#nothing in my heart is hoping that you come back

[dreamsteddie]

Wowza. Part one blew up way more than I thought it would so here! Part two! I do have more thoughts about this so there might be a couple more parts to come. We'll see ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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Eddie takes half a second to consider just not answering. Maybe throwing his phone away and never going back to the restaurant they went to last night so he never has to confront whatever it is that's about to happen. Maybe even fleeing the country and living alone on a sheep farm with no friends and go relationships ever again so something like this never happens again.

But then he thinks of Steve. Kind, funny Steve with the bright eyes and soft skin who looked at Eddie like he could fall in love with him and he knows that whatever comes next, Steve deserves for Eddie to see it through with him.

New Message: Steve H.

Hey

Just that one word sends Eddie's heart into his throat. He can see that Steve is still typing, those little ellipses of doom popping on and off the screen. Realistically, Steve probably doesn't know what happened, right? Eddie's pretty sure Steve wasn't in on it and it's been less than an hour since Eddie himself found out, so probably not.

Steve H: Gareth called me

Fuck.

Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck.

If Eddie's heart was in his throat at the first text, the second one has it dropping through his body and out of his goddamned ass. It's not that he doesn't want Steve to know. He was always planning to tell him, he was just hoping he could be the one to do it. Gareth being a little shit and calling Steve first was not part of the plan.

Steve H: He told be about the prank. I'm sorry if I wasn't what you expected and you were just being nice. We can pretend it never happened. No hard feelings.

Eddie slams his head into his pillow. This is such a cluster fuck he can hardly bring himself to look at the text but he needs to come up with some kind of response, like, yesterday if he wants any chance of keeping the man of his dreams from running for the hills because apparently, Eddie's friends are trying to destroy his life. He takes a deep breath and starts typing.

Eddie: Hey, I'm so sorry about that. I just found out about what they did an hour ago at practice. I didn't think they would just call you out of the blue like that, I was just about to text you.

Not completely true, but Eddie was going to text him about it, just after screaming into his pillow and making a couple Vudu dolls first.

Eddie: For what it's worth I really do like you and I would love to still take you out on that second date, but I understand if my friends scared you off and you want nothing to do with me. I know it's fucked up.

It takes a minute for Steve to respond, the typing bubbles ebbing and flowing as Steve types and retypes whatever it is he wants to say. Eddie is about ready to call it a wash and start googling sheep farms for sale in Ireland when a new text comes in, dispelling all thoughts of learning to sheer wool.

Steve H: Are you sure?

And fuck if that doesn't hurt his heart. Eddie has spent all of two and a half hours with Steve, he's a virtual stranger, but Eddie can swear he can feel all of Steve's secondhand insecurity through that one lonely sentence. Before he even registers what he's asking, he send a quick reply.

Eddie: Can I Facetime you?

Before Eddie can try to rethink his decision, his screen lights up with a notification. Steve is calling him.

Eddie scrambles to answer, fumbling his phone a little in his haste and almost missing the call completely. He manages to get it on the last ring, breathing heavily in a way he knows can't be flattering.

All thoughts about his lack of dexterity fly out the window when he looks into his screen. On their date, Steve was perfectly put together. Hair meticulously done, clothes freshly pressed, and a light sheen of lipgloss accentuating the perfect curve of his mouth. While Steve is still beautiful through the lens of his camera, it's clear that he's been crying. His eyes are red and a little puffy, hair out of order in a way Eddie thinks is probably unusual for him, and Eddie can see that he's wearing a well-loved beige hoodie.

"Hi," Steve says, waving a shy hand almost the same way he had last night.

"Hey sweetheart," Eddie says, keeping his voice low and gentle, desperate to soothe Steve however he can through the distance of their phones.

For a minute they just look at each other, neither one knowing what to say in a situation like this. Eddie sees Steve gearing up to say something, but he cuts in before he starts. There's something he needs to say while Steve can see him face to face.

"I'm really sorry about what happened!" He says, much lounder than he intended. "My friends were being dicks. I haven't dated in a while and instead of being normal fucking people they set up this whole stupid prank but I swear I wasn't in on it!"

Something about what he says draws a small smile from the corner of Steve's mouth, so Eddie keeps talking. "Besides, if they wanted to prank me they should have picked someone that isn't a literal fucking model in disguise. There wasn't a chance in hell I wasn't going to beg you for that second date."

At that, Steve gives a little chuckle and it lifts Eddie's heart from where it'd fallen onto the floor and puts in back in his chest 10 times lighter than before.

"Jesus, are you always such a flirt Munson?" he says.

"Only when the boys are especially pretty," Eddie responds.

Steve gives another little laugh at that before sobering up. He gives Eddie a long look through the phone, and Eddie lets him.

"Are you sure you don't want to just call it quits here man? Gareth was pretty adamant that I'm not the kind of guy you usually go for. I don't want you to feel like you have to humor me out of kindness." There's a forced flippancy to Steve's words that Eddie knows well from his own Munson Coping Strategies Handbook. Steve is trying to give him an out, but Eddie can tell that he doesn't want to.

For the first time since this all started, Eddie is well and truly mad. Gareth and Jeff had absolutely no business poking around in his love life in the first place, but now they've reached out to the guy Eddie already told them he liked to what? Tell him never mind actually, we don't think you're the right guy for our friend even though he told us very explicitly how into you he is.

Eddie lets all the frustration, anger, and tenuous hope building up in his chest fuel his reply. This one has to count, he can feel it. It's a charisma saving throw with the whole campaign on the line. He can't miss this one.

"Honestly Steve, if you asked me two days ago what I was looking for in a partner, I probably would have said I wanted to date another alternative metalhead or punk who likes playing DnD and getting high on the weekend." Eddie can see Steve's shoulders slump as his eyes dart away, but he pushes on, determined to make his point.

"But, I haven't had as good a time as we had last night in a really long time." Steve looks back up, eyes alight with the same tentative hope Eddie himself is channeling. "I think you're funny and interesting, and you have the absolute worst takes on ice cream flavors, and you're hot as hell. Like, seriously the hottest guy I've ever seen in real life."

Steve smiles, the edges of his eyes crinkling.

Critical success.

"So, about that second date."

-------

Tag List

@wheneverfeasible @the-dark-hearts @sofadofax @wrenisfangirling @whatfinestandsfor @lilpomelito @raisedbylibrarians @ollyxar @mugloversonly @xxbottlecapx @hezaaxdexangelous @kimsnooks @that-one-gay-crow

[godsfavdarling]

waiting for the day to end

my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You and Spencer come back to his apartment, and your boyfriend’s drunken state brings old wounds to the surface. words: 2,3k warnings: angst, panic attack, drunk Spencer, mentions reader's ex-bf who was an alcoholic, no y/n a/n: I'm imagining later seasons Spence but I am not gonna yuck anybody's yum!

You smoothly place the keys in the lock of his apartment and quickly turn them twice to unlock the door. The dark room abruptly brightens when you flick the light switch on.

Spencer, who has been leaning against the wall near you, stumbles into the room right behind you.

The door slams shut behind him, the thud reverberating through the room.

You flinch, spinning around at the jarring sound.

“Sorry,” Spencer mumbles, a bit unsteady.

He throws himself onto the armchair with a heavy sigh, his head lolling back as he closes his eyes.

You murmur under your breath, “I’ll get you some water,” and head toward the kitchen, your heels clacking against the floor. 

In the quiet, you take a few deep breaths to steady yourself before filling two glasses of water. 

When you bring them back, you hand one to Spencer, urging him to drink. He gulps it down immediately, nearly draining the glass in one go.

You’ve never really seen him like this.

Spencer rarely—almost never—drinks. But tonight, it’s obvious just how far gone he is. He’s coherent enough to hold himself up, and his words still make sense, but you can tell he isn’t fully present. 

He was already fading hours ago, just an hour into dinner at Rossi's when his team had convinced him to relax and celebrate Garcia’s birthday with a few drinks.

Now, he’s staring off into space, eyes glassy, a faint smile still lingering from whatever joke had last drifted through his mind. You swallow, feeling the anxiety tug at you.

You felt it early on. But you tried to ignore it.

Spencer was different. 

He was responsible and careful. He liked being sober and in control. He was someone who avoided excess.

He was not a drunk. 

You knew all this and tried to stay rational. 

After his third drink, though, all that rationality flew out the window. With the last gulp of his third drink, you decided to excuse yourself, claiming you weren't feeling well, and spent most of the evening outside. The poker game was so intense that no one really questioned you or bothered to check on you.

You had thought, knowing Spencer’s sharp observation skills, that he would come find you shortly and ask what was wrong. He always did. He could always tell when something was off and always wanted to know. But tonight, he didn’t.

You waited, each minute stretching longer than the last, hoping he’d realize and come find you, that he’d be his usual self. But as the laughter and clinking glasses carried on from inside, you realized he was somewhere you couldn’t reach him tonight.

As you watched him now, slouched in the armchair with you far away from him sitting on the edge of the couch, your heart ached. 

This wasn’t the Spencer you knew. He was lost in his thoughts, barely acknowledging your presence. You handed him your glass of water, and he took it with a mumbled "thanks", sipping it more slowly this time.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you finally asked, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He looked up at you, his eyes a bit clearer but still distant. “Yeah, just... tired,” he replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You nodded, but the anxiety still sat inside you.

Stop!

Spencer is not him! 

He is nothing like him!

You keep staring at him, fidgeting with your fingers and the hem of your black velvet dress, feeling helpless as you try to guess what he wants. 

Is he going to stay here for a while? Does he need more water? Is he going to shower, or maybe just head to bed?

Finally, Spencer glances up, his gaze focusing on you as if for the first time tonight. His brows knit together as he notices the anxious look in your eyes. 

"What’s wrong?" he asks, his voice soft but tinged with confusion.

You swallow, feeling a rush of emotions you’ve been holding back all evening. He’s looking at you now, really looking, like he usually does, but something about his unsteady, drunken state makes you hesitate. 

He’s here, yet somehow not fully here, and you’re not sure how to answer.

You force a smile, shrugging as if it’s nothing, but your heart pounds. "Just… tired, I guess."

Spencer’s gaze doesn’t waver, and you know he sees through your answer, even in his state. 

Now he sees. 

He’s silent, watching you with a slight frown like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. The quiet stretches between you, heavy and thick.

You glance away, twisting the hem of your dress tighter. 

"Maybe you should get some rest," you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. You try to keep the tremor out, but it’s there. A lot of it.

He’s never seen you like this—not this vulnerable, this close to tears. You’ve not been dating that long. A lot of things are still unknown, unsaid, unshared and the toxic, drunk but highly functioning, unpredictable boyfriends have not yet come out in any conversation.

"I’ll be fine," Spencer mutters, rubbing his face with one hand as he sinks further into the chair.

His words are gentle, but they’re not the reassurance you’re aching for. 

You wish he’d tell you he’d never do this again, that he understands why this is hard for you. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, distant and hazy.

A lump forms in your throat as the silence presses down on you. You stand up, needing some distance, and force a tight smile. "I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll go… take a walk or something."

As you turn to leave, Spencer reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft but unsteady. "It’s like 2 AM. You’re not going anywhere alone."

You stop, frozen, a tightness forming in your chest. You want to say it’s fine, that you just need space, but the words feel like they’re stuck in your throat. Instead, he continues, unaware of how badly his presence is affecting you right now.

“Let’s take a walk together. It’ll help,” he offers, his voice tinged with concern, though still a little slurred.

You turn sharply, frustration and something darker bubbling up in your chest. “No!” you snap, louder than you intended, the word echoing in the quiet room. You instantly regret it, but the hurt is too raw, too overwhelming. You try to swallow the sudden surge of emotion, but it’s too much.

You finally realize that his hand in on your arm, and the realization hits like a cold wave. You feel an intense rush of discomfort. You don’t want him near you right now. 

The feeling of his fingers on your skin, even though they’re meant to comfort, feels wrong.

You can’t breathe. You can’t handle his touch, not like this, not after everything that’s happened. You jerk away, backing up, your heart hammering.

Without a word, you turn and storm toward the bathroom. You lock the door behind you and lean against it for a second, trying to steady your breath. 

The walls feel like they’re closing in, the anger and fear swirling inside you until you can hardly tell the difference between the two.

It’s not his fault, you think, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside your chest.

He’s just drunk, he’ll be sober soon, but... why does it still feel so wrong?

You press your hands to your face, feeling the tears already starting to form.

I’m not that person anymore. I’m not going to let this take me back. I can’t let it.

Your thoughts race, but you force yourself to focus, turning the shower on. The sound of the water helps. 

You quickly but clumsily step out of the dress and underwear, leaving them in a heap on the tiles. 

You step under the hot spray, closing your eyes, letting the warmth soothe the tension in your muscles.

Just wash it off, just wash it off, you tell yourself as if the water could cleanse more than just your skin.

You’re lost in the sensation of the water for long minutes when there’s a gentle knock on the bathroom door. 

You freeze. Your heart skipping a beat.

“Hey… uh… I really need to pee,” Spencer calls out, his voice even softer than before.

You swallow, fighting the panic rising in your throat, and quickly shut off the water. You wrap a towel around your body and open the door just enough for you to slip past him. Without a word, you go into the bedroom and gracelessly put on one of the shirts you left in his drawer.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow everything will be fine, you think, climbing into bed, curling up under the covers. 

You just want this day to end. You need it to end.

Then it hits you—you’re in his bed.

You stand up and then sit again on the edge.

You should go home. You should be in your own bed. You want to get up, gather your things, get dressed, and leave, but you're paralyzed. You're overwhelmed. You can’t breathe. You can’t move.

Then Spencer walks into the room, his gaze landing on you. As if he can read the turmoil in your mind, he says softly, "It's late. Stay here tonight. Take the bed. I’ll take the couch."

You don’t say anything, unable to find the words.

He pauses, watching you for a moment, before quietly pulling his pajamas from the closet and heading into the bathroom.

You just need to sleep. You’ll sleep it off, and when you wake up, things will make sense again. Maybe Spencer will apologize. 

Apologize for what?

He didn’t do anything wrong.

He’ll be sober. Everything will go back to normal.

But sleep doesn’t come. The bed feels cold, and the silence in the room is suffocating. You can’t shake the thoughts in your head.

What if he doesn’t remember?

What if he won’t leave it and you’ll have to explain and he’ll be angry?

Why are you angry?

Why are you upset?

Just as you're about to give up on sleep altogether, you hear the soft creak of the door opening. Spencer slips into the room quietly, his footsteps hesitant. He walks to the bed, sitting down beside you without saying anything at first.

"Are you asleep?" he asks quietly, his voice gentle, almost too careful. You feel his gaze on you, even though you’re facing the window, your back to him.

You don’t answer at first. You don’t want to talk to him right now. You don’t want to explain why everything feels broken. You don’t want him to ask.

But you can feel him there, his presence. 

Finally, he speaks again, his voice low but steady. “Please... can we talk? I don't wanna go to bed with you upset and angry.”

You don’t move, staring into the dark. You wish you could say the right thing. You wish you could fix it, but all you feel is a dull ache in your chest, and the thought that maybe nothing will ever be the same again.

Spencer’s hand reaches out, his fingers trembling slightly as he hesitates for a moment before gently moving toward you. "Hey, I—" His voice cracks, and you can hear the sorrow in it, the regret, the helplessness.

But as his arms come closer, something inside you recoils. You can’t have him near you right now. Not like this. Not when everything feels so wrong.

You flinch, turning away from him instinctively, the words coming out before you even have a chance to stop them. “Please don’t touch me.”

The words hang between you like a heavyweight. 

Spencer freezes, his hand hovering in mid-air, and for a second, everything is still. You can hear his breathing — shallow, uneven — as if he’s trying to understand, trying to process what just happened.

