#she would just keep it in until shes alone to cry a storm

[leytwopoints]

About your human LPS AU:

Would Penny Ling, whenever she is either told a mean joke about her by Pepper, or bullied by another kid who stops by the day camp, still cry waterfalls, and how would people (specifically the other kids/Blythe) feel about it?

[selfcarecap]

✧ Manipulative best friend!Logan with a corruption kink

warnings: smut 18+, this is not a dark fic, Logan isn’t truly manipulative but we have a very naive/innocent/inexperienced reader; first time masturbation, JOI, handjob, fingering (in front of a mirror), first kiss, pet names (bub, baby, my girl, good girl), Logan doesn’t always fully ask for consent but if he did reader would want it, so those are the type of vibes, Logan takes advantage of the situation but reader is into him too, it’s implied that reader is a mutant too but powers are not specified, mentions of alcohol, reader wears Logan’s (big) shirt, Logan is a bit gross 

This kind of got out of hand lmaoo it was just supposed to just be a short concept but I ended up writing 5.5k words lolll. It’s not a fully fleshed out fic (it’s in full sentences etc but still just kind of loosely written scenes) but I thought I’d still share <33 (gorgeous divider by @anitalenia <3)

Logan knows he wants you from the moment he meets you. He knows he needs you the second you come to the mansion and join the school. But you’re so shy and nervous that he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so he tells himself he’ll wait for a bit and let you get used to your new life here first. 

What he isn’t expecting is that you become really good friends in the meantime. Yes, he still wants to fuck you but he also genuinely enjoys your company and cares about you. Logan has a big, fat crush on you and there’s not really anything he won’t do in order to be closer to you.

But the problem is that you’re so innocent and he can’t tell if it’s an act, if you just don’t like talking about sex in front of other people, or if you’re really like this. 

He hears you talking to Storm and Jean one night and Storm is trying to convince you to get a vibrator and you’re asking “what would I need that for? I don’t… y’know”. Storm says “you don’t what? Masturbate?”.

Logan knows exactly what shy expression you’re making even though he can’t see you, and you’re all like “oh my god, don’t say it that loud”. And he knows your pretty face must be getting all hot with embarrassment and the thought alone turns Logan on to no end. It’s quiet for a bit and Logan gathers that Jean reads your mind, and she confirms to Storm that you’re not lying.  

Logan can only hear the conversation because he’s in the kitchen and you’re all in the room next to it, but some students come in so he can’t keep eavesdropping, as much as he wants to. And he knows there’s no way you’re continuing the conversation if he’s in the room, so he has to give up for the night. He tries to ask Storm the next day about what you said and she just calls him a pervert and says to ask you himself if he wants to know so badly. 

But that’s kind of the thing. He’s become your best friend over the last few months, but there are still some things you’d never tell him just because he’s a guy, even if you don’t see him as more than a friend. Yet.

And Logan only gets more desperate when you’re drunk one evening after a girl’s night and you’re knocking at his door. It’s really late but Logan lets you in of course. You’re crying a bit and he makes you sit in his bed and takes off your shoes and slides off your jacket while you hiccup something unintelligible. 

He sits down with you and you can barely focus on what you’re saying, and then you get up mumbling about your uncomfortable tights and your skirt and suddenly you’re in front of him in just a top and panties. Logan has to gulp down a moan as he stares at the flesh of your thighs and the rolls on your belly and all he can think about is devouring you whole – until he hears you mention the conversation with Storm and Jean from the other day, “wait, what was that?”

You pout, “Well I was talking to them and turns out apparently I’m the only woman in the world that doesn’t masturbate and– and Jean went home to Scott, and Storm went home with someone she met at the bar and I’ve never even done anything with a guy, not even with myself. I just feel left behind.”

And Logan tells you something about how you’re just a late bloomer and there’s still time, because that’s what he thinks you want to hear, but you tell him it’s condescending. You don’t want to be a late bloomer, you just want to have sex. And oh– Logan can help you with that.

He has to do his absolute best to keep calm and not mount you immediately, but you’re drunk so that’s what’s stopping him. He might manipulate you a little to get what he wants but he’s not that bad. He asks “you don’t like touching yourself?” And you just shrug and say “dunno”. 

“You never feel an ache between your legs?” Logan asks, keeping so calm it’s painful. And he can practically feel the heat melting off your face at the question as your eyes dart around the room, “I don’t know, sometimes”.

 “And you don’t touch yourself?”

You shrug again, looking everywhere but at Logan, “I never really know what people mean when they say that. I, like, touch myself and it feels nice but that’s it.” 

Logan smiles, “how long do you touch yourself for?” 

“I don’t know, a few seconds.”

And he chuckles and says “it’s normal that you don’t get anywhere in a few seconds, bub.” 

“Oh. I didn’t know that,” you manage to meet his eyes briefly but look away again as you sit on your hands shyly.

“You ever watched porn?” Logan asks and your eyes go wide as if he’s just committed the worst sin known to womankind in front of you and you hug your legs and say “noo, I would never. I’m not, like, a pervert.”

Logan laughs, “Porn isn’t just for perverts. There’s more to it than choking and bondage, there’s tame stuff.” You just say “well I’ve never watched any.” 

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe, I don’t know.” 

He can tell you’re getting a bit ashamed and while he would love to train that shame out of you when it comes to sex, now isn’t the time when you’re drunk in his bed at 2AM. 

“You wanna go to sleep?” He asks, failing to resist giving a small squeeze to your knee. Your eyes fly to his hand there, gaze lingering on his fingers even as he pulls them away. You nod after a few moments, and Logan reaches out to wipe away the remnants of your tears and says “you wanna sleep in my bed? We could cuddle”. 

You grin like a child who’s just tried ice cream for the first time at his suggestion and he gives you a bigger shirt of his so you don’t have to sleep in that small, tight top you’re wearing. You pull off your top without warning and then he’s looking at you in just your underwear and he feels like he’s died and ascended to heaven even though he’s probably more likely to go to hell with the thoughts he’s having about you right now. 

You cast a shy glance over your shoulder as you undo your bra and Logan wills himself to shut his eyes, putting his hand over them because he knows otherwise he’d look.

He only wants to fuck you more when he sees you in his shirt though, and he’ll definitely have to go to the bathroom to jerk off once you’ve fallen asleep. Except that you snuggle against his side so cutely, head resting on his shoulder with a leg thrown over his. 

You’re fast asleep before he can even say good night and when he moves to get up you move closer, and now he’s got your plush tits pressed up against his side and your arm over his waist. A tent has formed in his pants and he feels pathetic that he’s measuring the distance between your elbow and his crotch, silently willing you to move just a few inches. 

He’s so horny that he’d feel no moral qualms at jerking off right next to you. He’d cum so quickly with you pressed to his side, but he wouldn’t know how to explain it if you woke up. He doesn’t want to scare you away. So he pulls away to get up, and you wake up and whine when he stands up, telling you he just has to pee to which you grumble, and you grab his pillow to cuddle with instead. 

He jerks off shamelessly, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His spit slicked-palm is starting to get loud as he strokes his cock to thoughts of you, but he doesn’t care if you hear. You probably wouldn’t know what he’s doing anyway with how innocent you are. 

He doesn’t even have to fantasise about any sexual scenario with you. Thinking about the pretty smile you have whenever you look at him is enough to have his fists drenched in his cum as he jerks himself off with both hands to stroke his entire length. 

He can’t hold back the small moan that spills over his lips when he cums, torn between hoping you heard and hoping you didn’t. Logan washes his hands and rejoins you in bed. 

He takes a moment before he slips under the covers, taking in the sight of you in his bed, imagining you’re his and that it’s the norm for you to sleep together rather than an exception. You stir as the mattress dips with his weight, swapping the pillow of his that was clutched between your arms for his bicep that you hold onto instead. You’re way too gone to have heard any of what he just did, and for a moment he feels dirty for thinking about you the way that he does. 

It doesn’t last long, of course, as he dreams of you most nights. He can’t feel bad about it though – he’ll take any dream over one of his nightmares (that he hasn’t had since he met you). And if he’s honest it turns him on how innocent and unsuspecting you are of what goes on in his head when he thinks of you. 

-

You wake up still wrapped around his body the next morning. You have a headache and Logan brings you something to soothe it, offering to massage your stiff neck too. You sigh in bliss as soon as Logan’s hands are on you, and he reminds himself that you must be touch-starved. You’ve never touched yourself, let alone felt the touch of another person that went beyond platonic or familial affection. 

He revels in the sounds he pulls from you with ease with the most basic massaging technique there is. He never wants to leave. He started off hovering over the back of your thighs, but he’s been making his way forwards and now his crotch is nestled right against the soft swell of your ass. You either don’t notice that he’s slowly moved or you don’t realise what exactly is pressing into your backside. 

It’s obvious that you’re enjoying his hands on the back of your neck and the top of your shoulders; he doubts there’s anything that could distract you from it. Except if he got hard maybe, but he’s got more self control since he jerked off in the bathroom again after waking up with morning wood and with you by his side, just before he brought you some painkillers. 

“You’re so good with your hands, Logan,” you tell him, voice all raspy, and he smirks at the innuendo you don’t realise you’re making. 

“It’s what my girl deserves,” he says, pulling a smile and a hum from your lips. 

“I’m your girl?” you ask shyly, eyes still closed as his knuckles drag over your skin. 

“O’course you are, bub.” He’s not sure in what way you interpret the pet name but he can tell you like it, hearing how your heartbeat speeds up just that little bit. You like being his, and he likes that. 

-

It’s during a particularly horny evening that Logan comes to your room. He’s jerked off twice today to pictures of you — pictures he’s snuck over the time he’s known you, you smiling as you laugh at a tv show, stretching on the sofa not realising that he’s got his phone out, or that one photo of you smiling all shyly on the day you first met him and he showed you around the mansion. Jean asked to take a picture to commemorate the day you joined them, and he remembers the way he slid his arm around the back of your waist and you placed your hand shyly on his back, smiling all adorably. 

He’s got a picture of you in a bikini from that one time you two went swimming but he keeps that for special occasions. Today was one of those special occasions, and he came all over his phone screen, cursing when he had to clean it afterwards; he even had to get the phone case off and all. 

But you still won’t leave his head for even just a second, so he decides it’s time for the next step. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you with anything, but he also just really wants you. Can’t help it. He’s a selfish man but any man would be if he knew you the way Logan did. He knocks at your door. “Yeah?” you call out. 

You grin when he steps in and closes the door behind himself. You stretch out your arms for a hug to greet him, even though you only saw him a few hours ago. He joins you where you’re sitting on your bed with your laptop. Logan turns the screen towards him, hoping to find something naughty but he should have known better. It’s just some video essay on a topic he’s never even heard of. He shuts the laptop. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” you tell him, genuinely focussed, “If I’m your girl then what are you to me? My boy sounds weird, and my man.. I don’t know.”

He almost forgot that he called you his girl to your face, and he smirks when he imagines you thinking about it these past few days. He lies down on his side, invading your space, almost touching you with how close he is next to you.

 “I can be anything you like, bub.” 

You shrug shyly, “Maybe you’re just my Logan.” 

He’s surprised at how much that turns him on. You being his, that’s one thing. But him being yours? Those two things go hand-in-hand, of course, but he thought you were still a long way off from liking him as much as he likes you. 

It encourages him to ask you what he’s been thinking about for days. He says it casually. “So, had any success touching yourself?” He uses that tame expression so that you’re less embarrassed.

Still, your eyes widen slightly and you immediately start playing with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. “What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean,” he smirks, “Don’t gotta be embarrassed around me. We’ve been over this.” Although, for a second he wonders if you even remember the conversation. You were drunk after all, and he considers feeling bad, but then you smile. 

“I know, but… I haven’t tried it since. I’ve thought about it but I still don’t know what to do.” He’s got you right where he wants. 

“Y’know, I don’t mind showing you. You deserve to feel good.” 

You look away, “What would you even show me? And how? Guys are different down there.” Oh, you’re so innocent. He’s having so much fun. 

“I could touch you.” He watches you experience a multitude of emotions as you think about it. Shame, intrigue, resolve. 

“Wouldn’t that be weird for you?” 

“Not at all, don’t worry about me.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure, bub.” 

You look around you, putting your laptop and your phone on your nightstand, “What do I do?” you ask, playing with the blanket. 

“I’ll just touch you a bit, okay? Just get you used to the feeling,” he tells you, both of you sitting up and he pulls your legs around his waist, gently touching all over your inner thighs, squeezing the flesh.

You’re already arching your back, scooting closer to him, and he lifts your shirt up over your hip and sees the wet spot on your panties. He’s not sure if you notice how hard he is under his sweatpants but no one could blame him for that. You’re getting so worked up and he hasn’t even touched you anywhere near your pussy, you’re breathing so heavily and your heart is beating so fast.

“Y’want a kiss, bub?” Logan asks you all sweetly, and you lean in as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your lips on his are messy but eager, and Logan loves that he can feel that it’s your first kiss. You don’t know what you’re doing but you need it – need him. 

But he has to stop at some point because it’s getting harder to not fuck you, so he gently pulls away, and you grin shyly when the kiss is over. Logan leans in one more time for a quick kiss. He pushes you backwards a bit and looks between your spread thighs. You’re so wet. You’re squirming under his gaze.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, tugging at the waistband of your panties and your breathing gets shaky when his finger grazes your belly. You bite your lip and nod.

“Good girl,” he says, pulling your underwear down your thighs with one hand, eyes glued to your pussy. You’re so wet and sticky already, and your pussy looks even better than anything he’s imagined – and he’s imagined it a lot.

He wants nothing more than to fuck you, or eat you out at least, but he’s supposed to be showing you how to masturbate, so he lies down next to you.

“So, if you were alone, you might touch yourself like this.” He takes his hand between your thighs, softly touching your clit. You’re leaning into him, head against his shoulder as you watch his big hand between your thighs. It looks so right there. You look to your side and gaze up at Logan, and you can’t help but just kiss him again.

And while you’re kissing, Logan puts his palm on your pussy and starts rubbing you a bit rougher, and you become too distracted to keep kissing him.

“You like when I play with your clit?” he teases you and you nod, hiding your face in his neck. Logan moves down to fuck one of his fingers into you, then two, and you’re whimpering against his warm skin. With his palm still rubbing against your clit, you have your first ever orgasm with Logan and you hold onto him as the pleasure flows through your body.

He keeps going until you put your hand around his wrist to stop him and you shyly smile up at him. “Was that good, bub?” 

You answer with a weak “yeah”, your voice hoarse but you’re smiling and your skin is glowing. Logan pulls his hand away and shows you how your arousal sticks to his fingers, and your eyes search his because you’re not sure if this is a good or bad thing.

Your mouth opens when Logan takes his fingers into his mouth and sucks your taste off them. “Taste so fucking good, baby. You wanna taste yourself?” And he waits patiently until you’ve made your mind up but you nod and let him put one of his fingers into your warm, wet mouth. You suck on it for much longer than necessary and Logan tries to save the image in his brain for later.

He holds you for a bit as you comprehend that you’ve just had an orgasm for the first time in your life. You shyly thank him before he leaves and he makes you promise that you’ll try it again by yourself soon. That was the whole point of this, after all – nothing to do with Logan or anything.

-

Logan thought he’d be satisfied for a bit, but all it’s done is make him even needier for you. You’re so oblivious to all his flirting, and he’s sure you genuinely thought he just wanted to show you how to masturbate the other day. 

Of course, he could just ask you out, but it’s more fun this way. He likes watching you figure stuff out. He wonders how long it’ll take you to realise that he actually likes you, that teaching you how to jerk off maybe wasn’t only in your best interest but in his too.

He’s a bit pathetic when it comes to you at this point, though. As much as he’s teasing you, it’s also teasing him. It’s a bit of a low point, but he pretends to be in a bad mood to get your attention.

You come to his room in the late afternoon when you haven’t seen him all day, and you’re so kind and so caring and immediately worried when you see him sprawled in bed in his pyjamas that consist of grey sweatpants and a white shirt.

“You okay? What happened?” you close the door and sit on his bed immediately.

Logan fake sighs, suppressing a smile as he pouts exaggeratedly. “Nothing, bub. Don’t you worry about me.” He squeezes your knee to reassure you, and he watches you perk up at his touch.

“You know you can always talk to me,” you smile kindly, and he wants to kiss you so badly. He doesn’t usually talk about emotions and feelings all that much, but you’re always trying to get him to open up because it’s good for him, so he knows he’s got you with this.

“I’m just feeling a bit down today. That’s all. Don’t wanna bother you with my problems.”

“You’re not bothering me. I’m always here for you.”

He watches you gnawing on your lip as you think about what to say next, and Logan waits curiously. “Have you uh, jerked off today? I think an orgasm would cheer anyone up, if it feels as good as you made me feel the other day.”

And Logan’s all like “I’ve tried but it’s been so long since a woman touched me, and my own hand just isn’t doing it for me anymore.”

He gets hard immediately when you perk up, smiling with your sweet expression and saying, “I could help you! I hate seeing you so sad”.

And Logan pretends, saying “no, bub, I’d never ask that of you,” but you sit up on your knees and say “I really wouldn’t mind! And I owe you for last time anyway.”

“If you’re really sure?” 

You nod sweetly and brush your hair out of your face and ask, “where do you want me?”

And even just you asking that is something that will stay in his mind for a long time. He feels like you’d do anything he asked of you right now and it’s already driving him crazy. He says “just next to me here, bub. Yeah there is fine”. 

You lean in to kiss him and he only pulls away out of surprise, and you’re blinking back at him with wide eyes, apologising, “It’s just cause you kissed me last time, I thought— I thought it’s part of–”

“Yeah, baby, it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me again.”

You give him a cheeky smile and nod, “of course I wanna kiss you. You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you”. 

Logan grins and bites his lip and says “me too, bub”, and leans in and kisses you again, basically attacking you with his mouth. He can tell it’s getting a little much for you with the way he’s eating you alive so he stops himself and asks “was that too much?” 

You shake your head, “just don’t know how to kiss like that yet.” And he likes that. Yet. Maybe he can sneak in some kissing lessons at some point, just to show you how it’s done of course, no other reason. 

You look down at his lap then and it’s obvious how hard he is. “Y’wanna you touch it like this first?” he asks you, grabbing himself over his sweatpants, the outline becoming clearer.

And you nod so eagerly, but get a bit shy when you’re touching his cock, one of your knees pulled up to your chest as you palm him over his sweatpants. “It’s so big,” you marvel, oblivious to how much this is affecting Logan.

“You wanna see?”

You tell him yes and he pulls the waistband down, and you lean closer when he wraps a hand around his cock, stroking himself just a few times to relieve the pressure. 

You bring a finger to his mouth like he did for you the other day, and he chuckles, “that won’t be enough, bub”. Your cheeks burn when you say “oh”.

“Here,” he moves your hand so your open palm is facing him and he spits into it.

“Now do this,” Logan tells you, taking your hand and wrapping it around his cock, guiding you up and down with your spit-slicked palm. You watch in awe as you jerk him off, his hand never leaving the back of yours.

He could cum immediately like this, but he tries to savour the feeling a bit longer.

“Does it feel good?” you ask him.

“Yeah, doing so well, bub. Think you can do it by yourself?”

You shake your head with a smile. Yes, you could do it by yourself, but you like the feeling of him guiding you, setting the pace and intensity. He grins and continues, squeezing your hand tighter so that your grip on his cock tightens too.

Logan lets you jerk him off a bit longer before he gives in. He’s proud of you for not pulling away in surprise when he cums, coating your hand and his in his cum as ropes of white shoot over your skin and onto his shirt. He lets go of your hand to pull off his shirt and watches you examine your hand full of Logan’s cum.

“Can I taste it?” you ask in a quiet voice, and Logan just about gets hard again.

“Yeah,” he tells you, but pushes his own fingers into your mouth. Your lips wrap around his two fingers and suck the cum off, and Logan can’t help but push them further into your mouth, making you giggle. You pull his hand away after a bit, only to lick your own fingers. He uses the clean part of his shirt to dry your hand off after, and you lie down to cuddle him.

“Do you feel better?”

Logan chuckles, “Yeah, bub, I feel better. Thanks.”

“Good,” you grin, proud of yourself. Logan’s proud of you too.

-

It’s still the same day when you come to his room the next time. You left after a bit to go to sleep, but now there are knocks on Logan’s door that he recognises as yours before you say anything.

You enter his room in your pyjamas – a big shirt – and some fluffy socks, a plushie under your arm. You look so oh so innocent that he almost feels bad for corrupting you. You come in, close the door, and sit on his bed again, legs dangling off the side of it. He could really get used to you being in here.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, but you ignore him, hugging your plushie for comfort.

 “I… can you maybe…” you let out a sigh, “I tried to masturbate but I can’t do it by myself. Can you show me again?” 

Maybe you’re not so innocent anymore. He chuckles and tells you of course, and he’s starting to wonder if you’ve caught on to the game that he’s playing, and if you’ve joined him, but he’d still bet money that you really are this naive. Logan pulls his full length mirror in front of his bed, not too close, but close enough that you can see yourself in it. 

He moves to lift your shirt to get your panties off, and his heart skips a beat as he’s greeted by the sight of your bare pussy, already glistening.

“It was easier to come with them already off,” you say, and he reaaally has to restrain himself so he doesn't bend you over and take you right here.

You drop your stuffed toy to the side of Logan’s bed as he sits you in front of the mirror, getting behind you, putting his legs either side of you.

“God, you’re so pretty.” He can’t stop himself from saying it as he makes you look at yourself in the mirror, legs spread.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Logan,” you say, shying away from looking in the mirror.

“You can do it, bub. I got you, okay?”

You’ve turned around to look at him better, and he chuckles when he gets it.

“Is this what you need?” he asks as he leans in to kiss you, and you moan yes into his mouth. He loves you so fucking much.

His dick is already so hard and he’s not sure if you can feel it pressing into your ass, but either way you’re not complaining. He takes your chin to make you face yourself in the mirror, and he can’t get enough of seeing you two in it together – the way he’s sitting behind you like this, imagining other positions you two could be in.

“Here,” he pushes his finger into your mouth, even though you’re already wet enough, watching you suck on it eagerly. His finger stays in your mouth much longer than necessary.

He starts gently rubbing your clit in circles, and you squirm in his arms that are around you, one on your waist, the other between your legs.

“I did that too, but it feels better when you do it,” you mumble after a while, clearly enjoying it but unsure what you were doing wrong when you did it yourself.

“Try it.” Logan takes your hand, and makes you do it yourself. You’re squirming with him watching you like this, but it is useful to sit in front of the mirror, copying how he played with your pussy just moments ago.

Logan’s not blind to how wet you are, at having him watching and guiding you, and he can’t help it as he reaches into his boxers to jerk off. He doesn’t get his cock out but he’s not hiding it. You can see the movement of his arm in the mirror and you might even be able to feel it at your back, as Logan’s fist grazes your shirt every now and then as he strokes himself.

But you’re so focussed on looking between your own legs that Logan is genuinely not sure if you’ve noticed him jerking off, and the sounds of your wet pussy are louder than his hand on his cock.

“I… I can’t,” you whine after a bit, taking your hand away from your pussy, but Logan is close, and he wants you to cum too.

He keeps jerking off, and he sees you noticing it, sitting up a bit taller but you don’t seem to mind. You’re smiling, biting your lip.

“Yeah, you can, baby. Here, we’ll do it together.” He keeps a hand on his cock, reaching around you to put your hand back between your legs, and then he pushes two of his fingers into your pussy, fucking you with them.

“You close, bub? I’m close,” he says, and the idea of cumming together with Logan makes your pussy squeeze around his fingers, so you do your best to recreate the pattern on your clit that Logan showed you, rubbing it in circles until you get the right angle.

“Good girl, that’s it. So tight around my fingers. Come on now.” Logan’s so close he has no idea how he’s still holding off, sloppily jerking his cock with one hand and fucking your pussy with his fingers on the other hand.

You lean your head back, landing on Logan’s shoulder, as your orgasm pulses through you. Logan can feel your pussy spasming around him, and he lets go too, cumming over his hand and his boxers.

You’re both out of breath for a while after, barely moving.

“Y’did it, bub,” he kisses the top of your head, and you smile at him through the mirror, turning to press a messy kiss to the side of his face. He won’t take that though, so he grabs your face, smearing some of his cum on your cheek, and pulls you to face him for a proper kiss. You smile against his mouth as you make out.

You sleep in his room again that night, but he can’t say it feels like you know that he likes you yet. He’ll have fun watching you figure it out soon.

-

✧ reblog and let me know your thoughts for Logan to appear in your dreams tonight <3

[empress-ghoul]

Rising Waters, part one

141 x witch!reader | old gods of appalachia au | ongoing cw: environmental disasters, supernatural elements, blood, typical canon violence

You didn’t know where to go when the water rose. When the creek came up and lapped in waves at the four walls of the cabin you’d lived in your whole life.

This should have been another autumn thunderstorm, just like the ones you’d dealt with every other year. But when you woke up in the early hours of the morning, the sky still pitch black and the heavens still pouring down, you knew it was not like every other autumn thunderstorm.

The water was up to your thighs in your bedroom and up to your waist in the kitchen. If you didn’t get out now, then you wouldn’t get out again.

There was a moment where you thought about grabbing something. Your grimoire, maybe your mother’s cookbook? But judging how high the stream was outside, you knew they wouldn’t stand a chance.

Fear and adrenaline were wonderful motivators. You didn’t think about how dangerous swimming through the flood would be after you climbed out through the window. It wasn’t like there were many other options.

The flood spat you back out on land, where you thanked the Green and prayed It would keep you safe. You like to think It cared about you, but you didn’t hold out much hope.

Grabbing onto a tree, you used it to pull yourself up with shaking arms and watched as your home, your very life, drift down past you. There was no time to mourn, as you now needed to figure where you were in relation to the main road.

You knew this land, of that you were certain. But the pouring rain and rising creek made navigation a bit of a tricky task. Not only that, but the clouds plotted out the moonlight. The smart thing would be to wait until the rain stopped to start moving, but the water was rising still and you needed to get to higher ground. That should be easy.

Your true problem came when you realized you weren’t alone in the woods. Then it turned from problem to problems when you realized there were at least three massive figures surrounding you.

The lightning in the sky provided you with the occasional glimpse. Silhouetted among the trees as you ran through the trees, pouring rain, and rising water, you saw them.

They couldn’t be human. Not with the speed they moved at or the unnatural grace at which they did. You thought about the day you and your mother ran from your daddy. You thought about your mother and terror built in your gut, rising in your chest and throat.

She would have called them what they were, whether it be superstition or truth. Your mother would have called the hollow men.

Men whose very souls, the very essence of being truly alive, have been carved out. What’s left is a body with no sense of purpose other than what’s been given to them…or carnal violence. But seeing three all gathered in one place and working on a common goal - hunting you down - is not exactly common. And it begs the question: where is their handler?

Even with the rain that had soaked you through and continued to beat down, you knew you were crying. The sense of helplessness was overwhelming your senses and you soon found yourself completely turned around. You used to know these woods like the back of your hand, but in a storm like this, that meant nothing.

