#or maybe she did but has just never HEARD the words

[chahnniesroom]

too close to home

pairing: none (platonic ot8 & female reader)

summary: as the only female of stray kids, you've always felt a little out of place. this comeback, the comments and criticism seem to hit a little too close to home and you start to think that maybe the group is better off without you.

word count: 8.5k

tags/warnings: 9th member au, hurt/comfort, angst, mean fans, anxious thinking, insecurities, overthinking

a/n: this is my first fic for my appreciation event! big thank you to everyone who has supported me and sorry this took so long to post.

special shoutout to @kangaracha who is basically the only reason i was able to finish this fic! she was my biggest cheerleader throughout my writing and if you would like to read an amazing 9th member fic, please please go read queenmaker.

where the heart is collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

You had known from the start that it would be difficult being in a co-ed group. It was rare, especially in K-pop. But being outnumbered eight to one? It was unheard of.

You had been just as surprised all those years ago, when the company had pulled you into a room and offered you a position in the boy group that they were about to debut.

You had heard about the team that Chan had put together, every trainee had gossiped about how JYPE was trying something new with a self-formed team. You hadn't paid too much attention to it, you were busy enough with preparing for your own evaluations and the possibility of being included in what everybody had thought was a boys group hadn't even crossed your mind.

You had accepted the position almost immediately.

At that point, you had been a trainee for almost three years, but had only been considered for debut less than a handful of times. You knew with each line-up that hadn't worked out, you were closer to being forced to give up on the idea of becoming an idol. If you rejected the offer this time, you might not get another and you had been ready to do anything to achieve your dream. 

Plus, you knew there was a high chance that they'd drop you from the group anyway. The position brought a lot of interest to the group, but you knew the company would be watching closely to determine whether it was worth the risk or not. 

It had been a bit of a rocky start, but now the nine of you were close, you had to be when you spent most of your waking time together. You considered the boys to be your second family and you knew that they felt the same way. 

It was just that there was clearly a difference in the dynamic when you were and weren’t with the group. It wasn’t necessarily bad just… different. The boys never excluded you or made you feel like you weren’t part of the group and you had great individual relationships with each of the members. 

It was inevitable though, you had never shared a dorm with the group, especially earlier in your career when you were less familiar and it would have been entirely unacceptable. You knew that this was the main reason you didn’t feel quite as part of the group, there was just a level of closeness that was formed when you actually lived with someone.

Well, it was that and the nagging guilt because you knew that Chan had hand-picked every member of Stray Kids himself.

Every member except you.

While the members had promised that they were the ones who had the final say, you knew it wasn't quite what they had expected. All of you had been desperate to debut though and even if it wasn't ideal, nobody was going to say anything that might jeopardize this chance.

Still, you could tell that the boys did their best to include you and for the most part, they succeeded. Even early on when things had been a little bit awkward between you, they were fiercely protective. In interviews, they insisted over and over that they wanted you in the group and it had been nice to hear, even if you knew they were just saying it for the cameras. 

They frequently invited you over for dinner or just to hang out, but you couldn't help feeling jealous when it was time for you to leave at the end of each night. It wasn't anything you could change though, so you just tried to appreciate their company while you had it.

So when the company brings up the idea of new dorm arrangements, you're surprised and a bit confused when they don't immediately inform you of where you'll be staying and kick you out of the meeting room. You've never participated in the discussions that the boys have regarding roommates, there has never been any reason to. 

You're shocked by how easily things fall into place, even more so when Chan approaches you, asking if you'd feel comfortable living with him and Jeongin. They assure you that any of the pairings would be happy to have you stay with them though, and that they'd also understand if you preferred to live on your own.

You were hesitant at first. It had been out of the question when you had first debuted. Even if you and the boys had been comfortable with it, which you weren’t, the company would have totally rejected the idea of one girl living with eight boys.

Instead, their solution had been to force you to remain in the trainee dorm even after your debut which meant constantly listening to jealous girls criticize anything and everything about you. It had been exhausting, partly because you were getting used to balancing schedules with practice, but also because you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mad at them. You were all too familiar with the disappointment and frustration that came with watching the people around you succeeding.

You had briefly considered asking about sharing with the boys when the dorms had split in half because you knew you needed to get out of the toxic environment the other girls were creating, but then the company had offered you an apartment to yourself. It had been one of the easiest decisions you had ever made. 

It had been too good to be true, though. The apartment had given you the privacy that you had craved, there were a multitude of issues that almost made you miss being in the trainee dorms. Whether you moved to a new apartment on your own or into one of the dorms with the boys, you knew that it would be an improvement.

You’re curious what living with the boys would be like and honestly, you’re a bit lonely in your current apartment. It only takes a day or two of thinking before you confirm that you’d like to join them.

The moving process is quick too, at least for you. The boys offered to help you move, but you adamantly refused. Your place had been so tiny that you didn't have the space to store many things and you didn't like shopping that much anyway so all of your clothes fit into the couple of large suitcases that you kept under your bed. Since most of the furniture had come with the room, you were able to bring everything over to the new dorm before the boys had even finished packing.

It's hard to settle in at first. You don't have any siblings and have never had to live with boys so it takes some getting used to. Luckily both Chan and Jeongin are quite careful about being respectful of your space. 

It's also a relief that you get to divide up some of the housework that you used to have to do all on your own. Even though it's not too much, it's nice to have more time in your day for other things and the three of you have developed a system that works well and feels natural.

Chan is meticulously clean and although you don't think you're that messy, you’re more careful to keep things in the right place. The worst part is that you know Chan won't complain or nag you if you leave your things around, he just quietly cleans up your messes which makes you feel both touched and a bit guilty.

You have no regrets about moving in with them, especially when you start to get more busy. It's nice to be living with people who have the same or similar schedules to you so you don't have to worry about losing track of time and being late to things. 

Not only that, but you feel like you have more support. Jeongin reminds you to eat regular meals and Chan checks in when he notices that you're up later than usual. The three of you chat more than you did before and now have a number of different inside jokes.

You're especially grateful because you can already sense that this comeback is going to be hard on you. It's not the songs that have you concerned, all the recording finished smoothly and you're more than happy with how your parts turned out. You also really like the concept that's being proposed for the cover art and all the music videos.

It's the dance that's the problem.

As a trainee, you had always excelled in dancing and had actually had been assigned the role of main dancer in some of the girl groups that you were considered for. It made it especially hard to come to terms with the fact that when you had joined Stray Kids, you weren't even included in the dance line. You knew that your singing was nice and your voice added diversity to the group, but it had never been what you were most confident in and you felt inadequate compared to Seungmin and Jeongin.

But when it comes to this title track, it's especially obvious why you're not considered as one of the lead dancers. By lunchtime, everyone has memorized the moves, you included, but the choreography is definitely more suited for male dancers. No matter how much you focus on trying to match the style of everyone else, you're sticking out like a sore thumb. 

Most of the members take a short break for lunch, but you're determined to keep practicing and Minho is willing to coach you through the parts that you're struggling with the most. On a technical level, you're hitting most of the moves, but you still haven't been able to do a runthrough that doesn't elicit at least a few corrections. You can tell that Minho is running out of patience and you're even more frustrated than he is.

Luckily the rest of practice is working on the different formations and angles for filming the music video, dance practice, and future performances. The details are less important and everyone is mainly focused on not crashing into each other.

You try to sneak in as many solo practice sessions as you can, but by the time filming for the dance practice rolls around, you’re still not feeling confident. In fact, you’ve been dreading the schedule for days and you feel a little queasy every time you think about it. It's far from your first dance practice filming, but something about this one just feels more daunting.

The morning of filming, you force yourself to eat a decent breakfast, knowing that skipping it would just make dancing more difficult for yourself. Chan had woken up early to prepare a simple meal while you and Jeongin had helped set the table and clean up afterwards. You're a bit more jittery than usual and you're pretty sure both of the boys have noticed, but they don't comment which you appreciate.

Everyone goes through hair and makeup fairly quickly, there's no elaborate outfits and crazy makeup for a more casual video like this. Your bad feeling for today just worsens when you see that while the rest of the boys are in their usual loose fitting sweats and shirts, you've been given a tight fitting outfit that reveals a bit more of your midriff than you usually like to show off. Even though you can't deny that it's a flattering look, it just makes you self conscious, feeling like you stood out even more than you usually did standing beside the guys.

Determined to power through filming, you warm up as quickly as you can so that you can spend as much time as possible reviewing the moves with the rest of the boys before the crew finishes setting up.

Your stomach is a flurry of butterflies as you get in position to start filming, even though you know that usually the first try is a throwaway. Not only is this the first time filming for the day, but the group hasn't actually done a performance of your new single, only practices.

You monitor the recording carefully. There's a few things to improve with the camera angles and position, that was to be expected, but you still have the nagging feeling that something about your dancing doesn't match the rest of the group.

You try to make your movements bigger in the next run through, while still looking natural and staying in time with the music. It's not quite right though and each time you try again, there's more and more things that you're unhappy with.

You can tell the rest of the group isn't pleased with how things are going either. You've been doing this long enough that these dance practices usually only take a couple hours to record, but now it's been at least three and none of the takes have even been considered as a keeper. A few times you haven't even been able to make it to the end of the song before someone messes up.

Your choreographer is in the back of the room and although he hasn't explicitly called you out, you can feel his gaze on you the longer this takes. 

“Come on guys,” Minho complains after a short break. “Focus! Let's get it done this time.” You watch as his eyes flicker towards where you're standing for the faintest of moments as he says it. It feels like a blow to the stomach.

You hate disappointing people, you're only human after all, but something feels even worse when you know it's the other members that you're letting down. Especially when it comes to dance, because you've always wanted to impress Minho and his notoriously high standards. The guilt sits heavy in your stomach as you push through your growing fatigue and take your position in front of the camera again.

As soon as both the director and choreographer announce that you're finished for the day, almost everybody collapses on the spot. One-takes are always the most exhausting and everybody has to focus on keeping their movements sharp because it's extremely obvious when you aren't in sync.

You, on the other hand, make your way to the screens where they're showing the playback. Sweat is dripping from your neck and forehead and you absent-mindedly swipe it away as you watch. Someone drapes a small towel over your head and you look over to see that Minho and Hyunjin have crowded behind you to take a look.

“It's good,” one of the managers comments.

Instead of agreeing, Minho hums noncommittally. You feel yourself tense up.

“What?” the manager asks. “Don't tell me you want to do it again.”

“No, no, it's fine.” Minho says mildly. 

“We can do another take,” the director offers. From behind him, one of the camera people groans quietly. You try not to wince at the sound and only partially succeed.

“I think this is the best we're going to get,” Minho replies, before he turns and walks back to where his things are, effectively ending the discussion.

“Sorry for making everyone stay late,” you say quietly, bowing quickly before trailing after Minho. Hyunjin eyes you weirdly as he keeps pace.

“Why'd you say that?” he asks as he packs his bag.

“I felt bad that they had to stay so long,” you say, confused. “We normally tell them that if filming goes over.”

“No.” Hyunjin pauses his movement to study you. You can't help but shrink away, feeling a bit like a bug under a microscope “We normally thank them for their hard work. You made it sound like it was your fault.”

“It's just been a long morning,” you deflect. “Are you heading back to the dorms now?”

“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his wet hair, flicking sweat everywhere. “Have to shower and I have a bit of time before my vocal lesson. Want to head back together?”

“You go ahead first,” you reassure him. “I have a couple things left to do at the company so I'll stick around for a bit longer.”

“Sure. If you're finished early, feel free to drop by. We can have dinner or something together,” Hyunjin offers.

“Sounds good! I don't know if I'll have time, but I'll definitely see I can join,” you promise.

Lying always leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you know there's no way you're going to sacrifice time that you could be using to improve the dance just to hang out.

You stay late in the studio that night. Your only other schedule for the day is fittings for the music video and all the music shows, which finishes pretty quickly. Since you don't have much of an appetite anyway, you choose to skip Hyunjin’s dinner offer to continue practicing more. You had asked one of the managers to send you a copy of the dance practice and each time you replay it, the pit in your stomach seems to grow.

You lose track of time, picking apart each and every move to try and figure out what you're doing wrong. It's not until Minho knocks on the door and enters, startling you in the middle of yet another runthrough, that you realise how long you've been practicing.

“You still have so much energy?” Minho calls out as he walks closer to you.

“Just had a few things I wanted to fix up before I went home,” you explain in between breaths. 

“And?”

“And what?” you ask.

“Did you fix them?” he replies, raising an eyebrow as he scans your sweaty form and the empty room. “Have you been practicing this whole time? You've been here so long that even Channie-hyung went home. He asked me if you were at our place.”

“What? I-”

“It's almost 2am,” he says gently. “It's time to go home.”

“Can I do one more run through?” you ask sheepishly. “Actually, it’s good that you’re here, I just want to make sure-”

“You've been practicing long enough.” Minho's voice turns stern and he grabs your hand to lead you to the couch to sit. “Did you even eat?”

“I wasn't hungry,” you say quietly.

“Y/n-ah,” Minho scolds you. “You need to fuel your body if you're going to work it so hard, you know we've talked about this.”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to practice more,” you say, staring down at your hands. You’re not allowed to pick at your nails since you just got them done, so you settle for fidgeting with one of the rings that you’re wearing. The sharp edges of the gemstones prick at your fingers but you can’t get yourself to stop. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just couldn’t get the dance right today. We had to film it so many times.”

“What are you talking about, Y/n-ah?” Minho asks, bewildered. “We weren’t- you weren’t the reason we had to redo the dance so many times.”

You look up at him finally and don’t see any of the annoyance that you were expecting. The concern and genuine confusion that you find instead catches you off guard.

“What? But- On our fourth take during the second chorus, my legwork was so sloppy compared-”

“Hannie literally forgot which direction we were supposed to move and he almost knocked into me,” Minho interrupts. “There was no way we were going to be able to use the footage, that’s why we stopped early.”

“Oh, I didn’t notice.”

Minho taps a finger to his lips, deep in thought.

“Fifth take, well that was my fault, so we're not going to talk about that. Sixth try, Yongbokkie and Innie both missed a cue and crouched later than everybody else, that one made me want to pull out my hair.” He shakes his head.

“That’s when we took a break,” you realise.

“Yeah, we were hoping it would help us have a clean run. Jinnie had sweated through his makeup and needed touch-ups anyway.”

“I thought you guys were annoyed at me,” you say in a small voice. “You didn't seem happy with the final video.”

“It wasn't my best take,” Minho admits. “I kind of wanted to do it again, but I didn't want you guys to have to stay even later.”

“Did you even see yourself?” You reach for your phone and unlock it to show the paused dance practice video. “Look, I've been trying to copy how fluid you moved in this part. See there? I looked so stiff compared to you, it's awful.”

“Y/n-ah,” Minho says carefully. 

“And look at this move,” you say, skipping ahead a couple seconds. “I couldn't quite-”

You cut yourself off mid-sentence when Minho leans forward to pluck your phone our of your hands and throw it off to the side. You don't even fight him, just stare with wide eyes, scared of what he's going to say next. 

“You were fine, you did well. But even if you did mess up, it's okay. This dance is tiring, it's challenging. We all have bad days and it's okay to make mistakes.”

When you don’t say anything in response, he slowly moves closer and envelops you in a tight hug. You sniffle a little bit and when he starts to rub slow but firm circles onto your back, you can't stop the few tears that escape.

“Hey, what's going through your mind, huh?” he asks in a low voice. “Why are you being so hard on yourself?”

“I just don't want to let you guys down,” you say.

“Y/n-ah, you're not letting us down if we have to do a few more takes on a dance practice,” Minho says incredulously. “Is that all that's been worrying you?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “I was just nervous about filming the dance and disappointed when it didn't go like I wanted it to.”

“Silly girl,” Minho says, ruffling your hair affectionately. “You're doing just fine. It's okay to be nervous, but you don't have to be pushing yourself so hard. Come on, it's time to go home, we have an early schedule tomorrow.”

You follow him meekly as he leads you out of the building and to where a driver is waiting to take you back to your dorm. Even though you feel a bit better knowing that you weren't the cause of the schedule overruns, you're still not satisfied with how you're dancing, but you know that it's pointless to pick a fight. Not only is Minho just as stubborn as you, he's not afraid to bring in reinforcements and you'd hate for the rest of the group to catch on to how you've been spending most of your free time. They already have enough to worry about, the last thing you want is to add to that.

Moving forward, you don't stop practicing, but you do take more care to try and pretend that it's not eating up all your free time. You stop using your favourite studio, you know the dance so well that most of the time you don't even have music playing, and you make sure not to stay out late enough that it's noticeable.

You start to feel a little silly with how much time you've devoted to this, significantly more than the rest of the members, especially when the music video filming goes by without a hitch. By the time the Studio Choom video is filmed, you're a lot more confident about the performance and even starting to enjoy yourself.

The rest of the preparations for the comeback start to fly by, especially after the album announcement goes live. There's not a day that goes by that's not filled with different photoshoots or interviews.

Before you know it, the album is released and even though your schedule is absolutely packed, you spend all your free time reading through comments and reactions. Maybe it was cliche to say, but you really did treasure hearing from Stays and comebacks were always when you felt closest to them.  You especially liked being able to interact with them on a more personal level.

You were almost certain that you were the most active member on Bubble, you liked to send daily updates on what you were doing and reminders to Stay about maintaining their health. It did sting that you were also pretty certain that you had the least subscriptions and likely some of them only stuck around because you thought it was funny to send candid photos of the boys every so often.

You had always looked forward to fan signs the most though. Before you had debuted, you had loved seeing footage of the cute accessories, silly pick-up lines, and heartfelt messages from the fans. Not only that, but it was the only chance to speak to fans in person, even if it was only for a minute or two.

You were immensely grateful for everyone that supported you, but maybe it was your eager anticipation for fan signs that left you feeling so disappointed and empty. You had slowly grown used to Stays ignoring you for the boys, for always being the one that didn't receive any gifts to play with, for having the smallest stack of letters at the end of each event. But somehow you were always hopeful that the next time would be different.

Of course, it wasn't like you resented everybody else in the group. In fact, you were genuinely glad that they were enjoying themselves because they deserved it. They worked hard, were amazing performers and talented at creating music, and as a result, the fans loved them.

You, on the other hand, were just missing something, and it seemed that nothing you could do would change that. You had bounced through different positions, focused on vocals, dance, rap, music production, writing lyrics, and had enjoyed yourself thoroughly the whole time. If only the fans had liked it as much as you.

At least with fan calls, it wasn't as blatantly obvious that you were the least popular, least favourite member of the group. In fact, sometimes you were glad because you knew the boys often had crazy fans who had absurd or cringy requests while most of the time you spoke with someone who was politely feigning their interest.

It's almost funnier when the company sits you all down in the same room for the calls like they do today because you get to witness and subsequently tease the boys for the aegyo and silly poses they're forced to do. It's not like any of you can refuse anything the fans ask you to do, not with the staff breathing down your neck the whole time.

As expected, most of your calls are fairly generic and you're grateful for it. You have easy conversations about the album, which dances are your favourite, and you get to share some stories from the tour that you recently finished. You're maybe halfway through the calls when things start to take a turn for the worst.

“I even think that you would have done great as a solo artist! Are you thinking of releasing any solo music soon?” the girl that you're talking to asks excitedly.

“Oh, thank you.” You smile back even though the innocent question makes your chest ache for some reason. “I- well, solo music-” You take a deep breath to gather your thoughts. “I don't know about the future, but right now I really can't imagine releasing anything other than music as a part of Stray Kids. I love working and performing with the rest of the members and I wouldn't want to change anything.”