You don’t want him to feel hurt, but you can’t help it. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like a raw nerve, and his touch, even if it's meant to comfort, feels suffocating.

“Okay,” Spencer finally says, his voice small, resigned. He pulls his hand back slowly, as though giving you space to breathe. 

You don’t look at him. You can’t. 

“I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice distant now, like he’s trying to find his footing again. “I just... I’m not sure what happened. I know hurt you. I don’t know how but I’m sorry.”

The silence lingers, thick and uncomfortable, wrapping itself around both of you. Spencer hesitates for a long moment, unsure of what to do or say next. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t lift yours. 

Finally, he clears his throat softly.

“I’ll... I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” he says, his voice gentle and careful like he’s trying not to disturb the fragile air between you.

“It’s okay. If you want to talk... or anything... just come and tell me. I’ll be here.”

You don’t say anything. You still don’t look at him. But you can hear the sincerity in his voice, the aching honesty of it.

If only his words, his willingness to be there even when you’ve pushed him away could make things better.

But you don’t answer him, because you don’t have the strength to. You don’t know what to say.

Spencer sighs quietly, almost like a final surrender, and then you hear his footsteps moving away from you.

The door opens and closes softly behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence of the room once more.

Spencer’s words echo in your mind, but they don’t bring comfort. Not yet. 

[eupheme]

Not to be the little gremlin obsessed with Chappell Roan BUT… reader thinking Logan is too cool to want a proper relationship with them, so when things get physical they insist things are just “casual” in order to protect themselves from getting hurt. But secretly you’re in love with each other, so honestly, neither of you want things to be casual at all… (mutual pining my beloved) please & thank you!! Love you!

ahh hi hi avo I LOVE this song, and this request, and you - I could so see this being a situation that Logan and reader find themselves in. I had so much fun writing this, I hope you like it! (I added a couple winks to the lyrics as well.) 💖 thank you so much for sending this to me!!!

casual | variant!logan howlett x f!reader

1.2k | posessive!logan, fwb(???), use of alcohol, mutual pining, references to oral sex and PiV.

It doesn’t matter that your heart flips when you look at him. It’s Logan. It’s just casual.

It certainly feels like a dream, watching your worlds collide.

The heft of Logan’s palm fitting into your friends as he shakes their hand - the five of you squeezed into your usual booth in the corner of the bar.

You’d say the past couple weeks had seemed that way, as well. A late-night dose of bravery spiraling into something so raw and intense and real, that you feel like you could choke on it.

Even now, there’s heat in your cheeks as your eyes flick his way. Something stirring in your chest at the way his other arm slings across the back of the booth almost possessively.

But like all dreams, there comes a moment where you have to wake up.

Because you know it’s not.

Because you know your feelings aren’t requited. How could they be, when it’s Logan you’re talking about?

A legend.

A lone wolf.

Someone important, someone whose name carries a weight. Who saved the world, from what Wade tells you.

And you’re - you.

So even if you know what he looks like beneath that flannel, know what his mouth feels like when it presses against yours - what he sounds like, when he comes - you know that this is nothing.

It’s casual. A distraction, for both of you.

And if that’s how it has to be, then you’ll do your best to show him you’re cool with it.

You just hadn’t expected this moment to come so soon. It had been a genuine offer, your “you wanna come with?” when the hour rolled around for your weekly trivia night.

Not thinking his head would cock to the side. The look he’d give you - that arched brow, as his fingers splayed out across your bare hip. Still crowded together on your couch, sweat-dewed.

The “sure, sweetheart” that slipped out.

And now you’re introducing him as your friend - that quick history you’ve perfected - rattling off the “you know, Wade from work’s roommate” even though Wade didn’t work at the dealership anymore.

He had made enough of an impression that none of your friends had forgotten.

And you ignore the bitter jolt in your stomach, when all Logan does is hum.

You think you must have assumed right.

He doesn’t correct you.

Logan quickly solidifies himself as an asset to the team. He gets a lot of the history questions that you’ve always struggled with. A shy quirk of his lips when your friends cheer, and you get swept along with it.

His hand ending up on your thigh along the way. Squeezing, when you chime in. Almost as if forgetting - it’s easy to, when you’re having fun like this.

A low rasp in your ear, when the host takes a break.

“Lemme get you another.”

You can only nod, as he eases out - taking your glass with him.

It only takes a second, before MJ’s hand slaps down on yours.

“That’s Logan?” She hisses - leaning forward, “The one who-”

“Yes.” You cut her off, ignoring the sideways glance her boyfriend gives you.

You never should have told her about that.

Had a hard enough time climbing into your car without thinking about it, yourself - the way he had man-handled you in the passenger seat. Thighs thrown over broad shoulders.

Fingers twined in his hair, as he made you moan in the dark parking garage. Too eager to make it up to your apartment.

She frowns, the words petering out, “But I thought-”

Your teeth worry at your lower lip.

“Yeah. Me too.” You sigh.

MJ knows how much you like him.

Really like him - butterflies, and everything. How it’s been years since you felt this way - slipping from you during that rushed phone call at 6 am the morning after your first night together.

Her eyebrows raise, and it’s a look you know well.

“It’s, you know.” Your hand waves, “It’s casual. It’s-”

It’s easier, this way.

Maybe if you keep repeating it, it won’t hurt as much when he moves on.

The look she shoots you is one of pity, just as a drink is set down in front of you.

Your teeth clicking against each other as the words are swallowed. Forcing a smile as Logan slips back in the booth next to you.

The next round starts a moment after, and it’s a welcome reprieve.

You miss the way his eyes narrow, as yours fix firmly on scorecard in front of you.

But you don’t miss the way his hands stay folded on top of the table, for the rest of the night.

You suppose he must have remembered where he was.

“You wanna come up?”

He lingers outside your apartment door, hands jammed into his pockets. That look from the bar is back - all dark, narrowed eyes.

A low sound in his throat, close to a scoff.

“That what you want, sweetheart?”

Your eyebrows raise, “Yeah. I do, I mean-, that’s what we usually do, right?”

He’s spent just about every night at your apartment. His things still scattered across your room. A leather jacket slung across the chair that’s tucked against your vanity.

Logan’s lips twist at the edges, eyes dropping.

“Suppose we do.” Those hands slip from his pocket, crossing over his chest, “Back when I thought we knew what we were doing. But now…”

His head shakes. A tick in his jaw.

Your stomach drops.

“What do you mean?”

Logan huffs, “The bar, baby. Is that how you really feel?”

A step closer, until he’s caging you in. Voice dropping, rough and low - near gritted out.

“Does this,” His fingers flick between your chest and his, “feel casual to you?”

Your heartbeat gallops behind your ribs.

“I thought-,” You manage, “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

He’s too close, now. The dip of his head, those eyes burning in their shades of brown and gold.

“Now, why would you think that?”

You swallow, “Because you’re you, and I’m-”

“You’re?” He prompts, but you go silent.

A sigh, when your head dips.

Unable to say it out loud.

“Driving me crazy all night, you know that?” He rasps, “Giving me those looks. Calling me your friend, when we both know your mouth was around my cock this morning.”

A low rumble in his throat, “When I still taste like you.”

Your breath hitches, as his hand thumbs at your jaw, tilting it up.

“Lemme ask you again.” His mouth is close enough now to ghost against yours, “Is that how you really feel?”

Your head shakes.

“Wanna be yours.”

It’s breathed out, just as he kisses you.

His body pressing flush, as your hands twine around his neck. A palm around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he deepens it.

Desire thrumming to life inside you, washing out the dregs of insecurity that you’ve been carrying this whole time. Melting them away completely with the hungry sweep of his tongue, the way he swallows your soft moan.

There’s a flash of white when he finally leans back, with the curve of his lips.

“Good.”

His hand closes around the knob. A rough twist, as his another arm wraps around your waist.

Walking you backwards, into the dark.

“The let me show you exactly how I feel.”

thank you so much, again!! 💖

[whorelaud]

꒦꒷ 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 untouchable ¡

pairing experienced¡roommate¡rafe cameron x innocent¡reader

sunmary rafe guides you through your first masturbation after you told him you've never touched yourself before, his offer tempting you in ways you've never experienced before. your curiosity grows as well as your desire, leading to an intimate moment that changed things between you two.

contains smut! first time masturbating, guided orgasm, fingering, lots and lots of kissing, dirty talk, nipple play, needy reader, player rafe, hes a tease!! he also interrupts reader, uhh thats ab it (i think). wc; 4.2k

a/n hi !! this took two days to write and at least 1-2 months to get out of my notes blaahhh hope you enjoy!!!!

“Have you ever had someone go down on you?” 

You choked out a snort of disblief, taken aback by the question. Rafe, who was seated inches away from you, chuckled, turning his head in your direction, causing the smile on your face to instantly vanish. 

He wasn’t joking. 

You cleared your throat, feeling heat crawl past your neck, until it eventually settled on your face. You’ve had your fair share of embrassing moments with your roommate, but this? You wanted the ground to split and swallow you whole, too ashamed to respond. 

Truth be told, you’ve never involved yourself in any sexual activities, let alone had someone go down on you. Hell, you’ve barely ever touched yourself before, brushing off your random bursts of arousal whenever you were sexually frustrated

So, the question here was, how were you supposed to tell him that? Reveal that you were a virgin at heart, and that you’ve never had someone touch you intimatly; not that you’ve done it. 

You were painfully aware of how experienced Rafe was, with the latter informing you all about his hookups; and that was besides the amount of girls he brought over. The walls were thin enough to give everything out, their loud moans and whimpers echoing through your ears. In conclusion, you didn’t need him to break down what he was up to. 

“Not that I remember.” You muttered, brushing off the question. 

“What?” He cocked his head to the side, snatching the spoonful of ice cream from your hold. “Who doesn’t remember getting eaten out?” 

“People are busy, Rafe.” You scoffed, licking the drop of ice cream off your thumb. “Not everyone has the time to fuck around.”

“You’re not busy,” he muffled out, tossing the spoon back in the tube of ice cream on your lap. “You don’t go out, all you do is lay around the whole day, then proceed to complain over the fact that you did nothing all day.”

You rolled your eyes, faking an annoyed expression at his words. Rafe adjusted his position, manspreading on the sofa, until his knee was hovering over yours, the contact ceasing the distance between you. 

“I mean, come one…” he trailed off, tone slightly teasing. “I’ve never seen you bring anyone over, are you really not interested in any of that stuff?” 

“How about you mind your business?” You huffed, feeling your ears burn with heat. “Why do you wanna know so bad?” 

“What?!” He defensively shot back, “I’m jus’ curious, besides, you never tell me anything, it’s always me talking.” 

“It’s ‘cause there’s nothing to tell you,” you mumbled under your breath, avoiding Rafe’s gaze. “There, you happy?”

Silence seeped through the air, atmosphere heavy with tension. Rafe‘s lips parted with disbelief, speechles by your blunt response. That was… new, you never brought up your sexual life to the latter before, so to think you were admitting to being a virgin over a silly argument struck Rafe to his core. 

"You're not like, serious or anything, right?” He attempted to laugh it off, smile fading when your expression remained the same. “Shit, you’re being serious.”

Your gaze settled on your hands in your lap, too embarrassed to glance over at Rafe, whose eyes burned holes through your flesh. You could envision the look of disbelief on his face, not having to look to know that he was shocked. 

“Why are you surprised?” You giggled, brushing off the heavy tension seeping through. “You said it yourself, i’ve never really brought anyone over.” 

“I was messing,” he swiftly replied, “I didn’t think you were you know… a virgin.”

“Okay, if you word it like that…” You tilted your head to the side, a tight-lipped smile spreading across your lips. 

“Have you never like, engaged in anything?” Rafe muttered, trying to play off the question as something casual, though you knew it wasn’t. “You know, never gave a guy a blowjob before?” 

Nothing about your roommate asking if you’ve given a guy a blowjob was casual. 

“No.” You shook your head, a snort escaping your throat. 

“You’ve kissed someone before though, right?” He asked, voice lowering with hesitation. 

“I’ve kissed someone before.” You exclaimed, leaning your head back on the sofa. “You already knew about that.” 

“You did tell me,” he nodded his head, “Have you never like…”

“What is it now, Rafe?” You question, teasing hinted through your tone. “Why are you investigating me?”

“‘M not; jus’ curious.” He muffled out, voice barely above a whisper. “Have you never pleased yourself?”

“What?” You ask, coming to a halt. 

The question filled with temptation, something you both chose to avoid for the sake of your friendship. Rafe always playfully flirts with you, using every chance he could to tease you. Those usually end in you brushing it off, not thinking too much of it. 

However, this was personal. He was asking questions that shall be private, not for him to hear, nor know about.  

“Have you never touched yourself before?” He elaborated, gaze flickering to your lap. “You’ve touched yourself, right?” 

You remained silent, blinking far too many times for your liking. You fidgeted with the rings hugging your fingers, busying yourself with the movie displayed on the tv, now long forgotten with the ongoing conversation. 

“Fuck.” Rafe muttered under his breath, throat going dry. “That’s so…” 

“Embrassing,” you cut him off, playing off your embarrassment. “I know.” 

“It’s hot; somehow turns me on,” he corrected, continuing his statement. “Knowing you’ve never touched yourself before.” 

Your head shifted in his direction, a flustered expression spreading across your face as you felt heat settle on your cheeks. You swallowed around your throat, mouth gaping to speak, met with utter silence in return. 

Shivers ran down your spine, the sensation like feathers on your skin. Rafe’s blank expression made things worse, displaying how serious he was being. He wasn’t fucking around, even with how swift the conversation took a turn. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, clearing your throat. “Quit messin’ around.” 

“Did that get you?” Rafe choked out a giggle, easing the tension between you. 

“That wasn’t funny!” You huffed, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Don’t joke around like that.”

“I mean,” he said, teasingly fidgeting with his tongue. “It wasn’t a joke, but–”

“Rafe!” Your face heat up, flustered expression spreading across your face. 

“Sorry!” He chuckled, drifting off for a moment. His gaze trailed down your body, a sly smirk finding his lips once again. “You need help? I’ll guide you through it.” 

You paused, considering his suggestion for a moment, even if he meant it as a joke. Your lips quivered into a thin line, feeling your throat dry up when his hand found your bare thigh, action teasing, tempting you in ways that were forbidden. 

And before you got time to process the gesture, he grabbed the ice cream tube from your lap, instantly scooping a bite with the spoon inside. It took you a moment to catch on with what he did, attempting (and failing) to snatch it back from his hold. 

“Hey, that’s mine.” You muttered, gaze shifting up to Rafe when he stood to his feet. 

“What’s mind is yours, remember?” He winked, walking backwards to maintain eye contact with you. “We both pay the bills around here.” 

“I paid for that, though.” You argued, mimicking the latter’s action as you followed in his steps. 

“From whose wallet?” He reasoned, causing you to go quiet. 

Right, you did steal ten bucks to buy that from him; though the boy didn’t mind. 

Your shoulder relaxed, defeated by the boy’s response as you watched him enter his room, letting the door shut behind him. 

That was that.

Later that night, you found yourself slipping under your convers, tempted by Rafe’s words from earlier. Your hands traced down your body, halting around the sliver of skin in between your shirt and shorts. 

Your fingers toyed with the waistband of your shorts, teeth digging through your bottom lip as your hand tumbled beneath the thin cloth, the sensation of your cold fingers brushing over your heat sending shivers throughout your body. 

Your digits lightly traced over your heat, sliding down your folds, inaudible gasp escaping your throat when you noticed how wet you’ve gotten from earlier. Rafe’s words echoed through your ears as your eyes fell shut, imagining him guiding you through your masturbation with his words, the thought spiraling pleasure through your body.

You collected your juices with your fingers, gasping as you traced them back to your clit, the sensation overwhelming you whole. You started off with slow rubs to your cunt, letting your pleasure build up within every touch you committed to. 

