#i still really like the lighting for the phone here

[jhyoos]

Off Limits

chapter one : cold hearted snake

soccer player vi x talis reader

mentions : player vi, besti ekko, romance, lesbianism, modern au, college au, drama, abby tlou, ellie tlou, cheerleader reader, mention of sex, mentions of overdosing

notes: semi long chapter so get some snacks, turn your fan on and rub your feet together

edit: i ended up changing nyu to asu (arcane state university)

"Jayce… don’t piss me off," you mumbled groggily, swatting at the air as you turned away from the light creeping in through the curtains. Your brother had this awful habit of waking you up early, and this time, it was no different. You groaned as you felt the edge of his foot on your nightstand, a clear sign that he wasn’t planning to leave until you gave him the attention he craved.

"Please, sis. Just tell me if they go good with my outfit. It's my junior year. I gotta look fresh," Jayce said, his voice high-pitched and over-the-top, just the way it always was when he was seeking validation.

You blinked open one eye, then the other, squinting up at him. The sight of his goofy grin—complete with his messy hair—did nothing to help the headache that was already forming. He was holding a pair of sneakers in one hand, his new must-have shoes for the school year.

You rubbed your eyes and sighed, giving him the most unimpressed look you could muster. "Yeah, Jayce. You look good," you said flatly, trying to roll over and go back to sleep.

But Jayce, of course, wasn’t done. He let out an exaggerated sigh and plopped down on the edge of your bed, his body taking up far too much space. "Don’t go back to sleep, c’mon! It’s your first day here at ASU. You gotta make a statement," he said, wiggling his eyebrows, clearly proud of his well-meaning, annoying attempt to motivate you.

You cracked open an eye again, giving him a deadpan stare. "I don’t want to hear it, Jayce. You’re lucky I’m even awake right now."

Jayce chuckled, nudging you lightly with his foot. "Get up, you lazy bum. I need to know if this shirt works with my new kicks or not. It’s important!"

You sighed, sitting up slowly, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Looking at him—his eager face, his ridiculous outfit—wasn’t helping your mood. You glanced at his sneakers, then his shirt, then his whole vibe. Jayce looked like he was trying way too hard to impress everyone on his first day back. He had his typical “I’m cool” swagger on display, and you weren’t sure if you should laugh or just roll your eyes harder.

"Yeah, Jayce. You look good," you muttered, not really caring but knowing that was the answer he wanted to hear.

Jayce leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, all dramatic as he asked, "Really? I mean, really? You sure about that? ‘Cause I need you to be my fashion consultant today."

You shook your head, not even bothering to reply to his antics. You were too tired for this. But he wasn’t backing down. He was, after all, Jayce—a master at annoying people to no end.

"Don’t make me get Mom on the phone, you know she’s got the best opinions," he teased, but you could hear the hint of excitement in his voice. He wasn’t just annoying you for attention; he genuinely seemed to need your approval.

You shot him a glare. "If you don’t stop, I’ll tell Mom you’ve been wearing the same pair of socks for two days."

Jayce’s grin faltered, just for a second, before he playfully shoved your shoulder. "Low blow, sis. Low blow."

Finally, you could hear him sigh in defeat. "Fine. I’m leaving, I’m leaving. Get up, though! Or I swear, I’ll drag you out of bed myself."

You stared at him as he got up and headed toward the door, but not without another remark. "Oh, and don't even think about that raggedy bus today. We’re taking my car. And you're making a statement whether you like it or not."

The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, there was silence—glorious silence.

You glanced at the time on your phone. 5:47 AM. With a groan, you threw the covers off and rolled out of bed.

The thought of the first day at ASU made your stomach churn with nerves, but you couldn't show it. Not after all the teasing and endless talk of “making a statement” from your brother. You needed to at least pretend like you had it all together. So, with a loud sigh, you shuffled into the bathroom for a shower, hoping the cold water would wake you up enough to deal with the day ahead.

As you stood under the stream of water, you tried to clear your head. You'd never been one for drama, but here you were, starting college at one of the most prestigious schools in the country. It was supposed to be exciting. New people, new opportunities, new everything. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into something much bigger than you were ready for.

Still, there was no turning back now.

You had spent your freshman and sophomore years in Italy, a place you quickly grew to love. It was a dream come true—walking cobblestone streets, sipping espresso in tiny cafes, and studying architecture and art history in a country that felt alive with culture and tradition. At first, you were nervous about being so far from home, but Italy embraced you with open arms, and soon, it felt more like home than your actual home ever had.

The plan had been simple: you would study abroad, and Jayce would come with you. Your mom had made it clear that he had the option to join you. “Think about it,” your mom had said, “two years of sibling bonding while experiencing a whole new world.” But, of course, Jayce had shrugged it off.

"Pass," he'd said without hesitation. "All my friends are here. Plus, who's gonna keep the soccer team alive without me?"

You’d rolled your eyes when he said it, but deep down, his refusal stung. He didn’t even consider it. And as much as you hated to admit it, part of you had wanted him there. Sure, he was annoying and constantly in your space, but he was also your big brother—the one who always knew how to make you laugh when you were stressed, the one who looked out for you when no one else did. Without him, you felt a little more alone than you were ready to admit.

But Italy had been a journey all its own. You’d found your rhythm there, made lifelong friends, and grown in ways you never expected. You learned to navigate bustling markets in Florence, spent lazy afternoons sketching by the canals in Venice, and even picked up enough Italian to argue with locals over gelato flavors. It wasn’t just a study abroad experience; it was a transformation.

Then, two years flew by faster than you thought they would. And just like that, it was time to say goodbye to everything you’d built in Italy. The narrow alleyways you knew like the back of your hand, the corner cafe where the barista always greeted you with a warm "Ciao, bella," and the friends who had become family. It wasn’t easy leaving it all behind, but the opportunity to finish your degree at home on a full-ride scholarship was too good to pass up.

There was one silver lining to returning home: Ekko. Your best friend since middle school. He’d been the one constant in your life before you left for Italy, and as much as you loved your new friends abroad, no one quite compared to Ekko. He was like a brother to you, but cooler than Jayce ever could be—not that you’d ever tell Jayce that to his face.

Ekko was in ASU with a full ride scholarship majoring in Engineering, balancing school with being on the soccer team alongside Jayce. The two of them had always been close, despite being complete opposites. Jayce was loud, confident, and always seeking the spotlight, while Ekko was more laid-back and analytical, content to let his skills speak for themselves. The idea of seeing them again—especially Ekko—was one of the few things keeping you grounded as you prepared to face New York after two years away.

After your last class wrapped up, you decided to head over to the campus coffee shop to grab something to eat. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods hit you as soon as you walked in. You ordered an iced coffee and a bagel sandwich before making your way outside, where small tables with umbrellas dotted the courtyard.

Finding an empty table near the edge of the patio, you set your things down and took a seat. The campus buzzed around you as students chatted or hurried to their next destination. Sipping your coffee, you opened your book and began reading while occasionally taking bites of your sandwich.

As you lost yourself in the story, two hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders, making you jolt and nearly drop your sandwich. Your head whipped around, your heart racing, only to be met with a familiar face—Ekko.

“Holy—Ekko!” you exclaimed, standing up with a wide grin.

He laughed, his grin just as big as yours. “Surprise!”

Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I missed you so much,” you said, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Missed you too,” Ekko said, his arms wrapping around you firmly. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he took a good look at you.

You twirled around dramatically, giving him a full view of your outfit. His brows shot up in surprise as he took it all in. “Damn… Italy changed you in more ways than one. What happened to my (Y/N) who wore oversized hoodies and partied like a rockstar every other weekend?”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “She’s dead, but I still love a good party,” you quipped.

Ekko leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed and a playful smirk on his face. “There’s gonna be a first-day bonfire tonight. Good music, new faces, and…” he paused for effect, “…Caitlyn Kiramman, the cheer captain, might be there. You could ask her about whether there’s a chance you’re on the team since you submitted that video for tryouts.”

Your face lit up with excitement. “You always come in clutch,” you said with a grin. “Only if you’re taking me, though.”

Ekko shook his head, his smirk turning into a sheepish grin. “Can’t. I’ve got a date for the bonfire.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Aw, really? Who’s the lucky girl?”

“A girl named Jinx. She’s in most of my classes. Thought she was cute, so I asked her out,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “She surprisingly said yes.”

“Surprisingly?” you teased, folding your arms and leaning toward him. “Please, Ekko, you’ve got more game than you think. Good for you, seriously.”

He chuckled, his cheeks dusted with a hint of pink. “Thanks, I guess. What about you? Got your eye on any girls here yet?”

You grinned mischievously, your voice dripping with confidence. “Always.”

Ekko leaned in slightly, his eyebrows raised. “Oh, really?” he asked teasingly.

“Yup. Vi,” you said with no hesitation. “She’s really hot—pink hair, tattoos on her back. God, I would love to take a ride on h—”

“Oh, fuck no,” Ekko interrupted, his voice sharp as his expression shifted to something between disbelief and warning.

You blinked, startled by his sudden tone. “What?!”

Ekko groaned, running a hand down his face. “She’s a player, (Y/N). I should know. She’s on the soccer team with Jayce. Don’t mess with her—you’ll get hurt. Real shit.”

You frowned, confused by his sudden seriousness. “What are you talking about? She seemed fine when I talked to her earlier.”

He pushed off the wall and crossed his arms again, his expression dark. “I’ve seen it happen. She’s got game, yeah, but not the kind you want. I don’t like the way she moves. I used to hang out with her, but I stopped for a reason. The only time I’m even around her is when Jayce is.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Okay, but maybe she’s different now.”

Ekko narrowed his eyes at you, unimpressed. “Look, I’m just saying—don’t let her mess with your head, (Y/N). You’re better than that. Just…be careful, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, though a small part of you appreciated his concern. “Fine, Dad.”

When you got home, Ekko’s warning was the last thing on your mind. Vi was texting you, and there was no way you were going to ignore her. She was too hot not to respond to. Balancing your bag on your shoulder and your coffee cup in one hand, you pushed the door shut with your foot. As soon as the door clicked behind you, you checked your phone again, a grin spreading across your face as you read her latest message.

Heading upstairs, you scrolled through the playful back-and-forth between you and Vi, feeling giddy. The attention she was giving you was addictive. You were so lost in the conversation that you didn’t notice Jayce stepping out of the bathroom until you nearly bumped into him.

He stood there with a towel slung around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the stupid grin on your face. “The fuck are you smiling about, dopey?” he teased, crossing his arms over his chest. “You look a little too gay right now.”

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him. “Ha, ha, hilarious,” you muttered, holding your phone a little closer as you tried to move toward your room.

But Jayce wasn’t going to let it go. He reached over and snatched the phone right out of your hand.

“Jayce! What the fuck!” you yelped, spinning around and reaching for it.

Jayce held it out of your reach, laughing as he glanced at the screen. But his laughter quickly died when he saw the name at the top of the conversation. His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You’re fucking around with Vi?” he asked, his tone dripping with judgment.

“It’s the first day, so not yet, clearly,” you snapped, grabbing your phone back with an irritated glare.

Before you could retreat to your room, Jayce stepped in front of you, blocking your path. His expression shifted to something more serious, almost protective. “Whatever you’re doing with her, stop. She’s a close friend of mine, and she gets around, (Y/N). It’ll be awkward as hell, and on top of that, I’m not trying to get embarrassed by you.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him. “Whatever,” you muttered dismissively, though his words stung.

Jayce didn’t move from where he stood, following you with his eyes as you turned toward the stairs. “Hey, wait. Are you going to the bonfire tonight?”

You stopped and turned to face him. “Yeah, Ekko has a date, so I need a ride. Can you take me? Mom and Dad still haven’t gotten me a car yet, so I’m stuck.”

Jayce shook his head immediately, folding his arms again. “Oh, you’re not going. No way. Vi’s gonna be there, and that’s officially off fucking limits.”

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “What? What the fuck, Jayce! I can’t even go socialize?”

Jayce gave you a hard look. “You’re not going to socialize, (Y/N). I know how you are when it comes to alcohol and…other shit. Or do I need to call Mom and tell her you need to go back to Italy after I let you relapse?”

His words hit you like a slap. Your stomach dropped as anger flared in your chest, and your eyes burned with unshed tears. “Fuck you, Jayce,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of rage and hurt. “What a low blow.”

You yanked your arm out of his grip and stormed up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door shut behind you. You locked it for good measure, leaning against it as hot tears began to roll down your cheeks.

Outside the door, Jayce’s voice softened, guilt creeping into his tone. “Wait, sis… I didn’t mean it seriously,” he said, knocking lightly.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t even look at him right now.

When it became clear you weren’t going to answer, Jayce sighed. “Let me know if you want anything to eat when I get back,” he said quietly before walking away. The sound of his footsteps faded down the hall, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

While you sat on your bed, still upset over the argument with Jayce, your phone buzzed. You glanced at it, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was a text from Vi.

Vi: Are you coming to the bonfire party? I wanna see you.

You hesitated for a moment before typing back.

You: Can’t. My brother’s not letting me go. And I don’t have a car. He was my only ride.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Vi: Well, I have a car. Give me your location and get ready. I’ll pick you up, beautiful.

A grin spread across your face despite everything, and you quickly sent her your location. Tossing your phone onto the bed, you sprang up and went straight to your closet. You scanned your options until you finally settled on a black fitted mini-dress paired with, a denim jacket draped off your shoulders, and chunky black boots. The look was edgy yet flirty—perfect for a night out.

You glanced in the mirror and realized your makeup was a mess from crying. Grabbing a makeup wipe, you cleaned up the smudges, reapplying your eyeliner and lipstick carefully. After smoothing out your hair and giving yourself one last look-over, your phone buzzed again.

“I’m parked outside the complex,” the text read.

“Shit,” you muttered, scrambling to find a cute bag. You tossed your phone, keys, wallet, and lip gloss inside, then rushed out the door.

As you left your apartment complex, you gave the doorman a quick wave. “Goodnight!” you called, like always.

“Have fun!” he replied with a knowing smile.

Outside, a sleek car idled by the curb. You spotted Vi leaning against the driver’s side, her pink hair glowing under the streetlights. She grinned when she saw you, and as soon as you slid into the passenger seat, she leaned over and kissed you.

You froze for a second, caught off guard, but then you melted into the kiss, returning it shyly. When she pulled back, her smirk was devilish.

“Nice place you live at,” she said, glancing at the complex as she started driving. “A friend of mine stays in one of these apartments. You must have a lot of money to live here.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Vi gave you a quick side glance, her smile softening. “Well, good for me. I like spoiled girls,” she teased.

As soon as you and Vi stepped onto the sandy beach where the bonfire party was in full swing, she casually draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. The heat of the fire reflected in her smirk as she held you there like she had no care in the world.

Immediately, you pulled away, glancing around to make sure no one—especially your brother—had noticed. “Stop,” you hissed, swatting at her arm. “You’re going to blow my cover. I’m not even supposed to be here, remember?”

Vi chuckled, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her ripped jeans, clearly enjoying your paranoia. “Fine, fine,” she relented. “But text me when you’re ready to leave.”

“Where are you going?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m gonna go find Jayce and keep him occupied,” she said with a smirk, already scanning the crowd. “Don’t worry, princess. I got you.”

“Cool,” you said with a nod before slipping away from her, weaving through the bodies of drunken students and the glow of the bonfire’s flickering flames.

Your eyes darted across the party until they landed on Ekko. He was in the middle of a crowd, dancing with a girl who had strikingly light blue hair, her movements wild and carefree as they swayed to the music.

“Hey, Ekko!” you called out over the sound of the music.

Ekko turned his head at the sound of your voice, a grin forming when he spotted you pushing through the crowd toward him. “(Y/N)!” He gestured for you to come closer. “This is Jinx. Jinx, this is (Y/N), my best friend since middle school.”

You smiled, sticking out a hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Instead of shaking your hand, Jinx’s face lit up, and she immediately pulled you into a tight hug. “Sorry, but I’m a hugger, girl,” she said, squeezing you before letting go. “And middle school? That’s so adorable!”

You chuckled. “Yep. We used to do chemistry projects together in high school and blow shit up. My parents had to pay millions.”

Ekko laughed, shaking his head. “Yup, we were menaces,” he agreed, nudging you playfully.

Jinx grinned, eyes flickering between the two of you. “I like you already.”

The party was loud, the music pulsing through the air as laughter and shouts filled the night. You were mid-conversation with Jinx when suddenly, a random frat guy shoved an opened Cayman Jack into your hands. The condensation from the bottle chilled your skin as you instinctively curled your fingers around it.

“Chug, pretty thang,” he slurred, grinning like he had just offered you the holy grail.

“Oh, um… no, it’s okay. I’m taking a break from drinking,” you said, trying to hand it back to him.

Instead of taking the rejection, he popped the cap off with his thumb and shoved it back toward you, his eyes wild with excitement. “Chug!” he chanted.

At first, it was just him, but soon, others joined in, the word picking up like a wave, echoing louder and louder around you. "Chug! Chug! Chug!"

Ekko shot you a worried look, his lips parting as if he was about to intervene, but before he could, the pressure of a dozen eyes on you—waiting, watching, expecting—became too much. Without thinking, you tilted your head back and downed the entire drink, the carbonation burning your throat, the alcohol hitting your stomach like a rock.

“There, happy?” you said, shoving the now-empty can into the frat guy’s chest.

He let out a cheer, eyes gleaming with drunken satisfaction. Then, in a final act of bravado, he crushed the can against his forehead with a loud crack and stumbled off into the crowd.

Ekko’s hand was on your shoulder in an instant, his grip firm but gentle. “Fuck…” you muttered, your stomach twisting. Your fingers trembled slightly, your body already remembering the ghosts of your past. “I haven’t had a drink since I…”

Ekko rubbed your shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll get you some water.” His voice was calm, but you saw the worry in his eyes. He turned to Jinx. “Watch her for me?”

Jinx gave a quick nod, her face uncharacteristically serious.

Ekko disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there with the taste of alcohol still lingering on your tongue.

“What’s wrong?” Jinx asked, tilting her head.

“I—I just…” Your voice faltered.

Before you could finish, a voice sliced through the noise, sharp and furious.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Your stomach dropped. You turned to see Jayce standing a few feet away, his face twisted with anger, his fists clenched at his sides.

“I’m just hanging out, Jayce,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

Jayce scoffed, stepping closer. “(Y/N), I can smell the alcohol on your breath.” His eyes darkened, his voice tight with frustration. “Shit, dude—not even a whole two weeks and you’re already relapsing?”

Your throat tightened. “I’m not relapsing. I was just pressured into taking a drink by those stupid frat boys,” you argued.

“Bullshit,” Jayce snapped.

Ekko returned just in time, a bottle of water in his hand, but he barely had time to process what was happening before Jayce was right in your face again.

You barely heard him, your mind spiraling as the weight of his words sank in.

Yes, you were an addict in high school.

After your dad’s death, you took it harder than anyone else in your family. You fell in with the wrong people, numbing the pain however you could. The night you overdosed, you had been left in an alley, a needle in your arm, your body convulsing, vomiting, barely clinging to life.

Your mother couldn’t handle it anymore.

Instead of sending you to rehab, she sent you to Italy—far away, somewhere new, somewhere she hoped you could start over. And you did. You got therapy. You worked on yourself. You fixed yourself.

But now, standing here with Jayce looking at you like you were a failure, it felt like all that progress meant nothing.

His next words shattered whatever was left of your resolve.

“Go home,” he said coldly. “I don’t care how you get home—just go.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your vision blurring with tears.

Ekko’s hand found yours, squeezing it gently. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

Jinx nodded, stepping closer. “Yeah, I’ll come too.”

You swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in your throat. “Thanks. Just—let me say goodbye to someone first.”

Ekko nodded. “Cool. We’ll wait by the car.”

He took Jinx’s hand, leading her toward the parking lot, leaving you alone in the middle of the party, feeling like the ground beneath you was slowly cracking apart.

You pushed through the crowd, weaving between sweaty, drunken bodies, the pulse of the music thrumming in your ears. The fire in the middle of the yard crackled, casting flickering orange light over the partygoers gathered around it. Your breath was shallow as you scanned the area, searching for Vi.

And then you saw her.

She was standing by the fire, her red hair illuminated by the flames, her toned arms flexing slightly as she laughed at something. But she wasn’t alone.

A girl with long blue hair stood close—too close. She traced her fingers up and down Vi’s arm, her nails dragging over the inked skin like she had every right to touch her. Vi smirked, that signature, cocky grin that made your heart race earlier in the night. But now, it only made your stomach twist.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, Vi grabbed the girl by the waist and pulled her in. Their lips crashed together in a deep, messy kiss—not just a casual peck, not like the ones you and Vi had shared. This was something more. Their bodies were flush, Vi’s hands gripping the girl’s hips, their mouths moving like they’d done this before.

You felt a lump in your throat, but not because you were heartbroken. No, this wasn’t heartbreak. It was disappointment.

Because everyone was right.

Vi was a player. A flirt. She wasn’t the kind of girl to settle down—not even for you.

Without a second thought, you turned away, pushing through the crowd with more force this time, ignoring the people who grumbled or stumbled in your wake. Vi didn’t even see you.

By the time you reached the car, Ekko and Jinx were already waiting.

“You good?” Ekko asked as you slid into the backseat.

You didn’t answer. You just stared out the window, watching as buildings and trees blurred past. The streetlights flickered across your face, casting shadows that stretched and disappeared.

You didn’t cry.

You didn’t even feel angry.

You just felt disgusted.

For the first time in two years, that familiar, suffocating feeling crept back in—the one that made your skin crawl, the one that made you want to disappear.

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[myjklei]

"You had a bad day, and your boyfriend did his best to cheer you up."

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Genre: Established relationship

Warnings: Cigarettes, she burns him with the cig once, vaginal fingering, hair pulling(m!receiving), nipple sucking(f!receiving), riding, choking and face slapping(m!receiving), unprotected sex but they are clean and in birth control!!! He cums inside her. Cuddlesss :(

Wordcount: 2,7k

a/n: That's one of my favorite lives of him, and he cheered me up that day when i was feeling terrible, so why not?

You close the door of your apartment, take off your shoes and coat and leave them lying around, then go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Your boyfriend is sitting on the sofa with his cell phone in his hand, following you with his eyes.

"Hey my love, you arrived late, I was already going to call you. How was your day?"

You sip your water and set the glass down on the counter, letting out a tired sigh. He turns off his cell phone, puts it on the coffee table, and then walks over to you.

"Want to talk about it?" he asks, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"Nothing much happened... just a couple of coworkers who made the atmosphere in the company bad and delayed everyone's work, that's why I arrived much later than normal, also I didn't wake up in the best of moods this morning."

He gives you a worried look, and you give him a small smile.

"I'm fine, my dear, really. I'm just really tired, and my whole body aches. But I'm going to take a long cold shower and come back to you brand new."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, my love, I am"

"Then go take your bath, relax, I'll wait for you"

He's incredibly beautiful in your eyes right now. He's wearing a basic black shirt with sweatpants and wearing his prescription glasses, smelling like a freshly-taken bath. You gave him another smile and a kiss, then headed to the bathroom. You spend a significant amount of time in there, as you said you were going to take a long shower, you really needed it.

You do your skincare, put on a pair of boxer panties and a shirt, which happens to be Jungkook's, and when you get to the living room, you're confronted with a scene that warmed your heart. He turned off all the main lights, leaving only the lamp next to the sofa on, prepared some snacks and beer, and there's music playing on the TV. All this as a plan to take your mind off anything that wasn't him. And that worked perfectly.

"Oh hey darling, feeling better?" He looks at you opening a beer.

"Yes, thank you... what's all this?"

"You were tired, so I thought i could cheer you up. Here are the snacks you like, I've turned on the TV and... Is the lighting okay for you?" He stares at you in a child standing position, and you let out a hearty laugh.

"It's perfect, my love."

"Come over here," now sitting on the sofa, he taps the empty spot on the sofa next to him, "sit here with me."

You go over and pick up the other open beer on the coffee table and sit down next to him. "You didn't need to prepare all that stuff for me Ggukie"

"Of course I did, you've had a bad day, I can't stand seeing you like this. If I could I'd have all your bad days for you."