It's how you actually feel, but you can't help the way that your eyes dart over to check on the staff member that's supervising your call. You feel a bit better when you see their nod of approval and try to focus on the fan to finish the rest of the conversation.

Thankfully you get a quick break before the next call. You know the fan was probably trying to be encouraging, she had started off the call praising your skills and was probably just curious. Still, there's a voice in your mind that tells you that she'd prefer it if you weren't a member of Stray Kids. Or rather, she'd prefer that Stray Kids didn't have you in it.

You try to bring a positive mindset into your next call, but it's with a Stay that’s decidedly less interested in talking to you. You exchange greetings and make small talk until she seems to get an idea that makes her sit up straight all of a sudden.

“I have a question for you,” she says, eyes glinting in a way that makes you a little nervous, even though you're not sure why.

“Go ahead,” you encourage her because you're mostly feeling a bit relieved that she's finally showing some emotion other than boredom.

“Which of the boys would you say is best in bed?” she asks slyly.

You stare at her dumbly, thinking that you must have misheard her.

“Sorry,” you say, laughing uncomfortably. “I don't- I don't think I understand your question.”

“You heard me,” she scoffs. “What's the point in having you in the group if you're not sleeping with at least some, if not all of them?”

“No, I- It's not like that, I don't-” Flustered, you stare desperately at the staff, hoping they'll step in and end the call. Instead they just motion for you to continue. “I mean, we're close, but not-”

“If you want, you can just tell me your favourites,” she giggles, as if she's just asked you what songs on the album you liked. “It must be either Chan or Jeongin, if you decided to live with them.”

“No!” you exclaim.

“So it's not either of them?” she says, tapping a finger against her lip in thought.

“That's not the kind of relationship we have.”

Mortified, you find that you're tearing up a bit. You've heard the theories before, know that there's a lot of gossip and rumours because you're in a group of men, but you've never been outright accused to your face like this.

From the corner of your blurry field of vision, you see Seungmin wave bye to whoever he's talking to. He must hear the distress in your voice because he glances over, then does a double-take when he sees just how bad you're doing.

“What's going on?” he demands, stalking over. Before the staff can do anything to stop him, he leans forward and disconnects the call without a warning. “Why didn't you do anything, isn't it obvious that something’s wrong?”

“Y/n-ssi was handling it,” the staff member says. “It’s not fair to the fans if you cut a call short without reason.”

“No reason? Do you have eyes?!” Seungmin motions to where you're surreptitiously trying to blot away the tears without smudging your makeup. He's gotten the attention of everyone in the room now, even the members who are still in calls and have to pretend nothing is happening in the background. You can only hope that the phones aren't able to pick up anything being said.

“Min,” you say, voice barely above a whisper as you tug on his sleeve lightly. He glances back at you, eyes softening slightly. “It's okay, I'm fine.”

You're grateful that he's stood up for you, but all the scrutiny is getting a bit overwhelming. You just want to move on and pretend nothing happened because the last thing that you want is for the company to think you're a liability who can't even handle a nosy fan.

Seungmin crouches in front of you and studies you carefully. You're still clutching onto the sleeve of his sweater. You take a deep breath to compose yourself, then give him a watery smile.

“I was just being really sensitive today, I promise,” you plead. “Just let it go.”

He starts to say something, then cuts himself off, eyes watching something happening over your shoulder.

“Let's just take a quick break from the calls,” Chan says evenly. You didn't even notice that he came up being you and is standing behind you protectively. “We'll be back in 10 minutes.”

It's a command, not a suggestion, something that the staff would normally push back against, but for some reason they stay quiet, allowing the nine of you to filter out of the room unimpeded.

Nobody says anything until you find an unoccupied dance studio. Minho is quick to lock the door after you all pile in.

“Hey,” Seungmin says softly from where he's been stuck to your side. “You holding up okay?”

“Yeah, I don't know what happened. I'm fine now,” you say.

“Are you sure?” Felix asks from where he's sitting on your other side.

“Really, it was nothing,” you assure him.

“If you were upset, then it's something,” Seungmin insists. “We promise we won't think it's silly or anything. It's probably something we've all heard before anyway.”

You have to turn away from the way that he's looking at you with his huge, pleading eyes. But the rest of the group is also gathered around, concern lining their faces.

“She implied that the only reason I'm in the group is because I'm sleeping with all you,” you say stiffly, regretting it immediately when you feel both Seungmin and Felix freeze in place. “Which obviously is not true, so it's not a big deal.”

“Y/n, you know that's unacceptable, right?” Chan says slowly, through what sounds like gritted teeth. You finally tear your eyes away from where you've been staring at the patterns that you can see in the grain of the wooden flooring, to see that his jaw is clenched, neck muscles pulled tight. 

“Fans say inappropriate things all the time, it's not like I haven't read things like that before. It comes with the job.” You shrug.

“That doesn't make it okay. This is serious. You shouldn't have to-” Chan cuts himself off when he notices that he's started to raise his voice and just pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Listen, I know. I just- I don't want this to be a big commotion. It sucks, I didn't respond well, whatever, let's move on,” you say. “She's going to post about it online, but in a few days, nobody is going to remember anyway.”

“Hyung, can't we just end the call if they do anything inappropriate?” Changbin complains.

“You know that we can't,” you remind him before anybody else can say anything. “It's part of our contract.”

“I hate these stupid fan calls!” Hyunjin passionately declares from where he's sprawled out on the floor. “Channie-hyung, can we just cancel the rest of them?”

“Don't say that,” you scold him mildly. “You love fan calls the most out of all of us.”

“I love some of them,” he argues back. “But not if that's the way you're going to be treated during them. Plus, if another person asks me to call them mommy then I'm actually going to quit being an idol.”

“Ew, your fans are weird.” Jisung wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“They're your fans too!” Hyunjin shoots back.

“Okay,” Chan claps his hands together a couple times before things devolve further. “Unfortunately, we do have to continue with the rest of the calls and we can't delay things too much. It's time to head back.”

There's a bit of casual chatter as everybody heads back, but you can tell everyone is still feeling a bit tense. Seungmin only releases your hand when he absolutely has to and you squeeze a couple times before you let go to try and reassure him that you're going to be fine.

The second you sit down, a makeup artist descends on you, tutting her tongue when she sees that you've accidentally wiped away some of your eyeshadow. You obediently stay still, watching as Chan approaches your table too, stopping to lean down and say something in the ear of the staff member that has been monitoring you. The blood slowly drains from her face and she nods rapidly in agreement with whatever he tells her. He claps a hand on her shoulder and even though it's a light and friendly gesture, you can see the way she flinches slightly.

You raise an eyebrow when he looks your way and he just smiles innocently in return and makes his way back to his seat. You don't comment, not even when you notice that the staff's fingers are trembling so hard that it takes her a couple tries to connect you to the next call. You know that it's not her fault, she's just following instructions from the company after all, but you're not feeling very sympathetic at the moment.

Instead, you just try to focus and take on an upbeat persona in the hopes that nobody realises how upset you truly feel. You're hurt and a bit wary of what the fans might do next, but you don't want to take it out on the people who haven’t done anything to you yet.

Fortunately, the rest of the calls are rather uneventful and you leave the company feeling drained, but not as terrible as you had expected.

You spend the rest of the day thinking about what you could have done differently, how you could have handled the call more gracefully, what kind of answer you should give if something similar ever happens again. But no matter what, you just get stuck pitifully thinking to yourself that it's not fair, you shouldn't have to deal with these kinds of questions in the first case. You're sure the company will give you a briefing and some scripted lines tomorrow anyway, so it's probably for the best that you just try to pretend nothing happened at all.

That evening, you try your best to avoid social media, but you knew that some of the other boys had seen videos based on the stormy expression on Jeongin's usually smiley face when you got home and the way that Chan comes back from the gym with more bruises than usual from his boxing session with Minho and Changbin.

They never say anything, but they have been extra careful around you. Chan has brought home your favourite takeout without you asking and Jeongin jumps up to clean up the second that everyone has finished eating. After you decline to watch a drama with them, you can hear one of them pacing past your bedroom every few minutes, pausing right outside your door before continuing on.

You have just decided to muster up the courage to actually watch the recording of the video, it was embarrassingly easy to find one, when Seungmin video calls you. You immediately click away from where your own stupid looking shocked face is paused on screen to answer because you know Seungmin knows that you prefer to text unless it's an emergency.

“Hey,” you greet him warily. “What's up?”

“Felix is trying to kill me,” Seungmin complains.

“What now?”

“Just look!”

Seungmin changes to his back camera to reveal their kitchen, which is littered with baking supplies and seems almost hazy for some reason.

“Is that smoke?” you ask, sitting up in bed.

“I said not to film!” Felix's voice comes from somewhere outside of the frame. Seungmin pans over dizzyingly fast to show where he's crouched in front of the oven, streaks of flour smudged on his clothes and in his hair.

“I'm not filming,” Seungmin comments, unbothered by the fact that Felix is pulling out a pan of what looks like they should be cookies but look alarmingly similar to lumps of coal. “I'm on a call. Show Y/nnie what you made,” he prompts.

“What?? Noooo,” Felix whines. “Y/n don't look!”

“What are those supposed to be?” you laugh.

“I wanted to make something to cheer you up,” Felix says miserably. Seungmin cackles, moving the camera closer so that you first get a close-up of Felix's face, then a better look at the burnt baking sheet. You keel over, stomach starting to hurt from how hard you're laughing. “I was trying to clean up while they baked and didn't hear the timer go off.”

“Well I appreciate the thought,” you say, when you can finally catch a breath. “And you definitely succeeded in making me feel better. Didn't the fire alarm go off?”

“We just got it to stop,” Seungmin says, switching the camera so that you can see his face again. “It's freezing in here now, we had to open all the windows to air out the place.”

“You poor things,” you coo, leaning back onto your bed now that you aren't concerned that they're in immediate danger. “Do you want to come over to our place?”

“I want to, but someone has to make sure that sunshine over here doesn't burn anything else.” Seungmin rolls his eyes, making you laugh again. You hear Felix yell something in the background. “I just wanted a witness in case I don't make it to our schedule tomorrow. I think I gotta go.”

“Yeah, I think you'll be busy cleaning up the rest of the night. See you tomorrow!”

You end the call, plunging your room back into darkness. You lie on your bed for a few moments before unlocking your phone again.

Even though you knew that it wasn't wise, like clockwork you found yourself scrolling through social media after every comeback. It used to be worse, when you had been living alone and would spend countless hours curled up on your tiny bed, face only illuminated by your phone. 

The rest of the members all know that you had private social media accounts, they all had them too even though you technically weren't allowed to. What they didn't know was how many nights you had wasted away, watching funny compilations, reaction videos, and analysis of performances. Sometimes, it even felt like you were subconsciously searching for the negative comments, wanting to understand better the mindset of the haters.

It was an old, but bad habit, so you had tried your best to stop once you moved in with Chan and Jeongin. But tonight you just couldn't sleep. After wandering into the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water, you end up getting distracted by your Youtube recommendations.

You don't know what kind of strings the company pulled, but by some miracle, there's no clips of your disastrous fan call circulating any more, although there were still a lot of people talking about it.

There had been mixed comments. Some of the clips had excluded the terrible questions and people commented on how bad your media training must have been, but a majority of people were furious on your behalf and complained about how out of bounds the comment had been. 

You should be relieved that the videos have been taken down and you are to a certain extent, but just a couple days ago the dance practice that haunted you had been posted. Just one more thing to worry about. As you feared, while a majority of the comments were nice, there's already people picking apart your performance, comparing you to the boys. 

You click from one comment to another, then move onto fan made videos, inevitably falling down a rabbit hole of the many edits that exist where you had been cropped out or digitally removed. It was almost mesmerizing, watching videos of how well the group worked without you, how natural it looked to see what it would have looked like if it was just the eight of them. Some nights, you could almost forget that the edits were exactly that, edits and not the reality.

“Hey,” Chan interrupts. He is obviously trying his best not to scare you, but you were startled anyway, dropping your phone on the counter. “What are you up to so late?”

“It's nothing,” you said quickly, fumbling to lock your phone so that he can’t see the video that’s playing, but Chan had scooped it up before you had the chance to pick it back up.

“What's this-” You could see the moment that he pieced things together, the way that even in the dim lighting you could tell how his brow had furrowed and his hand had tightened around your phone. “How come you're not in these videos?”

“Hm?”

“You were definitely in this performance,” Chan says, studying the paused screen. “You're supposed to be… They removed you.” He finally realises with horror. “Why are you watching garbage like this?”

“I just want to know what Stay are thinking.” You shrug. “I saw this video and couldn't help but watch. It’s not a big deal, I was just curious.”

“They're not Stay if they're not supporting the whole group!” Chan startles you with the sharpness of his voice. He catches sight of your wide eyes and softens his tone. “Sorry, I just hate akgaes and seeing these kind of posts.”

“Oh come on,” you say. “You're telling me that you've never thought about what the group would be like if you weren't being dragged down by me?”

“Dragged down- Y/n-”

“Don't lie to me, oppa. I know you've seen what people are saying about the group, about me. Have you seen some of these edits? Stray Kids looks good as eight,” you admit.

“I’m not lying! None of us would want to be making music or performing without you,” Chan insists.

“You don't have to say that just to not make me feel bad.” You shake your head.

“We’ve been together from the start, why would I have chosen you to be a part of Stray Kids if I didn't actually want you to be on the team?” Chan asks, sounding frustrated, but also genuinely curious.

“Because the company added me to the team at the last minute?” you say, as if it's obvious. Because to you, and basically everybody else, it is. “I know I wasn't part of the group that you picked. It's okay-”

“What are you talking about? You know that I chose you too, right?” he asks slowly. 

“But the company-”

“They couldn’t have just added you to the group without our say.”

“No, I know that you guys agreed it to, but-”

“Y/n-ah, we didn't just agree to it. They told me they wanted us to consider adding a female member to Stray Kids. We thought about it and said yes. I was the one who wanted that member to be you.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. 

“What?”

“Why are you so surprised? I saw your evaluations, you were one of trainees strongest in dance, probably the only one that could keep up with us, your singing has always been stable, and I know that based on your personality and work ethic, you would get along well with the rest of us. It was the obvious choice.”

“Oh.” Is all you can say, mind racing.

“You really thought the company just added your name onto the roster and we went along with it?”

“I don't know, I guess so?” you say sheepishly. “I was just so grateful to debut, it didn't matter at the time. It felt so out of the blue.”

“You know that one of the reasons that JYP didn't have you on that many of the girl group line-ups was because he was considering making you a solo artist, right?”

“Huh? There's no way,” you immediately deny. “Nobody ever mentioned that-”

“He told me when I brought up your name to add to the group. I guess they never wanted to get your hopes up.”

“I thought they were going to drop me soon,” you admit, scratching at the back of your neck. “I uh, I thought maybe I would do at most one more year of training and then move back in with my family. I had even started filling out university applications to keep my options open.”

“Y/n, you were consistently having amazing evaluations, you were being praised so much by everyone. Why would you doubt yourself?”

“Three years as a trainee and nothing to show for it. You know what it was like, how hard it was to see people come and go. It didn't matter how great my evaluations were if I never got to debut.”

“But-”

“Don't tell me that you never thought about quitting. Oppa, I thought that you of all people would understand what it was like.” You hate the way that your voice cracks.

“I thought about it all the time,” Chan says. “Sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

“It's fine,” you mumble.

“Y/n-ah,” Chan asks tentatively, like he's afraid to learn the answer. “All these years that we've been together, did you really think we didn't want you?”

“Yes? Well, not really. I didn't think you guys disliked having me in the group per se, I just always thought that maybe you would like it more if I wasn't? And I guess it didn't help that there are a lot of people who thought the same way.”

“I'm sorry we didn't reassure you more.” Chan runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “How did we not see that you felt this way?”

“Because I didn't want you to? It's not like it was your fault anyway, I was just overthinking.”

“You know we're going to have to make it up to you, right?” Chan says, looking a little mischievous. 

“Oh please no,” you say, backing away nervously thinking of how much coddling and smothering you're about to endure. You're pretty sure you're already one of the members that's doted on the most. “Things are good as they are.”

“Nope, I refuse.” Chan approaches you, reaching out and catching your wrist so that you can't get away. “We're going to give you so much love that you're not going to doubt yourself ever again.”

“No!” you squeal, trying to tug away from his grip. “I already-” 

The rest of your sentence gets cut off as Chan pulls you into an embrace and your face gets smashed against his shoulder. He squeezes you tightly and contrary to your words, you just relax into his hold.

“What are you guys doing? You're being so loud.”

Both you and Chan freeze, then turn to stare as Jeongin shuffles into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes with his hair all mussed up. You turn back to Chan for a second before he replies.

“Just having a bit of a heart to heart, Innie. Come here, join us,” he invites.

“Ugh, why would I want to hug either of you?” Jeongin complains, wrinkling his nose before immediately walking over and enveloping both of you in his arms.

Even though you know you're going to have to leave for a schedule in a matter of hours, with both Chan and Jeongin's arms wrapped tight around you, you feel lighter than you have in months. You feel secure, at ease, and finally, like you've found a home in these boys.

where the heart is collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[miorirenkova]

!TEASER! “dream about me”

!TEASER!

park sunghoon x fem!reader

“park that car, drop that phone

sleep on the floor, dream about me.”

synopsis: you weren’t a good person—everyone knew that. cruel, sharp-tongued, and ruthless in high school. but you weren’t a killer. at least, that’s what you told yourself.

just as you were trying to change, news breaks: your high school enemy, park hana, has taken her own life before university.

and her brother?

he’s convinced it’s your fault. determined to make you pay. but the deeper he digs, the more you both realize—hana’s death isn’t as simple as it seems.

warnings: heavy mentions of suicide and bullying, violence, abuse, terrible parenting, heavy topics like death (mentions of a character’s death), gaslighting, manipulation, corruption, blackmail, guilt, trauma, revenge, LOTS of angst, fixation, smut (smut warnings will be given in the smut chapter!!), forgive me if i miss any/more might be added

note: this is a work in progress and since in the poll vote, sunghoon won, this is the fic ill be releasing!! its going to be a chapter wise fic and this is just a teaser for it as im working on it. lmk ur thoughts <3 haven’t decided how many chapters yet but itll be pretty lengthy fs. first chapter will be released towards the end of this week or mid next week hopefully

also, im making a playlist for this fic <3

mdni . hate comments will be deleted.

!!.under cut.!!

————————————————————————

you felt your heart drop as you heard the announcer take your name. your name for the opportunity.

how? how could this happen? you never meant to win. all you wanted to do was to make sure she would never win. you didn’t even want this.

and yet, here you are.

you knew the look on hana’s face without even having to look at her. hell, you couldn’t look at her. you felt too guilty, even though you would never admit it.

and, somewhere along the way, you would realise this was more than just a simple stolen opportunity.

it would only spiral into something you would regret forever.