You imagined Rafe’s hand instead of yours, rubbing your clit while he whispered praises to your ears. The thought washed guilt over you, aware you were going to regret your pathetic thoughts once the pleasure wears off. 

Imagining your roommate going down on you was your last predicament tonight, yet, here you were, touching yourself while pretending it was Rafe, his words never leaving your mind. You would’ve been down for whatever, the least he could’ve done was push through with his teasing, and you would’ve gladly accepted it. 

But he didn’t, and that made you want him even more. The idea of not being able to have him, not even for a moment, because it was forbidden. You were well aware of that, barely holding back before, whether Rafe stood too close, or said something tempting. 

“Hey, uh, have you seen my green–” Rafe burst through the door, freezing in his tracks once he noticed the state you were in. “Sweatshirt?” 

The covers weren’t much of help, as Rafe instantly realized what you were doing. He gulped, feeling himself twitch in his pants, as his fingers clutched around the doorknob. You immediately jumped out of your position once you spotted him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

Your eyes trailed down to his torso, feeling heat crawl to your face when you noticed his bare chest, out on display. Right, that was a norm, you should’ve been used to it by now.

“What the fuck, dude?” You shot back, heavy breaths escaping your throat. “Can’t you knock?”

“Hmm?” He hummed, too hazed up to process what you were saying. “Right, sorry, I– I should’ve knocked.”

You felt so exposed under his gaze, tugging your bottom lip with guilt as you caught sight of his face. Maybe that was meant to happen, a sign that you shouldn’t have crossed the invisble line you created, pleasing yourself over the thought of your best friend. 

“What do you need?” You muffled out, gulping when his eyes flickered down to your lips. 

“Well, I was jus’ asking if you’ve seen my sweatshirt, but…” He trailed off, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “You seem busy.” 

“I was sleeping.” You replied, though the excuse was not much help. “You– you interrupted.”

“Clearly,” He cocked his head to the side, seeking your gaze with his own, a desperate exhale escaping his parted lips when your eyes wouldn’t meet his. “I’ll leave you to it, then…”

He trailed off, hinting something with his tone. He hesitated to leave, still clutching into the door handle while he stared at you, waiting for you to at least say something, stop him before he does anything stupid and ruin your friendship in the process. 

However, you didn’t, leading the latter to shut the door, the gesture causing you to wince. You gulped, observing as Rafe came to a halt, his back to the door, with his hand yet wrapped around the doorknob. His lips parted with an exhale, fingers finding his jaw as he busied himself with his chin. 

And if you didn’t know him any better, you would’ve thought he was nervous. But he wasn't. You knew Rafe, he was your roommate, after all. 

“What are you doing?” You questioned, voice low enough he could barely hear you. 

Rafe remained silent, leisurely approaching you with haste. Your gaze followed his every move as he came to a halt around the edge of the bed, now towering over you. You fluttered your eyes up at the latter, breath hitching when you noticed the look of despair on his face. 

His fingers hovered beneath your chin, thumb slightly tracing your bottom lip, the fraction causing your mouth to part. He tilted your head with the fingers around your jaw, cursing under his breath once he caught sight of your hazed state, too far gone to comprehend your surroundings. 

“You need help with that?” He questioned, gaze flickering to the shorts that hung low on your waist, able to see them now that he was in your presence. 

“Huh?” You questioned, vision going blurry when his thumb grazed over your teeth. “What do you mean?”

He groaned when your tongue darted out, licking a stripe of his finger, the gesture bold, encouraging him to continue. And he did, inserting his thumb inside your mouth, the sensation of your hot spit coating his finger earning a shuddered exhale out of the boy. 

You swirled your tongue around the digit, driving Rafe over the edge. He imagined your lips wrapped around his cock instead of his finger, the dirty thought causing him to twitch in his pants, fully hard hard by now. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he whispered, withdrawing his finger from in between your lips, and replaced it with his own as he captured your lips in an open-mouthed kiss. “Can’t believe you’ve never let anyone touch you before.” 

“Is it that hard to believe?” You hushed, lowering your tone to match his. “Are you gonna tease me over it?”

“While that does sound tempting right now,” he smiled over your mouth, littering wet kisses in between his sentence. “I’ll pass, ‘rather focus on you, doll.”

Your face heat up at the pet name, too flustered to respond. You were still in disbelief over this, whatever it was, not expecting anything like this to happen between you two. Fuck, Rafe was kissing you, and you were totally in for it, in fact, your body was speaking faster than your mind, following your needs before you could process it. 

“I’ll guide you through your first time, baby.” He muttered under his breath, knee finding the space in between your legs. He captured the corner of your lips in an open-mouthed kiss, one of his hands toying with the strap of your bra. “Let me make you feel good.” 

“You know,” you trailed off, enjoying the sensation of his fingers tracing the bare skin around your shoulders, the contact like feathers to your flesh. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 

“Why not?” He asked, hands shifting down to your waist, barely above the hem of your top. “It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong, ‘m only helpin’ you.”

“Jus’ shut up n’ kiss me.” You slurred, wrapping both arms around his neck as you ceased the distance between you. 

A content hum left Rafe’s throat, pressing you down to the bed with the hands around your waist. The latter hovered over you, angling his head to the side to deepen the kiss. A gasp escaped your throat as he nibbled on your bottom lip, the unexpected gesture causing you to part your mouth. 

Rafe saw a chance, and took it, tongue invading the inside of your mouth with the access you granted him, your fingers toyed with the bozzed hair at the back of his head, almost yelping when his cold fingers made contact with the sliver of skin around your stomach. 

You’ve never been touched by a man like this before, Rafe was exploring parts in your body that were meant to be hidden, not for his gaze to admire. Multiple times he had to hold back, watching you innocently walk around the house with a set of pajamas that barely covered anything, revealing all your curves. 

You drove him crazy, with everytime you moved, slightly teased him, told him things no one should know, he wasn’t able to handle it, not with how oblivious you were to the hints he kept dropping. And if he rubbed one out to the thought of you, he wasn’t mentioning it; not to you, that’s for sure.

His fingers toyed with the waistband of your shorts, withdrawing from the kiss to glance down, making you feel shy under his gaze. He tugged the elastic down your side, hissing when his fingers made contact with the warm skin hidden underneath. 

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned, “Get these off, need to see you s’ bad.” 

You moaned at the remark, letting your eyes fall shut as he tugged your shorts down, levelling them with your knees, until he could get a good view of your dripping cunt. A shuddered sigh escaped his lips, fingers instantly finding your folds. 

You gasped at the sensation, arching into the touch, chasing after your pleasure when he moved his hand up your sides, pressing your hips down to the bed. 

“Stay,” He whispered, lips ghosting over yours. “I’m supposed to be helpin’ you, ‘member?”

Right, that skipped over your head. 

“Well then, hurry up and do it.” You whined, almost yelping when his hand hovered over your heat. “Fuck, Rafe, please.”

“Please what?” He question, a teasing grin forming on his lips. “Use your words, baby.” 

“Touch me.” You demanded, words slurring out of your mouth. 

“You know I can’t do that.” He chuckled, retrieving one of your hands from around his neck. “S’ supposed to be your job.”

He guided your hand down to your heat, pressing your fingers to your clit. You moaned, leaning your head back as Rafe moved your digits over your cunt, using his hand to lead you through the rhythm, slow and steady, not too much, in case you grew sensitive to it. 

You desperately shuddered under the touch, gasping when Rafe pressed his hand over yours, the gesture spiraling pleasure throughout your body. His face nuzzled into your neck, littering wet kisses to your throat as he continued pleasing you with his guided hand, leisurenly picking up his (your) pace. 

“Fuck,” you whined, nails digging into the blade of his shoulder, well aware he was waking up with bruises with how much pressure you were applying. “Feels s’ good.” 

“Yeah?” He muffled against your neck, teeth grazing over flesh, before he nibbled right under your jaw. “Am I making you feel good, baby?”

You hummed, too accompanied with your pleasure to respond. You arched into the touch, muffled whines the only thing leaving your throat as Rafe’s fingers traced over your folds, until they found your entrance. 

“Fucking hell,” he grunted, withdrawing from the crook of your neck. “You’re so wet for me, doll.”

Your face heat up at the words, turning your head to the side to avoid looking at the latter. One of his hands slid underneath your shirt, kneading your boob with his fingers. Everything felt overwhelming, whether it was the hand guiding your fingers on your clit, or the one squeezing your breasts, it was too much for you to comprehend with a hazy mind and a blurry vision. 

He managed to get your shirt off with a bit of shuffling, and a bit of help from you; of course, leaving you in only your bra. His mouth salivated at the sight of your breasts, now half on display, only for him to see. 

He swallowed around his throat, fingers toying with the thin material of your bra, using the digits to tug it down, until it exposed your nipple to the chilly air, causing goosebumps to break out across your chest. He rolled it with his thumb, fascinated with how perfectly your boobs sat. 

You jolted under his touch, becoming sensitive to the finger flicking your nipple, growing even more surprised when he leaned down, taking your tit in his mouth. His tongue swirled over your now hardened nipple, letting his spit coat a stripe of your chest. 

Your back arched into Rafe’smouth, eyes forcing shut as his hand found your back, unclipping your bra with a swift gesture. He let the cloth hang loose around your chest, finger dipping beneath the straps around your shoulders, letting them fall down your sides. 

“God,” he grunted, his hot breath fanning over your boob, while his hand toyed with the other, squeezing and kneading the plump flesh. “You’re a fucking mess for me.”

You whined in protest to his words, feeling your pleasure build up, sensing your climax in the process. Rafe’s mouth found your lips once again, capturing them in a lustful kiss. He licked into your mouth, tongue gliding over yours as it met his half way through. 

“I think I’m…” you spoke in between kisses, “Rafe– fuck!”

An audible gasp escaped your throat when Rafe circled your entrance, lining his finger up with your hole. And without a warning, he slipped a finger inside, the new found pleasure mixed with pain alluring you into his trap. 

This was exactly what he wanted, to have you a flustered mess under his touch, show you how good he could make you feel, even if it was wrong, forbidden; in your words.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, parted lips ghosting over yours. “Wanna fuck you so bad, doll.” 

You whined over the statement, picturing the idea of Rafe fucking you stupid, until you no longer were able to remember your name. His finger moved inside you, letting you get used to the digit moving in and out of you. Your hand was back to your side by now, letting Rafe lead you through your built orgasm. 

The latter lined another finger with your hole, slowly letting it insert inside you, using his thumb to rub your clit, merely to distract your mind off the pain, and focus on pleasing you. His pace was slow, steady enough it drove you crazy. 

His fingers continued pumping in and out of you, with you relaxing into the touch once you slightly got used to the digits stretching you out. Rafe picked up his speed when he noticed that, hand growing sloppy inside your dripping hole. 

“Rafe–” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m so fuckin’ close.”

He hummed, littering open-mouthed kissed to your lips as you gasped into his mouth when his fingers hit your g stop. And you were so closer, with his fingers inserting in and out of you, while his thumb rubbed your clit, chasing after your pleasure. 

Your legs trembled as you came undone, shuddering in Rafe’s arms as he walked you through your orgasm. He slowed down his pace, chuckling as a content hum escaped your throat, pulling him down for a quick kiss.

It was sweet, lingering for only a moment before Rafe pulled away, smug smile ghosting over your lips. He withdrew his fingers from your entrance, with you already missing the warmth of his fingers inside. 

He traced his hand over your figure, coming to a halt when he reached your mouth. He parted your lips with his fingers, a silent demand that you shall not deny. You took the digits in your mouth, gliding your tongue over each one, tasting yourself on them. 

Rafe smirked, watching you with despair, a look of want you only got to experience whenever he was hitting on other girls. Yet, here he was, fucking you with his fingers until you came undone. 

He withdrew his fingers, replacing it with his own mouth as he pulled you in for another kiss, this time to taste you on his lips. He smiled against you, satisfied now that he’s able to savor you whole, having explored every inch of your body; though he knew that wasn’t enough. 

“That felt good,” he started, rubbing his thumb over the corner of your face. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, I must say…” you trailed off, slightly growing flustered by his gaze as it burned holes through your skin. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You think?” He snickered, thumb brushing over your lips. “Should we give it another go, now that you lost your jerk-off virginity?”

“That’s lame,” You chuckled, a knowing smile suppressing its way across your lips. “Hmm, who knows, maybe that’s not the only virginity I’ll be losing tonight.”

“Okay, that’s a lame way of telling me you want me to take your virginity.” He grinned, amused by the embarrassed shove you gave to his shoulder. 

“My god, shut up!” You blushed, hiding your face with your hands. “That’s not what I was sayin’.”

“No yeah, definitely.” He nodded, attempting to get your hands off your face. “Don’t be a brat, baby, look at me.” 

Your hold fell loose around your face, letting Rafe move your hands off, revealing the smile tugging at your lips. He mimicked your action, expression switching into something serious, all while maintaining a teasing grin still. 

“You know, that wasn’t such a bad idea.” He pecked the corner of your lips, leisurely trailing down to your throat, until he nuzzled in the crook of your neck. “Maybe we should test it out.” 

“Test what out, idiot?” You grinned, tilting your head to give Rafe more access to the side of your neck. 

“Lots of stuff,” he muffled, “I don’t think I’ll be able to hold myself back, now that I got a taste of you.” 

“So, don’t.” You shot back, mouth moving faster than your brain as you responded. “Don’t hold yourself back, ‘m all yours.”

And that was the only sign Rafe needed, ceasing the distance between you before capturing your lips in a kiss, one you don’t think you’ll be able to forget.

[evie-sturns]

avoid - Matt Sturniolo

summary: when matt calls you out on you pushing him away, until a huge fight breaks out between the two of you. a couple hours later you find him a mess, you have no choice but to make things right.

contains: angst, crying, arguing, yelling, fluff, comforting, swearing.

------------------------------------------------------------

you didn't realise you were doing it, you just were.

you had accidentally been avoiding him and pushing him away for the past couple of weeks, there wasn't a specific reason but you just were.

9:04pm

i'm laying on the couch alone, watching some random romcom as i stare at the screen.

the floorboards creak as i hear matt coming down the hallway, his footsteps are heavy as he approaches the living room.

he stands in the doorway, just observing me for a couple of seconds.

i hear his lips part as he gets ready to speak.

"y/n..?" he mutters softly, his voice is weak and shy.

i hum quietly as a response, not even diverting my gaze away from the bright screen. i hear matt huff slightly, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"what- why- can you at least look at me when im speaking?" matt scoffs.

"what difference does it make?" i mumble back, still staring at the television.

"makes me think you might actually give a shit about me still." matt spits, his arms fold over his chest as he leans against the doorway,

"pfft." i dismiss him which only sets matt off even more.

"why are you acting like this? seriously!" matt exclaims,

"why are you being so sensitive." i groan,

i know i’m being annoying as shit, but i can’t help it, i’m just doing what i can to tick him off.

matt just stares at me, his breathing heavy as i see him visibly start fuming.

“you wanna know what it is? you’ve been acting like a total stranger for the past couple months and i’m done with it, i’m done with you.” matt raises his voice

i stand up off the couch, standing a couple feet away from matt as i lock eyes with him,

“me? i’ve been acting like i stranger?” i laugh dryly, not cause this situation is amusing, i’m just in shock.

“yes! you’ve been treating me like crap for the past too long!” matt keeps his voice raises,

i point my finger at his chest as i walk closer to him, “you cannot be serious? i literally do everything for you? i gave up so many things for more time with you!”

“i didn’t ASK you to do that! nobody did!” he scoffs loudly, grabbing my wrist and yanking it away from his chest.

“so it meant nothing to you? clearly you’re not appreciating my love for y-“

matt cuts me off,

“don’t even. you’re trying to make me feel bad when i’m literally trying to talk to you about my feelings!”

his eyes are narrow slits now, his fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist.