"You're so sweet"

He smiles and looks down, sniffing the mouth of the bottle. "Is the playlist good? Or do you want me to change it?"

The playlist that's playing on the TV was created by the two of you, with the name Nights together ♡ and it was made especially for moments like this, or for when the two of you couldn't sleep and ended up staying up all night chatting and making out until you got tired.

"No you don't have to, it's good"

"Hmmm... but what about your coworkers?"

"Oh, they're husband and wife, at least they used to be. The wife caught her husband with someone else, someone else who works with them, the other woman almost had her hair pulled out"

"A couple who work together in the same job? And the guy still does this, basically to his wife's face?"

You nod, taking a sip of your beer.

"The atmosphere there got awful, the wife started crying and everyone took her in, I just hid in my computer and carried on working, I am less late than the rest of the people, but still, I was supposed to finish everything today."

“You were smart” he puts his mouth on the bottle.

“I still came off as the heartless one, and I'm not even close to her, even I've been a cuckold and I didn't suffer like that” Jungkook laughs and holds back from spitting out the sip of beer he was about to swallow. “You can laugh. She was yelling... Why did he do that to me? I got him this job! How ungrateful!” You imitate the wife. “And everyone was smooching her, comforting her, I can't stand it. She treated him so badly every day, he couldn't do anything wrong and she'd yell at him, that he was worthless, that she didn't know what she was thinking when she married him.” You eat some of the snacks.

“Maybe that's why he cheated on her”

“That's what I thought, but as I said, I'm not close to her, he could be a scumbag at home.”

“I'd never cheat on you, you know?” You giggle shyly and look down at the bottle in your hand, ”I mean it.”

You look up again and find him staring at you with his eyes shining.

“I missed you today”

“Just today?”

“Every day” his smile appears.

“Do you want to watch a movie while we cuddle?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing”

“Do I choose or do you choose?”

And there you are, late at night, watching your second movie. You're lying on his bare chest, and he's stroking your hair, you're paying more attention to the sound of his heart beating than to the movie, which is pretty boring by the way, but you don't care as long as Jungkook is with you. The door to the balcony is half open, and the chill air from outside comes in softly and spreads through the room with the smoke coming from the ashtray on the coffee table. Jungkook takes the cigarette from his fingers to his mouth, and you look closely at his arm, the veins popping out, pale skin, waiting to be marked. He blows out the smoke.

“This movie is so predictable”

“Huh?”

“Everyone knows that when he walks in there the door will close behind him” he offers you the cigarette, and you accept it looking at the screen, ”I told you, they don't make good horror movies anymore, they're all copies of each other”

You blow the smoke out of your mouth and sniff it back in through your nose, looking at him while he still insists on watching the movie. His glasses disappeared along with his shirt when the first movie ended, his hair is slicked back, he's lightly biting the piercing in the corner of his mouth and you have a perfect view of his neck. You snap out of your trance when you feel the cigarette starting to burn your fingers, and you reach out to put it out in the ashtray, but now all you can think about is the hand he has placed on your waist to prevent you from falling off the sofa.

“The idiot still tries to talk to the entity. These characters are so easy to kill”

You kiss his sternum trying to get his attention, “what a bad movie, I don't think I know how to choose movies anymore”.

“You say it's bad, but you can't take your eyes off the screen”

He looks at you, “I'm sorry, baby, I wanted to see how far the bullshit would go”

“Why don't we do something more interesting?” he puts his arm behind his head, using it as a support to see you better.

“Something on your mind?”

You stretch again, but this time, to get a new cigarette straight from the box, you also pick up the heater and sit on the lap of the dark-haired man below you. You light the cigarette, take a drag, and blow it in his face, who closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens his eyes, you turn the tip of the cigarette in his direction, and he gets the message, leaning on his arms to sit on the sofa and get face to face with you.

You put the cigarette in his mouth, and he puts his hands on your waist, helping you to get comfortable on his lap. He looks away as the smoke comes out of his mouth. The cigarette goes back in your mouth, and Jungkook is already looking at you with big eyes again.

“Blow in my face again... please”

You do what he asks, and you feel him shudder and squeeze your waist, “I don't even think about the movie anymore”.

A smirk comes over your face, and you run your hand through his hair, “You've been so nice today, organizing everything to spend time with me, helping me relax... I want to thank you for that”

He wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin between your breasts.

“My bunny... I've been keeping an eye on you since I got home"

“You can take your frustration out on me whenever you want”

“Would you do that for me?”

“Anything for you”

“Even if it means I'm going to be mean?” You wrap your fingers in his hair and pull it back slowly.

“Yes... I can be your personal punching bag if you please”

“Are you sure?” You say as you stub out your cigarette on his arm, staring into his eyes.

“Yes I am” he keeps his gaze glued to yours, tightening his arms around you. You drop the cigarette on the floor and attack his mouth.

He moves his hands up to your shoulders and back down to your waist. You rub yourself against him, looking for some kind of friction, and he pulls your waist closer in an attempt to do the same action.

“Lean your back against the sofa, it'll be better” you stand up, leaving his lap missing you, and he does what you said, being able to get a better view of you taking off your panties.

“Close your mouth, or you'll drool,” you say, smiling and getting back on top of him, ”I'll leave the shirt for you since it's yours.”

He laughs, you raise your arms, and he removes his shirt from your body, which he does with pleasure, then kisses his way down your neck.

“I've wanted to do that for a while”

“Then why didn't you do it before? You preferred to waste your time with that awful movie”

“I'm sorry, punish me for that” he says into your ear

You laugh, “you naughty boy”

He brings one of his hands down to your pussy, and runs his middle and ring fingers over it, “you're so wet”

“I've been wet since you took your shirt off, like an hour ago”

“Can I put them in?”

“Have at it, before I do it myself”

He puts his fingers inside you, looking at you as you close your eyes and arch your back. “You're so beautiful” you squeeze his shoulders, leaving your fingernails almost bruising him.

“Curl them” you ignore his compliment and give the order, he moves his fingers with ease, offering his thumb on your clit as a treat.

He puts his mouth on one of your breasts and licks his way to the nipple without taking his eyes off you. You pull his hair and call his name as he sucks your nipple and curls his fingers again. His other hand is on your waist, squeezing lightly. “I can't take my eyes off you, my sweetheart"

You growl and throw your head back, not giving a damn about the pain you're causing him by scratching his back like a wild animal, because that's how he makes you feel and that's how he asked to be treated.

He licks you from your nipple to your neck and nibbles on your earlobe, causing you to shiver.

“Jungkook stop.”

He pulls his fingers out of you, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I just don't want to cum on your fingers, I want to cum on your cock” he sighs shakily, ”pull down your pants”

He lowers his sweatpants along with his underpants as much as this position allows him, and you put one of your hands on each of his shoulders, fitting your entrance to his tip.

You both moan in unison, feeling your bodies fit together perfectly, and you lower your hands from his shoulders to his chest. You move at a faster pace, and he grabs your ass, leaning his head against the back of the sofa. He lets out a whimper that was supposed to be your name.

“Look at me,” you order, squeezing his neck.

Your bouncing gets harder, his hands roam desperately over your body in a clumsy way, tears start to form in his eyes, and he coughs, obediently waiting for you to release his neck.

“Hit me”

“What?”

“Hit me, my love, please”

You stop pressing your hand to his neck without taking it away. He takes a deep breath, and you slam your hand on his cheek, marking your territory.

“You're so beautiful,” you slap him again. “I love you,” another slap. “My goddess,” and another slap. “I'd never cheat on you. You can treat me like shit every day, but I'll still love you and worship you, I'll do anything for you. You're my muse. I need you."

Your head is spinning, the cold wind coming from the balcony is chilling you, his mouth is seeking yours, and you connect them by wrapping your arms around his neck. You would be trapped for hours, days, even years in this moment, in what he, only he, causes you. In the way he, only he, loves you.

“Fuck, baby, I'm close”

“Let go, my love, I'll be here to hold you”

His words were like a trigger for your high to come. You scream his name and tremble around him. He kisses your neck in a sloppy way. Now he's moving his own waist, hunting his own orgasm.

“Baby, I'm sensitive, baby”

“I'm almost there, baby. Just hold on a little longer, please. I know I asked you to be mean, but don't do this to me.” You laugh and kiss him, moving your waist again.

He squeezes your waist and whines into your mouth.

“Love?” he breaks the kiss and looks deep into your eyes.

“It's okay, go on, I want you to,” you stroke the hair on the back of his neck.

And he allows himself to, sinking his head into the crook of your neck, hugging you as if someone wants to steal you away from him. The two of you hug in silence, and you can hear his breathing and his heart beating again, the TV already showing the typical Are you still watching? line.

He looks at you, with his hair messed up, his mouth red and wet from kissing, and droopy eyes.

"I love you so much. If you left me, it would break me, I don't know how I could live without you by my side. You're my life."

"I'll never leave you."

"I know, I know." You caress his face, and he closes his eyes, seeking your touch like a magnet. You lean his head against you and hug him like a child in need of comfort.

"I love you so much, my bunny"

"I love you... I love you..."

"Thank you."

He looks at you again, "Thank you for today. You were very sweet for doing all this"

"Baby, you deserve so much more than this. This was a little treat. You deserve the world, and I feel guilty for not being able to give it to you"

You kiss him passionately and lean your forehead against his, "You're already my world, my love." He smiles with his eyes closed, and your breaths synchronize.

"Baby, I love that we're cuddling like this, but I really need to get cleaned up"

"I know, me too, take a shower with me, and then we'll watch another movie, or play a game, before bed"

"I'd love to."

"But if it's a movie, it has to be a good one," you smile.

"Then you choose this time."

He'll always make you happy, you don't need anything else, he'll always be your dopamine.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Look, Don't Touch 1

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, stalking, breaking and entering, possible blood and violence, and femcel energy. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get bored of watching and that makes you careless. (dark!reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Note: Well, well, well, if it isn't another bad decision.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖

The spectrum of city lights gleam through the window casting a soft glow over the lofty condo. Spacious and pristine, everything in exactly its place, even the shadows seem to assemble in orderly fashion along the pale wall. A fine contrast to your chaotic existence on the peripheral.  

You sit, staring down the treacherous drop. A single pane between you and the end. Your phone dims as it rests against the thumb grip, wires still woven from the port into the palm sized box. You can find anything on the dark web if you go deep enough. 

The alarm was easy enough to override with the device, you still feel a sliver of adrenaline. How your heart beats thunderously as you watch the screen race through columns of numbers. You expect a blaring siren, instead the door clicks and a low beep grants your entry. 

It's nothing bad. Not really. You’re tired of watching, of waiting, for what? You're not sure. It’s not as if you want him to notice you, you do your best to make sure he doesn't. Maybe one day when you're ready. Whatever that means. 

You shut the lights off once you get the photos, each room from every angle. So you have a reference to make sure everything's where it belongs when you go. Unlike you. 

You don’t belong here. Or anywhere. So you have no issue crossing those lines, because no matter where you step, you’re out of place. 

If anyone knew, they might think you've done this before. You’ve dreamed of it. Maybe, a bit too often. 

It's the online boards that make you so thorough, checking things you never even considered. Of course, those neckbeards are looking to scare some skinny blonde they don't have a chance with. You don't want to scare Steve, you just want to know him, if even from a distance. 

You always just watch. Is that so bad? You don't get in his way, you don't try anything, you just follow. 

Well, it's about time you came inside. You don't get much of a view from the outside. The reflection of the other buildings tend to make the distance further. A whole year and you don't know why you’ve waited so long. It’s not like he’ll know. 

You stand up and unplug your phone, turning on the flashlight as you point it ahead if you. You stop to admire the pictures framed and hung of him and his comrades, both old and new, dead and alive. You continue down the hall, back to the bedroom and peer around. 

You spread out on the bed. You can smell him, his sweat and the soap he uses. You know from his receipts. From skulking around behind him at the grocery stores you can’t afford to shop at.  

You close your eyes and imagine he's there with you. Watching you too. The two of you, peaceful, comfortable, like you've never been with anyone in your life. An indolent complicity. 

It’s lies. You know that’s not how it goes. If he knew about you, he’d be just as repulsed as any other guy. And you’re not the type for the sappy shit. You don’t want love, you just want a thrill. 

You put the phone down, the light glowing on the other side of your eyelids as it shines on the ceiling. You feel along your dark jeans and slide your fingers under your fly. You sigh as you feel yourself getting wet.  

You flick your clit and moan. You say his name and do it again, a steady motion as you wish he was there, hand down your pants as he fucks you with his fingers, reading a book as if he isn't rock hard over it. It must be extraordinary to have someone else touching you. It’s getting boring, just you. 

You cum quickly, surprised as usually you need your toys. More reliable than any man, you scoff and free your hands from the denim. 

You sit up slowly and wipe your cum on his pillow. Maybe he'll smell it, will he know what it is? Would he like it? 

You get up and stretch. You take your phone and check the time. You should go. He'll be home soon, you know he met his pal for drinks at seven. Funny, you were under the impression beer didn't affect enhanced beings. 

You go back to the living room and pack up. You plug in the cipher once more and head for the door. You re-arm the alarm and carry on down the hall. 

You stop at the elevator and wait. It opens and you suppress your surprise. Well, you’re not that shocked as his timing is always precise. Not to mention, he lives here. Steve Rogers hesitates before he gets off the elevator, blanching as he sees you.  

“Sorry,” he smiles at you. 

It’s not a real smile. It’s just his surprise. It’s courtesy. Steve fucking Rogers is high and above you. 

“It’s fine,” you say snidely as you stare at him dully. 

He only thinks to get off when his companion, Bucky Barnes, does first. You wait for them to pass you, the second man meeting your eyes as he passes. You see a spark of curiosity in his eye but it quickly dies. You’re not that interesting, especially at first glance. You rely on that. 

You step onto the elevator, nearly caught in the doors as you do. You turn to watch them walk down the hallway. They have no idea, you're just another faceless New Yorker. 

📷

It's weird, you think. Anyone else would be jealous to see the scene. They would crumple at the burning envy in their gut but you feel something much more intense. You're fucking horny. 

Your perch on the roof of the building a block from Steve's is bitter and blustery. You have the scope set up, cell phone in the holder, to align the lens. The red dot flashes to show that it's recording. 

You adjust the angle and zoom in on the screen. The set-up is simple enough once it's set up, if the app isn't a bit tedious. You take another drink from your thermos and huddle beneath your hoodie. 

You wish you could hear it. The slapping of flesh, the groans in his constricted throat, even the woman's airy breaths as she grips the back of the couch, teeth bared as Steve ruts from behind. America's golden boy getting his kicks from some bimbo he met down at the bar. Again. 

You want to be in her place. Or even just a bit closer. If it was you, it’d be a lot less predictable. He’ll finish, slap her ass, and send her off.  

You yawn as he grabs onto her shoulders, pulling her back gruffly as he rams into her hard. The aggression is what surprises. Steve Rogers is all smiles and sweet words for the cameras he knows are there, but behind closed doors, he’s brutal. The woman’s face contorts as the pain wracks her body.  

She doesn’t stop, lets him use her. Just like you would. If you even had a chance in hell, you’d lick his cum off the shield. Fuck, if he wasn’t obsessed with those barbie dolls, he might actually try something new. 

You don't hate her, don't feel an ounce of anger. She's doing you a favour, putting on a show just for you. An image you’ll never forget, that you’ll cherish on lonely nights. 

You shiver as heat nestles in your core. Your hand falls to your jeans, lingering just beneath your heavy parka. It’s too cold to do that now. You retract your arm and sigh. When you get home you’ll have to rewatch it with your favourite toy. 

Before your mind wanders too far, there’s a metal click and the loud clang of the bar across the other side of the door. Shit. You quickly grab your phone and collapse the tripod. You take down the lens and shove it all into the duffel, twisting the lid of your thermos tight and tossing it in before scooping up the unzipped bag. 

Footsteps scuff across the concrete roof as you scurry behind one of the wide chimneys and lean against the cinder block. You hold your breath as a man calls out, “hello?” he paces around, “someone out here?” 

Fuck! You put your head back. You won’t be coming back here again. It took you weeks to find the place and get the right angle, a good distance to keep from alerting Steve but not too far either. 

A flashlight casts a yellow light back and forth but doesn’t come close to you as you stay still. The man grunts and grumbles as his soles pad away and the door slams heavily. You wonder what gave you away. You disarmed the alarm on the door before you came up and no one passed you on the stairs. 

Maybe just a regular sweep by the building. You shrug and check the bag before zipping it up. You wait ten more minutes before going to the door and picking the lock. You assure yourself as you descend, you got more than enough to tide you over at least a couple weeks. 

📷

The cafe is busy enough to compound your insignificance. You’re hard to notice on a good day. A hoodie, jeans, just another body in the overcrowded city. You sit with a bottle of water and cookie you won’t eat, pretending to read as others are more obvious in their observation. 

Steve Rogers sits by the window, as if he wants to be seen, chatting over a steaming mug with the stalwart Bucky Barnes. Their conversation seems to frustrate the latter as several patrons interrupt them, asking for a picture or autograph to accompany their lattes and creamy frappucinos. As Steve acquiesces, Bucky leans back and crosses his arms, scowling as he refuses to engage. 

You grin. You kind of get the dude. You hate people, hate the city and the pedants looking for their fifteen minutes or living the delusion that their New York adventure is destined for greatness. You glance back at the page but your eyes don’t focus on the words. 

It’s why you can’t be with Steve. Why you don’t want to be. You just want to watch. You don’t like being noticed. Hate the idea of being watched. You’re not a part of the show, you like being just another faceless figure in the audience. 

Your eyes flick back up. Steve is back to leaning over his cup, an Americano, how fitting. His large hand punctuates whatever point he’s making as you admire the vein in his neck, just above his collar. 

You’re startled as Bucky rests his chin in his hand and you meet his gaze. You don’t react and hide behind the book again. Maybe a bit too obvious. 

You pretend to read for a few minutes then reach for your phone, checking the time. You should leave first. You close the book without marking the page and take your water and cookie and put it in your bag, the patched messenger showing its years. 

It rests against your hip as you stroll out, ignoring the super soldiers until you’re outside. You peek back as you pass the window and Bucky squints at you. What the fuck is his problem? You tuck your head down and continue down the sidewalk. You’ll have to be careful about him. 

📷

You close your journal and tuck it under your mattress. The bed takes up much of your bachelor apartment. You don’t mind the lack of space, it’s just you. It’s preferable to your previous roommates who assured you cohabitation is little more than a form of torture. 

You climb off the twin mattress and stretch as you go to the corner which constitutes your kitchen; a microwave above a compact stove, a fridge that looks straight out of the 60s, and a foot long countertop under a single cupboard. Not much but you often forget to eat as your mind overshadows any physical needs. 

You tear open a package of ramen and add water, shoving it in the nuke as you turn to lean against the counter. Your tall dresser holds most of your possessions, clothes, the pictures, your equipment, and a few toys. Nothing special, just like you. 

The microwave beeps and you put the bowl on the counter. You grab your phone and return, eating at the kitchenette as you slouch to keep from dribbling. You scroll through your phone, several alerts for Steve Rogers in the news. 

‘Cap’s UN Mission: Can he restore America’s repute on the international stage?’ You browse the article and a smile slowly forms as you forget your food and stand, lifting the phone as you search for more.  

The media really is dangerous, you muse. There are exact dates for the conference and Cap’s appearances. That means his place will be empty. It means you’ll be living it up, at least for a few days. 

📷

It’s been more than a month since your first visit to Steve’s apartment. Nothing’s changed and you feel a little less restless there. You know he won’t be back anytime soon so there’s no rush to do much more than bask in the remnants of his presence. 

You can still smell him on the bed sheets and his dirty clothes are still in the hamper. You sort through them, feeling them, sniffing a few shirts. You push the basket back into the corner and search the drawers of his nightstand. Lube, some porn magazines, relics really, and some random odds and ends.  

You go out to the front room and lay on the couch, flicking on the television. The Smithsonian channel. Predictable. You leave it there and watch the hour-long program on clockmaking. Riveting. 

You don’t pay much attention as you stare at the ceiling and think about him. It was that couch where he fucked her. On her knees, clinging to the back as he let loose his strength, not a care for her. You haven’t seen her since. She must’ve expected something different; maybe to be doted on. Pathetic. 

Your hand wanders along the edge of the cushion. Your fingertips brush fabric in the crease of the cushions and you sit up as you pull out the lacy thong. You hold it up and stand, looking down as you hang them against your jeans as if you were wearing them. For him. 

You scoff and bunch them up, tossing them behind the couch. Yeah right. You’re not some leggy blonde, you’re just you. You’d look stupid in something like that. 

Men always looked past you, through you. It’s why you didn’t bother. High school was a farce; shoved into lockers or chased out of school dances. And college, just an extension of the crushing social norms and ridiculous expectations.  

You kissed one guy in your sophomore year but he was worse off than you. You never saw him again after he came in pants just from having your tongue on his. Why would you want some dweeb like that? You’d rather settle for being alone than some freak. 

You sigh as you cross your arms and flop back on the couch. You think too much. This is supposed to be fun, so why does it make you feel so… alone? 

Reality splinters as your heart lurches. Shit. You hear a key in the lock and the sharp turn of the mechanism. Shit! You stand and panic as the door opens, too stunned to react as you trip over the leg of the chair as you try to hide too late. You hit your knees and look up at the figure in the entryway. 

“What the fuck?” the deep voice cuts through you. “Who the fuck are you?” 

Bucky comes into the room and stops short. He tilts his head as you stand, putting your palms out defensively, “look, I was just leav–” 

He’s barreling towards you and you stumble back frantically. He grabs the front of your hoodie and takes you off your feet as he shakes you, like a rat in the gutter. You grasp his thick wrists as you gape at him, speechless. 

“I know you,” he says as recognition wrinkles in his forehead, “I knew you were up to something.” 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you say. 

“Me? I’m watering the plants,” he spits, “what the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Please, I swear, I wasn’t going to do anything–” 

“Shut up!” he snaps and shoves you into the leather chair, looming over you as he clenches the front of your sweater. 

“Let me go and I’ll never come back,” you beg and round your eyes and make your voice higher, just like you’ve seen other women do. You always looked younger than your age. “Please–” 

He scoffs and shakes his head, “I said, shut up.” 

His tone keeps any further plea muted. He glares at you, nostrils flaring as his thoughts swirl in his deep blue irises. He unfurls his fingers and draws his hands away rigidly as he stands straight. 

“Don’t fucking move,” he warns as he combs his fingers through his hair. He watches you for a moment before he looks around and grumbles under his breath, “don’t have the fucking time for this.” 

[marsdql]

A princess lifestyle {L.HS}

sny : You always got what you wanted when around your boyfriend heeseung and his friends, but when you didn't, you would never let it slide. | wc : 0.8k | gen : fluff, slice of life, light crack

The living room was buzzing with conversation—laughter, overlapping voices, and the occasional sound of a video playing from someone’s phone. You had been excitedly talking, sharing a story about something that had happened earlier that day, but the more you spoke, the more you realized… nobody was really listening.

Jay and Sunghoon were talking about a new game, Jake was watching something on his phone, and even Heeseung—your Heeseung—was laughing at whatever was going on between the guys.

Your words trailed off mid-sentence, your excitement fading as you pursed your lips. You blinked a few times, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

Fine. If they weren’t going to listen, then you wouldn’t talk at all.

Instead, you crossed your arms and slumped into the couch, huffing softly. The atmosphere remained lively, but now, every laugh and every ignored word stung a little.

Heeseung was the first to notice the shift.

He glanced at you, taking in your pouty lips, the way you hugged your knees to your chest, and the way you refused to even look in their direction. A small smirk tugged at his lips.

“Oh, no,” he murmured under his breath, already knowing exactly what was happening.

He leaned closer, his voice softer now. “Baby? What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer, still staring at the couch cushion like it had personally offended you.

Heeseung chuckled, nudging you gently. “Angel.”

Nothing.

Now, the other members were catching on.

“She was just talking a lot a second ago,” Jake whispered.

Sunghoon glanced at you. “Oh, she’s mad.”

Heeseung ignored them, his attention fully on you. He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Sweetheart, are you upset ‘cause nobody was listening?”

