#it will be a party filled with self isolation

[peakyloverrr]

Lab rat . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

warnings: p n v, unprotected sex, slapping, drugging, noncon (kind of), manipulation, oblivious reader, fem reader!, overstimulation, young reader.

mentions of drug abuse, suicide.

MDNI 18+

A/N: please let me know if i happened to miss any warnings!

word summary: 4.5k

summary: your a new patient at Arkham, Dr. crane takes a liking to you.

You spent your teenage years in isolation—older men, drugs, jazz clubs; all the kinds of things that could numb you for a while. By 16, you were already a walking party favor, lost in the chaos of your own self-destruction. By 18, after countless attempts on your life, your distant parents had finally decided to send you to one of the worst psychiatric hospitals in Gotham—Arkham.

Every single day was a living nightmare. Half the patients were having conversations with the Grim Reaper himself. You hated it all. Well, most of it.

there was Dr. Crane. He helped you get through it.

He was kind, compassionate. It baffled you how much criticism he had to endure.

How could anyone hate someone so god-like?

Those pale blue eyes of his—enough to send a girl into cardiac arrest.

Those weekly sessions? The only reason you kept pushing through them was to make him proud.

The sessions were never in the same place. Dr. Crane justified it by saying things like:

“I prefer a different room each week. It prevents stagnation—breaks the mind’s tendency to anchor itself to comfort.”

You never really understood what he was talking about, but it didn’t matter. Especially when each word came out of his throat in such a smooth, hypnotic manner.

The first few times you met with him, he was sly. His questions would bring up dark memories—ones that made your skin crawl. The kinds you fought so hard to bury. What kind of strategy was this? But then, you were introduced to a new kind of ‘anti-depressant.’

The overhead light hummed. The walls sweated condensation.

You sat cross-legged on the cold metal chair, your hands folded neatly in your lap. The ribbon in your hair crooked, almost defiantly. You hadn’t said a word in nine minutes.

Across from you, Dr. Jonathan Crane stared. His pen poised but still.

“You’ve been difficult to medicate,” he said, almost thoughtfully. “I thought we’d try something a little more progressive.”

He slid a small paper cup across the table, followed by an amber-green bottle, the kind of thing you’d find crushed under a boot in an alley. It had a dropper.

“It’s a cognitive recalibrator—sublingual delivery, metabolized quickly. The dosage is precise. Microscopic, really.”

He unscrewed the cap of the bottle, already squeezing three solid drops into the cup. He swirled it around carefully, making sure the liquids mixed. Then he looked at you.

“Open your hands.”

You did as you were told, feeling his cold fingers brush yours for a moment—brief, sharp. He placed the cup in your hands, his fingers lingering for a second too long.

“It’s nothing extraordinary,” he continued. “Just a small enhancement to your current treatment. You’ll feel… clearer.”

He leaned back slightly, studying you with a clinical gaze, his voice softening just a little. “I want you to drink it. Now. Slowly.”

A beat passed. His eyes narrowed, a cold intensity in them now.

“Let me see what it does to you.”

You hesitated, breath catching in your throat.

“Drink it for me,” he coaxed. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Then, his voice dipped lower, almost a whisper. “Be good.”

Of course, you complied without question. The liquid slid down your throat, smooth but potent. It hit you like a hurricane—your arms growing limp, your words slurring, pupils dilating. Thoughts evaporated, leaving only one: him. You could practically feel the love hearts floating in your eyes, like some ridiculous cartoon.

Dr. Crane stepped around the table, his presence filling the room. He stood beside your chair, his grip harsh as he forced you to meet his gaze.

But God, the butterflies swarmed in your stomach.

“Fascinating,” he mused. “How quickly it takes hold. I thought you’d be more resistant.”

He moved closer, his body almost engulfing yours. His fingers curled beneath your chin, forcing you to tilt your head up to him. His touch was clinical, yet something about it felt like a promise.

“Look at you now,” he murmured, his voice darker, more possessive. “Completely mine.”

His thumb brushed over your lower lip, watching your every reaction, every shift of your body.

“Can you hear me, darling?” he asked, voice low and deliberate. “Can you understand what I’m saying?”

The question hung in the air, but you couldn’t focus on anything but him. You melted under his gaze, unable to think, unable to resist.

“Mmm,” he hummed, almost satisfied. “You’re finally starting to listen.”

His tone dropped lower, dangerously possessive.

“All for me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, frantic, gripping his wrist as if it were the only thing grounding you. The words slipped out before you could stop them, raw, desperate.

“All yours. You own me, Dr. Crane.”

The confession left your mouth unbidden, but there was no taking it back. And if you were being honest with yourself, you meant every single word.

“So responsive…” he whispered to you, a smirk playing on his lips. “It’s as if you almost need me, my pretty, pretty girl.”

Silly, needy whimpers slipped from your mouth before you could stop them. Was that a serious question? Look at the state you were in—he had you exactly where he wanted, like putty in his hands. You were melting into his touch, as if you were a puppet and he, the master of your strings.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmured, his voice smooth as he lifted you effortlessly from the chair. He hoisted you onto the table, standing between your legs. His hands moved to brush the hair from your face, and without thinking, you tilted your head back, silently begging for more.

His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging at your scalp, exposing the delicate curve of your collarbone. “Oh, you’re trembling,” he teased, his voice low as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. He placed the softest kiss against your neck, and the sound that escaped your lips was something between a moan and a gasp—a tender, shuddering cry.

“How could they lock you up in a place like this?” he coaxed, his kisses growing harder, more urgent. They were the kind of kisses that would leave bruises. “You’re too innocent,” he murmured, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “You must be so frightened.”

His words cut through you like a blade, but instead of fear, all you felt was an insatiable craving to be consumed by him entirely.

“You have to keep me safe, Dr. Crane…” you mumbled, your voice breathless. “I need your… oh… protection, please.” A gasp escaped your lips as his kisses trailed from your neck to your jaw, his teeth grazing your skin, moving ever so close to your lips.

Your nails dug into his back, the fabric of his suit pressing against your skin, making the pain bearable, but only just.

The hand that wasn’t tangled in your hair moved to your waist, pulling you closer until your chests were pressed tightly together. His breath came in uneven bursts, his own arousal becoming more apparent with each passing second.

“You know I’ll look after you, darling,” he murmured, his voice dark and soothing as his hand slid under your shirt, skimming the bare skin of your waist. “Who else is gonna do it, huh? Look at you, so fuckin’ clingy… You can’t be left alone in this godforsaken world.” His words were sharp, full of scorn, but there was a dangerous kind of tenderness to them that only seemed to draw you in further.

The sensation of his palm against you was like a jolt of electricity. It sent waves of heat and cold crashing through your body, making your skin prickle and your nerves come alive. You whimpered, arching into his touch, the fabric of your shirt no barrier to the power of his grip.

His thumbs rolled over your nipples, a gentle pressure that was just shy of painful, but it was enough to make you squirm on the cold metal table, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. If he pushed down just a little harder, you knew you would shatter into a million little pieces, each one craving his touch more than the last.

“When was the last time you got fucked, hm?” he whispered, his hot breath tickling the shell of your ear. The question sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt a warm flush spread across your cheeks. You didn’t have to think hard to know the answer—it had been months. Months of cold, lonely nights in the asylum, with no one to warm your bed but the ghosts of your past.

You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand slid up your shivering body, his touch like fire on ice. He chuckled, a low, dark sound that made you want to squirm. “It’s been too long, hasn’t it?”

He didn’t wait for your answer, his hands deftly moving to the hem of your shirt. The fabric was rough under his fingertips, the material sticking to your skin from the cold sweat that had broken out all over your body. He began to peel it away, his eyes never leaving yours once the material slipped over your head, revealing your pale, goose-bumped stomach.

“Stunning,” he mumbled under his breath. His hands stayed groping your waist, his eyes lingering on your bare chest before meeting yours again. The room was a haze of desire, and you felt as if you were drowning in his gaze—like he was the only thing keeping you afloat.

Then, without warning, his mouth crashed into yours. It was a brutal kiss, one that left you seeing stars. His teeth scraped against yours, the feeling only adding to the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that surged through you. His tongue danced with yours, invading your mouth with an urgency that was almost frightening. He tasted like mints and something much darker, something that made your pulse race and your heart stutter.

As his kisses grew more demanding, his hands slid down your waist, stopping on each of your thighs. He didn’t break the kiss once, even if his body was begging him to take a moment to breathe. Instead, he squeezed your thighs, his grip tight and firm. You felt a thrill of fear mingled with excitement at his display of power. Each squeeze sent a bolt of pleasure shooting up to your core, making you squirm against him.

The sound of your breathless gasps filled the room, mingling with the faint scent of antiseptic and the metallic tang of the table beneath you. He pulled away from your mouth, his eyes locked on yours, a twisted smile playing on his lips as he watched you pant for air.

“Do you want me to make you feel good, my darling?” he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick with desire. Your body responded before your mind could even process the question—spreading your legs wider, offering yourself up to him without hesitation.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he spoke, the question rhetorical. He didn’t need an answer; his calloused hand cupped your mound over the thin fabric of your shorts, and your body arched into his touch like it was the most natural response in the world. The material was soft under his grip, a stark contrast to the harshness of the metal table beneath you, but the pressure was everything you craved.

You used both hands to grip his wrist, your head falling back as you moved yourself against it. The friction was building, the need growing like a wildfire inside of you. “Oh good girl,” he murmured, his eyes darkening with each gasp you made. “Keep moving like that for me.”

You did, your hips grinding against his hand. The fabric of your shorts grew wetter with each passing second, his touch igniting a spark in you that you hadn’t felt in so long. It was as if he had control over your very soul, and you were powerless to resist. The room spun around you, the edges of your vision going blurry with lust.

He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Bet you could cum like this, couldn’t you? Just from me touching you like this.” His voice was a siren’s song, the sweetest of promises wrapped in a veneer of darkness. And you believed him—you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge with every jerk of your hips.

“I-if that’s what you want,” you panted, suddenly picking up the pace. Your body was a marionette, his every command sending you into a frenzy of need. Your hips were practically slamming into his hand, up and down, over again, like your only prayer. “I’ll cum for Dr. Crane,” you moaned, the words leaving your mouth as a declaration of submission.

His eyes darkened at the sound of your voice, the smirk on his face growing wider. His hand pressed harder, the fabric of your shorts now soaked through. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a dark caress. “Keep going. Show me how much you want it.”

With a feral growl, you did. Each grind of your hips against his hand was a silent plea for more, your breaths coming in short, sharp bursts as you chased that sweet release. You were so close, so fucking close—the tension in your stomach was coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap. You could feel the orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure that was going to rip through you like a tornado.

And then it hit. Your eyes rolled back, and the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. “I’m doing it, I’m doing it, fuck, I’m cumming for you!” The declaration was raw, primal, and filled with a need so intense it was almost painful. The world around you blurred into a mess of colors, your body spasming as you came, hard and fast, the force of your orgasm leaving your muscles trembling.

You fell forward onto his arm, his hand still pressed firmly against you, he felt it through your shorts, pretty much coating his hand. “Oh, that’s it,” he whispered to you, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’ve done so well, my little love.” His hand moved over your sex, drawing out the last gasps of pleasure from your quivering body. His other hand stroked your hair gently, as if trying to soothe the storm he’d unleashed within you.

Then, his tone changed. “you know, darling, I can’t just give this kind of pleasure away for free, can I?” His words were a dark tease, and you felt your heart sink slightly. What was he asking of you? You looked up at him, eyes glazed with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and saw the twisted smirk on his lips.

He tugged at the waistband of your shorts, his eyes never leaving yours. “C’mon, face down, ass up. Let’s see if you’re as good at taking as you are at begging for it,” he said, his voice a mix of amusement and command. He patted the cold, hard table next to your hips, and you felt a shiver of anticipation run through you. Before you could even process what was happening, he had flipped you over, your stomach and breasts pressing against the unyielding metal, his hand firmly planted between your shoulder blades, keeping you in place.

“You should know, I don’t like having to wait,” he murmured as he bent over your back, brushing the hair out of your face with his other hand. The heat from his body was like a blanket around you, his erection pressing into your ass, trapped behind those expensive tailored suit pants. It was clear that he was starting to get impatient, his need palpable as he ground himself against you, his frustration making him harder and more demanding.

“One more thing before we get started,” he whispered, his breath hot on your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You watched as he reached for the amber bottle, the same one that had brought you to this state of desperate need. His hand wrapped around it, the sound of the cap twisting off echoing in the quiet of the room. He squeezed the dropper, filling it with a generous amount of the shimmering liquid. You knew what was coming, but the anticipation was almost too much to bear.

He tapped the dropper against the bottle, watching the excess dribble out before bringing it to your mouth. “Say ahh,” he commanded, and you obeyed, your eyes widening as the dropper slipped under your tongue. The liquid was incredibly bitter, almost nauseating, a taste you hadn’t quite experienced before. It coated your tongue and throat as you swallowed it down, feeling the intensity of it spread through your body like wildfire.

“Excellent,” he mumbled, placing the bottle back down on the table with a soft click. He leaned away from you, and you felt the loss of his warmth like a cold shower. He gripped the hem of your shorts, and without any hesitation, began to tug them down your trembling legs. The fabric drifted over your skin, the cold air of the room a stark contrast to the heat between your thighs. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but oddly excited. His touch was firm, almost rough, as he pulled your shorts down to your ankles, the sound of the fabric scraping against the metal table echoing in the room.

“Spread your legs wider for me,” he instructed, his voice low and demanding. You obeyed, feeling a strange thrill at his dominance. Your heart raced in your chest, your breaths coming out in short, sharp pants as he stepped back to admire his work. The anticipation was agonizing, but you knew it was only going to get better. Or worse.

The sound of his belt whipping through the loops of his pants was the only sound that filled the room. You felt your body tense up, expecting the sting of leather on your skin, but instead, his hand came down on your ass—a firm, open-palmed slap that echoed through the cold, sterile air. You gasped, your eyes flying open in shock, only to see the smug look on his face.

“You shouldn’t be walking around the asylum like that, what if one of those animals comes and gets you hm?” he spoke, his cock now resting against your cheek, the one that was bright red from his touch. “They would eat you alive if they had the chance,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You couldn’t react, it was too late. His cock was now pressing at your entrance, the tip of it sliding in. “I-I.. oh holy fuck—“ you blurted out. The sensation was overwhelming—the pressure, the heat, the sheer size of him. You’d had sex before, but none of those encounters had ever been like this. This was something else entirely—something primal and all-consuming.

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “Seems like the antidepressants are working wonders on you, doesn’t everything feel a million times better?” he mumbled, his voice thick with arousal as he pushed into you so very slowly, savoring the feel of your tightness around him.

You couldn’t form words, all you could do was nod, your face buried in the cold metal of the table. Each inch of him stretched you out, filled you up until it was all you could focus on—the feeling of his cock sliding into you. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before—like every nerve ending in your body had been set on fire. You felt his hand move from your hair to your hips, his grip firm as he began to thrust into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room.

“Such a tight hole,” he praised, his voice tight with lust. His movements grew faster, more demanding, each thrust sending a bolt of pleasure through your body. He shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it carelessly aside, his eyes never leaving yours as he lifted his shirt up, watching himself move in and out of you with a dark fascination. “Taking me so well,” he murmured, the words sending a shiver down your spine. It was a strange kind of praise, but you found yourself craving more of it, desperate to please him in any way possible.

Then, you felt his free hand slip underneath your body, the coldness of his fingers against your feverish skin making you gasp. His touch was firm, almost punishing, as he found the swollen bud of your clit and began to toy with it—flicking and pressing it with a precision that had you squirming.

You realized, with a sudden jolt, that the medication he’d been feeding you wasn’t an antidepressant at all. It was a concoction of his own making, a drug designed to make you hyper-sensitive to his every whim. And as his cock filled you up, and his fingers played with you, you were at the mercy of that high. It was too much, almost painful in its intensity, but you didn’t want it to stop.

He watched your face contort in a mix of pleasure and pain, a dark glint in his eye. “It’s so much isn’t it, baby?” he taunted, his voice low and smug. “Can you handle it?” His thrusts grew deeper, more forceful, his fingers pressing against your clit with a precision that had you teetering on the edge of a second orgasm. “You’re already so overstimulated, aren’t you?”

Your response was a garbled mess of sounds, your body a writhing mass beneath him. “I-I-I—” you stammered, unable to form any coherent thought, let alone words. It was as if his control over you was so complete that you could only exist to serve his whims.

“Come on, darling, don’t keep it all to yourself,” he said, his voice a dark, velvet purr in your ear. His hand tightened on your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh as he thrust harder, pushing you closer to the precipice. “Spit it out,” he ordered again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your eyes rolled back, and with a final, desperate gasp, you screamed, “cum—“ The word was raw and needy, a desperate plea for release. Your entire body was trembling, your walls clenching around him in a vise-like grip. The sensation was so intense it was almost unbearable, your legs kicking and thrashing beneath his weight as if trying to break free from their own constraints.

And then, the world shattered. You felt your body convulse as the orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, the intensity of it stealing your breath away. Your vision went white, and for a brief, beautiful moment, all you could feel was the sweet oblivion of pleasure. It was as if you’d been thrown into a vortex of sensation, with only Dr. Crane’s firm grip on your hips anchoring you to reality.

“Uh, uh, uh, uh,” you panted over and over again, your voice a staccato symphony of need. It was as if you were speaking in a language only he could understand—a dialect of desire that he was fluent in. He kept slamming into you, his rhythm unrelenting, his eyes never leaving your ass. The sound of your skin slapping against the metal table filled the room, the only other noise the desperate sounds of your breaths and his grunts of pleasure.

Then, his fingers left your clit, the absence of the pressure like a cold gust of wind. Your body protested, arching back to chase his touch. But before you could voice your complaint, they were back, pressing into you, circling you again. “Again?” he cooed, his voice a dark whisper that sent a thrill through your core.

And so it went on—a dance of pain and pleasure that seemed to last an eternity. Each time you thought you couldn’t take it, each time you thought you’d hit your limit, he’d whisper, “Again,” and somehow, your body would respond. Orgasm after orgasm ripped through you, leaving you a trembling mess on the table, your eyes glazed over with the intensity of it all.

“C’mon baby, I know it’s hurting just one more for me yeah?” he pleaded, his fingers moving as fast as lightning on your clit. The nub was so swollen it felt like it might just burst, and you could feel the beginnings of another climax building deep within you. The pain was exquisite, a beautiful agony that you never wanted to end. “You’ve got it in you, don’t you? One more... for me?” he coaxed, his voice a dark symphony of lust and manipulation.

Your body responded before your mind could even process his words. You felt the orgasm building, the pressure in your core growing tighter and tighter. It was like a bomb waiting to explode, and you were the one holding the trigger. With a final, desperate cry, you did just that—you came for him. It was a scream of pure pleasure that echoed through the room, your body convulsing so hard you thought you might break the table.

Dr. Crane’s eyes widened, watching your every spasm with a mix of hunger and satisfaction. That was the one that sent him over the edge. He knew you were so sore, that he’d pushed you beyond your limits, and he loved the power that gave him. His panting grew heavier, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps as his hips jerked erratically. “Fuck, fuck, pussy’s so good, yup, fuck, clench me just like that, darling—“ he blurted out before the ropes of semen shot into you, filling you up like a warm, thick liquid. The sensation was almost too much, a strange mix of pleasure and pain that made your toes curl.

He collapsed over your back, his cock still buried deep inside you. The warmth of his body was almost suffocating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You felt him twitch and pulse as he emptied himself into you, his breaths hot and heavy on your neck. He stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, his grip on your hips loosening slightly as he enjoyed the aftermath of his own pleasure.

Then, with a smug sneer, he pulled out, leaving you feeling empty and exposed. The sensation of his withdrawal was almost painful—a stark contrast to the fullness you’d grown accustomed to. He stepped back, tucking his cock back into his pants with a look of satisfaction that made you feel used, but in the best way possible. You felt a strange mix of emotions—disgust at what you’d just done, but also a thrill of excitement. You were his now, completely under his control.

[marxistlesbianist]

It seems to me that the propensity of socialist orgs in the US to sink into covering up sexual abuse scandals emerges from the method of volunteerism that is basically universal in political organizing here. At a queer community center I used to be involved in, there was a long-standing member who had to stop going to events because their abusive ex-boyfriend ingratiated himself in the organization. My friend who is still on their board tells me that the people involved would mostly like the man gone, but begrudgingly put up with him because he is one of the most consistent volunteers, contributing far beyond what the survivor was themselves physically capable of. This is, of course, liberal nonsense, of the specific type that arises when the goal of hosting a pride event in the suburbs each year takes precedent over community empowerment. In short, it is opportunism. And whilst I haven’t personally witnessed an ML group mishandle a sexual abuse scandal, from the accounts I have read/heard, I suspect the mechanism is similar.

What I see “leftists”—including many self-proclaimed communists—in the US fail to grasp is that it is necessary for a revolutionary organization to always be building within the masses the social base for its action. A revolution cannot be made by a mere handful of dedicated individuals, and any organization running entirely off of the work of such few volunteers is treading on dangerously unstable grounds. Of course, dedicated individuals are still going to be important for an organization, but more important is a connection to the masses which allows such individuals to be found. In crude terms: everyone must be replaceable. This is for many reasons, not the least of which is that you have to be able to recall from power anyone who commits sexual abuse.

Ultimately this means that the actions of an organization shouldn’t go far beyond what the masses are themselves currently capable of accomplishing. Disruptive protests and union efforts are methods of struggle which are readily accessible to the masses, whilst education campaigns and community survival programs simultaneously increase the fighting capacity of the masses and also to deepen the party’s ties to the people. Even when the movement reaches the point of full revolutionary war, this can only be accomplished if the masses are at the point of being able to support a people’s army. Small guerrilla cells in communities with low class consciousness are perhaps able to frustrate/disrupt the capitalist state, but not overthrow it. When Newton and Seale founded the Black Panther Party, the tactic of armed patrols was decided upon as a means of demonstrating to the community how they could use the weapons they already possessed.

When an organization commits ultra-leftist errors, it risks isolating itself from the people not just ideologically but materially. The org leaps beyond where the people can/will follow, and, divorced from the motive force of history, inevitably stumbles and falls. The way to avoid this, of course, is for an organization to take proper stock of its present manpower, and to set actionable goals with an eye toward expanding their social base—the predominant method in US orgs, conversely, seems to be a sort of opportunistic ultra-leftism, where the active capacity of the masses is overstepped in service of symbolic/electoral goals which on their own do nothing to advance the political power of the working class.

Which . . . fuck. Typing that last sentence out really fills me with frustration and despair. What gives me the slightest bit of hope is reading about how these tendencies have manifested in the history of every attempted communist revolution, with the successful ones demonstrating not how to avoid such errors entirely, but how to overcome them!

[rcvcgers]

Hello, I wanted to tell you that I love your writing. Rotten Apples has been my favorite. I was wondering if you could write something with a super caring Caleb?

I had a rough night with lots of tears and self doubt, lots of feelings of self hate and a lot of ugly feeling I’ve targeted myself with and I wish I had Caleb to soothe me. My heart aches and I need a hug from him.

i'm so sorry you had a rough night darling :( i hope you were able to feel better! i wrote this for you as soon as i saw your request. i hope it helps you feel better <3

Here For You

pairing: caleb x reader

synopsis: you've isolated yourself from the world and your boyfriend comes to comfort you.

word count: 3.08k words

content warnings: self deprecation, self doubt, bad/negative thoughts

author's note: i hope this request can help whoever reads this feel better <3 just know that you are so, so, so loved and deserve all of the good things in the world!

For the past few days, you’ve unintentionally isolated yourself from from the world. The first day the negative thoughts entered your brain, you acted as if everything was okay, that you were on top of the world. But seeing everybody else’s smiles and hearing their joyous laughter began to weigh down on you.

You wanted to be supportive of your friends and celebrate their achievements, but it was so hard to put a fake smile on your face and pretend to be excited. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but feel so…dull. To feel so dead inside that at moments you doubted that your existence was real. You want to be so happy, to bask in the joy of positive emotions and affirmations, and yet whenever you try, your stupid mind had to drag you back into the darkness.

You used the excuse of being sick to get out of dinner parties and hanging out. You even used a few of your sick days to get off from work, leaving your team scrambling to fill the void of you being gone.

Had life always been so hard? Why couldn’t it give you a break? Even just for one day, you wish to have some kind of release from the depression that has sunk into your body.

It’s not your fault that life is so unforgiving. Things happen, many of which are out of your control, but why did it have to affect you so badly? Did it really need to cause such chaos that uplifts you from acting like a normal person? Fuck, you haven’t even managed to shed a single tear since the negative thoughts hit your mind.

You stare at your bedroom’s blank ceiling. The sun had disappeared from the sky, its once vibrant oranges and pinks decorated your walls and ceiling, but now you were left with a deep gray color with only moonlight illuminating your room.

This had been your routine for the past week. You’d rot in bed, staring out the window as life passed you by. You watched birds flying, their freedom making you even more depressed, and watched as the sun and moon played a game of cat and mouse with each other, chasing after the other as the sky changes colors. Was it a routine you have grown bored of? Yes. Of course. But you couldn’t bring yourself to change out of it.

You wished your boyfriend was here. Caleb always knew what to do and say to help you feel better. You can’t even put some of the blame on him for not being here. His job yanked him away for a last minute patrol in the Deepspace Tunnel.

According to Caleb, it was the Fleet’s first time exploring this part of the Tunnel. You were so proud of him! The Fleet finally recognized his amazing talent and put him as the new supervising Colonel of Deepspace Exploration. He deserved it! He’s worked so hard for an opportunity like this to show up. 

Yes, you knew that it would take him away for weeks at a time. If not from the actual exploring itself, Caleb will be buried in paperwork, meetings, and flight schedules.

You should have taken him up on his offer to stay in his apartment in Skyhaven. Maybe then you would have been able to see him during your dark days and he can be the hand that pulls you into safety from the storm. Instead, you opted to stay behind in Linkon, claiming that your friends and work will keep you busy!

If only you knew that the day after he left things would go oh so wrong.

Linkon wasn’t so bad, though. The sunlight was good for your mood instead of the gloomy days that Skyhaven has. The sunlight helped motivate you to get out of bed to brush your teeth and shower, but that was about it.

A sigh leaves your lips. You roll onto your side, your gaze falling back outside the window. Planes fly by in the night sky, leaving off-white trails of exhaust behind them. A wave of sadness hits your stomach while you watch the planes.

A part of you wishes that Caleb is on one of those planes…that he’s coming home to see you.

No. Why would he? He has his new promotion with the Fleet. He can’t waste any time on trivial things…including you.

You flinch from the thought. Squeezing your eyes shut, you curl up into a ball, your knees pulling up to your chest. Why did these thoughts have to torment you? You know that Caleb would give up everything to come see you, so why do you always have to be so anxious that he’s going to leave you?

You know it’s the imposter syndrome talking, but you know that you’re counting the seconds until Caleb realizes that you aren’t worthy of his time, adoration, and love. You’re a semblance of a girlfriend, someone who snuck into such a prestigious position in his life. He deserves so much better than you. Hell, he deserves someone who is just as high of a rank he is! Another Colonel, maybe, or perhaps someone who he works with so he can see her everyday.

“Pipsqueak?” You freeze. The sweet nickname he has for you sends chills down your spine. The bedroom door creaks and the sound of faint footsteps draws near. You are quick to pull the bed’s sheets over your body and head, covering the sight of moonlight and the dark night sky.

The mattress dips and you feel a large hand rest on your side. It travels up and down, cascading the side of your covered body. You shudder from the touch, knowing that you’re unworthy of such affection.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Caleb asks. He reaches for the top of the sheets, drawing them away from your face. You feel the chilled air of the bedroom hit your face. You flinch and grab the sheets back from him, covering your face once again. “Hey…what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“I’m fine…I’m just really tired,” while it isn’t necessarily a lie, you know it’s simply an excuse that he’ll see right through as he usually does. You listen to his slow exhale,, heart pounding inside your chest.

This is it. This is the moment where he finally realizes how much of a loser your are. You can’t even bring yourself to fully greet him when he comes home from work, what kind of partner are you?

“I’m,” you fake a cough, “I’m sick.”

“You’re sick?” Caleb repeats. Your heart twists inside your chest. Your eyes sting from the turmoil that bubbles inside your stomach.

“Y-Yeah…you should go back to Skyhaven so you don’t catch anything.”

You hated how easy it is to lie to him. To push him away from you.

Caleb doesn’t respond. Goosebumps spread across your body, suddenly feeling cold as you sick and twisted imagination slowly turns into a reality.

Did he finally realize that you’re nothing more than a nuisance to him?

“Hey…look at me,” Caleb coos. Your grip weakens on the sheets. The fabric slips through your fingers, eyes watching as the moonlight returns to your gaze, your handsome boyfriend sitting beside you with a look of worry, brows knitted together, bottom lip slightly pouted out.

Your heart breaks. It shatters into a million little pieces. It’s because if you that he looks this way, that he’s probably worried over nothing. Tears brim your eyes. Caleb sighs and his shoulders relax, watching as you slowly sit up in bed.

You sniffle and wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Your bottom lip trembles. The man reaches out and cups your face.

His touch is so gentle against your skin. Warmth seeps into your skin but it only makes you feel worse. Your body begins to shake. Caleb’s violet eyes scan your body, gently wrapping his free arm around your back. He pulls you into his lap with such ease, guiding your legs to rest on his sides, placing your full weight onto him.

Your melt into his touch, arms wrapping around sides, fingers curling into his shirt, tugging on the material. You bury your face into his neck, the tears finally leaving your eyes.

“It’s okay…I’m here now, let it all out.”

And you do. Sobs escape your body. Your body shakes and you push into him, the man gently running his hand up and down your back, soothing you. He holds the back of your head, securing you to his body. Your tears stain his t-shirt, soaking it with your salty tears.

You shake your head, unable to control how tight you hold onto him. His scent is so comforting to you, your nose burying into the warm skin of his neck to get more of it. It calms your nerves alongside his light and comforting touch.

“I’m so sorry,” you choke the words out, “I don’t know why I’m like this.”

“Never apologize for how you feel, my love,” Caleb gives you a gentle and reassuring squeeze. You sigh and peel your face from his neck, finally getting a good look of him.

He wears the biggest frown on his face as he pushes stray hairs out of your face. Your cheeks are stained form your tears, eyes red and swollen form the onslaught of sibs that overtook your body. Caleb runs his fingers up and down your sides.

“Breathe with me, okay?” Caleb asks. You nod in sync with him. He places his hand over your chest, feeling your heart pounding from inside your ribcage.

The two of you inhale for a couple seconds then hold the breath, your lungs full of oxygen, then slowly exhale. Under Caleb’s touch, he can feel your heart come to a slow and steady beat. A small smile spreads across his face, his purple eyes meeting yours.

“I’m so proud of you,” Caleb whispers. He leans in and presses a light kiss to your forehead. You sigh and rest your hands on his chest, flattening out some of the wrinkles in the fabric. You stare at the wet spot on his clothes and frown, feeling absolutely horrible that you ruined his clothes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Your gaze floats back to his, his hands firmly holding onto your waist. You sigh and look away, unable to weave words together to form a rational sentence that doesn’t make you look, well, crazy.

