#the second i saw her i genuinely got light headed and started tearing up and i got so excited when i saw some of my faves got her <33< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[pikhachu]

i fell in love with her the second i saw her name empanada i love you

[mrsmnsn]

You Belong With Me

wc: 2.9 (i got excited lol)

warnings: angst/conform!; eddie!xfem!bestfriend!; there is a smutty scene but nothing too serious; depreciation and low self esteem; friends to lovers!- they’re just obsessed with each other

tell me if i’m missing something!

a/n: Hi guys, i’ve been off for a while, a little longer than expected, but i needed to organize some stuff from my personal life. Anyways, i wrote this, of course is not super original, but i’ve been with this ideia of using songs, this one in particular, to write stories. As a source of inspiration. I hope you like it! <3

You and Eddie have been friends for a long time, longer than it seems, and he has always been there for you. When your mother yelled at you for some reason and you got upset or for when you needed money and he helped you, even though he didn’t had any and you knew it, he help you anyway or when you graduated and he was held back but he got happy for you and even took you out on a fancy dinner, to celebrate. He was always by your side and you were always by his.

There was kind of a rule between the two of you, if one of you gets sad or mad about anything is an obligation to call the other. Honestly it was just another reason to see each other. And today, well, you can tell it was not your happiest day ever. You were fired from this job you got five months ago in a bookstore because they couldn't pay the rent and the place went bankrupt. You were so happy with this job, genuinely, but you guessed that wasn’t enough.

So you didn’t waisted a minute and immediately called Eddie, it was a super emergency meeting that you wanted to spent all your money (the money that was left over) in ice cream. But he didn’t answer. You tried one, two, three times, but there was no answer. So, instead of trying a fourth time, you headed straight to the trailer park, a place which the way you already knew by heart.

It was already dark when you parked your car in front of his trailer and there was a red car, a BMW. That was odd. Eddie had a van that you were yet not sure how it was standing by itself and Wayne had a truck. You just ignored the car standing there and went to the door. As you got closer to the door, you could hear loud music coming from inside, to be more specific it was “Sex and Outrage” from Motörhead. You just ignored and got in, you knew that if you kept trying to call him from just knocking at the door, he wouldn’t listen. That’s probably why he didn’t answer the phone in first place.

So you walked down the little corridor to where his room was but stopped the second you heard a voice. A girl’s voice. And she wasn’t talking. You also heard his voice in the same tone as hers. You risked taking a look and there was the girl you had heard, on top of him bouncing up and down in the yellow lights of his room. Her hands squeezed and held his hand against her breasts. They both were moaning as if they were in a porn movie. You felt your eyes burning with tears. This girl was no stranger.

Margaret Fowler, or Maggie as everyone called her, was one of the most popular girls in your school. You weren’t in her class, she’s two years older than you and graduated before and yet people still talked about the most talented cheerleader and hot chick to walk through those corridors. To be with her was just a a fantasy, or at least it was what the boys said.

You couldn’t believe that she was there, naked and fucking your best friend. She opened her eyes and saw you standing there behind the little slit of the door like you were a perv watching them fuck. It didn’t took you long to run away before she could say something. You didn’t wait another second to start the car and get out of there as soon as possible. Tears started to fall from your eyes. When did that happen? You haven’t seen him in a week or so. How did Maggie end up there with him. It seemed like a lie, because most girls stayed with Eddie either to lose their virginity or to see what it was like to be with the freak. You hated yourself for thinking like that, but it was the truth, or at least it was what he told you. But you never understood how no one saw him the way you did. He had a charm, something that even you couldn’t explain. It was some sort of magnet that pulled you to him even though you didn’t want to.

But of course you never told him. How could you? The only person who knew was Robin. You had such a good relationship and how could he like you. Now it was all you could think about.

“Please, wake up, will you? Look at her. She has an amazing body, she was the cheer captain, popular and with beautiful hair and friends AND she’s older than you… and him. Most men like that, right?. And you… you wear t-shirts, you’re a bookworm, average non-interesting girl that on school games, were always on the bleachers waiting for your friend to play with her band.”

Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop……..

Without even realizing, you drove to Robin’s house and started to desperately knock at her door

***********

It only took you two 30 minutes to put on a stupid movie and open some ice cream pots. You cried more and explained everything to Robin.

“I should have just walked away, it would’ve saved me all these tears. I’m so fucking stupid. On my head, he belonged to me!” You said looking at her TV and putting the spoon in your mouth. “They really mean it Robin, when they used to say that she looked like an angel!”

Robin just mumbled “Believe me, i know…”

“And i feel really bad because i should be happy for him right? I mean, i’m his friend and… oh wait, what if they’re dating? Oh no, then we can’t be fri-”

“Y/N! STOP WITH THAT! I’ve heard you and i’m here for you but won’t stand listen to you go all crazy on your own assumptions, and i won’t stand neither of this treatment i’m seeing here. Do you see how bad are you talking about yourself? You are so much more than that! So please… why don’t we wait until this whole…. thing settle down and then we can talk about it, maybe go to Eddie’s and see what is actually happening?”

In the moment she stopped talking you heard someone knocking at the door.

“Oh fuck! Oh shit it’s him, i can feel it!”

“Calm down woman. You stay here, i’ll go check.”

You shrunk on the couch as you waited for her to answer the door.

“Thank god! Hey Robin, is she… is she here?” You heard a very familiar voice coming from behind you. So he knew that you were there, great! Just awesome!

“Look Eddie, do you know what day is today?” I could see the face she was making and i had to hold my laugh. Eddie stayed quiet. “Today is my sacred day! Full of mundane activities such as watching movies and eating a lot of ice cream and not giving a damn about the world outside and now, with this kind of unexpected visit of yours, you are interrupting my peace so if you please just… go. That would be great! I’m not being rude, it’s just the day, remember.” Robin was closing the door, i could hear it squeaking, but then there was a stomp. “Eddie… if you want to talk to her, why don’t you go to her house?”

“What, do you think i’m fucking stupid? i tried to call her, but she didn’t answer the phone then i drove there and kept knocking at the door for minutes but nobody was home so i came here, hoping to find her and now, for your behavior, you just turned yourself in. So please, i really really have to talk to her.” He spoke with no pauses, all just rushed. You had to really pay attention to understand every single word.

“Where is this girlfriend of yours? I mean, that’s none of my business but, how come you were having sex with like, the most popular girl we know?” Robin changed the subject in a not so natural way. You mentally thanked her for trying to help you.

“She is not my girlfriend! This was casual fuck.” He yelled at her, but then he got himself back together. “Not that i need to explain myself but we were playing at the Hideout and she was there on the crowd. I was surprised to see her there. As far as i knew, she was just one of the many boring popular kids in school that only got popular because she looked twice her age. But she started to hit on me and i was miserable, ok! I just needed to forget everything. And you know how it is, i don’t have a long list full of girls that wants to be with me. So i just acted easy and… well.” I could see his face now. He was ashamed, with those big puppy eyes.

“Can you wait here?” It took her a couple of seconds to absorb everything he said and to speak again. He probably just nodded because i heard the door close.

“You have GOT to go there! Come on, go talk to him.” She yelled-whispered to me

“Robin, i can’t, not now.” I said getting up speaking in the same tone

“Why not?”

“If i see his face, i don’t think i can take it, i’m too weak now, i’ll just fall into his charm again! I need to be well enough so i won’t ruin everything.” You know that if you walked past that door, in this moment of weakness, you would cry your eyes out again and you would beg him to be with you. In short, you would just humiliate yourself.

“Nonsense! You go there and face it. It’s right there outside, you can’t runway from that man which is by the way your best friend. Honestly, i know that you got sad but, that man is Eddie. You know how he is, he would never do those things that you were saying.” Of course you were being dramatic, it was easier to just start assuming things than actually having to face them.

You just nodded and walked to the door. With a very fake bravery, you opened the door once more. There he was, all anxious, grumpy and smoking a cigarette. You always find it funny this little pout he puts on.

“Hi sweetheart… can we talk, please?” His words came out softly from his lips, contrasting with the way he was talking to Robin, and he threw the cigarette away.

You just nodded and closed the door. He was analyzing your swollen red eyes and as if it would protect you, you cross your arms.

“I’m sorry that i ran away like that, i didn’t mean to ruin your night or to concern you but i just didn’t think it would be good if i stayed, you know? And i had a very shitty day and…” The breeze of the night hits your face and you feel lines under your eyes getting colder than the rest of your body. Great, you were crying again! “I just really needed a friend and i was completely wrong to invade your house like that, i’m really sorry for that too, i just heard loud music and i thought that you were there practicing or whatever. I just… sorry Eddie.” You could hold anymore and you broke into tears again.

He was listening very carefully and didn’t waist a second before giving you a hug, a very tight and gentle hug. You started to ground yourself in his arms.

“I’m not going to force you, but would you like to tell me why was your day so bad?” He said still hugging you.

“I got fired, it’s a long story but the bookstore is closing and i was going to yours so we could call the night you know?…” He hummed and caressed your hair. “And you know the rest.”

“I’m sorry i wasn’t there for you. I was also going to call the night but then… i think you heard it too?” It was your time to hum and you broke the hug.

“Look, i’m just going to say it, because i’m holding it back since i realized and i think if you’re smart enough, you’re going to connect the dots anyhow so… i think it’s better just to tell you.” He was still close to you, looking at your eyes anxious. “I like you Eddie, i really do! Not in this cute little friend way, i’m not talking about that. I’m talking about complaining to Robin and Steve every time you hook up with a girl because i know they don’t know you like i do, they don’t get you humor, your music and what is means to you, your friends and the club, and a whole different part of your life that only i know. I keep telling them ‘you guys don’t understand what i’m talking about, but i’m telling you, he belongs with me!’. You belong to me and not some other random girl who is not interested in the Eddie that i know. And i get even more angry after realizing that even knowing you enough, I wouldn’t be enough to be with you.” At this point, i just seemed like a foolish spoiled girl, but i didn’t care anymore, i needed to say everything, all those words. “I know i don’t sound completely sane right now but it is exactly how i feel. And i didn’t want to ruin everything by telling you just so you could open my eyes that i was being delusional and we could never be together.”

He just stood there, without saying a word. You just took deep breaths hoping he wouldn’t think you were too crazy.

“First of all, you heard that i said i was miserable right? That i just accepted Margaret, not because she is Margaret, but because a she was a girl who wanted to do something with me?” You just nodded your head too scared of what would be the next words coming out of his mouth. “Sweetheart i was miserable because Steve talked to me earlier, he said that you wouldn’t stop talking about some guy, and how your eyes would be in heart shape every time you looked at him. And even though i bugged him to tell me who it was he didn’t. I went crazy! I wanted to know why were you into some guy who was probably everything that i was not. I felt like shit, i just took advantage of her. I know it’s not right but i just needed someone who could fuck my thoughts out of me and she was there. Believe me, that moment you saw us, she was not on my head at all.”

You were in shock. You didn’t say anything, you probably couldn’t even blink. Was he really declaring himself back to you?

“And second of all, why lady, why did you think that you were not good enough to be with me? Is very amusing, i’m not gonna lie, the fact that you think that i am good enough for anything.” You were about to interrupt him but he was faster, he just spoke louder than you. “You don’t have the right to tell me what to think of a girl, if she is good enough or not. I decide that, and believe it or not when i tell you that i was the one thinking that i wasn’t good enough for you.”

He caught you by surprise! You didn’t expect to be scolded like that. You didn’t have words to describe what you were feeling and, probably, neither did he. You just kept looking at each other not knowing what to do next.

“We’re really stupid, you know…” You said and he giggled. That sound made you smile. You felt lighter with that.

“What now? What are we going to do?” He said putting his hands in his pockets.

You just wanted to do something so this weird vibe was gone. So you hugged him. It took seconds before he hugged you back. It was even better than the first one.

“Sorry that i turned this into a huge confusion…” You said in a barely above a whisper

“Only if you forgive me too.”

You separated a little just so you could see his face. You didn’t say anything, just leaned into a gentle kiss which he fully accepted. His soft lips met yours and you could feel butterflies flying in your stomach. His hands that once were in your waist came up to your neck. His big hands grabbing and pulling you closer to him. Your hands also traveled and they stopped right on his chest. You could feel his heartbeats and they were faster than ever. That only made you smile into the kiss. Like it was contagious, he smiled too and with that you just separated your lips and leaned your foreheads.

“You guys i NEED to go there and hug you both, so pleeeeease tell me i can just go there!” Robin said. anxious. Of course she was listening to everything.

You and Eddie laughed and called her to come out. After talking about this whole misunderstanding between you two, Robin invited him to have a night with you girls, only this time, it wasn’t about bad events but to commemorate!

[fuqnia]

I Thought I Was Unique (2) ₊˚⊹♡

♡ kyle broflovski x fem!reader insert | college au, smut

♡ A/N | this part is so fuckin weak, i'm sorry 💀 but it's funny i think! as usual this is long.

♡ C/W | nsfw (18+), all characters are aged up! fighting, inexperienced reader, p in v, oral sex (male receiving), bjs, reader is still stoopid (?), virginity loss

♡ Synopsis | kyle didn’t mean for it to go this far. he didn’t mean to fall for you, didn’t mean to let jealousy and frustration ruin everything. but now, after the party, after the fight, he can’t take it back—and neither can you.

event masterlist | part one

The text from Stan had been simple: “Hey, the guys wanna hang out tonight. Just us, no drama. Kyle won’t be there, promise.” You’d stared at it for a while, guilt twisting in your stomach. You hadn’t just been avoiding Kyle—you’d been avoiding all of them, and they didn’t deserve that. So, against your better judgment, you’d agreed. When Stan pulled up outside your dorm, you grabbed your bag and headed downstairs, only to freeze in your tracks the second you saw Kyle sitting in the passenger seat. Without a word, you spun on your heel and started walking back to your building, your chest tight with anger and dread. But before you could get far, Kenny leaned out the open truck window, shouting, “Oh, come on, [Y/N]! Don’t be a buzzkill!” His tone was light, but you caught the edge of exasperation, and it was enough to stop you. With a resigned sigh and a stomach full of regret, you turned back and climbed into the truck, the tension hitting like a slap the moment the door closed behind you.

The cab of Stan’s ancient, beat-up truck reeks of stale coffee, gym socks, and the kind of regret that only college drama can create. The cramped backseat feels like a torture chamber—Cartman’s elbow digs into your side while Kenny sprawls out, taking up more room than a human being should.

Up front, Kyle is a silent storm in the passenger seat. His arms are crossed, his jaw clenched so tightly you wonder if he’s grinding his teeth into dust. His curly hair catches the glow of the streetlights, but he refuses to turn around, refuses to look at you. Which is fine, because you refuse to look at him either.

Kenny broke the silence first, glancing sideways at you with a sly grin. “Sooo…” he started, drawing the word out. “You gonna tell us what happened at the party? Or are we just supposed to guess?”

Your stomach twisted, but you didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the passing streetlights.

“Come on,” Kenny pressed, bumping your shoulder lightly. “I’m dying to know. You show up looking like a million bucks, and by the end of the night, your makeup’s running, and you’re crying like your dog just died. What gives?”

“Kenny, knock it off,” Stan snapped from the driver’s seat, shooting him a glare through the rearview mirror.

“I’m just saying,” Kenny said with a shrug, though his tone was too amused to be genuine. “It’s not like she’s been super talkative since she got in the truck. Figured someone should ask.”

Cartman grinned, leaning back and crossing his arms. “My money’s on Damien being an asshole. Or maybe it’s Kyle. Hell, maybe it’s both.” He glanced toward Kyle, who flinched but didn’t turn around. “Come on, Kahl, what’d you do this time?”

Kyle’s jaw tightened, his gaze locked out the window. “Leave it alone,” he muttered, his tone clipped.

Cartman’s grin widened. “Oh-ho! That’s a yes if I’ve ever heard one. What’d you say to her? Or better yet—what’d you do to her?”

“Cartman, shut the hell up,” Stan snapped, his fingers tightening on the wheel.

You sank deeper into your seat, the memories of the party flashing through your mind like jagged shards of glass. Kyle’s words upstairs—low and annoyed—echoed in your ears:

“Are we doing this, or not?”

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, trying to block it out. The taste of rum still lingered faintly on your lips, mingling with the sting of tears. You could still feel the weight of his gaze on you, his pleading tone to talk it out as stumbled out of that room and down the stairs.

Stan’s voice pulled you back to the present. “Seriously, can we all just… not do this right now? It’s been a long week. Let’s just get to Cartman’s place and chill, okay?”

“Fat chance,” Cartman muttered, shooting you a sideways glance. “Not when you’ve got all this drama just sitting here, waiting to be unpacked. Like, seriously, [Y/N]. Are you even gonna say anything? Or are you planning to keep sulking all night?”

Your fingers dug into your arms as you fought the urge to snap back. But the words lodged in your throat, heavy and bitter.

When the silence stretched too long, Kenny leaned closer again, his grin teasing but not unkind. “For real, though. What happened? One minute you’re having a blast, and the next you looked like a goddamn emo album cover.”

Your hands clenched, your nails biting into your palms.

Kyle’s voice cut through the air, sharp and cold. “I said leave it alone.”

Kenny raised his eyebrows, leaning back slightly. “Touchy.”

Cartman snorted. “What are you, her simp now? Newsflash, dude: it’s not a good look. Makes you seem guilty as hell.”

Kyle’s head snapped around, his green eyes blazing as he glared at Cartman. “Say another word, and I swear to God—”

Stan groaned, slamming on the brakes and pulling over to the side of the road. The truck jolted to a stop, and the sudden silence was deafening.

“Out,” Stan barked, throwing the truck into park.

“What?!” Cartman squawked, his face twisting in outrage.

Stan twisted in his seat, his expression a mix of exhaustion and frustration. “Everybody out. Right now. I’m not driving another mile with this crap hanging in the air.”

Reluctantly, everyone climbed out, the cool night air biting against your skin. You shoved your hands into your jacket pockets, keeping your distance from Kyle, who stood stiffly on the other side of the truck.

Kenny leaned against the hood, grinning as if this was all some kind of game. “Alright,” he said, his tone light. “Who’s throwing the first punch?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you glanced down at your nails, picking at the edge of one like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. The chipped polish was starting to flake, and you focused on that, ignoring the weight of everyone’s stares.

Kyle broke the silence, his voice low but tense. “No one’s throwing punches, Kenny,” he said. “But maybe it’s time we talk about what really happened at the party.”

Your stomach twisted, and your head shot up. “Kyle, don’t.”

“Oh, I think we should,” Kyle said, his voice rising as he took a step closer. “Since everyone here seems so curious about why you came running downstairs crying your eyes out, let’s tell them. Should we?”

Cartman smirked, his gaze flicking between you and Kyle like he was front-row at the circus. “This oughta be good,” he said, folding his arms.

“Kyle,” Stan warned, his voice tight.

But Kyle wasn’t listening. He was locked on you, his green eyes filled with anger, betrayal, and something you didn’t want to name. “You begged me,” he said, his voice trembling. “You begged me to help you. To ‘show you,’ so you could be ready for Damien.”

“Kyle, stop!” you snapped, your heart pounding so hard it made your voice shake.

“You don’t get to stop me,” Kyle retorted, his voice cracking with emotion. “You dragged me upstairs. You said you trusted me. And like an idiot, I believed you.”

The knot in your chest tightened. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, his tone bitter. “Don’t tell me you didn’t mean it. You knew exactly what you were doing, [Y/N]. And then you ran off, crying, like I was the one who—” He broke off, running a hand through his curls, his frustration palpable.

“Jesus Christ,” Kenny muttered, wide-eyed. “What the hell happened up there?”

“That’s enough,” you said sharply, stepping forward, your hands shaking with a mix of anger and shame. “You don’t get to twist this around on me. You didn’t have to do it!”

Kyle let out a short, bitter laugh. “You’re kidding, right? You asked me to kiss you! You begged me to—”

Before he could finish, you shoved him hard in the chest. He stumbled back, his mouth snapping shut as he glared at you, his face flushed with a mix of anger and disbelief.

“Go to hell!” you yelled, your voice cracking as your eyes burned with unshed tears. Without waiting for a response, you spun on your heel and stormed back to the truck, your hands trembling.

“Holy shit,” Cartman muttered, a slow grin spreading across his face. “That was… wow. Do it again!”

“Cartman, shut the hell up!” Stan snapped, shoving him hard in the shoulder.

Kenny let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Well, that explains the whole ‘crying with messed-up makeup’ thing.”

Stan sighed, running a hand down his face. “This is why I didn’t want to do this tonight.”

Kyle stood frozen, his chest heaving as his gaze lingered on you. He looked like he wanted to say something—to shout, to argue—but instead, he turned away, his hands clenched at his sides.

“Dude,” Stan said softly, his tone hesitant. “Maybe you should—”

“I need some space,” Kyle muttered, cutting him off before walking off into the opposite direction of you, his shoulders stiff with barely restrained emotion.

Your chest heaved as you turned around and glared at his retreating figure, your vision blurring with unshed tears. The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them, raw and venomous.

“Good! Maybe some hobo will finally do the rest of us a favor and take you out, you selfish asshole!”

Kyle froze for a fraction of a second but didn’t turn around. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and kept walking, his silhouette disappearing under the glow of a distant streetlight.

You let out a shaky breath, the anger and humiliation coursing through you like wildfire. Without sparing a glance at the others, you yanked the door open and climbed in. The door slammed shut behind you with a loud bang that rattled the truck.

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest, and you slumped back against the seat, staring straight ahead. Your heart pounded in your ears, but the muffled voices outside were impossible to ignore.

“She didn’t mean that,” Stan said, his voice strained and uncertain. “Right? I mean, she couldn’t have.”

Cartman laughed, low and cruel. “Oh, she meant it. Did you see her face? She was ready to murder him.”

“Maybe she’s got a point,” Kenny muttered, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “Not about the hobo thing, but… damn, Kyle really didn’t hold back.”

“Neither did she,” Stan snapped, his frustration evident. “This is a mess. How the hell did it even get this bad?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to tune them out, but your thoughts refused to quiet. This is all my fault.

It was the truth. You’d dragged Kyle upstairs. You’d pushed him when he’d clearly been uncomfortable. And when things spiraled out of control—when he kissed you, when everything became too much—you’d fallen apart. You’d run away.

And now you were mad at him. For what? For telling the truth? For being hurt? For showing you a part of himself you weren’t ready to see?

Your throat tightened, and you hugged your arms closer to your body, as if that could keep the flood of emotions from spilling out.

Outside, the voices continued, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on the words. All you could think about was Kyle’s expression—the anger, the pain, the disappointment that had flickered across his face before he turned away.

He hates me now.

The thought hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the seat, and tried to steady your breathing.

I hate him too, you told yourself, though the words felt hollow.

The sound of muffled footsteps approached the truck, and you glanced out of the corner of your eye to see Kenny and Cartman making their way back. Cartman climbed in first, huffing as he shoved himself into the middle seat.

“Move over,” he grumbled, elbowing your side. “This isn’t the Cartman-crammed-in-the-corner show.”

You didn’t respond, shifting slightly to avoid his jabs but refusing to meet his gaze.

Kenny slid in next, shutting the door with a soft click. The truck dipped slightly under his weight as he sprawled back against the seat, sighing like he’d just run a marathon.

“Well,” Kenny said, breaking the silence, “that was awkward as hell. And by awkward, I mean absolutely insane.” He glanced at you, his blue eyes sharp despite the lazy smirk on his face. “You good, or should I call in a therapist?”

You stared straight ahead, your arms crossed so tightly it felt like you might snap in half. The last thing you wanted was to talk to Kenny, to Cartman, to anyone.

“Okay, cool,” Kenny said when you didn’t answer, leaning back like he wasn’t bothered. “Silent treatment it is.”

Cartman snorted, folding his arms. “What a shocker. She’s been pulling that act all night. Figures.”

You gritted your teeth but stayed quiet, focusing on the dashboard like it held the secrets to the universe.

“Hey, maybe she’s still thinking about that kiss,” Cartman said with a mocking grin, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. “What do you think, Kenny? Think Kyle’s a good kisser? Or was it all, like, sloppy and sad?”

Kenny laughed softly. “Cartman, you’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, well,” Cartman said, shrugging. “Somebody’s gotta keep things interesting. Not my fault she can’t handle a little constructive criticism.”

You clenched your fists, the urge to snap at him nearly overpowering, but you bit your tongue.

“Oh, she’s pissed,” Kenny said, leaning toward you slightly, his grin widening. “Look at her. Bet she’s dying to tell us off right now.”

“Yeah,” Cartman added, chuckling. “But she won’t. Wanna know why?” He paused dramatically, his grin growing smug. “’Cause she knows she screwed up. She just can’t admit it.”

“Cartman,” you finally said, your voice cold and sharp, “if you don’t shut up, I swear to God—”

“Oh, here it comes!” Cartman interrupted, throwing his hands up in mock excitement. “Go on, [Y/N]. Say it. Tell me how I’m wrong. Tell me Kyle’s the bad guy, or better yet—tell me Damien’s still your knight in shining armor.”

The mention of Damien sent a fresh wave of guilt and frustration crashing through you. Your nails dug into your palms as you forced yourself to look out the window, refusing to let him see the way his words stung.

The memory of that night surfaced, as vivid as if it had just happened. When you had stormed down the stairs, your face streaked with tears and makeup, the entire party had seemed to pause. Conversations faltered, and heads turned. You could feel their eyes burning into you—judging, whispering. Your boots clunked against the floor as you rushed toward the door, Kyle’s voice calling after you, but you didn’t stop.

Damien had been standing near the corner, leaning against the wall with his usual detached confidence. His eyes locked on you as you approached, confusion flickering in his expression. “Hey,” he had said, stepping closer. “What’s going on? You okay?”

“I just… I need to get out of here,” you had mumbled, barely meeting his gaze.

Without missing a beat, he had tossed his cigarette into a nearby cup and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, guiding you out of the house. The air outside was cold, but it did little to cool the fire in your chest. You barely registered the sensation of Damien’s hand resting against your arm as he led you to his car.

Once inside, the silence had stretched painfully thin, broken only by the soft hum of the engine as he drove. You stared out the window, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from crying again. But it was no use.

“It might be better if we don’t see each other anymore,” you had whispered, the words barely audible over the sound of the tires on asphalt.

Damien’s grip on the steering wheel had tightened, his jaw clenching. “What? Why?” he had asked, his tone sharp but not entirely surprised.

“I just…” You had trailed off, your voice cracking. “I can’t do this.”

Damien had scoffed softly, shaking his head. “Whatever. Do what you want,” he had muttered, his voice laced with irritation. He didn’t argue further, didn’t push. Instead, he dropped you off in front of your dorm without another word, and you had watched his car disappear into the night, feeling a strange mix of relief and guilt settle in your chest.

Back in the present, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the memory. The guilt gnawed at you, but so did the anger—anger at Kyle for pulling you into this mess, anger at Damien for not caring enough to fight, and anger at yourself for starting it all in the first place.

“Nothing?” Cartman taunted. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Kenny sighed, his voice softer now. “Cartman, chill. Seriously.”

Cartman scoffed but didn’t say anything else, slumping back against the seat with a huff.

The truck door creaked open after what felt like an eternity. Stan climbed in first, looking visibly drained, his shoulders slumping as he slid into the driver’s seat. Kyle followed closely behind, his movements stiff, his face set in a grim mask. He didn’t look at you as he closed the door and buckled his seatbelt.

Neither of them said a word as Stan started the truck, the engine rumbling to life. The tires crunched over gravel as he turned back onto the road, heading toward South Park.

You didn’t need to look to know Kyle was probably glaring at the dashboard, his fists clenched tight. And deep down, you hated how much you cared.

The rest of the drive was quiet, tension sitting thick in the air like a fog. Nobody said a word—not even Cartman, who seemed unusually preoccupied with scrolling through his phone. Stan’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, and Kyle sat stiffly, his face turned toward his window.

Finally, the truck rolled into Cartman’s driveway. The house loomed dark and quiet, the porch light flickering faintly. You noticed immediately that his mom’s car wasn’t there.

Cartman hopped out first, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Alright, losers, welcome to Casa de Cartman. My mom’s out of town for the weekend, so we’ve got the place to ourselves. Try not to break anything. Or steal anything. Looking at you, Kenny.”

Kenny snickered, nudging Cartman in the ribs. “Oh yeah? Bet she’s ‘out of town’ with one of her boyfriends again.”

Cartman’s face twisted with indignation, and he shoved Kenny hard. “Shut the hell up, poor kid! My mom has a social life, unlike your sad-ass family!”

“Social life?” Kenny said, laughing as he stumbled back. “That’s what you’re calling it now?”

“Go to hell!” Cartman snapped, shoving past him to unlock the door.

You ignored their bickering, climbing out of the truck without a word. Your chest still felt heavy, weighed down by the events of the night, and the last thing you wanted was to spend another second around any of them.

The second Cartman unlocked the front door, you brushed past him, heading straight for the stairs.

“Uh, where are you going?” Cartman called after you.

“Guest room,” you said curtly, not bothering to look back.

“Don’t touch my stuff!” Cartman yelled, but you barely heard him over the sound of your footsteps pounding up the stairs.

You pushed open the door to the guest room and stepped inside, slamming it shut behind you with enough force to make the walls rattle. The sound echoed in the quiet house, but you didn’t care.

The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the moon through the curtains. You leaned back against the door, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you tried to steady your breathing.

Your mind was a mess, the events of the night replaying over and over like a broken record. Kyle’s words, Cartman’s taunts, the looks on everyone’s faces—it all churned in your head, refusing to settle.

You closed your eyes, pressing the heels of your palms against them, and let out a shaky breath. For now, all you wanted was to shut everything out, even if only for a little while.

A couple of hours had passed, the house settling into an eerie quiet. The faint hum of the refrigerator downstairs and the occasional muffled sound of laughter—probably Kenny and Cartman—were the only reminders that you weren’t alone.

Curled up on the bed, you stared blankly at the moonlit wall, your knees tucked tightly to your chest. The exhaustion was bone-deep, but sleep wouldn’t come. Every time you closed your eyes, those memories came flooding back, sharp and unforgiving.

The faint creak of the door startled you. Your heart leapt, but you didn’t move, your gaze fixed ahead as the door opened wider. Soft footsteps padded across the carpet, and the door clicked shut.

“Hey,” Stan said quietly. His voice was tentative, almost hesitant, and you felt the mattress shift as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

You didn’t respond.

The weight of his hand on your shoulder was light but grounding. His grip was gentle, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your shirt. “Kyle told me everything,” he said after a long pause, his voice low.

Your stomach churned, and you tightened your arms around your knees, your chest squeezing painfully. “Good for him,” you muttered, your voice muffled and heavy with bitterness.

Stan sighed, the sound full of something you couldn’t quite name—sympathy? Frustration? “He didn’t mean for it to blow up like this,” he said, his tone carefully measured. “He’s… messed up about it too. About everything.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh, the sound cracking in the stillness of the room. “Well, he’s not the only one.”

Stan’s hand lingered on your shoulder, his grip tightening slightly as if he thought it might keep you from falling apart. “Look, I’m not here to take sides, okay?” he said quietly. “I just… I think you both handled it wrong. But I also think he cares about you more than you realize.”

Your throat tightened, and you blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. “If he cared, he wouldn’t have said all that shit. He wouldn’t have turned everyone against me.”

“[Y/N], he’s not trying to turn anyone against you,” Stan said, his voice soft but firm. “He’s angry. Hurt. And yeah, he’s not handling it well, but neither are you.”

You swallowed hard, your chest aching as you stared at the wall, refusing to look at him. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“I know,” Stan said gently. “And I think Kyle knows that too. He’s just… figuring it out. Like you are.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy but not uncomfortable. Stan’s hand stayed on your shoulder, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed.

“Come on,” Stan said softly, his tone encouraging. “You’ve been up here long enough. Kenny and Cartman are downstairs watching some dumb movie. Let’s go.”

You shook your head, burying your face in your arms. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” Stan said, his voice firmer now. “Look, I’m not saying you have to talk to Kyle or… or fix everything tonight. Just come downstairs. You don’t have to sit up here alone.”

You hesitated, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Finally, with a heavy sigh, you uncrossed your arms and sat up, your movements sluggish. Stan stood and held out a hand, waiting patiently.

Reluctantly, you took it, letting him help you to your feet.

The warmth of the living room greeted you as you followed Stan downstairs. The glow of the TV lit up the room, casting flickering shadows across the walls. Cartman and Kenny were sprawled across the couch, laughing at something on the screen.

“Hey, look who finally decided to join us,” Kenny said with a grin, glancing over his shoulder.

“You took long enough,” Cartman added, snickering. “We were placing bets on whether you’d cry yourself to sleep up there.”

Your stomach tightened as your gaze landed on Kyle, sitting at the far end of the couch. His jaw was clenched tightly, his posture rigid as his arms crossed over his chest. His brows were furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin, tense line. He glanced at you briefly, his eyes clouded with an uneasy mix of irritation and guilt, before snapping his focus back to the TV like he hadn’t seen you at all.

Stan nudged your shoulder gently. “Go on,” he said quietly.

You glanced around, hoping for another option, but of course, the only open seat was the small space right next to Kyle. Your chest tightened as you hesitated, but Kenny noticed immediately.

“Don’t just stand there looking awkward,” Kenny said, laughing as he gestured to the seat. “Unless you wanna sit on Cartman’s lap.”

“Like hell she will!” Cartman snapped, glaring at Kenny.

Swallowing hard, you shuffled toward the couch and sank into the spot next to Kyle, keeping as much distance between you as the cramped space would allow. The cushions dipped slightly under your weight, and you felt Kyle shift uncomfortably beside you. His fingers tapped against his arm, betraying his restlessness despite the stoic expression he was trying to maintain.

The tension between you and Kyle was suffocating, thick enough to choke on, but of course, nobody in the room cared. Cartman and Kenny were still snickering in the background, while Stan kept glancing between you and Kyle like he was waiting for one of you to explode.

You stared at the TV, pretending to focus on the movie, but every tiny movement Kyle made—every shift of his leg, every fidget of his hands—burned at the edge of your vision. His knee brushed yours at one point, and you stiffened, gripping your thighs like the contact had physically scorched you.

On the screen, Arthur and Lee stumbled through a chaotic sequence during a film screening. Lee, defiant and wild-eyed, started a fire, the flames spreading rapidly as the audience screamed and scrambled for safety. The tension in the room shifted as the two characters were caught, and Arthur was thrown into solitary confinement.

“Holy shit,” Cartman muttered, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Who’s this chick again? ‘Cause she’s got way more balls than this sad fuck.”

Kenny snorted, leaning back against the couch. “She’s his girlfriend, dumbass. Keep up.”

“His girlfriend?” Cartman scoffed, shoving another handful of popcorn into his mouth. “She just set the building on fire. Are we supposed to root for her or what?”

Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not about rooting for anyone. Just watch the movie.”