It was as if the land was warping. Changing and mutating to prevent you from finding your way to the road. Not like it would do you any good at this point. Any of your “neighbors’” cars would have been swept away by now and emergency services wouldn’t start running again until after the rain slowed.

More tears came with the strike of lightning that illuminated the massive figure running past you. Was that a skull face?

You found yourself in a clearing, frantically turning around as the forest rustled and wind howled. The figures were now closing in on you and a sob escaped your lips as. They had been trying to get you here. You should have kept running, but it all began to catch up to you.

Standing on shaking legs and bloodied feet, you wondered when they would pounce. Maybe they’d let you die from fear before hearing you limb from limb and sinking their teeth into your flesh.

Unfortunately, these men didn’t seem that merciful. It was like a game to them, you thought.

You landed on your back. The wind was thrown from your lungs, tears burning in your eyes while you wheezed for breath while crying from the pain. Your head spun as the hysteria caught up to you.

There was nothing left to do but crawl in a pathetic attempt to…to what? Escape? Make them take pity and spare you? You weren’t sure. You just wanted to survive.

A large hand wrapped around your ankle and pulled back down into the mud, dragging you towards them as you clawed at the earth.

Those same rough hands flipped you over and the lightning flash once again illuminated the hollow men - only calling them that because there was no other explanation for how terrifying these men were - while they pinned you down. The rain was smothering, drowning you as it pelted down. You looked up, unable to make out their faces clearly through your blurred vision.

The appearance of a fourth one, the only one who spoke and thus the one who controlled the three others, made your blood run cold.

It was a deep rooted fear, one of being surrounded and trapped by man. Being so trapped, and so helpless, and so utterly terrified in the midst of a storm of a century, of a tempest you never had a chance of escaping, drove that terror in deep.

“Hail witch.”

A scream came up and tore itself from your throat so hard that blood filled your mouth. The thunder drowned it out, along with the sound of his boot hitting your head.

[misswynters]

Baby blue and the mouse

featuring. jinx x platonic sister! reader

requested. by @mxbrahms

Zaun sure had a way of shaping people. Its smog-filled streets, the endless clang of machinery, and the shadows that clung to every corner seemed to seep into its inhabitants. For you, it had always been home, even when it wasn’t. You couldn’t remember much about your early years. Just flickers of a woman’s laugh, the warmth of arms that held you close, and a faint lullaby that had no words. That was your mother. A woman who hid you away in the cracks of Zaun, keeping you in the quiet while the world outside raged on.

It wasn’t until you were nine that the veil of safety she’d woven for you came undone. You’d come home to find her there: still, lifeless, her body sprawled across the floor of your tiny, crumbling apartment. The smell of copper and rust hung heavy in the air. Your small hands had trembled as you reached out, as though touching her would bring her back. But nothing happened. The quiet you had always clung to now felt suffocating.

You didn’t cry. You couldn’t. Instead, you did what she’d taught you: you hid. Hours passed in silence until the door creaked open again, and a figure stepped inside. Silco.

You didn’t know him then, not really. Just a name whispered in fear and reverence across Zaun. But he knew you. His mismatched eyes softened when they landed on you, crouched in the corner with wide, untrusting eyes. He didn’t speak at first, just offered his hand. When you finally took it, his grip was firm, a silent promise that you wouldn’t be left alone again.

After the death of your mother, the weeks that followed were a blur. Silco had taken you in, not as a burden, but as though you’d always been meant to be there. It wasn’t until much later that you learned the truth, you were his. His daughter. A piece of him that had been stolen away years ago, hidden by a woman he once trusted. He didn’t speak of her often, and neither did you. It was an unspoken understanding, a wound neither of you cared to prod.

Life with Silco was different. He wasn’t the warm, nurturing father you might have imagined in another life. He was calculated, cold at times, but never cruel. He taught you to navigate Zaun’s chaos with the same sharp mind and steady hand he used to command it. But he also gave you space to be you. Where Jinx was fire and fury, you were the quiet storm, slipping through the cracks and unraveling problems with precision rather than explosions.

Jinx took to you immediately, dubbing you her “twin” despite the lack of blood ties. Where Silco’s love was subtle and Jinx’s was overwhelming. A whirlwind of laughter, mischief, and an almost suffocating loyalty. She dragged you into her chaos at every turn, but you never minded. You understood her in a way few others could.

And though you were quieter, calmer, you matched her step for step. While she painted Zaun in vibrant colors and explosions, you moved through its shadows, making sure the aftermath didn’t swallow her whole. Jinx loved Silco in her own way, but your relationship with him was different. It was softer, quieter. He trusted you to see sides of him no one else did. The weariness in his shoulders, the small moments of pride when you succeeded, the way his voice softened when he said your name.

You never resented the life you’d been given. Zaun was harsh, but it had given you a family. A found one, a messy one, but one that was yours. That you grew to deeply love. And when the nights grew long and the memories of your mother came creeping back, you clung to that. To Silco, to Jinx, to the strange, chaotic love that bound you all together.

. . .

“Mousie,” she’d call out, her voice brimming with excitement. It was a name she had given you, and despite its loudness, you had taken it with affection. She was always the one pulling you into her chaos, dragging you from one wild adventure to the next, making sure you were always beside her. The first time you met her, it was during one of her more "creative" escapades. She was no more than a whirlwind of blue hair and erratic energy, her hands constantly on the move as she tinkered with a bomb. You had been observing from the shadows, as usual, when she caught sight of you.

"What are you doing back there, Mouse?" she had asked, her voice catching on your quiet demeanor. "Don’t be shy, come on! I’ve got a plan, and I need your help!"

You didn’t say much, as always, but you followed her. You had learned to do so over time, a silent presence at her side as she ran through her unpredictable schemes. She was loud, yes, but she had a way of making things feel... alive. And for the first time since the murder of your mother, you didn’t feel alone.

You became her constant companion, the calm to her storm. Jinx's chaos, her explosions, her manic energy, became something you learned to navigate with a careful hand. She would get into trouble, and you would be there to pull her back. She was fire, and you were the soft, quiet water, always there to temper her flames.

“Come on, we’ve got stuff to blow up!” she would shout, her eyes sparkling with mischief. And while you’d never fully understand her love for the explosions, the danger, you couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. You had never known anyone like her before, someone who was so unapologetically themselves.

Silco, too, grew to rely on you. He never demanded anything of you that you couldn’t give. You were always there, quietly taking care of things. He never needed you to be loud, never asked you to be anything other than what you were. And just like him, a part of the system, working in the background.

It was a strange family you’d found. Silco, your actual father and Jinx, the "twin" sister you never asked for but would never trade her in for anything else. You didn’t talk about it much, didn’t say the words that would have made it feel official, but in your quiet way, you knew it was real. You had found your place, even if the world around you was broken and full of noise. Thought you couldn't admit that you never truly felt like Silco was your dad. That you were his biological daughter. You were the complete opposite than he was.

But things were never simple. The scars of the past followed you like a shadow. The loss of your mother, the chaos nature of Zaun. It all weighed heavily on you, even when you pretended it didn’t. Jinx always seemed to know when you were spiraling, when your thoughts would drift to that place you didn’t want to go.

"Hey," she’d say, her voice softer than usual, something rare and gentle in her tone. "You’re gonna be okay. I gotcha, okay?"

And you’d nod, your lips twitching into a small smile, even though you didn’t have the words. She always knew when you needed her, and even though she was often the cause of the chaos, she was also the one who could pull you back from it. You both needed each other, she with her explosive energy and you with your quiet steadiness. The perfect pair, Yin and Yang, the calm and the chaos.

Sometimes, Silco would find you two together, Jinx sprawled across the floor, laughing at something ridiculous, while you sat quietly beside her, watching her with a quiet fondness. He would look at the two of you, his cold exterior softening just a little.

“You two,” he would mutter, though there was an unspoken warmth in his voice. “Always together. Never far apart. It’s good to have someone to rely on.”

And you would nod, though the words never seemed to come. You had someone now. Someone who understood you in a way that others never could. Someone who needed your quiet, just as you needed her chaos.

You’d lost everything once, but in the wreckage of it all, you had found something new. A broken family. Not the loud, demanding kind, but a family of your own. Silent, steady, and always together.

. . .

There was of course an instance were things didn’t go as planned. The warehouse was supposed to be quiet. You had slipped into the building alongside Jinx, the two of you tasked with scouting out an area for Silco’s latest dealings. In typical fashion, Jinx’s interpretation of “quiet” skewed toward chaos. While you stuck to the shadows, cataloging the crates and memorizing the guards’ routes, she was already toying with her explosives, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“C’mon, Twinny,” Jinx whispered loudly, twirling a grenade in her hand as she crouched behind a pile of crates. “You’re taking forever! We could blow this place sky-high and still be home for dinner.”

You sighed, slipping up beside her. “We’re not blowing anything up, Jinx. Not yet, anyway.” Your voice was low and steady, a stark contrast to her barely-contained excitement. “Silco wants intel first, remember?”

She groaned, dramatically rolling her eyes. “Boooring.” But even as she said it, she pocketed the grenade. You knew she couldn’t resist a little fun, though, and you braced yourself for whatever small bit of chaos she was about to unleash.

Jinx’s “fun” started small. A wrench tossed into a spinning fan, creating a loud, metallic screech. A stack of boxes pushed just enough to topple over, startling a few guards nearby. She was like a storm, restless and wild, but she always stayed close to you. Her self-proclaimed twin.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been weaving through the building when it happened. Jinx had been rigging a small contraption to set off a harmless distraction. A flick of her wrist, a sudden flash, and a sound that was far louder than you had anticipated. The guards reacted instantly, shouting orders and scattering as the explosion rattled the building. Jinx laughed, a manic, gleeful sound as she grabbed your arm, dragging you toward an exit.

“Wasn’t that awesome?!” she exclaimed, her blue hair whipping behind her as she ran.

“Too awesome,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder. “They’re coming this way.”

“Good! I could use the exercise,” Jinx shot back, but her grip on your arm tightened. No matter how reckless she seemed, she always made sure you were close. The two of you darted through the maze of crates and equipment, the sound of boots pounding after you. Jinx reached for one of her gadgets, probably to unleash more chaos, but in her haste, she fumbled.

The explosion wasn’t huge considering her standards. However the force of it sent you sprawling. A sharp pain shot through your leg as you hit the ground, biting back a cry. Jinx was by your side in an instant, her eyes wide with a mix of guilt and panic.

“Hey, hey! You good?” she asked, her voice unusually soft as she crouched beside you. Her hands hovered, unsure where to touch without causing more harm.

“I’m fine,” you lied, trying to push yourself up. The sharp sting in your leg betrayed you, and you winced.

“Liar,” Jinx muttered. She glanced at the approaching guards, then back at you. Without hesitation, she hauled you up, slinging your arm over her shoulder. “C’mon, Twinny. We’re getting outta here.”

She moved fast, supporting your weight with surprising strength. Despite the pain, you couldn’t help but smile at her determination. By the time you made it back to Silco’s office, your leg was throbbing, and Jinx was muttering apologies under her breath. Silco was waiting, his sharp gaze immediately locking onto you.

“What happened?” he demanded, his voice cold but edged with concern. His eyes flicked to your leg, then to Jinx, who was already fidgeting under his scrutiny.

“It was an accident!” Jinx blurted out before you could speak. “I mean, kinda. I didn’t mean to—”

“Enough,” Silco interrupted, his voice stern. He stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “You were supposed to be careful. This—” He gestured to your leg, then to Jinx. “—is the opposite of that.”

Jinx looked like she’d been struck. Her usual tone faltered, and for a moment, she was just a kid being scolded by her father. “I didn’t mean to hurt her,” she mumbled, her gaze dropping to the floor.

Silco’s anger softened, though his voice remained firm. “Intentions don’t erase consequences, Jinx. You know better.”

You, ever the mediator, stepped in. “It’s not all her fault,” you said, your tone calm despite the pain. “I should’ve stopped her sooner.”

Silco’s eyes softened as they landed on you. “You shouldn’t have to,” he replied simply. Then, turning back to Jinx, he added, “You need to be more careful, especially with her.”

Jinx nodded, her shoulders slumping. “Got it boss,” she muttered. The tension eased as Silco called in a medic to tend to your leg. Jinx hovered nearby, her usual energy replaced with uncharacteristic quiet. When the medic left and Silco returned to his desk, you and Jinx were alone.

Jinx shifted awkwardly, her fingers twitching as she sat beside you. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

You glanced at her, surprised by the sincerity in her tone. “I know,” you replied.

She hesitated, then grinned—small and tentative but real. “You’re lucky that you are my sister, Mousie. Otherwise, I’d let you hobble around on your own.”

You laughed softly, nudging her with your elbow. “Lucky me.”

Jinx’s grin widened, and for a moment, everything felt normal again. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Next time, we’ll make it even bigger. But, you know, safer. Maybe.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. With Jinx, chaos was inevitable, but so was her loyalty. No matter how wild things got, you knew she’d always have your back, just as you had hers.

taglist. @kaixvdenny @winxthinxs @ekkosh @inguuuuu @pearldaisy @jannesyjane @thesecondhandwoman @halle5s @comfortweeb @bubblespopblue @mellowzhi @mbekgsv

[ryewwww]

halo! new follower here! i like your yandere!ex!bully!Eren x Reader ♡_♡ can I ask for a continuation of it? where y/n is on her pregnant phase and up until the child was finally born. like how would Eren treat her? bcs ik for sure y/n would drop out on her college T_T

⚠️: NON CON, Forced Pregnancy, yandere!eren...

DARK CONTENT! DO NOT READ IF TRIGGERED EASILY!!

-> sorry for the wait, life's been hectic

-> yall got me fucked up. The eren smut tag be so dry nowadays

-> part 1

The last few days, you've been feeling uneasy

Eren's been avoiding you ever since that night he stormed into your house and fucked you unconscious

You desperately want to talk to someone about your feelings but can't due to:

1. lack of friends... scratch that, you don't have any friends

2. Your mother doesn't give a flying fuck about you

3. Eren... The person who is causing you to feel this way

You can't put your finger on it, but it's a gut feeling that something bad is going to happen

Nonetheless, you can't just wallow in your bed all day so you get up to get ready for your 12pm lecture

Everything seemed normal until you started to feel nauseous upon your arrival at school

You thought maybe it was because you hadn’t ate anything in the morning, so it’s just empty stomach nausea

But no.

The nausea was then followed with a pang of dizziness and before you knew it, you collapsed onto the floor.

Waking up in a hospital bed and being met with emerald eyes was not ideal

It was unfair how pretty he was. How could someone look like a prince from a fairy tale be so ruthless and cold?

His hand reached to touch your cheek, gently caressing it. You can’t remember the last time he touched you so gently like this.

“I’m gonna go get the nurse to make sure you’re stable.” He spoke is a calm, gentle tone. Despite all the shit he’s put you through, you couldn’t help but feel safe, wanted and loved when he spoke to you in that moment.

He left the room and you took the chance to sit upright and look at your surroundings. There was a fruit platter, a teddy bear and some flowers on the table.

How long have you been out for??

Panic began to settle in, but luckily Eren and his father walked into the room. Right, his father was a doctor.

After some small talk, he did a quick checkup and said that there’s nothing to be concerned about. He got up and paged a nurse before leaving you and Eren alone again.

“Am I able to go home now? Your dad said I’m fine.”

“Not quite yet. There’s something that we need to tell you.”

The door opens and a machine is pushed into the room. The nurse wheeled in a sonogram?

“What do you need that for?”

“To check on how your little bean is doing sweetheart.”

It looked like a vampire sucked all the blood out of you. You went pale. Is this what your gut was warning you about?

Instantly, you begin freaking out. Thrashing around, trying to get up and away from this hospital, away from this city, away from this life and more importantly, away from him.

Eren holds you down on the bed and tried his best to keep you calm. He knew your reaction wouldn’t be pleasant, but you couldn’t possibly despise him this much, right?

“What is she talking about? I- I can’t be pregnant! I’m too young. Please god, this is not happening. Why me?” You begin sobbing, as Eren holds you close to him, sitting on your bed and pulling your body onto his.

“Could you give us a moment please” eren cleared his throat and eyed the nurse as she left and closed the door behind her.

It was like a switch went off in him and he grabbed your jaw tightly, pulling your face close to his.

“Stop fucking crying. You’re embarrassing me. You’re the one who fucking caused me to do this. You kept trying to leave me without a reason. Even though I pleaded with you to stay, to give me another chance to fix my mistakes. But you didn’t. I know the reason why you broke up with me is to whore around. Like your mother who doesn’t even know who your dad is. Now unlike your whore mother, this baby has a father. And I have no plans on abandoning my child because I don’t want them to turn out like you. So sit up straight and let her take the ultrasound. You’re ruining what’s supposed to be a happy moment for first time parents.”

He roughly let go of your jaw and called the nurse back in while you sat upright again and wiped the tears away.

Eren lifted your gown to expose your stomach and pulled up the blanket so you weren’t exposed down there. The cool gel was spread on your stomach and before you knew it, a small bean was presented on the sonogram screen.

Your heart began to soften up after realizing that you were growing a baby in your stomach.

But the tears wouldn’t stop. You ended up turning away from the screen and closing your eyes, trying to figure out what you’re going to do.

After the nurse left to print out the pictures, Eren helped you get dressed so you could finally leave this depressing place.

The car ride was silent. You had the bouquet of flowers resting on your lap while you played with the ultrasound photos with your fingers

You noticed eren was headed back to his place so you cleared your throat and asked him to drop you off at your place.

“I’m not gonna leave you alone. Not when you’re pregnant with my child. We’re gonna be staying at my place so I can take care of you. We also have to search for a house to settle in before the baby’s arrival.”

“Eren, all of that isn’t necessary. I’m still in my first trimester.”

“Even more reason for you to stay with me. The first trimester is always the riskiest. And I’m not taking that risk.”

“I can’t just up and leave everything, Eren. My lease isn’t up until July and I have a job too.”

“I don’t care. I’ll pay whatever I have to, and break the lease.”

Panic began to set in

Tears started forming in your eyes and the palms of your hands became clammy

The idea of being tied to Eren for the rest of your life made your heart pound in your ears and your stomach churn

You’d be signing your freedom away

You wouldn’t be able to go to school, or have a job

You’d be stuck at home as a house wife, like he’s always wanted

You couldn’t let that happen

no no no no no

It was a stupid, impulsive decision

But you were desperate to get out of his car and stay away from his place

So you blurted,

“What if it’s not yours?!”

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back

I know I didn’t answer this request to the full extent, but tbh if I did, you’d have to wait an additional 10 months.

[shdysders]

love wasn’t enough

pairing: vada cavell & female reader

summary: in which you and vada thought you could handle the distance that came with college—until you couldn’t.

word count: 6.8k

The car idled by the curb, its low, steady hum filling the suffocating silence between you. The sun hung low in the sky, its golden light spilling over the street and casting jagged shadows across the pavement.

Neither of you had moved for what felt like hours, and the stillness was heavy enough to crush you both.

This was it—the moment you'd dreaded for months, hanging over you like a storm cloud ever since the day those college acceptance letters arrived.

When you'd first realized you weren't going to the same school, it felt like the world had shifted beneath your feet, throwing everything off balance.

The excitement of getting in—of finally moving toward your futures—was completely overshadowed by the realization that those futures wouldn't start side by side.

Vada had laughed nervously when you told her, brushing it off like it wasn't a big deal. "We'll figure it out," she'd said, but her voice cracked just enough to betray her. She'd always been good at hiding how she felt, but you knew her too well to miss the flicker of fear behind her eyes.

You hadn't talked about it much that night, both of you too overwhelmed to confront what it meant. But later, curled up together on her bed with her arms wrapped tightly around you, the silence had broken.

You'd cried together, your tears soaking into her hoodie as she whispered soft reassurances, even though neither of you believed them. You'd made promises to each other in the dark—promises that you'd keep calling, keep visiting, keep loving each other no matter how hard it got.

They were promises you wanted so badly to keep, but even then, deep down, you'd both known how fragile they were.

The two of you had always talked about the future like it was something tangible, something you could hold in your hands.

Long nights spent lying on the floor of her room, staring up at the ceiling, planning out every detail like it was inevitable.

You'd talked about what you'd do for a living—Vada always said she'd end up working in film somehow, and you had your own dreams, though they always shifted depending on the day.

You'd joked about buying a car together, getting a dog to keep her happy because she swore no house was complete without one.

Marriage, kids, growing old together—it had all seemed so real when you talked about it, so easy.

But the one thing you hadn't talked about was this: the years it would take to get there, and the distance that stood in the way.

It had never really hit you that before you could have that life, you'd have to make it through moments like this.

The thought alone had made your chest ache every time it crossed your mind, so you'd tried not to dwell on it.

A few days before you were supposed to leave, the two of you had started avoiding the subject entirely. Talking about it made it too real, and you weren't ready for real.

You'd tried to fill your time with distractions instead—late-night movies, long drives to nowhere, anything to pretend things were normal. If you didn't talk about it, maybe you wouldn't have to cry about it.

But now, standing by the car, there was no avoiding it. The weight of it pressed down on your shoulders, tightening your throat as you struggled to find something to say.

Vada stood a few feet away, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her hoodie, her posture tense and closed off. She kept glancing at you, then back down at the ground, her sneakers scuffing against the pavement.

Her usual confidence was nowhere to be found, replaced by a hesitation that made your stomach twist. You'd never seen her like this before—unsure of herself, unsure of what to do. And for once, you couldn't blame her.

"Did you triple-check your suitcase?" Vada's voice was quieter than usual, almost like she was afraid to disturb the fragile atmosphere that had settled between you.

"I think I did," you replied, forcing a small smile in an attempt to break the tension. "I mean, if I didn't, I'm sure I'll survive without, like, an extra pair of socks."

The joke fell flat, the lightness you'd hoped for swallowed by the weight of the moment. Vada didn't laugh. She just nodded, her teeth tugging anxiously at her bottom lip.

It was a tell you'd come to recognize over the years, a sign that she was holding something back but couldn't find the courage to say it.

The silence grew, stretching taut like a string ready to snap.

You busied yourself by fidgeting with the strap of your bag, your fingers twisting the worn fabric into knots as you tried to come up with something—anything—that might make this easier.

But the words felt stuck in your throat, thick and clumsy and useless.

"This feels weird," she said suddenly, breaking the silence with a hesitance that made your chest ache. Her voice was quieter now, almost uncertain, like she wasn't sure if she should've said it out loud.

"I know," you admitted softly, your eyes fixed on the pavement instead of her face. The heaviness in your chest pressed down harder, threatening to spill out if you didn't keep your voice steady. "But it's not like we're never going to see each other again."

You forced yourself to look up, trying to meet her gaze even as your stomach twisted with the effort of pretending you weren't falling apart. "We'll FaceTime every day. And text all the time. Nothing's going to change."

The words felt hollow even as you said them, but you needed them to be true. For her, for yourself, for both of you.

Vada's lips twitched into a faint smile at your attempt to reassure her, but it was weak, and it didn't quite reach her eyes. Those dark eyes that always sparkled with mischief, with life, looked dimmer now, weighed down by something neither of you wanted to name. "Yeah," she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing's gonna change."

But it wasn't true, and you both knew it. Things were already changing—had been changing from the moment you'd both accepted that you couldn't stay in the same place forever. Pretending otherwise wouldn't stop the inevitable, and yet, you didn't dare acknowledge it. Not here, not now.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, pushing back the tears that threatened to spill over. This wasn't the time to cry—not yet. You didn't want to ruin the little time you had left together by falling apart. So you bit your lip, forced another shaky smile, and pretended you didn't notice how Vada's shoulders seemed to cave inward, like she was carrying the weight of the entire world on her back.

"Come here," you said, stepping forward before she could argue. Your voice was soft, but the need to hold her was overwhelming, like it might somehow keep everything from changing.

Before Vada could say a word, you wrapped your arms around her, burying your face in the familiar crook of her neck. Her arms came around you instantly, pulling you in with a desperation that mirrored your own.

Her fingers gripped the back of your shirt, holding on like letting go would make you disappear.

"I don't want you to go," she whispered, her voice breaking in a way that shattered you.

"I don't want to go either," you managed, though your throat felt like it was closing with each word. "But we'll be okay, Vada. We will." You didn't know if you were trying to convince her or yourself.

Her hold on you tightened, her breath warm against your shoulder, before she pulled back just enough to look at you. Her eyes were glossy, the tears clinging to her lashes as if she was trying to will them away.

"You promise you'll call me as soon as you get there?" she asked, her voice small but insistent.

"I promise," you said, your hands resting gently on her waist.

"And if I start failing math, you'll tutor me over FaceTime?"

A soft laugh broke through the heaviness of the moment. "You're not going to fail math."

"You don't know that," she argued, a faint smile tugging at her lips, but it didn't quite hide the sadness behind her eyes.

The way she tried to lighten the mood made your heart ache. You reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face, your fingers lingering against her skin. "You're going to do amazing, Vada. I know you are."

She sniffled, leaning into your touch like she needed the reassurance as much as you did. "You'd better come home every chance you get."

"Every single chance," you said firmly, your voice leaving no room for doubt.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, you saw her bite back the tears threatening to spill. But when she caught the slight sheen in your eyes, she reached up and swiped a thumb across your cheek before you could do it yourself. "Don't cry. You're going to make me cry, and I don't need my parents seeing that."

Her weak attempt at humor pulled a soft chuckle from you, but the ache in your chest didn't let up. "You promise to call too?" you asked, your voice quieter now. "You're going away too, remember?"

Her hand dropped from your face, brushing over your arm as she nodded. "I promise."

The weight of everything unsaid hung between you, thick and suffocating, as you leaned your forehead against hers. For a moment, there was nothing else—just the two of you, the soft hitch of her breath, and the way her eyes locked on yours like they were trying to memorize every detail.

"I love you," you whispered, your hands cupping her cheeks. Her skin was warm beneath your palms, and the way she closed her eyes for a second, leaning into your touch, made your heart squeeze.

"I love you too," she replied, her voice shaky but sure.

You closed the small distance between you, pressing your lips to hers. The kiss was soft, lingering, filled with all the emotions you couldn't put into words. Her hands came up to rest on yours, holding them in place as if grounding herself in the moment.

When you finally pulled away, her eyes fluttered open, and you could see the sheen of tears she was still trying to hide. You wanted to say more, to tell her everything you felt, but the words wouldn't come. So you just stayed there, your foreheads still touching, letting the silence speak for itself.

The honk of the car horn shattered the quiet between you, pulling you both back to reality. You glanced over your shoulder to see your parents gesturing impatiently from the car, their faces a mixture of understanding and urgency.

Vada's posture stiffened, her arms falling to her sides as she let out a shaky breath. "I guess this is it," she said softly, her voice barely audible.

Your throat felt tight again as you turned back to her. "I guess it is."

Neither of you moved at first. The finality of it hung between you like a barrier neither of you wanted to cross. But then you stepped forward, reaching for her hands. They were trembling slightly as they found yours, and you held onto them like it was the only thing anchoring you to the moment.