————————————————————————

it starts the way all tragedies do—slow, quiet, like a whisper before the storm.

first, it’s the looks. the way people glance at you, their stares lingering a second too long, their conversations halting when you walk by. then, it’s the whispers. your name, tangled with words like murderer, liar, karma. you don’t ask what they’re saying. you already know.

but none of it matters. not really. not until you see him.

you hear the rumors before you see him.

park sunghoon, back in town. park sunghoon, looking for revenge. park sunghoon, who won’t stop until you’ve paid for what you did.

you shouldn’t care. you tell yourself you don’t. after all, it’s not like you haven’t heard worse before. people have been talking about you for years—whispering in hallways, throwing glances when they think you’re not looking. but this time, it feels different. heavier. like a countdown has already started, and you don’t even know when it hits zero.

you should tell him he’s wrong. that you aren’t guilty. you should correct him. prove and fight for yourself.

but, the worst part is, you don’t even try to argue. maybe because you know he won’t believe you. or maybe because a part of you wonders if he’s right.

you would feel the guilt chip away at you, almost gaslighting you into thinking you did kill her.

“you don’t look guilty enough,” he would say, voice almost too calm. “but don’t worry. i’ll fix that.”

but the truth is, hana’s gone. and you’re still here. and no matter how much sunghoon wants to make you pay, you know that you aren’t the reason for her suicide.

there’s so much more.

————————————————————————

coming soon!

[sdmnpact]

hey! are you opened to requests?

if so. can you write something where harry keeps forgetting important events with reader (one of them being their anniversary). after being stood up again, y/n is done and leaves harry. y/n decides to leave the country in which harry has to grovel and find where she is. (harry once said he travelled boarders for a girl). no one is helping him do so because all of their friends like her and think he fucked yo big time.

Travel.

