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menlove · 5 months ago

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queer paul tome pt 1: everything not related to john

okay i've been saying i'd make this post forever and it's uh. long. so i decided to split it up into four parts so i can get this first bit out and let it stop haunting me and so it's not 50 miles long.

feel free to add your own if it's not here or shoot me an ask and i'll add it :)

disclaimer: i'm not definitively saying sir paul mccartney is queer. i mean i really firmly think he is but it's all just speculation. also, if he is, there's obviously a reason he's not out about it & he deserves to have his privacy respected. i just personally find the dominant narrative in the fandom & even in larger spaces that poor pining queer john was in love with tragically heterosexual paul completely unconvincing and neeeeeed to be insane for a minute here

if this pisses u off u can simply scroll on by i do not need an essay in my notes. make your own post if you disagree.

(paul doing this for whatever reason in beverly hills, 1974- also the same trip he saw john on bc sure i guess)

this doesn't include lyrics as the main argument bc i saw a post ages ago basically saying there's nothing outside of them and lowkey i took that as a challenge because there's SO much outside of his lyrics that point to him being queer.

that being SAID, this is going to be split into four posts: not john related (most important and thus first bc there's so much documented about mclennon & john being queer, but not paul by himself), john related, paul's relationships w other men (these ones aren't all like... concrete and that's why they aren't included here but w all the context that'll come before it his relationships to certain men are..... interesting), and finally lyrics last bc some of them you genuinely can't just ignore

part 2- john related part 3- other men part 4- lyrics (those will have links once i actually make them)

also, i'm sure people have made similar posts before- i haven't seen them (other than this one an anon sent while i was writing this up which is sooo interesting but does have a lot of dead links) but if you have one you want to share feel free!

time to get into it. i'm avoiding homework by doing this.

(sidenote: not including instances of him just flirting w men bc body language can be read a lot of different ways- but if y'all wanna add any i know they're a dime a dozen like w george m., mal, random reporters, robert fraser, etc)

1- "Just kidding, Linda..."

youtube

REPORTER: You're a very, very good looking man. PAUL: [sits up straighter, making a sort of campy gesture towards the crowd, turning into a point] Get that boy's name. [Drops his hand, smiling and leaning his cheek on his hand.] Just kidding, Linda. REPORTER: [unintelligible] PAUL: What? REPORTER: I said- do you have a secret, looking so nice for fifty years? PAUL: [grins, resting his chin on his hand again and batting his eyelashes] Yes, it's the drugs, you know.

(originally posted on here by @northernsongspeels who hasn't been active in a while) this one is so crazy to me. he's so obviously flirting with that man and he's apologizing to linda for flirting with that man. like it's a conversation they've had before.

2- "Yes, boys."

tumblr

this video (originally posted by @ilovedig here)

PAUL: Yes, I think the main difference is that when you are that age- which I'm sure you remember, Tom- TOM: It's back there in the dim distant past, yes. PAUL: When you're that age, that's the kind of thing to do. I mean, what you're doing is you're going 'round and you're basically looking for girls or whatever turns you on and stuff. So, uh, yeah, I- TOM: Well- well could you give me the alternatives to girls? Are there others? LINDA: [scoffs] PAUL: Yes, boys. TOM: Oh! No.

3- "He's so good looking."

Paul McCartney first read the name and saw the photo (for weeks there was just one crazy photo of Elvis available in Britain) during a free period at Liverpool Institute. Again, it was a friend with the NME, and there was an advert for Heartbreak Hotel. "I thought, 'He's so good looking,'" Paul says, "he just looked perfect." Mark Lewisohn, All These Years Vol. 1 Tune In, sourced from the Anthology TV series by Lewisohn.

4- "A Nice Person Girl"

this fun little interview... (originally posted by @amoralto idk why the archive.org capture of it looks funky but the audio is still there) take it w a grain of salt bc it can also just read as a homophobic joke but like.

August 22nd, 1966 (Warwick Hotel, New York): As DJ “Cousin Brucie” Morrow conducts brief interviews with each of the Beatles, one by one, he asks Paul to settle the rumours that have been circulating in the press about the status of his relationship with Jane Asher. MORROW: Moving over here to Paul – someone just handed me a card. I guess this is… [focusing] Last year, when you were on my microphone here— PAUL: Ask me something about Rick Sklar. MORROW: Rick Sklar? That’s my boss. JOHN: Ask Paul about Rick Sklar. MORROW: Uh, Paul, last year when you were on my microphone, I think somebody – one of your staff – announced an engagement of you and Jane. PAUL: Uh… MORROW: Do you remember that? It was announced on the air. And then I remember we said something on the air and then thousands of people from the street went, “Oh.” What is it with you and Jane now? How – what is your relationship? Are you planning a marriage, planning an engagement, are you just boyfriend and girlfriend, what is it? Tell us the whole thing. JOHN: [mutters; inaudible] PAUL: Uh. We’re just queer, that’s the scene. [uproarious laughter in background] That’s the scene. Well I mean, I couldn’t say that on the air live, you know. JOHN: No, you’ll get into trouble for it. PAUL: No, the thing is, Cousin Bruce – um, we haven’t got plans to marry yet, you know. That’s the point. And that business about somebody saying we were engaged, nobody actually said it. It was just another one of those things where someone says, “Are they engaged?” and they said, “Well, whatever it is… [muttering]” “Yes, folks, they’re engaged!” And it wasn’t true. MORROW: Well, I’m sure there are a lot of girls who are very happy with this. What would you look for, in a girl? Say you did eventually want to settle down, what would you want to – what kind of girl would you like? What would you – what would you like in a gal you wanted to marry eventually, bring home to Mommy? PAUL: Uh… Female hormones. MORROW: Female. What’ll you go for, any – what, blonde, brunette, what? PAUL: Uh, you know, anything. Anything. Girls. It doesn’t matter if they’re blonde, brunette, or anything, as long as they’ve got it. MORROW: Would you want a nice person – what? A beautiful nice person girl. PAUL: Yeah, you know. A nice person girl. (transcription directly from @amoralto, bold mine)

and again this one COULD just be a lil homophobic joke but idk man his tone here is very different and the fact that he says he couldn't say that on air & john says he'll get in trouble is just. interesting. it's Interesting.

5- "A 26 year old queer never to get married."

Half an hour later it was very quiet, except for a few sobs, and then we decided that we had to see him just once more. We opened the gates and walked slowly in. Someone rang the doorbell. Waited, no one came, rang again. Rang again. Paul answered. We just stood there. God what do we say? "Yes, what do you want?" he said, as if we'd just come to borrow sugar. C. ran out. Someone asked if it was tomorrow, and he said, "Tomorrow." It went quiet again. "What's this - Heartbreak Hotel? What do you think I am a 26 year old queer never to get married? Oh, stick around kids!" We just looked at each other. Oh God, Paul, what have we done now. All we wanted to do was stand there and talk awhile. What was the point in shouting at us like that? We stood there, tears falling but there was no sound. "Apple Scruffs Come to Dinner" by Andrew Bailey, 1970 (x), bold mine

again, like the last one, this one is very... i think he was absolutely being homophobic here, but it's a very telling outburst. like he's yelling this harsh enough to make these girls cry.

6- Harry Harrison's "gorgeous tan"

moving onto this wild quote from many years from now by barry miles about george's older brother (bold mine):

"George Harrison’s elder brother Harry had been to Christmas Island and arrived back with a gorgeous tan in his army uniform and we thought, My God, he’s been made a man of. You used to see this quite regularly, people would be made a man of."

7- gender neutral language

let's get into some interesting gender neutral language he uses. now, would this be Particularly compelling with a modern celebrity? not really. but most people his age really don't talk gender neutrally unless it's to be vague On Purpose. like this bit from many years from now, where before this he'd been using exclusively "girl" and "she/her" pronouns talking about hookups, it suddenly shifts to very purposefully vague (bold mine):

With a lot of those people I met and related to, albeit for a short time, I've mercifully forgotten them and I don't really remember what went on, thank goodness. There may have been a few drinks involved and I was a little merry and, you know, you slip back to someone's flat... My main feeling really is one of relief. You do feel like some of it was outrageous. But I'm glad to have had a slightly outrageous period in my life, as long as it didn't hurt anybody, because I'd always felt maybe my character was too careful. I think the great thing was I never had any deep, dark secrets. That's what the papers wanted. They wanted me to be hiding a little Miss Whiplash somewhere, and for the flat to be in my name. But it was never that. It was always a one-night stand with whoever was around and wanted to party.

8/9/10- the "binary" (ft. a bit of john)

this infamous quote from the lyrics in his section on "hello goodbye" (bold mine) (x):

I'm attracted to the binary. I state that quite casually, but I think there’s actually a lot more to it than my just saying, ‘I’m attracted to the binary.’ Once you get down to the scientific biological level, in my core, I probably am the binary. All of us are probably more binary than we might realise.

context being that when he says "the binary" he means duality. there's a lot of interesting stuff going on in this article, though there's some more john related stuff i'll add here too bc it's super fascinating (sorry, easier to go here than the john section!):

‘Hello, Goodbye’ shows off a binary that we took great advantage of in The Beatles. With regard to John Lennon and myself, the great attraction we had for each other was that we each had a bit the other didn’t have. John could be quite cynical. I was his opposite, in that respect. [...] I think there definitely was a sort of ‘hello, goodbye’ about John and myself. But we loved it. We loved it because John could contribute his caustic wit and I could contribute something more upbeat. Not always, we each did what the other one did from time to time. But if you had to break it down – and though it is a bit crude to say so – there was a binary tension at the heart of our songwriting together.

11- big guys at the gym

onto something more lighthearted and also just ridiculous (x):

"If I'm in a gym and all the big guys have got big weights and they're doing all the big stuff, at the end I do a headstand," he said. "And they come over to me [and say], 'That's pretty impressive man.'" ["78-year-old Paul McCartney’s fitness routine includes headstands and yoga with Alec Baldwin" by Cory Stieg]

12- gay dreams

this infamous quote which i have a bit of a different take on that i'll expand on in a sec (bold mine)

My view is that these things are there whether you want them or not, in your interior. You don’t call up dreams, they happen, often the exact opposite of what you want. You can be heterosexual and be having a homosexual dream and wake up, and think, “Shit, am I gay?” I like that you don’t have control over it. But there is some control – it is you dreaming, it is your mind it’s all happening in. In a way my equation would be that my computer is fully loaded by now. Maybe in younger people there’s a little bit of loading to go, but mine’s loaded pretty much, so what I try and do is allow it to print out unbeknown to me. And I’m interested to hear what it’s got in there. (interview by Karen Wright for Luigi's Alcove, 2000) (x)

a lot of people use this to point to him being oblivious, which i do get, but i want to focus more on the line "it is you dreaming, it is your mind it's all happening in". like he seems interested and fascinated by the revelations we have in our dreams- hardly repressed or scared.

13- royston ellis' "break me in easy"

we've all been over the royston ellis poem and i don't want to just retype out everything that's already on this post so go check out @eppysboys' post on the royston ellis poem!

but tl;dr a bisexual friend of theirs in liverpool, royston ellis, wrote this poem called "Break Me In Easy":

Easy, easy, break me in easy. Sure I’m big time, cock-sure and brash, but easy, easy, break me in easy. Sure they’ve been others, I know the way…

which is about gay sex. he also told the boys that 1 in every 5 men was gay and paul worried that it might be him (this was back in 1960). he still remembered it line for line by 2006 which is just insane. all the sources for those are over on the linked post.

14- woody pecker

originally posted by @didwemeetsomewherebefore here (links to my blog bc the wayback machine was not cooperating right but as long as it stays up you can find the original here!)

PAUL & DONOVAN: How to suck a lollypopper, Sitting on a woodypecker, Dancing in the double-decker shoe, I don’t know, So, how do you do? PAUL: I don't know how you do it, Lordy, knows I try But every time I try to do it, My whole darn tongue gets ti(r)ed

this one is just so sillyyyyy and cute but it's just so full of innuendo like sucking on a lollypop and sitting on a woody pecker and your tongue getting tied (tired?) when you try to suck the uh lollypop. giggling his way through it with one of his boy best friends donovan too.

15- "i heard he was gay"

this fun little quote from body count by francie schwartz:

When the rotation of bike, gun, and other diversions left me alone with Billy, his first words were, "You went with Paul McCartney, didn’t you?" "I bet you just love it when people ask you about your father, don't you?" He was surprised, he half-frowned. "No, really, what's Paul like? I heard he was gay." "He might have gone that way, but he didn't. He really didn't dig fucking all that much, if that's any kind of an answer."

note here though that francie is a notoriously unreliable source on paul. she hates him and honestly makes some pretty homophobic digs at him & others pretty frequently. so it is interesting that she denies he's gay, but says he might have gone that way. given how short of a time they were together and how weird their relationship was, i wouldn't really expect him to be open about that with her- still, she noticed something there too.

16- homosexual handbook

paul was mentioned in the homosexual handbook by angelo d'arcangelo in 1968 under a list of famous homosexuals. it's very tongue in cheek and says this "may just be wishful thinking on (my) part"

and obviously not proof as the book takes a very playful and unserious tone. he does provide this little disclaimer though, which i think is interesting:

Some of the men on this list are self-acknowledged homosexuals. Some are not. All of them are generally thought to be gay. However, as many family men and notorious womanizers appear on these pages, we must—rather than question their forays into either or both sexes—congratulate them on their obvious virility.

because once again like... WHERE are these rumors about paul being gay? because the rest of this list, as far as i can tell (ngl i did not do a deep read there) are men who have/had gay rumors about them or were gay. this comes up more in the john post as well, but i seriously need to know just how many rumors there were about him being gay.