You hated how well he knew you.

Still, you stayed silent, hugging your knees tighter.

Heeseung sighed dramatically before pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. “C’mon, princess,” he cooed, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Tell me everything.”

The members exchanged glances, but none of them said anything. This was just how Heeseung was with you.

You sniffed. “You weren’t listening…”

His heart clenched at how small and sulky your voice sounded.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, rubbing circles into your back. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t very nice of us, huh?”

You pouted, finally looking at him. “…No.”

Heeseung kissed your cheek. “Go on, angel. Tell me again. I’m listening only to you now.”

You still hesitated, but with Heeseung’s warm hands rubbing your back, his eyes soft and full of affection, you couldn’t hold out for long.

So, with a small huff, you started retelling your story—all while Heeseung held you, nodding along, humming in response, and making sure you knew that this time, you had his full attention.

Because to him, you were always the most important thing in the room.

As you continued talking, you suddenly stopped mid-sentence and glanced at Heeseung expectantly.

“I’m thirsty,” you announced, voice sweet but firm.

Without hesitation, Heeseung adjusted his grip around you. “I’ll get you something, baby.”

Jake raised an eyebrow as Heeseung got up. “She literally just sat there and demanded a drink?”

Sunghoon sighed. “Of course she did. She acts like she’s royalty.”

You simply blinked at them, clearly unbothered. “I don’t act like royalty. I am royalty.”

Jay groaned. “Heeseung, you’re the problem. You let her get away with anything.”

“Uh-huh,” Heeseung responded dismissively, already returning with your drink. “Here you go, angel.”

You smiled, taking a sip, only to hold it back out to him. “Hold it for me.”

Without even questioning it, Heeseung held the glass while you took another sip.

Jake shook his head. “She’s so spoiled.”

Heeseung leaned down, kissing your forehead. “Of course she is. She’s my princess.”

Satisfied, you nuzzled into Heeseung’s chest, letting out a soft sigh. “That’s why I love you the most.”

He smirked. “I know, baby.”

And just like that, your mood was completely restored—all because Heeseung had given you exactly what you wanted, like always.

[bamgyuuuri]

⸝⸝ please? ┈ csb.

⸝⸝ ABSORBED in your studies, you could barely even spare soobin an ounce of your time, leaving him fighting and desperate for your attention. but when an idea strikes, perhaps the two of you can find a way to make it work after all.

pairings and tags. smut!! mdni!! fwb!soobin x afab!reader . sub!soobin . cockwarming . soobin's really whiny . hella begging . slowburn smut . teasing . handjob . edging . reader calls soobin "bunny" . soobin calls reader "miss" . shes highkey mean and he's highkey into it . slight brat taming . lmk if i missed any!

word count. 5.7k

short note ... surprise surprise! so ermmm i tried to . write smut again !!$% idk,, i think i went too far with the "slowburn" part T_T plz do let me know what you think !!!

midterms were creeping closer, and so here you were, slumped over your desk as if the weight of your endless notes, both digital and handwritten, had pinned you in place. the dim light of your laptop cast long shadows across the pages, highlighting every scribbled word and underlined phrase.

your back ached, your legs were numb from sitting too long, and the faint buzz of fatigue pressed against your temples. still, none of it was enough to pull you away. the thought of a failing grade lingered like a dark cloud, pushing you to study harder, longer, and with a desperation you couldn’t ignore.

you were so deeply engrossed in rewriting your notes that everything else seemed to fall away. the steady hum of traffic outside your window and the occasional creak of the house barely registered.

your phone sat beside you on the desk, its screen lighting up over and over, but you didn’t notice. messages stacked one after another, calls came and went, and still, you didn’t even spare it a glance. the name on the screen was always the same—soobin. he didn’t stop, his persistence evident in the flurry of notifications that went unanswered.

but what actually managed to pull you out of your trance was the sudden, sharp knock on your door. the sound echoed through the quiet room, startling you enough to make your head whip towards it, breaking your focus entirely.

for a moment, you just stared, your brows knitting together as you tried to figure out who it could possibly be at this hour. letting out a small sigh, you pushed back your chair and stood, the stiffness in your legs reminding you just how long you’d been sitting. slowly, you made your way to the door, dragging your feet a little as exhaustion clung to you.

when you opened it, the last person you expected to see was soobin himself.

but there he was, standing in front of you with an expression that was both determined and oddly relieved. before you could even ask why he was here, his hands found your waist, pushing you back into your dorm then pulling you close in one swift motion. and the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours in a kiss so sudden and eager that it left you completely stunned.

your eyes widened comically as your brain scrambled to process what was happening. the warmth of his hands on your waist and the familiar scent of him were almost enough to make you forget everything, but the shock won out. “soobin...!” you managed to squeak, breaking away as you placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back gently but firmly.

you quickly closed the door behind you, leaning against it as you stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. your glare wasn’t particularly intimidating—he was clearly unfazed—but you tried anyway. “dude, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” you hissed, your voice low but sharp enough to convey your frustration.

soobin, though momentarily surprised by your rejection, let out a long, exaggerated sigh before trying to close the distance between you once more. “don’t call me ‘dude,’ we literally just kissed. now, where were we—” his voice dripped with teasing charm as he leaned in again, his confidence seemingly unshaken.

before his lips could meet yours, you placed your hands firmly on his shoulders, stopping him mid-movement. your face twisted into a clear expression of annoyance, and you pushed back slightly, glaring at him. “hey, cut it out! i’m not in the mood to mess around right now!” your tone was sharp, though tinged with the frustration of someone desperately trying to focus.

soobin only laughed, the sound soft and infuriatingly carefree. ignoring your protests, he gently pried your hands from his shoulders and brought them down, his palms quickly finding their way to your cheeks.

his thumbs brushed lightly over your skin, the warmth of his touch almost making you falter. “you can’t be serious,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a whisper as his gaze locked onto yours. “you’re never not in the mood for this.” with that, he leaned in again, his intentions clear and unwavering.

but this cannot happen, not right now, at least. the thought hit you like a splash of cold water as you wriggled out of his hold, stepping back and shaking your head. why was he suddenly acting so clingy? “i-i’m being serious...! don’t you have exams to study for too?” you stammered, desperate to regain some semblance of control over the situation.

soobin tilted his head slightly, his expression softening for a brief moment before his lips curled into a mischievous smile. “i studied enough before coming over,” his voice trailed off as his gaze darkened, a hint of something unreadable flashing through his eyes.

stepping forward, he grabbed your wrist firmly, his hold just tight enough to send a jolt through you. “besides, i thought you loved spending time with me,” he added, his voice low and smooth as he pulled you closer with little effort.

though his actions might have left you breathless on another day, all you could do now was roll your eyes. “oh, please. just because we’re fuckbuddies doesn’t mean you get to barge into my place and disrupt me from my studies,” you shot back, your tone dripping with exasperation.

that’s right. that was the setup with soobin—fuckbuddies, friends with benefits, casual partners, whatever label you chose to slap on it. it was simple, uncomplicated, no strings attached. there were no expectations, no deep feelings, just two people who enjoyed each other’s company and a good fuck when the mood struck.

it was supposed to be easy, a little escape from the chaos of everyday life, a way to blow off steam without any pressure. at least, that’s what you told yourself when you both agreed to it.

but right now? you were anything but relaxed. you were deep into studying, drowning in deadlines, and the last thing you needed was him barging into your space and pulling you away from your studies.

soobin laughs at your attempts to brush him off, his chuckle light and teasing as he leans in closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. “you know you want it too, don’t be a hypocrite.” his words were enough to make you feel a wave of heat rush to your face, though you’re not sure if it's from embarrassment or frustration.

before you can say anything else, he pulls you into his arms with surprising gentleness. you can feel his heartbeat, rapid and strong against your chest, as if the closeness between you both made him as eager as you’d ever seen him. soobin leans closer, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours.

but just as you thought he was about to kiss you, he pulls back, turning on his heel and heading towards your bedroom. you’re left standing there, your hand still outstretched, his absence already making the air feel colder. but he then tugs on your hand, dragging you along with him.

the moment you both enter, you pull your hand away from his grasp, feeling the weight of your exhaustion settle in. “soobin, please. i really need to study. i can’t—you know how i feel about failing remarks…” your voice comes out more pleading than you expected, the seriousness of your upcoming exams sinking deeper in your gut.

soobin stops for a moment, his expression softening, though his playful grin never quite fades. “i’ll help you study afterwards, i promise,” he says, his tone almost coaxing as he gently wraps his hand around your wrist once more. the warmth of his touch is enough to make you falter for a moment, but you hold your ground, trying to focus on the bigger picture.

you sigh, your fingers pressing against your temple as the weight of the stress pulls on you. you’re too worn out to give him the earful he deserves, too consumed by the looming exams to even think of giving him a proper lecture.

but the word "help" slipping past his lips does strike a chord deep within you.

without saying another word, you went and walked towards your desk. grabbing your laptop and binder, you walk over to your bed, setting them down with a soft thud. soobin watches you curiously, his brow furrowing in confusion.

his eyes follow your every move, his head tilting slightly as if trying to piece together what you’re doing. soobin opens his mouth to ask, but you cut him off before he can say anything.

“help me study then, if you’re so eager.” you say, flipping open your binder to a page covered in equations and math problems. you glance at him briefly, noticing how his gaze falls on the page, eyes skimming over the numbers and symbols.

soobin scoffs, a small, amused smirk curling at the corners of his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest. “you know i’m not... well-versed on stuff like this. why are you asking me for help?” his voice carries a teasing tone, but there’s a hint of mockery in it too, as if the idea of him being useful in this situation is laughable.

you let out another exasperated sigh, unable to hide the frustration bubbling in your chest. without much thought, you tap the bed next to you, signaling for him to sit. “not that kind of help, dumbass. something else,” you mutter, your voice sharp but laced with a hint of tired amusement.

soobin raises an eyebrow at your response but doesn’t hesitate to sit on your bed anyway. his back presses against the headboard as he crosses his legs, a casual posture that contradicts the curiosity in his eyes. he watches you expectantly, waiting for you to elaborate, but you’re too busy grabbing your things, not giving him the chance to speak.

you set the notebook and your laptop down beside him, your movements smooth but determined. then, without a word, you climb onto the bed, positioning yourself in front of him. when your eyes meet his, there’s no doubt left—your expression is set, your intentions clear.

“okay, you want to fuck, but i want to study. so… why don’t we make the best of both worlds?” your words were deliberate, like you’re proposing a deal that’ll benefit you both.

soobin just stares at you for a moment, his lips curling into an amused smile, but there’s also a flicker of surprise in his eyes. he raises his brow again, clearly intrigued. “and how are we going to do that exactly?” he asks, his tone playful but with a hint of challenge.

you smile at the glimmer of curiosity in his gaze. “it’s simple. but first..” you let the words hang in the air, drawing out the tension.

but before soobin can protest or ask for more details, you lean in, finally closing the distance between you both.

your lips find his in a kiss that’s soft at first, just a hint of heat lingering in the contact. one of your hands sneaks up into his hair, your fingers tangling in the strands as you deepen the kiss. the suddenness catches him off guard, but it only takes a second before he responds, his hand moving to rest on your waist, the energy of the moment shifting into something more intense.

soobin reciprocates the passion, urgency laced through the press of softness against him. any level of space that could exist between you and him diminished from existence, the need for skinship being the only thing running through his mind.

the kiss was unrelenting, heated, each movement mirroring the tension building between you both. you could feel the intensity of the moment, his touch growing more assertive, drawing you in deeper.

you didn’t even notice his legs spreading apart to accommodate you, your body instinctively making you sit in between them. it wasn’t until that slight movement reminded you of what you were supposed to be doing that a small part of your brain snapped back to reality.

without breaking the kiss, your free hand moved downwards, finding the growing ache beneath soobin’s sweatpants. your fingers and your palm pressed and teased him through the fabric, earning a delicious moan from him that vibrated against your lips.

soobin was the one to pull away, his eyes darkening, and for a brief moment, you see a flicker of surprise in them. his lips are parted slightly, his breath ragged as he lets out a soft groan, the sound barely audible.

"really? so quickly?" he breathes, his voice hushed but laced with amusement. his eyes hold yours, a teasing glint in them, but there’s no hiding the desire building within them. the question had a joyful lilt, but the way his body reacts betrays his words. his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you even closer, and you feel the tension rising again as his gaze never leaves yours.

you hummed, your hands moving to hastily pull down his sweatpants, a certain glint in your eyes as you did so.

“oh,” a response soobin could not keep in, his breath nearly dying in his throat, surprise palpable in his features as he follows your actions. he takes a moment to regain his bearings before helping you remove the rest of his undergarments while he feels the excitement grow from the sudden change of pace.

he pulls you in for another kiss, determined to make it escalate into something more this time, his hands gently cupping your face as if grounding himself in the connection.

but before soobin got the chance to do just that, you pull away from him with a playful tut, teasing him gently.

“don’t be so impatient.” you scold him in amusement, words holding no real bite as you relish his growing embarrassment. you strip yourself from your shorts, slipping off the flimsy piece of clothing as you acknowledge his gaze that traces all over your curves. face flushed, soobin feels a small throb when you situate yourself back between his legs.

when you look up to finally meet his gaze, you held him by his chin, “listen, this is going to be our agreement; i sit on your dick, then you don’t distract me while i study. do we have a deal?”

soobin looked at you with wide eyes, a small, mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. he gave a little nod, the look in his eyes making it clear he was fully on board with the plan.

"i don't think there's any downsides," he says with a light laugh, his voice airy and teasing. he leaned in and placed a small, quick peck on your lips, his smile growing even more.

you rolled your eyes, exasperated but amused. this was the nth time today you’d had to do it, but it didn’t stop you from replying with a smirk, “okay, good. now, be quiet or i’ll kick you out.”

wordlessly, you turn around, your back now facing soobin as you grab your laptop and notebook, setting them in front of you. then, without warning, you lift yourself up again as you slowly sank down onto soobin’s cock, sucking in a breath as you try not to react too much to the sudden stretch.

soobin lets out a soft moan at the action, electricity shooting up his body as he feels your warm walls take almost all of him at once. his eyes are locked on to your figure, then to your laptop, a curious expression on his face. he leans forwards slightly, peering over your shoulder and trying to look at your notes, but it's futile. he can't make out the words through all of the haze.

he could already feel his composure wavering, and so as a way to ground himself a little, with one hand gripping the sheets below him tightly, the other making its way to your thigh, slowly massaging it with gentle circles, trying to calm his racing thoughts.

you furrowed your eyebrows, sensing his movements, and without even looking at him, you swatted his hand away. “i said no distractions. i’m studying,” you muttered, your focus unwavering as you went back to rereading your notes.

soobin whimpers a bit, but his hand does as he’s been told and retreats from your thigh. he instead places it back in his lap, curling his hands into soft fists as he attempts to keep himself occupied and to resist the temptation to touch you again or buck his hips up.

it was quiet for a while, except the occasional turn of a page, typing here and there, and the poor boy behind you shifting in his position. you had started to actually read some of the notes in your laptop, but of course, with soobin occasionally moving, and his cock brushing against all the right spots without him trying, it was rather difficult to maintain focus.

"you’re not actually going to study the whole time… right?" soobin suddenly asks, his tone shaky and almost petulant. his voice broke through the quiet, and you could feel the irritation—and something else you didn’t wish to name—start to bubble up within you.

“i will. now stop moving and talking too much, it’s distracting.” you hiss as you lean back a little, effectively taking more of soobin in, the tiny bit of friction eliciting a moan from his lips.

soobin’s face flushes with a deep red color, eyes immediately shutting as he lets out a breathy whine. his hips stutter a little, his hands trembling just the tiniest bit as they come over to hold onto your hips tightly.

“come on, please,” he whines, his tone soft. he sounds almost pathetic. “please, i…” soobin bites his bottom lip, his mind a hazy mush. 

he hardly sounds coherent to himself, and even if his mind could comprehend it, he was more than certain that he’d be ashamed of how much pride he was letting go just to have you. with his voice squeezed to a pathetic plea, he shakily exhales, “i need you.”

“no. we had an agreement, and so you have to wait.” you reply coldly, your tone firm and adamant, making it clear that you were set on focusing on the task at hand. but despite your sharp words, with the way he begged so sweetly... the flutter in your stomach betrayed you, your heart racing a little faster than usual.

soobin lets out another long, sulky whine at your words, but he still does as told again and stops moving in your lap, opting instead to lean his weight against the headboard and look down at you, his eyes half-lidded as he watches you read some of the notes silently.

this was tougher than he had initially expected. no, actually, it was torturous. soobin was starting to think this agreement isn’t as beneficial to him as he first thought it would be…

the minutes seemed to stretch and warp, each one dragging on longer than the last, turning into an agonizing experience that was almost unbearable. it was as if time itself had decided to punish him, to make him wait, to force him to endure this ever-growing ache in his body that refused to be ignored.

his skin was burning, hot to the touch, and the feeling only worsened the longer he stayed in this position. every muscle in his body ached, tense and wound up so tightly that he could almost feel the strain in his bones.

soobin glanced over at you every few moments, your focus unwavering as you sat there, your attention fixed on the laptop screen in front of you. you were completely absorbed in your work, occasionally typing or flipping through pages, completely unaware of the struggle he was going through.

growing more and more sour by the minute, soobin knew he couldn’t wait long at this rate. he whines softly, his voice strained with frustration, and his breathing grew heavier, just enough to make it obvious that he was struggling. his movements became more restless, shifting from one position to another, his body practically vibrating with the need for attention.

he let out a small, breathy sigh, deliberately making it louder than necessary, his chest rising and falling with each slight gasp. his eyes flickered towards you, hoping you’d notice the subtle signs of his impatience, but you were too focused on your notes to give him any acknowledgment.

"dude. be quieter," you snapped, your patience wearing thin, yet you didn’t even spare him a glance.

soobin's face flushed bright red at the sudden chastisement, your words making his skin crawl with want. his teeth dug into his bottom lip, trying to suppress a whimper that threatened to escape. the effort was clear in his eyes; he was trying his best not to annoy you further, but the longer he held back, the more frustrated he became.

"i-i'm sorry. i’ll try..." he replies meekly, not daring to defy you, his hands gripping tighter on your waist to keep himself from fucking into you like he so desperately wanted to.

surprisingly enough, soobin manages to compose himself somewhat after that.

his body was still trembling with an undercurrent of tension, muscles wound tight and every inch of him screaming for release. but despite the discomfort, he’s determined to hold on, to keep still, and to control his breathing.

it’s a battle of willpower now, and for the first time, he begins to wonder if he should just put an end to this himself. the ache was almost unbearable, and his thoughts are becoming a jumbled mess of frustration and want.

he leans forward slightly, his lips parting as he opens his mouth to speak, ready to let out another whiny protest or maybe even beg for your attention. but just as he’s about to say something, you shift—just a slight movement, barely noticeable at first—but the effect on him was immediate.

soobin bites down hard on his bottom lip to hold back any noise, but even so, a whimper still escapes from his lips. unable to hold back, he starts to rut his hips a little against you, his hands moving to now grip your thighs.

"i-i can't," he whispers, his voice strained and shaky, as if he's on the brink of losing control. "i… i just can't anymore.. please, please, i-" his voice breaks, the desperation evident in every syllable. his chest heaves as he breathes heavily, eyes wide with a mixture of pleading and helplessness. "i can’t take it anymore,"

you let out a small gasp as you could feel him beginning to move inside you, making you ball your hands up into fists as you fought to urge to moan and give into his advances. you purse your lips as you place a barely controlled hand on his thigh, “stop moving, or i really will kick you out.”

soobin lets out a pitiful whimper at your words, his head lowering again. "but…!" he tries to argue again, unable to stop himself anymore, but he stops himself, too afraid of actually being kicked out as you warned. and so the trembling boy just settles himself, panting and squirming underneath you, while he waits for you to let him move.

soobin’s lips trembled slightly as he mutters again, his voice barely a whisper. “how long do i... have to wait exactly...?” there’s a quiver in his tone, a hint of vulnerability that betrays his growing desperation.

you don’t respond.

he swallows hard, his throat dry, and the silence between you both feels suffocating. his body is rigid, his hands trembling slightly in his lap, and his frustration builds with every passing second.

he shifts in his seat, trying to make himself comfortable, but it’s impossible. soobin’s body was too tense, his mind too chaotic. his thoughts trail off as the discomfort grows, the pressure in his chest and the urge to just screw it all and just fuck you right here intensifying.

soobin bites his lip to stifle a frustrated groan, his gaze dropping to the floor, lost in his thoughts. what am i supposed to do? he wonders, feeling like he’s both trapped and helpless.

but then, an idea hits him.

soobin's eyes flicker with a sudden spark as a thought forms in his mind, unbidden but undeniable. it’s crazy, reckless even, but in this moment, it’s the only thing that feels like it might work. he hesitates, his mind racing with the implications, but the desperation gnaws at him, urging him forward. what do i have to lose anyway?

soobin suddenly leans his head forward, planting a soft kiss on your neck, then another one, peppering your sensitive skin with kisses and sucks, making it all the way up to your earlobe.

this finally catches your attention, as your typing comes to an abrupt pause and your hands still above your keyboard, the sudden break in your concentration hitting soobin like a wave of satisfaction.

“bin, stop it,” you say, your tone firm but tinged with a sharp edge he’s grown so familiar with, your brows furrowing slightly as you turn your head to meet his gaze, still trying to maintain your focus, though the flicker of annoyance (and something else) was evident in the way your lips pressed together.

soobin’s lips curl into a small, sly smile as he hears your words. he could tell he was finally grabbing your attention, and the fact that he could affect you at all sent a strange rush of excitement through his body.

he leans in a little closer, his hand gently resting at the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin there. the soft touch sends a shiver down your spine, but you try to ignore the fluttering feeling building inside you.

“you want me too, don’t you?” soobin whispers, his voice barely audible over the tension hanging between you two. there’s a slight teasing edge in his words, but also something else—a hint of softness, as if he knows he’s getting under your skin.

you stiffen for a moment, trying to focus on your work, but the feeling of his fingers against your skin makes it nearly impossible to keep your composure. you swallow hard, the weight of the moment slowly starting to affect your thoughts more than you'd like.

“you like it when i kiss..” soobin teases, allowing the anticipation to build up. mischief builds up within him from gaining an upper hand, his voice dipping an octave lower as another kiss was chastely pressed on your earlobe. “..here, right?”

“s-soobin, cut it out….”

soobin smiles as he hears how shaky your voice has become, continuing to kiss along your neck, slowly moving to your jawline. he lets out a little breathy chuckle, whispering into your ear again,

“make me.”

꒰💭꒱

"h-hah—!” soobin's voice cracks, his words tumbling out in a breathy whimper. beads of sweat form on his forehead, his chest rising and falling unevenly. his eyes, wide and pleading, search yours for any sign of mercy, a faint flush spreading across his cheeks as he struggles to hold himself together. “please—i.. i can’t take this anymore…!” fed up with soobin's relentless assault of kisses trailing up and down your neck while you were clearly trying to focus, you finally slammed your laptop shut. the sharp sound echoed in the room, making him freeze mid-action. you turned to face him fully, your expression exasperated but resolute. if he wanted your attention so badly, then fine—you’d give it to him, but on your terms.

and so here you are now, abruptly stopping the movements of your hand, denying soobin his fourth release.

his entire body was flushed a deep red, the poor man's chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. soobin looks at you, the pleading obvious in his eyes. his lips were slightly parted, his mouth open slightly as he tries to take deep breaths.

"p-please... i-i promise i'll be good..!" soobin gulps as he pleads, his voice trembling and breathless. his eyes were wide and glossy, glistening with desperation, as if he’s clinging to the last thread of your patience. "i... i won’t distract you anymore..! just... please..."

“is that so?” you murmur lowly with a scoff, smirking as soobin lets out another whimper as you squeeze his sensitive cock and flick your thumb ever so slightly on his tip, making his back arch in both pleasure and frustration.

“if you really are good, then i’m sure you can take more, bunny.”

despite his better judgment, soobin nods frantically, his head bobbing with an almost childlike eagerness that contrasts the flush of his cheeks. his breaths come out in uneven pants, his chest rising and falling as he desperately tries to collect himself. he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing visibly, before finally managing to stammer out a reply.