Wroetoshaw x Reader angst

A/n: There are going to be a lot of pov changes and time jumps. Sorry if it gets confusing but I still hope you enjoy!! This one is really long and personally I really like it ♡

~~~

《 Y/n's Pov 》

I sat there alone for the last hour. The patrons came and went while I sat there filling up on the free bread. I could feel the sorry expressions people had towards me. I could tell the wait staff needed to kick me out but they felt just as bad. They would come every now and then to check if I was ready to order.

It was quite evident that I was here to meet someone. Someone who would never arrive. Someone who couldn't even send me a message about what happened. About why they weren't here on all days.

I was just about ready to leave. I was embarrassed to say the least. A sad story about a girl who sat at a restaurant alone for an hour. It's ridiculous. It's not like I didn't try calling, he just wouldn't answer. Maybe something happened to him? Maybe he got busy. Either way, I was done waiting. I felt bad about just leaving like this after I waited for so long without ordering.

I only waited this long because I had hope he would arrive. Hope he would walked through those doors holding a bouquet and a story about why he was so late. It was foolish of me to think this way, after its happened so many times before. I should just be used to it at this point but a part of me is still just a lovesick fool.

>>>

I took an Uber back to our shared flat. Our shared flat. A place that was supposed to be comforting to me, but I did not want to be there. I wanted to go literally anywhere else.

I stood in front of the door, debating if I should go in or not. Maybe I can go to a friend's house? Even sleeping on a park bench would be better. I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to be in the same room as him.

I finally mustered up the courage to open the door. I heard a faint noise coming from inside as I unlocked it and opened it partially.

His shoes sat near the door, letting me know he was home. I walked inside and into the living room, seeing the TV lit up and Harry sat on the couch in his golf clothes.

"Hey baby." His words seemingly emotionless as he continued watching the television, not even turning to look at me. I didn't respond, I just went straight to our room.

I went to the closet and took out a suitcase, placing it open on the bed. I quickly began taking my stuff out of the closet and drawers. Not many things, just anything that I thought was important and a couple changes of clothes.

I heard footsteps and the door open more as I had partially closed it. "What are you doing?" He said with concern in his voice. I turned around to face him, tears that I hadn't realized I've been holding in finally being released upon laying eyes on him. "Baby, what's wrong?" He said coming closer trying to grab my hand. I coldly pulled it away.

"What's wrong? Harry do you know what day it is?" He didn't seem phased and just shook his head. "Wednesday?" He questioned, sounding unsure.

"You bastard." I said turning back around grabbing more things and quickly shoving them into my suitcase finally finishing and closing it.

"Seriously y/n, what's the matter?" He sounded genuinely upset like he was about to cry. "Why are you packing?"

"IT'S OUR ANNIVERSARY!" I finally shouted at him. "It's our anniversary. You know, it's only the day we met and fell in love, or so I thought." I said my voice breaking as I spoke those words.

"No it's not- I thought it was next week?" He said rushing over to the calendar that was sitting on the bedside table. I had clearly noted that it was our anniversary on there, drawing hearts all over that little square yet he didn't notice.

"Oh shit." He muttered under his breath.

"You do this all the time Harry. All the fucking time! You forget everything. How could you forget this! The most important day ever. I forgave you when you forgot my birthday, I forgave you when you forgot to pick me up from the airport, and I forgave you when you had to travel for a sidemen video and I went to my best friend's wedding alone but this! This is a new low, even for you." I finished storming out of the room with my luggage in hand.

"Baby please, I can change." Those meaningless words left his mouth as he rushed behind me grabbing my hand. "You've used that line already. What was even your excuse this time? You said you had a sidemen shoot and I understand that but why are you wearing your golf clothes!?" I said, hot tears streaming down my face as I pulled my hand away again.

"I went golfing with Simon and Josh afterwards." He said quietly. "Just great. I'm done now." I said opening the door and slamming it behind me. I walked down the hallway quickly.

"Y/N! Wait!" He said opening the door coming down after me. The lift opened and I got in quickly, closing the door and hitting the 1st floor button. I saw the tears streaming down his face right before the doors closed. I wiped at my own face, my makeup coming off all over my hands.

I got into the first taxi I saw. I think ill just go to a hotel for the night. I don't want to ask a friend because I don't want to burden them with this. I'll just figure it all out by myself.

>>>

I woke up the next day, my head banging and my face stiff as the tears hardened. I cried myself to sleep last night after checking into a hotel. I couldn't stop myself and just let the tears flow until I eventually fell asleep.

I reached over for my phone. I turned it on revealing the tons of messages and missed calls from Harry and a couple friends. I guess he called everyone he thought I would be with. I had about 59 missed calls and 72 text messages just from Harry. I wish he had put that much effort into our relationship.

I wasn't going to call him back, I was done. I've had enough. I've always been second, it was always the sidemen and his career first. Maybe he didn't have time for a relationship anymore. Those three years were just nothing. All that time we had spent together was for absolutely nothing. It's a good thing I know now.

Last night, as I lay there crying, I thought about what my future was. I thought we would spend the rest of our lives together. That's just how in love I am with him, well was.

Now that doesn't matter. Now I need to focus on myself. I don't want to live here anymore, I need to leave the uk scene. Maybe travel, explore the world. I have some savings that I was saving for our future but I guess this is my future. I've always wanted to see other countries. I've spent my whole life in the uk, I've only traveled twice with Harry to the Maldives and Dubai.

This is the start of my new life.

---

《 Harry's Pov 》

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

How the fuck could I be SO stupid! How could I do this to her.

Harry: Mate, have you heard from Y/n?

I sent that text to about everyone I know. Where the hell is she? I've been up all night worrying about her. No one knows where she's at. Fuck.

Why am I like this? I just lost the greatest thing that ever happened to me.

There was a knock on my door. I ran over to check if it was Y/n. No. It was just Ethan and Josh.

"Hey boys." I said as I opened the door letting them in.

"Jesus, Harry you look horrible." Josh said as they sat on the couch. I walked over to a mirror. My eyes were bloodshot and there were dried tears all over my face.

"Well, I've been worried sick over this. Speaking of, did you hear from her or did your girls?" I said hoping she would have contacted one their girlfriends as she was pretty close with them, especially Freya.

"No, sorry mate." Ethan said as they both shook their heads. I ran my hands through my hair plopping onto the couch.

"Boys how could I have done this? How could this have happened?" I felt the tears beginning to fall again.

"Harry, I don't know if you can fix this, but if you do. You need to be better. You can never let this happen again." Josh said with a serious tone. "I know and if I get her back, I promise I'll treat her like the queen she is."

>>>>>

** three months later **

《 Y/n's Pov》

"Thats amazing! They are really such majestic creatures!" I said smiling at the tour guide. I was in Africa on a safari. The tour guide was talking about the elephants that were grazing nearby. They're so much larger up close. They could step on a human like we step on ants. Nature is just beautiful.

I had created an Instagram account where I post about my travels. I said I would never be a travel influencer but I couldnt help sharing my experiences. They are so eye opening and this massive world we live in is just incredible.

The elephants were the last stop on this safari and now it was time to go back to the hotel.

>

I made it back and plopped onto the bed looking through all my pictures. This is by far my favorite place I've been to. The last three months were insane! I went to France, Mexico and now Africa. I wouldn't trade these experiences for anything in the world. My life was going great.

There was a knock on the door. I didn't order room service or anything so I wonder who it is. I got up and opened the door. My face immediately fell and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"Y/n!?" Harry said, his voice shaking.

"How did you find me!?" I shrieked. I've tried to hide where I was, only sharing with very close friends. The account I made was anonymous so no one should have known it was me.

"It wasn't easy but I finally found your instagram. I knew it was you based on what you told me last year. You said you've always wanted to visit France, Mexico, and Africa. Your account was on your tagged pics and I knew based on the way you wrote that it was you." Damn it. I guess I accidentially tagged my personal instagram handle. I had a long flight that day and I was quite tired.

"Okay well, it was nice seeing you I guess but now you have to leave." I said trying to shut the door.

"Wait-" He said holding the door open. I sighed as I opened the door wider. I placed a hand on my hip waiting for his response.

"Y/n, I've been searching for you for months. I've missed you so much. I would have kept searching for you for the rest of my life if it's what it took to find you." He said. I rolled my eyes but felt my heart flutter. As annoyed as I was with his presence, deep down, I still have feelings for him.

"Can I come in so we can talk?" He said, his eyes pleading. I sighed a bigger sigh but let him in, not saying a word. I sat on the bed grabbing a donkey plushie I had bought in Mexico.

"Cute." He said smiling. "Yeah- so what do you have to say then?" I said wanting him to hurry up.

"Y/n, listen. I'm a stupid jerk who really doesn't deserve a second chance or to even be with a person as amazing as you. But, I can't let you go without a fight. I love you, I have always loved you. You were the missing piece in my life. Before we met, I was nothing. I might as well have not even existed but you came into my life as a light. A light that shined so brightly. All these years we've been together have been the best years of my entire life. I know I haven't been the best partner and I can't change the past but I can change the future. I promise you that I will be different. I will only breathe for you. You will be my entire life. Nothing else will matter. I'll even quit the sidemen if that's what it takes to not lose you. I seriously adore you so much and want to keep you in my life forever. Please, just consider it." He finished, tears streaming down his face.

I felt hot tears streaming down my face as well. I don't know about this. I don't want us to spiral back into this cycle but, I still love him. I don't know if I will ever love someone like I loved him. Can I go back to this life? I like my life now. Being able to go and do whatever I want at a moments notice is so freeing but being with the love of my life is also something I deserve.

"I don't know, I don't know if I can believe that for certain-"

"I know! I know. But please trust me, trust that I can change. If I don't then you can leave and I will never contact you again." His face looked desperate.

My mind doesn't know what I want to do, but my heart wants to say yes. I want him back but I don't know if I can handle heartbreak again.

"Come back tomorrow and I will tell you." I said unable to think about it while I look at him. He nodded, getting up. "I love you." He said as he left the room closing the door behind him.

This is gonna be a rough 24 hours.

>>>

** two weeks ago **

《 Harry's pov 》

"Please just tell me where she is!" I pleaded to just about everyone I knew.

Currently I was at her best friends house asking if she could let me know where Y/n was.

"She doesn't want to see you and I'm not gonna be the one to tell you where she is!" She said shutting the door in my face. My shoulders dropped as I went to the car. I sat in it contemplating what I should do next. Maybe I should just stop and hope she comes back home. Most of her stuff is still at our flat so she has to come back for it. Right?

I pulled out my phone and checked her Instagram. She hasn't posted anything on any of her socials. It's like she vanished into thin air. I looked through her tagged pictures to see if anyone spotted her.

I've had the best time in Mexico!! Stay tuned because I'm on the way to the third country on my most wanted places to visit list!! Africa!! 🤭💚

The pictures and the caption were on her tags as it tagged her on it. This is exactly what I needed. I quickly drove home and packed a backpack of essentials while I booked the first flight I could get to Africa.

---

** Present **

《 Y/n's Pov 》

It was the next day and I have been debating all night on what I should do. I've been going back and forth on my decision because I don't want to make the wrong one.

There was a knock on the door. It was time.

I walked over and opened the door. Harry was standing there holding a bouquet of flowers, my favorite flowers.

"Hey, can I come in?" He asked. I nodded as he handed me the flowers walking in. "These are for you." He smiled widely. I took them, taking a huge whiff. "Thank you."

We sat down on the little loveseat that was in the room. "So, have you made a decision yet? No pressure." He smiled looking at me with the cutest puppy eyes.

"Yes." Seeing him again was the confirmation I needed. "I'll come back- but you seriously have to work on yourself, I don't want to be second anymore. You don't have to quit the sidemen, I would never want that. I just want you to focus on me a bit more. I don't have to be your main priority but I need to be a priority." I smiled. Tears began to well up in my eyes, his as well.

"One hundred percent, my darling. You will be my main priority no matter what. I love you so much and I will do whatever it takes to have you happy and in my arms forever." He said taking a hold of my hand. I put my hand up to his face wiping away the tears. Both of us were crying to eachother but we were finally together again.

"I love you, y/f/n y/l/n."

"And I love you Harry Lewis."

>>>>>

** 1 year later **

《 Y/n's Pov 》

Harry and I were finally happy. After that situation, I came back to the uk with him, well after spending a week in Africa together because I still had a whole list of things I wanted to do.

He supported me through all of it, giving his full attention to me. Even now, I still run my travel account and travel to a new city every other month. Of course Harry joins me and sometimes he misses Sidemen shoots and I've told him he didn't have to but he insists.

He, in fact, did change. He gives me so much attention now, some would say too much. He loves traveling with me and supporting everything I do. I'm so grateful to have him in my life again.

"You ready, babe?" He said grabbing my bag. We were on our way to another city in another country. "Always." I smiled kissing his cheek. He smiled kissing my lips lightly. "I love you so much." He said grabbing my hand and rubbing circles into the back of it.

"And I love you."

[bookshelf-dust]

someone worth leaving home for

eddie munson x fem!reader

gif by @cowboylikemunson

word count: 2,695

warnings: some alcohol use, swearing, a little suggestiveness? otherwise pure fluff

synopsis: you’re not really one to go out on the town much. being at home is just…better. but maybe there are some people worth getting out of your pjs for.

a/n: the amount of time this has been sitting, left to collect dust because i just couldn’t get a good footing on it or decide what direction to go in is vile. but i finally did it!! and i think it turned out pretty cutesy. if you’ve been in the market for something fluffy to get through the horrors life brings you, i hope this’ll help. love you!! <33

————

“Will you quit dragging your feet, already? For one, you’re gonna scuff your new boots, which I paid good money for, and for another, we’re never gonna get close enough to the stage if you don’t pick up the pace.” 

Tatum skips ahead of you, her skirt flouncing behind her. You scoff, shoving your beat-up compact back into your purse, along with the wine colored lipstick you’d been applying. “I just don’t understand your obsession with bars. I much prefer drinking at home. In my pajamas.”

“It’s not gonna kill you to come out with me for one night.” Tatum says your name. “Besides, I already told you the lead singer is kind of your type…” The last word leaves her mouth with a sing-songy lilt to it. She pulls open the door to The Hideout for you. “God knows you need some physical affection,” she mumbles. 

“What was that?” you laugh, cupping your ear with your hand. “You wouldn’t happen to be shit-talking your best friend, now would you?”

Tatum flips her hair over her shoulder. “Sometimes shit-talking is the best form of motivation.” 

It’s not exactly light outside, what with the time change and it getting dark so early, but somehow it’s darker inside the bar. There are a few neon signs hung up on the wall, large beer company logos staring you down. Your boots immediately stick to the floor beneath you; peanut shells crunch under your heels. 

It’s the kind of disgusting that holds nothing but nostalgia and a strange sense of comfort. You go to take a seat at the bar, but Tatum is quick to grab your hand, pulling you across the oblong room and in front of a small-ish stage. Your brows knit together. 

“What do you want to drink? I’ll get it. These are the best seats in the house, and I damn sure am not about to let anyone take them.”

You spout off the first thing that comes to mind, hoping it’s even something this place will have. You bring your purse into your lap. “Best seats my ass.”

Tatum slams a glass down on the table in front of you. Your heart smacks against your ribcage. “Jesus fuck!” She laughs when you clutch your collarbones, eyeing the pinkish liquid in your cup.

“These might be the grossest seats in the house, but they sure are good for checking out the band.”

How she even heard your snide comment from the bar, you’ll never know. Tatum takes a swig from her beer, waiting for your eyes to widen. You decide not to give in to temptation. 

“You brought me here so you could ogle the singer in a shitty band in an even shittier venue?”

“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers.”

Your eyes roll back into your head and you take a long sip from the plastic straw in front of you. “And no,” Tatum continues, “you pessimistic little shit. I have eyes on the drummer—hello. Do you even know me? The front-running guy is much more your type. And he plays like, an electric guitar or something. You know what they say about guitarists…”

“Okay, stop. You sound so sure that you know exactly what my type is, and I just don’t think that’s fair, I mean, I don’t do that to you—holy shit…”

Tatum leans back in her chair, the front legs lifting ever so slightly. She claps her hands and giggles. “Ha! Told you so!”

The back of your hand makes contact with her clammy bicep. She takes it in stride. 

The band, a group of four, has appeared on stage, skin glimmering in what can only be described as a ghostly manner due to the cheap lighting. There’s a guy taking a seat at the drum set with floppy brown hair, an earring, and a ratty gray sweater on. “Does he have big sad eyes?” you ask Tatum, raising an eyebrow. 

She might as well have squealed. “You bet your ass he does!” 

You look at your best friend as the group begins to play a cover of something that sounds vaguely familiar—maybe you’ve heard it on the radio before—but that you can’t place. You won’t tell her, but you’re glad she dragged you here tonight. The love-dazed trance she’s in makes it worthwhile. You’re not gonna let her leave without getting that guy's number.

A quick glance around the place shows you that only a few other people are paying attention: the lone bartender, an older group of men, some possible teens in one of the corners sharing a pack of cigarettes. You swing your head back in the direction of the small stage, shocked to find the lead singer giving you a once-over. 

You can’t decide if you’re intimidated or intrigued. His mouth is just barely pressed against the microphone, his lips twitching into a smirk as you maintain eye contact with him. 

This man doesn’t look like anyone else you know. Sure, he’s got a similar style cut to his hair, the same dark jeans plenty of people wear in such a small town. But he’s the kind of person you can look at and just know that they’re trying to do bigger things. Reach for things bigger than themselves and the lives they grew up having. 

He seems to be wearing a couple different necklaces, a messy stack of brackets on his left wrist, an Iron Maiden shirt that’s been torn more likely from wear than in the depths of a factory. He’s the kind of gorgeous people write poems about. Hell, the kind of gorgeous people paint because they have to document it. Something about his bone structure, his lithe movements, the curve of his throat.

You find yourself unable to look away from him even as you sip your too-sweet cocktail. Your elbow nudges Tatum’s. You’re hoping that by leaning into her budding crush, yours will go unnoticed. Hopefully she’s forgotten about it since you haven’t said anything since he walked out. “You planning on asking for the drummer’s number before we leave tonight?” you ask, smiling when her cheeks flush. 

“I really want to. And they always seem to stick around after they play, to buy a beer or smoke in the alley out back. I mean, I did put on a push-up bra.”

Your shoulders shake with laughter. By the time their set is over, you’re pretty sure you only really knew one song they played—and that was only because your dad likes it. 

————

Tatum glances over her shoulder. You give her a lookin, raising your eyebrows and hands in tandem. She cringes, though it looks more like a victorious smile. She gestures at you with her index finger. Almost done. 

She’s been talking to the drummer—Gareth, you’ve now learned—for twenty minutes. You wish they’d just exchange numbers and head off in their separate directions already. The balls of your feet are starting to ache in your boots. 

You let your eyes flutter shut for just a moment as you relax into the brick wall behind you. God, you feel old. You’re ready for bed. 

There’s a shuffling sound off to your left, the slam of a door. “Shit, Gare, you got a light? Mines out.”

You look up, looking for a face to match with the voice you’ve just heard. It’s the guy from before, one of the others from the band. 

“Yeah, man, here.” Gareth fishes a silver lighter out of his pocket and passes it over. Tatum glances at you, jerking her thumb back in the guys direction. Well, he’s gorgeous, she mouths. You roll your eyes. 

Once he’s lit his cigarette, the still unknown man looks at Gareth and asks, “You about ready to head out?”

You grin to yourself, tuning out the rest of their conversation, their exchange of introductions with Tatum. You’re looking down at a particularly round rock when another pair of boots appear in your line of vision. Your head shoots up.

“Hey,” he grins, “Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Eddie. Tatum said you’re with her?”

You let out a short, little puff of air laugh. “I am. My best friend since the seventh grade and the only reason I’m not in my pajamas by now.”

If possible, he’s even prettier up close. There’s a smattering of freckles across his nose and under his eyes. The sly line of a dimple drawing up next to his mouth. The first thought you have about him at this moment is how much you like his hair. 

Eddie chuckles, blowing the smoke from his cigarette away from you. “Ooh, are they good pajamas?” The playfulness in his question catches you a little off guard. 

“They are,” you start. “They’ve got Garfield on them.”

He smiles at you. “Cute. Poor Odie though, right? When’s he get to be on a pair of pajamas?” 

“Oh, don’t worry. I have a t-shirt with them both, so he’s not totally left out.”

Eddie stuffs a hand into his back pocket. “Good. I was worried. What’s your name, gorgeous? You know, so I can look you up in the book if I find some Odie pjs.”

Normally you’d be embarrassed by how quickly you’re being charmed by this man, but he’s so damn cute that you don’t care. You tell him your name. He smiles again, slower this time, and tells you how pretty it is. 

“I’ve never seen you here before tonight,” Eddie says. 

“It’s my first time. Tatum begged me to come out with her, but I know it was really just because she wanted your drummer’s number. Usually I’m happy to drink at home.”

Eddie looks over at your friend standing with his. Gareth is writing something on a gum wrapper. 

“Well I’m certainly glad I got to meet you. You looked very pretty out there. Hope we didn’t disappoint though?”

You wave your hands. “Oh, not at all! I enjoyed it. I liked the mix of covers and originals. You’re very good. You have a…strong stage presence. Very assertive.”

He drops his cigarette, snuffing it out with the heel of his boot. “Yeah?” There’s a sick little smirk on his face when he glances back up at you. 

You hum. “You’ve got that whole…rockstar look about you, y’know?”

“So…is all that stage presence enough for you to come back next week? You’ll only have to be out late one night. If you make it, I’ll buy you a drink. We can keep talking about how pretty you are and how you feel about my assertiveness.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Trying!”

The both of you burst out into giggles, enough so that Tatum and Gareth look over to see what’s wrong. 

A yawn from you interrupts the gleefulness. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, smiling at you. His eyes take on a pretty sheen. “I’ll let you go, alright? Before you pass out on the sidewalk.”

You stick your hand in your purse and rummage for a pen. “You have anything for me to write on? You know, so we could talk a little more and I can answer your question.”

Eddie never has shit on him. Suddenly he pulls out his pack of cigarettes, flipping it over and handing it to you. You snort down at the little box, but scribble your number in the white space anyhow. “I can also apologize for my shitty flirting,” you tell him.

“Practice makes perfect,” Eddie says. 

Tatum skips over, grabbing your hand and blowing a dramatic kiss at the two men behind you as she drags you away. “Goodnight, boys!”

————

“What the actual fuck are you doing?”

Eddie appears in the living room, a pair of ratty and worn pajama pants sitting on his hips, a hand in his tangled hair. 

“What’s it look like?” 

He tilts his head in order to make eye contact with you. “Some weird Exorcist shit.”

What he’s referring to is your downward dog pose. You took up yoga a little while back, not only because it gave you something new to do, but it also helps keep you grounded. This is not to say you’re perfect at it, but it’s fun. 

It’s been just over two months since you met Eddie. He’s always felt like he’s gotta do a hundred things at once, like he’s constantly on the go—being pulled in all these different directions. Wayne used to tell him that if he didn’t learn to relax, one day his head was gonna fly off and his body would just keep on running. 

Somehow being with you, being with a total homebody, has mellowed him out. He can’t quite explain it. Maybe the chemicals in him finally evened out (he thought that was part of puberty or something). Really it’s because he’s never really understood being grounded—not until you. 