"You're going to do amazing," you said, your voice firm despite the lump in your throat.

"So are you," she replied, her words almost a whisper. Her lips curved into a faint smile, but the tears in her eyes betrayed her.

You let go of one of her hands to brush a thumb across her cheek, wiping away a tear that had slipped free. "Don't forget that, okay? You're going to be amazing, Vada."

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but instead, she just nodded, her grip on your remaining hand tightening.

The car horn sounded again, louder this time, and you knew you couldn't stall any longer. You leaned in quickly, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It was fleeting but filled with everything you wanted to say—every promise, every hope, every piece of your heart you were leaving with her.

When you pulled back, you cupped her face one last time, letting your hands linger before reluctantly stepping away. "I'll call you as soon as I get there," you said, your voice breaking slightly.

"I'll be waiting," she replied, her tears spilling over despite the brave face she was trying to put on.

With a reluctant sigh, you turned and opened the car door, sliding into the backseat. Your parents exchanged sympathetic looks but didn't say anything as the car started to pull away.

Through the window, you saw Vada standing there, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She looked smaller somehow, more fragile, like the weight of the moment was too much for her to carry. Her eyes never left yours as the distance between you grew.

You pressed your hand to the glass in a silent goodbye, and after a brief pause, she raised her hand in return. Her figure grew smaller and smaller until all you could see was the faint outline of her silhouette against the fading light.

Even when she was gone from sight, you kept your hand on the window, your chest heavier than ever. You didn't let it drop, not until the first tear slid down your cheek and you had to turn away to wipe it before anyone could see.

___

The first few weeks apart had been just as hard as you expected, but you'd made it work. You clung to the promises you'd made that day at the curb, determined to keep things as close to normal as possible, even from miles away.

Your days fell into a rhythm before you even realized it. Classes kept you busy, and your new friends had a way of filling the quiet moments that might've felt unbearable otherwise. Vada, from what she mentioned during your nightly calls, was finding her own place too. She'd joined a few clubs—something about a film club and, surprisingly, a hiking group.

The calls became a lifeline. Some nights, they stretched on for hours as you traded every detail of your day until exhaustion took over.

You could tell she was trying to keep things light, often sharing funny stories about her classmates or how she got lost on campus again. It was enough to make you laugh and forget, even for a moment, how much you missed her.

She'd even complained once about her classes, mentioning how her professor's assignments were impossible. "I'd fail without you," she'd said one evening, after you patiently explained the steps to her over the phone.

It had been a silly mistake—she was reading the questions wrong—but she refused to admit it. You could practically hear her rolling her eyes, her exasperation softening into a grateful laugh by the end of it.

The weeks passed in a blur of busy days and late-night conversations. Every chance you got, you talked about the future you'd once dreamed up together.

It was still there in your minds—the house, the dog, the tiny details that made it all feel real. Neither of you dared to admit how much harder it seemed now, with your paths so far apart.

On the weekends, you'd try to watch a movie together over a shared screen. The plans rarely worked as smoothly as you'd hoped—buffering internet, lagging voices, or one of you falling asleep halfway through—but you didn't care. You'd laugh about it every time, finding comfort in the fact that you were still trying.

You were doing everything right, just as you'd planned. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough.

The weeks slipped by faster than you'd expected, and somehow, the distance didn't feel as unbearable as you'd feared. It wasn't ideal, but it was manageable.

You'd fallen into routines that made it easier—daily calls, texts whenever you had a spare moment, and a constant reassurance that this was only temporary.

You told yourself this was how it had to be, that the sacrifices were worth it.

Vada seemed happy. She talked about her classes with more confidence now, even cracking jokes about how her professor probably hated her because she was always five minutes late.

She teased you about how many new friends you'd made, calling you "Miss Popular" every time you mentioned another study session or late-night hangout.

And yet, there was always a moment in those calls when the laughter would fade, and the silence would creep in. It wasn't awkward, just heavy, like the unspoken truth neither of you dared to acknowledge. You ignored it, convincing yourself it didn't matter.

You felt like everything was as perfect as it could be—like you were both doing your best, holding onto each other as tightly as the distance would allow.

That night felt no different.

You'd sent Vada a quick text earlier in the day, asking if she'd have time for your daily call, and she'd replied with a short;

yh, same time as usual

So, when the clock struck nine, you dialed her number like you always did.

The call started like all the others had. Vada answered on the third ring.

"Hi, baby," you greeted softly, your voice carrying that familiar warmth, the kind you hoped would make her smile.

There was a moment of shuffling on the other end, the faint sound of fabric brushing against fabric, before she answered. "Hi," she said, quieter than usual. "How are you?"

"I'm good," you replied easily, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Tired, though. I miss you."

"I miss you too," she said, and you heard it in the way her voice softened, how she lingered on the words just a little longer.

"I was thinking about you earlier," you continued, leaning back in your chair as you held the phone closer to your ear. "You know that girl I told you about? The one in my ethics class who's always asking the weirdest questions?" You paused, letting out a small laugh.

"She completely hijacked today's lecture by asking if it's ethical to steal a gluten-free loaf of bread. Like, not just any loaf—specifically gluten-free."

There was a beat of silence before Vada gave a faint, almost reluctant laugh. "That's... creative."

"Right? The professor didn't know what to do with her. The whole class turned into a debate about dietary restrictions and morality," you said, chuckling. "It was so ridiculous I actually thought about texting you in the middle of it."

Her response was quiet, almost absent, just a soft "Hm."

It made you pause, your smile fading slightly. Something felt... off.

"How are you, though?" you asked, your tone shifting to something more careful. "You doing okay?"

For a moment, the line was filled with nothing but the faint sound of her breathing. Then you heard her take a shaky breath, the kind you'd heard before when she was trying to hold something back.

Your heart started to race. "Vada?"

"I, um..." she started, and her voice broke on the words. She stopped just as quickly, exhaling sharply like she was frustrated with herself.

You didn't say anything, giving her space to gather her thoughts, but your mind was already spinning.

Was she okay? Had something happened at school? Was someone being mean to her?

A dozen worst-case scenarios flashed through your head, each one making your chest tighten a little more.

"I just wanted to..." she tried again, her voice trembling slightly.

Still, you said nothing, waiting. You didn't want to rush her, didn't want to make it harder, but it was getting harder to breathe as each second passed.

"I was thinking..." she tried once more, trailing off again.

Your grip on the phone tightened, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach. The way she kept stopping and starting—it wasn't like her. And the shaky, uneven way she spoke made it clear that whatever she was about to say wasn't something you were going to want to hear.

But you stayed silent, holding on to the small hope that maybe it wasn't as bad as it seemed.

And then it started.

"I just..." Vada hesitated, her voice already breaking. "I don't know how to say this. I've been thinking about it for a while, and..."

Her words trailed off, and you could hear her take a shaky breath. Your grip on the phone tightened as the silence stretched, your chest knotting with unease.

"I've been trying so hard to picture the future we talked about," she began again, her voice trembling. "You know, the house, the dog, the wedding, all of it. But... I just can't see it anymore."

Her words were rushed and unsteady, tumbling out in a way that made it clear she hadn't planned this. "It's like, we've talked about it so much, right? All these plans we made, and I—I don't even know if that's what I want anymore. What if it's not? What if we've just been telling ourselves that's what we want, but it's not actually what's going to happen?"

Your stomach churned as you listened, her words leaving you more confused than anything. "It's not that I don't love you," she added quickly, almost desperately. "I do. I love you so much, but... I don't know if love is enough. Not with how different things feel right now."

Different? You wanted to ask what she meant, but you couldn't bring yourself to interrupt.

"I mean, look at us," she rambled on, sniffling between her words. "You're doing so well there, making all these friends, figuring things out, and I'm... I don't even know what I'm doing. It's like we're moving in completely different directions, and I keep telling myself it's fine, that we'll meet in the middle, but what if we don't? What if we can't?"

Her voice cracked, and she let out a shaky breath. "I feel like I'm letting you down. Like I'm holding you back from... from something, I don't even know what. And you deserve better than that."

The lump in your throat grew heavier with each word, but you stayed silent, your mind racing. None of this made sense. You weren't moving in different directions. You were both just... adjusting. Weren't you?

"And I know this sounds stupid," she said, her voice quieter now. "But I don't even know if I'm the same person I was when we made all those plans. I don't know if I want the same things anymore, and it's not fair to keep pretending like I do. Like we're both still on the same page.”

Her words were spiraling now, losing focus. "It's just—this is so hard, and I hate how hard it is. I hate feeling like this all the time. Like I'm failing you, or us, or whatever this is supposed to be."

You felt your heart drop as she sniffled again, her breath hitching on the other end.

"I've been thinking..." she said finally, her voice barely audible. "Maybe we'd be better off as friends."

And there it was.

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You sat frozen, her voice echoing in your mind, even though she'd stopped talking. Better off as friends.

Friends.

She wanted to be friends.

Your chest felt hollow, like the air had been sucked out of you. You clutched the phone tighter, your knuckles white, but your voice still wouldn't come. On the other end, Vada let out another soft, broken sob, and it shattered whatever was left of you.

The moment the words left her mouth, you felt like the floor had fallen out from under you. You sat frozen for a beat, her quiet sniffles filling the silence on the other end of the line. The weight of her words pressed down on your chest, making it hard to breathe.

But then the panic set in, bubbling up and spilling out of you in a frantic rush.

"Vada, no," you started, your voice trembling but insistent. "That's not true. None of what you're saying is true. We can fix this. We can figure it out together, okay? We always do."

She let out a soft, shaky "I—" but you didn't let her finish.

"You're just overwhelmed. That's all it is. Long-distance is hard, but it's not impossible. It's not something we can't handle. You're just—maybe you're overthinking, you know? Maybe you're just tired or stressed or something, but you don't mean this. I know you don't."

Your voice cracked, and you realized tears were already forming in your eyes. You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself as the words kept spilling out.

"If it's about the distance, we can fix that. I'll come home every single break, every weekend—hell, every free day I get. I'll figure it out. I'll make it work. I'll come to you, okay? It doesn't have to be this hard. It doesn't have to feel like this."

"Wait, just let me—" Vada tried again, but you steamrolled over her, desperate to keep her from saying the one thing you couldn't bear to hear.

"And if that's not enough, I'll transfer," you said, your voice breaking now as tears started to fall. "I'll drop out here and come to your school. I don't care if my parents get mad or if they never forgive me. I'll do it for you—for us. You'd do that for us too, right? You'd do it if it meant we could stay together?"

Her sharp inhale cut through your words, and for a moment, you thought she might agree. But then you heard her sniffle, followed by a soft, broken, "It's not—”

"No, don't say it," you cut her off again, your tone more frantic now. "Don't say it's over. Don't say you can't see a future for us, because I can. I see it every day. I wake up thinking about it. I go to bed dreaming about it. I know it's there, Vada. We just have to hold on a little longer, that's all. We just have to try a little harder."

You were full-on crying now, tears streaming down your face as you pleaded with her. Your voice wavered with every word, but you couldn't stop. You wouldn't stop.

"Tell me what to do. Just tell me what you need, and I'll do it. If you're feeling like this because of something I did, I'll fix it. I swear I'll fix it. Just... don't give up on us, Vada. Please."

Her quiet sobs on the other end of the line twisted something deep in your chest. You could hear her trying to speak, her voice breaking every time she tried to get a word in.

"Y/N, I—"

"No, stop," you begged, your voice cracking as you ran your hand through your hair in frustration. "Don't say it. Don't say this is what you want, because it's not. I know you, Vada. You don't want this. You love me, and I love you, and that has to mean something. That has to be enough."

You took a shaky breath, your chest heaving as you tried to pull yourself together. "Please, Vada. Just... please. Don't do this. We can figure it out. Together. We can fix it. I'll do whatever it takes."

You waited, your heart pounding in your ears as the silence stretched between you. For the first time since she started talking, you let the quiet settle, hoping—praying—that she'd take it all back. That she'd tell you she was wrong, that you were right, and that you could make it work.

But instead, all you heard was her broken sobs on the other end of the line.

Vada's breathing on the other end was uneven, shaky, like she was trying to pull herself together. "I just..." she started, her voice so quiet it was almost lost in the static of the line. "I don't know if we can, Y/N."

Her words left a hollow ache in your chest, like the ground had been pulled out from beneath you. Your mind scrambled for something—anything—that could refute what she was saying. Before you could respond, though, there was a faint, muffled voice on her end.

It was brief, barely audible, but it was enough to send your thoughts spiraling. There was someone with her. You didn't know who, and you didn't care. All you could think was that of course this would happen.

Of course, she'd meet someone else. She was beautiful, charismatic, and too good for her own good. How could you ever have thought you could keep her?

Your stomach churned as the realization settled in, bitter and sharp. The question slipped out before you could stop it, a panicked whisper. "Did you meet someone else?"

"What?" Vada's voice shot up in surprise, defensive and almost offended. "No! Why would you even think that?"

"I don't know!" you blurted, your words tumbling out in a rush. "I don't know, okay? I just—I thought maybe... I mean, it would make sense, wouldn't it? You're there, and you're meeting new people all the time. And if you did meet someone else, I wouldn't..." You swallowed hard, your voice trembling. "I wouldn't even care. Not really. I'd be fine with it. If that's what this is about, if you met someone, then it's fine. Because that would mean you'd still want me, right? Even if it's not the same. Even if it's just... until you came back."

Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for how desperate you sounded. You hated that you were putting this out there, offering pieces of yourself you weren't sure you could get back.

"Y/N, stop," Vada interrupted, her tone sharp but laced with something softer, like guilt or regret. "It's not like that. There's no one else. I swear, I wouldn't do that to you. I wouldn't do that to us."

Her voice wavered, and you could hear her swallow thickly on the other end. "This isn't about someone else. It's about us. It's about me. Please don't—don't do this. Don't make this harder than it already is."

But how could you not? How could you not fight for this, for her, for the life you'd both imagined together? You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. Just the weight of her confession, heavy and suffocating, hanging in the silence between you.

This was what she wanted. Maybe not what she'd planned, maybe not what either of you had, but it was what she needed. Forcing her to stay, clinging to dreams you thought you both shared but she clearly didn't, would only be selfish.

The realization hit you like a slow, creeping wave, rising higher with every second until it consumed you.

And maybe there was someone else. Maybe she hadn't been lying earlier, but the thought lingered anyway. If there was someone else, it wasn't like she'd tell you.

Who would admit, "I met someone else and that's why I'm breaking up with you," to their sobbing girlfriend over the phone? It wouldn't make sense to expect her to say it outright, not when you were already shattered.

Your throat tightened as the pieces came together, the edges jagged and sharp. You got quiet, the silence stretching between you like a canyon, vast and unbridgeable.

Your palm pressed against your phone, slick with sweat, trembling as your grip faltered. Every instinct screamed at you to argue, to fight for her, but a deeper, quieter voice told you this was the end.

You forced a shaky, fragile smile onto your face, as if she could see it. As if she were sitting across from you, not hundreds of miles away. It was for her. Everything you did was always for her. You couldn't let yourself make this harder than it already was.

"Whatever makes you happy, Vada," you whispered. Your voice wavered, so unsteady it betrayed the effort you were putting into sounding soft, even light. You wanted her to hear you smile through the phone, the way she always teased you about. "I can hear you smiling," she'd say, laughing when you tried to deny it.

But this time, you weren't sure it worked. Your smile was too small, too forced, too broken. You thought you heard her gulp on the other end of the line, a soft sound like she was holding back tears of her own.

"Please don't..." Vada started, her voice cracking. She trailed off, and the silence stretched again before she finally spoke, quieter this time. "I don't want you to hate me."

Your chest tightened painfully as she repeated herself, softer, more desperate. "Please don't hate me."

You couldn't respond. The tears were falling freely now, hot and stinging, blurring your vision. You pressed your lips together tightly, trying to hold back the sob building in your throat.

How could she say that? How could she think you wouldn't hate her? She'd just taken the future you'd built together and shattered it like it was nothing. Of course, you hated her.

But then... how could you? How could you hate her when this was what she needed, what she wanted? If she didn't want you anymore, what choice did you have but to let her go? The hate wasn't real. It was a fleeting thought, something to make the pain feel less unbearable. But you didn't hate her. You couldn't.

The silence stretched again, thick and suffocating, and you could imagine Vada sitting wherever she was, clutching her phone, picturing your face the same way you were picturing hers. She sniffled, the sound shaking slightly through the line. "Please," she said softly, her voice raw and pleading. "Please say something."

You opened your mouth, but no words came. Just the tears, the ache, and the overwhelming weight of her absence that hadn't even fully settled in yet. But you had to say something. You had to give her something. For her. Always for her.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to try again. The first attempt had crumbled under the weight of your emotions, but you had to do better. For her. Always for her.

You pressed your palm against your knee, grounding yourself as you curved your lips into a sharper smile. This time, you were determined she'd hear it. "It's fine, Vada," you said softly, pushing every ounce of fake cheerfulness you could muster into your tone.

It almost sounded convincing. Almost. The words came out soft and measured, like you'd rehearsed them. For a fleeting second, you thought it had worked. Maybe you could trick her into believing you were okay. Maybe that would make it easier for both of you.

But then Vada sniffled again, the sound ragged and broken through the line. It made your heart ache all over again, even as you resented how much it still cared.

"I was hoping..." Vada hesitated, the words trembling. "I was hoping we could still be friends."

Your chest tightened, the ache deepening, but she didn't stop there. "Can we still be friends?" she repeated, her voice smaller, like she knew she was asking too much.

The question hit you like a slap, blunt and rude in its audacity. Friends? How could she ask that? How could she even think it was possible? Just minutes ago, you'd been begging her to stay, willing to rearrange your entire life for her. And now, she wanted to slot herself into a new, smaller role in your world, as if that would be enough.

Your throat burned as you tried to think of something to say. Anything. But all you could feel was the overwhelming sting of her question, of how casually she was trying to rewrite the rules of what you were to each other.

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. Vada's question echoed in your head, mocking you, tearing through the fragile hope you'd clung to for so long. Friends. Friends. The word felt like it was twisting a knife in your chest, each syllable a reminder of how far you'd fallen from what you used to be.

How could she ask for that? How could she pretend like this wasn't destroying you?

Your hands trembled as you wiped at your face, trying to keep the tears from falling faster. It didn't work. Nothing did. Your entire body felt like it was collapsing inward, suffocated by the weight of everything you had just lost.

"Sure, Vada..." you finally muttered, your voice hoarse and hollow. You didn't even sound like yourself anymore.

You swallowed hard, pushing the words past the tightness in your throat. "Friends." The word was venom on your tongue, and it slipped out like a curse. Spat, almost, as if saying it was enough to kill you.

Vada's breath hitched on the other end of the line. "I really—"

"No." You didn't let her finish. You couldn't. Not after everything she'd just done, after the way she'd torn apart everything you'd ever dreamed of together. "I'll see you some other time, Vada."

The words came out cold, detached, as if you were already shutting the door on her. As if that would make this any easier.

You didn't wait for her response. You couldn't bear to. Your heart pounded in your chest, your thumb hovering over the end call button. This was it. No "I love you," like there was after every call. No "I'll talk to you tomorrow," because you knew there wouldn't be a tomorrow—not the kind you'd always counted on.

Just as your thumb moved to end the call, you heard Vada's voice again, small and desperate, breaking through your resolve.

"We can still call every—"

You ended the call.

Because you wanted to. Because you had to. Because hearing her voice again, hearing her try to piece together a friendship out of the ruins of what you once had, was too much.

The silence after the call was deafening. It settled in your chest, heavy and hollow, pressing against your ribs like it was trying to break you from the inside out. You stared at your phone, the screen still bright, Vada's name burned into your eyes like a cruel reminder. It was over. Just like that.

Your hands trembled as you placed the phone on your desk, your vision blurred by tears that wouldn't stop. Everything felt too loud and too quiet all at once. The distant hum of voices outside your dorm window, the faint buzz of the lamp beside you—it all blended into a cacophony that drowned out the ache in your chest.

How could she do this? How could she decide so easily that it wasn't worth fighting for? The future you'd both whispered about late at night, the dreams you'd built together—it was all gone. And for what?

You tried to breathe, to steady yourself, but every inhale felt like a knife twisting deeper. You'd spent so long believing in her, in the two of you. You'd built your world around her, every decision, every hope tied to the thought of her being there. And now, she wasn't.

The thought made you feel sick.

You pulled your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around yourself like it would somehow keep the pieces of you together. But it didn't. You were crumbling, your chest aching with the weight of everything unsaid, everything you couldn't fix.

She was gone.

You wanted to hate her. You wanted to scream, to curse her name, to tear apart the memories that still clung to you like ghosts. But you couldn't. You couldn't hate her, not really. Because you loved her. Even now, even after this, you loved her with every broken piece of your heart.

And that was the cruelest part.

Because love wasn't enough to keep her. It wasn't enough to hold onto the future you thought you'd have. It wasn't enough to stop her from leaving.

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks as the ache in your chest settled into something deeper, something emptier. All you had now were the memories, the fragments of what you once were.

Or at least what was left.

[peterparkersnose]

Alone with you.

pairing: Michael Gavey x f Felix's friend group!reader

word count: 5k

warnings: smut, fluff before smut, p in v, virginity loss, unsafe sex, mentions of pornography, lots of awkwardness, lowkey slut shaming, hookup themes, michael's hefty ego, 18+

a/n im actually posting? whaaaaat? today was a snow day, enjoy the snowy smut I wrote for my fav today ;)

summary Y/N watched Michael get rejected by Oliver in the bar and couldn't handle that sad look on his face.

masterlist

tik tok- @almondtarg4ryen

c.ai- @mj1218

read time: 18 mins 31 seconds

The mere look on this stranger’s face was enough to make Y/N’s gut roll. The sheer and utter disappointment of losing the company of… Oliver Quick? THE Oliver that had hung out with her group a few times, the Oliver that nobody wanted to sit with. She glared at Oliver as he sat down, his eyes were immediately fixated on none other than Felix. Y/N rolled her eyes as she looked at Oliver, but then her eyes flicked back up to the tall stranger. His face had faltered and his tiny wave was close to heartbreaking. Absolutely not.

Y/N stood, and Farleigh grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?” he asked, as he noticed your gaze on this mysterious stranger just moments ago. 

“Away.” She shrugged off Farleigh’s touch, Farleigh gave her a look of confusion as he noticed her sudden demeanor of change. Y/N grabbed her coat and purse, storming out of the bar. 

“The fuck is her problem?” Felix asked, noticing you leaving. Farleigh shrugged. “Fuckin’ tweaking over Gavey.”

Y/N ran out into the snow, it had definitely picked up since she and her friends had entered the bar nearly fifteen minutes ago. She saw the man walking, his shoulders slumped as his long lanky legs strode through the snow. “Hey!”

He didn’t turn around, as Michael would never expect a ‘hey’ to be for him. It wasn’t until she caught up to his side, that she caught his attention.

“Oy! Are you deaf?”

Michael stopped. He squinted in his fogged-up glasses, wiping them off just to make sure he had the sight in front of him correct. Y/N L/N? He quickly tried to compose himself, trying to make it obvious that he wasn’t just crying. As he wiped his glasses, he made a subtle wiping of tears that wasn’t as subtle as he would like it to be. He watched her face fall.

“Oh… no,” Y/N spoke softly, which was different from her tone just seconds ago when she tried to flag him down. “You don’t know me, but I’m Y/N.”

Of course Michael knew her. He psychoanalyzed almost everyone and everything in his surroundings, and she sat in the front of one of his boring gen-ed reading classes. He judged her on the first day he met her, as she sat next to Farleigh and they constantly snickered with each other during class. He had a distaste for the American, as Michael was convinced that his ego could have possibly been the only one bigger than his. Her sympathetic and sweet voice caught him off guard, Michael's face stiffened at first, but he soon realized that it was in his best interest to play dumb and not sound like a creep. 

“Oh, right. Y/N from Felix’s group. What do you want?” Michael said with a distaste for her presence. “For you to look at me.” Y/N replied as Michael’s eyes couldn’t meet hers on the snowy street. “And why should I do that?” he snapped at her a bit, she knew exactly how to deal with closed-off people like him. Something about this man intrigued her, she didn’t even know his name. 

“Because,” she smiled a bit, trying to guide herself into his line of sight. “Fuck ��em.”

Michael was confused. What did she mean Fuck ‘em? Those were her friends, was this some sort of setup? A dare to go after the loser? “Excuse me?” he asked, his defenses keeping a stable tone. 

“Fuck. Them.” she said confidently. Her attitude intrigued her. “Aren't those your friends?”

Y/N shrugged. “Sort of. Definitely not Oliver though,” she cringed at the thought of the weird little man. “Please tell me you are not crying over Oliver fucking Quick, random man whose name I do not know. ” she rolled her eyes, her voice was sympathetic but yet sarcastic.

“No, I wasn’t. And my name’s Michael.”

“Yes you were, Michael.” she replied quickly. 

Michael sighed. He liked the way his name rolled off her tongue, it was definitely something he would be revisiting and replaying in his head during his nightly session alone this evening. He still didn’t like her. He didn’t have to like her to think she was hot, she was definitely wanking material. Even if she did seem like a stuck-up brat to him. 

“You know, if you’re just here to make me feel worse, could you just bug off and go back and tell your stupid little friends that you successfully made me feel worse and–”

She looked genuinely offended, it’s what made Michael’s sentence suddenly falter. “Is that really all you think I am? Some… some bimbo who just sticks around for a chance to make someone’s night more obviously worse than it already is?”

Michael was speechless. Did she truly have good intentions? He didn’t know what to say back, he was genuinely taken back by what she had said. “I don’t get it… why are you being nice to me?” Michael breathed out, his breath imitating smoke because it was so cold. “Because I hated that look on your face.” she replied bluntly. Michael then realized she wasn’t one to beat around the bush. Michael began to feel bad about his former thoughts about her, guilty for just seeing her as some idiot who would purposely hurt someone. But wasn’t she? To him, she seemed like a bitch. 

Michael stared at her with a puzzled expression, he couldn't imagine why anyone would feel sorry for him. Her sympathy is starting to make him uncomfortable. “Thanks?” he said with a questioning tone. “Oliver’s quite a weird bloke,” she said plainly. This made Michael chuckle. It was one of the things he originally liked about Oliver, is that he didn’t mind his weirdness and strange habits and quirks. If she didn’t like Oliver’s strange demeanor, his was much worse. Why was she sticking around? 

“He’s got some sort of weird man crush on Felix. Nobody can figure out if he wants to be him, fuck him, or both.” Y/N spoke like she knew exactly what she was talking about. Her confidence was uncanny. Michael was taken aback by her confidence and her statement. Was his friend, or former friend now, truly in love with Felix Catton? Wasn’t everybody? He certainly wasn’t, and from the tone of this girl, she didn’t appreciate at least his friend group very much. “Weird man crush? What do you mean? Are you trying to say that Oliver is... gay?” 