How can you explain to your boyfriend that your mind has caused so much chaos and turmoil? That it has you believing that you aren’t good enough for anyone in the world, especially him. That he deserves so much better than what you have to offer him.

“Hey,” Caleb’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. He cups your cheek and swipes away a single tear that rolls down your cheek. “Stop thinking. Clear your mind.”

You nod and slowly inhale, needing to calm down your fast beating heart. Your mind doesn’t clear, though, and only becomes more and more loud as the thoughts of self doubt and negativity scream at you.

“What are five things you see?” Caleb asks.

“What?” You’re taken aback by his question. He squeezes your hips.

“Tell me five things you see. Be descriptive.”

“Um…okay,” you breathe out. Your eyes leave his as you scan the room. You turn in his grip, looking out the window behind you. “I see the moon. It’s big and yellow tonight. Looks like cheese.”

“That’s one.” You feel Caleb press a gentle kiss to your shoulder. You turn back around, heart fluttering.

“I see my desk. It’s…really messy. I should clean it up.”

“That’s two…and I’ll clean it for you tomorrow. What else?”

“Through the bedroom door, I can see the kitchen light is still on. I see…I see bags on the counter, too.” You look at Caleb, his thumbs slowly rubbing small circles into your skin under your shirt. “I see the most beautiful purple eyes, too.”

“Oh?” Caleb raises his eyebrows, smiling at you. You nod. He kisses your cheek and you melt into him yet again. “Ready to tell me what’s wrong now?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong, Caleb,” you breathe out, slowly growing frustrated. You press your forehead against his and squeeze his shoulders. “My mind just…hates me. I don’t know what happened, but an overwhelming sense of dread came over me and…and I began to hate myself,” your voice cracks. 

Tears return to your eyes and Caleb is quick to wipe them away. You manage to keep your breathing in check, making sure to not lose the sense of calm that soothes your aching body. Your glaze flickers back to Caleb’s and you sigh, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” your voice is just above a whisper. “You don’t deserve to go through this…you deserve someone who’s normal and good enough.”

“No,” Caleb immediately shakes his head. His own eyes become glossy from your admission. “Don’t you ever say those words ever again, do you understand?”

Your brows furrow, meeting in the center. Your hands slip from his body but he takes them back, placing them back onto his chest. He moves his head to meet your fleeting gaze, capturing your attention. He places his finger under your chin, turning your face back forward.

“I love you…I love you so much more than you can ever imagine. If anyone here isn’t deserving, it’s me. I don’t deserve to be in a relationship with you because you, my love, are lightyears better than I will ever be.”

“Caleb…” you breathe his name out. You hang onto every word he says, heart swelling.

“You are the most beautiful woman to ever exist. I love your smile, your laugh, and the way you always make me happy. I also love you when you aren’t feeling good. I love you and your frown and the way you manage to look so beautiful while crying…you’re the one for me. Nobody else,” he pulls your hand over his heart. You can feel just how hard and fast it pumps inside his chest.

“You don’t mean that…”

“Of course I do. From the first moment I met you, I knew that you were the one for me. On that day, I swore to myself that I would do everything in my power to protect you, to keep you safe…it pains me to know that I couldn’t protect you from yourself. I’m so sorry,” his voice cracks.

His grip on you tightens. His touch and words are so reassuring that you manage to push away the dark thoughts that linger in your mind.

Caleb loves you. He loves you so much. It is evident in the way he holds you, the way he kisses your tears away. You can feel it in the warmth that radiates from his body. Caleb makes you feel so worthy of his love, his adoration.

“Everyone has bad days,” he tilts his head to the side, his gaze deepening, “and that’s okay. It’s normal to have a bad week. It’s normal to want to crawl away and disappear. It’s okay to cry and to ask for help when it feels like you’re drowning,” Caleb coos. “Please…please tell me when you need help. I will always be here to pick you up off your feet. I will always be here to carry the weight that forms on your shoulders. I will do anything for you if it means that I get to see you smile again…that I get to live under the sunlight of your beautiful soul. I love you.”

“I love you too, Caleb,” tears roll down your cheeks. They’re bittersweet, formed from both sadness and joy.

The darkness that settled in the back of your mind vanishes. You can feel the weight leave your chest, opening up your lungs for more air to get in, to nourish your body. Caleb pulls you close to him, burying his face into your neck. His lips scrape across your skin, leaving a trail of sweet and gentle kisses in his wake.

His fingers slip under your shirt. The sensation of his skin against yours leaves you feeling so fulfilled. You love the way he treats you, how he always makes for sure that you know just how loved you are. He takes care of you. It’s so much more than you could have ever asked for.

What did you do to deserve a man like Caleb?

“Have you eaten yet today?” Caleb asks. You shake your head no, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer into your embrace. “Come on, I stopped at the store on the way here. Let me make you some dinner.”

Caleb picks you up with ease. You gasp and cling to him, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. His head shoots out from your neck, eyes wide as a big smile flashes across his face.

“You laughed!” He swoons, leaning back in to attack your face in more kisses, leaving no part of your face untouched. You close your eyes and shriek, more and more giggles fleeing from your lips while he carries you to the kitchen. “My pip-squeak is laughing! She’s happy again! My babygirl has come back to me!”

“Stop being do dramatic, Caleb!” Your laughter melts away the sadness in your heart and mind. You feel light again, ready to take on the world with Caleb at your side.

“Okay! Okay!” He laughs and pulls his face out from your neck. Caleb beams at you, setting you down on the cold countertop. You gasp and he’s quick to pull you up, resting his hands underneath your legs to protect you from the icy counter.

“What?” You ask, waving your hand in front of his face. He shifts his weight between his feet and leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips. You lean into him and kiss him back, butterflies erupting your chest. He slightly pulls away, lips grazing over yours, foreheads pressed together.

“I love you, pip-squeak, but I am going to need my hands for cooking,” he chuckles.

“I love you too...can I be your sous chef?”

“Are you kidding? Of course you can be my sous chef! Who else would I want by my side?”

masterlist of works

[maddiesentmehere118]

Champagne Kisses

Eddie Diaz x plus size! reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: hurt and comfort, smut

Author's Notes: First Eddie fic, is a test run!

Prequel to Champagne Kisses | E. Diaz Taglist | Masterlist

You giggle as you’re shoved up against the front door. Large hands grab your wrists, pinning them above your head. You moan at the sensual action, throwing your head back. The man that brought you home from the New Year’s party buries his face in the crook of your neck. 

***

You had been invited to Maddie’s younger brother, Buck’s, party to ring in the New Year. It wasn’t unusual for you to tag along with Maddie and Chim to events. 

You’d become Maddie’s best friend when she was working in Boston. She had taken you under her wing when you entered your first year of nursing at the hospital. You had become each other’s rock quickly. 

It also meant that you had gotten close enough to start recognizing the signs of abuse. Isolation from friends and family. Towards the end of their relationship, she started wearing long sleeves under her scrubs— even in 90 degree weather. She’d give life updates on her brother, a smile on her face but pain in her eyes. And after particularly bad nights, she’d show up with dark circles under her eyes. 

You took it upon yourself to help her get out. It took some convincing, careful planning, and then one day, she disappeared. Took a rental car, in your name, with cash, and left. Slipped the worker some money to not officially document where the car was going, explaining she was escaping from her abusive husband. It worked.

Shortly after she left Boston, Doug cornered you. He expected you to cower, telling him whatever you knew about her disappearance. But you stood straight, even if you felt every cell in your body shaking. Keeping your voice confident and neutral, you told him that you did not know where she went. She wasn’t answering your calls and texts. She had a new phone, but he didn’t need to know that. When you showed him the phone log and texts, confirming she hadn’t answered you, he left you alone. 

After three months, you followed Maddie to LA. To make it seem realistic, you had your charge nurse draft fake documentation, showing you had transferred to a hospital in Michigan. You had to wrap up any loose ends. You’d rather him try to track you down in Michigan than get anywhere near Maddie. 

You transitioned into trauma medicine when you moved to LA. Maddie now works as a 911 operator, and who could blame her for the career change when her past life was associated with domestic violence.

When Maddie had filed for divorce, you were already expecting fallout. The worst case scenario, you thought, would have been stalking or light threats. You were on hour 15 when you received the news that Maddie had been kidnapped. You doubled over in agonizing pain. She had tried to get away from him, under his control by filing for a divorce, and he took her. 

For a few weeks, you blamed yourself. You should have been at the apartment that night, but you picked up an extra 12 for a coworker. Maddie was supposed to go out on a date, and you thought it would be nice to have the apartment to herself. If you would have come home after your first shift, maybe you could have prevented him from taking her to a second location. 

With therapy, both of you slowly started to heal. Your sense of safety was taken away from you. He was dead, yet he found a way to loom over your lives. Eventually, with increased security, an updated self defense class, and lessons on how to use a firearm, you both were able to sleep at night again.

Now, nine months later, Maddie is in a happy and healthy relationship with Buck’s coworker, Chim. And you? Still as lonely and dry in the dating department. 

Your days are filled with work, picking up extra shifts when you could. Some weeks, you  pushed the limit, working the 72 hours California law allowed. 

While the money was wonderful and you were steadily building your savings account, you were wearing yourself thin. 

You desperately needed to find a life outside of work.

However, you never thought that kissing Eddie Diaz was going to be a part of the equation. 

***

Warm, wet kisses are pressed against your skin. Both of you smell of alcohol, champagne dancing on your tongues. Sliding a hand down, you grab onto the back of Eddie’s head. His kisses are harder, more deliberate now. The pressure on your neck feels great, the pain aching in the best way possible. Your favorite pair of underwear, soaked. 

“Been wanting to kiss you for months now. Every time I see you in those burgundy scrubs, with that Mickey Mouse badge reel to make kids less scared, I feel myself fall even harder.” His fingers slip under your blouse, the tips of his fingers grazing your stomach as they move up. “But that bun of yours. Every time— I, uh fuuck I just want to undo it. Kiss you. Take you from behind.’

Your free hand cups him.

“Do it.” 

“Mierda.” He groans in your ear, pulling back to tug your shirt off. Once bare, he trails kisses down to your shoulder. His teeth dig in, earning a firm roll of your palm against his length. Your head tilts onto his, keeping him there.

“Couch?” You offer breathlessly, not wanting to push any boundaries. 

His lips press against your shoulder again, slower this time. 

“Fuck no,” he says against your skin. “You deserve a bed.” 

When you make eye contact, you see the lust burning in his eyes. You don’t have time to react before your lips are captured by his. He grabs onto your curves, giving a firm squeeze on your hips before sliding them down your backside, landing on your lower thighs. 

“Jump.”

“What? No! Eddie, I’m too big.” You protest as he starts to lift you up. ”You’ll hurt yourself!”

“Cariño, jump up. You’re not going to break me.”

As soon as he looks up at you with those gorgeous brown eyes, you’re done for. 

You want to argue. But more than anything, you want this. 

You jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your lips crash together, in a messy, hungry sync. He carries you with ease, pushing his bedroom door open. 

He turns around, his legs hitting the back of the bed. You topple on top of him, and he uses his strength to slide higher up the bed, tugging you along with him. 

You both move desperately, like you’re the breath that each other needs. His fingers are gripping your love handles with a bruising strength, firmly guiding you back and forth as you grind. Fingers digging into his shoulders, you throw your head back.

 The seam in your jeans rubs against your clit just right, a sheen layer of sweat covering your chest and forehead. He tears your bra off, tossing it aside without a second thought. His mouth immediately captures a painfully hard nipple, soothingly swirling his tongue around. 

“God Eddie, feels soooo good.” 

You should be embarrassed by how close you are, just from grinding against Eddie. But it’s been months since you’ve had any contact outside of your vibrator. Pressure builds, your walls closing in like a firm hug. 

A hand slides up your lower back, then his fingers dip into the seam of your jeans. He tugs on your thong, applying more pressure on your clit. You cry out his name, telling him not to stop. Eddie pushes you closer to the edge of bliss, starting to grind up against you.

God, when was the last time someone left you this satisfied? Have you ever felt as wanted as you do now? You can’t recall ever cumming from grinding against someone.

Eddie groans, and you feel his thighs shaking. You push back against him, pressing your chest against his. His hips jerk against yours, knees bending to push up, chasing his own high. It isn’t long before you join him, thighs squeezing around him as you gush. 

He cups your jaw, fingers tangling into your hair. The kiss is gentle, slow. A stark comparison to your previous urgency.

“Haven’t cum in my pants since high school.” Eddie murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. You place a humored kiss against his lips. “Eres preciosa.”

It’s silent. Comfortably silent. You’ve sobered up a bit, or you think you have. You lay your cheek on his chest. His heartbeat erratic in your ear. He gently rubs your back.

Then your insecurities hit like a ton of bricks. 

There’s no way that you just dry humped Eddie Diaz. Most guys that take you home have one goal in mind: to cum and go. This wasn’t going any further than one night. 

You swallow hard, painting a fake smile onto your face. Your mind starts to swing at your heart, slowly shattering it into pieces. 

Hookups weren’t your forte. You always wanted more than what they wanted to offer.

Eddie looked like that, and you looked like this. 

You become self conscious, your bare stomach making you feel exposed. You want to wrap your arms around your middle section, to cover yourself.

Then you mentally curse. Your shirt isn’t within reach. It was taken off by the front door.

But this was different, right? He was different, not like them. Right? 

So why does your chest ache like you’ve just been used and discarded?

You shift, trying to roll off of him, but his arms tighten around your lower back. 

“Where are you going?”

“To clean up. I’ll get an Uber.”

“What?” His inquiry is sharp, panicked. Your eyes water, fingers tracing up and down his jaw. You can’t look at him. A single tear falls slowly. His thumb wipes it away.

“No estoy hecho para aventuras de una noche, Eddie.”

He sits up slowly, tilting your chin up to look at him. 

“¿Hablas español?”

“Lo estudié en la universidad. Buena para enfermería.”

“No quiero solo una noche.”

“I can’t—” You laugh, voice shaking. Tears sting your eyes. “No, no friends with benefits, either.”

It’s so hard to look away from him. His gaze pierces through you, making you feel seen. The crack in your heart splinters even more.

“I should have asked you out weeks ago. Didn’t you notice me coming into the ER more? Even when I wasn’t needed?”

“I figured you were seeing someone else. Like Macie.”

He chortles, letting go of your head. The breath is knocked out of you as he rolls you both over, hovering over you. You lift your head, hair splaying out. The musk of Eddie’s cologne invades your senses. 

You’re trapped, in the best way possible. 

“She’s been trying to set me up with you.” His lips hover against yours, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth. You whimper as he teases you, leaving hot kisses up your jaw. His teeth graze your earlobe, hot air being blown into your ear. “She’s definitely not into me— she’s dating a woman from another station. Lena.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He nuzzles his stubble covered cheek on your jaw.  “Now that’s taken care of, join me for a shower?”

“You don’t want to—”

“No. Call me old fashioned, but I’d like to take you out before— if that’s okay with you?”                                                                                                             

You give a dramatic pause dramatically, biting your lip out of fake contemplation.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

With a smile and a shake of the head, he leans down for another kiss before pushing himself up, tugging his shirt off and discarding it by your head. 

“But if you’re okay with it, I’d like to makeout just a little bit longer.”

You wrap your legs around him, pulling his groin down to yours. You lightly trace your fingers up his side, watching a chill roll down his spine. You grin to yourself, voice hushed as you tease him.

“Only if you keep talking about my burgundy scrubs and my bun.” 

He lowers himself, whispering against your lips. 

“Oh, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

[nayeoniiz]

I’m So Sick of Me Too

pairings ❥ jay x fem!reader (ft. eric from the boyz)

point of view ❥ third person, omniscient

warnings ❥ N/A

synopsis ❥ after what felt like a sudden breakup with her boyfriend of many years, y/n finds herself holding onto the remaining pieces chipping from a failed relationship. after wallowing in an isolated self pity, her two best friends convince her to go to a party where she meets the perfect boy to fill the void. unsure if her attraction is genuine or a distraction, y/n has one choice to makeㅡ be with her newfound lover or make it work with her first love.

genre ❥ angst, smut

word count ❥ 15,515

taglist: open, just ask!

author’s note: sorry i’m posting this a little later than i had hoped, i just wanted it to be absolutely perfect. ignore any errors, please and thank you. let me know how yall like it! and feel free to leave any future scene suggestions. the plot is set, but the story is an open book.

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT | ENHYPEN MASTERLIST

ONE.

“babe,” y/n’s voice pulled jay out of his thoughts. he turned his head to look at her, her expression filled with expectancy—the kind that made his chest tighten. he already knew where this was headed. another argument. “you good?” her question was simple, but jay knew any response could open the floodgates.

it was one of his only days off after a long, grueling week. he was utterly drained. all he wanted was a moment of peace. the energy to engage, to explain, wasn’t there. “yeah,” he muttered, giving her a small nod before turning back to the tv. propping his feet on the coffee table, he stared blankly at the screen, hoping she’d let it go. but the silence only seemed to amplify the tension between them.

y/n shifted in her seat, clearly unsatisfied. “okay…” she replied, her tone trailing off before she reached for the remote and paused the show. the sudden silence made him tense. “then why are you so quiet today?” she pressed, her voice carrying an edge.

jay’s fingers tapped idly against his phone. he exhaled slowly. “i just don’t feel like talking right now,” he said, his voice firm but measured. he hoped that would be enough, but he knew she’d likely not take the hint and let him be. “and i’m not trying to argue either.”

y/n’s eyes narrowed slightly at his last sentence, a feeling of defensiveness rising within her. “okay, well, you haven’t said anything in the past hour. you can save the attitude—i was just checking on you.”

his jaw tightened. “i don’t have an attitude, y/n,” jay said, his tone now laced with frustration. he set his phone down on the armrest, resisting the urge to rub his temples. his shoulders stiffened as he tried to focus on keeping his cool, though irritation bubbled under the surface.

y/n crossed her arms, her voice raising with aim. “and i’m supposed to know that how? show me, don’t tell me.” she tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in challenge, her expression poking at the remaining fragments of his patience.

he turned his head toward her, his gaze heavy. “can you not right now?” the plea in his voice wasn’t subtle and his request didn’t fall deaf on her ears. a flip switched inside of her. her angry facade seemed to quickly chip away, and her true emotion seeped through.

“not what? i’m just trying to spend time with my boyfriend,” she shot back, her voice cracking with the weight of unspoken hurt. “the boyfriend i haven’t seen in forever, mind you, because he’s been working all week.”

by now her voice was soft, trembling. each breath she took was weighted in fear of misinterpretation. “and i’m so sorry if it’s selfish of me, but if there’s any day you feel like ‘not talking,’ why does it have to be the one day we actually get to be together?” she averted his gaze, fidgeting with the buttons on the remote, a quiet plea for understanding.

the words hit him, leaving his breath caught in his throat for a moment. he opened his mouth, searching for any way to defend himself, but nothing felt right. “me not talking doesn’t have anything to do with you,” he finally said, leaning back to lay more on the couch. his voice was tight as he moved his gaze to look past her, crossing one leg over his lap, and tapping his foot on the floor with the other.

y/n let out a bitter laugh. “yeah? well, guess who’s the only one being affected by it?!” the volume of her voice caught both of them off guard. shit. she swore she didn’t mean to yell. before she was able to react, to apologize, or at least explainㅡ jay had already straightened himself up, shooting her a warning gaze.

“stop it, y/n.” his voice rose slightly this time, betraying his simmering frustration. her shoulders slugged, her face turning with every muscle trying to hold back the tears brimming. it only heightened their presence as she began blinking them away.

“i just want to talk,” she said, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions as they spilled over, unable to bear the sting of his distant demeanor any longer. “am i really that uninteresting that my own boyfriend doesn’t even want to have a conversation with me?”

the air between them grew thick with unspoken words. the silence stretched long enough for both of their thoughts to race. for jay, it was a desperate search for the right words, something that could fix this—or at least end it. for y/n, it was a growing ache in her chest, a sense that something irreversible was about to happen. she began rubbing her arm softly in a back and forth motion, anticipating.

when jay finally spoke, his voice was steady, deliberate. “i want to break up.” the words hung in the air. she found herself remaining silent as she looked at him, unsure of what to do. while this wasn't exactly something new for them, there was something different about the look in his eyes this time around. their eyes stayed fixed on each other, a distant gaze in place of connection. his words echoed loudly in her ears.

her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. she blinked, her mind racing to catch up. surely, this wasn’t real. surely, he didn’t mean it. her body stilled as she unconsciously dug her fingernails into her arm amidst the comforting massage. her eyes glazed over with tears, squinting in confusion, her heart racing as jay moved to sit closer to her. “what?” was all she could manage to get out, her voice barely above a whisper.

jay didn’t look away this time. his gaze was heavy, tired, but unwavering. “i mean it,” he said, quieter now, but no less certain. looking down, a sigh left his lips. he fought for a moment with her frozen grip before he was able to pry her arm off, stopping her from causing any further harm to herself. and now, all she could think about was how the feeling of his skin on hers hurt so much more. he was looking at her now, but the contact lasted no longer than a second before he turned away. “and i- i thought about it a lot. it’s what’s best for us. i just don’t think we’re good for each other anymore.”

“how can you say that, jay?” her voice cracked as she blinked, tears finally escaping along with a small sob that hardly went unnoticed in the now painfully silent room. she maneuvered, her eyes searching for something in his. he looked at her again with a look she’d never seen before. it scared her. “no. we’re not the kind of couple who breaks up. that’s not how this works, you said that yourself.” indignation clear in her voice, it was hard for her to hold back the resentment she was already starting to feel. 

jay only sighed, regretful of his open and now outdated mindset. if he had known their relationship would turn out the way it did, he would have just stayed quiet. in the past she was successful in avoiding his serious attempts, several times, with that reasoning. it was always the most convincing point to get him to stay, she knew he hated not staying true to his word. he hesitated, his cautious gaze meeting hers before he continued. “i'm not happy.”

she had never heard those words before, and their weight hit her hard, leaving her stunned. this couldn’t be real. panic flared in her chest as she grasped for something, anything, to turn the conversation around. “i think this is just one of your moods—” she started, her voice trembling, a fragile attempt to mend what was breaking before he interjected.

“no, y/n. i mean it this time. i can’t do this anymore.”

reading the room became difficult, the usually familiar scene felt foreign now. she didn’t recognize any of the territory that was being invadedㅡ she didn’t know what to do. shaking her head, she offers a small, corner lifted smile. “but we always get through it, jay.“

“it’s different this time, y/n.”

“and why is it different now?” her voice wavered, caught between desperation, anger, and disbelief. her emotions swirled like a storm. staying composed felt impossible; every attempt to ground herself  only deepened the ache in her chest. everything was hurting, and all she could do was wish, futilely, that none of this was real.

“this," jay said, physically motioning to the state of the conversation. he turned away to wipe away the stray tears that managed to fall in between blinks. “nothing ever changes. all we do is argue.”

“all couples argue, jay. that’s the reality of things,” she said, the calm in her tone an abrupt contrast to her previous attitudes. “relationships take work, jay. and we always make it work,” her eyes darted to his, desperately looking for any newfound doubt in his words. but there wasn’t any.

“it's not.. just about that," jay said, shaking his head, his voice barely above a whisper now shameful of what he was fixing to admit. “i've tried so hard to make it work, but i'm unhappy, y/n. and i hate that i feel this way, but sometimes it feels like i hate you as much as i love you. do you even know how much that tears me up inside?" his face was repentant at his admission, it was a sinful hidden thought that he previously denied since its first conception. he never wanted to verbalize it because it only highlighted how shitty he truly was to feel that way toward her.

"you don’t mean that." y/n shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut as if the gesture could block out the anguish his words just caused. her body went cold, her senses wasting no time overwhelming her all at once. jay bit the inside of his lip, his teeth silently clattering against the soft tissue.

everything in his heart ached, a deep, unrelenting pain that seemed to grow with every second. he was caught in conflict—the desperate desire to follow through with the breakup, to free himself from the heaviness that had been suffocating him, clashing with the torment of knowing how deeply his choice would hurt her. it wasn’t just her pain he feared; it was his own, the thought of watching her break because of him. but he had to do what was right.

"i wish i didnt, but it's the truth, y/n. i can't be who i want to be in this relationship. i can't keep living like this."

"jay…" his silence now weighed more than any words could, it tore through her like a jagged blade. "is this really what you want?" for a moment, his eyes softened, but it was gone before she could catch it. the silence stretched, heavy with all the words he couldn't say. she wanted to cling onto the fleeting feeling, to believe it meant he was having doubts. but when his lips parted, it wasn't the response she was hoping for.

"it's for the best."

“no, no, no, no,” the finality of his words shattered what was left of her hope. the barrier of control she had on her emotions ruptured as she shook her head. she hesitantly reached her hand out, pulling it away quickly to avoid any more possible rejection from the boy. her heart couldn’t endure much more. "please.. don't do this."

"i'm sorry, y/n," he slowly approached her, wrapping his arms around her. she let him pull her into a hug, holding him close and tight as she allowed all of her anger and grief to wash away along with the salty tears staining her cheeks. though allowing his embrace would only further affirm her acceptance of the end, which is the last thing she wanted, she needed to feel his touch. especially knowing this may be the last time he'll ever hold her.

her chest tightened as she buried her face in his chest, clinging to his steady heartbeat, a cruel contrast to her own. neither of them spoke or moved for a while. a couple minutes in, she noticed that he was now trembling against her. it broke her heart even more. from the way he seemed to hold her just as close for comfort, she knew it was hurting him too. she supposed, maybe, it was for the best. she pulled away slightly, quickly regretting it as she saw how his eyes were red and glistened over, cheeks wet with the silent tears he shed. "can we at least be friends?" the words felt hollow, a desperate attempt to keep him in her life, even though she knew it would never be enough. 

he only nods though he knows she didn't truly want that for herself. placing his hold on her arms, gently before slowly removing himself from her embrace. he wiped away his tears and cleared his throat. the only thing on his mind now was getting out of there before he could go back on his word. he had to remind himself that this was the right thing to do. even if it meant hurting them both. clearing his throat he spoke up, regaining his composure to be the voice of reason they needed in the moment. "i guess i should head out now. i think we both need time to ourselves.”

"yeah.."

he took the time to quickly head to the door without waiting to see her reaction. his hands were shaking, the weight of the world only seemed to press down upon his shoulders, only now wishing he could've pushed through and tried to make things work one last time. but he knew that wasn't possible, and it just wasn't worth putting her through any more than he already had. the door clicked shut behind him, leaving an echo of silence in his absence.

the month after the breakup felt like a blur for y/n. while the world around her seemed to move forward, she remained stuck in a loop of missing jay, reaching out to him, waiting for his replies, and doing everything in her power to keep their connection alive despite the fact that he was clearly starting to pull away.

she couldn’t help it. every morning she found herself wanting to talk to him, by any means. today was no different as she looked at her thumb hovering over his contact. it had become almost instinctual, reaching out to him no matter how embarrassing it was starting to become. she took a deep breath, ignoring her reluctant thoughts and started typing.

heyy jay :) haven’t heard from you in a minute. everything okay?

she sent it before she could second guess herself, staring at the screen as the message went through. her heart raced as she waited for his response. then, the minutes passed, stretching into what felt like hours. she spent a while scrolling aimlessly through her notifications, trying hard to look for the one label that refused to appear. two hours had gone by, and still nothing.

she clicked the power button with a sigh, pulling her legs closer to her chest as she rested her chin on her knees, staring blankly at the phone. the silence of her lonely apartment felt so loud now. the lack of response made the small ache in her chest turn into a deeper, more persistent pain. she hated feeling this way, vulnerable, needy, desperate. it wasn’t like her.

she remained frozen in her spot on the bed, feeling like she couldn’t move until she got what she wanted. juggling through every scenario in her head, she almost began sinking into the self loathing feeling. but one look at the clock on her lock screen seemed to pull her out a little bit. she reminded herself that being pessimistic was the last thing she needed to do. instead, she should speak her desire into existence. “calm down, y/n,” she whispered to herself. “it’s still early. he’ll reply later, he always does.”

getting out of bed, she stretched a bit before making her way into the kitchen. at least, this time around, she could still make the most of her day. she was lucky in that sense; it was getting easier to distract herself from thoughts of him. before she realized it, hours had gone by and she was sitting in her living room watching tv when her phone finally pinged.

muting the sound of the show, she quickly glanced down, her heart nearly pouncing out of her chest. jay’s name. her fingers hovered above the screen, the moment she read his texts, that feeling of dread that she’d been holding back all day crashed over her. it felt like he’d handed her a piece of paper instead of a message from someone she’d spent every waking moment with for years. it was brief and impersonal, so unlike jay, yet so familiar as of late. 

hey, yeah. things are good, just tired

she stared blankly at the message for a while, continuously rereading, mouthing the words in every tone she could, trying to read in between the few lines he offered her, but it was impossible to make something out of nothing. and it felt like he was doing the bare minimum, acknowledging her existence by replying as if it was an obligation he had to fulfill. she figured that her reply could spark a more active response. 

i feel you. guess it’s been rough for both of us, huh. i hope you’ve been good otherwise. it’s getting colder these days, hope you’re staying warm ☺️

she waited in the chat upon seeing that he immediately opened her text, watching the three dots bubble up on her screen, only to vanish soon after. she stared at the notification as it remained unanswered for a while. “read at 2:23pm.” twenty minutes had gone by and she was unsure of what to say next or if she should say anything at all. 

despite her first failed attempt, y/n decided to brush it off and push forward. biting her lip, she took her time drafting and perfecting her next message. whatever she was going to say next had to warrant a response. if he saw how bad she wanted to talk, surely he’d give in. jay was never the kind of guy to intentionally neglect her feelings. it wasn’t in his character to hurt her. 

so, what’s been keeping you busy lately?

she typed, trying to sound casual, but her confidence faltered when she read it over. it was the kind of text she would’ve sent months ago, back when their relationship was solid and they could talk for hours without feeling the need for a pause.

this time, her message read “delivered”. but she watched as the three dotted bubble appeared again, and decided to leave the app while she continued waiting. this time, he would respond differently, she thought, he had to. holding on to a glimmer of hope, she gave it thirty minutes. but her phone only went quiet. what a waste.

opening instagram, she opted to scroll to distract herself from thinking of him further and that’s when she saw it. jay’s story. it wasn’t anything remarkable, just a picture of him out with some of their mutual friends. but the fact that he was posting on his story, without replying to her text, stung. she scoffed in an attempt to brush off the hurt she was beginning to feel, telling herself it was no big deal. it didn’t help much. no matter how she tried to view it, it was a silent reminder that his focus was elsewhere now. 

but, maybe it was nothing. maybe he just didn’t feel like texting. she tried once again to reason, but the thought still lingered, gnawing at her. why couldn’t he just reply? it was evident now that jay just wasn’t going to reach out on his own; he wasn't going to do anything. she’d have to be the one to make the effort, while holding onto the hope of things going back to how they were. maybe she was being too much, doing too much. “if i leave him alone for a few days, he’ll feel it, too.”

it had been days now and the reality of the situation was truly starting to sink in. over the span of the weeks they’d agreed to be friends, jay’s attempts to deny more interactions had finally come to an end. they were flat out doing no contact now. she tried deactivating her social media accounts in an effort to stop hurting herself further by looking at his page, but all it led to was viewing anonymously online. she wasn’t talking to anybody at that point, burying herself deeper into isolation as she began ignoring even her own best friends. but, it wasn’t something the girls were taking lightly.

she was laid out on the couch, the living room becoming a pigsty she found refuge in. empty bags of chips, noodle packages, discarded water bottles, candy wrappers, as well as tear soaked tissues flooded the table and floors. she lay sprawled out on the couch watching a romance k-drama, feeling envious of the love that the main character was receiving though she was barely paying attention. she was moreso staring through the screen rather than at it, not bothering to retain much of the plot, just trying to fill the void in any way she could. 

she barely flinched upon her doorbell ringing. in fact, she didn’t even hear it. pulling her blanket more over her body, she closed her eyes, not opening them until she heard the beeping noises her door only made when the passcode was being typed in. she shot up in a panic. only three people knew of her codeㅡ one of them being jay, and she could not risk him seeing her living in such an unkempt manner. making quick of her movements, she grabbed an armful of the trash and ran to the kitchen to toss it out. she stayed in the kitchen grabbing a trash bag as she heard the door open and shut, followed by light footsteps. a familiar voice called out.