"o-okay... okay, i can take more for you, miss," he says, his voice trembling with a mixture of resolve and vulnerability. his wide eyes meet yours, searching for any sign of approval, as though your acknowledgment is the only thing anchoring him at this moment.

with his confirmation, you offer soobin a sweet smile that makes his breath hitch. your hand began to move with practiced precision, flicking your wrist and rubbing over his sensitive cockhead just the way he likes it, and it elicits an immediate reaction—a stuttered gasp as his body tenses for a brief moment.

"there we go," you murmur softly, your voice carrying a gentle edge of satisfaction. soobin’s head tilts back slightly, his lips parting as his breath quickens again, though this time it’s laced with a relief he’s been chasing. his wide eyes flutter shut, and a faint, almost shy smile graces his lips in response to your gesture.

“thank you.. so much.. hah…” he gasps, his voice trembling with every word. a shaky, almost broken sound escapes his lips, his chest rising and falling with the effort to steady himself. his fingers, still trembling, slowly find their way to your wrist, their touch warm and a little hesitant as he tries to make you move faster. "please... just like that," he murmurs, the words falling from his lips in a whisper, tinged with relief and something deeper.

and when you happily oblige with his request to fasten your pace, soobin lets out a shaky gasp as his hips twitch up, a soft moan passing his lips. he looks up at you with his half-lidded eyes, and lets out a breath, his voice low.

with every glide and jerk of your hand on his shaft, soobin feels his head spin just a little more, reacting to every movement he feels with a pretty moan or a whimper escaping his quivering lips. soobin’s back then arches slightly, his muscles tensing as his breathing grows uneven, sensing his climax approaching, each inhale shaky and shallow. his voice comes out strained, barely above a whisper but heavy with need.

"m-more... more, please... more," he stammers, his words tumbling out in quick succession, each one carrying the weight of his growing desperation. his hands grip tightly at whatever they can find—your arm, the fabric beneath him—seeking any form of grounding as his body seems to betray him, trembling with anticipation.

“more? hm, okay.” you hum, your hand now going up and down his length at an even quicker pace.

soobin lets out a soft whimper at the increased movement, his breathing becoming even more heavy, the sound coming out more like gasps at this point. “a-ah… i think.. i-i’m about to—please… please!” he says with a broken moan, looking up at you with glossy eyes, his vision turning blurry and his mind spinning.

but just as you could sense him about to reach the height of his release, you stop abruptly once more, letting go of his aching cock.

soobin lets out a loud whine as you stop, his body writhing a little in protest. he shut his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath.  

“n-no..! no, not again…” his voice trembles as the words spill from his lips, both his body and his shaft twitching with an almost unbearable ache. he groans, the sound coming out as a mixture of frustration and desperation, his breath ragged as he shifts slightly, trying to ease the tension that’s building up.

“please…” soobin pleads again, his voice barely above a whisper as he tries to steady himself, but the words break with the sheer desperation clinging to them. his tears were threatening to spill as his hand fell helplessly by his side, the weight of his need pressing on him more heavily than before. "it... hurts.." he whimpers again, his lips trembling.

soobin then tries to reach for you with trembling hands, the desperation evident in the way his fingers twitch in the air, as if he can’t bear the thought of being so far away from you. he looks at you with wide, pleading eyes, begging without saying a word, his body unable to stay still.

but you only scoot farther away, crossing your arms in a deliberate gesture that sharpens the ache in his chest. “no. you’ve been bad, and this is what impatient and insatiable bunnies get,” you spat out, your words cutting through the air, colder than the distance you’ve put between you. 

the harshness in your tone stabs through him, the sting reverberating in his chest like an open wound, raw and aching. his face contorts in pure agony, the weight of your rejection heavy on his heart. he’s never felt more exposed, more vulnerable, than in this moment, and it overwhelms him in the worst way.

"p-please.. i'm sorry…" soobin stammers, his voice barely a whisper but thick with vulnerability, the tremor in his words making it clear how much this is breaking him. 

"i'm—i'm sorry." he pants, trying to jog up to a breath that he knows he will not be able to catch up to just yet. "i'll be... g-good, i promise." his voice sounds pathetic with every word but he supposes that he is under your undoing.

"won't do it again, miss. please forgive me." he sobs out, pleading for something that he already knows the answer of deep down.

“no.” you say firmly and coldly, the word almost like a verdict. the finality of it stings him more than he expected, and it makes him flinch slightly, “now next time, you ought to think twice before misbehaving.”

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[ch0llies]

FOREVER NOW | CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO

You and Chris have been tied together by an invisible string ever since you met at 10. As you grew older, Chris became your safe place. He was always there, unknowingly shaping himself into the person you’d eventually fall in love with. By the time you were 18, you had become each other’s first everything- first kiss, first love, first promise that neither of you could ever belong to anyone else the way you belonged to each other. And now, standing in the bathroom with ten pregnancy tests lined up on the counter, that promise felt heavier than ever.

story warnings: fluff, smut, creampie, heavy breeding kink, pregnancy, established relationship, etc… if any of these topics upset you… don’t read!

word count: 6k

a/n: thank you so much for 1k followers!! i love you all so much!!

The rain taps gently against the window. Your shared apartment is dimly lit, warm, filled with the faint trace of Chris’s cologne- the kind of smell that feels like home, like safety.

Chris is beside you on the couch, one arm draped lazily over your legs, his other hand scrolling absentmindedly through his phone. The TV plays some old movie in the background, half-forgotten.

Your fingers trace small circles on his forearm, the soft fabric of his hoodie warmed by his skin. He hums in contentment, shifting just enough to glance at you.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” he asks, voice soft, familiar.

You smile, but your mind is elsewhere, caught in the years before this moment. Because this love didn’t start here.

It started long before.

FIFTH GRADE.

You met Chris at ten years old, standing awkwardly in the doorway of your parents’ friend’s house.

“This is Chris,” your mom said, nudging you forward.

He had messy brown hair, an oversized hoodie, and a smile that made you think he probably got in trouble at school a lot.

He gave you a shy nod. “Hi.”

You stared for a moment, then mumbled, “Hi.”

The adults left you alone, and somehow, within an hour, you were arguing over who could beat who in Bedwars. By the time your parents came back, you were already thick as thieves, plotting some grand scheme to get extra dessert at dinner.

From that day on you couldn’t remember a memory that he wasn’t in.

EIGHTH GRADE

You learned that heartbreak could come before high school.

There was a boy- your first real crush. He was charming, sweet, made you feel special. Until, suddenly, he didn’t.

You found out from a friend that he had been texting someone else the entire time. That everything he said to you, he said to her too.

Chris found you at the park that night, sitting on the swings, kicking at the dirt, trying not to cry.

He sat next to you without a word. Just there. Present. Until you were ready.

“I really liked him,” you admitted eventually, voice small.

Chris scoffed. “Yeah, well, he’s an idiot.”

You sniffled, glancing at him. “You think?”

Chris nodded firmly. “Obviously. He had you and still wanted someone else? That’s just stupid.”

Something about the way he said it, so certain, made your heart feel just a little lighter.

You didn’t know it then, but that was the first time Chris made you feel like you were worth more than the people who hurt you.

It wouldn’t be the last.

JUNIOR YEAR.

Prom was supposed to be perfect.

Instead, your date cheated. Chris’s date bailed.

And somehow, you ended up at prom together- dressed up, but ditching the actual dance for a late-night drive, fast food in hand, sitting on the hood of his car in the school parking lot.

“You think we’re cursed?” you joked, pulling a fry from the bag.

Chris smirked, leaning back on his palms. “Or maybe we just keep picking the wrong people.”

You glanced at him then- at the way the Boston lights reflected in his eyes, at the way he always showed up when no one else did.

For a moment, you almost said something. Almost realized something.

But instead, you just smiled. “Guess we’re each other’s backup plan now, huh?”

Chris had looked down at his feet and let out an almost sad sounding chuckle, “Guess so.”

But he didn’t feel like a backup plan.

Not even then.

SENIOR YEAR.

It wasn’t sudden.

It wasn’t a grand, dramatic moment where everything clicked into place.

It was gradual. Like the slow rising of the sun, creeping into your life until one day, you realized- he had always been the light.

Chris had always been there. Through every heartbreak, through every bad decision, through every night spent crying over people who didn’t deserve you.

And then one day, you just knew.

It was late, past midnight, the two of you lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, laughing about something dumb, something unimportant. And then the laughter faded, and suddenly, the air felt different.

Chris was looking at you. Really looking at you.

And for the first time, you didn’t look away.

Your heartbeat quickened. You swallowed.

“Chris.”

He shifted, his fingers barely brushing against yours between the sheets. “Yeah?”

You took a breath.

“I- I think it’s always been you.”

Silence.

His breath hitched, but his fingers curled around yours, holding tight.

“I-” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. “God, I was scared to say it first.”

Your chest ached, but for the first time, it wasn’t painful. It was full.

You smiled, biting your lip. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, eyes soft, full of something you had been searching for in everyone else but only ever found in him.

And then he kissed you.

And everything made sense.

Back in the apartment, Chris shifts beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re thinking too much again,” he murmurs.

You shake your head, smiling softly. “Just remembering.”

He hums. “Good memories?”

“The best.”

Chris tilts his head, studying you. “Wanna share?”

You turn to face him, meeting the gaze of the boy who had always been there, who had never let you go.

The rain outside is still steady and you let your head rest against his chest again, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Safe. Home.

“You ever think about soulmates?” you ask, voice quiet but certain.

Chris smirks, locking his phone and setting it aside. “Yeah.”

You lift a brow, tilting your head to look up at him. “Oh really? Always been me?”

He chuckles, low and warm, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaning back against the couch. “Yes, my love. Always been you.”

Your heart swells. Even after all these years, hearing it still makes something in your chest ache in the best way.

Chris shifts, pulling you even closer, wrapping his arms around you completely, tucking your head under his chin. You sigh against his hoodie, breathing him in, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his thigh.

For a while, you just exist like that- wrapped up in each other, listening to the rain, the outside world feeling so far away.

Then Chris hums. “What do you wanna do for dinner?”

You tilt your head, thinking. “What about some PF Chang’s?”

His face lights up. “That sounds incredible.”

You grin, watching as he grabs his phone and pulls up DoorDash, immediately placing the order without hesitation. Because it’s the city, and neither of you want to go out in the rain when food can be delivered straight to your door.

When the food arrives, you both sit on the couch, containers spread out on the coffee table. You grab a pair of chopsticks, but Chris, like always, opts for a fork, shooting you a smug look like he’s superior for it.

“You’re so uncultured,” you tease, grabbing a dumpling.

Chris snorts. “I just don’t like fighting for my food.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it- just warmth, just love.

As you eat, the conversation shifts to your future, like it always does.

“What about baby names?” Chris muses, stealing a bite of your lo mein like it’s his. “What do you like?”

You smirk. “You planning on knocking me up tonight or something?”

Chris smirks. “Definitely planning on fuckin’ you but, getting you pregnant? We’ll see.”

You shrug nonchalantly, picking up a garlic noodle with your chopstick. “I still want you to cum inside me tonight regardless.”

He chokes on his food, coughing as he glares at you. “Jesus, give me a warning before you say stuff like that. I’m gonna get hard.”

You laugh, nudging his shoulder. “I’m serious, though. You ever think about it? Baby names, becoming parents, getting me pregnant…?

Chris swallows, setting his container down before shifting to look at you fully. His expression softens, thoughtful. “Yeah,” he admits. “I have.”

You raise a brow. “And?”

He smirks. “You first.”

You sigh dramatically, leaning back into the couch, pretending to think. “I like the name Owen for a boy,” you say eventually. “And maybe Elliot for a girl. Her nickname would be Ellie”

Chris nods. “Owen? That’s my middle name. But Ellie is really cute. I like that.”

“Yeah, goof. It would be named after you, handsome. But what about you?”

He leans forward, resting his chin in his hand as he blushes softly. “I’ve always liked the name Weston for a boy,” he says, glancing at you. “And for a girl… maybe Aria.”

You smile. “Aria is cute.”

Chris nudges you. “So, our kid’s name is either Owen, Ellie, Weston, or Aria. Got it.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart swells anyway. “I can’t imagine having a kid anytime soon.”

Chris grins, pulling you onto his lap effortlessly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “No rush,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your shoulder. “We’ve got time.”

You melt into him, fingers threading through his hair.

“Okay, more future talk,” he says after a moment. “Houses. Where do we end up?”

You hum. “Do you wanna stay in Boston?”

Chris tilts his head. “I like Boston, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter. Maybe something coastal? A place where we can sit on the porch and watch the sunrise. What about my family's cape house?”

You smile. “That sounds perfect.”

Chris grins, tapping his fingers lightly against your back. “Can you imagine being as a full time suburban dad?”

You snicker. “Hard to imagine you giving up city life and inheriting Matt’s minivan to truck our kids around.”

Chris groans. “Please never let me get that goddamn minivan.”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Deal.”

The remnants of dinner are still scattered across the coffee table- half-empty takeout containers, crumpled napkins, chopsticks resting haphazardly in cartons, four empty pepsi cans. Chris groans, stretching his arms before nudging you with his knee.

“You ready to clean this up?” he asks, though he doesn’t look like he wants to move any more than you do.

You sigh dramatically, leaning back against the couch. “Or… we could just leave it here and deal with it in the morning.”

Chris snorts. “No way. You hate waking up to a mess.”

You grumble, knowing he’s right. “Fine. But you’re taking out the trash.”

“Deal.”

The two of you move in sync, cleaning up without much thought- him stacking the containers, you wiping down the table. Domesticity has always been easy with Chris, effortless in a way that feels like breathing. It’s not something you ever have to think about; it just is.

Once the apartment is back in order, you stretch, letting out a soft yawn.

Chris grins, wrapping his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin against your shoulder. “Bed?”

“Yes.”

You slip into the bathroom while Chris grabs water for both of you. The space is warm, the soft yellow glow of the vanity lights reflecting off the marble. You change into one of your favorite comfy outfits- an oversized, faded navy sweatshirt that hangs off one shoulder, exposing the thin strap of your lace bralette underneath, paired with soft gray Calvin Klein boyshorts that hug your hips just right.

The fabric of the sweatshirt nearly swallows you, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs, the sleeves hanging just past your wrists. It smells like detergent, a little like Chris, a little like the home you’ve built together.

By the time you start brushing your teeth, Chris enters, setting the water bottles on the counter before glancing at you in the mirror.

His eyes darken immediately, lips parting slightly as he takes you in- the way the sweatshirt slips off your shoulder, the way your shorts sit snug on your curves.

“You trying to kill me, baby?” he mutters, voice thick.

You smirk around your toothbrush. “I just put on something comfortable.”

Chris shakes his head, stepping closer behind you, his hands skimming the edge of the sweatshirt before resting low on your hips. “Yeah? This is comfortable?”

You nod, watching his gaze flick between your reflection and the way his hands trace slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

You fumble your phone, and it slips from the counter, landing with a soft thud on the floor.

You sigh through your toothbrush, bending over to grab it.

And that’s when you hear it.

A sharp inhale. The softest curse under Chris’s breath.

“Fuck, baby.”

Before you can straighten, his hands slide over your hips, firm but reverent. One palm presses against the small of your back, the other smoothing over your ass, fingers flexing as if he can’t help himself.

You swallow hard, heat creeping up your spine as you grip the sink for balance.

Chris leans in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You still up for that promise, baby?” His voice is low, gravelly, dripping with want.

Your breath hitches. “What promise?” you ask, playing coy.

Chris chuckles, dark and knowing, his fingers pressing a little more insistently into your skin. “The one where you let me cum inside you.”

Your heart pounds, the weight of his words sending a shiver down your spine. You meet his gaze in the mirror, and the heat in his eyes makes your knees weak.

Chris smirks, running his hands up your sides before spinning you to face him fully. His fingers slide under the hem of your sweatshirt, gripping your waist as he pulls you closer.

“You still want that?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours.

Your answer is immediate.

“Yes.”

Chris’s smirk deepens, satisfaction flickering in his darkened gaze. His grip tightens just enough to make you shiver, his fingertips pressing into your skin like he wants to leave his mark there.

“Yeah?” His voice is low, teasing, as he drags his hands over your hips, his thumbs tracing lazy circles. “You want me to fill you up, make sure you feel me long after, huh?”

You swallow, pulse hammering against your ribs. There’s no hesitation when you nod, your breath hitching as his lips graze yours- featherlight, just enough to tease.

Chris hums, his hands sliding lower, squeezing your ass before lifting you onto the counter with ease. His body slots between your legs, firm and unyielding. He keeps you there, locked in place, his forehead resting against yours.

“Say it again,” he demands, his voice rough with want.

Your fingers tangle in his hoodie, pulling him impossibly closer, your legs tightening around his waist.

“I want it, Chris,” you whisper, lips barely brushing his. “I want you to cum inside me.”

A sharp inhale from him, and then his mouth crashes onto yours, all heat and hunger. His fingers slide under your sweatshirt again, this time with purpose, exploring, claiming.

“Shit, baby,” he groans against your lips, his hands pushing higher, tugging at your clothes.

He doesn’t waste another second. His hands slip beneath your thighs, gripping firmly as he lifts you off the counter with effortless strength. Your arms loop around his neck instinctively, your breath coming in short, heated bursts as he carries you through the dimly lit apartment.

The air between you is thick, charged, every step he takes toward the bedroom making your anticipation coil tighter. His lips find your jaw, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat as he nudges the bedroom door open with his foot.

By the time he lays you down on the bed, your body is already burning for him. Chris hovers over you, his hands planted on either side of your head, his darkened blue eyes devouring every inch of you.

“Been wanting to do this all night,” he murmurs, fingers dipping under the hem of your sweatshirt again, this time pushing it up with agonizing slowness. “Take my time with you.”

Your stomach tightens as he peels the fabric over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His gaze drinks you in, lingering on your bare skin, the way your chest rises and falls beneath him.

“Ma,” he breathes, his hands already roaming again, thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You reach for his hoodie, fingers curling around the hem as you tug. “Then take this off,” you whisper, your voice breathless, needy.

Chris smirks but obliges, pulling it over his head and letting it drop to the floor. His toned chest and arms are bare now, the soft glow from the bedside lamp casting shadows over the ridges of his muscles.

Your hands roam over his skin, tracing along his collarbones and his happy trail. He watches you with dark, hooded eyes, his breathing heavy as he slides his hands down your body, toying with the waistband of your shorts.

“These too,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire, as he hooks his fingers into them, dragging them down your legs inch by inch. The sensation sends a shiver through you, every inch of your exposed skin burning under his touch.

Once your shorts are gone, Chris kneels at the edge of the bed, his hands smoothing over your thighs as he leans down, pressing slow, lingering kisses to your soft and wet cunt. His lips trail higher towards your clit, teasing, making your breath hitch.

Then, just when you think you might combust, he pulls back, standing to his full height.

Your eyes lock onto his as he unbuttons his jeans, dragging the zipper down slowly. He doesn’t look away- not as he pushes them past his hips, not as they fall to the floor, leaving him in just his boxers, the evidence of his desire straining against the fabric.

“Your turn,” you whisper, eyes flicking to the last piece of clothing between you.

Chris smirks, hooking his thumbs into the waistband and pushing them down.

Chris lets his boxers drop to the floor, kicking them aside before crawling back over you, his body warm and solid against yours. His hands find your thighs, spreading them wider as he settles between them, his weight pressing into you in a way that makes your breath hitch.

“Yeahhhh,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw, down the column of your throat. “You’re so fucking perfect. Every single inch of you.” His hands roam your body like he’s memorizing you all over again, tracing over your curves, his thumbs brushing against your hip bones.

You shudder under his touch, gripping onto his shoulders, needing something to anchor you. Chris smirks against your skin, his lips pressing sloppy kisses over your collarbone, then lower, taking his time.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” he whispers, his breath hot against your peaked nipples. “Never get tired of touching you, tasting you… fucking filling you up.”

Your breath stutters, heat pooling low in your stomach at his words. His hands slide down, gripping your hips firmly, fingers pressing possessively into your skin.

“You love that, don’t you?” he murmurs, tilting his head to watch your reaction. “Love knowing I wanna fill you up every time. Keep you like this-” he grinds his hips against you, slow and deliberate, making you gasp. “So full of me.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, and Chris groans, rolling his hips again, teasing you, making your body arch into his.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough, edged with need. “Tell me you want it, baby.”

Your head tilts back against the pillows, a whimper slipping from your lips. “I want it, Chris,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Want you to fill me up.”

Chris growls low in his throat, his hands gripping your thighs, his lips ghosting over yours. “Fuck, you drive me crazy,” he murmurs. “You know that? The way you say it… the way you look at me like that. I swear, I could spend every fucking day buried inside you and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, your body tightening in anticipation. His fingers trail down, teasing, testing your patience.

“You ready for me, baby?” he asks, voice thick, teasing as his eyes flick up to meet yours. “You want it that bad?”

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands fisting in the sheets. “I need you, Chris.”

Chris groans, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips, slow and deep, before pulling back just enough to line himself up, swiping his cock a few times through your built up arousal. His gaze locks onto yours, intense, unwavering.

“Then take it,” he murmurs. “Take all of me.”

Chris doesn’t hold back. He pushes in slowly at first, savoring the way your body reacts to him, how you gasp and clutch at his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist. His jaw clenches as he watches you, eyes dark, pupils blown wide with need.

“Fuck,” he groans, dropping his forehead against yours. “You feel so good, baby. Always so fucking perfect for me.”

Your breath stutters, your nails dragging down his back as he sinks deeper, filling you inch by inch. The stretch is delicious, a slow burn that makes your head spin, and Chris eats up every little sound you make, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. He leans back just enough to watch your expression, his hands roaming over your tits and cupping them, mapping every inch of you. “You take me so fucking well. Every time.”

Your head tilts back, a moan slipping from your lips as he rolls his hips, setting a slow, deep rhythm. Chris groans at the feeling, his fingers pressing into your skin like he never wants to let go.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes, kissing along your jaw, down to your throat. “Let me in- let me fill you up just the way you need.”

His pace quickens just a little, his control hanging by a thread as he watches you come undone beneath him. Every thrust pushes him deeper, making you gasp, your body arching into his.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer. “So fucking tight, so warm- like you were made for me.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, your lips parting in a desperate gasp as he hits the perfect spot inside you. Chris feels it, sees the way your body responds, and it makes something primal snap inside him.

“That’s the spot, huh?” he murmurs, a smirk playing at his lips even as his own breath is ragged. “Gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna let me fill you up like you need?”

“Chris,” you whimper, your body tightening around him, heat coiling low in your stomach.

“Say it,” he growls, his thrusts getting rougher, more desperate. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you need me to cum inside you.”

Your back arches, pleasure crashing over you in waves as your orgasm hits and you squeeze him impossibly tight. “I need it- I need you to fill me up, Chris. So bad.”

He groans, his grip on you tightening as he thrusts harder, deeper, chasing his release. “F- fuck, baby, I’m gonna- ” His breath shudders, his movements getting sloppier as he buries himself as deep as he can, his body tensing.

A guttural moan tears from his lips as he spills inside you, holding you tight, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. His breathing is heavy, his body trembling slightly from the intensity of it, and he presses lazy kisses against your skin as he comes down.

“Shit,” he breathes, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you flush against him. “I swear, I’ll never get tired of this. Never get tired of you.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, running your fingers through his hair, still coming down from your own high.

Chris doesn’t move for a moment, still catching his breath, his body heavy and warm against yours. But then, as if something clicks in his mind, he shifts, gripping your hips with both hands.

Without warning, he pushes your hips up, angling them just enough to keep every drop of his cum inside you. You whimper at the sudden movement, your body still sensitive, your legs trembling from the aftershocks of pleasure.

“Chris- fuck.” you murmur, a dazed little laugh slipping from your lips, “what are you doing?”

His fingers press into your skin, his grip firm, possessive. His darkened blue eyes flick down to where you’re still connected, then back up to your face, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Making sure it stays,” he murmurs, voice rough, teasing but laced with something deeper, something almost primal.