“He could be,” she shrugged, the snow began to let up. “No hate if he is. I just kind of assumed, I guess that’s not very correct but…” Y/N shrugged once again, trying not to sound too judgy or prejudiced. She truly wasn’t and didn’t want him getting the wrong impression of her. Michael makes a face expressing disbelief and surprise. “You're kidding me. Oliver...gay? Oliver can't even talk to other girls. Are you sure you're talking about the same Oliver?”

“That’s probably why he can’t talk to girls.” she pointed out. Michael was a genius, he should have put two and two together with his friend. Perhaps his intelligence didn’t correlate with his social skills. Y/N noticed this, knowing he was quite an awkward dude. With the liquid courage in her, she asked him one more question.

“May I?”

The snow fell around them as he furrowed his brows in confusion. “Uh… sure?” He didn’t expect her to grab his hand, suddenly running through the square and through campus. They both didn’t notice Felix’s whole group watching them through the window with the most confused faces ever and frankly, neither one of them cared to look back at that stupid pub. 

“Hey! Wait!” he yelled out, her little legs moved surprisingly fast for her height. She ran back towards campus, and within at least a minute or two Michael was huffing for air. “S-slow down!”

She stopped running but kept her hand in his. They were in the middle of the courtyard that was empty, the only disturbance in the fresh snow was their footprints. 

“Do you want to do something fun?” she asked, smiling as she looked up at him. Her smile, the dim lighting, how sweetly she spoke… Michael could nearly melt on the spot. He couldn’t help being amazed by your boldness. Felix's group is full of girls with the same vain and superficial personality, the opposite of you, but you seem pretty unique. “Fun? But what would we do? It's too late for the cinema, and it's probably going to keep snowing all night.” Michael wondered. “You just said it.” She replied, making Michael even more confused. He just said it?

“Do you mean play in the snow?” he asked her, looking down at her as the small periodic flakes moved about. 

Y/N needed a way to crack his awkward tone, get him comfortable with her, and save his night. It was hoped that she would make a new friend, but she wasn’t quite sure yet. She nodded, answering his question. He must think I’m nuts, she thought to herself. A sudden wave of embarrassment came over her, she was about to just apologize for the stupid suggestion when he spoke.

“O-okay.”

Her face lit up, she truly hadn’t played in the snow since she was a child. Even though she had just met him, she felt safe with him. He was creepy by all means, but something about him intrigued her, possibly attracted him to her. She took his hand and pulled him to the ground with him, she giggled as he looked unimpressed. “Really?” he said annoyed, but her smile was enough to excuse her childish behavior. She laid down and began to make a snow angel. Michael looked at her like she was some foreign specimen in a museum. What on earth is she doing? What if someone saw them?

“Come on Mikey!” she cheered, having the time of her life flailing her limbs in the snow. How she said Mikey nearly drove him crazy, her voice was one he could never forget even if they never saw each other again after today. Reluctantly, he laid down next to her in the snow and made a snow angel. Michael felt stupid for falling in the snow like a little kid, but the idea of making a snow angel with another person in the middle of the night was exciting to him. Your smile fills him with joy. He wasn’t as enthusiastic as her, but he gave in to her strange demand. Michael would never admit it, but he was secretly having the time of his life. 

Y/N stood after she finished her snow angel, Michael didn’t notice it at first until she pulled out her little camera and took a flash picture of her snow angel and him on the ground next to it. Michael stood up–why did she take a picture? “Delete that.”

“Make me,” she smirked, taking another sudden flash picture of his face as he sat up. “Do you usually take pictures of strangers or am I just lucky?” he asked, pursing his lips in annoyance and adding that sarcastic bit at the end. She didn’t notice his annoyance at all or just chose to ignore it. “You’re just lucky. And you’re not a stranger anymore.” Y/N snickered and began to walk off. Michael, of course, followed her. Her comment about no longer being a stranger to her made him smirk softly. The gall of this girl. Michael rolled his eyes and tried to snatch the camera away from her, but she was too quick to put it in her pocket. “Do you plan on taking a million pictures of me now? Because I'm starting to feel a little self-conscious.”

“Why? You’re a pretty man,” she spoke like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and he was an idiot for questioning it. That compliment took Michael completely off guard. He froze in his tracks and stared at you, his face immediately turning red and his mouth opened slightly. 

“What?” Y/N chuckled, expecting his reaction. Watching him squirm was just so much fun for her. “Wait... What did you say?” Michael questioned, his tone shaky due to his nerves and the cold. He thought now that he must have misheard her. 

“I said you’re a pretty man.” she replied, like he was stupid for not understanding her attraction to him. In reality, her confidence was just to hide the feelings of feeling a bit rejected. 

Michael stared at her in disbelief, he couldn’t believe the words she just said. Her sudden compliment makes him feel even more self-conscious, his cheeks red and his heart beating much faster. He can barely believe his ears. “You cannot be serious. I am not pretty. It's obvious that I'm not, I don't know why you're trying to make fun of me.”

“Make fun of you?” she asked seriously. “Never.”

Michael noticed her shiver, he still couldn’t get over that someone from Felix Catton’s friend group had called him pretty. This whole evening was a fever dream to him. “Never?” he asked.

“Never,” she confirmed. The two began to walk together around the cold campus in silence for a bit, until Michael spoke up. He was getting cold as well as she was. “So, what's next on our list of silly things to do?” he asked, feeling a bit of an ego boost from her words. “I’m getting cold. We could either stay here and build a snowman… or go back to my dorm?”

His eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“Y-your dorm? Is it close?” he asked. She nodded. “Mhm.” The way she hummed her lips as she spoke made Michael’s stomach flutter. Michael can't help but stare at her when she suddenly says that, the heat rises to his cheeks again, it feels so weird that he is on a snowy night alone with the girl from Felix's group and she asks you to go to her room. “Are... Are you serious? You really want to... To go to your room?” he asked, waiting for her to tell him that she was joking. But she never did. “I am fucking freezing my tits off. Please?” she whined. The mere mention of her tits made him gulp and somehow sweat in this cold weather. He was taken aback by her unexpected choice of words and replied politely. “Okay, yeah. I guess it is a little cold.” he chuckled, stating the obvious as it was well into the negatives. Y/N took Michael’s hand once again, like it was almost second nature, and showed him across campus this time. Michael was thankful she didn’t run this time, he still felt out of breath from that sudden jog earlier. Michael smiles at how impulsive she is, as he lets her take his hand and pull him across campus, the cold biting their faces and their breath rising as they walk through the streets. Although it seems a little weird to Michael to go with her to her room, he can't help but feel happy to have found Y/N on a night as terrible as this one has been up until now.

They reached her dorm. She unlocked it and opened the door, escaping the coldness. She went and flicked on a lamp as Michael entered the single-roomed dorm. Michael stares at her dorm once she switches on the lamp. The place looks cozy and elegant and Michael can't help but wonder what a pretty girl like you lives alone, away from her friends. Michael starts to ask a question, to be a little flirty with you, thinking you may be embarrassed. “So... Do you always bring guys home on such snowy nights? I think that you're supposed to wait for at least three days... You're not really making it easy for me here.” She took his coat. “Huh?” Michael can't help but be amused at the idea that you took his coat from his hands without asking, but he lets you take it and replies in a playful tone. “I was referring to our romantic moment here, you know, there's supposed to be a three-day rule before bringing a guy home. Otherwise, I'll think you're desperate.”

Y/N made a bit of a face at his egotistical words, Michael was borderline calling her a whore. She decided to mess with him a bit. “Who said this was a romantic moment?” Michael felt his heart skip a beat. He softly bit his bottom lip in embarrassment, leaning against the chair of her desk. “I–I… uhm…”

Y/N laughed, approaching him and draping his arms around his shoulders. “I’m fucking with you,” she said teasingly, looking up into his gaze. Michael felt himself immediately relax as he swallowed, letting out a deep breath followed by an awkward chuckle. Michael felt a sudden wave of heat spread to his body when she wrapped her arms around his neck. When she was so close like this, he could feel her body heat radiating off of her and felt the cold receding little by little. “You’re calling me desperate…?” she playfully accused him, cocking her head a bit. “Would you say you're desperate then?” he replied, trying to shake off his shock at her previous answer that rendered him awkward. Y/N chuckled. “Hun. Me? Desperate?” There was a pause. “Are you desperate?”

Her smirk was enough to melt him. Michael can't help but feel amused at her attitude. He leaned his face closer to hers as he replied, while his sudden hand on her waist drew her closer to him. “Desperate? Why would I be desperate? I'm the one here with the pretty girl in my arms.”

She hummed a bit, looking into his eyes with a soft smirk. “You think I’m pretty?” she asked, it felt like a joke to Michael when she asked that. She was one of the prettiest girls on campus in his opinion. Her face was so geometrically perfect in a mathematical sense that it made Michael wonder what her parents had to have looked like. She didn’t look like one who would mess around with plastic surgery, even at such a young age. Michael smirked as he leaned his face even closer to hers, with one hand now caressing her cheek and looking her right in the eyes directly. She can hardly breathe with your lips barely inches away from his.

“I think you’re fucking gorgeous,” he spoke seriously, his words bouncing off his lips and onto hers. Michael's smirk deepens as he leans even closer, just a few inches from her smooth lips, and his voice lowers. “May I?” he asked, reiterating her question from earlier in the evening when she asked for his hand to pull him away from the pub. She answered by kissing him, her lips touching his. She could tell he was a bit inexperienced, but he kept up with the pace nicely. It was almost like he was eager to learn. Michael instantly froze when she kissed him so softly, so perfectly. He suddenly felt that his heart was beating like crazy. He closed his eyes and kissed her, pulling her even closer, feeling both her body warmth and the kiss against his lips. She could see a little excitement in his eyes when he finally broke the kiss. 

“Have you ever done this before?” Y/N asked sweetly, not trying to embarrass him. She just wanted an honest answer, not to tease him. “Never. Not really. I never had such a pretty girl come into my life and kiss me like you did. Are you asking me if I'm experienced or not?”

Michael felt like he had won when he saw her true blush rise to her cheeks, they were no longer red from the cold. “I don’t mean to be rude but… are you?” she asked hesitantly, making sure to ask with utmost care and to sound as sincere as she could. Michael is surprised by her bluntness, but this is exactly why he likes her, her personality is completely opposite to Oliver's vapid friends. He's so impressed by her that he decides to be direct, he doesn't want to hide anything from you now. “Well, if you must know, I... I don't have a lot of experience with women. To be perfectly honest with you, no one has ever cared enough to kiss me until now.”

Y/N pouted her lip a bit in a sweet way, brushing a piece of hair behind his ear. “Awwe, Mikey.” 

Michael is so moved by the way she called him ‘Mikey’ and touched his hair. That made him completely lose his composure. He feels a surge of emotion as you look at him intently, and even without realizing it, his face gets very close to yours. His hands move on their own, caressing the beautiful face in front of him, and he can't help but whisper softly. “What you said…” Michael took a deep breath, feeling a bit embarrassed to admit this. “You're the first–first girl t-to care about me like that and to kiss me like that.”

Y/N smiled. She felt special to be his first kiss, even if she kind of expected him to be inexperienced. It was then that she decided he was it. She didn’t need her rich, egotistical friends. All she needed was her bratty boy who stood right in front of her. “I find that hard to believe since you’re such a pretty boy.” she smirked, again enjoying watching him squirm. Michael smiled softly and answered in a teasing tone. “Do you want this as much as I do?”

He felt himself using the joking spin on his tone to make it easy for her to back out, he hadn’t realized she was head over heels for him already. He wouldn’t for a very long time, in fact. The sheer thought that a girl as pretty as her would even look his way seemed like divine intervention. 

“Of course I do.” she smiled, kissing him again. This time though, he led her over to her bed, not breaking the kiss as she sat down on her bed. “You kinda know what you’re doing.” she tried to give him some props, to make him a bit more comfortable. Michael chuckled softly and his face blushed a little as she said that, he replied in a playful tone, but he couldn't hide the nervous tone in his voice. “Heh, it's just instinct. I think it would be hard not to know a little bit about this considering your beauty. It's hard to not keep my hands off you.” 

Again, he made her blush and he was in bliss. 

“Instinct or the internet?” she smirked, pushing him down on her bed. His eyes grew wide as she did, he felt his heart nearly burst out of his chest. Michael blushed again when she began to tease him into oblivion. The softness of the covers makes him feel extremely cozy and the warmth of her body feels like heaven. He looks at you and answers your teasing tone. “Okay, maybe I'm a little bit of a pervert and maybe I watched a few adult videos before... But it's also instinct.”

She chuckled at his formality, saying ‘adult videos’ instead of porn. She smirked as she replied, having now sat on his thighs. “That’s adorable.” Y/N began to pull at his shirt. Michael's face is completely red at this point, she can see how he is lost in his emotions and her touch feels so good that he is completely distracted. Y/N can see how he leans his body forward as you pull his shirt off with both hands, enjoying the warmth of his skin being touched. He closes his eyes and whispers softly. “I-If this is what it feels like to be with a gorgeous girl like you, then I wish it happened to me much earlier.”

The praise this boy was giving her was already making her wet. She didn’t know if he was doing it intentionally or not, but she loved being worshiped by him. She had never felt this from any other man, Michael was the first to truly feel like he was honored to be under her will. Y/N quickly threw off her shirt, leaving her in her favorite bra. Michael couldn’t believe he was going to see boobs in real life for the first time. He could not believe his situation right now, as she was the prettiest girl in Felix's group, he never imagined that you would pull him to your room in the middle of a snowy night, and much less that you would strip him right there on your bed. He had now seemingly lost his pants, leaving him in his boxers. When your hands move to pull his boxers off, Michael's breath catches in his throat and all he can do is look at you and admire that beautiful body of yours which is so close now.

“Wait,” he spoke quietly. “Let me just look.”

His hand moved to her waist, taking in her body like a goddess. Y/N turned red. 

“No, please don’t be embarrassed,” Michael spoke caringly, he felt terrible for making her turn red. “Y-you’re just the most perfect creature I’ve ever seen in my whole life.”

Y/N could have melted from his words. And in his praise she smiled, letting her bra fall from her chest and threw it on the floor. Michael’s hands moved to the bottom of her breast, not touching it yet. His thumb rested under it, wrapping the rest of his hand around the side of her chest and to her back. He softly moved his thumb back and forth on her chest, avoiding her breast. “Can I?” he asked respectfully. Y/N nodded, smiling at his innocence and how much he even respected her to ask if he could touch her. 

His hand touched her breast and he let out a little whimper. His glasses were completely fogged. “My god,” he said in awe, brushing his thumb against her nipple. She didn’t expect him to be this enthralled by her. For his good behavior, she leaned her bare chest on his, using it as a balance as she slid off her jeans, leaving her in only her panties. She felt Michael gulp. “Are you okay?”

Michael nodded fervently. “Yes, yes perfect.” he stuttered a bit, pushing his glasses up on his face. She kissed him, her hands moving to his tiny waist as she used her tongue for the first time to kiss him, he moaned into her lips. She pulled away and chuckled. “You’re fucking adorable,” she said, pulling his boxers down now. 

She sighed as she felt his cock move against her underwear, Michael nearly shot up in bed. She chuckled. “Is everything okay?”

His glasses now crooked, he could barely speak. She grinded a bit on his hard cock, eliciting a noise from him Michael didn’t even know he could make. He nodded.

“P-please…” he whimpered. Y/N didn’t know if she wanted to be straightforward or tease him a bit. He looked so needy, so desperate as one of his hands moved to her waist. “I’m begging you–”

She moved her panties to the side, letting the head of his cock move through her wet folds. He nearly busted a nut right then and there. He moaned like no other, almost like he was in pain. But it was quite the opposite. “Do you want it?” she asked him, appeasing herself and teasing him slightly. She sighed, rolling her head back as the tip of his cock swiped past her clit. 

“Yes! Yes! God, yes, more than anything, please.” he begged, trying his hardest not to move her hips and just push himself into her. She finally gave in to his demands, letting herself sink down onto his cock. He pushed his head back, barely breathing as she moved slowly on top of him, his breath caught as she began to ride him. “S-so good…”

She felt his cock push against her g-spot almost immediately, which was strange as she didn’t get a good look at it before. He was surprisingly large. She moaned as it made contact, pressing her hand down on his chest. “Ohhh, baby.” she spoke softly, leaning her head back. Michael’s gaze snapped back up to her, watching her ride his cock. He felt himself growing close already, as she had already been riding him for nearly a minute. He was in ultimate bliss, watching her bounce on his cock. 

“I can’t–!” Michael mumbled. He suddenly realized that he was going in raw, and he was about to cum.

“It’s okay, Mikey. It’s safe.” she could barely speak, as she would explain later that she was on birth control. As she called him ‘Mikey’ again, it was the final push. He grunted as he came, pulling her down on top of him as he did. She didn’t expect this aggressiveness, but understood his need for her. He buried his head in her shoulder as he moaned, pumping his cock into her slowly for a last few times, she felt him kiss her neck. “S’good,” she spoke, pretending to cum with him. Even though it was pleasurable for her, she didn’t cum as quickly as him. She didn’t want to ruin his ego, so she gave him the illusion of faking it. But she wasn’t worried. This wasn’t the last time this would ever happen, he had plenty of other times to make her cum. 

He slowly soaked in her, holding her body against his trembling one. Michael was in shock, not being able to believe what just happened. He had no clue his night would end up like this, and he wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Who knew Oliver Quick abandoning him at a pub was the best thing that ever happened to him? 

She slowly rolled off of him, squishing against the wall in their very limited space on the dormitory’s bed. Y/N chortled when she saw Michael’s face, his glasses were even more crooked and he looked like he had just seen god. “You alright?”

“More than alright, actually.” he spoke out, breathing heavily. She moved a blanket over the two, as the cold was seeping in from her window. She nuzzled up against his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “I’m glad I got this time alone with you.”

As she said that, Michael knew he had completely fallen for this girl and he would never let her go. How she cared for him, how she spoke, and just the whole events of that evening had made him want to start saving money for a ring.

[ashleyrosereads]

Sun Shower - Ch. 1

a Ridoc x fem reader fanfiction

I know I'm not the only one obsessed with Ridoc after Onyx Storm so I putting all my passion into a Ridoc x reader fanfiction that I hope you enjoy! also eventually this will be 18+ just be patient

The chiming of the bell announces eight o'clock, it's time.

The ringing strikes my ears and throughout my entire body as I move toward the line forming for the riders quadrant, chancing a look at the northern turret. The direction I should be heading in.

I keep my hands from fidgeting, as I wait in the long line. Fidgeting shows nerves. Shows weakness. I will not be making myself a target on day one. Heather told me everything I needed to know for the impending day. Showing nerves on day one was an easy tell of a weak cadet, she said. I trusted every word of wisdom she gave me over the summer, she has been the only girl in our village who lived to tell the tale of the riders quadrant in many years. Even if I didn't trust the information she gave me, it was the only information I had. So I clung to it with every fiber of me being.

I kept my hands on the straps of my pack as I waited, watching the world around me continue to move. There was a breeze in the air, and it was sunny for now. The darkening clouds on the horizon didn't calm any of my nerves though. I could only hope I would get across the parapet before any kind of storm hit.

A strangled sob came from my left. A mother was crying in a man's arms as her child walked into the line. Other families were scattered around clinging to their candidates. Some are sending them off with smiles while others it’s with tears hugging their cheeks. Just like her.

I couldn't help but feel utterly alone in that moment.

Of my own fault though. My dad begged to be here and see me off. But he didn’t need to see me openly defying the lifelong legacy of our healer family to become a rider. It’s better he’s in the dark, then the stress of daily life won’t become harder wondering if his daughter could die at any moment.

He would understand why, but it would still kill him knowing what I’m doing every day. Even knowing I’m doing it for mom. After her death, we'd both been inconsolable. He buried himself in the farm. And the more I thought about Basgiath, the more I couldn’t stand being in the sidelines healing. I want revenge. And I plan on getting it. So I buried myself in training.

The line continues to move and I leave my hands on the straps of my pack to hold me steady. The weight of my backpack is light, but once I get to the front of the line it feels as if I filled it with boulders as I bend over and write my name on the blank sheet before being guided into the door of the turret.

The bright light from the outside dimmed automatically in the dark column of stone. There wasn't a window in sight in the spiraling stairwell leading to the parapet above. I continued forward until I reached the cadet in front of me, about ten steps up.

He seemed to be chatting away with the guy in front of him. He wasn't the only one as there was a muttered chatter that drowned out what anyone was actually saying. I wasn't sure what I was expecting but chatter wasn't it. I assumed it would be quiet, foreboding maybe? How could anyone have light conversation at a time like this. I can’t help but keep moving forward, breathing through the nerves and closely watching each step so I don’t have to fall to a deadly fate too early.

The lack of windows mixed in with the heavy breaths of those surrounding me made for a taxing climb. The walls felt as if they were closing in, not knowing if the staircase was actually getting thinner or the anxiety of what I was doing was catching up to me.

I went to take a step, looking too closely at the stair under my foot and not in front of me. I didn't realize the line had stopped moving and walked right into the candidate in front of me. Almost causing a domino effect of tripping, if he hadn’t so smoothly caught himself on the wall of stone. The man turned toward me, his dark eyebrow lifted hiding behind his curly black hair that hung over his bronze forehead. He crossed his arms, showing off his bulging muscles.

Did all riders look like... this?

“Well hello” his sure voice purrs. “Trying to get rid of the competition early?” He says with a lilting voice.

I froze for a moment. Not sure what to say to that...Joke? “No. Just not paying attention. Sorry about that” I answer. He shrugs it off.

“No harm, good last minute balance practice” his smile hasn’t faltered, as he waited for her to do something, say something. What was I supposed to say to that? “Ridoc” he adds, holding out a hand.

“I'm not interested in making friends” I try to snap. The last thing I need is to be getting attached to anyone on the first day of death camp.

“What about the benefits?” He asks, making me scoff. What is this guy on to make him so damn lighthearted walking into the most dangerous quadrant in existence.

The line moves and he takes a step up backwards, not glancing behind him. No hand on the wall, nothing.

My confidence that he will make it across seems more sure than my own.

“You setting up your conquests already?” I ask because, well honestly, maybe the other people have a point. As the light toward the top of the turret brightens a distraction is alleviating.

“Well I’m looking to celebrate tonight, this guy here’s not interested” he gestures his head toward the blonde guy in front of him who doesn’t acknowledge the exchange.

“How unfortunate for you.” If I had this guys confidence I’d rule the world.

“Well it doesn’t have to be.” He winks. I can’t help but laugh. In the eye of death this man is cracking jokes.

I can hear the front of the line now. People giving their names before crossing and shouting outside. Is that rain too? Oh shit.

“So my room or yours tonight?” He leans against the stone wall, crossing his legs.

“We don’t get rooms until after threshing” I correct him. Heather told me that. She also told me not to get distracted by advances until after threshing, not only because then I'll have my own room but also because if someone distracts me then they can easily stab me in the back. Literally.

“Right right.” He bites his lip, contemplating “we will just have to find a nice broom cupboard then. I’m sure there’s plenty.”

“You are-“

“I know, irresistible.” I’m struck silent. Something is what I was going to say but I don’t find it in me to continue as we’re only a few people from the front. He goes to turn around but peaks back over his shoulder.

“You want to skip me in line?” He asks pointing at the spot in front of him.

“Why so you can push me off as punishment for almost getting you killed before parapet?” I ask, feeling my brow raising in question. I didn't realize it was possible for his smile to widen.

“No, there was no almost killing. You’ll have to be more inventive than tripping me on a staircase if that's your goal. I was thinking that if I follow you to the other side I’ll have more motivation to get there so I can start scoping out those cupboards.”

I let out another scoffing laugh. “Your impending death isn’t enough?”

“Not when you’re the other option” he winks.

“Name” the cadet barks from the entrance. Ridoc turns his head to the cadet. There were two there one taking names and another brooding by the opening.

And my gods they do all look like him.

“Ridoc Gamlyn” he says and the cadet scribbles the name.

“Alright. Go on.” He jerks his head to the exit of the turret. Ridoc turns one more time.

"See you on the other side Beautiful" He says before strutting out onto the parapet. The weather had worsened, there was a small spot of sun light in the dark clouds but not enough. Luckily the rain was only a slight drizzle and the wind didn't sound too relentless but making it across was still going to be a feat.

"Name" Barked the cadet, this time to me.

"Y/N Y/L/N" He scribbles it, barely looking over the parchment before waving me off.

"You're next."

[fieldofdaisiies]

Just A Little Bit of Your Heart

ship: Azriel x Reader type: angst word count: 2,4k  warnings: curse words, mentions of a one night stand, unexpected pregnancy summary: It was just a one night stand, or that is what you thought... fic masterlist

"The baby will have wings!" 

Your hands tremble. And they tremble so much the plate you are holding slips out them, and then shatters when it hits the floor. Splinters fly everywhere, but your best friend is quick to shove you away.

She is faster than you, gently shoving you away before you can lean down to collect the shards. "Not in your current state! Let me do this."

You huff. "I am pregnant, not fragile or ill," you say, still dried tears on your cheeks, and more burning behind your eyes. 

"Yes, with a winged baby, because this fool did not pay attention." There is so much fury inside of your best friend, you have never seen this side of her before, her voice drips with venom. 

"For making a baby it always needs two people. I am not innocent in this." You crouch down and help your best friend collect the shards of broken glass and—

"Fuck!" You lift your index finger to your mouth, licking the droplet of blood away. 

"I told you to let me do this, you are hurting yourself and—" "And what? They baby will still have wings and I will still be pregnant. I just cut my finger, nothing dramatic."

You swallow thickly, slumping onto the ground. You immediately regret your tone and snapping at your best friend. She only wants to help and be there for you…

But it is so much to deal with and then the hormones just intensify everything you are feeling.

The fear, the apprehension about the baby having with wings and the prospect of having to raise the child by yourself, should you survive the birth, finally reach the surface. You tried hide these emotion for so long, but now you fail — they all bubble up, overwhelming you.

You lean against the kitchen counter behind you, pulling your knees up and fold your hands over your face.

Then the damn breaks, tears running out of your eyes, rolling down your cheeks as you sob into your hands. 

"I am so scared," you bawl. 

Your best friend has already scooted over, careful of the broken pieces of porcelain, and wraps her arm around your shoulders. She pulls you to her chest, letting you cry into her shirt. "I know that the babe has wings, the healer confirmed it. And I am just working in this little shop, I don't earn enough to take care of the child alone."

Your tears wet her shirt, and your best friend holds you tightly, her hand clasping your upper arm. She is becoming your anchor, the only thing you can hold onto in this moment.

"It was so foolish. He said he took the tonic. I also drank the tea the same morning, and neither of those things worked. Conceiving for fae is so difficult, why…"

Your voice breaks and you can't finish your sentence, your throat is dry, burns and the back of your mouth aches. 

"It wasn't foolish. You were both careful, and it just happened." Your best friend's voice is softer now, although inside of her a burning fire of fury about the shadowsinger putting a baby that could harm you inside of you. It could cost you your life and she would never forgive him for that.