“y/n, are you home?”

“yujin?” two girls, yujin and chaewon, walked into the living room grimacing at the state it was in. a small hint of rotting processed food was pungent in the air, to which the girls slightly scrunch their noses at. y/n couldn’t hide her disappointment as she walked into the room, the trash bag rustling with each step. “chae? what are you guys doing here?”

chaewon immediately recognized the girl’s expression and playfully rolled her eyes in an attempt to lighten the mood. “wow, we’re so happy to see you too, y/n.” her words make y/n mentally facepalm at the rudeness she’d unknowingly displayed, frowning as she walked  closer to them. without a word, the girls begin picking up the trash, discarding them into the bag y/n held. yujin wasted no time wondering off to get cleaning supplies, coming back to wipe the table. it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence they sat in while they cleaned, but it was clear that something definitely needed to be confronted now.

“sorry guys. i was just expecting someone… you know, else.”

“like who? he who shall not be named?” yujin asked, referencing jay, but it only made y/n grimace. the girl had struck a nerve. the statement only made her think of him more. it wasn’t yujin’s fault, though. none of her friends even knew they weren’t on speaking terms anymore. a knot formed in y/n’s stomach having to silently acknowledge how silly her initial thoughts were. jay had made zero effort to even talk to her, what sense would it make for him to visit?

“i don’t know.” but she did, and so did they. that’s why they were here to begin with. after the mess was all cleaned up, and you could finally see the beauty that was y/n’s living room again, they guided y/n to sit on the couch. chaewon was perched on the arm of it while yujin sat cross-legged on the floor, both watching y/n like she was an emotional bomb ready to explode at any given moment. the tension in the room felt like a third guest.

chaewon, the usual mediator, broke the silence first. treading lightly on upfront confrontation, she decided to stick with a lighthearted approach to the situation. what y/n needed was a friend, not a therapist. “okay, spill. when’s the last time you left this place?”

y/n’s silence spoke volumes as she sighed, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. “i don’t know. a while?” it wasn’t like she wasn’t keeping track, she could tell you it's been 33 days since she last saw jay, 11 days since he stopped viewing her story, and 9 days since his last text to her. how long she had been in her isolation, though? she couldn’t say, all the days seemed to blur in that category.

 yujin raised an eyebrow. “define ‘a while.’ days? weeks… a month?” 

now, y/n’s voice was barely above a whisper. “two weeks, maybe.”

“two weeks?!” chaewon groaned, grabbing the throw pillow and swatting y/n with it, adding a bit of force in an attempt to knock some sense into the girl. she supposed she underestimated how much it was affecting y/n. though she was upset at the girl’s response to her breakup, she felt worse that she didn’t think to step in sooner. “babe, no wonder. you’re practically fermenting in here. i don’t hate to say this, but it’s time for divine intervention.”

y/n sucked in a breath, but didn’t argue. instead, she stared at the freshly cleaned coffee table, her thoughts wandering back to jay. the way he used to rest his feet there, watching tv, the way he—

yujin snapped her fingers in front of y/n’s face. “nope. i can see it in your eyes— we’re not doing that today. chae, tell her the plan.”

“ah, right! the plan,” chaewon said, leaning in with a grin and wiggling her eyebrows, “is simple: you’re coming with us to a party tonight. and before you even start, you’re not busy, you’re not tired. none of that. i don’t want to hear any excuses.”

y/n’s face scrunched as she blinked. “a party? seriously? what are we? teenagers?”

“yes, seriously,” yujin said, standing up and grabbing y/n’s hands to pull her to her feet, the girl not fighting back as she stood. “you’re never too old to party. and, girl… you need this. sitting in here is only hurting you, and you know it.”

“but—”

“yes, butts! that’s exactly what i expect you to be shaking tonight,” chaewon interjected. “yujin and i already have the vision. you’ll pop out in a bomb ass outfit, we’ll pregame to set the mood, you know just get the vibes up. it's gonna be fun!” her eyes twinkled as she envisioned the whole scene. she waved her hand, slowly moving it in front of her face as if the girls could see what she was imagining. “you’ll drink a little, dance a little, smoke if you’re feeling good, and maybe even forget about… him.”

the slight, bitter acknowledgment of the boy left y/n feeling a lump form in her throat, she tried to shake off the thought of jay from creeping up again. but it was hard to stop once she already started, and everything in her heart was telling her no. a party was the last thing she needed. she could barely hide her hurt from her own friends, how could they expect her to pull through for hours at a party?

“i just don’t think i’m ready.”

“is that not the point?” yujin said gently, softly caressing y/n’s face with a sympathetic pout. the girl could only look away, feeling as though her eyes would be a dead giveaway to the truthㅡ it would hurt too much. sensing the mood shift, yujin sighed. “hey. you don’t have to be ready to start moving on, we don’t expect you to. we know how much you lovedㅡ sorry, love that man. but staying alone like this isn’t good for you, y/n.”

“you’ve even pulled away from us, we’re worried about you,” chaewon nodded, walking over to the girls and grabbing y/n’s hand. “all we’ve been thinking about lately is you. how you’re feeling, how you’re doing, constantly wondering if you’re okay. and now that we’ve seen the mess you’ve found comfort in, in your solitude, you deserve to at least get your mind off of it for one night. then we can start helping  you heal tomorrow.”

the unshakeable resistance y/n once had, started to falter as she looked at her friends’ determined faces. they weren’t just here to drag her out of the house, they genuinely cared. she wondered how much her absence, and wallowing in self pity, was truly affecting the people around her. even if she wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted to go, maybe it was worth a shot. after all, they went through the trouble of planning things out, as well as helping her clean her depressive mess. it was worth trying for them.

“fine,” she muttered. “but if it sucks, i’m leaving early.”

“deal,” chaewon said, clapping her hands. “now, let’s find you something hot to wear. i heard jay’s not going to be there, but let’s make him regret losing you anyway.”

yujin laughed, linking her arm with y/n’s and leading her toward the bedroom. the world seemed to start shining brighter as they walked. “yup. and who knows? maybe you’ll meet someone new.” y/n could only give a small, reluctant smile at the words. she wasn’t sure she believed their optimism, but for the first time in weeks, she felt hopeful. even if the night didn’t fix her heartbreak, at least she wouldn’t be alone with it. and, well, she’s got a blackout long overdue.

after showering and getting ready on their own, it was time for yujin and chaewon to work their magic; “project sad bitch to bad bitch” as yujin proudly proclaimed. chaewon flipped through y/n’s closet quietly, her fingers brushing against the variety of fabrics and patterns hanging from the hangers. “god, y/n,” the girl giggled in disbelief. “do you even wear half of this shit?” y/n only shrugged from her spot on the bed, towel wrapped snugly around her body barely blocking the AC’s cool breeze on her moist skin.

“i don’t know. maybe.”

“seems like you don’t know a lot of things lately, huh?”

“hm, i guess not.”

yujin sat cross-legged on the floor, unpacking her makeup bag and moving a lamp to complete her little setup. huffing at the attitude her friends were catching with each other, she turned to y/n with pleading eyes. “look, we’re not leaving until you’re ready. and no,” she added, looking up at the shivering girl. “sweatpants are not an option.”

confusion flooded y/n’a face as she tilted her head at the girl. “i wasn’t going to wear sweatpants.”

“good,” chaewon said, getting to the back of the closet, a small gleam catching her eyes. pulling out a simple satin slip dress, eyes widening with a smile at the piece. the dress that was destined for setting the mood. “ooh, now this could work.”

y/n eyed the dress and shook her head immediately. it was a part of a lingerie set that she had misplaced, something not meant to be seen in broad daylight, let alone by strangers at a party. she coughed, swatting away the memories that flooded back at the sight of it. there was no way she could wear that. “no. it’s too… i don’t know. they’re pajamas, it’s too much.”

“it’s not,” yujin said firmly, standing to drape the dress against y/n’s frame, already planning out the makeup look she could do to compliment it. it was clearly the best option they had, its slight sexual undertones only further confirming it was the key to a perfect night waiting to happen. “pajamas or not, it’s perfect. beyond that even. tonight’s not about hiding anyway.”

y/n could only sigh in response, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her towel. “i’m not trying to hide, i just don’t feel like being seen.”

“is that not the same thing?” chaewon said, crossing her arms as she gave y/n a reassuring look. “look, we’re not saying you have to feel like a star tonight. we just want you to feel…you know, more like yourself again.”

yujin crouched in front of y/n, her expression softening. giving her best puppy eyes, she pouted and held hands up to the girl, begging with a small shake to emphasize her desperation. “just try, okay? it’s one night. you deserve to feel good about yourself, even if it’s just for a few hours.”

“i don’t feel bad about myself-” she paused when the girls gave her a knowing glance, making her stumble on her words. she glanced between them, her chest tightening. they weren’t forcing her, but they weren’t exactly letting her disappear, either. “you know what? fine,” she said finally, reaching out to take the dress. it was true, the dress was beautiful. the rose pink color highlighted by the sheen of the satin, with black laced edges adding the perfect contrast, made it a staple piece. she had forgotten all about its aura.

“that's what i’m talking ‘bout!” chaewon grinned and reached down to give yujin a round of high fives, their squeals only projecting a small portion of their excitement. y/n took the hanger and made her way into the bathroom. after a few minutes of staring at her reflection in the mirror, she stepped out in the dress. the fabric clung to her frame delicately, the soft sheen catching the light. she looked gorgeous, even with her hair undone. the room was silent as they shamelessly gawked at their best friend who only shifted awkwardly under their gaze.

“wow,” yujin whispered. “you look…”

“so fucking beautiful,” chaewon finished.

y/n only turned to look at herself in the mirror again, her lips pressing into a thin line. hesitant, she stared and tried to do some test poses. she just didn’t know how to feel. an internal scream match ensued, her thoughts becoming two conflicting forcesㅡ one side screaming no, the other trapped in a state, wondering: could i? shaking away her thoughts, she goes with her initial one. “i don’t know, guys. it's not me.”

“it is you,” yujin said gently. “maybe a part of you that you’ve forgotten about, but it’s still you. it wasn’t in your closet for no reason.”

while she wasn’t wrong, the reason definitely wasn’t for this. nonetheless she swallowed the lump in her throat, nodding slightly. juggling the pros and cons in her head, she made note of their actions that led her to this point. she owed it to them. “okay,” she said quietly. “let’s go before i change my mind.”

“makeup first~” chaewon sang out as she guided y/n over to the area where yujin had set everything up. “and i can do your hair, too. two birds, one stone. let’s go.”

the city lights blended into a colorful gradient of neon streaks as the taxi sped through the bustling streets. inside, the atmosphere was electric. y/n, chaewon, and yujin sat in the back, their laughter and chatter blending with the rhythmic hum of the car, the radio playing joyful tunes only further setting the mood.

chaewon, ever the instigator, held up a bottle of peach flavored soju, opening it and holding it to the roof. there was a gleam in her eyes that demonstrated her happiness more than words could explain. “to a night of unforgettable memories,” she declared, her tone light as she carefully waved the bottle mischievously. “with my very best friends.”

yujin grinned, lifting an imaginary bottle as well, reaching over chaewon’s lap to grab y/n’s hand and force her to do the same. “and to making sure y/n doesn’t regret this tomorrow,” she teased.

y/n chuckled a genuine, hearty laugh as she shook her head. “i’m not the one who needs to worry,” she retorted, her voice light but with a hint of challenge. she reached into chaewon’s bag pulling out a plastic shot glass. “is this even smart to be doing in a moving car?”

“yolo,” chaewon smiled in response, pouring a generous amount into the cup, nearly filling it to the brim. “bottoms up,” she urged, her tone playful yet insistent. with a resigned smile, y/n took the shot, the sharpness of the soju’s flavor warming her from the inside. she licked her lips and handed the cap to chaewon, who refilled it with a flourish.

“your turn,” chaewon said, carefully handing the cup to yujin who playfully raised an eyebrow, feigning fake reluctance. “peer pressure at its finest,” she laughed, but took the shot with no hesitation. the trio continued their pregame ritual, the taxi’s interior filled with their laughter and the clinking of bottles. as the cityscape passed by, the anticipation of the party awaiting them grew, each of them eager for the night that awaited them.

when the taxi pulled up, the bass from the party reverberated through the car, the music and laughter spilling out into the cool night air. y/n giggled, already feeling the happy buzz of the drinks from the ride over. chaewon and yujin, also tipsy, were practically bouncing with excitement as they stepped out of the car.

“drive safe, dear! have a good night,” chaewon waved to the driver. as they stepped through the door, they were immediately hit with the scent of perfume, alcohol, and excitement. the large living room was filled with people laughing, dancing, and chatting in their own little groups. y/n swayed slightly to the rhythm, the tipsiness from pregaming still actively lingering in her veins. chaewon and yujin were right beside her, their laughter bright and carefree, matching the energy around them. she pulled her jacket tighter, but it was more out of habit than discomfort.

at first, y/n did feel a bit out of place, but chaewon immediately linked arms with her, pulling her further into the scene. “you’re gonna love it here, i promise,” she grinned, her voice a little louder than usual to compensate for the music’s volume.

yujin, already catching the beat of the music, nudged her playfully. “yeah! tonight’s for fun, no worries.” they made their way over to heeseung, the host, who greeted them with a friendly smile and a quick hug. “hey, guys. glad you could make it! the party’s just getting started.”

y/n couldn’t help but stare at the man in front of her. he was tall, dark, and handsome. the small rose tint that coated his cheeks, caused by the alcohol, pulled the whole look together. it was hard to look away. wow. upon noticing this, chaewon leaned in, whispering to y/n, “heeseung’s the best. and he throws the best parties.”

y/n smiled as she finally broke her stare to meet chaewon’s eyes, her voice a little slurred but still light. “yeah, he seems chill.”

heeseung turned his attention to the girl who wasn’t as familiar with him, his smile faltering just a little. he leaned in closer to chaewon, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone so that y/n wouldn’t hear. “by the way, jay ended up changing his mind about not coming. he’s over there,” he said, glancing toward the other side of the room where jay stood talking to some guys.

his words seemed to sober chaewon up a bit as she tried not to make a reactive face as her eyes followed to where he was motioning to. there he was in the flesh, having the audacity to be enjoying himself while his ex-girlfriend still had the luxury of not knowing of his presence. and chaewon needed to make sure to keep it that way all night. instead, she flashed a quick grin, pulling y/n into the next part of the conversation. “man, we’re taking a cab home. you know what that means?”

“we can get fucked up,” y/n exclaimed doing a little happy dance, humoring the few that could hear what she was saying. heeseung only offered chaewon an encouraging smile, though he wasn’t sure her approach was the best. but what did he know, he was too drunk to really care about it past surface level. yujin, just as blissfully unaware of the situation, grinned ear to ear and high-fived y/n. “now that’s the energy i love to see!”

“yeah, yeah. let’s go mingle now!” chaewon said, waving to heeseung as she led the trio made towards the main area where majority of the people occupied. and of course, with no sign of jay. she spotted jake and sunghoon nearby, and with a social grin, she guided the girls along to greet them, reminding herself she needed to enjoy her time too.

“jake! hoon!” she called out, her voice full of energy. jake looked up from his conversation and grinned, his eyes trailing to each face as he greeted them. “chaewon, yujin, and… no fucking way. is that y/n?! in the flesh?!” he went over to give her a hug, and it signaled to her that he was definitely drunk. “finally, we get to see your pretty face again. it’s about time you join in on the fun!”

y/n, although a little confused, returned the hug and gave the boy a playful smile. “yeah. i guess i needed a little push to leave the house. you know how breakups get you sometimes,” she joked. probably not the funniest thing she could’ve said, but it was real.

sunghoon raised an eyebrow teasingly, making sure not to dwell on the literal aspects of it. he looked her up and down, almost drooling at the sight of her. the way the dress hugged her body, the way her jacket complimented the colors perfectly, even her flats fit the look. “well, i guess it worked out nicely. you look like you’re doing great now.”

yujin laughed, leaning in as if she were about to say something revolutionary. “it’s the party effect. you get here and forget everything.”

“just what i needed,” y/n said, letting herself get lost in the music. she wondered why she avoided everyone for so long. their presence made her feel ten times better in a couple of minutes than she’d felt on her own all month. it was refreshing.

“that’s the spirit!” jake grinned, looking past the girls to see jay walking over again with drinks in hand. thinking quickly, he gestured to the group behind him. “hey, rina and winter are over there. go give them a pleasant surprise.”

chaewon quickly perked up with enthusiasm at the mention of their other girl friends. “ooh! let’s go say hi!”

they headed over to karina and winter, who were standing by the snack table. karina greeted them with a playful smile. “there you guys are! i thought you’d bail on us. hey, y/n! it’s nice to see you again,” her eyes smiled at the girl, admiring the glow. maybe time away was what y/n needed to prosper. karina, like everyone else, was happy to see her again nonetheless.

y/n shook her head, her drunken voice bubbling with laughter. the world seemed to have a hint of saturation to it that she hadn’t seen in a while now. she couldn’t help but to pull karina into a hug, the gesture surprising both of them at the suddenness. “hey! and of course not. we just had to make sure we were up to par. can’t all be natural beauties like you girls.”

“oh stop it, y’all are gorgeous,” winter chimed in, raising her cup with a sigh of content before taking a sip. “man, i needed this after midterms. nothing better than a heeseung party to recharge your academic battery.”

“you know, for a guy that’s so popular amongst everyone, i'm surprised i didn’t know him before this,” y/n pondered for a second. the group laughed, “well, welcome to the real world outside of a relationship. people start existing again.” and soon enough, they were swept up in more conversation and dancing. after a few shots, y/n could feel herself getting lost in the rhythm, her laughter mixing with the music. as they moved back to the dance floor, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she could forget about the weight of it all—at least for tonight. her tipsiness had her in an effortlessly happy state, but she felt like it could be more hype. she leaned closer to chaewon and yujin, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the bass.

“i’m gonna grab a drink,” she said, her lips curling into a small smile. “you guys want anything? shots?”

yujin’s eyes lit up, and she nudged chaewon. “ohhh my god, yes. shots sound perfect.” chaewon grinned, raising her hand slightly. “tequila, if they have it. lime, salt, the good shit, you know how i like it.”

y/n laughed, making mental note of the girls’ orders. “got it, tequila on the rocks for the baddies. i’ll be back.” she spun on her heel, her steps sure as she wove through the crowd, the glow of the party lights casting a warm glow on her skin. emboldening her every move, the alcohol seemed to sink deeper into her veins, the electric energy of the room carrying her forward with effortless grace.

the kitchen set a different mood in contrast to the other rooms she and her friends had occupied that night. the loud, bass-heavy music from the living room was muffled here, replaced by softer chatter and the occasional clink of bottles against glasses. the room smelled faintly of spilled liquor and citrus wedges, surprisingly pleasant, and the counters were crowded with a mess of an inviting display of liquor bottles and red cups.

she ran her hand along the countertop that was cool on her heated skin. her eyes skimmed the options in front of her. there the tequila was for chaewon and yujin, but which brand to choose? she didn’t know. she bit her lip, trying to focus despite the pleasant buzz in her head craving excitement. she didn’t even realize a male figure had made his way over to her.

“tequila, huh?” his voice was smooth, unexpected, and it instantly pulled her attention to the right. there he was, leaning casually against the counter, his posture relaxed but commanding. the soft golden light from the kitchen highlighted his sharp features, a warm glow casting over his slightly tousled hair and the inviting grin that played on his lips. 

she blinked, momentarily thrown off by his presence. there was something boyish about him, yet his looks contrasted the calculated composure in his eyes. once she realized her staring, she quickly recovered, her lips curving into a teasing smile unsure of where such confidence came from.“depends who you ask.”

he chuckled, the sound low and light, yet somehow warm despite its brevity. “true. i guess it depends on the night, too,” he mused, his eyes casually following her movements—curious, but not intrusive. his gaze lingered on the tequila bottles, gesturing to it. “bold choice, though,” he added, his tone easy and confident. “i guess it suits you.”

y/n tilted her head slightly, looking at the bottle she’d unknowingly chosen. her lips curved into a small smile, intrigued by his words. “what makes you think that?”

he shrugged with effortless charm, his laugh hypnotizing, like the world stopped with each chuckle that escaped his lips. and she was almost sure it did. “you’ve got this energy—like you’re fun, but there’s more to you than what meets the eye.” her eyebrows furrowed faintly in intrigue, but she kept her tone playful, tinged with a hint of caution. just because he seemed funny, and attractiveㅡ well, insanely attractive, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep her guard up; he was still a stranger. but his words seemed to draw her in nonetheless.

“you’ve got a lot of assumptions for someone i just met.”

“maybe,” he said with a slight shrug, “but i’m usually right.” he extended a hand toward her, his grin widening. “i’m eric, by the way. figured this was a good time to properly introduce myself since i’ve seen you around but never got the chance.”

she glanced at his hand before shaking it, his palm warm and his touch firm. “y/n,” she said simply, letting her name hang in the air for a moment. he shook her hand, slow and drawn out, before he reluctantly pulled away. it didn’t go unnoticed. he repeated it as if trying it out for himself, the syllables making themselves at home on his tongue. his grin softened into something more genuine. “that’s a pretty name. suits you.”

a faint warmth crept throughout her body at the compliment, but she quickly masked it with a smile, biting her lip as she tried to ignore the heat making its way to her cheeks. “thanks. so, you’re just out here handing out compliments tonight, huh?”

“only when they’re deserved,” he shot back smoothly, his gaze unwavering. there was something so captivating about him. his personality, maybe even ego, seemed big, but his confidence wasn’t overbearing. it was enticing and y/n found herself relaxing more, her initial purpose for coming to the kitchen already slipping her mind. “so, do you always pick tequila at parties, or is tonight special?” he raised an eyebrow slightly.

“tonight’s definitely special,” she replied, leaning against the counter herself now, mirroring his relaxed stance. the corners of her lips tugged upward, her drunken state aiding in loosening her posture. “but i’ll admit, it’s not my usual go-to.”

her words made him grin, his expression lighting up as if he’d just found the perfect opening to extend their conversation. his face seemed to soften slightly, and for a moment, y/n couldn’t help but envy how his confidence radiated. he knew how attractive he was, and knew exactly how to lean into it without making it feel forced.

“lucky for you, i’m a tequila enthusiast,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows, already reaching for the bottle and two shot glasses. his movements were sure, natural, as if he’d done this a hundred times before. everything about this man highlighted how sure of himself he was, like he knew the line between charm and arrogance and danced on it perfectly. “mind if i join you?”

y/n let out a small laugh, her gaze following his every movement as he poured the tequila. there was something mesmerizing about the way his hands worked—the smooth, controlled motions, his fingers brushing over the counter as if every little touch was intentional, effortless. the lighting of the room seemed to accentuate the sensuality of the moment; it made the air feel charged. everything about him, from the casual lean to the way his eyes stayed locked on hers, felt like a slow dance, a tension hummed between them.

“you know what? sure, why not?” she finally managed to say, her voice a little breathless, though she couldn’t quite tell if it was from the alcohol or the way the scene had shifted. eric slid a glass toward her, his fingers grazing the edge of the counter, his movements slow as if savoring the moment. he leaned in just enough to hold her gaze, his eyes glinting with a playful spark, and she felt her heart race a little. raising his glass, his smirk widened. “to… letting loose and making the most of tonight?”

y/n’s lips parted in a smile that felt so easy, so unguarded, like it was the most natural thing in the world to let go and enjoy the moment. all her worries of the night seemed to slip her mind as she tapped her glass against his, the muted background becoming more apparent making the brief clink of glass feel louder than it should have. “cheers to that.”

they downed the shots in unison, the tequila burning a familiar path down her throat before settling into a warm heat in her chest. she grabbed a slice of lime as a needed chaser, squeezing the sour juices into her mouth. now, the buzz she’d felt earlier amplified, wrapping around her like a comforting haze. she could feel herself relax further as eric leaned in closer to keep the conversation flowing. their eyes meet again and an unfamiliar, yet alluring feeling crept up. he was so captivating. one look from him felt like transcending.

“so, what about you?” she asked, setting her glass down with a soft clink against the counter. she was becoming more curious about him. every second, imagining his life story, his reasons for coming, who he came with, she wanted to know everything. her tone carried a teasing edge as she raised an eyebrow. “are you the life of the party or just here to keep an eye on the tequila?”

he chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly as if her words had struck the right note. there was something disarming about the way he laughed, and y/n couldn’t help but feel a small surge of accomplishment, her desire to keep conversing growing. “somewhere in between,” he admitted, his smile widening, the confidence in his voice undeniable. “but tonight, i think i’m here for more interesting conversations.”

the subtle compliment tugged at y/n, piquing her newfound confidence and before she knew it, she was leaning in just a little more, drawn into the rhythm of his words. she’d forgotten how much fun it was to flirt, how desirable she was over the years. none of this was one sided. “well, lucky you ran into me, then.”

“lucky, indeed,” eric replied, his voice dropping just enough to carry weight, and his gaze shifted to hers with intensity, the moment stretching out longer than expected. her breath hitched. it felt like time slowed down for just a second before she regained her composure. before she could fully process the warmth creeping up her spine from eric’s gaze, a shift in the atmosphere almost caught her attention. across the kitchen, jay walked in, his empty beer bottle dangling carelessly from his fingers, searching for somewhere to dispose of the glass. his expression was relaxed at first, but the moment his eyes locked onto her frame, he froze.

y/n didn’t notice him immediately either. her back was turned to him and she was much too absorbed in her conversation with eric. but jay was peeping everything. the way she laughed, the way she leaned just slightly toward eric, and most notably, that dress. it wasn’t just any dress. it was his favorite, the one she had only worn on special occasions, none of which ever saw light beyond the bedroom.

a knot twisted in jay’s chest, and his mind spun with a rush of emotions—anger, jealousy, and regret. he couldn’t pinpoint which hurt more, but they all clawed at him. was she just here for sex? and was she wearing that to enhance her attraction? he was convinced the second he heard the sound of her laughter, consumed by whatever sweet little nothings eric was telling her as she leaned in toward him. it stung. he hated how much power she still had over him, how she could still hurt him so deeply without even realizing.

eric, perceptive as ever, immediately caught the shift in the air. when his eyes flicked over jay and back to y/n, his grin widened ever so slightly. without missing a beat, he poured another shot, his movements casual yet carrying a certain smugness as he slid the glass toward y/n. “ready for another?” he asked lightly, though his gaze hardly wavered from jay.

“absolutely,” she replied with a laugh, oblivious to the silent exchange happening right in front of her. she was too intoxicated, both from the liquor and eric’s attention—to feel the tension brewing. the scene unfolding in front of her went unnoticed. eric, with his charm, was asserting his dominance over jay in a way that was bold, yet subtle enough to fly under y/n’s radar.

eric poured his own shot with an almost lazy confidence, his movements smooth and conceited as though every action was meant to say, i’ve already won. raising and clinking his glass with y/n’s, his lips curved into a subtle smirk as he downed the drink. while she threw her head back to get the shot out the way, his eyes were locked onto jay’s. the air in the kitchen thickened, growing heavier with the unspoken tension that hung between the two men. jay’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling firmly around the neck of his bottle as he forced himself to relax. but his pride just wouldn’t let it go. he needed to act, to remind this guy—this nobody, who y/n truly belonged to.

his steps were calculated as he moved further into the kitchen, making it seem as if he hadn’t noticed them at all. his presence, though originally unacknowledged, was impossible to ignore. without sparing so much as a glance their way, jay reached for a bottle on the counter, his movements nonchalant and composed.

“hey, eric, pass me the bottle opener,” he said, his tone calm, detached, as if the moment held no significance. but the sound of his voice was enough to pierce through y/n’s bubble of drunken bliss. her laughter faltered, the warmth that had fueled her moments before were replaced by a quick, relentless, almost sinking ache. eric, with his focus now shifted to jay with a scowl, straightened up as he titled his head. they were now challenging each other in front of their pursuit.

“it’s right there, get it yourself,” eric made no effort to mask the irritation the boy’s presence brought him. y/n turned slowly, her heart lurching at the sight of jay. what the fuck was he even doing? did she even actually like eric? the thoughts ran through her mind, quick and unforgiving. as her gaze remained on jay, everything else faded into the background. eric’s presence, his charm, the tequila-fueled buzz— all evaporated. jay’s movements were precise, impersonal. though he stood just a few feet away, his eyes never met hers. it was as though she didn’t even exist to him, a realization that stung more than she’d anticipated.

with a swift motion, he grabbed the opener, popped the cap off the beer, and set it back on the counter. without another word or glance, he turned on his heel, a smug scoff leaving his lips as he disappeared into the crowd. his shoulders were tense, and his strides were agonizingly slow. y/n watched him leave, her heart sinking further with each step he took. her fingers curled against the countertop as she let out a sigh, gripping it tightly as she struggled to steady herself, her knuckles paling from the effort.

“you okay?” eric’s voice softened, his earlier confidence giving way to a tentative concern. his hand brushed her shoulder lightly, but the touch barely registered. all her thoughts, all her feelings, were consumed once again by jay, and the space he left behind. eric felt like a distant blur in comparison.

“yeah,” y/n replied quickly, though her voice was tight, almost robotic now. she forced a smile, but it was weak. she averted her eyes, unsure of where to look anymore. she was too ashamed to be present in the moment now. “it’s whatever. i don’t even know that guy anymore.” the words were meant to sound indifferent, maybe even lighthearted, but her tone betrayed her, emotions seeping through. 

eric hesitated, his eyes studying her face. he could see the way her confidence had crumbled the moment jay walked up and felt a pang of guilt knowing he’d inadvertently caused it. but an unfamiliar feeling sparked within him as well. he wanted to make her forget about jay entirely, to erase whatever hold he still had on her. what had started off as an obvious attempt at a one-night stand, had suddenly turned into something more. eric wanted to be the one she thought about, the one she wanted, the one who could make her feel again.

y/n leaned against the counter, her glass clutched tightly in her hand, staring at the floor like it could offer her some kind of escape. it was quiet as the pair decided not to say anything. she didn’t mind it though. the weight of jay’s acknowledgment—or lack thereof— was still hanging over her like a storm cloud. and in her drunken state, she didn’t know how to process what she was feeling now. chaewon and yujin‘s comfort was rooms away, which she supposed was for the better. she didn’t want to bring their mood down with hers anyway. the dull thud of bass from the next room gave her a headache, and the warmth of the kitchen suddenly felt stifling.

she poured another shot and quickly downed it, sucking in a deep breath as the warmth shot throughout her body. her mind replayed the earlier scene on a loop—his voice, the dismissive tone, the way his eyes never bothered to look her way. a desperate part of her had hoped for more, craving at least some shred of emotion from him. instead, all she’d gotten was proof of how much she still cared, and how little he did. she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her tears at bay, her pride refusing to let them fall.