The scene shifted again, this time to Lee visiting Arthur in his grim, sterile cell. Her face was unreadable as she told him she was leaving to avoid his influence, but the tension between them was palpable, nearly vibrating off the screen.

The atmosphere in the room grew heavier as Lee asked Arthur to stop taking his medication. Then, without warning, the two of them collided in a feverish kiss, their desperation spilling into something more physical. Clothes were shed, hands gripped at bare skin, and the camera lingered just long enough to make the moment painfully intimate.

Kenny was the first to snicker, though it wasn’t loud. “Alright, didn’t see that coming,” he muttered, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Cartman rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat. “Oh, yeah, this makes total sense. They’re banging in solitary confinement. That’s not psychotic or anything.”

Kyle stiffened beside you, his shoulders tightening as the flush on his face deepened. He muttered a quiet, “Jesus Christ,” under his breath and turned his head sharply, refusing to look at the screen. His hand dragged over his face, his lips tight in a straight line

You felt a strange mix of irritation and something sharper bubble up at the sight of him acting so stiff and uncomfortable. The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

“Of course you wouldn’t watch this,” you muttered, your tone low but cutting.

Kyle snapped his head toward you immediately, his green eyes narrowing. “And what the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

You crossed your arms, your gaze locked on the screen as Arthur crooned his haunting song to Lee. “Nothing. Forget it.”

Kyle wasn’t letting it go. “No, go ahead,” he said, his voice icy. “Say what you’re thinking. You’ve never had a problem before.”

Your jaw clenched as you turned to glare at him. “What’s the point? You’ll just act like you’re above it anyway.”

“Better than acting like a fucking expert on bad decisions,” Kyle shot back, his voice rising just enough to draw the others’ attention.

“Alright, can we not?” Stan cut in, sitting forward in his seat. His voice was tired, like he’d had enough of both of you. “This is starting to sound like one of my parents’ fights.”

“Seriously,” Cartman added, popping a kernel into his mouth. “If you two are gonna have a lovers’ spat, at least keep it quiet. Some of us are trying to watch this trainwreck.”

Kenny grinned faintly, glancing between you and Kyle. “I dunno. Kinda feels like part of the movie at this point.”

You ignored them, your fists clenching as you bit back the words that clawed at your throat. You refused to look at Kyle again, staring hard at the screen like it could somehow swallow you whole.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Kyle muttered beside you, his arms crossing tightly over his chest.

Your nails dug into your palms as the frustration and anger simmered under your skin. It wasn’t just about tonight. It wasn’t just about the party. It was everything that had been building between you and Kyle for weeks—months even. And now, with Arthur singing to Lee through the TV screen, his voice dripping with heartbreak and longing, it all felt unbearable.

You gripped your knees tightly, the popcorn bowl in Cartman’s lap catching your eye. The longer you stared, the more the anger churned inside you, relentless and unrelenting. It wasn’t just about tonight. It wasn’t even just about the party.

It was Kyle’s stupid, infuriating sense of self-righteousness. The way he always had to be in the right, even when it meant twisting a knife into your side to make his point.

But beneath the anger, buried deep where you didn’t want to look, was something else. Guilt.

You clenched your fists as the memories resurfaced: his lips on your neck, leaving marks you couldn’t fully hide, his voice shaky and low as he’d asked, “Are you sure?” You’d said yes. And now here you were, sitting next to him, pretending like you weren’t the one who started it all.

You didn’t want to feel guilty. He deserved your anger—didn’t he?

You glanced at the bowl again, the idea forming in your mind before you could stop it.

“Cartman,” you barked, sharper than intended. “Gimme the popcorn.”

Cartman arched a brow, hugging the bowl protectively. “Oh, sure. Let me just hand over my personal stash so you can—what? Stress-eat your problems away?”

“Just give it to me, Cartman,” you snapped, holding out your hand.

“Fine,” he grumbled, shoving the bowl into your lap. “You’re more annoying than Kyle right now. And that’s saying something.”

You ignored him, grabbing a handful of popcorn and pretending to eat, crunching loudly as if the sound could drown out your thoughts. But your gaze kept drifting to Kyle. His jaw was clenched tight, his arms crossed over his chest, his shoulders stiff like he was trying to hold himself together.

The same shoulders you’d gripped as he kissed you, hesitant at first but quickly unraveling.

The heat in your chest flared again. You didn’t even know why you were so mad anymore—at Kyle, at yourself, at the entire fucking situation. But it was easier to be mad at him.

A kernel left your hand and bounced off his shoulder.

Kyle didn’t react.

Another kernel, harder this time, hit his arm.

Kyle let out a sharp exhale, his jaw ticking, but he kept his eyes locked on the screen.

That was the last straw.

You grabbed a handful of popcorn and pelted it at him, the kernels scattering across his lap and the couch.

“What the fuck, [Y/N]?” Kyle hissed, finally snapping his head toward you. His green eyes were alight with irritation, his brows furrowed in a deep scowl.

“What?” you said, your tone dripping with mock innocence as you grabbed another handful.

Kyle brushed the popcorn off his hoodie, his scowl deepening. “Are you seriously throwing popcorn at me right now?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I hurting your feelings?” you shot back, throwing more.

“Cut it out,” Kyle growled, his tone low and warning.

“Or what?” you challenged, your anger bubbling over. “What are you gonna do, Kyle? Sit there and brood about it? You’re so fucking good at that.”

Cartman snorted from the other side of the couch. “This is getting good. Ten bucks says she’s gonna start throwing hands next.”

Stan groaned, standing abruptly and stepping between you and Kyle. “Alright, enough. Both of you, knock it the hell off.”

You grabbed another handful of popcorn, but before you could throw it, Stan caught your wrist, his grip firm.

“Seriously, [Y/N], stop,” he said, his voice low but sharp.

You stared at him for a moment, your chest heaving as your anger warred with something deeper—shame. Kyle didn’t deserve this. Not really.

But when Stan let go of your wrist, you couldn’t help yourself.

Grabbing the entire bowl, you hurled it at Kyle’s face with everything you had.

The bowl hit with a satisfying thunk, popcorn exploding everywhere as it bounced onto the floor.

Kyle stood abruptly, brushing popcorn off his hoodie with sharp, jerky movements. His face was flushed, his green eyes blazing. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped, his voice rough with frustration.

Your chest heaved as you glared up at him. “What’s wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you, Kyle? You act like you’re so above everyone else, like your shit doesn’t stink, but you’re just a fucking hypocrite!”

Kyle’s lips twisted into a bitter snarl. “And you’re just a spoiled little brat who can’t take responsibility for anything!”

Stan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You guys—”

“Stay out of it, Stan!” you and Kyle barked in unison.

Kyle’s shoulders rose and fell as he glared at you, his chest heaving. For a moment, it looked like he might say more, but instead, he grabbed a stray piece of popcorn from the floor and threw it back at you.

It hit you square in the forehead.

You froze for a split second before grabbing a pillow and launching it at him. “Fuck you, Kyle!”

Kyle caught the pillow midair, tossing it onto the couch with a huff. “You’re an annoyance,” he muttered, his voice quieter but no less sharp.

“Yeah? Well, I guess I learned from the best!” you shot back, crossing your arms as you slumped into the couch.

Kyle stood there for a moment, his fists clenching and unclenching, before muttering something under his breath and storming upstairs.

The tension lingered long after he left, the silence broken only by the faint sounds of the movie.

Cartman rolled his eyes, picking up the now-empty popcorn bowl. “Great. Now what the hell are we supposed to eat?”

Stan slumped into the couch, rubbing his temples. “You guys are gonna kill me one day, I swear.”

You stayed silent, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. The heat of your anger was still simmering, but somewhere deep down, you knew it wasn’t all Kyle’s fault. You just didn’t want to admit it.

The movie dragged on until the credits finally rolled, leaving the room in awkward quiet. The hum of the television filled the silence, the black screen casted the room into darkness.

Kenny shifted in his seat, turning halfway around to glance at you. His voice was soft but curious, laced with something you couldn’t quite place. “Alright… what’s your problem?”

You stiffened, your jaw tightening as his words hit like a spark to a fuse.

Stan leaned forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at you expectantly. He didn’t say anything, but his expression said enough—he was waiting, like Kenny, for you to explain yourself.

Cartman stayed where he was, slouched on the couch, scrolling through his phone with disinterest. His silence somehow felt louder than anything else.

It was too much. The tension boiled over, and before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out, loud and raw.

“My problem?” you snapped, your voice cracking with anger. “My problem is that, of course, all of you are taking Kyle’s side! You always do!”

Stan flinched slightly, his brows knitting together. “Nobody’s—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “Don’t sit there and pretend like you haven’t been on his side this whole fucking time! It’s always about Kyle, isn’t it? I can’t do anything without it being compared to him!”

Kenny leaned back, his brows raised. “Whoa, okay, chill—”

“Don’t tell me to fucking chill!” you shouted, your chest heaving as your voice cracked again. “You all act like I’m the bad guy, like I’m the one who fucked everything up, but none of you even tried to understand!”

Stan started to say something, but you barreled on, your voice trembling with emotion. “I was happy with Damien, okay? I liked him! But none of you could let me have that. All you did was shit on him, like I wasn’t good enough to decide for myself!”

“Damien was—” Kenny began, but you cut him off again.

“Don’t even start. I never said a word when you guys got into your first relationships. I didn’t complain when Stan got all sappy over Wendy in middle school, and I didn’t laugh when Kenny was trying so hard to impress Tammy like she was the best thing to ever happen to him. And Cartman? God, you never told anyone anything, but we all knew what you were doing, sneaking off and hooking up with random people. Nobody judged you, least of all me!”

You paused, the weight of those memories hitting you. They never told you anything about their relationships. You had to piece it together from whispers, rumors, and the occasional slip in their conversations. You always acted like it didn’t bother you, but it did. You used to wonder if it was because you weren’t one of them, not really. Maybe they didn’t trust you enough to share. Or maybe they just didn’t think it mattered. But when you had someone—when you finally kissed someone, finally felt like you had something that was yours—they tore it apart like it was a fucking joke. Like you were a joke.

Your chest heaved as the tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill. “But me?” you continued, your voice cracking as the emotions swelled. “I finally kiss someone—finally feel something—and suddenly I’m the one who has to explain myself? Fuck all of you!”

The tears broke free then, streaming hot down your face as you buried your head in your hands. Sobs wracked your body, each one pulling more of the anger and frustration out of you, leaving behind an ache so deep it felt like it might swallow you whole.

The room fell into heavy silence, your ragged breaths and muffled sobs the only sound.

Stan shifted uncomfortably, his voice soft but uncertain. “Hey, it’s not… it’s not like that. We weren’t trying to—”

“Save it,” you mumbled through your hands, your voice muffled and thick with tears.

Kenny exhaled sharply, leaning back into the couch. He didn’t say anything, and Cartman quietly went back to his phone, though his scrolling was noticeably slower.

You sat there, your head buried in your hands, as the weight of your outburst settled over the room. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew you’d regret this later. But right now, it didn’t matter.

The silence dragged on until Kenny finally broke it. His voice was quiet, almost thoughtful, but there was an edge to it that cut through the stillness.

“You’re so clueless, you know that?”

You froze, your hands slowly lowering from your face as your blood ran cold. “What?” you asked, your voice shaky.

Kenny leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms as he looked at you, his gaze uncharacteristically serious. “Kyle. You never saw him as anything more than your best friend. And now you’re acting like none of this makes sense. Like you didn’t notice how he—”

“Shut up,” you snapped, your voice rising, the anger bubbling up again.

Kenny raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t stop. “How he’s looked at you all these years. How he never—”

“I said, shut up!” you shouted, cutting him off, your chest heaving. You shot to your feet, glaring at him. “How the fuck was I supposed to know, huh? He never said anything! He never—he never did anything! And what about all those girls? What about Heidi? And Rebecca? He dated them right in front of me!”

Kenny held up his hands defensively, but there was a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips that only made your blood boil more.

“Don’t look at me like that!” you snapped, your voice cracking. “You’re such an asshole! How dare you even fucking joke about this!”

“Who said I was joking?” Kenny shot back, his voice calm but pointed.

Your breath caught, and you felt your fists clench at your sides. “You’re full of shit. That’s what you are. Just because you think you know everything doesn’t mean you do!”

Cartman looked up from his phone, glancing between you and Kenny with mild interest. “Well, this took a turn,” he muttered.

Stan sighed heavily, standing up and stepping toward you. “Alright, that’s enough. Both of you.”

You ignored him, your focus locked on Kenny. Your voice trembled with a mix of anger and desperation as you continued, “You think you can just say shit like that and walk away? You don’t know what it’s like to be blindsided by something like this! You don’t know what it’s like to have someone drop a fucking bomb on you like that and then expect you to—”

“To what?” Kenny interrupted, his tone calm but firm. “To deal with it? To grow up? Yeah, maybe I don’t know what it’s like, but I can see what’s right in front of me, and so could you if you stopped being so goddamn stubborn.”

“Fuck you,” you spat, your voice breaking as tears welled up in your eyes again. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. You don’t get to act like you understand.”

Kenny shrugged, leaning back against the couch again. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

The dismissive tone hit like a slap, and you turned away sharply, your arms crossing over your chest as you tried to steady your breathing.

Stan stepped closer, his voice soft but firm. “Hey. Let’s all just calm down, okay? This… this isn’t helping anything.”

You turned sharply, your glare snapping to him like a whip. “Do you agree with him?” you asked, your voice low, deadly quiet.

Stan blinked, his mouth opening slightly as if to answer, but nothing came out. His silence spoke volumes.

Your chest tightened, and the knot in your stomach twisted painfully. “I fucking knew it,” you muttered, your voice shaking. “Of course you do. Of course, Stan would take Kyle’s side too.”

Stan reached a hand out, like he wanted to say something, but you jerked away, turning toward Cartman instead.

“And you?” you demanded, your eyes narrowing as you glared at him. “What about you, Cartman? You agree with Kenny too, right?”

Cartman didn’t even look up from his phone, his thumb lazily scrolling across the screen. “Yeah, obviously,” he said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Kyle’s been pining over you since middle school. Shit’s been pathetic to watch, honestly.”

The room felt like it tipped sideways, your balance faltering for a moment as his words sank in. You trembled, anger and humiliation coursing through your veins like fire.

“Fuck you, Cartman,” you hissed, your voice breaking.

“Join the club,” Cartman muttered, finally glancing up. His expression was as indifferent as ever. “But yeah, I agree. Kyle’s basically had a flashing neon sign above his head this whole time. You’re just too dense to see it.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, shaking as your vision blurred with tears. “You’re all full of shit,” you snapped, your voice cracking. 

Stan let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck before stepping toward you again. “Alright,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s enough.”

“Don’t touch me—” you started, but before you could finish, Stan grabbed your wrists gently but firmly.

“Come on,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’re going upstairs.”

“Stan, let go of me!” you shouted, struggling against his grip. But he didn’t relent, his grip steady as he started pulling you toward the stairs.

“You’re just gonna blow up again if you stay down here,” he said over his shoulder, his voice tired but resolute. “And I’m not dealing with another screaming match. Let’s go.”

Kenny watched the scene unfold silently, his arms crossed as his lips pressed into a thin line. Cartman let out an exaggerated sigh, muttering something under his breath about Stan being the “mom friend.”

You twisted in Stan’s grip, your cheeks burning with anger and embarrassment. “Let me go, Stan! I’m not a fucking child!”

“Then stop acting like one,” he shot back, dragging you up the stairs with surprising ease. “I don’t care if you’re mad at me. But you’re not doing this tonight.”

By the time you reached the top of the stairs, your breathing was heavy, and your throat burned with unshed tears. Stan released your wrists once you were out of sight from the others, his gaze meeting yours with an exhausted but steady resolve.

“You’re angry. I get it,” he said softly, his voice low. “But maybe instead of blowing up at everyone, you should figure out what you’re actually angry about.”

You didn’t respond. Instead, you crossed your arms tightly over your chest, your jaw set in defiance as you stared past him.

Stan exhaled heavily, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Fine,” he muttered, stepping closer. Before you could react, he grabbed your arms firmly, pulling them away from your chest.

“What the hell are you doing, Stan?” you snapped, struggling against his grip.

“You’ll see,” he replied flatly, dragging you toward the guest room at the end of the hall. His tone was calm, but there was a quiet determination in his movements that made your stomach twist.

“Let me go!” you shouted, yanking at your arms, but Stan didn’t falter. He opened the guest room door and practically shoved you inside.

“What the fuck, Stan—” you started, but your voice caught in your throat when your eyes landed on Kyle.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly. His head shot up as the door swung open, his eyes widening when he saw you.

“Stan, what the hell is this?” Kyle said sharply, standing up.

Stan ignored him, placing a hand on the doorframe as he turned to face you. “You two are gonna figure this shit out,” he said simply.

You glared at him, your chest heaving with a mix of anger and panic. “Stan, don’t you dare—”

Before you could finish, Stan gave you a gentle but firm push further into the room and slammed the door shut.

You spun around, your heart racing as you grabbed the handle and twisted. The door didn’t budge. You yanked harder, but it was no use—Stan was holding it shut from the other side.

“Stan, open the fucking door!” you shouted, pounding on it with both fists.

From the hallway, you heard Stan’s muffled voice. “Kenny! Cartman! Bring me a chair!”

“You can’t be serious!” you screamed, banging on the door harder.

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” Stan replied, his voice calm but resolute through the door. “You two are staying in there until you talk. Or kill each other. Honestly, at this point, I don’t care which.”

You growled in frustration, twisting the handle again, but it was no use.

Behind you, Kyle let out a sharp breath, his voice laced with irritation. “What the hell, Stan?!”

“Figure it out,” Stan called back, his voice fading slightly as he presumably turned to wait for the chair.

You turned to Kyle, your hands still gripping the door handle. His face was a mixture of frustration and discomfort, his green eyes narrowing slightly as they met yours.

“I’m not doing this,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

Kyle crossed his arms, leaning back slightly against the bedframe. “Yeah? Well, neither am I.”

The air between you felt heavy, the silence only broken by the faint sound of Cartman and Kenny laughing, dragging what you presumed to be a chair.

You pounded on the door one more time. “Stan! Open the goddamn door!”

“Nope!” came his muffled reply. “You’re not getting out until you fix this.”

You let out a sharp exhale, your hands dropping to your sides as you turned to face Kyle fully. He was watching you, his expression guarded, his shoulders tense.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, your fingers clenching into fists.

Kyle let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, no shit.”

You glared at him briefly before turning back to the door, pounding on it again with both fists. “Stan, I swear to God, let me out!”

There was no response this time, just the faint sound of muffled conversation downstairs.

You slammed your palm against the door one last time before letting out a shaky breath, your shoulders slumping. It was no use. They weren’t going to let you out.

With a huff, you sank to the floor, your legs folding beneath you in a criss-cross position as you leaned against the door. You buried your head in your hands, your elbows resting on your knees, and tried to steady your breathing.

You felt like crying again, the frustration and humiliation clawing at your chest like a vice. But you were so damn tired of crying. What good had it done so far? Your tears hadn’t solved anything, and they sure as hell weren’t going to get you out of this room.

Kyle shifted on the bed, the faint creak of the mattress grating against your nerves. “You can’t just sit there all night,” he said finally, his voice cautious but firm.

“Watch me,” you muttered, your voice muffled by your hands.

Kyle sighed, the sound heavy with frustration. “Look, I don’t want to be in here any more than you do, alright? But maybe if you stop acting like a goddamn brick wall, we can actually get out of here.”

You looked up sharply, your brows furrowing as you glared at him. “You think this is my fault? That I’m the reason we’re locked in here?”

“I didn’t say that,” Kyle replied quickly, his tone defensive. “But you’re not exactly helping, are you?”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” you snapped. “Not after everything.”

Kyle ran a hand through his curls, his eyes narrowing as he got up and paced a few steps forward. “You keep blowing up at everyone like it’s all our fault, but you never actually say what’s going on. You don’t talk, you just—” He gestured vaguely, his voice rising. “You just shut down.”

“Oh, and you’re so great at talking, right?” you shot back, standing abruptly to face him. “Because from where I’m standing, all you’ve done is sulk and blame me for everything!”

Kyle opened his mouth, and for a moment, you thought he might yell. But instead, he shook his head, exhaling sharply as he turned away. “You know what? Forget it.”

“Forget it?” you repeated, your voice cracking slightly. “That’s all you’ve got?”

He stopped, his back to you. “What do you want me to say, huh? That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean for things to go this way? Because I didn’t.” His voice was low, almost breaking, as he turned to look at you. “I didn’t want this. Any of it.”

You stared at him, anger bubbling to the surface again, hot and unrelenting, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out.

“If you didn’t want any of this,” you said sharply, “then why did you agree to do it?”

His eyes widened slightly, the raw vulnerability in his expression giving way to shock. He froze, his lips parting as if to respond, but no words came out.

You pressed on, your voice rising with each word as the emotions you’d been bottling up spilled over. “You could’ve said no! You could’ve told me to fuck off, and none of this would’ve happened! But you didn’t, Kyle. You didn’t. You sat there, and you—you said yes. You touched me, and now you want to act like it didn’t mean anything?”

Kyle’s jaw clenched, his hands twitching at his sides. “I never said it didn’t mean anything,” he muttered, his voice strained.

“Then what the fuck did it mean?!” you shouted, stepping closer to him. “Because I’m fucking tired of feeling like I’m the only one who’s carrying the weight of this. Like it was just some stupid mistake to you.”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Kyle snapped, his voice louder now, his eyes blazing as they locked onto yours. “Do you think I don’t think about it? Do you think I don’t regret the way it all went down? Because I do! But you don’t get to stand there and act like it’s all on me. You begged me, [Y/N]. You begged me to help you, and I—” He stopped himself, his voice dropping. “I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do.”

His words cut deep, but your anger refused to waver. “You were supposed to stop me,” you said, your voice shaking. “You were supposed to tell me no. You’re Kyle fucking Broflovski—the moral compass of the group, right? You don’t fuck up. You don’t get caught in shit like this. So why the hell didn’t you stop me?”

Kyle laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and sharp. “Maybe because I didn’t fucking want to,” he admitted, his voice breaking.

The confession hung between you like a thunderclap, the weight of it knocking the air from your lungs.

“I didn’t want to stop you,” Kyle repeated, softer this time, his voice raw. “And that’s the part that’s been eating me alive. Because I knew it was a bad idea, and I still went through with it. I didn’t stop, because…” He faltered, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Because I wanted to.”

Your heart felt like it had stopped, the room suddenly too quiet. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come.

Kyle looked up at you again, his expression a mix of anger and guilt. “So, yeah,” he muttered. “If you’re looking for someone to blame, go ahead. Blame me. I deserve it.”

You stood frozen for a moment, his words echoing in your mind, louder and louder until they drowned out everything else. Your stomach churned, and the air in the room felt heavier, suffocating.

Without saying a word, you turned and sat down on the edge of the bed, your legs feeling too weak to hold you up any longer. You buried your face in your hands, your fingers pressing tightly against your ears as if you could block out the storm of emotions swirling around you.

But it didn’t work.

Kyle’s voice kept playing in your head, overlapping with Kenny’s, Cartman’s, and even Stan’s. You’re clueless. Kyle’s been pining for you for years. You never saw it, did you?

You clutched your chest as it hit you like a brick to the chest—Kenny had been right. They all had.

Kyle wasn’t angry because of what happened at the party. Not entirely. He wasn’t lashing out because you’d asked him for something impossible or because you’d pushed him too far. He was angry because it had meant something to him, and you hadn’t even considered that possibility.

You’d been so focused on Damien—on proving to everyone that you could have something of your own—that you’d ignored everything right in front of you. Kyle. The way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. The way he always tried to stay calm when you were upset, even when it wasn’t his fight to pick. The way his voice had softened when he’d asked, Are you sure? that night at the party.

And now here you were, sitting on the bed with your hands over your ears, trying to drown out the truth that had been staring you in the face all along.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen this way,” Kyle said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

You lifted your head slowly, your hands slipping from your ears as you turned to look at him. He was standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, his posture tense but his eyes… his eyes looked different now. Softer. Sadder.

He didn’t say anything else, waiting for you to speak, but the words caught in your throat.

“I…” you started, but your voice cracked, and you looked down at your hands. “I didn’t know, Kyle. I didn’t know you felt this way.”

Kyle let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. That’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?”

His words stung, but you couldn’t blame him. He was right. You’d been so oblivious, so caught up in your own world, that you’d missed something so obvious.

Your chest ached as you looked up at him again, his expression guarded but vulnerable, like he was bracing himself for another blow.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kyle blinked, caught off guard by your question. “What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me how you felt?” you repeated, your voice trembling as you stood up, meeting his gaze. “Why did you let me go through all of this—feeling unwanted, like I wasn’t enough? Why didn’t you stop me from dating Damien?”

Kyle flinched slightly at the sharp edge to your tone, but he didn’t look away. His mouth opened, then closed, like he was trying to find the right words but couldn’t. Finally, he exhaled.

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice tight.

“Then make it simple,” you shot back, fighting to keep your emotions from spilling over. “You knew how much I was struggling. You knew I didn’t feel good enough for anyone, and you—” You stopped yourself, your voice cracking. “You could’ve said something. You could’ve told me.”

Kyle’s nostrils flared, his fists tightening at his sides. “And what would I have said, huh? That I liked you? That I’ve liked you since we were kids? That I couldn’t stand seeing you with someone else because it fucking killed me? Would that have made it better, [Y/N]? Would that have stopped you from choosing him?”

“Kyle, I…” You faltered, your voice shaking as tears pricked at your eyes. “I didn’t know. I didn’t think—”

“You didn’t think I’d feel that way about you,” Kyle finished for you, his voice quieter now but no less raw. He looked down, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I didn’t tell you because I was scared. Scared you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now. Like I’m just… some guy who got it all wrong.”

Your hands trembled at your sides, your mind spinning as you tried to process everything he was saying. “You don’t know that,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible.

Kyle let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t I?” He looked up at you again, his eyes searching yours. “You wanted Damien. You chose him. And I didn’t stop you because I thought… maybe if I let you figure it out for yourself, you’d realize that he wasn’t good enough for you.”

You flinched as his words sank in. “You thought I’d come running back to you,” you said softly, the realization cutting deep.

“I thought you’d see me,” Kyle admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “But you didn’t. And by the time I realized I’d fucked up, it was too late.”

You stood there in stunned silence, his confession hanging heavy in the air. The raw vulnerability in his voice, the guilt etched into his features—it all made your chest ache even more.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” you whispered, your voice cracking as the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over.

Kyle took a hesitant step closer, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Because I was scared,” he said again, his voice trembling. “I didn’t want to lose you, [Y/N]. Not as a friend. Not as anything. So, I kept quiet. And now…” He trailed off, looking away. “Now, I don’t know if I made the right choice.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension between you almost unbearable. Then, Kyle moved, sitting down on the bed next to you. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and he kept his gaze forward, staring at the wall like it held the answers to questions neither of you had figured out how to ask.

You hesitated, your hands twisting nervously in your lap as you stared at him. His shoulders were slumped, his usual sharp edges softened by something raw and uncertain. Finally, you turned to him, your voice quiet but steady.

“Kyle,” you started, your throat tightening as his name left your lips. He glanced at you briefly, his green eyes flicking to yours before darting away again.

“We’re supposed to be best friends,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “We’re supposed to tell each other everything. Anything.”

Kyle let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, some things are harder to say than others.”

You swallowed hard, your throat constricting and your stomach twisting in guilt. “I would’ve listened,” you said, leaning closer, your voice breaking slightly. “If you’d just told me, Kyle—if you’d just said something—”

“Would you?” Kyle interrupted, his voice sharper now as he turned to face you fully. His expression was a mix of frustration and sadness, his brows furrowed deeply. “Would you really have listened? Or would you have brushed it off like you always do, told me I was being dramatic or overthinking things?”

Your stomach churned, a cold knot forming deep inside as shame prickled at your skin. “I wouldn’t have done that,” you said softly, though the uncertainty in your own voice made you wince.

Kyle arched an eyebrow, his lips curling into a small, humorless smile. “Come on, [Y/N]. You’ve known me your whole life. You really think you wouldn’t have?”

His words stung because there was truth in them—truth you didn’t want to face. There had been moments, small ones, where Kyle had tried to say something, where his words had hinted at feelings deeper than friendship. And you’d missed them. Or worse, ignored them.

You dropped your gaze. “Maybe I would’ve,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have tried.”

Kyle sighed, his head dropping into his hands. “I didn’t know how,” he said, his voice muffled. “I thought… I thought if I just kept quiet, if I pushed it down, it would go away. That I could just be your friend and nothing more. But it didn’t work. It never worked.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your throat tighten, as though words would fail you if you tried to speak. And for a moment, neither of you said anything.

“Kyle,” you started softly. He looked up at you, his eyes glassy with emotion.

You sat there, your hands fidgeting in your lap, your thoughts spinning. This was Kyle—your best friend. The one who always had your back, who was honest with you even when you didn’t want to hear it. He never sugarcoated things, never pretended to be someone he wasn’t. Kyle was blunt, infuriatingly so, but it came from a place of care, of wanting what was best for you. You knew, deep down, that he would do anything for you if you asked. He’d proven it a hundred times over, in ways you hadn’t even realized until now. Like how he’d taken you to prom when no one else asked, saying it was no big deal, but you remembered the way he smiled at you all night, like he was proud to be there with you. He’d always been protective—too much, at times—but it was part of who he was, and it made you feel safe in ways you couldn’t explain. And now, as you sat here, the truth of his feelings laid bare, a question you hadn’t dared to ask yourself lingered in the back of your mind. Would it really be so bad? Being with someone like Kyle—someone who knew you better than anyone, someone who had always been there? You’d spent so much time chasing things that didn’t last, people who didn’t care, and yet Kyle had been right in front of you the whole time. The thought made your chest tighten, a mix of fear and something that felt almost like hope stirring within you.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you admitted, your voice cracking. “But I can’t… I don’t know how to fix this.”

Kyle didn’t say anything. His eyes searched yours, wide and uncertain, his jaw tight with tension. A faint crease formed between his brows, and his fingers traced restless patterns on his jeans. 

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you broke the quiet. “When did you know?”

Kyle blinked, his brows furrowing slightly. “Know what?”

“That you liked me,” you said, your gaze dropping to your lap. “When did you realize?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer, and you thought he might avoid the question altogether. But then he exhaled softly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped tightly.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “Maybe I always did. Or maybe it was middle school, when you showed up to school in that stupid homemade shirt for Spirit Week, and everyone laughed at you. I wanted to punch every single one of them.” He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Or maybe it was prom. Watching you dance, smiling like it didn’t matter that nobody else asked you to go. Like it didn’t matter that it was just me.”

His words caught you off guard, your throat constricting as your pulse quickened.

Kyle glanced at you briefly before looking away again, his gaze fixed on the floor. “I don’t know when exactly it happened. I just… I know that every time something good happened to you, it made me happy. And every time someone hurt you, it made me want to fucking kill them.” He paused, his voice lowering. “And then Damien came along, and I told myself it was fine. That if he made you happy, I could live with it. But watching you with him…” He hesitated, his voice catching slightly before continuing. “It wasn’t just jealousy. It was this stupid, gnawing feeling, like I wasn’t enough. Like everything I’d ever done for you didn’t matter, because someone else could make you smile the way I thought only I could. I thought I was unique.”

The admission hung between you, heavy and raw, as his voice dipped even lower. “And I told myself I was overreacting, but every time I saw him with you, it was like everything I’d tried to bury just came flooding back. And I couldn’t stop it.”

He finally met your gaze, his eyes glimmering with a tenderness that sent a wave of warmth through you. “I guess I realized I liked you the moment I couldn’t pretend I didn’t anymore.”

You were quiet, his words settling over you like a weight you didn’t know how to carry. Your gaze drifted to the floor, your mind racing as you tried to process everything he’d just said. Slowly, you turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest. Without thinking, you reached for the neckline of your shirt, pulling it down just enough to expose the faint, fading marks on your skin—the hickeys he’d left at the party. They were barely there now, just faint shadows of what they had been, but the memory was vivid, etched into you like a scar that didn’t hurt but would never fade completely.

You smiled softly, the corners of your lips trembling slightly as you tried to lighten the moment. “I guess I should’ve known you liked me,” you said, your voice teasing but quiet. “You don’t leave marks like these for just anyone.”

Kyle’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze dropping to your neck. His face flushed, and he quickly looked away, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted, your voice softer now. Your own face felt impossibly hot, and you quickly pulled your shirt back into place, avoiding his gaze.

Neither of you spoke, the air dense and charged. Your fingers fidgeted in your lap, and his presence beside you felt close and magnetic, the space between you humming like a live wire.

Finally, you took a shaky breath and spoke, your voice barely audible. “I… I liked it,” you admitted, your cheeks burning. “When you kissed me. I liked it.”

Kyle’s head snapped toward you, his eyes wide with surprise. You kept your gaze fixed on your hands, unable to look at him as you continued. “And… I’m glad it was you. That you were my first real kiss.”

His breath hitched, but he didn’t interrupt, his eyes locked on you as if he didn’t dare to move.

Your fingers twisted nervously in the fabric of your pants as you went on, the words tumbling out in a rush. “And I—when you… when you touched me, I liked that too. I mean, I really liked it.” Your face burned hotter with each word, and you felt like you might melt into the floor. But even through the embarrassment, there was a sense of relief in finally saying it—finally being honest.

Kyle stared at you, his expression unreadable for a moment, before his lips parted slightly, his voice soft and almost hesitant. “You… you did?”

You nodded, still not looking at him, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest you were sure he could hear it. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I really did.”

Your hands twitched at your sides, and before you could think too much about it, you reached out and grabbed his hands, intertwining your fingers with his. Kyle’s gaze snapped down to your joined hands. His fingers tensed for a moment, but then they relaxed, curling around yours like he’d been waiting for this all along.

“I was wrong,” you said quietly. “About the party. About everything. The way I acted… it wasn’t fair to you. None of it was.”

Kyle’s brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly as if to protest, but you squeezed his hands, stopping him.

“I didn’t mean any of the things I said,” you continued, your voice breaking. “You’re not a terrible best friend, Kyle. You’re not… you’re not a pathetic jealous asshole. I don’t know why I said that. I was just… angry. At myself. At the whole situation. And I took it out on you.”

Kyle’s expression softened, the tension in his jaw easing as his thumbs brushed lightly over your knuckles. “You had every right to be angry,” he said softly. “I should’ve handled things differently too.”

You shook your head, your grip on his hands tightening. “No, Kyle. You didn’t deserve any of that. You were just trying to help me, to make sure I was okay. And I wasn’t. But you—you were there. You showed me everything, even when you didn’t have to, and I…” You trailed off, your throat tightening as you tried to find the right words.

“I really do appreciate you,” you said finally, your voice trembling. “For everything. For putting up with me, for being there when I needed you, for… just being you.”

Kyle’s eyes glistened slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “You mean that?”

“I mean it,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze. “And I’m really proud that you’re my best friend. I don’t say it enough, but I am.”