“You can join me,” you tell him, lowering yourself to sit on your haunches. “If you want. It’s just some stretching.”

He settles onto your carpeted floors, pressing a warm kiss to the center of your forehead, his hand cupping the back of your neck, thumb caressing your hairline. 

“You gonna drag me to the hospital when I throw out my back?”

“Of course.” He watches, enamored, as you shift your position. “Here, I’ll show you my favorite one. It feels really good for your hips.”

You get into a child’s pose, letting your knees fall wide so that your hips open up and relief runs up your spine. The effects of sleeping in the fetal position—an Eddie glued to your side no matter how much you move. 

You look over at him and blink. Hesitantly, Eddie attempts to copy the way you’ve folded your body. His knees just won’t do whatever it is yours are doing. They’re not very spread and his back is a little too hunched.

“Shit,” he fusses. “This shit hurts! Must be some feminine magic or something. How are you not in pain right now?”

“Here, try this one instead.” Eddie gets into a cobra pose much easier. His back cracks and he groans.

“Baby, honey, sweet fucking woman of mine—I genuinely don’t think my spine was made for this.” He sits back down, mesmerized when you do a pigeon pose, saying how good it feels and how your mind quiets for a few minutes. 

Eddie chuckles to himself. Your head pops up. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing…I was just thinking that I also know of a few ways your mind could get real quiet.”

“Eddie!” you shriek, reaching out to smack his arm. “Be serious.”

“I am—”

“Come on, just do this one with me, okay? If you throw your back out I’ll give you a massage or something. Besides, relationships are about compromise! Think about how many pairs of my shoes are all sticky because I like you so much that I get dolled up and follow you to a hundred different bars to hear you sing.”

“A hundred is a bit of a stretch. But, I digress. I will try this with you, m’lady.”

Your body makes a triangle as you return to downward dog, coaxing Eddie with you. His hair falls away from his eyes and your gaze travels to the soft skin of his tummy, the sparse hair below his belly button. It’s at that moment that you realize Eddie is also eyeing you. His eyes are glued, very obviously, to your ass. 

“Eddie, this is supposed to be relaxing, stop ogling me!”

“I saw you over there. You were being a perv with those eyes, babe. Don’t act like I'm the only guilty party.”

“You first! You always start staring first.” 

“You’re right. And if I didn’t have a staring problem, you wouldn’t be doing this with me right now.”

“Technically, I made the first move.”

“You absolutely did not.”

“Yes, I did!”

“No, you really didn’t.”

You swipe at Eddie’s ankle, knocking him off balance. You shuffle quickly across the carpet, burning your knees but not caring. 

“Just shut up and kiss me already, Munson.”

Eddie just about tackles you, cupping your face and bringing you flush to his chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

[hoahoahoahoahoa]

I know a lot of folks take issue with Bella taking Edward back and forgiving him right away in New Moon without any groveling on his part but I do think it was in-character for her, and that's what's important to me.

That doesn't mean the process of them getting back together could have been more complicated. As it is, it feels like canon more or less washes its hands of the events of New Moon like "whew glad that's over". Edward and Bella don't really grow from it as individuals or a couple; it's just a dark period that they try not to talk about because it makes Edward feel guilty. The greatest lasting change from New Moon is Edward magically overcoming his bloodlust for Bella, and I don't care for that.

One aspect of New Moon that was particularly interesting and was dropped like a hot potato was Bella hallucinating Edward. I'm far from the first person to talk about it but it was delicious, ok

So make Bella reckon with the fact that she saw and heard things that weren't really there, and (indirectly) pushed her to do things she normally wouldn't, and these hallucinations were the catalyst for her getting Edward back. She did worry in New Moon that she would wake up and it would have all been a dream, iirc.

(cutting here because this is getting to be longer than is polite to put on dashboards)

The whole way home from Italy, Bella's bracing herself for Edward to leave again. I don't have a copy handy but I think I remember her entertaining the idea that he's accompanying her home more out of guilt than a desire to be with her? This is all despite Edward behaving in a way that's clear to the readers that he's happy to be reunited with Bella. So there's some established dissonance.

Why not push that dissonance a little harder? Why not pair it with her increasingly estranged grasp on reality? (remember, her last hallucinations of Edward on Cliff Day were the clearest yet)

She was actually pretty fortunate that she was aware she was hallucinating. Maybe that luck runs out-- or at least she thinks it has. Have her question the reality of her situation more and more; Edward being back, still loving her (having always loved her), not being dangerous to her is all awfully convenient, isn't it? She starts to think so. It's always been a little unbelievable to her that he would choose her.

It would be wonderfully ironic if Edward coming back is what finally pushed her from "hmm yeah I'm seeing things that aren't really there, that's interesting" to "am I seeing things that aren't there? have I always?"

Her trust in what the real Edward says can't be restored by her simply choosing to trust him again, and if she can't trust Edward and she can't trust herself, her confidence in what's real or not gets worse and worse, too. Does Edward really still love her, or is he just placating her despite wanting to leave again, or is she having hallucinations when he's saying he loves her? -> Is Edward really back at all, or was Alice coming back and the whole trip to Italy all in her head, just a dream? -> Was Edward ever real/are vampires real?

...Okay maybe the questioning doesn't go that far, but you get where I'm going with this: consciously, Bella loves and forgives Edward. But she can't just decide to start trusting him again, no matter how much she wants to. And since her relationship with him is so all-consuming (this is a feature of Twilight not a bug btw) and losing him broke her, how does that affect her ability to accept that everything's back to normal?

What I'm getting at is it would be perfectly logical for Bella to shield herself from potentially going through the heartbreak again by not letting herself think she has him to lose again.

I know the "was any of it real?" plot is a bit basic and trite but I think it's made more interesting by Edward having tried to make it "it'd be "as if [he] never existed", after all. Is the memory of him saying that a hint from her subconscious? His own words continue to bite him in the ass by hurting Bella and his ability to make her feel truly secure and loved... which is his life's purpose, at this point.

He's in agony when he says "I love you" and she looks at him with big sad eyes and a wistful smile and says "I loved him, too". She's trying to act as if the Edward in front of her is real because Charlie said hello to him that morning, but at this point she thinks she's cracked so bad that she only imagined Charlie acknowledging him. As far as she's concerned, she's not dating a vampire anymore; she's entertaining a phantom. She tries to keep the phantom happy by acting as if he's real, because she can't bear to make any version of Edward sad, but she slips sometimes. This means whatever Edward says/does to convince Bella that he is back and real and in love with her, he can never be 100% sure that she believes him like she says she does.

I think this plotline could have a bittersweet ending with Bella more or less giving up on the idea of reality itself, because what's in front of her feels real enough, and if she can't fix it anyway she might as well make the most of it and enjoy "Edward".

Anyway shoutout to @edwardskhakipants who played with a similar idea in this fic, in a way that's pretty novel (spoilers): Bella is still hallucinating and she knows it, but the hallucinations are no longer the protector they were in New Moon. They (literally) give a voice to her worst fears and push her over the edge. The idea is devious and horrible and g o r g e o u s. Khaki is so, so good at stressing me the fuck out

[urhoneycombwitch]

This may not work cos it would have to be like a modern!steddie, but the prompt

“It's only a proper date night if we're all there!”

feels sooooooo steddie to me. Like if eddie was away for a show or something and you and steve were going to dinner, he’d be all pouty until steve put his phone in his jacket pocket and stayed on FaceTime the whole date so he could be there.

- def not @rebelfell she would NEVER

foreword: CAUGHT YA rebelfell in the inbox u knoooooww it’s gonna b good!! okay since I’m keeping my Steddie x R world in the late 80’s/early 90’s I got creative with the pre-FaceTime ways of phone usage! exists in the same world as this Steddie mlist of mine but no need to read beforehand. xx

cw: R is referred to w/ she/her pronouns, R wears a dress + has breasts, Eddie being Pathetic™️, alcohol consumption, lack of restaurant manners

wc: 1.6k

___

It’s ten minutes past the time you and Steve were supposed to leave for dinner reservations but you’re both busy- you with a last-minute jewelry change, Steve with a call that just rang in to the landline.

He’s got the corded phone jammed between ear and shoulder, shaking out the opposing sleeve of his nice dinner jacket while speaking distractedly to the person on the line. “Yeah, I get it. Totally blows and I do feel for ya, I really do-”

There’s a sharp scoff of crackly incredulity from the other end. Steve rolls his eyes. “Right, okay, so maybe I don’t feel too bad since you did this to yourself.”

Steve listens to his boyfriend's stream of woe, using the brief interlude to multitask and pull on one of his black dress shoes before interrupting- “Sweetheart, you know that excuse won’t hold up in her court. Gonna have to take the loss and grovel later, that’s the best advice I got-”

“Smart boy,” you quip, floating into the trailer’s kitchen swathed in red velvet and slipping a second glittering crystal earring into your lobe. “I assume that’s our jilted lover you’re speaking with? Tell him the prison he’s in currently is self-made. And also that we need to leave.”

Steve closes his mouth from when it had dropped open upon seeing the amount of cleavage your dress allowed. 

He nods solemnly, fiddling with his tie, honeyed eyes warm and locked on your form even as he speaks into the receiver- “She said… somethin’ about a jail. And that we gotta go. Honestly, man, my mind is mostly blank right now, and if you could see her you’d understand why.” 

It’s your turn for a fond eye roll, crossing the laminate kitchen flooring for your pair of navy pumps next to Steve’s feet. 

Eddie’s voice is distinct enough through the speaker, though you can’t make out any words- Steve listens, holding out a hand for you to take and balance with as you step into your shoes until Eddie’s words end. 

“Hold on, I’ll ask her-” Steve covers the receiver, conspiratorial and faux-serious- “Our boyfriend is requesting I describe the general look and feel of your ass in this dress since he’s not here to see it himself.”

You smack Steve lightly on the arm and he chuckles into the phone, at least having the decency to look flustered when you crowd in to talk to Eddie, using deliberate and spine-chilling emphasis: “If you wanted to come to dinner with me and my spectacular ass, you should’ve requested the night off like I told you, months ago.” 

With this final word, you reach past Steve for your overcoat, body pressing into the length of his as he stammers out, “Y-yeah, that’s, uh- that’s all folks. Sorry pal. You heard the judge.”

Steve thumbs gently over the crook of your elbow before hanging up the phone, then helps you into your coat. “Honey, you don’t think you’re being… just a tad harsh on him? He’s even worse than I am, with dates, you really can’t blame the guy for-”

“Two months.” Your voice is unwavering, with a finality that makes Steve want to bend for you immediately, no matter the cost. “He had a whole eight weeks to put a request in for a single night away from the garage. With all the times we brought it up since then and now, I don’t feel bad for him and neither should you.”

Steve smooths a hand down the pretty line of the back of your neck, the soft slope disappearing into the collar of that red fabric. The only ‘bad’ he feels is his errant partner getting to miss out on seeing you. “Heard loud and clear, boss. Your chariot awaits.”

___

Luckily it’s no big issue that your Enzo’s reservation was originally intended for three; you and Steve are seated within minutes of your arrival at a cozy table near the far wall of the room. 

Of the three of you, Steve is the designated sommelier (i.e., has stolen enough during high school from his father’s private reserves to know generally what’s what), so you let him order a bottle for the table. 

The waiter pours a glass each, and you twirl the stem between your fingers, watching the plummy color slide down the insides of the glass walls.

“Got it to match,” Steve says, taking a sip, sliding his free hand palm-up on the table for you to take.

At the quirk of your brow, he explains further, pulling the back of your hand up to his lips for a quick kiss- “To match your dress. And my cheeks, too, apparently- christ, you’re hot.”

A genuine beam lights up your face; giving Steve’s hand a squeeze, you tilt your head- “Safe to say you’re a little obsessed?”

“A lottle.”

You both giggle at that, until you’re interrupted by a wait staff member who approaches and asks for you by name. 

“My apologies, miss- there’s a call waiting for you.” The waiter holds out the restaurant’s cordless phone for you to take, then promptly leaves. 

Your eyes cut daggers into the chunk of white plastic in your hand, and Steve clears his throat, shifting uneasily, muttering “Oh boy” before you bring the receiver up to your ear. 

“Hello.” 

“Princess!” Eddie sounds much too happy for your liking as you’d prefer silent and remorseful thinking to be taking place, instead. “Holy shit, can’t believe they put me through to you. You guys order entrees yet? Stevie talked you into some overpriced ditchwater alcohol, I’m sure.”

You almost can’t hear Eddie over the amount of irritation and upset rushing through your auditory system, heart thumping fast under the gold locket between your breasts, a present from both of your boyfriends. “Eddie Munson. I really, actually, don’t want to hear it.”

“Babe, c’mon-” Eddie sighs. In the background, there’s distant clanking and various car repair noises- you guess Eddie’s using his uncle’s office phone to call. “I’m sorry. Okay? I fucked the date up, that’s on me, but I’m on break right now and I just wanted to hear your voice-”

“Well, you’re hearing it now.” You’re not sure how much longer you can keep up the quickly-thinning veil of anger around your words, tears welling faster than you can keep them at bay, voice cracking three words in- “I just wanted- I wanted you here.”

Steve watches you quietly from across the table, picking up your hand again and frowning when he sees the almost-tears forming. You squeeze back, using his touch as a grounding lifeline when Eddie speaks again.

“Baby. I’m so sorry.” To his credit, Eddie does sound genuinely pained, which eases your anger to a low level, sadness taking the lead. 

Your eyes drop to the cloth napkin in swan formation on your plate, and you sniffle. “Well, sorry doesn’t make you magically appear.”

“Give me a week and I’ll build you a teleportation device. Seriously. Dunno if it’s possible but I shall make it so.” There’s a rhythmic tick tick on the other end, familiar to your music-loving boy- he must be tapping a pen against the desk. Your heart aches with love. 

“A week’s no good,” you reply, smiling soft at your other boy, holding his hand, still- “How ‘bout now?”

Eddie’s quiet on the other end until he says, cautiously- “I think a quantum crystal’s gonna be a little hard to find this time of night, but I’ll do my best-”

“No,” you laugh, and Steve grins upon hearing it- “I mean, I’ll put you on speaker for the rest of your break. But you better behave yourself.”

Eddie swears his fealty and sings your praises before you hit the speaker button, resting the phone upright on the table. The speaker feature is luckily on a low volume, and with the background music of the restaurant it’s unlikely anyone but you and Steve will be hearing it. 

“This is cool as hell,” Eddie says, voice tinny but certainly audible. “Stevieboy, set the scene for me. Exactly how plunging is the neckline you’re staring at?”

Steve leans in as if he’s about to give a genuine answer and you snatch the phone back, keeping it on speaker but growling into the receiver- “Munson. Thin. Ice.”

Playing nice, you set the chunk of plastic back down and ask, demure- “What did you call Steve’s wine choice, again?”

Eddie answers immediately, likely believing the speaker was turned off since it was your voice last- “What, ditchwater? Honey, we’re actively dating a guy who got half his tastebuds singed off in the underworld- wouldn’t trust his recommendations further than I can throw. And you know I’ve got the arm of a Little Leaguer.”

Steve’s mouth drops open again but this time it’s in righteous indignation and shock, a hank of soft hair falling over his brow when he leans in on his elbows to hiss- “Says the guy who drank half a bottle of melon liqueur and passed out in my bushes Sophomore year.”

Eddie chortles, delighted at having been caught- “Whatcha gonna do, Stevie? Spank me about it?”

Speakerphone was probably not a great call but you can’t find yourself caring too much, instead soaking in the bickering of your two most beloveds over a glass of wine that tastes of nothing but its color.

[supercorpkid]

Fault Line

Supergirl. Lena Luthor x Reader!

Word Count: 2195.

You don’t fight. And maybe that’s the worst part. The quiet unraveling, how it’s so slow and subtle you almost don’t notice it until one day you’re lying beside her, staring at the ceiling, and you realize there’s a chasm between you. A chasm with no bridges left to cross.

"Lena," you say. Just to say something. Just to see if she’ll look at you the way she used to. Or, hell, even look at you at all.

She hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t turn her head.

You close your eyes, exhale. "Tell me to my face that you’re all mine."

It’s desperate, the kind of thing you’d never let slip if it weren’t already too late. Too late in the night. Too late in the relationship. Too late to salvage anything.

Lena is silent for too long. You feel it in your ribs before she even speaks.

"I—" she starts, then stops.

And that’s it. That’s your answer.

The way her fingers curl into the sheets like she’s bracing for impact. The way she doesn’t reach for you. The way her silence feels heavier than any goodbye.

Maybe that thing she muttered the other night—too quiet for you to catch, too sharp for comfort—maybe she meant it. Maybe she’s been meaning it for a long time.

It was a Friday. Lena had plans after work. She didn’t try to include you, which stung more than you admitted, but you told yourself it was fine. Healthy, even. You have friends. She has friends. You don’t have to do everything together.

She was going out with Kara. Drinks, a little laughter, some harmless recklessness. Nothing dangerous. Kara would make sure of that. She was safe. That’s all that mattered.

So you decided to do the same. Go out, distract yourself. Your coworkers had been inviting you to Happy Hour for months. You finally said yes.

When you came back, you went to Lena's place. It was closer, and most of your things were there anyway. Maybe—just maybe—you wanted to wake up beside her. Spend the weekend together. Try to close the growing distance.

"Hey," you said, stepping into the bedroom.

Lena wasn’t asleep yet. She was scrolling on her tablet like she always did before bed.

"Oh. You're—you're here."

She couldn’t mask her surprise. And for the first time, you wondered if she hadn’t expected you at all.

"Yeah. Shared an Uber with Dave. He lives a few blocks over." You lingered in the doorway before stepping toward the bathroom. "Is it okay?"

Lena muttered something under her breath, too quiet to be meant for you, but you heard it.

"I’ve gotten used to sleeping here without you."

You froze. Stood there, toothbrush in hand, staring at your own reflection as if it could explain what you’d just heard. Slowly, you stepped back into the room.

"Should I go?" Your voice was smaller than you wanted it to be. "Do you want to sleep alone?"

Lena hesitated. Just for a breath, just for a blink. But you saw it.

"No. No, just—turn off the lights when you're done. I’m going to bed now."

She rolled over, facing away from you, before you could even get close enough to kiss her shoulder. You thought about leaning down, pressing your lips there, to the spot where they used to rest without hesitation.

But she was already facing the wall. And you weren’t sure she’d turn back.

You reach for her, fingers grazing the sheets, stopping just short of her skin.

She notices.

Lena sets her book down, careful and deliberate, like she’s bracing herself for something she’s not sure she’s ready to face. She looks at you then—really looks at you—like she’s trying to read something you can’t even name yet.

“Where is this coming from?” she asks, quiet, measured. As if she doesn’t know. As if it’s all been normal, and fine. As if the walls around you aren't growing exponentially, throwing each of you to opposite sides of the room. Far, far—almost to different worlds.

You swallow, incapable of holding her gaze. “I don’t know.” Your voice is softer than you meant it to be, unsteady in a way you hate. “You haven’t said it in a while.”

Lena exhales, slowly. “I’ve been saying other things, haven’t I?”

And so you think back. Yeah. She has been saying other things.

The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, pulling you out of sleep before the sunlight could.

You found her in the kitchen, barefoot, wrapped in the soft quiet of morning. The coffee was almost done brewing when you slipped your arms around her from behind, pressing your face into the warmth of her shoulder.

“God, I love your coffee,” you murmured, placing a lazy kiss between her shoulder blades.

Lena chuckled, soft. “You’re too addicted to coffee.” She turned in your arms, her bare face familiar and breathtaking in the pale light. “You don’t need more energy than you already have.”

“Lies.” You pecked her lips, couldn't help but when she looked this perfect, fresh out of bed. “I could always use more energy. Imagine all I could accomplish.”

She tilted her head, amused, but there’s something in her expression you didn’t quite register at the time. “You remember what happened to Icarus, don’t you?”

You grinned. “Unfortunately, Kara is the only one who can fly too close to the sun.”

She handed you the coffee, and you took a sip, sighing happily.

“Promise me you’ll make me coffee forever?” you asked, teasing, leaning against the counter. Maybe you asked for too much, but at the time, it felt so natural, so possible.

Lena stilled for half a second, then looked down at the rim of her own mug. “What if I’m not worth the time I know you’re saving?”

Her voice was small when she said it, uncertain in a way that didn’t fit the morning.

You blinked at her, then shook your head, setting your coffee down so you could cup her face in your hands. “Oh, baby.” You kissed her cheek, and when she exhaled, you pressed another to the delicate skin beneath her eye. “You’re worth all my time.”

Lena’s face fell against your shoulder, and without thinking, you slipped your hand beneath the fabric of her shirt, tracing slow circles against her back.

You felt her exhale, but she didn't say anything. So you added,

“You’re worth everything.”

And now—back in the bedroom, with her watching you too closely—you finally hear it.

That line, the way she said it. The way it didn’t quite match the moment, the way you’d let it slip away like a pebble in a rushing current.

But here, now, it crashes back into you, knocks the wind out of your lungs.

“Yeah,” you whisper, throat tight. “You have been saying a lot of other things.”

The words stretch between you, thin lines drawn and redrawn until you’re walking between them, until the weight of it all is unbearable.

The silence is deafening now. So loud, you can’t pretend you don’t hear it.

"Lena," you try again, your tongue heavy in your mouth. "If you met me today... would you run to the arms of another?"

She exhales, but it’s barely a sound. More like the last breath before a door swings shut.

Lena’s fingers twitch in the sheets, like she almost—almost—reaches for you. But she doesn’t. Instead, her hand curls into a loose fist, retreating.

"What do you think, Y/N?" she asks. And it's almost cruel—the way she makes you answer it yourself.

You stare at her, at the way she won’t meet your eyes, at the space between you that keeps growing no matter how tightly you try to hold on.

And you think she would.

It was late. The kind of late where silence stretched too long between words, where the weight of everything unspoken sat heavy between you. The kind of late where, if you were not careful, the truth spilled out before you could catch it.

Lena’s fingers brushed against yours on the couch, a barely-there touch, a ghost of something familiar. And you didn’t think—you just held on. It felt instinctive, like muscle memory, like something you should be able to keep.

She didn’t pull away. But she didn’t hold back either.

"Every time we touch, it’s like the last time."

She said it softly, but it cut through the quiet like a blade. She didn’t look at you when she said it. Maybe because she didn’t need to.

Your breath stumbled. The words settled low in your stomach, thick and heavy, twisting into something painful.

"Lena—"

She exhaled, slow and tired, and you don’t know if it was a laugh or just the sound of something breaking.

"We’re holding onto something that’s already gone, aren’t we?"

You shook your head. “What?” It barely came out, more breath than voice. You blinked at her, incapable of doing more—because she was right.

The way she felt under your fingertips was unfamiliar. Not warm, not grounding. Just... not right.

But you love her. You know you do.

"I love you."

She looked at you then, and for a second, it almost seemed like she was about to reach for you. Like maybe this was salvageable. Like maybe she wanted to stay.

But she didn’t.

She just studied you, the way you were clutching onto her hand like it was an anchor, like if you just held tight enough, maybe you could stop this from unraveling. And then, finally—

"Will you love me until you resent me?"

It was quiet. Not a plea. Not even a question. Just... the truth.

You felt it like a crack running through you, slow and deep, like something caving in from the inside.

And that time, when she stood—when she slipped from your grasp—you didn't stop her.

"Wait, Lena, wait. Are—Are we breaking up?" Your voice barely makes it past your lips. It comes out small, like it’s afraid of being heard.

Lena exhales, something between a sigh and a laugh, something shaped like sorrow. "No, Y/N."

You breathe out, too quick, too eager, clinging to the relief like a lifeline. But she only watches you, steady, unblinking.

"We already did."

Your heart stutters. "What?"

"Look around," she says, soft, patient, like she’s waiting for you to catch up to something she’s known for a long time. "You're all alone."

And you do. You finally do.