“hey.” y/n’s head snapped up, startled by the soft voice that cut through her thought process, reminding her she was still at the party. eric now stood a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets, a relaxed posture with a steady gaze. he tilted his head slightly, offering her a small smile in an attempt to ease her mind. “wanna just get out of here for a bit?”

for a moment she just stared at him, her brain debating on his offer. the idea of leaving the kitchen, and the weight of jay’s presence hanging over her, felt like relief. but going somewhere with ericㅡ a near-stranger? she wasn’t sure. her grip on her drink loosened slightly, her nails no longer digging into the condensation-soaked glass. “where would we even go?” her voice came out quieter than she intended.

“don’t know,” he shrugged, now leaning against the doorframe. “anywhere but here. upstairs, outside… we could raid his snacks,  whatever helps.” his tone was casual, but there was something in the way he watched her that felt intentional. he sensed the remaining turmoil in her heart and wanted to pull her away from it.

y/n glanced at the doorway he motioned to, then back to her drink. the thought of staying here, rooted to this spot, after jay’s appearance felt unbearable. so, without answering, she set her cup on the counter with a soft clink and gave him a small nod. eric’s smile widened just slightly, enough to make her cheeks flush again. “come on,” he murmured, motioning for her to follow him.

he led her to a quiet balcony on the second floor of the house, away from the pulsing music and swarm of people. the cool night air hit her face, and she zipped her jacket as she wrapped her arms around herself. she was thankful for the moment of calm that wasted no time washing over her. eric handed her an unopened bottle of patron that he’d snagged on their way up, giving her a reassuring smile.

“for the record,” he said, leaning against the railing, his tone measured, almost casual, “whatever he did to you? screw him.” his eyes stayed fixed on the city lights below, the ambient hum of distant car horns and the occasional gust of wind filling the silence. he didn’t look at her, as if giving her the privacy to feel whatever she needed to without his gaze adding weight.

y/n let out a weak laugh, but it cracked halfway through, dissolving into a shaky exhale. leaning on the railing herself, her eyes wandered to the darkened yard below, its emptiness mirroring the void she felt in her heart. her voice wavered when she spoke. “it’s not that simple.”

“maybe not,” eric shrugged, the softness in his voice tugging at her like a thread, unraveling the tight knot she’d been holding together. “but he doesn’t get to ruin your night.” he turned slightly toward her, his expression thoughtful, though his gaze never pressed into hers too directly. her throat tightened, and before she could stop herself, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, blurring the faint glow of the city. she swallowed hard, shaking her head as if to ward them away. turning from him, she choked out a laugh, “god, i’m sorry. this is so stupid.”

“it’s not stupid,” he said with quiet conviction. he didn’t step closer, deciding it was best to keep respecting the fragile space between them, but there was something solid and grounding in his presence nonetheless. “you’re allowed to feel how you want to feel, y/n. no one gets to decide that for you.”

her fingers hastily brushed at her cheeks,trying to swipe away the evidence of her emotions as shame crept in. traces of her makeup found refuge on her jacket in the process. she was sure she looked as much of a mess physically as she felt mentally. his words lingered, and she appreciated him not demanding a response, just offering a truth she hadn’t yet been able to admit to herself. “i don’t even know why i’m crying. it’s just… all i wanted was to be able to forget about him for one night.” her words hung in the air as she tightly crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to hold herself together. saying it out loud made the hurt feel all the more real, the pressure pressing harder against her ribs.

“getting over someone takes time,” eric said, his voice steady and thoughtful, as though he’d carefully considered every word. his eyes flickered toward her briefly, searching for a reaction before continuing. “especially someone who meant a lot to you. i heard you guys were together for a couple of years; i don’t think anyone expects you to bounce back quickly. and just because you’re not there yet doesn’t mean you won’t get there.” his words settled over her, profound, like the softest form of reassurance she had been needing. y/n felt her shoulders relax and she finally exhaled, her breath fogging in the chilly night air. the weight of her emotions felt a little lighter now. eric held up the unopened bottle between them, his grin softening the mood further.

“how about this? one drink, and we’ll make a pact: no more thinking about jay tonight.”

her lips twitched into a small, reluctant smile as she reached for the bottle, the faintest trace of amusement breaking through the fading sadness. when in doubt, drink it out. “deal.” the bottle moved back and forth between them as the conversation flowed, each sip peeling away the mysterious layers between the two. eric had a way of drawing her out. his humor was witty, his stories were full of vivid details that made her forget the remaining ache in her chest, little by little. she felt like she could breathe again.

the two talked about everything and nothing: bad movies, dream vacations, even the weirdest things they’d done as kids. eric was so easy to talk to. in a way that felt natural, his teasing was playful but never too much, and his laughter warm and infectious. with every story exchanged, y/n found herself leaning further into the conversation.

at some point, the conversation slowed, the hum of the city below filling the quiet. y/n’s gaze drifted to eric, who sat just close enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence. the soft glow of the house lights framed his features—his sharp jawline, the slight curve of his lips, and the depth in his eyes that seemed to catch everything without needing to say much. she had noticed before how effortlessly handsome he was, but in the stillness, she could see it in all its glory because now he wasn’t even trying.

“what?” he asked, his voice breaking through her thoughts, low and teasing but not unkind. he kept his eyes on her, a gleam shimmering ever so slightly. she blinked, her cheeks heating as she fought hard not to look away.

“nothing.”

eric tilted his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “you were staring. i’m not complaining, just… curious.”

y/n’s heart stuttered, her defenses unraveling under his playful yet gentle tone. she dropped her gaze to the bottle between them, her fingers brushing against the cool glass. “i wasn’t staring,” she mumbled, though the blush deepening on her cheeks betrayed her. he leaned in slightly, not enough to overwhelm but just enough to close the gap, his voice quieter now. 

“sure you weren’t.” their proximity was close enough to feel his breath warm on her nose. a closeness that felt almost forbidden. it felt good. there was something in the way he looked at her, prolonged and intent, as if he could see past what she was trying to hide. it made her stomach flip, her mind race. the space between them felt charged, the kind of silence that wasn’t empty but filled with things neither of them knew how to say.

she tried to focus on the city lights, the buzz of music from the party beneath themㅡ anything but him… but her gaze betrayed her again. when she looked back up, he was still watching her, his expression shifting into something unreadable.

“you know, you’re… different than i expected,” he said finally, his voice soft, almost hesitant. he was peeling back a layer of himself that he didn’t often share.

y/n’s brows furrowed slightly, her mind catching the weight of his words. curiously, she leaned closer despite the space being noses apart as a result. “different how?” she asked, her voice quieter now in fear of the moment shattering if she spoke any louder.

“in a good way,” he replied, the corners of his lips lifting in a slight smile that was both shy and sincere. the energy picked up, dissipating from its once lustful state into something new, softer and more vulnerable. “like… i don’t know. just better.”

the simplicity of his words struck her harder than she expected. there weren’t any grand gestures or overly thought-out declarations with them, yet somehow, it made them feel all the more genuine. she didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. instead, she just looked at him, her lips parting slightly as if the unfolding moment had stolen the air from her lungs. the outside noises of the world faded into nothing, narrowing to just the quiet breaths they shared on that balcony.

time seemed to slow as the remaining space between them shrank. his gaze dropped, flickering to her lips for the briefest moment before meeting her eyes again, a silent question lingering in the space between them. she felt renewed, her heart was racing as her mind scrambled to make sense of it. but there was no time to think, no time to overanalyze; her body moved before she could stop it.

her lips met his, softly at first, testing the waters. there was hesitation on both ends, a mutual uncertainty. then the kiss deepened, the weight of the night pouring into every movement. she leaned in closer, her hands finding their way to his shirt, gripping it tightly as if afraid he might pull away. his fingers ghosted over her jaw, anchoring her in the moment, grounding her as the rest of the world seemed to spin. it wasn’t perfect, it was messy and uncoordinated, a clash of emotions and impulse—but it felt real, raw in a way that made her melt into his touch. and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself be vulnerable. she let herself feel.

but just as quickly as it started, the kiss ended as reality crashed back in. y/n pulled back abruptly, her hands flying to her stomach as a sudden wave of nausea hit hard, quickly climbing its way up from her stomach. “oh no…” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as she almost teleported to the other side of the balcony. there was no way. eric’s eyes widened, concern flashing across his face as he instinctively moved to reach out toward her. “you okay?” he asked, moving his hands back after seeing her lack of response to the gesture. she shook her head, the motion only making her feel worse. 

“i think i’m gonna—” she realized she pushed herself to her feet too quickly, her delayed reaction to the sudden movement sent her balance teetering. eric was beside her in an instant, steadying her with a hand on her arm as she stumbled toward the railing.

“whoa, whoa—hold on,” he said, his voice calm but urgent. “deep breaths, okay? i got you.”

y/n clung to the cool metal railing, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to steady her breathing. the nausea roared louder, her stomach churning violently. she hated how vulnerable she felt, she hated that she couldn’t keep it together.

“i’m so sorry,” she whispered shakily, leaning forward in case the inevitable happened. her whole body was in panic mode, trying to ground itself but every attempt it made only escalated the situation. the only thing saving her from completely coming undone was her pride. she refused to embarrass herself in front of the handsome man that kept her company.

“don’t apologize,” eric said softly, his hand still resting on her arm. the touch was enough to distract her as her senses focused on the warmth it offered. “seriously, it’s fine. just focus on breathing. we’ll get through this.” her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but there was no judgment in his voice, no awkwardness, just comfort laced with concern. he was drunk too, anxiety building at how the situation could possibly unfold. y/n clung to the railing as the nausea finally overwhelmed her. the world around her blurred, and every sound muffled like she was underwater. her knees buckled slightly, and eric was quick to catch her as she vomited over the balcony, quietly thanking god that nobody was in the backyard.

 “yeah,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “i think you’re done for the night.” she tried to mumble a response, but her words came out slurred and incoherent. her body felt heavy, the buzz of alcohol overpowering every sense as she vomited again. now she was sobbing curses keeping her eyes squeezed tight, as if it could block out the predicament she was in now. eric had to think fast, he couldn’t just leave her out here. but he also cared for her reputation, and taking someoneㅡ in her state, back with the majority was just begging to be social suicide. 

“okay, hang tight,” eric said, carefully easing her down to sit on the floor of the balcony, leaning her against the railing for support. she was barely responsive, her eyelids fluttering as exhaustion took over. he wanted to bring her inside the room, but if she kept going at the rate that she was, laying down would be a safety hazard. he hated it, but the best option would be to leave her outside. he sucked in a breath, crouching in front of her, brushing a strand of her hair out of her face. “i’m gonna find your friends, okay? just stay right here.”

y/n’s head lolled slightly. he made his way back into the main, more populated areas of the house, scanning the crowd for any sign of the two girls she’d been with earlier. it took a few minutes and some questions to a few strangers, but eventually, eric found chaewon and yujin near the living room, both mid-conversation with a group of people. “hey, uh,” eric interrupted, his tone urgent enough to grab their attention immediately. “y/n’s on the balcony. she’s not feeling great. i think she needs you.”

chaewon’s eyes widened as her head snapped towards yujin, they had forgotten about y/n in their inebriated state. they actually learned of the kitchen situation shortly after it happened because jay had come by and interrupted their conversation with jake to vent about it. they only let her be after hearing of her moment with eric because a distraction was what they were originally hoping for. they didn’t take into account it could go left. “what the hell is she doing out there? is she okay?”

“she’s like… out of it,” eric said, his hands still in his pockets but his shoulders tense as they picked up the words he wasn’t dropping: a few too many drinks, half of which her body weight couldn’t hold. “she needs to go home.” yujin didn’t hesitate, grabbing chaewon’s arm as they followed eric back to the balcony. chaewon couldn’t help but cry the whole way up.

“fuck, we might just be the worst friends alive,” she sobbed, her feet scurrying to keep up with the other two as each sob slowed her down. yujin, sensing the need for a level headed person in the room, pinched chaewon’s cheeks once they reached the bedroom leading to the balcony. “we can unpack that later. she needs us now. so suck it up cause we have to act like we know what we’re doing.” her words leave no word for arguments, so chaewon just nods putting on her best poker face despite the regret that still panged at her heart.

when they opened the door to finally arrive on the scene, y/n was no longer slumped against the railing. she was laying on her side curled into a ball, eyes closed as she emphasized each breath she let out to calm her nerves. “oh my god, y/n,” chaewon muttered, kneeling beside her. the girl only croaked her name in response, a pout eliciting a downpour of tears. she felt a sense of relief washing over her at their presence. yujin crouched down as she and chaewon lifted her body up, y/n doing her best to push herself up with her arms. “what made this happen?”

“it’s kind of my fault. jay upset her while we were taking shots. it bummed her out, so we came up here to recharge… drank a whole bottle of patron,” eric trailed off as he recollected their actions leading up to it, the impulsivity being highlighted as a disaster waiting to happen. rubbing the back of his neck, he cleared his throat. “yeah, so it’s totally my fault.” chaewon and yujin wasted zero time verbally agreeing with him. he didn’t take it personally, thoughㅡ in hindsight, he could’ve approached the situation better. “sorry, i wasn’t really thinking. i just wanted to make her feel better.”

“well, thank you,” yujin said, her voice sincere as she looked at him. chaewon and yujin carefully helped y/n to her feet, draping her arms over their shoulders. eric lingered for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked at her one last time. she looked an absolute mess. her mascara ran in uneven streaks tracing her cheeks, while smudges of foundation, blush,and faded lipstick clung desperately to her skin. he felt horrible for how bad her night turned out. “she’s gonna be okay, right?” he asked, his voice a tinge quieter now.

“yeah,” chaewon said, tight-lipped with a small nod. “we got it from here, thanks for looking out for her.” eric nodded, stepping back as they carried y/n away. he stood there for a moment, watching until they disappeared into the house. with a deep breath, he turned back toward the balcony railing, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shake off the lingering worry. what a shitty first impression to leave. he almost wished that they had saved some alcohol, he needed another shot.

in the backseat of the taxi, y/n slumped against chaewon, her head heavy with a mouth that insisted on being anything but quiet. “i wanted to stay with him,” she mumbled, her words slurring together. her voice hiccuped slightly, carrying the unmistakable edge of drunken frustration. she replayed fragmented memories of their time together from the kitchen to the balcony. “why’d you make me leave? he was—he was so damn nice to me. oh my god, he was so sweet y’all. and he was so cute.”

chaewon yawned with a sigh, exhausted and clearly drunk, but trying her best to be a comforting friend, rubbing y/n’s arm. “yeah, yeah, i’m sure he was cool. but we had to leave, y/n. you could barely stand.”

“you were blackout drunk,” yujin chimed in from the passenger seat, twisting around to face them, her own cheeks flushed from the night’s drinks. “like, not just tipsy. you were gone, babe. eric literally told us to get you home.”

but y/n wasn’t having it. she sat up abruptly, her movements wobbly as she gestured with exaggerated fervor. “i liked him, though! he was—such a sweetheart. like, he said all this nice stuff. and we—” she paused, her drunken mind struggling to piece things together. rubbing her thighs together, her mind went straight to the kiss they shared. knowing chaewon and yujin, they wouldn’t let her hear the end of it if she dropped that kind of info. so, she opted to stop herself, quickly changing the subject. a little secret never hurt anybody.

“he was—he was talking to me, and then you guys just pulled me away.” images of how she interpreted the situation plagued her mind, as if they were plotting against her to keep her from her prince charming. “it wasn’t fair… what if i never see him again?” she slumped back dramatically, her head falling against the window with a loud thud but she wasn’t even phased by the pain. “this is so unfair.”

chaewon’s expression softened, her teasing edge melting away as she gave y/n’s arm a gentle squeeze. her voice was quieter now, reassuring, like she was trying to ground her moody friend. “you know you can keep talking to him, right? it’s not like you’ll never see him again.”

“how?” y/n exclaimed, throwing her hands up dramatically. her voice carried the same exasperation as a frustrated child, her bottom lip already jutting out in a pout. it seemed impossible, like meeting him was a once in a lifetime chance she’d fumbled.

“i don’t know, romeo,” yujin quipped, glancing back at her. “you got his number, didn’t you?” there was a glint of amusement in her tone, and it took everything not to laugh at y/n’s growing dramatics.

y/n blinked, suddenly caught off guard. “damn it,” she groaned, flopping back against the seat as the realization hit her. “i didn’t even think about that!” her voice rose in pitch as her frustration bubbled over. with another groan, she slumped forward again. “how am i supposed to find him now?”

yujin shook her head, her own buzz making her grin widen as she scrolled through her phone. “hold on,” she mumbled, squinting at the screen as she scrolled past posts and messages. “i think we follow him on instagram. chaewon and me, at least.”

“you’re kidding,” y/n said, her tone filled with disbelief as her wide eyes snapped to yujin. she was almost jealous, she wanted him to follow her too. well, maybe more than a follow. she had a list of things she now wanted from the boy, few of them being internet bound. 

“mmm, nope. see? it’s right here,” yujin turned her phone toward y/n, showing her eric’s page. it wasn’t much from what she could see. just a regular layout, posting at normal locations yet somehow making the mundane parts of life look vibrant. so dreamy.“i’ll send you his profile.”

for a moment, the drunken haze clouding y/n’s mind seemed to part, and a flicker of hope broke through her frustration. her face softened, and she looked at her friends with a mixture of gratitude and awe. “you’d really give it to me?” her voice was quieter now, almost shy, but the happiness behind her words was hard to miss.

“of course,” yujin said with a shrug, her fingers already flying across the screen to send his profile link. her tone was casual as her eyes flicked to y/n. “but, like, maybe don’t embarrass yourself, okay? just be chill.” she raised an eyebrow, her gaze flickering between concern and amusement. “if you’re even capable of that right now.”

chaewon snorted beside her, the sound sharp and short, like she’d tried to suppress it but failed miserably. the corners of her lips twitched upward as she pressed her knuckles against her mouth, shaking her head at the scene unfolding before her.

“hey,” y/n shot back, the sound more of a whine than a true protest. her pout returned in full force as she crossed her arms over her chest like a petulant child. “i am capable of being chill.” but the way her words were slurred slightly at the edges and so over-exaggerated, made her claim hilariously unconvincing. her friends didn’t need to say anything, her actions spoke loud enough.

“sure you are,” chaewon said, laughter bubbling up from deep in her chest as she leaned back into the seat, shaking her head. the way she said it seemed to playfully poke even more holes in y/n’s already shaking defense. her amusement was contagious, setting off yujin, who burst into laughter that echoed through the car. “there, it’s sent,” yujin said between giggles, her cheeks beginning to ache from smiling as the notification lit up the screen. 

she waved it at y/n who then grabbed her phone and stared down at the notification, her lips twitching as her pout faltered. even though she tried to hold on to her dramatic indignation, the warmth of her friends’ laughter was pulling her out of her sulk. she wasted no time exploring his public profile, staring down at it like it held all the answer to life’s mysteries. a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

as the taxi rolled to a stop in front of y/n’s apartment, her eyes stayed glued to one of eric’s posts. the glow of the screen illuminated her face as she scrolled through his pictures, lingering on one in particular—a candid shot of him laughing, his head tilted back and his smile wide. “he’s cute, right?” she slurred, her voice tinged with both awe and disbelief as she held the phone up for chaewon and yujin to see. “yeah, real cute,” yujin replied without even looking, her tone dismissive as she hooked her arm under y/n’s to help her out of the taxi. chaewon grabbed y/n’s other arm, the two of them exchanging knowing glances over her head.

“now come on,” yujin added, her voice straining as y/n leaned heavily on her. “let’s get you inside before you pass out in the hallway.”

“i’m not gonna pass out,” y/n protested, though her sluggish movements and the way she was tripping over her own feet, told an entirely different story. her attention drifted back to her phone. “he’s so cute,” she declared dreamily, clicking on another one of eric’s posts. she zoomed in on his face scrutinizing every detail like she was solving a puzzle.

her knees buckled slightly as she let out a squeal that blended into a wistful sigh, her head tipping back dramatically. the sudden motion nearly sent all three of them tumbling to the ground. “y/n, focus!” chaewon scolded, groaning as she tightened her grip to keep her upright. together, they stumbled through the front door, chaewon’s voice laced with equal parts exasperation and amusement.

“i am focused!” y/n shot back, though the way she swayed suggested otherwise. with a flourish, she exited out of the post and opened eric’s dms, her fingers flying across the screen. “i’m texting him right now,” she announced proudly, her voice brimming with determination.

“just don’t say anything stupid,” yujin laughed, typing in the apartment code and holding the door open for them. her tone held a faint edge of concern as she glanced over at y/n, whose fingers kept typing away. y/n, entirely oblivious to her surroundings, was deep in concentration, her thumbs working faster than her intoxicated brain could keep up. she hit send on one message, then another, a giddy smile spreading across her face as the chat filled with her messages. “he hasn’t seen them yet,” she mumbled, almost like a child waiting for a toy to arrive.

chaewon and yujin exchanged a look, their laughter bubbling up again as they guided her toward her room to toss her on the bed, watching as she remained entirely consumed by her mission. “you’re a mess,” chaewon teased, shaking her head, though there was no mistaking the fondness in her voice.  after ridding themselves of their shoes, the three girls were quick to undo the chaos of the night. yujin wiped away her smudged eyeliner with one of y/n’s makeup wipes, while chaewon rummaged through a pile of clothes, discarding her dress before tossing a baggy hoodie on.

y/n, still buzzing from both the alcohol and her excitement, sat cross-legged on the bed, clutching her phone. amidst the silent ruffling of materials as the girls were focused on their respective activities, her phone buzzed. the room was momentarily filled with a high-pitched squeal as she threw her head back dramatically. “he replied!”

“oh my god, already?” yujin asked, peering over y/n’s shoulder.

“what’d he say?” chaewon added, leaning in, her curiosity piqued.

but y/n didn’t answer, her face going slack as she hunched over her phone, completely absorbed in whatever eric had sent. the other two exchanged glances before shrugging, quietly finishing up their nighttime routines while y/n sat frozen, eyes reading each thing he sent. suddenly, she let out a gasp, breaking her silence once again. “he gave me his number!” she screamed, clutching her phone to her chest like it was a prized possession.

chaewon raised an eyebrow. “well, are you gonna call him?”

y/n shot her a look that screamed duh, her fingers making quick to save his number. without hesitating, she dialed it, ignoring the way her heart was trying to beat its way out of her chest. “oh my god, you’re calling now?” yujin asked, half-laughing as she tossed herself onto the bed.

“shh!” y/n hissed, holding a finger up to quiet them. she brought the phone to her ear, biting her lip as the dial tone hummed in her ear. the sound seemed to stretch on forever, each ring louder than the last.

“what if he doesn’t pick up?” chaewon whispered, leaning closer to yujin with wide eyes.

yujin grinned. “then she’ll probably—”

“hello?”

his voice cut through the line, smooth and casual, yet undeniably familiar. y/n froze, her lips parting as the realization hit her. “uh—” she started, but her voice caught in her throat, her mind racing to find the right words. chaewon and yujin exchanged a glance, their amused smiles fading as they watched y/n’s expression shift into something softer, more vulnerable.

“hello?” he said again, a touch of curiosity creeping into his tone.

y/n exhaled slowly, closing her eyes as if bracing herself. “hey, eric,” she finally said, her voice quieter than she intended. muting, she turned to the girls. “i’ll be back.” and with that, she slipped out of the room, leaving her friends behind as the door clicked softly shut.

[sundeyyy]

𝙒𝘼𝙏𝘾𝙃 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝘽𝘼𝘾𝙆⸻𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙔

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: BadBoys!Ateez x Broken!Reader

𝙬𝙘: 12.5K

✰ 𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: There's a party tonight. Everyone, including Yuji, was invited, but not you. Look on the bright side, Yuji wants to bring you as her plus one... even though everyone would rather you not be there. It's loud, it's chaotic, it's dangerous—something is definitely going to happen tonight.

✰ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Bullying, Public humiliation, Under-age drinking, Drug use, Mental breakdowns, Profanity, Self-hate, Self-ridicule, Dark thoughts, Suicidal ideation, Physical violence, Emotional neglect, Institutional failure, Harassment, Verbal abuse, Mental health struggles, Runaway behavior, Isolation, Eating disorder mention, (lmk if I forgot anything).

✰ 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙧: This series is not a representation of the idols as individuals and is to not be taken seriously. If you’re uncomfortable with the content in the series or on my page, then feel free to click off at any moment.

⸻

You wake up to the faint gray light spilling through your curtains, your room quiet and still except for the ticking of the old clock on your desk. Fridays used to mean nothing more than the last hurdle before a quiet weekend. But today, there's something lingering in the air—an invitation to chaos disguised as a celebration.

You sit on the edge of your bed for a long time, staring at the half-finished drawing on your sketchpad. A girl with tired eyes, hollow and distant. You don't remember when you started drawing her, but somehow, she's always on the page. You glance at the outfit you picked out last night—something simple, unnoticeable. Safe.

In the mirror, your expression doesn't change when you tell yourself, "You're fine." It's automatic now. Like breathing.

⸻

School feels louder today. Not in actual volume, but in energy. Everyone's buzzing about the party—whispers in the halls, grins between friends, last-minute wardrobe plans shared over coffee cups.

You spot Yuji by your lockers, her face lighting up the moment she sees you. She's dressed with effortless cool, as always, and she nudges you playfully with her shoulder.

"You ready for tonight?" she grins. "I'm still figuring out what shoes I'm wearing, but you already know you're coming with me."

You try to force a smile. "Yeah... I guess."

Yuji gives you that look—the one that sees through your deflection. She opens her mouth to say something but then lets it go. Instead, she walks with you to the courtyard for breakfast, chatting to fill the space that your silence can't.

And all around you, the excitement builds. ____ The final bell hasn't even rung yet, but students are already packing up, buzzing with nervous excitement. Teachers barely bother trying to keep order; they know better. It's the kind of Friday where everyone's already halfway out the door mentally.

You sit in the back of your last class, staring out the window as the light softens. You've barely said a word all day. Even Yuji's been quieter than usual, sensing the heaviness in you. She passed you a note during class earlier that just said, "Still want to go?" You nodded.

You didn't want to disappoint her. She's the only one who makes this place feel slightly less unbearable.

Your heart races in a weird, restless way. It's not excitement. It's dread.

⸻

After class, Yuji ran to the restroom and told you she'd meet you at the front. You offered to go with her, but she smiled and said she'd be quick. So you wait, lingering by the lockers with your hoodie pulled low and your back against the wall.

That's when you hear them.

A small group of girls, rounding the corner, laughing.

"Is she seriously going to show up tonight?" "Right? I heard Yuji's bringing her. As what—her pity project?" "Bet she won't even drink. Probably just stand there and cry or something." "Oh my god, stop—she'll ruin the vibe." "No one even likes her. It's not like she's fun. Just sad."

You freeze. They don't see you yet, too wrapped up in their cruelty to notice. But the words hit anyway. They always do.

They pass, still laughing. You don't breathe until they're gone.

You turn slowly to the lockers, eyes stinging, and pretend to fumble with the lock even though you don't need anything. You stare at the metal, at your own warped reflection in it.

Sad. That word echoes in your head like a curse.

You bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood.

You'll still go to the party.

But maybe now... you'll actually drink. _____ You're at home now, sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at your closet like it might swallow you whole.

The door creaks open. Your mom peeks in, holding a folded hoodie you left in the dryer. "You heading somewhere tonight?" she asks gently, placing it on your dresser.

You nod, not looking at her. "Party."

She hesitates. "With Yuji?"

"Yeah."

She lingers in the doorway. "You sure you're up for it?"

"I said I'm fine," you snap before you can stop yourself. The words come out sharper than you intended.

There's a beat of silence. Her face flickers with that same quiet concern she's worn so often lately. "Okay. Just be safe, alright?"

You nod again, jaw tight.

As she leaves, she pauses—like she wants to say something else. But she doesn't. She closes the door softly behind her, and you're alone again.

Alone with your reflection in the darkened window. Alone with the dread sitting heavy in your chest. _____

The evening ahead looms like a shadow. You stand in front of your full-length mirror, your usual oversized hoodie hanging loosely from your frame, paired with ripped jeans. Your fingers absentmindedly trace the fabric as you catch a glimpse of yourself, focusing on the reflection that stares back at you with eyes you don't even recognize. It's like there's a stranger wearing your face.

You tug at the hem of your hoodie and glance away, not wanting to dwell too much on the reality that never seems to go away. Beneath your clothes, hidden from the world, are reminders of what you've been through. The scars you've worked so hard to keep out of sight. The ones no one can see.

The house feels quieter now. Your mom's gone, leaving you alone in the space. For a moment, you wonder if it's better this way, but then you catch yourself. You don't even want to be left with your own thoughts. The silence in your room seems deafening, pressing against your skin.

You grab your phone, mindlessly scrolling through messages, checking if anything important has come in. Yuji sent a text asking if you're still up for the party. You know you should reply, but something holds you back. Maybe it's the idea of being surrounded by people, maybe it's the tension of fitting in. You're not sure.

You pull the hoodie tighter, zipping it up halfway to shield yourself from the cold, even though the night hasn't fully settled in. As you walk out of your room and head downstairs, the familiar sensation of uncertainty twists in your stomach. _____

You're sitting on your front porch, your knees pulled up to your chest, wrapped in the familiar comfort of your oversized hoodie. The cool evening air nips at your skin, but it's the kind of cold that feels almost... grounding. It's a quiet moment, with only the distant hum of cars and the rustle of leaves. You focus on the stars above, the soft glow of the porch light illuminating the worn edges of the steps beneath you.

Your mind is still tangled, and the hum of the world outside feels like a distant, muted sound. You're trying to shake off the thoughts gnawing at you, but they're persistent, like they always are.

The sound of a car pulling up breaks your concentration. You glance up just in time to see Yuji's car coast to a stop by the curb, her headlights casting a soft glow over the sidewalk.

You stand, brushing yourself off, but before you can move, a familiar voice calls out, "Hey, you ready?"

You can't help but smile, though it's a tight one. "Yeah," you reply, trying to shake off the unease you feel.

Yuji grins at you, her gaze flicking briefly over your appearance—your usual outfit, your quiet demeanor, the way you carry yourself. "You look good, you know. Let's have fun tonight."

You don't respond right away. Instead, you just give her a small nod before slipping into the passenger seat of her car, and as the door shuts, you feel that familiar weight settle in your chest again. The one that's always there, quietly heavy but never quite enough to stop you from moving forward.

————

The party is chaotic. The music blares through the speakers, lights flashing in time with the beat, and people are scattered everywhere, socializing, laughing, and drinking. It's supposed to be a fun, carefree atmosphere, but you feel completely out of place.

The noise is overwhelming, and the crowd around you is a blur of excitement and energy. The contrast between the liveliness of the party and your own internal isolation is striking. Everyone is engaged in their own world, yet you feel completely disconnected. You try to fit in, but no matter how hard you try, it feels like you're fading into the background.