Kyle’s lips quirked into a small, uncertain smile, his hands squeezing yours gently. “You know,” he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of that familiar sarcasm, “you’re going to make me start crying, and we both know I’m already bad at hiding it.”

You laughed quietly, your chest feeling a little lighter for the first time all night. “Yeah, I know,” you admitted, your voice soft.

The laughter faded, but the warmth lingered as you looked at Kyle. Really looked at him. His eyes were fixed on you, soft and unsure, as though he couldn’t quite believe you were sitting here like this. There was a faint blush on his cheeks, dusting the bridge of his nose, standing out against the light freckles that dotted his skin. His unruly red curls framed his face, a little messier than usual, and his lips were curved into a small, hesitant smile.

Something inside you shifted as you took him in, your chest tightening—but not in a bad way. He looked… cute. Adorably so. You didn’t know how you’d never noticed it before, but it felt so obvious now, like the realization had been waiting for the right moment to hit you.

Your fingers were still intertwined with his, the warmth of his skin grounding you as your grip softened. The way he looked at you stirred something deep in your chest—a mix of familiarity and something new, something that had been quietly growing between you, unnoticed by you until now. You felt it in the way his fingers twitched slightly against yours, in the way his eyes flickered with both nervousness and longing, and in the faint quiver of his breath as he waited to see what you would do.

You leaned forward slightly, your eyes tracing the curve of his jaw, the faint freckles across his cheeks, and the blush that was deepening with every passing second. He froze, his breath hitching as his lips parted slightly, like he was about to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Your heart pounded as you leaned closer, the air between you thick with anticipation, every breath feeling sharp and unsteady. His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something raw crossing his face, and his body stilled, as though the moment might shatter if he moved.

Then, just as you were sure he might pull away, he moved too. Slowly, cautiously, like he was afraid to break whatever delicate thread was pulling the two of you together.

Your noses brushed, and the warmth of his breath ghosted against your lips. For a moment, your eyes locked, searching his as your heart pounded in your chest. And then, finally, his eyes fluttered shut, and he leaned in fully.

Your lips met his, soft and warm, and your thoughts came to a screeching halt. You hadn’t expected him to feel like this—gentle, steady, but with a hesitant edge that made your chest tighten. He tasted good, the faint hint of peppermint chapstick mixing with something else, something distinctly Kyle. His scent filled your senses too, clean and sharp, like pine and something earthy, comforting in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

The kiss wasn’t frantic or rushed, but the closeness of him, the warmth radiating from his skin, made your stomach flutter. You felt hyper-aware of everything—the way his curls brushed lightly against your temple, the slight shift of his hand against yours, the soft sound of his breath mixing with yours.

And then, the thoughts hit you all at once, a flood of realizations that made your cheeks burn. He tasted good. He smelled good. He felt good.

You weren’t supposed to be thinking about your best friend like this.

Panic bubbled up in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, you pulled back, breaking the kiss. You didn’t look at him immediately, your face hot with embarrassment as your thoughts spun out of control.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, your voice shaky. “I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Kyle blinked, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and concern. His lips parted slightly, still tinged with the faintest blush of your kiss, but he didn’t say anything at first.

You shook your head, stumbling over your words as you tried to explain. “I don’t even know what I was thinking. I just—I don’t know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Hey,” Kyle interrupted softly, his voice steady despite the obvious flush on his face. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze fixed on you. “Don’t… don’t apologize.”

You froze, your breath catching as his words registered. Hesitantly, you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. His expression was calmer now, the edges of his earlier nervousness softened by something deeper.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” His hand squeezed yours gently, grounding you. “If anyone should apologize,” he added, his voice dipping slightly, “it’s probably me. I’ve been holding this back for so long, and I didn’t know if you’d… if you’d feel the same way.”

You were silent, his words settling over you like a weight. Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it, and your palms felt clammy where they rested against his. You tried to look at him, but the intensity in his gaze made it impossible.

Finally, with a shaky breath, you murmured, “I do.”

Kyle froze, his eyes widening slightly.

“I feel the same way,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You kept your gaze down, your face hot as the words left your lips. “I didn’t realize it before, but… I do.”

The silence that followed was thick with anticipation, a weight pressing down on you as you waited for him to respond. Then, slowly, Kyle’s hand slipped from yours, and you thought for a brief, terrible moment that he was pulling away. But instead, his hands came up to your face, his palms warm and steady against your cheeks.

“Look at me,” he said softly, his thumbs brushing lightly against your skin.

You hesitated, but the gentle insistence in his voice drew your eyes to his. The vulnerability in his gaze was gone now, replaced with something stronger, more certain.

And then he leaned in.

This time, the kiss wasn’t hesitant or unsure. It was deeper, more fervent, as though he was pouring everything he’d been holding back into this one moment. His lips moved against yours with a newfound confidence, his hands keeping your face tilted toward him.

Your hands instinctively came up, gripping the fabric of his hoodie as your body leaned closer to his. The warmth of him, the way his breath mingled with yours, sent your heart racing in a way that made your head spin.

Kyle tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, his fingers threading lightly through your hair. There was nothing awkward about it now, no hesitation—just him, fully and completely.

You tried to keep up with him, matching the movement of his lips, but Kyle was… really good at this. His confidence caught you off guard, and the way he kissed you—like he’d been waiting for this moment forever—made your head spin.

When his teeth grazed your bottom lip, your breath hitched, and you gasped softly. Kyle didn’t miss the opportunity. His tongue slipped into your mouth, hot and insistent, tangling with yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your fingers gripped his hoodie tighter, twisting the fabric as your body leaned closer to his. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his steady hands holding you in place as if to anchor you. The sound of your shallow breathing mixed with his as you panted softly into his mouth, your chest brushing against his with every shaky inhale.

Kyle’s hands slid down slightly, his thumbs brushing the corners of your jaw, and the gentle pressure made your heart race even faster. His kiss was intoxicating—both tender and hungry at the same time, leaving you completely breathless. A quiet sound escaped your throat—a mix between a whimper and a sigh—and you felt Kyle respond immediately, his lips pressing harder against yours as he tilted your head back slightly.

Heat surged through you, sudden and overwhelming, like a fire had been lit under your skin. You couldn’t hold back anymore. Your arms slipped up, wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer, your fingers tangling slightly in the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

The kiss grew messier, less controlled, as your movements became more frantic. Your lips moved against his with a clumsy urgency, each kiss wetter and more uneven than the last. You could feel your inexperience showing in every hurried motion, the lack of rhythm, the way your breaths came in ragged gasps between each connection. You hoped Kyle didn’t notice, even as you felt the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck. But if he did, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned into you, his movements steady and sure, meeting your sloppy kisses with a patience that made your stomach flip.

The warmth of his chest brushed against yours, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted to feel him fully, to close the space between you entirely. Acting on impulse, you tightened your arms around his neck and tugged him closer, pressing his chest firmly against yours.

The sudden closeness pulled a sharp inhale from Kyle, and you felt the sound vibrate against your lips. His hands slipped down, gripping your waist with surprising firmness as he steadied you, his thumbs brushing along your sides in a way that sent a shiver through you.

The room felt impossibly hot now, your body buzzing with sensations that were almost too much to process. You weren’t sure what you were doing, only that you didn’t want to stop.

Kyle pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his eyes locking onto yours, his pupils blown wide. His lips were red and slightly swollen, glistening from your kisses, and his breathing was as uneven as yours.

“You’re…” He paused, his voice husky as he swallowed hard. “You’re killing me here.”

His words made your face burn even hotter, and you pressed your hands to your cheeks, feeling the heat radiating from your skin. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible as you dropped your gaze. “I suck at this.”

Kyle blinked, and then his lips curled into a soft, teasing smile. “You’re apologizing?” he asked, his tone incredulous but playful.

You nodded, still avoiding his eyes. “Yeah… I mean, I’ve never really done this before… besides at that party. I’m still probably so bad.”

Kyle let out a quiet laugh, the sound warm and low as he leaned back slightly to look at you. “Bad?” he repeated, arching an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t say bad. Let’s call it… enthusiastic.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh my God. Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not making fun of you,” Kyle said, his voice light but steady. You peeked at him through your fingers and saw the way his eyes softened as he looked at you. “I’m just saying, if you’re worried about being bad, don’t be. We’ve got all night, and I’m a pretty good teacher.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the playful edge in his tone making your stomach flip. “All night?” you repeated, your voice trembling slightly.

Kyle leaned in closer, his hands resting on either side of your waist as his grin widened just a little. “Yeah,” he said softly, his voice dipping as his eyes locked onto yours. “Stan’s not letting us out, remember? Might as well make the most of it.”

The teasing glint in his eyes made your cheeks burn even more, but there was something reassuring in his expression, something that made you feel safe despite how embarrassed you were.

“Okay,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “But don’t laugh at me.”

Kyle’s smile softened, and he reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “I wouldn’t dare,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

You smiled back at him, your chest feeling lighter as the tension between you eased. But as his words lingered in your mind, a flicker of nervous energy surged through you. You hesitated for a moment, your fingers twitching slightly before you shrugged off your jacket and let it fall onto the bed.

Kyle’s brows raised slightly at the movement, his eyes following the fabric as it slipped from your shoulders. “Uh… okay,” he started, his voice tinged with curiosity, but you moved before he could finish.

You climbed onto his lap, straddling him, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of him.

He drew in a sharp breath, his hands instinctively coming to rest on your waist. “Whoa,” he muttered, his voice teetering between surprise and amusement.

You felt your face heat up instantly, a mix of confidence and embarrassment warring inside you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks.

Kyle chuckled softly, the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear. “Someone’s eager,” he teased, his fingers twitching lightly against your sides. “Didn’t you just say you were new to this?”

You groaned into his neck, your cheeks burning. “Shut up,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his skin.

His laugh deepened, the vibration of it sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m just saying,” he added playfully, “for someone who says they’re bad at this, you’re doing pretty good so far.”

You hummed softly against his neck, the sound more nervous than confident, as you pressed a light kiss to the curve of his shoulder. His warmth was comforting, and even though your heart raced with nerves, you didn’t pull away. Slowly, you tilted your head, letting your lips linger before sucking gently at his skin.

The faint taste of salt and the warmth of his pulse under your mouth made your chest flutter, but you hesitated, unsure if you were doing it right. You tried again, a little harder this time, your lips pressing more firmly as you sucked lightly.

Kyle stiffened beneath you, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested on your waist. For a moment, he seemed quiet, and you wondered if you’d done something wrong—until a low, quiet sound slipped from his throat.

It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to send a thrill through you. A subtle shudder ran through him, his hands settling more firmly against your sides as you continued, your lips brushing against his skin.

“Y-you don’t have to do that,” Kyle murmured, his voice unsteady, almost shy. But he didn’t pull away.

You paused, your lips hovering just over his neck. “I just…” you whispered, your face burning. “I wanted to try.”

Kyle’s fingers flexed against your sides, his breathing uneven as he swallowed hard. “It feels… good,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

His words sent a wave of nervous excitement through you, and you pressed another kiss to his skin, your inexperience making your movements clumsy but earnest. You tried to mimic what he’d done to you at the party, lightly sucking and grazing your teeth against his neck.

Another sound escaped him, rougher this time, and you felt his hands tighten around your waist as his head tilted back slightly.

You pulled back for a moment, your lips tingling, and glanced up at him. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark and hazy, and his lips were parted like he was about to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Your lips curled into a small, shy smile as you leaned back down, pressing another kiss to the faint mark you’d left on his neck. The quiet hum of satisfaction that came from him made your chest tighten, and you couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you.

“You’re laughing at me now?” Kyle muttered, his voice thick with embarrassment, though his lips twitched upward.

“Not at you,” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. “I just… I’m glad you don’t hate it.”

Kyle let out a shaky laugh, his fingers pressing gently against your sides. “Yeah, no chance of that.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips, your heart feeling lighter than it had all day. The tension and anger that had hung over you earlier now felt like a distant memory, almost impossible to believe it had been real. Just hours ago, you’d been yelling, hurling insults at each other, and now… now, things were different. Not completely back to normal—this was uncharted territory—but the warmth in Kyle’s touch and the soft, steady way he looked at you made you feel safe, like the foundation of your friendship was still there, just with something new layered over it.

You leaned in again, your lips finding his neck. The skin there was warm and soft, and you pressed a series of light kisses upwards, trailing toward his jaw. You heard him exhale softly, his hands tightening slightly on your waist as you moved closer.

When you reached his jawline, you lingered, kissing the sharp edge of it before humming softly against his skin. The sound was quiet, but the way Kyle shivered beneath you told you it had an effect. His reaction sent a small thrill through you, and you kissed along his jaw until you reached the corner of his mouth.

You pressed a soft kiss there, your lips brushing his skin so lightly it was almost a tease. Kyle turned his head slightly, his green eyes meeting yours as a small, knowing smirk spread across his face.

The expression made your heart skip, and you giggled, the sound bubbling out of you as you leaned in again. “What’s that look for?” you murmured, your voice soft but playful.

Kyle didn’t answer, his smirk widening slightly as his hands shifted higher on your sides. His gaze was steady, amused, but there was warmth there too—something that made your chest feel tight in the best way. You pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips, your cheeks burning as you let yourself get caught up in the moment. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and even though it was brief, the kiss sent sparks shooting through you.

Kyle shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting his position on the bed. The movement made you gasp softly, your breath catching in your throat as heat surged through your body.

Your eyes flicked downward, taking in the way you were straddling him, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips. The closeness, the weight of the moment, was almost tangible. Your hands pressed against his chest for balance, but it only made you more aware of his warmth beneath your palms.

Kyle noticed the slight furrow of your brow, his green eyes softening with concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked gently, his voice quiet but steady.

You shook your head quickly, the warmth in your cheeks spreading as you glanced up at him. “Nothing,” you murmured, though your voice came out shakier than you intended.

Kyle didn’t look convinced, tilting his head slightly as his hands rested lightly on your waist. “You sure?” he pressed, his tone careful but curious.

You hesitated, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the fabric of his hoodie. Your heart raced as you searched for the words, your throat tightening as the question formed. Finally, you took a deep breath and spoke, your voice quiet but clear.

“Is it… okay if we go further tonight?”

Kyle froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as your words hung in the air. His lips parted, and a delicate shiver seemed to ripple through him, but he didn’t pull away or tense under you.

You rushed to continue, your cheeks burning as you stumbled over your explanation. “I—I mean, if you’re okay with it. I want to, but I don’t want to make you feel like you have to or—”

“Hey,” Kyle interrupted softly, his thumbs brushing against your sides in a soothing motion. “Slow down.”

You stopped, your breath shaky as you looked at him nervously. His expression was calm now, a small smile tugging at his lips as he held your gaze.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low but gentle. “You don’t have to do this just because you think I want it.”

You nodded quickly, a rush of heat flooding through you. “I’m sure,” you said firmly, though your voice was still a little shaky. “I want to, Kyle. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

Kyle’s gaze softened, his fingers pressing gently into your sides. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice steady and warm. His eyes searched yours for a moment longer, as if to make absolutely certain, before he leaned forward, his lips brushing softly against yours.

The warmth of his kiss sent a spark racing down your spine, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. A rush of excitement bubbled up inside you, and your lips parted eagerly against his. Without hesitation, you slid your tongue into his mouth, meeting his in a bold, messy kiss.

Kyle let out a soft, muffled sound of surprise, his initial hesitation melted quickly, and he began to kiss you back with a fervor that only fueled your eagerness.

Your body buzzed with energy, you wiggled slightly in his lap, trying to get closer. The movement earned a sharp inhale from Kyle, and you felt his fingers dig into your sides as he let out a low groan.

You couldn’t stop yourself; your hands slipped down, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The heat between you was overwhelming, and all you wanted was to feel more, to close the gap between you completely.

You tugged at your shirt, lifting it slightly, but you didn’t want to break the kiss. It was messy and frantic now, your lips clashing as your breathing grew heavier. Kyle seemed to notice what you were doing, and one of his hands slid up to your wrist, halting your movements gently.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to speak, his lips brushing against yours as he panted softly. “Wait—wait a second,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. His eyes flicked down to your hands and back up to meet your gaze, his face flushed.

You froze, your cheeks burning as embarrassment crept up your neck. “I didn’t mean to—” you started, but Kyle shook his head, a small, breathless smile tugging at his lips.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, his tone reassuring as his thumb brushed lightly against your side. “Just… let me help.”

You hummed excitedly, your smile widening as you looked at him. Your cheeks were hot, and your heartbeat thundered in your ears, but the thrill of the moment overwhelmed any lingering nerves.

Kyle’s lips quirked into a smirk, his eyes glinting with both amusement and something deeper. “You’re really not gonna make this easy for me, are you?” he teased, shaking his head slightly.

“Not my fault you’re slow,” you shot back, your tone playfully defiant despite the heat rushing to your face.

Kyle scoffed, the sound low and amused, as he leaned forward to kiss you briefly, his lips brushing yours before pulling back. “Alright, then,” he murmured, his voice dropping slightly. “Guess I’ll pick up the pace.”

His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, his fingers brushing your skin lightly as he tugged it upward. The sensation sent a shiver through you, and you instinctively raised your arms, letting him pull the fabric over your head in one smooth motion.

The shirt landed somewhere on the floor, forgotten, as Kyle sat back slightly to take you in.

You suddenly felt hyper-aware of everything—the way his gaze lingered on you, the faint bow on your cutesy bra, the warmth of his hands still resting on your waist. Your arms twitched, almost moving to cover yourself, but when you glanced at him, the look in his eyes stopped you.

Kyle’s face was flushed, his lips slightly parted as his gaze traced over you with a quiet intensity that made your chest tighten. His expression wasn’t teasing now; it was soft, almost reverent.

“You look really good,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the red creeping up his neck.

The compliment made your heart flutter, and you couldn’t stop the shy smile that tugged at your lips. “Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice quieter now, but you didn’t look away.

Kyle’s lips curved into a small smile, his fingers gently toying with the straps of your bra. “Cute bra,” he added, his tone lighter, though there was an edge of playfulness to it.

You let out a soft laugh, your face heating even more. “Stop looking at it so much, perv,” you said, though your tone was teasing as you leaned closer, pressing a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Kyle chuckled softly, “Can’t help it,” he admitted quietly. “You’re kind of hard to look away from.”

You shook your head, a breathy laugh escaping your lips as warmth crept up your neck. “You’re so full of it,” you muttered.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he watched you fidget. “Am I?” he teased.

Still laughing lightly, you reached for the hem of his hoodie, your fingers brushing the soft fabric. “It’s your turn now,” you said, your voice quieter, laced with a mix of shyness and playfulness.

Kyle blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your boldness, but his surprise quickly shifted into curiosity. “My turn?” he repeated, tilting his head slightly.

You nodded, tugging gently at the hoodie, trying to pull it upward but hesitating as you glanced at him. “Yeah,” you murmured, your gaze flicking nervously to his before darting away. “I’m not going to be the only one sitting here half-naked.”

Kyle let out a low chuckle, leaning back slightly to give you more room. “Alright, alright,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “But I’ll warn you now—I’m blindingly pale. It’s a hazard to look directly at me under good lighting.”

You rolled your eyes, though your lips twitched into a small smile. “Kyle, I’ve seen you shirtless before. I think I can handle it.”

He snorted, shaking his head as he reached for the hem of his hoodie. “You’ve got a point,” he muttered, lifting it over his head in one smooth motion.

The hoodie ruffled his curls as it came off, leaving his hair a little messy. He tossed it aside carelessly, leaning back again as his eyes met yours, his cheeks faintly pink.

Your eyes trailed over him, taking in the soft planes of his chest and the faint freckles dusted across his shoulders. He wasn’t overly muscular, but there was a subtle strength in the way his body moved, probably years from basketball.

“Well?” Kyle asked, his lips curving into a crooked smile as he noticed your lingering stare. “Do I pass the test?”

You felt your face heat even more, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up. “Yeah,” you murmured, your voice soft. “You pass.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure what to do next. A prickling heat rose in your neck and face, and as the stillness lingered, a nervous energy bubbled up. You rubbed your arms awkwardly, your gaze flicking between his face and the space between you. You wanted to say something, to ask him what to do, but the words stuck in your throat.

Kyle noticed your hesitation immediately, his eyes softening. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he tilted his head slightly, leaning closer. His hand brushed against your arm, steadying you, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

“You’re overthinking,” he said softly, his tone low and reassuring.

Your cheeks burned, and you glanced down, embarrassed. “I’m not—”

“You are,” Kyle interrupted, his voice calm but firm, as if he’d seen right through you. His hand moved to your waist, his touch deliberate yet careful. He guided you closer, closing the space between you effortlessly.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours. “Just let me take care of it.”

A sharp inhale escaped you as he leaned in, his hand moving to gently cup your cheek. When his lips met yours, it wasn’t rushed or hurried. His kiss was soft and steady, each movement unhurried, like he was coaxing you out of your nervousness and silently telling you that everything was going to be okay.

Kyle tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss just enough to pull you closer without overwhelming you. The faintest hum came from him, a soft sound of encouragement that made your chest tighten in the best way.

When he pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over yours, his thumb brushed your cheek. His gaze was steady, his eyes warm and full of patience. “Better?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your face hot as you leaned back in, your lips catching his again, softer this time but filled with a growing confidence.

As the kiss deepened, you pressed yourself impossibly close to him, your body instinctively seeking more of the warmth and steadiness he offered. The soft fabric of your bra brushed against his bare chest, and the sensation sent a shiver through you. Your breath hitched slightly, the realization of how close you were making your heart race.

Your hands, clammy with nervous energy, moved from his shoulders to his hair, tangling lightly in his curls. The softness of them beneath your fingers was surprising, comforting, and you used the touch to steady yourself as you tilted your head, leaning further into him.

But as the kiss continued, the heat between you became almost unbearable. The denim of your jeans felt heavy, clinging too tightly to your skin, and the warmth pooling in your body made it impossible to sit still. You shifted in Kyle’s lap, adjusting yourself instinctively, and the motion caused you to gasp softly, your breath hitching against his lips. The sound seemed to break something in him because his hands pulled you just a little closer. His grip was steady but firm, grounding you even as everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.

A flutter stirred deep in your stomach as you grinded again, this time more purposefully. The friction sent another jolt through you, and a quiet whimper slipped from your lips before you could stop it. You froze for a second, embarrassed by the sound, but Kyle didn’t falter. If anything, he kissed you harder, his lips pressing into yours with a newfound urgency that left you breathless.

The heat between you was unbearable, your core throbbing with a desperate need that seemed to pulse through every inch of you. Your hips ground against his, the slick friction sending waves of pleasure that curled your toes and made your breaths hitch. Each roll of your body against his made you whimper softly, your panties soaked as you pressed closer, needing more, craving him entirely.

Kyle groaned against your lips, the sound low and rough, and his hands slid down to your hips. His grip tightened again, guiding you as your movements became more frantic.

But then, his hands moved lower.

Before you could register what was happening, his fingers curled into the flesh of your ass, squeezing firmly as he stilled your movements. The sudden shift made you gasp, your lips parting from his as you blinked down at him, dazed.

Kyle’s chest heaved, his face flushed, and his eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch. But there was something else there too—something almost panicked.

You pulled back slightly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice trembling as you tried to process what had just happened. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop,” Kyle interrupted, his voice low but firm. His hands stayed on your hips, steadying you as he shook his head. “Don’t apologize.”

You blinked at him, confused. “But I—”

“It’s my fault,” he said quickly, his voice dropping as his gaze darted away for a moment. His cheeks flushed even darker, and he let out a shaky breath. “I… I was about to come.”

The bluntness of his confession hit you like a lightning bolt, your face growing impossibly hot as your body went still. “Oh,” you whispered, the word barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat.

Kyle’s grip on your hips loosened slightly, his thumbs brushing softly against your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “I should’ve stopped sooner,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “I just… you felt so good, and I—” He cut himself off, his gaze flicking back to yours, raw and vulnerable. “I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him, your face hot with a mixture of embarrassment and uncertainty. You hesitated for a moment, your lips parting as you tried to summon the courage to speak. The pounding of your heart in your ears was deafening, and when you finally forced the words out, your voice was soft, trembling. 

“Can I… suck you off?”

He froze.

The atmosphere shifted in an instant, his gaze locking onto yours with an unguarded intensity that sent a shiver through you. His lips parted slightly, as though he wanted to speak, but silence hung between you. Surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by an undeniable hunger—a mix of yearning and restraint that made your breath catch. His jaw clenched, his teeth pressing together as if he were holding himself back, and his fingers skimmed your sides with a touch so light it felt like a tease, leaving a trail of warmth that made your stomach flip.

“Did you…” He trailed off, his voice rough as he blinked, his throat working as he swallowed hard. “Did you just ask—”

“Yes,” you interrupted, your cheeks flushing even darker as you avoided his gaze. “I mean it. I—I want to.”

Kyle exhaled sharply, his hands brushing over your sides before sliding away entirely, gripping the edge of the bed instead. His fingers dug into the fabric, knuckles paling as though anchoring himself. He leaned back slightly, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths as he processed your words.

“You’re serious?” he asked, his voice quieter now, but there was no teasing in his tone—only disbelief that made the air between you feel heavy.

You nodded quickly, your heart racing as you shifted slightly, your thighs brushing against his. “Yes,” you said again, barely above a whisper.

Kyle’s gaze darkened, his eyes flicking over your face like he was searching for any sign of hesitation. When he didn’t find any, his jaw clenched, and his lips pressed into a thin line. The tension in his posture eased slightly as he sat up straighter, his knees brushing against yours.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice low and steady, though there was a faint tremor beneath it. His hands moved back to your thighs, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent a jolt of warmth up your spine. “But… if you want to stop at any point—”

“I won’t,” you cut him off, your voice firm despite the heat rushing to your face.

Kyle’s lips curved ever so slightly, the fleeting expression gone as quickly as it appeared. He shifted back a touch, his hands drifting from your thighs to grip the edge of the bed. His green eyes lingered on you, his voice soft when he spoke. “Alright,” he murmured. “Go ahead.”

You smiled at him, the corners of your lips curling shyly as you reached out and squeezed his hand. The simple touch steadied you, and a soft giggle slipped from your lips, breaking some of the tension in the air.

Sliding off the bed, you settled onto the carpet between his knees, the plush fibers soft beneath you as you adjusted yourself. Your hands rested gently on his knees, the warmth of his skin radiating through the fabric of his sweatpants.

The position struck you immediately. The memory surged forward unbidden: Kyle on his knees, the way his fingers had curled against you, his sharp words biting into the tension-filled air.

“This is what you wanted, right?” his voice echoed in your mind, the sharp edge of his tone still vivid, as if he’d spoken those words only seconds ago. The way he’d mocked you, his lips curling into that bitter smirk, had made your chest ache even as it set every nerve in your body alight.

Your fingers flexed against his knees, grounding yourself in the present. You glanced up at Kyle now, his expression a stark contrast to that earlier moment. The mockery was gone; his eyes held only warmth and a cautious sort of curiosity. His chest rose and fell slowly, his hands resting on the edge of the bed, his grip tight but not aggressive.

“You okay down there?” Kyle asked, breaking through your thoughts.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, your voice quiet but firm. You smiled again, the memory fading as you refocused on him.

His gaze softened, and he shifted slightly in his seat, his knees brushing against your hands as he adjusted his posture. The movement drew your attention back to the task at hand, the heat between you flaring up once more as you leaned forward slightly.

You hooked your fingers under the hemline of his pants, the motion deliberate despite the trembling in your hands. Slowly, you began to tug them down, your movements careful as if drawing out the moment would help ease the knot of nerves in your stomach. Kyle lifted his hips slightly, helping you, his breathing audible now in the charged silence.

As the waistband slid lower, your gaze dropped, and your breath hitched when you caught sight of him. The black fabric of his boxers strained against his bulge, a dark patch of precum near the tip drawing your attention immediately. The sight sent a wave of heat rushing through you, your cheeks burning as you blinked, struggling to process the image in front of you.

Kyle shifted slightly, the motion pulling your focus lower. The faint freckles that dotted his thighs caught your attention next, scattered across his pale skin like constellations. The juxtaposition of the delicate freckles against the strength in his legs made your throat tighten.

Your hands moved instinctively, steadying yourself on his thighs as you leaned closer. His skin was warm beneath your palms, the faint roughness of his hair brushing against your fingertips. You tried to focus on the texture, on the sensation of his skin under your hands, but your gaze kept darting back to the wet patch on his boxers.

Kyle’s chest rose and fell unevenly, his hands gripping the edge of the bed tightly. He didn’t say anything, but the tension in his expression was palpable. His jaw tightened briefly, his lips pressing into a firm line, and the faint flush creeping up his neck deepened.

You offered him a nervous smile, your cheeks burning as your fingers twitched against his thighs. The freckled skin beneath your hands was warm and grounding, but the weight of the moment still made your palms clammy. You rubbed them lightly against his legs, as if trying to steady yourself.

Kyle’s  eyes softened slightly, and he gave you a weak, tentative smile in return, though the tension in his posture didn’t completely dissipate.

Rocking forward on your heels, you leaned up toward him, pressing the lightest of kisses to his lips. The contact was fleeting but enough to make his breath catch, his hands loosening their grip on the bed for a moment.

You hovered close to him, your lips brushing his as you murmured, “Is this really okay?” Your voice was soft, uncertain, and laced with the nervous energy buzzing through you.

Kyle’s throat worked as he swallowed, his gaze locked on yours. His eyes flicked between your face and the boxers you were tugging at, his breathing growing heavier. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice rough and strained but clear. “It’s okay.”

His words sent a wave of warmth through you, a flicker of reassurance cutting through your nerves. You kissed him again, this time lingering a little longer, the faint taste of his breath mingling with yours as your fingers curled more firmly around the waistband of his boxers.

Kyle groaned softly against your lips, as his hands hovered by his sides, like he was resisting the urge to touch you. “Go ahead,” he murmured, the words half-whispered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

You nodded faintly, your lips brushing his once more before you pulled back just enough to focus on what came next. Your fingers tightened slightly against the waistband, and with one more glance up at Kyle, you slowly began to ease the fabric downward, a shiver running through you as you revealed him inch by inch. Kyle shifted slightly, lifting his hips to help you, a quiet exhale escaping him as the fabric slid lower. The soft cotton clung to him momentarily, and then, in a sudden, fluid motion, it slipped past his thighs and down to his ankles.

His cock sprang free, slapping lightly against his stomach with a faint, wet sound that sent a shiver through you. The movement left a smear of precum glistening on the pale skin above his navel, and the sight of it made your cheeks flush even hotter.

This was the first time you’d seen one in person, and you couldn’t help but stare. Kyle’s cock was long and thick, the shaft a shade darker than the rest of his pale, freckled skin, with faint veins running along its length. The head was flushed a deep pink, almost red, the slick sheen of precum making it glisten faintly in the dim light.

The faint curve of it toward his stomach gave it a graceful shape, and the sight struck you as unexpectedly… beautiful. His freckles continued down his thighs, faint and scattered, accentuating the way his muscles flexed beneath his skin.

You swallowed hard, your breath catching as you took it all in. Your fingers rested on his thighs for balance, and your eyes flicked back up to his face. Kyle’s lips were parted, his breathing shallow, and his gaze burned into you with a focus that made your stomach twist in the best way.

“Hey,” Kyle said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but there was no teasing in his tone—just a steady reassurance that steadied your nerves. “You okay down there?”

You nodded quickly, your voice catching in your throat as you replied, “Yeah. I just… you’re really…” You trailed off, biting your lip as your cheeks burned brighter.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening into something closer to a genuine smile. “Really what?” he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Pretty,” you admitted quietly, the word slipping out before you could stop it.

Kyle blinked, clearly caught off guard, and for a moment, his confident demeanor cracked. His cheeks flushed a deeper red, and he let out a soft, breathless laugh. “I—thanks, I guess,” he said, his voice breaking slightly.

You hummed softly in reply, your throat too tight to form proper words as you adjusted your position on your knees. Tentatively, you reached out, your hand hovering for a moment before carefully wrapping around him.

Your thumb brushed lightly against the silky head, the feeling unfamiliar, and your eyes caught the bead of precum pooling there, glistening faintly in the dim light. Then with a slow, shaky exhale, you swiped your thumb over the tip, gathering the slick wetness. Kyle’s breath hitched audibly at the motion, and you glanced up at him, your cheeks burning as you met his heavy-lidded gaze.

Taking his reaction as encouragement, you smeared the precum along the length of his cock, your fingers spreading it in slow, deliberate strokes. The slickness made your movements smoother, and you felt the tension in his thighs beneath your other hand as his breathing grew heavier.

The warmth of him, the way his cock twitched faintly under your touch, sent a strange mix of nerves and anticipation curling in your stomach. Once you’d coated him thoroughly, you glanced up at Kyle again, your voice trembling as you asked, “What do I do now?”

His eyes flicked down to meet yours, his brows furrowed slightly as he processed your words. For a moment, he just stared at you, his lips parting as if searching for the right thing to say.

“Just… move your hand,” he said finally, his voice rough and low. “Up and down, like this.” He made a small gesture with his hand, his cheeks flushing deeper as he tried to guide you.

You nodded quickly, your gaze dropping back to him as you wrapped your hand more firmly around his length. Slowly, you slid your hand down, the slickness making the movement easier, before gliding back up.

Kyle let out a sharp exhale, his fingers curling against the edge of the bed as his hips shifted slightly beneath you. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice tight. “Just like that.”

You adjusted your grip, your hand moving more fluidly as you grew accustomed to the motion. Each pass drew a faint reaction from him—a sharp inhale, the flex of his thighs under your touch—and you found yourself drawn to his every sound and movement.

“Good,” Kyle muttered, his voice strained but sincere. His eyes softened as he looked down at you, his lips parting as if to say something else, but the words caught in his throat. “You’re doing… really good.”

The praise sent a thrill through you, a rush of anticipation flooding your senses as you glanced up at him. The sight of his flushed cheeks, his slightly parted lips, and the way his lashes fluttered when your hand moved just right made your pulse race even faster.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice shaking but determined as you continued, your movements growing steadier and more confident with each stroke.

Kyle let out a shaky breath, his head tipping back slightly. He bit down on his lower lip, clearly trying to stifle the sounds threatening to escape, but the faintest groan slipped past anyway. His hips shifted forward almost unconsciously, and his hands moved, one settling lightly on the back of your head, the other brushing against your hair as though steadying himself.

You glanced up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the sight. His green eyes were half-lidded, their sharp focus unwavering, tracing every subtle movement you made. A faint crease formed between his brows, as though he were concentrating too hard, and the flush on his cheeks deepened with every passing second, highlighting the freckles scattered across his skin. His jaw was tight, the muscle twitching slightly, and his lips pressed together in a way that suggested he was fighting to keep his composure. The intensity in his gaze, paired with the way his shoulders seemed locked with tension, told you everything he wasn’t saying aloud.