You exhale a long breath when you lift your head a little, still leaning onto your friend. You rest your head against her shoulder, staring at the window opposite you. 

A veil of grey is being drawn over the sky, dark clouds passing by — rain is about to start. You keep staring at the window, sitting in silence as the first raindrops start to fall, landing gently on the window pane. You watch as the rain intensifies, and the sky darkens further until heavy rain pours down and wind whips agains the windows and the walls of the apartment building you are living in. 

The atmosphere outside mirrors the whirlwind inside of you, the storm brewing there, the cold and gloomx atmosphere.

There are so many emotions. And these emotions, mostly fear and nervousness, mingle with the hormones that actually make you so very happy that your are growing a little babe inside of you, but at the dame time so sad that the child will have to grow up without a father.

The whole previous evening you spent staring at your round belly in the mirror, sobbing silently to yourself.

With the big wool sweaters you always wear the belly is barely visible, but when naked, one can obviously see the growing bump. 

You best friend draws in a deep inhale and leans her head against the top of yours. 

"You need to talk to him," she says in a soft voice. "And before you protest, I say so because first of all, he has a right to know. And secondly, and most importantly, he might be able to help you."

You sniff loudly. "How should he help me?"

"The High Lord, who he is close with, has a son with wings. And our High Lady is also only fae, so there must be a possibility."

"What if he wants nothing to do with me?"

"Then you at least tried."

"Don't you think I will only be hurt more?"

You lift your head to look at her. There is a small smile on her lips, one that conveys support and warmth, her eyes shining with empathy.

She shakes her head. "You still have me. I won't leave you alone with this. I never would. But you still have to tell him."

You don't want to do it, you don't want to face Azriel, don't want to tell him, but you know she is right. You have to do it. He has a right to know.

This was a one night stand. 

You somehow caught the male's attention in a small bar in Velaris, and somehow he ended up in your bed. When you woke up, Azriel slipped into his trousers and out of your flat within a few moments. He was gone without a word, disappeared into the shadows, and you haven't heard from him since. You don't even know how to contact him. 

You don't know where he lives? Does he live with the High Lord? Or in this huge house on the mountain? With the general of the Illyrian armies and his mate?

"I don't know what to say to him," you whisper. 

The rain outside intensifies. Your friend uncurls her arm from around your shoulder, bringing it forward so she can clasp your hand in hers. 

She places a soft kiss to the top of your head and in a calm voice she says, "Tell him what you told me. That you don't understand how it happened and that you are afraid and want nothing more than his help."

"What if I want more than that?" You bite back a sob and turn your head a little.

"What if I want a little part of his heart. For the baby. If it—if we survive this, I want my baby to have a father. I want my baby to know its father." A single tear slips our of your eye and your friend quickly wipes it away with her thumb. 

"That is something to think about in the future. You need to think about yourself now, sweetie. You matter now, everything else is open for the future."

You nod, trying to agree with her, but the thoughts about the possibility of the baby never meeting its father are gnawing on you. 

And they keep gnawing on you the whole night where you lie awake, shifting and turning, your back aching, and tears still wetting your cheeks and pillow. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Cold sweat coats your back, your palms. Your knees wobble, and your whole body trembles as you lift your hand, drawing in a deep inhale. Then another. And another. Your hand rests on the cool door handle, but you can't bring yourself to pull it down. 

He really came.

You can hardly believe it. He got your letter, and he is truly here. Until a few moments ago, you doubted it. You did not think he would really follow your invite. You were very vague in your letter, only mentioned that if he remembers you you would have something important to discuss with him. It could have been a trap, but he must have recognised the urgency in your wording, must habe known he could trust you.

Drawing in another breath, you finally pull down the handle and your lips part as your eyes land on him. 

He is…still the most beautiful male you have ever seen in your life, covered in darkness and shadows, expression stoic, eyes glowing with curiosity.

But he came!

"You came," you whisper, voice trembling.

Your heart beats in your throat, hammering so fast and hard you think it might burst right through your ribcage. 

It was just a one-night stand, a fleeting moment of passion, but you still remember him so vividly. How he touched you, how he kissed you, how he held you. And how he left. You felt used and sad after it, but you shouldn't have. Both of you only wanted fun for a night, but still it somehow hurt when he left.

"You called." His voice is flat, no emotion in it as he speaks. His face is not necessarily cold, but nonchalant, emotionless.

Azriel is nothing but darkness as he stands there, shadows swirling around him, stretching out towards you.

He eyes you closely, jaw clenched slightly.

You barely know him, only know his body, but he is now connected to you in the most profound way possible. You carry a part of him inside of you. Your child. His child. 

Azriel's face is a mask of unreadable emotions, some clouds darken his eyes and you can’t tear your eyes away from his.

"I wasn't sure you if you—" "I do remember you."

Something, some unreadable emotion passes over his face, and a muscle in his jaw ticks. His hands, those scarred hands you felt all over your body, are folded behind his back, and he stands in a stance, almost like he is ready to fight whatever is about to come. A stern warrior, and not the passionate male you lay with. 

"Come in?" you say, your voice trembling slightly as you step aside to let him enter. Azriel hesitates, but eventually he walks in, gaze wary as it sweeps through the inside of your room. He is looking for possible danger, making sure the place is safe and you can't blame him for it. Your invite must have sound cryptic, he is careful and that is alright. 

"Why did you invite me?" Azriel asks, finally speaking up and taking the weight from your shoulder to open the conversation. 

You are wringing for the right words to explain it all as you lead him over to the kitchen counter. You lean against it, your gaze moving to his eyes.

You drop your glamour, and try to hold his gaze, but suddenly Azriel starts to sniff the air, his brows furrowing as he looks around him. It almost looks like understanding dawns on him, whirlwinds of emotions glowing in his eyes. He must sense it in this moment.

"I am with child!" you blurt out. 

The words are so loud in the room, they bounce off the walls and hollow through the room. Through your mind, making you feel dizzy for a second. 

You move your hand over your round belly, smoothing out the sweater, to show him the bump. 

 The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breaths. 

Azriel says nothing, his face pales, his shoulders slump, and his whole expression and posture crumbles. 

He blinks, as if trying to process what you have just revealed. Although his face is unreadable, you can see the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. 

"Is it mine?" he asks and you want to face-palm him. You would do it, if it were under different circumstances. 

"Of course, it is yours. The babe has wings!"

The tone you have chosen wasn't alright, he could not have known, you could have been with other males…but why would you invite him and tell him then?

This revelation shatters him truly. Azriel begins to vehemently shake his head, like he can feel the weight of what the baby having wings means.

"No," he whispers, and then repeats the word over and over again. He brings a hand up, brushes his hair back and shakes his head again. "No, that can't be. You took the tonic, I did too. How did that happen?"

"I also don't have an explanation, I only know that I am with child now. A baby with wings." Your chin quivers, lower lip starting to tremble. You feel how your body begins to shake, blood rushing in your ears.

"And I am afraid." 

Once again the damn breaks, and a sob rips itself free.

Azriel says nothing, just stands there. 

"I understand that it is a lot to take in, that this is difficult, but I needed to tell you." 

You suck in a sharp breath, your tears tasting salty in your mouth. "I just thought you deserved to know. It was a one-night stand, and I never planned for any of this to happen, but it did, and I can't keep it a secret from you." 

You feel so vulnerable in this moment, your heart cracking open, everything inside you convulsing. 

It somehow angers you that he says nothing, but you had more time to deal with the newly learned information, he only found out now. Maybe he just needs more time to process. 

"I don't know what to say," he admits, his voice softer, and for the first time he lets his own emotions show, vulnerability flashing brightly in his eyes. "This is... unexpected. Overwhelming."

You nod, biting down on your lower lip. With the back of your hand you wipe away some tears. 

"I don't expect anything from you, I just…if the baby and I survive this, all I am asking for is a little bit of your heart. Not for me, for the babe."

Your voice is so terribly shaky, tears welling up in your eyes again as you try to hold his gaze. "I didn't expect it either," you whisper, wiping away a tear. "But I want the baby to know its father. If it ever comes to that."

Azriel is the one to suck in a breath now, the weight of his own childhood crashing down on him. Everything, every little pain when he was a child, bubbles up inside of him and his body starts to shake. 

The room is filled with a heavy silence once more. It feels like the walls are moving in on you, the room growing smaller and smaller, almost suffocating you.

As you wait for his response, your heart still races, but now it's not just with fear. There's a glimmer of hope, a spark of possibility that maybe, just maybe, he will grant you this wish and be a father for the child if it comes to that. 

"We are going to see my healer, the High Lord's healer. She knows about wings, she knows about babes with wings. You are not alone in this."

Azriel's steps are so fast, so unexpected, he hesitates for a moment, but suddenly his arms wrap around your shoulders and he embraces you tightly, his chin coming to a rest on top of your head. 

"I am not leaving you alone in this. It comes as a shock and I am sorry about my reaction, but this child is as much mine as it is yours, and it will have a part of my heart." His arm wraps around you tighter. "It will have my whole heart." 

