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lynbels · 2 months ago

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ONLY WHEN HE WANTS ME ୨ৎ 이희승

pairing 이희승 x reader

୨ৎ synopsis: you navigate the emotional wreckage of a toxic relationship, where fleeting tenderness masks control, and survival means staying quiet. ✉️ 7265 - tw. manipulate, toxic, abusive relationship, reader is stubborn, unprotected sex, hair pulling, praising, dirty talk, kissing, skin-ship, abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, violence, body image / weight related comments, self-worth issues, physical intimidation, implied sexual coercion, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional abuse, burnout/emotional exhaust, verbal abuse

📝 is this supposed to be a Drabble account? Yes. Did I just write a whole ass story? Yes. ‼️ i do NOT think of heeseung like this at all. I’m just really angry today and wrote this.

Dont like it? Dont read it. mdni

The apartment was supposed to be a fresh start.

You’d been together for a year — long enough to know his rhythms, to crave his presence, to think moving in was the natural next step. When Heeseung had smiled at you over takeout containers and said, “Let’s get a place together,” it felt like everything you’d wanted was finally aligning.

You didn’t expect it to fall apart so fast.

It started with the little things. The way he’d stop answering your texts when he was out. The way his tone would shift when you asked simple questions, like you were interrogating him. He used to call you babe every time he walked through the door — now you’d be lucky if he looked up from his phone.

The boxes were barely unpacked before the silences started stretching longer. His moods changed like weather — some mornings, he’d kiss your shoulder and whisper how lucky he was; other nights, he’d barely speak to you at all. But when he touched you, it was like he flipped a switch. He knew exactly how to make your body react — and maybe that’s why you let him.

Because when you questioned him — even gently — it never went well.

“You’re overthinking,” he said once, brushing you off with a hand on your thigh and a smirk that made your chest tighten instead of flutter. “You know I’m busy. Don’t be clingy.”

You hated that word. Clingy.

But you started believing it. Heeseung had a way of making everything feel like your fault. If he was distant, it was because you were too much. If he pulled away, it was because you were “suffocating him.” And when you tried to talk about how you felt, he’d laugh and say, “Don’t ruin what we have with your insecurities.”

Some nights, he didn’t come home. Said he fell asleep at a friend’s, or stayed late at the studio — even though there were no messages, no missed calls, no proof. And when you asked why he didn’t tell you, he shrugged like it didn’t matter.

“Why are you so obsessed with keeping tabs on me?”

“I live here too, you know. This isn’t your place to control.”

“Are you seriously crying right now?”

You started sleeping on the far edge of the bed.

You stopped bringing up how cold he’d gotten, how he only seemed to show affection when he wanted something — when he wanted you. You didn’t know how to explain the feeling in your gut, the sick twist that came every time he touched you with lips that felt too familiar, too practiced.

Because the truth was sinking in slowly, like water through cracks in the floor.

You were in love with someone who only loved you when it was convenient.

Heeseung never touched you the way he used to—not in the soft, reverent way that made you feel adored. Not anymore.

Now, it was late at night when he suddenly needed you. When he’d come home hours after midnight, smelling faintly of liquor and something else you didn’t want to name, and find you lying in bed, half-asleep, still waiting. Always waiting.

His voice would be low, rough. “Take this off,” he’d mutter, tugging at your shirt like it offended him just by existing.

And you’d let him.

Because it was the only time he really looked at you. The only time he saw you—eyes heavy, hands urgent, whispering things against your skin that made you feel wanted, even if just for a moment. Even if it wasn’t real.

When he was inside you, his hands gripping your waist like you were something he owned, it was the closest thing to love he ever gave you anymore.

He’d say your name like a curse, like a prayer, like he needed you to breathe.

And you’d believe him, just for a second.

Because in that moment—underneath him, beneath the weight of his body and his lies—you could almost pretend you meant something to him.

His hands are on you before you can speak, tugging your shorts down roughly, not caring where they land. He kisses you like he’s punishing you for something, all teeth and desperation, his fingers digging into your skin as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

You arch into him automatically, your body trained to respond to his touch no matter how hollow it feels now. His palm slides between your legs, and you’re already wet—because this is the only version of him that feels like he wants you. The only time he pulls you close instead of pushing you away.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your neck, his voice low and wrecked. “Always so ready for me.”

You don’t answer. You just spread your legs wider when he pushes two fingers inside you, curling them in that way he knows drives you insane. Your hips move without thinking, chasing friction, chasing anything.

He watches you with a smug glint in his eyes, but there’s hunger underneath it—something darker, something hollow.

“Is this what you want?” he breathes, pulling his fingers out and replacing them with the thick press of his cock. “This is all you ever want from me, right?”

You bite your lip as he thrusts into you in one hard stroke, making the mattress creak beneath you. You want to tell him no, that it’s not all you want. But your body betrays you, moaning before your mouth can form words.

He fucks you hard, fast, like he’s trying to erase every fight, every silence, every cold shoulder. His grip bruises, his pace relentless, and when you come around him, shaking and breathless, he groans like you’re his salvation.

But when it’s over, he rolls off without a word.

And just like that—you’re back to feeling like nothing.

The next morning, it was like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t let him use your body as a way to feel needed. Like you hadn’t clung to his touch just to feel something real for once.

He didn’t kiss you. Didn’t say good morning. He just rolled out of bed, scratching the back of his neck, yawning as if your body wasn’t still sore from the night before. He didn’t even glance at you as he pulled a hoodie over his head.

“You gonna make coffee or what?” he mumbled, already halfway out the room.

You pushed yourself up slowly, skin still warm from where he’d held you, still aching in the places he’d gripped too tight. You didn’t say anything. You never really did. Just pulled on a shirt and padded into the kitchen, filling the kettle, grinding the beans. Hoping that maybe, maybe, today would be different.

But when you handed him his mug, he barely looked at you before taking a sip and grimacing.

“Did you forget how to make coffee?” he scoffed, setting it down hard on the table. “Tastes like shit.”

You swallowed hard, staring at the steam curling off the surface. “Sorry. I’ll make another—”

“Forget it,” he cut in, already unlocking his phone, thumbs scrolling. “You’re not even good at simple shit.”

It was always like that. A good night followed by a cruel morning.

He’d leave his laundry in a pile by the door and when you didn’t wash it fast enough, he’d say, “What do you even do all day?”

He’d ask you to grab his charger, his keys, his jacket, and then scoff if you didn’t move fast enough—“Useless,” under his breath like it was your name.

He’d call you clingy when you asked for his attention and cold when you didn’t. No answer was ever right. No version of you ever enough.

Some days, he’d come home and act like nothing was wrong, ruffle your hair, tell you to sit on his lap like things were normal. He’d bury his face in your neck, call you his girl, tell you he missed you. You’d want so badly to believe it—but the next day, you’d be back to chasing after his warmth like it was something you had to earn.

Like the love he gave you came with terms and conditions.

“Hey, clean up your mess before you leave,” he’d call when you were already late, pointing at the dishes he left on the table. “And don’t forget to call my dry cleaner. You said you’d do that yesterday, but like always…”

He didn’t even finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

Because by now, the silence said everything.

Because by now, you already believed it.

It started small.

A shove when you stood in front of the door during an argument. Not hard—just enough to move you, to make you stumble back a little. He didn’t apologize. Just glared at you like you had pushed him, like your presence alone was an offense.

You told yourself it was the heat of the moment. That he didn’t mean it. That it wasn’t that bad.

But it didn’t stop there.

The second time, it was your wrist. You’d touched his arm when he tried to walk away mid-fight, desperate to make him stay, to make him hear you. He turned so fast you barely saw it coming—his fingers wrapped tight around your wrist, squeezing hard enough to make you cry out.

“Don’t touch me when I’m fucking pissed,” he spat, shoving your arm away like it disgusted him.

You cradled your wrist for hours afterward, hiding the red marks from yourself. From him. From the mirror.

And the next morning, he acted like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t left bruises on your skin. Like your silence wasn’t screaming.

Eventually, it became routine.

A slap to your thigh when you said something he didn’t like. A harsh grip on your chin when you looked away during another lecture about how “you don’t listen.” Sometimes he’d grab your arms too tightly, slam a door too close to your face, throw your phone across the room so hard it cracked the screen. You flinched so often it became muscle memory.

But he never hit you in the face.

He knew better.

After every time, he’d either pretend it hadn’t happened, or twist it in his favor.

“You made me do that.”

“Why do you push me like this?”

“You know how I get when you don’t shut up.”

And sometimes—sometimes—he’d hold you after, breathing hard like he was the one who had been hurt. Like you had made him fall apart.

“I don’t wanna be like this,” he’d whisper into your hair. “But you make me crazy, baby. You make it so fucking hard to be good.”

And you’d cry quietly in his arms, because for a moment, it felt like he cared.

Even if he only held you after he broke you.

Sometimes, when you were standing at the stove—barefoot, hair tied up, mind somewhere between recipes and the silence he left in his wake—he’d come up behind you without a sound.

His hands would slide around your waist, chest pressed to your back like he belonged there, like he hadn’t just ignored you all morning.

You’d barely have time to react before one of his hands slipped under your shirt, fingers cold and greedy as they cupped your breast.

“Missed these,” he’d murmur against your neck, voice low and lazy, like he was complimenting something he owned.

You’d stiffen for a second, spatula still in your hand, heat rising from the pan in front of you—but then his thumb would brush over your nipple, slow and deliberate, and your body would betray you all over again.

He’d groan when you arched into him, one hand squeezing possessively as his other dragged your shirt up just enough to expose your skin.

“You’re always so warm,” he’d whisper, mouth trailing over your shoulder, voice coated in that honeyed filth that made your knees weak. “Can’t even let you cook in peace, huh?”

You never said anything. You didn’t trust your voice. Not when part of you ached for it—ached to be touched, to be wanted, even if only for a few seconds.

Even if he’d walk away a minute later, without tasting a bite of what you’d made. Even if he’d leave you flustered and alone in the kitchen again—like he only ever came close to remind you he could.

You barely had time to flip the stove off before he turned you around, lips crashing onto yours with a hunger that felt more like control than affection. He kissed you like he was starving, like claiming your mouth would make up for all the ways he ignored you, belittled you, pushed you away.

Then he spun you again, pressing you forward until your hips met the cool edge of the kitchen counter. His hands were already tugging your shorts down, rough and impatient, knuckles brushing against your thighs as he exposed you piece by piece.

“You knew what you were doing,” he muttered, yanking your shirt up and bunching it at your waist. “Walking around like this, teasing me.”

You opened your mouth to protest—to remind him that you hadn’t done anything—but then he was pressing against you, hard and ready, lining himself up behind you with a low groan.

His hand slid around to your chest again, squeezing your breast harshly, fingers pinching your nipple as he thrust into you in one deep, brutal stroke.

The counter dug into your stomach, but you barely felt it over the stretch of him inside you, the obscene sound of skin on skin echoing in the quiet kitchen.

“This is what you’re good for,” he grunted, thrusts sharp and punishing. “Bending over like this—letting me take you however I want.”

You whimpered, fists clenched on the cold counter as he fucked you harder, faster, one hand gripping your waist while the other stayed under your shirt, still groping your chest like he owned every inch of you.

And maybe he did.

Because no matter how cold he was, how cruel his words felt—your body still responded. Still melted under his touch. Still craved this. Craved him.

Even when you hated yourself for it.

Even when the only time he held you like you mattered… was when he was breaking you in half.

You flinched when he reached for the remote. When he stood up too fast from the couch. When he walked into the room and his footsteps were just a little too heavy.

It wasn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it was barely noticeable—a twitch of your shoulders, a quick breath caught in your throat, a subtle step back like you needed space even when he wasn’t touching you. But your body reacted before your mind could reason with it. Like it was protecting you before you had the chance to lie to yourself again.

He noticed.

“You always act like I’m gonna hit you,” he said one night, annoyed, tossing his phone on the bed like you were the one ruining the mood. “You’re so fucking dramatic.”

But he didn’t say it like he cared. He said it like it was inconvenient for him. Like your fear was an insult.

And maybe it was—to the version of himself he pretended to be. The sweet-talking boyfriend who made people laugh in public. The one who said “I love you” with the same mouth that spit venom in private. The one who told you to stop crying because it made him feel guilty—not because it hurt him to see you in pain, but because he didn’t want to feel like the bad guy.

You started moving differently around him. Quieter. Smaller. You’d stay in the kitchen a little longer so you wouldn’t have to pass by him in the hallway. You folded laundry in the bathroom with the door locked, even when he wasn’t home.

Sometimes, when he walked behind you, your body would tense without you meaning to. And when his hand brushed your arm or your lower back, you’d suck in a breath before you could stop it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he’d snap. “You’re acting like I’m a monster.”

But the worst part wasn’t what he said.

The worst part was that you started to believe maybe it really was you. Maybe you were overreacting. Too sensitive. Too much. Maybe you were the problem after all.

So you said nothing.

And your silence became just another thing he used against you.

When he wanted something, he’d change—like flipping a switch.

His voice would soften, just a little. He’d smile at you like he used to, the curve of his lips so familiar it made your chest ache. He’d touch you gently, like he hadn’t been cold for days, like he hadn’t made you flinch just yesterday.

“Babe,” he’d say, dragging out the word like a melody, like it still meant something. “You’re so good to me, you know that?”

Sometimes he’d kiss your cheek, fingers brushing your waist as he leaned in. Ask you to cook something he liked. Grab him something from the store. Pick up his clothes. Cover for him when someone called. Always followed by a “thank you, baby” that sounded sweet enough to make you forget.

And for a moment, you’d feel warm. Needed. Like maybe things were getting better. Like maybe he was trying.

So you’d do what he asked. Even if it hurt. Even if you knew better.

But as soon as it was done—food on the table, his plans covered, favor finished—he’d pull away again. No more soft voice. No more hands on your waist. No more babe.

Just silence. Or worse, indifference.

He’d barely look up from his phone when you spoke. Would answer you in clipped, flat words. You could ask him something and wait two minutes for a response, only for him to say, “What? I wasn’t listening.”

And it would hit you again—hard, cold, cruel.

The warmth had only been a tactic. A tool. A way to get what he wanted.

Because Heeseung only ever touched you, smiled at you, softened for you… when he needed something. And the rest of the time, you were just there. Convenient. Quiet. Useful.

Until you weren’t.

You were exhausted—mentally, emotionally, physically. The kind of tired that clung to your bones and made your limbs feel too heavy to move. You hadn’t slept properly in days, hadn’t had a full meal that wasn’t made for someone else, hadn’t taken a breath that didn’t feel like it belonged to him.

The apartment was quiet. Heavy. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing, mind blank, heart numb. You didn’t even hear him come in until the mattress dipped beside you.

His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you toward him, and you froze.

“Don’t,” you said quietly, voice thin and cracked. “Not right now.”

But he didn’t let go.

He leaned in, lips brushing your shoulder, your neck, your jaw. “You’re always tired lately,” he murmured, like it was a joke. Like he hadn’t made you this way.

“I said stop,” you whispered, a little firmer this time, your hand coming up to push at his chest—but his mouth was already on yours, kissing you like he needed something, like he was desperate to feel in control again.

You pulled away, shaking your head. “Heeseung, I’m serious. I can’t. I’m tired.”

But he kissed you again.

And again.

Soft at first. Then deeper. More insistent. Like if he kissed you hard enough, you’d forget how empty you felt. How hollowed out you were. How much you wanted to scream.

You kept saying no, kept pushing at his chest, but his hands were on your thighs now, slipping beneath your clothes like your exhaustion didn’t matter. Like your boundaries were just noise.

“Baby,” he breathed against your skin. “I need you. Just let me, okay? Just… let me feel you.”

And you hated it—hated how your body still reacted, how your breath still hitched, how even now, a part of you wanted to be wanted. Even like this. Even when it hurt.

But you were tired. So, so tired.

And when his mouth trailed lower and his hands gripped tighter, all you could do was close your eyes and disappear.

It was supposed to be a calm afternoon. You had cleaned the apartment twice over, made tea, even laid out the snacks Heeseung liked—trying, always trying, to make everything perfect when his parents came by.

His mom was sweet, warm, always polite. His dad quieter, reserved but kind enough. They sat on the couch, talking casually about nothing, the kind of conversation you didn’t need to force. And for a moment, things felt almost normal.

Until Heeseung couldn’t find his watch.

He walked into the living room, jaw already clenched, tone sharp like glass. “Where the fuck did you put it?”

You blinked, confused. “I—I didn’t touch it. I think you left it in the bathroom last night.”

“No,” he snapped, cutting you off before you could finish. “You always move my shit and never put it back. Is it that hard to just leave things alone?”

Your heart dropped. Heat rushed to your face—his parents were right there. Watching. His mom’s smile faltered instantly, her brow furrowing, her eyes darting between the two of you.

“Heeseung,” she said quietly, firmly, “don’t talk to her like that.”

He paused, lips parted, clearly not expecting to be corrected—especially not by his mother.

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” she continued, voice gentle but edged with something protective. “I’m sure the watch will turn up. But don’t raise your voice like that, not in front of us—and not to her.”

Heeseung didn’t say anything for a moment. Just looked away, jaw flexing like he wanted to argue but knew better. He muttered something under his breath and walked off, footsteps heavy down the hall.

You stood there, frozen. Embarrassed. Small.

His mom turned to you, her expression softening as she reached for your hand.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” she said quietly, “but you don’t deserve that, sweetheart. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you do.”

And you smiled back, weakly.

Because what were you supposed to say?

She didn’t know this was just a glimpse. That what she saw today was nothing compared to what happened when no one else was watching.

You were in the kitchen, hands submerged in warm, soapy water, rinsing off plates from the visit—silent, focused, trying to steady your breathing. The sound of the faucet running helped drown out the quiet tension still hanging in the air from earlier. You scrubbed a plate harder than necessary, the ceramic squeaking under your grip.

Behind you, out in the hallway, you heard footsteps. Soft. Measured.

It was Heeseung’s dad.

He approached his son cautiously, hands in his pockets, glancing over his shoulder toward you, his voice low so you wouldn’t hear. But the apartment was small. And everything felt loud when the rest of your world was quiet.

“Is she okay?” he asked gently.

Heeseung didn’t answer right away.

“I mean it, son. She looks… thin. Too thin. She’s lost weight, hasn’t she?”

You froze for just a second, the dish slipping slightly in your grip. But you kept your eyes down, kept scrubbing. You didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to feel it. Not when your ribs had started to show in the mirror. Not when your favorite jeans hung off your hips now. Not when you only ate when you remembered, which wasn’t often.

Heeseung just sighed. “She’s fine. She’s just been tired. Busy or whatever.”

“Busy with what?” his dad asked, voice more serious now. “She barely talks. She doesn’t look like she’s sleeping. You snap at her like she’s not even—”

“She’s sensitive,” Heeseung cut in, brushing it off. “She takes everything personally. I can’t say anything without her acting like I hate her.”

Your chest tightened. You blinked back the sting in your eyes and scrubbed harder.

Because it was easier to blame yourself than to admit the truth. That maybe you were too sensitive. That maybe if you just smiled more, talked less, didn’t overthink things, he wouldn’t get so angry. Wouldn’t lose his patience. Wouldn’t look at you like you were a burden instead of a person.

You rinsed the plate off, stacked it carefully with the others, and started on the next.

You told yourself it was your fault.

Because if it wasn’t, then what was left?

Just the ugly truth you weren’t ready to face.

As soon as the door closed behind his parents, the apartment fell into silence again. That heavy, thick kind that made it hard to breathe. You were still in the kitchen, wiping down the counter for the third time, just to have something to do with your hands. Something to make you feel useful.

Heeseung walked in slowly, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes dragging over you in that way that always made your stomach turn.

“You made it weird,” he said flatly. “You couldn’t just act normal for a few hours?”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t do anything…”

He scoffed. “Yeah? Then why did my dad pull me aside asking if you were okay? Saying you looked sick? That you’ve lost too much weight?”

You didn’t answer.

He stepped closer. “Are you trying to make me look bad? Is that it?”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“Look at you,” he sneered, eyes scanning you like you were something broken. “You’re barely eating anymore. Your face is sunken in. You think that’s attractive? You think people don’t notice?”

You shrank back instinctively, pressing your back to the counter, but he was already moving toward the fridge.

“Sit,” he ordered, yanking it open and grabbing whatever he could reach—leftovers, a carton of juice, snacks you’d forgotten were even in there. “Sit down and eat something. Right now.”

You hesitated.