17- "the female hordes"

It was always obvious Brian was gay and we could talk to him about gay things, but he would never come out with, 'Hello, Paul, you’re looking nice today.' I was quite obviously un-gay, due to my hunting of the female hordes, and I think we all must have given the same impression. There had been a suggestion since that John had some homosexual thing with Brian, but I personally doubt it. All the intimate moments we shared were always about girls. (from Anthology)

i know putting one of his "un-gay" quotes here is counter intuitive but listen i have genuinely never heard a gayer thing come out of a man's mouth than "hunting of the female hordes" it sends me to fucking mars every time i read it. that's the most closeted shit i've ever read in my entire life. it sounds like what a gay man would say trying to come up with something a straight man would say. and i think paul's bi, he just desperately wants me to think he's never gotten pussy a day in his damn life with this quote.

as a side-note, "all the intimate moments we shared were always about girls". now what do you mean by that man..... like shared as in verbally told stories? or do you mean it was always about the girls when you guys were...... intimate? because those are two really different things and i need to know what the hell that's supposed to mean

18/19- this poor man just wants to flirt with and kiss men can we let him

okay tumblr has nerfed me and won't let me add any more videos from tumblr but there's a video of drunk paul almost kissing ringo jokingly. posted by @stewy here and as long as it's up you can reblog it here- thank u for the contribution to my red stringing lmfao

pringo for once thank god but. i don't even have anything to say except to point and think of a slur. drunk as hell flirting with your best friend what's better than that.

and then this whole interaction between paul & elton john where they kiss on the mouth

youtube

and i could so buy that this is a straight man and gay man just being comfortable together except well see above and see the other posts but also paul's very much adapting a softer, "campier" tone around him and calling him babe/darling in a very, again, gay way. not as in he's gay For elton john lmfao but this is how to old gay friends would greet each other do you see what i mean do you understand me......

anyway that's the end of part 1 join me next time (whenever the fuck i decide to avoid doing homework again um) this man has sucked a dick i'm so sure of this. (not really don't sue me for libel paul love ya)

#paul mccartney #mclennon #adjacently.#this is so fucking long jesus god and im so sure theres other shit im missing that yall are gonna add too #just know theres More Coming i just couldnt feasibly put it all in one post is. how much there is. this man is so bisexual #tried to source everything correctly as well as who posted stuff on tumblr first #but if u see smth and ur like hey i'd like credit for that i probably didnt know you posted it somewhere but lmk yk #fuck i should tag these hold on #paul tome #great beautiful tagging system

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churipu · 1 year ago

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STUDYING WITH GOJO INCLUDES ✮⋆˙

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. clingy gojo, college! au, study buddies (u guys r dating) but he's unserious, soft gojo

note. sksjlddlsjjd look at me uploading anything but my 1k event, but pls i can't stop thinking abt studying with gojo and how unserious he will be during the session.

studying with gojo includes him whining about being bored because he's just naturally gifted — while you actually needed to study to match his brain capacity. he's a whiny baby about having to accompany you study when he was the one who volunteered to do so.

"baby, come on. can we please take a break? how long has it been? two hours?" he whines softly, his forehead had been stuck to the surface of the short table you had in your room. his long legs sprawled underneath it.

"satoru — it's been twenty minutes. and nobody forced you to be here, you can go if you want to," your answer only furthered his whining, like a small child who hasn't gotten what he wanted, he shifted a bit, letting the table move along with his movements; preventing you from focusing on the book you were scribbling on.

the man child finally pulls himself to sit up straight, a red blotch on his forehead. with furrowed brows, and a big frown on his face, he grabbed your pencil and tossed it across your room — sighing, you grabbed another one from your pencil case, and he did the same thing. only then after, the decided that throwing your pencil case across the room was the best choice.

"satoru, if you're not going to let me study, please leave."

yet again, another whine escaped his throat as he threw his head back onto your bed, "come on, 'ts good to take breaks, cuddle me, love me, pay attention to me!"

"we can do that later, 'ts a big exam next week . . ."

studying with gojo includes him distracting you with his love — whether it being a kiss, or just him stuck to your hips like a koala. he just needed a bit of love and attention as well.

gojo paced around your room, trying to distract himself from your silent form. poking around your figurines and shelves, looking through old year books, and even family albums. but nothing, he comes back to you, slotting your sitting form in between his open legs. gojo slithered his arms around your waist, burying his face into your shoulder.

"'m dying here y/n . . ."

your vague silence only offended him, "so y'don't care if your boyfriend's dying?"

sighing you replied, "i do care. but you're not," gojo grumbled under his breath, prepping his head up so his chin rested on top of your head, whistling out a a random tune that, of course, bothered you, "'toru, shut up."

"give me the love and attention that i deserve and maybe i'll stop," he nonchalantly said before continuing his whistling concert.

studying with gojo includes him finally being tired of not receiving what he wanted, and he turns sulky. his aura gloomy — and the corner of his lips tugged down into a big, giant frown.

gojo slipped himself under the table, resting his head on your thighs. the male looks up at you, only getting a good look of your chin and neck, he reaches his finger out, touching the tip of your chin before traveling down your neck.

still no love. or attention.

the male lets out one last (loud) sigh and tore himself away from you, plopping down on your bed. hiding under the covers, he curled himself up into a ball, his big back facing you — letting out grumbles under his breath as he hides his sorrow away.

you think gojo was being dramatic. he usually comes back, yearning for attention. but no, this time he didn't, just laying there on your bed for the next half an hour — where you coincidentally finished the last question in the practice page.

"satoru, are you asleep?" no answer. but the male shifted slightly, "satoru."

again, no answer. but gojo kicked his legs once, showing that he was indeed, not asleep at all. he had just been lying there, in the same position for the past half an hour.

"satoru, are you mad at me?"

gojo peeked one of his blue eyes from under the blanket and huffs childishly before grunting, he then prompted to pull down the blanket over his eye again. letting you have a taste of your own medicine, "fine, i was going to tell you that i can now give you love and attention. but you seem a little angry so i'm just gonna leave you alone—"

the male opened the blanket and pulled you under the warm fabric with him before covering you both, he immediately locks you in his embrace using a leg over your torso, "finally," he mutters out.

gojo pulled you in, a hand resting on your hips. his fingers raising the hem of your shirt just a bit to brush his digits on your skin intimately. he leans his head on top of your chest, "'m still mad at you if you're wondering."

chuckling, your fingers threaded with his white locks. your cheek pressed onto his head, "you're so childish, 'm not as smart as you, y'know? i need to study."

gojo hums softly, "there's still a week. seven days. you can start studying tomorrow, i promise i won't bother you then," he mutters out, his lips puckering into a small pout.

promises were meant to be broken anyways.

studying with gojo includes him promising he won't bother you the next time — and him ended up doing the same thing, because why study when you can love him instead?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #jjk #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #i love him so much #he's so clingy i love him #gojo #satoru #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #jjk gojo

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sundeyyy · 26 days ago

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𝙒𝘼𝙏𝘾𝙃 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝘽𝘼𝘾𝙆⸻𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙔

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: BadBoys!Ateez x Broken!Reader

𝙬𝙘: 12.5K

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

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

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

⸻

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

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

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

⸻

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⸻

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

That's when you hear them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You'll still go to the party.

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

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

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

She hesitates. "With Yuji?"

"Yeah."

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

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

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

You nod again, jaw tight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

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

⸻

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

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

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

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

⸻

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

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

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

Another drink won't kill me.

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

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

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

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

But it's short-lived.

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

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

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

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

They don't see pain. They see spectacle.

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

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

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

⸻

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you give them what they want.

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

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

Then a voice breaks through it all.

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

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

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

You snap.

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

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

Your fist flies before you can stop it.

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

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

You freeze.

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

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

And so you run out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don't know where you're going.

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

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

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

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

Then you see it.

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

Inside, it's quiet. Heavy. Still.

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

And then you finally check your phone.

34 missed calls. 17 texts.

You read none of them. You turn it off.

Silence again.

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

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

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

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

Unseen.

Unloved.

Unworthy.

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

Why did I do that to Yuji...

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

You don't even remember how you got here.

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

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

You tell yourself you'll get up soon.

You don't.

The silence was deafening.

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

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

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

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

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

So it didn't matter.

Nothing really did.

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

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

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

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

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

Your phone buzzed again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Maybe this is all I deserve."

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

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

The world felt distant.

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

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

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

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

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

You didn't recognize yourself.

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

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

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

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

You hadn't eaten since Friday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your voice cracked.

No one answered.

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

But it was faint.

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

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

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

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

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

It's Monday.

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

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

Because they all know.

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

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

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

"Is that her?"

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

You don't say a word.

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

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

The walls feel like they're closing in again.

You walk faster.

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

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

"Y/N. Come with us."

You look up.

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

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

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

The door shuts behind you with a heavy thud.

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

You say nothing.

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

Still, silence.

The officer steps forward. "Where were you?"

You stare past them. Eyes unfocused. Mouth shut.

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

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

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

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

You blink, once.

Still no answer.

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

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

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

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

Your mom.

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

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

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

Your lip trembles, just for a second.

But you don't speak.

You haven't said a word.

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

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

But you can't do it.

You can't let her touch you.

You pull away—sharply.

The room stills.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stare blankly at the corner of the desk.

They see a girl who doesn't care.

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

No one sees the numbness swallowing you whole.

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

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

And maybe you are.

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

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

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

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

They're whispering. Of course they are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A minute passes. Then five. Then ten.

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

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

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

You turn your head away, jaw tight.

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

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

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

Yuji.

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

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

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

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

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

That one stings.

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

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

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

And she still doesn't hate you.

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

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

You could text her back.

You could tell her you're sorry.

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

You hate yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because what if she really hates you now?

⸻

YUJI'S POV

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

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

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

Still, she keeps sending messages.

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

No responses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They all pause at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeosang, softly "We failed her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then there's a sound.

Knock knock.

You freeze.

It's soft. Hesitant.

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

You say nothing.

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

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

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

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

A beat passes. You think she's gone.

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

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

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

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

The room is still.

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

You didn't answer. You couldn't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But all she hears is silence.

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

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

God, her baby girl looked so thin.

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

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

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

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

Then nothing.

Still, her heart lifts a little.

She got the tea.

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

And so, for tonight, that's enough.

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

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

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

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

Your feet stop cold.

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

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

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

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

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

You don't even flinch.

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

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

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

She stops short when she sees your locker.

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

No one answers.

There's only stifled laughter and muffled giggles.

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

Still no response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You keep walking.

Just like you did that night after the party.

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

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

You don't look back.

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

______ Your phone buzzes again. You pull it out.

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

You stare at the message for a long time, your thumb hovering over the screen. You don't reply. You tuck the phone back into your pocket.

Somewhere in your chest, something twists with guilt.

But then you think about the looks they gave you. The hallway. The laughter. The pity. The silence from Ateez. The way no one stood up for you when it counted.

You pass a familiar street corner and stop, unsure if you should keep walking or turn back.

Your legs feel heavy. Your thoughts heavier.

There's a part of you—tiny, almost crushed—that whispers maybe you should've stayed. That maybe Yuji's text was real. That maybe someone, somewhere, still wants you.

But another part—louder, darker—says you don't deserve any of it.

You end up sitting on a curb with your hood up, head in your hands, hiding from a world that refuses to understand you.

And maybe that's all you can do right now.

You wander the city again.

You avoid familiar streets. Avoid your house. You just keep walking, hoodie up, arms tucked tight, headphones in with no music playing.

You find yourself back at the abandoned train yard.

The air smells like rust and dust. The sun is setting behind jagged buildings, washing the tracks in dim orange light. You step between shadows and trash, the silence humming in your ears louder than any crowd ever could.

You find the same train car you stayed in before. It's still empty, still yours.

You sit. Then lie down. Your backpack as your pillow.

You stare at the metal ceiling, lit by the last sliver of sunlight, and feel your stomach twist. Not from hunger. Just... hollow.

Your phone buzzes again.

Mom (missed call) Yuji: "Where are you? Please... I just want to know that you're okay."

You shut your eyes. Pretend you didn't see it. Pretend none of this exists.

Then you hear a train rumbling far in the distance. Not yours. Just another one passing by, going somewhere else. Carrying people who don't feel like this. People who didn't punch the one person who cared. People who still believe in being saved.

But you're not one of them.

You curl up tighter.

The stars come out one by one above the broken roof.

And you say nothing. _______ TUESDAY

You blink, your eyes adjusting to the dim light peeking through the broken windows of the train yard. The air is cold, and your muscles ache from the night spent on the hard ground. For a moment, you're disoriented—unsure of where you are or how you even got here. Then, the events of the previous night flood back: the party, the confrontation, the walking... the walking that had led you here, away from everyone. You pull yourself up, your body stiff, but there's no time to wallow in the pain. You can hear the faint hum of the world outside, life continuing while you remain frozen in place.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you don't bother to check. You already know who it is. The same two names that have been lighting up your screen for hours: your mom and Yuji. You can't bring yourself to respond.