He swallows, his chest heaving with a deep inhale and your curl your own arms around him, loud sobs ripping themselves free, muffled in the fabric of his shirt. "And so will you."

~~~~~~~~~~ tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 11 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇indornrememebr

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Y/n sat alone in the dimly lit nursery, the soft glow of a single lantern casting shadows on the walls. She cradled Adonis tightly against her chest, his small fingers curling around the fabric of her dress as he dozed peacefully. His quiet breaths were the only sound in the room, but they did little to comfort the ache that seemed to consume her chest. Her tears fell silently at first, dripping onto Adonis’s soft curls as she pressed a trembling kiss to his forehead. The weight of her captivity, the suffocating presence of Raphael, and the constant fear for her son had taken its toll. But tonight, it wasn’t just the present that haunted her, it was the absence of the people she loved most.

She could almost hear Antinous’s voice, teasing her in that sarcastic way of his, calling her stubborn and overdramatic but always watching over her like the protective older brother he had been. He was brash, hot headed, and often infuriating, but he loved her fiercely. She missed the way he’d bicker with her one minute and stand ready to defend her the next. The thought of him locked away in Ithaca, unaware of her suffering, made her heart ache all the more.

And Telemachus, her beloved Telemachus. She closed her eyes, clutching Adonis even tighter. She could almost feel his arms around her, his warm voice whispering reassurances that everything would be okay. She could picture his laugh, the way his eyes would light up whenever he looked at her or held their son. He was her anchor, her strength, and now he was gone, too far away to protect her or Adonis from Raphael’s cruel games.

A choked sob escaped her lips, and she buried her face in Adonis’s tiny shoulder. “I miss them so much,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I miss them, Adonis. I miss your father, your uncle… I miss home.” Adonis stirred slightly, his little hand brushing against her cheek as though sensing her sadness. It only made her cry harder. “They’ll come for us,” she whispered, almost as if trying to convince herself. “They’ll come, they have to. Your father… he’ll bring us home.”

But doubt lingered in her heart. What if they didn’t? What if Raphael’s lies about storms and shipwrecks were true? What if Telemachus had already lost his life trying to save hers? What if Antinous never knew what had happened to her?she shook her head, refusing to entertain those thoughts. “They will come,” she repeated firmly, her tears still falling. “They have to.”

She looked down at Adonis, his innocent face so peaceful in sleep. Her son was her only solace now, her reason to keep going. Gently rocking him, she whispered a lullaby, her voice shaky but soft. “Sleep, my love..” As her voice wavered, she kissed his forehead once more, her tears wetting his soft skin. “I promise,” she whispered, “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll hold on until they come. I won’t let him win.” But deep inside, she felt the crushing loneliness of the moment, the overwhelming longing for the family who was so far out of reach.

——

Antinous paced the ship’s deck like a caged animal, his hands clenched into fists. The constant sound of waves crashing against the hull seemed to only fuel his restless energy. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were blazing with frustration and anger. Eurymachus, leaning lazily against a crate nearby, raised an eyebrow as he watched Antinous fume. “You’re going to wear a hole in the deck if you keep pacing like that,” Eurymachus said with a smirk, clearly unbothered by Antinous’s intensity. “What’s got your toga in a twist now?”

Antinous stopped abruptly, his shoulders stiff as he turned to glare at Eurymachus. “What’s got me in a twist?” he repeated, his voice rising. “My sister—my baby sister—is out there, being held by that bastard Raphael, and you’re asking me what’s wrong?”

Eurymachus raised his hands in mock surrender. “Easy there, Antinous. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. I get it. You’re pissed. But pacing and shouting isn’t going to bring her back.”

Antinous stepped closer, his face inches from Eurymachus’s, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “When I get my hands on him, Eurymachus… when I find him…” His hands twitched as if imagining wrapping them around Raphael’s throat. “I’m going to make him beg for death. I’ll carve out every ounce of his arrogance, strip him of every shred of dignity, and let him rot.”

Eurymachus whistled low, his smirk faltering slightly as he realized just how serious Antinous was. “That’s… uh, quite the plan. Got any specifics in mind, or are you just going to wing it?”

Antinous’s eyes darkened, and his voice took on a venomous edge. “Oh, I’ve got specifics. First, I’ll break his fingers one by one, make sure he can’t lay another hand on her. Then I’ll take my time with him, make him feel every ounce of pain he’s caused her, and when he’s finally at his weakest, I’ll remind him that this is just the beginning.”

Eurymachus, though usually one to make light of any situation, found himself shifting uncomfortably under Antinous’s glare. “You’ve, uh, really thought this through, haven’t you?”

Antinous let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Do you think I can sleep at night knowing she’s out there? Knowing he’s probably… hurting her?” His voice cracked slightly, but he quickly masked it with anger. “I can’t stop picturing her, scared, alone, with that monster whispering lies into her ear. And Adonis… my nephew. If he lays a hand on that child, I swear to the gods, there won’t be enough of him left to bury.”

Eurymachus studied him for a moment, uncharacteristically quiet. “You really love her, huh?”

“She’s my sister,” Antinous snapped, his tone softening just a fraction. “She’s the only family I have left. I failed her once by letting her get taken. I’m not going to fail her again.”

Eurymachus nodded slowly, his usual bravado replaced by something almost resembling respect. “Alright, Antinous. We’ll get her back. But you need to keep your head on straight. Losing it now isn’t going to help her.”

Antinous sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as some of the tension drained out of him. “I know. But if I don’t make it out of this, promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Promise me you’ll make sure Raphael suffers.”

Eurymachus smirked again, though this time there was a glint of determination in his eyes. “You’ve got my word. That bastard’s going to regret ever setting foot on Ithacan soil.”

——

The storm hit with no warning. The skies darkened as if night had fallen early, the waves roared like thunder, and the wind howled with a ferocity that made the ship groan under its power. Rain lashed against their faces, and the crew scrambled to keep the ship steady, their voices lost in the chaos. “Hold the line! Don’t let her tip!” Telemachus yelled, gripping the wheel with all his strength. His muscles strained as the ship tilted dangerously with each wave. Acrisios was beside him, trying to tie down loose cargo that was sliding across the deck.

“This is worse than the last storm!” Acrisios shouted, his voice barely audible over the crashing waves. “I swear, the gods have it out for us!”

Cassander and Eurymachus were at the oars, trying to stabilize the ship while exchanging their usual banter despite the chaos. “This is it!” Eurymachus yelled, half panicked. “We’re done for! Drowned before we even get a single war prize!”

“Quit your whining!” Cassander snapped, though his grip on the oars was as white-knuckled as Eurymachus’s. “If I die, I swear I’ll haunt you!”

Meanwhile, Florus was gripping the mast, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. “We need to steer clear of those rocks! Telemachus, to the left!”

“Don’t tell me how to steer my ship!” Telemachus growled, but he adjusted the course anyway, the ship barely missing the jagged rocks Florus had pointed out.

Through it all, Antinous and Druses were… sleeping. In the middle of the storm “Unbelievable!” Pisistratus snapped as he tightened a rope. “They can sleep through this?!”

“Forget them!” Telemachus yelled. “We’ve got bigger problems!”

Another wave crashed over the deck, soaking everyone to the bone and sending Florus tumbling into a heap of barrels. Telemachus barked orders, but the storm was relentless, and one by one, the crew began to lose hope. Suddenly, a massive wave surged forward, lifting the ship into the air before slamming it down into the water. The force sent the crew flying in all directions.

The world spun as the ship was tossed like a toy. Then, darkness. Telemachus woke up coughing, his body aching as he pulled himself out of the sand. He squinted against the harsh sunlight, his head pounding from the ordeal. Around him, the remains of the ship were scattered across the shore, broken planks and supplies littering the golden sand. “A-Antinous? Acrisios?” he called hoarsely, his throat dry and raw.

One by one, his crew began to stir. Acrisios groaned as he sat up, sand sticking to his damp clothes. “We’re alive? How in Hades are we alive?”

“I could ask the same,” Florus muttered, rubbing his head as he stumbled toward them.

Cassander rolled over and coughed up water. “That… was the worst storm I’ve ever seen. Eurymachus? Where’s Eurymachus?”

“I’m here,” came a weak voice from behind a piece of driftwood. Eurymachus was sprawled out, his face pale. “I think I swallowed half the ocean.”

Antinous and Druses, who had somehow managed to stay asleep through the storm, were sprawled on the sand nearby, finally waking up.“What the—” Druses sat up, brushing sand out of his hair. “Where are we?”

“Egypt,” Florus said grimly, pointing to the towering statues and pyramids visible in the distance.

Telemachus sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “The gods are playing games with us.”

“Egypt?” Acrisios groaned. “How in the name of Poseidon did we end up here?!”

Eurymachus, still lying flat on his back, chuckled weakly. “Well, at least we didn’t drown. That’s something, right?”

Cassander threw a handful of sand at him. “Shut up.”

Telemachus stood, determination hardening his features. “This isn’t over. We’ve survived storms and worse before. We’ll gather supplies, repair what we can, and find a way to finish what we started.” The crew exchanged tired but resolute glances. They were battered, bruised, and far from home—but they weren’t giving up.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world @simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches @sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl

@dazedemery @tsmaruchan

@holywizardprincess @galaxygurlll @pjopinkk

@h0ne4bee @minteaspoon @zendoesstuff @xo-cuteplosion-xo

[holyblonded]

What would be the reaction the first time azulita sobs when she cry’s like heartbreaking sobs just come out and no one knows what to do because she’s never cried like this before

— the first time azulita sobs, like truly sobs, with that broken, gasping kind of grief that cracks through the room, it stops everything. because no one’s ever seen her like this. not like this. not azulita.

— she’s the one who fights. who throws words like punches and keeps her chin up even when her knuckles are bleeding. she gets mad, not sad. she storms out, doesn’t break down.

— so when it happens, when her knees give out in the middle of the kitchen or the locker room or some hallway where she thought no one would be, the sound that rips out of her doesn’t even feel real at first. it’s this raw, animal thing.

— a choked breath, then another, and then her whole body folds around it. like her ribs can’t hold it in anymore. like she’s been holding it in too long.

— alexia is the first one there. not because she knows what to do, she doesn’t, but because instinct kicks in. she drops whatever she was holding, doesn’t even think about it, just wraps azulita up without a word. cradles her head like she’s afraid it’ll break.

— olga’s eyes go wide and terrified. she’s the one who’s seen azulita’s pain in flashes, the hints, the shut doors, the silences. but this? this is all of it crashing down. olga kneels beside her, whispering “shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay, we’re here” like a mantra, even though her hands are shaking.

— sydney is quiet. she crouches on azulita’s other side and reaches for her hand,

doesn’t squeeze, just holds it. steady. grounding. she knows azulita can’t be talked down right now. she just needs to know she’s not alone.

— and azulita, she can’t stop. she sobs until she’s breathless. until she’s curled so tight it’s like she’s trying to disappear.

— and the worst part is she keeps whispering “i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” over and over like she thinks she’s done something wrong. like falling apart is a crime.

— don’t be sorry,” alexia says, voice thick. “you’re allowed. bebita, you’re allowed.”

— and it’s that, the permission, that finally breaks the last of her defenses. she buries her face into alexia’s chest, and she wails.

— no one moves. no one tries to fix it. they just hold her.

— because for once, she’s not being fierce or loud or angry. she’s just a girl who’s been hurting for a long time. and someone finally saw it. and didn’t look away.

[bxeckersz]

Broken Promises | Caitlin clark x fem! reader

warnings: toxic rls, language, cheating, caitlin being a master manipulator

summary: cait and y/n being toxic idk

A/N: thought abt this during class and its ass cause i havent wrote in so long

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“Caitlin i’m sick of this!” you yell, pacing around the living room as she just stood there looking stupid. You and caitlin have had the same repeating cycle for 3 years.

For three years you guys would argue, she’d walk out, you’d break up, she’d apologize, you’d have makeup sex, you’d get back together, and the cycle would repeat. It’s tiring.

you guys got in another argument after you went through caitlin’s phone and found out she’d been hooking up with some girl for a while.

“let me explain” She exhales out. “Explain for what Caitlin? What do you have to explain? I’ve seen it all! All those ‘late night practices’?” you shout at her. the neighbors could for sure hear us because of how loud you were yelling.

She’d been playing you like a fool. She would tell you she’d have “late night practices” or “media shit” and she’d really be fucking some slut.

“You’re out fucking some random girl while i’m at home going to bed alone, caitlin! Every night!” you yell at her, tears stifling down your face.

“Bro, let me talk” She sighs, covering her face with her large palms.

“No! You don’t get to talk anymore! Do you know what i’ve sacrificed for you? Hell- i’ve lost friends- family members have stopped talking to me because i moved to Indiana with you! it was all for you! everything. and this- this is what i get in return?”

“Okay, and what, I haven’t sacrificed shit for you?” She yells back at you.

you scoff, pushing past her and walking into the room. “Hey- don’t walk away. baby-“ She sighs.

“I’m done with you! for good! your not gonna keep playing with my heart- your not gonna keep treating me like this! You don’t even care- you’re never here anymore!” you sob, covering my face.

“Hey-hey- please don’t cry baby. please- let’s talk this out.. it’s not what it looks like i swear- she’s just a friend. you can even ask Aliyah,” She pleads, her voice cracking as she wraps her arms around your waist from behind.

“Yeah right. friend my ass.” you scoff, wiggling out her hold. “Baby- she’s really just a friend. nothing more, nothing less. i don’t want anyone but you, y/n. I can’t lose you. please- just let me explain.” She cracks.

You sigh, biting your bottom lip, tasting the saltiness from your tears. Your eyes were puffy and red from all the crying, your clothes soaked in tears.

You knew she was lying- you knew deep, deep down she was lying, but it sounded so genuine. And so- you found yourself naked- tangled in her embrace for the billionth time.

For weeks everything had been good. She was coming home on time, her phone was clean of anything suspicious-she dedicated all her time to you. Until- she didn’t.

she started coming home late again, she stopped giving you access to her phone- and worst of all- she came home with a small hickey on her right upper thigh.

she told you it was just lexie playing around with her makeup- but why was it so high up? and of course- you didnt press the issue because she did everything she could to make you stay.

It was 1:36 am and Caitlin still hadn’t returned home. you found yourself on the couch- the tv and the small overhead oven light being the inly source of light.

You made dinner after Caitlin told you she’d be home early. the food you made had been freezing cold the candles you lit being blew out ages ago.

You sighed, that familiar lump in your throat forming as you stormed into the room. You swiped your side of the room of everything, grabbing bags and suitcases. You began stuffing the various items into the bag, making sure you left nothing behind.

For 3 years, all you did was love and support that girl. and she couldn’t even give you a dinner in response.

You stormed to the closet, grabbing everything of yours. you had everything of yours packed. You slipped on your shoes, making sure you left your side nice and clean. You then made your way into the bathroom, collecting your belongings.

Once the whole house was cleared from your belongings, you grabbed your phone and blocked caitlin on everything. You grabbed your car keys off the hook, walking out the complex door.

you loaded everything in your car before calling your mom. You were done with caitlin- officially.

she played with you way too much.

“Im on my way to your house” You cried as your mom picked up the phone. “what happened? why’re you crying? calm down” she jumbled out. “I’ll explain later” You mumbled, words muffled by your cries.

“Just be careful on the road- love you” She says, her voice full of worry.

had you made the right choice??

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Thanks for reading all the way through!

might do a pt 2 to this w caits pov

felt good to write again lowk also ts is not spell checked or nun so

[crowlion]

They are deeply in love your honor

Part 2 of some of my Azutara headcanons below the cut

Part 1 here

• Katara's affection is so, so soft. Unbelievably, frustratingly so. Katara will braid Azula's hair and kiss her temples and play with her fingers like she's the most precious little meow meow in the world, and Azula doesn't really know what to do with all that tenderness. She doesn't reciprocate it much at first, if at all, because she's not really sure how to, but she eventually gets to a point where she stops pretending to hate it and starts to crave the smallest acts of affection very deeply.

• Azula has a hard time saying, so she often has to write stuff down when she feels a certain way about Katara that she can't readily express with words. And good gods is she Shakespearean levels of poetic without even meaning to be, especially when Katara is gone for long periods of time. We're talking, "It's so frustrating that when you're gone, the thought of you rattles around my chest like a storm, that I clutch onto my ribs and cling to the feeling as though I've never felt rain before. I miss you even when you're standing right here. I think even the worst parts of me would kneel just to wait for you."

• Azula finds respect in power, so she comes to develop a reverence for bloodbending. It makes Katara feel less guilty when she has to resort to it (which is rarely). There's this way Azula will look at her afterwards, too, like she's hungry, like she's going to devour her the second they get home. Azula considers bloodbending to be the waterbending equivalent of lightningbending.

• Azula is very muscular underneath all those sleeves. Katara will ask her to lift heavy things that she can definitely carry herself just to see her arms flex.

• Azula only cries in front of Zuko and Katara, though mostly the latter. She constantly wakes up from horrible nightmares and Katara is always there to comfort her through them. Most of the time Azula doesn't talk, because she hates being perceived when she's crying, even after years of dating her. Katara never pushes. She'll either sit there in silence with her and trace fingers through her hair, or tell Azula little stories about her life until she falls back asleep.

• Mentioned in part 1, but Katara has a fixation with Azula's hands. She knows they have the capability to be incredibly destructive, and yet when they're alone, Azula gets all touchy, and in the gentlest way too. Like, here are these hands that can produce lightning strong enough to kill dozens of men in a single blow, and yet the same fingers they belong to are absentmindedly drawing shapes along Katara's collarbones in soft exploration. Katara likes to study them. The way Azula's fingers flex, how precise she shapes them when she firebends, how they're so featherlight when they're touching her.

• Somewhat going off of that, Azula subconsciously thinks she might hurt her, so she's always incredibly delicate. This doesn't stop her from being very exploratory, though.

• Azula kind of likes losing to her, deep down, even though she'll never let Katara ultimately win a sparring match. She does find a thrill in the few moments Katara gains the upper hand, because it's only with Katara that she has ever felt safe in surrender.

• Katara finds an excuse to have her hands on Azula constantly. On her back, brushing strands of loose hair back into place, fixing the already perfect collar of Azula's uniform. It's such a normal thing for them that Azula feels out of place when Katara isn't touching her. She has that military walk where she marches around like she has places to be, but she makes it a point to slow down just so that Katara will put an arm around her waist and keep guiding her forward.

• Azula is pretty much exclusively physically affectionate with her when they're in private. Even so, she's quite excessive about it. She'll sit on Katara's lap when she really doesn't need to, lay on top of her chest to chest when she has an entire side of the bed available to her, lean in very close when Katara talks. Being next to her isn't enough, Azula wants to fuse Katara's very being with hers.

• Their rare sparring matches are mostly held to work out pent-up tension, which is especially common for Azula who still struggles with sorting through her emotions. But "sparring" devolves into panting, pinning, growling, accidental straddling, even more accidental kissing, more often than not.

• Katara says "I love you" often. Azula doesn't, but she does have her own way of showing Katara she loves her. She's kind of like a little magpie and will bring Katara things that either 1. remind her of Katara, 2. encompass something she thinks Katara might like, or 3. are as pretty as her. There's something to be said about Azula seeing the person she loves in everything around her.

• Going off of that, Katara's love is frustratingly stubborn. Katara will tell Azula she loves her in Azula's worst moments, like when she slips, or when she snaps at her, or when she gets cold, and distant, and horribly dry. Azula doesn't understand it until she just does, one day. It's unconditional love. Something she'd never really known until Katara showed it to her.

• Azula really likes being told she's doing a good job. She eats at Katara's praise like it's a meal.

• Azula usually starts out straddling her in bed but Katara almost always flips her around with zero warning and pins her down. Katara is quite... thorough, so she takes her sweet time undressing her and kissing every inch of her skin. Azula never outright admits to liking being the submissive one but her barely held back sounds say otherwise.

• Azula doesn't listen to anybody. In fact, she makes it a point to be as annoyingly defiant as possible. But... She does literally whatever Katara says without an ounce of hesitation. Even something as inconsequential as being handed a scroll? She has servants for that, unless Katara's the one asking. Then she just holds her hand out and takes it.

• Katara's darkness is quieter than Azula's, but no less brutal. Katara would never intentionally kill anybody, but she'd spill blood for Azula if she needed to.

• Too many people think their relationship is built on the fact that Katara "healed" Azula. That's not it at all, especially not for Katara. For her, she found someone who understood a part of her that no one else wanted to see, and what means even more to her is that Azula hadn't flinched when she saw it. She doesn't just feel loved, she feels seen.

[atwas-gaming]

I've had a scenario in mind for a while now about what it would take for Sonic to finally own up to his feelings about Amy. And I think what it would take is...

Shadow.

Well, just plain jealousy and a fear of losing Amy before he even has her. But Shadow would be the best one to instigate it.

First, some headcanons about how they behave romantically:

Amy's maturing and spreading her wings. She's not moving on from Sonic, not really, but it's possible that she's starting to notice other guys. There's some hints in the Twitter takeovers that she may be developing some small interest in Shadow.

Sonic is clearly interested in Amy, and if you pay attention, he has been for a long time. What he's not interested in is marriage- at least, not yet. And Amy is clearly wifey material- she cooks, she takes care of people, she has a caring nature, she's protective, and she's extremely loyal. She's not someone you can use for a one-night stand, you take all of her or you risk shattering her into pieces. She's Sonic's friend, no matter what else he may feel about her, so he avoids any romantic interaction because he doesn't want to hurt his friend.

Meanwhile, Shadow is... not aro-ace, per se, I don't know what you'd call him. He can see that Amy is attractive, but so is Rouge, and Shadow has no interest in Rouge. He just isn't interested in the physical side of romance.

What I think it would take to get Shadow's attention is something deeper, an emotional or spiritual connection.

So here's the Sonamy/Shadamy love triangle scenario that I came up with:

As Amy ages, she feels her desire for male companionship growing stronger. Sonic takes little notice of it, but it doesn't escape Shadow's attention.

Somehow or other, Shadow and Amy end up alone together, probably on a mission or something. I haven't figured out the exact circumstances, but they're together for quite a while. Amy loves to talk to people and get to know them, and Shadow has a soft spot for her, so she's able to get him to talk to her about things that he's probably never told anyone before. And he knows she won't tell anyone about them, either, so he feels safe telling her.

At some point, Shadow realizes, she's done it. She's broken through his barriers, and at the same time, she's calmed the storm of emotions that he's had swirling inside him for 50-odd years. He hasn't felt such peace since... no, not even then. This is something else. He's never felt this way before, and he doesn't have the words to describe it, but he's fallen head over heels for her.

This is why he never lets his guard down, even around the people he trusts most. Because if he lets them in, even a little bit, he might let them in too far. ("Can you see all of me, walk into my mystery, step inside and hold on for dear life.")

He loses control of himself and kisses Amy.

And when he lets go, he instantly hates himself, he starts throwing his barriers back up, because... she's crying. She's crying because she liked it, and she wants more of it, but she's still so desperately in love with Sonic, and she's starting to think she'll never get it from him, so she'll accept affection from just about any man, and it's not like Shadow's unattractive, and, and, and...

So Shadow's raw and open and hurting, he knew before he said or did anything that he was going down a dangerous path, but talking to Amy felt so good he didn't want to stop. And he wants to erase what just happened like it never did. But now he has to be the one to comfort Amy, because this was his fault, Amy was just being the kind and compassionate person she always was and Shadow was an idiot for letting it get to him and making more of it than what it was and losing control. So he has to keep his barriers down for just a moment longer, just long enough to hold Amy and tell her it's not her fault, until her tears finally stop.

It leaves Shadow burning with rage, and as soon as he can, he forcefully confronts Sonic (I imagine Shadow slamming Sonic against a wall or a tree and shouting in his face 😝) and basically tells him, "Amy needs attention from a man, she wants that man to be you, but if you can't grow up and do what it takes, then I'll be more than glad to take your place."

Which scares Sonic good and proper. It's bad enough to think that he could lose Amy, anyway, but to lose her to that faker??? And it finally makes him go to Amy and (very, very awkwardly) ask her to be his girlfriend. And... I'll let y'all imagine the rest.

As for Shadow... he, quite understandably, becomes somewhat aloof towards both Sonic and Amy for a long time after that.

But Shadow's immortal, right? And there's other Amy's in the world. He doesn't have to be alone forever.

Oh, and as for why Shadow would confront Sonic instead of just taking Amy for himself: because he respects both Amy and, especially, himself far too much to do that. He knows good and well she will never be able to fully commit to anyone else as long as Sonic is still an option. If Shadow was to start dating her, she'd go along with it, but it would become a power play between him and Sonic to try to "win" Amy's affections. Shadow has no issues with fighting Sonic over just about anything, but when it comes to his own feelings, he won't stoop that low, and he's not about to hurt himself by playing such a game. I also don't think he would view Amy as "a prize to be won."

[twistersobsessed]

This is my first time requesting something so idk if I’m doing this right but I was wondering if you can do something like enemies with benefits where the reader finds out her period is late and she ends up taking a pregnancy test and it’s positive like angst with a happy ending but only if you’re comfortable writing about pregnancy I know some writers are not comfortable writing about also I love your work reading your stories make me happy 🫶🏽 and I’m sorry if the request doesn’t make sense 😭

Surprise | Scott x Reader

You weren’t even sure how it started. You and Scott hated each other. Or, at least, you were supposed to hate each other.

You were a Wrangler, one of the hillbillies. In theory, Scott hated you. And you hated Storm Par and everything they did. On paper you should hate Scott by extension. Not to mention how much of an asshole he was.

But here you were, clutching the sheets and biting your tongue to keep quiet as Scott pounded into you. Above you, like this, Scott didn’t look like the asshole that he was, he looked like a god. It annoyed you.

Little did you know, Scott only had sex with you in positions where he could see your face because he felt you were too pretty to be facing the other way.

It was late, and the Wranglers and Storm Par had stopped at the same motel for the night. It hadn’t taken long for Scott to knock on your door after everyone had settled into their rooms, as he did everytime your teams would stay at the same motel.

“Fuck,” Scott groaned. He was nearing his finish. You couldn’t hold back your moans any longer but you tried to keep quiet. It proved to be especially difficult when Scott reached down between you and began rubbing your clit. You gasped, back arching off the bed, too caught up in pleasure to notice the way Scott was looking at you with more than just lust in his eyes.

“Baby, are you close?” His voice was breathy.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

Scott knew your body well by now, and bracing himself on his elbow above you, he connected your lips while his free hand came up to pinch your hardened nipple. It sent a jolt of pleasure through you that pushed you over the edge.

Scott’s thrusts had grown sloppy until you were clenching around him so tightly as you came that he couldn’t move. It made him cum immediately, inside of you.

He kissed you deeply as you both came. He’d never done that before, and it felt very intimate.

He pulled back as he pulled out. “Could I spend the night?” He’d never asked that either.

“Sure,” you agreed, trying to be nonchalant and not get your hopes up.

Scott smiled and rolled off of you, pulling you on top of him instead. You lay on his chest, the skin to skin so intimate you could almost cry. You were really trying to not get your hopes up.

You felt safe, and fell asleep listening to Scott’s heartbeat.

When you woke up in the morning he was gone. But when you checked your phone, you had a message from Scott. “See you soon.” You heart the message.

A week passed without your paths crossing in a way where you could be alone. And your period was late. You and Scott had sex without condoms and he often finished inside you, because you were on birth control.

Fearing the worst, you begged Tyler to take you to the nearest pharmacy under the pretense that you needed pads and tampons, you made him wait in the truck so you could buy a pregnancy test too.

That evening, in your motel room, you were anxiously awaiting the results of the pregnancy test you had just taken. You paced the room until it was ready. You checked it and your heart dropped. Positive.

You quickly took another test. It came back the same way. Positive.

You were sitting on your bed, completely dissociating when your phone dinged. You glanced at it to see a text from Scott. “What room number?”

You didn’t answer, you were on the edge of a breakdown. You paced, you kicked, you cried, you punched pillows. Twenty minutes later your phone dinged again. “You could come to mine. It’s B6.”

You cried yourself to sleep without responding to Scott. You missed his final message. “Are you okay?”

You avoided Scott like the plague. He couldn’t know that you were pregnant. He would leave you in a heartbeat. You could get an abortion but you’d always wanted kids so maybe you’d become a single mother. You weren’t sure what you wanted to do, but until you did, you dodged Scott.

He left you messages.

“Hello?”

“If this is some sort of silent treatment I really don’t like playing games.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Please just let me know you’re okay.”

You really weren’t okay. You were a mess. Which is probably why you didn’t notice Scott following you to your room the next time Storm Par and the Wranglers were at the same motel.

He looked around to make sure nobody saw him before he stopped you from closing the door with his foot and barged his way into the room.

“Scott!” You were shocked. “What the fuck?”

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Scott demanded to know with a scowl.

Maybe it was pregnancy hormones (could you even have those so early on?), but you were so sensitive and emotional you broke down in tears.

Scott immediately softened, pulling you into his chest. “Hey, hey, shh, what’s wrong?” His voice was gentle, a voice you’d never associate with Scott. You pushed back from his chest. “Stop acting like you care!”

Scott looked stunned. “What?”

“Stop acting like you care,” you repeated, your voice cracking.

Scott frowned. “I do care. Way more than I meant to.”

Tears continued to flow down your face. “I’m pregnant, Scott,” you blurted out.

Scott stilled. “Pregnant,” he repeated.

“I know you’re going to leave and that’s okay, I understand,” you blubbered.

Scott shook his head. “Why would I leave you?”

“Because it’s not like you like me, you just use me for sex and that’s not an accusation, I know what we are and I like it. No offense but you don’t really seem like the type to stick around.”

“(Name),” Scott said, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry that you think I don’t like you and am only using you for sex. Neither is true. I like you, and I like having sex with you because it’s you.”

You sniffled. “Really?”

“Really.”

“I’ve wanted you so bad,” you admitted, wiping your face.

Scott reached out to cup your face. “I wouldn’t mind calling you my girlfriend,” he grinned. “Is that you asking?” “Yeah.”

You could feel your heart pounding. “I would love to be your girlfriend.”

Scott leaned in and kissed you sweetly.

You kissed him back eagerly. When you finally pulled back, Scott rested his forehead on yours and looked down at your stomach. “We’re gonna have a baby,” he whispered.

“We’re going to have a baby,” you affirmed.

“I hope it’s a girl.”

[keehomania]

frostbite (동상) ㅡ min yoongi (민윤기)

the second part can be found here

✧.* 18+

“cold as ice, hard as stone, never choose men over being alone,” was what your mother had found herself repeating to you your entire life. maybe not your entire life, actually. you couldn't really remember when the phrase was spoken into life, perhaps when you had turned twelve, thirteen; when you began to develop and mature, when push-up bras began to substitute training bras, when makeup began to gain significance, when she had noticed how older and younger men alike had started to smirk and leer more and more shamefully whenever you passed by.

it wasn't because she had it out for you. quite the opposite, actually. it was something her mother had sang to her, an invention of her own she had sang to life when hormones began to work faster than she could blink. she thought it would raise awareness as a subtle way for her to let her daughter know that no man could ever be trusted in the slightest, but your mother didn't care to listen. it worked the first few years of her adolescence; she avoided relationships all throughout high school and college, but all good things come to an end. after she had graduated and gone into finance the way she had planned, things took a turn when she met your father. no one could have predicted the outcome. their relationship moved quickly, but smoothly. their friends had sworn up and down that they could never imagine them in an argument, until they got married. with marriage came a child, you. with a child came more responsibilities, with which came more money spent. they spent and spent until they had nothing left to spend, and that's when the verbal arguments had reached a new low.

by the time you had turned fifteen, you found yourself consoling your mother as much as she allowed you to. it was draining, you found yourself asking the man in the sky for a way out. a way out was in store, just not for you. one night, just a little after midnight, your father had packed his bags and left after another one of their more tense fights, swearing to find a younger, prettier, richer woman. you had both assumed it was another one of his empty threats, but you would never come to know, as that was the last time either of you have seen or heard from him.

for weeks on end following his departure, your mother had no tears left to cry. she was too quiet, white in the face as if all the blood has been drained from her body. she wasn't interested in discussing what had happened ever again. more weeks passed and winter came along, and she had fallen ill. you had picked up a job at fifteen and worked as many shifts as you could just to keep the house warm, to keep food on the table at least until december's weather had passed. she knew you had been trying, and you knew she was grateful, but you couldn't shake the uneasy feeling as her condition worsened, as did the weather.

blizzards were uncommon in daegu. sure, it was normal to wake up to over ten inches of snow, but the storms just never seemed to take action. that's why you were surprised to have woken up just half an hour past four in the morning, to the sound of ice pounding on your windows and vicious wind blowing. your room was on the second floor, completely untouched, and you felt relieved for just a second. that second quickly passed when you called out for your mother, only to be met with silence. maybe she didn't hear you, maybe she had mistaken your voice for the wind; it's what you so badly wanted to believe as you made your way down the stairs. your heart stopped when you had realized that hope was more than a call away.

despite the untouched stairs and floor above, the living room she had been sleeping in was a wreck. the air was noticably colder, windows broken, glass shattered on the wet floor. the storm had done all the damage, yet that still wasn't the worst part. your mother was still on the couch, her skin as pale as ever. she was facing the ceiling, eyes open. you felt your heart sink to your stomach, and you've been dreading the feeling ever since. you've carried the grief ever since it happened, tears stinging whenever november made an appearance, whenever the temperature shifted. your mother had frozen to death, and how could you ever get over it, how could you ever function? you dreaded your father more than anything, knowing that if she could've beared to sleep in their shared room on the floor above, she would've been alive.

that was the first moment you had taken her words to heart. cold as ice, hard as stone, never choose men over being alone.