He dropped the food on the table with a loud clatter. “I said sit.”

So you did.

And he sat across from you, arms folded, eyes locked on your every move like you were some kind of test he was determined to pass. Or punish.

You took a bite. Then another. Chewed slowly. Swallowed. You weren’t even hungry—but he didn’t care. He just kept watching, tapping his fingers against the table, jaw clenched.

“Keep going,” he said coldly. “All of it.”

By the time you were done, your stomach was cramping. You felt sick, too full, like your body was rejecting every bite. But you didn’t complain. You couldn’t.

Because deep down, you knew it wasn’t about food. It was never about food.

It was about control. About proving that he still had it. That you were still his to shape, to break, to rebuild however he pleased.

It was almost midnight when you heard the front door slam.

You froze on the couch, phone still in your hand, heart already picking up speed. You knew that sound—the stagger in his steps, the keys dropping to the floor, the heavy exhale as he stumbled into the apartment reeking of alcohol and bad decisions.

Heeseung was drunk. Again.

You stood up slowly, cautiously, peeking down the hallway just as he turned the corner, bottle still in his hand, eyes hazy but sharp. Mean.

“There you are,” he slurred, a twisted smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Sitting around like some bored little housewife. You waiting up for me or just keeping the couch warm?”

“I was just watching something,” you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. “You’re late.”

He scoffed. “Oh, so now you care where I go?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you meant it,” he snapped, taking a few stumbling steps forward. “You always mean something with your quiet little attitude. Always so fucking passive. So fake.”

Your mouth opened to defend yourself, but he didn’t give you the chance.

In one sudden motion, he hurled the half-empty bottle across the room.

It hit the wall two inches beside your head—shattering, spraying glass and cheap liquor across the floor. You jumped back with a scream, hands flying up to cover your face, body instinctively curling in on itself.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Heeseung just stood there, breathing hard, staring at the wall like it was your fault it didn’t hit you.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

Your hands were shaking, your chest tight with fear that you were trying so hard to hide. You looked at the broken glass, then at him.

He didn’t apologize.

Didn’t move toward you.

Didn’t even look sorry.

He just wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, muttered something you couldn’t catch, and walked past you like nothing had happened.

Like nearly hurting you was a passing inconvenience.

Like you were a ghost in your own home.

You stood frozen for a moment, the sound of the bottle shattering still ringing in your ears. It wasn’t until you shifted your weight—just slightly—that you felt it. A sharp sting, sudden and deep, biting into your calf like fire.

You gasped, instinctively lifting your leg, only to see a thin sliver of red trailing down your skin, glinting glass buried in the cut. Tiny shards were scattered across the floor, catching the light in jagged reflections. One of them had found its way to you.

You reached down with trembling hands, trying to brush the smaller pieces away, but the pain pulsed harder with every touch. Blood smeared under your fingers as you hissed through your teeth, blinking fast to keep from crying.

Heeseung didn’t turn around.

Didn’t look back.

You could hear him in the bathroom, the sink running, cabinet doors slamming. Like it hadn’t happened. Like he didn’t care. Like the sight of you bleeding was beneath his attention.

You limped toward the hallway, teeth clenched, heart hammering. The cut wasn’t deep, but it hurt. And worse—it reminded you of how close it had been. Of how easily it could’ve hit your face, your head. Of how this wasn’t the first time something had been thrown at you… just the first time it actually landed.

And still, you said nothing.

Because somehow, it always turned into your fault. Somehow, you always ended up cleaning the mess—both the blood on your skin and the damage he left behind.

Alone.

The next morning, sunlight crept through the thin curtains, soft and quiet—too gentle for a space that had been filled with so much violence just hours before.

You were still curled on the edge of the bed, facing the wall, your leg wrapped in gauze from the sparse first-aid kit in the bathroom. Sleep had come in waves—light, broken, haunted by the sound of glass shattering and the sharp pain that came with it.

Heeseung stirred beside you.

You felt it before you heard anything—his weight shifting on the mattress, the faint rustle of sheets. Then a long exhale. Then stillness.

A moment passed before his hand reached for your shoulder.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice hoarse from the night before. “…You awake?”

You didn’t answer.

He moved closer, his arm brushing yours, his touch hesitant—careful, like he knew he’d gone too far.

“About last night,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was drunk. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You stared at the wall.

“I—I didn’t know the bottle was gonna…” He trailed off, jaw tight. “I didn’t mean to throw it at you.”

You finally turned your head, slowly, meeting his eyes for the first time since it happened.

“There’s glass in my leg,” you said flatly.

His face crumpled, like guilt only just started to reach him. “Fuck,” he breathed, reaching for your hand, but you pulled away.

“I cleaned it myself,” you added.

“I know,” he whispered. “I saw. I was—I was going to help, I just—” He cut himself off again, frustration flashing briefly in his eyes before guilt took its place.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, softer now. “I was drunk, but that’s not an excuse. I know that.”

You didn’t respond. Because you’d heard this version of him before—the remorseful morning-after version. The soft voice, the reaching hands, the guilt that never lasted longer than it took for you to forgive him.

He leaned in closer. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll take care of you today, yeah? You don’t have to do anything. Just rest.”

You turned back toward the wall, slowly.

And said nothing.

He stayed quiet for a while after that, like he was waiting—for you to nod, to speak, to accept the apology and let him slip back into the rhythm he always did. Sweet words, gentle hands, just enough softness to make you question everything that had happened before.

But you didn’t give him that this time.

You lay there, unmoving, eyes fixed on a crack in the wall you hadn’t noticed until now. Small. Thin. But deep.

Eventually, he got up, shuffling out of the room. You heard the sound of cabinets opening in the kitchen. The soft clink of a glass, the fridge door. The hum of the kettle heating up water.

He was trying.

Or pretending.

You finally pulled yourself out of bed an hour later, body stiff and sore. The gauze on your leg was already stained a dull pink. You winced as you moved, but you didn’t say a word when you found him in the kitchen, setting out a mug of tea and a plate of toast like he could erase what happened with breakfast.

He glanced up at you, eyes searching your face. “I made your favorite.”

You nodded once, mechanically. “Thanks.”

You sat. Ate a bite out of obligation, not hunger.

Heeseung watched you the whole time, barely touching his own food.

“I’m gonna fix this,” he said suddenly, like he meant it. “I don’t want to be that guy. I just—things get too much sometimes, and I don’t know how to deal with it. But I’m gonna change. I swear.”

You nodded again. Just a little.

Because you wanted to believe him.

But deep down, something in you had already gone quiet. Detached.

Like that crack in the wall.

Small, at first.

But deep That night, the apartment was dim and still

That night, he left the bedroom door open.

That alone felt like something. After a week of making you sleep on the couch—no matter how cold it got, no matter how much your leg ached, no matter how small your voice had gotten when you asked if you could come back in—he finally said, “You can sleep here tonight.”

Not I want you to.

Not I miss you.

Just you can.

You stood at the edge of the bed for a moment, unsure. You could still hear the echo of his voice from nights before—Go. Sleep on the couch. I don’t wanna see your face. The way he’d slammed the door in your face, the way he didn’t even flinch when he heard you crying through the walls.

But your body was tired. And your leg still throbbed.

So you climbed in slowly, careful not to take up too much space, careful not to brush against him. You lay on your side, back to him, the sheets feeling unfamiliar even though this had once been your place, too.

After a few minutes, the bed shifted. You felt his arm slide across your waist, tentative, like he was checking how far you’d let him go.

“You’re warm,” he mumbled against your neck. Like it was a compliment. Like it meant something.

You didn’t answer. Just closed your eyes and tried not to tense up under his touch.

He pulled you closer.

And for a second, it felt like you were his again.

But not because he loved you.

Because he let you.

You woke up before him.

The room was dim, soft grey light filtering through the curtains. His arm was still draped over your waist, heavy, like a reminder. Your body ached—not just from the weight of him beside you, but from everything you’d been carrying alone.

You lay still, afraid to move. Not because he was asleep, but because you didn’t know which version of him you’d wake.

The one who whispered apologies and kissed your shoulder like he couldn’t bear to lose you?

Or the one who threw bottles and made you clean up your own blood?

You shifted gently, trying to slide out from under his arm. But the moment you moved, he stirred.

“Where you going?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

“I was just gonna go wash up,” you whispered.

He tightened his grip for a second, pulling you back in without opening his eyes. “Stay.”

You hesitated. “I’ll come back.”

He sighed, lips brushing your neck. “You always say that.”

And then he let go.

In the bathroom, you looked at yourself in the mirror. There was a faint bruise on your collarbone—fingers, probably. Your leg was stiff, the cut angry and red, the gauze already needing to be changed. You looked pale. Smaller. Like someone you barely recognized.

But you cleaned yourself up anyway.

Made breakfast.

Waited.

Heeseung came out an hour later, yawning, shirtless, acting like everything was fine. Like last night hadn’t happened. Like the week on the couch didn’t matter.

He kissed your temple.

“You sleep okay?”

You nodded.

Because it was easier.

Because fighting never fixed anything.

Because even when he hurt you, you still wanted to be something he didn’t throw away.

That day passed slowly, thick with silence that neither of you tried to fill.

Heeseung left for a few hours—said he was meeting a friend, but didn’t say who, and you didn’t ask. You just nodded, gave a faint smile, and watched the door close behind him. The apartment felt heavier once he was gone, like his absence still left pressure in the air.

You wandered from room to room. Picked things up just to put them back down. Cleaned the same spot on the counter twice. Folded clothes you’d already folded.

When he finally came home, it was almost dark.

He didn’t say much—just tossed his jacket on the couch and walked past you, muttering a low “hey” that didn’t land like a greeting. You stayed in the kitchen, pretending to scroll through your phone.

Later, when the lights were off and the sheets pulled up, he reached for you again. Just like the night before.

Familiar hands on your hips, pulling you close. His breath warm against your neck.

“Missed this,” he murmured, voice low, like it meant something. Like it erased the couch. The glass. The blood.

You didn’t say anything.

Because saying no never worked.

Because saying yes didn’t feel right either.

So you just stayed still and let him take what he needed, waiting for it to be over. Waiting for morning. Waiting for a version of him that might not come back.

And afterward, when he fell asleep with his arm around your waist like nothing was broken, you stared at the ceiling.

Eyes wide open.

Still waiting.

Heeseung came home later than usual.

The door clicked open with that familiar rattle of his keys, and you glanced up from where you were sitting on the couch, legs pulled to your chest. You didn’t say anything—just watched him toe off his shoes, shrug off his jacket, and drop his bag on the floor like always.

He looked tired. Or maybe just bored.

“Hey,” he said, not really looking at you. “You eat?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

He walked past you, heading straight to the kitchen. You heard the fridge open, then close. A few seconds passed before his voice floated back toward you.

“There’s nothing made?”

You hesitated. “I was waiting for you.”

He sighed loud enough for you to hear it. “You were home all day and couldn’t throw something together?”

Your fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket. “I wasn’t feeling great.”

He walked back in, his expression unreadable. Not angry. Just blank.

“You’re always tired lately,” he said. “Always saying you don’t feel good, but you still expect me to come home and cook for both of us?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He raised a brow. “Well, you sure didn’t offer.”

You pushed the blanket aside and stood, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ll make something now.”

He didn’t say thank you. Just dropped onto the couch where you’d been sitting and turned on the TV, like that was the end of it.

In the kitchen, you moved on autopilot—pulling out rice, eggs, vegetables. Something fast. Something he liked. The ache in your leg from the healing cut flared up every time you shifted your weight, but you didn’t let it slow you down.

Not tonight.

You stirred quietly, keeping an ear on the volume of the TV, on the way he shifted behind you. Part of you still flinched at loud sounds. At movement. But tonight was calm. Tense, but calm.

And that was good enough.

Because sometimes, good enough meant surviving.

The sound of the pan sizzling filled the small kitchen, and you focused on it—on the rhythm of chopping, the smell of garlic in the air, the steady motion of stirring. It was something to do. Something simple. Something safe.

Heeseung didn’t say much from the living room. Occasionally he’d laugh at something on the TV or scroll through his phone, but otherwise, it was quiet. You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

By the time you plated the food, your hands were a little shaky, not from effort, but from the weight of everything else—his mood, the tension, the lingering bruise just below your collarbone that you’d had to cover up earlier.

You set the plate in front of him on the coffee table. He didn’t look up.

“Thanks,” he muttered, already reaching for a fork.

You made your own plate and sat at the far end of the couch, knees drawn up, eyes flicking between the food and the screen. You weren’t hungry. Not really. But eating made it feel more normal.

Halfway through, he looked over at you.

“Why’d you put so much salt in this?” he asked.

Your stomach dropped a little. “I didn’t mean to. Sorry.”

He took another bite, chewing slowly, and shrugged. “Whatever. It’s fine.”

You nodded, forcing yourself to eat more.

A few minutes passed in silence before he spoke again.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said. “Maybe we should get out of the apartment this weekend. Do something.”

You blinked. That was… unexpected.

“Like what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just go somewhere. You’ve been off lately. Kinda checked out.”

Your mouth felt dry. “I’ve just been tired.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe you need to shake it off. You don’t talk to me anymore, you barely look at me unless I touch you—” He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not… mad at me or something, are you?”

You looked down at your plate. “No.”

“Good,” he said, nodding like that settled it. “’Cause I hate when you do that silent treatment shit. It’s manipulative.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded again.

You wanted to say I’m not trying to be silent. I’m just scared to say the wrong thing.

But instead, you just finished eating. Quietly.

Because the last thing you wanted was to give him a reason to be anything but calm tonight.

want longer fanfics like these? Check out @shy9-29

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probablysimpledreams · 5 months ago

Text

Birthday Boy! (Dabi x reader)

a/n: EEEEK IT'S MY MANS BDAY!!!! ugh I love you so much Touya just wanna give him so many kisses!! in honor of the princess' bday here is a cutie fic<33

wc: 1.2k

The moonlight illuminates the room as you lay against Dabi's chest, body practically stuck to his thanks to a mixture of sweat and his cum on your skin. The room was practically silent aside from the sounds of your heavy breathing and him smoking a fresh cigarette. The scent of cigarette smoke and sex filling up the room, creating a haze that clouded your mind as well.

"Hey Dabi," you're the first one to speak up as you felt yourself coming down from the high of it all. He looks down at you, turquoise eyes urging you to continue. "When is your birthday?"

There's a lot you were still learning about Dabi as he was always so hesitant to give you any information regarding himself. And he always shut down any questions regarding family, telling you that "you'll find out sooner or later, don't wanna ruin the surprise" whatever that means. And you knew better than to push him. You were a tad worried he'd brush off this question too as you watched him look over at the clock on the wall that read 3:00 am, grin spreading across his face.

"Today," he takes a final drag of the cigarette before leaning over the mattress to put it out on the ground. "Not that it matters."

"What??" you shoot up, looking at him with wide eyes. "Of course it matters." The gentleness in your voice and eyes made him uneasy. He turned away from your gaze, looking over at the wall as his heart began beating rapidly in his chest.

"Tch. I don't need your pity," he gripped the bedsheets hoping it would slow down the speed of his heartbeat and butterflies swarming his stomach.

You placed your hand over his, thumb rubbing gently where his staples meet. "Can I do something for you? It is your day after all," you giggle. You've known Dabi long enough to know more times than not your actions conveyed your true intentions better than words. That way he had no room to argue, to misinterpret, or any other self destructive method his mind has been trained to follow when something good enters his life.

His heart flutters at the sound of your giggles as warmth that only you could create within him travels through his body and up to his cheeks. He begins fidgeting with the sheets under his hand, body beginning to relax again as it remembers it's safe in your company.

"Dinner would be nice," he answers after giving your question some thought. "Those bastards spent the last of our grocery budget getting sushi so there hasn't been much to eat."

"Dinner it is then," you smile as you lay back against his chest, snuggling into him. He smiles as he watches you get comfortable against, arm snaking around your body as you begin drifting into sleep.

--------

The two of you wake up at 11 am, sharing a quick kiss before heading your separate ways for the day. The next few hours fly by as you hurry to get your daily work done. Once your final meeting with your boss wraps up, you rush over to the supermarket. It's been a while since you've made soba, so have multiple tabs pulled up on your phone to ensure you find the best recipe.

You swiftly navigated the supermarket, grabbing ask your supplies. After checking out, you begin heading back to your apartment. It was more out of the way compared to the hideout, but you felt the privacy your tiny studio apartment gave would be like an extra gift to Dabi. You spend the next few hours cleaning up the space and cooking dinner. Once the sun was finished setting, you heard a knock at the door.

"The birthday boy is here!" you cheered as you opened the door for him, smiling widely as he walks in. He rolls his eyes at your excitement, throwing his jacket onto the couch as he walks over to the table. You had two bowls of soba sitting out and a happy birthday banner hanging on the wall behind it all. A small smile tugs at his lips seeing all the work you put into making it a point to celebrate him. It may seem like a small set up to anyone else, but Dabi couldn't remember the last time anyone made him feel special like this. Had anyone ever made him feel like this before?

"Sit down. Eat while it's still fresh," you pull out the chair and usher him to sit down. He felt awkward as he sat, eyes locked on the bowl in front of him as you took your seat across from him. The mixture of emotion was clear just from looking at him, so the two of you enjoyed the meal in silence. The silence didn't feel heavy though which brought you some peace of mind. In fact, he looked very calm as you watched him enjoy each bite of soba.

Once he finishes his meal, he stands up and walks over to you. ".....thanks baby," he mumbles against your cheek before kissing the skin and grabbing your empty bowl. You hear the bowls clash against the sink, then join him on the couch.

"Mmm come here cutie," he pulls you on top his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder. You hum happily as you rub up and down his back, watching the tension leave his muscles in real time.

"OH wait I have something else for you," you hop off his lap.

"I told you I don't want-" you cut him off before he can continue his sentence by placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Well too bad. I'll be right back." He sighs as you disappear in the kitchen. A mixture of excitement and guilt began forming in his mind, the feeling of being seen like this by another unfamiliar. Your care always contradicted all the things he's spent his life believing about himself. And yet your care always persisted, giving him a sense of hope the way the sun emerging from behind rainclouds would give a farmer. Maybe there was room here for him in this world. In your world.

"Happy birthday to youuuu," you began singing as you walk out from the kitchen with a small plate in your hands. You continue singing as you approach him, handing him the small plate that holds a cupcake with a cigarette stuck on top. "Sorry, they didn't have any candles at the store," you interrupt the song to tell him. You two share a laugh over it before you finish singing, handing him a lighter as he takes the cigarette off the treat. "And many moreeeeee," you kiss his cheek as you conclude the song. He lights up the cigarette, the sweetness of frosting and nicotine made his taste buds cheer.

"Yeah okay," he leans back into the couch. He tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling, a calm smile spreading across his face. He moves the cigarette out of his mouth, taking a deep breath as he begins feeling a familiar warm red liquid threatening to spill from the patchwork under his eyes.

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southtopaz · 7 months ago

Text

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, mention of blood, violence, swearing, mention of death, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts.

Word count: +6k

A/n: this part will follow the events of Scream 6 but it will take place two years later from Scream 5. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16

That night, the air in Sam, Tara, and Iris's apartment was thick with tension as they settled in together. They had all agreed to stay in their apartment and spend the night together under the guise of safety in numbers, but Iris couldn't shake the feeling that it was also a way to keep tabs on one another. Trust felt fragile, and she found herself scanning the room for suspects.

In the kitchen, the atmosphere shifted to a quieter, more intimate space. Iris and Tara stood side by side, chopping vegetables and stirring pots, their movements synchronized. The silence between them was comfortable yet charged.

"Wanna try this?" Iris asked playfully, dipping a spoon into the simmering sauce and holding it out towards Tara. Their eyes locked as Tara leaned in, accepting the offering. The moment lingered, until Tara finally looked away, her cheeks flushed.

"It's good," Tara said softly. Iris smiled, that small, genuine smile that made Tara's stomach flutter.

"I think you should get out of the city," Tara suggested, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Already tired of me?" Iris teased, but her heart sank at the thought.

"I would never get tired of you," Tara muttered. "It's just... after everything that happened last time, I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to go."

Iris paused, the weight of Tara's words settling in. "Look, Tara, do you want me gone?"

The question hung in the air like a challenge, and Tara's eyes widened. "Iris..."

"Do you want me to stay away from you?" Iris stepped closer, invading the space between them.

"No, of course not! But I just want you safe," Tara replied, her voice trembling slightly.

"Well, I want you safe too and I want to be right beside you."

