean looked down at you, his own eyes shimmering with unshed tears, his thumb brushing a gentle, reassuring line across your shoulder. “Good”, he murmured, his voice warm but still thick with emotion. “’Cause I don’t think I could take much more of that”. His hand lingered, his touch soft, grounding, as if anchoring himself in this moment with you.

You looked up at him, feeling the last remnants of anger and hurt begin to fade, replaced by a sense of peace that felt both unfamiliar and deeply needed.

As you slowly pulled back, giving him a little space, Dean instinctively brought his hand up to his chest, wincing slightly as he rubbed the spot where your fists had landed. He gave you a wry smile, muttering, “You’re still good at punching, you know that?”.

You laughed, the sound soft and light, though it carried an edge of vulnerability. “Well, you deserved it”, you replied, crossing your arms, though a small, lingering smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.

Dean’s face softened, his gaze meeting yours with a mixture of regret and quiet understanding. “Yeah… yeah, I know”. He took a slow breath, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he were grounding himself in the moment, in the reality that you were here, still standing before him despite everything.

The weight of his words hung between you, and for a few moments, there was only silence. But it wasn’t the painful silence of years past; instead, it was one of healing, of finally letting go of all the anger, all the missed chances and lost time. In that space, there was a gentle warmth, a comfort you hadn’t felt in so long.

Finally, he reached out, tentatively brushing a hand over your arm, his fingers lingering as if he were trying to reassure himself that you were real. “Thank you… for not slamming the door in my face”, he said with a hint of his old humor, though his voice held a vulnerability that made you realize how much he’d truly feared you would.

You looked at him, that familiar face etched with a little more wear, a few more scars, but still undeniably Dean. “I thought about it”, you teased softly, though your voice shook slightly with emotion. Then, more seriously, you added, “But I’m glad I didn’t”.

A smile ghosted across his lips, a rare, genuine expression that held both relief and gratitude. For the first time in years, it felt like the past didn’t weigh quite so heavily between you.

"Come in, Winchester”, you mumbled, your voice still trembling slightly, but there was a softness in it that felt like a bridge back to everything that had once been between you. Dean hesitated for just a moment, his hand slipping into his jeans pocket, a familiar gesture of nervousness. He stepped inside, his eyes sweeping over the room, and you saw a glint of something unspoken in his expression as he took in the space.

It was as if time had barely touched it. The furniture, the little trinkets you’d collected, the books lining the shelves—it all looked like he’d left it, like the ghost of his presence still lingered in every corner. He took a slow breath, letting it all sink in, his gaze lingering on the small details as though they were fragments of a memory he couldn’t quite piece together.

His eyes flickered to the table where a single plate of pasta sat next to a glass of wine, the setting as quiet and solitary as the night itself. Dean’s expression softened, a faint shadow of concern crossing his face as he turned to you, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Your… fiancée around?”.

Your heart clenched at his question, and for a moment, the weight of the years settled heavily between you. The word “fiancé” seemed to hang in the air, a reminder of the life you’d almost built with someone else, of all the ways you’d tried to move on and build a future that Dean had no part of. You took a shaky breath, meeting his eyes with a mixture of sadness and something else—a faint glimmer of hope you hadn’t dared to feel in years.

“No”, you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “There is no fiancé, Dean. Not anymore”.

Dean’s eyes widened, the surprise clear on his face as he took in what you’d said. The realization seemed to hit him slowly, the pieces coming together in his mind, and you could see the disbelief written in every line of his expression. He had spent days trying to make peace with the idea of you marrying someone else, had convinced himself that you’d found a love worth holding on to—something solid, something he thought he could never give you. But now, standing here in the quiet of your apartment, hearing those words from your lips, the shock was almost palpable.

“But… the wedding was supposed to be tomorrow”, he murmured, his voice filled with disbelief. He looked at you, searching your face, as if waiting for you to tell him this was some kind of mistake. You could see the mixture of confusion and a hint of regret in his eyes as he tried to process what you were saying.