Your breath catches. “I thought you didn’t want me to get pregnant.”

Chris doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans down, pressing kisses along your jaw, down the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, his lips lingering, his hands still keeping your hips in place.

“I never said that,” he finally murmurs, his voice husky, “maybe I like the idea more than I let on.”

Your heart stutters. Heat blooms in your chest, pooling low in your stomach again despite how spent you already are. Chris tilts his head, watching your reaction closely, his smirk deepening as he sees the way his words affect you.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” he teases, pressing another kiss to your collarbone. “You’re the one who begged me to cum inside you.”

Your breath hitches. “Yeah, but I didn’t think you actually wanted-”

Chris cuts you off with a slow roll of his hips, just enough to remind you he’s still inside you, still keeping everything right where he wants it. You gasp, your fingers gripping his arms.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he murmurs. “You know how fucking good it feels. How right it feels.” His lips graze your ear. “Tell me you don’t love it.”

You swallow hard, your pulse hammering. “I do,” you whisper.

Chris smirks against your skin, his hands tightening on your hips. “That’s my girl,” he breathes. “And who knows… maybe one day, I won’t just be filling you up for fun. Maybe one of these days I’ll fuck a baby into you.”

Your stomach flips, your whole body flushing at his words. Chris just chuckles, his expression dark and full of satisfaction as he kisses you again- slow, deep, claiming.

“But for now,” he murmurs, letting his weight settle over you again, his hands still holding you in place, “we’ll just make sure it sticks.”

Chris finally releases his hold on your hips, letting you relax into the mattress, though he doesn’t pull away just yet. He presses a few lingering kisses against your shoulder, his hands smoothing over your sides as he breathes you in.

“You good?” he murmurs, his voice warm and tender now, the teasing edge from before softened.

You nod, still catching your breath, your body pleasantly sore in the best way. “Yeah… just feel like I can’t move.”

Chris chuckles, rolling off of you but staying close. “Guess I did my job right, then.” He smirks, but before you can throw a pillow at him, he leans in, brushing his lips over your forehead. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up.”

He helps you up, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist as you both make your way to the bathroom. He’s gentle as he runs a warm washcloth over your skin, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, your shoulders, wherever he can reach. It’s such a contrast from the heat of earlier, but it makes your heart swell all the same.

Once you’re both cleaned up, you slip on one of Chris’s hoodies- something oversized and soft- and climb into bed. Chris follows, pulling you close, his arms wrapped securely around you as he buries his face in your hair.

“Love you,” he mumbles sleepily, his lips brushing against your temple.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Love you too, Chris.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

You groan, dropping your forehead against the kitchen counter as another wave of nausea rolls through you. “Ugh, I feel awful.”

Chris looks up from where he’s leaning against the fridge, brows furrowing with concern. “Still feeling sick, baby?”

You nod, rubbing your stomach with a frown. “Yeah… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I keep feeling nauseous at the most random times. And I swear, I smelled coffee earlier, and it made me want to throw up.”

Chris winces, stepping closer and rubbing a hand up and down your back soothingly. “I’m so sorry, baby. Can I do anything?”

You shake your head, sighing. “I don’t even know what would help. It’s just been happening out of nowhere.”

Chris presses a kiss to the side of your head, his touch warm and comforting. “Maybe you just ate something bad? Or you’re stressed?”

“Maybe,” you mumble, but you’re not entirely convinced. “Are you sure the chicken last night was fully cooked?”

“I check it twice. It was.” Chris gives you a sympathetic look. “Tell you what- I’ll make you some tea, and then we can just chill on the couch, yeah? I’ll rub your back, we can watch whatever dumb reality show you wanna put on.”

That makes you smile a little, and you nod. “Okay. That sounds nice. Thank you baby.”

Chris grins, pressing another kiss to your forehead before heading to the kettle. “Anything for my girl.”

ONE WEEK LATER

You groan as you lean over the bathroom sink, splashing cold water on your face in a desperate attempt to shake off the lingering nausea. It’s been happening every morning now- like clockwork. And as much as you’d been hoping it was just a stomach bug or something that would pass, it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Baby?” Chris’s voice is groggy, laced with sleep as he steps into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. “You okay?”

You let out a slow breath, gripping the edge of the counter. “Same as yesterday. And the day before that.”

Chris frowns, stepping closer, his hands settling on your waist as he looks you over. His touch is warm and grounding, but when his thumbs brush against your sides, you wince subconsciously.

Chris notices immediately, his brows drawing together. “Hey… why’d you flinch?”

You shake your head, still trying to wake up fully. “I didn’t-” But then his hands slide up a little higher, skimming under your hoodie, and the moment his thumbs brush against the curve of your breasts, you jolt.

Chris’s eyes widen. “Whoa. Okay. That was a reaction.”

You frown, stepping back slightly, your arms crossing over your chest. “They’ve just been… weirdly sensitive lately.”

Chris tilts his head, his gaze flicking down before his lips curl into the smallest smirk. “Not to mention…” His hands return to your sides, his touch slow, almost hesitant. “Baby, I swear to God, they look bigger. Like huge. It makes me so horny.”

You scoff. “Chris!”

“I’m serious!” He gives you a pointed look, stepping back just enough to take you in. “They’re… I don’t know, plumper? And you’ve been nauseous for over a week. You’re throwing up every morning. You don’t think…?”

You blink at him, brows furrowing. “Think what?”

Chris’s expression shifts- something between excitement and pure realization flickering across his face. He licks his lips, searching your eyes, almost as if he’s waiting for you to catch up.

“Baby,” he says slowly, carefully, “you don’t think you could be… pregnant?”

The words hang between you, heavy and thick in the quiet morning air. Your stomach twists- but not from nausea this time.

Your lips part slightly, a small laugh slipping out- almost disbelieving. “Chris, there’s no way…” But then, as you say it, the last few weeks flash through your mind. The exhaustion. The cravings. The nausea. The sensitivity. The way you haven’t used a condom with him in months and he hasn’t been pulling out.

Chris watches you closely, his smirk fading into something softer, more serious. His hands settle on your hips again, thumbs rubbing slow circles. “Baby,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, “when’s the last time you had your period?”

Your stomach drops. Your mind races as you try to remember, but the more you think about it, the more your chest tightens. You should’ve had it by now. You always keep track. But with everything going on, you hadn’t even noticed.

Chris sees the realization hit you. His hands tighten just slightly, his eyes locked onto yours. “Shit,” you whisper.

Chris lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah. Shit.”

You look up at him, heart pounding, eyes wide. “Chris… what if I am?”

He’s silent for a moment. Just looking at you. And then, slowly, his lips curl into a grin.

“Guess we should find out.”

Chris doesn’t waste a second. The moment the realization fully settles between you, he’s already moving. He grabs his phone and wallet off the nightstand, shoving his feet into the closest pair of sneakers.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your forehead before darting toward the front door.

You blink, still in shock. “Wait- Chris, where are you-”

But he’s already gone.

You stand there for a moment, your heartbeat thudding in your ears. This has to be a joke, right? There’s no way this is actually happening. But as you place a hand over your stomach, the reality starts creeping in.

A few minutes later, you hear the front door swing open again, followed by the unmistakable crinkle of plastic bags.

“Alright, baby, let’s do this!” Chris’s voice is practically beaming as he jogs back into the bedroom, his arms full of pregnancy tests. You stare in disbelief as he drops multiple boxes onto the bed, some falling onto the floor in the process.

“Chris,” you say slowly, eyes widening. “What the fuck is this?”

“Options,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I got every brand they had. Digital ones, line ones, ones that apparently have smiley faces-” He pauses, flipping a box over before tossing it onto the pile. “I didn’t know there were this many kinds, honestly, but we’re covering all bases.”

You shake your head, staring at the sheer amount of tests in front of you. “Ten tests, Chris?”

“At least ten,” he corrects, grinning.

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “Why are you so happy about this?”

Chris hesitates for half a second before letting out a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Honestly? I don’t know. I just… am.”

You search his face, expecting to see panic or nerves, but all you find is pure excitement- like he wants this. Like the idea of you possibly carrying his baby is something he’s already embracing.

Your stomach twists, but not in a bad way. It’s terrifying and overwhelming, but with the way he’s looking at you, it also feels… oddly okay.

Chris claps his hands together, bringing you back to reality. “Alright, let’s go. Go pee on some sticks.”

You snort despite yourself. “Some?”

“All of them,” he corrects, already scooping up the tests into his arms. “We need solid confirmation, baby. I need a goddamn unanimous decision from these things.”

Shaking your head, you exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair before turning toward the bathroom. “This is insane.”

Chris follows right behind you, grinning. “This is science.”

You roll your eyes, but as you close the bathroom door behind you, Chris leans against the sink, watching you with nothing but warmth in his gaze.

“Whatever happens,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, “we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Your chest tightens, and you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Wait! Let me see what they say first. Don’t pee on anything!” Chris rips open one of the boxes with the same energy he probably had during his high school finals. He pulls out the instructions, unfolds them with an exaggerated flourish, and clears his throat.

“Alright,” he announces, squinting at the paper. “Step one: Remove the test from the wrapper.”

You snatch a test from one of the open boxes and rip it open with ease. “Done.”

Chris nods approvingly, scanning the next step. “Step two: Hold the absorbent tip in your urine stream for five seconds. Or dip it in a cup of urine for twenty seconds.”

You give him a flat look. “Absorbent tip?”

“Hey, I’m just reading what it says,” Chris says, holding up his hands in defense. He glances down again, then smirks. “Oh- this part’s important: Make sure you don’t pee on the result window. We need a clear reading, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “Thanks for the groundbreaking information, Chris.”

“Just looking out for accuracy.”

You shake your head, but your heart is thudding in your chest. This is actually happening.

Chris notices your hesitation and softens slightly, stepping closer. “You okay?”

You let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Just… nervous.”

Chris nods, setting the instructions down on the counter before placing his hands on your hips. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “No matter what happens, we’re in this together. Got it?”

You nod, exhaling against his chest. “Got it.”

He smiles, giving you a small squeeze before stepping back. “Alright, go do your thing. I’ll be right here, being incredibly supportive and not at all annoying.”

You snort. “Mhm.”

Chris gasps dramatically. “Wow. So much doubt for the man who just spent a ridiculous amount of money on pregnancy tests for you.”

Shaking your head, you grab the cup from the counter- because there’s no way you’re risking peeing on your own hand in the middle of a life-altering moment- and step toward the toilet. “Okay, turnaround now.”

Chris throws his hands up. “I literally fucked this baby into you?!”

“We don’t know if there’s a baby yet!” You roll your eyes but do what needs to be done, filling the cup and carefully dipping the first test. Then another. And another. You cycle through each one, following the ridiculous variety of instructions. Five seconds for one. Twenty seconds for another. One where you had to cap it immediately and lay it on a flat surface.

Chris stands by the counter, eyes wide as he watches you line up ten tests in a perfect row.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “That’s a lot of science happening at once.”

You let out a breath, setting the last test down. “Now what?”

Chris grabs one of the boxes, scanning the fine print. “Now we wait.”

You swallow hard, wiping your hands on a towel before gripping the edge of the sink. “How long?”

Chris squints at the instructions. “Three minutes.”

Three minutes.

Three minutes to find out if your whole world is about to change.

Chris must sense your nerves because he steps up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his lips brushing your jaw. “I can set a timer. Or we can just stare at them aggressively until something happens.”

You let out a breathy laugh, leaning back against him. “Okay… let’s do it.”

Chris’s phone is already in his hand before you even say anything. He holds it up, pressing record with a grin.

“For our future kid,” he says, his voice full of barely contained excitement.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You don’t even know if it’s positive yet.”

Chris smirks, shaking his head. “I have a feeling, baby.”

Your stomach twists as you reach for the first test. Your fingers tremble slightly, and you can feel Chris’s anticipation radiating off of him. With a deep breath, you flip it over.

Two lines.

Positive.

Your heart stops.

Chris lets out a sharp inhale, but before either of you can fully process it, you reach for the second test.

Positive.

The third.

Positive.

Every. Single. One.

Chris stares at them for half a second before a wide grin spreads across his face. “Holy shit.” His phone lowers slightly as he turns to look at you, his eyes shining. “Baby- holy shit!”

Before you can react, he grabs you, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. You gasp, gripping his shoulders as a laugh bubbles out of you, your nerves momentarily forgotten.

“Chris!” You giggle, clinging to him as he twirls you.

“I knew it,” he exclaims, setting you down just enough to crash his lips against yours. The kiss is heated, desperate, but full of so much love that your chest tightens.

Then, before you even realize it, tears start slipping down your cheeks. You pull back slightly, your hand flying to your stomach as a sob escapes you.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, voice shaking. “Our baby is in my stomach.”

Chris freezes, his hands still gripping your waist. He stares at you like he’s just now fully comprehending it, like the reality of it all is truly sinking in. His lips part slightly, his breath hitching.

“Our baby,” he murmurs, and the way he says it- so full of awe, of love- makes your heart ache.

But then, almost instantly, his entire demeanor shifts. His grip tightens, his eyes darting around the room like his brain is moving a mile a minute.

“Shit. I need to tell my mom. And my dad. And my brothers.” He steps back, running a hand through his hair, pacing slightly. “What about your family? Should we call them first? And the apartment- fuck, we need to start looking at places with an extra room. Or at least be ready for when she grows up- ”

You blink. “She?”

Chris stops, looking at you dead serious. “I don’t know, baby, I just know. I have this gut feeling that my new babygirl is growing inside you right now.”

Your heart clenches at the sheer certainty in his voice.

But then he’s spiraling again. “Oh God, we don’t have anything for a baby. I need to research cribs- what’s the safest crib? And strollers- shit, what’s a good stroller brand? I don’t know anything about strollers! And- fuck, baby, we’re twenty-one. I haven’t even married you yet!”

He turns to you, panic written all over his face now, and for the first time ever, you’re the calm one.

You step forward, reaching for his hands, squeezing them tightly. “Chris, baby, breathe.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly, but he listens, taking a deep inhale as his eyes lock onto yours.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, pressing his hands against your stomach. “The way you reacted tells me all I need to know. You’re gonna be an amazing father.”

Chris swallows hard, his panic giving way to something softer, more vulnerable. His fingers flex against your stomach, like he’s already trying to connect with the tiny life growing inside you.

“You think so?” he asks, voice quieter now.

You smile, cupping his face. “I know so.”

Chris exhales shakily, closing his eyes for a moment before leaning forward, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you too.”

And in that moment, standing there in the tiny bathroom with ten positive pregnancy tests lined up on the counter, everything feels exactly as it should be.

MASTERLIST

tags: @bernardsbendystraws @mattsobvimyfav @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 @user1smvtysturniolo @briisturniolo @sturniololuvz @hesvoid34 @butterflytsblog @mommymomm @mattsbunnyxx @blushsturns @i8kth @annalisesturnioloxo @kenziesturniolo54 @ribread03 @sturnl0ve @grace-sturniolo12 @sophsturns @mattsturnfx @lilyloveschris @milo-the-dog @riggysworld @scrumptiouskoalabasement @tenaciousearthquakeperson @sturnlovematt22 @seros-girl @sofsturnz689 @sturniololuvz @eeyoresturnz

[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — golden hours, golden hearts : chapter 013 !

the soft knock at your apartment door came right on time, but you were still scrambling to fasten the straps on your heels.

"one second!" you called, hurrying to the door and yanking it open to reveal chigiri, dressed to the nines in a sleek black suit that made his crimson hair stand out even more.

"you're late," he teased, laughing at you.

"you're early," you countered, stepping aside to let him in.

he took a seat on your couch, watching as you grab your earrings and clutch. "you ready to surprise suki? she's been posting nonstop about tonight. i think she might cry."

you grined at the thought of your best friend's reaction. "she's going to kill us for lying her first, but it'll be worth it."

"yeah," chigiri said, adjusting his tie in the mirror by your door. "this is her night. she deserves to have the people she loves there."

with one last glance in the mirror, you smoothed out your dress and grabbed your coat. "let's go."

the drive to the venue was filled with excited chatter as you and chigiri ran through the details one last time. mitsuki thought you were thousands of miles away, busy with your modeling jobs, but instead, you were minutes away from walking into her big night.

when you arrived, the energy was electric. paparazzi lights flashed like strobes outside the grand theater, and a crowd of fans had gathered behind barricades, holding signs and chanting for the cast of star girl.

chigiri's phone buzzed as you stepped out of the car, and he glanced at the screen. "she just got here," he said, nodding toward the entrance.

your heart raced as you spotted mitsuki in the crowd. she was posing for photos alongside michael kaiser, her co-star, and the two of them looked every bit the stars of the evening. mitsuki's gown shimmered under the lights, and her smile was radiant, though you could tell from her posture that she was nervous.

"she has no idea," you whispered to chigiri, who smirked.

"let's keep it that wa-"

before he could finish, a few paparazzi turned their cameras toward you and chigiri, the flashes catching you off guard.

"y/n! hyoma!" one of them called out, stepping closer for a better shot.

you stiffened, but chigiri leaned in slightly, his voice calm. "smile and wave. let's not give anything away."

following his lead, you offered a small smile and a quick wave, keeping your pace steady. the paparazzi seemed content with a few pictures before redirecting their attention back to the main event.

as you stepped inside the venue, you exhaled quietly.

"well," chigiri said with a small laugh, "so much for sneaking in unnoticed."

inside, the theater lobby was packed with industry elites, reporters, and a handful of celebrities mingling with champagne in hand. you and chigiri found a spot near the entrance waiting for the perfect moment to approach mitsuki.

it didn't take long.

she stepped into the lobby, glancing around as if searching for someone, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

you stepped forward, acting innocent. "hey, um, are you looking for someone?"

mitsuki froze, her head snapping toward you. for a moment, she just stared, her mouth falling open as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"y/n?" she exclaimed, her voice rising above the noise of the crowd.

you grinned. "surprise!"

she didn't hesitate, launching herself at you and wrapping you in a tight hug. "you liar!" she said, her voice thick with emotion. "you told me you couldn't come!"

chigiri chucked, stepping closer. "as if we would miss your big night, suki. you'd kill us."

she let out a choked laugh and pulled him into the hug as well, her arms wrapping tightly around the both of you. "i hate you," she exclaimed.

"no, you don't," you teased, your own voice light with laughter.

"i really do," mitsuki shot back, though her wide grin betrayed her words. when she finally pulled back, her eyes glimmered with happiness as she looked between both of you. "you two are the worst, and the best."

chigiri shrugged, "what can we say? models aim to please."

"you aim to stress me out, apparently," she retorted, but the affection in her tone was undeniable.

"c'mon," you said, looping your arm through hers. "we're here to celebrate you."

with a quick nod, mitsuki took a deep breath and let herself be led toward the red carpet, where the buzz of cameras and chatter awaited her. chigiri fell in step beside her, and the three of you moved forward, ready to make her night one to remember.

the screening of star girl was magical. watching mitsuki shine on the big screen filled you with pride, and you couldn't help but cheer when her name appeared in the credits.

afterward, at the after-party, the four of you, with rensuke, stuck close, reminiscing and soaking in the atmosphere. mitsuki was glowing with happiness, her earlier nerves completely gone.

it was then that you felt a familiar presence.

you turned, and your eyes met his. sae itoshi.

he was standing near the edge of the room, dressed in a tailored suit with his eyes fixed on you.

before you could look away, he was moving toward you, weaving through the crowd with an air of purpose.

"sae," you started as he approached, but he didn't let you finish.

without a word, he took your wrist, his touch firm but not rough. "come with me," he said, his voice low and steady.

you glanced at your friends, who looked equally surprised. you forgot to tell what happened in the chats between you and sae. mitsuki raised an eyebrow, but she waved you off with a knowing smile.

sae didn't stop until you were outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin. the city hummed softly around you, but all you could focus on was the question: what comes now?

"you couldn't wait for the end of the after party?" you asked, your tone playful but still laced with a hint of confusion.

sae shot you a smirk, his hands tucked into his pockets as he glanced around the quiet street. "i thought we were supposed to talk. about.. you know, our little arrangement."

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. "right. the fake relationship. gotta love the timing, huh?"

his expression softened, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "i know it's a bit dramatic, but we both could gain good things from this."

you let out a sigh, leaning against the cool brick of the building, still weighing the situation in your head. it wasn't the most ideal arrangement, but something about it felt oddly intriguing. maybe it was the challenge of playing along with sae, or maybe you were just looking for a bit of excitement in your life.

either way, you couldn't deny the way your heart raced every time his eyes lingered on you, the way his voice seemed to send a jolt through your veins.

you pushed the thoughts aside, focusing back on the present. the arrangement was simple: pretend to be in a relationship with sae for the cameras, help each other gain a little fame, and that's it. no emotions involved. easy enough, right?

you glanced up at him. "fine," you said, your voice laced with reluctant acceptance. "we'll do it. fake relationship, play along for the cameras. whatever."

sae grinned, the tension in his posture easing.

"good," he said, his voice low and smooth. "i need your help."

your brow furrowed, instantly suspicious. "what kind of help?"

chapter 012 > here > chapter 014

taglist is open ! <3

back to golden hours, golden hearts

a/n: sthis is so rushed IM SO SORRY

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© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[ruewritesoccasionally]

The Reunion Pt.4 | Aaron Pierre

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Reader

Warnings: angst, emotional turmoil, unresolved feelings, themes of heartbreak, romantic confessions

Chapter Summary: YN faces the fallout of her breakup with Trey, struggling with lingering feelings for Aaron. When Aaron finally confesses his love, the weight of their emotions crashes together, leading to a pivotal moment of honesty and vulnerability. As their long-simmering feelings come to the surface, both of them take the first step toward something new—something neither could deny any longer.

Word Count: 1.5K

a/n: it's finally here !!! i was dragging this out for the longest time because my brain simply refused to work but i'm so excited that everything is written up now

The faint hum of the television filled the room, yet she wasn’t listening. Her fingers idly traced the rim of her wine glass, and Trey’s voice faded into the background. He was beside her, close enough that his knee brushed against hers, but she felt detached, as if floating somewhere far away.

Aaron’s laugh—deep, infectious, and lingering—played on a loop in her mind, a cruel reminder of the night she’d shared with him just days ago. She tried to banish the memory, to focus on the man sitting across from her, but it was useless. Every stolen glance at Aaron’s lips, every fleeting touch during the movie night, had rooted itself in her thoughts, refusing to let go.

“Hey.” Trey’s voice broke through the fog, but she didn’t react. She was still lost in a world that didn’t include him.

“Hey.” Louder now, firmer.

Her head snapped up. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Trey set his drink on the table, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. “You don’t have to say it,” he murmured, his voice quieter now.

Her brow furrowed. “Say what?”

He looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time in weeks, she realised he’d seen through her façade. “That your heart’s not here. You’ve been miles away all night. Hell, maybe even longer than that.”

“Trey, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted gently, holding up a hand. “We don’t need to drag this out. I think we both know it’s time.”

She stared at him, stunned by how easily he’d unravelled the truth she hadn’t been brave enough to face. Her lips parted to argue, to deny it, but no words came. Because he was right.

Trey leaned back on the sofa, exhaling deeply. “I’ve felt it for a while, you know. The way you smile when your phone buzzes, the way your eyes light up talking about… him.” He didn’t need to say Aaron’s name. It hung between them like an unspoken truth.

“I never meant to hurt you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“I know. And that’s why I’m not mad.” He managed a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sometimes you just know when it’s not meant to be.”

Silence fell between them, heavy yet not entirely uncomfortable. She nodded, a small weight lifting off her chest as Trey stood, retrieving his jacket.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he added after a long pause. “And I hope it makes you happy.”

“Take care of yourself,” he said softly, planting a small parting kiss on her forehead before stepping out the door.

For the first time in months, she felt... free. But that freedom came with a weight all its own. She sat there for a moment, staring blankly at the space he’d just occupied. Her mind should’ve been racing, should’ve been replaying their conversation on a loop, but instead, there was only one thought anchoring her.

Aaron.

The scent of her vanilla and amber lingered on his hoodie, faint but impossible to ignore. Aaron paced the length of his flat, his trainers scuffing the worn wooden floor. His heart was in his throat, thoughts racing so fast he couldn’t pin them down.