Tara's expression shifted, a mix of fear and urgency. "There's someone trying to kill us,"

"I don't care," Iris shook her head. "You have to be insane if you think anything could pull me away from you."

"You can't say things like that,"

"Why not?"

Tara took a step back, breaking the charged space between them. "You know why," she said, her voice trembling as she turned to face the countertop, her back to Iris.

"What...?"" Iris pressed, feeling the ache of uncertainty.

"Would you two just make out already!" Mindy shouted, exasperation evident in her voice.

"The fuck, Mindy?" Iris replied, her cheeks flushing as she glanced at Tara, who looked equally flustered.

Mindy strode into the kitchen, her energy filling the space. "Seriously, just get over it!" Tara, trying to diffuse the tension, said, "I have to talk to Sam. Be right back," before she patted Iris's arm affectionately. Iris watched Tara leave, a longing ache settling in her chest.

"What was that all about?" Mindy pressed, her eyes narrowing on Iris.

"What?" Iris asked, trying to focus on pouring the sauce into the pan, as if that could distract her from the heat in her cheeks.

"You know, that whole Romeo and Juliet shit I just witnessed," Mindy raised an eyebrow.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Iris insisted, her voice slightly higher than usual.

Mindy groaned, frustration bubbling to the surface. After ensuring they were alone, she reached over and turned off the stove, prompting Iris to protest.

"Hey! I was cooking!"

"Don't care. We need an intervention here. You're really pissing me off," Mindy shot back, her voice firm.

"I didn't do anything! What the—" Iris began, but Mindy cut her off.

"Iris, I've been holding back on this because I hoped you'd figure it out yourself, but since apparently you have absolutely no brain cells in that pretty head of yours, it's time someone tells you the truth."

"Tell me what?"

"You like her. You like Tara," Mindy stated bluntly.

"What? No, I don't!" Iris stammered, embarrassment washing over her.

"For the past two years, I've seen you look at her like she's everything you've ever wanted," Mindy continued, her tone shifting to one of sincerity. "You literally have heart eyes when you talk to her."

"I don't like her like that! Absolutely not! What the hell?"

Mindy rolled her eyes, clearly frustrated with her friend's denial. "You hate dancing, yet you danced with her the other day. You hate horror movies, but you watch one with her every Friday night just because it's Tara's favorite thing. You hold her hand whenever you get the chance, and you remember every little detail about her. You might think nobody notices, but I see how you can't tear your gaze away from her when she isn't looking."

Mindy stepped closer, her grip firm on Iris's shoulders as if to ground her in reality. "She's the only one who brings a genuine smile to your face. You get all giddy and blushy when she pays attention to you, and let's not even talk about the jealousy when someone else tries to get close to her."

"So yeah, you don't just like her; you're in love with her," Mindy concluded, her voice softening.

"What?! I'm not! I..." Iris protested, her heart racing at the accusation.

"And honestly, it's getting embarrassing at this point. We're all waiting for one of you to make a move, but you're both acting like complete idiots" Mindy added, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Wait, both of us?" Iris asked, realization dawning on her.

"Iris, you're so oblivious. That poor girl could tell you she loves you and wants to marry you, and you'd still think she means it platonically," Mindy said, shaking her head in disbelief at her friend's stupidity "Tara has literally been waiting for you to do something for years. The fact that she's still waiting just shows how much she wants you,".

"You think she likes me? There's no way," Iris said, her disbelief palpable.

"Dude, why do you think I gave you the idea to write that letter to express your feelings?" Mindy asked, her tone serious. "Because I knew it was the only way you'd actually make a move, and she was obviously going to say yes, I wasn't going to set you up for failure"

"You don't know that," Iris replied, her voice tinged with doubt.

"Then why do you think Amber took that letter away and sent that text to separate you two? She knew that if Tara had gotten that letter, you would've never dated her. It was the only way she had to make you notice her".

"And look I'm not saying you didn't love Amber because unfortunately I know you did but you never unfell for Tara and now you finally have a chance to do something". Mindy urged, her expression softening. "I know a part of you is still afraid, but this is Tara we're talking about. The girl you spent most of your childhood being in love with, and she is also the one that spent all of that time loving you back. So could you please, for the love of God, do something about it? I just want you to be happy, and, okay, I may also want to win the bet Sam and I have going on."

"You guys have a fucking bet?" Iris asked, eyes wide with surprise.

"Can't tell you," Mindy replied, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

"You just did," Iris shot back, crossing her arms.

"Did I?"

"I can't believe you guys have a bet, people are dying out here," Iris said, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

"Still not an excuse for being a pussy" Mindy countered, giving Iris a light shove. "Make me proud, bestie. She's on the terrace."

With each step toward the terrace, Iris's heart raced. The conversation with Mindy echoed in her mind, pushing her forward. Iris felt a whirlwind of emotions stirring inside her, a mix of nervousness and disbelief that left her momentarily breathless. She had long acknowledged her feelings for Tara, yet the thought that Tara might share those feelings was something she never dared to entertain, but now that very possibility was all she could think about.

"Hey," she finally managed to say, her voice almost a whisper.

Tara jumped, placing a hand over her chest, her eyes wide with surprise. "Jesus, you scared me!"

Iris laughed softly. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to." She took a step closer, her pulse quickening with each moment spent in Tara's presence. "I came to let you know that food will be ready in a little bit."

Tara smiled, a hint of curiosity in her gaze. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, why?" Iris tried to sound casual, but her mouth betrayed her.

"You just look a little... weird, that's all."

"You calling me ugly?" Iris teased, the playful banter a welcome distraction.

"Never! You could never be ugly, believe me," Tara replied, patting Iris's arm affectionately. Before Iris could think better of it; she caught Tara's hand in hers, intertwining their fingers with a tenderness that sent a jolt of warmth through her.

"Your fingers are cold," Iris noted, suddenly aware of a slight tremor running through Tara's form. "Are you cold?"

"Mm, yeah," Tara whispered, her cheeks flushed with something more than just the chill in the air.

Without thinking, Iris pulled her closer, wrapping her arms around her in a warm embrace. "Is this okay?" she asked softly.

"Definitely," Tara replied, her voice muffled against Iris's shoulder. They held each other for what felt like an eternity, and Iris couldn't resist the urge to gaze at Tara. She ran her fingers through Tara's hair, tracing the gentle arch of her cheekbones, her eyes staring at the constellation of freckles that danced across her nose.

"Is there something on my face?" Tara asked suddenly, her voice teasing yet curious.

"No, why?" Iris replied, caught off guard.

"I can see you looking at me," a nervous smile blooming on her lips.

"Sorry," Iris whispered, feeling a blush creep into her cheeks. She tried to pull away, but Tara tightened her grip, refusing to let her go.

"Don't be sorry. Just... stay."

"Maybe I just like looking at you," Iris admitted, the words spilling out before she could think better of it.

Tara inhaled sharply, her expression shifting as if she were contemplating something significant. Then, she gently cupped Iris's face, drawing her attention back to her. "You like looking at me?"

"Yeah," Iris said, her heart racing. "I can't help it. You're just so..." She wrapped her arms around Tara's waist, pulling her even closer.

"So?" Tara prompted, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Beautiful." A deep blush spread across Tara's cheeks, illuminating her features in the middle of the night. Iris was mesmerized, her gaze locked onto Tara's captivating eyes, losing herself in their depths.

"Honestly? I think it's time I admitted I like looking at you too," Tara confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah?" Iris breathed, a smile forming on her lips.

"I've liked looking at you ever since we were six, so... yeah." The space between them shrank to nothing; they could hear each other's breaths, feel the warmth radiating from their bodies. Iris was acutely aware of how fast her heart was pounding, wondering if maybe Tara could hear it too.

"Tara, I..."

But before Iris could finish her thought, a loud voice broke the moment. "HEY YOU TWO, FOOD IS READY!" Chad's call echoed up the stairs, shattering the delicate bubble they had created.

"You've got to be kidding me," Tara sighed, resting her forehead against Iris's, her breath mingling with Iris's in a way that felt almost sacred. Iris couldn't help but chuckle softly, feeling both amused and a little deflated.

"Come on, I'm hungry!" Tara finally disentangled herself from Iris but not before leaning in to plant a quick, lingering kiss on Iris's cheek. The gesture sent a jolt of warmth through the girl, leaving her momentarily frozen in place, her heart fluttering wildly.

"Let's go," Tara said, reaching for Iris's hand, their fingers still intertwined as they made their way downstairs.

In the kitchen, the atmosphere buzzed with the chatter of their friends, Mindy, Chad, and Sam all standing around the table. The three of them noticed their hands together but chose to let it slide without comment, a knowing smile exchanged among them. Iris stood beside Mindy leaning against the countertop, while Tara settled in beside her sister, but not before punching Chad in the arm as she passed.

"Hey, the fuck?" Chad exclaimed, feigning hurt, but Tara just rolled her eyes and ignored him.

"The others?" Iris asked, looking around.

"Quinn's in her room with some boy, and Anika's watching TV," Mindy replied, a hint of amusement in her voice.

"I already left some blankets on the sofa for

you all," Sam said, her voice filled with exhaustion as she reached for a bottle of wine. The strain of the last few days hung heavily on her shoulders, evident in the way her brow furrowed and her movements felt a bit slower.

"We don't have to stay here, you know," Mindy said, trying to keep the mood light, though a hint of worry crept into her voice.

"Well, too bad. I insist. Safety in numbers" Sam replied, her tone leaving little room for argument.

"This'll be so fun!" Chad interjected, a grin spreading across his face. "A little slumber party with the core five!"

"Core five?" Sam asked, her confusion evident as she raised an eyebrow.

"Did you just give us a nickname?" Tara teased, leaning back against the wall with her arms crossed, clearly amused.

"I sure did!" Chad exclaimed, his chest puffed out with pride. "I mean, we've been through a lot together. It's a pretty cool nickname!"

"That's debatable," Sam shot back, a smirk forming as she rolled her eyes.

"Extremely debatable" Tara chimed in.

"C'mon, you bunch of haters! The nickname fucking rocks". Iris laughed, clearly enjoying the playful banter. "Give me five, bro". Chad happily did so.

"You can't just give yourself a nickname, dingus," Mindy protested, shaking her head but unable to hide her smile.

"Of course I can, dingus, because I just did!" Chad insisted, raising his hand expectantly, waiting for everyone to join in. "Core five, up top!"

"Nah," Mindy replied, playfully waving her hand away.

"Get that away from me," Tara said with mock disdain, shaking her head as if Chad had offered her something distasteful.

"Iris, Sam, don't fail me now!" Chad pleaded, eyes wide with faux desperation.

"Come on, Sam, look at his face! How can you say no?" Iris pinched Chad's cheeks, trying to emphasize his supposed cuteness.

"I would like a little more respect and support from my fellow members of the Core Five," Chad huffed dramatically, crossing his arms while pretending to sulk.

Just then, they heard Anika's voice echoing from the hallway. "Guys, what the hell?" she called out, her tone sharp and urgent. The group exchanged quick, concerned glances and without a second thought, they all turned and rushed toward the living room.

"We're hearing from sources inside the homicide division that the prime suspect is none other than Samantha Carpenter, one of the survivors of the Woodsboro killing in 2022, seen here attacking a woman on the street last night."

Sam was quick to mute the television, the noise suddenly feeling overwhelming, and rushed out of the living room, seeking refuge in the kitchen. The other four exchanged worried glances before following her, signaling to Anika to stay put. They couldn't believe that some people would even think Sam was capable of doing something so terrible. The world could be cruel, and right now, Sam was suffering under its weight.

"I know it's tough, but don't listen to those people, Sam. They know nothing". Iris said as she settled down next to her, concern etched on her face. Tara nodded in agreement, moving closer to offer support.

"I know you're not a fan of how I've been handling things, and I get that I've given you a hard time," Tara said, taking Sam's hand in hers. "But I can say that none of us can relate to what you are experiencing." Sam turned to her sister, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"And I'm really sorry that you have to do that alone," Tara continued softly.

"It's not your fault," Sam replied, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "I know I shouldn't care about what people think, but it just sucks being this hated." Her voice cracked slightly, revealing the vulnerability she was trying to hide.

Iris quickly handed her a napkin to wipe her tears, and Sam offered a grateful smile. "We will always be here for you, Sam," Iris reassured her, her tone warm and steady.

Just then, Chad and Mindy entered the room, their presence a welcome distraction. "Hey, just a reminder," Chad said, his voice firm yet comforting. "Not a single person in this room hates you, okay? We've all been through some fucked up stuff, and we're coping with it differently. But we moved here together for one very specific reason."

"We are a team," he finished, his words hanging in the air like a promise.

"Gosh, since when are you so wise?" Iris laughed through her tears, the tension in the room easing as everyone shared a soft chuckle.

Sam felt warmth spread through her as she looked at her friends, grateful for their unwavering support. "You guys really mean a lot to me,".

"We are the core five," Mindy declared dramatically, as if it were a big revelation.

"Thank you very much," Chad responded, grinning widely.

"I hate myself," Mindy joked, and without missing a beat, she high-fived Chad.

"Say it, guys, c'mon!" Iris urged, her finger pointing between Sam and Tara with an infectious enthusiasm.

"I mean, yes, we are a team, but..." Tara began, laughter bubbling up as they all joined in, the heaviness of the moment lifting, if only for a little while.

"I've been sleeping with cute boy from across the hall," Sam announced, her cheeks flushing a light pink.

"Boom!" Mindy shouted, her excitement reverberating through the small apartment.

"I fucking knew it!" Tara exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.

"Finally, a hot guy, Sam! I'm so proud of you!" Iris chimed in, her voice filled with amusement but happiness for her friend.

"I mean, I totally knew it from the day you had that hickey!" Mindy joked, her laughter contagious and filling the room. The others burst into giggles, recalling the embarrassing moment.

Chad, sitting off to the side with a playful grin, leaned forward and said, "Does somebody else want to confess something?" He cast a teasing glance at Tara, clearly remembering the hand holding his two friends did.

"Don't look at me, you weirdo! I have nothing to say," Tara replied, feigning innocence while crossing her arms defiantly.

"Nothing?" Mindy asked in despair as she stared pointedly at Iris. "Jesus, this will never end!"

Tara quickly tried to redirect the conversation. "I feel like we should high-five or something,"

"Hell yeah, Core Five motherfuckers". Iris said enthusiastically, raising her hand in the air. The others quickly followed suit, each of them joining in for the playful moment.

Just then, Sam's phone began to ring loudly, cutting through their laughter. Tara's eyes lit up as she recognized the caller ID. "Look who it is!" she exclaimed, snatching the phone away and displaying it to everyone.

With a mischievous smile, she passed the phone to Mindy. They all erupted into laughter, pretending to answer it with exaggerated voices, playfully interrogating Danny about his intentions. Sam, still blushing, finally managed to get a word in, saying she would call him back later.

The mood took a sudden turn when strange noises started coming from upstairs. It was impossible to confuse the unmistakable sounds of moans.

"Quinn and her gentleman caller are back at it again," Tara remarked, rolling her eyes in disbelief.

"I swear to God, it's like she doesn't know how to be quiet!" Iris added, shaking her head with an amused grin.

Before they could continue their

conversation, a sudden chorus of phone notifications broke the moment, startling them all into silence. Iris felt her heart race as she glanced at the screen. A chilling image flickered before her eyes: Ghostface, looming menacingly over Quinn, a knife poised dangerously close to her throat. Time seemed to freeze as the reality of the situation sank in, and a sense of dread filled the room.

"What the hell?" Iris whispered in horror. Quinn's desperate shout for help echoed in their house, and instinct took over. They all sprang into action. Tara dashed toward Quinn's room, but Iris caught her arm just in time, her grip firm and unyielding.

"Stay here," she told her urgently, her eyes wide with fear.

"Chad, get ready," Iris’s voice was low but commanding as she pushed Tara toward him. He nodded, understanding what his friend meant.

The five of them, alongside Anika, stood tense and anxious, their breaths shallow as they faced the door. The sounds of chaos poured out from within: furniture crashing, muffled shouts, and a struggle that sent chills down their spines. Then, suddenly, the screams stopped and a horrible silence enveloped them.

"Run," Mindy hissed, her voice sharp with urgency. Just as the words left her mouth, the bedroom door burst open with a violent

force.

Ghostface emerged, a terrifying silhouette against the dim light of the hallway. With a swift, brutal motion, he hurled Quinn's limp body towards them. The thud of her landing was sickening, and Anika's scream pierced the air as Quinn crumpled on top of her.

Iris reacted instinctively, yanking Quinn's bloodied body away from Anika, panic and horror coursing through her veins. "No!

Quinn!" she cried, desperation clawing at her throat.

"We need to go!" Tara yelled, urgency in her voice. Chad clutched her arm, and they bolted for the door, believing their friends were right on their heels.

Suddenly, the air thickened with tension as Ghostface fixed his gaze on them, waiting to see who would make the first move. But there was no time to strategize; he surged forward, targeting Iris with deadly intent as he swiped his knife at her. She dodged every strike as quickly as she could, but eventually he sank his knife into her arm, causing her to scream in pain.

"Fuck you" She yelled and kicked the attacker hard in the crotch, sending him reeling back for a brief second that allowed her to stand up. When he got to his feet again, he turned and punched her in the stomach. Iris pushed away from the blow in time to see Ghostface lower his knife and impale it in the wall where her head had been.

Iris grabbed the back of his head, slamming it against the wall before delivering a kick to his legs. He turned around and strongly pushed her to the floor, ready to attack her once again.

Mindy rushed at him, determined to pull him away from Iris, but as they hit the floor, he simply shoved her aside and stabbed her in the upper arm, causing blood to flow everywhere.

Anika, still on the ground, grasped his ankles, trying to trip him and free Mindy. Ghostface quickly climbed over Anika, and he started to choke her before he lifted her up and slammed her into the fireplace as he sank his knife into her abdomen, slowly dragging it upwards, causing the woman to scream in agony.

Iris quickly sprang to her feet, grabbed a lamp close to the coffee table, and smashed it into Ghostface's head. He staggered and lost his grip on Anika as a result, while Mindy hurried to her girlfriend.

Sam entered just in time, slamming an empty knife block into Ghostface's head as she angrily punched him with it a couple of times.

"Come on!" Yelled Sam.

Despite the pain in her arm, Iris went over to Anika, threw an arm around her waist, and ran towards the nearest room, which happened to be Quinn's. She could feel Sam and Mindy approaching from behind, and they hurried into the room, locking the door as fast as they could.

"Fuck" Mindy sat in the bed and groaned as she put pressure in her arm, blood pouring out of it. Anika was sitting next to her groaning in pain while she held her stomach, they all tried to ignore the amount of blood she was losing.

"Hey, look at me," Iris said urgently, grasping both of Anika's cheeks with her hands to force her to focus. Anika's eyes fluttered, the effort to stay awake written all over her face. Iris could feel a wave of panic rising within her, but she fought it down. "Everything is going to be fine. I need you to stay awake, okay? Just look at me."

Anika blinked slowly, her gaze wavering as she tried to hold on to Iris's reassuring presence. In the background, they could hear Ghostaface grunting and pushing against the door, the sound echoing in the tense silence. Then, suddenly, he stopped, and the air grew heavier with uncertainty.

"Bathroom door, hurry," Sam whispered, fear lacing her voice as she looked at Iris with wide, frantic eyes.

Without hesitating, Iris nodded and darted toward the bathroom, her heart racing. She tried to ignore all the mess, the walls were smeared with remnants of blood and the floor didn't look much better.

As she reached the bathroom, the sight that met her made her stomach drop as she saw one of Quinn's hookups lying in his own pool of blood in the tub.

"Fuck, he is dead" Iris shouted as she reached the door, just as Ghostface barreled into view. She instinctively tried to slam it shut, but he forced his body against it, pushing his way through with surprising strength.

"Sam Help!" Iris yelled, her heart racing as she struggled to keep the door closed. Ghostface managed to thrust his arm inside, swiping his knife blindly as he tried to attack her.

Sam sprang into action, rushing to Iris's side. Together, they pushed against the door, straining to keep him at bay. With a final shove, they managed to block Ghostface's arm and wrestle the door closed. They quickly turned the lock, their breaths coming fast as they heard him pounding on the other side.

"We need to barricade it," Iris said, glancing at the dresser nearby.

Without a moment's hesitation, the girls shoved the dresser in front of the door. It scraped loudly against the floor, but they didn't stop until it was firmly in place, creating a barrier between them and the frantic pounding outside.