“let me go, now.” i mutter angrily,

“just listen to me!” he spits, moving his hand off of my wrist to grab my shoulders,

he jolts me back and forth harshly,

“i fucking hate this new attitude of yours, you’re the most self centred bitch ever!” matt shouts,

his voice booms through my living room, making my heart race quicken.

“would you just shut up- shut up!” i scream,

matt shoves me back gently, not enough to actually hurt me, just enough to get his point enough.

“you’re just- you’re just being ridiculous?” matt mutters, turning on his heels and walking away from me.

“i fucking hate you! i hope you get that through your thick head!” i snap

i didn’t mean it.

not at all.

i was so angry, just doing anything i could to be mean.

i hear matt’s heavy footsteps as he walks up the stairs, followed by the door slamming shut.

i flop down on the couch, running a hand through my hair as i pant.

i don’t know why i said any of that.

(35 minutes later)

i’ve just been thinking for the past half hour, about things i shouldn’t have said, things i shouldn’t of done.

i’ve held back all my emotions, feeling somewhat numb, except for the intense feeling of guilt gnawing away at me

the whole house has been eerily silent, usually it would be filled with matt and i’s endless giggles, but it’s not.

i stand up off the couch, my legs somewhat wobbly and my stomach churning with immense guilt.

i need to talk to him,

i drag my feet over to the bottom of the stairwell, knowing matt’s at the top of the stairs, locked away in our bedroom.

one step,

after another,

i slowly walk up the stairs.

my heart pounds against my rib cage, not knowing what matt would say, nor think, when he saw me in the doorway,

the same person that just screamed at him, making him believe that i hated him.

i reach his door, my hand stalling on the doorknob as i let out a soft sigh.

i couldn’t bring myself to just twist the doorknob, my hand was lightly shaking.

i swallow harshly before twisting the knob,

i stand in the doorway, looking around the dimly lit room.

there’s a discomforting feeling in the air, the room is cold.

my eyes search around the room until they land on matt.

he’s laying down on the bed, his back facing me and his still.

is he asleep?

“matt..?” i call out quietly, my voice breaking.

i walk over to the bed, my footsteps light.

suddenly i hear him,

a choked sob escapes him.

he’s crying?

i made him cry,

matt’s never cried infront of me before

and i’m the reason he now has.

“baby- are you crying-?” i whisper, reaching down and brushing his hair away from his eyes. he shivers at my touch, rolling over so his face is buried in the pillow.

i quickly crawl into bed beside him.

“please- please don’t cry-“ i mutter, my tone is panicked as i reach for him.

i sit up against the headboard as he stays buried in the pillows beside me, letting out strangled sobs.

“please look at me- darling i am so sorry, seriously.” i speak softly, my voice just loud enough so it’s audible to him

“matt, look at me please.” i say, my tone shaky as my voice cracks again.

he gently lifts his face from the pillows,

i take the opportunity to grab him, and tug him to sit up beside me.

i run my hands through his messy hair, he looks like a wreck, i feel terrible.

his eyes are swollen, his lips are a deep red and puffy and tears roll down his pale cheeks.

i grab his hands, “matt,” i sigh, “y-you’re killing me.”

matt stares down at the bed, “can- can i have a hug?” he whispers with a small hiccup.

“of course you can have a hug.” i sigh, wrapping my arms around him and pulling his body flush against mine.

i hold him close to me as i lay down on the bed, his head buried in my chest.

he sniffs shakily as he just cries, letting everything out.

i can still feel the undeniable tension in the air,

we’re both so angry at eachother still, it’s hard not to be after argument like that.

“hey, it’ll be okay- we’ll be okay.” i whisper, running my fingers through his locks of hair.

he lets out another sob against me, the noise making my heart break.

“you’re gonna make me cry.” i whisper with a small sigh, holding the back of his head gently.

“sorry.” he sniffles.

i hold him in my arms, whispering small words of affirmation while matt slowly starts to calm down.

i fight back the tears in my eyes as i attempt to stay strong for him.

“could we- talk maybe?” matt sniffs, wiping his eyes on my shirt before slowly lifting himself away from me.

he sits up on the headboard beside me, his legs outstretched and his hands still gently shaking.

“i think we need to.” i nod,

we both sit in silence for a second, waiting for one person to start.

“i know i was-“ i start but matt interrupts me,

“can i go first- i just want to tell you… how i’ve been feeling.” he rambles, his voice cracking.

i nod, “yeah..”

matt starts,

“i mean it when i say you’ve been stupidly distant for the past months, everytime i try to initiate anything with you, i just get brushed off, all of our conversations are shallow and i can’t tell if you actually care about me anymore!”

i stare at him as he rambles, trying to take all of his words to heart without getting mad again.

“i love you so much, and it’s hurting me to see you slowly drift away from me, i just want to know what i did wrong..?” he follows on, swallowing harshly,

i nod slightly, my lips parting to speak but no words coming out.

“i’m not trying to push you away matt.” i whisper,

he goes to speak but i interrupt, “i think it’s just a mix of everything, i’m just so exhausted with work after half my coworkers quit, i’ve been working long hours and i don’t mean to push you away, i swear.” i ramble on,

matt nods slightly with understanding, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“i love you so much matt, and i’m trying to do better, i promise.” i finish,

matt just looks at me, before finally nodding.

he lets out a breath, one that i can tell took a weight off his shoulders.

“i’m sorry about the argument.” matt says,

i shake my head, “no i was being a pain on purpose, it could’ve been avoided if i acted differently.”

“i came at you with like a confronting tone- i should’ve approached it better.” he speaks,

“and i also shouldn’t have laid my hands on you, i didn’t mean for it to ever get physical..” matt whispers, his eyebrows furrowing as he breaks eye contact with me,

“it’s okay, i needed it-“ i try to defend his actions but he cuts me off,

“no- no that was a shitty thing for me to do, i feel super guilty about it.” he sighs,

the room goes silent, my heart aches as i try to apologise for that one thing i said, the 3 words that exited my mouth, which is now eating me alive.

“i’m sorry- for saying i hate you.. i- i don’t i swear, it wasn’t true at all i was just saying it to make you mad- i promise, i love you more than life itself.” i spit it out.

matt’s gaze softens,

my eyes well up with tears, “i shouldn’t have said that, i’m so sorry-“ i whisper out,

matt reaches his hands up to my face, his hands caressing my cheeks and his thumbs wipe my eyes quickly.

“no tears.” he gently coos,

“i’m so sorry- i fucked up so bad-“ i continue, but matt cuts me off.

he presses his lips to mine, his hands still firmly on the sides of my face.

he rolls us over so he’s ontop of me, keeping our lips connected.

i kiss back, distracting myself from the swirling thoughts in my head.

after a few moments he pulls away from my lips with a small ‘pop’.

a warm smile appears on his face as he peppers kisses all over my face.

i squirm with a giggle as his pecks kisses all over me, before pressing a final peck to my lips.

“we’ll always talk things out next time, i promise this won’t happen again.” he whispers comfortingly, his hands gently running through my hair.

i nod in agreement, “i love you.”

“love you too sweetie.” he whispers, before going back to peppering kisses all over my face.

-

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl girl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos

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[estaticheart]

ᥫ᭡. WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE

Summary: You find out about Sarah's pregnancy and so does someone else.

Warnings: literally nothing

A/n: thank you for anon for this idea!

JJ Maybank was a liability to most on this island, kook or pogue. If JJ found out about something at 10am, you best believe the whole island would know by noon. It wasn’t necessarily his fault, he had a big mouth that just happened to slip out information even if he didn’t mean to. Which is exactly how you found out about Sarah’s pregnancy.

Just as you were minding your business, sunbathing on the yacht, and waiting for Rafe to come back with some drinks on the hottest day of the year, you spotted JJ and Pope walking along the dock. Nosy as ever, you effortlessly shifted back from their view, curious to hear their conversation. Chances were it would be about Kie or their new treasure- but gossip was gossip.

“I just still can’t believe it, man. A kid? What the hell are we going to do?” Your jaw dropped at JJ’s words. A kid? JJ and Kie having a kid, was not something you expected to happen. You knew they definitely had something between them, but having a child was a big step to take. You grabbed your phone eager to tell Rafe, of course with strict instructions to slow his return to the yacht.

But as you began to type out a message Pope’s voice began, “We? It’s not our kid JJ, and as far as I’m concerned Sarah and John B are gonna be the best parents we know.”

Sarah and John B.

Your heart thudded in your chest, dropping your phone onto the couch cushions you resided on. You had only seen Sarah a few days ago as you defended her honour against Ruthie and her minions. She hadn’t looked pregnant at all but when you thought back you remembered seeing John B’s hands on her stomach, caressing. Oh my god, she is pregnant.

Your sister-in-law was pregnant, with a pogues baby, fuck me was Rafe about to lose his shit. But you? You were proud, it takes a lot of courage to decide to keep the baby and you knew Pope was right- they’d be the best parents ever.

Minutes later, Pope and JJ disappeared from the harbour and Rafe returned, arms full of all the drinks you like. “Hey baby, I didn’t know what you wanted so I got everything.” He laughed, attempting to place them all down on the table without dropping any. Your mind was far too busy to reply, so you stifled out a laugh. But of course, your boyfriend didn’t miss a thing. Frowning, he looked at you curled into a ball on the seats of the top deck.

“You okay?” He asked, concern coating his face as he took up his seat next to you. His arm around your shoulders settled some of the worry in your brain- but not all. “Yeah, I’m okay. Think the sun is just getting to me that’s all.” You attempted to joke, strategically pushing your body into your boyfriend’s embrace to avoid any more questioning. Convinced you were fine, Rafe stood up, “I’ll go get you some sunscreen. You need to stay protected.”

Protected. Your mind was catapulted back to Sarah. So as Rafe walked down to the deck below, you pulled out your phone again.

1:42pm

Just found some old pics of us as kids, you should come over and see them. We need to catch up Mrs Routledge!!

——————

"Oh my God." Sarah giggles, pointing at a picture of you and her in a swimming pool, with ice cream coating your wide grins. You quickly rifled through your collection of photos, acting as if you had miraculously found them as an excuse to have Sarah over. "We were so cute!" You giggled, as you flipped the photobook over to the next page to see a picture of you and Sarah holding a newborn Wheezie.

Your breath stalled for a moment, before you began to breathe normally again, hoping Sarah wouldn't notice. "Wow." She breathed out, tracing over Wheezie's face as her eyes glazed over with admiration. You weren't going to push Sarah to tell you but you wanted her to know that if she needed a handout, you were there. Deciding to push the limits, "I hope I have a baby as pretty as her." You said softly, smiling at Sarah as your eyes met hers.

She knew instantly that you knew. Your eyes were soft and wide, waiting for her to admit what you already knew. "You know, don't you." She whispered, her hands still hovering over the picture. You nodded, reaching over to take her shaking hands in yours.

For a moment you sat in silence, it wasn't awkward but peaceful. "I love you, Sarah. Whatever you, John B and the baby need I'm here." She nodded, eyes beginning to tear up. When you first started dating Rafe she was scared she would lose you to him, but you had been an anchor in her life, a big sister she never had. She knew she had the pogues support, but to have you behind her meant so much more.

"I'm scared." She feebly admitted, dragging her eyes down to your connected hands before continuing on. "What if they hate me or I'm a bad mom?" You shook your head adamantly, if there was one thing you knew for a fact it was that Sarah would be a good mother. "You could never be a bad mom. Remember when you were 7, I was older but had fallen and grazed my knee? I was a crybaby but even at 7 you knew how to clean it and put a bandage on. Those instincts don't leave you." By the end, your eyes were full of tears too. "Will you help me?" She muttered.

You nodded enthusiastically, "Of course. Sarah whatever you need I'll be here. You are my best friend before I'm Rafe's girlfriend. If you want me to go shopping with you I will. Or go to your appointments, I will. And if you want to keep this a secret, we can."

"Keep what a secret?" Rafe suddenly spoke, he wasn't in the room but you could hear him walking over to the lounge. Sarah's eyes enlarged in fear, you had promised her Rafe was out the whole day. Unbeknownst to you, he had finished his work in a hurry, eager to get back to you. You lunged over to the coffee table slamming the photobook shut, Rafe wasn't an idiot and you didn't want him putting him two and two together before Sarah was ready.

By the time he reached the lounge, you and Sarah had quickly wiped your eyes but it would be obvious to anyone what had happened. His eyes widened as he saw Sarah next to you on the couch. He obviously knew you two had a special connection and often went out whether it was for coffee or to the beach. But it had been ages since he had seen you two together in his house. "What's going on?" He asked, still unmoving from his position.

You glanced over at Sarah, who was staring at her brother. Normally, her eyes were full of hate and anger at Rafe but you noticed a new look in her eye. Full of emotion and sadness. You began to ramble a reason for Sarah's visit and also your 'secret', "Just some gossip with Pope and Cleo. You know they always made sense to me, Pope was always really quiet he needed someone more outspoken, you know? I think they really match, but there is just some stuff going on- but obviously, it's our secret can't just be telling anyone. Bu-"

Amid your rambling, Sarah spoke, "I'm pregnant Rafe." The air in the room warmed instantly to you, your shirt clinging to you as you waited anxiously for Rafe's next words. You hoped your boyfriend would sense that Sarah needed all the support she could get regardless of who it came from. You hoped for once he could see past his misguided anger at his little sister.

"What?" He finally muttered out, although it wasn't the response you hoped for it was better than the string of curse words you were expecting. Sarah waited for a brief second before nodding, moving her hands to let Rafe see her small- but visible- bump. Eyes full of emotion, he followed her motion. His baby sister. Pregnant. And despite them having mountains of unresolved trauma to work through, he felt an instinct to protect her baby, and weirdly of all, Sarah too. He finally moved from his frozen stance walking over to you both on the couch.

"Can I?" He asked gesturing at her stomach. Seemingly hesitant, Sarah waited a moment before nodding slowly her eyes never leaving Rafe's hands as he tentatively placed them on her bump. You watched on, trying not to cry at the sight of the two people you loved the most connecting once more. They had problems to solve and conversations to have but at this moment, it was like everything had fallen back into place. "It's only small," Sarah whispered, desperate to not disturb the peace. She had never seen her brother so quiet and attentive.

"I can't believe it. I'm lost for words." Their eyes met, both of the Cameron siblings thinking the same thing, everything would work itself out. But in the back of Rafe's mind lingered one thing, his own want and longing for a baby of his own.

[creamflix]

toji fushiguro x female reader; heavy, heart-crushing angst, not a lot of comfort. reader is toji's second wife, megumi's step-mom. concept inspired by @/yunymphs nsfw fic, off your shoulders — masterlist here ☆

marriage is supposed to be a blessing, a bond that seals two lives into one, a promise of belonging.

you’d always dreamed of it.

sharing every first moment with someone — the first kiss as newlyweds, the first lazy morning dance in the kitchen, the first time lying side by side, tangled in each other. you’d imagined a life full of firsts, a life that would feel like you’re writing a story together, each page a piece of both of you.

but with toji, the man you love and who loves you, it feels like stepping into the middle of a book already written.

he’s had his firsts, some so precious that traces of them linger like shadows in your home. and you try — god, you try — to let that be enough, to love him and his son, megumi, with all the warmth and devotion you can muster. yet some days, you feel like you’re just outside their world, looking in.

it’s in the everyday moments, these small interactions that remind you of everything they had before you came along. moments like this morning, when you’re up early making breakfast, hoping to surprise toji with something special. you’re chopping vegetables, humming softly to yourself, trying to imagine the look on his face when he comes in, maybe pulls you close and says you don’t have to go through the trouble. you’ve seen couples do that — little gestures to remind each other they’re together.

you want that, too.

but as you start to crack an egg into the pan, you hear megumi calling from down the hall. “dad, where are my soccer cleats?”

your heart clenches. before you can even move to help, toji’s already calling back, voice easy, like it’s a scene they’ve played out a hundred times. “try under the stairs, where your mom used to keep ‘em.”

his mom. megumi’s mom.

the woman who came before you, whose shoes you will never be able to fill.

the words hang in the air, chilling. you place the egg down and pause, the silence settling heavy on your shoulders. you don’t hate her, not in the slightest — you’ve only ever heard lovely things about her. if anything, you’re grateful to her for the habits, routines, the sense of belonging she built with them, for raising megumi to be as kind as he is.

but still, there’s a sting every time she’s mentioned, a reminder that no matter how much you love toji, a part of him will always belong to her.

maybe that’s normal, you tell yourself, shaking off the thought. you grab the spatula, focusing on the way the eggs sizzle in the pan, trying to calm the knot that’s forming in your stomach.