You let out a bitter, almost humorless laugh, the sound raw and filled with the sting of betrayal. “Yeah, well… that was the plan”. You looked down, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to shield from the ache that still lingered. “But… he cheated on me”. The words felt heavy, laced with anger, but underneath it all, there was a sadness, a weariness that had become all too familiar.

Dean’s face darkened, his entire body tensing as he absorbed what you’d said. His fists clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening with a barely-contained fury. He looked away for a moment, as if trying to stop himself from exploding right there. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a growl. “He did what?”. His words came out clipped, his eyes flashing with a fierce, protective anger.

Without thinking, he took a step closer to you, one hand raking through his hair as he muttered to himself, “I swear, if I ever get my hands on that son of a—”. He cut himself off, taking a shaky breath, but you could see it in his posture, the tension rolling off him in waves, his body vibrating with the urge to protect you—even if it was too late.

He turned back to you, his gaze softening when he saw the hurt in your eyes, the heartbreak that you were trying to mask with bitterness. His hand reached out instinctively, his fingers brushing your arm, as though he needed to ground himself in you, to remind himself that you were here, safe, even if you were carrying a hurt he couldn’t erase.

At your slight flinch, Dean immediately withdrew his hand, his eyes clouding with regret as he mumbled, “I’m… sorry”. There was a gentleness in his voice that was almost heartbreaking, an awareness of the pain you were carrying, the weight of a betrayal he couldn’t fix. “You didn’t deserve something like that”, he said, his voice low, filled with a quiet determination as though he wished he could undo it for you.

You nodded absently, biting your lip, eyes tracing a path to the floor as the words tumbled out before you could stop them. “He wasn’t… you, anyway”. It was a quiet confession, barely above a whisper, but the truth of it had lingered in your heart for so long that even saying it felt like letting go of a part of yourself you’d hidden away.

Dean’s gaze softened, and for a moment, silence filled the room, thick and charged. He looked at you with something between hope and disbelief, as if he hadn’t dared to imagine you’d feel the same way after all these years. He swallowed, his hand hovering between you, unsure, before finally finding his voice.

“I… didn’t think you’d still feel like that”, he murmured, his tone raw and vulnerable. “Not after everything I put you through”. His eyes searched yours, as if looking for an answer, his own emotions barely concealed. “I thought… I thought you’d moved on”.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes, the years of unspoken words and unhealed scars between you suddenly laid bare. “I tried”, you admitted, your voice thick with emotion.

You felt yourself sink into the couch, wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling small and exposed as the weight of everything settled over you. The years, the attempts to move on, the heartbreak—it all felt raw and fresh again, leaving you questioning every decision, every feeling you’d held onto for so long. You were almost afraid to meet his eyes, worried he’d see the vulnerability you’d worked so hard to bury.

Dean moved forward, his expression softened by a mixture of tenderness and regret. He crouched down in front of you, the faintest hint of a bittersweet smile touching his lips as he reached out, tilting your chin up gently, coaxing your gaze to meet his. His thumb brushed softly along your jaw, grounding you in the moment.

“Hey”, he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, steady but filled with so much he couldn’t quite say. “Don’t… don’t do that”, Dean said softly, his thumb still tracing soothing circles on your cheek. He held your gaze, his eyes filled with an intensity that made you feel like the only person in the world. You knew he meant the way you were pulling back, withdrawing into yourself, as if building a wall around the rawness you’d just exposed.

He took a breath, a flicker of awkwardness passing over his face as he fumbled for the right words. “You know, I’m not exactly good at… well, talking about my feelings and all that”. He let out a nervous chuckle, looking down for a moment. “But I do know one thing: I hate seeing you retreat into that little bubble. I mean… I know I’m pretty great to be around, so come on. Don’t leave me hanging”. He cracked a smile, his attempt at lightening the mood endearingly clumsy.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped, and he relaxed, clearly relieved that his attempt to cheer you up had worked, even just a little. “There she is”, he said with a warmth that seemed to soften the distance between you.