Panting, they leaned against the dresser for a moment, the adrenaline still coursing through their veins. "What do we do now?" Sam asked, her eyes wide with fear.

Iris took a deep breath, scanning the room for anything they could use. "We need to find a way out. We can't let him get in."

"Mindy, keep Anika awake!" Iris instructed, her voice urgent as she saw the girl on the verge of passing out. Mindy nodded, quickly grabbing a shirt from the floor. She pressed it against Anika's stomach, applying gentle pressure while trying to soothe her.

"Just focus on me, okay love? Keep your eyes open," Mindy said softly, her voice steady despite the horror surrounding them.

Suddenly, Iris spotted a familiar figure outside the window. "Is that Danny?" she asked, her heart racing with a mix of relief and anxiety. She glanced at Sam, who was already nodding as she continued pushing the dresser.

"Go! We've got this!" Mindy urged, stepping away from Anika momentarily to help Iris brace the door. They pushed against it with all their strength, feeling the pressure of the pounding on the other side.

"We are going to die" Mindy whispered, her voice trembling as the weight of the situation settled in.

"Don't fucking say that! You hear me?" Iris snapped. "Anika doesn't need to hear that right now." She turned back to Anika, her heart aching at the sight of her friend's pain-stricken face.

"Ani, you okay?" Iris shouted, forcing herself to remain calm. Anika nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks, though her expression was twisted in pain.

"Everything is going to be fine," Iris said, the words feeling heavy in her throat. She wasn't sure if she believed them, but she needed Anika to hold on.

Ghostface continued to bang violently on the door, each impact sending tremors through the walls as Danny handed a ladder over to Sam. She reached out to grab it, her fingers brushing against the cold metal just as another thunderous slam echoed through the room.

"Get ready!" Danny shouted, his voice strained as he positioned himself in the window to help.

Ghostface slammed into the door again, causing the dresser to shift slightly. Iris and Mindy pressed their backs against it, straining to gain better footing. Iris could feel the panic rising within her, but she refused to let it show. "Guys hurry" she yelled, her voice trembling.

"Only one of you will be able to cross at a time!" Danny shouted from the other side. "Come on!"

"C'mon, guys!" Sam urged, turning to face her friends.

"No way, you guys first!" Iris replied firmly, her resolve unshakeable as she pushed against the dresser, feeling it slide slightly under the pressure. "You go, Sam. You have to."

"Mindy!" Sam glanced at her, desperation flooding her voice.

"Go," Mindy said, determination hardening her features. "We'll hold the door. We'll be fine. We send Anika later" She exchanged a quick, reassuring glance with Iris, who nodded, feeling a surge of confidence from her friend.

Sam took a deep breath, her expression conflicted, but she knew there was no time to waste. "Okay," she finally said, her voice steadier. She carefully maneuvered her way to the window, the ladder swaying slightly beneath her.

“Cmon baby, You've got this!" he encouraged her, his eyes locked on her as she began to cross the ladder.

"I'm okay! Just hold on!" Sam shouted back, glancing over her shoulder to see Iris and Mindy bracing themselves against the dresser.

Once she reached the other side, she shouted, "Come on! Next person!"

The sound of Ghostface's relentless banging reverberated through the room, and Iris felt a rush of fear at the thought of losing her friends.

"Iris, it's your turn," Mindy urged, glancing over her shoulder.

"Fuck no, you go. I'll stay," Iris insisted, struggling against the dresser as Ghostface pressed closer.

Mindy helped Anika get toward the window. "You have to go first," she insisted.

"I can't," Anika whispered, panic rising in her voice.

"You have to please"

"Mindy, please," Anika begged, her eyes wide with fear. Mindy sighed, leaning in for one last kiss.

"I love you, okay?" she said softly, then made her way to the ladder, disappearing into the night.

"Now you, Anika, come on!" Iris called, moving to the window to help.

"I can't," Anika cried, shaking her head desperately.

"You have to! Please, I need to hold the door!".

"You go, Iris, please," Anika urged, her voice trembling.

"Anika, look at me," Iris said firmly, gripping her friend's face. "You are here because of me, because you're my friend and now he did this to you"

"It's not your fault," Anika replied, shaking her head, desperation filling her eyes.

"Yes, it is," Iris insisted, her voice steady despite the fear swirling around them. "I need you to get onto that ladder, okay? I can't let you die on me. I'll hold him off."

Anika's heart sank as she realized Iris had already made her decision. There was no changing her mind. With a heavy sigh, she nodded, determination replacing her fear as she stepped toward the window.

Iris moved to the door, her body tense as she braced herself against it. "Just go!" she shouted, her voice filled with urgency. Anika climbed onto the ladder, her hands trembling as she reached for the rungs.

As she moved, Anika felt the warmth of blood seeping through her clothes, each drop a reminder of the danger they were facing. Her strength waned with every movement, her bones feeling heavier, her vision dimming. Panic bubbled beneath the surface as she glanced back, seeing Iris struggling to keep the door shut against Ghostface's pounding.

"Come on, Anika! You can do this!" Iris shouted, her eyes fierce with fear. "Just a little further!"

Anika pushed herself to keep climbing, her heart racing. "Iris!" she called out, but the sound felt distant as her world began to blur.

Then, through the haze, she spotted Danny, his hands reaching for her from the other side of the window. Relief washed over her as she felt herself being pulled into the safety of his apartment. Just as she crossed the threshold, she heard Iris scream, the sound chilling her to the bone.

"IRIS, COME ON!" Sam shouted from the apartment, panic evident in her voice. She couldn't lose Iris now; it felt more real than ever in that moment.

Iris stood at the window, the ladder swaying slightly beneath her as she peered down into the darkness below. Her heart raced, each thud of Ghostface against the door echoing in her ears, a constant reminder that time was running out.

She took a deep breath, her injured arm pulsing with pain. The wound throbbed, making her hesitate as she gripped the ladder.

With trembling hands, Iris stepped onto the first rung. The metal felt cold beneath her fingers. She glanced back at the door, where the pounding intensified, splintering the wood with each blow. She could almost feel the dark figure on the other side, waiting for the moment when she would falter.

The ladder shifted slightly, and Iris's stomach dropped. She steadied herself, breathing deeply as she forced one foot after the other onto the rungs. Each movement sent jolts of pain through her arm.

Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the room, the door splintering under the force of Ghostface's relentless assault. Panic surged through Iris as she felt him drawing closer, but she forced herself to focus. She was so close to the window, right in the middle of the way.

With every ounce of willpower, she pushed her body forward, her injured arm screaming in protest. The pain was sharp and relentless, but she couldn't afford to give in to it. Behind her, the door finally gave way, crashing open as Ghostface entered, his presence suffocating the air. He stepped into the room, eyes locked on her, and her heart dropped.

He approached the window and impaled the knife in the wood before reaching for the ladder. "No, no, no—fuck!" Iris whimpered, her desperation growing as she glanced back at Mindy and Sam, who were frantic with fear.

"IRIS, YOU HAVE TO MOVE NOW!" Mindy yelled, urgency lacing her voice. But Iris's eyes were glued to the figure at the window, dread pooling in her stomach as Ghostface lifted the ladder with ease, shaking it violently. The metal rattled beneath her, each jolt sending a wave of terror coursing through her.

Iris took another step, her heart pounding in her chest. The ladder swayed again, and she felt a rush of vertigo. "No, no, no," she muttered under her breath, gripping the rungs tighter.

Ghostface shook the ladder again, trying to dislodge her. Iris could feel the metal creaking beneath her as she lay flat against it, fighting to maintain her grip. Her heart raced, and she felt herself teetering on the edge. Sam's hand brushed hers, but she couldn't get a solid hold.

"Iris!" Sam urged, panic etched on her face. "Just a little further!"

"No!" Iris cried out, feeling her grip weaken as the ladder wobbled precariously. "I can't".

"Iris, you have to keep going!" Mindy shouted, her voice breaking through the chaos.

Iris squeezed her eyes shut, summoning every ounce of strength she had left. She pushed against the pain in her arm, forcing herself to move. With a deep breath, she began inching forward, her body trembling with fear and exhaustion.

Ghostface was still right there, the knife gleaming menacingly as he gripped the ladder, continued to shake it, his movements gleaming with malicious intent.

Sam reached out, stretching half of her body out of the window, her heart racing as she desperately tried to reach for Iris. Danny and Mindy embraced her in order to protect her from falling. Finally, her fingers found Iris's forearm, she gripped it tightly, not willing to let go of the girl. "I've got you!" she shouted, pulling with all her strength.

Danny joined Sam and together they managed to inch her closer. With one last, frantic effort, Danny scrambled through the window, his arms wrapping securely around Iris. He pulled her into the apartment with a powerful yank.

Iris rolled into the room, gasping as she hit the floor. The moment felt surreal, the adrenaline still coursing through them as she scrambled to her feet. But just as relief began to wash over them, they all turned and froze. There stood Ghostface, staring coldly at them from the window of their apartment. The knife glinted menacingly in his grip.

"I'm going to kill you motherfucker" Iris shouted, her voice laced with anger and fear. The words echoing in the small space. "You heard me? I'll fucking end you!"

Ghostface stood still for a heartbeat, seemingly assessing them, before slowly backing away as he slipped out of the room.

"Iris, thank god you're okay!" Sam exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her friend in a tight embrace, her relief palpable as tears streamed down her cheeks. "You're okay."

But the moment of safety was short-lived. "We need to get her to the hospital right now!" Danny shouted, urgency in his voice as he moved towards the door. He had Anika in his arms, applying pressure to her wound, his face strained with concern.

Iris swayed slightly, still in shock but nodding at Danny's command. "He's right" she managed to say. Just as she began to move, her strength gave out, and she suddenly collapsed to the ground.

#scream #scream 5 #scream 6 #scream x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter imagine #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem!reader #tara carpenter x female reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x reader #sam carpenter #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin

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bangtanej · 1 month ago

Text

Description: As an aspiring stylist with hopes to one day work for Ateez. You find yourself struggling to navigate through life. The trajectory of your life takes a drastic turn when you decide you need to see them one last time.

Trigger warnings: mentions of stalking, suggestive themes, mental breakdowns and overthinking, foul language and harassment

Word count: 5069

Editors: Spike/mal & Breezy

Chapter III

Another week had spun by, each day a subtle shift in the salon's rhythm leading to this momentous occasion: your very own station. The previous night, the air in the salon had hummed with a quiet excitement. Minjun stayed long after closing to help you set up everything and celebrate your start as a stylist. He also gave a heartfelt wish of luck for the impending battle of the ticket sale to come the next morning.

From the moment you'd left the salon that night, a persistent tightness had settled in your chest, and a fluttering chaos erupted in your stomach. It was a cocktail of anxiety and anticipation, a feeling only those who had braved the digital trenches of a Ticketmaster war could truly comprehend. It was incredibly uneasy but also brought an excitement that was unmatched.

The entire night became a restless landscape of tossing and turning, Sannie's annoyed sighs and nudges a testament to your agitated slumber. Yet, as all fitful nights do, it eventually surrendered to the insistent ringing of your alarm. It was an hour before the ticket sale and two hours before you needed to be at work. You opened the tab for the queue while simultaneously applying a light layer of makeup. You had also ordered a coffee for yourself and Minjun, to pick up before work, as a small gesture of gratitude.

You wanted to thank him, truly thank him, for his support. Even though it was just a small gesture you still wanted to convey your appreciation and your…care. “You care for him?” The thought echoed in your mind, a soft whisper that widened your eyes in surprised self awareness. "Did I really just admit that to myself?” The internal questioning was abruptly shattered by a jolt of pure adrenaline. The digital gates had opened. The sale had begun.

Agonizing slow, the number of fans that were in line before you decreased and it was your turn to choose your seats. What felt like an intense battle that went on for hours ended in a few seconds. Moments later your screen lit up to congratulate you. “You got’em! Let the anticipation begin!” Section 2 Row 1 Seat 5

Front and center. You would see them again. The very reason your heart beat a little faster, the source of an unwavering joy, would be within arm's reach once more. They were truly your biggest reason to exist.

Minjun had just stepped out of his car, he paused for a moment, his gaze drifting towards the familiar storefront of the salon. He took a deliberate breath to mentally prepare himself for the day ahead. As he approached the salon, he could make out your small silhouette waiting patiently just outside the glass doors. As your eyes met his, your whole body seemed to light up, you couldn’t wait to tell him and thank him.

With an almost childlike skip in your step, you closed the distance between you and your hand outstretched to offer the coffee. It was an iced americano, a small detail you had carefully noted as the drink he most often ordered. The expression that bloomed on his face reminded you of a delighted puppy greeting its beloved owner. He accepted the coffee with a murmured word of thanks, his fingers brushing yours in a fleeting moment, before gesturing with the cup towards the entrance of the salon.

Minjun: Let me take a wild guess. The coffee and child-like excitement is due to a certain ticket sale?

Y/n: I GOT THE TICKETS! And not just any tickets! Front row dead center!

Minjun’s lips curved into a teasing smirk, a playful roll of his eyes accompanied the gesture as he held the door open for you. Minjun understood your deep affection for them. He was a fan too but a more casual one. In all honesty you wouldn’t be a surprise if he was a more casual fan because he had a few idol friends. He had a massive following on social media and undeniable striking looks, he practically looked like an idol himself.

Minjun: Ok ok calm down. I’m very happy you got the tickets but you’re gonna have to…

His voice trailed off, his gaze abruptly fixed on something behind you. Minjun had froze… You stepped through the doorway, your attention still lingering on his expression, when the sharp, potent smell of bleach struck your nose. When your head turned to what had his attention you froze too. Your station had been tampered with. The beautiful white leather chair had what looked like hair dye splattered all over it. As you walked closer the products you had meticulously organized were scattered and were all missing their labels. The few that had clear bottles were nearly empty, their contents carelessly spilled. They were all brand new… Hesitantly you pulled open the drawers. The sight that greeted you sent despair through your body. Your tools were coated in a vial mixture of hair, dried dye, and crusty bleach. Every single one… your collection of combs, your hair pins, your new capes, your gloves, and even your hot tools were contaminated.

The weight of devastation crashed down on you. You crumbled to the floor, a silent scream trapped in your chest. Minjun, who had been standing behind you, instantly dropped beside you. His arms reaching out to steady your trembling body. When your gaze met his, the tears had already begun to pour from your eyes. You were supposed to start today and you already had a few appointments scheduled. It’ll take you all day to get this cleaned and you couldn’t afford to replace all of the products after splurging on your concert ticket.

While your thoughts raced, Minjun pulled you into his embrace. He had witnessed the very moment the light had extinguished from your eyes, leaving behind a hollow, vacant stare. Just moments later Yeona had stepped foot into the salon and the loud thud of her bag hitting the floor followed. You lifted your gaze over Minjun’s large frame, and through your tears saw Yeona running towards you.

Yeona: Holy fuck what happened here?!

Minjun: We just walked in here and found her station like this. I can promise you this is not how we left it last night. I helped her set everything up.

Yeona: Who was the last person in the salon?

Minjun: It was only us… She had helped everyone else clean up their stations so they could get home at a decent hour and I was the only one that stayed to help her.

Yeona: Ok I’ll look over the camera footage but I need you both to get this cleaned up. If someone from the state board walked in, there would be so many different violations against her license and the salon as a whole.

The silence that had clung to you throughout the ordeal was like a suffocating blanket woven from shock and disbelief. The emotions stirring inside of you had you shaking almost violently. You didn't know if it was the anger and frustration, or the overwhelming anxiety that came with the thought of the impending violations that could be on your license. It was only when you felt the ground underneath you disappear that a startled gasp finally escaped your lips. Minjun lifted you up and carried you towards the back. He carefully settled you into the soft chair, his movements tender and deliberate. Crouching before you, his gaze was filled with concern. His lips seemed to tremble slightly as he searched for the right words to comfort you.

Minjun: Take all the time you need in here, I’ll start cleaning up for you ok?

Words remained trapped in your throat, like an invisible barrier against the tide of emotions. All you could manage was a small nod. A comforting pat on your head from Minjun was a moment of solace before he returned to your station. Your mind suddenly hit that little trigger, the one that held the leash to all of your overwhelming thoughts. “I’m alone with my thoughts” The realization slammed into you. The insidious whispers began creeping into the forefront of your mind, each one sharp and cruel “Someone obviously doesn’t want you here” “I knew things were too good to be true” “I should have expected this, I know something always has to happen” “How the hell am I supposed to work now?”

The screaming in your head only got louder and louder. Each scream of self-doubt and despair threatened to consume you. It was only the delicate, sweet scent of cherry blossoms that cut through the noise like a lifeline in the storm. With her presence alone you were able to hear over your thoughts. Yeona enveloped you, her arms were a haven of warmth and security. Your hands clenched into fists, clinging onto her cardigan as the sobs you had desperately fought to suppress finally broke free, echoing through the salon.

Once the storm had subsided, Yeona gently guided you to her office to look over the footage. As the footage flickered to life on the screen, a tall figure cloaked in black entered the salon around 1am. You watched intently as you saw the figure begin to rave havoc on your station. The figure even stooped to gather discarded hair from the garbage bin, using it to further desecrate your workspace. Suddenly, Yeona paused the footage, her finger pointing to the screen, singling out the perpetrator in the darkness.

Yeona: I know it’s a stupid question but do you have any idea who this could be?

Y/n: I’m sorry, I don’t know.

Yeona: Don’t apologize, none of this is your fault. I just have to ask because this is technically a break in and vandalization of property. I’ll be submitting a police report and will need you to give a statement since you were the target.

Y/n: I just really don’t understand why?

Yeona: Was there anyone in school that didn’t like you or an ex that wants to get back at you?

Y/n: I don’t think so, I got along well with all of my classmates. Even if we didn’t talk much we were all nice to each other. And my ex doesn’t live in the area anymore, I find it hard to believe he would drive all the way here just to do this.

A knock on the door behind you interrupted, pulling you from the unsettling replay of the footage. Minjun's head appeared tentatively around the doorframe, his expression a mixture of concern and unease. He entered the office with hesitant steps, holding out a folded piece of paper that was found in the wreckage. A furrow of confusion creased Yeona's brow as she accepted the paper, her gaze flicking between the note and Minjun before both their eyes settled on you. Yeona gently slid the paper across the desk, placing it directly in front of you, you could swear your heart stopped. The numbers "1117" were the only inscription.

Y/n: That’s… That’s my address.

Yeona: Fuck that, I’m calling the cops right now. After you give your statement you’re calling a friend and staying with them or they stay with you. Do you have anyone to call?

Y/n: I could call my friend Sky but they’re working right now.

Yeona: When do they get off?

Y/n: They work as a chef and usually don't get off until the restaurant closes.

Minjun: I’ll take her for now.

Without a moment's hesitation, Yeona reached for her phone and dialed 911. It wasn’t long before uniformed officers filled the salon. While one officer listened intently as you recounted the horrifying discovery, another meticulously reviewed the security footage, his gaze sharp and analytical. A third carefully surveyed the scene of devastation at your station, his movements precise as he documented the damage. They had concluded there were no signs of forced entry and the alarm system was disabled. The chilling implication hung heavy in the air – someone with intimate knowledge of the salon, either a current or former employee, had likely aided the intruder.

The investigation necessitated a disruption to the salon's schedule. One by one, the stylists cleared their appointments as they underwent questioning by the officers. As soon as Minjun had completed his interview, his concern etched on his face and he gently guided you out of the salon. By the time you were seated in the passenger seat of his car, the familiar route towards home stretched before you. A profound mental exhaustion had taken hold of you. Your thoughts were a tangled mess and your energy completely depleted.

Minjun could read the weariness draped on your face and the unmistakable look of defeat clouding your eyes. As he parked the car in the familiar spot at your apartment complex, he reached into the back seat, retrieving a soft hoodie. He turned and offered it to you, his eyes urging you to put it on.

Y/n: I’m not cold but appreciate the thought-

Minjun: It’s not to keep you warm, it's to keep you safe. Anyone can technically look up the address to an apartment complex but that creep may not know what apartment you’re in yet.

The quiet thoughtfulness of his gesture resonated deeply with you. You knew Minjun possessed a kind and considerate nature, he was the type of person who would undoubtedly extend the same care to anyone in need. Yet, the fact that this small act of comfort was directed specifically towards you stirred something within your chest, a delicate flutter that made your heart do a curious little skip. The unspoken emotions left you speechless, so you accepted the offered hoodie, pulling it over your head with a quiet obedience.