“i’m… making breakfast, by the way,” you call out, trying to keep your voice light. maybe this will be the moment toji notices, realizes you’re trying to make him smile in your own way.

“yeah, thanks, babe,” he says from the hall. he’s already moved on, ruffling megumi’s hair as they laugh about something you can’t quite hear.

right, you think, fighting the wave of hurt that sweeps over you.

maybe that’s just the way it is.

you stare down at the breakfast you prepared, feeling a pang of something deeper than you’d care to admit. you’re doing your best to fit in, to add to the life he’s built, but sometimes, it feels like nothing more than an afterthought. it’s silly, really — you know they care about you, know toji chose you because he loves you.

but love doesn’t always erase what came before.

and it’s not his fault that his past is so deeply woven into their present, into your present.

by the time they wander into the kitchen, you’ve already set out the plates, adding a smile to mask the ache twisting inside you. megumi gives you a small nod, a muttered “thanks,” while toji walks over, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “looks good,” he says with that lazy smirk, and you feel the flutter of warmth, the one that always ignites when he shows even the smallest affection. but it quickly fades as he moves back to his son, launching into an old joke that you don’t understand.

you sit down across from them, feeling the laughter spill around you, each chuckle a reminder of the bond they share. you know it’s unreasonable to feel left out; after all, you’ve only been a part of their lives for a fraction of the time.

and they are good to you. they include you in most things, make an effort to make you feel like part of the family.

but there are these subtle moments, these glances, these familiar gestures, that you can never quite touch.

you watch as toji reaches over, ruffling megumi’s hair, that same fond smile lighting his face. and it’s like watching them dance to a song you can’t hear. a piece of you aches to ask, where do i fit into this?

“you two are adorable,” you say, almost to yourself, hoping they hear the love in your voice despite the sadness resting there.

you can’t say the words that sit heavy in your chest, the longing to belong to them in a way that feels real and whole. instead, you keep your gaze on your plate, focusing on the small bite of eggs you’ve managed to lift to your lips, the only sound in your head the quiet plea that maybe one day, this feeling will pass.

maybe one day, watching them from afar will stop hurting so much.

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[darkbluekies]

In the hands of a madman 2024 ver

Doctor!yandere oc x reader

Summary: a doctor is very peculiar about his favorite patient, and senses a threat once they disobey him.

Warnings: yandere, poison, murder, cuff restraints

Word count: 2.4k

You gag.

“Yes, yes, I know”, he coos, grimacing and removes the wooden stick out of your mouth. “I’m sorry.”

You're left with a bitter taste in your mouth. Why does he always stick that thing as far down your throat as humanly possible? You thank heavens that it’s not one of the needles extracting blood from your arm, although you’re sure that’s what’s waiting tomorrow.

“Still nothing?” you ask cautiously. 

He meets your eyes and you know immediately. You sigh heavily. Your heart sinks to your stomach. 

Every three months, he’s doing all sorts of tests to see if you’re getting better — or what’s what he’s saying. Every three months, Dr Kry has to check every vital sign on you to make sure that his sickness isn’t getting out of his control. But you don’t like them. They hurt. Badly.

“Will I ever get to go home? I want to.” 

Dr Kry sighs and sits down on his rolling stool, coming over to your bed.

“I know you do, but you that’s not possible”, he says apologetically. “You know that too.”

“Yeah, because you keep reminding me”, you mutter. 

“That’s better than giving you false hope, isn’t it? Wouldn’t that drive you insane?”

It would, but you don’t say it out loud. Doesn’t need to.

“I want to go home!” you say again, louder this time. 

“Saying it louder won’t make you better or me change my mind”, Dr Kry says. 

You sigh and press your palms to your eyes, trying to press the tears back into your eyes before they escape. You’ve been here for too long by now. You’ve been isolated for so incredibly long. ALl you want is to go home. You know no one, talk to no one beside him. The proper, sophisticated man who’s stiffer than a stick. Dr Kry sighs and moves closer. 

“I know that you’re disappointed”, he says and puts his large hand on your shoulder. “But this is for the best. “I don’t want you to get worse.”

“I hate these fucking tests! They hurt.”

“I know.”

He glances towards the white air purifier on the shelf beside the bed. The poisoned air purifier. He’s always making sure it’s not too much, not too little. Just the exact amount to keep you where he wants you — weak and vulnerable, dependent on him. 

“I know it’s hard”, he says encouragingly. “I know that you’re in pain, but you’re doing so good. You can always call for me if you need me, okay? I’m available all day and night for you.”

You press forward a smile, but can’t help but feel a wave of sadness wash over you. Why did this happen to you? Where did you go wrong to end up here? How could a sore throat get you bed bound in a hospital room? If only you knew. 

“Let’s get you tucked in again”, Dr Kry says and helps you lie down in bed. “You shouldn’t be putting to much pressure on your body.”

He pushes up your pillows, having you lie in a 45-degree angle. It helps you breathe at night. He always tucks the blanket close to your body, as if you were a butterfly in a cocoon. He gives you a small smile before standing up. 

“Please don’t go”, you whisper. “I don’t want to be left here.”

The man looks at you, studies you carefully before nodding and sitting back down. He wipes your lonely tear with his finger. He looks at his wet finger, thinking. 

“I feel helpless”, you admit. “I don’t think I’ll ever get well again.”

Little do you know that’s exactly what he wants. 

“It’s okay, Y/N”, he says. “I will take care of you. I will stay with you until you’re well again.”

He has to force back a smile. 

“I don’t want to do these anymore”, you say monotonously. 

“I know you don’t, but you have to”, Dr Kry says apologetically and moves closer to the bed on his rolling stool. “They’re important.”

“They hurt …”

“I know, but you’re doing so good, okay? I’m so proud of you.”

You give him a small, painful smile. 

“I’ll sit here until you fall asleep, don’t worry”, he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You close your eyes slowly. He fades out. 

He takes blood tests the following day. Needles, pain.

“Now, you need to take a nap”, he says and tucks you in. 

The daily afternoon nap. You hate it, but he insists. While you sleep, he’s out taking care of other patients that are not you. He hates it, hates wasting his time and skill on people that aren’t you. Those patients are one time patients that are there for surgeries, consultations or checkups. No long term patients that have to stay in the hospital. Everyone gets to leave after he meets them. Everyone but you. You stay. 

You keep your eyes closed until Dr Kry leaves the room. Quickly, you sit up and get out of bed. After all these fucking tests, you’re deserving of something else than the tasteless cardboard Dr Kry gets you. Just one brownie. Something that has sugar. And maybe some coffee for caffeine too. 

Quietly, you sneak out into the corridor. There’s something about these sterile passageways that makes the hair on your back stand on its end. Is it the dehumanized area or the fact that you’re never allowed here? Is it nerves or excitement? Whatever it is, you decide to speed up your steps and hurry towards the elevators before anyone sees you. They’ll tell him. Just as the doors are about to close, someone stops the doors. A boy dressed in a similar hospital gown as yourself forces his way into the elevator. He gives you a rushed, apologetic smile. 

“Sorry”, he says sheepishly. “I am in a hurry.”

“What happened to you?” you ask and smile halfly. 

“I escaped from the therapist. A real pain in my ass.”

You can’t help but giggle. The young man licks his lips and runs a hand through his hair. 

“Have you met her?” he asks. “The therapist?”

“No”, you say. 

You haven’t met anyone but your stiff and proper doctor. 

“Don’t”, the young man advices you and leans his back against the wall. “She’s mental. I honestly think she should be the one getting interrogated — not me.” He looks at you, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“Do you meet others?” you ask. 

“In the lounge. Have you been there?”

You shake your head and lower your eyes. 

“Did you just arrive?” the man asks. 

You shake your head again. 

“How long have you been here?”

“A while.”

The elevator stops and the doors open at your floor. 

“Are you going to the cafeteria?” the man asks. 

“Yes”, you reply. 

“I’m coming with you. Maybe you can help me blend in.”

“Okay.”

The boy seems frantic, but happy. Running on adrenaline and excitement. Together, you walk through the hospital to the cafeteria and realize that you don’t have any money. Your shoulders fall. Did you come here for nothing? 

“Aren’t you going to order something?” the young man asks. 

“I don’t know”, you reply quietly. 

Before you have the time to come up with a lie why you can’t order anything, you recognise something in the corner of your eye. A blonde man dressed in a white robe. You feel your blood run cold. 

“What do we have here?” Dr Kry asks and you have a hard time reading his tone or facial expressions. “What do you think you are doing out of bed?”

He walks over to you and grabs your shoulder. You flinch. His grip is … tight. Painful. 

“You’re supposed to rest”, Dr Kry says shortly.

He looks at the young man. His eyes seem to go right through him. 

“Where are you supposed to be?” he asks. 

He doesn’t answer. Dr Kry gives him a cold gaze before grabbing your upper arm in a tight grip. He doesn’t say anything as he starts to pull you with him. His steps are quick, steady. Angry. 

“Doctor …”, you try.

He doesn’t answer. Dr Kry pushes you into the elevator and presses the button. He doesn't let go of your arm.

“Doctor, I’m sorry”, you say. 

He still doesn’t answer. You barely dare to look at him. There’s something about his face that scares you. It's stoic, unreadable. But he oozes anger. Like a dark cloud.

The elevator stops, the doors open. His tight grip remains as he drags you back into your room.

“Lay down”, he instructs shortly.

You do, too scared to disobey. Dr Kry walks past you, to the drawers by your bed. He rips out two leather bands that look like belts for dolls. Before you're aware of what he's doing, he's strapped one of your wrists to the bed railing.

“Wait, doctor-”, you blurt out.

“Be quiet.”

He locks your other wrist to the other railing. You tug at the restraints, and find them secure.

“Are they too tight?” Dr Kry asks, still with that short tone that sends icy needles down your spine.

“Doctor, what are you-?”

“Answer the question. Do they hurt?”

“No.”

“Good.”

He turns to his desk, ignoring you.

“Doctor, I'm sorry”, you say.

“You broke my trust”, he says without giving you any attention. “It's important, for your healing, that you do not deceive me. I need to be able to trust that you do as I say. How many times have you done this?”

“Only this time, I promise.”

He doesn't answer. You feel how your eyes fill with tears. Your body is in such a vulnerable state that your body betrays you. You didn't want to upset him, didn't want to put your own health at risk by doing this. 

“I'm sorry, doctor”, you sniffle. “I didn't mean to break your trust.”

He sighs and turns his head to look at you. His blue eyes soften and he rises from his chair, coming over to your bed. He can't stay mad at you, not when you're clearly dumb. You don't understand, he can't be mad at you for not understanding. He should — and is — mad at himself for not foreseeing these situations and making sure you don't do it.

“You know that I only want what's best for you, don't you?” he asks and wipes your tears with his hand.

“Yes”, you reply.

“In that case, I want you to never repeat this mistake. Mistakes are forgivable, but they should be minimized, do you understand that?”

“Yes. Do you forgive me?”

He has to force back a smile. You're so unbelievably cute.

“Yes, I do forgive you”, he says. 

“Can you take off the restraints?”

“No. I might forgive you, but I need you to know what happens once mistakes occur. This is the consequences that follow. If I can't trust you to be where I want you to be, I need to take precautions to make sure you are.”

You lower your gaze.

“Who was that, by the way?” he asks. “That young … man. Why did you speak to him?”

“I don't know, he took the same elevator as me.”

“I don't want you to speak with him again. If he's the one they're looking for, I don't want you getting influenced by his reckless ideas.”

“I don't get to speak to anyone, anyways.”

“And that's how it should be. We don't know why you're sick, and you shouldn't contaminate someone else.”

“What about you, then? You can get sick too.”

“I'm ready to take that risk.”

He's too nice, you think. All he wants is to take care of you and you put his selfless risks to hell when you decide to disobey him. How horrible of you.

“Now, you need to take that nap for real”, he says. “I will sit by my desk. If you need something you can just let me know.”

He walks back to his desk and sits down, starting to file some paperwork. You tug at the restraints. You're not going anywhere.

When you’ve fallen asleep, Dr Kry makes his way through the hospital. They’ve captured that young man and put him back into his room … and Dr Kry wants a talk with him. He opens the door quietly. The young lays in bed, sleeping. Dr Kry circles around him, taking a good look at him. Did you find him cute? Hot? Did you like talking to him? Did you think that he was better than him? Did you enjoy those ten minutes with him more than these months with Kry? Do you want to meet with him again? He glares at the sleeping man. Dr Kry walks over to the supply closet, an identical to the one in your room, and takes out one of the spare pillows. Silently, he walks over to the bed, lifts the pillow and presses it over the young man’s face. He widen his eyes, pulled out of his slumber. He screams against the pillow, his voice getting muffled in the fabric. 

“Normally, I’d make this easy for you”, Dr Kry grunts as the man starts to fight against him. “Out of pity, but you don’t deserve that mercy.”

He screams in confusion, fear. Dr Kry can make out words. What. No. Help. Stop.

“Just give in and give yourself that mercy”, Dr Kry continues. “If you continue to fight against me, you’ll be in more pain.”

The man cries. Dr Kry breaks out into a smile. 

“You’re going to die either way, you can choose to end it quicker.”

The young man doesn’t seem to get the memo. He continues to fight, cry, plead. He drinks it all in. The horror, the helplessness. The dear in headlight. He has seen the light in people’s eyes disappear multiple times during his job as a doctor. To see the moment someone becomes just a piece of flesh. He has never enjoyed it as much as now. The man stops moving. Dr Kry removes the pillow and takes a step back, looking at the lifeless body. He breathes out. Finally, he can calm down. 

And now, all he needs to do is to make sure he can not be traced back. 

He finds you sleeping soundly as he comes back to your room, wrists still locked to the sides of the bed. You make his heart ache. He sits down beside you, brushing his fingertips over your cheek. 

I control your life, my little one. You’re going to say with me and I’ll take every repercussion to make sure you don’t disappear. 

[minimomoe]

The Little Things

AN: I was listening to Sexy to Someone by Clairo and thought of Nanami. short, fluffy drabble

You stood in front of the elevator and waited for the metal box to ascend to your floor. It was 8pm, well past office hours, but time waits for no man and you had work to finish. All that mattered now is that you were done. You could slip out of your drab work clothing and crawl into bed as soon as you got home.

You had hoped that you could ride down alone, but you found yourself holding the door open for Kento Nanami, your unrequited work crush. He swept in, his cologne filling up the air and you didn't find it nauseating in the slightest. It was clean, green, and oh so sexy.

"Thank you for waiting for me. Most people would let it close in my face."

"You're too not bad of company," you teased.

He smiled back down at you and you felt heat rush up to your face. It wasn't fair at all. He couldn't be this gorgeous with pretty brown eyes and be one of the nicest people you have ever met. You might not even make it down the elevator with how fast your heart thumped in your chest.