You know you need to go back. You should go back. But you don't. Instead, you take one last look at the place where you spent the night alone and step out into the harsh morning air. It feels like a different world now, a world where you're just walking to another battle.

⸻

When you walk through the gates, the usual bustle of students around you is overwhelming. But there's something different today. The noise feels sharper, the whispers more insistent, like the entire school is aware of you—and they are. The police are here again. You can tell by the uniforms, the uncomfortable looks of the teachers, and the way everyone moves out of their way. The whispers follow you down the hall. You can feel their eyes on your back, but you keep your head down, the weight of their judgment settling in the pit of your stomach.

And then there's the other group: the counselors, the ones who've made it their mission to 'help' you, but always seem to make everything worse. They're all standing near your locker, their glares sharp, their voices just low enough that you can't catch what they're saying. They've been waiting for you. Just like last time.

Your eyes flick over to them—at the familiar ones, the ones who never seem to see past your mistakes, who never bother to understand. But there's one new face in the crowd: Mrs. Honey. She's standing a little farther away, her posture straighter, less judgmental than the others. She looks at you with something softer in her eyes, something different than the usual disdain. You can't read it, but you notice it. For the first time in a long while, someone seems like they might actually want to help.

As you get closer to your locker, your heart sinks. There are words scrawled on it, hateful messages and mocking slurs. Your name is slashed across in big, messy letters—comments about your disappearance, about your 'broken' personality, about everything. The sight of it makes your stomach churn. You can feel your throat close up, but you force yourself to breathe. They're just words. They don't matter.

Yuji walks up behind you, her eyes wide as she takes in the damage. She doesn't say anything at first, just stands there, fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable with what she sees. "I... I'm sorry, Y/N," she says quietly, but it doesn't feel like enough. It never feels like enough.

"You okay?" she asks gently, but the words are too soft. Too gentle. It's not like she doesn't understand, but she can't understand this. She can't know how it feels to have everyone look at you like you're nothing but the worst parts of yourself on display.

And that's when it happens. The counselors finally move in. The ones you can never escape. They walk over to your locker, their heels clicking in sync, each one standing behind the other like they've already formed their judgment.

"Y/N," one of them—Miss Blackwell, the one who never had a kind word for you—starts, her voice sharp and cold. "We need to talk. Again. This behavior is unacceptable."

You don't respond, just stare at her, but she's not done yet. She moves closer, practically looming over you. "You've been reported missing. Your mother is worried sick, and you've just disappeared like this? You need to stop acting out. What's going on with you?"

The words come at you like a battering ram, each one heavier than the last. You're not allowed to speak unless they tell you. You're not allowed to feel unless it fits into their little box of what's right. When you don't respond, their eyes narrow, judgment clear in every movement. Miss Blackwell's voice drops, an undertone of disgust sneaking through.

"No answer?" she presses, glancing toward the others, who share a brief, knowing look. They've already decided—whatever happened, it's your fault. It's always your fault.

And just as it's becoming unbearable, Mrs. Honey steps forward. She doesn't speak to Miss Blackwell, but her presence is a wall, and her eyes are on you. She's the first to actually see you today, the first to see you for more than your mistakes, and it feels like a lifeline.

"Y/N, we're just trying to help," she says softly. "I know this isn't easy, but please, if you need anything, you can come to me. It doesn't have to be like this."

You meet her gaze for a moment, but then the pressure is too much. Your eyes drop to the floor. You can't speak. You can't do anything. You can't be what they want. You can't be what anyone wants.

"You should talk to her," Yuji whispers, and her voice is filled with the same pleading hope you're trying to ignore. She doesn't get it. She doesn't know what this feels like.

But it doesn't matter. Because right now, all you want is to escape. From the looks, from the words, from the pressure.

The world feels too big, and you're just a small, broken piece of it. ______

The school meeting room is cold, sterile, and far too bright. The hum of fluorescent lights fills the uncomfortable silence as you sit hunched in a chair, arms crossed tightly over your chest. The table in front of you is filled with adults—authority figures—most of whom haven't said more than a sentence to you since the year started.

Your mom is sitting beside you, pale and exhausted, her eyes red-rimmed and full of silent pleading. Across the table are four school counselors and one teacher you recognize but have never really spoken to. Mrs. Honey, a newer counselor, sits to the far left—she watches you closely, not with judgment, but with concern. She's the only one in the room who isn't staring at you like a problem to be solved or expelled.

Mrs. Honey speaks first, voice gentle. "Y/N, I know this isn't easy. But we're here to help you. I think... you've been hurting for a long time."

You don't say anything. You stare at a scratch in the table, the tip of your sneaker tapping rhythmically against the floor.

Mr. Calhoun, a counselor with a clipboard and a clipped tone, lets out a sigh. "With all due respect, Mrs. Honey, this is the second time this girl has gone missing in less than a week. She's not responding to any efforts to reach her. It's disruptive. It's dangerous."

"She hasn't even been here a full semester," another counselor—Ms. Lowell—adds, voice laced with irritation. "And already she's skipped, fought, cursed at staff... I don't think she's interested in changing."

Your jaw tightens.

"Or maybe she just wants attention," mutters the vice principal. "These types of students always pull stunts like this."

You flinch.

Your mom opens her mouth to defend you but no words come out. You don't look at her.

Mrs. Honey shakes her head slightly. "She's not a 'type of student.' She's a person. A child. And she's clearly in pain. Maybe instead of trying to punish her for being broken, we should try to understand why she feels like disappearing is her only option."

You lift your head slowly, eyes locking onto Mrs. Honey's. There's no pity there. Just honesty. A softness that unnerves you more than any harsh words could.

Still, you shake your head, voice low and rough from disuse. "Let go of me. Leave me alone."

Mrs. Honey's expression doesn't falter.

The others shift uncomfortably, still more interested in paperwork and protocol than your well-being. The judgment lingers in the air.

Your mom brushes your shoulder gently, but you pull away again, and the room falls back into silence.

You sit still, eyes unfocused, your mind slowly drifting even as the voices in the room keep talking around you. About you.

"She's withdrawn, unresponsive, hostile," Mr. Calhoun says, flipping through your file like you're just another statistic. "And if I'm being honest, I'm not sure this school is equipped to handle someone like her."

Someone like me. Your nails dig into your sleeves. You don't even know me.

"I've reviewed her records," Ms. Lowell cuts in. "No prior history at our school, no extracurricular involvement, no signs of community connection. Her presence in this environment is... disruptive."

Disruptive. That's what I am, huh? Not a person. Not a kid. Just a disruption.

You stare at the floor, your body still but your mind screaming. You wonder if they'd still talk this way if you weren't in the room. Or maybe they think you're not really here—just a shell sitting in a chair. You might as well be invisible.

"She's hurting," Mrs. Honey interjects again, her voice more forceful now. "You're all talking about her like she's not in the room. Like she hasn't been through something. No one disappears for days unless they feel like they have nowhere else to go."

That makes your chest ache.

You're right. I didn't want to go anywhere. I just didn't want to exist at all.

"She doesn't try," someone says. "She doesn't speak up, doesn't respond."

Because what's the point?

Every time I open my mouth, it's the wrong thing. Every time I show up, I get laughed at, pushed aside, talked about. You think I don't see the way the teachers look at me? The way the students whisper? The way even my mom can't look me in the eye sometimes?

You glance toward your mother. She's still crying quietly, still not saying anything. You don't blame her. You're tired of fighting too.

"Y/N," Mrs. Honey tries again, her voice reaching out like a hand. "I know you feel alone. But I'm asking you to let someone in. Even if it's just a little. You don't have to speak, just... let us try."

Your lips part, but no sound comes. Instead, the words echo in your skull.

You don't get it. None of you do. You never will.

You sit there, silence as your shield, trying not to fall apart again in front of people who wouldn't notice if you did.

The silence in the meeting room is crushing. The fluorescent lights buzz faintly above, but all you can hear is your heartbeat, pounding in your ears like it wants to break free.

You finally say, in a low voice that barely feels like your own, "I didn't mean to scare anyone..."

Your mom chokes out a sob beside you.

You stare at your hands. They're trembling.

"I just wanted it all to stop," you add, barely above a whisper.

Mrs. Honey leans forward slightly, her posture open, calm. No judgment in her eyes. Just softness.

But then Ms. Lowell snorts. "Oh please. We've heard this sob story before."

"She's manipulating you," another counselor mutters to Mrs. Honey. "It's textbook."

"She's been a disaster since the first day she walked through these doors," says Mr. Calhoun with a shrug. "And now you expect us to hold her hand because she ran off for attention?"

You freeze.

Your throat tightens, and for a moment it feels like your lungs forget how to work. The room spins. Your mom tries to say something through her tears, but it comes out in broken pieces. She places a hand on your shoulder.

You jerk away from her touch.

"Don't," you murmur. "Just—don't."

Why did I even speak?

They don't want to understand me.

I don't belong anywhere.

Your vision blurs as you curl in on yourself, not physically—but internally. You stop responding. You stop hearing them. You sink back behind the walls you know too well.

You become still.

Emotionless.

Empty.

The counselors keep talking, louder now, angrier. Their voices blur together into something sharp and punishing:

"She needs discipline, not coddling."

"She's been disrespectful to teachers since day one."

"She's nothing but a drain on everyone here."

Mrs. Honey stands sharply, her chair scraping against the floor. "Enough," she snaps. Her voice isn't loud, but it cuts through the venom like a blade. "She's sitting right here. And she's a child."

She moves toward your mother, who is silently sobbing now, hands clutched tightly in her lap. "It's not your fault," Mrs. Honey whispers to her, kneeling gently. "None of this is your fault. She's hurting."

Your mom just keeps crying, trying so hard to say your name through the tears. "Y/N... baby, please..."

But you don't answer.

You don't even blink.

You're a statue.

Gone again. ———————

The door shuts with a dull click as the meeting ends. Everyone filters out, some murmuring to each other, others shooting you lingering, judgmental glances. You remain seated, completely frozen. Mrs. Honey watches them go, then glances over at you, her expression soft but filled with quiet understanding.

She doesn't try to fill the silence with words right away. She simply gives your mom a subtle nod and says, "Why don't you wait in the front office? I'll bring Y/N when she's ready."

Your mom hesitates, her eyes flicking between you and Mrs. Honey. You can see the concern etched into her features, the heaviness of a thousand unspoken words hanging in the air between you. But her shoulders slump slightly, and she lets out a soft, defeated breath before she quietly turns toward the door.

She walks out without a word.

You don't look up.

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving you alone with Mrs. Honey.

The room is cold, and the silence is suffocating. You remain silent, your fingers digging into your lap as you fight back the urge to close yourself off completely. You can't bring yourself to speak to Mrs. Honey, not when everything inside you feels like it's breaking apart.

She doesn't rush you.

After a while, Mrs. Honey's voice breaks through the silence, calm and gentle. "Y/N, you don't have to say anything. I'm not here to pressure you. I just wanted you to know... what happened today wasn't your fault."

You don't respond. It's hard to process her words when you're not even sure what you're feeling. The guilt, the pain, the numbness, all swirl together in your chest, too overwhelming to comprehend.

Mrs. Honey waits for a moment, sensing your internal struggle. When she speaks again, it's almost as though she's trying to reach you without forcing you to respond. "I know it feels like everyone's against you, but I'm not. And your mom isn't. We just want you to be okay."

Your stomach twists at the mention of your mom. You're not sure what you want anymore, not sure how to fix what's been broken. All you want is to disappear, to not have to face any of this. But no matter how hard you try, the reality still presses down on you like a weight that won't lift.

The door opens softly, and your mom steps back into the room. She looks tired, her eyes red-rimmed as though she's been crying for hours. She clutches her phone in one hand, still clutching onto that sliver of hope, the faintest trace of desperation.

She pauses when she sees you sitting there, frozen, not looking at her. You feel her gaze on you, but you can't return it. Not now.

"Y/N..." Her voice cracks, and for the first time, she sounds broken. "Please, can we talk?"

You don't answer. Your gaze stays fixed on the floor, the weight of everything too heavy to bear.

"I just want to understand," your mom continues, her voice pleading but soft. "I don't know what happened to you, but I want to help you. I want to be there, but I don't know how."

You don't know how either.

Her voice breaks through the wall of silence, a raw whisper in the room. "I'm so sorry, Y/N... for everything."

Your eyes sting, but you don't look up. You won't. You can't.

"Just... leave me alone," you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper.

Your mom's breath hitches, the sound of her heart breaking louder than any words could convey. You hear her step closer, but when you don't move, when you don't even acknowledge her, she pulls back.

"Okay," she says softly, her voice thick with tears. "I'll leave you alone. But please know... I love you."

You don't respond. The words don't reach you.

With a final, heartbroken glance, your mom exits the room, leaving you alone with Mrs. Honey. The door clicks shut behind her, and you're left in the empty silence, feeling more alone than ever.

The minutes stretch into hours. You don't move, don't speak, don't even blink. It's as though you're trapped in some inescapable moment, and the world outside doesn't matter anymore.

Eventually, Mrs. Honey stands up, her footsteps soft as she crosses the room toward the door. "Your mom's waiting in the front. You should go with her, Y/N. I know things feel impossible right now, but you don't have to carry this alone. Not anymore."