Yuji notices your withdrawal and walks over with a concerned smile. "Hey, are you okay?" she asks gently, her voice cutting through the noise. You nod and force a smile, but the weight inside you doesn't lighten.

"Yeah, just... a bit overwhelmed," you mutter. Yuji seems to sense that you're not really fine, but she doesn't press. Instead, she suggests, "Let's grab some water. You'll feel better."

You nod again, appreciating that she's not pushing alcohol on you. Yuji leads you to the side of the house where a table of drinks is set up, but she grabs a bottle of water, handing it to you with a friendly, reassuring smile. "Here, just drink some water. Trust me, it'll help."

You take the water from her, feeling both comforted and distant. You take a sip, but it doesn't feel like enough to fill the emptiness gnawing at you. This isn't helping... maybe you need some stronger.

⸻

You take another sip from your cup, once filled water, now is filled with whatever alcohol that was provided. You spot Ateez in the corner of the room. They're surrounded by a group of girls, laughing and talking, not even noticing you. They're ignoring you.

You try not to feel hurt, but it stings, deep down. They don't care about you.

You look away, trying to shake the thoughts. It doesn't matter, right?

But the more you try to block it out, the more the isolation sets in. You stand there, Yuji chatting with a few people, but you can't seem to make sense of the noise and energy around you. This isn't your world.

⸻

As the night wears on, the lights blur into colors, and the music thuds in your chest like a second heartbeat. The alcohol in your cup was now the 6th or 7th cup you had tonight, barely keeping yourself together. You take another sip, hoping—desperately—that it'll soothe the ache. It doesn't, You need more.

You glance around the room. People are laughing, dancing, disappearing into hallways. In the kitchen, you spot someone pouring liquor into red cups. On the couch, a group passes a joint between them, their laughter slack and lazy. The party swallows them whole—and you want to disappear into it too.

You hesitate at first. But then you remember how heavy everything still feels. How long it's been this way.

Another drink won't kill me.

The alcohol goes down like water, less bitter but now familiar, like a close friend. You try and catch breath after you just gulped down your 8th cup alcohol, but someone hands you another. You don't even ask what's in it.

Then you feel it. Time starts to loosen. Your skin feels lighter, thoughts more distant. You laugh at something that's not funny. Your legs feel warm. Numb.

You barely notice when you take a hit of something passed to you—something that dulls your chest even more, something that muffles the pain like cotton in your ears.

For a moment, it works. Everything is quiet. You float.

But it's short-lived.

From the corner of your hazy vision, a group of girls from school walks by. You barely recognize them at first. Their laughter is sharp, loud—directed at you.

"Oh, look who it is," one of them sneers, eyes raking over your unsteady form. "Did you really think you'd be one of us?"

You try to stand straighter, but your limbs don't cooperate. The alcohol and whatever else you took fog your movements.

"She's wasted," another laughs. "What a joke."

They don't see pain. They see spectacle.

"Just go home," someone snaps. "No one wants you here."

The words don't hit like before—they sink. They sink into your bones and swirl with the chemicals already in your bloodstream. Everything inside you twists. You don't even have the energy to fight back.

You feel your heart drop in slow motion. You look for Yuji, but the crowd's moving, shifting. And for the first time tonight, you're not sure she'll find you in this mess.

⸻

You stumble back from the girls' voices, their laughter chasing you through the pulsing beat of the party. You don't remember where you dropped your cup. Or when your breathing started to get shallow. All you know is the burning in your throat and the way your skin feels too tight, like it doesn't belong to you anymore.

More drinks. More smoke. You don't even register how much.

Someone shoves a phone in your face, laughing. "Damn, she's gone. Look at her—freaking wrecked."

You blink slowly. Everything's melting—walls, people, noise. You try to laugh, but your face doesn't work the way it should.

Another flash. Another camera. Another voice: "Go on, do something crazy! Come on, we're filming!"

They're not seeing you. They're seeing a mess to exploit.

And you give them what they want.

"Fuck off!" you yell, staggering forward. The words slur together, more bark than bite. But the moment the crowd senses a show, they circle closer, phones raised like weapons.

"Get a load of her—she's losing it!" "What did she take?" "This is going on Live!"

Then a voice breaks through it all.

"Y/N!" Yuji's voice. Panicked. She pushes through the crowd, her face pale, eyes wide. "Y/N, stop. You're not okay."

She grabs your arm, gently, trying to guide you out. "Let's go. Please."

But her touch—warm, soft, familiar—feels like a threat in this moment of numbness.

You snap.

"Don't touch me!" you scream, shoving her hard. She stumbles back, but you're already charging forward again, dizzy with rage and poison and heartbreak. "I don't need you! I never needed you!"

She steps forward again, her voice trembling. "Y/N, please, you don't mean that—"

Your fist flies before you can stop it.

Yuji gasps as your knuckles connect with her cheek. The crowd goes silent, stunned, before erupting again with gasps and screams. Phones are everywhere. People rush to Yuji's side.

"Holy shit!" "She just hit her!" "Is this real?!"

You freeze.

Yuji's sitting on the floor now, cradling her cheek, eyes glossy and wide—not just from pain, but from shock. You've never seen her look like that. Like you'd broken something too precious to fix.

You take a step back. Everyone's watching. Recording. Whispering. Judging.

And so you run out.

Cold air hitting your face like a slap. Yuji's voice calls after you—but it only makes your shame grow louder.

"Y/N! Please, wait—let me drive you home!"

But you spin on her, screaming from somewhere deep and broken:

"Fuck off! Leave me alone! I don't need you—I fucking hate you!"

Yuji flinches. Tears streak her cheeks. She doesn't chase you this time.

The crowd watches in stunned silence as you storm off into the darkness. No destination. No direction. Just the aching need to get away.

You don't go home. You don't answer your phone. You disappear. ______

You don't know where you're going.

The night air bites at your skin as you keep walking—past houses, past streets you don't recognize, past the echo of your own name in someone's voice behind you. Maybe it was Yuji. Maybe not. You don't look back.

Your fists are clenched, your jaw locked. Everything aches—your head, your stomach, your chest. Your heart most of all. You don't even know how long you've been walking. Hours maybe. Your phone won't stop buzzing in your pocket. Your mom. Yuji. Over and over. You don't look at the screen.

There's dried blood on your knuckles. You're not even sure if it's from hitting someone... or something... or maybe just falling. People saw everything. They filmed everything. Your breakdown. The yelling. The punch. The screaming. The way you told the one person who actually gave a damn to fuck off like she was the enemy.

Now you're just wandering, unsure if you're trying to run away from something—or toward something. Eventually, the lights of the city start to fade. There's no sound except your breathing and the occasional car in the distance.

Then you see it.

An old, abandoned train yard just beyond the fence. The wire is bent in one corner, like someone's already pushed their way through before. You hesitate only for a second before squeezing yourself through.

Inside, it's quiet. Heavy. Still.

You climb into one of the rusted-out cars, the metal groaning beneath your weight. It smells like dust and cold air. You sit in the corner and pull your knees to your chest.

And then you finally check your phone.

34 missed calls. 17 texts.

You read none of them. You turn it off.

Silence again.

There's nothing left to do. So you sit there, broken and numb, and let the weight of everything crush you in the dark. ______ The silence is different out here.

You've stopped checking your phone. The endless buzzing from your mom, from Yuji—it's dulled to background static you've trained yourself to ignore. Your body is sore. Clothes still cling to the scent of alcohol and sweat and cigarette smoke from last night's chaos. You didn't cry. You didn't scream again. You just walked. And now here you are.

Curled up in the corner of a rusted train car, cold metal pressed against your back, the early morning fog creeping in through the broken doorframe. Everything feels numb. Your mind flickers in and out, like it can't decide if it wants to think or shut down entirely.

You press your knees to your chest and bury your face. You feel... small.

Unseen.

Unloved.

Unworthy.

And worst of all—you're starting to believe it.

Why did I do that to Yuji...

Your stomach churns again, but you're too tired to move. You haven't eaten since that single bite of sandwich Yuji begged you to take. Your throat is raw. Your knuckles are scraped from god knows what.

You don't even remember how you got here.

The hours since the party have melted together. Faces you don't want to remember. Laughter that wasn't with you, but at you. That hollow feeling inside you, growing louder.

You hear a dog barking far away. A train horn groans in the distance. But everything still feels distant—like you're not really here. Just stuck in the space between existing and disappearing.

You tell yourself you'll get up soon.

You don't.

The silence was deafening.

Wind swept through the rusted train cars, their metallic creaks echoing like ghosts. You sat hunched in one of them, arms around your knees, head buried. The ground beneath you was cold, gravel pressing into your skin through the thin fabric of your jeans. You hadn't moved much in hours—just breathing, just existing. And even that felt like too much.

Your phone buzzed again. You didn't check it. You knew it was your mom. Maybe Yuji. Maybe both. You let it buzz until it stopped, then let the silence flood in again. It felt easier not to answer. Not to explain. Not to feel the weight of someone else's worry when your own was already suffocating.

You were tired of being the burden. Tired of the looks. Tired of trying. Tired of pretending like everything wasn't caving in.

You stared at the cracked window beside you, the sky fading into dusk. You wondered if anyone really knew what it felt like to be surrounded and yet still be so completely alone.

Your stomach growled, but you ignored it. You barely eating anything anyway.

So it didn't matter.

Nothing really did.

At one point, you stepped outside the train car. The night air was sharp, biting. You walked along the tracks in the dark, the rhythmic clink of your shoes on metal a strange comfort. This place—the isolation, the emptiness—matched how you felt inside. It felt more like home than home ever had.

You didn't cry. Not until you sat down again. Not until the weight of everything finally cracked the numbness like shattered glass. Tears slipped down silently. No sobs. No gasps. Just quiet, tired tears.

You wanted to disappear. To die. To vanish. To stop being a problem.

But you didn't. You just stayed. Alone. ______

The sky was bleeding orange and purple as Sunday evening settled in, soft light spilling over the rusted walls of the train yard. You were still there—curled up in the same spot, blanketless, foodless, and aching in places you couldn't touch. Your body hurt. Your head throbbed. But your heart... your heart felt empty, like someone had scooped it out and left nothing in its place.

Your phone buzzed again.

You didn't even flinch this time. You'd stopped checking a while ago, though the battery was almost gone now. Just 3%. You let the screen go dark and stared out of the cracked opening in the train door.

You could hear the faint hum of traffic in the distance. Life was going on outside this forgotten place. People were eating dinner. Families were arguing over TV shows. Yuji was probably lying in her bed, still crying, or maybe she'd given up on you too.

A part of you wondered if she hated you now. Another part hoped she did. It'd be easier that way. Easier if she let you go, like everyone else eventually had.

Your stomach clenched again. You hadn't eaten in nearly three days, and your body was starting to slow down, heavy and sluggish. But the hunger didn't bother you anymore. It felt deserved. It felt earned.

You leaned your head back against the metal wall and stared at the fading sky. A breeze slipped through the cracks, brushing against your skin like a whisper.

It was quiet again. Peaceful in the way that loneliness can be when you've accepted it as the only constant.

And for the first time all weekend, you whispered something aloud to no one:

"Maybe this is all I deserve."

The words hung there like a truth you'd always known but never said. And in the stillness, the weight of it settled deeper into your bones.

The stars began to peek out one by one as the last of the sun dipped beneath the skyline. The abandoned train yard had grown colder, the wind biting sharper now as it slipped through the metal and broken glass. You wrapped your arms around yourself tighter, but it didn't help much.

The world felt distant.

The hum of life you once clung to had dulled into a low, muffled blur. No voices. No music. No Yuji. Just the sound of your own breathing, slow and shallow, echoing against the metal walls like a reminder that you were still here—barely.

Your phone had finally died. The silence it left behind was deafening.

Somewhere deep in the city, laughter echoed faintly. You pressed your forehead to your knees, eyes stinging. You wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come anymore. Maybe you'd used them all up.

A piece of broken mirror lay a few feet away, catching a shard of moonlight. You stared at it for a long time.

And when you finally crawled over to look into it, what stared back didn't look like you. Your face was hollow. Eyes sunken. Skin pale and bruised from exhaustion. Your lips were cracked. Your clothes rumpled. You looked... ghostly. Like a memory someone forgot to bury.

You didn't recognize yourself.

And maybe that was the scariest part— You weren't sure when you'd started disappearing. But it was happening. Slowly, painfully. Like a slow fade into nothing.

You laid back down on the cold, hard floor, staring up at the dark ceiling of the train car.

And for a fleeting moment, you wondered if anyone would even notice if you never came back.

The metal beneath you was freezing now. Hours had passed—maybe more. Time didn't feel real out here. It was just one long blur of numb silence, darkness, and the occasional sound of a passing car in the distance that reminded you the world still existed beyond these rusted walls.

You hadn't eaten since Friday.

Your stomach had stopped growling a while ago. Now it just ached—a dull, hollow throb that matched the pounding in your head. Every muscle in your body felt sore, like it was protesting your refusal to care.

You sat up slowly, dizzy, eyes adjusting to the moonlight leaking through a jagged hole in the ceiling. Dust floated through the beam like tiny ghosts.

You hugged your knees to your chest and let out a shaky breath, your lips barely parting as the cold seeped deeper into your bones.

Everything felt far away—your house, your bed, your mom, Yuji... especially Yuji.

You replayed it all in your head for what must've been the hundredth time.

Her face after you hit her. The way she cried when you screamed at her to leave. The way she still tried to help you, even then.

And you? You left her there. You left everyone.

A sharp pain bloomed in your chest as guilt curled in your gut like a living thing. You rubbed your arm without thinking—right over the scarred skin you always kept hidden. The reminder burned beneath your hoodie.

You didn't mean to hurt her. You just wanted to hurt less.

The train yard was silent, but inside your head, it was deafening.

That broken mirror from before still sat nearby. You crawled over to it again, kneeling in front of it like it might have some kind of answer. Your reflection didn't speak.

You looked at her—at you—and whispered the one thing you hadn't let yourself say all weekend:

"I don't want to feel like this anymore."

Your voice cracked.

No one answered.

You curled up again and laid your head on the cold metal floor, watching your breath mist in the air. You knew you couldn't stay here much longer. Your body was shutting down. And somewhere, deep down, the part of you that still wanted to live—it was whispering.

But it was faint.

So you closed your eyes, not to sleep, but to escape for just a little longer. Just one more night alone, before you figured out whether or not you could go back. _______ You wake up stiff and sore, the cold metal beneath you unforgiving. Your hoodie doesn't do much against the chill anymore, and your body aches from sleeping on rusted metal floors. You stretch your fingers, the tips numb, your eyes blinking slowly against the pale grey light.

There's silence except for the distant hum of the city waking up somewhere far off. It feels like another world—one you're not ready to rejoin.

Your phone is dead now. Not that you'd check it if it wasn't. Too many missed calls. Too many questions.

You sit up slowly, muscles heavy, and peer out of the train car. Nothing has changed. But somehow, you feel like something inside you did. Not in a healing way—more like something cracked deeper.

You run your fingers over your wrist through the sleeves. You haven't cried. Not once. Not even when your stomach twisted with hunger, or when you thought about your mom's voice or Yuji's face, or when the night air felt like it might swallow you whole.

It's Monday.

And now... you have to pretend you weren't just here. _______ You step onto school grounds, the cold air stinging your skin harder than it should. The moment your foot hits the pavement, it's like the world shifts.

Police cars are parked outside the front office. Students linger around in clusters, buzzing like bees stirred from their hive. Some are on their phones. Some are whispering. Others are blatantly staring at you.

Because they all know.

Your name spread through the school like wildfire this morning—Missing Girl Found. You hadn't answered your mom's calls. Yuji couldn't reach you. You disappeared for an entire weekend, and now the cops are here. Just in case. Just to ask questions.

Just to look at you like you're fragile glass that might shatter on contact.

The principal's eyes widen when they spot you walking through the entrance, clothes slightly rumpled, your hoodie sleeves pulled low over your hands. A counselor stands nearby, whispering something to one of the officers. You feel it before you hear it:

"Is that her?"

Yuji is already in the hallway. Her eyes are red-rimmed from lack of sleep. The moment your eyes meet, her mouth parts—like she wants to say something. But you walk past her.

You don't say a word.

All around you, people are watching. Judging. Whispering.

"She really ran off..." "I heard that someone saw her in an abandoned train yard." "Why would anyone do that?" "Attention-seeking." "Nah, I think she's just insane."

The walls feel like they're closing in again.

You walk faster.

The hallway was now dead silent. Conversations halt, heads turn, and the weight of a hundred stares crashes down on your shoulders.

You're barely a few steps in when a stern voice cuts through the tension.

"Y/N. Come with us."

You look up.

Ms. Harper—the school counselor—isn't smiling this time. Her usual warmth is gone, replaced with professional coldness. Next to her stands a tall police officer with his arms crossed and eyes sharp.

You follow them in silence. Down the long hallway. Past whispers and poorly disguised stares.

They lead you into a small office that feels colder than you remember.

The door shuts behind you with a heavy thud.

"You've been missing for three days," the officer starts, not bothering to sit. "You caused a panic. You know that, right?"

You say nothing.

Ms. Harper folds her arms across her chest. "You're lucky this isn't worse, Y/N. The things people saw at that party—the way you acted—what were you thinking?"

Still, silence.

The officer steps forward. "Where were you?"

You stare past them. Eyes unfocused. Mouth shut.

"Answer the question," he says, his tone dropping lower. "We can't help you if you don't speak."

Ms. Harper sighs sharply, the disappointment in her voice unmistakable. "Is this how you want to handle things? Keep making a mess and letting everyone else clean it up?"

Your heart races, but your face doesn't move.

"Were you on anything? Did you taking something?" the officer asks. "Do you even care what you put your mother through?"

You blink, once.

Still no answer.

"Unbelievable," Ms. Harper mutters. "We should've expected this from you."

Just then, a knock sounds at the door. A secretary pokes her head in, eyes wide. "Her mom's here."

The officer exhales through his nose and steps back. Ms. Harper nods curtly. "Bring her in."

Seconds later, the door opens again—and there she is.

Your mom.

Her eyes are glassy, red-rimmed, exhausted. But when she sees you—sitting there, stone-faced and silent—her expression crumbles.

She rushes to you, kneeling down beside the chair and cupping your face.

"Oh my God, Y/N," she whispers. "You're okay... You're okay..."

Your lip trembles, just for a second.

But you don't speak.

You haven't said a word.

Her hands are warm against your face. Gentle. Shaking.

She's holding you like you're fragile. Like you might disappear again.

But you can't do it.

You can't let her touch you.

You pull away—sharply.

The room stills.

Your mom freezes for a moment, confusion flashing in her eyes. "Y/N...?"

You don't answer. You can't. You don't even look at her.

You just sit there, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the floor.

The officer exhales through his nose, muttering under his breath, "Figures."

Ms. Harper doesn't hide her irritation. She gives your mom a pitying glance before speaking. "She hasn't said a word since she walked in. Refuses to answer a single question. I hope you can get through to her."

Your mom slowly stands, clearly hurt, but trying not to show it. The silence hangs heavy. Thick. Condemning.

The officer shakes his head. "You went missing, caused a scene, assaulted someone, and still can't take responsibility for any of it."

You stare blankly at the corner of the desk.

They see a girl who doesn't care.

A girl who ran away, caused chaos, and won't even show remorse.

No one sees the numbness swallowing you whole.

Only your mom lingers—quiet, shaken—but even she doesn't move closer again.

They all look at you like you're the problem.

And maybe you are.

The counselor straightens her posture with a sigh, then glances at your mom. "She shouldn't be here today. Not in this condition."

Your mom nods hesitantly, still clearly rattled. "I'll take her home."

The officer doesn't object, just grunts and steps aside as your mom quietly thanks them and moves toward you.

You don't resist, but you don't cooperate either. You let her lead you out of the room, eyes down, ignoring the stares from passing students in the hall.

They're whispering. Of course they are.

Some stop mid-conversation to watch. Others smirk, muttering your name like it's a punchline.

Once outside, the sunlight feels wrong—too bright, too harsh.

And still, not a word passes between you and your mom.

The car ride home is silent. Tense. Like even the air doesn't know what to say.

You just press your forehead against the window, shutting your eyes, pretending you're anywhere else.

You don't say a word the entire car ride home. Your mom glances at you every few minutes, her knuckles white around the steering wheel, but she doesn't speak either. The silence is loud, aching.

When you walk through the front door, the familiar scent of home hits you like a punch to the chest—but it feels foreign now, almost taunting.

"You should eat something," your mom says quietly, setting her keys on the counter.

You don't answer. You don't even look at her. Instead, you head straight for your room, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. Not a slam. Just enough to draw a line.

Your room looks the same as when you left, but somehow it feels smaller. Heavier.

You sit on the edge of your bed, staring at the floor. You hear your mom moving around in the kitchen, opening a cabinet. Then, nothing.

A minute passes. Then five. Then ten.

A knock. Soft, hesitant. "Can I come in?"

You don't respond. She opens the door anyway, a plate in her hands—something warm. Comfort food. You can't even look at it.

She sets it down on your desk, eyes searching your face. "You can hate me, if you need to. You can scream at me. Just—please don't shut me out completely."

You turn your head away, jaw tight.

She lingers in the doorway for a long moment before sighing and leaving again.

You wait until you're sure she's gone before you pull your hoodie tighter around you and lie down, curled in on yourself. You don't cry. You don't sleep. You just... lie there. Empty. ______ The soft buzz of your phone is like a mosquito in the quiet—persistent, small, impossible to ignore. It's facedown on your nightstand, but you can still see the faint glow leaking out beneath it every time a new message comes in.

You haven't touched it since you got home. You don't need to. You already know who it's from.

Yuji.

The girl who tried to help you. The girl you hurt anyway.

YUJI 10:47 a.m. – "I'm glad you're okay." 1:13 p.m. – "I don't know if you want to talk to me, but I'm here." 4:02 p.m. – "Please just let me know if you're okay..."

Each message is a reminder of how badly you screwed things up. How even the people who want to care about you eventually learn that maybe you're not worth it.

The screen lights up again. Your eyes flick over automatically.

YUJI 6:58 p.m. – "I don't hate you, you know."

That one stings.

You slowly sit up in bed, blanket pooled around your waist. The walls of your room feel like they're pressing in a little. It's too quiet. You hate how quiet it is. The silence doesn't feel safe. It feels loud. Echoing.

You pull your knees to your chest, arms wrapping around them tightly, like you're trying to hold yourself together physically because emotionally, you're splintering.

You told Yuji you hated her. You told her to leave. You screamed in her face with everyone watching. You punched her.

And she still doesn't hate you.

Your chest tightens. You wish she did. It would make everything easier.

You finally flip the phone over, hands trembling. The screen is filled with her name—line after line of gentle attempts, careful words, unconditional support.

You could text her back.

You could tell her you're sorry.

But your fingers won't move. You just sit there, staring until your vision starts to blur again. It builds slowly—the ache, the regret, the crushing weight of knowing you're the reason for someone else's pain.

You hate yourself.

And it's not loud or dramatic. It's quiet. Quiet like a rot. Quiet like decay. The kind of hate that nestles into your bones and tells you not to reach out. Not to hope. Not to try.

Your eyes sting. You curl into yourself, turning away from the phone, from the light, from everything.

Your breath hitches. Then it breaks. You cry quietly, biting down on your lip so hard it aches. Your tears sink into the pillow as you press your face into it to muffle the sobs. You don't want your mom to hear. You don't want anyone to hear. You just want to be alone.

Eventually, you stop crying—not because you feel better, but because you're empty. And you lay there in the silence, wondering how you can feel so heavy and so hollow all at once.

You sit on your bed in silence, your hoodie sleeves tugged all the way down over your hands, covering the scars even now, even here—because somehow you still feel watched. Your body aches, not from anything physical, but from the weight of the shame pressing into every inch of your skin. Your phone is beside you.

Black screen. You haven't turned it on in hours, not since you watched one of the many videos of yourself from the party.

They were laughing. You were crying. Screaming. Lost.

You see your mom's shadow pass by your doorway. She doesn't say anything. You didn't say anything either when she tried to hug you at school and you pulled away. Everyone saw. Everyone whispered. And now even the silence at home is loud.

You think about texting Yuji, typing then deleting a hundred different versions of "I'm sorry" and "I didn't mean it." But in the end, you don't send anything.

Because what if she really hates you now?

⸻

YUJI'S POV

Yuji lies on her bed, arms over her face, trying not to cry again. Her cheek is still tender, makeup doing little to hide the bruise that bloomed after the hit. But the physical pain doesn't bother her.

What hurts more is the look on your face when you screamed at her—the way you looked like you wanted to disappear.

She hasn't stopped worrying about you since the moment you ran off. When the school called to say you'd been found, she cried with relief. But when she saw you again, and you didn't even look at her... that broke something.

Still, she keeps sending messages.

—"I don't hate you." —"Please just talk to me." —"I know you're hurting, but I'm still here."

No responses.

She stares at her phone, heart aching, hoping that eventually you'll read them and understand: she never stopped caring. Not even when you pushed her away. ______ ATEEZ'S POV

The air is still thick with silence, but the weight of that night is pushing everything to the surface.

Mingi, who had been pacing earlier, suddenly stops. "You remember why we started hating her?"

Yeosang looks over. "Because of that guy . The one you—"

Mingi interrupts, voice low. "Yeah. That guy I threatened."

There's no anger in his tone now—just regret.

Hongjoong leans forward, elbows on his knees. "She called us out. Said we weren't as powerful as we thought. And then she—" He half-laughs, "—roasted the hell out of us in front of everyone."

San lets out a breath. "No one had ever talked to us like that."

Jongho shrugs. "We were pissed. Embarrassed. Our egos took the hit, so we lashed out."

Wooyoung murmurs, "She stood up for someone who couldn't defend themselves. And we made her pay for it."

Seonghwa, quietly says "We hated her for doing the right thing."

They all pause at that.

Yeosang adds, "I think the hate turned into something else when we started realizing she wasn't scared of us."

San, after a beat "And she never begged us to stop. Not once."

Mingi looks down. "I didn't expect to... start noticing everything about her. The way she never smiled. The way she flinched at sudden noise. The way she always sat alone sometimes, like she didn't trust anyone to stay."

Wooyoung, half a whisper: "I thought about her every night after she yelled at us. I hated that she got under my skin."

Hongjoong, voice heavier now "And now she's breaking in front of everyone... and we let it happen."

Jongho clenches his jaw. "We were so busy defending our pride, we didn't see the damage we were doing."

Seonghwa looks at the floor. "The way she looked at Yuji before she left... like she was already gone."

Yeosang, softly "We failed her."

There's a long silence again, thick with realization.

Wooyoung, serious now "If we don't do something now, we might lose her for real."

Hongjoong gives a small nod. "Then let's fix it. Even if she hates us. Even if it's too late." _______ YOUR POV

Your room is dark, the only light coming from the dull glow of the streetlamp leaking through your curtains. The house has been quiet for hours, but sleep won't come. You're still on the floor, curled up in the corner between your bed and dresser, wrapped in your hoodie like armor. It's cold, but not cold enough to explain the shivers.

Your phone sits untouched, battery drained. You didn't bother plugging it in.

You keep thinking about everything and nothing—Yuji's tear-streaked face, the crowd's laughter, the ache in your throat after throwing up, the way the train yard smelled like rust and loneliness. How it almost felt safer than being seen.

Then there's a sound.

Knock knock.

You freeze.

It's soft. Hesitant.

"Sweetheart?" your mom's voice calls gently through the door. "Can I come in?"

You say nothing.

There's a pause, and then the handle turns slightly, but the door doesn't open.

"I'm not here to lecture you. I just..." her voice falters. "I just want to know you're okay."

You keep your face turned toward the wall, pressing your cheek against your knees. You don't want her to see you like this. You don't want anyone to.

"I made some tea," she adds after a moment, voice quieter. "I'll leave a cup outside the door. In case you get cold."

A beat passes. You think she's gone.

But then she says, barely above a whisper, "I was so scared, Y/N. Please don't shut me out."

The footsteps retreat down the hall. A soft clink tells you she really did leave a cup.

You stare into the dark for a long time after that. You don't move. You don't cry.

You just stay there, listening to the silence press in again.

The room is still.

You sit frozen long after your mom walks away, the silence wrapping around you like fog. Her words echo in your ears—Please don't shut me out.

You didn't answer. You couldn't.

But now there's a tightness in your chest. Not guilt exactly, just... something heavy and complicated. You shift slightly. Your body aches from staying curled up on the floor for too long, but you don't want to get up. You don't deserve comfort, right?

Still, minutes pass. Maybe longer. The cold seeps into your bones, and your throat is dry. You try to ignore it.

Eventually, cautiously, you rise—just a little—and creep over to the door. You open it slowly, barely an inch, and peek out. The hallway is dim, quiet. There's a single mug sitting neatly on the floor. Steam no longer rises from it, but it's still warm when you pick it up.

You don't say anything. You don't go far. Just stand there in your doorway for a while, holding the cup like it might fall if you let yourself think too much.

The house feels haunted—but not by ghosts. By memories.

You glance toward your mom's room. The door is closed, but a faint light glows from beneath it. She's probably awake, waiting. Just in case.

You take a tiny sip of the tea—barely a taste—and then slip back into your room, closing the door behind you.

It's not much. But it's something. ______ YOUR MOM'S POV

She stands behind her daughter's bedroom door, hand still on the knob.

She doesn't move, doesn't breathe for a second—just listens. Hoping. Waiting for the smallest sound. A footstep. A creak. Anything.

But all she hears is silence.

That same kind of silence that's filled the house ever since Friday night. Only now, it feels heavier. Sharper. Because her daughter is finally home—but somehow feels farther away than when she was missing.

She sinks onto the edge of her bed, staring at her phone. A dozen texts still unread. Her own calls unanswered. The police report is closed, but her worry isn't.

God, her baby girl looked so thin.

She bites her lip hard, trying not to cry. The bruises under her daughter's eyes. The dullness in them. The way she flinched when she reached out.

She left the tea outside because it's all she can do. Because barging in might just shatter the fragile thread between them for good. So she just... waits.

And then—a sound. The softest creak of the door hinge.

Her chest tightens as she leans slightly toward the hall. She doesn't open her door. She doesn't speak. But she watches the faint shadow beneath it shift for a moment.

Then nothing.

Still, her heart lifts a little.

She got the tea.

It's not everything. It's not a fix. But it means her daughter opened the door. That she came out—even just for a second.

And so, for tonight, that's enough.

She leaves her lamp on, just in case her baby needs her. She sleeps facing the door, even though her eyes won't stay shut for long.

Because even if her daughter won't say it out loud...

She knows she's still fighting. ______ Y/N's POV

You walk into the school building, head down, hoodie up, trying to disappear into the hallway walls like usual. But something feels off. People aren't just staring—they're smirking, laughing, nudging each other. You don't understand why until you reach your locker.

Your feet stop cold.

Your locker is covered in sharp, ugly handwriting. Thick marker and pen scratches scream across the metal door:

"Whore." "Attention seeker." "Should've stayed gone." "Everyone was happier without you." "You're not sick, you're just pathetic." "Maybe next time, don't come back."

There are hearts drawn next to the insults. Smiley faces. Some of it is in different handwriting. Multiple people added to it.

You just stand there, frozen. The air leaves your lungs.

Behind you, a crowd has formed. Snickers. Whispers. Loud laughter. Someone snaps a photo.