"So why did--"

"You look--"

You had both started talking at the same time. He laughed, apologized, and asked for you to go first.

"I was just gonna ask why are you staying so late?"

"They're pulling a lot of people from my department. Someone had to pick up the slack," he sighed. He ran his hands through his hair and it fell over in perfect tresses. How annoying. How gorgeous.

"Tell me about it. They're doing the same to us in the marketing department. The quarter's almost over so hopefully the workload will lessen."

You could do this with him. Small talk. Safe talk. There was nothing that could go wrong here. Nanami couldn't hear your heart racing in your chest. You just had to keep your cool.

"What were you going to say?" You remembered.

"Oh-- it... I don't think it matters anymore."

The handsome, suave Nanami was stuttering. You had the man stuttering. You snapped your head forward as if you were afraid you messed with the balance of the universe. He cleared his throat and looked at you once again.

"I hope that this doesn't come off... inappropriate. I think that blue looks wonderful with your complexion. And you got new glasses last week. I never got to compliment them."

Your ears were ringing. Did you hear him correctly? Nanami watched you, has kept you in his sights to know that your glasses have changed and complimented your favorite work dress. You peered up at him and his ears were flaming red. Your unrequited work crush could possibly be requited after all.

"Thank you, Mr. Nanami," you said softly with a shy smile. "It almost looks like were matching, right?"

He looked down at his own blue suit and chuckled. "It does, doesn't it."

The elevator dinged and the doors slowly slid opened. Nanami held his hand out for you to leave first and followed behind. You were keenly aware of how close he was to your body as you both said goodnight to the security guard on your way out of the building.

"Well... Good night to you too, Nanami. Try not to work yourself too hard this weekend," you waved. You started on the opposite direction before he called out your name.

"Would you... like to have a meal with me? I know a place," he asked.

You bit back a smile. Never would you have imagined that Kento of all people could get so shy. He patiently awaited your answer but you noticed his jaw tightening.

"I don't know. It's getting pretty late," you teased.

"This place is only open from 8pm to 12am. And a meal is always better with someone to eat with."

He was practically begging you to come with. You gingerly took your step towards him and his smile widened.

"I can take your bag," he offered. He slipped it off your shoulder and you softly hissed at his fingers grazing your shoulder. His eyes darkened at the sound but kept on strutting down the street. Once again, his ears were blushing and you internally squealed. To think that you were rushing to go home only to end up on a date with Nanami. Was this a date?

Only your brain to mouth filter was broken, and you actually asked the question out loud. He gave you a fond look. "I would like for it to be."

You hooked your hand around his raised arm. All this time you thought that your feelings would never be reciprocated, but it looks like you were sexy to someone after all.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[flipppyflopp]

“No sleeping in, not even on my birthday. There’s too much to get done to waste the day in bed.” 🎉✨

Happy birthday to my twst oc, Arlen Nox! I decided to do my spin on the new birthday card theme for Arlen even though they haven’t released a Diasomnia character yet, so Arlen might not match Silver and the others when they come out. Trey and Floyd were big inspirations for Arlen’s card from his to his pajamas. Specifically for his pajamas I wanted to incorporate Kingdom Hearts elements since Arlen’s main inspiration is Riku, so I tied in some dream eater references.

If you swipe you can see how Arlen spent part of his birthday as well as what presents he received from his friends. Below you can read Arlen’s birthday vignette written in a similar style to the new birthday vignettes, which guest stars the character voted as Arlen’s duo partner on Instagram…Silver! I hope you all enjoy and if you have any questions about Arlen, feel free to leave them in my inbox! ✨

.✨✨✨.

Arlen: Alright, I should be able to take these back to my room before track practice.

Arlen: Wait a second…who’s that lying on the ground up ahead? Are they hurt?

Arlen: Oh, it’s just Silver. I don’t have time to waste…but I hate to leave him in case he’s in a hurry to get somewhere too.

Arlen: Silver? Wake up, Silver. Now’s not the time to be napping. Silver! SILVER!

Silver: Huh? What? Oh, Arlen, it’s you.

Arlen: Yeah, sorry about yelling in your ear. You were sleeping pretty soundly.

Silver: Sorry for the trouble I caused. I appreciate you taking the time to wake me up.

Arlen: It’s fine. I was just on my way back from the post office and saw you laying there on the side of the path.

Silver: Post office? Not many students go there with all the technology available today.

Arlen: Unfortunately, I’m not the best with technology, so I go there quite frequently. Today, I was picking up a card my stepparents sent me.

Silver: A card? Were they congratulating you about your performance in the recent track meet?

Arlen: No, they sent me a birthday card.

Silver: Birthday? I’m terribly sorry if I missed it. Happy-

Arlen: Slow down, Silver, my birthday’s not until tomorrow.

Silver: Really? I apologize for getting ahead of myself.

Arlen: Quit apologizing, birthdays aren’t a big deal anyways. Just another day of the year.

Silver: Oh? Are you not a fan of big celebrations on your birthday?

Arlen: Not really? I don’t know, I just don’t understand the need to get so worked up about them. All you’re doing is getting older, what’s there to really celebrate?

Silver: Hmm. I suppose people just like to celebrate that you lived another year, uplifting your growth and the memories you made in that short span of time.

Arlen: Sounds about right, I guess. The best part’s getting to eat cake.

Silver: Really? I thought you weren’t a fan of sweets?

Arlen: Just ice cream, it’s way too sugary for my tastes. I enjoy cakes and pies just fine.

Silver: That explains Malleus’s initial reaction to you…

Arlen: Huh?

Silver: It’s nothing, just…hold on a moment, I just got a text from Sebek.

Silver: Oh no, I was asleep longer than I thought. I must be getting to the Equestrian Club. Farewell, Arlen!

Arlen: Bye, Silver.

Arlen: Guess I’d better hurry on myself. Chatting with Silver’s nice, but I can’t be late to practice or else I’ll have to run extra laps.

.✨✨✨.

Arlen: There’s nothing like a hot shower after practice.

Arlen: Speaking of practice, I need to write down my new personal best. Can’t believe I managed to shave off four seconds today. Maybe it’s some early birthday luck.

Arlen: The next track meet isn’t for another month, so I’ve got plenty of time to cut down more time off my personal best. I wish I could shave off some more time from our relay record, it could definitely use some improvement.

Arlen: Competing individually comes easier to me than competing as a group. When it’s just me, I only have to worry about myself. When I’m competing with others, I not only worry about myself, but I have to worry about the other guys as well. It’s a lot of trusting one another, which doesn’t come easily…especially in a school like Night Raven College.

Arlen: Luckily, Jack and Deuce handle their share of the relay just fine. Although, I wonder if by becoming closer it would shave off time for our relay….hmmm. Maybe I’ll treat them to dinner tomorrow after practice, they’d enjoy that.

*Bzzt*

Arlen: My phone? Who could that be? Oh, Soren wants to FaceTime. Sure for just a couple minutes.

Soren: ARLEN! What took you so long? It took you like three rings instead of two! What-

Arlen: Slow down, Soren. I just got back from showering after practice. I’m a bit sore today.

Soren: Oh, I see! Must be trying to beat my time from the track meet last week.

Arlen: Yeah right, you’re the one trying to catch up to me. Speaking of which, you’re going to have to work harder, I just shaved off four more seconds.

Soren: WAIT WHAT?! YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME! Kai won’t believe me when I tell him tomorrow.

Arlen: I could always send you a picture of my time as proof.

Soren: Ha ha, very funny. Laugh it up while you can, you’ll be eating my dust soon enough.

Arlen: As if.

Soren: Oh let me tell you what happened in class today! So I was sitting with Neige…

*Time Passes*

Soren: I couldn’t believe it when Chenya came out of alchemy lab with bright green hands.

Arlen: Well that’s what you get when you mix aloe and pixie dust.

*Knock*

Lilia: Arlen, it’s past lights out. Off to bed with you.

Arlen: My bad!

Arlen: Sorry, Soren, we’ll have to talk later.

Soren: That’s fine. But before you go, I’ve got one last thing to say to you.

Arlen: What?

Soren: Happy birthday, Arlen!

*Click*

Arlen: Huh? Is it really-

Arlen: We talked for that long!? So that’s why he kept flying through topics, just to get to midnight.

Arlen: Wait…

Arlen: Why was Lilia doing lights out checks so late!? What was he doing?!

Arlen: No use wasting time thinking about that. I’ve got to get to bed so I can get up early.

.✨✨✨.

Arlen: Time to start the day. It’s nice waking up early because the dorm bathroom is completely empty. Most people don’t get up at the crack of dawn like I do. Sometimes I run into Sebek or Malleus, which is quite the jump scare as Idia would say.

Arlen: Alright, quick shower then it’s time to head out.

Arlen: I don’t spend too much time on my appearance. Just combing my hair, brushing my teeth, the usual. No point spending extra time when it’ll just get messy from the wind later.

Arlen: Some guys go all out with makeup and hair products, but that’s just not my thing. Just some lotion will do just fine. Dry skin gets on my last nerve.

Arlen: Alright, next on my morning routine. Time to go get the feed from my room. I like being outside early, it’s a good way to clear my head. I feed the animals around the dorm while I’m at, might as well since I’m already out.

Arlen: I can see the birds waiting up in the rafters of the courtyard. They always wait up there, never getting close till I put the feed out…I hope they’ll grow to like me some day. Animals just don’t seem to like me, I get it though.

Arlen: Hmm?

Arlen: A little sparrow is hopping right in front of me? Want something to eat little guy?

Arlen: Huh? Another bird’s come down? A rabbit too? I haven’t even put down any food yet!?

???: Getting along with the animals, Arlen?

Arlen: Silver! That explains why the animals got closer than normal.

Silver: I’m sure they’re just finally coming around to you.

Arlen: As if.

Silver: You just gotta have more confidence in yourself. The animals can tell you’re nervous. Here.

Arlen: Huh? What are you doing with that bird? Silver, wait-

Silver: Just put your hand out like so and the bird will have a nice place to sit. Perfect.

Arlen: Silver, take it back before I hurt-

Silver: You’re fine, just breathe. See? It’s okay.

Arlen: …

Silver: Arlen? I’m sorry if I rushed you into-

Arlen: So what are you doing up so early? Doesn’t a sleepyhead like you snooze through the morning.

Silver: Usually, yes, but I had something important this morning.

Arlen: Really?

Silver: Arlen, happy birthday.

Arlen: Huh? Ha…ha ha ha!

Silver: What’s so funny?

Arlen: Something important? It’s just my birthday. You said that like it was the secret to saving the world from darkness or something.

Silver: It’s important to me. I wanted you to know your birthday mattered to me, so much so I wanted to be the first to say it.

Arlen: Really? That’s…really kind of you. Thank you, Silver.

Silver: You’re welcome, Arlen. I hope you don’t think that’s all I prepared, I also made some coffee cake in the kitchen for breakfast.

Arlen: Pulling out all the stops aren’t you.

Silver: Of course for a friend like you.

[daisymbin]

what are we? - choi seungcheol

warnings: a cocky slightly obnoxious cheol

pairings: choi seungcheol x reader

genre: friends to???

wc: 1.1k

check out my masterlist!

“what are we, sweetheart?” seungcheol asked, a smug smirk ghosting over his face. his voice was casual, but the look in his eyes made your breath catch. it was the kind of playful cocky question he always asked, but something about this time felt different.

“what?” your confusion was evident, with an edge of irritation. your cheeks already starting to heat up now that you have his full attention.

seungcheol leaned back in his chair, tipping it slightly as he studied you. “you keep staring at me like that,” he said, teasing but with a hint of curiosity. “you into me or something?” he prods further, “you’re really not going to say anything?” his raised right eyebrow now joins his smirk, his voice dripping with playful challenge, like he was daring you to admit something.

your heart skipped a beat, but you forced a nervous laugh, hoping it would break the tension. “i wasn’t staring,” you insisted, averting your gaze quickly. “stop being so obnoxious.”

seungcheol let out a soft chuckle, leaning forward just enough so his face was closer to yours than it should’ve been; just inches away. “oh, come on. you know i can see right through you,” he teased, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk of his. “what’s with that look, hmm? don’t tell me you’re actually going shy on me now?”

the olympics marathon is currently being held in your head. they're racing, you're racing. YOUR HEART IS RACING. you scramble for a way out of this conversation, but you couldn’t ignore the way your pulse quickened at his closeness. “i’m not shy,” you mumbled, though your voice gave you away. “you just… say stupid things sometimes.”

seungcheol’s smirk only deepened, and the way his eyes glinted with mischief made your chest tighten. “stupid things?” he repeated, as though he was savoring the words. “so me asking what we are is stupid, huh?”

you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest. “yeah,” you said a little too defensively. “obviously we’re nothing but friends. you’re just an annoying, flirty friend. it’s nothing serious.”

his expression faltered, the cocky grin slipping for a second before his cocky mask quickly returned, a subtle shift in his demeanor. “so, you think i’m just messing around?” he asked, his voice still playful, but now it had a slight edge to it. something deeper, something almost serious beneath the surface.

“yeah,” you repeated, your voice quieter now, unsure. “you’re always joking, cheol. nothing's ever serious with you.”

he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded you. for a moment, everything went still. the usual playful banter was gone, replaced with something much heavier, much more charged. “is that what you think?” he asked, his voice softer, quieter than you’d expected, like he was genuinely hurt by your words.

seungcheol sighed, his usual cocky mask slipping completely as he watched you. “i don’t joke when i say i want you,” he said quietly, his voice sincere in a way you’d never heard before. “i don’t joke when i say you mean something to me.”

you blink once, and then twice. then, before his words fully registered in your head, he continues, “& I definitely wasn't joking when I said I like you.”

his words hang in the air, each one going off like fireworks in your head.

he tilted his head slightly, his eyes softening as they locked onto yours, almost searching for something in your expression. “i’m not always joking, you know,” he added, his voice even quieter now, as if he was afraid of what you might say next.

your chest tightened painfully. his words felt like a weight—heavy, real, undeniable.

“i can't tell if you're being serious-” you whispered, your heart racing as the words tumbled out before you could stop them; but seungcheol did.

seungcheol kept his eyes on you, his gaze unwavering, steady, affirming. “i'm not fucking with you, princess. I mean, unless?” he asked as he wiggled his eyebrows.

this time, you roll your eyes and you hit him on his chest lightly, “can you be serious for once?”

“alright, alright, i was joking about the fucking- but also not, well not the one before. you get what I mean.” he said hastily, a shit-eating grin adorning his handsome face.

seungcheol slowly reached for your hand, and when his fingers brushed against yours, the electricity between you both felt undeniable. “i mean it,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest. “i really do like you. a lot.”

you tried to find the familiar cocky, playful glint that his orbs always wear, but it was replaced with something deeper. something more vulnerable. you were still reeling from everything he had just said, trying to process it all.

“so tell me now, what are we, really?” his fingers lingered over yours, and he gave you a small, genuine smile. “i believe i already told you a long time ago how i feel about you, though, I wish you would have taken me seriously back then.” he repeated, his voice gentle. “so what do you say? because if it were up to me, we’d be something more. but it’s up to you, too.”

your heart thudded in your chest, and you found yourself leaning into his touch without thinking. the hope in his eyes, the vulnerability behind his usual cocky demeanor—it was enough to leave you speechless. but this time, you knew he wasn’t joking. he was waiting for your answer.

you don't say anything, not verbally at least. you take in a shaky breath, you let yourself smile back at him, your fingers curling to hold his.

seungcheol's eyes lit up at this, and he grinned, the smugness returning in a way that made your heart feel light. “finally,” he teased, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “i thought i was going to have to flirt with you forever to get you to see it.”

you laughed, the tension melting away, and this time, it felt different. it felt real. “well great, you can stop flirting now.” you say, relieved.