Your fingers tightened slightly around him, your breath catching as you hesitated. “Kyle,” you murmured softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of his uneven breathing.

His gaze dropped to meet yours immediately, his brows furrowing slightly as though worried he’d done something wrong. “Yeah?” he asked.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning as you shifted your grip slightly. “Can I… put it in my mouth now?” you asked quietly, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

Kyle’s eyes widened slightly, the tension in his expression flickering into something softer, though the flush on his face deepened. He exhaled sharply, his fingers brushing against your hair as though he couldn’t decide whether to guide you or give you space.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice low and hoarse, barely above a whisper. “If you want to.”

Your lips curved into a small smile, the nervous energy in your chest giving way to something braver. You felt the wetness pooling in your mouth as you swallowed and leaned in closer. “Can you… guide me?” you whispered softly, your voice trembling.

Kyle’s chest rose subtly, his eyes locking onto yours as his hand shifted on the back of your head, his fingers brushing gently through your hair. He hummed softly, the sound low and quiet as it filled the space between you.

Tentatively, you stuck out your tongue, the slick sheen of your saliva catching the dim light as it pooled at the tip. A single bead dripped onto him, landing with a faint slick sound that made his thigh muscles flex beneath your hand.

Kyle let out a quiet, broken moan at the sensation, his fingers tightening slightly in your hair as though anchoring himself. Encouraged by his reaction, you leaned in further, pressing the softest of kisses to the head of his cock.

The saltiness of his precum mingled with your saliva, and you felt a faint shiver run through you as the unfamiliarity of it gave way to curiosity. Each kiss grew a little bolder, a little firmer, until your lips parted slightly, brushing the tip in a tentative caress.

As you adjusted your position, your other hand, still wrapped around the base of his length, squeezed reflexively, the pressure firmer than you intended.

“Ah—fuck,” Kyle gasped sharply, his hips jolting forward instinctively. His grip on your hair tightened momentarily before loosening as he let out a shaky breath. “Not so tight,” he muttered, his voice strained but soft, his flushed face glancing down at you with a mixture of surprise and reassurance.

Your face burned as you quickly relaxed your grip, glancing up at him apologetically. “Sorry,” you whispered, your lips brushing against the tip as you spoke, earning another quiet groan from him.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his tone slightly breathless. “Just keep going. You’re doing fine.”

His encouragement settled the nerves fluttering in your chest, and you leaned in once more, letting your tongue flick against him experimentally before pressing another kiss to his flushed tip. The soft sound he let out in response sent a thrill through you, bolstering your growing confidence.

Taking a steadying breath, you opened your mouth wider, your lips parting as you leaned in further. The warmth of him against your tongue was unfamiliar but not unpleasant, the faint saltiness mingling with the clean taste of his skin. You hummed softly at the sensation, the vibration making Kyle groan quietly above you.

You eased forward slowly, inch by inch, your lips stretching to accommodate him as the weight of his cock settled against your tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut briefly, the sensations overwhelming, but you forced them open again, wanting to see the way Kyle reacted. He bit his lip hard, his head tipping back slightly as his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. His hand tightened in your hair, not to force you but as if grounding himself in the moment.

As you took more of him in, the stretch made your jaw ache slightly, but you pushed through it, adjusting your position to make it easier. The salty slickness on your tongue made the glide smoother, and you felt yourself relaxing into the rhythm, inching closer and closer to the base.

Your eyes began to sting faintly, the effort making your breath hitch through your nose, but you didn’t stop. The faint hum of arousal pooling in your stomach only grew stronger, the wetness between your thighs becoming impossible to ignore as you leaned forward further.

The tip of him nudged at the back of your mouth, the pressure making you pause briefly to steady your breathing. Your fingers gripped his thighs for support, your nails digging in slightly as you adjusted to the sensation.

“Shit,” Kyle muttered above you, his voice rough and strained as he looked down, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded. “Fuck, [Y/N]… you’re…” He trailed off, his words dissolving into a shaky groan as his hips twitched forward slightly.

You glanced up at him, your gaze meeting his, and the intensity in his expression sent a shiver through you. His lips were parted, his face flushed, and the sight only spurred you on. You hummed again, the sound vibrating against him as you inched forward just a little more, the tip pressing deeper against the back of your throat.

A thought flickered through your mind, shaky and uncertain but insistent: you should probably start moving now. Slowly, you pulled back, his cock sliding along your tongue, slick and warm as you adjusted your grip on him. Your hand, still resting at the base, tightened slightly as you began to mimic the motion of your mouth. Leaning forward again, you let your lips close around him once more, inching downward and then back up in a tentative rhythm. The motion was clumsy at first, your movements unsure, but the quiet groans spilling from Kyle’s lips told you you were doing something right.

Saliva gathered quickly, pooling around your tongue and spilling messily from the corners of your mouth as you continued. The wet, slick sounds filled the room, each motion drawing more saliva until it coated his length and dripped onto your hand, glistening in the dim light.

A need burned low in your chest—not just to please him but to see how far you could take him. You glanced up through your lashes, meeting Kyle’s wide, uncertain eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his lips parted slightly, and though he tried to stay quiet, his chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths.

“K-Keep going,” he murmured, barely audible, his voice raw and strained. His hand hovered near your head, uncertain if he should touch you, but when you sank a little deeper, the tip brushing the back of your throat, his fingers curled into the sheets instead, gripping tightly.

Encouraged by his reaction, you pushed further, forcing yourself to relax as you took him deeper. The stretch made your throat tighten and your eyes water, but you didn’t pull back. You wanted him to lose control, even if you couldn’t say the words aloud. The wet, muffled sound of your gagging filled the room, and Kyle squeezed his eyes shut, his breath catching in his throat.

“Y-you don’t have to—” he whispered, his voice trembling as his other hand covered his mouth. His words dissolved into a soft, shaky groan when you hummed around him, the vibration making him twitch against your tongue. His hips jerked despite himself, and he immediately froze, his thighs tensing beneath your hands. “I-I���m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

You pulled back just enough to shake your head, your lips brushing over his sensitive skin in the process. Then you moved down again, slower this time, taking him as deep as you could, letting him feel every inch. 

Kyle’s body stiffened, and he pressed his hand harder against his mouth to stifle a low, shaky moan. “Oh, God,” he mumbled, the words barely audible. His other hand hovered again, indecisive, before it finally settled on your cheek. His thumb brushed tentatively against your damp skin, trembling slightly. “I’m... I’m so close,” he whispered, his voice cracking as his eyes squeezed shut.

You didn’t pull back. If anything, you leaned in, silently urging him to let go. The taste of him lingered on your tongue, and you wanted more, needed to take all of him. Your hands tightened on his thighs, grounding him as you moved again, deeper, wetter, swallowing around him.

Kyle gasped softly, his hand leaving your cheek to clutch the bedpost for support. He muttered something too quiet to catch, his body trembling as he finally gave in. His release came in warm, heavy bursts, coating your tongue and sliding down your throat. You swallowed quickly, not letting a single drop escape, even as the taste lingered and his body shuddered beneath your touch.

When you finally pulled back, your lips red and swollen, Kyle was staring at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. His hand covered his mouth again, as if to hold in the sounds he hadn’t meant to make. His curls clung to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his face was impossibly flushed.

“You... you didn’t have to...” he started, his voice soft and breathless, but the words trailed off as he looked at you.

You swallowed the last traces of him, licking your lips, and ducked your head slightly, a shy heat creeping up your neck. “I wanted to,” you murmured, your voice quiet but steady.

Kyle’s chest rose and fell as he stared at you, his expression a mix of gratitude and awe. He didn’t speak, his words lost in the haze of the moment. Instead, his hand lingered against your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips with the gentlest touch, like he still couldn’t believe what had just happened.

You stayed on the floor, your knees pressing into the carpet as you gazed up at him. Your thighs pressed together subtly, the slick wetness between them making you shift slightly, your body humming with awareness.

Kyle’s hand didn’t move from your face, his thumb brushing over the corner of your mouth with an almost reverent touch. His other hand lifted, hesitant at first, before gently cradling the side of your head. His fingers slid through your hair, his touch so careful.

“You’re... amazing,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. His eyes searched yours, his gaze filled with something so pure. “I don’t even know how to... I mean, I—” He paused, his lips curving into a shy, nervous smile. “I just hope you know how much you mean to me.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest feel impossibly tight, your breath catching as you stared up at him. Your lips parted, but no words came out. All you could do was lean into his hand, your skin warming under his touch, your pulse quickening with every second that passed.

“Kyle...” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

He leaned forward slightly, his movements slow and unsure, as if afraid of scaring you off. “You’re okay, right?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek now. “I didn’t hurt you or—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head quickly. Your voice was steadier this time, though you still felt the nervousness coursing in your veins. “You didn’t hurt me. I just...”

Your words trailed off, your gaze flicking to his lips. They were so close, warm and inviting, and you couldn’t fight the pull any longer. Hesitantly, you leaned forward, your knees shifting against the floor as you moved closer.

Kyle’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand on your cheek moved to cradle your jaw, his touch as gentle as ever. “You can... if you want to,” he whispered, his voice trembling but impossibly sweet. “I’d like that.”

Encouraged by his words, you tilted your head and closed the gap, your lips meeting his in the softest, most tender kiss. His lips were warm and pliant, moving against yours with a hesitant sweetness that made your chest ache. He kissed you like you were fragile, like he wanted to savor every second, and it made your heart swell. You wondered if he could taste himself, and if he did, he didn’t seem to mind.

You kissed him again, your lips moving softly, savoring the warmth of his mouth. As your hand hesitated over the button of your jeans, your nerves mingled with the building heat between you. You fumbled slightly, the tiny metal button slipping against your fingers before finally popping free. The sound was quiet but loud in the stillness.

Kyle noticed the movement, his lips pausing against yours. He pulled back, his breath soft and warm as he spoke, “Wait... are you sure?” His eyes searched yours, not with hesitation, but with concern—like he wanted you to feel safe, to know you had all the time in the world.

You nodded, your face burning, your hands trembling as you pushed the denim down your thighs. “I... I want this,” you whispered, the words so soft they barely reached your own ears, let alone his.

Kyle exhaled a shaky breath, his lips parting as though he wanted to say something else, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, his hand moved to yours, his touch gentle as he steadied your fingers. “Okay,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Just... let me know if it’s too much, alright?”

The cold air hit your skin as the jeans slipped to your knees, the sharp contrast making you shiver. You couldn’t help but glance away, your cheeks hot as you became hyperaware of the damp fabric of your panties, the way they clung to you in ways you couldn’t hide.

Kyle’s gaze followed yours, but there was no teasing in his expression—only quiet reverence. His lips curved into a soft smile, and his hand returned to your cheek, tilting your face back toward his. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly but filled with sincerity. “You don’t have to be nervous with me.”

A soft hum escaped your lips, a sound of quiet acknowledgment. You pushed yourself upward, moving slowly onto his lap, your thighs settling on either side of his hips. The sudden closeness made your heart race, the warmth of his body grounding you even as your nerves buzzed.

Kyle’s hands shifted instinctively to your waist, his fingers flexing lightly against your skin. “Hey,” he said softly. “You don’t have to rush.”

“I know,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You wrapped one arm around his neck, pulling him closer as your other hand moved behind your back, fumbling with the clasp of your bra. Then, you felt it: the firm press of his cock against your cunt, separated only by the thin fabric of your panties. The friction sent a jolt of heat through you, and you froze, your face flushing hotter. A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure, but the movement only made it worse. Your clit brushed against him, and you bit your lip, a small sound escaping before you could stop it.

Kyle’s hands tightened subtly on your waist, steadying you. His voice was low when he spoke, soft but steady. “Don’t be embarrassed.” He tilted his head, catching your gaze with his warm, steady eyes. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You swallowed hard, your breath trembling as you tried to find your voice. “I just... it’s a lot,” you admitted quietly, glancing down as your fingers faltered on the clasp.

Kyle’s lips quirked into a gentle smile, and he leaned forward, brushing a featherlight kiss to your temple. “I know,” he said softly. “It’s a lot for me too.” His tone was sincere, devoid of teasing, but there was a quiet confidence in the way he held you—like he’d done this before and knew exactly how to make you feel safe.

With a small, reassuring hum, his hand slipped to your back, his fingers deftly undoing the clasp of your bra with practiced ease. “Here,” he murmured, his voice tinged with warmth as the fabric loosened. “Let me.”

You nodded, your cheeks burning as the bra slid down your arms. Kyle leaned back slightly, his gaze sweeping over you with an almost reverent intensity. Then, the corner of his mouth lifted into a mischievous smirk, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. “You’re blushing,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in to press a warm kiss to your temple. “It’s cute.”

You shot him a quick glare, your embarrassment spiking, but before you could say anything, his hands slid to your hips, guiding you with an effortless strength until your back pressed against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, cocooning you in his warmth, his breath brushing against your ear as he settled you comfortably against him.

“Relax,” he murmured softly, his voice impossibly tender but laced with just enough teasing to make your heart skip a beat. One hand trailed upward, cupping your tit before his fingers gently tugged at your nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, making your thighs clamp together instinctively.

“K-Kyle,” you stammered, but your voice broke into a soft whimper as his other hand slid lower, brushing over your panties. His touch was slow, his fingers traced the damp fabric, pressing lightly against your clit and drawing slow circles. The friction made your breath hitch, and a high-pitched squeal escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Your hands flew to your mouth, muffling the sound as your face burned hot with both pleasure and mortification. You twisted slightly in his hold, shooting him a sharp, pointed glare. “Stan, Cartman, and Kenny are downstairs!” you hissed under your breath, your voice urgent but breathy. 

Kyle’s smirk only deepened, his eyes glittering with mischief as he pressed his lips to your shoulder. “Then you’d better keep quiet,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. “But I don’t think you can.”

His words made your stomach flip, and you bit down on your lip hard, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out as his hand continued its slow, maddening rhythm over your clit. His fingers on your nipple tugged gently again, and your resolve began to crumble.

You squirmed against him, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. His fingers pressed and circled over your clit making your head spin. You tried to steady your breathing, to regain even a shred of composure, but it was impossible. Every motion, every deliberate movement of his fingers, left you trembling.

Your head lolled to the side, exposing the curve of your neck, and his lips followed instinctively, brushing featherlight kisses against your skin. The warmth of his breath, the softness of his mouth, sent waves of heat rippling through you. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured softly, his voice trembling slightly, as if the words had slipped out before he could stop them.

A quiet whimper escaped you, your cheeks burning at his praise. “Don’t say that,” you whispered, your voice shaky and small, though your body betrayed you by leaning into his touch.

Kyle’s lips paused against your neck, and he pressed a firmer kiss there before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. “Why not?” he asked softly. His hand didn’t stop moving, his fingers still  brushing over your clit in slow circles. “It’s true.”

You wanted to argue, to push back against the intensity of his gaze, but the warmth in his expression made it impossible. Instead, you turned your head away, burying your face against his shoulder as if that could shield you from the weight of the moment.

“I can feel how much you’re shaking,” he murmured. His hand on your chest moved, fingers trailing lightly along your ribs before resting over your racing heart. “You’re so incredible.”

The sweetness in his words made your stomach twist in a way that was both unbearable and intoxicating. “Kyle,” you whined, your voice breaking as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your panties. His fingers slid through your wetness, the first bare touch sending a jolt of pleasure so sharp you couldn’t hold back a gasp.

He stilled for a moment, his fingers hovering, and his other hand came to rest gently on your hip. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your temple as he spoke. “I mean it. Just say the word, and I’ll stop.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to look at him, your breaths shallow and uneven. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.

Kyle nodded, his thumb brushing a soothing circle against your hip. “Okay,” he murmured. The reassurance in his voice, the steady way he spoke, made your chest ache even as your body burned with need. His fingers teased at your entrance, brushing against your slit with just enough pressure to make your hips jerk. The sensation was maddening, like he was savoring every second of the moment. His other arm stayed wrapped around you, holding you close as though you were the only thing that existed.

The memory struck suddenly and sharply—the party. The way he had knelt between your thighs, his mouth hot and hungry, his fingers plunging into you with a rhythm that left you crying out. You could still feel the heat of his tongue, the wet, obscene sounds that filled the room, the overwhelming sensation as your body gave in completely. The way you’d lost control, squirting all over him, had left you reeling with equal parts pleasure and humiliation.

The thought burned through you now, leaving you overwhelmed. Your chest tightened, a hot flush spreading across your skin. “Kyle,” you whimpered, your voice shaky as you pawed at his chest, pushing against him in a rush of embarrassment. “I can’t.”

Kyle froze immediately, his hands lifting from your body as you slid off the bed. “What happened?” he asked, his voice soft but tense, concern flickering in his eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”

You didn’t answer, your back to him as you crossed the room to the dresser. The drawer slid open with a creak, and you rifled through its cluttered contents, your fingers trembling slightly as you searched. “No, it’s not that,” you mumbled, your words rushed as you pushed past loose papers and random odds and ends. You knew Cartman’s mom kept condoms here somewhere—of course she did.

Kyle sat up straighter, his gaze following you as his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. “Then what is it?” he pressed, his voice firmer but still gentle, like he didn’t want to scare you off. “Talk to me.”

Your fingers finally brushed against the foil packet, and you pulled it free, the cool metal crinkling in your hand. You hesitated for a moment, staring down at it before turning back to him. “I just...” You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning. “I need to grab this first.”

Kyle’s eyes flicked to the packet, his expression softening as understanding dawned. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you quietly, his gaze steady and warm. When you stepped closer, his lips curved into a faint smile, and he reached out, taking the packet from your hand.

“Okay,” he said simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He set it aside on the bed before sliding his hands to your waist. His touch was sure and steady, grounding you as his eyes met yours. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, his tone soft.

You nodded, the tension in your chest easing slightly at his response. “I’m sure,” you said.

Kyle smiled again, a small, almost shy curve of his lips as his hands brushed over your hips, pulling you closer. “Good,” he murmured, his fingers trailing along your sides.

You stayed standing, your body buzzing with heat and nerves, unable to make yourself sit down just yet. The house was quiet except for the faint creak of old floorboards and the occasional muffled sound of laughter from downstairs. 

Kyle removed his hands from you, causing you to look over and glance at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his brows furrowed in concentration as he rolled the condom on. He looked so sure, so steady, and yet you felt like you were barely keeping it together. The image of him there—your best friend, the boy who’d been with you through everything—made your stomach twist in ways you couldn’t untangle.

Your chest tightened as you thought about the countless memories you’d shared. The hours spent talking, laughing, fighting, and making up. Every moment of your life seemed intertwined with his. And now, in this moment, you weren’t just best friends anymore.

Pressing your hands harder against your cheeks, you shook your head, trying to push away the thoughts threatening to overwhelm you. But they wouldn’t stop. You wanted him—not just now, not just like this. You wanted everything with him. The realization burned through you, leaving you trembling.

“Kyle,” you said suddenly, your voice breaking as you turned back to him.

He looked up, startled, his hands pausing mid-motion as his eyes met yours. Concern flickered across his face. “What? What’s wrong?”

Your heart was pounding, your hands clenching at your sides as you blurted out, “Will you be my boyfriend?”

The room went still, the air thick and heavy as the question hung between you. Kyle stared at you, his expression frozen in shock. “What?” he said softly, his voice barely audible.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to hold his gaze even as your cheeks burned. “I mean it,” your voice trembling. “I want you to be my boyfriend. I… I don’t want this to just be something we do. I want it to mean something. I want you.”

Kyle’s face softened, but his brows drew together, conflicted. He set the condom aside, his hands resting on his knees as he leaned forward slightly. “Are you serious?” he asked, his voice low and careful.

You nodded quickly. “I’ve never been more serious about anything. You’re my best friend, but I… I don’t just want to be your best friend anymore. I don’t think I can be. Not after this.”

Kyle’s shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, his gaze dropping to the floor as he ran a hand through his curls. “This is… a lot,” he said quietly, his voice tight with emotion. “I don’t even know if I’d be good at that, at being your boyfriend.”

“You’re already good at it,” you said, stepping closer, your hands reaching for him. “You’ve always been good at it. You’ve always been there for me, Kyle. I trust you more than anyone. And this—this feels right. Doesn’t it feel right to you?”

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with so many emotions it made your chest ache. “It does,” he admitted softly. “But I’m scared. If I screw this up, I’m going to lose you, and I can’t—” He stopped, his words catching in his throat as he shook his head. “I can’t lose you.”

You squeezed his hands back, leaning closer, your forehead brushing against his. “You’re not going to lose me,” you whispered, your voice firm despite the tears threatening to spill. “You won’t.I trust you.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his breath coming shallow and uneven. Then, slowly, he nodded, his lips curving into a small, shaky smile. “Okay,” he said softly, the word carrying all the weight of his emotions. “Okay. I’ll be your boyfriend.”

The seriousness of the moment lingered for a beat longer before you giggled, a nervous, joyful sound that you couldn’t hold back. “That’s it? No dramatic speech? Just… okay?” you teased, leaning forward and giving his shoulder a playful push.

Kyle raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into something between a smirk and a grimace as he flicked your forehead lightly. “What, you want me to write it out for you? Sign a contract or something?” he asked, his voice dry but warm.

Still holding his hand, you glanced down at the way your fingers were intertwined, your laughter trailing off into a soft hum. The sight of your hands together, so familiar yet somehow different now, sent a strange but comforting warmth through you. But as your gaze shifted, you noticed something else—his cock, still hard, the condom snugly in place. The absurdity of the moment hit you all at once, and a burst of laughter escaped before you could stop it.

Kyle blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What now?” he asked, his ears reddening as his eyes darted between you and where your gaze had landed.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped between giggles, doubling over slightly as the laughter spilled out of you. “I just—it’s so funny! You’re sitting there with a condom on, looking all serious, like we’re in some kind of romance movie, and I’m—” You couldn’t finish, dissolving into laughter again as you clutched your stomach.

Kyle groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “Wow,” he muttered, but there was no irritation in his tone, only the faintest hint of amused exasperation. “You have this gift for ruining the moment, you know that?”

“I’m not ruining it!” you protested, trying to catch your breath. “It’s just—it’s us. Look at us!” You gestured between the two of you, a grin still tugging at your lips.

He shook his head, his hands dropping to his lap as he stared at you with mock dismay. “I’m starting to think this was a terrible idea,” he said, though the soft smile breaking through his expression betrayed him.

“Too late,” you quipped, biting your lip to stifle another giggle as you hooked your thumbs under the waistband of your panties. You began shimmying them down, the damp fabric sticking slightly to your skin as you wiggled your hips. The cool air against your thighs sent a shiver up your spine.

He sat up straighter, his eyes flicking between your face and your bare skin. “Wait—wait a second,” he said, holding up a hand like he was trying to slow the moment down. “Are you seriously laughing while…” He trailed off, his cheeks reddening as he gestured vaguely toward your legs.

You grinned, letting the panties drop to the floor as you stepped out of them. “What? It’s funny!” you said, your voice light and teasing, though your heart was racing in your chest. “This whole thing is—kind of ridiculous, don’t you think?”

Kyle rubbed the back of his neck, the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried to hold back a smile. “Ridiculous?” he repeated, his tone laced with quiet disbelief. “You’re standing there, naked, laughing at me, and you think I’m the ridiculous one?”

You stepped closer, still grinning as you leaned into him, your hands resting on his shoulders. “Yup,” you said simply, popping the p.

Kyle’s hands found your waist instinctively, his touch grounding you as he tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “You say that like you’ve got me all figured out,” he teased, his voice soft but laced with challenge. “Think you’re pretty clever, huh?”

Your heart thudded against your ribs, the weight of his hands grounding you as a nervous, giddy energy bubbled in your chest. You slid your hands over his shoulders, leaning into him with a playful smirk. “Not as clever as you, obviously,” you quipped, the sarcasm dripping from your tone as you climbed onto his lap in one smooth motion, your thighs bracketing his hips.

Kyle scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching as if to suppress a grin. “You’ve got jokes, huh?” he said, his hands settling on your waist, squeezing just enough to make your stomach flip. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he added, “Guess I’ll have to prove you wrong.”

You hummed weakly in reply, the sound barely audible as the movement brought you closer than ever before. The heat of him pressed against your entrance was immediate and overwhelming. His cock, thick and ready, nudged against you, separated only by the thin barrier of the condom. 

Kyle’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his brows knitting together as he drew in a shaky breath. His eyes searched yours, a mix of anticipation and disbelief flickering in the green depths. “You okay?” he asked softly, though his hands trembled faintly where they held you.

You nodded, the flush on your cheeks deepening as you bit your lip to stifle another whimper. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice unsteady. “I just…” You trailed off, your chest rising and falling as the heat pooling in your stomach grew unbearable.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers threading into the soft curls at the nape of his neck as you leaned in closer. His breath ghosted over your lips, and the need to kiss him, to feel the softness of his lips against yours again, was overwhelming.

Kyle’s eyes flicked between yours, his gaze dipping briefly to your lips before returning to your face. “You’re staring,” he murmured.

“So are you,” you shot back, the playful edge in your voice faltering as your hips shifted instinctively, the friction between you sending a jolt of heat through your core.

He exhaled sharply, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer as his lips brushed yours in the faintest tease of a kiss. “Can you blame me?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. Closing the small gap between you, you pressed your lips to his in a kiss that was insistent, your fingers curling tighter into his hair as you melted into him. His lips parted against yours, and the warmth of his mouth sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

Kyle broke apart from the kiss and shifted, guiding you carefully toward the center of the bed. The pillows cushioned your back as he hovered over you, the mattress dipping under his weight. One hand braced beside your head, his other resting on your hip, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the moment.

He paused, his eyes sweeping over your face, a poorly concerned smirk dawned on his face.

“What?” you asked, your voice quiet but edged with curiosity, your fingers brushing lightly against the curls falling over his forehead.

Kyle tilted his head slightly, his gaze holding yours as if he was savoring the moment. “I was just thinking,” he said, his tone  teasing, “this is a long way from ‘just one kiss for practice.’”

Your stomach flipped at the reminder, your cheeks immediately heating. “Are you seriously bringing that up right now?” you asked, though the slight crack in your voice betrayed your embarrassment.

“Why not?” His smirk deepened, his thumb brushing slow circles into your hip. “It’s where this all started, isn’t it? You were the one who wanted my help, remember?”

You groaned softly, covering your face with your hands for a moment before looking back at him. “God, you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

Kyle laughed, tas he leaned closer. “You were so flustered back then,” he murmured, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “Practically jumped out of your skin every time I got close.”

“That was your fault,” you shot back, your fingers tightening on his shoulders. “You didn’t have to make it so… intense.”

“Intense?” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening into something closer to a grin. “I was holding back.”

You let out a short, breathy laugh, your chest brushing against his as you moved beneath him. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly holding back now.”

Kyle’s eyes gleamed, his grip on your hip tightening slightly as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “No,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not.”

The words sent a shiver racing through you, and your hands slid up to cradle his face, pulling him back toward you. “Kyle,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as your lips hovered just a breath away from his.

His eyes softened, heavy-lidded as they locked onto yours. “Yeah?” he murmured, his voice low, but the look on his face carried more than just desire—it was care, reassurance, and a question all at once.

The weight of him against you was grounding, his cock pressing against your entrance sending a pulse of heat through your body. But the texture of the condom felt strange against your slick skin, a reminder of the uncharted territory you were about to cross. Your fingers slid down to his shoulders, gripping tightly as your breath caught in your throat.

“Will it hurt?” you asked quietly, as you tilted your head slightly, unable to meet his gaze for a moment.

Kyle paused, his expression softened further, the tension in his body easing as he leaned closer. His forehead rested gently against yours, and his breath was warm as he spoke, his voice quiet and reassuring. “Maybe at first,” he admitted, his tone careful. “But I’ll go slow. You’ll tell me how it feels, yeah?”

The care in his words made something in your chest loosen, and you nodded slowly, your fingers tightening against his shoulders. “Okay,” you whispered meekly.

Kyle pressed a kiss to your temple, lingering for a moment before he tilted his head to catch your lips. The kiss was a silent promise he didn’t need to put into words. His hand moved from your cheek, sliding to your waist, holding you steady as he began to press his hips forward slightly.

The initial stretch made your breath stutter, your body instinctively tensing. Your grip on his shoulders tightened, your nails pressing into his skin as you squeezed one eye shut, letting out a small, strained sound.

Kyle froze immediately, his forehead falling to your shoulder as his breath came out in a sharp exhale. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his hands tightening their hold on you. “You’re… fuck, you’re tight.”

The rough edge in his voice sent a jolt of raw arousal straight to your core, and though the stretch was uncomfortable, the way he reacted made you crave more. You shifted slightly beneath him, adjusting to the pressure, biting your lip to muffle a needy sound as the movement made him sink just a little deeper.

His hand slid up to your side, his thumb brushing over your ribs in slow, soothing circles. “You good?” he asked softly, though his voice was strained, his breathing uneven as he fought to stay still.

You nodded, your hands still gripping his shoulders tightly as you whispered, “Yeah. Just… keep going.”

Kyle let out another quiet curse, his lips brushing against your neck as he pulled back just slightly, giving you time to adjust before pressing forward again, his movements slow and careful. The stretch eased little by little, replaced by a growing heat that made your body arch against him, your breaths coming in shallow, trembling gasps.

“Good,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and hoarse. “You’re doing so good.”

The praise ignited a flicker of pride through the haze of overwhelming sensation. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him closer as you gasped softly, your body adjusting to the impossible fullness. Your nails bit into his shoulders, grounding you as you fought the urge to squirm.

A low groan rumbled from Kyle’s throat, his lips brushing over the curve of your neck. He stayed still, not thrusting yet, his cock buried deep inside you. The stretch was too much and exactly what you needed all at once, and your breaths came in uneven bursts.

“You’re tight as hell,” he rasped, his voice breaking on the words. A low chuckle followed, shaky but warm. “It’s fucking unreal.”

His mouth moved lower, his lips leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Each press of his lips sent shivers racing through you, your body responding to every small movement he made. He dipped his head further, his breath hot against your chest before his mouth closed around one of your nipples.

“Fuck—Kyle,” you gasped, your back arching instinctively as his tongue flicked over the sensitive peak. He sucked gently, his hand sliding up to cup the other breast, his thumb brushing circles over the hardened bud.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured between kisses, his words muffled but fervent. “Fucking perfect everywhere.”

A deep ache settled in your pussy, your walls gripping him tight where he stretched you. The pressure was maddening, and every shift sent a pulse straight to your clit. His lips on your chest only added to the tension, making your hips twitch as you craved more. He hadn’t even moved yet, and you were already on edge, desperate for relief.

“Kyle,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to ground yourself. 

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark, the pupils blown wide with lust. The intensity in his gaze was enough to make your stomach flip. “You’ve got no idea what you’re doing to me right now,” his voice rough. His hands slid to your waist, gripping you firmly as he willed himself to not move.

Your chest heaved as you squirmed beneath him, the pressure building with every second he stayed buried inside you. “Please,” you whispered, your voice trembling as your hands slid down to his shoulders. “Move.”

He exhaled shakily, his forehead pressing against yours as he murmured, “You sure?”

You nodded, your thighs tightening around his waist as you whispered, “I need it. I need you.”

Kyle groaned again, as he pulled back just enough for you to feel the slow drag of his cock against your walls. The stretch sent a sharp wave of sensation through you, your head falling back as your mouth opened in a breathless gasp.

Each thrust was deliberate, his movements measured as though he was testing how much you could take. The sensation built with every inch of him, the overwhelming fullness making your body feel alive in ways you’d never experienced. Your hands clung to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as soft, shaky whimpers escaped your lips.

“Kyle,” your voice trembling as his hips moved against yours, his cock pressing into you with every slow  thrust. “I can’t… it’s so much.”

“I know,” he rasped, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ve got you. Just feel me.”

You did. Every inch of him, every press of his hips, every brush of his lips against your skin—it was all-consuming. Your body shaked beneath him, your breaths coming in short, uneven bursts as the pleasure built steadily.

His hand slid between your bodies, his thumb brushing over your clit in slow, teasing circles. The added sensation made your back arch, a choked whimper escaping your lips as you clung to him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice low and breathless. “You’re so damn beautiful like this.”

You turned your head slightly, your lips brushing against his jaw as you murmured, “Kiss me.”

Kyle didn’t hesitate, capturing your lips in a kiss that matched the steady rhythm of his thrusts. His tongue brushed against yours, the kiss deep and intimate, leaving you breathless.

When he pulled back, his gaze locked onto yours, his eyes dark and piercing, sending a shiver down your spine. “Tell me how it feels,” he murmured.

Your cheeks burned as you stammered, “It feels… it feels like you’re everywhere.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, and he leaned in to kiss you again, his pace never faltering. His hand stayed between your thighs, his thumb keeping up its maddening rhythm as his hips moved against yours.

The pleasure built steadily, every movement bringing you closer to the edge, but Kyle didn’t rush. His focus remained on you, his hands and lips and body working in perfect harmony to keep you teetering on the brink.

“Kyle,” you gasped, your voice trembling as you felt the tension coiling tighter in your stomach. “I can’t… I’m so close.”

He groaned softly, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, “Not yet, baby. Hold on for me. I want to feel you fall apart.”

The words sent a shiver racing through you, and you clung to him tighter, your body trembling as you fought to keep yourself together. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breaths, the quiet creak of the mattress, and the faint, wet sounds of his cock sliding into you, driving you both closer to the edge with every deliberate thrust.

Kyle’s lips found yours again, capturing your gasp as his hips stilled momentarily, keeping you on the edge of release but not letting you tip over just yet. “Not yet,” he repeated softly, his voice a gentle command that made your chest tighten and your walls clench around him.

Your walls tightened instinctively around him, and his breath hitched against your mouth, his eyes falling shut for a brief moment as if the feeling was almost too much. The corner of your mouth curved into a small smile, your fingers threading through his messy curls as you tilted your head to study him.

There was something endearing about the way Kyle managed to be so restrained even now, his touch careful despite the want thrumming between you. It was a stark contrast to how you’d seen him act when he argued with Cartman—sharp, aggressive, and unrelenting. Here, though, his intensity was softer, quieter, and it filled you with a warmth that made your chest ache.

You tilted your head further, your eyes catching on the way his freckles were dusted across his flushed skin. “You’re cute when you’re bossy,” you murmured teasingly, your tone light despite the heat blooming between you.

Kyle opened his eyes at that, a faint flush crept up his neck, but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, his hands smoothed over your sides, grounding you in his touch. “You think so?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with.amusement.

Before you could answer, your attention flicked to the faint sound of movement from downstairs—Stan’s laughter, Cartman’s loud complaints, and Kenny’s muffled response. Your face burned, and you bit your lip, turning your head slightly toward the door.

Kyle noticed the shift immediately, his hands pausing on your waist. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone soft but cautious.

“They’ll hear us.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. 

Kyle let out a quiet laugh, his lips brushing against your temple. “They’re not listening, trust me.”

You glanced at him, your face heating at how nonchalant he seemed about the possibility. “You don’t care?”