But you don't feel strong enough to respond, to make a decision. Instead, you remain motionless, your eyes staring at the floor, caught between what you should do and what you want to do.

⸻

Later, you find yourself standing outside the school, your mom at your side, the weight of everything pressing against you, suffocating. The last remnants of sunlight flicker across the horizon, but the world feels dark and cold.

You don't know what to say, how to make things better. You just wish everything would go away. But it won't.

The drive home is quiet. The only sound in the car is the hum of the engine and the soft, labored breathing of your mom beside you.

When you arrive home, you don't speak. You don't look at her. You just walk to your room, closing the door behind you without a word.

And when you finally sit down on your bed, the weight of it all crushes you. The pressure, the isolation, the hurt.

You're alone again. _______

The knock is soft, hesitant.

You don't answer. You can't.

Your body is wrapped in your blanket, the weight of the day crushing you. You can still hear the counselors' voices in your head, the way they looked at you like a lost cause. Your mom's tired eyes. The way everyone stared when you walked through the halls.

The door opens quietly.

"Y/N?"

Yuji steps in slowly, not waiting for a response. She closes the door behind her and walks across the room like she's afraid to break something fragile. You don't move, but your eyes flicker toward her for a second, then away.

"I brought snacks," she murmurs, setting a small bag on your desk. "And water. Thought maybe you'd need both."

You say nothing.

Yuji looks at you for a moment, then pulls your desk chair over next to the bed and sits down. She doesn't try to force conversation. She doesn't ask questions or demand an explanation. She just... stays.

The room is quiet for a long time. The kind of quiet that stretches thin and brittle. You feel her eyes on you every so often, but she never says anything. She just waits.

Minutes pass.

An hour?

The clock ticks, and the room grows darker.

You hear her shift slightly in the chair, letting out a small sigh—but still she stays. The silence is starting to feel less like a void and more like... presence.

Finally, your voice cracks through it, small and brittle.

"I didn't mean to disappear."

Yuji doesn't move, but her voice is soft. "I know."

You bite your lip, voice trembling as you speak again. "I just... couldn't breathe anymore."

Yuji's chair creaks as she leans forward, elbows on her knees. "Do you feel like you can breathe now?"

You shake your head slowly, your voice barely audible. "No."

The silence that follows is heavy, but not uncomfortable.

Then Yuji quietly says, "Okay. Then I'll stay until you can."

You turn your face toward her slightly. "Even if that takes forever?"

Yuji gives you a faint, sad smile. "Even if it takes longer than that."

The words hang between you—so soft and real they almost hurt.

And then you whisper something you didn't even realize you were going to say:

"...I think I did something bad."

Yuji's eyes flicker, her body going still.

You don't say more. You curl tighter under the blanket, your heart pounding.

She leans a little closer, her voice gentle but steady. "Y/N... what did you do?"

🥀

𝑻𝑨𝑮 𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 | @hannahstacos @Anonymip @miyadollie @yuyuslay @lixhoe @beljakovina @rinabluess

✰ 𝘼𝙇𝙇 𝙍𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙎 𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙀𝙍𝙑𝙀𝘿 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙮. 𝘿𝙊 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙎𝙏𝙀𝘼𝙇, 𝘾𝙊𝙋𝙔, 𝙊𝙍 𝘾𝙇𝘼𝙄𝙈 𝙈𝙔 𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙆 𝘼𝙎 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙊𝙒𝙉.

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littlemissaddict · 6 months ago

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Simon 'Ghost' Riley

She's sweaty, tired and gasping for breath and yet Simon still continues. She ducks, dodging the incoming blow to the head but she's exhausted so the next blow that he throws hits her in the side, winding her even though they both know he's pulling his punches.

Collapsing to the floor, arms around her middle as she tries to catch her breath, "Enough, I can't, s'not fair fight" she gasps as Simon's stance finally breaks and he holds out a hand to help her up. She gratefully accepts it, letting him haul her to her feet and then makes a beeline for her water bottle, welcoming the refreshing feeling flooding her body as she drinks.

"Ya know if ya wan' go out in ta tha field ya'll hav' ta learn ta take down those twice ya size" he speaks, looking like he's barely broken a sweat despite being covered head to toe including his mask. It makes her a little mad if she's honest.

"Twice my size! You're easily more than twice my size! And I'm not going to be fighting hand to hand combat every single mission" she huffs, slamming the bottle back down on the bench.

"Ya don' know tha', love" he smirks, well she can't see the smirk but she can hear it in his tone, "but think of it this way, ya can take down me, ya can take down any fucker tha' gets in ya way"

He has a point but at this point she's starting to believe that he's unbreakable, that nothing is going to take him down. At least in the field she'll have a weapon that she can use to take out anyone who gets in her way if it comes to it, it's not like she can take out Simon in that way so she's going to have to think outside the box.

They spar another couple of rounds before she gets her chance, somehow she's ended up on her back with Simon between her legs, not an unfamiliar situation for them but this is where she takes her chance. She surprises him by wrapping her legs around his waist and in that moment that he drops his guard she uses all the strength she has to flip them both over until she's the one pinning Simon to the floor. A triumphant grin on her face as she stares down at him.

"S'not a tactic ta use in tha field" he almost growls up at her.

"Aw shush, you're just upset I finally managed to beat you," the grin still present on her face as she taunts him.

"Upset s'not tha word 'd use" he grumbles as she finally registers the lustful look in his eyes.

Let's just say the reward she gets for taking him down is not one she'll easily forget, nor is the ache that leaves her unable to train for a couple of days afterwards.

John Price

She's doom scrolling. She just hasn't realised it yet, but John has. She'd been asleep when he'd first gotten up to go for his morning run, but somewhere in between him leaving and then coming home and showering, she'd picked up the phone.

At first, he'd thought nothing of it, but when he'd come in the room after showering and started speaking to her, she completely ignored him. Well, not ignored him, so to say, more that she was just so invested in the phone in her hands that she'd not heard a word he'd said. To test the water further, he dropped the towel leaving him stark naked in the middle of the room and still nothing from her which as John knew from their years together was not like her in the slightest.

Deciding enough was enough, he dressed first before coming to her side of the bed and plucking the phone straight from her hands.

"Hey, no fair!" She cried, pathetically reaching for the phone that he was currently holding out of her reach.

"No, it's plenty fair. You've spent your morning rotting in bed, glued to this thing" he waved the phone in front of her which caused her to make a grab for it again only for it to be pulled from her yet again. "And you've ignored me when I've spoken to you so I think it's time you spent some time without" he added, pocketing the phone and exiting the bedroom.

On his way down the stairs, he can hear the grumbling coming from her and meer seconds after he sits on the couch she enters the room with a pout on her face.

Her feet pad softly against the carpet as she makes her way over to him and joining him on the couch, "M'sorry" she professed, sealing her apology with a kiss to his cheek.

"I know sweetheart," he assured, leaning in a pressing a sweet kiss to her lips that wipes the pout from them. "Now c'mon go get dressed and we'll get breakfast at the cafe you like" he encourages, patting her behind lovingly when she stands up from the couch.

He expects her to go running to get ready but instead she stands and stares expectantly down at him. It takes him a second to realise she's after her phone back but he just shakes his head with a chuckle, "Uh-huh sweetheart, I'm gonna hold onto it for a bit longer" he informs her as he sends her off again to get dressed so that he can show her why she doesn't need to be glued to her phone white she's got him.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john price x reader #john price #cod fanfic

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dpspcehntr · 8 months ago

Note

Hello 🤗 I have a question that has crossed my mind from time to time and I would like your (and maybe your followers) opinion on this, if you don't mind.

Thinking realistically, rather than with a romantic notion, do you think the LaDs men have had much, if any, sexual experience that hasn't been with MC?

Would God of the Tides have concubines brought to him, or gone on dates as a land lubber? Or do you think his bond with MC would prevent him from 'engaging' with anyone else?

Did Xavier date anyone before MC joined the guardians (I don't know the name I forget lol)?

I don't know anything about Sylus

Would Zayne have had a prom date or a girlfriend before he met with the current timeline MC? I know he says we are his only experience, but does that include just kissing someone?

I’M SO GLAD YOU ASKED!! One, I have also been rotating this around in my brain for quite some time and how I feel very lightly colors how I write for them! I haven't read much (if any at all) of the myths so I will just be looking at the present. I love thinking about this cause tbh sometimes the characterizations in game are not as full as I would like. I won’t keep this long but if you want more detail I’m happy to add to this post! Anyway! Here are my thoughts!

Rafayel is literally the reason I had this thought in the first place. I thought it was so silly to think that he as a rich artsy boy had never ONCE hooked up with someone. He absolutely is a FUCKBOY! I will hear nothing else about it. I can't image he's not when so much of his overall characterization just oozes that kind of energy for me. My exception to this is that I don't think he enjoyed himself very much. Used sex kind of like a numbing thing cause he felt the void of your absence hard. He's not like a community dick kind of fuckboy but he has definitely been passed around a few times, if not as a professional then in art school.

Xavier is another one who I feel has some experience before (re)meeting MC. His experience is alot more clumsy and unsure compared to Rafayel. More of a situation like 'I want to be ready when I find her so I'm going to try it with someone else to be good at it. There may only be one person he's had sex with before MC and it was so bad she just had to leave. When that failed he just turned to erotica and p*rn to fill in the gaps. Eventually getting used to using his own imagination and getting off when needed. So when the time comes he's very prepared and VERY horny.

Sylus is a bit of a hard one because yes absolutely he is having sex with people before meeting MC. His overall vibe very much eludes to the fact that he has lived a life and I'm sure that is included. I don't think he's slinging it out to anyone who asks but he has been in some kind of relationship before. If anything we can say he is very comfortable having sex and has had sex before meeting MC. I have some more thoughts on this but I will keep it there for now!

Zayne from what I know has said that he isn't experienced and we are his first and I believe that. He very much gives full focus on the task at hand kind of man. Definitely not in high school but in med school I image him having a non serious fling with someone just to say he tried. They broke up soon after and he just never tried again until he and MC reconnected. That being said, he is a bit of a perv and has ALOT of pent up energy so once they start they literally don't stop. Like a weekend stuck in an endless loop of sleep, eat, fuck until he's at work desperate for you once again. The problem for him is learning how to control himself now that has MC.

My ask box is open for further conversations on this cause I genuinely love talking about this! Lets keep the conversation going!

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awrkive · 2 years ago

Text

[DRABBLE] COLD NIGHTS & BLURRED LINES (m) — JJK.

you were used to jungkook making the first move every single time but this particular night, you couldn't help but change things up a little bit.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (minors dni pls)

WORD COUNT 4.1k (this is def not a drabble anymore but its like 70% smut anyway saur 🤷🏼‍♀️)

WARNINGS/MISC jk in grey tracksuit 😢 oc is not a procrastinator everybody booed. kinda domestic vibes everyone wants to have what they have including ms delusional me !! this is my literally me fic kinda (this is literally just oc thirsting over jungkook OEBDIDHSJEB) also imagine 3D jungkook guys.... 🙏🏼 smut warnings: oral s*x (m&f receiving, 69 position), penetrative s*x, multiple positions, overst*mulation, creampies, unprotected s*x (dont fls 🙏🏼)

NOTES heyyy so i reread cnbl last night and scrolled thru unanswered messages on my inbox and found these 2 (amongst many IEBDIDHSHD) drabble reqs for cnbl and decided to write it bcs i love and miss them!! unfortunately i lost my ao3 password and i have nowhere to post this so whatever im gonna start posting here again LMFAOOOO. anyway, i hope u guys enjoy this 💗 this is most esp dedicated to the second anon i hate college as well i hope this drabble brings you joy ☺️

‼️CN&BL FULL FIC CAN BE READ HERE

You missed who you were thirty minutes ago.

Before Jungkook arrived, you were extremely focused on the essay you've been stalling to get done since last week.

You were set on finishing the paper tonight, determined to submit it a day prior to the deadline – which is two days from now. You've never been a procrastinator and you wouldn't dare start now. But ever since Jungkook called, arriving a little over five minutes after your conversation on the phone and entering your dorm room, you have never been the same. Gone was your will to finish your essay; it yeeted out the window the moment he came in.

It wasn't that he was doing anything wrong, per se. He wasn't pestering you or doing anything to distract you from doing whatever it was you were doing. During the phone call, Jungkook told you he just wanted to hang around and you were in on it. "As long as I finish this essay without you doing anything funny" – that, was what you said. Joking, a little pointed, when he came barging in your door, socks on and hair still slightly wet from the shower he most probably had at his own apartment.

When you said those words, the goof just wiggled his brows, smirking with a look of mischief written all over his face, and then kissed you in such an unnecessarily passionate way that had you internally keening when he broke away. That gave you an initial idea that he would, indeed, do some funny business. If you were honest to yourself, you wouldn't have really minded that at all.

That was thirty minutes ago. Jungkook surprisingly hasn't tried to touch you at all for the past thirty minutes. In the present, he is just sprawled on your bed watching something on your stupid iPad, airpods plugged in both ears, letting you work in peace on your laptop.

Thirty minutes ago, that would've been fine. Because ultimately, you could focus on your essay and finish it then pass it way before the deadline but no, your problem right this moment does not lie on phonology, it lies on why does Jungkook have to lean his back on the headboard, thick eyebrows meeting each other every now and then as he watched his movies, and put that white t-shirt and grey sweatpants on himself?