“oh, absolutely not,” seungcheol replied, his smile warm and genuine. “because now, you know I mean it & i know you’ll take me seriously.”

and as he leaned in closer, your laughter was swallowed by the way his eyes sparkled with something you’d been waiting to see all along: the promise that maybe everything he’d said before had been leading to this moment.

[beenbaanbuun]

guard dog pt.2 w/ jeong yunho

idk if this will become a series (it absolutely will, i love him). if you have any asks about this little series then i’ll be more than happy to answer them 🥰

warnings - yandere!yunho, hybrid!yunho, role reversal, yunho calls reader puppy, talk of murder, talk of living in a bad neighbourhood, allusions to masturbation, choking

pt1

you were under the impression that by wearing yunho’s jumper, it might piss him off just a little bit

but as you walk into the living room where he lays, limbs slung across the couch that he deemed beneath him no more than a few nights ago, you’re shocked to see a smirk playing on his lips

if you had much more on beneath it, you might have torn it from your body and thrown it at his smug face, but you wouldn’t want to give the mutt the satisfaction of seeing your tits

“going somewhere, puppy?” it’s been three long, arduous days and he still hasn’t dropped the nickname

you’re this close to getting your name tattooed in hold across your forehead; maybe then he won’t forget it

“the shop,” you walk over to grab your boots; heavy and intimidating and perfect for kicking any creep that gets too close, “i want a snack.”

“there’s plenty of food in the fridge,” he deadpans as you make your way over to the sofa

he doesn’t move, not even when you glare so hard at his legs that he can practically feel you burning holes in them

annoying prick

you settle for sitting right on the edge of the cushion, just far enough on to keep yourself from toppling to the floor as you slip your shoes onto your feet

“i don’t want the food in the fridge,” you say simply as you tie your laces, “if i wanted the food in the fridge, i’d eat the food in the fridge.”

a few seconds of silence pass by, and you’re almost positive that he spends them rolling his eyes behind your back

“it’s dangerous to go out at this time on your own,” as if that’s not the most obvious thing in the world

luckily for you, you have the safe streets memorised, and you carry your keys tight in your fist as a make-shift shiv

yunho seems to forget that you’ve lived here far longer than he has; you’re far too used to how dangerous it can be when twilight hits

“nothing stopping you from coming with,” you suggest, although you hope to everything that is holy that he says no

“i’m not getting changed out of my pyjamas, puppy,” a sigh of relief escapes your mouth as he gives you what want

“well, i’m going either way,” you insist, and he nods in understanding, expecting no less of you

you’re not ashamed to admit that you’re stubborn, maybe even sometimes to the point of being a brat

it’s just so fun to see your victim’s get riled up as you push each of their buttons over and over again

part of you hoped you would’ve learned yunho’s buttons by now, enough to get a little rise out of him, at least

but as he looks you up and down with nothing but neutrality in his eyes, you know that yet again you’ve failed

perhaps you’ve met your match, at long last; the person who can turn each and every jab around and aim them back at you

as your annoyance rises within you, making your bones buzz and your heart clench tight in your chest, you understand just how true that is

and you’re fucking stuck with him

“have fun getting murdered down some dark alley, then,” he just waves you off, only serving to piss you off more

“you’re a prick,” you spit in retaliation

your footsteps are heavy as you head to the door, eyes already trained on the little table you stash your keys on for safekeeping

the little silver stash normally takes pride of place, sitting pretty in the centre so as to not go unseen whenever you’re in a rush to leave

but the table is empty, and you know you won’t have put your keys anywhere else

but then there’s a tinkle behind you; the gentle sound of metal upon metal drawing your attention away from where the keys should be to where they actually are

the mutt’s black ears twitch atop his head as he gently fingers the bundle

you watch as the light catches, reflecting back on his stupidly handsome face in dots of shimmering light

fortunately, his prettiness only makes him that much easier to hate; of course the bastard is a prick when he looks like that

“yunho, give me my keys,” your voice is stern, tired of whatever game it is he’s playing already

“don’t want to,” he says, amusement laced through his words

the keys clink louder this time as he takes them in his fist before slipping them into his sweatpants without another word

“yunh—”

“let’s play a game, puppy,” he cuts you off, “if you fetch the keys like a good pup, i’ll let you go to the store. that sound good?”

the smile he wears is wicked, all teeth like he’s a snarling beast

he might look human, for the most part, but the sharp canines that dig into his bottom lip are a harsh reminder that he’s closer to that beast than he seems

but you’re not in the business of losing, and you certainly refuse to give up without a fair fight

if he wants to play dirty, then dirty is what he’ll get

it takes a mere few seconds for you to cross the room back to the couch, shimmying round it until you’re standing in front of him, legs lined up with his crotch

you sink to your knees, not daring to look at his face despite hearing the deep chuckle he gives you in response

“which pocket?” you spit, words sharp and impatient

“work it out, pup.”

you jump at the feeling of a warm hand petting the top of your head, fingers curling around an invisible pair of dog ears to match his own

you try your best to ignore everything about the situation; the game of fetch, the way you’re knelt at his feet, the way his hand absentmindedly plays with your hair

everything about it screams puppy, and that is not your fucking name

your fingers dip into his left pocket, feeling around for a moment or two before coming out empty handed

you don’t even allow a second to tick my before you delve your fingers into his other pocket and feel around in a similar way

but you can’t feel anything in there either, and it stumps you

yunho hums as you draw your fingers back, finally shifting your unamused gaze back to his face

“you know what i think?” he starts, and you nod, desperate for a hint of some kind, “i think you’d be so pretty with a collar wrapped around that lovely little neck of yours.”

it takes you off guard a little, not at all what you were expecting to drop from his mouth

and yet somehow, as the words sink in a little, you find yourself rather unsurprised

you shoot him the harshest glare you can muster before pushing his hand firmly away from your head

“well i don’t have a collar around my nec—”

the warm palm you pushed from your skull not a second prior, now lies on your throat

you can feel it, gentle yet firm as it holds you in place and pushes your protests away

“are you sure about that, puppy?” he growls; a sound that travels straight to your core, “from where i’m sitting, it looks like you do.”

it takes everything in you to shuffle back, just far enough away that his hand slips free of your neck and falls flat against the leather of your sofa

you stand on shaky legs, taking a few steps towards the bathroom as you do everything in your power to not look at him

if you do, you’re not quite sure what will happen

but your avoidant eyes miss the way he slips the keys free of his waistband and tosses them onto the coffee table, satisfied enough in his win to know he doesn’t have to hide them anymore

“i’m going for a shower,” you say with a shaky voice, slipping out of his sight as he gives you a hum of affirmation

it looks like the shower head will come in handy tonight

[zepskies]

Omg, welcome back, lovely!! 😍

(More comments on your lovely comments below):

Such a sweet fic. At first, I felt a little bad because I can feel Dean justifying all the insecurities he has about himself, the self-hate was only 2 steps away. But I believed in her, I knew that she was not hesitant. I knew she was upto something.

Aww thank you!! Ah, you know Dean. Always so self-deprecating. I didn't get too deep into "why" he starts fretting already when he sees her gone, but for all those reasons you mentioned. I felt like anyone who knows Dean, knows why he goes there in his mind all too soon to "did she regret it already?"

She was upto celebrating his birthday. That melted my heart. Ofc she wants to celebrate this man. He should be celebrated every day, especially on the day he was born. And she baked him a pie. For his birthday. All those doubts he was having, they flew out of the window.

That she was!! Sneaky girl. 😉 And she got him good! Dean does deserve all the pie and celebrating him that he can take, even if he doesn't think he deserves it. 🥧

And I loved how stunted Dean was that he had to show his appreciation and his thank you by kissing her. He was at loss of words. He's never had that. He doesn't even remember when was the last time he celebrated his birthday.

He was shocked, wasn't he? 😂 It's crazy how little their birthdays are talked about or celebrated on SPN. Like I get it, they're trying to tell a lot of story, but there's nothing much centered around their birthdays, implying that they don't really celebrate them. 💙

Thank you for such a sweet fic. You have no idea how much I needed this. (And also, I'm really very sorry for having disappeared. I'm trying to get some time to catch up on all those lovely fics you've written. I promise it'll be soon. I can't wait to read them. And thank you for not removing me from your tags.) Keep up the good work.

Aww you're very welcome! 🥹 That's part of the reason I write and share -- in case anyone needs the same dose of escapism as I do. 💕

Don't apologize, hun! Real life always comes first and I hope you're well, but I'm also glad to see that you're back! If you do get a chance to read other stuff I've shared in the meantime, I would absolutely love it. 😉

Restless Nights

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: After a tryst you instigated in the backseat of his Baby, you and Dean have started something new. He’s just not sure that you’re as “all in” as you claimed to be.

AN: As promised, here's a bonus one-shot to follow Maybe More Than Enough, though it can be read as a stand-alone. This is based on a request from @lacilou, one of my lovely Patreon members!

Bonus! It fulfills the @spnfanficpond monthly prompt. (Can’t give it away until the end though!)

Request: A Dean story based on the song “I Remember You” by Skid Row.

Word Count: 1.2K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, fluff, implied mentions of sex, bit of a twist ending… 

Dean woke to the sound of pouring rain hitting the roof of the bunker.

It must’ve been some torrential downpour, because it took a lot for him to hear anything of the outside world from inside this place. Good thing the old heaters kept out the January cold, too. Nothing worse than frigid rain.

Blearily he cracked his eyes open, unearthed an arm from where it was tucked under his pillow, and carefully raised his phone to check the time, trying not to let the light from the screen burn his retinas in the still dark room.

4:00 a.m.

He groaned. Goddamn it.

He turned over onto his other side to face where you should’ve been lying next to him. He frowned when he saw nothing but the sheets pulled back and a dented, empty pillow.

No matter how he fought it down, a small tinge of worry, and the beginnings of disappointment churned in his gut. His brows furrowed.

Did you regret it already?

After his first make out session with you (turned more session) in the backseat of his Baby, you two struck a tentative agreement to figure what this could be—more than hunting partners, allies, and friends. Despite the fact that you kissed him first (a fact he didn’t easily let you forget), afterwards, you’d been a little hesitant about what came next.

“We take it day by day,” he’d told you, with a sizzling kiss that stole your breath. “All I know is…this feels good.”

It felt right. You had definitely agreed with that.

Dean sighed through his nose, turning back onto his other side. It wasn’t unusual for him to be a light (restless) sleeper, but the handful of times you’d joined him in his bed had been beginning to make his nights calmer. He was actually starting to sleep through until morning.

What’s more, after years of looking into your eyes and seeing all the possibilities of what if, he was finally getting to make those images solid, and real. He could touch them, taste them, feel them under his calloused hands. He finally had you for real.

He looked past your empty spot in his bed and didn’t see your phone, or any of your rings on the nightstand. They were the first things you put on in the morning, and the last things you took off at night.

If those were gone…

His disappointment was settling high in his chest now; an ache approaching pain.

Until he heard the light sound of bare feet padding back toward the bed. Your hand slid gently up his arm, and after the surprise wore off, the corners of his lips tugged upwards. Your hair was a bit wild and frizzy. It tickled his neck and shoulder when you leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“What’s this?” you whispered, swiping two fingers between the crunch in his brows. Dean relaxed with a small smile.

“Nothin’,” he claimed. His voice was deep and rough with sleep. “Had an appointment to get to or something?”

You smiled and settled into bed, embracing him from behind. He turned onto his back and welcomed you over, with an arm curling around your waist. He rested his hand on yours when it smoothed across his chest.

Subtly glancing down, he didn’t find any of the silver you wore on the daily, including the ring with a small turquoise stone he’d bought you a couple weeks ago, on a hunt in Denver. That one, you now almost never took off.

“I put them away in a drawer,” you said, wiggling your fingers under his hand. Your hand felt dry, and a little like you'd been handling something dusty. Had you been up reading in the library again, lost track of time? “When I woke up, I saw one fell off the nightstand. Have a feeling it had something to do with the bedframe knocking against it.”

At that, Dean couldn’t contain his lazy smirk.

“My bad,” he said, sounding anything but sorry.

You laughed, shaking your head. You still laid a kiss below his shoulder before you settled back down. He gave your waist a gentle squeeze, pressing a kiss of his own to your forehead. A deep breath fell from between his lips, and his eyes closed.

A question was on the tip of his tongue. Where you were, why you got up. Was it something he could help with? Or was it one of those moments you needed to have alone, not unlike the times you gave him to settle with his thoughts, after a hunt gone sideways. If it was important, you’d level with him, wouldn’t you?

So he let it be.

In the morning, you somehow once again managed to get out of bed without him feeling it. He didn’t hear you either. Curiosity led him down the hall and glancing inside the cracked door of Sam’s room. It was empty, his running shoes gone from the side of his bed. Dean rolled his eyes.

All right, Lance.

Oh, wait, that was biking. …Whatever.

Dean’s next path inevitably took him down to the kitchen. His stomach was already percolating—in need of good coffee and (hopefully) good food.

The smell wafting from the kitchen surprised him, however. Cinnamon apples?

He turned the corner, and there he found you.

The fuck?

You looked a bit of a mess. Your hair was thrown up into a haphazard bun, and you’d stolen his apron. Though in his eyes, you made it look better, the white fabric hugging around your curves like you were Rachel Ray or something. You were frazzled when he came downstairs, but happy to see him. You beckoned him over and sat him down at the small kitchen table.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on here?” he asked, eying you curiously.

“Just stay there!” you called from the kitchen. He heard you opening the oven, cursing when you nearly dropped something.

What the hell were you doing baking before 9:00 a.m.?

He turned to ask you what was going on (and if you needed help), but before the words could come out of his mouth, you came over and carefully set down the pie in front of him. The rich aroma, the golden flaky crust, the flecks of cinnamon and glossy apples peeking out from the divots in said crust—it all had Dean’s mouth watering, and his shocked gaze fixed on the shiny pastry.

He startled a little when he felt your hands on his shoulders, sliding part of the way down his arms. You kissed the side of his head.

“Thought I wouldn’t remember, did you?” you teased. “Happy Birthday, baby.”

Dean’s throat constricted. He tried not to show it, but your gaze gentled when he finally met yours, like you were seeing through all his layers anyway. He realized then what you were probably working on last night, and he really couldn’t fucking believe it.

He’d forgotten his own birthday. Couldn’t see much use in celebrating, when year after crappy year…

But he closed a hand over yours on his shoulder, and he brought your hand to his lips.

Every word he couldn’t yet say to you was etched in that single gesture.

AN: Short and angsty sweet! lol And the monthly prompt was "pie!" 🥧 For Dean of course. 😂

Hope you guys enjoy this one! 💜

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[straylightdream]

body and soul | coming soon

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: jeon wonwoo x f.reader

↳ after a terrible day at work there is nothing more he wants then to go on a motorcycle ride with you.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: soulmates au?, non idol au, established relationship

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: ??

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: so much fluff, they’re both so incredibly down bad for each other, wonwoo rides a motorcycle (I don’t know if that’s a warning), creampie, wonwoo has breeding kink even though he doesn’t want to admit it, sex outside (but no one is around) sex against a brick wall

𝐚𝐧: this can be read as a one shot but it’s also connected to king of my heart, but you don’t need to read that to understand this story.

if you would like to be tagged please fill out this form.

PREVIEW

Quickly he pulls his bike into a covered dark all that’s absolutely empty. He helps you off the bike and unbuckles your helmet. You pull it off handing it to him. You can’t help but feel cold with how wet you got in that unexpected downpour.

“Baby I didn’t think it was supposed to rain.” He reaches up pushing the rain for your cheeks.

“It’s okay.”

“I think we’re stuck here for a while. It looks like all these businesses are closed.”