The soft fabric enveloped you, carrying his scent like an invisible embrace. It was the distinct aroma of a fresh woodland after a rain shower, grounding and clean, with an underlying hint of something sweet and familiar. It was a smell you hadn’t realized you were getting accustomed to. As Minjun came around the car to open your door, you stepped out into the evening air. With a gentle hand, he reached up and pulled the hood over your brightly colored hair, then softly guided you towards your apartment.

Minjun: Do you get to your apartment the same way every time?

Y/n: Yes I do.

Minjun: Start going the opposite way. I can also start picking you up and dropping you off from work. I know it seems like much but I just don’t want anything to happen to you.

You led Minjun towards the quieter back entrance of the apartment complex. Then entered the elevator that ascended smoothly to the third floor. Your apartment, number 35, was nestled closer to the center of the hallway. As you walked, you couldn't help but notice Minjun's observant gaze, subtly scanning the hallway, his eyes lingering on the discreet placement of security cameras. Once you had gotten to the door and put in the passcode, Minjun gently stopped you before you could fully enter your haven. He turned his attention to the keypad, his brow furrowed in concentration as he began the process of resetting your entry code.

Y/n: What are you doing??

Minjun: Resetting your code.

Y/n: I can see that, but why?

Minjun: So they can’t guess your code.

Y/n: How would they guess it??

Minjun: Y/n you do realize that your floor mat is Halateez and anyone could guess their anniversary is your passcode.

Your silence said it all, he read you like a book and called you out at the same time. He reached for the keypad and reset the security code, anchoring your safety to the familiar date of his mother’s birthday – December 4th, a date effortlessly memorable by association to Jin of BTS’ birthday.

Stepping back into the safety of your apartment felt like a sudden release, yet the emotional residue of the day clung to you. The moment the door clicked shut, your legs seemed to give way, and you all but collapsed onto the soft cushions of the couch. You hadn’t done much work but being so emotional all day left you drained. Minjun's cheerful laughter bubbled through the quiet, followed by insistent, playful pokes. A groan escaped your lips, a protest against the intrusion. With monumental effort, fueled by a sliver of stubborn will, you pushed yourself upright. Your eyes, still clouded with the lingering weariness, fixed on Minjun with an intense glare.

Minjun: Look grumpy, I just want you to be able to shower or at least change so you’re comfortable before you lay down. I also need a blanket and pillow to sleep on.

Y/n: WHOA HOLD UP! You’re staying here?? I already texted Sky that I would like them to stay the night.

Minjun: Well it looks like we’re all having a sleepover. So what do you guys wanna watch? SkzCode? GoSe? Wanteez? Or should we go OG and watch Run BTS?

Y/n: I can’t stand you.

Minjun: Come take a seat then.

Minjun’s playful pat on his lap was a deliberate, teasing gesture, a spark that instantly ignited a blush that bloomed across your cheeks. The heat spread rapidly and with a sharp, wordless movement you practically stormed towards the bathroom. The click of the closing door was a desperate attempt to create a barrier between you and the unexpected intimacy of his flirtation. Even through the thick wood, his unrestrained laughter echoed. You had always been aware of Minjun’s lighthearted, occasionally suggestive nature, but this felt different, a step across an unspoken boundary.

Once you were in the shower, the warm cascade was a balm to your frayed nerves, each droplet a tiny messenger carrying away the day's anxieties and now, the lingering heat of Minjun's teasing. The faint vibration of your phone was swallowed by the rush of the water. It was likely just Sky, their usual message signaling the end of their shift and their soon arrival. You left it be for the time being until a series of sharp, insistent thuds shook the small apartment. You twisted the faucet, the sudden silence amplifying the frantic sounds. Hastily, wrapping a towel around your dripping body and bursting from the bathroom.

Nothing could have prepared you for the tableau that unfolded before your eyes.The apartment door stood wide open like an invitation to the chaos within. Minjun was laid across the floor while Sky loomed over him, their hand clenching on the fabric of his shirt collar. The air crackled with a raw, unspoken tension. The instant Sky’s gaze locked onto yours, their entire demeanor shifted. The aggressive energy that had radiated from them just moments before seemed to dissipate, replaced by a visible wave of embarrassment that washed over their features. Their grip on Minjun’s shirt loosened, and they straightened up, their eyes now wide with a mixture of surprise and somewhat guilt.

Sky: Uh my love… Why on earth would you have me come over when you seem to already have an appointment?

Y/n: Appointment?!

Your gaze snapped towards Minjun, who was awkwardly pushing himself up from the floor. Suddenly everything looked so much worse than it was. The scene before you warped, the innocent misunderstanding turned into something far more suggestive. Your mind raced, piecing together the fragmented reality from Sky’s perspective. For starters, your best friend couldn’t open the door. They were always accustomed to walking in and out of your apartment like family. The one time they weren’t able to, a total stranger greeted them at your doorstep. A male stranger… Then, the final, bewildering piece of the puzzle: their best friend bursting out from the bathroom, with nothing but a towel. The situation couldn’t be more odd than this.

Driven by an urgent need to regain control, you rushed past a still dazed Minjun and slammed the apartment door shut. Pivoting sharply, you crossed the living room in a few swift strides, your hand instinctively reaching for Sky. You grasped their arm, pulling them not so gently towards your bedroom, and secured the lock behind you. As you fumbled for clothes in your closet, your voice a rushed torrent of explanation, you recounted the day’s escalating anxieties to Sky. You started with the unsettling discovery of your vandalized station, the chilling realization of a possible stalker lurking in the shadows. And finally, Minjun’s presence as a concerned friend offering a semblance of security. Throughout your hurried explanation, you fought your damned hardest to ignore the almost amused curve of Sky’s lips. A subtle smirk that hinted at a narrative far different from the one your panicked mind had constructed.

Sky: Soooo, you’re gonna tell me the hottie out there, is the same coworker you found attractive and the same guy going out of his way to make sure you’re ok?

Y/n: Sky don’t even start-

Sky: Oh but my love, you started this and your oblivious ass can’t seem to see it. Don’t get me wrong, he’s no Choi San, but definitely a big upgrade from what’s his face.

Y/n: Anyone is better than my ex in your eyes.

Sky: Well duh, but still he’s fucking hot and you know its rare that we both agree a man is hot. A man specifically.

Y/n: It’s a rare occasion because you're gay.

Sky: Not totally gay and you know that.

Y/n: Yeosang doesn’t count.

Sky: You know what, fuck you. Yes he does. You have a possible contender out there and you’re not gonna take the chance?

Minjun: You guys know I can hear you right?!

Minjun's voice, muffled yet clearly audible through the closed bedroom door, cut through the tense atmosphere, causing both of you to freeze. The shared look of “oh shit” was priceless, but the joke born of the bizarre circumstances that would remain locked within the confines of that room. Sky, who was slightly more composed, cautiously eased the bedroom door open and peered out into the living room. Minjun had already made himself comfortable on your couch, one arm draped casually over the cushions, while the other held his phone up to scroll, seemingly oblivious to the whirlwind of confusion he had created.

Sky: Mind your business.

Minjun: I AM the business apparently.

Sky: Says who?

Minjun: Says you?

Sky: No, I didn’t. Neither did she. So says you and that’s supposed to mean something to me?

Minjun: No need to gaslight me but I can play along if you ask nicely.

Sky dramatically gagged in response. While they might have acknowledged Minjun’s attractiveness in the privacy of your bedroom, the very notion of admitting it to his face was apparently a fate worse than death. You cautiously peeked into the living room, observing the escalating, yet seemingly lighthearted, bickering between Sky and Minjun. Their playful jabs and exaggerated sighs suggested a comfortable familiarity. Taking advantage of their distraction, you quietly slipped out of the bedroom and made your way towards the kitchen. The emotional rollercoaster of the day had left you with no appetite for anything. You were simply running off of the coffee you had that morning.

As you scanned your pantry for sustenance, a soft meow drew your attention. Sannie had made his way to the counter and was waiting for his food. It was well past his designated dinner time, and a pang of guilt twisted in your stomach. A wave of apologetic affection washed over you as you nearly panicked and served his food with the speed of light.

Y/n: I’m so sorry my precious boy! Mom was so caught up in everything and forgot to feed you!

Sannie didn't even acknowledge your haste, his focus entirely on his food. Only once his bowl was empty did he lift his head, offering a soft nuzzle against your outstretched palm. You could sense a hint of his displeasure at the delayed meal, a subtle grumpiness that thankfully didn't outweigh his inherent need for affection. After all he was a love bug, but also a master manipulator who had even learned a repertoire of adorable tricks specifically designed to grab your attention.

Though, the sweet reverie of your bond with Sannie was abruptly shattered by the approaching presence behind you. Minjun was reaching over your shoulder, his large hand extended towards the counter, presumably to offer some belated attention to the little king himself. Under normal circumstances, anyone seeking the favor of your cherished cat would be welcomed. However, the cramped confines of your kitchen amplified the situation tenfold. Its narrow width could accommodate two people comfortably, but meaning literally shoulder-to-shoulder. Sannie’s food bowl resided in the far corner, where the countertop met the wall. This unfortunate placement meant that you were effectively cornered, trapped between a wall, the edge of the countertop, and a massive Minjun.

The realization of your predicament sparked an instantaneous reaction. Whether it was a surge of claustrophobia or a pure fight-or-flight response, you weren't entirely sure. One moment you were standing, the next you had dropped to the floor with surprising agility, scrambling around Minjun’s legs in a desperate bid for escape. To say Minjun was bewildered by your sudden descent would be an understatement. His expression was a mask of utter confusion. Sky on the other hand was not at all surprised and was actually laughing hysterically at your undignified retreat.

Y/n: The hell was that??

Minjun: I wanted to pet the kitty.

Sky: Which one?

Minjun simply shrugged at Sky’s teasing remark, a smug, knowing smirk playing on his lips. Your eyes narrowed, sending silent daggers in both their directions. It was one thing to constantly endure Sky’s playful jabs and unhinged commentary, but Minjun joining in on the torment was almost unbearable. The thought of navigating an entire night with this newly formed alliance of teasers filled you with a sense of weary dread. A silent debate began to brew in your mind about the pros and cons of resorting to eviction. The only problem with that, was the inconvenient truth that both of them now possessed the code to your door. Defeated, you abandoned all pretense of composure and launched yourself towards the welcoming embrace of the couch, your body colliding with the soft cushions in a dramatic collapse.

Sky: Bitch come on, this is the first time I agree with a man. I want you guys to happen!

Your face was pressed firmly into the fabric of the couch, the muffled scent of home filling your nostrils. In that moment, the idea of being gently suffocated by the plush material was a fate you would not mind. If Minjun’s interest was genuine, a part of you longed to explore the possibility, and step outside the boundaries of friendship. But the scars of past romances still ached, leaving you paralyzed by a deep seated fear of vulnerability. Sensing your fragile state, Sky seized the opportunity for further playful torment, settling onto the couch cushion next to where your head lay buried and launching a ticklish assault on your sides. “Oo no tat don ork” Was the muffled noise that came from you.

Sky: I can’t understand you.

Y/n: You know that doesn’t work.

With a groan of resignation, you pushed yourself into a sitting position. Your gaze drifted across the room to find Minjun now comfortably seated in your recliner and Sannie curled contently in his lap, purring like a tiny motor. With both of them staring at you, you instinctively drew your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms tightly around your legs. Seeking a small measure of comfort and self protection. The whirlwind of emotions from the day, coupled with this unexpected and somewhat overwhelming dynamic between your two closest friends, seemed all too soon.

Y/n: Look, I don't know if Minjun is actually serious or not. But for right now I don’t want anything, there's too much happening all at once.

Sky: Even if it’s not serious, he would at least make sure you’re not touch starved anymore.

Y/n: SKY I'M SERIOUS!

Sky: Ok, ok, serious time.

Minjun: You know I can still hear you right? Don’t I get a say in any of this?

Sky: Not right now sweetie, the grownups are talking very seriously. We know you’re there, we’re just choosing to ignore you.

Minjun: Well, I would like to be acknowledged when I say that my feelings aren’t a joke. To say I haven’t developed any sort of feelings would be total bullshit, but it’s still too soon for me to tell. Not only that, the conversion you guys had in the bedroom, seemed like you’ve had it rough with relationships. I don’t want to rush you if you’re not ready because that’ll hurt us both.

Sky: Sweetie this is why I said the grownups are talking, she just needs a good dicking down to move on.

Sky would soon regret those words. With a swift movement, you snatched the nearest couch cushion and hurled it, the soft projectile colliding squarely with their face. Their reaction was nothing short of theatrical. Clutching their cheek with exaggerated pain, they gasped dramatically. Their eyes widened and glistened with mock tears, staring at you as if they had just received a mortal injury.

Y/n: I’d appreciate if you’d be quiet for just two fucking seconds… Minjun, I know there’s something there but it is all too soon. And plus I can’t risk that fucking creep hurting you.

Sky, witnessing this sudden shift in your demeanor and the unexpected vulnerability in your confession, instantly dropped their act. Their playful facade crumbled, replaced by an expression of genuine bewilderment. They were unable to fully process the words that had just fallen from your lips, especially admitting it so openly in front of them. As much as Sky’s teasing tactics could be perceived as cruel, they were often rooted in keen understanding of your inner workings. They possessed an uncanny ability to read you like an open book, their insights usually piercingly accurate. In return, they themselves were an open book, their emotions and intentions rarely concealed, making your sudden, unguarded confession all the more impactful.

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monoceros-vulpes · 6 months ago

Text

24.

☆ … 2.2k

☆ … Cyrille, Lucielle.

☆ … Attempted suicide, Alcohol, Implied ED.

☆ … Cyrille birthday lore :) this one takes place in 2013

Darkness enveloped every corner of the street.

The city was known for its bright, neon signs. They were scattered across the city; specks of cyan and magenta lighting up every building and walkway, even late at night. The bustling metropolis didn’t know sleep.

Most would be unfamiliar with the darkness, and understandably so. Yet, Cyrille navigated the sidewalk expertly in the dim light. The only visible things were faint gleams at the edges of buildings, dumpsters, the cars parked at the curb. They were enough to guide xem.

Xe pulled up their scarf a little higher over xyr nose. Cold crept in between the fibres of xyr sweater. Almost pleasant, if not for the dampness that lingered in the air. It hasn’t rained in weeks.

Xyr hand returned to the strap of their tote bag. Inside were xyr necessities, plus a few games. Xe had bought them a console for their birthday last year, and xe’d take full advantage of it. And a bottle of vodka, to celebrate of course. Xe’d be celebrating with the prettiest guy this side of Heliopolis.

Xe turned the corner, from walking down a quiet street to an even quieter alleyway. At the end, a single white floodlight illuminated the ground in front of the building. Several stories tall, yet not all that big. Pretty shabby place, xe’d have to admit. But it’s what was available at the time. A shitty apartment is better than no apartment.

Rummaging around inside xyr bag, xe pulled out the keys to the stairwell situated awkwardly in the corner. Unfortunately, also poorly lit. Barely anything could be seen through the gate.

The lock turned easily in response to the silver key. Xe pulled it open, propping it with xyr foot while xe looked for xyr phone. It wasn’t needed, but the flashlight would help.

The door creaked close behind xem, audibly locking. The stairs were dry, thankfully. The wire grate walls weren’t much to keep the damp air out though. Xe stopped on the landing of the third floor.

Newly hatched butterflies made xyr stomach flutter. It was late, but they’d still be up. Most likely. They even suggested celebrating at their place instead of the bowling alley. A special occasion, not a rare one.

Xe knocked.

Twice.

Three times.

Xe frowned, calling.

“Luci? I’m here.” Xe knocked again, then switched tabs to text them. Xyr lithe fingers tapped on the screen, dimly illuminating xyr face.

Minutes passed. Whether the night itself were growing colder or it just being from standing there was beyond xem. Xe sighed, pulling out xyr keyring again.

Theirs stood out among the rest. The newest. The copy was only made a few months ago. It slid into the lock perfectly.

The apartment inside was dark. Notably warmer though. Xe reached over to the light switch, flicking it on before closing the door behind xem.

“Luci? I let myself in,” xe called. The apartment wasn’t large. They had to have heard xem.

Cyrille slid off xyr shoes, pulled off xyr scarf and hung it on the coat rack. Xe navigated the apartment, poking xyr head around the corner of the foyer.

The couch was empty, much to xyr discontent. The TV across from it was turned off too. Xe frowned at the blanket on one end of the couch, folded neatly. Lucielle tidying up? For xem? Something must really be wrong. The remote was even sitting neatly at the edge of the coffee table.

On the other side of the wall was the kitchen. Small, only enough for basic appliances and a little counter and storage space. Xe’d have to remind them to buy an island to separate it from the living room later. Unsettling to have it be so open, honestly.

Xe shook xyr head, stepping forward into the living room and turning on the lamp by the end table. Xe winced. The only sounds in the apartment were the shuffling of xyr socks on the hardwood floor and the deafening buzz from the fridge and the lamp. And the foyer ceiling light, which was arguably louder.

The hallway was only lit by the reflection of the foyer light though. Much darker, but nothing compared to outside. Xe shuffled around, avoiding the rug that’d bite xyr feet in front of the couch.

Maybe they fell asleep. It wasn’t unlike them to sleep longer than intended, especially since xe hadn’t messaged them since that morning to check up.

Their bedroom door was the same shade as the walls, only the trim giving it contrast. Xe slid xyr fingers over the faux wood before knocking, tentatively.

“Luci? Are you in here?” Xe asked, adjusting the tote bag hanging from xyr shoulder. “I’m coming in.”

And sure enough, they were. A mess of blankets and hair on the bed in the far corner, dimly lit by the light filtering through the cheap curtains on their window. Xe smiled to xemself, shuffling over to flick on the lamp resting on the nightstand.

There were a couple of empty glasses next to the lamp. Looking, xe found a few other dishes on their desk. As quietly as xe could, xe gathered and stacked all the dishes, leaving them on the edge of the desk to take back to the kitchen later.

“Morning time, sleepyhead,” xe said, just above a whisper. The bed dipped where xe sat, carefully avoiding loose strands of hair scattered on the sheets. They didn’t respond, still lying on their side holding a pillow.

“Luci?” Odd. Xe reached over, gently brushing their hair from their face. Their lips were a distinct shade of grey.

Xyr stomach dropped.

“Hey, Luci, babe.” This can’t be happening. Xyr hands fell to their shoulder, shaking them. Panic rose in xyr chest; xyr breath hitched. “Babe, please, wake up.” No, no this can’t be. They can’t. Quickly, xe pulled them onto their back and checked their pulse. Rapid. Weak.

“No, no, no, no, no, no you can’t. Don’t.” Xe cupped their cheek, pulling them closer. “Stay. Stay, please Lucielle, please don’t go.” They remained unresponsive, rapid shallow breaths escaping their lips being the only sign that they were still there.

Xe fumbled for their phone in their bag, hands shaking as they pulled up the dial screen. Tears blurred xyr vision.

Who do they call? Would emergency services really be the best idea? This can’t happen again. Xe can’t lose them. Instead, they pull up xyr contacts. He picks up on the first ring.

“Help, Arcene, please.” Xe chokes, mindlessly running xyr hand to find theirs. Xe explains the situation, barely coherent between sobs. The rustling in the background on the other end barely registered.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” He spoke as kindly as his voice would allow. “I’m still at the office. I’ll be there in five, ten at the latest, alright?” Xe nodded, not that it’d be audible. “First, I need you to strip their shirt. On their back, clear the area as much as you can. Then head downstairs to let me in. Alright?” A car door closed on his end.

“Please…”

“Look, Cy, I know it’s hard.” His engine started. “But they need you to do this. They have you. It won’t end up like that again.” Xe nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Thanks…” Xe hung up, tossing their phone to the nightstand and turning to Lucielle. Xe bit xyr lip, roughly wiping the wetness from xyr cheeks. Pulling down the blanket, xe pulled up their black hoodie, several sizes too large, tossing it to the side. Xe loosely braided their long hair, tying it off with a hair tie from xyr wrist.

“Please don’t… Promise you won’t, alright?” Xe presses their lips to their forehead. “I’m sorry.” Xe held their face, delicately, as if they might shatter at the slightest mistreatment. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t…” Xe swallowed back tears.

Seconds seemed to take minutes, yet passed in the blink of an eye. Xe waved to the taller man once he was in sight, holding the door open. He carried a large bag with him. They ran up the floors in silence, but it was anything but quiet. It felt like xyr body itself was screaming.