"Eight years, Dean”, you mumbled, shoving him lightly against the chest, a mix of hurt and frustration in your tone. But instead of reacting with that familiar guilty expression, Dean let out a strained laugh, wincing as he clutched his side. “I swear, if you shove me one more time…”. His voice trailed off, and though he tried to sound lighthearted, there was a tightness to his words.

You froze, your mouth falling open in sudden realization. “Are you… hurt?”, you asked, your voice laced with guilt as you looked down at the spot he was holding. The thought that you’d been pushing against a bruise or something made your stomach twist.

Dean gave a half-shrug, his smile soft but his voice still a little strained. “Just… a couple of fresh stitches”, he admitted, trying to play it off as no big deal. “Came straight here from… well, let’s just say it’s been a hell of a few days”.

Your hand flew to your mouth, eyes widening as the guilt settled deep in your chest. “Oh my god, Dean, I’m so sorry”, you whispered, your face flushed with worry. “Why didn’t you say anything?”.

Dean shrugged, trying to keep that casual air despite the discomfort etched into his face. “Didn’t seem important, you know?”, he muttered, his eyes softening as he took in your reaction. “Besides, it’s not exactly the kind of thing you lead with after eight years”. He managed a lopsided grin, but you could see through it—see the pain and the exhaustion he was trying so hard to hide.

“Not important?”, you repeated, shaking your head. You took a careful step forward, your hands hovering uncertainly near his side. “Dean, you’ve been hurt, and I… I’ve just been shoving you around”.

Dean’s grin softened, the faintest hint of vulnerability breaking through as he met your gaze. “Hey, it’s alright”, he said, his voice gentle. “Besides”, he murmured, a faint smile curving his lips, “if it means I get to feel your hand on my chest again, I’ll gladly take the pain”.

You felt your heart skip, a rush of emotions filling the quiet space between you. There was a tenderness in his words that made the room feel smaller, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. He looked at you with that familiar gaze, equal parts vulnerability and strength, and for a moment, the past didn’t seem so distant. It was as if every memory, every shared laugh, and every ache lingered in the air, bringing you back to the way things used to be.

You reached up, your hand hovering just above his chest, still unsure but drawn by the need to reassure yourself that he was here, real and solid. “But I don’t want to hurt you”, you whispered, your fingers finally settling over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath.

His hand covered yours, pressing it gently against him. “You’re not”, he said, his voice thick with something unspoken. “Trust me, you’re doing the opposite”.

You let your gaze linger on him, taking in every detail—the lines that had deepened around his eyes, the slight roughness of stubble along his jaw, the way his shoulders carried both strength and weariness. It was a face that had seen too much, been through too much, but still held that familiar, rugged warmth that had once made you feel so at home.

A wry smile tugged at your lips as you lifted your hand, gently brushing it along his jaw. “You’re getting old, Winchester”, you teased, your tone dry but softened by the affection in your eyes.

Dean chuckled, a low, genuine sound that reverberated through the room. “Yeah, well, can’t all be twenty forever, can we?”. He tilted his head into your hand slightly, his expression becoming a mix of playful and tender. “But you’re one to talk”, he shot back, though his voice was laced with something gentle, something deeper. “I don’t think you’ve changed a bit”.

Your smile softened, his words sending a warmth through you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. “Guess I held up a little better than you”, you murmured, trying to keep up the playful tone, but the emotion in his eyes made it hard to joke.

He met your gaze, his hand reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a little too long. “Maybe”, he whispered, his voice barely audible, “but some things… they only get better with time”.

The words hung between you, fragile and unspoken for years. You felt yourself drawn closer to him, the space between you disappearing as every unresolved feeling, every shared memory, seemed to converge in this one quiet moment.

You let your hand fall slowly from his face, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself, a hint of something unguarded in your tone. “Any girl waiting down in the Impala?”.

Dean straightened, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he reached out his hand to you. “Nah”, he said, his tone light but his eyes warm. “Dropped her off at the motel and told her not to wait up for me”.

You could tell he was messing with you, but you just raised an eyebrow, playing along as though you were genuinely unimpressed by his antics.