You don't even flinch.

Then the crowd splits slightly as Yuji arrives, pushing through. Her face shifts instantly when she sees the locker. Her eyes dart to you, then to the writing, then to the people standing around. "What the hell is this?"

Not even a second later, Ateez walks in, loud and casual—until they see it too. One by one, their expressions fall. Mingi's smirk fades. San stiffens. Wooyoung actually stops in his tracks. Even Hongjoong's usual cool demeanor is rattled. None of them speak, but it's clear they weren't expecting this.

That's when the counselor appears from around the corner. She must have heard the noise. "What is going on out here?"

She stops short when she sees your locker.

Her face tightens, voice sharp. "Who did this? Who's responsible?"

No one answers.

There's only stifled laughter and muffled giggles.

The counselor's eyes sweep over the students. "This isn't funny. You think humiliating someone is a joke?"

Still no response.

Yuji steps closer to you, silent, furious. Ateez watches, a strange kind of guilt passing between them.

And you? You're just standing there, numb, eyes locked on the word "worthless" scribbled across the lock.

The second the counselor turns her back, distracted by questioning a group of students, you walk. Fast.

Down the hallway, past classrooms, past lockers, past the laughter still echoing faintly behind you. Your eyes sting, your throat burns, but you don't cry. Not here. Not where they can see you break again.

You push through the front doors of the school and into the crisp air outside.

You don't know where you're going, only that it's away.

Away from the stares. Away from Yuji's worried eyes. Away from Ateez, whose faces were full of regret but mouths still sealed shut. Away from the counselor and her hollow sympathy.

You keep walking.

Just like you did that night after the party.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket—probably your mom, maybe even Yuji—but you ignore it.

You're tired of people pretending they care when the second you turn your back, they let the world chew you up.

You don't look back.

Your feet take you across the parking lot, past the fields, down familiar sidewalks blurred by numbness. It's cold, but you don't feel it—not really. All you feel is that hollow ache, the one that gnaws behind your ribs and makes you want to vanish.

______ Your phone buzzes again. You pull it out.

Mom (3 missed calls) Yuji (1 text): "Please talk to me. I'm worried. I miss you."

You stare at the message for a long time, your thumb hovering over the screen. You don't reply. You tuck the phone back into your pocket.

Somewhere in your chest, something twists with guilt.

But then you think about the looks they gave you. The hallway. The laughter. The pity. The silence from Ateez. The way no one stood up for you when it counted.

You pass a familiar street corner and stop, unsure if you should keep walking or turn back.

Your legs feel heavy. Your thoughts heavier.

There's a part of you—tiny, almost crushed—that whispers maybe you should've stayed. That maybe Yuji's text was real. That maybe someone, somewhere, still wants you.

But another part—louder, darker—says you don't deserve any of it.

You end up sitting on a curb with your hood up, head in your hands, hiding from a world that refuses to understand you.

And maybe that's all you can do right now.

You wander the city again.

You avoid familiar streets. Avoid your house. You just keep walking, hoodie up, arms tucked tight, headphones in with no music playing.

You find yourself back at the abandoned train yard.

The air smells like rust and dust. The sun is setting behind jagged buildings, washing the tracks in dim orange light. You step between shadows and trash, the silence humming in your ears louder than any crowd ever could.

You find the same train car you stayed in before. It's still empty, still yours.

You sit. Then lie down. Your backpack as your pillow.

You stare at the metal ceiling, lit by the last sliver of sunlight, and feel your stomach twist. Not from hunger. Just... hollow.

Your phone buzzes again.

Mom (missed call) Yuji: "Where are you? Please... I just want to know that you're okay."

You shut your eyes. Pretend you didn't see it. Pretend none of this exists.

Then you hear a train rumbling far in the distance. Not yours. Just another one passing by, going somewhere else. Carrying people who don't feel like this. People who didn't punch the one person who cared. People who still believe in being saved.

But you're not one of them.

You curl up tighter.

The stars come out one by one above the broken roof.

And you say nothing. _______ TUESDAY

You blink, your eyes adjusting to the dim light peeking through the broken windows of the train yard. The air is cold, and your muscles ache from the night spent on the hard ground. For a moment, you're disoriented—unsure of where you are or how you even got here. Then, the events of the previous night flood back: the party, the confrontation, the walking... the walking that had led you here, away from everyone. You pull yourself up, your body stiff, but there's no time to wallow in the pain. You can hear the faint hum of the world outside, life continuing while you remain frozen in place.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you don't bother to check. You already know who it is. The same two names that have been lighting up your screen for hours: your mom and Yuji. You can't bring yourself to respond.

You know you need to go back. You should go back. But you don't. Instead, you take one last look at the place where you spent the night alone and step out into the harsh morning air. It feels like a different world now, a world where you're just walking to another battle.

⸻

When you walk through the gates, the usual bustle of students around you is overwhelming. But there's something different today. The noise feels sharper, the whispers more insistent, like the entire school is aware of you—and they are. The police are here again. You can tell by the uniforms, the uncomfortable looks of the teachers, and the way everyone moves out of their way. The whispers follow you down the hall. You can feel their eyes on your back, but you keep your head down, the weight of their judgment settling in the pit of your stomach.

And then there's the other group: the counselors, the ones who've made it their mission to 'help' you, but always seem to make everything worse. They're all standing near your locker, their glares sharp, their voices just low enough that you can't catch what they're saying. They've been waiting for you. Just like last time.

Your eyes flick over to them—at the familiar ones, the ones who never seem to see past your mistakes, who never bother to understand. But there's one new face in the crowd: Mrs. Honey. She's standing a little farther away, her posture straighter, less judgmental than the others. She looks at you with something softer in her eyes, something different than the usual disdain. You can't read it, but you notice it. For the first time in a long while, someone seems like they might actually want to help.

As you get closer to your locker, your heart sinks. There are words scrawled on it, hateful messages and mocking slurs. Your name is slashed across in big, messy letters—comments about your disappearance, about your 'broken' personality, about everything. The sight of it makes your stomach churn. You can feel your throat close up, but you force yourself to breathe. They're just words. They don't matter.

Yuji walks up behind you, her eyes wide as she takes in the damage. She doesn't say anything at first, just stands there, fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable with what she sees. "I... I'm sorry, Y/N," she says quietly, but it doesn't feel like enough. It never feels like enough.

"You okay?" she asks gently, but the words are too soft. Too gentle. It's not like she doesn't understand, but she can't understand this. She can't know how it feels to have everyone look at you like you're nothing but the worst parts of yourself on display.

And that's when it happens. The counselors finally move in. The ones you can never escape. They walk over to your locker, their heels clicking in sync, each one standing behind the other like they've already formed their judgment.

"Y/N," one of them—Miss Blackwell, the one who never had a kind word for you—starts, her voice sharp and cold. "We need to talk. Again. This behavior is unacceptable."

You don't respond, just stare at her, but she's not done yet. She moves closer, practically looming over you. "You've been reported missing. Your mother is worried sick, and you've just disappeared like this? You need to stop acting out. What's going on with you?"

The words come at you like a battering ram, each one heavier than the last. You're not allowed to speak unless they tell you. You're not allowed to feel unless it fits into their little box of what's right. When you don't respond, their eyes narrow, judgment clear in every movement. Miss Blackwell's voice drops, an undertone of disgust sneaking through.

"No answer?" she presses, glancing toward the others, who share a brief, knowing look. They've already decided—whatever happened, it's your fault. It's always your fault.

And just as it's becoming unbearable, Mrs. Honey steps forward. She doesn't speak to Miss Blackwell, but her presence is a wall, and her eyes are on you. She's the first to actually see you today, the first to see you for more than your mistakes, and it feels like a lifeline.

"Y/N, we're just trying to help," she says softly. "I know this isn't easy, but please, if you need anything, you can come to me. It doesn't have to be like this."

You meet her gaze for a moment, but then the pressure is too much. Your eyes drop to the floor. You can't speak. You can't do anything. You can't be what they want. You can't be what anyone wants.

"You should talk to her," Yuji whispers, and her voice is filled with the same pleading hope you're trying to ignore. She doesn't get it. She doesn't know what this feels like.

But it doesn't matter. Because right now, all you want is to escape. From the looks, from the words, from the pressure.

The world feels too big, and you're just a small, broken piece of it. ______

The school meeting room is cold, sterile, and far too bright. The hum of fluorescent lights fills the uncomfortable silence as you sit hunched in a chair, arms crossed tightly over your chest. The table in front of you is filled with adults—authority figures—most of whom haven't said more than a sentence to you since the year started.

Your mom is sitting beside you, pale and exhausted, her eyes red-rimmed and full of silent pleading. Across the table are four school counselors and one teacher you recognize but have never really spoken to. Mrs. Honey, a newer counselor, sits to the far left—she watches you closely, not with judgment, but with concern. She's the only one in the room who isn't staring at you like a problem to be solved or expelled.

Mrs. Honey speaks first, voice gentle. "Y/N, I know this isn't easy. But we're here to help you. I think... you've been hurting for a long time."

You don't say anything. You stare at a scratch in the table, the tip of your sneaker tapping rhythmically against the floor.

Mr. Calhoun, a counselor with a clipboard and a clipped tone, lets out a sigh. "With all due respect, Mrs. Honey, this is the second time this girl has gone missing in less than a week. She's not responding to any efforts to reach her. It's disruptive. It's dangerous."

"She hasn't even been here a full semester," another counselor—Ms. Lowell—adds, voice laced with irritation. "And already she's skipped, fought, cursed at staff... I don't think she's interested in changing."

Your jaw tightens.

"Or maybe she just wants attention," mutters the vice principal. "These types of students always pull stunts like this."

You flinch.

Your mom opens her mouth to defend you but no words come out. You don't look at her.

Mrs. Honey shakes her head slightly. "She's not a 'type of student.' She's a person. A child. And she's clearly in pain. Maybe instead of trying to punish her for being broken, we should try to understand why she feels like disappearing is her only option."

You lift your head slowly, eyes locking onto Mrs. Honey's. There's no pity there. Just honesty. A softness that unnerves you more than any harsh words could.

Still, you shake your head, voice low and rough from disuse. "Let go of me. Leave me alone."

Mrs. Honey's expression doesn't falter.

The others shift uncomfortably, still more interested in paperwork and protocol than your well-being. The judgment lingers in the air.

Your mom brushes your shoulder gently, but you pull away again, and the room falls back into silence.

You sit still, eyes unfocused, your mind slowly drifting even as the voices in the room keep talking around you. About you.

"She's withdrawn, unresponsive, hostile," Mr. Calhoun says, flipping through your file like you're just another statistic. "And if I'm being honest, I'm not sure this school is equipped to handle someone like her."

Someone like me. Your nails dig into your sleeves. You don't even know me.

"I've reviewed her records," Ms. Lowell cuts in. "No prior history at our school, no extracurricular involvement, no signs of community connection. Her presence in this environment is... disruptive."

Disruptive. That's what I am, huh? Not a person. Not a kid. Just a disruption.

You stare at the floor, your body still but your mind screaming. You wonder if they'd still talk this way if you weren't in the room. Or maybe they think you're not really here—just a shell sitting in a chair. You might as well be invisible.

"She's hurting," Mrs. Honey interjects again, her voice more forceful now. "You're all talking about her like she's not in the room. Like she hasn't been through something. No one disappears for days unless they feel like they have nowhere else to go."

That makes your chest ache.

You're right. I didn't want to go anywhere. I just didn't want to exist at all.

"She doesn't try," someone says. "She doesn't speak up, doesn't respond."

Because what's the point?

Every time I open my mouth, it's the wrong thing. Every time I show up, I get laughed at, pushed aside, talked about. You think I don't see the way the teachers look at me? The way the students whisper? The way even my mom can't look me in the eye sometimes?

You glance toward your mother. She's still crying quietly, still not saying anything. You don't blame her. You're tired of fighting too.

"Y/N," Mrs. Honey tries again, her voice reaching out like a hand. "I know you feel alone. But I'm asking you to let someone in. Even if it's just a little. You don't have to speak, just... let us try."

Your lips part, but no sound comes. Instead, the words echo in your skull.

You don't get it. None of you do. You never will.

You sit there, silence as your shield, trying not to fall apart again in front of people who wouldn't notice if you did.

The silence in the meeting room is crushing. The fluorescent lights buzz faintly above, but all you can hear is your heartbeat, pounding in your ears like it wants to break free.

You finally say, in a low voice that barely feels like your own, "I didn't mean to scare anyone..."

Your mom chokes out a sob beside you.

You stare at your hands. They're trembling.

"I just wanted it all to stop," you add, barely above a whisper.

Mrs. Honey leans forward slightly, her posture open, calm. No judgment in her eyes. Just softness.

But then Ms. Lowell snorts. "Oh please. We've heard this sob story before."

"She's manipulating you," another counselor mutters to Mrs. Honey. "It's textbook."

"She's been a disaster since the first day she walked through these doors," says Mr. Calhoun with a shrug. "And now you expect us to hold her hand because she ran off for attention?"

You freeze.

Your throat tightens, and for a moment it feels like your lungs forget how to work. The room spins. Your mom tries to say something through her tears, but it comes out in broken pieces. She places a hand on your shoulder.

You jerk away from her touch.

"Don't," you murmur. "Just—don't."

Why did I even speak?

They don't want to understand me.

I don't belong anywhere.

Your vision blurs as you curl in on yourself, not physically—but internally. You stop responding. You stop hearing them. You sink back behind the walls you know too well.

You become still.

Emotionless.

Empty.

The counselors keep talking, louder now, angrier. Their voices blur together into something sharp and punishing:

"She needs discipline, not coddling."

"She's been disrespectful to teachers since day one."

"She's nothing but a drain on everyone here."

Mrs. Honey stands sharply, her chair scraping against the floor. "Enough," she snaps. Her voice isn't loud, but it cuts through the venom like a blade. "She's sitting right here. And she's a child."

She moves toward your mother, who is silently sobbing now, hands clutched tightly in her lap. "It's not your fault," Mrs. Honey whispers to her, kneeling gently. "None of this is your fault. She's hurting."

Your mom just keeps crying, trying so hard to say your name through the tears. "Y/N... baby, please..."

But you don't answer.

You don't even blink.

You're a statue.

Gone again. ———————

The door shuts with a dull click as the meeting ends. Everyone filters out, some murmuring to each other, others shooting you lingering, judgmental glances. You remain seated, completely frozen. Mrs. Honey watches them go, then glances over at you, her expression soft but filled with quiet understanding.

She doesn't try to fill the silence with words right away. She simply gives your mom a subtle nod and says, "Why don't you wait in the front office? I'll bring Y/N when she's ready."

Your mom hesitates, her eyes flicking between you and Mrs. Honey. You can see the concern etched into her features, the heaviness of a thousand unspoken words hanging in the air between you. But her shoulders slump slightly, and she lets out a soft, defeated breath before she quietly turns toward the door.

She walks out without a word.

You don't look up.

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving you alone with Mrs. Honey.

The room is cold, and the silence is suffocating. You remain silent, your fingers digging into your lap as you fight back the urge to close yourself off completely. You can't bring yourself to speak to Mrs. Honey, not when everything inside you feels like it's breaking apart.

She doesn't rush you.

After a while, Mrs. Honey's voice breaks through the silence, calm and gentle. "Y/N, you don't have to say anything. I'm not here to pressure you. I just wanted you to know... what happened today wasn't your fault."

You don't respond. It's hard to process her words when you're not even sure what you're feeling. The guilt, the pain, the numbness, all swirl together in your chest, too overwhelming to comprehend.

Mrs. Honey waits for a moment, sensing your internal struggle. When she speaks again, it's almost as though she's trying to reach you without forcing you to respond. "I know it feels like everyone's against you, but I'm not. And your mom isn't. We just want you to be okay."

Your stomach twists at the mention of your mom. You're not sure what you want anymore, not sure how to fix what's been broken. All you want is to disappear, to not have to face any of this. But no matter how hard you try, the reality still presses down on you like a weight that won't lift.

The door opens softly, and your mom steps back into the room. She looks tired, her eyes red-rimmed as though she's been crying for hours. She clutches her phone in one hand, still clutching onto that sliver of hope, the faintest trace of desperation.

She pauses when she sees you sitting there, frozen, not looking at her. You feel her gaze on you, but you can't return it. Not now.

"Y/N..." Her voice cracks, and for the first time, she sounds broken. "Please, can we talk?"

You don't answer. Your gaze stays fixed on the floor, the weight of everything too heavy to bear.

"I just want to understand," your mom continues, her voice pleading but soft. "I don't know what happened to you, but I want to help you. I want to be there, but I don't know how."

You don't know how either.

Her voice breaks through the wall of silence, a raw whisper in the room. "I'm so sorry, Y/N... for everything."

Your eyes sting, but you don't look up. You won't. You can't.

"Just... leave me alone," you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your mom's breath hitches, the sound of her heart breaking louder than any words could convey. You hear her step closer, but when you don't move, when you don't even acknowledge her, she pulls back.

"Okay," she says softly, her voice thick with tears. "I'll leave you alone. But please know... I love you."

You don't respond. The words don't reach you.

With a final, heartbroken glance, your mom exits the room, leaving you alone with Mrs. Honey. The door clicks shut behind her, and you're left in the empty silence, feeling more alone than ever.

The minutes stretch into hours. You don't move, don't speak, don't even blink. It's as though you're trapped in some inescapable moment, and the world outside doesn't matter anymore.

Eventually, Mrs. Honey stands up, her footsteps soft as she crosses the room toward the door. "Your mom's waiting in the front. You should go with her, Y/N. I know things feel impossible right now, but you don't have to carry this alone. Not anymore."

But you don't feel strong enough to respond, to make a decision. Instead, you remain motionless, your eyes staring at the floor, caught between what you should do and what you want to do.

⸻

Later, you find yourself standing outside the school, your mom at your side, the weight of everything pressing against you, suffocating. The last remnants of sunlight flicker across the horizon, but the world feels dark and cold.

You don't know what to say, how to make things better. You just wish everything would go away. But it won't.

The drive home is quiet. The only sound in the car is the hum of the engine and the soft, labored breathing of your mom beside you.

When you arrive home, you don't speak. You don't look at her. You just walk to your room, closing the door behind you without a word.

And when you finally sit down on your bed, the weight of it all crushes you. The pressure, the isolation, the hurt.

You're alone again. _______

The knock is soft, hesitant.

You don't answer. You can't.

Your body is wrapped in your blanket, the weight of the day crushing you. You can still hear the counselors' voices in your head, the way they looked at you like a lost cause. Your mom's tired eyes. The way everyone stared when you walked through the halls.

The door opens quietly.

"Y/N?"

Yuji steps in slowly, not waiting for a response. She closes the door behind her and walks across the room like she's afraid to break something fragile. You don't move, but your eyes flicker toward her for a second, then away.

"I brought snacks," she murmurs, setting a small bag on your desk. "And water. Thought maybe you'd need both."

You say nothing.

Yuji looks at you for a moment, then pulls your desk chair over next to the bed and sits down. She doesn't try to force conversation. She doesn't ask questions or demand an explanation. She just... stays.

The room is quiet for a long time. The kind of quiet that stretches thin and brittle. You feel her eyes on you every so often, but she never says anything. She just waits.

Minutes pass.

An hour?

The clock ticks, and the room grows darker.

You hear her shift slightly in the chair, letting out a small sigh—but still she stays. The silence is starting to feel less like a void and more like... presence.

Finally, your voice cracks through it, small and brittle.

"I didn't mean to disappear."

Yuji doesn't move, but her voice is soft. "I know."

You bite your lip, voice trembling as you speak again. "I just... couldn't breathe anymore."

Yuji's chair creaks as she leans forward, elbows on her knees. "Do you feel like you can breathe now?"

You shake your head slowly, your voice barely audible. "No."

The silence that follows is heavy, but not uncomfortable.

Then Yuji quietly says, "Okay. Then I'll stay until you can."

You turn your face toward her slightly. "Even if that takes forever?"

Yuji gives you a faint, sad smile. "Even if it takes longer than that."

The words hang between you—so soft and real they almost hurt.

And then you whisper something you didn't even realize you were going to say:

"...I think I did something bad."

Yuji's eyes flicker, her body going still.

You don't say more. You curl tighter under the blanket, your heart pounding.

She leans a little closer, her voice gentle but steady. "Y/N... what did you do?"

🥀

𝑻𝑨𝑮 𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 | @hannahstacos @Anonymip @miyadollie @yuyuslay @lixhoe @beljakovina @rinabluess

✰ 𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙍𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙎 𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙑𝙀𝘿 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙮. 𝘿𝙊 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝙀𝘼𝙇, 𝘾𝙊𝙋𝙔, 𝙊𝙍 𝘾𝙇𝘼𝙄𝙈 𝙈𝙔 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙆 𝘼𝙎 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙊𝙒𝙉.

[s1m0nth3swag]

Could you write “How would Viktor does when reader has depression”.

Of course! Thanks for the ask pookie :)

These r a little short because I am still ill (and my head is literally killing me as I type this) but Viktor is more important than getting well!! (Also bawling my eyes out after act 3, even though I'd still love Viktor nonetheless, machine or not, he's getting it)

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO: Mentions of Depression (obviously), GN!Reader, sweet Fluff, Viktor has no clue what he's doing in all honesty, he tries (and succeeds) to be sweet

2 Stories - One more casual/not yet dating and the other is established relationship

You've been off lately, Viktor had noticed. Isolating yourself bit by bit, looking more tired and overall acting just weird. You've had your phases before, but this one was too long. It wasn't like you at all. You've barely even spoken to him or Jayce, when usually you'd yap both their ears off about whatever topic you had learned about the previous night. Now, the lab was silent. Jayce was away on some Council party, and god knows Viktor would never start a conversation on his own while working. Though, he couldn't focus tonight. He mindlessly tinkered with small parts that laid around his desk, his thoughts clouded with the question of what was bothering you. Whatever it was, it bothered him as well. He'd never say, but he missed the cheery and chipper way you'd usually be.

"Are you... alright?" He questions after a while, clearing his throat slightly. This was already too awkward for him, but he did care. Totally just because the atmosphere of the lab would suffer if you weren't your usual self. He noticed the way you shifted uncomfortably as he glanced over to where you were sitting, like you were pondering how to answer. He wondered why you'd need so long to think of an answer, as if you couldn't tell him the truth. "I'm fine. Just a little tired, I just haven't been sleeping well." You answer, a soft, akward chuckle slipping from your lips. Viktor doesn't like that answer. You're different from how you are when you're just tired - not that he actually paid attention to that, but you weren't on your fifth cup of coffee yet. Actually, you hadn't had coffee at all today, another unusual happening. He sighs softly, and you immediatly know that he's gotten into questioning mode - he was a scientist after all. He really couldn't help it. "You can talk to me, you know? We don't have to be lab partners and nothing else, we can be friends." He speaks, his voice softer than before. "What's bothering you, hm?" Viktor adds, turning his chair around to look at you properly. It's your turn to sigh, letting your head hang slightly. "I've just been... feeling off. Like, actually tired but in a mental way? I don't know how to explain." You mutter, awkwardly averting your gaze from him. "We should take a day off, then. Do whatever you want instead of working." Viktor answers casually. "I don't want to miss important stuff in the lab Viktor, I can't take a day off." You throw back at him. He huffs, a slight chuckle filling the room. "Not you. Us. Maybe all three, if Jayce is willing." He clarifies, already noting it down in his notebook to make sure that day off actually happens.

Viktor noticed the moment he woke up next to you. You'd fallen into another slump. He could tell just by the way you didn't just not want to get up - it was a physical challenge for you. He's seen you like this before, though usually it didn't last too long, at least not that he's noticed, maybe only a day or two at most. But by now, it's been almost a week, and you haven't spoken to him about it. You've been more abrasive, have started caring less about your personal hygiene, and while Viktor doesn't mind, he always hated when you didn't take proper care of yourself. He wanted you to feel good, not fall into a depressive hole. He offered to take a shower or bath with you, to make a game out of brushing your teeth, but you had shut everything down. It wasn't because you didn't think the ideas were sweet, but more because you didn't think you even deserved that much effort. Viktor had to helplessly watch you get worse, and he couldn't even do anything to properly help. It was absolute hell to him.

He'd had enough, wanted to be mad at you, even, but he couldn't blame you for it. He could, however, force you to stay cuddled up in bed with him. You liked staying in bed anyway, and cuddling with him was always one of your favourites. So, here you two were, snuggled into the covers of Viktors way too confortable bed. "You know that I love you, right?" Viktor mumbled, his accent more heavy with sleep. He didn't say it enough, at least that's what he thought. "I do know..." you answered, just as sleepily. "I know you can't control this.. but let me help you, please? I know it's hard, trust me I do, but I hate having to watch from the sidelines as you get worse..." He sighs, pressing a kiss against your forehead. "Let me just be there for you, yeah, my dear?" Viktor adds, pulling away slightly to look at you. "Alright.. I'll... I'll try, I promise." You answer, scooting back towards him so you could press your face into the crook of his neck, basking in his warmth for a little longer.

[gibor-zolel]

Avery; the not so chill plant enthusiast

Well I am late as per usual but here it is;

This post will mainly be analyzing Avery's character but I will also be going over who I think Avery is the comparison and contrast to (it's "Wayne")

This is over 2,000 words with screenshots so I'm putting it under a read more. Enjoy :)

When we first see Avery they are portrayed as more of a minor character or someone that can easily be overlooked despite being one of the main love interests. Now part of this is because supposedly there's going to be 7 episodes and we're only on 4 but I believe the devs intentionally made the majority of Avery interactions up to the player's decision to include them and speak to them.

Depending on how you play the game; you may only see Avery as a passerby when you visit the diner or the general store. You don't actually have to invite them anywhere; it's up to us to make Avery feel included and wanted in the story unfolding.

The first thing we learn about Avery is that they're working for their aunt because they had "issues" with their family about their education. I don't believe it's ever expanded upon but I'm eager to learn more hopefully in episode 5.

Avery the supportive but left out "friend"

Avery also does their best to hype up and encourage the people around them. Such as in episode 1 when you go to the diner with Stella and Avery tells Stella not to downplay her success. On the wiki it states that Avery dislikes it when friends devalue themselves. The problem is that this type of friendship seems to be a one way street at times. We never see Stella or Kaneeka or Oscar or whoever invite Avery to places or put in the same level of effort of trying to connect that Avery does. Avery is extremely observant to people they see as their friends; such as when Avery not only notices that Gretchen is gone but also that Stella isn't her usual self.

Avery is nonjudgmental and tries their best to be empathic and sort of a mediator for the group such as pointing out to Kaneeka that the mines are obviously failing and Tabby clearly isn't some coal baron or when Avery directly calls the animal in the video a mountain lion despite knowing how Stella's refuses to accept any evidence contrary to her worldview.

When you go to the diner in episode 2 and question if Avery will even believe such a wild story, they say this;

I do think Avery can be a bit nosy at times but this isn't a malicious urge to get dirt on other people but rather a desire to be a part of someone's life and fill the loneliness in their heart.

Avery feels like a new character on a show that's already been running for 5 seasons. People are nice but you're not part of the OG cast ya know?

If you have Keen Eye you can say that Stella has talked up Avery's party and you don't think she would have done that if she didn't feel that Avery is a part of the town. So some of this isolation may be in their head.

Now personally, I do think Stella and Kaneeka often leave Avery out of things but I think this isn't because they don't like Avery but rather they're too caught up in their own business and inner worlds to take a step back and notice how Avery feels. However; there is also truth in acknowledging that loneliness can sometimes just be you overthinking things or situations in your head and I think Avery tends to do this.

Avery's boredom clashing with their empathy

A particularly interesting clash of traits in Avery is that they're empathic but also crave excitement so much that it can be borderline insensitive at times. After telling your story of what happened last night; Avery expresses remorse about Gretchen or Duke but then follows it up quickly with "how exciting"

This follows into episode 3 when you visit Avery and say "I've enjoyed the challenge"

Avery is someone who appears cool and collected but craves excitement and chaos. They seem to enjoy playing Nancy Drew to an extant too as they're always willing to help fill you in on any information they hear and they comment on being in the loop due to working at the diner. They're like a reverse Shaggy from scooby doo!

But Avery does pull back when you comment on it being wrong for us to feel excited.

"I wouldn't hate it"

This makes me think that in an upcoming chapter, Avery is going to come face to face with a dangerous situation and is either going to regret it or fully embrace it and endanger themselves or possibly others. There are several times Avery can "joke" about being okay with a ditchling putting an egg in them. I'm praying this doesn't foreshadow Avery being eaten alive...

The lonely drifting musician with too many plants

We learn that Avery's obsession with plants started when they bought a pothos to make their apartment feel less lonely and empty. Then they got a bunch more until it turned in a jungle. They joined a plant community online, both as a way to become more knowledgeable about their plants but also a way to connect with others.

When you ask if they have a favorite; Avery tells you their favorite plant is the dragon scale alocasia, which was a plant that someone from the online community gave them. Life got busy so they don't talk anymore but Avery still sees the plant as a way to remember that someone thinks of them.

Plus the leaves look like big puffy cartoons.

We learn that Avery is also a musician that plays synths, but started with the bass because it "called to them". On the Scarlet Hollow wiki it states that "Avery's love language is sharing plant cuttings with others. However for something more serious, they write songs for them."

Which is super cute and while Avery obviously loves plants; I think their ultimate passion is music as they state that music is their joy and they'd rather juggle having a job and playing on sound cloud than music becoming their livelihood.

Avery uses music as a way to express their emotions, connect with others, and carry on folk traditions.

Despite this; they have plans to move on. They state they don't want to work at the diner forever but also aren't sure what else to do or where else to go. They like to be on the move and meet new people and exciting situations.

What's strange is that it appears Avery is unhappy yet when you ask if they're unhappy; they say that this is actually the happiest they've ever been. Which implies that pre Scarlet Hollow they were even more lonely and lost in life. I think Avery desires a friend that they can be more vulnerable and open around.

Once again Avery is very perceptive and points out that Stella has walls up and Kaneeka is too busy with the store and family drama. They're also the first person to point out that something is strange about Sybil and will later on just straight up ask her if she's a witch.

Avery's potentially dangerous friendship with Julius?

Avery ended up forming a bond with one of the Holler's more prickly residents; Julius Tremaine. Julius apparently overheard Avery mentioning to aunt Winnie that they needed a bench for the garden and lo and behold a bench appeared the next day. I think Avery really appreciated that someone went out of their way to do something for them.

Avery explains that they and Julius now talk a lot more and that Julius got them a new frame for one of the beds recently. I get the impression that out of all the residents of Scarlet Hollow, that Avery has a soft spot for Julius in particular.

When you point out that Julius hasn't been in the diner; they express concern and say that they'll start getting worried if he doesn't show up tomorrow and states that no one else checks up on him. I don't think people outside of Winnie and Julius check up on Avery either.

The reason this friendship concerns me is I believe the next "choice" will be on the Tremaine farm and it'll involve Avery getting hurt or killed by one of Julius's traps or perhaps even getting attacked by one of the ditchlings. Sybil says that ditchlings don't attack humans but it's important to remember she also says she's never heard of this many before. The ditchlings may start off killing the small, weaker creatures and then begin killing people once the animals are gone.

Again there are weirdly a lot of dialogue options for Avery talking about being incubated or possibly killed by some otherworldly being. I've heard theories that the giant pumpkin may even be alive or have some kind of creature living in it. Makes me wonder if there's going to be a little shop of horrors homage....