You've been having an internal battle with yourself trying to fight the urge to look over your shoulders for him every three damn minutes, groaning quietly as you thought about how Jungkook looked so ridiculously hot doing the bare minimum. Literally nothing. He was doing absolutely nothing. And he was making you feel weird in your belly!

Wait. Is it your period? It ended two weeks ago, though, so that is definitely not that. Maybe you are ovulating? You'd have to check your flow app.

Absent-mindedly, you let out the begrudging moan you've been trying to hide.

"God."

As if alarmed, Jungkook suddenly shoots up and speaks after what felt like centuries.

"You okay? Am I bothering you here?" He said, voice dripping with honey and face full of concern. You got even hornier.

Oh my god. You wanted to cry.

You send him a tight-lipped smile. "I'm fine. And uh, no. You're good."

Jungkook doesn't pry further and goes back to his binge. Meanwhile, you force yourself to think of something.

Another long five minutes later, and you are still halfway done with your essay. The unfinished document only seems to taunt you. So, you let out another sigh, quite quiet this time so you don't make Jungkook think he was being an inconvenience. You made up your mind and just decided to give in to your urges.

You shut your laptop down instead of pressing sleep as you are sure there is no way you can do any more work tonight.

Standing up from your seat, you approach Jungkook on your bed.

He looks up at you the moment you hovered over him, taking his eyes off the iPad. When the mattress dips from your weight, Jungkook's lips stretch into a cute smile.

Your horniness dissipates a little over his adorable face.

"Done?" He asks, lifting a hand over your face to tuck a strand of hair away that you didn't even notice. You shake your head. Jungkook leans down to kiss your cheek. "So, tired?"

You scrunch your nose. "Kinda."

He kisses your mouth when a pout forms there.

"Eaten anything yet?" Jungkook scoots over to the side to make room on the bed for you. You fit yourself in the space, albeit tight (this was a dorm room, alright), and Jungkook is quick to slide his arm under your neck while he still holds the iPad on the other.

"Just reheated some leftover pasta from last night." You cringe over your last meal. It didn't taste good at all but you were way too hungry and delivery took forever to your dorm.

Jungkook seems to know that that pasta was shit, but he doesn't comment on that. Just hums and kisses the side of your head.

Ugh.

"Wanna order something in? Thai?" He suggests, looking at you.

But right now, eating Thai or whatever is the last thing on your mind. Though you would like to eat something else.

You tell him so. Except the last part, of course. Please. You have decorum.

"Uhm, no. I think I'll pass on that. Unless you haven't eaten." you say, playfully pointing a finger to his chest.

"Nah, Taehyung cooked dinner. I'm pretty full." Jungkook says, chuckling.

You had a smart remark on your tongue, something along the lines of, "Then why'd you offer to eat if you already have, weirdo" but to be honest with yourself, you already knew why. Jungkook liked seeing you eat. Dude practically buys most of your meals, now that you think about it.

But your still horny-adled brain went to go and tell your hand to search for his bare stomach under his shirt. And so it did. Forget about having decorum, shame is out the door when you press your palm to the flat surface of his stomach.

"Doesn't feel full at all." You commented, feeling the hard ridges of his abs. You hate them right now. But you would also really, really, like to see them.

Jungkook only chuckles at that. Before he can say anything, you ask him, "Hey, quick question."

"Hm?"

"Can I suck your dick?"

"Huh?" Jungkook, ever the man he is, put the iPad away for the first time since he's been here. Confused, but still, you could not have mistaken the look of pure interest in his face the moment you asked him that.

"I want to suck your dick, if you let me." You say, clearing yourself up. You are putting on a brave face, but internally, you are screaming.

So what if this thing between you has been happening for like… ten months now, almost a year? Jungkook was usually the one to always initiate sex and blowjobs were almost a rare occurrence in your sex life because you told him it hurt your knees but the real reason was because you didn't think you were very good at it. Jungkook never asks for it either, and sometimes you feel bad for only reciprocating handjobs during oral sex quickies but! He never says anything about it so maybe that was fine? Anyway, it's not like this is gonna be your first time sucking him. It's just the first time you initiated with your own words.

"Oh, you're serious?" Jungkook scoots over to his side and lays sideways to prop himself up. "Really?" He has an excited smile on, and you know that because of the way his eyes crinkle.

"Don't make me repeat it." You say pointedly, pushing him a little bit. Jungkook doesn't even budge at the slight attack, only holds your hands in his.

"No, I just… I thought you said no fooling around tonight." He says.

You shrug. "Yeah, well."

You don't expect him to tug you closer to him using his hold on you, and you were thankful you managed to suppress a loud squeal when he laid on his back and caught your whole body on top of his.

"I guess you can't resist my charm, after all." Jungkook says, grabbing a handful of your ass.

"Jungkook, please, you're scaring my lady boner off." You roll your eyes as you adjust yourself on top of him to get more comfortable.

"Take care of my gentleman boner then, baby." He counters and just because of that you avoid the kiss he was about to give you.

"Don't ever say gentleman boner ever again." You pinch his nipple and he let out a laugh at your petty retort. You knew he was sensitive there. But even then, you were starting to feel the growing need concealed under his sweats, and you were set on giving him the blowjob of his life tonight for some reason.

"I have a suggestion to make," Jungkook says suddenly, stopping you from crawling down to his body. You arch your brow at him, he continues, "I don't think we've ever tried sixty-nine, yet, haven't we? Because I also really want to eat you out right now."

"Oh, well, yeah…" you nod. You find yourself heating up at the way he casually tells you the last part.

"So…?"

You haven't really tried that either, and not just with him, but also with your other sex partners that only really summed up to less than four people, and that's including Jungkook. Anyway, the sixty-nine position sounded interesting.

"Okay, sure." You shrug.

"Fuck, you're the best."

This time, you give in to the kiss he gives you and pretty much after that it turns into a heavy make-out session with Jungkook fondling your boobs underneath your overused highschool PE shirt while you ground down against his erection that only kept growing harder as seconds passed.

You are panting when you break away, a string of saliva in between your lips, breathing for some air. Jungkook kisses his way down your neck, suckling on your skin and soothing it with his tongue.

"Take your shirt off," you say, already impatiently tugging at the hem of his clothing.

Without a word, Jungkook frees himself from the fabric. "You too, and your panties. Please."

You chuckle at the "please" but nonetheless straddle him to take your shirt off. Jungkook looks up at you with hooded eyes, massaging the bare skin of your waist as you wriggle your hair out of the neckline. He grips your waist as you lift your bum off his stomach, pulling your panties and shorts down in one go one leg to another.

"Shit," Jungkook hissed at the sight of your glistening pussy that has gotten wet overtime, hands roaming all over your body like he doesn't really know where to touch. Always fascinated and in awe with what you show him, always so eager, so touchy. And you always love his undivided attention. Makes you feel like a princess for some reason. Doesn't help that he calls you that sometimes, too.

"Oh, fuuck," he groaned when you sat on his stomach. You couldn't help but let out a quiet moan, too, feeling his hot skin and your cold pussy touching together. "Angel, fuck, come here, let me kiss you."

You lean down to kiss him and he quickly reciprocates, his tongue entering your parted mouth, swirling and licking inside, taking your breath away. You could feel yourself smearing your wet mess on his abs but you couldn't really care less, not when Jungkook looked like he couldn't, too, squeezing every inch of you he could get his hands on. And they were everywhere, alright. Your breasts, your waist, hips, ass, his thumb on the inside of your thighs, all the while kissing you like he was hungry for it.

Jungkook jostles you a little when he lifts himself up a little to slide down the grey sweatpants you have a love and hate relationship with, his dick shooting up his abdomen and touching your ass as a result.

He stops kissing you.

"Alright, one more minute of you grinding against me will make me nut. Sit on my face now, baby."

Blood shoots up your cheeks, making you feel hot. A little funny, given what you are doing right now. But he can't just be so casual about it! He was asking you to sit on his face like he was telling you the grass is green. Regardless, you kiss him one last time.

"Don't suffocate." You warned him, already reversing your position as easily as you can so that your back is facing him.

You hear Jungkook chuckling from behind. "Please, I'll die happily suffocating in this pussy."

"Please don't talk about dying." You deflect, already feeling so shy about the whole thing. Indeed it was your first time to try this position, and you quite didn't know how to act. You wonder if he's done this already in the past, but found yourself irritated at the thought of him doing this with anybody else. You'd have to assess what that feeling of irritation means later.

"Hmm," Jungkook hums, grabbing the globes of your ass and fondling them before you could even properly place your knees on both sides of his head. With his hold on the flesh, he pulls you closer to him until you feel his breath on your core. "Ah, shit, will never get tired of this pussy, baby. Fuck, you're so wet."

You try to focus your attention on his hard dick against his stomach, veiny and rigid, red at the tip and shining with pre-cum. Wrapping your fingers around the base, you lean down a little more so that you can begin teasing him.

But Jungkook beats you down to it as he licks a long stripe across your pussy. It has you keening and stumbling a little over, feeling so good at the contact of his tongue against your sex. You hear him hiss before he says, "Come on, pretty, sit on my face, don't hover."

You hesitate before giving in, and Jungkook is quick to continue the ministrations of his tongue on your pussy. The position was so new to you but you couldn't help but think it was so good, feeling him this way, albeit still a little conscious about cutting off his air supply. But as Jungkook starts licking and sucking, you remember his cock in your hand and it prompts you to stroke him up and down; slow, because your mind is cloudy from the way you could hear the slick of your pussy from Jungkook's licking.

Leaning down, you kiss the head of his cock, licking his pre-cum off the top. There was Jungkook's groan again, and you thought that was a good sign, then continued to suck his tip a little just to see it getting even redder.

Jungkook suddenly gets more aggressive in the ministrations of his tongue, from his slow yet precise strokes, he starts increasing speed, fingers getting tighter on your asscheeks, the tip of his tongue prodding at your entrance giving you a taste of being full.

It prompted you to whimper, Jungkook only humming, seemingly pleased with himself. Letting out a shaky breath, you resume stroking his cock, twisting your fingers around the base. Soon, you lean even closer so that you can wrap your lips around the head.

Jungkook's groan was a pure sinful sound of pleasure as you did so. Nevermind that he was having his own feast on your pussy, you were determined to make him cum. And to do that was to suck on the tip gently at first, swirling your tongue on the cum that's building up on it. You joined the motion of it with your hand stroking the shaft up and down, cheeks hollowed and sucking the air in your mouth to create a suction that has Jungkook slightly jolting in his position.

"Oh, fuck yeah, baby, that's it, you're so good at this… shit," He says behind you, moving his mouth off your pussy and replacing it with two fingers. Jungkook slides them in easily, the squelching sound so apparent it cannot be mistaken for anything else if there was anybody but you two in the room. "You like this, baby? Hm? You're taking my fingers and my cock so well."

You moaned around his cock, heat starting to spread all over your body as Jungkook began to join his digits with his own mouth, devouring your pussy like he always does when he goes down. You start losing your rhythm on his cock, choking on it a third time now as you haven't really managed to fit it all in your mouth. You've always tried to, but he's always been a little too big for you. If it was a skill issue, you didn't care, Jungkook enjoys it just as much as you do.

When Jungkook rubs your clit, that's when you start shaking on your knees, threatening to crumble down.

As if he knew what was coming, Jungkook suddenly says, "Don't come yet, baby, not now." and you swear you would have actually cried.

What you didn't expect is Jungkook suddenly sitting up, his hands gripping your hips so that you don't jostle on top of him. You let go of his dick as he slides you off his body, and you let him manhandle you into sitting on his cock that slides in too easily like your pussy was fine silk. You now sit on top of him in what seems to be like a reverse cowgirl position, except that you aren't the one in control of your own movements.

"Oh, K-kook – Jungkook!" you yelped as he bounced you on his rigid dick, your body melting against his.

"Shh, take my cock, angel. You can do that for me, right? You're so pretty right now, I wish you could see yourself." Jungkook whispers against your hair, and you pathetically nod, craning your neck up at him to seek for his mouth. He smiles at you, the gentle nature of it so contrasting to the way he was controlling your hips, bouncing you in and out of his cock. "My pretty little angel."

He kisses you passionately, and as seconds passed his hands began to travel upwards to cup your breast, fondling it in his hand and pinching your nipple. You also started to initiate your pwn movements, meeting Jungkook's thrusts from below you, all the whole moaning in his mouth at the pleasure of his cock touching every crevice of your pussy.

The feeling of this never gets old even if you've done it exclusively and quite constantly with each other for the past ten months. Sex with Jungkook is always just so intense it always keeps you on your toes.

"K-kook, I'm cumming," you gasped in his mouth, feeling that build up in your belly

"Hm," Jungkook leaves your boob in favor of your pussy. Kissing you one last time on the mouth, he leans against your shoulder to watch as he spreads your nether lips. You look down to his hand there, fingers spreading the lips apart witnessing your own hole getting split open by his engorged cock. The sight was so lewd and obscene you couldn't help your moan. Then, Jungkook begins rubbing your clit again, fast and with a purpose, this time to make you finish. And he finally gives you the green light to do so. "You can cum now, baby."

And as if prompted by his simple words, you came, feeling a gush of wetness coming out of your pussy. You watch the way Jungkook kept his fingers in there, massaging your hole and kissing your neck.