Images flashed in his mind—her laughter lighting up the reunion, the way her hand lingered on his arm as they’d hugged goodbye, the soft sigh she’d made during their movie night when she’d leaned just close enough for him to feel the warmth of her body.

He ran a hand through his curls, gripping the back of his neck as Marcus’s words echoed in his head: "If you wait too long, you’re going to lose her."

But it wasn’t just Marcus. It was her. It was the way she looked at him, how her lips curved into a smile just for him, how her eyes softened when he made her laugh. He thought of the first time he’d met her, the way her voice had wrapped around him like a melody. He thought of the countless moments she’d unknowingly stolen his breath.

He swallowed hard, the memory of last night fresh in his mind. So close yet so far. He couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t carry the weight of words unsaid. It was now or never.

Grabbing his jacket, he left his flat, the weight of his choice propelling him forward.

The knock on her door startled her, cutting through the stillness. She frowned, rising to her feet and making her way to the door. When she opened it, Aaron was standing there, his dark curls damp from the rain, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets.

“Aaron?” she asked, surprised.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft, his expression unreadable. “Can I come in?”

She nodded, stepping aside to let him in. He paused just inside the doorway, his gaze flicking to her face, then to the room behind her.

“Everything okay?” she asked, closing the door.

He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

Her brows furrowed as she crossed her arms, concern etched across her face. “What’s going on?”

Aaron turned to face her, his jaw clenching and unclenching as if he were fighting an internal battle. Finally, he ran a hand through his curls, letting out a frustrated groan.

“I’ve been rehearsing this for days,” he admitted, his voice low. “And now that I’m here, I don’t even know where to start.”

Her heart began to race, a strange mixture of apprehension and anticipation bubbling in her chest.

He took a step closer, his eyes locking onto hers. “I’ve been your friend for years, YN. Your best friend. And I’ve tried—God, I’ve tried—to bury this, to pretend it didn’t matter. But it does. You do.”

Her lips parted, but he held up a hand, silencing her.

“Let me finish,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ve spent so long convincing myself that I didn’t have a chance, that you were happy with someone else, that you didn’t feel the same. But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t stand here and say nothing, not when...” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“And I know it’s super disrespectful for me to come here and say this to you when Trey is in the picture, but I’ve waited too long for a woman like you, to say all this to, and I just can’t wait any longer. I-”

“We broke up,” she interrupted softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aaron froze, his eyes widening as the words registered. “What?”

“We broke up,” she repeated, her gaze steady, though her heart was pounding.

He stared at her, his breath catching. “Say that again.”

“We broke up,” she said again, her voice firmer this time. “It’s over.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, a slow, disbelieving smile spread across his face.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice low, almost awed.

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Relief washed over his face, his shoulders sagging as if a weight had been lifted. “You… you have no idea how happy that makes me.”

He stepped closer, so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. And I tried to bury it, to be your friend and nothing more, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

Her breath hitched, tears pooling in her eyes as his words wrapped around her heart.

“I love the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, the way you crinkle your nose when you’re trying not to laugh too hard. I love how you make me feel like I’m enough, just by being around you. And if I didn’t say this now, I would've regretted it for the rest of my life.”

He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that escaped down her face. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know.”

Before she could say anything else, Aaron closed the distance between them in two strides, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though he were afraid to push too far. But when she leaned into him, her hands gripping his jacket, the kiss deepened, growing more fervent.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” Aaron murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“So have I,” she whispered back, her eyes fluttering open to meet his.

Her hand covered his, her fingers trembling. “Aaron…”

He tilted his forehead to rest against hers, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Say the word, and I’ll take you out on the best first date of your life. Say the word, and I’ll prove to you every day that you made the right choice.”

She couldn’t hold back any longer. Closing the gap between them, her lips met his in a kiss so soft yet so charged that it left them both breathless.

When they pulled apart, he smiled, his thumb still brushing her cheek. “So, is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes,” she murmured, her smile matching his.

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo @nickidub718 @kxllanxtdoor @random-human02

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[ldydeath]

We Can Love Again | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: Your boyfriend of two years breaks up with you suddenly. Jiyong, your best friend comes to comfort you and also to admit his own feelings.

Warnings: mild language, angst.

Author's note: considering making this a two part fic. We shall see. 🖤

Today was supposed to have been a really great day. Dinner with your boyfriend and then an event with your best friend, Jiyong. You lived for nights like this. You hadn’t been expecting to get dumped at dinner, though, which is how you found yourself curled up on the couch tears streaming down your face. Sure, it hadn't been the most perfect relationship but that hadn’t made your feelings any less real. You’d loved him and he just up and dumped you for no reason after two years. .

Not wanting to make a scene you’d left as soon as you’d felt the tears pooling in your eyes and beelined it straight home, turning your phone off in the process. The Gala event with Jiyong had completely left your mind the second your heart broke. You had no idea how long you’d been sitting in the dark, you didn’t really care either. It’s not like you had anything better to do.

A knock at the door shook you from your thoughts and you stood up, wrapping a blanket tightly around your dress. You hadn’t even bothered to change out of it. “Oh thank god” your best friend's voice greeted you as you opened the door. His eyes widening when you met his gaze. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours. What’s wrong, why have you been crying?” His words came out rushed, worry etched in his face. You moved to the side, allowing him room to enter your apartment.

“We broke up.” You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to keep the tears at bay as you sat back down on the couch, wrapping the blanket tightly around you. Jiyong sighed as his eyes surveyed the room. You couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed as he looked around the dark room. He moved to turn on a light before sitting down next to you, a protective arm wrapping around you, pulling you closer. He had never liked your ex.

“He’s an idiot.” Your head moved to rest on his shoulder and you sniffled, a small nod of agreement following. “I’m sorry.” He kissed the top or your head and you closed your eyes as more tears fell from your eyes. Jiyong hated seeing you like this. You were his entire world and seeing you in so much pain caused him pain too. The two of you sat there in silence for a long while, the only sound to be heard was your occasional sniffle as you tried your best to compose yourself.

You moved slightly, wiping the tears from your cheeks, catching a glimpse of your best friend's outfit. “Shit!” You sat up fully, the blanket falling off your shoulders. “The gala, I completely forgot.” You reached for your phone, turning it on, your heart sank as you saw the time. When did it get so late? He shook his head, grabbing the phone from your hands and movig it to the coffee table.

“It’s fine, the guys were there so I wasn’t completely alone.” His reassurance still made you feel awful, and you threw your head back on the couch, a groan escaping your lips. You weren’t this person, a flaky friend who cried in the dark. You vowed to yourself that you would make it up to him. Lifting your head to look at your friend, you gave him a small smile. “I still feel bad.”

Jiyong chuckled, pulling you back into his arms. “I would’ve skipped the gala, you know. You could’ve called me. But there is absolutely no reason for you to feel bad.” Your heart raced at the close contact and you quickly chased those thoughts away. You were sad, any close contact despite who it was was going to garner that reaction. That was all. You didn’t like Jiyong. And even if you did, he definitely didn’t like you back.

It was nice being comforted this way. It made you feel silly for not calling him the second it happened. “Thanks for being here.” You leaned up giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek, finally starting to feel slightly better. The world wasn’t going to end, you’d be okay eventually. He tensed when your lips met his skin and you pulled back quickly, your brows furrowed in confusion. “You ok?” You’d kissed him on the cheek a million times over the years, but he’d never froze like that before.

He stared at you, visibly uncomfortable, as if he was at war with his own thoughts. “No.” He shook his head, his arm falling from your back. You instantly felt cold again and you wrapped your arms around your legs, as if holding yourself together would actually keep the world from falling apart. Why wasn’t he ok? What had you done? “I have to tell you something.” Well, that was never good. “Ok?” You rested your chin on your knee, giving him your full attention.

“I think I might be in love with you. I know the timing is shit and all, you know, considering you’ve been sitting here all night crying over some asshole who never deserved you. But I need you to know that I love you. I think I’ve always loved you.” Your eyes widened at his confession. You’d been expecting him to say he was repulsed by you, not that he was in love with you. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“I don’t know what to say…” you trailed off. You’d never really thought of him as more than just your best friend. Not until a few minutes ago when you realized you liked the comfort of his touch a little too much. But that was just the sadness talking, right? You glanced over at him, his eyes met yours, pleading with you to say something. Anything. “Jiyong. I- I can’t right now.”

He closed his eyes, hiding the million emotions swirling in his mind at your rejection. “Why not?” You almost didn’t hear the question, he whispered it so quietly and your heart broke for him. You hadn’t seen him so defeated since he’d made his grand comeback and you hated to be the cause of his pain. “I just can’t. You’re my best friend, I just got dumped. I’m in no condition to know what I’m feeling right now. I just need some time.”

He was off the couch before the words had even finished falling out of your mouth. Rejection had never come easy from Jiyong, stemming from years of having to proof himself. He never thought you’d ever reject him. “I have to go.” He made his way to the door in three long strides and before you could even process what had happened he was gone. Fuck.

Desperate for a do over, you grabbed your phone, calling him. “Ji, please.” You begged, willing yourself not to cry as you heard him pick up the call. “I need time too, ok?” His voice was broken up by the wind. “Time for what?” It was stupid to ask, you knew that. “To get over you.” The phone clicked and Jiyong was gone. How had everything gone to shit so quickly? You needed to fix this, you just weren’t sure how.

Tag list: @wcnderlnds @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi

[azzifuddfanpage]

I can fight

thank you so much for the anon who gave me this amazing prompt: you can read it here!

————

2.1k words (why was this supposed to be my short one)

Tw: none but I didn’t edit so good luck 😺😺

themes: fluff/ angst (not really, paige is just a jealous gf but what’s new)

————

Paige was in her dorm after practice, her hair still damp from her shower, and only a towel wrapped around herself.

She was about to dig through her closet for a hoodie and some basketball shorts when she heard her phone buzz on the table. 

Paige had been expecting a text from Azzi within the next ten minutes, telling her she was ready to get picked up from her rehab. 

Hearing her phone buzz, she wandered over hopefully, picking it up and watching as the screen lit up.

While she did see an Azzi notification, it was not the one she expected. 

“Azzi35 posted” her instagram notification read. 

Paige was immediately doubtful, maybe it was a glitch, Azzi never posts, especially not without telling paige first. It had to have been an add for sure- paige was just surprised she never heard anything. 

When she clicks on the link, Azzi’s dimpled smile fills her screen as she holds up what appears to be a tight body suit. 

Paige holds down on the video as the video jumps to each outfit. Starting with the body suit.

Paige feels the heat in her core burn as she sees the way her ass is accentuated by the way the tight material of the one piece clung to her curves, pulling her in at all the right places, highlighting her girlfriends perfect body. 

The definition of Azzi’s abs is slightly visible through the light material, and paige can’t help her self but zoom in on the fat of her ass as she watches as Azzi turns slightly to show off the rest of the look. 

Paige continues to watch the video, the feeling between her legs growing as Azzi switched into a two piece light blue set that made the tanned color of her skin pop. 

Paige watched the video the rest of the way through, resisting the urge to stop it, but she couldn’t hide the thoughts running through her mind as her beautiful girlfriend flaunted infront of the mirror.

Next Azzi appeared in the brown two piece- that showed off her belly button piercing, and had a zipper right between her breasts. 

“The zipper will not be of much use if she ever wears that around me.” Paige thought to herself as her eyes focused in on the way the pants sat loosely on her hips.

Even when paige thought the video couldn’t get much worse, paige watches as Azzi holds up a tight tank top and shorts. 

“Fuck” paige mutters under her breath, as her eyes wonder Azzi’s body, as she reappears on the screen in the tight black short set.

Paiges eyes wander up her tan legs, seeing the way the material bunches at her abs, and she can just see where the curve of her ass sits at the edge of her pants. 

She smirked as Azzi turned and checked herself out, (paige was doing the same- and had no right to be talking) but would definitely flame her for it later- but not before making her wear it in front of her so she could be the one checking her out. 

She watched needily as Azzi slipped on a tight robe, reminding Paige of the times Azzi would sneak into her room, body wrapped in nothing but a loose robe like that one, and let paige’s hands wander as she made them breakfast. 

As the video went on, and Azzi was now bundled in a zip up and sweats, paige felt a smile tug at her lips as she saw how warm and cuddly Azzi looked all wrapped up in the oversized sweats- paige lowkey wished that Azzi was wearing paige’s sweats but…

Lastly, paige saw the finally tight long sleeve, that drew paige’s attention straight to her breasts, and surely anyone else who was watching would see the same thing, paige would think to herself.

Paiges heart was still beating, Azzi’s beautiful body still flashing in her mind as she clicked on Azzi’s contact- not before saving the ad to her camera roll-, and called her. 

Azzi answers right away “I take it you just saw my ad.” 

“Babe I’m dying, why did you post that now when I can’t immediately put my hands on you.” 

Azzi rolls her eyes  “baby I don’t think it would have gone over well if I had filmed that in front of you. Remember the time I showed you the pink blazer and shorts I wore to the D’Amelio’s, and you almost didn’t let me leave the house?” Azzi reminded as paige smacked her lips together dramatically, 

“Chill, I’m your girlfriend of course I don’t want other people to see how beautiful my girl is.” Paige said pouting into the phone. 

Azzi felt a smile curl onto her lips at the thought of how protective Paige was. 

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.” Azzi said teasingly into the phone.

“Mmmm.” Paige breathed into the phone, Azzi’s words warming her chest. 

“You’re just cute period.” Paige started. “Looked so good in that ad baby. Didn’t even know what to do with myself. If I don’t see you soon might just start touching myself now.” Paige said, her voice a low growl, that made Azzi’s stomach drop to the floor. 

“I’ll be done in 15 minutes and you can come pick me up.” Azzi said her brain running in 50 different directions as she thought about all the things her and paige might have planned. 

Azzi thought she could hear the sound of the music of her ad playing again. 

“Paige are you seriously watching it again?” Azzi asked letting out a soft laugh. 

“Uhm ofc- you didn’t just think I was gonna watch my girl show off her precious body on the internet for my view to be less then everyone else’s… needed to see it on the big screen.” Paige continued, holding her iPad up to the camera that showed Azzi’s ad playing on repeat.

Azzi laughed. 

“I love you baby- be good and maybe I’ll put it back on and let you take it off of me when we get home.” Azzi continued, her eyes scanning paige’s face.

“We’ll see, you should see some of these comments, though. Gonna make it hard for me to just sit back and hear them all talkin bout my girl like this.” 

Azzi laughed as paige began to read some of them outloud. 

“Body so Tea British are coming.. man facts, that’s a bar though.” She continues “Marry me Azzi..” Paige rolls her eyes “she’s already married.” Azzi laughs.

 “Can Paige fight.” Paige scoffs throwing her head back as she plops onto her bed, “Brrooo I can’t do this I’m bout to say something.”

 “Paige calm down, they are just comments” 

“nah I’m bout to like that comment.” Paige said defiantly. 

“Paige Maddison! Don’t even think about it.” Azzi warned shaking her head. 

Paige let out a long sigh “when the season is over and one or both of us are not at UCONN anymore, I’m literally letting the world know how bad I can fight.” 

Azzi smiles “Paige I may be the peoples princess, but I was yours before I was anyone else’s.. you don’t have to fight for me baby. I’m yours.” 

Paige smiles “I love you princess.”

“I love you too,  feel better?” Azzi asked

Paige rolls her eyes “for now.” 

“But I’ll feel a whole lot better when they know you’re off limits.” She muttered. 

“Mommy fudd.” She sneered under her breath. 

“Alright that one literally sounds like something you would say under a fake account or something don’t even play with me right now.” Azzi laughed as paige pouted at the comment. 

“That was one time okay- and I couldn’t help myself.” Paige replied a blush covering her face and she smiled bashfully.  

“Alright baby I love you- the trainer is coming back in to do the shock therapy, but you can leave now and I’ll be ready when you get here. But until then you’re banned from reading any more of my comments until then.” Azzi said, wagging her finger through the screen. 

Paige rolled her eyes, “fine but only if you give me kisses for all the trauma I’ve endured reading those comments.”

Azzi returned the eye roll, “ugh don’t even start with me right now, I swear every other video on my for you page is an edit of you and girls thirsting over your fingers.” Azzi groaned. 

“Don’t even act like you don’t like them.” Paige said smirking. 

“The edits or your fingers?” Azzi asked teasingly. 

“I guess we will have to test it later, but my guess is probably a tie.” Paige said pretending to actually contemplate the pretty obvious answer. 

Azzi and paige continue going back and forth teasingly each other until Azzi’s trainer comes back in and has to hang up against the blondes defiant arguments. 

———

10 minutes later, Paige is in a car waiting for Azzi to come out of the training facility. 

A few more minutes go by and paige feels herself getting a bit impatient. 

To pass the time, she decides to look at the add again, and it still has the same effect on her and as soon as they get alone time she is showing Azzi just how much she liked it. 

She goes back to the comments and sees so many talking about if she can fight. 

Paige feels a brief moment of cockiness. 

A mixture of annoyance and confidence she sets up her phone, “man fuck it.” She says under her breath, recording herself doing the rizz hands, a couple boxing jabs at the phone before doing like a shimmy down her body, trying to turn it into some kind of dance. 

She leans back in the seat as she scrolls through the audio options, landing on a Rocky Balboa sound, and posts to her story without giving it a second thought. 

“Yeah I can fucking fight.” She mutters to herself. 

Within minutes the fans were already having a field day over the TikTok, screen recording it, making connections between that and their previous accusations, Azzi was gonna be so done with her. 

 it takes her only a few minutes for her to see a screenshot of the comment on Azzi’s video asking if paige could fight, pasted over the video of her hilariously uncooordinated stiff punches. Paige felt a wave of satisfaction grow over her knowing that she had indirectly claimed her girl. 

Her eyes scanned over the video, settling on the caption at the bottom that read, “omfg she is letting us know she can fucking fight. Damn Paige, claim your girl then.” Paige smirked and saved the tik tok edit and then put her phone down. 

A couple long minutes later, she saw Azzi’s figure- wearing one of her own hoodies- waddle out to the car, a compression sleeve covering her left leg. 

Paige greeted Azzi with a warm kiss, wrapping her fingers around her back, pulling in the warm body of her girlfriend. 

Paiges hands linger on Azzi’s back as she pulls away guilty.

“so I did a thing..” paige starts, a blush covering her face realizing her rash actions as she looks down at the seat. 

“that sounds ominous, what did you do..” Azzi asks cautiously, trying to interpret the red blush that is quickly spreading over paige’s cheeks. 

 “uhh yeah so I saw more comments about me needing to fight so yeah I uhm- fought.” 

Azzi gasps, bringing a hand to her forehead , “what does that mean paige.” 

Paige pulled out her phone and went to her story, she held it up so Azzi could see. 

Azzi watched as her girlfriend through uncoordinated punches and paired it with a stiff body roll. 

Azzi looked up from the phone, raising her eyebrow at paige. 

“What? I only added the body roll so people would be less suspecting- it could mean anything.” Paige shrugged. 

Azzi smiled, shaking her head in disbelief, “you are crazy.” She said as she gently shoved paige’s phone away, pulling her in so she could place a fat kiss on her cheek.

Paige giggled as Azzi’s lips tickled her skin. 

“you’re not mad?” Paige asked, raising an eyebrow as she placed her hand on Azzi’s neck. 

Azzi shrugged “private but not a secret.” 

Paige’s smile spread across her whole face before she pulled Azzi into a kiss, wrapping her up in a tight hug. 

[bewaryofpity]

LET DOWN - Q. HUGHES

[3.2k] quinn doesn’t love you anymore and it takes hurting you for him to realize.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, smut, shower sex, unprotected p in v, no one cums (sorry), lovers to exes, slight toxic!quinn, falling out of love; unedited

a/n: very much a word vomit that i wrote when i was not feeling well, but i wanted to post it anyway because i think everyone deserves a good cry once in a while.

.

You loved winter. The cold, the snow, being wrapped in cozy blankets were all things that were somehow comforting for you. It was a feeling, a state of mind that allowed you to retreat from the chaos of the world and into yourself. And it was also the season when you and Quinn first started dating.

It wasn’t easy at first. You lived in hours away from Vancouver and couldn’t relocate yet because of your job, so you spent the first year of your relationship long distance with sporadic visits and late-night phone calls to fill the void despite Quinn’s NHL career being time consuming and too demanding — if you had to be honest, but you understood that and all you could do was support him through it all.

But you pulled through. You learned to love the little moments — the feeling of his arms around you, the sound of his voice before you fell asleep, the way he’d send you photos of the first snow in Vancouver, captioned with messages like wish you were here. And now you were finally here, in Vancouver, by his side and it was winter again.

The snow blanketed the city in a familiar white coat, and you felt like you were stepping into a dream you had waited so long to live. But there was an eerie feeling in the air, almost as if winter was not comforting anymore, now rather cloaked in something heavier, something dreadful. 

The apartment was empty, just you with no lights on, and it was the kind of quiet that felt oppressive rather than peaceful. You sat on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket, staring at the snow falling outside the window. It was only midmorning, the clouds of snow made everything look even darker than it seemed, but you couldn’t get yourself to turn the lights on as if you were scared to wake up from your dream, like it would shatter the fragile stillness you had wrapped yourself in.

“Baby?” 

Quinn’s voice startled you. You didn’t notice the door opening nor had you registered the sound of his footsteps. He stood in the doorway, his brows furrowed in concern, the cold from outside clinging to him, and his cheeks were flushed from the winter air.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice soft but tinged with worry and he stepped closer, crouching down so he was at eye level with you. His eyes searched your face for clues, but you gave him none, nothing was giving him way for what you were feeling.

“Yes, why?”

“You seem off.”

He wasn’t wrong. Something was off, but you couldn’t put a name to it. It was as if an alarm bell had been ringing in the back of your mind for months now, faint but persistent, and you had chosen to ignore it. Maybe people just changed. Maybe you were outgrowing your love for winter, or maybe you were projecting the latest Quinn’s insecurities onto yourself. It felt simple enough to try and come up with something to soothe yourself, but nothing settled the discomfort in your chest. 

“It’s just the cold. Do you wanna take a shower with me?”

He smiled at you, concern gone from his expression. You tried to play it off by changing the subject with something you knew would peak his interest, and of course he fell for it, it was always like that lately. He stretched his arm out for you to take and led the way to your shower. Everything was fine, really, you were just getting into your head for no reason.

You looked at yourself in the mirror not recognizing the figure in front of you, it seemed like you were looking at someone who was pretending to be you. Quinn turned on the shower head before coming to roam his hands over your body, distracting you from your thoughts. His hands were light on your body, helping you undress softly with no urgency. The small fog started to appear on the corners of the mirror as he placed kisses on your shoulders, hands now working on unclasping your bra. 

When you both stepped in the shower, his hands found your body again and turned you around. The warm water falling down your back calmed your nerves down a little bit, your heart still thumping too fast in your chest. 

“Quinn” You whispered, his mouth nipping at the skin of your neck before moving up your jaw and finally placing a soft kiss on your lips, rolling your head back as you barrened the feeling of his wet lips on your skin.

“I’m here.”

You let yourself sink into his embrace and his hands flattened against your spine. He drew you closer, and guided you gently backward until you pressed against the wall, squirming when your back hit the cold tiles. He took the gasp leaving your lips as his turn to push his tongue into your mouth, the kiss growing fervid and you didn’t fight for dominance. 

The wall began to warm up with your own temperature, and you felt one of Quinn’s hands let go of your hip. Your fingers clung onto the wet strands of hair at the back of his head and moved further up to grab the ones framing his face. You pulled at it to bring his mouth farther away from yours and a groan left Quinn’s lips, vibrating against your own.

His vacant hand came back to you, smoothing over your skin, palming at your hips, your ass, your thighs, anything that he could get a hold of. He brought his lips back to yours, and you let out a small moan against his lips. He used to swear that that sound alone was sacred, something carved from the world’s best; he would be stupid to not consider himself lucky to have you. But before it all escalated too quickly, he grounded himself and he pulled away from the kiss.

“Why did you stop?” You whisper innocently, yet annoyed by his sudden change of mood.