Avery and "Wayne"

It's explained later to us that the ghost haunting Oscar and Rosalina's house chooses it's victims based on how well they fit the characters in the "play". It's obvious these aren't perfect cast choices but it's making due with what it has. It chooses Stella for The Lover because she and Tabitha were in a situationship, it oddly chooses Rosalina to play the mother protecting her child, Kaneeka to play the Witch, Oscar to play the dad and......if you invite Avery, you'll get an exclusive scene where Avery is playing a character called "The Entity"

Now I'm not going to go full theory mode into why I think the spirit possessing Wayne is the Entity but there's several hints to this such as possessed Avery's eyes opening when speaking and then relaxing while silent. Similar to how Wayne's eyes glow when talking and then fade out when quiet. There's more hints but I don't want to derail this post.

Rather let's discuss why Charlie choose Avery.

Firstly it appears this "Entity" is listening in on other people's conversations and is quite observant. It even knows that Eddie is pregnant. Avery is observant by working at the diner and overhearing conversations while Wayne is.....well he's a stalker. Standing in the background and listening in on our conversations and has been implied to be with for all our lives.

So it has Avery's observant nature but what else? Well if you have Street Smarts and Powerful Build in episode 1 you can explore the estate. In it you find someone with glowing yellow eyes who slinks back into the darkness after you almost catch them playing the piano. Assuming this is "Wayne"; that would mean he also is found of music.

Both Avery and Wayne desire connection and are loyal to those they care about. Avery seems to desire a close knit group of people but is friendly to everyone in town and is eager to help others even if they don't know them; while Wayne is obsessively focused on one individual (us) and is honestly quite nasty to other people or completely ignores them.

Avery and Wayne are also more in the background at times. With Avery needing to be included or else they'll end up as a stranger that hangs around other people and Wayne literally hiding in the background.

Avery calls their relationship with Sybil more of a business relationship and we know that Wayne has been hanging around Sybil's tea room and that Sybil has been helping him with....something.

Both Avery and Wayne appear cool and collected at first glance but there are moments which show us their hidden emotions. With Avery this is their desire for danger and excitement brimming beneath the surface while for Wayne there seems to be an underlying anger and possibly even hatred he's hiding from us. Dustin mentions there's a "human" in the estate who's eyes are always watching and hateful. I'm 90% sure this is Wayne.

I think the "compare and contrast" between Avery and Wayne is that Avery is an example of a positive loving friend who wants to make connections but is often feeling left out and lonely so they try their best to make sure no one else feels that way.

Meanwhile Wayne is an example of a toxic obsessive person who crosses boundaries and is hostile to anyone he deems a threat to the person he "cares" about. I get the impression that Wayne is jealous of our connection with the other characters in the story too and wants to show us that we don't need anyone but him.

Also a quick tidbit but I think "Wayne" is nonbinary like Avery but we refer to him using masculine pronouns because the spirit is possessing a man's body.

But that's all I have for now! I'll be making my Kaneeka and Reese post next so stay tuned!

[vacayisland]

hiya!! can i req a short of king trollex getting injured while in barb's captivity? hurt or hurt/comfort, thanks for considering!

@!; Isolation for the soul (this isn't what I wanted) Trollex / Reader

"Summary"! Have you ever had to sit in a deafening silence? The torturing type of silence. All you ever wanted was some sort of peace, a moment of silence away from the noise. You never thought your wish would be answered in the cruelest way. "Tags"! Hurt / Comfort (a little lest comfort), y'all got the better version of the two stories in my head &lt;3

@!; You always wanted some sort of silence, for an hour, thirty minutes, a minute, a second. It had never been quiet in Techno Reef, it had never been… quiet. And god, you had always wished for some sort of silence, but not silence like this. Not the deafening kind of silence, not the dreary silence, not the alone, abandoned, self-hatred fill silence that creeps up on you and holds you captive. The type that taunts you, haunts you, as you can do nothing but sit and be all consumed by it, encompassed by it constantly. No remorse will find you at the deepest depths of the ocean. You were alone, utterly and wholly. It was only meant to be a quick swim, one to get away from the noise of everyone and the noise of the rave that had been happening at the time. You had told Trollex this, having gone to his side and tapped his shoulder. Even while DJing, he had turned to you with the brightest grin. He had cupped your cheeks, he had given you such a big kiss and then a bigger hug as he softly told you to be careful; to get home soon, to not do anything too dangerous. You know he meant it more then than when he had told you before, after all you both were splitting egg-holding duty. Trollex had one of the twin eggs in his hair, safely tucked away and hidden, and you did too. You had brushed off his warning, giving him a playful look and quipped back he should be careful with the speakers more than anything. He had laughed, gave you one last smooch before you pulled away laughing and rushed off for your swim; yelling at him goodbye, that you would see him later. Later. How much later?

You sat at his DJ booth, sunk down on the floor as you held the only part of Trollex you still had; The egg, which was still warm yet slowly becoming cold due to the ocean. You know you should keep them in your hair, keep them warm so they will hatch yet… you were too alone, too afraid to be alone, to do that right now. Hugging the egg close, you pressed your cheek against the top as you tried to choke back your sobs. Funny, how silence was now the last thing you wanted. Ironic that the only thing you wanted now, more than ever, was the loud blaring music of the Techno reef; to hear your lover shout to the crowd, hyping them up louder than need be. Yet, all you sat in was a cold, silent reef; Having come back to nothing but silence, nothing but destruction, nothing but… nothing. It had been deserted, lettering spelling out ‘Rock’ etched into the side of the reefs and the coral. At first, you had thought it was a tasteless prank pulled by Trollex and the others; He had always been a prankster, had everyone pretend they forgot your birthday so he could throw you a big party and then a smaller one with just you and him and your friends at the end of the day. You had called for them, searched for everyone for hours before you realized you were alone. That feeling hit hard. Even more so when you stood in the center of the rave spot, seeing everything desolate, destroyed, and powered off. It felt strangely empty and cold. You felt strangely empty and cold.

And you panicked, laughing a little as you called out for people. Called out for everyone, anyone, anything! You threw things around, overturned rocks, checked buildings and hiding spots and everywhere you could think, yet no matter how hard you searched you were alone. And you didn’t know why. Why did they leave you? Did you do something? Did no one want to be around you anymore? Was the rave just a ploy to get you to swim away so everyone could pack up and leave? Leave without all their things, pack up and move to a new palace, rich. You didn’t think you had been rude to anyone or did anything to upset anyone, yet now you rethought all of that. Sitting alone, abandoned and utterly cold, you rethought everything you had done; All the words you had said, all the reactions you had given and all the ones you didn’t, all the gifts, all the yeses and nos, all of it. All at once it made you homesick and deathly lonely. It made you think, wonder, if you had shown even just a little more interest, if you had tried a little more, you wouldn’t be in this situation. You wouldn’t be alone, sitting by Trollex’s turntable with nothing but the silence you now wished would go away and be filled with deathly loud blaring music. Even if it was just for a short amount of time.

@!; A week, that’s what it took for Queen Poppy to save the day with the help of her friends. For everyone to restore their sense of music without the need of strings, singing from their hearts and letting music just be. No more Rock-apocalypse. No more feuding and isolation of tribes! Everything was right together again. “This is amazing!” Queen Poppy exclaimed, her arms extending as she watched all the trolls in the crowd interact with each other as though there were no differences; Showing each other their music, chatting and laughing, giggling too. Even the tribal leaders were interacting among the stage. As Poppy turned towards her new found friends, the biggest grin across her face, she paused. There was a small group crowded around the Techno tribe’s leader, who had fallen down onto the stage; He was coughing harshly, tears brimming at the corner of his eyes as a hand was balled against his chest. Poppy, at first, thought it was due to his coughing fit and had rushed over while shuffling around her hair for some sort of cough drop. “Poppy! Poppy, stop-” Yet Branch stopped her, grabbing her shoulder and pulling Poppy back as she sputtered out some sort of yell. “Branch I have cough drops I can help-” Poppy would spew out, rushing around in her hair to find something, anything, to help her new friend. Yet, Branch only cupped her cheeks and turned her attention over to where Trollex was sitting, forcing her to take a second look. That’s when she spotted it, seeping and clumping up under Trollex’s hand was blood.

That’s when Delta’s shouting for a medic began to ring in Poppy’s ears. That’s when Baarb had stopped on stage, her breath hitched as she realized what she had done. That’s when a hush fell over the stage as looks were passed around, unsure what to do about the current situation. Half weren’t even sure how this had happened, or how it went unnoticed during the whole song and dance number performed minutes earlier! “Medic, Y’all we need a medic!” Delta shouted as she extended one of Trollex’s fins, noting the other gash that ran down his leg. Trollex tried shaking his head, trying to say how he would be fine, yet he was only hushed when Delta had applied some disinfecting cream (which she got from Branch) around his flipper gash.  “Uh-huh,” Delta mumbled sarcastically as Poppy and Queen Essence tried to get a Techno medic to help, “Pumpkin, you’re as fine as a horse who’s broken his leg! Stop playin’ the hero, you’re hurt.” But Trollex only shook his head again, knowing there was only so much time he had, “I have to get back home! I-” Though he was only interrupted again as he kicked his flipper towards Delta, feeling the disinfecting cream again. “Hey, we’re all safe and here, right? There’s no rush to get back home! So just stay here and let us help you,” Branch tried to reason with Trollex, yet this wasn’t his speciality. This was something more in Poppy’s area, yet she was off trying to get a medic from the Techno tribe to help Trollex.

“He’s right, you’re going to sit your ass here and not move!-” Started Delta, her adamant tone apparent as she gestured for Branch to hold down Trollex’s fin. If Trollex was involuntarily kicking her for applying disinfecting cream to his fin, she did not want to know how hard he’ll kick once she tried to disinfect the gash on his chest. As Delta carefully moved Trollex’s hand away from his chest, Barb (nervous and almost paralyzed with uncertainty and guilt) tried to jump in to ask how she or anyone could help; Knowing she had accidentally taken things a little too far after the whole rebellion Trollex tried to start to get back the strings—which Barb didn’t exactly appreciate at the time, even if he was the only one who actually had to courage to try and face her. She also regretted threatening the egg that Trollex had been hiding in his hair. Not like she was actually ever going to attack it, that would be going too far, yet… Barb stopped mid-way through her apology as she saw the expressions the others were giving her. She gave a, what looked to be, sheepish smile. “Yeah, maybe you should have cut it off before you started spewing about threatening to attack a baby troll.” Delta pointed out, flabbergasted that Barb would even act upon such a thought; even if it was an empty threat with nothing behind it. “Yeah…” Barb agreed, rubbing the back of her neck.

Luckily, no one had to sit on this subject for long as Poppy rushed back while waving her hands and shouting that they had found a medic from the Techno tribe. The medic had paused at first, a look of terror crossing their face as they saw Trollex. That was, until they were nudged by Poppy to go help and in which they instantly got to work; Pulling out bandages made from a mixture of seaweed, seagrass, and kelp to help stop the bleeding while the salt will help disinfect the wounds. “How’s the little one?” The medic would ask as he made quick work of tightened up the bandages around Trollex’s torso. Carefully, not wanting to ruin the bandages, Trollex reached up into his hair and produce the warm egg; it was slightly colder than it should be, as the ocean temperatures help regulate Techno eggs as much as the parents' hair does—due to the unfuzzy nature of Techno trolls’ hair, the extra warmth from the ocean is needed to stimulate growth within the egg. The medic passed the bandages off to Delta, who got a bit confused upon seeing the bandages but shrugged and went to work bandaging his fin, as the medic stood up. They held out their hands, a silent request to take the egg. Yet, Trollex looked weary passing the egg on. He brought it to himself slightly, a look of confliction crossing his face. And that’s when the medic grew a somber look, knowing the reason behind his hesitation. They haven’t seen you since the attack, and Trollex was sure you had come back before it all. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Poppy jumped in on a chance to try and help, noticing the frowned eyebrows and the somber looks that the two trolls shared. Yet, she received no response. Which clouded the others with nerves, unsure what to do or what to say or how to help with a situation they had no information on. “Excuse me, Barb…” The medic would turn to Queen Barb, who stiffened a little at the sudden addressment. She looked at the two, glancing between them, as the Medic glanced down at Trollex with an unreliable expression for a moment. Trollex would only shake his head, in which the Medic would take a step away from everyone; Creating some sort of space that seemingly was needed for this situation. Trollex was careful as he tried to push himself onto his fins, Delta and Branch helping to support him back up as Trollex held his egg. He kept his eyes down at it for a while, a silence fogged over the silent stage as chatter from other trolls in the crowd could be heard. And despite that, it seemed overly quiet. “Barb,” Trollex started cautiously, trying to pick and choose his words. His eyes narrowed, a pained expression flashed in his eyes as he glanced up at Barb,  “Did you ever harm someone from my Tribe?” “Yeah…?” Barb started, cautiously and a little nervous at the look she was getting. “You!... by accident.”

“No, not me! I mean another Techno troll who happened to be, like, this tall and also had an egg with them that looks like mine?” Trollex hugged the egg tighter in effect to try and show he was crossing his arms in some sort of way. Yet the worry that crossed his face was more than enough to show he wasn’t playing, if anyone had even thought that in the first place. And the panicked look that crossed with realization that flashed across Trollex’s face the second that Barb had said “no” freaked the others out more. Yet, in Trollex’s mind, all he could think about was you. You; Who could possibly be all alone at this moment. You; Who was most likely left in the desolate and destroyed Techno reef. You; Who didn’t handle abandonment well. You; You consumed his thoughts as worry began to boil over him, flooding every single vein on his body as horrible images flashed through his head on what you could be facing right at this moment. None of them he liked. All of them lead to one conclusion; He had to get back to you right now.

@!; A week of isolation was not the best for a Troll; Nevertheless a week of isolation with self deprecating thoughts without something to stop them while having to take care of an egg was absolute torture. At times you wanted to smash the egg, hatred boiling over your body at the isolation, at the fact that you had been left, at yourself; Yet you had always managed to catch yourself before you did so and you always felt so much shame for acting in such a way. How could you try and kill your own child, who had done nothing wrong? How could you even think about taking their life before they had even been able to experience the world? How could you be such a monster? You sometimes grew so disgusted with yourself that you couldn’t touch your egg for hours; Simply taking to stare at it after having wrapped it in a kelp blanket as you replayed the terrifying scene in your mind. So many times you had been close to snapping, so many times you had almost smashed the egg or decided to leave it alone and pray it got eaten. So many times you thought about leaving it entirely and going on your own way, to leave this all behind instead of sticking around with some sort of sickening hope that someone, anyone, would come back and help. Something kept you here though, caged you in your own torture. Trapped you in isolation with a choking self hatred that you couldn’t shake no matter how much you tried. You weren’t sure how long ago you had the color sucked out of you, you hadn’t been counting how long everyone had been gone. You hadn’t slept well since that day, so you couldn’t even attempt to judge the days.

You hadn’t even realized when Trollex had returned, even despite the group of people he had following him (due to his injuries). The ringing in your ears blocked out the shouting, the fuzz in your brain made it hard to think of anything anymore. “Starfish?” Trollex shouted, panicking as he zipped around Techno reef. He turned over every building, trying to find any place you could be isolating yourself at. “Dude, hey!” Synth tried to follow Trollex, “You’re injured, slow down!” He shouted, glancing back at other leaders who had decided to follow. He just had to make sure they were good in the air bubbles they had blown for them before he zipped off towards Trollex, just to make sure he didn’t make his injuries worse. Yet, Trollex couldn’t care less about everyone else. He needed to find you, scratch that he was going to find you before anymore time could pass. “Starfish? Love?” And that’s when he found you at his DJ station, back resting against his turntables as you stared at the kelp-wrapped egg in front of you. Something in Trollex made him stop, despite the feeling that made him want to lunge at you and tackle you in a hug. He knew you were bad alone, even more so horrible with overthinking, and he had expected you to be in a bad shape when he found you yet… not this. Not gray. He had promised you wouldn’t hurt when you started dating and he had failed.

Trollex was more careful to approach you this time around, slowly swimming around his turntables to sit down next to you. He wanted to do nothing more than to hug you, to reassure that he was back and he didn’t mean to leave you. That all those nasty thoughts in your head were nothing but lies, yet he wasn’t even sure where to start; You were so out of it that you hadn’t even acknowledged him yet. In the background, Synth had finally caught up with Trollex enough to see what was happening. He had paused himself seeing the scene, even backing up a little to give you both some sort of privacy; stopping the other tribe leaders as well. They couldn’t see much from where they floated, yet they could make out Trollex carefully taking the second egg into his hands and storing it in his hair along with the first, before turning to you—all gray and desolate. The silence was deafening, it was so deafening all you wanted to do was to cover your ears and forget sound existed at all. Yet, as you tried to cover your ears your hands were caught by Trollex’s; His familiar hands, the way your hands fit into his, and the warmth. It made you crumble, despite everything that circled in your mind like a tornado and you were pulled into a hug instantly. A warm hug, a familiar one. Most importantly one that could cloud all the silence with a simple ‘thump’, ‘thump’, ‘thump’. 

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[mariacallous]

It’s April, and the US is experiencing a self-inflicted trade war and a constitutional crisis over immigration. It’s a lot. It’s even enough to make you forget about Elon Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency for a while. You shouldn’t.

To state the obvious: DOGE is still out there, chipping away at the foundations of government infrastructure. Slightly less obvious, maybe, is that the DOGE project has recently entered a new phase. The culling of federal workers and contracts will continue, where there’s anything left to cull. But from here on out, it’s all about the data.

Few if any entities in the world have as much access to as much sensitive data as the United States. From the start, DOGE has wanted as much of it as it could grab, and through a series of resignations, firings, and court cases, has mostly gotten its way.

In many cases it’s still unclear what exactly DOGE engineers have done or intend to do with that data. Despite Elon Musk’s protestations to the contrary, DOGE is as opaque as Vantablack. But recent reporting from WIRED and elsewhere begins to fill in the picture: For DOGE, data is a tool. It’s also a weapon.

Start with the Internal Revenue Service, where DOGE associates put the agency’s best and brightest career engineers in a room with Palantir folks for a few days last week. Their mission, as WIRED previously reported, was to build a “mega API” that would make it easier to view previously compartmentalized data from across the IRS in one place.

In isolation that may not sound so alarming. But in theory, an API for all IRS data would make it possible for any agency—or any outside party with the right permissions, for that matter—to access the most personal, and valuable, data the US government holds about its citizens. The blurriness of DOGE’s mission begins to gain focus. Even more, since we know that the IRS is already sharing its data in unprecedented ways: A deal the agency recently signed with the Department of Homeland Security provides sensitive information about undocumented immigrants.

It’s black-mirror corporate synergy, putting taxpayer data in the service of President Donald Trump’s deportation crusade.

It also extends beyond the IRS. The Washington Post reported this week that DOGE representatives across government agencies—from the Department of Housing and Urban Development to the Social Security Administration—are putting data that is normally cordoned off in service of identifying undocumented immigrants. At the Department of Labor, as WIRED reported Friday, DOGE has gained access to sensitive data about immigrants and farm workers.

And that’s just the data that stays within the government itself. This week NPR reported that a whistleblower at the National Labor Relations Board claims that staffers observed spikes in data leaving the agency after DOGE got access to its systems, with destinations unknown. The whistleblower further claims that DOGE agents appeared to take steps to “cover their tracks,” switching off or evading the monitoring tools that keep tabs on who’s doing what inside computer systems. (An NLRB spokesperson denied to NPR that DOGE had access to the agency’s systems.)

What could that data be used for? Anything. Everything. A company facing a union complaint at the NLRB could, as NPR notes, get access to “damaging testimony, union leadership, legal strategies and internal data on competitors.” There’s no confirmation that it’s been used for those things—but more to the point, there’s also currently no way to know either way.

That’s true also of DOGE’s data aims more broadly. Right now, the target is immigration. But it has hooks into so many systems, access to so much data, interests so varied both within and without government, there are very few limits to how or where it might next be deployed.

The spotlight shines a little less brightly on Elon Musk these days, as more urgent calamities take the stage. But DOGE continues to work in the wings. It has tapped into the most valuable data in the world. The real work starts when it puts that to use.

[weirdwyvern]

Ryoko Kui cooked in many regards, but ESPECIALLY when she filled the cast of Dungeon Meshi with characters who went through deeply isolating experiences during their formative years & then made possibly The Most Important visual component of the work be "people eating a meal together" (age-old symbol of togetherness)

like just from what I know as an outsider who hasn't properly read through the manga yet, there's:

Laios – ostracized for autistic characteristics + fixation on monsters.

Falin – ostracized/persecuted for "seeing ghosts," to the point that she was sent away to magic school. Additionally, while at school, she didn't really make friends besides Marcille.

Marcille – isolated from peers due to the unusual/inconsistent aging process of half-elves. It's noted that her only close companion throughout her childhood was her dad, who died of old age fairly early on.

Kabru – survivor of a major disaster, adopted & raised by elves. Although his adoptive mom treated him well, general elven treatment of humans seems to be very dismissive, condescending, & othering.

Rin – also raised by elves (i think?), also traumatized at a young age.

Dia – raised in a cult. Self-explanatory, that one.

Kiki & Kaka – adopted & raised by gnomes. Like with Kabru, their adoptive parents (grandparents?) treated them well, but that didn't stop the othering they faced from their peers (if not entirely intentional) for being tallmen; it got to the point that Kaka is now sensitive about having long legs.

Though it didn't happen during his formative years, Chilchuck's divorce definitely counts as a majorly isolating event. I forget the details of Senshi's timeline, but the wipeout of his original party + how he lived alone in the dungeon for years are also worth mentioning, too.

[raayllum]

Today in "structural parallels and pacing" and on the heels of finishing up my S4 rewatch, I've been thinking about the parallels between 1x08 with 4x05 and 4x06

To begin, there's the dual conversations bit, contrasting Callum and Rayla's issues with Ezran and Soren/Ellis filling in to provide support and a listening ear.

These conversations provide a space to breathe and character work, highlighting different aims. In 1x08, it's for Callum and Rayla's respective insecurities and both fearing failure; Callum fears being useless without magic, Rayla fears being worthless upon being unable to not make the 'right choice'. In 4x05, it's a little tighter, as Soren accentuates why Callum is so upset ("It hurt him bad, real bad. He was miserable") and his uncertainty to Rayla, while Ezran gives Callum a space to open up in about more than his negative feelings, which were the focus so far ("When she came back, I was so happy [...] I wish I could just forgive her").

These conversations work in tandem to scaffold the episodes' key aims, re: the trio having to work together. In 1x08, the initial plan is messed up, and Callum, Rayla, and Ezran worry that they'll mess up again. Then, they get a second chance, and the plan to defeat the slug monster goes off without a hitch.

It also works as a "see how far we've come" moment within the season, highlighting their individual growth in their abilities and confidence: Ez and his bravery after being afraid; Rayla with trust in her skills and ability to finish the job and to know when/how to do so; Callum with his magic). Callum's is particularly important as it's also set up for affirming what he's sacrificing in 1x09 in smashing the primal stone.

4x05 and 4x06 together follow similar beats.

There's just more failures along the way. While Ezran ensured that Rayla would come along on their world-saving mission despite her worries, and Soren fully accepts her back, she and Callum are struggling to reconnect. His understandable unwillingness to come back together ("I'll stay here with Ez, Soren, you go with Rayla") in any meaningful way (thus far) causes her to continue to self-isolate and not do things together as a coping mechanism, culminating in leaving Soren on his own ("You mean Soren's there all alone?" / "I left him alone, I shouldn't have—"). On top of losing Soren, they also lose Zym (when only Callum and Ezran contribute to said plan, I might add, with the successful trio plan later including her bc Working Together themes), chipping away the extra parties in their group until it's just the three of them.

This makes sense on some level. In 1x08, Callum and Rayla were struggling with their identities as individuals; now they're struggling with their identities in relation to each other, hence Ezran's reminder "Don't you remember who you are?" before encouraging them to work together to solve the team's current dilemma. Whereas 1x08 had the trio work together to show off their growing bond and new skills, here we see the same old skills (though the group does rely on Callum's shiny new staff, which like with the primal stone makes us feel something over him being willing to relinquish it later, although admittedly less) and focus on reaffirmation of bond.

This is also why Ezran contributes both less and more to 4x06's plan than in 1x08. In S1, Ezran relies on holding up Bait and letting him flash (being support, as Callum says).

In 4x06 meanwhile, Ezran uses more of the skills he's gained and nurtured from being king—being a mediator, making calls and plans (as how to utilize his and Rayla'a assets together are his idea)—even if he's still functionally using the same skills, the same way that Callum is still using Sky magic and Rayla is still using her training as an assassin. Rather than just Callum thinking of the idea, Ezran and Callum do so together in 4x06, as Callum thinks up the fog.

Ezran and Rayla working more directly together, and Callum and Rayla more indirectly, also reflects where the group dynamic sits. In 1x08, everyone's skills collaborated altogether in the order of (Ellis) Ezran, Callum, and Rayla. In 4x06, we get a mirrored inversion of Callum, Rayla, and ending rather than beginning with Ezran. He hugs both his friends, but they don't hug each other—they're not quite there yet—but the group dynamic is less fragmented and on the road to repair, and we'll see Callum and Rayla think up how to use each other's skills Together (5x02, 5x04, 6x05) later on as well.

Because Bait's still got what he had before (1x08)—and so do they.

Some side tangents:

1) 1x08 and 4x06 also have similarities with 5x07 in terms of "Kids try multiple solutions to overcome encroaching / escalating problem with the skills they have on hand". However, where 1x08 and 4x06 start with a lack of confidence, 5x07 has Callum exude confidence that he can overcome Finnegrin to likewise set up a contrast with how Finnegrin will break him down in 5x08, so the prior two end more positively on their little "let's work together plot beat" whereas 5x07 crashes and burns for him.

2) I also appreciate that after the trio saves Zym in 4x06, he turns around and saves them in 4x07 on the bridge through the darkness. It shows that he's grown more independent and less helpless than he understandably was when he was a baby, as well as keeping things feeling balanced. If we were constantly watching the trio rescue/save Zym and he wasn't providing anything back (i.e. no taking off the binding or bailing them out on occasion) it'd probably start to feel like he's just there to be a plot device and cause problems (the way little kid characters often do) rather than a character who contributes.

[chrattenthusiast]

Hate - Matthew sturniolo pt2

Authors note: the last part was inspired by all i wanted - paramore !!!!

Warnings- choking, spitting and ofc sex😆

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The past week had been an agonizing descent into emotional chaos. Each day felt like a struggle to maintain composure as the memory of Matthew, the man you had vowed to hate, occupied every inch of my mind. Simple tasks became a challenge, as your thoughts were constantly hijacked by his presence, even in his absence. Desperate for a distraction, you convinced yourself that avoiding Matthew would be the solution, attempting to dodge him at every turn.

However, your well-intentioned strategy crumbled when Nick and Chris, refused to let you retreat into solitude. Dragged you against your will, they insisted on taking you to a random party, determined to shake you out of your self-imposed isolation. , you found yourself amidst a sea of strangers, the pounding music and swirling lights serving as a temporary escape from the last weekend how he knew every inch of your body, the way he pounded into you and how he always knew how to make you feel good.

Hey, are you listening?" The interruption jolted you back to the present, you replied with a forced, "Yeah, I am," masking the lie behind a half-hearted smile. My attention, however, was fixated on the man in front of me, who seemed oblivious to the fact that his words about his brand new car were falling on deaf ears. As he rambled on, his enthusiasm only fueled your growing irritation. The beer bottle in your hand became a tempting, makeshift weapon.

Glancing around the room, filled with sweaty bodies and the pungent scent of marijuana, you caught sight of Matthew. His gaze, like an invisible thread, connected with yours. His face contorted with a mixture of annoyance and anger as he witnessed the man boldly wrapping his arm around your waist. you couldn't help but smile, realizing that you were successfully getting under Matthew's skin. Testing your luck, you seized the opportunity to escalate the situation further, grabbing the man (whose name you had already forgotten) and planting a kiss on him. To your surprise, he didn't seem to mind; instead, his grip on your waist tightened.

Just as the tension reached its peak, the atmosphere shifted abruptly. The man was forcefully shoved away from you as you turned to see Matthew, his eyes shooting daggers at the now bewildered intruder.

"Bro, what the fuck is your problem" the man exclaimed in confusion as Matt stepped forward menacingly.

"Don’t ever touch her again, unless you enjoy the comfort of a hospital bed." Matt warned with an intensity that sent a shiver down the man's spine.

Stammering, he offered a shaky apology, “I didn’t know she was spoken for”

What a fucking pussy, you thought

Interrupted mid-thought, you found yourself yanked away from the growing crowd that had formed around. Matt's grip on your arm was firm, and as he pulled you away, the chaotic scene behind faded into the background.

“Where are we going Matt” — your left unanswered as he pulls you towards the direction his car.

“Get in” he says bluntly

“No, I’m good” you say

You find yourself pushed against a car, sandwiched between the cold metal and the warmth of Matthew's body pressing against yours. His proximity was unnerving, yet strangely electrifying. "Get in the car, Y/N, or I swear to God, I will spank you so hard you won’t be able to sit for days. You choose," he declared, his voice low and authoritative and of course you couldn't help but smirk at the unexpected threat.

"How chivalrous," you whispered, teasingly testing the boundaries. His response was immediate and filled with a kind of possessiveness you hadn't anticipated. "Only for you, sweetheart, although you seem to not get that. How many times do I need to fuck the shit out of you he began, his frustration evident, "before you understand that I do. not. want to see you with other men?"

“It sounds like you’re upset, aww matthew “ you say mockingly

“Did he really upset you?, Did you not like the way he was touching m-“ you’re instantly cut off when matt wraps his fingers around your neck slightly adding pressure

“Get in the backseat. Now” he whispers against your lips

Weird. Matt never acted impulsively. You instantly obey as his eyes showed a little desperation and you liked that. of course

You quickly slide into the back seat, with Matt following closely behind. Without delay, he seizes the back of your head, pulling you into a passionate kiss that feels both necessary and possessive. You have no complaints.

Tugging at your top in a demanding manner, you raise your hands, but instead, Matt forcefully tears your top in half, planting intense kisses all over your chest. Gripping your ankle, he pulls you into a reclined position.

Lifting your skirt without bothering to remove it, he slides down your panties and tucks them into his back pocket.

his fingers move through your slit back and forth inciting a moan from you, finding your clit he circles it. matt leans backward wanting a full view. wanting this moment engraved in his mind every time he thought of you. you move to palm him through his pants when he pins your hands on the seat. “ just be a good girl for me and sit back”

He inserts two fingers, his cool rings teasing your clit, creating a pleasurable friction. Your hips instinctively sync with his motions,

He tightens his grip around your neck. As he quickens the pace of his finger thrusts, you release another gasp of pleasure.

You try to hold in your sounds, trying to move away from his fingers he adds pressure to his grip around your neck. “where you tryna to go baby?, where’s that good girl that could take it all hmm”

“you were so confident a minute ago, yet you can’t handle my fingers,” he mocks

he decides to add a third finger, curling his fingers hitting that sweet spot he knew you loved.