“I care about you,” he said simply, his gaze meeting yours with a sincerity that made your breath catch. “That’s all.”

His words sent a fresh wave of warmth through you, but the ease he exuded only made you acutely aware of everything—the wet, sticky sound of him buried inside you, the quiet creak of the mattress, the way his hands lingered on your bare skin. Your breaths mingled in the air between you, your legs tightening around his waist as you arched into him, desperate for him to continue.

Kyle moaned low in his throat,  as if your eagerness had undone whatever control he had left. His movements grew erratic, his hips losing rhythm as the tension between you both coiled tighter and tighter. His breaths were uneven, fanning hot against your neck, where his lips grazed your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

His hands slid upward, fingers searching for yours until they intertwined. He squeezed them tightly, as his lips returned to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he bit down gently, his tongue soothing the faint sting.

“God,” he rasped, his voice low and raw. “You’re perfect. Do you feel that? Do you feel how good this is?”

Your lungs stuttered for air, the knot in your stomach winding tighter as his words sent a jolt straight to your core. The ache of his cock pounding you, the weight of his body pinning you down, and the heat radiating between you—it was overwhelming. “Kyle,” you gasped, your voice breaking as your head fell back, exposing the curve of your neck to him like an offering.

His teeth dragged along the curve of your shoulder, his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin in a rhythm that matched his increasingly desperate thrusts. He groaned against you, the sound deep and guttural, as he felt you clench around him.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he murmured, his tone softer now but still tinged with urgency.

You nodded, the movement jerky as your thighs pressed firmly against his hips, your nails digging into his hands. “I can’t,” you choked out, your voice breaking.

“You can,” Kyle whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. His voice was steady, reassuring, even as his own breaths came in short, ragged bursts. “Let go. I’m right here.”

The gravelly edge in his voice pushed you past the breaking point, your back arching as a raw, unrestrained cry escaped your lips. Your walls fluttered and gripped him tightly, your entire body shaking as the release consumed you. The intensity crashed over you in relentless waves, leaving you clutching at him desperately, your breaths shallow and broken as you rode out the bliss.

Kyle moaned, the sound muffled against your neck as he buried himself deep inside you. His fingers squeezed yours tightly, his hips faltering as his release followed yours, filling the condom as his body shuddered against yours. His teeth grazed your shoulder again, followed by soft, lingering kisses as he tried to catch his breath.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the room filled with the sound of your shared, uneven breathing. Kyle’s forehead rested against your shoulder, his fingers still tangled with yours. The weight of Kyle’s body pressed against yours, warm and grounding, his breath hot and uneven against your neck. His curls tickled your cheek, damp with sweat, and the faint scent of him—soap and salt and something wholly Kyle—filled the air between you.

You blinked at the ceiling, your vision blurry and unfocused, your chest heaving as you tried to process everything. The warm, sticky press of the condom against your walls reminded you of just how close you’d been, how real this was.

Kyle didn’t move, his body heavy and relaxed atop yours, his face still buried in the crook of your neck. His fingers twitched against yours, the faintest squeeze, as though he was reassuring himself you were still there.

Your lips parted, but no words came. What could you even say? The knot in your stomach hadn’t fully untangled, and your mind felt like static, replaying moments of his lips on your skin, the way he had moaned your name like it meant something sacred.

Kyle shifted slightly, his weight pressing more firmly into you before he seemed to catch himself. His head lifted just enough that his nose brushed your temple, and his voice came, low and hoarse. “Are you okay?”

His question was soft, almost hesitant, but there was no mistaking the concern in it. You nodded faintly, your fingers tightening around his. “Yeah,” you whispered.

Kyle’s  eyes softened, a flicker of relief crossing his features. He pressed a kiss to your temple, lingering there for a moment before shifting his weight onto his forearms to ease the pressure on you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shook your head quickly, your cheeks heating. “No,” you said quietly, glancing away. “Not at all.”

His lips lifted into a small, almost shy smile, and he tilted his head, studying your face. “Good,” he murmured. His hand disentangled from yours to brush a strand of hair from your forehead, his touch tender.

You squirmed slightly beneath him, your body still sensitive, the lingering fullness of him inside you making your stomach flip. Your mind reeled, looping the same realization over and over again: Kyle Broflovski is your boyfriend. You just had sex. You just had sex with your childhood best friend.

The thought was dizzying, almost surreal, and the weight of it had your cheeks burning. You tried to shift your gaze away from him, hoping to clear your head, but Kyle caught the movement, his brows furrowing slightly.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat in your cheeks spread down your neck. “I… I just…” You paused, your hands nervously smoothing over his shoulders before dropping to the sheets. “I’m trying to wrap my head around this.”

Kyle tilted his head, his green eyes searching yours. “Wrap your head around what?”

“That this happened,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers twisted in the sheets as your eyes flickered back to him. “That we happened. That you’re…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

“That I’m your boyfriend?” he finished, his lips quirking into a soft smile.

You nodded quickly, your heart pounding as his words echoed in your mind. Boyfriend. Kyle Broflovski is your boyfriend.

Kyle’s smile widened slightly, and he leaned down, his curls brushing against your cheek as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “It’s not that weird, is it?” he teased gently, though there was a faint nervousness in his voice.

“It’s insane,” you blurted, your words rushing out before you could stop them. You quickly shook your head, your hands flying up to cover your face. “No, wait, I didn’t mean it like that—”

Kyle chuckled softly, his breath warm against your ear as he shifted to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. “Relax,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin. “I know what you mean.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, your face still burning. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” he said simply. “I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it too. This is… it’s a lot. But it’s good. Right?”

His question hung in the air, and a lump rose in your throat as you thought about it. It was a lot—more than you’d ever expected or imagined—but as you looked at him, the way his green eyes softened when he met your gaze, the way his touch grounded you, you realized there was no hesitation in your answer.

“It’s good,” you whispered, your voice steadying as you spoke. “It’s really good.”

Kyle’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he let out a soft breath, almost as if he’d been holding it. His hands cupped your face gently, his thumbs tracing soothing patterns on your cheeks. When he leaned down to kiss you, his lips were soft and unhurried, moving against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache. It wasn’t rushed or demanding—every brush of his lips spoke of care, of longing, and of a quiet vulnerability that words could never convey.

As he pulled back, his gaze softened, and he shifted slightly as if to pull out of you. But before he could move far, you tightened your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Can we just… stay like this for a while?” your voice barely audible, your cheeks warming as you avoided his eyes.

Kyle’s eyes flicked to yours, surprise flashing across his face before it melted into something gentler. He exhaled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Yeah,” he said simply. Slowly, he leaned forward, his forehead brushing against your shoulder before he let himself rest against you, his breath warm against the curve of your neck. “We can stay.”

A sense of calm settled over you, like the weight of the moment had finally lifted. His presence beside you felt steady and familiar, the quiet filling the space with an ease you hadn’t realized you needed. The gentle sound of his breathing created a soothing rhythm, anchoring you in the here and now.

Time seemed to stretch, the two of you existing in a bubble of shared warmth and quiet understanding. But the peace was short-lived.

Heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs, the unmistakable sound of someone stomping on purpose—a Cartman classic. Your stomach dropped, panic flashing through you as you remembered where you were.

Cartman’s house.

You barely had time to process the thought before it hit.

A loud, exaggerated moan pierced through the silence, high-pitched and theatrical. “Oh, Kyle!” came Kenny’s voice, dragging out the name in a dramatic, singsong wail that reverberated through the house.

Your body went rigid, your face heating instantly as you clamped your hands over your mouth to stifle a groan of embarrassment.

It didn’t stop there.

“God, you’re so—ah! Fuck, baby!” Cartman’s voice followed, mimicking Kyle with mock desperation and over-the-top grunts that had you wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

Slapping noises echoed next, likely Kenny or Stan clapping their hands together to make it worse. “Do you like that, [Y/N]? Huh?!” Cartman cackled, his voice devolving into laughter that was quickly joined by the others.

Kyle froze, his head lifting from your neck as his entire body tensed. His face flushed bright red, a mix of mortification and anger flashing in his eyes as he muttered, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Oh my God,” you whispered, your voice muffled by your hands.

Kenny’s voice came again, high and mocking. “Don’t stop, Kyle! You’re so amazing—fuck, I’m cumming!”

The wheezing cackle that followed could only be Stan, his laughter so loud and uncontrolled that it shook the walls.

Kyle sat up slightly, his jaw tightening as he glared toward the door. “They’re dead,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m going to kill them.”

You quickly grabbed his wrist, your legs clamping around him as you hissed, “Kyle, don’t! You’ll just make it worse!”

“How could it possibly get worse?” Kyle snapped, his voice low but edged with frustration.

As if on cue, Cartman’s voice boomed through the house again. “Oh, [Y/N],” he mocked in an exaggerated falsetto. “We’ll figure it out together, baby. I promise.”

Your hands flew up to cover your face again, a groan of sheer humiliation escaping your lips as Cartman and Kenny’s laughter rang out.

“They’re such assholes,” you muttered, your voice muffled.

Kyle didn’t respond immediately. His jaw was set, his green eyes burning with frustration as he shifted slightly, clearly torn between staying and storming out to confront them.

“Kyle, please,” you begged, tugging lightly at his wrist. “Don’t. Just ignore them. They’re being stupid.”

Kyle exhaled sharply, his hands running through his messy curls as he muttered, “They’re always stupid.”

Another loud, exaggerated moan echoed, followed by Kenny’s voice shouting, “Oh my God, Kyle, don’t stop!”

Kyle buried his face in his hands, letting out a groan of frustration. “I hate them,” he muttered. “I seriously hate them.”

Despite your mortification, a small, nervous laugh bubbled out of you. “You’re not the only one,” you said, your voice still shaky.

Kyle glanced at you, his lips twitching despite himself. “You’re laughing?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you shot back, your face still red as you tried to smother another laugh. “You had to know this was coming.”

Kyle groaned again, but this time it was tinged with reluctant amusement. He shook his head, leaning back down to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered.

You smiled faintly, your fingers brushing through his damp curls as you whispered, “Yeah. I guess I am.”

this was super fun to write hehe | part one

[determinedowl23]

ohhhhhmy god oh my god guyssjsjaidbwisjsis IT HAPPENED I SAW IT AND IT WAS AMAZING

Notes:

Act I

I NEED TO MARRY ALFIE BOE SOOOOO BAD BRUH YOU DONT EVEN GET IT

Alfie’s so short I forgot about that lmao he’s so baby

I do really really really love Michael but I can already tell that Javert is not exactly his thing. He’s too whimsical- too Marius. Super glad he gets to do something with Alfie tho <333

Jeremy (I think) rocked the bishop omgggggg

I WAS NOT EXPECTING KATIE HALL TO BE HERE CHAT- soprano Fantine is such a foreign concept to me but she was gorgeous 

THANK YOU BOEBALL VALVERT FOR BEING THERE FOR ME I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND AND HIS BOYFRIEND

THENARDIERS ARE SO FUNNY I’ve never seen funnier thenardiers. He called Cosette Baguette when Valjean took her away

Also at the beginning of the bargain when Alfie started singing Madame T went “oh he’s got a lovely voice tho”

COSETTE NEW PINK DRESS IS SO PRETTY!!!!! It matches Marius’ bow :))))

Ok both Eponine and Cosette were mixed bags for me- I liked them most of the time, but there were a couple times their voices felt a bit… nasally? They were both very pretty tho :)

James D Gish is beautiful. My dad says he’s the second coming of Ramin Karimloo and im inclined to agree

Gavroche is king shit as per usual

They had stars in stars omggg. ALSOOO at the end the lights make it look like he has wings. Probably unintentional but he’s soooooo fallen angelcore 

As much as Michael doesn’t fit Javert, his Stars really is amazing

WE GOT ENJOLTAIRE CRUMBS 👏👏👏 The entire pause between ABC Cafe and Red & Black they were just looking at each other forever

As much as I do love enjoltaire, im an even bigger fan of Gavroche and Grantaire’s dynamic. It was the main thing I noticed about R’s character (even with Kyle Adams playing him) and I’m so happy that it’s in other productions

No Javert barricade outfit in one day more :(

Three flags??? In this economy????

Act II

Okay I did genuinely forget about the barricade outfit but it did come back! It’s different from the Staged Concert, more greenish-black and I think he has his hair down- there’s at least some strands loose on the front

OKAYYYY IM REALLY SURE TGAT BEFORE R STARTED HIS SOLO IN DRINK WITH ME HE WENT AND HELD ENJ’S HAND FOR A BIT- and after he sang and Enj left Gavroche ran over and gave him a hug it was so sweet

Alfie Boe Bring Him Home is still my favoritest thing in the entire world. I owe him my life im so serious he was my top artist for a reason

Enjolras did the Aaron Tveit “until the earth is free” opt up it was amazing

They cut Gavroche’s individual death scene which was either for better or for worse because that’s the one that always gets me crying, so I just teared up at the end

When Javert let valjean and Marius go from the sewers he turned around as if he was gonna follow them, paused, screamed, and put his head and his hand

Dude michael ball does the best suicide scene he’s so unhinged and skdjaidhaisjsj

EMPTY CHAIRS BRO. At “phantom faces” the Amis all stood up in their places in their seats, with Enj, R, and Gavroche on the center balcony right by the conductor. Also at this point he begins to scream with anger at his survival. I’ve never thought about angry Empty Chairs, but it works so well and I need to see it more

Valjean in AHFoL Reprise made me so sad bro. Insert my post about him and Donna Sheridan but add that they’re so attached to their daughter (Amanda Seyfried) and kinda don’t want to let her go to get married

The audience clapped along to Beggars at the Feast. Don’t know if we were allowed to, but we did anyways

When Marius tells Cosette her father is a saint Valjean just shakes his head no oh my god 😭😭

HE DID THE NICK CARTELL NOSE BOOP WITH COSETTE

THE BISHOP COMES UP BEHIND VALJEAN WHEN HE DIES AND VALJEAN GIVES HIM THE BIGGEST HUG EVER OMFGGGGGG

During bows when Michael came up to bow with Alfie they had to switch sides so that Michael could be on the left and Alfie could be on the right. Order has been restored to the world

In summary: Amazing show god I love Les Mis!!!!! Alfie Boe is the only one who can save me <3333

[ashecampos]

ANYONE BUT HER 7

JANIS IMI-IKE X FEM READER

a little Regina x reader

Warnings - swearing, mentions of cheating, mentions of anxiety. Regina being Regina. Hurt. Angst

The POV switches between reader and Janis (I use — when I change the POV)

there will be more parts to this, make sure to reblog and comment and I will get the next few parts up as soon as I can, happy reading lovelies 🫶🏼

———————————————————

TALES OF TESSA MAKE SURE TO READ THIS AND PREVIOUS PARTS BEFORE THIS, LINKED IS FROM THE POV OF TESSA (readers best friend)

———————————————————

I am startled awake by a familiar vibration next to my head, i squint to see who’s phone is ringing, of course it is mine. I groan and sleepily wiggle out of Janis’ arms, grabbing my phone while exiting the room to take the call, I find my way to the bathroom again and sit against the bathtub, answering the call not bothering to read the caller ID, assuming it’s Tessa or Damien.

“Y/n?” The person on the other end asks, as if they knew there would be a chance someone else could’ve answered. I instantly freeze up recognising the voice on the other side of the phone call. “B..Bea? Why the fuck are you calling me?” I say as I start to pace back and forth. “I know im the last person you want to hear this from but I was told you have been seeing Janis Imi’ike, im so sorry y/n” she says, obviously putting what she needs to say off. “Just spit it out bea, whatever you must say, say it” i speak with a sense of urgency “me and Janis have been seeing eachother in secret for a few months now, she had admitted she only helped you that night to make sure you broke up with me” she says. I search for a reason for her to be lying about this but come up with nothing, all rational thoughts gone. I make quick work of ending the call and storming back into the room where me and Janis were peacefully sleeping not even five minutes prior. I grab my hoodie and jeans, throwing them on, I then grab my shoes and leave.

One foot after the other I make a run from it. Like I ran from bea when she cheated. Like I’ve ran from every situation that’s caused me pain. I make my way back to my house, seeing a figure sat on my poarch, it seems they had saw me before i got the chance to see them. The person stands up and walks over. Only now do I realise the hot, sticky tears running down my cheeks causing my ability to make out the person falter. I desperately rub my face using the sleeves of my hoodie, silently praying it’s not my mom who is the one to see me like this. Thankfully I see blonde hair. Bleached blonde hair. Regina George.

She makes her way over, her pace quickening when she sees the state im in. “Oh y/n what happened? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?” She bombards me with questions while gripping my chin and tilting my head up to look at my face properly. A frown upon her own. “I’m fine I just want to be alone, go see Aaron or something Regina” I choke out trying to hold back the tears threatening to pour again. She shakes her head, unhanding my face and instead grabbing my hand, dragging me into the house. And up the stairs into my room. “Jesus y/n why is your room so dark. No wonder you’re so pale..no offence” she says while running to my curtains, pulling them open and allowing the natural light inside. I wince at the brightness of the morning sun.

She sits me down on my bed, leaning closer to me. “So tell me what’s got you so upset?” She says gently and in a genuine tone. So I tell her everything. I mean it’s Regina George. She may be seen as the ‘queen bee’ but honestly she’s never been bad to me or my brother so I trust her.

“So let me get this straight. She got you to break up with your ex so she could get with her then continued to see the both of you behind each other’s backs? Oh my god. I’m going to kill her” the blonde says while grabbing her phone out of her pocket and aggressively typing away. After a few seconds she looks up and smiles sadly “you’re gonna sit with me and my group at lunch now, trust me she won’t bother you baby.” She says while putting her phone away.

——-

I wake up and stretch, extending my arms out, feeling the surface of the sofa to find it empty. My eyes shoot open looking for the girl. She’s nowhere to be seen. I groggily stand up and head for the bathroom. She wasn’t there either. I sigh assuming she got asked to run some errands by her mom or something. I turn some music on and start to move the basement back to how it was before the date.

The day goes by so fast. The day turns into the next and then the next. No word from y/n at all. She must just be busy.

Entering school on the Monday was probably one of the worst decisions of my life. First everyone was looking at me. Then I got to my locker and there she was at hers. She sees me and walks away quickly. I frown assuming she was just in a mood with it being so early in the day or something like that.. until I see Damien and Tessa storming over. “Janis ‘Imi’ike I have known you for fifteen years but this. This is a new low even for you” the boy starts. “Tell me this is some sick joke right now Janis I swear to god” Tessa says almost immediately after Damien. I look at them taken aback at their sudden disgust and anger toward me. “Can someone please tell me what I done?” I say slamming my locker shut, staring both of them down. “you used her to fuck her ex. Janis I thought you genuinely liked her” Tessa snapped before Damien could say anything “what are you talking about? I do like her. And I despise bea” I say, frowning. “well the morning after you and her had that date night, I got a call from Regina telling me to haul ass to y/N’s house because the poor girl was hysterical, turns out Bea had called her and told her everything about you and… oh fuck, it’s a setup. We need to get to y/n before they do anything else”

——-

These past few days Regina has been the nicest I’ve ever known her to be, yes she is the ‘queen bitch’ of north shore but she’s always been nice to me for some reason. After what happened the other day, she’s only been nicer. I haven’t really spoke to anyone about what happened. I kinda went off the radar until Tessa turned up at my house demanding to know why I hadn’t been answering. Naturally I broke down and told her everything and after reassuring her (a lot) that i would be okay, she left to go home and sleep for school. Aaron didn’t really care about what happened. Not that I really told him. Yes he’s my twin, I’ll always love and be there for him but we don’t really associate with each other anymore. So when I woke up this morning I decided to ‘suck it up’ as my dad would say. I threw on a hoodie and some baggy jeans. Then Regina called me. “Hey short stuf- oh Jesus please tell me you aren’t wearing that?!” She nearly screams down the phone, I cringe looking down at my outfit earning a sigh from her. “I’ll be over in five, do your makeup and I’ll pick some clothes for you when i get there okay?” She asks in a sweet tone. I smile and nod before hanging up and grabbing a joint I rolled last night ready for today. I stare down at it for a few minutes contemplating what im going to do if Janis approaches me today. I haven’t spoke to her since the phone call. I didn’t confront her, I just ran. Shaking my head I light up and take a few drags of the blunt with laying on my bed, all tasks out of sight and mind.

By the time I finished the joint, Regina is in my room and looking through my closet, she looks over at me her smile fading while she grabs an outfit that fits ‘plastic’ standards, but is still in my style. Then she comes and sits next to me on the bed. “So what’s the plan?” She speaks before I can, I shrug “go into school and show her who she messed with” I say in a mocking tone earning a smack over the back of my head from the blonde, she laughs and drags me off of my bed, keeping a tight hold on my wrist to keep me steady. She drags us into my closet and sits me down, pulling my hoodie off and replacing it with an old band shirt I made into a cropped vest, she smirks and grabs my backpack, throwing it at me. She grabs my hand and we are out of the door, in her jeep and on the way to school.

I stand at my locker waiting for Regina to find Gretchen and Karen and come back to get me so she can introduce me to them. Looking up from my phone I see Janis, I roll my eyes and walk the other way, not wanting to start a fight twenty minutes before homeroom. I pull out my phone and call Regina to ask where she is.

Minutes later im stood with the plastics. Gretchen looks me up and down trying to figure me out, while Karen just stands there smiling at me. “I love your shirt, where can I get one?” Gretchen starts off, I smile with a little bit of a blush forming “oh uhm I made it actually” I say looking at the shirt I made a few weeks ago just after meeting Janis. The girls eyes light up as she leans closer “omg so your like an artist and a musician, that’s so fetch” she bounces with excitement. A laugh erupts from beside me “what’s fetch?” Regina asks cringing a little. “Oh it’s like slang from some movie I saw” the girl explains the plot of the movie, I smile at her and her little quirks “well that movie sounds fetch, we will have to watch it one time, right Regina?” I nudge the blonde, knowing how mean she can be towards Gretchen at times. Karen looks over my shoulder and gasps a little. We all turn around to see the commotion. Tessa and Damien are shouting at Janis. I guess Tessa told Damien. Well at least they’ve got to her before I could. Not that I’d even know what to say. “Hey cmon we should get to PE so we can get changed out of sight from the creeps” Regina tugs my arm. I know she’s never early for anything, which lets me know that she is only suggesting that so I wouldn’t have to see Janis. She grabs onto my hand as we all walk to the changing rooms. I drop my bag to the floor and pull off my vest, replacing it with the track hoodie I originally had put on. I change into some shorts and put on my not so white converse. Once we are all changed, we sit on the benches outside of the changing rooms, waiting for the bell to ring and for everyone to come to class, I put my hair in a messy bun before looking up to see two faces laced with shock “you have a tattoo?” Karen says with a smile, earning a confused look from me “you guys don’t?” I answer the question with another question, they all shake their heads making me laugh, I shrug the interaction off and pull on the strings of my hoodie.

The bell eventually chimes and people start flooding into the changing rooms, Janis and Damien included, the both of them are glared at by the three girls while I stare at the floor. The coach shows up, smiling at me, waving his arms around like a goof “y/n congratulations on last weeks race kid” he enthusiastically says before patting my back. “Thanks, hope the next one is just as easy” I laugh a little. To say track is stressful would be an understatement. Some people join to have something to put on their college forms, some join because they love sports, me, I joined because my dad wanted me to be apart of every hobby, he wants me to have as many skills as possible. I know he means good but the pressure to be the best at everything is crushing. I get snapped out of my thoughts when Regina’s hand holds onto mine, I look around and see people leaving to head to the field, I look at Regina and she mouths “you okay?” towards me, I simply nod, I wasn’t about to scare off the person who offered me a safe space this fast.

Approaching the field I see the teacher is holding a bag full of equipment, I look over at Tessa knowing what’s in the bag. Fucking rugby balls. I’ve never liked rugby but Tessa on the other hand. She loves it. It’s her whole life. She has been scouted by professional teams since we were kids. Me on the other hand, not the type of person to tackle people, I would happily just stick to track.

I look up to see Tessa running over to me, a massive grin on her face. “Y/n cmon we are doing rugby” she waves a ball in my face like an excited child. I look over to where she is pointing and see Damien and Janis, I frown and shake my head a little “wait T you aren’t in this class, why are you here?” I laugh a little knowing she is meant to be in English language class right now. Once again she waves the ball in my face “coach pulled me out asking if I would help with some tackling drills.” She nudges me before going to grab me to go see Janis. “Actually im going to stay here and help the plastics” I mumble knowing she won’t like me hanging around with Regina. “What why? Your not like in love with my cousin right?” She crosses her arms and stares at me “you and Janis need to talk. Sooner than later I suggest” she lectures me just as the coach blows the whistle.

Me and Tessa both get forced to grab a tackle practice pad and hold them up ready for the coach to tell people to try tackling us both. A lot of them don’t try to tackle too hard, a few manage to push me back a little but one manages to knock me. Regina. She stands staring at me like a predator scoping out its prey, she then gets a running start, getting lower to the ground with every stride closer she gets and eventually she has her arms around my torso and she manages to buckle my legs and she’s on top of me, smirking down at me with a satisfied grin. “Falling for me already huh?” She leans closer to my face with a cheeky grin, we stay like this for a few seconds before she gets off of me and we both stand up. I take my place back at the line, bag in hand ready to go.

I tilt my head to the side and see Tessa and Janis laughing, Tessa looks over at me with a sympathetic expression, it seems like she knows more about this situation than she’s letting on.

Once the lesson is practically done and everyone is walking off of the field I jog a little to catch up with Tessa and nudge her. “Hey can I grab you for a sec after we are changed I need to tell you something?” She says with a sad smile, she glances at Janis and Damien who are a few feet in front of us, then she looks at Regina and the plastics who are a few feet behind us. “Omg yes, I feel like I haven’t seen you since last week, sorry for going off the rails though” I frown feeling as if im to blame for this situation “that’s actually what I need to te- …oh hey Regina” she starts before Regina comes and joins us causing her to quickly change the topic of conversation. “Hey Tes, you should totally come sit with us, y/n has finally agreed to sit with me and the girls” Regina almost brags, a massive grin plaster across her pretty face.

[albertbutyoucancallmebert]

@stuckinuniformdevelopment

(prev) Teddy nodded while giving Sherri Jr. chin rubs for being such a sweet little girl. “I hoped that he’d actually escape but… even if he did follow my advice he didn’t have time to find someone willing to risk his life for him.” Then he let out a deep, long sigh as he allowed himself to put his weight on her instead of trying to hold his head up. It wasall his fault for being more scared of an awkward conversation than the possibility of Thomas being officially marked for sacrifice at any given moment. If only he approached him earlier. If only he showed that he was trustworthy earlier. If only he didn’t selfishly avoid him to avoid grieving. If only he took substantial action instead of thinking that a warning would be enough. If only… Teddy nuzzled Sherri’s side one more time before sitting up and pulling his Glornist notebook out. This was impossible to talk about without risking another breakdown. Really, it amazed him how Bert could keep up with a tidal wave of panic. He stuck a stiff envelope under the page to avoid leaving any indents in fresh pages while he carefully printed what happened. It was in semi-flowchart form with rough sketches filling in occasional gaps where words weren’t enough. Sam was pissed at Teddy for stealing partial credit. Teddy wanted to get it over with. Sam yanked Teddy into the back room even if he was already following (rude.) He thought he’d be fine because she never injured him before. They slammed him into the cabinet. He kept up smug bastard act to avoid giving him satisfaction. Sam punched his jaw. She grabbed him in an arm lock and forced him to the ground. He struggled because he realized that getting hurt would delay the ritual. (His genuine panic went unmentioned.) Sam told Teddy about how he was their second choice after Thomas. So if he ever disobeyed him, got in his way, or if sacrificing Thomas wasn’t enough to get promoted he’d be next. Which it wouldn’t be since Teddy made the mistake of telling Mike, who blabbed to Bishop Percival like a dum- Teddy blocked his page with his body as he frantically erased the last section. Then he sighed as he rewrote it in a calmer manner. Bert needed to know how his stupid scheming put their entire operation in jeopardy… Sam confirmed that they would frame him if they had to. Then they twisted his arm too far. Gloria (a weird evil hippie) decided to play doctor because he couldn’t keep quiet. But apparently shoulder reductions haven’t changed so whatever. Still forced her treatment on him. Still drugged him. So he slept through most of the workday. Once Teddy was done he slid the notebook over to Bert. The begining was neater, yet too light to see well. Then his writing got darker and sloppier as he pushed his pencil into the page. Which meant that he was unable to completely erase what he didn’t want to show.

Ohh… So the Thomas character didn’t actually escape, it sounded like. Bert noticed how dispirited Teddy seemed about that.

He paid no mind when Teddy got out a notebook to write the rest down. He knew full well how much of a struggle it could be to express thoughts verbally. He wanted to give Teddy as much time as he needed, so while he was writing, Bert began tidying up the table. Sherri Jr helped. Maybe it would help lessen Moe’s frustration with Bert making a mess of his lab in just two days when he comes in tomorrow. At least this table is clean! 

He only glanced over when Teddy frantically erased something, but otherwise paid it no mind.

When Teddy handed him the notebook, Bert smiled and nodded as he took it. He did have to squint to better see the light, neat handwriting, but was able to read the darker messier writing just fine. 

Predictably, the more details Bert read about Sam and what they did to Teddy, the more heated he became. He absentmindedly gripped the notebook so hard the page started to slightly tear. And it wasn’t just Sam. Bert indeed saw the remains of what Teddy tried to erase about Mike. Even just seeing the name "Bishop Percival" made him scowl. And then there was this Gloria character on top of everything else??

“...I hate every last one of them,” Bert growled under his breath.

He briefly glanced over the page one more time before setting it down on the table with a sigh.

"So this Sam character is a real threat to us now, huh?"

[muiitoloko]

Hi! I've been devouring your alan fics so much! They're so so so good! Do you do requests? If so I'm kinda craving for some platonic love 🫶. Is it alright to have an Eli x daughter reader? I don't have a specific plot in mind. I just want some fluff but to make it better add some angst.

But if you don't do requests, it's fine. Just ignore this lol. Just really love how you write!!

Title: Become a great artist.

Summary: He wanted you to become a great artist, so you did. But Eli realizes that you have always been a great artist.

Pairing: Eli Michaelson × Daughter! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Angst, Angst, Angst! Neglectful father, criticism, mention of rape, kidnapping, suicide, death.

Author's Notes: Thank you for reaching out and enjoying my stories. I have to admit, I got a bit carried away with this one. What started as an attempt to create something cute took an unexpected turn into anguish, and I found myself writing through tears. If this isn't what you were hoping for and you prefer something cute, just let me know, and I promise I'll whip up something adorable for you.

First, Second, Third and Fourth part here.

As the birthday celebration for your father, Eli, continued, you couldn't wait to unveil the gift you had painstakingly crafted for him. The table was already adorned with a collection of thoughtful presents, but yours was the final touch to the evening.

With a hopeful smile, you presented the oil painting you had spent countless hours creating. The canvas depicted a striking likeness of your father, Eli, capturing his essence in vibrant colors and intricate details.

But as Eli glanced at the painting, his expression remained unchanged, his lack of enthusiasm palpable. You felt a pang of disappointment as you looked at him expectantly, hoping for a more heartfelt reaction.

However, your mother, Sarah, sitting beside Eli, immediately took the painting into her hands, her eyes lighting up with admiration. "Oh, darling, this is absolutely beautiful!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "You're so talented!"

Your brother, Barkley, chimed in with his own praise, echoing your mother's sentiments. But despite their encouraging words, you couldn't shake the feeling of deflation at Eli's lackluster response.

As the dinner progressed, Eli seemed content to focus on his meal and his glass of wine, his attention drifting away from the festivities. You tried to console yourself with the thought that your father was simply not one to show emotions openly, but it still stung to see him so disinterested in your gift.

As Sarah noticed your hopeful expression towards Eli, she intervened with a comment meant to uplift your spirits. "You know, darling," she said, her voice warm and encouraging, "you have such a talent for art. You could be a great artist, like Van Gogh."

But Eli's response was not what you had expected. He scoffed dismissively, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Van Gogh? Please. The man cut off his own ear and ended up killing himself," he remarked, his words laced with derision. "Unless you're planning on following in his footsteps, I highly doubt you'll ever become a great artist. You know, the painter has to die for his works to become famous; that's how I see it, at least."

You felt a lump form in your throat at his cutting remark, your heart sinking at the realization that your father saw little value in your passion and talents. Hanging your head in disappointment, you tried to blink back the tears that threatened to spill over.

Sarah shot Eli a reproachful glance, her eyes flashing with indignation at his insensitive remark. "Eli, that's enough," she scolded, her voice firm and resolute. "There's no need to be so cruel."

But Eli remained indifferent to his wife's reproach, his attention already drifting back to his meal. Ignoring Sarah's scolding, he continued to sip his wine, his disinterest in your feelings painfully evident.

Forced to put on a brave face, you mustered a weak smile and nodded in response to your mom's apology. "It's okay, Mom," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I understand."

But inside, your heart ached with the weight of Eli's disappointment and disapproval. Despite your best efforts to please him, it seemed that nothing you did would ever be enough to earn his approval.

As the dinner continued, you tried to push aside your hurt feelings and focus on enjoying the rest of the evening. But deep down, you couldn't shake the sense of inadequacy that your father's words had stirred within you, a painful reminder of your status as the perpetual disappointment in his eyes. But you forced a smile onto your face, and you were happy. After all, it was a night to celebrate. It was your father's birthday, and everyone should be happy. You turned to your brother and started an animated conversation with him, talking about everything and nothing.

And so, the night passed until you and your brother said goodbye and prepared to leave. However, as you made your way to your car, you realized that you couldn't find your keys in your pocket. It suddenly dawned on you that you had forgotten them at your parents' house. As you approached your parents' house to retrieve the forgotten car key, you hesitated for a moment outside the door, the voices of your parents drifting through the air. Initially, you thought they were just chatting or perhaps discussing plans for the next day, but as you listened more closely, the tone of their conversation sent shivers down your spine.

"...at least pretend to be happy about her gift," Sarah's voice, tinged with frustration, reached your ears first.

Eli's response was immediate, his tone dismissive and biting. "Why should I pretend, Sarah? It's just another one of her silly paintings. If she wants to waste her time on that nonsense, fine. But don't expect me to pretend it's anything more than that."

You felt a pang of hurt at your dad's words, his lack of appreciation for your efforts cutting deeper than you cared to admit. As Sarah attempted to defend your gift, Eli's retort struck you like a physical blow.

"And what was that comment about having to kill herself to be a great artist? Honestly, Eli, can't you see how hurtful that is?" Sarah's voice, filled with exasperation and sadness, echoed your own feelings of disappointment.

Eli rolled his eyes, his impatience evident in his voice. "Oh, please. I was just being realistic. She's not going to make it as an artist, no matter how much you coddle her. And besides, if she's dumb enough to think her paintings will make her a great artist, then maybe she deserves a reality check."

You felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as the weight of your dad's words settled heavily on your shoulders. Despite your best efforts to please him, it seemed that nothing you did would ever be enough to earn his approval.

As the argument between your parents reached its peak, you forced yourself to open the door and step inside, your head hung low as you made your way to the counter where you had left your car key. Your parents fell silent as they watched you, their expressions filled with surprise and concern.

Picking up the key with trembling hands, you turned to face them, your voice barely above a whisper as you addressed them. "I forgot my key. I'll just...I'll see you later," you mumbled, your heart heavy with disappointment as you turned and made your way back outside.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn't shake the feeling of despair that settled over you like a dark cloud. Despite your best efforts to please your father, it seemed that you would forever be a disappointment in his eyes. And as you drove away from your parents' house, tears streaming down your cheeks, you couldn't help but wonder if you would ever be able to escape the shadow of your dad's disapproval.

As you drove home, your vision blurred by tears, you couldn't shake the weight of your father's harsh words. Each syllable echoed in your mind like a cruel refrain, cutting deeper than any knife ever could. The familiar scent of paint greeted you as you entered your apartment, your sanctuary, your studio. But instead of finding solace in the comforting aroma, it only served to remind you of your own inadequacy in your father's eyes.

With trembling hands, you made your way through the cluttered space, your eyes falling on the canvases scattered around the room. Each painting, a testament to your passion and talent, now felt like a mockery of your futile efforts to win your father's approval.

In a moment of overwhelming despair, you lashed out, sweeping your arm across the nearest table, sending brushes, paints, and canvases crashing to the floor in a cacophony of destruction. The sound of shattering glass and splintering wood echoed through the room, matching the turmoil raging within your own heart.

As you stood amidst the wreckage, tears streaming down your cheeks, you felt a sense of catharsis wash over you. With each shattered piece of paintbrush and torn canvas, you released a fragment of the pain and frustration that had been building inside you for so long.

But even as you succumbed to the chaos of your emotions, a flicker of determination stirred within you. You knew that there was only one thing that could ease the ache in your heart, only one outlet for the storm of emotions raging within you: painting.

With renewed purpose, you retrieved a fresh canvas and a palette of vibrant colors, your hands moving with a sense of urgency born from desperation. With each brushstroke, you poured your heart and soul onto the canvas, channeling your pain and anguish into a whirlwind of color and emotion.

Hours passed in a blur as you painted through the night, your movements fluid and instinctual, driven by a need to escape the suffocating weight of your father's disapproval. Each stroke of the brush was a release, a cathartic expression of the turmoil raging within you.

You painted sadness, despair, and chaos, each image a reflection of the tumultuous storm that raged within your own soul. But amidst the darkness, there was also beauty, a glimmer of hope shining through the layers of pain and uncertainty.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, you stepped back to admire your work, the exhaustion of the night weighing heavily on your shoulders. But despite the weariness that threatened to consume you, there was also a sense of peace, a quiet acceptance of the emotions that had driven you to create.

With a heavy heart and aching limbs, you collapsed onto the floor beside your paintings, the tears finally drying on your cheeks as you surrendered to the embrace of sleep. And as you drifted off into the realm of dreams, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as you had your art, you would always find a way to weather the storm.

Days later, despite the emotional turmoil you had experienced, you found yourself slipping back into the familiar pattern of seeking your father's approval. It was a habit ingrained deeply within you, a longing to win even a sliver of recognition from a man who seemed perpetually out of reach.

But then, news came in a surprising package: your father, Eli, had won the Nobel Prize. The announcement came through your mother, Sarah, who couldn't contain her excitement as she relayed the incredible news to you and your brother, Barkley.

Filled with a mix of disbelief and pride, you made a point to visit your parents' house to congratulate your father in person. As you entered the room, Eli's face lit up with a rare smile at the sight of you, a genuine warmth in his eyes that you hadn't seen in a long time.

"Congratulations, Dad!" you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement as you rushed forward to embrace him. Your dad returned the hug, his arms wrapping around you with surprising tenderness, a gesture that felt unfamiliar yet oddly comforting.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Eli said, his voice tinged with pride as he pulled away to look at you. "I couldn't have done it without the support of my family."

You beamed at his words, a surge of happiness flooding through you at the rare display of affection from your father. In that moment, you felt a glimmer of hope, a flicker of the bond that had been strained for so long.

As the evening unfolded, you found yourself sharing a moment of camaraderie with your father, a sense of connection that had eluded you for years. You laughed together, reminisced about old memories, and even shared a toast to celebrate your father's incredible achievement.

And amidst the laughter and joy, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the opportunity to share this moment with your father. Despite the years of disappointment and frustration, you cherished this fleeting glimpse of the man behind the facade of arrogance and indifference.

As the night came to an end, and the celebrations had taken their toll, you found yourself in a state of inebriation that made driving impossible. Eli, being the responsible parent, decided to take you home. However, getting you into the car turned out to be a bit of a challenge.

You were feeling particularly stubborn and silly, bouncing around the living room with an air of joviality. "I'm the Nobel Prize winner's daughter!" you exclaimed, a mischievous grin playing on your lips as you twirled around the room. "And my father is a geniuuus" you sang, your voice filled with laughter.

Eli couldn't help but suppress a smile at your antics, his eyes rolling with amusement as he watched you dance around the room. But when Sarah voiced her concerns and urged you to be careful, Eli knew it was time to intervene.

With a gentle sigh, he made his way over to you, his arms outstretched in a gesture of patience and understanding. "Come on, sweetheart," he said, his voice laced with affection as he reached out to scoop you up in his arms. "It's time to go home."

You giggled uncontrollably as Eli lifted you off the ground, your arms wrapping around his neck in a playful embrace. "But Daaaad!" you protested, your words slurring slightly with intoxication. "Can't we stop by McDonald's?"

Eli chuckled softly at your request, shaking his head in amusement as he made his way towards the door. "Maybe next time, sweetheart," he replied, his tone gentle yet firm as he carried you towards the waiting car.

As you waved goodbye to your mother over your father's shoulder, a sense of warmth and contentment washed over you, despite the haze of alcohol clouding your senses. And as your dad carefully buckled you into the car, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the rare moment of connection shared between father and daughter, even in the midst of your drunken antics.

As Eli drove to your apartment, he couldn't help but suppress a chuckle at your off-key singing, the melody of your voice filling the car with a sense of lightheartedness amidst the chaos of the night. Despite his usual stoic demeanor, there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you, his daughter, swaying in the passenger seat with a carefree grin on your face.

Ignoring your playful antics, Eli focused on the road ahead, navigating the familiar streets with practiced ease. But despite his outward composure, there was a sense of relief in his heart as he guided the car towards your apartment, knowing that he had managed to get you home safely despite the challenges of the evening.

As the two of you arrived at your apartment building, Eli turned to you with a concerned expression, his brow furrowed with worry. "Do you think you'll be able to make it up to your apartment on your own?" he asked, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

You nodded in response, a lazy smile playing on your lips as you reassured him. "Don't worry, Dad, I'll be fine," you slurred slightly, the effects of the alcohol still lingering in your system. "Thank you for getting me home."

Eli softened at your words, a flicker of warmth in his eyes as he reached out to gently pat your hand. "I'm always worried about your safety, sweetheart," he admitted, his voice quiet and sincere. "Just promise me you'll take a shower and get some rest, okay?"

You nodded in agreement, your head bobbing slightly as you struggled to maintain your balance. "I promise, Dad," you replied, your words muffled by a yawn as exhaustion began to weigh heavily on your eyelids.

With a gentle smile, Eli helped you out of the car and escorted you to the entrance of the building, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive as he made sure you would enter safely. "Take care, sweetheart," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of fatherly affection. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You waved goodbye to your father, a playful grin spreading across your face as you stumbled towards the entrance of the building. "I'll paint a picture of you with your Nobel Prize!" you called out, your words slurred but filled with determination.

Eli rolled his eyes at your drunken proclamation, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself. "Don't waste your time on that," he replied, his tone teasing yet affectionate. "Just focus on getting some rest."

As you stumbled through the doorway and disappeared from sight, Eli stayed parked outside the building, his gaze lingering on the entrance with a sense of lingering concern. Despite his dismissive words, there was a part of him that couldn't help but worry about you, his daughter, stumbling through the darkness alone.

He knew he was tough on you sometimes, but he just wanted you to be better, to have the best, and he knew his silly paintings wouldn't give him that.

With a heavy sigh, he finally pulled away from the curb and began the journey back home, the events of the evening swirling through his mind as he navigated the empty streets. And as he drove through the quiet night, a sense of gratitude washed over him, knowing that despite the challenges and complexities of their relationship, he would always be there to watch over you, his beloved daughter.

Meanwhile, you went up to your apartment, fumbling a little with your keys before getting in, falling straight onto the couch tiredly. Despite the alcohol-induced haze clouding your mind, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment and warmth lingering within you. The evening spent with your father, Eli, had been unexpectedly pleasant, filled with laughter and genuine moments of connection that you hadn't experienced in a long time.

As you settled onto the couch, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion, you couldn't help but replay the events of the night in your mind, savoring each precious memory like a cherished treasure. Despite Eli's usual indifference and tendency to dismiss your passions, you had managed to share a moment of genuine camaraderie with him, a glimmer of the father-daughter bond that had been strained for so long.

In that moment, you felt a surge of love and gratitude towards Eli, a flicker of hope that perhaps, despite his flaws and shortcomings, he did care about you in his own way. You drifted off to sleep with a smile on your face, the warmth of the evening wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

But days later, your sense of security and reassurance would be shattered in an instant, replaced by a chilling realization that would rock you to your core. Bound and gagged, staring into the face of your kidnapper, you felt a sense of disbelief and terror wash over you as they dialed your parents' number, putting the call on speaker for you to hear.

As the voice of your father, Eli, echoed through the room, you held your breath, desperately hoping for a glimmer of compassion or concern in his words. But what you heard instead sent a shockwave of pain ripping through your chest, leaving you reeling in disbelief and agony.

"I'm not giving you two million dollars for her," Eli's voice, cold and dismissive, cut through the silence like a knife. "She's not worth that much."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, crushing any lingering hope or illusion you had held onto about your father's love and affection. In that moment, you realized with devastating clarity that Eli's indifference towards you ran deeper than you had ever imagined, his actions speaking volumes about the true extent of his disregard for your well-being.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled against the bonds that held you captive, the weight of Eli's betrayal bearing down on you like a heavy burden. How could he abandon you like this, in your darkest hour of need? How could he place a price tag on your life, as if you were nothing more than a disposable commodity?

As the reality of your situation sank in, you felt a sense of despair and hopelessness wash over you, threatening to consume you whole. And in that moment of darkness, the flicker of love and gratitude you had felt towards Eli was extinguished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of betrayal and abandonment.

"I'm not joking," the kidnapper insisted, his tone cold and merciless. "I want two million dollars, and I want it now. If you don't pay up, she'll suffer the consequences."

How could your father refuse to pay for your freedom? The realization that he considered you unworthy of such a sum was like a dagger to your chest, leaving you gasping for air as you struggled to comprehend his callous indifference.

Meanwhile, in his hotel room in Stockholm, Eli ended the call with a dismissive flick of his wrist, his mind already moving on to other matters. When Sarah questioned him about the call, he brushed it off with a casual shrug, dismissing it as unimportant.

"No one important," he replied, his voice tinged with annoyance. "Just some prank caller trying to get a rise out of me."

But little did Eli know, as he lounged in his luxurious surroundings, that his daughter's life hung in the balance, her fate at the mercy of a ruthless kidnapper who saw her as nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game.

Back in the dimly lit room where you were held captive, the kidnapper crouched in front of you, his eyes filled with uncertainty as he pondered his next move. The prospect of not receiving the ransom he had demanded left him feeling conflicted, unsure of what to do with you now that his plans had been thwarted.

"What am I supposed to do with you now?" the kidnapper muttered, taking the gag off of you, his voice tinged with frustration and uncertainty. "If your daddy won't pay, then what's the point of keeping you around?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you listened to his words, fear and panic gripping you in their icy embrace. The thought of what he might do to you now, with no hope of rescue in sight, sent shivers down your spine, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to keep your composure.

But your terror only intensified as you saw the hungry look in the kidnapper's eyes, a predatory gleam that sent a chill down your spine. You knew what he was thinking, could see the lust and desire written plainly on his face, and the realization filled you with a sense of helpless dread.

"No, please," you begged, your voice trembling with fear as you pleaded with him. "Don't do this. Please, just let me go."

But your pleas fell on deaf ears as the kidnapper's gaze lingered hungrily on you, his lips curling into a sinister smile that sent a shiver of revulsion down your spine. In that moment, you knew with chilling certainty that your fate was sealed, that there would be no rescue, no salvation from the horrors that awaited you.

Desperate and terrified, you called out for your father, Eli, your voice cracking with anguish as you begged him to intervene, to save you from the nightmare unfolding before your eyes. But deep down, you knew that he would never come to your rescue, just as he had never come to your aid on that fateful day when you first learned to ride a bike, falling and crying out for him, only to be met with silence and indifference.

And as you lay in the hospital bed, staring at the blank white ceiling above you, memories of your father flood your mind like a torrential downpour. You can't help but think back to that day when you were just a child, learning to ride a bike for the first time. You remember the excitement in your heart as you pedaled furiously down the street, the wind rushing through your hair as you gained speed.

But then, disaster struck, and you lost your balance, tumbling to the ground in a heap of scraped knees and tears. Through the blur of pain and disappointment, you cried out for your father, hoping for his comforting embrace to soothe your wounded pride. But he was nowhere to be found, lost in his own world of ambitions and achievements, too preoccupied to spare a moment for his injured child.

That day was just one of many in a long list of your father's neglectful moments, a pattern of behavior that had shaped your relationship with him for as long as you could remember. From missed recitals to forgotten birthdays, Eli's indifference had left an indelible mark on your psyche, a wound that festered with each passing disappointment.

And today was just one more addition to that list, a stark reminder of your father's priorities and his lack of concern for anything or anyone outside of his own ambitions. As you lay in the hospital bed, grappling with the aftermath of your ordeal, you couldn't help but feel a sense of resignation wash over you, a bitter acceptance of the fact that your father would never change.

Meanwhile, outside the hospital room, your brother Barkley paces back and forth, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor as he anxiously dials your parents' number. After several rings, his father Eli finally answers, his voice tinged with annoyance as he questions Barkley's reason for calling.

"What is it, Barkley?" Eli snaps, his tone curt and dismissive as he brushes off his son's attempt to interrupt his celebration. "I'm in the middle of something important. This better be worth disturbing me."

Barkley takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the confrontation that he knows is about to unfold. "Dad, it's about [Your Name]," he says, his voice trembling slightly with emotion. "She's in the hospital."

Eli's response was immediate, his tone shifting from annoyance to genuine concern as he pressed Barkley for more information. "What do you mean she's in the hospital?" he demanded, his voice tinged with panic. "Is she okay? Explain this properly."

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Barkley relayed the details of the situation as best as he could. "She was found abandoned in a dirty alley," he explained, his voice trembling with emotion. "Some people called 911, and she was taken to the hospital. They tried to call you and Mom, but you didn't answer, so they called me."

There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end of the line as Eli processed the gravity of the situation. Despite his usual self-centered demeanor, a flicker of concern and fear crept into his voice as he responded. "Is she okay? What happened to her?"

Barkley hesitates for a moment before delivering the next piece of devastating information. "The doctor said she was raped and assaulted," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "They found evidence of trauma...down there."

Eli's breath caught in his throat as he struggled to process the horrifying news. "Oh my god," he whispered, his voice filled with shock and disbelief. "Is she...is she conscious? Can she talk?"

Barkley's heart aches as he shakes his head, the weight of the situation bearing down on him like a leaden weight. "No, she's not talking to anyone," he replies, his voice choked with tears. "She's just...staring into space."

Eli's mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions as he struggled to comprehend the extent of his daughter's suffering. "Is she going to be okay?" he asked, his voice trembling with fear. "What did the doctor say?"

"The doctor said she's in shock," Barkley explains, his words coming out in a rush. "They're doing everything they can for her, but...but we need to be there, Dad. She needs us."

Tears welled up in Eli's eyes as he listened to his son's words, the weight of his daughter's suffering bearing down on him like a crushing weight. "I'm coming," he said, his voice filled with determination. "Tell her...tell her I'm coming to her. I'll be there soon."

As Barkley looked out the window, his heart sank at the sight of you lying motionless in the hospital bed. He felt a surge of helplessness wash over him as he listened to your father's voice crackle over the phone, his words filled with a mixture of concern and desperation.

"Dad, I don't know what to do," Barkley confessed, his voice trembling with emotion. "She's not responding, she's just...staring into space."

But before he could say anything else, Eli's voice cut through the air, his tone strained with worry. "She'll be fine, Barkley. She has to be," he insisted, but Barkley could hear the uncertainty in his father's voice, the underlying fear that threatened to consume him.

Barkley nodded weakly, his own doubts and fears swirling inside him as he struggled to find the strength to comfort his sister. "I know, Dad. I just...I wish there was more I could do," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eli fell silent for a moment, the weight of the situation hanging heavy in the air between them. "Just be there for her, Barkley. That's all we can do," he said finally, his voice tinged with resignation. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

As the call ended and the limo sped towards the nearest airport, Sarah clung to Eli's side, her own worry etched across her face. "Is she going to be okay?" she asked quietly, her voice tinged with concern.

Eli wrapped an arm around her, drawing her close in a comforting embrace. "She'll be fine, Sarah. She has to be," he repeated, but his words sounded hollow even to his own ears, the guilt weighing heavily on his conscience.

Meanwhile, in the hospital room in California, Barkley walked in and approached your bedside, his heart heavy with worry. He took your hand in his, squeezing it gently as he tried to find the right words to say.

"I talked to Mom and Dad," he began softly, his voice laced with uncertainty. "Dad's coming, you know. He'll be here soon."

But you remained silent, your gaze fixed on nothing as you lay there unmoving. Barkley felt a pang of sadness in his chest at your lack of response, the weight of your suffering bearing down on him like a heavy burden.

"I know how much you love Dad," Barkley continued, his voice cracking with emotion. "Maybe when he gets here, you'll snap out of this. Maybe you'll come back to us."

But as he spoke, Barkley couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his gut, the fear that you might never be the same again. And as he sat there holding your hand, surrounded by the sterile scent of the hospital room, he prayed silently for a miracle to bring you back to them.

But you remained silent, your usually vibrant personality seemingly extinguished by the traumatic events you had endured. Barkley had never seen you so quiet; you were always the talker, the light of the family, bringing laughter and joy wherever you went. But now, the silence that surrounded you felt suffocating, like a heavy blanket weighing down on their already burdened hearts.

Days passed, and Barkley's fears began to materialize. Despite being released from the hospital, you remained distant and cold, your eyes hollow and devoid of the spark that once lit up your face. The only time you opened your mouth was to recount the harrowing details of your kidnapping and assault to the police at the hospital. After that, you retreated into yourself, shutting out the world and refusing to engage with anyone, not even your father, who had always seemed to be the center of your world.

"Barkley, I don't know what to do," Sarah confided in him one evening, her voice trembling with worry. "She won't talk to me, she won't talk to Eli...I'm afraid she's slipping away from us."

Barkley's heart ached at the pain in his mother's voice, his own sense of helplessness mirrored in her eyes. "I know, Mom. I'm worried too," he admitted softly, his voice tinged with sadness.

Together, they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts as they grappled with the enormity of the situation. Barkley couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt gnawing at his conscience; if only he had been able to protect you, to prevent this tragedy from befalling you. But deep down, he knew that no amount of regret could change what had happened.

As days turned into weeks, Barkley watched you from a distance, his heart heavy with worry and guilt. You had retreated into yourself, isolating yourself in your apartment and shutting out the world. Barkley couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness as he watched you paint, your once vibrant and colorful creations now replaced by somber and melancholic images.

He tried to talk to you, to break through the wall of silence that surrounded you, but you ignored his every attempt. It pained him to see you like this, lost in your own despair, but he didn't know what else to do.

One evening, as Barkley once again attempted to reach out to you, you brushed him off without a word, your silence speaking volumes. Defeated, Barkley turned and walked away, his heart heavy with disappointment.

But Barkley had a plan, a desperate bid to escape the suffocating weight of his guilt and the toxic environment that surrounded him. With your mother's help, he concocted a scheme to steal money from your father, Eli, and leave town for good.

Together, they managed to steal two million dollars from Eli’s accounts—enough to start a new life, far from the pain and suffering that consumed his family. They assured you that you would be fine, asking if you wanted to go with them, but your silence was answer enough.

And so, one fateful night, Barkley and your mother disappeared into the night, leaving you behind in your empty apartment, alone with your thoughts and your paintings.

Meanwhile, in his luxurious home, Eli wasted away, drowning his sorrows in alcohol as he wallowed in self-pity and regret. He had lost everything – his money, his wife, and now his son. But he still had you, his daughter, his beautiful daughter whom he had failed to protect.

Eli's cell phone rang on the coffee table in the dimly lit living room, breaking the silence that had enveloped the house for weeks. He glanced at the caller ID but didn't recognize the number, yet he answered it eagerly, hoping for some sign of life amidst the desolation.

"Hello?" Eli's voice trembled with anticipation as he held the phone to his ear.

"Dad?" Your voice, soft and distant, echoed through the line, sending a surge of relief and concern coursing through Eli's veins. He hadn't heard your voice in weeks, and the sound of it now filled him with a mixture of joy and apprehension.

"Is that you, sweetheart?" Eli's heart raced as he waited for your response, his mind racing with a thousand questions.

But before he could say anything else, you interrupted him, your voice carrying a weight that chilled him to the bone. "You were right, Dad," you said, your words hanging heavy in the air. "The painter has to die for his works to become famous."

Eli froze, the blood draining from his face as he struggled to comprehend the meaning behind your words. His mind raced back to your paintings, the somber and melancholic images that had replaced the vibrant and colorful creations you had once produced. Was this what you had meant?

"What do you mean, sweetheart? Where are you?" he questioned, his voice laced with concern and dread.

You continued speaking, your voice hollow and distant. "Because people like it, right? People like tragic things, sad things," you said, your words echoing with a disturbing clarity.

Eli's heart sank as he realized the gravity of the situation. "No, no, my dear, please don't do anything rash," he pleaded, his voice tinged with panic. "Tell me where you are. I'll come to you right away."

But you remained resolute, your mind seemingly made up. "I'm on a bridge," you replied calmly. "I'm going to jump, father. I'm going to become a great artist like Van Gogh."

Eli's hands shook as he held the phone tightly to his ear, the weight of your words crushing him with a suffocating sense of helplessness. "No, please, don't do this," he begged, his voice choked with tears. "I'll do anything, just please come back to me."

Eli's heart sank as he listened to your unsettling silence, his sense of guilt and regret weighing him down. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know I haven't been there for you like I should have," he said, his voice filled with sorrow. "But please, don't do this. I'm coming to you right now. Just stay still, okay? Don't move."

But you interrupted him, your voice cutting through the air with a bitter edge. "You never came to my aid when I needed you, Dad. You never did," you said, your words laced with disappointment and resentment.

Eli's chest tightened at your accusation, the weight of his failures as a father bearing down on him like a crushing weight. "I know, and I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I've been a shitty father, and I regret it every day."

But you remained steadfast, your resolve unyielding as you spoke once more. "The key to my apartment is under the rug," you said calmly, your voice cutting through the chaos of the moment. "My paintings...put them up for auction. Maybe then you can recover the money Barkley and Mom stole."

Eli tried to protest, to argue that the money didn't matter in comparison to the value of your life, but you silenced him with a swift motion, sliding your cell phone and tossing it off the bridge, watching it disappear into the depths below.

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself, your mind set on your decision. "Become a great artist," you whispered to yourself before taking the leap, the rush of wind drowning out the sounds of the world around you.

As you plummeted towards the water below, a crowd of onlookers gathered on the bridge, their smartphones held high as they captured the moment for posterity. But you paid them no mind, your focus solely on the journey ahead, whatever it may bring.

A month had passed since the tragic day you took your leap from the bridge, and Eli found himself enveloped in a fog of despair. Despite his best efforts, there was still no sign of your body, no closure to the nightmare that had consumed their lives. The newspapers relentlessly replayed the cell phone footage of your final moments, each viewing tearing at Eli's heart anew.

With a heavy heart, Eli finally gathered the courage to fulfill your final wish. He put your paintings up for auction, just as you had requested, each stroke of the brush a painful reminder of the vibrant soul you once were.

Sitting at the back of the auction hall, Eli struggled to maintain his composure as each painting was presented to the eager bidders. Memories flooded his mind with each piece, from the happiest to the darkest, each one a testament to the complexity of your spirit.

He remembered the little girl he once carried in his arms, her bright eyes gazing up at him with an innocence that melted his heart. Back then, he had felt a twinge of disappointment at having a girl instead of the son he had hoped for, but that feeling quickly dissipated as he held you close, your warmth and love filling the void in his heart.

He recalled the annoyance he felt when you were a child, following him everywhere and refusing to leave him alone for a second. He had often found himself exasperated by your constant presence, yearning for moments of solitude that seemed perpetually out of reach.

Then there were the times you had forced him to have tea with you and your dolls, a memory that now brought a bittersweet smile to his lips. He remembered the humiliation he had felt, sitting awkwardly amongst your toys, pretending to sip from a tiny porcelain cup as you chattered away happily.

But perhaps the most vivid memory of all was the day you had drawn on the important papers he carried with him everywhere. He had scolded you harshly for it, unable to understand why you would deface something so precious to him. But you had looked up at him with tears in your eyes and explained that you just wanted him to carry a little piece of you with him wherever he went. In that moment, Eli had felt a surge of tenderness towards you, his anger melting away as he realized the depth of your love for him.

As another painting of you went up for auction, Eli forced himself to become stoic, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He watched with a mixture of pride and sadness as the bids climbed higher and higher, each one a testament to the impact you had made on the world with your art.

Finally, a man stood out amongst the crowd, offering two million dollars for one of your paintings. The auctioneer turned to the man and asked for his name, and Eli's heart skipped a beat when he heard the answer.

"Lionel Shahbandar," the man introduced himself, his voice carrying a note of authority as he met Eli's gaze with a steely determination.

But Eli looked away, his mind racing with conflicting thoughts and emotions as he remembered who Lionel Shabandar was. One of the richest men in London, Shabandar's presence in California seemed out of place. Why would he be here, at this auction, to buy a painting of his daughter's?

The auction continued, and Eli watched in surprise as Shabandar purchased nearly all of the paintings, one after another, with unwavering determination. Eli couldn't comprehend why Shabandar, a man of such wealth and influence, would be interested in his daughter's art. But the sight of him acquiring every piece only deepened the mystery.

As the auction drew to a close and Shabandar rose to leave, Eli felt a sudden urge to confront him. He hurriedly followed Shahbandar, calling out for him to wait. Surprisingly, Shahbandar halted in his tracks and turned to face Eli, greeting him with a nod as if they were old acquaintances.

"Doctor Eli Michaelson, isn't it?" Shahbandar's voice was smooth and cultured, with a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Eli nodded, a sense of unease creeping over him. "Yes, that's me. But forgive me if I'm mistaken, but do we know each other?"

Shahbandar smiled knowingly. "No, not personally. But I've heard about you, Doctor Michaelson. Congratulations on your Nobel Prize," he said, his tone respectful.

Eli brushed off the compliment, his mind focused on the matter at hand. "Thank you, but that's not why I'm here. I need to know why you bought all those paintings."

Shahbandar raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Isn't it obvious? Your daughter was a remarkable artist."

Eli's eyes narrowed skeptically. "Remarkable, yes, but why would you, of all people, be interested in her work?"

Shahbandar chuckled softly, gesturing towards the paintings on display. "Because I recognize talent when I see it, Doctor Michaelson. Your daughter's art spoke to me in a way that few others have. Each brushstroke, each detail, conveyed a depth of emotion that is truly rare."

Eli remained unconvinced, his suspicions lingering like a shadow. "And what do you plan to do with her paintings now that you've bought them all?"

Shahbandar shrugged nonchalantly. "Display them, perhaps. Or perhaps donate them to a museum. It's too soon to say."

Eli studied Shahbandar carefully, searching for any sign of deceit or ulterior motive. But Shahbandar's demeanor remained calm and composed, his intentions shrouded in mystery.

Before Eli could press further, Shahbandar glanced at his watch and made to leave. "I must be going, but congratulations, Doctor Michaelson, your daughter has become a great artist," he said, offering a polite nod before disappearing into the crowd.

Eli was left alone, standing still amidst the bustling auction hall, his thoughts consumed by a flood of memories. As he turned to look at the paintings that had once adorned the walls of your apartment, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride welling up inside him.

You didn't become a great artist, no, you already were for a long time. Since you were a child and scribbled on the walls, on Eli's important papers, until Eli got fed up and gave you a painting kit. He remembered the day vividly, the frustration in his voice as he handed you the brushes and the canvas, hoping to pacify you with a creative outlet.

He could almost see you there, looking at the blank canvas and the paints in your tiny hands, asking your father what you should paint. And he, in his typical dismissive manner, had simply replied, "Paint something that will make me proud."

And you had smiled at him, a radiant beam of innocence that melted his heart, before setting to work with a determination that belied your tender age. You painted and painted, your tiny fingers creating masterpieces that Eli had never thought possible.

But despite your talent, Eli had never been proud of your paintings, always dismissing them as mere child's play. He had been blind to the beauty and depth of your art, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to see the world through your eyes.

As he stood there now, surrounded by the remnants of your creativity, Eli felt a pang of regret gnawing at his conscience. He wished he could go back, to cherish those moments with you, to celebrate your talent and nurture it with the love and support you deserved.

But it was too late for regrets now. All he could do was honor your memory, to ensure that the world knew of the remarkable artist you had been. And as he looked around the auction hall, at the eager bidders clamoring for a piece of your legacy, Eli couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards Lionel Shabandar, the enigmatic stranger who had recognized your talent when he had failed to do so.

With a heavy heart, Eli made his way home, the weight of his emotions threatening to crush him with each step. But amidst the grief and the guilt, there was a glimmer of hope, a flicker of pride in knowing that you had left behind a legacy that would endure long after you were gone.

And as he gazed at the painting kit he had given you all those years ago, now gathering dust on a forgotten shelf, Eli made a silent vow to cherish the memory of his daughter, the talented artist whose brilliance had shone brighter than he could have ever imagined.

[sxnburst]

Hopefully Wang Yi doesn't notice just how Sun is watching him. Like a predator to an prey. A spider waiting for its meal to be trapped. Maybe not quite. Sun isn't trying to start anything as he's more GENUINELY curious. Still, one supposes they can't really control the look behind their eyes, right?

It's only briefly though and Sun smiles and shakes his head, "Mm-Mm!" Chipperly he adds, "We both saw these glowing lights." He pauses. The ache to his chest is still there. What was returned to him was only just one big part of what he was missing, but it wasn't WHAT he was searching for it seems. The pain is still there. Heavy, suffocating, a little frustrating. He may just explode any second now .

and now I have this....to think about, too.

"You know....When she got it back, the light? Her memory, she started crying. Did....you guys have a fight?" Sun had never known them to be so close either, but that memory proved him wrong. They seemed SO content and happy in each other's presence, so why what happened?

He couldn't make up exactly what Nicolette had said, only bits and pieces. What he did understand?

It was more than an fight, and Wang Yi was the source of all that turmoil and tears. ...

It would have left such a heavy feeling in Nicolette's heart. Wang Yi really did have that power didn't he?

It had only been a few days after the laser tag and well, a lot had happened since. For starters, he had not been prepared to stumble across a memory that belonged to Nicolette and he had not expected to learn so much from said memory. There had been a lot that was revealed, and in turn wouldn't it have been right to seek Wang Yi out? See what happened.

It wasn't his business and while he may not entirely know (Or remember) both Wang Yi and Nicolette, he knew they were friends enough. They were his friends and he liked them because they were nice to him. Right? The problem lied when he saw Wang Yi really. He felt it back then and he feels it now. The heaviness in his own chest. It's not the HEART ripping, gut wrenching kind of heaviness, but it's there. As if he's missing a crucial part of their friendship.

Anyway, he's approaching with a small wave of his hand and a big smile on his face, "Did you miss me THAT much? Hehehe! I didn't know you liked me that much, Wang Yi!" He's being playful. Silly.

"Oh, OH. I saw Nicolette earlier. I wanted to ask you something." But how should he go about asking him something that was between him and her? Her refusal in accepting the mote, her tears....Has he ever seen her cry that way? If he did, he doesn't remember. But....but it hurts.

[xxsabitoxx]

Dad!Giyu Headcanons

Sanemi • Rengoku • Gyomei • Tengen • Obanai

Warnings: tons of fluff!

A/N: let’s try this again! I swear this time I’ll do Giyu justice — so if you saw that first attempt? No you didn’t. Remember how I said Kyo’s was significantly longer? I lied. This one is so long

He’s initially a bit terrified

Is he worthy enough to be a father? Is he capable of raising a little human?

This pregnancy came as a complete surprise, so there is also a huge shock factor along with the fear

You have to sit down and talk to him for a bit after telling him, getting him to open up can be a bit tricky. You could tell by his reaction there was definitely other emotions along with the happiness

Giyu warms up to the idea very quickly after the initial shock and fear subside

It’s not that he doesn’t want to be a dad, he just didn’t think he’d become one at the age of 21.

Ironically, for corps members that’s super young to become a parent. For people outside of the corps, he got a late start

Shinobu is the second person you both tell, she’ll be giving you checkups after all. And well… you couldn’t resist the reaction she’d give

The next person you share the news with his is Tanjiro — who actually starts crying tears of joy for you both.

Within a week of sharing the news with Giyu, all the Hashira plus Kagaya are aware of your new incoming addition

Giyu is so sweet :( he starts learning to cook breakfasts that will be easy on your stomach since your morning sickness is a bitch

He’s holding your hair back and running your shoulders. He’s putty in your hands. Anything you ask him to do, he’ll do it with no complaints

When he thinks you’re asleep, he’ll start talking to your stomach

He’s a little to shy / embarrassed to do so when you are awake. But when he thinks you’re sleeping *key word: thinks* he will talk none stop.

You’ll even feel him place soft kisses before falling asleep himself

You don’t realize just how observant he is until he points out your bump as begun to grow

You yourself didn’t even realize until he pointed it out. It was barely there, but there nonetheless

When you reach your second trimester, Giyu is the first person to feel the baby kick with you.

He’s a little more comfortable talking to your bump in front of you now that it’s more visible

Turns out, his voice makes your baby get excited and they’ll start kicking wildly

Giyu is 100% a big brother / low key father to Tanjiro and Nezuko so expect them to be a big part of your pregnancy

Nezuko is so damn cute, she’s so fascinated by the movement in your stomach.