“We need to talk about you.” He said against your lips, eyebrows raising when he felt the way your hand gripped onto his hair to pull him back to it, but he didn't give in, he just stared at you, eyes dark and empty, waiting for a response. Your hand slides from the top of his head to the back yet again. 

“Yeah okay, later. Now kiss me.”

You sighed, Quinn’s hands on your body began to work the path it was making during your kiss, squeezing and exploring your flesh. His hand moved downwards and grabbed onto your thigh, holding it to his hip. You let him do it, already feeling the weight on your chest getting replaced by a slight warmth in your stomach. 

He was hard against you, he had been for a while now, your body his muse, and he moved his hips against yours. You deepened the kiss when he lifted one of his hands and began to move his body to somewhat create a distance between you. You could feel the tip of his cock between your folds in a space of a second, and you sighed into the kiss.

“Fuck.” He grunted, forcing the two of you to separate from the kiss.

You moved your hands to his shoulders and closed your eyes while leaning your head on the wall. He slid right in with ease, stretching you like he always did. 

He didn’t give you much time to adjust, his hips bruising yours as he slid back and forth inside of you, the notion pressing you against the wall impossibly more, and you grit your teeth at the discomfort from the wall behind you. His hands gripped your thighs forcefully, watching as he slid in and out of you, his length coated in your slick. The sight of your naked body before him burned his skin, the feeling of your wet torsos sliding on one another, your tits squished into his chest, your stomach against his abs, his hands digging into your soft thighs. His carnal desire for you kept him going.

“Quinn.” You moaned his name between your clenched teeth. He groaned into your skin, feeling your soaked warm walls squeezing him as he didn’t move his focus from his cock. 

“So good, baby. Keep going.” He whispered into the skin of your chest.

The bathroom was so silent and so echoey that you could hear everything. You could also hear your breathing against one another’s mouths. You heard the wet noises of his cock going in and out of you. Everything. And you wanted to disappear.

Your hands gripped at his shoulders, your breasts moving with each of Quinn’s thrusts when you leaned back on the wall, and your head fell back onto the tiles each time he brought his mouth to your skin, leaving marks down his path.

Everything felt so odd and uncomfortable. You hoped he could feel it too, because the way your nails scratched at his back, digging deep into the skin was not you. You didn’t know what was happening, it could have been from not talking to one another, it was too physical for your liking and your mind started to wander again. His body heavy against yours, almost suffocating, and this was not him, and you wanted it all to stop.

“Quinn, please, stop.” You whimpered breathlessly, staring at the ceiling, head thrown back onto the wall.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

He let go of one of your legs but didn’t pull out yet. He kept squeezing at your waist, confusion painted his face and he was almost white in fear of having hurt you. He tried to get your attention back on him, but your eyes were squeezed shut and you wished you could disappear, that everything went back to how it was, back to when you loved having his touch on your skin.

His touch was delicate now, treating you like a porcelain doll. You knew he was beating himself down for hurting you even though he wasn’t sure what caused your sudden change. The woman in front of him was not you, she was your shell, he didn’t recognize you anymore. He tried to push away the tought that it was his fault, but the idea persisted and he couldn’t wait to get away from you.

Your other leg made contact with the ground gently, your hands still clawing at his back, squeezing him closer to you. His hands traveled up to your back with hesitation, unsure whether or not you wanted his comfort in this situation.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I just need to know that you’re okay.”

“I don't wanna talk about it. Not now.”

Quinn didn’t press you for more. He simply pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you and for a while, it helped. His warmth, his steady presence, was enough to keep the darkness at bay. And with his arms wrapped around you, all was right with the world again, even if just for a little bit. But the feeling lingered. 

Days turned into weeks, and the weight in your chest didn’t lift. You found yourself retreating into the quiet corners of your mind more often, your thoughts tangled in questions you couldn’t answer. But the cracks were there, and they were widening. 

Everything came down to Quinn one night in January after a painfully embarrassing game, and he drove home with a tension in his shoulders that matched the one in your chest. There were no messages from you to reassure him of his game, nothing — you were radio silent. His heart stung a little bit, but the ache went as fast as it came, and he realized that he didn’t really care at that moment that he was not on your mind. You weren’t in his either.

After that day when you cried in his arms, he felt self-conscious of his love for you because being in your presence started to feel like a chore, sleeping with you and kissing you weren’t doing anything for him anymore. Yet, he didn’t want to believe that this was it, so he pushed onto you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

You were a clever woman, your mind greater than anyone’s he had met before, yet he didn’t notice. He thought he hid it well, that he stopped loving you somewhere in the middle of January, but the memory of you, vulnerable and sensitive in his arms, crying and asking him to not leave you flashed in front of his eyes. You already knew then the turmoil that clouded his thoughts. And when he reassured you that he was not leaving, he felt like an asshole. He was an asshole, because now you despised him and you couldn’t bear him anymore.

His team had yet again acquired another loss, and it was clear he was carrying the weight of it as the captain. It was what Quinn always did, blame himself even when the problem wasn’t him. You tried to comfort him, to be the steady presence he had been for you, but your own unrest made it hard to find the right words.

As soon as he crossed the threshold into the apartment, you knew you were going to walk on eggshells for the night and you wished you had more courage in you to finally stop your pain, and mutter the words that had been stuck on the tip of your tongue for weeks now.

Quinn came to stand by the kitchen counter while you cleaned up. His looming presence raised your heartbeat, you were careful to plan your next words.

“I’m sorry about tonight. You guys will bounce back soon.”

And maybe those weren’t the right words, you exhausted every vague reassuring expression, he knew his team wasn’t playing well and you knew so too. The console, the soothe, the encouragement were all performative, your voice lacked sincerity and you both knew that.

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “You don’t get it. It’s the whole fucking season, we’re a playoffs team and yet we get swept by the worst teams in the league.”

He snapped, jaw tightening and voice sharper than you expected. The sting of his words cut deep, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words to respond. “I know you’re upset and I’m sorry, but I’m just trying to help.” 

“You’re not helping at all.”

“What do you want me to do?” Your voice trembled and your chest tightened, a mix of frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface. “I might not understand what it means to lose, but I’ve been trying my best here to get some of that weight off your shoulder. I’ve always been there for you, have I not?”

“I don’t need your words to feel better, I just—”

“You what, then? You want to let your anger out on me? You think that will make you feel better? If that’s what you want, have at it.”

“I couldn’t care less about your body.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

Silence hung heavy between you, the weight of your words settling in the space where love used to be. The pretense of caring for each other, loving one another, was all breaking down bit by bit, and one of you had to deliver the final blow.

“Quinn, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, you’re the one who’s pushing me away.”

“Yeah, because you’re doing the exact same thing to me.”

You said it so casually, passive to his behavior, accepting of the blame being put on you. At this moment, he wanted for you to hit him. Physically. Because he knew his words were hurting you, and he was doing it on purpose, and he needed you to put some sense back into him. He wanted you out, but he didn’t want the responsibility of being the one to break up, so he tried to pick at your insecurities, at your doubts, praying that you’d break your façade.

“I’m tired, Quinn, I’m going to bed. Figure it out on your own, I’m not here to entertain you anymore.”

And so you walked to your shared bedroom, arms crossed around your body as if to protect yourself from harm, to hold yourself together, save your tears to spill out in his presence.

“I don’t know if this is working anymore.” He said, looking up in your direction with eyes that seemed more tired than anything else. You stopped in your tracks before you turned around to face him again.

“Did you notice just now?”

“No.” he whispered, voice so small you had to rely on the shake of his head for his answer.

“What were you waiting for?”

“For you to leave.”

“You don’t mean that.” You said, shaking your head. The room seemed to tilt, the weight of his confession threatening to crush you.

“I do.” He said, his voice breaking. “I didn’t want to admit it, not to you and not to myself, but it’s the truth. At first I thought, maybe if I waited a little bit this feeling would be gone, but then nothing changed and I found myself keeping you around for my own pleasure, really. But I did just notice that you knew all this all along. So why are you still here?”

“Because I thought it was all in my head. I thought I was the one who didn’t love you anymore.” Your voice trembled and the tears you desperately tried to hold back finally spilled over. Your legs were too weak to hold you up so you shifted your weight on to the armrest of the couch next to you. And you finally said it. But it was all you. You didn’t love him anymore and it was his fault. 

“I’m sorry.” His own tears threatened to spill.

“But you’re not, so please stop lying to me at least this once. It’s okay if you’re not sorry, and it’s okay that you don’t love me anymore. And it’s okay that you felt the need to use me until I couldn’t take it anymore. I just wish you spared me of the pain you’re leaving me with. That, I cannot forgive you for.”

You didn’t really care if Quinn started crying now, he deserved that, he deserved much harsher words than the ones which came out of your mouth. You could see it in his face, the flicker of guilt, the defensiveness, maybe even anger, like he resented you for making him feel anything at all. It was infuriating, how he stood there with his jaw clenched and his arms crossed at his chest trying to hold himself together. You wanted to believe that there was remorse buried somewhere beneath his cold exterior, but all you saw was a man who didn’t want to face the consequences of his actions. And that made the pain even worse.

And you wanted to scream, to cry, to crumble under the enormity of it all, but instead, you stood there, frozen in the unbearable stillness of betrayal. It wasn’t just the pain of losing him, it was the realization that he’d never truly cared the way you had, and now, all that love — if you could call it so — felt like a wound you’d inflicted on yourself.

But it didn’t matter anymore because now the weight on your chest was gone and winter was your least favorite season.

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Hold You Close

Part 2

Marshall was always tactile with his affection. You knew it from the first time you met, the way his hand had hovered at the small of your back when he walked with you, as though making sure you didn’t wander too far. But now, after years together, it had become second nature to him to pull you close—so much so that you couldn’t even remember the last time you sat on your own couch without him wrapped around you.

Morning Moments

You woke to the sound of the soft hum of the coffee maker in the kitchen. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted into the bedroom, coaxing you out of sleep. Stretching, you glanced over to Marshall’s side of the bed.

Empty.

That was unusual. He almost always stayed in bed until you woke up, claiming it was his favorite part of the morning.

You wandered into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Marshall stood by the counter, leaning against it with his phone in hand and his coffee steaming beside him.

“Morning,” you mumbled, stepping closer.

He looked up, his face lighting up at the sight of you. “There’s my girl.”

Before you could make it to the counter, he reached out, pulling you into his arms. You let out a soft laugh as he tucked your head beneath his chin, his arms tightening around your waist.

“You smell like sleep,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You smell like coffee,” you shot back, your voice muffled against his chest.

Marshall chuckled, swaying slightly with you in his arms. “You hungry?”

“Not really,” you murmured, content just to stay wrapped in his embrace.

“Good,” he said. “’Cause I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

---

Studio Interruptions

You always made it a point to give Marshall space when he was working, but every once in a while, you’d peek into the studio to see how things were going.

Today was one of those days. You stood in the doorway, watching as he sat at the soundboard, headphones over his ears. He was so focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he listened to the playback of whatever he’d been working on.

You didn’t think he’d notice you, but then he turned, his blue eyes lighting up when they met yours.

“Hey,” he called, pulling off his headphones. “Get in here.”

You hesitated. “I don’t want to interrupt—”

“Don’t care,” he cut you off, beckoning you with a grin. “Come here.”

With a smile, you crossed the room, and before you could say a word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his lap.

“Much better,” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Marshall,” you laughed. “I can't be comfortable!"

He scoffed. “You’re tiny. I could carry you around all day.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed at his words. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said, nuzzling your neck. “But now I’ve got everything I need to finish this track.”

Movie Nights

Evenings were your favorite. After a long day, you and Marshall would curl up on the couch together, a movie playing in the background. Not that you ever really paid attention to what was on—Marshall had a way of distracting you.

Tonight was no different. You were sitting at one end of the couch, your legs tucked under you as the opening credits rolled. Marshall sat at the other end, but that didn’t last long.

“Why are you all the way over there?” he asked, his voice full of mock offense.

“I thought you wanted space,” you teased.

“Not from you,” he said, reaching over and tugging you across the cushions.

You let out a squeak as he pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping securely around you.

“Much better,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You’re clingy,” you teased, though your tone was fond.

“And you love it,” he shot back with a grin.

He wasn’t wrong.

Always Close

No matter where you were or what you were doing, Marshall always found a way to pull you close. Whether it was his arm slung around your shoulders while you walked together, or the way he’d hold your hand under the table during dinner, he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I just like knowing you’re close,” he admitted one night as you lay tangled together in bed.

You smiled, tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Marshall.”

“I know,” he said, his voice soft. “But it still feels better when I can hold you.”

You pressed a kiss to his chest, your heart swelling with affection.

“Good thing I like being held,” you murmured.

“Good thing,” he echoed, pulling you even closer.

And as you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in his arms, you realized there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

---

Let me know if you'd like me to expand this one, it was fun to play with!

[emsdevs]

Cookies and Cargo

Noah and Mateo AU

a/n: i love love loved writing this part! i feel like i've written the boys interacting with every but ängeli so i wrote the three of them together for this part! enjoy! (also the boys are 7 in this one) ♥️

masterlist | NHL Masterlists | Nico Hischier Masterlist | Noah and Mateo AU Masterlist

The boys had been attached to you all day. You’re not sure what’s gotten into them, especially Mateo, since he usually goes for Nico first, but you’re definitely not complaining. They haven’t let you out of their sight all morning, and your heart is so full you don’t even care that you haven’t been able to clean the house today. You’re just overjoyed that your boys still want to spend time with you. They’re getting older, and you know soon, they’ll be at the stage where hanging out with their mom is weird. Hopefully, they’ll still want to spend time with you then sometimes. 

Today, they’ve made you sit and watch movies with them, build a fort (a favorite activity of theirs since Jack and Luke came over when you and Nico redid the boys’ room a couple of years back), and now they’ve dragged you to the kitchen, begging for homemade chocolate chip cookies. Baking is a hobby of yours, so you’re glad to indulge the boys. You help them both into their aprons before putting on your own. Soon the three of you have everything set out and ready to measure. 

“Mama, can we please have some music to listen to?” Noah gives you the doe eyes that he got from his father, and you can’t say no. 

“Of course, baby,” you reach for your phone and begin to play some Dierks Bentley. Country music doesn’t really bother you, even if it isn’t your favorite, but Nico has been miserable ever since Jack and Luke got the boys hooked on it. Their faces instantly light up after hearing one of their favorite artists, and then they’re ready to work. They’re wonderful helpers, listening to every word you say and following directions perfectly. 

They help you measure out everything, Noah insisting on being the one to scrape the extra flour and sugar off the top of the measuring cups so you have the perfect amount. Mateo, on the other hand, begged to be the one to crack the eggs, always loving to make a mess. It’s not long before they start talking again.

“Mama, how long until baby Lena can help us bake?” Noah questions beside you. You supposed that would be the real reason why they’ve been so attached to you recently. Ever since you and Nico sat the boys down to tell them they’d have a baby sister soon, who you’ve since decided to name Elena, they’ve both managed to be right by your side as much as possible. You can tell they’ll be the most protective big brothers.

“Well, she’ll be here in just four months, but she’ll have to grow a little bigger before she can help us bake. She’ll have to be big and strong like both of you,” you gently try to explain that it will take a while for Elena to be big enough to really play with them.

“Don’t worry, Mama. We’ll help her get big and strong!” Mateo chimes in.

“Yeah, Mama! Me and Mateo can help Lena!” the boys still struggle to say her full first name, but they’re so excited to be adding to the family.

“Well, I’m so happy that you two want to help Elena. How about for now you help me get these cookies on a pan?”

“Yes!” the boys shout in unison. They help you cover the cookie sheet in cookies before you place it in the oven on your own. While you’re loading the dishwasher, the boys have turned their attention back to their music, having a dance party in the middle of the kitchen. Soon, though, they hear the front door open and go running to meet their father in the entryway. You hear his footsteps approaching the kitchen while their’s are running toward their playroom. A moment later, you feel familiar hands wrapping around you to hold your stomach as you wipe down the counter.

“I thought I told you to take it easy. You have some precious cargo,” Nico leans down to press a kiss to your shoulder.

“I wonder whose idea it was to give me precious cargo,” Nico tried for years to talk you into having one more kid. Not too long ago, you gave in, and you’re so glad you did. Nico would never force you into anything, so it was one hundred percent your decision, and you’re overjoyed that you’re family is growing. “Besides, the boys wanted me to make cookies with them.”

“Mhmm. Did you also have a part in building that fort in the living room?”

“They built it! I was just supervising,” you shrug your shoulders. 

“What am I gonna do with you, Ängeli?” he laughs a little before kneeling in front of you, putting him at eye level with your growing tummy. “How’s my other girl doing? Hi Lena baby,” he presses a kiss to your stomach. “You being good for your Mama, sweet girl?”

“I thought I was your sweet girl?” you tease him.

He stands back up, leaning in but stopping just before your lips can connect, “You’re always my sweet girl, Ängeli. Just gotta show my baby girl some love too.” He leans in the rest of the way then, connecting your lips in a kiss. However, it doesn’t last long because two pairs of footsteps come barreling toward the kitchen. 

“Mama! Mama!” Mateo is yelling, of course.

“Are the cookies done?” Noah comes to grab onto your hand while Mateo tries to climb his father until he gets picked up. A few seconds later, the timer for the cookies goes off, sending the boys and their father into a fit of giggles. You move to take the pan out of the oven before Nico sits Mateo down on the counter and beats you to it. He sets the pan on a cooling rack beside the oven, and immediately after taking the ovenmit off, he tries to grab a cookie.

You smack at his hand, causing the twins to laugh once again, “You gotta wait til they cool, Neeks.” He laughs before grabbing your phone from the countertop, switching the country playlist to something you all can enjoy.“Well then, let’s waste some time while they cool,” he drags the last word out a bit. Then, he grabs your hand, spinning you in a circle, getting the boys to join in on the dance party. You couldn’t imagine your life any different, but you couldn’t wait for the change that would soon be happening. You knew Elena would be so loved, and you hope she’ll love being part of the family as well.

a/n: surprise!!! i hope y'all like the little plot twist!! also just so everyone knows baby girl's name is pronounced like "uh-lay-nuh" so her little nickname is pronounced "lay-nuh" :)

taglist: @heartsforjh @devilinpradaheels @puckmedude @dancerbailey3

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[arcadia-of-pluto]

Divisa; Four

Pairing(s); LADS OT4(?) x Reader

Word count; 2,356

Themes; reality hopping, alternative universe (same universe, just things are a little...different), doppelganger, multiple endings, slow-burn

Warnings; excessive swearing

Notes; It's finally here!! I'm so sorry it's so late 😭 I got really caught up on writing my Caleb fic and I lost track of time. I'm about half way through chapter one? I already did the prologue, and I know i said it wouldn't be as complicated as ToF but complicated is my middle name! (I'm literally googling day calculators to figure out how many days to another day. It's insane). If you're interested, I'll add some more details at the end after my author's note! 💜

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Heavy breaths escape from your lips as you lean against the brickwall of the alley you were previously hiding in. You felt so nauseous, so dizzy, so...You wrinkle your nose up and quickly shake your head to dissipate those thoughts — if not, you might actually throw up. 

Was this reaction because you were nervous or…was this the after effects of using someone else's evol?  

Eh, at this point, it doesn't matter. At least you avoided meeting up with your doppelganger – this time. 

You'll definitely have to be more careful in the future. 

Leaning back against the wall, you pull your mask down under your chin to take in the crisp autumn air. “Alright…Next on the agenda, a cheap phone for a GPS and then job hunting.” You mutter to yourself, lifting the mask back to its proper place before you step out from the alleyway, tentatively looking around to make sure Tara and any other hunters around are gone.

You're not sure where exactly you're going, you might even be lost, but you continue to wander aimlessly until you stand in front of what you believe to be an electronics store? 

It's near the large fountain in Azure Square, so that means it's near The Nest and…Jeremiah's shop, ‘Philos’. 

As you step inside, you're suddenly hit with an overwhelming scent of flowers and realize you might’ve made a mistake. 

Philos and the electronics shop are…combined? Kind of like those reading cafés, but flowers and electronics? This definitely wasn't a detail from the games…

That's certainly an odd combination, but rather fitting since you recall Jeremiah being good with both. 

Maybe with everything being so different, even Jeremiah won't recognize you! At least, you hope as much. 

As you slowly walk toward the counter, you spot a familiar head of wavy light brown hair – the person under that head of hair turns to look at you with a gentle smile.

“Welcome to Philo, I assume you're not here for flowers, right?” 

You clear your throat as you nervously glance around the store, on edge that Xavier could somehow be nearby even though he's probably still at work.

“Ah…yeah. I need a new phone. Just something with the essentials, so do you have anything cheap?” While you did have a lot of money, it's not in your best interest to blow it all on a phone that probably won't work when you go back home.

However, it'll definitely be a nice souvenir! Maybe even a family heirloom–

If you ever make it back home, that is. 

“Cheap? Hmm…” Jeremiah pauses to think for a moment before he snaps his fingers. “Right, I should have something that fits the bill.” He reaches down to grab a small box from under the counter and holds it out to you. “Is $30 cheap enough for you?”

“That's actually perfect.” But as you go to reach out for it, Jeremiah tilts the box just slightly out of your grasp.

“Didn't you just get a new phone, Y/n?”

“No…I don't think so—” 

You freeze mid-sentence. Your brows knitting together as you mentally play back what he just said.

Wait a damn minute…

You feel your heart sinking low in your chest as dread pools within your stomach, churning, and you quickly shake your head. Your hands raising up as you frantically try to backpedal on your words, “Wait, I meant—”

“I'm just kidding! Seriously. You look too frazzled to be the girl I'm talking about. You two must share a name though, considering how shocked you are.” Jeremiah chuckles, scanning the box for you before he finally holds it out for you to take.

“Since I gave you a little scare, I won't even charge tax. Just for today though!” 

“Oh, thank you.” You place a hand on your chest, letting out a sigh of relief as you pay for your phone. Once you opened the box, you noticed it was a bit on the small side, but the size doesn't matter since you only needed it to navigate through this world since your old phone can't.

But before you leave, you decide to make your job search just a little easier. 

“I have one more question.” 

“Oh? Ask away, I'll try to help as much as I can.” The man places his elbows on the counter and leans forward, tilting his head slightly to the side. 

Did he always appear this charming in the game? He's definitely always been cute, but something feels a bit off. Like he knows more than he's letting on.

Why else would he test you by ‘pretending’ he thought you were Gemini? 

There's no use in wasting your energy on weird shit. Just ask him your question and leave. Should be simple enough.  

“So…I'm new to Linkon City and I was wondering if you knew of any cafés that might be hiring?” You didn't want to bother Jeremiah too much, but the shop didn't seem too busy at the moment and he did owe you one for giving you such a scare. 

“Does it have to specifically be a café?” He ponders your question before he continues his sentence. “Well, if it has to be a café, I can think of one off the top of my head. It's not too far from here actually. You should've seen it on your way here. Sugar Spoon, I think it was?” 

“Really?”

Hmm…you must've gone right past it! Either way, that's perfect. Thankfully it's close to where you're staying and it's near many important places – and it's also an hour away from Gemini and Xavier's apartments.

“I'll head there now! Thank you so much.” 

Though as you turn to leave, Jeremiah gently catches you by the wrist.

“Hold on, I promise it won't take long!”

He races off toward the floral section of his store, before returning a few minutes later with a flower in his hand. 

“Since you said you were new to Linkon, I thought a hyacinth would be a perfect gift. It basically means a fresh start…Think of it as the flowers are cheering you on in the hopes you get the job.” He smiles as you take the purple flower from him.

You honestly ponder where to put it, but ultimately decide to tuck it behind your ear. 

“You've been such a great help. Thank you so much, Jeremiah!” You say once again, trying your best to smile with your eyes as you turn to leave.

Finally walking out the door before you realize you've made a mistake. 

Did Jeremiah ever tell you his name? 

Thinking back on it…no. He did not. 

Well, that's a problem for future you to deal with. 

You toss the empty box, that used to contain your new phone, in a nearby trash bin and tuck the charger into your back.

Maybe if the café has wifi, you can set your phone up in there too.

Barely even a few blocks down, you find the café Jeremiah told you about. 

It looks so out of place within the confines of the futuristic Linkon City. It seems more modern and…feels like home once you step inside. 