“matt please “ you’re able to plead in the midst of your moans

“Isn't this what you wanted? I didn't give you enough attention, so you tried getting with someone who couldn’t even get you this wet” he says

you look down at how you were taking his fingers causing you to grow wetter, causing a small wet spot to the leathered seat

"Do you enjoy watching yourself?" he asks, and you respond with a soft whimper.

you’re about to hit that level of release, based on the lack of words being said by you. matt immediately pulls his fingers out earning a protest from you, which he ignores looking at you smugly he takes his fingers covered with your essence putting it to his mouth sucking off your juices he leans down connecting his lips with yours making you taste yourself.

“you taste that?, that’s all me. not him“ he reminds you

“if you wanna cum you’re gonna have to earn it, now take my pants off “ he says voice dripping with dominance

your shaky hands move to his belt unbuckling it. he takes a hold of the belt wrapping it around your wrist. you look at him confused sure it wasn’t unusual for matt to pull a stunt like this —but in public. with his brothers a street away from the both of you. gave you a rush of excitement

he takes of his boxers lining up with your entrance. he decides to tease you further. moving up your folds and without warning slams into you giving you harsh thrusts. giving you no leeway to adjust

you let out the loudest moan which he doesn’t stops. he likes this. he was always a fan of hearing how good HE made you feel

“that’s it, let it all out for me baby” he encouraged

“fuck you” you reply, Disliking how much influence he had on you, a feeling clearly rooted in the fear of experiencing heartbreak.

He clenches your jaw, making you open your mouth, then spits into it. "Swallow," he commands, and you comply, staring at him with lowered eyelashes.

“i know you can’t get enough of me, you’ll always come back to me. no matter how much you try to run away. you always come back. and i’ll make you see that “he replies to your insult.

Thrusting into your hips, he targets that familiar sweet spot, causing your eyes to roll back. His hand travels toward your throat, fully enclosing it. He maintains a firm grip, allowing just enough air for you to breathe, and you moan under the pressure. However, you find yourself struggling to breathe a little.

“ look at me” he says, and you oblige

“there is no one who could ever make you feel like this. i won’t share you with anyone else.”

"Yes, Matt," you cry out, tears welling in your eyes. He gently wipes them away as you continue to gaze at him, your hands clutching the ones he has wrapped around your neck.

“ you wanna breathe?“ he says adding more pressure but making sure he wasn’t inflicting harm onto you

“please ” you beg

“come on this dick if you wanna breathe baby” he says

His fingers rubbed against your clit, bringing you closer to your release, not slowing down his movements, the only intention in his mind was to make you cum. He lifted your legs and placed them on his shoulders, wanting to feel you deeper

Leading to a loss of focus as additional tears flowed down your face.

You're under his influence, absorbing all he provides, making sure to maintain eye contact—aware of his fondness for it, yet fearing he might stop if you looked away. Yet, you found appeal in the peculiar way he gazed at you.

Closing in on your face, he eliminates any personal space between you, driven solely by the desire to prevent your escape from him. Your eyes lock onto the silver metal wrapped around his neck, lightly brushing your face —making your walls squeeze around him tighter.

“ you got this baby, just a little longer for me yeah ”he encourages

his words giving you some sort of confidence you move your hips to meet his rythym aching for that release you were denied earlier. the car slowly moving with the bucking of your hips. and filled with the grunts matt made.

he leans down his lips meet yours, matt abandons your clit, one hand still wrapped around your neck his fingers graze your lower stomach pushing slightly feeling where he was buried deep. a silent laugh escapes his lips “ you feel that don’t you sweetheart do you see how well you’re taking every inch” he mocks clearly still mad over the recent events that took place earlier

“i just did that to make you mad, i don’t want him matt “ you choke out using your limited oxygen to pled your case

“say it then, tell me that you want me and no one else “ he replies

“ i want you and no one else matt” you pled. truth laced with every word that left your mouth

“come for me “ and you do instantly releasing all over his shaft clutching onto his tatted arm. he immediately release his hand that was wrapped around your neck and you take big breath. filling your lungs with oxygen.

he gripped onto your hips, pulling you impossibly close as he comes inside you. subconsciously mimicking your habit in seeking comfort from you as well.

“are you okay.” he asks staring at your neck that had imprints of his fingers. slight guilt washing over him fearful that he might’ve pushed you passed your boundaries.

“i’m okay matt” you scratch his scalp gently to reassure him that you were okay.

A hush envelops both of you, uncertainty filling the air. Neither of you knows what to say next. After months of mutual disdain, you both finally confessed to liking each other.

After minutes of mutual silence, with your eyes lowered and bodies still connected, Matt, buried in your embrace, finally summons the courage to speak. "Did you mean what you said?" he asks.

His words quicken your heart, and as you attempt to lift from under him, he holds you firmly in place.

"Please don't walk away from me.", he manages to say, still catching his breath,

You gaze at him, releasing your grip on his tousled hair, Unable to think coherently.

"You're joking, right? I mean, we hate each other, Matt," you say, aware that your words are a lie. Beneath all the arguing and name-calling, you love him. Yet, you're foolish enough to let fear cloud your judgment.

"please don’t lie to me “ he says

"I'll be straightforward since you're stubborn. You don't want to see me with other people, and neither do I," he says, his voice resonating with honesty.

"So, cut the bullshit and let me be the man you deserve. If you don't want that, I understand. Just please have the balls to tell me, and I'll leave you alone," he says, loosening his grip on your waist.

Testing the waters, you move, and he doesn't stop you. The unspoken tension hangs in the air, awaiting the resolution that could redefine their dynamic.

Allowing him to withdraw, you grimace slightly at the sensitivity. As Matt moves away, defeated, you stare back at him, your heart still pounding from his confession. Despite the tumultuous nature of your relationship, you halt yourself from self-destruction, reluctant to spoil another delicate aspect of your connection with Matt—though delicate might not be the perfect term to describe it.

Gently cradling Matt's face like a fragile porcelain mask, your hands trembling with fear of causing harm. In a tender moment, you press a soft kiss to his lips. That simple gesture speaks volumes, conveying your unspoken desire for him. In that shared intimacy, Matt understands, and what you wanted becomes clear – him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

@mangosrar @mattsd0ll @christinarowie332 @loveesiren @cabincorematt

[dailyadventureprompts]

Villain: Cult of the Earth in Arms

Camped out in remote mines and fortified wilderness compounds, these zealots toil and train and stockpile for a war that may never come, dreaming of the day they will march to glorious victory over their hated foe.. whoever that happens to be week to week.

The cult has many names and supposed patrons: deposed human kings, exiled gnomish geniuses, scornful aspects of dwarven gods. All of these are mere proxies for the cult’s true master Kurtulmak, a bitter god of warfare and mining who takes the form of a kobold who’s ire manifests as poison that dribbles from both his jaw and tailbarbs. 

Like many gods of wicked war, Kutulmak cares nothing for whatever cause his unwitting cultists call him to, feeding instead off of their resentment, suppressed fear, and ever mounting bloodlust. It doesn’t matter whether they are a paranoid militia prepping for a conflict they will never see, or bitter partisans waging guerrilla war against a populace long since seeking peace, they all feed Kurtulmak’s desire for intractable conflict and indelible resentments. 

The cult of the Earth in Arms tends to operate in isolation, pertaining to self sufficiency while raiding, extorting, or fleecing others for what they need. They entrench themselves in an area, filling it with traps and hidden fortifications, while sinking tunnels deep into the earth in search of resources that can help to fill their arsenals. Iron for blades and armour is obviously prized, but copper and tin for cannons and saltpetre for blasting powder are likewise prime targets. Often they will use captives to work these claims and the foundries they feed, as the cultists often consider drugework below the dignity of born warriors such as themselves. 

Adventure Hooks

An uptick in disappearances puts the party on the trail of a slaving operation, funneling bodies into a band of backwoods cultists working a hidden gem mine. After they’ve cleared the bastards out, the party might have the opportunity to make the operation legitimate if they put in the elbow grease and promise the authorities their due. 

The local lord thought he was very clever, operating a hidden foundry out of the old dwarven ruins to produce weapons and artillery in preparation for a campaign against his liege. As it turns out the reason the ruins were abandoned in the first place was because they sat on top of a magical layline, and all the smelting and quenching has attracted the attention of several rogue elementals.  Now there’s a scattering of earth-hulks marauding through the countryside and a team of mephits who’re flitting about with a cannon in tow. 

After suffering a crushing defeat, the general of the imperial army fell back into the mountains, her forces becoming little more than bandits in ensuing years until her scouts came back with news of drakes nesting in the region. Nearly a generation of arduous training and rearing since her defeat, she’s returned to retake the lands she lost with a flight of lesser dragons at her back.. Lands the party just happens to occupy. 

Artsource

[nayeoniiz]

I’m So Sick of Me Too

pairings ❥ jay x fem!reader (ft. eric from the boyz)

point of view ❥ third person, omniscient

warnings ❥ N/A, eventual smut mdni!

genre ❥ angst, slow burn, betrayal, smut

synopsis ❥ after what felt like a sudden breakup with her boyfriend of many years, y/n finds herself holding onto the remaining pieces chipping off of a failed relationship. after wallowing in an isolated self pity, her two best friends convince her to go to a party where she meets the perfect boy to fill the void. unsure if her attraction is genuine or a distraction, y/n has one choice to makeㅡ be with her newfound lover or make it work with her first love.

taglist open!

* ONE

* TWO (TBD.)

ENHYPEN MASTERLIST

[dawnsarchive]

At Your Service - Chapter 5

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Fandom: The Hobbit (Movie)

Pairing: Fili/Reader/Kili

Reader: AFAB

Style: Multi-Chapter (Around 4000 Words a Chapter)

Rating: Mature

Content Warning: N/A

Summary:

They shouldn't trust you. You wouldn't trust you if you experienced what they did. You know things you shouldn't - you know names, places, and events that hadn't even happened yet and something dumped you in a strange forest, face-to-face with a trio of trolls and a company of armed strangers.

Stuck in the middle of a king's quest to reclaim Erebor, you're now navigating a world both familiar and foreign at the same time. Not to mention the growing tension between two brothers who are far too invested in your presence amongst the group. Every step toward the Lonely Mountain is a choice you're making but are you important enough to rewrite a story that already has an ending?

Can you choose between the two Durin brothers? Do you even need to?

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Time followed strangely in Rivendell. Days melted past before you noticed them going; they blended together into a collection of peaceful breakfasts and loud, noise-filled dinners where the dwarves drained the wine supplies dry.

Four days slipped by unnoticed before you realised in a panic that this time of safety would come to an end and you still understood little of this world you were in nor of your companions.

The dwarves were brash, rude, and stubborn. They ignored all advice from others and seemed to have little self-preservation for they frequently engaged in activities that would greatly harm any of another race. You often found yourself watching with a mix of disappointment and good humour whenever they wrestled one another or crafted obscure challenges.

Yet despite that, you had rapidly grown affectionate toward their antics and you laughed along at their poor humour (occasionally at things you didn’t fully understand), joined in on some of the awful dancing that was taught (Bilbo was by far the best in the group), and tried to outdrink them once (you lost miserably).

They still found it unusual to have a human and a hobbit amongst their ranks and they never hesitated to inform you of such.

They were closed to outsiders – similar to just about every race in this world, it would seem – and their trust in you was superficial at best. Though the younger members welcomed you because they greatly trusted the wizard and his opinions, the elder members kept their distance and remained reserved.

Most prominently of which remained Thorin Oakenshield himself.

The king made his opinion on both you and the hobbit clear – you were not welcome members of his party – but whereas he had resigned himself to the use of a burglar, he had not found a use for you.

And it was only a matter of time before he approached you about it.

You spent much of your spare time in the room provided for you; tucked away from elves, wizards, and dwarves alike. It was a lovely room, carved of beautiful white stone and flush with plants that sprouted from the walls themselves. The air was cool and a breeze oft blew through the great windows, bringing with it the sweet scent of pine.

The bed took up most of the room but there was a chaise made of green velvet where you could lounge with the necklace in your palms as you tried to provoke any understanding from it.

You had little time to try for no sooner had you settled and your doorway was darkened by a king who wore his pride as a bristly armour even when he wore casual travelling garments. His very presence bled intimidation into the room even before he spoke.

“The wizard has an idea that it’s up to him who joins my company as we make our way to the Lonely Mountain. He is far from correct about that.”

You sat straighter, nerves ticking in your heart. The king had not breathed a word to you since the first night you met him and you had not imagined that would change given his love of self-isolation.

“I have considered remaining in Rivendell or making my own path,” you said; you were unsure of the best way to speak on this topic with Thorin alone. You hoped through some divine intervention; the wizard may appear to mediate once more but luck was not on your side.

“I would recommend doing so.”

“Gandalf remains sure I have something to add to your journey,” you said.

“He assures me of the same but when I ask for details, he refuses to give them and so I’m left wondering. You are an abysmal fighter – more likely to damage my men before you lay a scratch on our enemies – and you have no discernable skills. How am I to believe you will not die of fright from simply seeing a dragon?”

You bristled at that. You had no idea how you might react to a dragon and you didn’t doubt that your fighting needed work but the sheer arrogance of the king worked its way beneath your skin.

“I have knowledge that you will need,” you said.

“Then share it.”

The words weren’t a request but a command – one that came from a man well-used to getting what he wanted. You almost shared what you knew for fear of disappointing him but Gandalf’s words rang true; of the company, Thorin may be the worst to overshare with.

You knew of his flights of anger and you were not so weak-willed to bow to his demands. The king under the mountain was no king of yours and so you crossed your arms.

“I will not. Not until the time is right and I can be sure it will be well-received.”

His glare deepened and he stepped into the room fully. “I will not invite somebody to join us on such an important journey as this if they cannot provide any benefit. The bounty the dragon sits upon has already been divided equally and the contracts are signed – you shall get none of it. It belongs to the dwarves of Erebor.”

“I have no desire for your treasure,” you said, defensive against such an accusation. “My motives are my own but you can rest assured, I care not for your gold.”

“The race of man has always envied the wealth of the dwarves,” Thorin said. “You have shown no difference from your kin. What other reason would you have to put yourself in danger?”

“I wish to return to my home as you do to yours. Gandalf –“

“I place little concern into what the wizard believes to be true,” he interrupted. “So far he has brought me nothing but a burglar whose talents lie more in gardening and a woman who wields a sword with the proficiency of an infant.”

You glared at him. “I managed to land a hit on your nephew.”

“Only because my nephew seems to think that allowing a woman to hit you with a sword is an appropriate way of flirting with her.”

His words brought an involuntary flush to your cheeks despite the heavy weight of the conversation. You almost asked about that before you remembered the true nature of what he was saying. You neither belonged in the party, nor were you welcome so long as you couldn’t provide something to it.

“I assure you that what I know will help return your mountain to you,” you said. “And I have no plans of stealing from your people.”

“You would not manage it if you tried. The halls of Erebor have been sitting without a true ruler for centuries and we will rectify that. We will restore it to its former greatness, no matter the cost.”

“If you refuse my help, you may find that cost goes beyond what you are willing to pay.”

“I do not need assistance from any, least of all you. If you will not speak freely then you will find yourself unable to continue to travel with us, regardless of the wizard’s wishes.”

You grew frustrated but without Thorin’s approval, you would find no allies amongst his kin. The other dwarves would listen to their king and you would be unable to change the story or discover what strange magic sent you to this location in the first place.

You slowly stood from the chaise; the stone floor cold beneath your feet. Despite the height difference, Thorin’s glare still cowed you somewhat as you approached him and stretched out a hand.

“If you doubt me so much, then allow me to look for knowledge you may seek. I think I can see who it is that hunts you now.”

He stared at your outstretched hand with great scrutiny. “You are a prophet of some sorts?”

“In a way. My visions are partial but they can be focused somewhat. This is why I cannot tell you everything now for some parts of the future must still happen in order for me to know. Even now, I do not guarantee it.”

You rolled the stone necklace around in your palm and prayed that you were not wrong; that the touch was what focused the visions.

He reached out and placed his hand in yours.

The flow of memories was instant and jarring. They ripped from your mind all at once like a film played on fast forward. You watched him on a television screen, curled up in a warm blanket beneath the orange glow of electricity. The scenes before you blended together in an amalgamation of nonsense, unfocused and rushed.

You reached for the remote to pause the film and suddenly, they were no longer on the screen before you. They played out as through your own eyes.

You crouched in a tree while flames licked at the branches beneath your feet hungrily. The heat of the flames warmed your shins and the panic in your throat burned. There was somebody beside you, their arm wrapped around your shoulders though you could not see who it was.

And beneath you, an enormous orc approached his quarry.

He rode atop a ferocious warg with white, matted hair and enormous jaws that snapped and drooled over the ground. His skin, pale and awful, gleamed in the burning light of the fire. You knew who he was – the name came to you as you watched his approach.

Azog the Defiler. The end of the Durin line.

You startled from the memory, your skin sweat-coated and your body shivering from fear as though you had not watched it but lived it.

Thorin simply stared at you. Waiting.

Panic laced through your veins. You swallowed the lump around your throat. “The one who chases you is a pale orc, far larger than the rest of his kin. Azog is the name he goes by.”

Thorin’s expression turned furious and a cloud of anger erupted from somewhere deep inside. “Lies!” he spat and his voice boomed in the small room. “That foul orc is long dead! I should know for I am the one that killed him!”

You shook your head for though the memories flickered, you knew that this was true. “He hunts you for revenge upon your family line. It will not be long before he catches up.”

He shook his head with ferocity. “I saw his injury and watched his pitiful retreat. None could have survived something such as that. If you were truly a prophet as you claim then you would know such a thing!”

“I would swear it to be true on my life.”

“Then your life is clearly not worth very much. When we depart, you shall remain here and never darken my company with such falsehoods again!”

He stormed from the room with a dramatic march and with it, he stole all the energy from the room. You collapsed onto the edge of the bed, your arms shaking though not from the king’s fierce shouting. Those memories had been too realistic. You had been there. You had felt whoever sat behind you trembling.

And now your plan had failed.

If Thorin wouldn’t trust your words about this orc, he would believe you on nothing else and you wouldn’t remain with the company long enough to be proven right. This was bad but at least now you knew what created the memories and before they could fade, you would write them down though preferably with air. This room felt too claustrophobic and tight.

You made your way toward the outskirts of Rivendall with a tremble in your step. The elves watched you with judgement in their gazes but you paid them no attention.

Where the forest reached toward the city’s boundaries, you made your way to the base of thick pine tree where foliage crowded tightly at the bank a stream. Here, it was peaceful and quiet, and here you could finally draw your legs to your chest and shiver.

The interaction left you shaking in more ways than one. Great was Thorin’s anger – it struck fear into your heart – but so did the fear of being forced away from the company and the story that you knew. Without your memories, you knew nothing, had nothing, and would quickly find yourself lost in this world.

But if nothing else, you would write something down for those that didn’t deserve the ending that would come to them.

You took a deep breath and began to write.

You wrote about the orc that chased them and his son whose awful face flashed behind your eyelids when you blinked. You wrote about the gold sickness that haunted the Durin line and wrote about a battle that would bring ruin and destruction. You wrote about the dragon that would wake and the flames that roared upon a city – turned wooden buildings to ash in the face of the terrible beast’s anger.

Kíli who fell at the hands of an orc, Fíli who fell from a tower and Thorin… Thorin whose death you couldn’t remember but whose funeral you saw from above; his hands cradled around the glowing stone he loved so much.

There weren’t enough details but if you would not remain with the company, it would have to be enough. You would give it to Bilbo – for amongst the group, you trusted the hobbit the most – and then you would find your way forward.

You closed the journal and raised your head as footsteps alerted you to the arrival of not one but three dwarves who looked mildly concerned as they made their way across the grass to where you sat.

Though you were not far from Rivendell, it surprised you that they had found you at all.

“Uncle was ranting a little so we thought we’d come and see what he was going on about,” Kíli said as he approached.

His smile was infectious and it calmed the panic in your heart somewhat. His hair was wet as though he had been in the baths and a few strands clung to his cheeks in a devilishly handsome way. It was enough to relax you somewhat for you found you rather enjoyed Kíli’s company.

“Oh, yes,” you said and you forced yourself to remain calm. “He would rather I take my own path moving forward rather than remaining with your company.”

Balin gave you a kind, expectant expression rather like one a father may use while training a particularly stubborn puppy. “I heard. Indeed, that’s why I thought I would come and speak to you before you did something stupid like listen to him. Give it a few days and you may find Thorin’s mind has changed.”

You snorted a little when you tried to hold in your laugh and put your journal down beside you. “He seemed rather serious.”

“He always does,” Balin said and he made his way to sit down beside you. “Thorin Oakenshield will make for a fantastic king but the traits that will benefit him as a ruler of Erebor can make him quite insufferable in other ways. I am sure you have noticed but he holds little love for the race of man. What is it that you told him that offended him so greatly?”

“I warned him of a danger that chases your group,” you said. “He does not believe my information to be true.”

Balin inclined his head with a slight smile. “Aye, he likes to learn things the hard way. It’s a family trait, you see.”

“Hey!” Kíli complained defensively but his brother smacked his shoulder.

“He’ll come around,” Balin assured you. “He is simply defensive of the treasures of Erebor and fears any threat to them. They have been stolen from him once before and he fears losing them again.”

“I have no wish for gold or treasure nor do I plan to pry any from the maw of a dragon,” you implored the older dwarf as though he may argue your case. “I understand your king does not believe that there are other motivations out there but I assure you that it is the case.”

“Gold is of great importance to many of our race. It is hard for us to imagine there are others who do not see as much value in it.”

“I have little use for it,” you said.

In honesty, that may change soon. You hadn’t thought of such a thing but with no wealth to your name, you may struggle when you ventured out by yourself. At home, you had to pay for shelter but you didn’t believe a card would work in this world and now that you thought of it harder, you could not remember fully how cards even functioned.

“He says that you claim Azog has returned,” Fíli spoke and you turned your attention up to the golden prince, his expression expectant but not disbelieving.

“It’s a substantial claim,” Balin said.

You nodded. “It is a true one. I cannot prove it but should you not be careful, the orcs will catch up once you leave this place. He targets Thorin and he will not stop until your king is dead.”

“He wishes to destroy the entire bloodline,” Balin corrected and he ran his hand over his beard slowly, deep in thought. “If what you say is true, then he will want to continue what he began so many years ago. He will want his revenge.”

“Do you believe me?” you asked.

“I see no reason not to,” he said with a shake of his head. “You gain nothing from lying about a warning such as this. In time, Thorin will come to see that too. The only question lassie, is what else do you know about that you haven’t shared?”

You pressed your lips together and rested your hand on the journal beside you. “I can’t share anything more yet. It’s not the right time.”

He had more questions and indeed, he planned to ask them, but he had no chance for the bushes to your left shifted. You barely had the time to turn your head to see what it may be when quicker than a flash, the massive, writhing body of a serpent lunged at you.

A head large enough to swallow you whole snapped shut around your leg. Purple scales twisted around you before you could do anything – its powerful form wrapped around your body in a vice-grip and squeezed the air from your lungs. A gasp stuttered from your lungs as you thrashed.

It was a truly enormous beast, easily several meters in length and still wet from the nearby rivers where it made its home. You had one arm free but any attempt at prying the creature from your skin failed and stars were rapidly appearing in your vision.

The cold press of its scales against your skin sent fear bolting through your heart.

You couldn’t reach your sword. It sat on your waist, pressed into the snake’s side but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get to it.

Somebody was yelling. You tried to grab the snake’s head but its body tightened and your ribs screamed beneath the pressure.

An arrow twanged into the serpent’s neck and burning pain laced through your thigh, right beside where your nails scratched at its scales uselessly. It didn’t release. If anything, it’s muscles constricted; pulled you to the side into an unnatural position.

Then with a firm slice, its head was separated from its body and it collapsed around you, heavy and cold.

You struggled to pull in a loud breath and choked on the oxygen itself. Your entire body screamed at you; everything hurt and burned and you slowly looked down at the snake.

It was a stunning creature with beautiful iridescent scales that shone in the light. Four, maybe five meters long and thicker than your leg, it must have lived a great many years before it chose the wrong prey. Had it not attacked you first, you would almost be sad to see it fallen like this.

Fíli knelt beside you, concern heavy on his brow as he helped you sit up. “Are you alright?”

Blood dripped from his blade. The snake’s head was still latched onto your thigh, its teeth sunk deep into the flesh there. You reached down to pry it off, wincing as the curved fangs pulled out slowly.

“I think so,” you said. “Thank you.”

He grabbed the heavy body of the reptile and heaved it to the side. Kíli hurried to help him in unfurling it from where it had wrapped around your torso but as the two pried it back, you realised where the majority of the pain was coming from with a loud yelp.

“Aye, boy, do you see why I told you not to shoot!” Balin snapped, his voice filled with a stress you hadn’t heard before.

Kíli’s arrow had pierced through the snake’s neck, right beneath the head, and straight into the flesh of your thigh. It pinned the great creature to your leg and as they moved the body, it pulled on the head with a sharp, screaming pain.

Kíli dropped the part of the snake he was holding, mortified. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t think it would go through…”

“We’ll have to take to Óin before we get this out,” Balin said. “Come on now, help me.”

He chopped off the back of the arrow and together the three of them managed to pull the snake’s body free, leaving the projectile lodged in your thigh. The entire head had buried itself into the muscle; a thin trickle of blood ran down your skin, nothing in comparison to the bite wound but burning with a far greater pain.

Kíli went pale as he looked at it, almost as though he may pass out.

“Can you walk?” Fíli asked.

“I can try.”

You, in fact, could not walk. From the moment you got up, you immediately collapsed and slammed your shoulder into the tree before Fíli stepped forward. He wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you. The height difference made it awkward but with a slight adjustment, you managed to stay on your feet.

“I’m sorry,” Kíli said again.

“At least we’re not too far,” Balin said with a shake of his head. “I’ll go find Óin. You two help her get back over this bridge.”

The old dwarf hurried off faster than you had seen him move before. You stared at the path back over the twisted bridge and felt as though you were looking up at an impassable mountain. Mossy cobblestone never looked so traitorous for you knew that one misstep would bring unimaginable pain.

“I can’t walk fast,” you warned Fíli.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured. “We’ll go as fast as you can and should you not be able to walk anymore, I can hold your weight.”

You weren’t sure about that but you trust him. Kíli shoved the body of the snake to the side so you could limp back along the grass. He hovered to your side, hesitant and uncertain how he could help.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

“It’s okay,” you said through gritted teeth. “Thank you for trying to save me.”

“I just didn’t think,” he said and ran his hands through his hair, his grip tight enough that it looked as though he may pull it out. “That’s a hunting arrow too so it’s not meant to come out easily.”

“I’m fine,” you lied because you were many things but fine was not one of them. “It’s not even that deep.”

“The entire head is in your leg!”

“Maybe the elves have some magic,” you hissed through gritted teeth. You had reached the cobblestone path and its unevenness made the stars dancing in your vision worse than before. Fíli slowed to steady you, his shoulder digging into your ribs as you leaned on him more than before.

“Balin told you not to shoot,” Fíli said, his voice accusatory. “Why didn’t you listen?”

“I thought I’d hit the head and it would let go.”

“I already had my sword in hand. I could have handled it.”

“How was I to know you’d move fast enough? It was going to eat her!”

One of the stones beneath your feet was uneven and you yelped as it slipped beneath you. Kíli immediately rushed to your free side, his hands helping you before you collapsed onto the bridge. The pain pulsed through your head; your thoughts struggled to form as though fighting through a thick fog.

Balin met you on the other side of the bridge with what looked like half the citizens of Rivendell – elves and dwarves alike. They whisked you into the nearest building where a stone bed waited, the mineral freezing against your clammy skin.

Óin immediately got to work on the arrow while an elf with long red hair and a kind face rubbed a balm over the bite. He wrapped a bandage around it swiftly and gave you a pitying nod.

“The snakes lurk in the water at times,” he explained in a soft, genial voice. “They are not venomous so you don’t need to worry about further damage.”

You dropped your head back (thankfully somebody had added a pillow beneath your head) and stared up at the marble ceiling. Stars danced in front of your eyes but at least you could relax not having to walk anymore.

“This is nonsense,” Dwalin’s deep voice grumbled from somewhere on your left. “When you shoot at targets, you don’t use enough strength to make an arrow stick but when you put an arrow into a serpent, you can shoot hard enough to go through her too?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Kíli whined in protest.

“I’m alright,” you tried to reassure him.

“I’m sorry.”

If he kept apologising you were going to stick the arrow in him. You were getting quite annoyed at the amount of noise in this room and his apologies, while appreciated, were part of that.

You had invertedly gathered a small crowd with what felt like every person in Rivendell pushing their way in to see what was going on. The dwarves alone took up the majority of the space with Kíli hovering toward the back while Fíli remained by the head of the bed.

You screamed unexpectedly when Óin grasped the shaft of the arrow and ripped it out with one movement. The pain bolted through you far worse than anything you had felt before, made all the worse when blood gushed from the wound and he immediately shoved bandages against it; the pressure burned through your entire body.

Fíli rested a hand on your shoulder, his voice a soft grumble close to your ear. “It’s okay,” he reassured you. “It’s okay. It’ll be over soon.”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Óin grumbled. “I’ve seen worse injuries in children when they’re playing.”

“At least warn me before you yank something out of my leg!” you snapped at him.

He waved his hand dismissively and if you could have, you may have hit him for it. The pain was making your head swim. You half wanted him to just cut your leg off at this point and get it over with but whatever balm he began to rub on the injury was at least starting to make the area numb a little.

You turned your head to Fíli and looked for some distraction from the pain. “Dagger didn’t seem to work well against snakes.”

He chuckled a little. “Did you even try to use it?”

“I couldn’t reach it.”

“Maybe you should keep it somewhere closer to your hand then. You could have saved yourself from a whole lot of pain.”

“It’s in my left pocket. Do you think you could stab Óin for me?”

“Maybe when he’s done fixing you.”

You didn’t mean it for you greatly appreciated the dwarf’s help if not his poor bedside manner – something you were sure Óin knew because he laughed at your request.

“If I fix this well enough, you can stop crying and do it yourself,” he told you.

You were going to tell him it was a promise but a firm, rumbling voice demanding to know what happened shut you up. You turned your head to look toward the entrance and met Thorin’s eyes in a slight delirious haze.

“Kíli shot our human in the leg,” Bofur answered and he sounded like he was cackling.

Thorin’s glare deepened as though you were solely responsible for what happened. You considered throwing him a very rude gesture but decided it was probably for the better that you didn’t.

“What did you do?” he demanded.

“I didn’t mean to,” Kíli repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. “She was attacked by a snake and I tried to save her!”

“By shooting her?”

“I hit the snake too!”

“Don’t worry,” Óin said. “She’ll be fine within the week. Less if she takes it easy! Probably won’t slow us down at all when we venture on.”

You winced and waited for Thorin’s correction but none came. He didn’t mention anything about his demand for you to halt your journey with them; he stood silently at the entrance of the room, his expression stony and judgmental.

Maybe Balin was right and he had come to his senses or the lure of more knowledge had finally convinced him.

You had no idea what Thorin was thinking but now that you thought of what you wished to share… your journal still sat alongside the river with a thousand secrets clutched in its pages and if that fell into the wrong hands...

“I had a book,” you said to Fíli.

“I’ll retrieve it for you.”

“Whatever you do, do not read it,” you pleaded. “If you do, it will put us all in danger.”

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