you had made it through the rest of high school without any interest in dating, or men in general. you had graduated the way you pictured yourself graduating, and you did it alone. it was a lonely road before anything else, but it was something you learned to live with. you spent your last summer as a high school student working to kill the time, waiting for the college season to start. everyone from your class had gone their separate ways, but you couldn't care less. every day seemed the same—wake up, eat, work, come home, eat, sleep. you went to sleep dreading the night, and woke up dreading the day. on one particular day, a man had stopped you in your tracks on the way to work. all he had to say was, “wouldn't hurt to smile, would it?” all it did was put a scowl on your face.

when summer had finally come to an end, you were the most ecstatic you've been in in the last four years. you couldn't wait to leave the house you grew up in—sell it, rent it out, it didn't matter. all you wanted was out. you ended up renting it out to an anonymous customer, which definitely should've raised some alarms, but you couldn't care less. they needed the house, you needed the money; they could've turned it into a meth lab for all you cared.

daegu university was located on the other side of town. it was a good college, despite how far away it was, which meant it was worth the agonizing drive. it was almost cartoonishly big, big and urban. nothing less was to be expected of a private school with a low acceptance rate and big bills. you had met with the principal of the university a total of three times. the first time was to congratulate you for being accepted, which had taken you aback. it was the first time in a long time you had allowed yourself to grin from ear to ear. the second time was just a few days later, he had shown you around the campus in advance, to avoid any confusion when the halls were packed to the brim. the third and final time was to get you comfortable in your dorm, where you met your dorm roommate.

the school itself was filled with spoiled, conceited kids with little to no knowledge and extended trust funds. it truly was a sight for sore eyes in the worst way possible. often did you find yourself rolling your eyes at their remarks and complaints, it was incredible how they could be so out of touch with reality and out of sync with the real world. you couldn't keep up with the rich people bullshit—stained shoes, last season clothes, companies going bankrupt. just a month into college, you learned to tune everything out, nearly everything.

your roommate took the cake, and you knew it. you felt the last shreds of your patience go numb when you had first met him. for the sake of your education, you told yourself that having a guy as your roommate would be no issue. you didb't want to leave a sour taste in the principal's mouth, so you put on a smile and complied. all you had to do was ignore him, just as you had been doing your whole life. he was quiet when you had first met, he was quiet throughout the many times you had spotted him during lectures or lunch. min yoongi—out of his entire group of friends, he seemed to be the most tame. that had lasted until he grew more comfortable and less mindful of your presence.

awake at the peak of midnight, you typed away at your laptop. your forehead was slick with sweat, hair tied back as you focused on your presentation. yoongi had gone out, perhaps with his friends. the room was quiet, aside from the sound of the wind whistling from outside. the silence didn't last as long as you needed it to, however, your heart practically skipping a beat as the door swung open. you really could've sworn you had locked it, making a mental note to double-check from that point on. the room was dark, so you couldn't make out who had entered until the lights flickered on. the smell of soju was pungent as yoongi stumbled into the room, making your nostrils flare. you couldn't bite back the groan that left your mouth as he stumbled in, only because he wasn't entering alone, for the third night in a row. he had come in with another sorority girl, hand around her waist as their lips remained locked in a drunken dance, their feet tumbling over each other. yoongi waved you off as if to let you know he didn't give a shit, you could either stay and watch or leave, so you left for the third night in a row. you took your laptop with you and remained sat outside of the door, typing hastily while you prepared yourself for yet another night of listening to their ten minutes of pleasure.

while you continued to type away, you felt a tap on your shoulder. already pissed off, you bit back a hiss as you snapped your head to the side. greeted by your friend's smile, you were relieved you didn't snap at him. “shit, third night in a row? he's on a roll, isn't he?” kim taehyung was the first person that introduced himself to you, and on your first day, too. at first, you had no interest in being his friend, but quickly warmed up to him once you realized just how much you had in common. he was from bukgu, just like you. he liked the same things you did, but more importantly, disliked the same things as you—men and rich people. men, more or less—he cheered you on when you found yourself ranting about men and their behavior, even if he did it jokingly. his vendetta against the rich was what made him stick out, as he had gotten into the university due to his promising resumé, accepting a full scholarship. with that being said, he was always respectful towards you, treating you as a friend and nothing more.

“i don't know how you can stand to hang out with him,” you responded, typing away as he allowed himself to sit next to you, throwing a glance at the screen. “he's a good friend, don't sweat it,” he paused, a smile crossing his lips. “but i'm not dumb enough to live with him, fuck no.”

yoongi was all too quiet, even with his friends, but he made up for that with many habits that failed to please you. those habits ranged from chainsmoking to excessive drinking to the dehumanizing way he fucked every girl with two legs and a functioning mouth. shit, it didn't matter if the girls had two legs or three, he'd find a way to spread them as long as he was in the mood, but they'd never get a glance from him the next day, let alone a text back. he'd just move onto the next victim.

“you could hold me at gunpoint and i still wouldn't know what these girls see in him,” you scoffed. you really didn't know. sure, he was a good-looking guy, you weren't gonna go out of your way to lie and call him ugly, but nobody could be good-looking enough to risk your self-respect.

taehyung seemed like he was actually thinking about it for a second, the faint sound of moans and groans from behind the door adding to his brain fog, “i think he just has a really big dick, yeah?” you shot him a look, almost concerned, “you seem to do a lot of thinking about his dick, anything you wanna tell me?” you teased, earning a joking punch to the shoulder.

“how charming,” he sneered, all you could do was laugh. he paused for a second as the moans began to die down. “there is something i wanna ask you, though.”

you stopped your typing, peeling your eyes off the screen in order to face him. “yeah, go ahead.” he seemed hesitant, a nervous smile crossing his face, and you couldn't help but worry about what was to come. “you can't say no right away, you have to hear me out,” he was only making it worse. “i'm supposed to go to this kid's frat party tomorrow night, and i wanna bring a guest, yeah?”

your face couldn't help but twist up in pure confusion. it wasn't that you were a total stone cold bitch that was gonna leave him high and dry, but you had never been to a party in your life. “and out of all the potential victims in this school, you wanna go with me?” he nodded, almost eagerly, as if the answer was supposed to be obvious. “duh, who else am i supposed to go with?” you could've inquired, but you didn't dare argue back, you didn't have the patience to. instead, you waited a second before agreeing. you didn't have to stay overnight, just a couple hours to keep taehyung company.

“okay, yeah, come to the dorm and we'll go, what time is it?” you asked as you closed your laptop, the painful silence from behind the door being a good enough sign that you could come back in. “i'll come by around eight, thanks for this, i owe you one.” you nodded as he gave you a hug goodbye, watching as he scurried down the hall and back to his own dorm.

you let out a sigh of exasperation, hand sliding down your face as the realization hit you. you didn't know the first thing about social gatherings, let alone about the ones with wannabe elite socialities that'll have too much to drink. the thought made your stomach churn as you reached for the doorknob, but before you could open the door, you had been beaten to it.

from the other side, the girl yoongi had brought to the dorm had swung the door open, stopping in her tracks as she locked eyes with you. she was a pretty girl, but the look she gave you was enough to make your blood boil. she didn't say a word, but the look itself was so nasty, you felt as dirty as she did. as she stomped away, you could hear the sound of yoongi's laughter from the room. “feisty one, isn't she?” he asked as you finally came in, making sure to lock the door this time. “charming girl, you sure know how to pick them,” you rolled your eyes.

he turned to face you as you walked in, wearing nothing but his short as he made himself comfortable, pressing a cigarette to his lips. the look you threw him was incredible, almost mimicking the one tonight's vencido shot you just a few seconds prior. “do you really have to smoke that shit in here?” you asked as he lit the tip of it. he raised an eyebrow, as if offended. “you got lung cancer?” the question had little to no relevance, but you shook your head. “then, what's the problem?”

“it smells like shit,” you hissed, waving your hand at the smoke drifting in your direction. he couldn't help but chuckle as he made his way over to the sofa, kicking his feet over the side. “hold your breath, open a window if you have to.” you scoffed as you watched his eyes close, cigarette tucked between his lips. you opened both of the windows in the room, greeting with fresh air with open arms. it was the last thing you had said to one another before you went to sleep, physically too tired to argue any further.

the following morning came too quickly, the sunlight from the window that had been, once again closed, practically blinding you, even while your eyes were closed. you could barely open them, head groggy as you powered through it. despite the bright rays, it wasn't what you saw that had awoken you from your slumber, but what you had heard.

it was about seven in the morning, maybe a few minutes last seven. whatever time it was, you knew it was too early to be listening to whatever it was you were listening to. you could make out two loud voices; one was yoongi's, the other belonged to a girl. for a second, your blood ran cold at the thought of him hooking up with a girl while you were awake, but the fear went away as your vision began to clear up. they were both half-naked; not fucking, just arguing.

“you're a fucking asshole, you've always been a fucking asshole,” the girl yelled, voice piercing your ears. you could make her frame out, definitely wasn't any of the past three girls that came in. she was much smaller than yoongi, her fists pounding against his chest but to avail as she continued to yell and cry. “you think fucking my best friend is funny, asshole? or the other sluts you have in here every fucking night? or the whore in your bed at seven in the morning?”

you scrunched your face up, offended at the assumption, but you remained in your position, not wanting them to notice your presence in case the situation worsened. “you better watch that fucking mouth of yours,” you heard yoongi respond. he didn't yell at her, he didn't hit back. his voice was almost stoic. “she's not a fucking whore, she's my roommate and she's sleeping, so either be quiet or get the fuck out.” you were almost pleased with his answer, it was the closest thing you'd ever get to him being nice to you. unfortunately, she didn't like that answer at all.

“get fucked, you son of a bitch,” was the last thing she said before leaving, and she didn't go quietly. she left the dorm with heavy footsteps and a deafening slam of the door. yoongi paused, reaping the insult with only a second of eerie calmness. when the wave of calm had passed, you felt your body jolt as he threw the television's remote control at the door, muttering a string of angry curses as he did so. only then did he turn around, watching the way you stared in surprise.

he tilted his head back down, almost as if he felt sorry, “sorry if i woke you up, go back to bed.” you shook your head, pushing the blanket off as you swung your legs off the bed. it was much too late to go back to sleep anyway. “all good, i gotta get to class anyway.” he raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter as he pressed another cigarette to his lips. you watched him light it up in shock, it was still seven in the morning.

“what the fuck kind of classes do you have this early?” you rolled your eyes as you brushed out your hair, getting done only what was necessary before leaving for your morning lecture. “management accounting,” you murmured a response. he raised his eyebrows, keeping his distance as he blew smoke into the air.

“studying finance, really?” you nodded in response, unable to tell if he was impressed or disgusted. “that's cool,” he said softly. “my step-dad studied finance, too. says it's a pain in the ass.”

perhaps you had were too comfortable in that moment, perhaps you were just too tired and out of it to register what was coming out of your mouth. “my mom studied finance, she was really good at it,” your eyes had locked, but only for a second. it wasn't long enough to carry too much significance, but not short enough to go unnoticed. you coughed, “i'm gonna go to class.” he nodded silently, watching you grab what you needed before heading towards the door. he watched you leave for your lecture, cigarette still pressed to his lips, but not before opening the window.

your classes had lasted longer than you had anticipated, the one hour mark stretching for another two hours. by the time you had finally finished, you felt the second wave of exhaustion flood your system. the morning wasn't even through, and you were ready to give up and go back to bed, but you couldn't. as you left the classroom, dreading whatever your schedule had in store for you next, you felt an arm sling around your shoulders as you walked down the hallway.

“hey, loser,” taehyung cooed in your ear, ruffling your hair as you scoffed, delivering a playful slap to his arm. “going to your morning classes like a good little geek, aren't you?” you rolled your eyes as you peeked at your schedule, smiling as you realized your next class was with your friend. “remember those words when you're working for me in ten years, jackass.”

he feigned offense as he placed his hand on his forehead in a dramatic fashion. “so so cruel, i would truly rather work at a gas station.” you couldn't help but laugh as you both made your way into the next classroom. you couldn't help but admire how elegant the classrooms were, truly a hit or miss product of capitalism. unfortunately, you weren't given much time to admire as you both stopped in your tracks in the middle of the room.

“min yoongi taking english literature,” taehyung was the first to react, equally as surprised as you were. he laughed as he walked up to his friend, who was seated in the back row, arms crossed with a faint smile on his face. “you do realize the class doesn't come with a free ashtray, right?” you faintly trailed behind him as they dapped each other up, the most unnecessary display of masculinity, you thought.

“yeah, don't be too shocked, my parents aren't paying for me to smoke all day,” yoongi responded. his faint smile grew more and more faint as he watched you come up behind taehyung. his gaze switched from you to him. “you two friends?”

you had opened your mouth to say something along the lines of “none of your fucking business,” but your friend was much quicker than you. taehyung wrapped his arm around your shoulders once more, ruffling your hair as you protested. “(y/n)? no, she's my hostage, as you can see.” you sighed in defeat, knowing it was no use. “you're such an ass,” you hissed. yoongi didn't say a word, he just stared. his gaze continued to flicker, but he remained quiet. even as you found your seat next to taehyung, just across from yoongi, he stayed quiet. silent, though his gaze never left the two of you, and you could almost feel it.

morning classes seemed to be the last of your problems as the day went on. everything was normal until you returned to your dorm, the panic you had been fighting since last night finally settling as you checked the time. you had exactly an hour to get ready before taehyung would come to pick you up. exactly an hour to find an outfit, put some decent makeup on, and get the courage to not pussy out. yoongi was nowhere to be found as you entered the dorm.

your wardrobe wasn't necessarily limited, as you had brought everything that could fit you. anything that couldn't was given to charity before you rented out the house, it was the smartest thing to do. you kept everything in a narrow closet, alongside some jewellry your mother had kept in a dainty box. it was a weird sensation, even after so many years, running your fingers through the fabric would never not strain your heart. you gulped back the melancholic nostalgia as you raked through the clothes. finally, you pulled out a dress hanging from above, one that had caught your eye.

it was anything unlike you had ever worn, because it wasn't yours. it was a dress your mother had worn when she was just a bit younger than you. despite what she believed in, she was the life of the party, unlike you. she knew how to let loose, and she wasn't afraid to express herself through her clothes. the dress was almost skimpy, she loved giving men the wrong impression. she loved knowing they could look because, they'd be looking either way, but they could never have her. she was in control, and the dress was gorgeous. a gold dress with thin straps, entirely tight and made to hug the body of whoever chose to wear it. it wasn't what you were used to, not at all. you loved the fact that it was pretty, but you loved the fact that your mother felt pretty in it even more.

if it wasn't her dress, you were entirely sure you wouldn't have liked it. the sensation of putting it on and embracing it was even weirder than the feeling of finding it. nonetheless, you slipped into the dress as you stood in front of the mirror. the dress was even more beautiful on you rather than in your hands. it was just as you imagined—tight, hugging every part of your body from your chest to your thighs, but beautiful. the light from the room did it more than enough justice, it glimmered.

even as you did your makeup, you couldn't help but give all your attention to the dress. it made you feel warm on the inside, the fact that you had a part of your mother clinging to your skin. it was as if she had never left. when you finished, with your face touched up, the heels you wanted, and the gold ring on your finger, all you could do was admire the dress in the mirror.

“holy shit,” were the words that finally snapped you back to reality, your body jolting as your head turned to the source of the sound. you hated how bad your instincts were when you were distracted, it was one of the reasons why taehyung could tease you as much as he did without you reacting. you froze, not knowing what to do.

“shit, i didn't mean to scare you, i'm sorry,” yoongi continued. he was equally as frozen as you were, having stopped himself in his tracks as he stared at you, eyes scanning you from head to toe. “it's just that you look really nice. the dress is—really nice.”

you almost felt bad for staying quiet. it wasn't that you were ungrateful, you just didn't know what to say. for a moment amidst your silence, yoongi continued to admire you for a moment longer, turning on his heel when he realized you had gone mute. “wait,” you practically blurted out, stopping him in his tracks once more. “thank you. it was my mom's.”

he didn't turn back around, but he remained in place as he felt his heart tighten at your words. “doesn't fit her anymore?” his tone was almost hopeful, as if he was hoping that would be the case. you went quiet for a second, before the answer came out entirely too quickly, as if you had thrown it up. “it would've if she was still here. she passed away, few years ago.”

you regret it the second it had come out, but that was the thing about word vomit; just like regular vomit, you could never take it back. now, it was his turn to be silent. you were entirely sure that you had creeped him the fuck out, but he felt that it was far from that. his heart tightened, it wasn't the answer he was hoping for. he responded as he turned around, finally facing you. “i'm sorry,” he murmured. “my dad passed away some years back, too. storm was bad.” he had mentioned his step-father, but never his actual dad. you felt for him, and he felt for you.

you opened your mouth, ready to offer some form of support, but the distinct pounding on the door was quick to cut you off. “come in,” yoongi muttered out, loud enough for whoever it was to here. taehyung wasted no time opening the door, practically cheering as he came in, unable to read the room.

“is my hostage ready?” his voice had dropped a few octaves as he neared the end of the question, walking into the room as he locked eyes with you. it was something about you in the dress rather than the dress itself, and yoongi was quick to notice his reaction.

“what're you doing here?” he asked taehyung, fighting back the urge to roll his eyes at his shell-shocked reaction. for a second, he focused. “i'm here for (y/n), we're going to the wang party.” never had you heard of that name in your life.

yoongi raised an eyebrow before turning back to you. “you didn't say you were going to jackson wang's shitty frat party,” he sounded almost displeased. you shrugged, “what's it to you?” you and taehyung exchanged a glance as yoongi scoffed, the agitation expanding.

“his entire frat has a thing for roofies and rape,” he paused to shoot taehyung a look. “but i'm sure your friend already told you about that.”

it was your turn to shoot taehyung a look, who already had his hands up. “you really think i'd let something happen to her?” he asked, his tone slightly colder than usual. yoongi scoffed at the rhetorical question, “go on, then,” was all he uttered out.

you knew you didn't need any help, and that you were perfectly capable of handling yourself, which included the decisions you made. still, it didn't change the fact that leaving the dorm held more tension than it was supposed to. taehyung shut the door as you left, leaving yoongi in distress that he chose not to make obvious. instead, he chose to ignore the way it nagged him as he turned the television on, hoping it would just go away.

“roofies and rape? you guys are such a fucking cliché,” you muttered as you made your way down the hall with your friend. as oblivious as you were, for taehyung, it was a blessing, because you failed to notice the glances sent your way. he thought you were gorgeous, he thought the dress was gorgeous, up to the point where he could barely register what you were saying. “okay, yeah, ignore yoongi. i told you, i'm not gonna let anything happen, no way.” you knew he wouldn't, but you couldn't shake the feeling of unease as taehyung knocked on the door. the way yoongi acted, the way he talked, it was such a drastic and quick shift.

the generic music and cheers weren't audible until the door opened, you began wondering who you had to ask to get a thick door like that for some very necessary sound blockage. the guy who opened the door was familiar, you were sure you had seen him around campus before. “what's up, jackson?” they greeted each other with a laugh before the guy turned to you, with an almost unsettling spark in his eyes as he did so.

“good to see you, tae,” he spoke a little louder in order to combat the loud music. “and who do we have here?” the flickering colorful lights lit up the room, and you could make out what seemed to be hundreds of people in there, much to your disbelief. there was no logical reason for there to be that many people at one dorm party.

you introduced yourself, a friendly but equally forced smile on your face. “yeah, you're yoongi's roommate, aren't you?” you nodded in response, and you could tell that jackson wasn't too pleased with your roommate. “we should get you a drink then, make it easier to deal with him.” you feinged a laugh as you agreed, shooting taehyung a desperate look. you didn't need to say anything as you followed jackson in, your friend has already burned holes in the back of his head with his glare.

“i'll get us drinks, is that cool?” he could've sworn he saw jackson's face flash with disappointment, but the host obliged, nonetheless. you knew it was the best way for you to not get your virginity taken by the proclaimed roofie rapist, but you couldn't help but panic as taehyung left, even if it was for a good cause.

everybody was a sweaty, drunk mess. the party had started a mere fifteen minutes ago, yet the dorm was packed to the brim with careless, leering students looking to blow some steam off. you found yourself with your pressed against the wall as you created as much distance as possible. “i'm guessing it's your first frat party,” jackson said, only a few feet away from you. you avoided eye contact as best as you could, though you could barely hear him. “first party in general,” you corrected him. “not really my type of scene.”

he chuckled as he closed a few inches of distance off between you two. “that's what i figured,” you quite literally had nowhere to go, with the wall pressing into your back. “must be why you came with your boyfriend, right?” you laughed, but it wasn't in a mocking way, as if you had taken slight offense. “no, taehyung's not my boyfriend, i don't do boyfriends.” you made sure to put emphasis on the last bit.

jackson raised his eyebrows, taking a mere step closer as the lights flashed. he wasn't an unattractive guy, but you needed to take caution. “all the girls here tend to come with their boyfriends,” he gestured towards the many couples easily spotted behind him, all of them a sweaty mess of hormones, grinding and kissing without a care in the world. “rumor's going around that i'm not a nice guy, so they wanna be careful,” you couldn't tell if he was covering his tracks or not, but he was too close to your face, and the alcohol on his breath was no consolation. “what about you? you think i'm a nice guy?”

you couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, and you truly didn't know how to answer. his eyes bored into yours as a smirk played on your face, your mouth open but no word vomit. before you could waste another second thinking, you glanced at his side, watching taehyung stride over with two drinks, as if on time.

“here you go,” he broke the silence, and relief washed over you. once again, jackson attempted to mask his disappointment with a smile. taehyung handed you a glass of something clear, strong. you knew it was strong, whatever it was, but the tension was so cruel, you couldn't help but down the contents of the cup, as if to ease how unsettled you felt.

whatever it was left a disgusting taste in your mouth, almost like nail polish. your friend watched you, almost concerned, while jackson let out a laugh. “i have a feeling it isn't your first time,” a comment that earned him a glare and a half. you shook your head, “i'm not a drinker,” you argued. “but i'll take more of it.”

this time, taehyung pulled you to his side. “great idea, let's go,” he urged, earning him the third look of disappointment of the night, but he paid no mind. he knew that no reaction, was the best reaction. a frown formed on your face as he dragged you through the tight crowd, leading you to the coolers on the wooden table. he shot you a look, “stay away from jackson,” was all he said as he passed you another drink, this time, a can from the cooler. something less strong to kill the burning sensation in your throat. all you could do was nod.

by the time you had gotten your fair share of drinks down your system, the atmosphere around you began to shift drastically. it was less tense, more refreshing. the more lightheaded you felt, the easier it was to let loose. the worse your vision had become, the more flushed you felt as your blood pumped. you had left taehyung's side, the succumbing to the foreign feeling as you joined the crowd despite his calls of disapproval. you knew he'd come after you, but you didn't care. all you could focus on was absolutely nothing. you just liked the way it felt, swaying to the music as if nothing mattered. unfortunately, everything mattered, and not everyone was as unaware as you were. jackson watched you from the sidelines, and he was focused, despite the many drinks that were clashing in his system. he couldn't not focus on you.

as the night wore on, situations varied. in one dorm, the music was loud. the flashing lights provided no sanctuary, and the drinks were practically freezing despite the immense heat. in one dorm, everybody was having a fantastic time. in another dorm, the silence was deafening.

yoongi had put out what may have been his final cigarette of the night. his throat had grown tight, and his stomach had started to churn. he knew it wasn't because of the cigarettes, no. he had put so many of them out just to ease the aching concerns in his mind as he watched the clock tick. a minute had past, followed by an hour. then, another hour. by the time the box was empty, it was almost midnight, and he couldn't think. with his fingers intertwined, nose pressed against them, he let out a sigh. why were you still there? why hadn't you come back yet? did something happen? it was all he could think about. it wasn't that he cared, he just didn't want anything to happen to you; it'd put his reputation in a tough spot, seeing as you were his roommate and all. at least, that's what he wanted to believe in.

the sound of the clock ticking was almost mocking, as was the way the hand moved in the slowest fashion possible. when another fifteen minutes had passed, he glanced at the door, hoping he'd see you stumble in. maybe not sober, but alive and untouched. when the last speck of hope faltered, he found himself pulling his weight off the couch. “fuck this,” he practically spat, snatching the door keys off the drawer before making his way out.

you were unaware of what was happening behind the door, outside of your makeshift sanctuary. you had finally reached the point of betrayal, only then could you see why you had avoided alcohol for so long. as your head span, so did the room. the burning sensation in the pit of your stomach had quickly replaced the short-lived euphoria you had felt up until then. as your dancing faltered, you found yourself tumbling in the opposite direction, practically tripping over your own two feet.

before you could cause yourself any harm, you felt a familiarly unfamiliar touch embrace your waist, preventing you from falling onto your back. for a second, everything went quiet, relief coursing through your veins. the relief was as short-lived as the bliss. “caught you just in time, didn't i?” you heard jackson murmur, his breath hot against your ear. your vision was blurry, and you were slurring your words as if you had a lisp. you didn't want him to know how drunk you were, you didn't want him to take advantage of it, but he was no fool. “yeah, thanks'o much,” he only chuckled in response.

in an attempt to pull yourself away from him, you found yourself staring at him face-to-face, as his grip never left your waist. you could barely make out his figure, let alone muster the strength to run away. your mouth was open, but it was as if your brain was too slow to form any sentences. “feel bad, don't you?” his voice was soft, almost comforting but borderline mocking. all you could do was nod. “we should go, get you taken care of. my friend's gotta spare room, yeah?”

your hands were pressed up against his chest, as if in attempt to push away from him, but no force was emitted. under any other circumstances, you'd have had no problem leaving, but things just weren't playing in your favor. he smirked, leaning in towards your face as his hot breath fanned your neck, nose grazing the side of your jaw. you pressed your eyes shut, hoping it would all go away, but it never did.

“it's a shame your friend left you here,” he practically purred in your ear. his fingers grazed your collarbone as his free hand slid down your hip, reaching to cup your ass as he let out a sigh at the feeling. “pretty thing like you, nothing good's bound to happen, right?” you couldn't fight back. for the first time in forever, you couldn't fight back, and you hated it. you hated how you were at his disposal, there for him to use without a care in the world. you kept your eyes shut, still hoping it would all stop and go away. and finally, it did.

it didn't go away quietly—within seconds, you could feel a tight grip ripping you away from jackson, a force so aggressive, you felt your heart stop for a split second. you felt as if you didn't need to second-guess who it was, thinking taehyung had finally located you and came to your rescue, but your suspicions were denied once you turned around. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” despite being free from his grasp, jackson's yell made you wince. he came closer once more, but he didn't face you this time.

yoongi came just as close as he did, mere inches away from his face as he levelled with him. “dunno, jackson, she looks pretty drunk to me,” he sneered in his face. you were behind yoongi, with one of his arms pressing into your front in an attempt to block the distance between you and jackson. by that point, the music had started to falter, and people were growing more and more interested in the scene that was unfolding. “you can take the roofies and rape bullshit somewhere else, i'll fucking kill you and you know it.”

for a second, jackson almost seemed hesitant to react, as if he was scared of the man in front of him. that second passed, but it didn't go unnoticed before he chose his next words, “i should leave my bullshit here and fuck her 'till she's sober, in case you wanted to watch.” had he chosen anything else to say, maybe the situation wouldn't have escalated the way it did so fast. because, in one swift motion, jackson plummeted into the ground beneath his feet, his neck bending backwards in an almost animated way as yoongi's fist collided with the bottom of his jaw.

“holy shit,” was all you could breathe out, screams emitting from the crowd of people behind you as you watched jackson's bloody gums shine under the lights. your body told you to move forward, pressing into yoongi's arm as you took a step towards jackson. the man beside you almost instantly looked back at you as he pushed you off with just enough force to make you stumble back.

for a second, you and yoongi locked eyes. your eyebrows furrowed, a look of concern in your eyes mixed with the profound melancholy of a lack of thoughts. your brain was moving too slow, you thought you looked stupid, but he thought you looked beautiful. it pissed him off how beautiful you looked, and it was all you could see in his eyes. anger, anger, anger. anger, and a speck of something else that you couldn't quite figure out.

“you've gotta be fucking joking,” your head snapped towards the source of the sound, and you spotted taehyung rushing to your side. first, all of his anger was directed towards jackson, but the anger quickly shifted to your roommate once he realized jackson had been dealt with. “where do you get off shoving her?” yoongi scoffed at the question, watching the way your friend came up to you from behind, his annoyingly protective hands cupping your shoulders as he watched you, hoping to see you were okay.

“where do you get ditching her in a place like this?” was yoongi's response. everything went quiet, too quiet, as he and taehyung locked eyes. you were afraid, too afraid that your friend would end up in the same position as jackson. “it's crowded, i went to the bathroom and couldn't find her,” taehyung's defense was reasonable, as you had given him permission to go, promising you'd be fine for a minute or so before making your way to the dance floor. yoongi laughed, but there was no humor to be traced, “that's funny seeing as i found her the second i came in here.”

the silence physically made your stomach twist, and they could both see it from the way your abdomen clenched as you bent forward. people had started whipping their phones out, snapping photos ane taking videos as hushed whispers began to fill the air. “let's get you out of here,” taehyung murmured, ignoring what yoongi said as to avoid any further discomfort, but you knew yoongi. everybody knew him. as your friend pulled you by one arm, leading you towards the exit, you both stopped in your tracks. from your other side, yoongi kept his grip on your hand tight. you couldn't fully grasp the situation, but his unfamiliar touch had a different feeling than jackson's. they were both foreign, but only one was welcomed.

“go home, taehyung,” yoongi uttered out, and oncr again, they locked eyes. the tension was palpable, and you couldn't stand the way their cold gazes matched one another so well. when taehyung's eyes left his, they met yours. you wanted to go home so bad, the situation was killing you from the inside. so, you held his gaze and nodded. he let out a sigh as he let your arm go, ever so hesitantly. “i'll call you,” was what he said before he finally turned on his heel. yoongi practically sneered—“no, you won't,” was what he so badly wanted to say.

the morning which had followed was no easier than the previous night. you couldn't remember the last time you felt so sore, the pounding in your head never seeming to ease. you blinked, more than what was deemed natural, as you opened your eyes to the blinding sunlight. you could hear your roommate, but had yet to see him. “weather's getting colder,” was what you could make out as you propped yourself onto your elbows. “enjoy the sun while it lasts.” unfortunately, he had a point. you stopped straining your eyes, allowing the sunlight to do its work. now, you could see him, standing next to the open window with a cigarette in his hand.

“what time is it?” you asked, exhaustion laced in your voice as your brain had begun picking up the pieces of last night's rezendevous. “about ten,” your head snapped, realizing you had missed two of your morning classes. “but don't even think about going anywhere.” you looked up to meet his gaze as he blew smoke out the window.

your whole body was tense, and only when you stepped out from under the covers did you realize just how right he was about the weather. “why's it so fucking cold?” you couldn't help but ask, the borderline freezing weather leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “it's almost winter,” yoongi responded, just as dryly. “fucking hate winter.” you let out a humorless laugh, as if to agree. if there was one thing to agree on, it was that.

your phone vibrated on your desk, and as you peered over to see who had been bugging you so early in the morning, taehyung's face flashed on the screen once more. “so annoying,” yoongi spoke once more. “he's been doing that all morning.” you shot him a look as you scurried to pick up your phone, “and you didn't think to answer him?” you asked, watching him take the last drag of his cigarette. he shrugged you off, earning an eye roll as you finally picked up taehyung's call.

“thank god, everything okay?” you heard his panicked voice from the other side, before even getting a chance to greet him. “yeah, just woke up,” you murmured, your heart pounding as you recalled just how bad it had gotten the night prior. you could recall the drinks, the lights, jackson. most importantly, you could recall yoongi, and how he had rushed in, potentially stopping you from getting assaulted. the phone was pressed against your ear as you looked up to meet his eyes once more. from the way he looked at you, you knew he recalled it just as well. because, he looked at you as if he wanted nothing to happen to you.

“i'm really sorry for leaving, i should've held it in a little longer,” your friend's apologetic voice rang once more. you shook your head as if he was there, but your eyes never left yoongi's, “no. tae, it's alright. it would've happened either way, it's not your fault.” you could've sworn yoongi's gaze dropped at the mention of his name, but either way, the eye contact had finally broken. you spoke to your friend a minute longer, dismissing his apologies and promising you'd see each other for lunch. he wanted you to spend it with him and his friends, seeing as that would be much safer than being alone. you complied.

when you finally hung up, you allowed yourself to face reality once more. “there's advil in the cabinet,” yoongi spoke. this time, his tone was colder than anticipated. you thanked him, allowing yourself to get ready for whatever it was the universe had in store for you.

by the time lunch had rolled around, you found yourself waiting for your friend once more. this time, for a much safer setting. taehyung and his friends normally spent that period outside, taking up a bench or two while they hung out. as you walked with him, you could feel just how unfamiliar and harsh the air had grown. he noticed your discomfort, but said nothing, as you were near the spot anyway.