In her little demon form she’ll be sitting on your lap and resting her ear against your bump

Tanjiro is so apologetic about her clinginess but you assure him you love it

Giyu gets super protective of you. He always has been, but your stomach is growing so much he feels like you’d be a prime target for demons

After losing so many people in his life, he can’t even stomach the idea of losing you or the baby. It genuinely makes him nauseas

Jumping ahead into your third trimester, Giyu doesn’t take a leave. But he does request a little more time off, as he sees it he can still work until you are close to giving birth

He loves coming home each morning to your smile and your large baby bump

You spend most of the days he has off laying in bed and talking — Shinobu advised you to stay off your feet as much as you could in the weeks leading up to labor

When your water actually breaks Giyu gets light headed as fuck — like you gotta pause your own panic to make sure this man doesn’t pass out on you

The whole duration of your labor, Shinobu is teasing Giyu for looking a little green. This man really is about to pass out lmao

When your baby is finally born? Giyu is in silent awe

Hearing the cries for the first time make it all finally feel real.

The smile on your face is enough to make his eyes water. When you motion for him to come over he seems to forget how to function.

“Are you in shock?” • “maybe.”

He is so awkward trying to hold your newborn

It takes at least thirty minutes to get him comfortable with the position he’s in

It’s actually a fun experience for you teaching Giyu things like how to change a diaper and how to burp the baby

Luckily for you he gets the hang of things pretty quickly

Once you are settled back in your home, truly alone for the first time with your baby, things really hit Giyu.

“I’m a dad.” • “I-I know. Did you just realize that?”

Giyu is not a morning person at all, but he seems to become one fairly quickly because of your baby

All thought he is getting up to pick them up from their bassinet with his eyes still closed

Giyu’s baby has the same habit as Kyojuro’s - pulling hair. Unlike Rengoku, Giyu leaves his hair down and will just let the baby tug on it. It’s too early in the morning for him to care

When I tell you, this baby is so damn chunky. Like chubby cheeks, rolls on their arms that make it look like you could twist their little hand off. Giyu cannot physically handle how cute they are

Neither can the other Hashira or Kamado siblings. Even Sanemi wants to hold them.

You blame the baby’s chubbiness on all the food Giyu made for you during your pregnancy

Giyu loves wearing a wrap and carrying your baby around

You actually find it a bit funny, you sometimes have to fight to wear the wrap because you both want to hold your baby

Giyu is the first person to make your baby laugh, an accomplishment he himself can’t even believe

It happened while Giyu was in the bath with them, the bubbles from the soap he used were floating around the air. He popped one and didn’t expect the laughter that echoed the room. “Y/N! Come here!”

This turns into twenty or so minutes of Giyu popping bubbles to hear not only your baby laugh, but to hear you laugh too.

Giyu actually cried when your baby took their first steps

When your baby is old enough to walk and play, Giyu constantly has them up on his shoulders or gives them piggyback rides

You love seeing the sparkle in his eyes again, your baby brings out the inner child Giyu had to suppress before he was ready

He swears to himself he will keep you and your baby safe. Not only does he refuse to lose either of you, he refuses to have your child experience anything close to what he did

Giyu surprises himself one night while you two are having some fun by asking you if you want another baby

After the fact he said it was a heat of the moment comment — but it’s already been done ;)

[rickmandowneyjr]

Cuts to Cope

Angst, fluff Pairing: Severus Snape and Student!Reader (platonic) Warning: talk of self-harm, mentions of character's death Word Count: 2348 A/N: This is a little piece I wrote a while ago but didn't know if I should post or not. After re-doing certain bits, I decided to upload it. Hope it's not too difficult to read. As always, the ending is a little abrupt and not too detailed, leaving it sort of up to y'all as well :) Sorry if there are any typos (I only ever get the time to write when it's quite late nowadays)

Yet another day at Hogwarts - waking up at 6:30 am, showering, getting dressed in your robes, and heading to breakfast. Wishing everyone you passed a good morning, wearing your signature smile as you did.

You were a 7th year, one of the few returning ones after last year's incident with Cedric Diggory. He'd been your best friend, or at least that's what people thought. Cedric Diggory and you had been dating for the last 7 months before his death. You didn't want anyone knowing because being star students meant eyes prying into every aspect of your relationship.

People praised you, a model student and now, prefect, who set an example. An example of how to be strong and cope no matter what life threw at you. Little did they know, you harboured a little secret. A dark, horrifying, and disturbing secret that would never let anyone look at you the same way if they ever found out.

Your first class for the day was Potions. You were a brilliant student, especially at Potions, yet Snape still had something against you. You didn't take it personally, though; he wasn't really fond of anyone. You walked into class, taking your regular seat at the front. Snape walked into class a little while later, slamming the door behind him, commanding everyone's attention.

"Turn to page 420," he drawled. You opened the book to find the recipe for Amortentia. Your heart felt a tug at the name of the love potion, never having been able to find out the answers with Cedric.

Snape's deep voice brought your focus back to class as he said, "Since it takes a week to brew, I've already completed most of the process. All you need to do is the last day's work," making the class sigh with relief. "However," he continued, "The last day of brewing is crucial and not easy. So, I expect your attention to be fully on the task at hand."

You began brewing the potion, following the steps perfectly. Snape sat down to grade papers as the class worked. He looked at you and said, "Ms. [L/N], roll up your sleeves while you work. I'd hate for there to be mishaps in my class because of one student's carelessness."

You hesitated, but then did as asked. You weren't the best at wandless magic but had made sure to perfect this spell solely for such instances. As you rolled your sleeves, you subtly waved your hand over your forearms, mumbling, "Illusiont," and casting the disillusionment charm.

You saw Snape narrow his eyes at you and panicked for a second before you saw him shake his head and return to grading. Breathing a sigh of relief, you returned to the task at hand and continued brewing.

After a while, you'd finished, and were the first one to have done so. Snape walked over to your desk and took a whiff of the potion, raising an eyebrow before giving you a single nod of approval, letting you know that it was perfect. Once everyone was done, he walked around, starting at the back, and asked everyone to announce what they smelled. You hadn't smelled your Amortentia yet and hadn't planned on doing so either, feeling quite relieved when Snape hadn't asked that question earlier.

Your heart rate quickened as you began to worry about how your body and mind would react to smelling it. You couldn't do it last year, since the Triwizard tournament had led to a bunch of classes being cancelled. As you thought about how excited you had been at the prospect of sharing the experience with Cedric, Snape's voice pulled you back to your potions class.

"Ms. [L/N]."

"Yes, sir?"

He rolled his eyes in annoyance. "What. Do. You. Smell," he spoke, irritation evident in every word.

You swallowed hard as you leaned forward to inhale the scent. Your pupils dilated, your heartbeat quickened and your knees threatened to give out at the all-too-familiar fragrance. Your throat went dry as you stopped the tears from forming.

"Well? We haven't got all day, class is to be dismissed soon." He raised an eyebrow at you, asking you to hurry up since you were the last one.

With every ounce of energy, you calmed yourself and stopped your voice from wavering. "Old books, butterscotch and... vanilla," you sighed. Your breathing was erratic and you knew you needed to get out of class and get to the abandoned girls' washroom.

As if on cue, the bell rang, dismissing the class. Snape gave you an odd look and was about to ask you what was wrong but you had already gathered your belongings and were marching out the door. He decided to follow you since he'd never seen you act like that before and was wondering what had happened to you all of a sudden.

You made your way up the stairs, hurrying before you had a breakdown in the middle of the hallway. As you reached the washroom, you started rummaging through your bag since the hallway was empty. You took the small blade that you carried around out, pushing the door to the bathroom open.

Snape's POV

I followed her out of the classroom. Though not my favourite, [Y/N] was an incredible witch and this wasn't normal behaviour for her. She'd marched out before I had even dismissed class which concerned me even more, given her usually 'perfect' behaviour. She paced through the hallways and up the stairs so fast that I could've sworn she was moving around faster than I did on a normal basis. There was an urgency in her stride and I don't know why, but it concerned me.

She finally turned into the hallway leading to the girls' washroom on the third floor, which was odd. No one used this, as far as I was aware. I was a little embarrassed, considering I'd just followed a young girl to a washroom. In an isolated area, at that. I swear I never would've imagined myself going even further and following her in, but what I'd seen had shocked and concerned me enough to do just that.

End of Snape's POV

As you entered the bathroom, you had missed Snape, whose eyes were wide with shock. He couldn't believe what he'd seen. [Y/N] [L/N], the golden girl of Hogwarts, had just walked into an abandoned washroom after pulling out a blade from her bag. Not wanting to jump to any conclusions, he rushed in, wanting to confirm what his eyes had just seen.

As you were about to enter a stall, the door to the bathroom, swung open, making you jump. You hid the blade by making a fist, unintentionally cutting into your palm. You winced at the unexpected pain but didn't let it show.

You turned to face Professor Snape, and he was eyeing your hand. 'There's no way he saw it, is there?' you thought.

"Ms. [L/N], care to show me your hands?"

You panicked. He knew. You tried to divert his attention. "Sir, this is the girls' washroom."

"I'm aware," he stated. "Now... Hands," he said as he glared at you, letting you know that he wouldn't fall for any attempts to change the subject.

You sighed and opened your hands, and saw his gaze soften. He walked to you taking your hand in his as he gently pulled the razor out. You winced as it came out, knowing this would impair you for the rest of your classes.

"What were you thinking?!" He scolded, startling you. He reached for your arm, rolling up your sleeves once again and muttered, "Finite."

The scars on your arms started showing up and you couldn't do anything but look away, your eyes resting anywhere but his gaze.

"So that was the Disillusionment Charm I heard you use, earlier."

You stayed silent, still refusing to meet his eyes. Of all the professors, it had to be him. Sure, he wasn't fond of you, but you had immense respect for the man, and to let him see you in this light... it took every bit of you to not lose your composure.

"Look at me," he said.

You turned to face him. His usually cold eyes showed too much concern and the uncharacteristic response from the potions master was proving to be a lot to handle. Tears stung your eyes as he stared at you.

"Why?" He asked, his voice so genuine that you couldn't help but let your emotions spill, creating a mess that you couldn't be bothered to care about anymore.

"I can't do this anymore," you sniffled. "I don't want to. He was everything to me and it just hurts so much."

"Who?"

"Cedric."

"Ah, yes. I'm aware you and Mr. Diggory were best friends. I'm sorry, [Y/N]."

"No," you said, finally being able to talk to someone about it. "He was my boyfriend. And... I never got to tell him I loved him... because I wasn't sure. Today just made it worse when I smelled him in my Amortentia. It confirmed that I did and I never got to say it." You were sobbing now, not caring what you looked like, what a mess you probably were, or what Snape was thinking of you and your confession.

You felt him awkwardly wrap his arms around you as he pulled your head to his chest. Your cries got louder and your wails of agony echoed in the empty washroom as your hands clutched the fabric of his robes. The feeling of someone comforting you was overwhelming. You'd always had to keep up this image of a perfect student, reliable friend, someone who could never have such horrifying tendencies.

Even then, as you cried out loud, your instinct made you bury your face in his chest, muffling the 'ugly' sobs. Snape's heart broke as your thoughts flooded his mind. As you struggled to breathe, he turned your head slightly, making you audible again. He didn't hush you; just stroked your hair as your tears soaked his robes.

It took a while, but you finally calmed down, your sobs reducing to soft whimpers before they died out entirely. Your throat was sore, and lips, chapped from all the crying. Your eyes were red and puffy, and the reality of the situation finally came crashing down on you.

Your secret was out. More than one, at that. One of the professors knew, and the strictest one too. You had just spent Merlin knows how long crying into his chest, which was now soaked with your tears.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, your voice, hoarse. "Your robes are all wet now," you said, trying to move away.

"That's the least of my worries right now," he said, keeping your head in place as he continued, "I understand what you're going through. Better than you'd know." It sounded like it was painful for him to talk about it, the tone of his voice giving the vulnerability away. "But this is not the way to deal with it," he said as rubbed your back.

"Does it go away?"

"I'll be honest," he sighed. "It does get lesser with time if you allow yourself to heal. However, it never goes away entirely. A part of you will always love and miss him. I'm sorry," he said.

"No, I'm glad. I don't want to forget him. Or my love for him. Cedric Diggory was and will always be - my first love."

You finally pulled away from his chest and looked him in the eyes as he gave you a gentle smile. You managed to muster a somber one and sighed.

"Do any of your friends know?"

"Merlin, no!"

"Why not? They're your friends. They could-"

"I can't have this getting out. Everyone will-"

"Who cares what people think?" He raised his voice. It was silent for a while before he sighed and spoke again.

"[Y/N], I want you to promise me something."

You knew what was coming. You gulped and nodded softly.

"I want you to promise me that you'll stop this. Cedric wouldn't want this for you."

"I know, and I've tried before. It's not that simple-"

"I know," he said, cutting you off. "Which is why, the next time you get the urge to do this, you'll come to me. No matter what the situation might be."

You were surprised at his words. It was incredibly nice of him to offer this to you, and you nodded, accepting his generosity.

"Also," he continued, "Please stop going to such great lengths to please others and worrying about what others think. It's not healthy."

"But-"

"But nothing. Your health is suffering and you can't even bring yourself to tell anyone because you're so busy keeping up this little charade of 'everything is fine'."

You stayed silent. There was truth in his words and you couldn't refute his accusations. You just looked up at him, once again, finding the uncharacteristic concerned look meeting your gaze. Nodding softly, you agreed. How could you not when someone had shown you such consideration and compassion?

A small smile graced his usually stoic face as he helped you up, and you both made your way out of the bathroom. He escorted you back to your dormitories, ensuring you were alright before the two of you parted ways.

The rest of the school year passed and Snape stayed true to his word, and you to yours. Every time you felt the urge to hurt yourself to relieve the pain, you'd find Snape. He was patient and helped you every step of the way. Slowly, but surely, you were able to overcome your urges and also found yourself living for yourself, rather than up to others' expectations.

By the time you graduated, you had overcome the habit and thanked Snape in your graduation speech, never giving away the details as to why. A lot of people had assumed there was something between the two of you, especially since you went to meet him all through the school year, but you didn't let it bother you, because... Who cares what people think, right?

-

P.S. - Sorry I've been a little slow with the writing. My college assignments have started rolling in and I'm currently swamped. Also, I'm working on a little something (announcing it in 2-3 days so make sure to check in lol). Rest assured, I'm slowly and steadily making my way through requests. Thank you for understanding <3

[believinghurts]

Their Daughter

Chapter 5

Author’s note: I use Grammarly to fix my mistakes, but there could still be some so sorry for that. Also, I am getting back into writing and am hoping to have a few more works out soon! Please reblog, like, or comment feedback is appreciated.

Word Count: 4,400

Warnings: None? Sirius being a d*ck? Maybe language, but I don’t think so.

Regulus wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he stroked his niece's hair. He was mad at his brother for basically throwing away the only good thing that had ever come from the Black family. Sirius was too blinded by the past to see what was right in front of him. As children, Sirius often told Regulus that he was their family's favorite and that it bothered him, but if he knew what it was like to be less loved then how can he love Harry more than Ali? He understood that Harry was Sirius's Godson, but couldn’t he love Ali and Harry equally? If Sirius made the effort maybe Ali and the other children could even be friends. His heart ached from the emotional battle that Ali was going through right now. Even if Sirius didn’t see it, he and Remus did. Ali’s light was dimmer than before and when she was lighting up again after finding out Sirius never came for her, Sirius just had to go and snuffed it out.

Carefully sliding out from under Ali and placing a pillow under her head Regulus left the room. He shut the door behind him casting a locking spell so she wouldn’t be bothered. He needed to speak with Remus first before doing anything. They needed to decide what to do about Ali. As much as Regulus wanted to spend time with her before she went back to school he didn’t want her to be this upset anymore. He walked into the study to find Remus and Nymphadora sitting near the fireplace.

“How is she?” Nymphadora blurted the question as soon as she saw her cousin. Remus had owled her after Ali had gone to her room. The older sister in her wanted to go up to Sirius and give him a piece of her mind, but she knew that it wouldn’t do any good.

“She’s asleep for now. All the fighting has exhausted her. I honestly don’t know what to do. I want her here, this is her home, but if Sirius doesn’t stop acting like the brut that he is it is going to hurt her more. Speaking of Sirius, where is he? It’s quiet.” Regulus flopped down on the chair across from Remus and Nymphadora raking a hand through his hair. His worry for Ali was causing him a headache. On one hand, he wanted to send Ali to stay at the Malfoy Manor for the remainder of summer, but on the other, he wanted to hold her close and have her stay in her home where she belonged.

“Sirius left with Harry after you went upstairs. He hasn’t been home since. The Weasleys stepped out to Diagon Alley to get the kids stuff for school.” Remus replied. He was secretly thankful that the house was mainly empty. This way at least Ali could come down if she felt like it without the chance of someone bothering her. Remus was having the same thoughts as Regulus about keeping Ali at home virus's sending her to the Manor. He just wanted his niece to be happy. The hope that he had of Sirius and Ali having the father/daughter relationship was gone. If only Remus could get Sirius to open his eyes to the pain he was causing to the girl, but Sirius was nothing if not stubborn.

“I think I am going to write to Cissa and see if she can keep Ali for the rest of summer. If that’s what it takes for her to be happy then so be it. We can see her off at the -“

“I don’t want to leave,” Ali’s voice interrupted. “I want to stay here with you. Please don’t make me leave. I can handle it, I promise.”

Ali knew that she and Regulus were going to have to talk about the fact that she called him dad, but that was a private conversation. Right now she needed to convince the adults in the room that she didn’t need to leave. She could take Sirius. Yes the words that he had said hurt her and the actions he did tonight furthered that hurt in her heart, but she was done. She didn’t owe him anything, and it was clear she knew that he didn’t want to be her father. She had meant what she said to Regulus. He was her father in all the ways that counted. He loved her unconditionally, was always there for her, and protected her.

She went and sat on the couch in between Nymphadora and Remus who wrapped an arm around her pulling her close to his chest. “It might be best if you went and stayed for the rest of the summer at the Manor, Al. This isn’t good for you mentally. We all can see how drained you are.”

“No, this is my home. I can handle it. I have you all plus the older Weasleys and Fleur. You'll protect me and if I need to get away for a little bit I’ll owl Blaise or Draco to go to Diagon Alley or something. I want to spend time with you. Times are hard right now and you never know when you are going to lose someone and I would like to have as much time with each of you just in case.”

Regulus leaned forward taking Ali’s hand in his, “Nothing, and I mean nothing is going to happen to us. I love you more than you could ever imagine and if you want to stay here you can.” Ali smiles brightly at that before Regulus cut her off, “but you have to tell me, Remus, or Severus, if anything happens. And you have to come out of your room. I am not having you locking yourself away again. Got it?”

Ali pounced on Regulus, hugging his neck tight. She was excited to spend some more time with her family. She had meant what she said about never knowing when something was going to happen. Wizards had been disappearing all over London and she was genuinely scared something was going to happen to her loved ones. She was going to make it a point to take plenty of photos and make enough memories to last a lifetime the next couple of weeks.

Regulus held his niece tight, fighting back the tears when she whispered, “Thanks, Dad,” into his ear. He had been called a lot of things in his life, but this was one title he was going to wear proudly.

Remus’s voice interrupted the moment, “wait for a second, why are you going to owl Blaise? We have an agreement, young lady, no boys till you're thirty!”

Ali’s giggle was music to those in the room with her, and for the first time that summer they all saw Ali smile at home the brightest she had since everyone arrived.

————

The rest of the day was eventful which was something that everyone was thankful for. Nymphadora left shortly after spending some time with Ali since she had something to attend to with Moody, so that left Regulus, Ali, and Remus to watch the Star Wars movies in Ali’s room. Kreacher brought them snacks while they made a fort on the floor. Ali was incredibly content laying on the mounds of pillows in between her Uncles. When she was younger they would have movie nights like this once a month until she started Hogwarts. Even then she and her friends carried on the tradition in the boy's dorm since Draco was often present at the ones hosted at home. She wished that she could have Draco over now, but knew that if she brought him here then everyone in the house would throw a fit about it, maybe it was something to bring up to Regulus later.

Molly called them all down for dinner shortly after the second film ended. Leaving the mess on the floor the trio made their way downstairs with Ali trailing behind her Uncles. She could feel her nerves spike the closer she got to the dining room. She thought about excusing herself stating she wasn’t hungry, but the loud growl in her stomach gave her hunger away. Everyone had already sat down beside Harry and Sirius when they got into the room. Regulus pulled the seat out next to him for his niece. Fleur shot her a smile when she sat down by her uncle with Charlie on her other side. At least she was sitting near someone who didn’t hate her.

Chatter and the sounds of forks on plates filled the room as everyone got their fill of Molly’s meatballs and onion sauce. Everyone broke off into separate conversations. Remus, Regulus, and Arthur talking about the Ministry, the younger Weasleys, and Hermione talking about Quidditch, Bill and Fleur about their upcoming wedding, and Charlie and Ali talking about his work in Romania. “What are you planning on doing after you leave Hogwarts?”

Ali shot a glance over at Remus who was doing a terrible job of disguising his eavesdropping on the duo. “I am thinking about becoming a professor. I like creatures obviously so I was thinking something along those lines, but I also like Herbology. So maybe that. I just know I want to teach.”

Charlie shot her a grin. “Have you thought about where? I know Hogwarts has Sprout for Herbology and Hagrid was doing Care of Magical Creatures, but you still have three more years of school so maybe they’ll need someone by the time you're done.”

Ali shrugged her shoulders. In all honesty, she wanted to leave England and travel for a bit but knew that if she brought it up now it would be a fight or something so she bit her tongue. “Maybe.”

The noise came to a halt when the door slammed open in the living room. Everyone hopped to their feet, wands at the ready. It felt like hours had passed before the intruder walked through the door. “Sirius! Harry! Merlin, you scared us all.”

“Sorry, it’s raining hard and we were in a rush to get back home.” Sirius shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. Everyone retook their seats beside Milly who served Harry and Sirius. Ali tried her hardest to keep from looking at the latest duo that entered, not wanting to cause any more trouble or to give Sirius a reason to lash out at her.

Dinner passed rather quickly, conversations flowed in their small groups. Charlie had gone with Fleur and Bill on a scouting mission shortly after eating, while Fred and George worked on new products for their shop. Ali was in her head thinking about asking to go to meet Pansy in the coming days to look at a new book shop. Pansy wasn’t much of a reader but was always looking for an excuse to get out of her house. She was startled when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up Molly was smiling softly at her while handing her a letter in a dark blue envelope. She instantly knew who the letter was from since only one person used that kind of envelope when writing her.

“This came for you, dear, when you were with your uncles. I didn't want to bother you then I almost forgot just now.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.” Ali smiled at the kind woman. Despite her feelings towards most of the Weasley children, their parents were quite nice.

Molly patted her cheek before walking off. Ali started to rip the top off when she got Regulus’s eye and he winked at her. He knew who the letter was from having met the boy a few times already. Her cheeks flushed and continued to do so while reading it.

Dear Supernova,

I hope you are surviving the dreadfulness that is upon you right now with all the people in your house. Yes, Draco told me what was going on yesterday when I finally threatened to out his crush if he didn’t explain why we hadn’t been seeing you a lot this summer. I have to say I am quite hurt that you didn’t tell me yourself. Best friends I thought. Just joking, but seriously you could have told me about him and I wouldn't have said a word to anyone.

I miss you, Supernova. We’ve only got to see each other once this summer and we both know when school starts you will have a book shoved in front of your face in the first three minutes. Could we get together sometime this week? It has been awful at home and if I have to hear Draco's voice one more time without you there to tell him off for being annoying I may throw myself off the astronomy tower.

Your uncle may not agree, but you could come to stay at mine for a night. Mother agreed to it as long as Regulus does and we have separate rooms. If you can't, maybe I can come to you? I don’t really care what the redheads have to say about me being there so don’t worry about that. We have much to catch up on; like the fact that you got Headgirl and also didn’t write and tell me. I had to find that little tidbit out from Parkinson's. Don’t worry we’ll catch up whether that's soon or on the train.

love,

Zabini

Ali felt a pang of guilt hit her square in the chest. She hadn’t meant to forget to fill Blaise in on her life but it had been so crazy recently she hadn’t got to write anyone much. In all the truth no one knew that she had gotten Headgirl. She had gotten the letter from Flitwich a few days after the Weasley’s arrived and completely forgot. Although she told her Uncles she didn’t want to go anywhere spending some time with Blaise sounded nice. Deciding to just rip the bandaid off she looked up to find Regulus and Remus looking at her with amused smiles on their faces.

“What’s you got there, Ali?” Remus asked, causing her cheeks to flame red. She wasn’t scared to say that she wanted to hang out with a boy. She did it all the time whether it was Blaise, Theo, or Draco; it was more to do with the fact that she was about to ask to spend the night at a boys' house. Even if they were going to be in separate rooms and they had fallen asleep cuddled together weeks prior at the Malfoys, something none of her Uncles knew, it was going to be a little fight to get Remus to agree as he made the ‘no dating till you’re thirty’ rule when she was five and asked for a boyfriend for Christmas.

Looking around she noticed all attention was on her even if the other adults in the room were making it seem like they weren’t listening while the children openly gawked. “Uhm,” she was cut off by Severus stepping into the room. Great, now she had to face all three Uncles. Where were Dora and Cissa when she needed them?

Severus hugged her quickly before taking a place by Regulus. “Who's the letter from Ali?” He asked her letting her know there was no getting out of it and that she was going to have to spill the beans.

“It’s from Blaise,” A look of amusement passed Regulus’s face, making her think that he knew what was in the letter already while Remus looked like he was going to snatch the letter out of her hands and read it himself if she didn’t hurry up.

“And what possibly could it say to have your cheeks looking like the inside of Gryffindor common room?” Regulus teased further.

She coughed trying to get her nerves resealed. “He was saying that we need to catch up before school starts, and invited me to come and stay with him and Mrs. Zabini for a night this week.”

Remus grunted while Regulus smiled. Ali had to hide a giggle as she noticed all the other mouths in the room had dropped to the floor. Ali knew that except for Hermione and Harry the Weasley’s never stayed or had anyone else with them.

“Can I, please? His mother said we would have separate rooms and she will be there as well as the house-elves. We only got to see one another once this summer. He said if I can’t he could come here, but honestly, I think the first option is better. Please?” She pulled out her best puppy eyes and pouty lip. She was not above begging for it but didn’t want to do so with everyone staring at her.

Regulus looked over at Remus. Ali could see the silent conversation going on between them. Regulus’s head inclined slightly toward Ali which she hoped to Merlin was a good thing. Remus looked back at his niece with a look in his eye she couldn’t read. “Rosalynn said you’ll have separate rooms?” Ali nodded her head so fast she almost gave herself whiplash. “And you’ll stay in them?” Once again she nodded, although she knew that they more than likely would be in the family room till late hours in the night. He looked back at Regulus, “you have no problems with her going?”

“No, I already knew about it. Rosalynn wrote about two days ago. If she wants to go, that's fine. You know Rosalynn will look after her as she does Blaise. And the Heavens know that boy would jump in front of the Knight Bus for Ali.” Regulus chuckled at Ali's shocked expression.

“Y-you knew? Why didn’t you say anything?” Ali struggled to get the words out.

“Rosalynn said Blaise wanted to ask you. She was just giving me a heads up, knowing how Remus is with boys and you. You know we talked quite often, Als.” Regulus winked at her.

“You may go,” Remus stated. She was shocked she didn’t have to put up more of a fight.

“WHAT?” Sirius shrieked. He knew that Regulus would let her go to the Death Eaters house, but Remus? He thought he could count on his ‘friend’ to at least say no. “You’re letting her go to the Death Eaters house? AGAIN? Who's also a boy and staying the night? Are you mad?”

Remus looked at Sirius with disdain, “No I am not. She is a good girl and Blaise has been her friend for years. Rosalynn loves her as much as we do and would never let anything happen. And for God's sake quit calling everyone a Death Eater.”

“Outrageous.”

“Sirius, you have no say in what she does. You gave that up last night. Ali is a good girl who makes good choices. Not only that but she also deserves a little something since she got Headgirl this year, don’t you think?” Regulus smirked as he saw the Granger girl's face fall.

“You got Headgirl?” Hermione whispered to Ali with disbelief lacing her voice.

“Yeah, I did. Draco got Headboy I believe, but it may be Theo. I haven’t asked yet.”

“Why do you and Draco get Head of Houses? Why not Hermione and -“ Ali cut her dear Godbrother off.

“And who? You? Ron? Why would any of you get Head of Houses with all the trouble you bring in? Sneaking out, stealing things, picking fights. We do have the highest marks in most classes as well as treat others equally unlike the likes of you.”

If looks could kill Ali would be dead three times over. In all honesty, she kinda felt bad for the younger Weasley boy seeing as all of his older brothers, bar Fred and George had been Headboy. But then she thought about the trouble he and his friends had caused her and her friends as well as others over the years. Harry preached about equality among the houses but she had witnessed many times when younger Slytherins were picked on by Gryiffndors. Hufflepuffs generally didn't have any problems with the other houses so long as everyone was being just. Ravenclaws tended to keep to themselves unless it really involved them. Whereas Slytherins preferred to stand up to those picking on other Slytherins especially the younger ones. Slytherins were always made out to be the bullies when in general if you got to know them people would notice that they are a lot more than what their parents used to be.

Ally had heard the stories of how mean James and Sirius were to those in Slytherin even if they never did anything to them. She believed in harmless fun could be had pulling pranks, but tricking someone into going to a place where a werewolf was was downright cruel. She had no doubts in her mind that James and Sirius were once good people like her Uncle Remus is now, but seeing as Sirius still acts like a child those doubts were becoming known.

“I just think that Slytherins shouldn’t be Head of House when all you will do is favor your own, and treat everyone else like dirt,” Ron stated.

“Ronald Weasley! How dare you say such a thing?!” Molly exclaimed.

“It’s alright Mrs. Weasey. I am used to hearing such things come from them and others in their house,” Ali looked Ron in the eyes, “You seem to forget that I’m a Ravenclaw, not a Slytherin. I do not favor anyone and will not when I start Head Girl duties but know this. I will give you as many detentions as you deserve if you are caught bullying, harassing, belittling, any of the other houses. You may think that Gryiffndors are the bravest of the houses and maybe you are in some ways, but you are cowardly in others. Maybe some Slytherins are as bad as you make them seem, but Harry,” she turned her head slightly to the side, “you seem to forget just which house Peter Pettigrew was in when he was the one who betrayed your parents. And Regulus was in Slytherin but seems to be more loyal to his friends and family than that rat was.”

“It seems that Alianova has given you all something to think about as you're getting ready for bed,” Molly stated looking at all the children present in the room. Her face grew red when she saw that none of them had moved a muscle. “Now.”

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, jumped from their seats and booked it to the stairs scared of Mrs. Weasley’s wrath. At some point, Charlie, Fluer, and Bill came back from scouting. Charlie ruffled Ali’s hair causing her to grin. “Good job, kid. You’ll make a great Head Girl.” Bill and Fleur nodded in agreement. “Nothing happened while we were out. We’ll give a full debrief tomorrow, but we will be heading to bed as well. Good night everyone.”

Molly walked to Ali and pulled her up out of her chair before placing both hands on Ali’s pale cheeks. “Don’t you worry, dear, I will be talking with all of them in the morning. You made a lot of valid points, and I for one am proud that you are Head Girl.”

She kissed her forehead before taking her husband to go to bed after waving her wand to get the kitchen clean once again. Arthur offered Ali a small smile before disappearing behind his wife. Sirius scoffed at the behavior which everyone heard but chose to ignore.

Ali turned to her three Uncles, waiting for the answer about going to her friends, and the scene that just played out in the kitchen.

“I am proud of you as well, Alianova. You have done excellent, and I know it is Remus and Regulus' decision about going to Blaises’, but I see no problem with it. I will stay in the guest room. Come get me if you need me. Good night, Ali.” He hugged her tightly, making Ali tear up slightly at the thought of Servus being proud of her. It also made her giddy at the thought of rubbing it in Draco’s face since Severus is his Godfather and never said such a thing to him.

Remus followed after Servus, wrapping his niece in a bear hug around her shoulders. The height difference amusing Regulus to no end seeing as Ali only came about midway in Remus’s chest. “You may go as long as it’s okay with Reg, and you stay in separate rooms. I am a little mad though that you didn’t tell me yourself about getting Head Girl, but I am still incredibly proud of you. No one deserves this more than you do, not even Harry.” The last part was whispered in her ear. He kissed her forehead, before heading to his room.

With the three Blacks being the only ones left in the room. “I don’t think you should go.” Sirius’s voice was venomous as he thought about his only child, his legacy, spending time with Death Eaters.

“It’s a good thing it doesn’t matter what you think isn’t it?” Regulus smirked at his older brother. He was not going to take this away from his child. “Ali, you may go so long as you stay in your separate rooms whenever the two of you decide to go to sleep because I know from having all your mates over it will be late.” He walked to Ali cradling her freckled face in his hands. “I am so proud to call you my daughter. Even after all that you have been through in your life you have still managed to form your own beliefs and thoughts as well as stand up for them. You deserve Head Girl over anyone else, and hopefully, you get to share it with one of your friends.”

Ali dove into her Uncle's chest. Tears welling up into her eyes at the thought that he really did think of her as his own even if she already knew it. It was nice to hear out loud. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I love you, dad.” She kissed his cheek before heading to her room to write Blaise.

Sirius felt his anger sore to new heights when he heard Ali call Regulus dad. He had enough courtesy to wait till she was out of earshot before grounding out, “We need to talk, Regulus.”

[twinsunstars]

@marvel-starwarsfangirl thanks for the tag!! omg uhhh i havent written fics in so long and usually i keep them to myself bc im shy lol…. last year before ahsoka came out i started this fic where ezra lost his memory while him and thrawn were stuck in space and eventually sabine and ahsoka would find him all with some amnesia and everything, so i’ll just share the prologue….

Darkness was the only thing that could be seen. Voices could be heard faintly in every direction. The voices felt like they were calling to him. Different tones went in and out, changing every second. There were voices that were playful, sad, angry, filled with joy, or scared. Sounds of vibrations and lights appeared within the darkness, swaying around, but he couldn’t figure out what they were.

He could start to see some figures appear one by one, talking in muffled voices. He couldn’t recognize them, but he felt like he knew them. There was a man who would either appear with his eyes open or covered, a green Twi’lek woman, a girl who had different hair colors and colorful armor over her clothes, a purple beast who shared a smile, and sometimes a little orange droid would appear. Other people appeared throughout the visions, but these five would be the most common. Each of them would speak one by one, or at the same time. Sometimes, he could hear his own.

One voice echoed the loudest from the rest. “The Force will be with you. Always.”

He didn’t know why, but his eyes teared up. One tear fell loosely down his cheek, his thoughts seeming to savor the memory.

With a halt, everything returned to the darkness. Silence could only be heard.

The young man’s eyes opened, the visions completely gone from his head. He looked at his surroundings and his clothes, covered in bits of dirt. He didn’t remember his legs being a little longer, but guess it was time to finally grow some height.