The apartment feels too big, too empty, too still. A quiet that isn't peaceful, but hollow. The air doesn’t carry her scent anymore. The pillows don’t hold the traces of her shampoo. The bookshelves—always cluttered and filled with her—are empty now, like they were never full in the first place.

"But—" You turn back to her, confused, desperate. "You're still here."

Lena smiles, too bright, too cruel. "I'm your ghost right now, your house is haunted."

Something in you cracks, and you feel it shattering. 

This illusion you built for yourself—the one where she’s not gone, not yet, where she’s here even when she already feels miles away—fractures under the weight of it. You stumble toward the closet, your hands shaking as you pull the door open.

"It can't be. It's—no, no!"

Your voice breaks as your fingers grasp at nothing, at empty hangers, at blank shelves that mock you with the absence of her clothes. No sign that she was ever here. No sign that she was ever yours.

Except the ghost in your bed.

"Why are you still here, then?" Your voice is barely above a whisper now, raw and broken.

Lena exhales, slowly. "Because you won’t let me go, darling."

You suck in a breath, your hands curling into fists at your sides. "I—" You sink to the floor, your knees hitting the hardwood, tears blurring your vision. "I don’t know how to do that."

Lena watches you, unreadable. Then, after a beat, she shrugs. "When you're down, you fall back into me," she murmurs. "It happens."

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut, the weight of her words pressing down, suffocating.

“Lena, I—” You look up, the ghost of her still in your bed, barefoot and barefaced, so perfect it makes your heart squeeze in your chest. “I can't live without you!”

She tilts her head, studying you. Then, so gently, “You have been. For months now.”

The words slip through you, soft as a sigh, quiet as a closing door. You want to chase them, to chase her—but the truth settles, cold and undeniable.

She’s not here. She hasn’t been for a long time. And when you blink, you finally see it. Or rather, don't see her.

Now is only the hush of an empty room, the ache of something long unraveled. The ghost of her warmth fading from the sheets. The air stilling, as if even the memory of her has finally let go.

Your hands press against the floor, unsteady. But you don’t reach for her this time. Because she is a fault line, and if you do, you'll break too.

She is gone. And this time—

You let her go.

[swan2swan]

Recognition.

[coquelicoq]

good morning can i show you guys the christmas card my little sister wrote me in french (she does not know any french)

joyeux Noël, j'espère que vous comprenez ce que je dis compte tenu de la fiabilité de Google Translate. Jespère qu'à l'avenir nous voir plus de deux fois par an. Je ne sais pas vraiment quoi dire d'autre, alors joyeux Noël et j'espère que papa t'a offert. Profitez également des autres choses que je mets sur la carte au lieu de vous ècrire un essai complet.

and then she wrote me a little crossword and a "connect the language to its way of saying 'merry christmas'" game 😭

[stellardeer]

Is it wrong to be a Taylor Swift hater?

Like... is it low-key leftover internalized misogyny?

Or does her music just suck?

[orbitganymede]

self proclaimed guard dog simon who’s never held a conversation with you or even really tried to interact with you at all. he had caught a glimpse of you out on the town and traced you back to your current job, lucky for him, on base. you’re a little freaked out, this mammoth of a man randomly shows up one day and pulls a chair up to your desk, takes out a book and just hangs out for a few hours? even leaves an extra lighter for his cigs in your pen holder. introductions were a quick back and forth on names and that’s about it, sometimes he comments on your clothes or jewelry, he saw your dainty little chain on your neck and purchased an S charm the next day, left it on your desk and that was that. you really shouldn’t be okay with this but he’s kinda intriguing, and the guy that has the office next to yours hasn’t bothered you in weeks, something you’ve been begging for mentally, so really what’s simon doing wrong? he sometimes even brings you a stray pudding cup from the mess, how sweet.

but what really gets you is when you’ve just got in your car, setting your things down, buckling your seat belt, the works, but simon slides in your passenger seat, gives you a look (his eyes look so pretty in the sunlight) and tells you to “take us home”, you’re nervous to say the least, you heard what happened to janet in admin when she told him one of his stacks of paperwork was filed wrong, that she wasn’t gonna take his next one until he fixed his mistake (she’d left crying, cursing his name to high hell, and asking for a transfer) so really what choice do you have.

and maybe he walks into your place, goes straight for where you always store your remote and turns on the channel you like to watch, almost as if he’s seen this routine before, he even asks what face mask you’re gonna do tonight, you wonder how he guessed that you do a face mask every friday night (he suggests the blueberry charcoal one, says it makes your skin glowy (he did not use the word glowy)) you shrug and go on with your nightly tasks, make dinner, do dishes, shower. but what actually makes you stop in your tracks is when he walks out of the bathroom, still steamed up from his shower, butt ass naked and asks you what your favorite position is, pet.

[artemisiasmuse]

rafe cameron x sweet virgin!reader

she told you she celibate but she told me I can nail her shit

cw: mdni 18+, virgin!reader but has some other experience, lowkey a freak tho, toxic rafe, corruption kink : >, size kink, first times, rafe goes a lil crazy, sweetie pie reader x insane yandere bf rafe is lowkey my favorite trope

~ 6k words

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves <3 i didn’t read this over and i’m so sorry if there’s hella mistakes i will fix it later! this may or not be self-insert yes even that part

the trouble all began with sarah cameron and her big mouth. well really both of you were to blame, but you’d think she would be quieter when her older brother was lurking around. you were older than her by a few years, closer to his age than hers, not that it mattered though, rafe treated you like you were practically wheezie’s age. you didn’t let it sting you any more you had long gotten over trying to be seen as a woman in rafe cameron’s eyes. or maybe you just stopped watching him, he’s always noticed you but you felt out reach, until now. when he overhears his sister’s words he almost breaks the glass of water he’s holding.

“a virgin at 19 looking like you do is insane” sarah looked you up and down as you tried on the dress you’d bought together at the mall. you got shy at her words, you knew she wasn’t judging you but instead genuinely in disbelief that men weren’t throwing themselves at you. you had long mastered the art of looking unapproachable and uninterested after too many bad experiences.

“stoppp is it so hard to believe, you know how bad it’s been for me?” he really hopes no one sees him leaning against the wall next to his sister’s door, he’d look like such a weirdo. wheezie would never let him live this down, she’d barely held back on letting his little crush slip before. if sarah ever found out he’d be in another hell.

“fuck you’re right, if they can’t make you come what’s the point?” rafe winced at his sister’s words, willing away the temptation to gag. he was trying to focus on the fact that no guy had made you come before instead.

“you’re awful, but i’m done with men for a long time. im gonna focus on college and not waste time on them.” he relished in the twisted feeling that no one could touch you, even if the losers before had a chance they clearly couldn’t cut it.

“righttt being in a dorm filled with horny guys is gonna make that easier.” sarah deadpanned and you shoved her, seeing her point. you hadn’t thought about it like that.

“okay leave me alone i’ve been successful so far”

“oh my god speak of the devil, john b’s calling me over, can you cover for me? i’ll be back in like two hours max, promise.” you were a little disappointed she was leaving you but you knew how difficult it was for her to see him without someone covering for her. you nodded and pulled out your phone.

“fine but i’m ordering pizza,” rafe didn’t know if he should be terrified or elated that you two would be home alone for two hours. why did it have to be today that the rest of his family fucked off? was this divine intervention?

“save me a slice!” rafe could hear his sister rustling around, getting ready to go, so he did the same.

“you’re gonna be too busy eating di-“ rafe promptly ran off at that. he’d heard enough, his imagination would run wild with this new information.

it was half an hour later when, like clockwork, rafe made sure to be near the front door for the pizza delivery. he paid and tipped the guy, while you were making your way down at the sound of the doorbell. he hurries back upstairs, nearly running into you on the stairs. your eyes trace his pretty features and then land on the box in his hands, shock and horror cascading your face. rafe can’t believe that you look so good even now, you’re wearing a crop top with seemingly no bra underneath and high waisted sweatpants. to him you look like a model.

“hey! that’s my pizza” rafe laughs and continues up the stairs, you turn on your heel and follow him up. you’re kinda hangry and your pizza being held hostage is not helping your mood.

“i just paid for it so i don’t think so.” you both reach the top of the stairs but rafe isn’t stopping, he’s going to his room instead. this won’t do, he’ll lock the door and slam it in your face, you quickly move to stand in front of him blocking the path to his doorway. rafe thinks it’s cute that you think that would stop him, he feels a bit stir crazy over how small you look gazing up at him

“i’ll pay you back!” your hands shoot up against the doorframe, blocking entry even further. he wants to tease you a bit more but the idea of sharing a pizza in his room is way more tempting.

“nah it’s fine just let me have some.” you release your blockade and let him move past you, still with his-your pizza in his hold, following him mindlessly. if you were less hungry you would’ve realized eating pizza with your longtime crush and best friend’s brother in his room sitting on his bed was in fact not a great idea. but that fleeting concern is out the window when he opens the box and you climb onto his bed like it’s second nature. rafe does his best to stay concentrated on the present, it’s difficult when your shirt rides up and a sliver of your stomach is displayed, it looks so soft and untouched and he really isn’t hungry for pizza, he never was.

“i was gonna offer anyways for the record.” you say it while picking up a slice and rafe mirrors your action, laughing at your tone.

“yeah sure you were princess,” you ignore the way his voice sounds, the way he says your name, the way his room smells like him and it’s making your head spin.

rafe watches you eat transfixed when you lick the tips of your fingers, he can’t believe that he’s struggling to control himself over pizza but your words are ringing in his head.

“rafe do you have any napkins?” you hold up your greasy fingers and he nods his head dazedly, getting up to grab some for you and taking the pizza box off his bed with him. you move to get off then, looking around his room, you knew he wouldn’t appreciate if you snooped through his things so you just look at the pictures on the wall, the books he has. rafe finds you standing near his desk when he comes back, wordlessly handing you the napkins.

“i always forget you have a motorcycle.” your head motions towards the helmet resting on the surface of his desk.

“i don’t use it as much now.” he leaned back against the footboard of his bed, arms crossed against his chest as he watched you look at his stuff. he couldn’t figure out why you were still in his room, were you that curious?

“can i ride it? i’ve always wanted to try.” yeah rafe might just pass out now. you don’t even know what you’re doing to him, head cocked to the side looking at him so innocently he can barely hold back much longer.

“sure but i gotta teach you the basics so you don’t crash.” rafe is proud of himself for even stringing a sentence together in response. you notice a slight flush to his cheeks and ears.

“okay that’s fair.” you turn towards him, mirroring his form and leaning back against his desk. there’s a few feet between you but rafe thinks it would be so easy to lift you onto the mahogany and kiss you until you can’t breathe. his shorts feel so restrictive and he’s grateful he’s wearing black. he can’t hold back any longer, he has to know.

"is it true?" the words come out rushed, unsure of if they should even be said in the first place. but rafe’s not a quitter and he doesn’t shy away from anything really, even if the past few hours feel like a dream he would have in middle school.

"is what true?" your head does that thing again like a puppy and he nearly keels over, you’re too adorable for your own good. his gaze flits away for a second, he has to commit. your trusting expression and your airy tone make it all the more hard.

"no guy's made you come before?" you blink in shock twice before covering your face with your hands. this must be the most embarrassing moment of your life.

"ugh you heard that?"

"yeah you guys aren't exactly quiet" you might have to kill sarah cameron in her sleep, if she even comes back that is. you don’t know why you answer him, you could have just ran away but the magnetic pull of rafe cameron coaxes you to answer.

"yeah it's true" you sound defeated and rafe has to hold back a snicker, he watches you peer through your fingers at him, watching his expression.

"well i can rectify that..you know for the sake of mankind and all" there’s a smirk on his lips as he says the words that will haunt you forever. you’re sure he’s just messing with you and you huff a breath of disbelief. did he know about your little crush? you’d been hiding it so well for the past few years!

"don't tease me, rafe" you step away from his desk, moving to leave his room. even if it was just the two of you in the house you’d much rather sit in sarah’s room or watch the tv than be ridiculed.

"i'm not, it'd be a shame if a pretty girl like you gave up on men, especially for me." it’s almost as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water on your head when rafe cameron speaks. pretty girl the first time he’s called you anything that might suggest you’re not just his sister’s friend. the world spins on its axis and you try to grasp onto his words, try to understand that he might be genuine but you can’t. there’s still that voice of doubt telling you he’s just messing with you. rafe watches your expression go from shock to disappointment, you don’t believe him. he supposes it’s not that believable when he’s been purposefully avoiding you for a while. you must think he’s just messing with you, but he’s dead serious. he’ll just have to prove it.

“whatever rafe i don’t have time for your games.” you mumble it and leave his room, slamming the door a bit harder than you intended. the next few hours are torture. rafe cameron planted an insidious weed in your mind and it’s growing exponentially.

of course it’s not the first time you’ve imagined it, you’d often thought about what his long thick fingers would feel like. or how his biceps would feel under your hands if you held onto them for support. you’d fantasized about every part of him, even the tip of his nose. so the idea that it might just be within your reach had you spiraling. you took a cold shower, not that it helped, your underwear was still soaked after. no guy you’d been with had made you so wet, let alone before even touching you. it was as if the universe was testing you. a sick thrum in your body had found its way into your bones, vibrating with need and you paced in your best friend’s room thinking over all the consequences.

when you’d reached the conclusion that even if he was sincere it was still a bad idea, your phone pinged. a text from sarah that read: “i’m gonna be staying the night here, if you’re already asleep i’ll see you in the morning 🤍” with all your internal turmoil you hadn’t realized it was past the two hours she’d said. she would be out all night. you and rafe were home alone, all night. you swallowed down the lump in your throat, your heart pounding your chest. your feet were moving faster than your head, the pitter patter of your footsteps almost as fast as your heartbeat, and before you knew it you were in front of his door. you hesitated for a second breathing in deep once before knocking, the light was still on so you knew he was awake.

“yeah?” rafe did his best to hide the satisfaction he felt seeing you twitchy and shy in front of his door. you swallowed down again, looking up at him with as much confidence as you could. there was a few seconds of silence, he gave you the time you needed, looking down at you with bright inviting eyes.

“is your offer still on the table?” his face split into a grin, moving aside to let you in like you’d done before and with no hesitation you pushed past him. even the small graze of your shoulder against him set his skin ablaze. he was going to lose his mind.

“‘doesn’t really have an expiration date.” your mind was blanking at his every advance, you tried not to think about his words, you couldn’t afford to fall deeper for him.

“just don’t like tell anyone about this?” you murmured, watching him close the door behind you two and getting a bit nervous. if sarah found out you’d be in for hell. losing your virginity to your best friend’s brother wasn’t exactly a great conversation to have.

“i’m not topper don’t worry.” you believed him, rafe despite his other faults, was always respectful.

“can i kiss you?” you nodded fervently, rafe held back a laugh at your enthusiasm. he walked up to you slowly as if giving you the chance to run and slid his hands from his hips to the curve of your waist. you stood on your tiptoes, your arms going around his neck and rafe couldn’t believe this was real. maybe if he pretended it was a dream he wouldn’t be so nervous. he’d have to do just that. one of his hands cupped your face, thumb stroking along your cheekbone and your eyelashes fluttered closed at the touch. he pressed a tentative kiss to your lips.

his lips felt soft and you breathed out in relief after, as if some sort of spell was lifted. rafe kissed you again, this time letting himself breathe you in. you felt so small and delicate in his hold, he wanted to take his time with you. you had other ideas. kissing rafe cameron felt even better than you’d imagined, when he pulled back you surged forward this time, biting his lower lip making him groan into your mouth. another chill of desire wracked your body at the sound and you tested the waters by licking the seem of his lips. rafe pulled you even closer and bent down to kiss you deeper. his mouth opened and his tongue met yours. you tasted so good to him he couldn’t stop himself from sucking on your tongue slightly, making you whine in his hold. the sound flipped a switch in his mind, he wanted more of the sound, he needed to hear you say his name in that airy desperate sound again. a string of saliva connected your lips and snapped off in the middle, your breathing was heavy and his was too. you caught your breath all the while looking up at him, he held your gaze. the furrow of your brows grew deeper the longer you looked.

“we don’t have to do anything else.” him asking for consent again drew in another crushing wave of arousal, you were a lost cause. okay maybe your standards were in hell. even his cologne was better than any other guy, something woodsy and heavy, mature, not like the shitty ones you’d had to smell before.

“no-no i want to,” he’d have to ask you later why you looked so mad after kissing him, right now he had too much else to do. you could only watch as he lifted you by the grip on your waist, your legs going around his hips in fear of falling. he’d done it so casually you couldn’t process it in time. rafe set you down gently on his mattress, his weight pressed into you and your legs tightened around him. he kissed you again, already missing the taste of your lips, and leaned back. you realized what he was about to do as he sat back on his knees.

“no i-can you just come up here?” you felt far too shy for him to eat you out and although rafe respected your wishes he was a bit disappointed. he’d just have to make sure there was a next time. there were other ways to taste you anyways. he followed your lead, leaning back over you and kissing you again, tongue and teeth clashing together in need. one of his hands moved from your waist up and under the hem of your shirt, traveling up slowly until he reached the fat of your breast. the feeling of his fingers on your nipple jolted your body. usually you didn’t get anything out of a guy touching your boobs but him you were arching into his touch, huffing into his mouth. rafe loved how sensitive you were, reacting to every touch of his. he massaged the tit in his hand, reveling in how you squirmed underneath him. if you kept moving you’d feel how painfully hard he was in his shorts.

after giving up on kissing you he peeled off your crop top, trailing kisses down your neck. he bit at the skin and sucked, surely littering your neck with hickies. you smelled so sweet to him and he couldn’t get enough, biting hard in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. you squeaked at the feeling, shocked at how pleasure blurred the lines of the pain you should be feeling. being marked by rafe was transcendental.

“look at you, so fucking pretty.” you met his gaze, his eyes raking down your chest and back to your face. the compliment made your head even cloudier, you’d let him do anything he wanted already, and it didn’t even scare you. his mouth trailed lower, biting at the tops of your breasts before latching onto your nipple and sucking, biting and laving over the sensitive nub with his tongue. you writhed under him, desperate for some friction between your legs. you huffed out a breath in frustration. he took his time bruising your chest with his marks. everyone should know who you belonged to. he leaned back to admire his work, his eyes finally meeting yours and seeing your waterline filled with unshed tears. god he was being so cruel, you just wanted to come and here he was doing as he pleased.

“rafe can i have your fingers please?” he was about to take pity on you anyway but the desperate sound of you begging was too delicious to give up. he looped his fingers through yours, hands intertwined against the silk sheets next to your shoulder.

“fuuckkk when you ask like that how can i say no?” his eyes nearly rolled back in his head from your voice, he might just come from it alone. “how d’ya want them?” he knew, of course he knew, he just wanted to hear you say it. your lips were swollen from his kisses and you still managed to look so innocent under him, he wanted to mark every inch of your body so no one could touch you again.

“you know!” you huffed out, a pout on your lips that he kissed away, you still looked at him with frustration. your underwear was practically sticking to you now, you felt so warm and uncomfortable between your legs, desperate for friction. you’d never felt like this before, completely wrecked with need, unable to think about anything besides addressing your desire.

“spell it out for me, i can’t think clearly right now.” he kissed under your ear coaxing you into submission, a purr curled through you at the feeling. his lips were featherlight against you, soft and adoring and you couldn’t remember why you were holding back.

“‘wan you to fuck me with them.” it was a small mumble, slipping past your lips but rafe caught it nevertheless. his free hand hooked into your pants and pulled them down, you kicked them off and let him settle back between your legs. at least being out of your pants gave your legs some reprieve but the cool air only illuminated how drenched your underwear was. rafe’s large hand skimmed past your breasts to your stomach and rested against your waistband. he looked to you for admission and you nodded your head. instead of dipping underneath the band he trailed downwards, over the flimsy material. the ghost of his touch near your clit had you jerking under him, your hands flying to his shoulders. two large fingers pressed against the fabric, right above your opening, his fingers felt moist and he clicked his tongue at the feeling.

“baby you soaked through your panties, whose got you so worked up?” you whined, a pretty throaty sound that you’d been holding in and he vowed to pull more from you. his fingers were skimming along your opening, teasing the fabric and not quite touching you. your legs wanted to close on his hand but your hips moved closer, trying to make him touch you.

“you!” you screamed out, eyes squeezed shut as he removed his hand completely. you’d start leaking through them if he didn’t do something soon.

“that’s right me, not those fucking losers, just me.” his free hand, closed around your chin making you open your eyes and meet his. he looked crazed, pupils blown and overshadowing the blue with hooded eyes and a satisfied grin curling his lips. when you met his gaze he finally dipped his fingers beneath the band and pressed his thumb against your clit. he found it with such ease your eyes rolled back into your skull, gasping at the feeling of finally being touched. “i got you baby,” your legs spread wider for him, pulling him into you as his fingers slid through your drooling folds all the while his thumb ground against you. his fingers were so much larger than yours you could feel him everywhere. he prodded your hole with his index finger, grunting at how tight you were. streams of arousal kept pouring out of you, you needed him to do something. you squirmed under him again and rafe acquiesced, shoving his finger in. you were so tight and warm around him, slippery and soft walls hugged him as he stretched you out with one finger alone. “f-fucking tight,” he was gonna start soiling his shorts from the way you felt around his finger alone. he fucked you slow and deep, feeling along your insides for your sensitivity. he knew as soon as he found it because you screamed his name, hands clutching his arms tightly.

“feels weird,” he let you get used to the feeling, his thumb grinding against your clit. you were already feeling close and he’d barely started.

“poor pussy probably never felt this good huh?” you whimpered at his words, he was being so filthy and usually it turned you off. nothing about rafe could do that at this point. you shook your head, affirming his suspicions and his middle finger circled your opening. he was gentler this time, moving his fingers in inch by inch until you stopped clamping down. the pressure of him stretching you wasn’t unbearable but you didn’t know how you’d ever take more than his fingers at this rate. he accurately hammered against that spot, out for blood, while his thumb circled your clit. you were dripping onto his hand, coating him with your juices and the squelch of his fingers fucking into you filled the room. the sounds were so obscene you tried blocking them out with your pathetic little whines but rafe was determined to hear your soppy cunt crying for him. it wasn’t long before you felt the encroaching of your release and he knew it he could feel it in the way you clenched around him and whined when his fingers pulled out completely. one more carress of the sensitive gummy spot inside you had you seeing white. your vision blurred as you shook in your release, holding his wrist so he’d stop his motions, shivers wracked your body as you came the hardest you ever had. your walls fluttered around him, more of your release dripping down your cunt and soaking the sheets below. he was sick enough to leave them like that for the night, you smelled so sweet and he bet you tasted even better.