The third-floor door was left open, at which he beelined to and down the hall. By the time Cyrille caught up to him, he was already kneeling beside the bed with a blood pressure cuff around their upper arm.

“How much do they weigh?” Xe rambled off a number. “How are you holding up?” He took notes on a pad, removing the cuff.

“Horribly.” He snorted.

“I bet. Do you want to wait in the other room? I can give you a task if not.” He took out a wipe, cleaning down their forearm.

“Anything to occupy me, please…”

“Get them their favourite snack. And water. By the looks of it, the kid doesn’t have much of either.”

Xe nodded, leaving the room to the kitchen. To be honest, xe didn’t know what was their favourite. Xe couldn’t cook either.

Their pantry had crackers. Cookies. Snacks. Those gross protein bars they’d always offer xem. Xe took a glass and a plate from the cupboard, filling the former with water from the tap.

Xyr head swirled, too many thoughts and none at all at the same time. Maybe that bottle of vodka would be useful after all. Xe left their bag beside the bed though. And xe didn’t know if xe could face them. What if xe was too late? What if it didn’t work? Who knows what happened?

“Cy—” they turned back to the hall— “They’re fine. Don’t overthink it. I know you are.” Arcene took off their shoes, walking them over to the door. “I’ll be here for a little while, just in case. You’re fine to see them though.”

Xe nodded, silent. The various snacks were arranged on the plate to look nice. As nice as xe could make them now. Xe wedged another empty glass in their elbow, carrying it along with the plate and the glass of water to their room.

Lucielle didn’t acknowledge xyr presence as xe entered the room. Their eyes were open though; the only indication that they were awake. Colour returned to their face, looking almost as if it had never left. Xe set the glass and the plate on the nightstand and pulled up the chair from their desk.

Lucielle’s eyes remained trained on the ceiling, unmoving. Unblinking. The blanket was now pulled up to their neck. Their sweater was still draped at the edge of the bed, in a different location from where xe tossed it earlier.

Xe rummaged through their bag, pulling out the bottle of vodka. It wasn’t the optimal way to drink it, at least in xyr opinion, but xe really couldn’t care less.

“Sorry,” they spoke, barely a whisper.

Xe looked up at them. They still haven’t moved from the spot.

“Shouldn’t’ve…”

Cyrille swirled xyr drink, watching it flow in the glass before taking a sip. The familiar burn was comforting, almost.

“Don’t sweat it, Luci. We can celebrate properly next week, alright?” Xe didn’t want to make them feel worse. They were already beating themself up over it; they didn’t need xem too. “I’m happy you’re alright, though.” Xe forced a slight smile.

“... Stay?”

“Tonight? Yeah, of course. The next few days too. Thought you’d like the company.” Xe was still worried. The prospect of xyr best friend dying right in front of xem was… terrifying, honestly.

“Hold…”

Xe laughed weakly, smile turning just a smidge genuine. “Just as needy as ever, huh Luci?” They huffed. “So cute…”

Xe set xyr glass down on the nightstand, lifting the covers to slide into bed next to them. They turned onto their side, resting their head on xyr chest. They sighed against xem, nuzzling xem as they allowed tense muscles to relax. Xyr heart skipped a beat, xe swears.

“Red?”

“Hm? Oh, you mean Arcene? I’ve told you about him, right?”

They shook their head ‘no’.

“He’s my half-brother. On my father’s side. Never really got along well. And my mother got custody of me when I was a kid. He’s what… 11 years older than me? Or 10, now. I didn’t know who else to call… He’s a nurse at the East district hospital. Lucky for us. He’ll leave sometime tomorrow morning.” They hummed in response.

Xyr eyes fell on their ears, watching them twitch contentedly. Their silver hair remained in its messy, loose braid. Cyrille reached up, running xyr hand over their hair. Xe could fix the braid in the morning.

Within a few minutes, they fell asleep. Soft, regular breathing now slowed to a comfortable rhythm. Xe continued petting them, running xyr fingers through their soft hair. Xe pressed a kiss to the top of their head, right between the ears as xe drifted off to sleep. They were alive. They were safe. That was all that mattered now.

#.> aureate starlight #.> lux #.> cyrille #.> writing

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ppumeonae-bigvibe · 1 year ago

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sleepy affections

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★ welcome to the EN-sanctuary! ,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

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↬ summary: en-sanctuary's reaction to yejun being sleepy

『 h e e s e u n g 🐁』

heeseung would probably be reading a book, all whilst yejun is curled up in between his legs scrolling through her socials on a mundane weekday afternoon

might not even notice how tired she is until her head lolls back, phone in her hand going slack

“yejun?” and...silence but heeseung readjusts her so she is not craning her neck in anyway

heeseung can’t see her face, but it immediately puts a smile to his face knowing that she was comfortable around him to completely relax in his presence

book forgotten, he might even wrap his arms around yejun and just take a short nap like that: cuddling her

would stay in that position till he needs to get up or when she gets up

『 s u n g h o o n 🐇』

sunghoon would probably be making his way back from grabbing a cup of water at 3am in the morning (you have no idea how refreshing water taste in the middle of the night) when he spots yejun at her desk

silently stands by the door as yejun’s gaze is all unfocused and her hands have ceased to type into whatever editing she is doing (sunghoon knows for sure because he could still here yejun typing and mumbling away from his bedroom right before he fell asleep)

finally decides to break the silence by going into the room and just promptly dragging her out of her slump, not forgetting to switch off everything before leaving the room

“you’re not falling asleep at your desk”

winds up in his bed sleeping the rest of the night away

『 j a y 🐈 』

jay would probably be closing up the store where he’s working part time at and finds yejun waiting patiently at the bench outside the shop

boy is all excited and hurries to switch off the lights but when he finally stands in front of her, a (stupid, cute, utterly breathtaking, akjsdhasd) grin on his face at her dozing off

“yejun, wake up. let’s go home.”

jay would totally pretend to make a big fuss out of it, but in the end willingly carries yejun on his back

finds it cute that she’s lightly snoring and will for sure tease her about it when she wakes up

doesn’t admit it but he is an absolute sucker for such intimate moments

『 j a k e 🐕 』

jake would be recounting his day to her as soon as yejun makes herself comfortable in his bed

this lovely puppy is just too hyped up in telling the best parts of his day he somewhat fails to notice how dog-tired (pun intended) yejun is

poor yejun just presses a hand over jake’s lips and hushes him, effectively stopping him mid-ramble about whether the chicken came first or the egg

“let me just...close my eyes...” proceeds to bury herself under jake’s blanket, a common occurrence

jake’s now amused (and much quieter) as yejun lays still beside him in the bed they’re sharing, eyelids fluttering close

『 s u n o o 🦊 』

sunoo would be watching a movie (that yejun promises she’d try to be awake this time round), hands busying with grabbing chips from the bag in front of him

out of the corner of his eyes, he’s keeping tabs on whether yejun’s staying true to her words (because doctor strange is hot and sunoo just wants someone to fawn over the character)

sunoo also isnt surprised when she starts curling up into herself, head automatically landing in his lap

“you are going to fall asleep right, noona?” “no, i was just getting comfortable.”

sunoo still teasingly laughs at yejun’s sleeping form because he’s the only one left watching a movie he’s watched multiple times

『 j u n g w o n 🐈 』

jungwon is perceptive in a way he knows when yejun’s tired, especially so after taking a drowsy cough syrup

“come on off to bed noona.” “you’re babying me, i can see it”

jungwon is practically herding yejun into any bed (read: his bed) tucking her in, then quickly closing the blinds and doors before lying beside her

he’s gazing at her as yejun does the same, though sleep is apparent in her eyes

finds it funny that yejun’s resisting sleep whenever jungwon’s around her (but that’s really because yejun’s protective of the maknae line, wanting to show her strong side)

unconsciously, jungwon’s rubbing her shoulder, helping her sleep better and it does work

『 n i k i 🐆』

niki would be at the back of the car with yejun, the gentle shaking of the car making him awake more than he’d like

niki liked car ride trips when he could daydream, but he likes it better with yejun because he knew how she had a tendency to take cat naps (HAHA cat naps-) when she travels

and that to niki MEANS time to take whatever unglams and send them into group chat for fun

okay but for real, niki would pull yejun closer to him and would stay awake until the two of them reaches their destination

@ppumeonae-bigvibe's work ; likes and reblogs are appreciated !

#ppumeonae-bigvibe #en-sanctuary #enhypen #enhypen lee heeseung #enhypen park sunghoon #enhypen jay park jongsesong #enhypen jake sim jaeyun #enhypen kim sunoo #enhypen yang jungwon #enhypen niki nishimura riki

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flutterdevs · 2 months ago

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Mastering Flutter UI: A Deep Dive into Essential Widgets

Flutter has become the go-to framework for developers aiming to create beautiful, natively compiled applications for mobile, web, and desktop from a single codebase. One of Flutter's biggest strengths lies in its rich set of UI components. In this blog, we’ll explore five powerful Flutter widgets you should know to build smooth, feature-rich apps: RadioListTile, Card, Badge, Carousel, and Tab widgets.

Let’s break them down one by one 👇

Flutter RadioListTile

If you're looking to implement multiple-choice or preference selection in your app, RadioListTile is a clean and user-friendly way to go. It’s a combination of a radio button and a ListTile, offering an interactive selection item with built-in tap response and styling.

Use Case: Perfect for forms, settings screens, and user surveys.

Key Features:

Combines Radio and ListTile in one widget

Automatically manages selection logic

Easily styled and customized

Explore Flutter RadioListTile →

Flutter Card Widgets

The Card widget is your go-to for building polished, material-style containers that can hold content and actions. Whether you're listing profiles, products, or posts, Cards offer a neat, elevated look with built-in shadows and padding.

Use Case: Ideal for displaying grouped information, like user profiles, news snippets, or dashboard tiles.

Key Features:

Elevation for depth effect

Rounded corners and padding

Works seamlessly with images, text, and buttons

Explore Flutter Card Widgets →

Flutter Badge Widgets

Badges are tiny but mighty UI elements used to convey notifications, updates, or status indicators. In Flutter, Badge widgets can be easily integrated with icons or buttons to highlight new content or activity counts.

Use Case: Useful in apps with notifications, messages, or shopping carts.

Key Features:

Lightweight and customizable

Can be styled with numbers, icons, or colors

Typically used alongside BottomNavigationBar or AppBar

Explore Flutter Badge Widgets →

Flutter Carousel Widgets

The Carousel widget brings dynamic image sliders or content carousels into your app with swipe support and animations. It’s often seen on landing pages, featured product sections, or onboarding flows.

Use Case: Great for showcasing banners, promotions, or featured content.

Key Features:

Swipeable image/content sliders

Autoplay and manual control options

Customizable indicators and transitions

Explore Flutter Carousel Widgets →

Flutter Tab Widgets

Organizing content in a clean and swipeable layout? Flutter’s TabBar and TabBarView combo is your solution. It allows users to switch between sections smoothly—perfect for settings screens, app categories, or dashboards.

Use Case: Best used for apps with segmented content like music, shopping, or news.

Key Features:

Horizontal tab navigation

Syncs easily with content views

Can be scrollable or fixed

Explore Flutter Tab Widgets →

Wrap-Up

These Flutter widgets—RadioListTile, Card, Badge, Carousel, and Tab—are staples in modern app development. They not only help improve UX but also allow developers to maintain a consistent and elegant UI throughout the app.Want to dig deeper into each widget? Visit our website for more, visit Getwidget.

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souhaillaghchimdev · 2 months ago

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Mobile UI Design

Mobile UI (User Interface) design plays a critical role in the success of any mobile application. A well-designed UI enhances usability, accessibility, and the overall user experience. In this blog post, we'll explore the essentials of mobile UI design and how developers and designers can collaborate to build intuitive and visually pleasing apps.

What is Mobile UI Design?

Mobile UI design is the process of designing graphical and interactive elements of a mobile application, such as buttons, icons, typography, navigation, and layout. The goal is to ensure users can easily interact with the app and achieve their goals without confusion or frustration.

Principles of Good Mobile UI Design

Simplicity: Keep the interface clean and uncluttered to avoid overwhelming users.

Consistency: Maintain uniformity in colors, fonts, and component styles throughout the app.

Feedback: Provide immediate responses to user actions like button clicks or form submissions.

Accessibility: Design for all users, including those with disabilities. Use readable fonts, contrast, and screen reader support.

Intuitive Navigation: Make sure users can easily find their way around the app using clear icons and menus.

Popular Tools for Mobile UI Design

Figma: Collaborative interface design tool popular for mobile UI and prototypes.

Adobe XD: Used for designing and prototyping user experiences for web and mobile apps.

Sketch: Mac-only vector design tool great for UI/UX design.

InVision: Helps with creating interactive mockups and wireframes.

Mobile UI Design Tips

Design for different screen sizes and resolutions (responsive design).

Use a grid system to align elements consistently.

Prioritize touch-friendly elements (big enough buttons with enough spacing).

Stick to platform guidelines (Material Design for Android, Human Interface Guidelines for iOS).

Include microinteractions to make the app feel alive and responsive.

Common UI Components in Mobile Apps

Navigation Bar

Bottom Tab Bar

Buttons and Icons

Sliders and Switches

Cards and Lists

Modals and Dialogs

Example: A Simple UI Layout in Flutter

import 'package:flutter/material.dart'; void main() => runApp(MyApp()); class MyApp extends StatelessWidget { @override Widget build(BuildContext context) { return MaterialApp( home: Scaffold( appBar: AppBar(title: Text('Simple UI')), body: Center( child: ElevatedButton( onPressed: () {}, child: Text('Click Me'), ), ), ), ); } }

Testing and Improving UI

Use tools like Firebase Analytics to track user interactions.

Perform user testing with real users to identify pain points.

Iterate based on feedback and usage data.

Conclusion

Designing a mobile UI is more than just making an app look pretty—it's about creating a seamless, engaging, and efficient experience for the user. By following core design principles, using the right tools, and focusing on the user, you can build mobile interfaces that stand out in both form and function.

#programming

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codezup · 6 months ago

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Create a Flutter App with a Customizable Tab Bar

Introduction Creating a Flutter App with a Customizable Tab Bar is a fundamental skill for any Flutter developer. A customizable tab bar allows users to navigate through different screens within your app with ease, making it an essential feature for many applications. In this tutorial, we will guide you through the process of creating a Flutter app with a customizable tab bar. What You Will…

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trandingpost1 · 1 year ago

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BSE Odisha 10th Result 2024: Release Date, How to Check & More!

Hey there, Odisha class of 2024! The butterflies are fluttering, aren't they? If you took the BSE Odisha 10th exams this year, you're probably glued to your phone or computer screen, eagerly refreshing for news about the results. Well, fret no more! We're here to guide you through everything you need to know about the highly anticipated BSE Odisha 10th Result 2024.

The Wait is Almost Over: Expected Release Date and Official Sources

While there's no official confirmation from the Board of Secondary Education (BSE) Odisha just yet, credible media reports suggest the BSE Odisha 10th Result 2024 will be declared by the end of May, most likely around May 28th. This means the big reveal could happen literally any day now! Pro Tip: It's always best to rely on official sources for information. Keep an eye on the official website of the BSE Odisha, , for any announcements regarding the results. You can also follow their social media channels (if they have any) for updates.

How to Check Your BSE Odisha 10th Result 2024

A Step-by-Step Guide to Checking Your BSE Odisha 10th Result 2024 The moment of truth is almost here, Odisha class of 2024! With the BSE Odisha 10th Result 2024 expected to be released any day now, let's walk you through the process of checking your results smoothly and efficiently. Step 1: Gear Up - Gather Your Tools Before diving in, make sure you have a few things handy: - A Device: You'll need a computer, phone, or tablet with a stable internet connection to access the results website. - Your Admit Card: This trusty document holds your roll number, which is your unique identification key to access your results. - A Calm Mind: Take a deep breath and relax! We'll guide you through the process step-by-step. Step 2: Navigate to the Official Website Head over to the official website of the Board of Secondary Education (BSE) Odisha: . Step 3: Find the Results Section Look for a dedicated section labeled "Results," "Examination Results," or something similar. It might be prominently displayed on the homepage or under a specific "Results" tab. Step 4: Select "BSE Odisha 10th Result 2024" Once you locate the results section, you'll likely see a list of various examinations. Select the option that specifically mentions "BSE Odisha 10th Result 2024". Step 5: Enter Your Credentials - The Magic Key A new page will appear, requesting your login credentials. Here's where your admit card comes into play. Enter your roll number exactly as it appears on the card. Some websites might also require your date of birth for verification. Double-check these details to avoid any errors. Step 6: Behold! Your BSE Odisha 10th Result 2024 Once you submit your credentials, your BSE Odisha 10th Result 2024 will be displayed on the screen. This will typically include: - Your name - Roll number - Marks obtained in each subject - Total marks secured - Overall grade or pass status Step 7: Download and Print (Optional) Most websites allow you to download a soft copy (PDF) of your marksheet for your records. This is a great way to have a digital copy readily available. You can also choose to print a physical copy of your results for future reference. Congratulations! You've successfully accessed your BSE Odisha 10th Result 2024. We hope you're happy with your performance!

Understanding Your BSE Odisha 10th Result 2024

Your BSE Odisha 10th Result 2024 will provide a comprehensive overview of your performance in the exams. Here's a breakdown of what you can expect to see: Read More:MP Board Releases Class 5 and 8 Results for 2024: A Detailed Look - Personal Information: This section will include your name, roll number, and possibly your father's name or other identifying details. - Subject-Wise Marks: This section will showcase the marks you obtained in each individual subject you appeared for in the exams. - Total Marks: This will be the sum of your marks in all subjects. - Grade/Pass Status: Based on your overall marks, you'll be awarded a grade (A+, A, B, etc.) or a pass/fail status. The minimum passing marks for each subject and the overall exam will be determined by the BSE Odisha.

Feeling the Jitters? Tips to Manage Exam Result Anxiety

The wait for exam results can be incredibly stressful. It's normal to feel anxious, nervous, or even a little scared. Here are some tips to help you manage those pre-result jitters: - Stay Positive: Remember, you put in a lot of hard work and preparation for the BSE Odisha 10th exams. Regardless of the outcome, be proud of yourself for your dedication. - Distract Yourself: Don't spend every waking moment refreshing the results page Read the full article

#BSEOdisha #BSEOdisha10th #BSEOdisha10thResult #BSEOdisha10thResult2024

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kumpulanjurnalmakalah-blog · 1 year ago

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[solved] How to preserve widget states in flutter when navigating using BottomNavigationBar?

Preserving widget states when navigating using BottomNavigationBar in Flutter can be achieved by properly managing the state of the widgets and utilizing the appropriate state management techniques. This ensures that the state of the widgets is preserved when switching between different tabs of the BottomNavigationBar. In this article, we will explore some of the best practices to preserve widget…

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#fixcode #Flutter #howto

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unhingedselfships · 2 years ago

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One Morally Questionable Man Helps Girl Poorly Cope With Past Trauma by Way of Very Bad Coping Mechanisms

CW : past CSA mention

She curled further into the corner she'd claimed, and kept her eyes locked on the man who'd brought her here. Nerves frayed already, she found it hard pressed to be more unsettled, yet she couldn't help but feel out of place. Even on her best days, she was no match for a place like this.

Why he'd chosen somewhere so… high end, was beyond her, but much of Kenshi was. Certainly the place had a dress code, yet here she was, in space cat pj pants, a clingy tye-dye tank top, and old beat up slip on shoes of indeterminate color. Her worn sherpa hoodie was currently acting as something of a security blanket, her fidgety hands picking at the fluff.

She certainly looked no match for the dashing gentlemen and stunning ladies more standard to a place like this. All carefully curated and glittering in the night glamour.

Amazing what money could do, she laughed internally.

She watched him work his magic, charisma cranked to eleven, speaking to who she could only assume was the manager, gesturing in her direction, finding that flawless balance of authority and sympathy, smoothing over her presence as his guest.

Absently she wondered if anyone here knew him. What they'd think. Probably be good for his reputation she imagined. Good kind Kadokura, taking care of this poor distraught young woman, who'd clearly been through something just ever so terrible.

Or maybe they'd think the worst. An older man plying a vulnerable woman in distress with strong drinks and charm. She snorted at the thought, sure he could charming but he had no interest in that, and certainly not with her.

The internal laughter took on a note of hysteria, spiralling out her control again

The shaking still hadn't stopped. She wondered if it ever would. It was starting to ache, the constant tensing from the way her muscles trembled. Her head was spinning again, and she couldn't focus, suddenly Kenshi seemed miles further than he just had been.