He groaned and pushed himself to stand, feeling the cuts on his arms sting. The back of his head throbbed, and when he put a hand to it, it became sensitive to the touch. He couldn’t recognize where he was. The damp forest surrounding him looked nothing like Lothal’s plain sunny atmosphere. He didn’t remember how he got here, or how he got the injuries that began stinging like hell. On the ground, there were some footprints and claw marks embedded into the dirt.

“There you are!”

He saw a tall man who had a deep blue skin tone, bright red eyes, and medium length that bounced as he ran towards him. His clothes were shaggy and his scarf torn. “I was beginning to think you got killed by that thing!”

“Whoa whoa, stay back!”

The blue man froze at the young man’s tone. He had put his hands in front of him, ready to protect himself from whoever this blue man was.

“Relax. That thing’s gone-“

“Who are you?”

The blue man arched his eyebrows. “I’m not in the mood for playing around, Ezra Bridger.”

“How do you know my name? I’ve never even met you.”

Thrawn was going to say more, though instead he closed his mouth and studied Ezra. His expression, the way he was ready to protect himself. The young man was genuinely scared and confused.

That’s when it hit him.

:) no pressure tag: @ladywren7 @jessicas-pi @jedi-nurse @half-truths-and-hyperbole-louk @anyone else!!

WIP tag game

Tagged eleven times since the last time I did these (two weeks ago, whoops)

Notable offenders (<3) are @winterinhimring, @musewrangler, @kraytwriter, @afaroffsong, @informedimagining, and @called-kept. however I’ve also been tagged in the Heads Up Seven Up twice, by @kraytwriter and @musewrangler. So how abouts I take care of all this at once by adding twenty-five (not all consecutive) sentences?

 She had children old enough to take on some extra responsibilities, so there was no question that they could get by. Which might be why Erran’s offer of help felt like such a gift, despite his lack of experience. He could have looked at what they had and assumed that he wouldn’t be needed or wanted. He could have decided that his own responsibilities (whatever they might be, for surely he had to make his living somehow,) were more important.  

Working on the tunic till it was time to start supper brought them more than halfway to completion. They often stopped to compare progress and make sure neither of them strayed off course. If Shona had a slight advantage in age and experience over Isie, it showed more in speed than in neatness, and in the end when Rose compared the sides they were both even. 

>>——>

As it happened,[name] hadn’t learned much from his conversation with Erran. They’d talked mostly of the work, as she might have known they would. She pondered over what she’d gleaned from [name] as she rolled out dough for pasties: only a confirmation that Erran was not from the area, and that he had lived in a city before coming to live somewhere away west of town. An odd change to make, especially coming alone as he had. What sort of work had he done? Had he been apprenticed in a trade? [name] did not seem concerned about his lack of experience. He was willing to learn and the fact that he’d offered his services at all seemed to speak well of him, and that was enough for [name].

“The lads know enough to teach him,” [name] had said. “T’will be good for them as well.” 

And well it might be.

____

The next morning, earlier than before, Erran was back and the work on the thatch resumed. He’d arrived with red cheeks, twinkling eyes, and three more apples for the children to share but his hands had been very cold. He could use some mittens.

She did raise her brows at the apples though. Where had these come from?

“Wynn Fullrede sends his greetings and says to say thank you for feeding me yesterday,” Erran said, rather sheepishly in response to her look. 

Rose smiled. 

EDIT: you’re all tagged back for the WIP game

[cyberneticwhump]

Wʜᴜᴍᴘ-4-Lᴇss (Pᴀʀᴛ 3)

Cᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ & Sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ

[Entry for “2023 Year of Whump” challenge, January 15.]

[Chosen prompt: experimental injection + “I promise this won’t hurt”]

[Content: insomnia, syringe, begging, intimate whumper, mentions of torture.]

[Summary: After his training, Natasha visits Damian in his room to make him an offer. She tells him that he has a bright future at Whump-4-Less, and he could start his first session the next day. This keeps Damian up all night, as he isn't ready yet. Before his show, Natasha gives him memory blockers to help with the flashbacks and nightmares later, and he gets ready to step on stage for the first time.]

[Word count: 1.7K]

[PREVIOUS PART]

I ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛ

Twenty minutes.

It was only twenty minutes, and it left Damian broken. He felt like he couldn’t even breathe by the end, and all Natasha was doing was cutting into him and burning him, not even for a long time. She said it gets way worse in the actual sessions, but it was simply too hard for Damian to even imagine that. This was too much.

Way too much.

After dragging himself back to his room, he throws himself down on his bed, holding his arm that has been wrapped in bandages by the medical staff at the end of his training. He just can't get Natasha’s words out of his head, the way she was telling him how good he looked while he was in pain and how much the audience would love him. She said that he was a perfect candidate, and they haven’t had anyone like him in a long time. She even promised him that if he takes the torture well in his first few sessions, she will get him a raise, despite him being a newbie.

But Damian knew he wouldn’t be able to take it well. He knew it was gonna get worse, and he knew it would be too much to handle. As he was laying on his bed, he couldn’t get the memory of the cold blade cutting his skin open out of his head. He couldn’t think of anything else than the overbearing pain spreading through his body.

Just then, he heard a knock on his door, and he jolted as the sudden sound took him by surprise. He got up, wiped the tears from his face, and opened the door.

“Can I come in?” Natasha asks, and her voice sends a shiver down Damian’s spine, which the girl notices. “You know you don’t have to be afraid of me, right?”

“You’ve hurt me,” Damian says, holding onto the bandages on his arm. They still hurt, but not as much since the medical staff gave him some light painkillers after he was practically begging for it.

“I understand, but this is your job now. You signed the contract. But anyways… I came here to check on you. Seems like it was a lot worse than you thought it would be.”

“Y-yeah, it was. I… don’t think I’m ready,” when the man says this, Natasha puts her hand on his shoulder, and gently pushes him aside so she can enter the room.

“Yeah, no. I know you are not ready, but no one is. This is not something you can prepare for. So I suggest we start tomorrow. The club owner saw the footage of your training, and he was very impressed.”

“You said I wouldn’t start until next week,” Damian says quietly, trying not to let his voice quiver. “You said—”

“Well, don’t you want it to be over faster?” Natasha sits down on the bed and invites the man with her hand to do the same. “Come on, sit down. I have an offer for you.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, Damian joins her, avoiding eye contact at all costs. He is focusing on the floor under his feet, trying to get lost in the patterns on the artificial wood.

“We don’t usually do this, but you are extraordinary. I will be straight up with you right now, okay? I’ve been working at Whump-4-Less for more than five years now. I’ve tortured hundreds of people. And none of them… I repeat, none of them had what you have. Everything about you, from your facial expressions to your voice, is so… pure, so genuine. I honestly would be really sad if we couldn’t work together.”

She puts two of her fingers under Damian’s chin, making him look up at her. He doesn’t try to resist; the touch of the woman practically paralyzes him with fear. He is too afraid to move or say anything to her.

“I have an offer for you, Damian. I know it’s your first time, and it’s gonna be hard regardless, but we got our hands on memory blockers recently, and I would be willing to give you some for your first few sessions, until you get the hang of things.”

“Would I still feel it?” Damian swallows in nervousness.

“Of course you would. And it wouldn’t completely erase all your memories, either. It would help dealing with it, reducing nightmares and flashbacks that usually follow the sessions,” Natasha says in a soft, soothing voice while looking at the man’s face, trying to read what he is thinking.

“I… I need that.” His vision is starting to get blurred by tears as he can't stop himself from imagining how bad the pain will be. Just hearing how the sessions cause nightmares and flashbacks fills him with a newfound dread, and he can’t help but start trembling in his whole body.

“You will be fine. No one ever died from a little torture. Besides, I will always be here, if you need me,” she places a small card on the bed next to him, which includes her name and a scannable code, most likely containing all her contact information. “Your first session starts at 9PM tomorrow. Be backstage at around 8PM, at least. Until then, just try to rest.”

“W-wait!” Damien exclaims after the girl stands up from the bed, ready to leave the room. “Will you be the one… doing it?”

“Do you not want me to?” She asks without turning back.

“Just… can you please go easy on me…?” There is a slight quiver in his voice, no matter how much he is trying to hide it.

“Get some rest, Damian. You have a big day tomorrow.”

\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

The night went by without a minute of sleep. No matter how much he tried to, Damian couldn’t stop imagining the upcoming torture, his first session on stage where he would be brutalized for the sake of entertainment. It seemed unreal, but as time passed, it felt more and more inevitable. He knew that even with the memory blockers, he would still feel every detail of the pain inflicted on his body. He would feel every cut and every burn; he would feel his body getting destroyed with no way of stopping it.

Before he could realize, it was already 7PM on the next day. He forced himself to get out of the bed so he could eat something before his session, then changed into the hoodie he had been wearing the day before, which already had some dried blood on it. It was a light beige color, so the red stains were clearly visible on the sleeves, adding an artistic touch to the otherwise boring fabric.

He took one last look at himself in the mirror; there were dark circles under his eyes due to not being able to sleep, his light brown hair was messy, and he already looked like he had been through hell.

But it was just about to begin.

When it was time, he made his way down to the backstage, where the rumbles of minimal techno were already shaking the walls. Natasha, who had been sitting on a comfortable couch, stood up the moment he entered the room and welcomed him with a warm, genuine smile.

“It’s good to see you, Damian! Are you excited for your first show?” She wrapped her arm around him, as if they were good friends. “You look like you are about to pass out. Is everything okay?”

“I just didn’t have much sleep, that’ all,” Damian lies, visibly uncomfortable by the girl’s proximity. No matter what he thought of her as a person, he couldn’t deny his attraction to her physical features, and her pushing her body against his made him almost as nervous as the approaching show.

“Well, I prepared the memory blockers for you,” Natasha says, and she pulls out a syringe from one of the pockets on her white cargo pants. It’s filled with an opaque, cyan liquid, and the thought of it entering Damian’s body fills him with anxiety. He has no idea how he will react to the drug; he’s heard that some people have severe side effects from it, and it can even cause permanent memory loss or brain damage.

“Are you… are you sure this will help?” He asks, trembling in his whole body from the dread that slowly, but surely fills every part of his mind.

“It’s supposed to. It won’t help with the pain, but it will help you block out the flashbacks later, as it will be harder to remember the events that happen while you are under the effects of the drug,” she pulls away from the man, and flicks the syringe with her finger a few times. “Now give me your arm.”

Damian is frozen in place, shaking with fear, and the girl grabs his wrist, pulling up the sleeve of his hoodie to expose the veins on his arm.

“Please, Natasha… please, I don’t want this. I don’t want to do this. I’m so scared, I… I just don’t want it to hurt… please promise me that you will go easy on me,” he begs quietly, the bass of the music almost drowning out all his words.

“Relax, Damian. It will be okay. I promise this won’t hurt.” With that, she jabs the needle into the man’s arm, who lets out a small gasp of pain as the substance is slowly pushed into his system. It fills him with a cold, calming feeling, and for a moment, he believes he can do it.

For a moment, he believes it won’t be that bad at all.

But soon after that the door opens, and the stage manager enters the room, holding a tablet with the schedule on it.

“Ten minutes,” he says, and gestures towards Damian, who is now sitting on the couch in the corner of the room. “All good?”

“I just gave him the memory blockers. He will be alright,” Natasha replies, to which the man responds with a nod before closing the door behind himself. “You will be amazing, darling.”

[Tᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ…]

[NEXT PART]

If anyone wants to be added to the taglist, feel free to message/send an ask/comment!

[prettyboykatsuki]

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

tell me again | e. kirishima 

➳ tags ;; fem!reader, disgustingly tooth rotting fluff, super cliche confession scene, kinda fuckboy kiri

➳ wc ;; 1.4k

➳ a/n ;; sometimes you just gotta write some corny fucking romance tropes man. 

➳ plot ;; after kirishima ghosted you post your confession, you don’t really plan on seeing him again. naturally when he shows up to your dorm during finals week - you’re not exactly sure what to do. 

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { �� } — ««

A knock on the door of your shared dorm room startles you out of a late night study session. At this time of night and during finals week - you don’t find yourself to be all that excited for whoever's at the other side. Your R.A., Iida is known for being a stickler and whatever news he brings won’t be good. 

You look over your shoulder at Mina, who instead of studying, has been playing 2048 on her laptop for the last hour. She looks back at you with an exasperated sigh leaving her lips, promptly pushing her laptop to the side. 

“Why is it always me who answers the door?” she groans. 

“Because you chose to study business,” you reply without missing a beat. She flips her middle finger off at you without a second thought but your nose is too deeply buried into your materials for you to care. 

The knocking gets more frantic as the seconds pass. 

“Coming!” she shouts it, irritation already filling her at whoever would be on the otherside. She swings it open, irritated beyond belief. In the midst of her preparing to cuss out whoever was on the other side at this hour, only a quarter of her sentence makes it out of her mouth. 

“Who the hell is -,” she stumbles, pauses. The words don’t even halfway make it out of her mouth before she blinks twice before stumbling back “Kirishima?” 

At this, your head snaps up to look behind you. You know you’re not visible from the door way, your desk opposite of view but you look anyway. You can’t see him but you can hear his voice. 

“Mina, hey - uh, is Y/N here? It’s uhm.. shit, I need to,” 

Mina crosses her arms above her chest, blocking Kirishima when he tries to look over her shoulder. You’re frozen in place and you think anyone in your position would be. 

Your.. relationship with Kirishima is complicated at best. You’d know him since you were freshman and after this semester, you’d managed to work out the courage to confess your feelings to him. You were certain he felt them back for you, ignoring his somewhat notorious reputation in hopes he was being genuine. He seemed awfully genuine to you. 

As it would be, you were met with rejection. It hurt but you weren’t worried about it either way. What you wanted was to remain friends, because Kirishima is awfully important to you. A confession shouldn’tve had made so much of a difference. You wished that’d been the case, anyway. 

But he.. left you like that. Left your friendship at the weird wits end where even when you saw each other on campus or elsewhere - there was no greeting. No hello or how are you. Uncomfortably, you faded into being strangers and you haven’t spoken to him in months.

“She’s not here,” 

Kirishima’s face twists up at the words. He looks over, just peers and shakes his head. 

“I can see the little colored lights that she keeps on to focus are on. I know she’s here. Please just let me talk to her,”

Mina turns her head slightly to make eye-contact with you. You shake your head softly, uninterested in what he has to say. Your heart feels too heavy. You know it’s kind of stupid but the wound feels fresh. Never-ending in how it aches. 

Mina doesn’t budge. 

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. Fuck off back to your dorm and leave us alone,” 

Mina pushes in on the door but he sighs, sticking his hand in even when she pushes in on it. He curses under his breath at the weight of it on his hand. Mina’s eyes go wide. 

“What the fuck are you -” 

“I know you can hear so I’ll just say it, shit” ― he curses under his breath but you catch ― “Even if Mina crushes my hand, please don’t though. You both know I don’t have health insurance,” 

You crack a warbly smile at the comment and Mina lets up but doesn’t open the door up. She keeps her hand steady on his, letting him writhe in mild pain. 

“I love you,” 

You freeze and so does Mina. Kirishima rests his forehead on the door with a soft sigh. Your heart skips a beat or two. You can’t keep track. 

“I know I fucked this up like.. really bad. When you told me you had feelings for me, at first it was.. I don’t know. It was like I couldn’t believe you,” 

You bite back tears as you listen to him. He can hear people in the rest of the dorm start to peek out but he doesn’t seem to stop.

“Shit, it was you. Not be corny but fuck like.. how the hell could I ever believed you liked me? Of all people, you chose me with a shitty fuckboy reputation and stupid haircut,” he laughs a little at this and so do you. 

“Kirishima..”  Mina mumbles

“It was too much. Like you’re so.. so much. But not in a bad way. Like the idea of being with you was just so damn overwhelming. And Bakugou told me not to be an idiot and ghost you but I was just so.. so scared,” 

You can hear the way his voice shakes. 

“I’ve never been with anyone seriously before and I’m kind of an idiot and I didn’t wanna fuck it all up. Like what if you realize half-way that it’s not me you want? What if.. what if we started dating and you realized that it was some kind of mistake?” 

“Eijirou...”

He smiles a little. The sound of your voice is soft like he remembers. He thinks it might be worth Mina breaking his hand if he gets to see you. 

“It was easier to break it off before it got serious, that’s what I thought. But then we didn’t talk for a few months and I was goin fuckin’ crazy thinking about you,” ― he laughs at the memory, drunk and dizzy from it ― “You don’t think you can miss one person so much. That just one person could mean so much to you.. like you’re incomplete without them there,’ 

You sniffle, wiping tears you hadn’t realized had fallen from your cheeks. 

“I think I’m in too deep. It was already too serious. I already.. loved you. I thought it’d be better if I just fucking.. ran here and told you,”  ― Mina opens the door up and steps to one side as you stumble towards it, tear eyed and in loose pajamas. Not confession ready in the least  ― “I thought maybe I’d get lucky and I’d have a chance of you at least.. forgiving me. Maybe if I was really lucky, you’d still like me too,” 

He shoves his hands in his pockets and stares at you, mouth curved into a half smile. So sincere, like always. You wonder to yourself if there would ever be a way to love him less. 

“So uhm.. I’m sorry. And I love you.. and it’d be sick if you like.. loved me back but it’s not necessary. I’ll do whatever you want just.. I dunno. Be in my life again, maybe?”

You run into his arms but he catches you. You’re a half conscious mess, sniffling into him as you punch his shoulder. He chuckles but hugs you back, wincing as you hit him. 

“Of course I love you, you stupid asshole,”  ― you whine, hugging him even tighter  ― “Your timing is shit, y’know that? Stupid -” 

He pulls back and leans into you. Lets his mouth bump into yours clumsily until you melt into a placating kiss. It’s all too much Kirishima - a gentle swipe of tongue and sharp teeth. Sweet but not enough. When he pulls away, he kisses the corners of your mouth. He’s too good at that, you think. 

“I know, but.. that’s why you like me right?” 

You roll your eyes, opting to keep clinging to him instead of replying. From behind you, Mina sighs. 

“I’m glad you stopped being a jackass but how the hell did you make it up here without Iida noticing,” 

From outside, there’s two loud but distinct voices. It’s Kaminari, screaming and Iida screaming back. When Mina walks over to peer outside, she catches an eyeful of a very naked and very drunk blonde. She cackles. 

“Uh.. I’ll just say I owe Kami a ton of money right mow,” 

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

[purecantarella]

All For You

i wanted to write a lisa imagine in honor of her AMAZING solo. kept me pumped up over the weekend HAHAAH i initially wanted to write a smut for her, but i couldn't do it for some reason this time round so yall are getting a short but sweet HHAHA

i'll try to write some more smutty fics but for now, fluff and angst for all of you! enjoy!

disclaimer/s : this is just fluff so i think yall are safe

It wasn't often that you were in a bad mood. After all, you were your group's happy pill and your fandom's ray of sunshine. You had a reputation and you liked sticking to that. But after a week of taking blow after blow from your company, you didn't feel like being the usual ray of sunshine you always were.

It hit harder when your mom got sick and you weren't permitted to see her because of time constraints with your comeback schedule.

You sat quietly in the leather seat of the recording studio, waiting for your turn in the booth. Mindlessly, your fingers tore away at one of the label's of your water bottle. Your members eyed you subtly, a wave of sadness flushing in each of them as you were so deflated.

After a while, you felt their gaze on you. You looked up at them, offering them a soft smile, but they knew better. How you felt could be masked with your small, tired, and forced smile. They knew the one person who could cheer you up, in fact she was in the building, but they knew that you would be livid if any of them told Lisa, your close friend, what was going on.

If you asked anyone, they'd say that you and Lisa were one of the cutest pairing in YG's company but at the same time both of you took your careers above one another. Despite that, there was always that pull that kept you both on each other's toes. You knew that you could rely on her and she could with you, but as she was in the thick of her promotion for her own solo so you never wanted to distract her like that.

Make no mistake though, you would love to have her by your side right now but you couldn't stop the feeling of guilt that began to creep inside you when you thought of disrupting her for your own selfish needs. Your other member walked out of the recording booth when your managers called you for lunch.

You brushed them off and with a half-hearted smile, "I'll just chill out here. Maybe practice the song..." You explained as you threw your cell onto the leather seat. The group's leader eyed you suspiciously. "I don't think I've seen you eat the past few days, N/n..."

The smile on your face tightened uncomfortably. "Just heavy midnight snacks, unnie! No need to worry, but you should all get something for lunch. I'll be here." You said rushing them out of the room despite all their questions and concerns.

When they didn't push further, you sighed a breath of relief and slid towards the mic in the booth. Sadly poking the base of the mic. You did your best to sing the parts you knew they needed for backing vocals but your heart just wasn't in it and you found yourself repeating the same lines over and over again. Leaving a frustrated pit in your stomach.

"As much as I love your voice there could be some variety in words." You tore the headset from your ears, letting it fall onto your neck at the familiar, teasing voice. From the back of the producing board stood a smiling, banged Thai woman who made your heart flutter in your chest, almost masking the disappointment that reigned there.

You stared briefly into her bright brown eyes, a brow quirked up on your face your gaze shooting to the floor. "You aren't supposed to be here, Lisa." You said making your way back to the main room, eyes not meeting hers. The dancer leaned up against the edge of the table, the same charming smile over her plump, pink lips. "Never stopped me before, N/n."

Her smile grew as she pushed herself off the table and made her way over to you. Your skin jumped as you felt her hand on your arm, like she always did when she missed you. You avoided eye contact, a heavy blush taking over your cheeks made Lisa smile even wider. "Y-You could've at least called, Lisa."

"I was going to but when I saw your members all leaving together without you, I thought I'd shoot my shot." She paused, her eyes staring into yours. "And I missed you."

Though you could feel yourself melting at the thought, but again you simply turned around not wanting her to see how broken you were. Lisa was always the first to tell, even as friends. Without sparing her a second look you said, "Your comeback is dropping soon, you shouldn't be here."

Lisa tilted her head to the side curiously, "Is that why you haven't looked at me the entire time, Y/n?" With her words, you stoped fiddling with the items in your bag. You bit the inner layer of your cheek, feeling her draw closer. You felt her hand over yours, the warmth from hers lighting a flame in your skin.

"I can tell your hiding something, you can tell me..." You stood there silent, still not daring to look at her. Her shoulders fell as she saw your defenses beginning to break slowly, your lower lip quivering ever so slightly. Despite her better judgement, Lisa took you hand in hers. "I will always make time for you, solo, comeback, or promotion, I'm here, okay?"

Wordlessly, you finally turned to face her completely, your head falling onto her shoulder. For a moment, you both stand there, magnets just gravitated towards one another. "I don't want to be a burden to you or anyone..." You whispered, voice breaking under all the pressure. Lisa wrapped her arms around your shoulders, wanting protecting you from everything that came your way as a sob cracked from your lips.

You began ranting about everything that had been going downhill lately. Your mom, the company, everything, while Lisa stood there, listening to your stories carefully. Once everything came to a stop, Lisa pulled away. Enough that she could see your swollen eyes and red nose to say, "It's all going to work out, alright?" She began wiping away the tears that stained your face. "In the morning, we're going to YG himself to talk about a break for you to take care of your mom, get all your healths back in tip-top shape, and we're going to get through this."

"'We're'?" You asked, a tiny smile taking over your lips. The most genuine that she'd seen all afternoon. Lisa brushed her lips over your nose delicately before placing her forehead over yours. "Like I'd let you stand up to YG-nim on your own, N/n." You giggled softly, leaning into Lisa's touch, eyes going soft.

"Thank you, Lili." Lisa's grin grew tenfold before pulling away. "I'll pick you up after work? We can watch a movie and order take-out. The L family's really starting to miss you." She asked shyly, a rosy blush coating her cheeks. You leaned up and pecked her cheek gently.

"See you at 6, Lalisa." She rolled her eyes as you giggled softly, your smile slowly returning. Lisa opened the door but took one more look at you, warmth and love running rampant in her stomach and chest.

She'd do everything and anything for you. Whether either of you knew it, it was always all for you.

i did thoroughly enjoy writing that, i hope you all enjoyed reading it! i'm working hard to get back on a steady schedule but also my classes are going to start on October 18th so i'm going to have to do A LOT of adjusting

anyway, remember that requests are open and criticism and comments are completely welcomed 💓stay safe, see you all soon, and i love you all very much

stream lalisa yall❣️

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Give her the life I never had; Harry Potter x child reader

*Author’s note*

So this came from my Wattpad requests and this is my first Harry potter (character not fandom) fic that I have written so I hope I didn’t mess this up for any hardcore Potterheads out there.  So this takes place during the Battle at Hogwarts so expect some death and violence involved, other than that not really much anything really. I know it’s been awhile since my last update but I hope to pick up the pace and post up some more stuff and then HOPEFULLY open up requests here since I know you all have been waiting patiently for that.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@ixchel-9275​

@psychosupernatural​

@queen-paladin​

_____________________________________________________________

It was finally over. All of it.  Voldemort was now dead, the Death eaters defeated, and now the Elder wand was destroyed and lost to the sea.  I looked towards the ruins of Hogwarts knowing that the stone and walls can be rebuilt, some of our friends would be able to heal their physical wounds, however some mental wounds won’t.

The Weasleys they’ll always have to live with Fred’s death for the rest of their life and grieve over the fact he’ll never come back, especially George.  I had seen just how close their brotherly bond was, even when they had nothing they had each other, now George was gonna have to make do on his own, if he could.

And Hermione, while she doesn’t want us to know I had a feeling at what she had done to protect her muggle parents, thankfully with her and Ron seeming to repair their growing relationship, I know the Weasley’s will welcomingly be the family she needs now more than ever.

As I walked along the school grounds that’s when I came across (Y/n) getting looked over by one of the healers.  When she looked towards me, she gently smiled and I smiled softly back at her thinking back on how I found her in all this chaos.

The battle was pure hell.  Spells and curses being blasted, bodies dropping like flies, and rubble from the school walls crumbling down as repercussions from the spells firing out.

I had pushed back a Death Eater with an Stupefy spell which sent him flying all the way across the Great Hall.  Another death eater soon came right at me but I quickly disposed of his wand first before giving him the paralyzing spell.

That’s when I heard it.  The sound of a young girl crying.  I quickly ran around the corridor and saw just down the stairs where I once found the Mirror of Erised, a young girl around maybe her 1-2nd year hovering over an older girl who looked almost like her but had longer hair.  The young girl with shorter hair was weeping hysterically as she kept crying.

“Liz? Lizzie. Get up sis. Oh please get up.” From the pale skin and the soulless eyes that Lizzie had, I knew immediately she had been hit with the Killing curse. Cautiously I walked over to her and said.

“Are you alright?” the young girl looked up at me and she sniffled.

“Yes. But my sister she—she won’t wake up yet her eyes are open.” Knowing how I hadn’t learned of the 3 unforgiving curses until my 4th year at Hogwarts, she must’ve not known what exactly happened to her sister.

“What’s your name?”

“(Y/n). (Y/n) (l/n).”

“Well (Y/n), I…….I’m afraid to tell you this but……..your sister’s—she’s dead.”

“What? No but….if she were dead her eyes would be shut, the spell that hit her just made her collapse. Like the paralysis spell.”

“But it wasn’t a blue light that hit her, was it?” she looked back down at her sister and touched her cheek.  “I’m afraid it was the most dangerous of all unforgiving curses. The Killing Curse.” She sniffled and hugged her sister’s corpse and choked out.

“But—she was…..she’s all I have left!” I looked around and two more Death eaters spotted us.

“Get behind me.” I urged (Y/n).  Without question she got behind me and I held out my wand and as they charged toward us I called out, “Stupefy!” which sent one Death eater flying backwards but then I felt a shock to my hand which sent my wand flying towards the second Death eater’s hand.  She sneered at me but then a voice exclaimed.

“Petrificus Totalus!” the female Death eater soon went stiff and fell to the ground.  I turned and saw that it was (Y/n) who had casted the curse.  I ran over and took my wand back from the witch and told her.

“Come on. We can’t stay here.” She took one last look at her sister.  I knew she was hesitant to leave her but if she remained here, she’d be a sitting duck.  “Your sister would want you safe (Y/n).” she turned to me and nodded before taking my hand and we raced out of the hallway.

Together the two of us worked together to fend off the oncoming Death Eaters, but one Death eater used an Inferno spell which burnt (Y/n)’s arm pretty bad.  I shielded her from the next oncoming Inferno attack but the heat of the flames was almost too strong for me to hold back.  That’s when a wave of water came and extinguished the flames and the Death Eater was flown backwards till his back hit a column and he collapsed dead.

We turned and there stood Professor McGonagall.

“Professor.”

“Harry, Ms. (L/n) are you both alright?”

“I am, (Y/n) however got burnt on her arm.” She walked up to us and she examined (Y/n)’s arm. She let out a painful hiss and the Professor said.

“I’ll take care of her from here Potter.”

“Thank you Professor.” Just as I was about to leave, I felt a hand grab the sleeve of my shirt and I saw that it was (Y/n).

“Thank you, Harry Potter.” I smiled down at her and nodded to her.  She released my sleeve and I ran off to finally end this once and for all.

I walked over to her just as the healer cleared her off and moved onto the next student that needed medical treatment.  I sat down beside her and asked her.

“How are you doing (Y/n)?”

“Shaky but—alive.” She softly scoffed.  “But at what cost? My sister’s dead. She was the only family I had left. Now the ministry will probably put me in the Magic for Orphans facility, and with me almost being a teenager, no one will want me.”

I was probably the only one who knew what she must be going through.  Even though we were orphaned in different circumstances, we still lost our loved ones to Voldemort.  Now I must be crazy because I had no clear idea of what to do next but what I did know was that I couldn’t leave (Y/n) alone anymore.

“What if—” I started off by saying.  “What if you…had someone to look after you?”

“But, but Harry I—I have no other living relatives. It’s always just been me and my sister since our parents died three years ago at the Quidditch world cup.”

“I know, but what if there was someone who wanted to help you out. Give you a home so that you wouldn’t have to suffer any potential abuse or neglect.”

“And just who would that person be?” I sighed softly before telling her.

“You’re looking at him.” Her eyes softly widened before she let out a soft gasp.

“But-but why? I mean no offense Harry but…..why would you want to help me out?”

“Let’s just say, from one orphan to another I know how lonely it can be. I had no clue about the magic world till I was just your age, and though I may not know how the Ministry of Magic deals with orphaned wizards, I do know a thing or two about living in terrible conditions. I lived practically my whole childhood in a tiny hall closet in my aunt and uncle’s place. And I wouldn’t want you to potentially go through that type of abuse in a stranger’s home.”

(Y/n) was silent for a moment, taking in what I just said.  Weighing out her options before thinking about what answer she would give me.

“If not I’ll understand, I’ll check in whenever I can. But just know you won’t go through the rest of your life alone.” She looked up at me.  Her eyes that were once filled with tears, but now filled with courage and strength as she said.

“If it won’t be too much trouble with you, I’ll go with you.” I softly smiled at her and told her taking notice of her robes.

“Spoken like a true Gryffindor.”

After that, the Weasley family, Hermione, myself and (Y/n) returned to the Weasley’s old home the Burrow and decided to rebuild it, a symbol as a fresh start to all our lives after this whole war.

We also had a memorial service for both Fred and (Y/n)’s older sister, each of us speaking for both Fred and (Y/n)’s sister before finally burying them and summoning a beautiful garden around them of their favorite flowers and plants.

As the sun was starting to set I saw (Y/n) still standing over her sister’s grave.  I walked out to her and said.

“Mrs. Weasley’s prepared supper for all of us. She says you best come in before it’s all gone.” (Y/n) remained silent.  I softly sighed and without another word I just stood there beside her.  She may not want to talk, but she should at least know that someone was there when she was ready.

“I—never thought I’d have to face this world without her. Even through our fights, especially after mom and dad died, she was always there for me. She especially liked to tease me about my crush on Joey Matarazzo, saying we’d get married one day and have kids of our own. Now she won’t ever see me grow up, or achieve any dreams I’ll have for the future.”

“Let me tell you something my Godfather once told me. He told me that the ones that love us never really leave us. And we can always find them, in here.” I pointed to her heart.

She looked up at me and finally for the first time I saw a true, genuine smile.  She came closer to me and wrapped an arm around my waist and rested her head against my ribs.  I wrapped an arm around her and we stood there for a few more minutes before walking back inside the Burrow to join the Weasley’s for dinner.

*FF 19 years later.*

It was like any other year, but this time it was my second son’s first time doing this.  I could already see from the look on his face that he looked anxious about his first year going as we came up to platform 9¾.

“Together.” I assured him as we took hold of his cart and we both ran straight through the brick wall and found ourselves right by the Hogwarts Express.  As we walked closer to the train, we soon found Ron and Hermione with their kids, I spotted Draco and his wife and son bidding their goodbyes.  He and I looked at each other, neither of us speaking a word but he gave me a point nod, and I nodded back to him.

“I was beginning to think I’d have to write my own brothers up for detention already.” A female voice soon spoke up and coming right towards us was (Y/n), all grown up and in her Professor robes.

Since the battle she continued on her Hogwarts education and excelled in both Magical creature knowledge and potions making.  By the time she was in her 4th year at Hogwarts, Ginny and I had agreed to legally adopt her as our own child and she was beyond thrilled at the news.  After graduating, she worked with me at the Ministry of Magic to focus on potion brewery before enrolling to be the next Potions Professor and this would be her second year teaching that class.

I’m told she’s kind but firm when it comes to students goofing off in that class, but she is always there to make sure no student messes up a potion and causes injuries either to themselves or others.

“Not in the slight.” I assured her.

“Good. I would hate to have to write them up to Headmaster McGonagall.” She told me.  She looked down at her brothers and asked them, “So boys, you ready?”

“Oh yeah!” exclaimed James while Albus was more reserved and didn’t really say anything. Instead he walked away and sat down with his arms hugging his legs close to him.  (Y/n) and I looked at each other and I told her to get James onto the train as well as herself while I talked to James.  She nodded and guided James as well as his things over to the train while I walked over to Albus and knelt down beside him.

“Dad,” he spoke. “What if I am put in Slytherin?”

“Albus Severus Potter. You were named after two Headmasters of Hogwarts. And one of them was a Slytherin. And he was the bravest man I had ever known. But if it means to you, you can choose Gryffindor. The sorting hat does take that into consideration.”

“Really?” I nodded. “But how would you feel? If I was sorted into Slytherin?”

“Then Slytherin will have gained the best wizard they could ask for.” He smiled and embraced me and I hugged him back.  “Now come on, off you go.” We then walked towards the train and Albus got himself situated inside with his brother and Ron and Hermione’s kids, and riding alongside them to keep an eye on them to Hogwarts was (Y/n).

As I stood by my friends and we watched the train leave the station, waving goodbye to our kids I couldn’t help but feel like we had done it.  The war ended almost 2 decades ago and now our children can learn magic in a better world, a world without Death Eaters, a world without darkness and death, a world without a Dark Lord.

A peaceful time in our world.