"Jungkook…" you bury your face into the crook of his neck as you come down from your high, pussy throbbing and spasming from the intense feeling of cumming. He did edge you from when he ate you out.

"Good girl."

And again, Jungkook changes your position. From sitting up, you are now laid against the bed again, with him switching your positions so now he's the one hovering and you underneath him. He grabs your hips up and enters your pussy once again, sliding his cock in and out to chase his own orgasm. Your moans only encourage him to go faster, his grunts filling the room.

"Oh, that's it, Kook, you come for me too." You say, reaching for his stomach with one hand and fondling your own boob with other for his own consumption. Jungkook always liked seeing you play with them.

"Yeah, you're so sexy like that," he says, even picking up his speed higher.

Soon, he was cumming with a pained groan, and you didn't expect to cum a second time the same time he did.

Another gush of slickness slides down your pussy while Jungkook pulled out completely. But he was putting it in again a second later, rubbing his dick against your core. You sigh, partly at the sensitivity but also how pleasurable it all still felt even though you've come twice now in the span of almost what? – thirty minutes? Maybe an hour?

"Pretty fucking pussy you've got here, baby," Jungkook says before pushing his cum back into you, making you cry out. "Never gonna get enough of this. Of you."

You whimpered, clinging to his forearms as he continued his actions.

"Cum for me one more time?" He asks, staring deeply into your eyes.

And you couldn't possibly do that. Coming twice was not at all what you envisioned your night to be, thrice was a heart attack. But at the same time, you couldn't really resist his pleading eyes and his deep voice and his still hard cock pushing his creampie deeper into you.

So you nod your head, and Jungkook leans down to swipe the strand of hairs that sprouted all over your face overtime, wet on the hairline from your sweat, just before he slides his cock all the way in again, repeating that in and out routine, the slamming and the bottoming out, the quickening oh his pace and your toes curling once again that impeded your orgasm for the third time that night.

When you finished, exhausted and spent the fuck out, Jungkook laid on your boobs and kissed all over, playing with one of your nipples in his other hand. You were flat on the bed, dead weight, looking up at the ceiling and closing your eyes to cool yourself from what had just happened.

"Okay, that's enough, Kook, we gotta clean up." You say, massaging the soft curls on the top of his head.

He only let out a non-committal hum.

"Jungkook."

"Yes, baby?"

"Enough sex. I'm fried." You say, pulling his hair slightly to make him look up at you. But that was a bad decision of course 'cause he only seemed to enjoy the teasing.

"Just saying hello to these amazing boobs of yours." You rolled your eyes at his retort, nonetheless accepting it.

"Thanks, I guess."

Eventually, Jungkook stopped being clingy and finally found the will to fetch a wet rag from the bathroom. He cleaned you up and and you didn't bother dressing up except the panties you asked him to get for you. Soon after that, you cuddle together in bed.

"Hey," Jungkook suddenly whispers behind you, fingers massaging your hip, mouth press to your head. You hum. "I think we should do that more."

You try to look over your shoulder. "What? The sex?" you say, chuckling.

Jungkook pinches your hip. "Yeah, I told you we should have sex everyday. But that's not the point, I meant the sixty-nine."

"Well, first of all, having sex everyday is physically not possible," you roll your eyes though he couldn't see. "Second, I enjoyed that position, too. A little bit distracting, but definitely really enjoyable."

Jungkook agrees. "I think you just gave me the best blowjob of my life, if you wanna know."

"Really?" you confirmed, smiling up at him.

"Almost nutted when you sucked my head."

You chuckle, slapping his chest and roll your eyes again for how many times now?

"No but seriously…" Jungkook suddenly turns, indeed, serious. But he's still smiling, though, just a little less playful with his tone. "What was with you tonight? Did you finish that essay?"

Oh god, your essay. Right.

You feel your cheeks heat up a little remembering how you were basically thirsting over him him a while ago. And for no reason too.

Despite cringing internally, you shrug. "No, not really, but submission's two days from now and I just wanted to kiss you, I guess."

That made Jungkook's smile even bigger. He doesn't say anything more but only scoots even closer to your neck, kissing your hair.

"Hm, I always wanna kiss you too, and I do. But I love it when you ask for it."

You think you'll start doing it more, too.

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts imagines #jungkook drabble #boyfriend jungkook #fic: cn&bl #cnbl: extras #cnbl drabbles

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hereshecomes · 21 days ago

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Old Grudges Die Hard

AN: I lost access to my old account and I haven't posted in a while, so here goes nothing. I'm also really into mythology, so I put that in there for funzies.

Includes: Strong language, Angry themes, canon level violence, greek mythology, reader having powers.

She sat in the meeting room, her hands folded in her lap as she listened to the clock on the wall tick the seconds away. Her arms are crossed, her teeth clenched and legs crossed as she refuses to look at him.

“You have to tell us what happened, Y/n. This isn’t something that just goes away.” Steve sighs from across the table. His hands and forearms are crossed as he leans into it, his eyes soft and pleading, but also holding a harsh tone of authoritative directness.

“I don’t want to talk,” she replies, her tone sharp.

“Well I dont give a shit, because my medbay is smashed to bits and you and Barnes are to blame!” Tony rears from the lines he's pacing in the carpet at the front of the meeting room.

She lets out an annoyed huff, finally looking at the man of the hour across the table. He sits next to Steve, his eyes burning holes in the table. He refuses to look at her. He hasn't since Wanda and Steve pulled them apart. His arms are crossed almost like hers, but he's more rigid. He always has been.

“Are you going to tell them, or should i?” she finally asks, her voice directed at the Soldat, or rather Bucky. That what he's called now.

He doesn’t respond, and somehow that makes it worse.

“Fucking great,” she mutters to herself before returning her attention back to steve. “We have history.” she says blankly.

“No shit,” Tony replies, snapping at her as he continues to pace.

She rolls her eyes, not bothering to even respond to him. “It was a long time ago, we were enemies, and old grudges die hard. Sorry about your medbay, Stark. You can take the money from my paychecks.” she spoke casually, her leg bouncing.

Tony rolls his eyes and huffs, muttering something about rebuilding and glass doors and contractors as he pushes out of the room, slamming the door behind him in irritation.

She looks at Bucky again, letting out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She scans over his face, and for a minute she sees the man she used to know. The man in hydra who she trained with, ate with and eventually went on missions with. The one she would only see whenever she was unfrozen. The one who she had to work back out of his shell over and over again. The man who didn’t remember her more times than he did.

“Do you even remember all of it? Or just the last part?” she asked him, her coldness breaking momentarily as she peers up to the man she used to love.

He finally does it. He looks up to her for the first time since Steve's arm went around his neck to choke and pull him off of her. “I remember all of it,” he spoke, his voice cracking. He tears his eyes away, looking back down to the table almost in shame.

She's stunned for a moment at his words, but she sighs and looks back to steve. She feels Wanda's hand on her shoulder, and she almost forgot that the other woman was standing behind her. It was meant to be a comforting gesture. A touch that said a million words.

“Then why did you attack me on sight?” she asked, her eyes locking on his face, taking in his still and tense posture.

“What did you say earlier?” he almost chuckled, his stormy eyes dark as he looked up to her again, “old grudges die hard?” He basically laughed at her.

She’s on her feet within a second. Her water bottle is reared back in her hand, and she throws it as hard as she can at him. It hits him square in the chest, the metal of the bottle clipping his chin. He goes to stand, about to lunge across the table when Steve is on him, pushing him to the floor and yelling at both of them.

Wanda is on Y/n in an instant, pushing her out of the doorway, using her scarlet magic to try to force her out, but it isn’t even a fight when compared to Y/n’s raw power. Her eyes glow a burning gold like the sun and she storms off down the hallway, her own powers pulsing at her fingertips, begging to be released and used in her anger.

She storms to her room in the camp, slamming the door behind her. She doesn't let anyone in for the rest of the night, taking comfort in her books, statues and artifacts. The anger and heat from her hate pulses out of her like a flame, but she doesn’t stir. She won’t crack.

It doesn't take long after the sun goes down that she's at her window, speaking quietly in the wind to Eleos. A minor god in her mythology, but still a Goddess. She sat there for hours, trying to find it in her to forgive him. She thought about the years she longed to see him again, and the feeling of his skin under her fingertips. It almost makes her miss him. He was the worst version of himself back then, direct and cold and unforgiving, but with her after a while he wore down. He was careful and hesitant. He would clean her wounds with gentle fingers, and hold her close under the firelight in the abandoned cabin they once took shelter in.

She lets out a heavy breath, opening her eyes in the moonlight and looking to the large rock in the sky, and she doesn’t see Bucky again until she’s doing her sun-salutations to Apollo the next morning on the balcony.

.................

It was calm. The early morning summer breeze washed over her like a cool wave as she stretched. The sun was just starting to come up the horizon, and she already felt better. For better or for worse, he was her prophett, her divine god and light. She basked in his presence, whispering words of thankfulness of this light, and the drops of sun he put in her eyes all those years ago for her to protect herself.

In front of her sat her water bottle, (that she had found that morning sitting outside of her bedroom door with a sticky note on it that read ‘stop throwing this at people’) her phone and a book. She stood on a mat, bending down into some yoga stretch she could never remember the name of when the door behind her opened. She didn't open her eyes for a moment, continuing her stretches and mutterings of appreciation until the intruder cleared his throat for her attention.

“No,” she said blankly from her chest, moving into a different position entirely.

“Come on, Y/n. We need to talk. We have to.” Bucky spoke almost softly, his demeanor calm.

She sighs, glancing at the rising sun on the horizon as if to say she was sorry to Apollo for cutting their time short. She moves to stand and she turns to face him.

He's wearing a white tank top and sleep pants, and his long hair is pushed back out of his face, messy from how many times he has run his hands through it.

She doesn't look much better. Her hair is tied back in a rough looking bun, and her shirt hangs off of her like it belonged to someone else. Her shorts are old and ripped, and she only has two black socks on her feet. “You look like shit,” she says with a chuckle, crossing her arms loosely, “but honestly I’ve seen you worse.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence and approval, angel.” he almost smiles, trying to keep a light tone.

There it was. What he always used to call her. She told him years ago about her eyes and Apollo's gift, but he said he didn't believe her. As they marched through the jungles in wherever they were all those years ago, he said her eyes weren’t the sun, but her halos. “I don't know anything about mythology or whatnot, but your eyes aren't sun drops or whatever.” he spoke as they walked, cutting down hanging vines as they went. “They’re your halos, because you’re an angel.” he smiled at her.

The word hit her like a gust of wind from the east, but she refused to let it show. “Believe me, you don’t have it.” she replied, trying to keep her cool. The last thing she wanted was for him to think he still had an effect on her. She was a Hydra espionage agent, for crying out loud. She had worked over and used so many men before, she lost count. She could fold them like a sheet of paper all those years ago. Why was he actually getting to her?

He let out a breath, looking her over before speaking again. “I- i wanted to talk to you. Smooth things over.. For the sake of the team.”

She could see him clenching and unclenching his metal hand, like he was nervous to speak. Good.

“Did Steve question you about us?” She asked, her gaze ripping away from him as she looked back to the horizon.

“Yes,” he spoke.

“What did you say?” she snapped back, eyes going to him quickly.

“That we’ve known eachother for a long time.” He said almost hesitantly, taking another step towards her. “That we cared about eachother, and then we were taken away from eachother, and then years later we were supposed to kill eachother.”

She didn't look at him while he spoke, her eyes transfixed on the few rocks that somehow made their way up to where they were standing. “Did you tell him how you left me to die in the middle of nowhere?” she questioned, her tone sharp but eyes unmoving.

He took another hesitant step. “No,” he spoke softly. “And I didn’t say anything about Blondie or the nightmares.”

Her eyes shot up at the mention of the nightmares. “You know about that?” she spoke almost hesitantly.

“Who else would send a Greek god to haunt my dreams?” he almost laughed.

She smiled almost triumphantly. She never knew if her prayers to Hypnos worked, but it seems they had. She let out an amused chuckle. “Is that why you tried to kill me?” she asked, her eyes coming over to meet him again.

“No,” he responded, his small smile faltering as he spoke. “I tried to kill you because of the other thing.”

AN: Let me know if you want another part!

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x fem!reader #avengers x y/n #bucky barnes x f!reader #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #winter soldier x y/n

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strawberryg-cake · 16 days ago

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Vulnerable | Albedo x reader (short one-shot)

✦ Category: Fluff, burnedout yn, a bit angst, established relationship.

✦ Warning: None.

✧. ┊ おはよ〜(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡. This one is fluff, bc who hasn't been in a situation where just wanted to be hugged and reassured everything will be fine? Exactly, all of us

I hope you enjoy this little one-shot (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠).

﹒ ︵︵ .︵ . ︵﹒︵୨ ꒰ㅤ꒱ ୧︵ . ︵﹒︵ . ︵︵ ﹒

You didn’t even notice when you began to spiral into burnout. But lately, everything you did seemed to go wrong. It didn’t matter how hard you tried, or how good everyone knew you were at it, it just kept going wrong, and it started gnawing at you from the inside. You could hide it from everyone else, pretend everything was fine…

But Albedo knew.

He always noticed first. Because he knew you too well.