Dean rolled his eyes, chuckling as he gave you a playful pinch at your waist. “I’m talking about Sammy”, he said, his grin widening. “Dropped him off at the motel. Figured he’d be asleep by now, but knowing him, he’s probably got the whole place wired with EMF detectors”.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the image of Sam trying to get comfortable in a strange motel room with his equipment surrounding him vividly clear in your mind. “Poor guy”, you said, shaking your head with a smirk. “Always the third wheel”.

Dean shrugged, still holding your hand, and his expression softened. “He’ll survive”, he murmured, his voice dipping low. “For now, it’s just you and me”.

The words hung in the air, settling warmly between you both. The playfulness faded into something deeper. His gaze held yours, unspoken questions and hopes reflected in his eyes, a softness that reminded you of all the years and all the memories that lingered just beneath the surface.

Your words came out barely above a whisper, but they hung heavy in the space between you, raw and unfiltered. “Dean, I… I can’t do this again”. Your voice cracked, the weight of every night you’d spent wondering about him, waiting, hoping he’d come back, pressing down on you. “Spending a few nights with you, having the most beautiful time of my life… just for you to disappear again. Ten years, maybe, this time? I can’t, Dean”.

The vulnerability in your voice shattered the playful air between you, the truth of your words making the moment feel achingly real. Dean’s face fell, his fingers instinctively tightening around yours as if holding you in that instant could somehow anchor you both. He looked away for a moment, his jaw tight, his own voice barely steady when he finally found the courage to speak.

“I know”, he said softly, his voice thick with the weight of his own regrets. “I know I’ve messed this up more times than I can count. And I can’t stand the thought of hurting you again… I don’t want to be the reason you’re left waiting, wondering”. His gaze returned to yours, his eyes raw and filled with a sincerity that made your heart ache. “I never wanted to leave you like that".

The tension between you seemed to thicken as Dean’s words hung in the air. He held your gaze, his expression twisted with regret, his posture tense as if ready to turn and walk away if that’s what you wanted. “Maybe… maybe I should just go”, he mumbled, voice barely steady. “You could forget I was even here”.

A bitter, humorless laugh escaped your lips, and you shook your head, grabbing your wine glass to steady yourself. “As if that would be possible”. You could feel the weight of everything you’d tried to bury—every ache, every question, every lingering memory—boiling up inside of you, but instead of lashing out, you took a calming breath, forcing yourself to keep your voice even.

“Sit down, Winchester”, you said after a long moment, nodding toward the untouched plate of pasta on the table. “At least give me the courtesy of filling me in on the last damn eight years of yours”.

Dean hesitated, glancing from you to the table and back again, before letting out a sigh. He took a step forward, shoulders relaxing just a bit, as he slipped into the seat across from you. You could see the flicker of a reluctant smile as he looked at the pasta, as though the simple sight of a home-cooked meal felt foreign yet comforting.

“Still know me well enough to know I’m always hungry”, he muttered, picking up the fork and twirling it between his fingers before finally taking a bite. A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he gave a soft, appreciative groan before rolling his eyes in a way that was both exasperated and amused. “Damn”, he muttered, gesturing at the plate. “I swear, no matter where I’ve been or what I’ve had, your cooking’s still the best”.

There was a sincerity in his voice that made your chest tighten, and despite yourself, a small smile broke through. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so close to him, as if the years had dissolved, leaving only the familiarity of shared meals and quiet conversations.

Dean’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, a bit of that old spark coming back. “So, what, you cook like this every night now?”. He smirked, a teasing glint in his gaze.

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone casual even as the weight of your words settled between you. “Not much to do with a broken heart, you know? Besides work, hitting the gym… and, well, eating”. You managed a small, wry smile, but the truth of it lingered, the quiet ache of the years you’d spent trying to piece yourself back together.

Dean’s smirk softened, the teasing light in his eyes replaced by something deeper, something that seemed to mirror your own hurt. He looked down at his plate, his fork stilled mid-air, as if he needed a moment to absorb the weight of what you’d just said. “Yeah”, he murmured, almost to himself, “I get that”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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