You can’t help but shake a little. You definitely weren’t dressed for the rain and your joggers you wore are wet and sticking to your skin. “Baby I’m sorry,” he takes your helmet from your hands and sets it on the back of his bike. He wastes no time pulling you close to his body. “Let me warm you up.” He holds you close, rubbing your body. He leans his head down resting his face against your neck. He doesn’t kiss your neck but his lips gently brush the sensitive spot on your neck that always turns you on. A soft gasp passes your lips.

“I didn’t mean to touch there,” he whispers against the sensitive spot. His large hands continue to rub your back as you hold him close. His breath keeps hitting the sensitive side of your neck turning you on. He’s managing to get you wet without trying.

Without thinking you grind your hips forward hoping for some sort of friction.

A soft moan passes your lips. “Does someone like it when I’m close to her neck?” He says with his lips ghosting your sensitive spot.

“Fuck-“

“You know we’re away from anyone who can see. We’re behind a building facing a forrest.” You know exactly what he’s insinuating. And at the moment you don’t care that you could possibly get caught. You just want Wonwoo to fuck you.

“Baby,” you whimper. With his fingers tangled in your hair he walks you back to the brick wall behind you. His hands protect your head and he gently pushes you against the wall.

“Are you going fuck me against this wall?”

He swallows staring at you with lust filled eyes, “fuck I want to.”

[knottedhearts]

Argument Pt 2: M.S

The cold air hit your face as you stepped outside, the quiet of the night wrapping around you like a blanket. The tension in your chest began to loosen, but the knot in your stomach remained. The whole argument with Matt had left you feeling exhausted, like your body was at war with itself between the physical pain and the emotional toll of the fight. You hadn’t meant to storm out like that, but you didn’t know how else to handle it.

You didn’t even know where you were going, just walking, letting the cool night air clear your mind. The city was quiet, the streets empty save for a few passing cars and distant voices, nothing but the occasional sound of your footsteps against the pavement.

You found yourself at the nearby park, sitting on a bench beneath a streetlamp. It wasn’t much, but it was a place to breathe, a space to think. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and for a moment, you considered ignoring it. But you couldn’t. It was Matt.

You hesitated before pulling it out. There was a message: "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean it. Can we talk?"

You stared at the screen for a moment, the apology almost feeling too little too late, but something inside of you softened. You knew Matt’s pride was as big as his voice, so for him to admit that much meant something. The frustration in your chest ebbed a little, replaced by a mix of confusion and the tiniest shred of hope.

You typed out a quick reply: "I need space right now. I can’t talk."

You sat there for a while, the screen of your phone glowing in the dim light as you waited for a response. When the buzz came again, you opened it to find a single sentence: "I understand. I just want you to be okay."

For a moment, you just stared at the words, not knowing how to feel. Was it genuine? Did he really understand? You wanted to believe it, but your heart was still heavy with everything that had been said. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this fight had dug a deeper divide between the two of you.

You exhaled slowly and looked up at the stars, letting the chill of the night ground you. The silence was a comfort, though it didn’t completely take away the lingering tension. You weren’t sure how to fix things right now, but you knew you couldn’t stay angry forever.

After a while, you felt your phone buzz once more, this time with a call. It was Matt.

You debated for a moment before answering, your thumb hovering over the screen before finally accepting. "Hey," you said, your voice quieter than before, the tension still not fully gone.

"Hey," Matt’s voice came through, softer than usual, almost hesitant. "I know you’re pissed, and I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have been so loud, and I should’ve listened when you said you weren’t feeling well. I… I get it now."

You sighed, rubbing your forehead as you leaned back against the bench. "Matt, it’s not just about the noise. It’s about not feeling heard. I need you to see when I’m struggling, not just assume I’ll get over it."

He was quiet for a moment, the sound of his breathing coming through the phone. "I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t realize how bad it was for you. I just… I didn’t know how to tone it down, you know? It’s like I’m stuck in my own head sometimes, and I forget that there are people around me who need something different."

"Yeah, well," you paused, your voice steady but tired, "maybe it’s time you start noticing."

Another silence passed, but this time, it wasn’t heavy. It felt like he was reflecting, trying to understand, really trying.

"I get that," he said eventually, his voice quieter than before. "I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to make it worse. I’ll do better. I just… I care about you, and I didn’t mean to make you feel like your needs didn’t matter."

There was something in his words that made the anger in your chest loosen a little more. It wasn’t perfect, and the fight was still fresh in your mind, but you knew this was the start of something. The start of him learning how to be more considerate, how to see when you were struggling instead of barreling through with his own world.

"I know you didn’t," you said softly, your fingers tracing the edge of your phone. "But you have to hear me next time, Matt. I don’t want to be the one always having to ask for peace. I need you to understand that."

"I do," he replied quietly. "I’ll make sure of it."

You leaned back, your shoulders loosening just a little, the tension still present but not as overwhelming. "Thanks," you said, your voice a little more even now. "I just… need a little time to cool down."

"I get it. Take all the time you need," Matt said, his voice gentle. "I’ll be here when you’re ready."

The conversation ended shortly after, and as you sat there in the quiet park, the cold air wrapping around you, you realized that maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe this was the start of a bigger change, one where both of you learned to meet in the middle, to understand each other better.

You didn’t know when you’d be ready to go back, but for the first time that evening, the idea of heading home didn’t seem so daunting. There was still work to do, but things would get better. You had to believe that.

As you stood up from the bench, the weight on your chest felt lighter. With each step, you felt a little more like yourself, a little more hopeful that the space and time would help Matt understand, and that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to make things work between you two.

[ot8xbangchansgirlsblog]

𝕃𝕦𝕟𝕒 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕟𝕖 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕨𝕠 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕖𝕖 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖 | ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕤𝕚𝕩

Warning: Angst/MPreg/MxM

A/B/O dynamics:

Omega (Han, Felix, Y/n)

Beta (Hyunjin, Seungmin, I.N)

Alpha (Chan, Changbin, Leeknow)

The series might traumatize you. I really hope you guys like it and enjoy it.

Summary - Request; I've just been reading your A/B/O series and it's so so so good. I was wondering if you would accept an ot8 request where their omega gets in trouble with another pack and Straykids are really worried?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Felix, stop,” Chan’s voice was stern, a clear warning as he watched the omega slowly waddle down the pavement of their driveway, his swollen belly heavy with the weight of their pup. Felix's pace was slow, labored, but determined—he wasn't going to stop.

"Leave me alone, Chan," Felix sobbed, his voice breaking as he pressed a hand to his stomach, still not used to the extra weight. He stumbled, barely able to maintain his balance. God, curse this swollen fit, curse this heavy bump.

“Felix, I said stop now,” Chan growled, his patience thinning as he quickly closed the gap between them. In one swift motion, he stepped in front of Felix, blocking his path. He grabbed Felix's arms firmly, stopping him from going any further.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Chan’s voice was laced with frustration, his chest rising and falling with every breath. His eyes glowed an eerie red, betraying just how furious he was. “Do you see how late it is? Do you not care about what’s out there? Have you learned nothing?!”

Felix flinched at the sharpness in Chan’s voice. His heart raced as he tried to push past the rising panic.

“I don’t care, okay?” Felix choked out, his voice cracking as tears spilled down his cheeks. “No one wants me… nobody wants this—" he motioned to his swollen belly, “—not even her.”

Chan’s expression faltered for a moment, confusion flashing across his face before anger took over. “Are you crazy? What do you mean, ‘no one wants you’? Are we nothing to you? Your packmates? Your family?” His tone dropped low, dangerous, the words more of a growl than a question.

Felix lowered his gaze, eyes clouded with shame. He couldn’t bear to look his alpha in the eye. He knew he was in trouble—knew he couldn’t fight back against Chan when he was like this. He was the head alpha for a reason.

"I—I just..." Felix stumbled over his words, the weight of his guilt too much to bear. "Is it my fault? Is it my fault she feels so bad, Hyung? Am I the reason she’s in pain? She can’t even look at me…" He broke down then, collapsing in on himself, chest heaving with sobs, tears choking his words.

Chan’s anger melted into something softer, something more tender. He pulled Felix into his arms, cradling him gently. "Oh, baby," Chan murmured, his voice now calm, reassuring. His red eyes softened, returning to their normal color as he wiped away the tears from Felix's cheeks. "It’s not like that… She… she’s just lost something that you have, something she can’t process right now. I’m sure it’s not because of you…"

"But what if she resents me? What if she resents our pup?" Felix's voice cracked, a raw, painful whisper. "I want her to be with me, Hyung. I don’t want her to be against me. I don’t want this to tear us apart..." His omega's voice trembled with fear and sorrow, his hands clutching at Chan’s shirt, desperate for comfort.

Chan sighed deeply, holding Felix closer. "I promise she’ll come around," he said firmly, voice full of conviction. "She’ll come back to you, Lix. She won’t regret the pup. You saw how excited she was when you first told everyone—her omega would never allow her to reject you, or the pup…"

Felix shook his head, still unable to quell the storm of emotions swirling inside him. "But Hyung," he whimpered, “I didn’t even think about how she would feel... I feel so guilty. I feel so selfish..." His breath hitched as he spoke. "I just want everything to be okay. I don’t want her to hate me. I don’t want her to hate our child…”

Chan’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Felix’s words. He squeezed him tightly, gently rocking him as he whispered, "Oh, Lixie... Please don’t do this to yourself. Don’t blame yourself for how she feels. You’re not selfish, alright? It’s just... it’s just a lot for her right now. Time will heal, I promise."

Felix’s lips quivered, and he clung to Chan, burying his face in his chest. "I’m sorry," he whispered, voice muffled. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t mean for you to go through this too… I’m sorry we lost the pup. I’m sorry you lost a pup. I know that must hurt so much for you as the pack alpha…"

Chan’s breath hitched. The mention of the lost pup—their lost pup—pierced through him like a knife. This was the first time someone had acknowledged the pain he was carrying, and though his throat burned with unshed tears, he refused to let them fall.

"It's okay, Lix," Chan croaked, voice thick with emotion. “It’s okay. Let’s just... let's just go back inside. It's getting cold out here.” He sighed, pulling off his hoodie and draping it over Felix’s shoulders. "You need to rest. And... you don’t need to go through this alone. I’m here, alright?"

Felix nodded, too exhausted to argue. He pulled the hoodie around him tightly and let Chan guide him back into the warmth of the house.

As they stepped inside, they were met with the chaotic sight of I.N, Seungmin, Han, and Changbin, who had clearly been drinking a little too much. The noise of their laughter echoed from the living room, but it didn’t feel like home—not yet. Not until things were healed, until everyone could find peace.

But for now, they had each other. And that was enough.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Hyunjin?” Y/N’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as she called out for the beta who was fast asleep beside her. She couldn’t sleep, the medicine she had been given still taking a toll on her body, but at least she was about 50% healed. Even so, it was still draining all of her energy.

She shifted, feeling the dryness in her throat and the tightness in her chest, and let out a small groan. The need to hydrate was becoming unbearable.

“Hyunjin, please wake up,” she begged, but there was no response. The beta remained in deep slumber, his breathing slow and even. Her body ached for water, and the pressure in her bladder made her restless.

With a frustrated sigh, Y/N slowly wiggled out of his grip, careful not to wake him. She shuffled to the bathroom, though the effort felt like a thousand pounds. Before she did anything else, she paused and glanced at herself in the mirror.

The reflection staring back at her was almost unrecognizable—pale skin, unkempt hair, and eyes that were dull with exhaustion. She looked just as horrible as she felt.

Sighing deeply, Y/N didn’t bother to fix herself. It wasn’t like she had the energy. She just wanted to get a drink, go back to bed, and hope to find some peace.

She stood by her bedroom door for a moment, listening for any sounds. Her omega hearing, once sharp and precise, couldn’t pick up much beyond the steady rhythm of breathing in the house. A few snores. That was it.

The house was still asleep.

Satisfaction mingled with hesitation. Y/N knew she was taking a risk stepping out of her room—especially in her current state—but her dry throat wouldn’t let her rest. She could already feel her body betraying her, begging for relief.

With a final breath, she opened the door and, for the first time in days, stepped out of her room.

The hallway felt alien, like she was trespassing on someone else’s territory. She took small, careful steps, her hand brushing against the wall for balance. She felt weak, fragile, and for a moment, unsure of where to even go.

As she moved past the living room, her eyes widened in disbelief. The space was a mess—empty soju bottles littered the coffee table, half-eaten plates of food still sitting on the floor, and crumpled napkins scattered like confetti.

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips. Of course, she thought. They haven’t been taking care of themselves.

Moving into the kitchen, Y/N grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filling it with cold water. The moment the liquid touched her dry throat, a wave of relief washed over her. She drank deeply, savoring the sensation, feeling a bit of life return to her.

But then, her eyes scanned the room, taking in the mess around her. Her omega instincts kicked in almost immediately—an overwhelming need to clean, to restore order, to make everything right again. But her body felt so weak, so drained.

She grimaced, disgusted at the sight.

Yuck.

Her omega gagged at the sight of the clutter. She couldn’t help but giggle softly, despite herself. The feeling was so familiar, like a desperate need to nurture taking over. She let out another sigh, this time louder, and then, slowly, she began to clean.

She moved through the kitchen, putting away pots and pans, stacking empty bottles in the recycling bin. Her movements were sluggish, her body feeling like lead, but she couldn’t stop. It was like she was on autopilot. She knew she had to take breaks, but the thought of leaving the house in this state made her skin crawl.

“Who the hell drinks soju on a Wednesday?” she muttered to herself, shaking her head as she picked up yet another empty bottle.

It was when she finished rearranging the pillows in the living room that she heard it—footsteps.

Her eyes widened, and she froze, like a deer caught in headlights. She dropped the last pillow she was holding and turned to face the figure standing in the doorway.

“Y/N?” A rough, groggy voice cut through the silence. “Is that really you?” Chan’s voice sounded like it had been pulled from sleep, full of confusion and concern. He stepped into the room, his eyes scanning her form quickly, disbelief crossing his features.

Y/N couldn’t hide the shame she felt in the pit of her stomach. She had been caught—again.

“I-I uh… Hi,” she whispered shyly, her voice barely above a murmur.

“What time is it?” Chan asked, his brows furrowing as he looked at her, then at the mess she had just cleaned. “Why are you awake? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Y/N felt small under his gaze, and her throat tightened again. “I was thirsty,” she said, keeping her voice soft. “Hyunjin wouldn’t wake up, so I came down… And, well…” She gestured to the tidy room, a small frown tugging at her lips. “You guys haven’t been taking care of yourselves, so I cleaned up a little.”

Chan’s eyes drifted from her to the room around her. He studied her—his gaze flickering between the space and her frail form. The house was now in better shape, but the sight of her, so exhausted, so far from her usual self, made his heart ache.

“Oh…” was all he could say. He didn’t know what else to add.

An awkward silence settled between them, thick with unspoken words. Y/N couldn’t help but feel the weight of it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t how they were supposed to be.

“I’ll head upstairs now… I’m done anyway.” She pouted, her shoulders slumping, her scent souring with sadness. The idea of their love being over, of things not being the way they once were, stung more than she could put into words.

“W-wait!” Chan spoke quickly, his voice tinged with nervousness. “Please don’t go… I mean, can we talk? I mean, if you want to?”

His words were hesitant, but they held an earnestness that made Y/N pause. She turned slowly, her eyes meeting his. The vulnerability in his expression made her chest ache. She could see the pain in his eyes, too.

Y/N hesitated, but finally nodded. “Okay.”

She walked over to the couch and sat down, feeling her body protesting with every step. She leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her thoughts before speaking again. “Let’s talk.”

She wasn’t ready. But she couldn’t keep running from him, from them. If she went back into her room, she wasn’t sure when she would face him again.

The silence between them felt heavy, but Y/N knew, somehow, this was the first step.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: chileee- even im not mentally ready for the next chapter. Its going to be SOOO long.

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