Her chest tightened, heart fluttering and it was getting hard to breathe. Why was it so hard to breathe?

Startling as a glass slid into her view, she looked up from the colorful drink to the man she'd turned to, half begged to help her, his calculating, and perhaps a bit cautious she thought, look pinning her in place.

"I want to talk about it. I don't know if I can."

She felt all at once smothered by it, and like she would burst with it, yet a strange sense of impending doom took hold the moment she thought to open up.

Even Daigo had had to mostly put it together himself, reading the court transcripts and what little she could say.

("I was the first, I- I was the first.")

"Few more of those, and I'm sure you won't have any trouble at all."

She reached for it then, sliding it across the table top towards herself, but hesitated to lift. Her fingers still trembled and she didn’t want to spill any.

With a put upon sigh, Kadokura produced a straw, dropping it in her glass with a distinctive metal on glass clink.

“Do you have any idea, the look the bartender gave me when I asked him for a straw?” the glare he shot her was betrayed by the tilt of his lips, faux-irritation playing across his face.

“I’m sure you’ll survive,” she mumbled back at him, taking a sip, and humming at the taste.

Overly sweet, excessively fruity, sugar and tartness likely masking something far stronger than one would expect. He knew her taste, or rather, distaste for alcohol. It wasn’t surprising he’d pick the perfect thing for her.

She’d sucked down about half the glass, the first of several she was sure, before she slid her phone over from where she’d sat it. Unlocking the screen and navigating between tabs, he watched her, relaxed, but vigilant. Most people would likely have quailed under the scrutiny, but she found some strange comfort in it. He was cataloging her every tick, and deciding the best way to react. It was calculated. It was careful.

Staring at the screen, something haunted and pained in her eyes, he still waited, more patience than he’d give most people. A deep shuddering breath, and she passed him the small device.

“Ah, so this is what Daigo meant,” he noted, tilting his head, eyeing her over the phone.

“I. It’ll make it a little easier? Maybe? I think. If you already have some context. I can’t. I don’t know where to start. To explain everything. If you already know something…” she trailed off.

He hummed and focused on the page she’d left it open to. A court transcript. Easy enough. He cocked a brow at the 126 consecutive year sentence. It wasn’t the longest he’d ever heard, but was still fairly impressive. His face shifted into displeasure, as he continued reading the details. He was by no means a moral paragon, not that he ever bothered to concern himself with morality at all, but even he found these sorts of things distasteful. He wasn’t above using threats of such to manipulate people, but the act itself was… Beneath him. To each their own, he supposed. As long as their own didn't effect him, at any rate.

“Did you know the girls?” his first assumption. It would make it seem something of an over reaction but it was an easy enough explanation.

Shaking her head, she chewed her lip, fingers tapping against the glass. A few tears slipped over her cheeks and she took a deep shuddering breath.

“Was it my fault?”

Well that wasn’t what he’d expected at all. And was also a bit confusing. He was trying to puzzle out how any of what was described could have anything to do with her, much less be her fault. He turned the facts he had over in his head, before settling on a conclusion. Daigo’s rage seemed to be the key here, to understanding what she wasn’t giving him.

“How, exactly, would any of this be your fault, Kimi-chan?” he rode a fine line between patience and condescension. A note of ‘I think you’re stupid but I’m willing to walk you through how and why’. It was a tone he often took with her, when she came at him with her absurdity.

“I. I was the first,” her eyes were somewhere between vacant and distant, her voice quivering.

He knew what she meant, and he didn’t like it. It wasn’t a mere implication, that would have been kinder. Easier to pretend. It grated, how difficult she made it to pretend to be unaffected and careless. Some part of him damned her some days, for worming her way in.

“It was nearly 20 years ago. I was seven. I think. Around then. I don’t remember that time very well. Snippets. Random things that happened. But it was all kind of a…” she trailed off for a moment, “a blur I suppose. A nebulous ‘early elementary school years’ idea.”

She was babbling. She did that when she was upset and having trouble articulating. He’d gotten good at parsing through her nonsense to get to the core of what she was trying to say.

And he still didn’t like the core of what she was saying. Decades past regardless, she was his now, and he didn’t like people damaging his things.

“I still fail to see how that has anything to do with this… man’s, actions.”

“I could have- I should, have said something. Maybe then-” she cut herself, speaking in fits and starts now.

Her condition was worsening, and Kadokura tapped at the table in agitation. Not with her, mind, though it may have been easier to just blame her and move on. There was no quick and easy solution to this. He couldn’t just fix her, and that grated.

“Would it have made any difference?”

Her eyes shot up to meet his, wide and somewhere between confusion and distress. At least she was present again, he supposed.

“Wha-”

“Would it have mattered? Who could you have told? Who would have believed you?”

“I- Mom would hav-”

“What could she have done? Really?”

She worried at her lower lip, brow furrowed and breath hitching.

“It’s awfully self absorbed of you to think any of this had anything to do with you.”

He stabbed right through and she nearly choked on a gasp. She held his gaze, her pain meeting his neutrality. He wasn’t being careless, she could see it in the lines of his body, his agitation. Irritation. He was being blunt. Forward and matter of fact. He wouldn’t let her carry her “silly” delusions. There was no logic to her thoughts, and they both knew it. The unfeeling truth may not fix it, but at least it cemented it.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Why are you apologizing.”

There was something in his tone that read more demand than question.

“I don’t- For- I just-”

“Don’t. Don’t apologize for nothing. Drink. Drink until you can’t feel, and you can figure out what you want to do, tomorrow. That’s what you wanted isn’t it?”

She clutched at her glass, and stared into the unnatural color, shoulders trembling.

He seemed tense, somewhat uncomfortable, before settling. He pried one of her hands loose, and gave it a firm but gentle squeeze.

“Let go. Get completely wasted. I’ll make sure you get home.”

Waving a waiter over, he ordered her another, and the rare moment of tenderness passed.

He may not be the best at showing it most of the time, but he cared, in his way.

She knew with a certainty she couldn’t explain, that he meant it. She could trust him. He would keep her safe for the night.

Polishing off the first, she plopped the straw into the second and started on it right away, as Kadokura slowly sipped at his first for the night. One of the few he’d allow himself while “babysitting” the distressed girl.

Her face was interesting to watch. Micro changes to macro ones. She was fascinatingly expressive. Pain flittering into frustration, morphing into confusion, settling into regret. Anger and sorrow and grief and shit, she was so terribly human.

The trembles picked back up, and her eyes faded into something, somewhere, distant, absent. He tapped a knuckle lightly under her eye, on the ridge of her cheek bone, ignoring the way she jolted, eyes suddenly wild, before refocusing and her whole being relaxing, just barely.

“It's. I’m. I hate this,” she ground her teeth.

He cocked his head at her, “Very articulate, Kimberly.”

She bristled, “Do you have t-” she cut herself off, “I’m trying ok!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he held his hands up in surrender.

With a deep shuddering breath, she held the straw aside, and chugged down the drink. Even with the sweetness, the alcohol was still certainly present, and she grimaced. She tugged the straw out and slid the glass aside. Kadokura absently waved at one of the bartenders, eyes never leaving her face.

Tears welled and overflowed, “Why is this so hard? I don’t- I don’t understand why I can’t just- How fucking hard is it to just say! Hey, my father sucked and didn’t keep me safe and his best friend’s kid molested me and I wouldn’t- couldn’t- say anything because I thought it was my fault, and I felt so ashamed, and so gross, and years later when I could at least logically acknowledge that was wrong even if it still felt like it, I thought hey he’ll grow out of it, it was a one off, he was just a teen, and now he’s done this-” she gestured violently at the phone sitting to his side, “and I- I know you think it's dumb but I blame myself and I don’t know how to be ok.”

Her breathing was labored, strained. She hadn’t raised her voice like he’d expected but rather slid into a rambling hysterical whisper. He’d pieced the broad strokes together earlier, but now he could start filling in the finer details.

“Feel better?” “No.”

An elbow on the table, he rested his head in a hand and eyed her. She fidgeted slightly under his hawkish stare.

“Unfortunately, you won’t ever be ok,” he used his free hand to make air quotes around the word, “None of us will. That’s not how things work.”

He threw back a larger swig than he had been, before relaxing again, “You’re a stubborn woman. You’ll keep going regardless. You don’t know how to do anything else. Drink. Keep drinking. Lose yourself for the night. Tomorrow we’ll start making decisions.”

“Decisions?” she furrowed her brow at him, never quite meeting his gaze.

“You have choices sweetheart. Options. It’d be my pleasure to help.”

Her mouth formed a soft “oh” and she considered what the breadth of options Kadokura Kenshi could offer would be.

He tapped her cheek again, “Tomorrow,” and slid the fresh drink her way, and she eyed it for a moment, unable to discern when exactly it had even arrived.

He watched her sway as she sipped, the effects of the drinks she’d already gone through inadvisably quick setting in in full. Once she’d hit about halfway through, he acted.

Sliding a finger under hers, loosening her grip on the glass, and lightly catching her fingers, hold just firm enough to manipulate her movements.

Giving a light tug as he himself stood, he pulled her into something vaguely resembling upright. The noise she made was somewhere between confusion and alarm and he shot a charming grin at her.

“Come on then, let's dance.”

“Dance?” she seemed startled, “I can’t dance for shit, you know this!’

Laughing he countered her attempt at a protestation, “You’re also very drunk, no one will know the difference. Lightweight,” he teased.

She gazed out uncertainly at the room, and then down at herself and her attire.

“You’re with me tonight princess, it doesn’t matter,” he teasingly mocked her worry.

It was then she noticed how the energy had changed. The people all seemed the same and yet… What once had been somewhere that felt elegant and cold, there was a seediness that had slipped in. People moved closer, and grander. Less held back. Straps slipped from shoulders, and noses seemed more powdered than before.

So this was why he liked the place. Pretty on the surface, and teeming with unrestrained indulgence underneath.

The music shifted, into something equally mindless, but heavier on the bass and a lot less refined. With a devilish grin, he gave her another tug, guiding her effortlessly through a twirl towards the floor, joining the other bodies gathering.

Had she been a bit less inebriated, a bit more aware, perhaps she would have noticed the tightness around his eyes, the calculation in his movements. He was agitated, but if nothing else, Kadokura was a damn good actor when he wanted to be.

And so the night continued. Kadokura, better playing the part of “Kenshi-Tenshi” than he would ever acknowledge, guided her about the club. For all appearances he was cutting loose and having fun alongside her, but never was there a moment he wasn’t vigilant. Never did she leave his perceptions. Sliding between anyone who approached her, keeping her on her feet and distracted. Empty and thoughtless the way she needed to be. He watched her sway and wiggle in her uncoordinated delight, laugh until she choked. Silently crying, arms aloft and jumping with the beat.

He watched her pain, cataloging every moment. Committing it to memory.

In a way, he hated her, for being so terribly strange.

It made her interesting, and he was a covetous man.

As the hours moved from late to early, he guided her out the back door and to a nearby lot, gentle but steady grip on her elbow, both to keep her up and at his side. He helped her into the back seat of a running car, one he’d called, nothing so banal as a taxi, and slid in after her. He rattled off the address of her apartment, as he texted Daigo that he was taking her there instead.

He knew she wouldn’t want Kichi to see her like this.

She slid down, flopping over to lean on him, and for once, he didn't protest. He'd let her have this one. It seemed too cruel even for him, to move her as she wept quietly onto his sleeve.

He let his head fall back, and watched the world go by as she babbled. Incoherent whispers and mumbling.

Pulling up in front of the building, he noted the soft light in one of the windows. Daigo was already here then. Good.

She laughed as he helped her stumble across the small garden courtyard, and what a fascinating dichotomy, her free laughter, even as she cried still. Up the flight of stairs, he managed to fish out the key and unlock the door with one hand as used the other to help keep her on her feet.

Daigo was already halfway across the room as he helped her through the entry and into the apartment. Delicately as he was able, he passed her off to her husband, the man's soft thanks heard but unneeded.

The younger man scooped her off her feet and carried her back to the bedroom, murmuring soft words Kadokura didn't dain to listen to.

He made himself at home, as he was wont to do, pulling down the good scotch she kept and pouring himself a glass, foregoing the chilled scotch rock in favor of expedience.

It was maybe half an hour, long enough to get the wreck of a woman rinsed off, changed, and settled, going by the noise, before Daigo reemerged.

"Is she going to be ok?"

Kadokura threw back the second half of the double pour, "No one is ever 'ok' Daigo-chan. Give me a call if I can do anything to help her."

"That's quite generous of you."

There was no accusation or suspicion in his voice, despite the words themselves. A mere statement. And a relatively fair one Kadokura supposed.

"She'd do the same for me."

And with that he made his way out of the quiet apartment, back into the waiting car, and across town to the hotel he'd never admit to staying in. Just in case.

She might need him again tomorrow.

#yakkimi #kadokura-verse 2.0 #majimemegoro #vent drabble #vent one shot #trauma venting by way of fiction wheee #csa mention #tw csa mention #cw csa mention

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neitherlightnordark · 4 years ago

Note

Uhmmm how about something with Queen + misunderstanding? It may not be the most original prompt but I wanna see what you come up with 👀

Sheltered by the quiet respite of an empty midnight and an even emptier house, Noelle tip-toes down the stairs across the carpet of her living room, wincing at the loud click-clacking of her knees. Talk about 'not a creature is stirring'.

The family computer is open, dimly lit by the moon through the fluttering curtains. She hops into the seat, hunkers down, and tap-tap-taps in her password.

[Welcome To The Internet] pops up on her screen as she opens a browser.

And then, [Oh Wait / Noelle Honey Sugar Flour? / What Are You Doing On My Servers At Such A Dark Hour?]

"(Shhhhhh,)" Noelle whispers, laughing- because Queen wasn't actually there to shush, what was she doing...

She opens up an incognito tab, typing into its navigation bar.

I need to do something. If you can... please help me scrub the search once I'm done, Queen.

She deletes her response, and waits, and then Queen's answer flies across the screen.

[You're Looking For "December Holiday" Right?]

It takes a moment for Noelle to respond. Yeah!

[I Was Not Able To Turn That Search Into Something You Could Enjoy / As I Recall When I Trapped You Inside My Lovely Mansion That No Longer Exists]

I saw the calenders on my wall, Queen. Noelle's smile becomes a little shaky as she types. You tried your best! I really appreciate

[Noelle It's Alright] The response is instantaneous. [Hey We Should / Run The Search Now / It Makes Me Warm All Through My Conduits / Maybe It'll Make You Warm Too If We Try Hard Enough]

Noelle clears her throat, feeling all sticky inside, and feels the keyboard pulse something warm against her fingers. Yeah.

Yeah, thank you, Queen!

December Holiday.

Dess Holiday.

Dess Ember Holiday.

December Holiday wiffle ball.

December Holiday championship.

December Holiday social media.

December holiday movie reviews.

December holiday offroading mountains.

december holiday noelle holiday.

december holiday physics.

december holiday quantum mechanics.

december holiday college professor.

december holiday uplifting mantras.

december holiday missing

december holiday

She realizes, then, that Queen

has read every search she's made

for her sister. She wonders how

Queen feels about this.

If Queen even cares about

who Dess is.

If Queen can even remember,

because Noelle at

this very moment

is erasing

December Holiday,

deleting her words

as she types them

until noelle is the only one in the world

that can remember

who december holiday was

[Noelle?]

Queen's text blinks azure through the silence, bringing Noelle shuddering back to life.

[Noelle]

[Noelle I'm Here]

[I'm Here]

[And I Advise You To Tell Me Promptly If You've Fainted Next To Your Keyboard From Sleep Deprivation]

[Please Roll Left Or Right Depending On Your Computer Orientation]

Noelle stares through the darkness at her screen for a moment, and then forces herself over the hollow feeling in her stomach to type.

Queen, I'm a lesbian. Is that left or right

The computer somehow churrs with something approximating the quietest of hooting, deep laughter. [Noelle Do You Know You Are A Riot]

Yeah, I know

[Noelle] A pause. [You Have Lost Your Typical Punctuation / I Noticed This With Your Searches As Well]

I'm just sleepy Queen.

[That Almost Certainly Means That The Cure To Your Ailment Is Sleep]

Noelle sighs, sagging. It's not, Queen. It's not...

[I Will Store Your Searches For Later / You May Continue With This Puzzle In The Morning]

Puzzle?

[It Sure Seems Like One / Mixing And Matching Words, Fragments Of Phrases / Searching For The Correct One]

...

[How Long Have You Done This For]

Huh?

[That Was A Rhetorical Question / Of Course I Know / And You've Done It For So Long That I Do Believe You Deserve Rest Now]

The framework that's keeping Noelle up so late buckles.

She forces herself to stay upright. Queen, I can't. You... I'm sorry, but you don't know what this means to me. Okay?

[I Know I Don't Know] Queen's text hums. [And I Want To Actually / Okay? / If That's Not / I Mean / If That's What You Need / I've Discovered Over Time That I've Been Operating With A Very Limited Sphere Of Knowledge / And That These Do Not Reveal The Entire Truth]

She says nothing else for a moment, and then, [But Not Right Now / Oh Definitely Not Now Lmao / Not When You're Functioning So Irresponsibly / It's Like One O' Clock / ...Seriously How Long Have You Been Doing This How Has No One Caught You]

I- Noelle brushes hair out of her eyes. I live in a practically empty house, Queen.

[Oh] A pause. [I Did Not Know That]

No one else can know, okay? Noelle feels panic flush through her. No one can know I'm. That she. I mean, if you tell them- I want to be the one to tell them, alright??

[Understood In Full] Queen pauses. [Retract That Statement / I Will Understand In Full When You Choose To Tell Me]

Thank you.

[Now Go To Sleep / I Will Hear No Argument]

Thank you

Noelle closes the browser, forgets to log out as she shuts the computer, and collapses on the stairs halfway up.

#safeutdr #deltarune #noelle #queen #noelle epic go to sleep challenge 202X #doing the write in one sitting thing again 202X 8)

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minheelovelee · 3 years ago

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Yeji Sex Toys

I think Yeji is shy about sex, specifically self-pleasure. I’m a shooter for bisexual sub Yj.

Warning: NSFW pictures of toys and descriptions. Lol.

Lipstick Vibrator

I think Yeji can appreciate the little things in life. She was probably scrolling on some naughty website when she first saw this. It made her laugh. Who the hell made this? She wants to show her members, but then they’d ask questions about why she was on said naughty website in the first place. Long story short, she adds it to her cart and ends up buying it. Every woman has to buy her first sex toy at some point.

The following weekend, when Yeji hears a knock on the door, she runs to answer it, knowing it would be for her. She finds a small package with her name on it and inconspicuously returns to her room. She opens the box and there it is, in all its glory, the lipstick vibrator. Questions upon questions fill Yeji’s head. How does it work? Isn’t this stupid? Will people notice it? She pushes them away and opens the packing further. When she holds it in her hand, she starts to play around with it. Fiddling with the cap, reading the instructions, and comparing it to the actual lipstick on her bedside table.

Finally working up the courage to use it, she twists the base and it buzzes to life, only to quickly turn it off again and hide it under her blanket. Sure, it made almost no noise, but you can never be too safe. Only now does she notice how her clit throbs. She’s desperate to put this to use. After throwing the box under her bed, she slips under the covers and spreads her legs. The vibrator is on now, so she tests it on her right thigh, creating a tickling feeling. A dreadful feeling fills her. Moving it above her clit, her hips buck up to meet its’ power. When they connect, Yeji diverts her eyes to the ceiling in an attempt to pretend this isn’t happening. Adding more pressure to her mound, the feeling becomes addicting and her worries disappear. Needless to say, the toy is put to good use.

Mini Wand

After her first handful of interactions with a vibe, she craves more. She’d scroll on the same website and get intimidated by the vibrating options. 3-in-1? Anal? Urethral? Not her style. She navigates her way to the beginners' tab and decides her options are here. The “wand” seems to be a popular choice, but it seems a bit, too intense. She finds a smaller, cuter, version that comes in bright colors. Perfect.

Finding herself home alone, Yeji decides it’s the perfect time to try out her new vibe. It’s definitely louder than the last, so the fewer people in the dorm, the better.

Propped up 70 degrees with her pillows, she turns the vibe on. She decides to start at her nipples and with the lowest setting. Even on low, it causes her little buds to perk up instantly, making it more pleasurable. She watches intently the whole time, seeing how she reacts. The setting is switched to medium, bringing fluttering to her tummy. Her pussy is screaming for attention, soaked before she even got her panties off. She taps her clit over the puffy hood and immediately pulls back. She’s sensitive. Gripping with two hands, she touches her clit from below and bucks her hips up. Testing different pressures and settings, she eventually finds what works for her and gives herself a mind-blowing orgasm.