his fingers dipped out of your underwear and your eyes opened to watch him, probably a mistake on your part because just the vision of rafe cameron licking his fingers clean and groaning at the taste made you ready to go again. his eyes rolled back in his head at the taste, his eyes ground shut at the sugary flavor coating his tongue and teeth. he really hoped you’d let him have more later because now that he’d had a taste he wanted the full meal. you shivered at the way he reacted, your whole body on high alert from your orgasm, but even as sensitive as you were you couldn’t help but be greedy.

“rafe, can we go further?” his heart might just give out, you look nervous even now after he’s already addicted. he moves back slightly, pulling his shirt over his head and your eyes are drawn to his chest.

“thought you’d never ask.” you’re not even trying to hide how you ogle him, seeing him at the beach is one thing but in front of you, when you can touch him is another. rafe watches you reach a hand out, slightly out of range and moves closer to you, letting you touch him. your smalls hands traverse the expanse of his shoulders, his pecs, and trace the outline of his abs. when they reach the tuft of hair above his waistband, rafe has to stop you. the tiny fleeting touches make him twitch in his pants. he moves your hand to rest against his shoulder, pulling your underwear all the way off and looking down at how he completely drowns your body out.

“fuckkk can’t believe im the lucky one who gets to break this little pussy in,” he kisses along your neck, hands squeezing your waist and marveling at how diminutive you feel. he can’t wait to be inside you, he wonders if you’ll even be able to take him.

“s-so dirty” his words are heating up your entire body and you’d feel embarrassed if you weren’t arching into him. rafe moves to pull down his shorts, waiting a beat before he does.

“you sure you want this?” while taking your virginity was something he could only dream about before he needed to be sure.

“yes i want it to be you, i trust you.” you say it as normally as you can.

“we can stop whenever you want, like i said ‘offer’s not gonna expire.” you hope you can take it up even after this, maybe not even once or twice. if he could make you feel like this why would you need anyone else? then he pulls his shorts off and you start to regret your decision.

“oh-is th-that gonna fit?” his cock sprung out and slapped against his stomach, long and thick and way too big for you. you could barely take his fingers this would never fit. it looked so angry white precum dribbling down stark against the flushed pink curling along the veins and curving with him to the right. you wouldn’t survive this.

“you’ll do your best right?” you nod enthusiastically, you wanted to take as much as you could. “good girl.” oh, you’d have to explore that later. you nearly moaned at him calling you that. rafe caught it though, he knew your reactions well by now. he lined it up over your stomach, seeing how far it would go and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. your belly button was completely covered, not that it mattered he was halfway up your torso. rafe’s grip on your waist tightened, he’d ruin you for anyone else, stretch you out and mold you just for him. no one would feel as good as him and he nearly drooled at the sight.

despite how feral he felt, he made sure you were still wet enough for him to slip in, you were. his tip pressed against you, he let you drool onto him, juices swirling with his and making a sick plap plap plap sound as he tapped against you. he’s far wider than his fingers and you tried to relax. you motioned for him to come closer, his lips out of reach and you kissed him sweetly. when he could feel you relax he pushed in, instantly being shoved out. so tight he couldn’t even get the tip in. “fuuckkkk gonna have to marry you.” you don’t even process his words and he doesn’t really know he’s saying them out loud either. he tries again, pulling you slightly onto his length and you gasp at the stretch. you’re gripping him like a vice and it’s nearly uncomfortable but being inside you breaks something inside of him and he’s drooling into your mouth. you don’t even care you want more. “doin well angel-hah-taking me so well.”

the pain is an afterthought now, you want him to stretch you and fill you until you can’t breathe. you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything more in your life. so you do the unthinkable, you try moving down his length. rafe can’t be held responsible for his actions after that.

he gives into your silent plea, skewering you on his cock and pushing past your gooey rings of resistance until he’s halfway in. you held your breath the entire time as he curved into you, tip smearing precum along your walls as he molded you to him, his veins catching on your entrance and making you jolt at the feeling. you push at his chest, the pain making you scream his name as he lets you adjust. there’s tears trailing down your cheek that he licks away. he kisses you until the ache between your legs becomes distant, it’s salty and sloppy but it distracts you enough. rafe makes the mistake of looking down, sees the way you’re gaping for him and how it looks like he’s splitting you in half and he bottoms out. the snap of his hips against yours makes you moan, he’s filled you up now and you can feel him in your throat. you swear you feel him get bigger when you whine his name pathetically, his dick twitching inside you.

it’s too much and you try running from it, shoving up the length of the bed but rafe just pulls you back down. “t-too big hng can’t-“

“come on i thought you were-fuck-a big girl,” he groans into your ear, you shove against him once more and he slips out a few inches, just enough for you to relax. you can still feel him nestled against your cervix, he’s leaking into you and your thighs are coated in both of your arousal. you tap his shoulder for him to move again, pulling out until his tip is the only thing inside and then spearing all the way back in. the feeling makes you cross-eyed, his throbbing tip bumps along your sensitive spot until it nestles against you, as far high up as it can and you think you might be coming on every thrust because you’re so obscenely wet more slick just pours out of you every time. rafe knows it’s because there’s no space for anything but his cock and he can’t help but grin, watching your pussy engulf his length despite how small you are under him. every thrust sends your whole body upwards but his grip on you keeps you close, he’s almost fucking you back onto him.

“feels good hah,” you finally murmur into his neck, wrapping your legs around his hips so he can drill into you better. his thrusts are deep and slow, letting you get used to the feeling but you don’t think you like it like this. if he’s going to ruin you he might as well do it properly. “h-harder.” rafe moans your name at your request, his voice sounds so wrecked you clench down at the sound alone.

“turned this pussy into a slut, ‘couldn’t even take-hah-two fingers now look at you.” really he’s proud of you, proud that he made you like this. although he wants to tease you he can’t hold back much longer either and it’s your first time so he’s gonna be nice to you. rafe pulls out and slams back into you setting a faster rougher pace, your skin is slapping against each other and you think he might bruise your hips. your head is shoved up the length of his bed until it threatens to bump against the headboard, he puts his hand between you and the wood, his other hand holding onto the frame for support. your legs are being bent and pressed to the sides and the new angle makes him hit that spot with blaring accuracy. a sick ring of white forms at the base of his dick and his balls are slippery from your arousal. you still have a vice grip around him, something he won’t get used to but is definitely get addicted to. the room smells filthy and the sounds of you chanting his name combined with the squelch of your cunt is pornographic.

“gonna be a good girl and come around my cock?” your walls flutter at his words, like his permission has you ready to come. you come undone with one more thrust, your cunt is milking him as if coaxing him to come. “fuck fuck fuckkkk.” he pulls out just in time to come onto your stomach, shooting thick gooey ropes onto your soft skin. the white contrasts the blue and purple that is starting to bloom around your neck and tits.

you blearily watch it happen, disappointed he didn’t come inside, but warm and fuzzy from your release. there’s one thought nagging you though as you rest comfortably on his sticky soaked sheets. “it wasn’t a one time offer right?”

“no fucking way, i’m never letting you go.” rafe looks at you like you’re crazy, he’s ready to propose. there’s no way in hell he’s making this a one night stand. after all he’s broken you in, now it’s the fun part.

taglist: @ggraycelynn

[inkskinned]

i love finding out how big this world is. my girlfriend has only visited boston a handful of times, but i grew up here. i told her we'd be going to do the tourist traps in salem, and she said - which salem?

to be fair to her, there are a lot of other states that have a town named "salem." and i think there's some evidence that the witch trials actually happened in what is now called Danvers. but the thing is - she thought "salem" was like, a made-up thing. there wasn't actually a salem, massachusetts - like there isn't a gotham city.

they don't talk about it that much where she grew up, is the thing! and this made me laugh. a week ago she was talking about her hometown and said something akin to "well the museum's kinda like the one in richmond," and i had to explain i still had no frame of reference for what the hell this museum was like.

i love finding out what knowledge i take for granted. i used to live with 5 other women. 3 of them were from south korea. they had to take, like, a solid fifteen minutes to explain their birthday system to my gay math-blind ass, laughing as they did.

that same month, our roommate from denmark taught me the danish word for wreath by accident - she'd been talking about decorations, used krans, and i'd been able to figure it out through context. i just picked it up and kept talking. our entire house used krans as the word. she came home and slammed the door one evening, mock-angry, shouting: you motherfuckers! it's a - a wreath!

and how often do you use certain words, anyway! i am cuban, so i was raised with certain spanish words sort of sprinkled in there; but never how you'd think. in middle school i asked someone to pass me the recogedor - in a completely american accent, like i was speaking english. i hadn't registered it as a spanish word. i mean, how often in school do you actually use the word "dustpan" - i'd only ever heard it in the context of cleaning my house.

there are places that you grew up that you, just, like, know. that you assume everyone knows. there are things and people and "common knowledge" that you have that, just, like. doesn't exist for me. i don't know what you call your public transportation system, but in boston we call it "the T". our train cards are called charlie cards because of a song where a father accidentally abandons his family, which was written because our system of transportation. in boston, most people would snort and say everyone knows that, kid.

i think you and i should go on a long walk - it's getting dark early these days and we need any sun we can manage. tell me about the first time you saw snow. tell me about the stuff everyone knows about your home. tell me about the cities "everyone's been to," about the food "everyone's already tried." who knows. maybe it will feel nice to you - watching someone learn about it for the very first time.

[deathbxnny]

Maybe a part 2 of the arcane characters saying things they regret, but they're apologizing because I can't live after reading a angst 🫠

Making up with Arcane characters after a bad argument. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko, Sevika x Gn!Reader

(Previous part)

Fine, fine, here is a happy part two guys. Take it as an apology for the tears and pain I've caused.✨️

Content: Swearing, accusations of cheating, slight angst, making up, fluff, potential spoilers for season 2, established romantic relationships, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》VI

She knew that she had fucked up. There was no way to deny or refute it either. And your absence was further proof of that.

You were always there for her, even when things got bad and she became even worse. No matter how much she yelled or drank, you were there afterward to nurture her back to health. It was so unfair of her to expect it still, after all she had said to you. She hated herself. She hated how weak and pathetic she had become. How she can't even stand straight anymore from the alcohol and couldn't win a single game since she had lost you.

And instead of Caitlyn haunting her like she used to, it was only you now. But you were crying every time. Asking her why she hated you so much. Why she couldn't care for you the way you cared for her. Why you were always the second choice despite having been there since the start.

Why, why, why.

Gritting her teeth against the headache, she made her way through the dark, familiar lanes to your small home that you once shared together. She had to talk to you. She really, really had to. Even if it's far too late now after a week of silence in-between the two of you. She had taken the time to reflect and think about everything, especially about your relationship. And it made her realise that nothing in this world was losing you too.

Knocking on your door, she nervously waited as she heard your footsteps quickly approaching her from inside. You opened the door carefully, ironically just how she had taught you, before freezing at the sight of her. She gave you a weak smile, attempting to look calm and friendly, but it still scared you off. "Hey cupca-" You tried slamming the door into her face mid greeting, but her foot was faster to jam itself in the way.

"H-Hey! Wait, please hear me out!" "Fuck off, Vi. I'm not in the mood to hear more of your bullshit. Go back to Caitlyn since I know how badly you want that!" You never cursed, and every word you spoke made her flinch. She, for some reason, didn't expect you to be this mad. But it hurt, and she deserved it. Another thing she underestimated was, unfortunately, your strength since you somehow managed to push her away and shut the door again. "Come on! Please! I... I didn't mean what I said. I just... have been losing my shit ever since what happened. The guilt is killing me, and I know it's not an excuse! You're right, I have to stop this shit! You're right, I need to stop treating your love for granted!"

She didn't know if you were even listening to her anymore, but it didn't stop the tears that burned in her eyes. "I don't give a damn about Caitlyn like that! I never did! It always you for me. You... you cared for me when no one else ever wanted to, and I was such an idiot for not appreciating it more." Her hand slammed against the wood in defeat, her head coming to rest against it as her body trembled. She was so scared of losing you. This can't be the end. "Please. Please just give me another chance to prove myself. I know I'm a fuck up but I swear I'll do better now."

Vi nearly fell right through your house entrance when you opened the door wide with a teary huff. "God, you're such an idiot... get in already before the neighbors complain." You didn't let her reply as you simply dragged her inside and locked the door again. The pitfighter watched you do so with a gentle gaze, one that felt so familiar to you. "... Fine, I'll give you another chance... but no drinking or fighting anymore. Please." You whisper to her, and she nods quickly before engulfing you in a warm hug.

She knows that she isn't fully forgiven yet, but she'll do everything in her power to prove herself worthy of your love again.

》CAITLYN

"You're still up." Caitlyn's voice was calm and gentle now, so different from the stern and cold tone it had before. You ignored her, however, knowing better than to fall for this again. She always got like this when she knew she had screwed up and was trying to crawl back into your good graces. But this time around, you didn't allow it that easily. You refused to speak to her if she hadn't come back to apologize. And yet... you couldn't help but allow yourself at least one sharp dig at her. "And you're late to bed once again. But I suppose Officer Nolan's 'report' was just that interesting, no?" You were perhaps the only person in all auf Pultover that could ever accuse her of something so scandalous as adultery and get away with it.

It certainly would have been amusing if Caitlyn didn't feel so sick at the thought of you believing that.

Sighing, she placed her hat onto a clothing hanger, her jacket following suit. You were facing away from her on the bed, trying to read a book and rest, despite the pain in your heart. It was hard being angry at her when you loved her so deeply. But her insults had struck much deeper than that.

The bed dipped behind you, and soon enough, you felt her strong arms surrounding your body and her nose tickling your cheek. "I'm sorry, my love. I really am. I... have lost my cool, and that was wrong of me." You scoffed at her words, finding them too shallow for the pain she had caused earlier. Yet you struggled to get out of her strong grasp on you. It felt desperate. And you hated the warmth and security that it made you feel. "If that is all you have to say, then you can leave." You hissed out weakly but couldn't find any malice in it. Just heartbreak, that solidified in more tears burning in your eyes. "Because how... how could you ever say that I could betray you? Do you know how that makes me feel? Do you care?"

Caitlyn hummed against the nape of your neck soothingly, a way to acknowledge the plight she had caused you without revealing her own tears. The grief had made her into a monster. A monster that hurt its friends, family, and most importantly, you. It was unforgivable, and yet she wanted to prove herself worthy of you anyway. She wanted to show you that she hadn't changed deep down like everyone claimed. She was still yours.

"... I will find a way to end this war and resolve it peacefully as soon as I can. I swear it to you." She began, her voice low and gentle, as she listened to the sound of your hiccups and sniffling. This wasn't what she wanted. "And I apologize, truly, for what I called you... I know that you are loyal and trustworthy. Much more than I ever could be... I'm still your Caitlyn." The last part was whispered quietly, as she tried everyone in her power to not break down in front of you like this.

She hated what she had become deep down. She knew it was wrong and that her mother must've been turning in her grave at the sight of what she had done. But what she couldn't handle at all was you hating and leaving her.

There was a moment of silence before you turned to face her and immideatly hugged her impossibly close as you cried into her arms. She rubbed your back lovingly, understanding that this was your way of accepting her apology. But forgiveness will still be a long journey she was willing to take.

For now, she'd rest in your embrace thankfully.

》JINX

Deep down, you knew that she didn't mean what she said. She never would do anything to hurt you. Silco's death was just killing her more than anyone could have expected, and it was hard for everyone to deal with. But you just couldn't take the pain and hurt she caused you anymore. You've been there since day one. You were always at her side. You always took care of her when no one else wanted to. And you understood her better than she did herself. But it was ultimately just not enough. Or so you thought.

The young girl that was now dragging you through the lanes reminded you of her too. She didn't speak a word to you, and for some reason, you didn't have it in you to protest against her odd actions either. She somehow seemed to recognize you the second you bumped into her. And that was enough for her to take your hand and lead you to a very familiar hideout. Perhaps it was fate that brought you here again when you needed Jinx the most.

"Hey kid, who's our little guest-?" The rest of the young woman's words died on her tongue, and it left you simply staring at each other. There was a familiar haze in her eyes, one that you often saw when the voices were taking over. She once mentioned that you sometimes became a part of her hallucinations during longer absences, and that reminder alone made your heart ache. You shouldn't have run away that day. But what other choice did you have? She didn't trust you anymore. She didn't think you should be together anymore. Why were you even here?

"S-sorry... I'm just going to leave..." You muttered as your ears rung and that familiar burning in your eyes made your sight blurry. You felt suffocated and somehow also angry, wishing she could just see how much you loved and cared for her. But just as you were turning away to run again, her strong hand was quicker and held you back by your arm. "Wait. Let's just... talk, alright? Like we always do?" That was your thing. Whenever things got bad, you'd sit down and talk calmly to her about it. She used to scoff at it every time... yet she was the one who suggested now for once. Something about it shook you so hard that it made the first tears finally spill at the recognition she had given you for all the work you've put into her.

Jinx panicked a little at that, unsure of how to comfort you, yet at Isha's stern frown and cross of her small arms, she just hugged you for the first time in a while. And god, did she miss it.

Perhaps it was good to show the little girl a picture of you after all.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, I swear, sweetie! I... I won't ever say stuff like that again. Just don't leave me. Please don't leave me. I just, I was just-" You hushed her by just hugging her tighter and shaking your head. "It's okay... just hold me for a while. We can talk later... I missed you so much." You whispered, voice breaking into sobs. Jinx hummed weakly and sighed against your hair, the familiar scent making her relax and feel better at last.

Isha grinned to herself behind you before quickly sneaking off to let you talk things out.

》EKKO

To say that the entire firelight hideout was pissed at him would be an understatement. Absolutely everyone disagreed with the way he treated you, and the side eyes he got very much confirmed this. But the worst part of it all was definitely you avoiding him like the plague.

Every time he entered a room, you were the first one to leave in a hurry. Every time he tried speaking to you, you either ignored him or found an excuse to get away. Every time someone even mentioned his name to you, your mood seemed to dampen. And that hurt so much that it killed him. This isn't how he wanted you to feel about him. He was your boyfriend, damnit it. Yet he acknowledged that he was failing at his job way more than he should've allowed himself to. He had to fix this somehow.

Ekko couldn't just lose you over his own foolishness. You were the one person who motivated him to keep going even on his worst days. You were the light he fought for. The person he battled to come home to every day. He couldn't handle your absence any longer, especially at night when he laid wide awake in your empty bed without you.

And so, he finally had enough and cornered you one night up in the tree during a patrol you had together. One, he definitely didn't pull the strings for to happen. And ever the one to abide by his orders despite your current dismay, you were now avoiding his gaze whilst you watched your sleeping home below. It was peaceful and calm, but the pain lingered between you two too much to enjoy the moment. He didn't know how to break the deafening silence, and it made him think of backing out on his initial plan... until you surprised him by speaking up first.

"I'm... sorry for avoiding you. I didn't mean for this to become your last resort. I just... didn't want to be a burden anymore." "Wait, wait, wait... who said that you were a burden, I... I should be the one apologizing right now. Because I was wrong about every fucking thing I said to you." The words spilled out in panic at the mere thought of you blaming yourself. He never wanted you to feel like this. It made him feel even worse about himself. This wasn't right. "You're not useless. You do so much for us, for me, and I take it all for granted like the asshole I am! And I fully acknowledge that now... I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. There is no excuse for it." He shook his head in disappointment at himself, wondering if this was it now. He'd understand if you broke up with him now... but instead, you seemed to be in the mood to surprise him alot today.

"Did you... like the food I made you?" He blinked at your question in confusion, yet answered honestly. "Best thing I had all week." "Then I guess I'll forgive you... just don't do that again." Ekko chuckled weakly at your words, relief filling his senses whilst he pulled you close to press a kiss to your head. "Would never dream of it... wanna ditch patrol and fly around town?" You mirrored his sly smile, glad he had the same thing on his mind as you did. "Sure thing. But let's make it a race."

He let you win.

》SEVIKA

She took some time to cool off after your argument and returned later into the night with a clearer mind. Sevika had actually reflected on what you had said to her, and she knew you were ultimately right. She was extremely overprotective and stubborn, two things that didn't mesh well and often ended in her thinking you couldn't take care of yourself. Even if she knew better than to actually believe that.

You were strong, especially mentally. It's what drew her into you to begin with. But with the fall of Silco and a war being on the verge of breaking out against Piltover, she had no choice but to make sure that you never left her sight. And if you did, then you had to be somewhere she knew was safe and away from all the chaos she dealt with daily. It helped her focus and stay calm to know that you're okay. Yet despite how much she cared, she still fucked it all up for herself again.

And now she had to fix it, something she was never good at.

She felt awfully guilty at the sight of the things you've lovingly prepared for her, now laying forgotten and cold on the kitchen counter. She truly didn't deserve someone as kind as you. And yet she considered herself too selfish to let you go.

Slowly approaching the bedroom door, she paused to hear if you were awake or not. Unfortunately, you were, but she only knew this from the faintest sound of your sniffling and sobbing that drifted through the wooden door. Sighing to herself, she knocked once, deciding to just rake things slow and as calmly as possible. You had sustained an injury after all, and her mind was reeling at the thought of it getting worse without any proper care. "What do you want?!" Your weak voice yelled at her, and it made her frown. Yeah, you were definitely beyond pissed.

"I want to talk." Her gruff voice said, and it may have sounded like a demand if the underlying care and worry didn't overshadow it so clearly. Your silence made her initially think you were ignoring her until the door slowly opened and revealed your disheveled form. "... well, go ahead." You muttered, one hand cradling the side of your hip that was clumsily bandaged up by you. You were never good at stuff like that.

"Let me take care of the wound whilst we're at it. Can't have ya dying on me because of an infection." She sighed out before simply dragging you to your shared bed and pulling out your medkit. You didn't protest or complain and let her do as she pleased, whilst you carefully listened to her speak with an unreadable expression.

"Listen. I... get it. I really do. The way I treat you isn't right, and I know you're grown enough to take care of yourself, but... I can't risk losing you too now. It drives me crazy to think about. Even if that ain't much of an excuse, and I get that too." She was never this honest before. Usually, she simply deflected or blamed someone else. But here she was, for once admitting openly to being the problem. "Just... be more careful out there. That's all I ask of you. I won't comment on it otherwise anymore though, unless you're in serious danger. I promise." Finishing the last of her bandaging, she hummed at it now looking much securer. This way, you are sure to recover much faster.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded your head at her words, deciding to give her another chance to prove herself. You understood where she was coming from after all. "Okay, fine. I'll accept your apology... if you help me cook." She grinned at that slightly with a casual shrug. "Fine by me, if I get a taste of your heavenly cooking, sweetheart."