The way you sighed when something went wrong with one of your experiments… how you slowly began to overwork yourself, and the dark circles under your pretty eyes began revealing more than you wanted… how your eyebrows furrowed longer while writing reports or notes on your progress. He knew. Not because he was your friend—but because he was your boyfriend.

Albedo understood that pushing you would only make you retreat further, drive you to push yourself harder. You weren’t just his girlfriend—you were an alchemist. And like any alchemist, you craved results. But when things didn’t work out, when experiments failed, you had the tendency to close yourself off. Just like he used to when overwhelmed.

So when you walked into his office to give him your progress for the day and whispered, "It’s not working..." you hadn’t meant for it to sound so broken, but it just came out that way. "Nothing’s working lately..." Your breath hitched. "And I can’t make it work..."

And then your voice broke.

Before you could even realize it, tears were already rolling down your cheeks. You clumsily wiped them with your sleeve, but they refused to stop. "I—I'm sorry," you stuttered through your crying, "I didn’t want to disappoint you..." Another sob escaped you, and you covered your face—not out of shame, but because you felt yourself crumbling. Falling into him.

You hadn’t even noticed when he moved from his chair—until one of his gloved hands gently wrapped around your wrist.

His sky-blue eyes met yours with a soft, understanding gaze.

Then he pulled you closer—slowly, carefully—as if giving you the option to retreat if you needed space. But when his arms wrapped around you, it wasn’t just a hug. It was a silent way to comfort you. A quiet I know. It was Albedo’s way of saying I’m here for you.

"It’s okay," he said while you cried against his shoulder, "Not every experiment will yield the best results right away. All of us fail—including me."

"You… do?" you asked, incredulous.

"I do. Everything worthwhile requires a few failures before reaching something great..." his voice was as composed as ever, but then he paused—as if searching for the right words. "And... I hate seeing you be so hard on yourself."

That confession pulled a surprised breath from your lips.

Albedo never understood why Kaeya teased him about having a soft spot for you. But deep down, he knew he treated you differently. Romantic love wasn’t the same as friendship, right?

Still, in moments like this—seeing you crying, exhausted, blaming yourself—he couldn’t deny how much it hurt. That sensation in his chest… deep and aching, something he couldn’t quite name.

"I apologize. As you know, I’m not the best with words... or expressing how I feel," he continued, unaware of the way your cheeks warmed. "You’ll figure out how to make it work—on your own or with my help, if you’ll let me. But in the meantime… I’ll be here for you. As long as you need me." He tilted his forehead gently to yours, a quiet yet affectionate sign. "Please feel free to rely on me. Always"

"Albedo..."

You didn’t know when the tears stopped, or when the warmth rose to your cheeks… only that your heartbeat pounded in your ears. And before you knew it, you were hugging him back—tightly—burying your face into his shoulder, breathing in his scent.

A mix of soft cologne and alchemical herbs. So unique. So him.

"Thank you..." you whispered shyly, melting into his arms.

Sometimes, all you need is a little reassurance from your favorite person. Just to know that everything will be okay in the end.

And most importantly—that he’ll always be there for you.

So, when the two of you left his office, pinkies intertwined, heading home… just to curl up together in his arms while his soft voice read aloud and you sipped one of his warm infusions…

You knew you could always be vulnerable around him.

Because Albedo would never judge you.

He’d never push you too hard.

He’d just be there—waiting, patiently—until you were ready to fall into him again.

And that was one of the many reasons you loved him so deeply.

Because in his own way, he always made sure you knew how much he loved you—whether that came across perfectly or not. Nothing could ever change that.

So when you closed your eyes and felt the gentle press of his lips against your forehead,

you knew everything would be fine.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #albedo #genshin headcanons #genshin oneshots #albedo fluff #albedo x reader #albedo x y/n #albedo x you #genshin x reader #genshin albedo

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janefly2 · 2 months ago

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♥︎‹ 𖤩 ¡𝐏𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄!

TW: none, except a bad joke about Dante's hair and a much pizza hahaha

Dante x fem!reader. Don't worry if you don't like the pronouns used here; you can change them to your preference or however you find most comfortable.

a/n: HELLO EVERYONE!!! sorry if I've been gone for so long. Life hasn't been kind to me these past few months, honestly… It may be late for this but I think it doesn't hurt. Also, because i've just finished watching the Netflix series, i'm obsessed with this guy. I'll watch the 2007 series later. (I swear...)

Dante always had a preference for pizza. If strawberry ice cream was one of his favorite things, pizza was even more so. But he didn't have many things he called "favorites." The only ones he considered "favorites" were pizza, strawberry ice cream, and demon hunting. However, there weren't many things that were compelling enough to pay attention to. He was a fairly simple man. He enjoyed life in a fairly simple way. Well, if we're talking about very simple and unimportant aspects like his lifestyle, he liked to let himself go because he wasn't a man who cared about anything else, no one knows exactly. And that was his charm.

While enjoying he pizza as he took a bite, the opening of the restaurant door caught her attention but it was only for a brief moment to see a girl with (h/c) hair come in. Her appearance was a coat that covered her almost completely, making it seem as if she was wearing nothing but the coat, although she was only wearing shorts and a black blouse but they weren't noticeable because of the coat. When she took a seat next to him, he only looked at her for a few moments before turning his attention back to his food and continuing to enjoy it, at least that was the case until she spoke.

—"Excuse me, ¿Can you give me the same order as the gray-haired man?" —Said the girl in a somewhat comical tone of voice, pointing as she looked at what else was offered on the menu in front of her.

¿A man with gray hair? ¡But that was his natural hair color! ¿How could she not know? Did he really look that old?

He's struggling internally to argue with her or let it go. People always commented on his hair or his age, but he felt the girl had meant it with bad intentions. Before he could even say anything, she spoke again.

—"Nice gray hair." —She said. He looked in her direction with mild amusement, but I could also sense that "honesty" in her voice.

—"I know" —He replied somewhat self-centeredly.— "Thanks, but it's my hair color. It's always been that way" —He added.

Neither of them said a word beyond what they had just said to each other, at least that was at first, but after a few moments (n) he dared to talk more with that man, deciding to engage him in some conversation to get to know him a little better.

—"By the way, ¿what's your name? You don't look like someone from around here" —She asks as takes she order and begins to take a bite of a food.

He just laughs lightly and then watches her eat her pizza for a few moments, then focuses on his own food. He introduces himself as Dante while the girl reveals herself as (n). (N) found his name strange, but he had to admit that it was a pretty cool name. Even he had to admit that her name wasn't a very common one to hear or see a girl with that name.

—"I have to admit you gratify me, what do you think if i treat you to the next slice of pizza this time?" —She proposes with a smile, although it seemed more like a somewhat mocking smile instead.

—"¿How could I refuse a tempting offer that includes pizza?" —He joked, returning the same smile she gave him.

Time passed, and the two chatted; sometimes it was he who talked more, or even she. It didn't really matter who talked more; they were both having a great time, and like any good time, it had to end. She asked for the check to pay but not before seeing him leave a napkin with something written on it next to it.

"I hope to see you again (n). May this place be the place of our next meetings."

That made her face turn blush red, but she didn't mind the idea of seeing him again. She was already excited to see him again.

I hope you liked it!! Remember to like and follow me so I can keep publishing more content. In case you're wondering, i'll keep writing about Mortal Kombat. It's just that I have to resume some abandoned drafts there. I just don't promise to be here completely because adult life is very busy (not to say complicated).

If you have a question for my absence (although i doubt anyone would be interested) you can ask privately and i will gladly answer. :) ps: if something is not written correctly, ¡please let me know!

#reader #x reader #character x reader #x y/n #y/n #your name #x fem reader #fem reader #dmc dante #dante sparda #dante x reader #dante x you #pizzalover #pizza

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dark-lord-of-awesomeness · 16 days ago

Note

Another anon had said something about the “fighter fighters” episode with both the cat Stan and payphone au. If the payphone keeps showing up at random times would it be more in line with the humor of gravity falls if this old tourist trap man absolutely refuses to answer the phone - only communicating by snail mail and the like. It’s not that weird because Stan lies and says he’s pushing seventy so “text me a photo? Kid you’re not even speaking English” wouldn’t be too far. They just think he’s especially technically inept. Until….well Mabel gets smart and wants to help her ridiculous old Grunkle call back the old lady(lazy Susan) at the diner he keeps flirting with. And obviously they can’t use the one at the shack because what if Ford is making him self conscious! Dipper always teases her about her dates (even if he’s almost always right ie puppet dude, Norman the stack of gnomes, and not the boy band but she figured that one out soon enough) so they have to use a payphone - romance needs privacy and mystery to bloom after all!

but also what if….

what if it never gave up

it’s been about 30 years

Surely Stan can humor his favorite niece just for once right?

Be a good Grunkle? He can do something as simple as that…..

ohoho! I'm loving Stan's trauma being disguised as 'old man refuses to get with the times'. (I was already planning to include Stan's brand new phone trauma in ppbb, so you nailed it there). By the time the twins roll around Stan's firmly in letters, emails, or nothing. Not even Fiddleford's fancy portable phones are spared his suspicion and anxiety. Hilarious if the only quick way Stan will contact people is like, crystal balls. Technology has failed him but Ford taught him a cool trick where he throws some leaves in some water, says a name, and now he's looking through a mirror or something at whoever he called.

Really adds to his mysterious persona.

(on that thread Gideon calls and Stan doesn't even answer. The home phone is for other people, Stan tries to pretend it doesn't exist. Has Soos answer it and relay messages for him)

Now back to the Entity :)

Hmm. I'm thinking you're so right. This thing isn't human and exists on a plane parallel to theirs, so it has the time and patience (no, its stubborn. It wants to finish this meal >:() to bide its time, strike when Stan least expects it.

Now the question is if Mabel is close enough to also get snatched, or if she watches Stan take a deep breath, dial a number, then vanish from existence.

In the latter Mabel watches slack jawed, then rushes to get Ford or Dipper to help her rescue Stan from the phone that kidnapped him! Instantly throwing Ford into a panic as he scrambles to track and drag Stan back onto their plane of existence. Stan's retraumatized, and potentially slightly digested as he never leaves home without being warded but over the years might have gotten lazy with it, wore less, let some fade, etc. He's still in one piece but coated in goo and out of it. Gets dragged home and hosed down, then lectured by a worried Ford about proper ward maintenance.

In the former Stan is using his body as a shield, clutching her to his chest both so Mabel can't see the crushing darkness all around them, and so she's not getting hit with anything that's leaking through the frizzled wards. Spends the whole time giving her all kinds of reassurances, that everythings going to be OK, that this has happened to him before, and all they need to do is wait for Ford. Ford knows what to do, it'll be fine. They just have to hold on.

Meanwhile the Entity... doesn't really like this new flavor? Sure Mabels terrified and thats great, but she hasn't been marinating in hopelessness and misery for years and years. She's young, optimistic, and has a joyful outlook towards life.

Its kinda gross and ruining the experience of finally getting a taste of Stan's deep rooted misery (Stan's doing much better now too, which isn't helping) Its waited thirty years, and its pretty disappointing, having it mixed like this. Normally it'd spit Mabel out, but with the ward in the way all it can do is sit there and try to power through it, hopefully wear the wards down and get at the one human it hasn't been able to snatch and spit out the other.

Thankfully Ford, king of paranoia even after all theses years, notices pretty quickly that his Stan alert has gone off, and Stan's in danger. Isn't too worried at first, because Stan's constantly putting himself in danger, but as time goes on and Ford realizes it isn't stopping, his other methods of tracking Stan's safety aren't working, and he hasn't been able to contact Stan through any of their established modes since Stan won't use a phone.

Rushes to track Stan down and yanks him from the stomach. Again. Any anger he has dies at the combined terrified faces of Mabel and Stan, and he drags them home and hoses them both down, then gives her and Dipper a pg version of the thing thats been trying to eat Stan for thirty years, and how its the reason Stan won't use phones.

Mabel is mostly fine, especially when she gets reassured that she wasn't the target and wouldn't ever be with her cheery personality, then also decides to never use pay phones ever. Cell phones are on thin ice.

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #stan pines #ford pines #mabel pines #pay phone birthday blues #and thats all for tonight folks #this dark lord is getting sleepy

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yailtsv · 3 months ago

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could you write about how blakely paige and azzi got together? like the feelings beforehand leading up to the day they got together.

2 Girlfriends? - p.b & a.f

💌 Syn: Paige and Azzi ask Blakely to be their girlfriend

»»— warnings: mention of injury, lovesick girlfriends

»»— notes: had to majorly change this fic twice 😭

»»— word count: 3.2k

»»— pair: pazzi x gf!oc || Blakely Doe

paige and azzi met blakely a few months ago. and it's been an....eventful few months too.

after their trip to boston paige and azzi separated - paige going to connecticut and azzi going to virginia.

while they always talked about their trip they never talked about their growing feelings for blake. they both ignored all of those "out of nowhere"feelings, and acted like nothing even happened in boston. that nothing changed or even bloomed in boston.

but one thing that did happen was that the three girls stayed in contact. blakely didn't know of the war going on inside of both girls heads, she especially didn't know that those said wars were caused because of her. the two girls didn't tell each other about these bloomed feelings so why would they tell blakely? the girl that caused said feelings?

while the three have been staying in contact, p and a both decided they were gonna surprise blakely as she was on break right now + she had just recently torn her acl in her state championship game. krystal told them that blake hasn't been herself since the news and that's when p & a decided to make a visit. krystal told them that blake's been missing the two girls too - always talking about them whenever she could and always watching their games - including paige's first march madness.