“Good after– morning! Good morning, I'm sorry!” The employee behind the counter profusely apologizes even though you haven't said a word after stepping inside.

Her cheeks are red in embarrassment as she tries to hide her face within her wavy dark brown hair. 

“You're fine–” you can't help but laugh at her reaction, finding it a bit endearing amongst everything else you've experienced in the past day. “I saw that you're hiring?” 

You spot her blue-grey eyes peering at you from behind her hair and she takes a few seconds before replies. “Oh, right! Uh—” she turns her head, cupping her hand around her face, “Ma, come here! I need you to screen an applicant.”

Then, she looks back at you, anxiously, seemingly a complete 180 from her previous behaviour. 

Was she just nervous around strangers? 

A short woman, about the same height as her daughter, comes walking out from a door behind the counter. Her bright red hair was the first thing that stood out to you and she honestly looked a bit mean, so you were starting to feel less confident in getting the job – but the other employee lightly swats at the older woman.

“I've told you before you're going to scare away new hires with your face like that! Can't you try and smile?” 

“It'll be fine, Aster. You should pay attention to yourself, you've got customers.” The mother waves her daughter away and motions for you to come behind the counter. “We'll have the interview back here.” 

Once you're both sat down, the boss takes some papers out, and looks you up and down. Her gaze lingering on your eyes before she hums under her breath. “Your name?” 

You hesitate, but ultimately decide that even if Gemini exists in this universe, you still want to be yourself. 

“Y/n L/n.” You say, as confidently as you can. Still nervous that someone, anyone, would call you out for pretending to be the main character. 

“Y/n…Wait, L/n?” 

Hmm? Why was she surprised by your last name? 

“Does your mother happen to be M/n?” The woman sets the papers down, holding her hands together as she waits for your answer with baited breath. 

Why was everything so serious all of the sudden? 

“Yes….why? Is there a problem?” Suddenly, it was beginning to feel hot under your mask. You knew your mother had been here at one point, the evidence was clear with how even Rafayel painted her, but just how much influence did she have? 

“No, no…” she laughs, a smile tugging at her lips. “I just can't believe I'm meeting an old friend’s daughter. I was so terrified when we went missing, but now– seeing you, I know she's just fine. She's the one that helped me build this café from the ground up.” 

So that's why the café felt so modern. It makes a bit more sense now. 

You lightly tap your nails against the table and sit back in your chair. “So…as an old family friend, can I call you boss?” You try to act as nonchalantly as you can, but internally you were a mess. “Boss?” She shakes her head as she laughs, “No. Never. Call me Auntie Taryn and we have ourselves a deal.” 

A smile tugs at your lips and you decide to pull your mask down. “It's a pleasure to work with you…Auntie Taryn.” 

“Oh, you look just like your parents…” she reaches her arm out to gently squeeze your hand. “Please, tell me if you need anything and I'll try my best to help you out. And Aster too. She'd love a girl friend her age. All she's got so far is Ca–”

“Ma! I thought we agreed to not talk about the part timer on his days off.” The frizzy haired girl pokes her head into the room. “He said this was like his super secret side job or something. We can't be ruinin’ that for him, you know?” She has a hand on her hip before her eyes pause on your face.

Your hand twitches, wanting nothing more than to pull your mask back up. Anxious that they'd recognize you. Nervous that they'd ask questions you don't have the answers to. Worried they'd wonder if you were Gemini's twin or something, but instead–

“Ohhh, so that's why you had your face all covered up. You're so pretty! If you had your mask down, you'd probably have all kinds of guys askin’ you out.” Aster clasps her hands together in excitement, moving further into the room. “If you wanna keep your pretty face hidden, I'll definitely help out! All you've got to do is pay me.” 

“Pay you…how exactly?” You hesitantly ask, a little worried about your money, but she quickly dissuades your anxious feelings.

“By letting me see your face from time to time, of course!” She grins and it's somehow cute. You notice her crooked teeth, her uneven canines as if one never grew in.

…She almost reminds you of an overexcited puppy. 

“Whenever we clean up for the day, just pull your mask down as you wipe tables or mop, and that would be wonderful! Ouch– what the hell was that for, Ma!?”

“Don't scare off the new hire before she's even started her first day, ya oddball! I swear she's not usually like this.” Taryn playfully pops Aster’s back a few times. “Now get back to work!”

The older woman sighs, rubbing a hand down her face, “I'm sorry about her. She always says she's got ‘an eye for people’, whatever the hell that means…she means well though.” 

“She's a bit…”

“Overwhelming?” Taryn finishes your sentence for you and you quickly nod while she descends into laughter. “She takes a bit to get used to, but I'm sure you'll get along well. I'll give you both our numbers and let me know when's a good day to start.”

“Can I–”

Taryn holds a hand up in the air and shakes her head. “Not today. Tomorrow at the earliest. I assume this is your first time visiting Linkon, yeah? Take in the sights, go to the arcade, you know? Take a load off before you throw yourself into work.” She stands up and gently pats your shoulder.

“Maybe you can catch up with your pa, if he's not busy. He should be at the Nest drinking his life away. Or you could go to an art exhibit. They should be showcasing Lafayette's new paintings.” 

“Uh…do you mean Rafayel?”

“Yeah, yeah. Same difference.” Taryn squeezes your shoulder with a small sigh. “But seriously, think about what I said. Don't just go home and wait for work tomorrow. Don't be like your ma. I don't think I ever saw a day where she was relaxin’...well, besides the days Ezekiel had to drag her out of the café to go on dates.” She chuckles, reminiscing about the past. 

“I…I think I'll take you up on your offer.”

I did not originally plan for yall to meet Jeremiah, but 🤔 you know, it just happened– is it weird that I have zero plans when updating this fic in particular, and just come up with stuff on the fly?

To be honest, I think that's what makes writing enjoyable. It's always tiring to have a set plan for everything that you do, or copy stuff verbatim from an original text (me with “Twist of Fate” and I just know that's got to be bothering some of yall 😭).

Also since I'm can't be bothering with using an original name, the café “Sugar Spoon” from my Caleb one-shot is making a return (I know it's basic to make yall work in a café, but it seems like Linkon has a ton of cafés tbh.) i might also get yall a cat 🤔 Estelle might make a return.

Wait, no– You're getting a dog, I've decided just now! We need equal pet love here. And since I'm a sucker for chichis, you're getting a chihuahua (but wait…who's going to take care of it when you leave 🥺 aww man, now I'm sad).

Another thing, this is a bit self indulgent but I made two characters similar to myself and my mother. I know it's not much, but I'll be your hype man for this fic 😤 (and I hope I'm not annoying in the fic –)

Anyways, now if you're here for the Caleb stuff — Hi, how are you! I hope you're having a good day <3

So the fic will be called "The Moon and The Sun", my idea for the name comes from a myth called "The love story of the sun and the moon", which is a cute little story about how the two are in love and the Gods created a way for them to see eachother – The Solar Eclipse. I just really think Y/n gives moon vibes (she's Xavier's moon, Zayne says "the moon looks beautiful tonight" instead of "i love you", the moon looks beautiful over the ocean, Sylus is a night owl so he sees the moon all the time...) and Caleb fits with the sun.

Anyway, it'll be 4 Acts, each with however many chapters i plan on including! I have the prologue and half of chapter 1, act 1, done so far. The different acts will be based on different points in time. The first "The Subject and The Donor" will be based around Caleb and Y/n's time as experiments at Ever/Gaia Center up until the Catastrophe. I also took creative liberties and actually gave Y/n parents (unnamed ofc), but i gave them jobs and Evols (since I learnt Evolvers were secret before the Catastrophe. They weren't well known by the public just yet). I did the same with Caleb's backstory, especially since he's a "donor" and not a subject like Y/n.

I also decided to have them stay with Ever for a whole year instead of just 49 days (since Y/n had 49 observation logs and the Catastrophe happened on the 49th, I assume she's only been there for 49 days). I set the Catastrophe for December 15th, 2034 since it had to happen late in the year for the Hunter's Association to form in January of 2035.

Other than that, I'll keep it short and sweet. The 2nd Act "The Yin and Yang" (yin is fem, yang is masc) is about their teen years all the way until the explosion. There may be some sexual tension + them doing slight sexual acts when they're of college age(!!). The 3rd Act is "The Hunter and the Colonel", which will be Y/n navigating through her grief, a brief synopsis of her travels through the N109 Zone to get the other half of her Aether Core, all the way until after reuniting with Caleb and then some.

The final Act would be "The Dove and The Hawk", the name seems so out of place, but trust me, it fits. Dove and hawk personality and behavioural traits fit perfectly with Y/n and Caleb (I go into more details on my previous post!). This one will basically be them working together to take down Ever, get rid of Caleb's chip, etc. But i haven't decided on the how just yet. Thankfully, I don't need to since it's so far away 😭

Taglist; @ladyparamount @the-love-of-my-life96 , @rui-drawsbox , @deputy-videogamer , @yoongi-tunes , @fallenfromgrxce , @msturi2u , @myheartfollower, @schwnapps , @m00nchildwrites , @black-girl-anime-lover , @shypotatoes013-blog , @mitzkooni , @stxrrielle , @yournextdoorhousewitch , @lifeisnotyahoo , @hon3yydew ,

So that's it. I hope you enjoy this chapter of Divisa and are excited for "The Moon and The Sun"!! <3 (a tinnnny sneak peak at the very bottom)

[thewinter-eden]

All Ye Who Enter Here

images are mine (except middle LF pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. ATE pcs are my inspo for this series.

part 6 of the skz crack!horror series.

pairing: Lee Felix x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: ghost!Felix is said to haunt the abandoned mansion at the end of Blacktree Road. Legend says all who go into the mansion are never seen again. When you decide you’re sick of your friends being afraid of a literal house, you rise to the challenge and go inside. Spoiler alert, Felix is real, and he can’t believe you’re dumb enough to walk into a haunted house.

warnings: Hauntings, killings, more horror than crack, can’t be too predictable, decided to shake it up, this one's different, definitive 2-parter, this is really more the intro than the actual crack!horror sorry it turned out this way I just had a sucky week and never ended up having time to write. This one sucks I'm sorry.

Word Count: 2.3k

Comment a request to be tagged.

series info

PART 2

The heavy antique doorknocker makes you think of Beauty and the Beast.

Honestly the entire Blacktree house kind of reminds you of that old gothic castle.

“Don’t come in.”

The whisper that reaches your ears feels like a breath on the breeze, a trick of your imagination. You push the creaking door open and step into the house, ignoring the adrenalized chattering of your friends behind you.

No one just walks into Blacktree House anymore, not without a healthy amount of fear. Or at least not without some apprehension. The house is haunted. That’s what everyone says. It’s allegedly been haunted since the 90s. Strange noises, lights flickering in the windows, a dark aura surrounding the property.

You don’t believe it.

Or maybe you don’t care about it.

They say people have gone inside and come out cursed. That foolhardy students went in on a dare, or lured others in as a prank, only to disappear like a scream on the wind over the days that followed. That unsuspecting lovers have taken advantage of an empty house only to face their doom soon after. That realtors and agents refuse to work with the house, too frightened or superstitious or terrorized by the ghosts within to ever step foot inside.

So many of them found dead in their homes in the days and weeks that followed.

So many of them supposed victims of the haunted house.

It’s absurd.

You believe in rumors, tall tales, and dumb teenagers.

You believe in what you’ve seen, what you’ve touched, what you know.

You don’t believe in ghosts.

So while your astonished friends watch you walk yourself inside, gait jaunty to prove a point, you tell yourself that the words you heard were just in your head. You have a mission. The bet was that you wouldn’t go into the house by yourself, tour the entire place, take pictures from each window, and then return with or without a curse. The incentive? A hundred dollars.

As far as bets go, to you, it’s an easy hundred dollars.

Your friends are far more terrified by the prospect of you roaming the giant scary house than you are, and you’re relieved to spend a few curious minutes by yourself and come out of it with a hundred dollars.

You cross the threshold and turn to catch their eyes from where the stand out on the street, clinging to each other and gawking. It does occur to you that, as ridiculous as the entire premise of the bet is, it’s not especially endearing that your friends (who seem to fully believe in the murderous ghost curse) have convinced you to take a stroll through the murder house.

The wind catches the door as you go to close it and sucks it shut with a solid thud.

The house is old, filled with dust and a scattering of footprints, completely run down. The previous owner’s belongings still clutter the floors and the shelves in various stages of disrepair. You pull your phone from your pocket and snap a few pictures of the entryway, headed down the first hallway you see.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

This time, the disembodied whisper reaches your ears with clarity. There’s a moment of shock as you spin on your heel, scanning the room sharply.

There’s no one there.

Of course there’s no one there.

No one comes into this house anymore. It’s just you.

You shake it off, classify it as another example of a suggestible imagination run rampant, and continue your tour. A picture here, a photo there, you’re somewhere near the center of the house when you hear footsteps behind you.

“This wasn’t part of the deal.” You call over your shoulder, spotting a window looking out towards the front yard. “Pretending to be a ghost to freak me out isn’t going to get you your hundred dollars back.”

“Leave now. Last warning.”

Heart leaping into your throat, you spin so fast you nearly trip over a stack of books in the floor, but there’s no one behind you.

Your friends are doing their best to get you to run screaming from the house, abandoning the terms of the bet and forfeiting the reward, so you plant yourself and catch your breath. There’s no way you’re quitting the haunted house tour. There’s no way you’re going to allow yourself to be scared by their efforts when you already know there are no ghosts in the house or anywhere else.

You’re fine.

Taking a bracing breath, you step up to the window and poise your phone to take a photo. Both of your friends are still on the sidewalk, still clutching each other, staring at the house with visible trepidation.

Your finger snaps the photo distractedly.

Because you’re staring at both of the friends who brought you here, and you’re hearing creaking footsteps behind you.

There’s no one in the room but you, so you move on to the next one, pretending that you don’t feel the hair on the back of your neck standing on end. The next room also has a window facing the front yard, so you snap another photo. A first floor perspective of the girls checking their phones to see your texted photos marking your progress.

“You should have listened.” The echoing whisper tickles your ear as you move on.

Right in front of your face, prompted by absolutely nothing, the wide-open door to the bedroom you’re standing in slams shut, locking you inside.

Now you’re worried.

It’s not like there couldn’t have been a string tied to the door knob—fishing line or dental floss or something that you couldn’t see—that someone could have yanked to give the illusion of a door slamming itself, but you’re the only person in the house.

The door won’t open. No matter how hard you try to turn the knob or yank at the ancient wood, it remains firmly closed. Your heart is pounding in your ears, uncertainty filling your thoughts.

There are no ghosts.

There are no ghosts.

This house is not haunted.

So why can’t you open the door that just inexplicably closed itself?

“It won’t open.” This time it’s not a whisper, it’s a strong, deep, full-bodied voice.

You jump, tripping over your own feet as you turn at the words, and your eyes fall on a man standing in the corner. He’s narrow, slender, pale as death, with long blonde hair and pitiful dark eyes.

He seems familiar, his face bouncing around your head with some confused recognition, but you’re far too confused to figure it out. “How did you get in here?” He wasn’t there a minute ago, not when you were standing right where he’s standing. “Who are you?”

His chin lowers ever so slightly, and the light in the room shifts, and you see him flutter in and out of view. The way his entire body flickers transparently for a moment before settling back into normal human opacity makes your brain trip over itself and fall flat on its face.

The door rattles behind you.

Noises rise on the other side, sounding like scraping books and clunking footsteps, nails scratched along the walls. You’re watching the rotted wood of the bedroom door tremble, the door knob rattling against the bolt, and you can’t breathe.

“What is happening right now?”

“They’re coming.” The man behind you says. “You should have left when I told you to.”

You meet his eyes and wish you knew why the sharp point of his jaw looks so familiar to you. “You were the one whispering to me? Back in the hall?” It feels like a dumb question until you watch him flicker again, only to reappear a second later, this time closer to you. Now that you can see him better, you know where you’ve seen him. “Wait, you’re that guy. I remember you now.”

That guy had been in the news a few years ago, a picture of exactly the same face you’re looking at now—24-year-old found dead just days after visiting Blacktree House.

The guy who’s name you can’t remember frowns at you, his eyebrows lowering in disappointment.

Outside the door, the noises grow louder.

You think you can hear voices, but you’re not sure.

“My name is Felix.” He says, and then grimaces. “Was Felix.” His eyes skate over your shoulder towards the door. “They’re coming to kill you.” He turns away and peers out the window, but doesn’t put himself in your friends’ line of sight. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“It’s just a house.” You mutter. “All those people—it’s not like they were murdered by ghosts.” There’s clear derision and skepticism in your voice, as though you’re not staring at a young man who keeps fluttering through stages of transparency. “I don’t understand.”

“I can’t keep them out forever. They’re coming to kill you.” He says again, like it’s the only thing he can say.

“But you’re not going to kill me?” You mutter, wondering if you can take a picture of him. Or maybe a video. You’re holding your phone, but you can’t decide if you should be calling someone right now, or even documenting what’s happening.

Felix seems to curl in on himself, his expression darkening as he rubs his hands over his arms. You notice the chill in the room, the goosebumps on his skin, but you don’t care. “I don’t want to kill anyone.” He murmurs hollowly. He turns to you, and there’s so much sorrow on his face that your heart clenches. “Why me?” He whispers. “Why did I have to die?”

Tears prick at your eyes, the mourning in his expression needling into your soul. “Why did you come to this house?” You ask. “Back then, when you knew the reputation, why would you come here?”

He shrugs limply, and for a second you both just listen to the pounding and clattering on the other side of the door. You wonder if your friends can hear it from outside. You wonder if you’re going to die tonight. “It was a bet.” He says weakly.

Like you.

Just a stupid bet.

“Who are they?” You ask, gesturing to the door. You can’t believe you’re even asking.

“The others.” Felix says softly. “All the others who have died because of this house. Why us?” He weeps. “Why did we have to die?”

“It’s just a house,” You whisper back, flinching at a particularly loud bang behind the door. “Nobody’s been killed by ghosts.”

His head tilts. “That’s not true. You know this house.”

You do know this house. It was your mother’s, a long, long time ago. So long ago that you don’t actually remember living in it.

“You know there’s been a death here.”

Your eyes narrow with confusion. “My mom wasn’t killed by ghosts.” You scan the walls again. “She had a heart attack.”

Felix rolls his eyes at you, the first hint of attitude that you’ve seen from him so far. “You’ll be the second. Like mother like daughter.” His hands hang limply at his sides. “As soon as they break through that door it’s over.”

You glance back towards the hallway, now hearing dozens of hands pounding at the wood, desperate to splinter the frame to get to you. “All the others who have died because of this house.” You repeat.

“All of them,” He says. “From the very beginning. Trapped here.”

“So they’re going to kill me.”

Felix smiles a little and it’s not totally happy, not totally sad. “Like mother like daughter.”

You face him fully. “So why block me in here? Why keep me from them?” He’s got you cornered in a small bedroom, out of reach of the malevolent spirits who want revenge for their own deaths, and he’s not trying to kill you. He died because of this house too, but he’s standing perfectly still.

“I wanted to ask.” He says. “I just wanted to know.” His dark eyes flood with tears all over again. “Why me?”

You don’t have an answer. Were you propagating the rumors of the house being haunted? Were you just following in your mother’s footsteps? Was there anything more to it than the itch to express yourself in a way that only you understand?

Sighing deeply, you find yourself shaking your head. “I don’t know, Felix. All I know is that you never should have come here.”

He grimaces, tears spilling over. “It was just a bet. Just a stupid bet.”

That’s what you thought too.

“I know,” You say. “Most of them were stupid bets.”

“Why would you do this?” He cries. “What did we ever do to you? What did they ever do to her? We didn’t deserve to die.”

All you can do is shrug. “It’s like you said. Like mother like daughter.” You couldn’t go into the psychology of it, the genetics versus environment of criminal deviance, the reasons for an irrational display of hubris—you have no answers for that. You don’t have any more answers for why than you have for how your victims—yours and your mother’s—had become trapped into the ancient house forever.

“We didn’t deserve to die.”

You know.

“Why would you come here? Why would you come back to this house? Just to taunt us?”

You smile. “I didn’t believe in you. To me—it’s just a house.” It’s the house where your mother got caught in the 90s for killing dozens of people. It’s the house that was in the background of her photo in the newspaper that labeled her as a psychotic serial killer. It’s the house that the social workers collected you from before they changed your name and wiped your legal connection to your criminal mother.

It’s the house where your mother’s body was found just days after the whistleblower leaked the photos of her trophies, where medical examiners decided she had succumbed to a heart attack.

It’s just a house.

The door creaks and groans, a long crack splitting down the middle as the victims of your wretchedly externalized rage make progress in their efforts to get to you—to get revenge.

“Well,” Felix wipes his eyes and steps toward the door, and you can see how heartbroken he is. But not for you. For you, he is a young man betrayed. A human being betrayed by the wickedness of your unmitigated cruelty. “Now it is your prison.”

And then he opens the door.

This one sucks I'm sorry. Thanks for reading!

PART 2

tag list : @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @estella-novella @babyphotos0325 @softfor-svtptg @furfoxsake22 @tubelightanyaa @kayleefriedchicken @rockstarkkami @sp1derst0rrr @eastjonowhere @its-stayville-forever @allenajade-ite @naraportokala @jinniejjam @blackberryrains @feetoffthemalfoy @highandalive @scarlet789 @ramadiiiisme @thecutiepieme @lemonn015 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @dreamingartist13

[heartsforjh]

this is a request for my pookie @emsdevs <3 i literally loved writing trevor. i hope this summons more tz11 girlies to my page 😭

You burst into giggles as you lay on the couch, scrolling through Tik Tok. A video of a girl pranking her boyfriend by making him think he’s going to record a regular video, but then running away screaming, just popped up on your FYP, and you laughed harder than you probably should have. You immediately start scheming how you can pull this off with your own boyfriend.

The evening has been amazing so far. You just finished what could very well be the best meal of your life and are now strolling hand-in-hand downtown with Trevor. As you pass under the glow of the streetlights, the funny Tik Tok you saw earlier pops back into your head. You stop, letting go of his hand to fish your phone out of your purse.

“What are you up to, baby?” Trevor asks, his curiosity piqued.

You smile and pull out your phone. “Will you please record me? I really like my outfit.”

Trevor’s face lights up, excitedly taking the phone from you. “Oh yeah, give me that.”

You step back and fix your hair a little, looking at him to make sure you’re centered in the camera. He nods, and you begin to show off the outfit you’re wearing, which, truthfully, you were actually pretty proud of. Your sweet boyfriend stands behind the camera, smiling, and begins to hype you up.

“Who is this pretty lady?!”

“Give me a little twirl!”

“Oooh! Sexy!”

You almost feel bad for what you’re about to do, but knowing his reaction will be priceless keeps you going. Suddenly, you switch your facial expression to one of concern.

“Sir?! What are you doing?! Stop recording me!” you shout, loud enough to turn a few heads. You start speed walking away from him, picking up your pace as you continue, “Leave me alone! Please!”

Trevor lets out a little scoff and lowers the hand holding the phone down to his side, completely dumbfounded. When you glance back and see his face, you lose it, doubling over in laughter.

Trevor, however, does not look half as amused. He cautiously approaches you, still flustered. But of course, he quickly gets an idea and lifts the camera back up.

“Attention everyone! This woman is here to meet a 12-year-old boy!”

Your eyes widen in horror, and you snatch the phone from him. “Trevor! You cannot say that!”

“Oh, but it’s okay for you to make me look like a creep?!” he fires back, getting his turn to laugh.

You shake your head, still laughing as you end the recording. “It was just a joke!”

“And so was mine,” he says with a smirk before grabbing you and tossing you over his shoulder.

“They’re gonna think you’re kidnapping me now,” you tease.

Trevor immediately freezes mid-step and goes deadpan, setting you back on your feet.

You burst out laughing again. “I was kidding! Pick me up!”

“Not funny babe. No way am I risking that. Not till we’re like… two feet from the apartment, at most.”

You playfully roll your eyes, but accept a well-deserved, simple handhold for the rest of your way home.

tags: @mainly-miracle @sweetestdesire @puckmedude @joesnumerouno

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