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 1st. theodore — size kink, big dick.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST | 2024.

summary: there’s a rumour going around that theodore nott has a big dick…..why not see it for yourself?

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, hogwarts uni (obviously), big dick!theo, size difference, size kink ofc, fingering, PIV, dirty talk, slowish sex, put on your fantasy cap for this one bc it’s a little wild, also, anyone know any wheelchair providers?

How the hell did you end up here? How had a night meant for celebration, for laughter and drinks and the triumph of a Quidditch victory, lead to this—

Fevered kisses, teeth clashing—your breath catching in the dim, muted glow of Theodore Nott's dorm—spine pressed against his door as his lips attacked yours, moving to your neck with a hunger that had your knees weak. There was a party, still alive somewhere down the hall, warmth spilling into the corridors, the echo of cheers and laughter floating past—but it was all a distant memory now. All of it blurred, lost in the way Theo's hands roamed over your hips, tugging you closer like he was starved.

Oh, right—the rumours.

Rumours have always had a way of creeping into places they don't belong. A whisper here, a careless word there. Stupid little fires, barely a spark until someone fans the flames. You've seen it before—how a single rumour can grow, how it can warp a simple night into something bigger. Something chaotic.

And now, well, you're living it.

Curiosity was what pulled you into his orbit tonight, what sparked the embers that had been burning between you two for far too long. Because Pansy Parkinson—loud, exaggerative, and far-too-tipsy—couldn't resist spilling some gossip mid-party, something about Daphne, something about Theodore and nine goddamn inches.

You know, the usual Quidditch post-match talk.

And it should have been nothing. It should have got lost in all the other Slytherin boy ramblings but instead, it stuck. Gods, it fucking stuck. Pansy's little comment sparked the fire in you, a fire that led to a conversation over drinks, your hand grazing his, and before you knew it, you were leaning into Theodore Nott at the punch bowl, asking questions you had no blasted right asking, yet went ahead and did anyways.

Something about...well—

"You've heard, then," he'd replied, voice low as those blue eyes watched you over the rim of his glass.

It wasn't a question. It was a challenge. For all the audacity you had—Theodore had just as much.

"I have," you leaned closer, your voice almost teasing as you whispered against the curve of his ear. "Big rumours, Teddy...huge, even."

He tensed, just slightly, the kind of reaction you noticed only because you were watching him so closely. You're pretty sure he wasn't expecting something like that to come out of your mouth—and you couldn't blame him, because truthfully, you weren't expecting it either.

That was, what you'd like to call, the point of no return.

There was a response from him. Something cocky enough—something like; "and do you make a habit of believing everything you hear?"

"Not everything," you said with a shrug, though your heart was in your fucking throat. "But I'm open to proof."

There weren't very many words exchanged after that—maybe some slight teasing—maybe another brush of his hand—but Theo was never a man to waste time, and it was clear that whatever curiosity you held for him had bubbled up now—heady and bold—and created a mess between you that couldn’t be contained.

The party, the victory, the cheers—it all became static as his hand slipped around your waist, his lips at your ear in a whisper. "Then let's put these rumours to rest."

You barely had the chance to nod before Theodore moved—grabbing your wrist and moving you through the crowd like you were something to be expedited, the sea of students parting before him. Pansy spotted you leaving, her eyes gleaming as she threw you a wicked smile and a drunken thumbs-up. You rolled your eyes, smirking back, but everything else blurred into the background as Theodore led you out of the common room, and before you knew it, you were inside his dorm.

The door slammed shut behind you, the cold surface meeting your back before his lips found yours—urgent, consuming. His hands moved with purpose, sliding under your shirt, lifting it over your head before you even realized what was happening. His own shirt followed, discarded carelessly onto the floor as he pressed his body against yours.

The memory blurred as the urgency of the present took over. You gasped at the feel of him, his entirety—hard, aching, massive. The outline of him was impossible to ignore, the mere suggestion of what was to come already making your heart pound wildly in your chest.

The rumours had seemed absurd at first, but now...now, they felt terrifyingly real. He was huge.

"Tell me," he breathed, his voice a low rumble against your lips as his fingers worked deftly at removing your skirt. "About those rumours..."

Your head fell back against the door, exposing the line of your throat as his mouth moved lower, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Whimpering, you caressed his shoulders, up his neck, finding his hair, fingers teasing the warm, hidden shell of his ears. At this, his back crested, and he moaned, pitching forward, hips working to fuse you with the door.

"I—I heard..." you tried to speak, but his mouth was on your neck, and the words tangled in your throat. "Gods—something about...nine inches..."

Theo hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating through you, sending blood pooling low. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his lips hovering over yours, his breath hot and heavy as he wrapped his hands around your thighs and lifted you up—carrying you toward his bed.

"What else." He muttered against your mouth.

"Daphne..." you panted, barely able to think straight with the way he was touching you, the way he was looking at you. "She...she said she couldn't take it all..."

"And if I say that's true?" He rasped, laying you down onto his comforter. "What then?"

A shiver shook you from the base of your spine, and you curled your legs around him, core clenching hard—he sprawled over you, his body massive—engulfing yours, roving his hands up and down your bare thighs as his lips left wet, warm kisses across your breasts, teeth digging into the sheer fabric of your bra—you were gasping, whimpering under him, your chest rising and falling so rapidly you'd think you'd ran a marathon.

"Gods—that's...an odd question, Teddy..." your hips bucked, seeking his touch, and he grazed your pussy over your underwear, thumb ghosting your clit through the fabric. You squeaked, and he silenced you with his mouth, tugging at the fabric until he'd fit his thick fingers under the hem. "Are you...mm..asking if I can handle it?"

"Fucking soaked already," Theo peeled away, gasping, watching you as he slid a digit through your hot slit, his breath hitching. "Yes—I'm asking if you can handle it."

"Fuck—I don't—I don't know..." he dragged a slickened finger over your clit—you quivered, biting your lip until you found your words. "Only one way to find out."

"You're right," he breathed, swirling his finger, your body pulsing underneath him—every nerve within you roaring to life. "I'll be easy on you...I'll go slow..." his thumb took over, his middle and fourth finger teasing your entrance, lips hovering over your ear. "Let's stretch you out first."

"I—" you began, and he plunged into you. "—fuck."

Theo crooked his fingers in your cunt, eyes focused on your flushing face, the flow of your moans, his breath shallow as you clenched and pulsed around him. His thumb traced rapid little lines around your swollen clit, two long fingers filling you full. He wet his lips, pressing his mouth to yours in a brief kiss as he snapped his wrist, curling and scissoring inside of you. His hips rocked with his rhythm, and you caught sight of his erection straining against his jeans—

"Tight little thing," he growled, head dipping low as he watched his fingers disappear inside your dripping cunt. "I might fucking break you."

He jutted his erection against your thigh and you moaned, clenching around him. "Mm—Theo—"

His eyes followed yours toward his crotch—you couldn't help yourself, your fingers burned to feel him—to stroke him—to feel the weight of him in your hand. He nodded, and amidst your gasps and moans you reached for him, grasping at his zipper and undoing the button, tugging his jeans and boxers down his thighs—

Theo groaned and your mouth watered. Those rumours—Gods, those fucking rumours—

"Fucking hell—" you breathed, wrapping your fingers around his thick, heavy cock—he choked, digits pumping you deep—your thighs shook, your pulse in your throat. You tightened your fist and stroked him, watching him from half-lidded eyes. "Theo—holy fuck.."

His lungs sputtered. "That enough proof for you, Bella?"

You nodded and he throbbed—twitched under your grip, blood biting his cheeks when you coated his head with the bead of his pre-cum, his breath uneven, tattered from the weight of lust—but so was yours.

You moaned. "Oh—Gods—I'm—"

Theo circled your stiff nub, pumping his fingers into your pussy, and pleasure wracked you, pouring into your pulse, your orgasm charging toward you at light speed—his lips found yours, softly, muffling your moans.

"You're close, I can feel it..." he muttered against your mouth, fingers dragging at your walls, groaning as you clenched—as your free hand gripped his hair harder. "Cum on my fingers, Bella, go on..."

You shuddered and snapped—pleasure pulsating from your core and through your limbs, your orgasm lighting up your spine. In its intensity, you bit at his bottom lip while your cunt clamped down around his fingers, a feral energy coursing—the need for more—the need for every goddamn thing he was willing to give you eating away at your sanity—all coherent thought gone, only dissipating further as Theo pulled his fingers from your soaked cunt and sucked them clean with a growl.

"As fucking delicious as I'd imagined," he cooed, drifting his other hand up your thigh, fingers kneading the trembling flesh. You swallowed, lungs still working to find their rhythm. "I don't think you have any idea how long l've wanted this...any idea what you do to me..."

Gods—you almost wanted to laugh—this felt like a fever dream. You'd been friends for years, the fact it took this to get you both here was astonishing. His blue eyes peered down at you—wide and waiting.

"Look at you," you muttered, eyes dipping down to his throbbing dick, still twitching insistently in your hand. "I think I know exactly what I do to you."

Theo snuffed a groan in his throat, but his cock twitched again, despite himself—there was no preventing that.

"Cocky as ever," he whispered, lips curling in a teasing grin. "But now's not the time, principessa..."

"I can handle you," you breathed out, though a tremor in your voice hinted at the uncertainty you felt.

"We'll see." He said. "Lay on your side."

With a flush creeping up your neck, you complied, turning to face the window. The moonlight filtered through the glass, casting a silver sheen over the rippling surface of the Black Lake. Theo moved behind you, his body flush against yours, the slickness of sweat making your skin cling together—one arm slipped beneath your head, cradling it, while the other slid under your thigh, lifting it with a deliberate, practiced motion.

His dick slid against you, the girth daunting enough if not for the sheer fucking length of it—his body was massive behind yours, dwarfing you, a solid wall of heat at your back. You'd never felt so small, so fragile in a way that screamed breakable.

Theo teased your slit, covering himself in your juices—

"Just the tip, yeah?" He whispered, and fuck—you almost moaned. His voice was ruined. "For now."

"Theo—I—I think I can handle it..." you were trying to convince yourself as much as him. You wanted him to enjoy himself, too. "Just…fuck me, please.."

"Merlin help you..." Theo groaned and it almost sounded pitying—dragging the swollen head of his cock against your clit before dipping lower, pressing against the folds of your greedy cunt— "you don't know what you're saying..."

His arm under your head curled inward, wrapping around your neck and holding you in place against him—his other hand guiding his length to your entrance and pressing in—shushing you softly as the first inch breached you and you cried out—as your mind blanked.

"Theo—" you gasped through the chokehold he had you in, his free hand holding your thigh up as it trembled. "That's—you're—fuck—"

He pulled out and rocked along you again, testing you, offering you centimeters of his length at time. Gooseflesh flooded you.

His lips pressed against your ear. "Shhh, you said you could handle me, yeah?"

His hand on your thigh shifted lower, resting on the crease. He rutted against you a few more times, dragging this out for everything it was worth until he brought the tip back to your entrance and pushed in—slowly, inexorably—spearing you open, splitting your cunt and prying you wide in a way that rid your breath.

You whimpered, hand scrambling for purchase on his hip behind you. "Ohhh—h-holy fuck.."

"Fucking hell...you're tight..." his arm around your neck tightened, holding you against him and he pressed in deeper. "That's barely half..."

You fought for air and found absolutely none, every muscle in your body tensing, your limbs trembling, your mind fizzing with staticky pleasure. You felt as though you could break in two.

"Fuck," he drew out again, and pressed back in. "You can barely take it."

He was right. You could barely fucking take it. A revelation that you weren’t surprised by—but that made all the blood in your body pool low, walls fluttering around him in protest.

"Gods, Theo—T-theo—" you grasped his wrist, nails digging into his skin, eyes squeezed shut. "Wait—"

"Little more...you're doing so good, Bella..." he was cooing now, pressing kisses to your cheek. "I'll make it fit...we'll make it fit, won't we?"

You couldn't find a fucking modicum of sense to articulate a response. All you could do was feel—take and feel—the way he slid out, only to drive into you again, slowly, with a hiss of air through his teeth—drawing out loud, shameless groans from your chest.

"Mmm—breathe, Bella..." it was soft, soothing, like he was trying to coax you open with words. "Relax for me, yeah? Let me in...let me in..."

You obeyed without even thinking, pulling in shaky breaths, forcing your body to comply, even as your muscles screamed to stay tense—to fight the overwhelming fullness of him. You felt as though he couldn't possibly get deeper, but then he did, and he continued to until he bottomed out—his cockhead kissing your cervix, forcing a sound out of your chest that was more a sob than a moan.

Your eyes were shut so tight. "That's—"

"All of me," he interrupted, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. He rolled his hips, grinding against you, barely pulling out before pushing back in, and your whole body clenched in response. "Does it hurt?"

Every movement proved indefinitely that he was as long as he was thick—your core stretching to accommodate him. You felt him in places you'd never felt before—moulding and carving you out just for him, digging out new space inside you that only he could occupy.

"A little—“ the words were a whimper, and your walls tightened around him instinctively, fighting to adjust, to accommodate the impossible size of him. “Gods—“

"Then why are you making it worse?" He hissed through his teeth, strain bleeding into his tone. You could hear the shift—wrecked, ruined, like he was barely holding onto himself. "Fuck, you're squeezing me...too tight...relax.."

He pulled out and thrust back in, harder this time, sucking in air through his teeth as he worked you wider with each plunge into your soaked cunt. Your body rebelled, clenching down around him again, and he groaned, the sound vibrating through you, his hips snapping against yours in response.

"That's not going to make it easier, you know." His voice was a tight growl, but there was a grin in it, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. "Keep that up and I'm going to leave you sore all day."

The thought made you clench again, your body betraying you as a broken apology fell from your lips—pain giving way to pleasure. "I'm—ohh—sorry-"

"Oh, you're going to be sorry." His pace quickened and you were seeing stars—bright and flashing and blurring your vision. "When you're spending all day in bed tomorrow...recovering..."

It only took seconds before he was grunting behind you—lost in your tight heat as he held you against him, hooking your thigh up toward your chest as his arm tightened around your neck, cock ramming your cunt—colliding with your cervix, pushing screams from your lungs. You couldn't think—couldn't catch your breath as he drove into you over and over.

"Fuck—so good…so fucking wet..." Theo moaned, the sound of his cock slippery and lewd, broadcasting evidence of your arousal. Face on fire, you tossed your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes, chewing your lip, rocking with the force of his strokes. “You like that—being filled like this...greedy little thing..."

You whinged; he was boring into your stomach, delight gushing through your veins. You had never been with a man this endowed, and this fucking ruthless. It made you throb, set you aflame, whirled your brain with desire. Words eluded you.

"Ohh—yes,” you choked out between moans. "Gods—you're huge—"

"I am," he groaned in your ear, the hand on your thigh shifting to your belly, palm pressing against your pelvis—he eased his pace, offering you deep, slow strokes, letting you spasm around every goddamn inch. "That's how deep I'm in you."

At that, you moaned, shamelessly. Cocky bastard he was. You knew now that he was more than entitled to it.

"Can...fuck—can I cum in you?" His fingers slipped to your clit, slowly swirling over it—you didn't even have a second to process that question before the pleasure wracked you so hard you cried out, and he growled. "Fuck—let me cum in you...in this pretty little cunt.."

Somewhere in the blur, you registered his words—low, rough, pulling at the frayed edges of your sanity. Contraceptives. You were on them. It was the last rational thought you had left, buried deep under layers of heat and want. You knew you were fine, but the way he asked, in that voice—Gods—

His fingers increased their pace and you wailed. "Theo—holy f-fuck—yes—yes please!"

Lightning euphoria ripped up your spine with a shameless shriek, your climax shattering you. Your cunt throbbed and milked his dick, your thighs twitching, and your back reached for the wall but his arm around you kept you in place, pleasure possessing your nerves. It seemed an eternity—he was still fucking you through it, breaking you deep, and then he shattered too—breath washing over the back of your neck, chest heaving and lungs sputtering as he spilled his release into you, deep and sticky and hot.

You were still floating between realms of sensation and reality—your mind struggling to tether itself back to consciousness when Theo finally pulled out, releasing you. Both of you were heaving, chests rising and falling in tandem, your bodies slick with sweat and satisfaction.

A moment passed, your breaths slowly steadying, when you felt his arm snake around your waist, pulling you effortlessly against his chest. You shot him a weak, lopsided smile over your shoulder, still catching your breath.

"You okay?" He murmured, his voice a quiet hum in the afterglow.

"More than," you nodded, though your body still hummed with the remnants of pleasure. A hollow ache replaced where he'd been, leaving you startlingly aware of how empty you felt without him. "That was...you are...

"I know," he purred, lips grazing the sensitive spot behind your ear, the smirk practically carved into his breath. You could feel his smugness radiating off him, a tangible thing. "Hope your curiosity was sated."

You let out a breathy laugh, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin. "That, among other things."

"Good," he whispered, "I went easy on you."

You huffed, a slow smile creeping across your face. "Is that so?"

"Extremely so," he murmured, fingers tracing lazy circles over your hip. "Took all the willpower I had."

"Sure," you teased. "You're just saying that because I took you so well."

He chuckled, low and sinful, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your spine.

"Oh, she's cocky," he drawled, lips brushing your shoulder. "We'll see about that after I put you in ten different positions."

Your heart stuttered, your muscles tensing at the sheer boldness of the statement. Heat pooled in your belly once more, that insatiable curiosity sparking again. You knew this night was far from over.

Perhaps a little more proof wouldn’t hurt...

You turned your head just slightly, voice breathy but wanting. "Please do."

[teddybeartoji]

“look at me, hm?”

toji's voice is barely above a whisper, his words softer than ever. with his hands circled around your middle, he stands there behind you, his chest glued against your back like a big bear. his heavy head rests on your shoulder, eyes locked onto yours in a quiet plea. you think you hear a pout in his tone. 

but you don’t give him a reaction, gaze locked onto the vegetables on the cutting board in front of you.

you’re upset with him and toji feels like he's dying.

all of this just because you're jealous.

because the love of his life is jealous. 

toji only spared her a glance, brushing her off and saying that his partner is waiting for him – she’s the one that went on and on, talking about the milk carton in his hands as if toji had never seen it before. but little do you know, every single word that spilled from the stranger, went in one ear and right out the other – toji couldn’t be less interested in anybody other than you. if you were to crack open his head and take a look around, it’d be all you. you and your laugh, you and your eyes, you and your hands, you and your hobbies. you and you and you. even when he was standing there with the milk carton in his hand, the only thing on his mind was how he’s going to watch you chomp down a big bowl of cereal the next morning. 

you just happened to see the moment the woman leaned closer with a charming smile on her lips and her hand on his forearm while saying her goodbye, and that was enough for the ugly thoughts to bully themselves into your head.

even though you trust toji, you know he doesn’t entertain any flirting attempts that might come his way, but sometimes… sometimes you just can’t help but feel that you might not be enough. what if he did think the woman was more beautiful, or maybe he did find the guy, who asked for his help at the gym the other day, hot? what if he found them more interesting than you, what if he feels himself stuck to you against his will? 

you heard your own words swimming around in your head and cringed at yourself, ashamed that you were letting that weird growth of jealousy torment you.

but it had already taken root. 

that evil, ugly little thing in the back of your mind. and you couldn’t shake it.

not on your own at least. 

toji had made his way over to you, taking his place by your side while squinting at the little piece of paper in his hands. but you were quiet, more so than usual, and toji isn’t stupid – he might not be the best with feelings and emotions, but he does know you. 

he could tell just by the way you avoided his gaze, the way you started to shorten your answers. the way you pulled away and into yourself – he watched you disappear into your own head right in front of his eyes and he hated it. 

but not wanting to push any wrong buttons here in public, he swallowed your silence with a heavy heart and guided you to your car with a hand on your lower back. he’s not as afraid as he used to be – he isn’t as scared to step into your space, now knowing that this is just what you need sometimes. a little push, a little nudge, to break free from the vines of envy and jealousy and doubt. he’ll burn them, he’ll cut you free. 

the car ride home was quiet. with your head rested against the window and eyes set on the passing buildings and cars, toji found himself stealing glances at you every chance he got. oh, how he hated the pout on your lips, the very same one you’re wearing now. all he wanted to do was to take you into his arms and kiss you, hold you. to make you laugh. to make you forget every single thing that has ever bothered you.

toji let you simmer for exactly ten minutes, just enough for you to change into your pyjamas and to wash up before deciding on your distraction – the dishes. he snuck up on you as silently as he could; the tips of his fingers itched to feel your skin under them, his ears tired from the silence in the apartment. the sigh that you let out as he pressed himself flush against you, sounded better than anything before. toji had already started to miss you in those twenty minutes you were away from him. 

“please… “

it’s not often you get to hear that word, especially in that tone, so it’s hard for you to ignore the stuttering of your poor, sensitive heart. his nose nudges against your cheek and you put down the knife to lean into him on instinct; with your hands on top of his, your bodies mold together like pieces of a puzzle. 

“you know you’re the only one for me…” 

the words form in the back of his mouth and roll from his tongue like a low purr. they’re coated in something sweet, in something only you get to see and feel. his arms tighten around you and you know he means it. his heart beats against your back, as nervous as it is confident. he’s sure about his statement but a part of him is still scared that you won’t have him. that you’ll leave him. 

“she talked about the milk, that’s all she did, sweetheart.” gently, he sways your bodies side to side, letting the warmth of his body engulf you as he ropes you back to him.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“do you believe me?”

it’s something you’ve been practicing in order to get rid of any remaining specks of doubt. it goes both ways; he trusts that you’ll say what’s on your mind and you do the same. 

honesty. 

raw and real.

“yes.”

toji lets out a little puff of air through his nostrils, a wave of relief settling into his body. he knows it’s not over just yet, but it’s a start.

“can i kiss you?”

toji’s mossy green eyes meet yours for the first time in what feels like forever and all he can think about is how much you mean to him. his darling, his baby. he’s not one to be a sap, but hell, when it comes to you, he’s more than willing to drop to his knees and recite love poems for you if that’s what you’d like. anything and everything. 

he watches your eyes flick down to his mouth and then back up again and the little nod you give him is more than enough for him to finally press his lips to yours in a needy, hungry kiss. you melt into each other – skin against skin, tongue against tongue, it just feels right. the spark between you is still there, burning brighter than ever after all the time you’ve spent together. over hills and mountains, through lakes and rivers – nothing is too much or too little for the two of you to conquer together. he’ll be there for you and you’ll be there for him. 

“‘m all yours, sweetheart.”

his hushed words slip right between your lips and slither their way down your throat. inside, they bloom and they flourish. they overtake the rotting weeds that were growing there before and you feel it. you feel it happen. he breathes into you and you become alive again.

"i love you."