"paige can we talk?" azzi said stepping into paige's dorm, as instead of paige flying to meet up with azzi in virginia to fly to boston like last time, azzi flew to connecticut so they could drive to boston

"yeah babe, i'm just packing a few more things. we need to leave in a hour"

"alright, i'm all packed. my stuffs in the car already" azzi said slowly walking in and taking a seat next to paiges backpack on p's bed "um i know it's probably a bad time to bring this up, but i can't just ignore this. i already feel guilty"

"what? baby, what are you talking about?" paige says looking up at azzi from looking for something in her desk drawer

azzi looks down at her hands trying to figure out how to say this "um-"

"baby just talk to me, what's going on?" paige says walking to the bed and moving the backpack to sit near azzi "i-ok um uh i think i like blakely...more than a friend." she said slowly before speaking really fast realizing she just said what she said "but i love you and i wanna be with you but i just feel guilty. i'm not gonna make a move but i also just can't keep this in anymore. please don't break up with me" azzi says sounding like she's on the brink of tears

paige sighs before saying "i know" making azzi whip her head towards paige - probably giving herself whiplash "you know? what do you mean you know?"

"when we stayed the night at her house that day, when you thought i was asleep? i wasn't and i heard you." azzi's eyes just widen knowing exactly what paige was talking about "but you don't have to feel guilty, i'm on the same boat as you."

"wait-what?" azzi says shaking her head like she's trying to gather her thoughts

"ever since we met blakely." paige says "so...we both like blakely?" azzi questions confused

"yup" paige responds looking at azzi

"what are we going to do?"

the two girls have been in boston for 15 minutes. they made it to blakely's house but she was at physical therapy so krystal told them to wait in her room - so they could surprise her, which is where they are now.

"how long does physical therapy take? i wanna see her." paige whines out

"maybe she's having a hard day, i don't know" azzi shrugs making paige groan impatiently and lay down on blake's bed, instead of just sitting at the end of her bed

"be patient!" azzi scolds paige once again, turning her head to look at paige. paige groaned in response before azzi tapped paige's stomach "hey are we still doing the plan?" azzi asks nervously

"yeah, as long as you still want to." paige responds back seriously, "i do"

"then yeah, we're still gonna do it." paige says leaning up on her elbows to be able to bring azzi into a soft kiss "i love you" azzi mumbles against paige's lips "i love you more" paige responds before kissing azzi again so she couldn't start a "who loves who more" contest.

they then hear "HIDE, GIRLS!" making them pull away and azzi immediately runs into blakely's bathroom that's in her room - paige doesn't get the memo, and crawls under blake's bed

it's quiet for a minute before they hear loud footsteps, then hear blakely say "you can set me down now dad, i'm fine"

they only hear the bedroom door open in response, and the sound of crutches hitting the floor "yell if you need anything, ok?"

"i know dad" blakely grumbles out walking to sit on the edge of her bed, taking off her (azzi's) hoodie and throwing it somewhere, leaving her in her sports bra

"you know we just want you to get better right? we're not trying to push you or anything, we just care about you."

"i know." blakely says while standing on her crutches again to walk to her dresser, right in front of her, pulling out a pair of loose shorts "but i need to get changed" blakely says turning back to her bed and sitting

blake's dad known as mike, nods his head and walks out, shutting the door behind him.

right when blakely's about to take her sweatpants off, to try and get her shorts on, azzi walks out of the bathroom "hey" she says so casually, like it's completely normal for her to be in boston

blakely flinched at the voice, looking up to find azzi - making her confused, rightfully so.

"wha-?" she gets cut off but a loud thump on the bottom of her bed, before paige crawls out from underneath, holding the back of her head and grimacing

blakely looks back and forth between both of them, looking so confused, before finally speaking up "what are you guys doing here?"

"your mom said you were missing us, so we wanted to come surprise you." paige said still rubbing a spot on the back of her head "we also wanted to come check on you. how are you doing?" azzi said glaring at paige for outing blake's mom

blakely just roll her eyes before looking down at her legs, huffing, "i'm fine"

"blake-" paige starts "I'M fine" blakely stared to yell before toning her voice down.

but paige and azzi can read blakely like a open book. and she's not "fine". but they don't push her - they don't have to.

paige and azzi both move to sit on opposite sides next to blakely, on the edge of her bed. once blakely feels them looking at her with concern, and their soft touches, she breaks.

for the first time since the injury happened, blakely broke, all because of the two older girls.

paige and azzi both immediately pull her into a hug, letting her cry. and she does. she sobs in their arms for honestly probably an hour. and paige and azzi don't move at all.

when blakely's loud sobs slowly turned into lone tears falling down her face and sniffles of her nose, azzi pulled her head back a little to look at blakely "do you need anything? food? a drink? anything?"

"a nap?" blakely whispers out, her voice groggy from all the crying "we can do that, you want me and paige to leave, so you can change?" blakely shakes her head "you guys can stay in, but can you turn around?" blakely asks, still talking quietly

they both nod, getting off the bed and moving away from the bed, standing with their faces to the wall.

blakely carefully takes off her brace, then her sweatpants, and carefully (and with some struggle) puts her shorts on and then grabs her brace to put it back on.

"you guys can turn around now." blakely tells them, making them do just that and see blakely trying to stand up on one foot long enough to grab her crutches, that paige had to move so she could sit on the bed.

"wowowow wait blakely, we can get them for you." azzi says seeing how wobbly blakely was "i'm fine" blakely says leaning over to grab them but losing her balance and almost falling if it wasn't for the two older girls catching her in time

the two girls carefully lift blake and put her on the edge of the bed before handing her, her crutches "where are you trying to go?" paige asks blakely

"to get a water." blakely says pointing to the recently added mini fridge in her room, because of the injury

paige walks to the fridge getting her a water, while azzi helps blakely get in the bed “can i be in the middle of you two?” blakely asks while azzi was trying to pull the covers over blake “sure, is there a reason why?” paige asks handing blakely the water “i’ll feel safer” blakely responds not making eye contact with either of them

“yeah, you can be in between us” paige says with a softened tone, helping blakely get to the middle of the bed and then helping prop her leg up on a few pillows.

paige and azzi both got on the outsides of the bed, basically caging blakely into bed. they both moved to get comfortable before dragging the comforter to cover the three of them, paige reached over for the tv remote quickly turning on criminal minds, for background noise.

"thank you for being here" blakely mumbles out in a drowsy state - the crying making her super tired and speak without her control

"we'll always be here" paige whispers back, pressing a soft kiss to blake's forehead - assuming she wouldn't realize, remember, or acknowledge it

"mmm i love you, goodnight" blake speaks without her control once again. paige and azzi both look at each other wide eyed before they both looked down at blakely to find her asleep already

"...did she mean that platonically orrrr?" paige whispered out, looking at blake in shock "i don't know" azzi says back confused, also staring at blake

"maybe we don't have to do our plan" paige says to azzi

paige and azzi have been awake for the last 35 minutes, because krystal came in yelling that dinner was done - then saw that they were all sleeping and just rudely woke up the two guests, making her leave the room shamefully.

once paige and azzi both decided that they weren't gonna be able to go back to bed, they turned on a movie, just waiting for blakely to wake up.

"sooo we gonna talk about what she said?" paige breaks the silence "i don't know if she knows she said it. i feel like we need to stick to the plan - make as many small moves as possible, and then we can make a big move once we know she feels the same for us." azzi says trying to be patient with the whole situation "but we also need to keep in mind, blakely's going through a lot right now, she might not pick up on our moves, and she might not want to be in a relationship right now. i don't want to ruin our friendship with her because we were impatient." azzi continues

paige sighs "yeah, you're probably right" paige just looks at blakely, moving a stand of her curly hair, to behind her ear "just gotta be patient right?" paige says moving to look up at azzi, taking her hand off of blake

"right"

the next few days were definitely something. paige and azzi were going through with their plan and it did seem to be working.

the small glances, the small "accidental" touches, the cuddling in the bed or on the couch, the praises after psychical therapy - cause obviously they were the ones to take her now, the forehead kisses when blakely accomplished something in physical therapy - or a comfort forehead kiss when blakely wasn't able to pass a milestone in physical therapy, it all was adding up.

blakely's face got flushed everytime they did anything like accidentally touch her, or kiss her on the forehead, ect....

she also was becoming speechless a lot more towards them. and that's not even all - but azzi and paige are taking all of blake's responses as a good sign, and have already planned the big move.

paige and azzi did follow through with taking blakely to physical therapy today, but they told her that they could only drop her off cause they had a few errands they needed to run.

they could tell blakely was upset about that. they both had to fight against their heart, that was telling them to go in with her and be there for her "hey rosie" azzi says making blakely turn back around "we will be back i promise. we just have a few errands." azzi says trying to comfort blakely and make her not be so sad. blakely just nods in response before turning and heading inside to the building.

azzi sighs before looking at paige who's driving "let's get this set up so we can come back." paige nods, driving away to go to the nearby store so that they could get everything they needed for this date?

they had just gotten back to the doe house and they both were rushing to get this set up but be perfect.

they had decided to set up in the basement as there's alot more space.

"alright we need to move the couch together first" azzi said already heading to push the couches together, so they would make a giant "bed" and paige obviously comes to help.

once that was done paige went to hang up twinkle lights, while azzi turned on a star projector on the ceiling and decorated the under tv area

they both put so many blankets and pillows on the couch bed, before laying the snacks out onto the couch too

"anything left?" paige asks "uhhhh the tv!" azzi said looking around before pointing to the tv hurriedly. paige grabs the remote pulling up disney, before they both look around not seeing anything else they need to set up

"alright now we go watch her finish up the rest of her therapy and then get fast food." paige says leading azzi back up the stairs

today was apparently a ehh day for blakely and her physical therapy, according to her therapist. she passed a milestone but wasn't able to do it again, so blakely's saying she didn't pass the milestone.

which paige and azzi where trying to comfort her in the car, but ended up having to change the subject because blakely was starting to get an attitude.

"hey, whatcha want for dinner?" paige asked blakely, looking in the mirror as blakely was stretching her leg in the backseat

"chick-fil-a?" blakely said quietly making paige nod and turn down the correct street.

once getting back to the house, paige asked azzi to carry the food and drinks, while paige carried blakely up all of the stairs

azzi snuck off behind blakely's back heading to the basement, while paige carried blakely's upstairs and to her room so that blake could change into comfier clothes - with paige's help

and once that was done, blakely was expecting to just lay in bed and eat food, but paige had other plans

"cmere" she said while doing a come here motion with her fingers, telling blakely to scoot back down towards paige, as she had started to scoot up towards the head board

blakely does so confused while saying "why? aren't we gonna lay down and eat? where's azzi?"

paige doesn't answer and just carefully picks blakely up again, heading back downstairs and then going down the basement stairs "why are we going in my basement? it's creepy down here." blake says wrapping her arms around paige tighter

"relax, it's ok" paige says finally reaching the bottom of the stairs making blake look around and see the whole set up, with azzi standing in front of the couch smiling

"wha-what's going on?" blake looks between the both of them confused "wellllll we may have a question for you" paige says walking towards the couch and setting blakely down

"should i be scared?" blakely says looking between both of them, making them chuckle a little at how scared blakely looks, all because they're in the basement instead of blake's room.

"no. we just...have something we wanna talk to you about." azzi says rubbing her hands together nervously, before moving to sit near blakely - paige still standing in front of both of them

"umm you know what? i'm just gonna say it and not overthink how to say it. me and paige both like you. as more than a friend. and we're pretty sure you feel the same way, do you?" azzi blurts out, catching blakely completely off guard

"uhh" blake looks between them with wide eyes "look," paige says moving to sit beside azzi, in front of blakely "w-we can ignore this whole thing happened and just watch movies and eat, if you don't feel the same. we're fine with that or if you want to kick us out and never speak to us again, we can leave too. but i'm pretty sure that's not what you want. have you noticed that when me or azzi touch you, you lean more into our touch? and when we compliment you that you look pretty or you did good at physical therapy, you always become shy and flushed? - i know you feel it, or with sleep, you always want to be in the middle of us because "you feel safe"? or-"

"okay! okay! i get it" blakely says quietly - becoming shy and flushed, because she feels outed and caught.

azzi and paige both let out a little chuckle at how shy blake just got, and paige reaches over holding both of blakely's hands in hers "just give us a chance. please." paige squeezed the younger girls hands "will you be our girlfriend?"

blakely looks up between them - face still flushed but not as much "how would that work though? i would have 2 girlfriends?" blakely responds sounding genuinely confused and curious

"yeah, we would be in a polyamorous relationship. that basically just means that there's more than two people dating." azzi responds to blakely "so what do you say? will you give us a chance?" she says nervously

blakely looks between them again - thinking, before slowly nodding her head, making azzi immediately hug her, while paige kisses the backs of blakely's hands multiple times, before moving up to join the hug.

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03 @souplored @bethsleftnip @evry1luvzzae @paigeluvvr @dopeeaglequeen

#paige bueckers x oc #azzi fudd x oc #pazzi x oc #paige bueckers fic #azzi fudd fic #pazzi fics #yailtsv works—★

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