you couldn't recognize any of his friends. sure, you had seen them around campus. maybe even in a class or two, but you knew none of them personally. all but one. as you walked up to the bench, yoongi was the last to notice you, but the first to meet your gaze. “this is (y/n), she's gonna be joining us today,” taehyung introduced you, and you forced a smile. the smile was returned as the boys introduced themselves, all but one. yoongi remained silent, but never took his eyes off you. all of the boys were locals, all from daegu, but all of them seemed to harbor the same personality as taehyung, regarding the rich people bullshit. they seemed nice, down-to-earth, until the questions rolled in.

“you were at that party last night, weren't you?” one of the boys, who had introduced himself as dongwon, asked. though hesitant, you nodded, earning a sound of astonishment from him. “yeah, jackson's a real asshole. he didn't put his hands on you, did he?” you tensed up at the thought, with dongwon earning a look of disapproval from taehyung. you weren't the only one uncomfortable—from the corner of your eye, you could see yoongi fidget with his fingers, perhaps at the mention of what went down last night.

“no, not really,” you responded, recalling the way he had you backed up against the wall, the way his fingers so desperately waited for further access beside your waist. “not really?” dongwon repeated, as if confused. “what exactly do you mean by that?”

you shrugged, as if hesitant to go into further detail. “he didn't get to do much touching, nothing too bad,” you paused, watching the way nearly all of them listened carefully. “tried to kiss me, had his hand on my ass but that's really all—” before you could finish your thought, everybody's attention shifted to yoongi, who had pushed himself off the bench and onto his feet, throwing his can into the bin behind him more aggressive than necessary. “yoongi, what's your deal—” once again, you found yourself being cut off by the same man. once he was on his feet, his grip was on your elbow, practically dragging you away from the group and back into the school.

you thrashed, but it was no use, you couldn't pull yourself out of his grasp. he was too strong and too determined, as he pulled you into the first empty hallway he could find. once he had found the spot, you found yourself in an all too familiar position, with your back pressed against the wall. “what the fuck is wrong with you?” you hissed, but your voice was weaker than usual. you didn't know if it was because of last night's antics, or because of the current tension. “what's wrong with me?” he repeated, tone equally as harsh. “where do you get off talking about shit like that?”

now, you were just confused. “what the hell are you talking about? he asked me a question.” yoongi rolled his eyes, you truly had no idea why he was so mad. especially at you, what was it that you said wrong? “why didn't you call me when he touched you?” this time, his tone was more gentle, and the confusion had been replaced with shock. “if i had come in a second later,” he stopped himself mid-sentence, not wanting to imagine just how much the situation could have escalated.

your face softened at his words, it was almost like he felt guilty for not having stopped you when he had the chance. “you came,” you said. “you came, and i'm grateful you did.” your words comforted him, just a little bit. in the end, the important part was that someone intervened. even if it happened to be your roommate. for a moment, you saw him smile, but perhaps it was too much. he knew it was, so he followed it up with an eye roll, “it was a pain in the ass, had to watch over you, missed breakfast and lunch and everything,” he paused, as if the lightbulb in his head came to light. “you owe me lunch.”

you owed him lunch, and it took every cell in you to avoid ripping his head off his neck. it was the least you could do, it really was. it wasn't like you didn't know how to cook, of course you did. it was one of the first things your mother had made sure she taught you on time. but it was something about the almost smug smile he was wearing as he made himself comfortable on the chair, while you whisked away by the stove. “and don't even think about poisoning it,” you heard his taunting voice from behind. “the death penalty's legal now.”

for a moment, you even considered it. you opted for one of your mother's recipes, seeing as your roommate wasn't specific with what he wanted. truly, he didn't care. he just wanted to eat, with the appetizer being an excuse to fuck around with you. the specific recipe you were using had been passed around from one generation, all the way to your mother. the stew itself was something anyone could make, but nobody could make it the way your did. in fact, it was so special, the only people she ever shared it with were you and your father.

“it smells good,” yoongi murmured, his eyes glued to your frame as you carefully removed the pot off the stove, turning the heat off. you smiled to yourself as you retrieved a bowl from the csbinet above, “thanks.” never had you tried the recipe out for yourself, it was your first time and you were determined to make it work.

he waited patiently as you scooped the stew out, dumping it into the bowl. he watched your every move, from the way you pushed the loose strands of your hair away from your forehead, to how you carried the bowl with grace he swore was there. the stew was served with a bowl of rice for him, and a side of radishes. you heaved a sigh as you sat next to him, hands sore. everything was there, picture perfect for him, but he kept his focus on you.

“well,” you urged. “go on, then.” only then did his gaze drop. he stared at the red liquid, allowing the spicy scent to grace his nostrils. it was comforting, and all too familiar to him. the scent itself sent a sharp jab to his chest, he was too familiar with it.

his suspicions didn't ease as he scooped a spoonful of the stew, he had reached a new level of excitement. you analyzed him carefully, hoping for a promising reaction. it was exactly what you were going to get. “holy shit,” he uttered out, his mouth full. his instincts hadn't failed him, the scent was familiar and the taste only confirmed what he had been thinking. “is this your recipe?” for a second, you hesitated, but shook your head. “no,” you assured softly. “it was my mother's, why? is it any good?”

the answer itself was all too obvious as he continued to fill his mouth with the product, swallowing within seconds just to help himself some more. it was as if he hadn't eaten in years. “it's amazing,” he praised, and your face lit up. you couldn't help but smile as he neared the end of the bowl. “it tastes exactly the one my step-dad used to make.” you were skeptical, as there was no way that was possible, but took the compliment.

“generational recipe,” you explained, a twinge of grief to your voice. “it was all we ate when winter came along.” the memories weren't as pleasant as the taste itself; you found yourself recalling the days there truly wasn't anything else to eat, but you never complained. you never got tired of the taste.

yoongi seemed to notice the way your tone shifted, even while draining what was left of the meal. “i get it,” was what he found himself saying. at first, you thought it was just empty comforting. “the cold took a toll on us, too. fucking hate the winter.” out of all people, you never imagined opening up to min yoongi, let alone him opening up to you. let alone him understanding you. for a second, there was nothing but silence, and the way you found yourself staring at him. you had been looking at him with the same eyes since you've met him, but this time was different. this time, you looked at each other in a way you never have before.

in a split second, the moment had passed. your phone had started to ring again, and you found yourself cursing whoever it was. taehyung, probably. you swore you'd kill him if it was him pestering you again, but it wasn't. your screen flashed, reading “no caller id” in white, bold letters. yoongi shot you a concerning glance going unnoticed as you excused yourself, leaving the room.

once you were a room away from yoongi, you answered the call with a simple, “hello?” you didn't know exactly what you were expecting to hear, nor who. maybe someone had the wrong number, or it was a spam caller. you had your list of possibilities and expectations, all but one. “(y/n)? is it you?” the voice on the other line was deep, scratchy, rough. above all else, it was familiar. the second you heard it, your blood ran cold and your heart grew weak. it had never crossed your mind, so you refused to believe it was happening. “yes,” you responded weakly, weary of your roommate in the other room. “who is this?”

in the back of your mind, you knew exactly who it was. you could see his face, and you could hear his voice. you had done your best, for years on end, to block it from your memory, but to no avail. “(y/n), you know exactly who this is,” he said, voice all but steady. your fingers quivered, breathing heavy as you did your best to keep it together. “please, sweetheart. i'm back at the house, where's your mother? where are you? come over, we have to talk.” and for a split second, the room was silent. you couldn't muster up the words you so badly needed to say, not while you blood was hot, not while your head was heavy. the shock had finally turned to anger, and you couldn't deal with it.

“you asshole,” you finally breathed out, your eyes stinging with tears that threatened to spill. “you have some fucking nerve, you asshole.” it was all that was going through your head—asshole, asshole, asshole. how could he possibly have the courage, after so long?

from the other line, your father heaved a sigh, as if symapthetic. almost as if he was ashamed. “honey, i know i'm the last person you wanna hear from right now—” you had reached your limit, patience growing thin. you knew being rational wasn't an option, not with your knees threatening to give out from under you. “she's dead, you son of a bitch,” your voice was barely above a whisper. finally, he went quiet. it was your turn to talk. “she's dead and it's all your fault, dead. she's dead, you left her, and she's dead.”

so badly did you want to keep it together, but it was no use. your whispering had gone an octave up, hands furiously quivering as the tears came running down your face. your lips were swollen, hair plastered to your forehead with sweat as you failed against the sobs that were escaping from your throat. “i'm sorry,” were the words that finished you off. with a sob, you finally hung up. you should've done it the second you heard his voice, but it was too late. his words echoed in your head, even as you tossed your phone onto the floor, ignoring the sound of fatal cracks. you couldn't keep it together, you couldn't hold it in.

he had watched the whole scene unfold, much to your dismay. you realized it the second you held your head up. tears spilled from your eyes, and you were finally falling apart. yoongi stood there, just feet away. he stared, his eyes wide with shock as he watched you. something had awoken in him as he watched the way you held your face in your hands, sobs rocking your body. he watched you, but not for long. not wall you were so close to collapsing.

your legs were about to give out, but they never did. you were falling, but never did you hit the ground. he was right there, right beside you, arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in so that you wouldn't fall. never in your life had you felt more grateful, more safe. you held onto the fabric of his shirt, and he didn't dare let go of you. you were fragile. in that moment, you were on the verge of breaking, and he wasn't going to let it happen. so, he pulled you close. his arms were wrapped around your frame, hand on the back of your head as he pushed your face into the crook of his neck.

he could feel the way you shook under his touch, and it broke his heart. his heart hurt for you. gentle strokes were delivered to your hair as he hushed you, and all you could do was cry. he didn't stop, not until your sobs died down. “was that your dad?” was what he finally asked, careful with his words as to not worsen the situation. all you could do was nod, and it was enough for him to keep quiet. all he could do was hold you, and that was exactly what he did. it was the comfort you had been longing for.

when you had finally calmed down, when the embrace had broken, you didn't know what to think. you cursed yourself for succumbing to your emotions as quickly as you did, you cursed yourself for breaking down. it made you wonder, what was it that made you feel so safe with him? what was it that made your heart flutter, that put your mind at ease? you were no fool, all you needed to do was remember what was engraved in your mind—cold as ice, hard as stone. never choose men over being alone. it was what had kept you afloat for so long, but it wasn't what was in your heart. it wasn't what made you feel safe, not the way you did with him.

he found himself cursing the way he found himself acting with you. it was unlike him, it was out of character for him. why, all of a sudden? why was he coming to your rescue, eating your meals? why was the urge to protect you stronger than the urge to protect his pride? it was all he thought about, why was it different with you? he didn't like different, different meant unfamiliar. he didn't like how vulnerable he was with you, how safe he felt with you. he never played safe, why start? why risk it all? he needed a distraction, and he was determined to find it.

thankfully, he knew just where to look. that night, you had gone to sleep earlier than usual, with only one thing on your mind. what had happened that day replayed in your head, but only the part you wanted to think about. him. you fell asleep thinking about him, dreading how quiet it was without his presence. he wasn't far, just two dorms over.

“hey,” he greeted almost the second the door opened, as if he was in a rush. he allowed himself to come in, despite the several yelps of disapproval. “got too much on my mind, needed to see you.” he didn't need to do anything, all he wanted was to be distracted. so, he did it the only way he knew how.

the girl scoffed, but closed the door behind him. “you should've called. what? you missed me?” the question sent a chill down his spine. no, no, no. it's what he so badly wanted to say. he didn't miss her, he didn't want her. he didn't need her the way he needed you, but he didn't want to need you. he didn't want to need anybody. to him, everybody was unreliable. everybody was waiting to ruin him. he knew he was making a mistake, but he was ready. above all else, he was ready.

“take your clothes off,” he uttered out. “and you'll see how much i missed you.”

the following morning, you had gotten up earlier than you wanted to. the basket of dirty clothes had filled up again, and someone had to take care of it. when you opened your eyes, yoongi was nowhere to be found. it made you get up faster than usual, panic coursing through your veins as you searched for him. he wasn't there. while you were in your feet, headed towards the basket, he still wasn't there. you tried to calm yourself down, assuring yourself he'd walk through the door soon enough. this time, you were right.

as you picked the basket up, you heard the doorknob jiggle. he had finally come home, just before seven in the morning. he seemed tired, as if he had got done running a marathon. the tiresome expression switched to a look of shock the second he saw you. for a moment, all you did was look at each other. “where've you been?” you finally broke the silence. the question should have been expected, but he didn't know how to answer. how could he, after everything? he gulped, thinking of what to say. so, he did what he did best. he lied.

“drinking with dongwon,” the lie came out smoother than intended, smooth enough for your worries to falter. you only nodded in response. he felt awful for lying, why do it in the first place? you had seen him in much more promiscuous situations with a variety of women, what was the issue now? he knew he couldn't, not after yesterday—after everything. his eyes shifted to the basket in your hands. “taking the clothes down to the washer?” again, all you could do was nod. you had nothing to say, you were just glad he was alright. “would you take this, too?” you watched him gesture to the shirt he had on, and complied.

all you could do was stand there as he peeled his collared shirt off, it was best not to look, but oh so difficult. desperate to ditch the embarrassment, you placed the shirt into the basket, and brushed past him.

the minute you left the room, once again did he curse himself. once time, for what he did. “fuck,” was all he could say.

the washing machine belonged to the campus, and students were free to use it as much as they needed to. people had grown more aware of how challenging it was for students to make it on their own while studying, so they did their best to help. you wanted to make a quick trip, shoving the clothes into the machine as fast as you could, but something caught your eye. all of the clothes in the bin had been worn over and over again, all but yoongi's shirt. he had a different outfit on the previous day, but came back wearing a new shirt. you had presumed it was stained with alcohol, but decided to check, just in case.

maybe things had gotten out of hand while he was drinking, but you didn't remember seeing any stains. the shirt itself was clean, from what you could tell. white stained easily. it wasn't until your hands pulled the collar upwards, did you see what the problem really was. at first, you ignored the pungent smell. the shirt reeked of cheap, fruity perfume that lit your nostrils up, and it made your stomach churn. maybe dongwon had a few girls over to drink with them, it was what you hoped for. why did it matter? it had nothing to do with you. it would've been the best case, but it wasn't. you realized it wasn't the moment you lifted the collar.

the rim of the collar was stained with lipstick. bright pink lipstick. the sight of it made your heart fall, you practically felt it in your stomach. “asshole,” you breathed out, fingers clutching the fabric. you didn't know why it made you so upset, you didn't know why the sight of it made you so angry. why was he lying about it? it wasn't the first time, and you believed it wouldn't be the last. it was all you could think about, and it hurt more than you wanted it to.

you had spent the following weeks ignoring yoongi as best as you could. unfortunately, living with him didn't make it easier for you. you did your best, unable to shake the feeling of betrayal. weeks passed, and you still didn't know why it hurt you as much as it did. you couldn't bare talking to him, afraid of lashing out. losing your temper, everything you had strived for so long.

he had noticed a shift in the atmosphere from that point on, brushing it off at first. maybe you were just having a bad day, is what he had been telling himself the first few days. those days quickly turned into weeks, and nothing was the same. his comments were ignored, even his provocations and jokes. his questions were answered abruptly and coldly. he dismissed the idea of you figuring out what he had done, as he believed there was no way for you to find out, but nothing explained the way you were acting. not even the smoking and closed windows bothered you anymore.

you spent as much time with taehyung as you possibly could. if you had classes, you'd attend them alone and in silence. all your free time was spent with taehyung, not that he minded. he was the only person you told what happened, from start to finish. you told him everything, even the bits he already knew, like what happened at the party.

“you like him, don't you?” he asked the question you had been so scared of facing, let alone answering. you tried to play it off as a joke, laughing it off, but never answering. he watched you carefully, a frown on his face. he didn't need an answer, he knew it just as well as you did. you liked him. he didn't know where to go from there, all he could do was watch you, and every move of yours gave him his answer. you couldn't keep the eye contact, your fingers toyed with your hair as you stayed quiet. he knew you liked him.

that night, he thought about it. he thought about it so much, he found himself standing outside with yoongi, in the cold air. he thought about it so much, he found himself with one of yoongi's cigarettes between his lips. there was something off about him, yoongi saw it. taehyung, who was once one of his closest friends, had grown cold, hostile. taehyung didn't pay mind to how his behavior had grown strange, he only had one thing on his mind.

“she knows,” were the words that broke the silence. yoongi froze, cigarette burning between his lips. he stayed silent, couldn't say a thing. “she knows you fucked that girl.” yoongi scoffed, but he couldn't ignore how fast his heart was pounding. the increasing anxiety wasn't detectable, he did his best to ignore it. “don't know what you're talking about.”

now, it was taehyung's turn to scoff. he didn't make eye contact with his friend, taking a drag of his cigarette as he stared into the night sky. “you're a pussy,” his words finally got the attention he was looking for. “she's this great girl, y'know? she's this beautiful, smart girl and she likes you. and i wish i knew why. but, hey, what do you know? you like her, you like this great girl, but you're too big of a pussy to do anything about it.”

“you don't know shit,” yoongi practically spat at him, too defensive for his own good. he faced his friend, but taehyung remained stoic. in his heart, yoongi knew every bit of it was true. he only returned the stance as he neared the end of his cigarette, throwing it onto the ground beneath him and stepping over it. “you're right, i don't know shit,” taehyung spat back. “you like each other, but don't do shit about it. fuck around with her some more, 'till she realizes she can do better than you.” those were the last words taehyung said to him, before walking away. it took everything in him to not punch yoongi in the face, because he so desperately needed to. he wanted him to realize what was in front of him, he wanted him to realize how lucky he was.

once again, yoongi was left alone. in his heart, he knew every word of it was true, but he couldn't bring himself to come to terms with it. it was something he needed to do, but he didn't want to. he wanted to live in his bubble, with his heart closed off to anyone but him. he needed to be selfish, because it was all he knew, but as the night grew colder and harsher, he knew it wasn't what he wanted to do.

you found yourself in your bed once more, but you couldn't fall asleep. your mind wouldn't shut off, and it pissed you off. you and yoongi had gone another day without speaking, and the silence killed you. he wasn't there, and all you could think about was where he was. you let out a dry laugh, thinking history would be funny enough to repeat itself—maybe he really was out there, wetting his dick again.

that possibility lost some of its credibility when the doorknob began to budge again. like clockwork, you found yourself watching him come in. this time, he was home early, it wasn't even midnight. for a second, you locked eyes. it was quiet, you didn't dare say a word, but you couldn't not look at him. he looked at you, admiring how pretty you were, even at your worst. even with your hair messy, lips swollen, eyes beaming with exhaustion—there was no way you couldn't look good. something in that moment had clicked, and the silence was broken.

“i fucked her,” definitely wasn't the best choice of words, but he needed something to clear the air with. still, you remained quiet, only raising your eyebrows in response. you knew, he knew you knew. “i fucked her and it was a shitty thing to do. i knew it then, and i know it now.”

you stayed quiet, the empathy currently drained from your heart. how could you feel for him? “i fucked her because i needed a way to distract myself,” he paused. “from you. i'm feeling shit i've never felt, and i'm scared of feeling it. when i'm scared, i run. it's all i've ever been doing.”

he stood there, voice steady despite how honest he was trying to be. for a second, you almost understood him. you knew what it was like, running from the same feeling your entire life. it was exactly what you were taught, but never could you have done to anybody what he had done to you. “i really hope she was worth it,” you whispered, just about loud enough for him to hear. she wasn't, he knew she wasn't. she had cost him everything, and he knew there was no coming back from it.

not much had changed as the weeks flew by. nothing but the weather. the colder the weather had gotten, the more hostile you found yourself acting. not just with yoongi, but in general. even with taehyung, you found yourself snapping just to apologize seconds later. he understood, he was patient with you. once it had started to snow, you spent more time inside than outside. seeing the fluffy, white flakes coat the ground was enough for you to get a frostbite. you spent the inside of the campus has truly become a sanctuary, until you and yoongi had started to cross paths once more.

it was only because he had been staying inside just as much. the minute he had woken up to the sight of white, it was official. he didn't even bother looking at the windows, let alone taking a step outside. he only smoked indoors, kept his friends close indoors.

your anger had finally faltered as the time passed, but you and yoongi never really spoke. you had both hoped that whatever it was you were feeling would finally fade, that it was a temporary occurence. you both prayed that one day you'd wake up, and feel nothing for the other. that day never came.

though you had finally made peace with the situation and gained your composure, the weather had lost its. everything up until then had been child's play, with the outside world freezing, but the inside providing comfort. nobody had really expected the drastic change, so nobody was prepared. when the night in question rolled around, it was brutal.

a snowstorm was in the process of unfolding. those who were able to deal with it, dealed by hiding under the covers. the wind rocked the windows, it was brutal. no matter the force, nobody was able to shut them. all the wind did was fight back. the wind howled as flakes of white scattered the dorms, the cold air practically violent. it was the reason you had found yourself on the couch, away from the windows. you were doing your best to ignore it, to block the familiar sounds from your mind. the noises were messing with your head, and the brutal cold brought memories you had no interest in re-living.

your breathing escalated, and all you could do was fight back the tears, reassuring yourself under your breath. you shut yours eyes tight, hoping everything would go quiet. just for a second. it never did. at one point, the howling had started to die down, but the air only grew colder. a new sound had graced your ears, but it wasn't the wind. it wasn't the wind howling. from the corner of your eye, you could spot the source.

yoongi had problems of his own, having taken the spot right next to the window. the covers on the bed offered no comfort, not while everything was unfolding right next to him. the cold was bitter, so unfamiliarly cruel as he rocked himself under the sheets. it was the most unstable he had ever felt, as he bit back his cries, wary of you just feet away from him. he muffled his sobs, but it wasn't enough to stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks. he hated it, it was killing him.

you listened carefully, unsure of what you were listening to. ever the curious one, you pushed yourself onto your feet, with the blanket engulfing you. he was facing the opposite side, and you were absolutely sure the sounds were coming from him, the closer you grew to him. as you got closer, you could make out the sounds better. you were right, it wasn't the wind howling. you could recognize the crying all too well.

“yoongi,” it was the first time you had spoken to him in a long time. your voice rang like a melody, offering him the slightest comfort amidst everything else. slowly, he found himself turning towards you. as he did, you saw everything much clearer, and your heart skipped a beat. his eyes were swollen, lips puffy, his cheeks slick with tears. “yoongi, are you okay?”

he shook his head, and you couldn't hide the panic in your voice. despite everything, you knew you cared. you cared, he cared. hearing you was almost enough to block everything else out. it was enough for him to ignore how vulnerable he truly was in that moment, and he knew he had reached peak vulnerability. “i fucking hate winter,” he croaked out. all you could do was nod, you nodded and it pained you because you hated it, too. you hated how it took everything from you. “took my dad from me, it was too cold.” you could barely make out what he was saying, but you couldn't believe what you were able to hear. it made your heart sink, and you knew what followed was inevitable.

“it's okay, i promise,” your heart was racing as you sat on the bed, right next to him. cold, he was so cold. despite the blankets, he was freezing. “took my mom from me, yoongi. i get it, i promise i get it.” tears in your eyes threatened to match his own as his expression flashed with shock. it wasn't something you expected to hear from anyone, let alone him. “so fucking cold,” he finally whispered, and you realized just how bad he had it. you realized just how alike you were, so you finally did something so unlike the either of you.

you were careful with your actions, even if they weren't thought through. with a sniffle, you pulled the covers up. not enough to expose him to the cold more than he already had been, but enough to make room. you made enough room and, to his astonishment, you crawled in. you moved into the spot next to him, and neither of you moved. it was unlike any warmth either of you had felt before, none of the covers in the world had anything on the warmth felt in that moment.

you stared at each other with sore, puffy eyes. he watched you with soft eyes, sniffles dying down the minute you were next to him. you were perfect. more perfect than you've ever been. he was hesitant, but he found himself pulling you in. you were just as hesitant, but you found yourself scooting closer to him. nothing mattered anymore. the air surrounding you was still cold, it still hurt, but it was like his body had grown a new mind of its own. his fingers traced the side of your face, pushing strands of your hair away from your eyes. he needed to see you, all of you, and he did. you had never been closer, and you couldn't get enough of it. he was like a furnace to you, even though you were the one warming him. from the inside out.

“i love you,” he finally whispered, and neither of you looked away. he knew he couldn't take back what he said, the same way he knew how much he meant it. the words were foreign, they were words you hadn't heard in a long time. finally, you smiled. “i love you, too.” the shock that spread through his body couldn't be mimicked. for the first time in a long while, he smiled. he smiled back, and it was a genuine smile. one that wasn't provoked by teasing and joking, nothing of the sort. he hadn't been loved in a long time.

the wind stayed consistent, but nothing mattered anymore. it was as if a barrier had formed around the two of you, one that unapologetically emitted the warmest, kindest comfort imaginable. yoongi found himself moving closer to you, if possible, and you knew what was coming. you knew, and you were prepared. you loved him, you hated the cold, and you could never be what you despised the most, so you let him.

with his hand ever so gently in your hair, you allowed yourself to come closer, until the distance finally faltered. his lips pressed against yours, something he had found himself dreaming about for too long. your lips melted, colliding so gently, he swore they were made for each other. he had kissed a countless amount of women, but never like that. every ounce of regret left your body, and all you could do was kiss back. it was what you wanted more than anything. you wanted him.

he stroked your arm gently, his thumb tracing circles on your skin, sending shivers of a different kind down your spine. you looked up at him, feeling your heart race a little faster as you thought about what you wanted to say. he was so warm, so solid and comforting, and you felt a sudden rush of love for him that was almost overwhelming. you took a deep breath and whispered, “i've never done this before.” his eyes searched yours, understanding and patience in their depths. he leaned forward and kissed your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. “that's okay,” he said, his voice a gentle rumble. “we'll take it slow.”

the room was filled with a tension that was both nerve-wracking and exciting as you both realized the gravity of the moment. you felt a blush spread across your cheeks, but yoongi just held you tighter, his eyes filled with nothing but affection and reassurance.

he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he said, “but are you sure?” his question hung in the air, the only sound the soft rustle of the covers and the muffled sounds of the winter night outside. you nodded, feeling your pulse quicken. “i'm sure,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible.

yoongi pulled back, looking into your eyes, searching for any hint of doubt. finding none, he leaned in and kissed you softly, his hand moving from your arm to cup your cheek. the kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as you both became lost in the moment. the bed dipped slightly as he shifted his weight, moving to adjust himself beside you, his hand still cradling your face. his eyes searched yours, asking for permission, and you gave it with a shy nod.

he started to kiss your neck, his lips feather-light as they moved down to your collarbone. you felt his hand slowly make its way down your body, and your breath hitched in anticipation. the cold outside was forgotten as the heat between you grew, a warmth that seemed to drive away every other concern. his touch was gentle, exploratory, as if he was learning every inch of you. you felt your body respond, your heart racing and your skin tingling where he touched. his fingers traced the line of your jaw, then moved to the hem of your shirt, his thumbs hooking under the fabric.

you lifted your arms, allowing him to pull the shirt over your head, the cool air of the room making you shiver again. but as soon as the shirt was off, his warmth was back, his chest pressed against yours, his hands running up and down your back in soothing strokes, only to make another appearance, fondling your tits in a way so gentle, even he couldn't believe it. he listened to your soft moans, and it took everything in him to resist pounding you right then and there. the snow continued to fall outside, casting a serene, silent backdrop to the intimate scene unfolding in the warmth of the bedroom. the only sounds were the soft rustle of the covers and the steady beat of two hearts, in sync with each other.

his eyes never left yours as he reached for the button of your pants, his gaze filled with a mix of love and lust. you felt a thrill of excitement and nerves as he undid the button, then the zipper, his hands moving with purpose and care. he slid your pants down, revealing your bare legs to the cool air. you felt his warm breath against your skin as he kissed his way down your stomach, making you gasp.

the anticipation was almost unbearable, your body trembling with a mix of cold and desire. yoongi took his time, his kisses like a warm embrace against the winter's chill. he reached your navel, and your hips instinctively arched towards him. his eyes never left yours, as if asking for confirmation at every step.

he gently pushed your legs apart, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made you feel cherished. his hand trailed down your inner thigh, and your skin burned with every touch. when his fingers finally reached the place where no one else had been before, you tensed, but his soft, reassuring whispers kept you relaxed. with a feather-light touch, he began to explore, his movements slow and deliberate. each caress against your soaking pussy sent waves of pleasure through you, and your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned softly. the cold air was forgotten, replaced by the warmth of his body and the gentle pressure of his hand.

“fuck, princess, so wet for me,” he murmured, his dick painfully hard, practically begging for you.

as he touched you, he watched your reactions closely, learning what made you gasp, what made you shiver with pleasure. his eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. but all he saw was a deep, unspoken trust that made his heart swell with love. you felt your body responding to his touch, and you reached for him, your hands shaking slightly as you pulled his shirt over his head. his skin was hot against your palms, and you traced the lines of his muscles, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your fingertips.

the snowfall outside grew heavier, the world outside muffled and distant. the only thing that mattered was the warmth of his body against yours, the feel of his skin under your hands, and the love that was growing stronger with every shared moment.

as he pulled his boxers down, you realized just how unprepared you really were. he could stretch you out as much as he wanted, it still couldn't prepare you for what caught your eye. he was big, and he knew it. he was big and throbbing against the flesh of his abdomen, and a you could do was stare. “it's not gonna fit,” you whispered. despite his laugh, your words only made him harder. the thought of you, so small and fragile under him, breaking because of his cock—it made him desperate for you. yoongi leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “you'll take it, yeah?” you nodded, your eyes wide and filled with a mix of excitement and nerves. he kissed you again, deep and slow, as if trying to imprint every sensation on your soul. you felt him shift, the bed protesting slightly under his weight as he positioned himself above you. he reached for the condom on the nightstand, his movements sure and practiced. but his eyes never left yours, filled with a tenderness that was almost painful in its intensity.

you felt his hard, pulsing cock against your entrance and it was enough to make you gasp. he let out a sigh, the sight of you so vulnerable for him enough to make him cum on the spot. as he entered you, the world outside disappeared, replaced by the feeling of him filling your pussy up, the sound of your mingled breaths the only music in the room. it was a moment of pain, quickly overshadowed by a deeper, more profound sensation of belonging. you held onto him tightly, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, his rhythm gentle and steady. each stroke was a promise of forever, a declaration of love in the most primal and intimate way possible.

“so fucking tight, holy shit,” he groaned, eyes flashing between the way your pussy sucked him up, so pretty and greedy, and the way your face scrunched up in pleasure, pure pleasure. you and yoongi moved together, each stroke bringing you closer to the precipice of pleasure. your breaths grew ragged, your hearts pounding in unison as you climbed higher and higher. and when you finally fell over the edge, you came all over him. “just like that, all over my dick.”

you were overwhelmed, the foreign feeling gracing you with an irreplaceable euphoria you've so badly been craving. he leaned forward, capturing your lips in yet another messy kiss, his hands erratic. they moved as fast as they could, savoring the way your tits felt in them, the way your fleshy thighs spilled out of them. as he pounded into you, a you could do was moan into his mouth. “so good, fuck, yoongi,” the sound of his name leaving your mouth in such a dirty position was enough to send him over the edge.

he was desperate, his hips slamming into your pelvis as his dick brushed your sweet spot. your walls squeezed him, practically milking him for all he had to offer. his groans grew louder as he neared his high, his thrusts sending your eyes into the back of your head as he savored you. you were all his. “gonna cum, fuck,” he moaned, and he was right. he came with a groan, lost in the way you moaned for him, foreheads pressed against each other. he came into the condom, his dick throbbing into your cunt as he did so. it was good, so good.

when he finally pulled out, you did nothing but stare into each other's eyes. you knew that you had just shared something incredibly special, something that would change everything. but as you looked into his eyes, you also knew that no matter what was to come, you would face it together, wrapped in the warmth of your love, and it was stronger than any storm.

“i love you,” this time, it was your turn to say it. for a second, the fear of him leaving, discarding you like you meant nothing to him, like you were just another girl, became present. you weren't just another girl, you never were. “i love you, too.” it was enough, more than enough. how could you ever be just another girl? he alone wasn't strong enough against the cold, not without you.

✧.*

a/n: i hope this does well because this cliché took so long to write lol!! if it does, i'll do a follow-up, as there's a lot of unfinished business haha. only if it's what the readers want. thank you for reading!!!