4 Inch Dildo

Remember when I said Yeji appreciates the little things in life…

Yeji wants to dabble into the world of penetrative sex, but it can be scary at first! Poor thing has been putting her makeup brushes and fingers to work, doing anything she can to stretch out her hole.

As desperate as she is, I think she would like to start small. She’s not the pillow princess you’d make her out to be. Yeji wants to work for her orgasm. So, she got a dildo with a suction cup. This way she has more freedom with positioning.

Yeji’s room is uncharacteristically quiet. The space that usually is filled with the latest radio hits is now nearly silent, the faint shuffling of hands against the carpet being the only sound. Poor Yeji is on all fours on the floor, shifting back and forth quickly. If you sneak a peek between her pussy and the wall, you’ll see flashes of her new hot pink dildo. Any sound she makes is muffled by the used panties conveniently stuffed between her teeth. The toy presses on her wet walls like nothing she's felt before. With eyes screwed shut and jaw clenched, she continues her actions, preparing to coat her new toy in cum.

Rocking Dildo

Is this not the cutest little thing ever? Hehe.

She would be absolutely adorable with using this. I like to imagine her straddling a pillow with only an oversized t-shirt on, letting this toy fuck her for all she's worth.

The first time Yeji takes sex out of the bedroom, she keeps it a secret. Her little butterfly kept her hole stretched and wet on movie night. The convenient Bluetooth remote sat in her hand, hidden in her pocket. With the press of any button, she could give herself eye-rolling pleasure that would be hard to ignore. It was about half way into the movie when she mustered up the courage to turn it on. She brought her right hand to her pocket and hit the “on” button, letting the toy buzz to life. The light vibrations hit her hard. She jolted back in her seat and pushed further into the couch. Ryujin spared her a glance, but focused her attention back to the screen. Yeji slowly but surely upped the vibrations, keeping it low enough to be silent, and high enough to feel damn good. She gave herself a few minutes to adjust before giving her g-spot attention. One click of a button activated the inside motor. It pressed into her gummy walls, curling down on a special spot. One that drew a silent whine from her throat.

Ryujin had been flickering her eyes across the couch throughout the movie, noticing unusual movements from Yeji. This time, her ears picked up on a low sound. She looked over to see Yeji with her hips tensed up and eyes squeezed shut. A low buzz came from her pussy, and her right hand was buried in her pocket. Honestly, Ryujin couldn’t believe what she saw. But she was slightly proud. Yeji was pushing on the walls of her comfort zone. Without thinking, she reached over and grabbed the right knee a few feet away from her. This earned her a look of embarrassment from the owner. Yeji was choked up, unable to speak. Ryujin spread her legs open easily. She pressed her palm down on Yeji’s crotch and was met with a hard, vibrating object. She ground her hand down and Yeji’s head fell back, falling in love with the pleasure. Then, she snuck her hand into her pocket and found the remote. She grabbed it and went back to her previous activity, watching the movie.

Yeji felt confused and embarrassed. She looked at Ryujin and saw an innocent smile. The vibration of her toy began to intensify, and she quickly realized what was happening. She gave Ryujin the reins and covered herself with a blanket, praying that no one picked up on what these two were doing.

Wow. That was an experience! I think I want to do this with the other members of Itzy. Maybe even for other groups after that. Let me know who you want to see next!

#itzy smut #mhll itzy #mhll yeji

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nagito-kissmaeda · 4 years ago

Text

Stay For a While - Komaeda x Reader

Summary: You've been sitting across from this guy in the library every thursday for months now. You really should just tell him you love him and get it over with.

AKA: You spend the night at Nagito's house after your late lecture. and things get..........steamy

Word count: 8709 Contains: fem reader, no pronouns usage, explict sexual content Read on AO3

ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

You have feelings for the guy who sits across from you in the library. There is a three hour gap between your afternoon lecture and your evening tute, but you live too far away to go home and rest, so you usually grab a quick dinner and then park yourself at the small desk by the window for an hour or two. He is always already there. It’s embarrassing how your heart does a little flip every time to round the bookshelf and see him pouring over assignments, secretly you worry that one day he won't be there anymore. You don’t know what you’ll do with yourself if that happens.

Today he has a book open next to him, he's jotting down quotes in a notepad. His pale hand is stained with black ink from his ballpoint pen, and you are mesmerised by the subtle movement in his knuckles. The setting sun is cascading in through the window, and it catches in his unruly white hair, making it glow orange. He has it up in a messy bun today, it’s really cute. Luckily he’s too engrossed in his work to notice you looking at him, you try to be subtle, you really do. Browsing your phone and only occasionally flitting your eyes up to look at him, you don't even know his name.

His brow furrows and he crosses out his last note, tapping the end of his pen against his lips. They’re very full lips. You swallow and avert your eyes, turning back to your phone and mindlessly scrolling through instagram. Friends have told you to just ask the guy out for coffee or something, but you didn't know how to even start broaching that subject, Hey guy. Wanna grab a drink? Maybe tell me your name sometime? You frown, your leg bouncing restlessly under the table. You’ve been sitting across from this guy for three months now, every thursday, the fact that you haven't even bothered trying to talk to him is just proof of your own incompetence-

“Hey.” A voice says. Soft and calm. You brain stutters when you realise it was him .

“Oh...uh…” you’re picking off the nail polish on your left hand, a bad nervous habit, “Hello…”

“I bought a soda from the vending machine this morning, but it dispensed five…” a can clinks down on the desk in front of you, you’re too busy staring at the way his long fingers grip the top of it, “do you want one?”

You don't really like Dr Hopper, but he doesn't need to know that, “Sure. Thank you.”

He gives you a polite smile and cracks his can open, taking a long sip. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat, you have to actually tear your eyes away from him. Your knee is bouncing faster. The pull tab on the can is hard to navigate with your sweaty and shaky hands, but you manage to get it open.

“Shit…” you mutter, the soda fizzes over a little. Not enough to make a real mess, but it does get all over your thumb, you pull your thumb up to your mouth in an attempt to clean the soda off before it gets all sticky. As you do so, you sneak another look up at the guy. His eyes are glued to where your lips are meeting your skin. His cheeks are pink. There’s a rush of warmth from your heart down to your stomach, the deep orange sun is crossing his left collarbone, you want to trace it with your tongue.

“Sorry…” He breathes, giving you an uneasy smile, “It’s been jostling around in my bag for a few hours. That was probably my fault.”

“It’s really fine.”

He picks his pen up and goes back to working. You can see his notes pretty easily, without seeming like you’re peeking. His handwriting is messy, but still very legible. The ink stains on his hand are only getting worse as he goes on. When he shifts his feet below the table you can feel how close his legs are to yours, it's a big desk, but he has long legs. You wonder idly how much taller than you he is, he usually leaves before you do. You dont think you’ve ever both been standing at the same time. All of a sudden, the chill of the library gets to you. It was a decently warm day when the sun was out, but now that it is getting dark that’s starting to change. The blouse you are wearing is cute, but it’s also off the shoulder and you are beginning to feel cold. Your phone clunks loudly when you drop it on the desk, freeing your hands to rub some warmth into your arms, the sun is almost behind the horizon now, it’s going to be a cold walk home after class.

“Are you cold?”

You turn back from the window to see the guy looking at you, “huh?”

“I know you probably don’t want someone like me bothering you, but you…” He runs a hand through his hair, it makes it look even messier, “you look like you’re cold.”

“Oh, I mean. Yeah, I forgot how quickly it gets dark this time of year.” You laugh, “I didn't really dress for the weather.”

He tilts his head to the side, your heart is pounding, “You didn't bring a coat?” he asks

You shake your head slowly, unsure where this is going. Hoping it’s going in the direction you want it to.

Then, he stands up. Shaking his coat off his shoulders, revealing forearms so pale and thin you could wrap your whole hand around them. Your heartbeat is so loud you can hear it in your ears as he walks around the table to you. He is so close to you, he’s never been this close before.

“Here.” He says, passing the coat into your arms. It’s warm, “You can borrow this, if you don't mind wearing my gross clothes.”

It isn’t gross. It smells like chamomile soap and fresh laundry, “No I don't mind. Um, thank you.”

You slide out of your chair and stand up so you can put the coat on. He is at least a head taller than you, maybe more. You feel your knees wobble when you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, they are a lot greener up close. Any words that you might have said are frozen in your throat as you slip your arms through the coat, your fingers barely stick out past the cuffs.

“It’s a little big for you, but that’s to be expected.”

“No, it’s fine. I like it.”

“I hope i'm not overstepping any boundaries but...it looks good on you.”

You’re burning up, stomach twisting, “It... feels good on me.”

“Oh…” He mutters, quickly forcing a nervous laugh, “Well, i'm sure anything would look good on anyone as beautiful as you.”

Holy shit .

“Are you...flirting with me?” you whisper, burying your hands in the pockets of his coat and trying to make yourself seem smaller, “Or am I imagining it?”

He freezes, you can see his hands tensing up. You worry for a moment that you had been imagining it and that now you’ve made everything weird.

“ Was I flirting…?” He gives you a gentle smile, “Huh...I guess i was? Unless you didn't want me to, i don't want to presume-”

“No!” you say a little too loudly, shocking him into silence, “keep-uh...you can keep doing it.” His eyebrows jump up at that, but then settle back down into his calm expression, you are picking at your nail polish again, if only to give your nervous hands something to do, “Can i ask for your name? We’ve been sitting together for so long now and i’ve never asked…”

“Nagito” He breathes, and it fits him perfectly. A smile breaks out on your face before you can stop it. You give him your name in return and he repeats it back, like he is testing how it feels on his tongue, “Pretty name.” He says, you can hear that his breathing is shaky, “It suits you.”

Like he is trying to run away before his most recent compliment finally hits you, he walks back around to his side of the desk and starts grabbing his books. He crouches down on the ground and starts shoving them into his stachel, looking up at you from his spot on the floor, “I finish class at seven. Will you be around?”

“Ah, no. Sorry, I don't finish until nine.”

“Oh, your classes run really late.” He stands up and slings the bag over his shoulder.

“Do you want your coat back now?” You say, already moving to take it off. He strides over to you, and pulls it back over your shoulders, looking at you very seriously.

“I’m not letting you walk home in the cold without it.” his hands feel warm and firm on your shoulders, you never want him to pull away, “I can walk you home, you can give it back when you get inside.”

Your heart flutters at his suggestion. Imagining walking with him in the dark, your fingers brushing against his knuckles....you’re burning up again, “I live outside the city so i have to catch the train, but you can walk me to the station if you want? I mean, if you’re happy to wait until nine.”

He smiles, and your heart curls at the edges. You feel all buttery and warm inside.

“I’ll be right here.”

~*~*~

He is still there. You’d been worrying for the past few hours that he would be gone when you came back, that he would have changed his mind. A few people noticed the coat, and that it clearly wasn't yours. Sonia, the intimidatingly beautiful exchange student who usually sits next to you, was tittering politely behind a hand when she noticed it. When you asked what was so funny, she turned serious and told you it was nothing, but you could see a playfulness in her eyes. You wonder if she also noticed how much your leg was bouncing and that you wouldn't stop looking at the clock.

“Hello.” He says with a smile as you round the bookshelf, his already sleepy eyes even softer than usual. He’s playing something on a nintendo switch, it sounds like Animal Crossing, you recognise the 9pm music.

You smile back, “Hey. You good to go?”

“Oh yes!” He says enthusiastically, slotting the switch into a fabric case and zipping it up. He stands up and slings his bag over his shoulder, “Which station do you leave from?”

You start heading out of the library and he falls into step beside you, his arm almost brushing against yours. You shove your hands in the pocket of his coat to keep yourself from doing anything rash, “Central Station. It’s fifteen minutes away.”

“At least it isn’t too far. You won’t have to put up with me for too long.” He punctuates the end of the sentence with a laugh. The in person version of adding ‘lol’ to the end of a text to soften it.

The glass doors whoosh open as you step outside, you look up at him, “why do you keep doing that?” You ask. The city is slick with the aftermath of recent rain, the lights reflecting off the puddles on the sidewalk. It’s a cold, but admittedly beautiful night.

“Doing what?”

“Talking about yourself like that.” You stop at a crosswalk to wait for the lights, “Like you’re trying to convince me to make you leave.”

He laughs again, it’s less convincing this time, “Don’t misunderstand! I’m not trying to make you do anything, I just don’t want you thinking you have to spend any time with me if you don’t want to.”

“If I didn’t want to spend time with you. I wouldn’t.” The light at the crossing turns green, and you start heading further down the street. Nagito is following beside you. You thought it was pretty obvious that you are interested in him, in every sense of the word, but he either seems to have not noticed, or not believed it, “are you enjoying Animal Crossing?”

“I am!” He says, beaming widely, “I just finished catching the last fish today, now I'm breeding flowers.”

“Oh wow, you have all the fish already? You must be really lucky.”

He laughs, playing nervously with a strand of hair that didn't get caught up in his bun, “I guess??”

“I’ve been working on a kitchen, but I still don't have any of the damn ironwood set. I haven't found a fridge either.” You huff and notice that your breath appears white and wispy before you. It’s even colder than you thought it would be, “I just have a bunch of appliances all over the floor for now.”

“I think my housemate might have a fridge.” Nagito says, tapping his lips with a finger as he tries to remember, “No ironwood though. If I get him to mail me a fridge I can pass it onto you.” His mouth pulls into a nervous smile, and you notice him picking at a loose string at the hem of his shirt, “I mean, if you’re happy to give me your friend code.”

“No, uh...that sounds good. I can give you my code when we get to the station if my switch isn't dead yet.” You take a left down a back alley, it isn't as well lit as the main road, but it is a lot quicker to cut through than it is to go around. During the day there are a few small cafes open, with big umbrellas and tables out front. At night it is much less cheery.

Nagito is looking around uncomfortably, the moon is high in the sky and down the alley it is the only light source. His hair shimmers in the moonlight, your heart is pounding again, “Do you come down here every night?” He tucks a hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out his phone, flicking on the flashlight.

The light only manages to make the walls of the alleyway seem even taller, “Yeah. I only have a late class on Thursday’s though. It isn't usually this dark.”

He gives you a concerned look, “It probably isn't safe.”

You shrug, “It’s another ten minutes if I go around. Plus, nothing has ever happened. I'm sure it’s fine.”

He turns away from you, looking straight ahead. His face turns deathly serious and you’re worried you’ve said something wrong, “Yeah, well. Luck runs out eventually.”

You aren't sure what to say. It sounded like he was talking from experience. His footsteps are quiet beside you, and his spine is curled like he is trying to make himself small and unobtrusive. Difficult, considering his height. As you come to the end of the alleyway he switches off his flashlight and tucks it back into his pocket, you notice that his black jeans are tight and you feel something swell in the pit of your stomach. He is very attractive.

“It’s just up this street, yeah?” He asks, you notice that he’s started rubbing his arms, “It’s kinda chilly.”

It suddenly hits you that he must be freezing without the coat he leant to you. You feel like an asshole, “Oh my god. I'm so sorry, you must be so cold!” you start talking the coat off, ready to give it back to him. He stops you.

“If one of us has to be cold, please let it be me.” His hand is on your shoulder again, you’re trying to store how it feels away in your memory. You don't want to forget.

“I don't want you to get sick.”

He laughs and waves your concern away with a hand, “No need to worry about me. It’s mostly just my arms and hands that are cold anyway, I'll be alright.”

You have a thought. There isn't much you can do about his cold arms, but his cold hands? That was possible. If only you work up the courage. As the two of you continue walking down the street, you move yourself close to him, a tiny bit closer, so tiny he probably doesn't even notice. He is still looking on ahead, but you are focussed entirely on the closeness of your hands. Focussed on reaching out just your pinky, slowly, carefully. Your heart is racing and your cheeks are burning. (this is so highschool of you, how old are you 12?) It doesn't matter, you’re going to do it, going to curl just the one finger around his and then maybe-

“Hey, we’re here!”

Your back snaps ramrod straight, and your hand whips back up against your leg so hard it almost hurts. He’s right, you’re at the station. You’d been so intent on holding his damn hand that you didn't realise how close the station was. This is embarrassing.

“Are you okay?” He asks, looking down at you with genuine concern, ‘Your face is all pink, you're not cold are you?”

“No, i’m uh-” He's staring at you, it’s making you nervous, “-I’m fine. Let me just check when the next train is, then you can go home if you want.”

He smiles politely, “Okay. I’ll wait here.”

The announcement board is lit up in the darkness right above the entrance to the station, you have to get a little closer to be able to read the train times. Nagito gives you a little wave when you turn back to look at him, and you sigh. You had been hoping to make it a little clearer how you felt about him, but it looks like you’re still a coward.

“God damn it…” you mutter as you look up at the board. Nagito must have heard you, because he comes bounding over with clear distress in his eyes. His hair is bouncy, it’s adorable.

“Are you okay?” He looks around frantically, “Did you lose something?”

You laugh, trying to ease his concerns, “Nah. We just missed my train, the next one isn't for half an hour. I probably won't be home until after midnight at this rate.”

“Hm. That’s really late.”

“Yeah, i live at the end of the Metro. Two hours.”

He’s playing with the hem of his shirt again, practically shaking with nerves when he finally says, “You could...come back to my place.

You don't have any words. They’re all caught in the back of your throat.

He panics, “Only if you want to! I would understand completely if you don't want to sleep in the same apartment as trash like me!”

Your innocent thoughts about brushing knuckles and shy glances begin morphing into something much less PG.

“Are you sure? I don't want to inconvenience you.”

“Inconvenience? Me?!” His cheeks turn a little pink, “You couldn't possibly inconvenience me .”

You shrug a shoulder, trying to ignore the incessant buzzing of excitement under your skin, “Lead the way, then.” ~*~*~

His apartment is nice. He dropped his key five times before he was able to get the door open, but when he finally did you were pleasantly surprised. You’ve been in some awful bachelor pads before, but this is nothing like that. There’s a plush brown couch in the center of the room with a colourful throw tossed over it, a modestly sized tv and a collection of mismatched mugs spread out on the low coffee table. A salt lamp in the corner of the room casts a pale orange light across the space, dancing on the shiny leaves of all the pot plants strewn about the room.

“Sorry for the mess…” Nagito says, slipping past you and hanging his bag up on a hook on the wall. He pulls his switch out of the bag and docks it by the tv, “Hajime drinks a lot of coffee.”

“It’s not even messy.” You take notice of just how many bookshelves are lining the walls and smile, “It’s nice in here.”

Nagito is in the middle of picking up all the wayward mugs around the room, but he still manages to turn and flash you a smile, “It’s nice of you to say so. I’m going to tidy up a little, feel free to sit down.”

“Oh, you really don't need to clean up for me. It’s fine.” You say, dropping your backpack on the ground by the door and heading over to the couch. It’s very comfy, but you still find yourself sitting stiffly, nervous about seeming too comfortable, “Is Hajime your housemate?” you ask, eyeing a photo on one of the bookshelves. Nagito is smiling brilliantly and chucking a peace sign up to the camera, there’s another guy beside him giving an uncomfortable thumbs up, but a very genuine smile.

“Yes!” Nagito calls back from the kitchen, you can hear the water running and assume he’s washing the mugs, “He’s at his girlfriend’s house tonight and he won't be back until tomorrow afternoon. You probably won't see him.”

You swallow. Not only are you going to be in the apartment with him all night, you’re also going to be alone . Your leg is bouncing again, you can't help it, “Um, where will i be sleeping?”

Nagito comes out of the kitchen, drying his hands with a tea towel before tossing it into what you assume is a laundry basket, “The couch folds out. We don't have to…uh” he laughs nervously, “We don’t have to share a bed, if that’s what you were worrying about.”

Worrying is not the word you would use.

“Oh! Do you have anything to sleep in?”

“Ah, i hadn't thought about that.” You wince a little, remembering the last time you had to sleep with your jeans on, “I’ll be okay though, dont worry about it.”

“I can at least see if Chiaki left something behind last time she was here. I don't want you to be uncomfortable.” He starts heading over to one of the two doors in the wall behind the couch, “Oh, I've turned the heating on by the way. If the coat is too warm you can just leave it on my bed.” He points to the other door, “just in there.”

“I might do that, thank you.” You stand up and shuck the coat, folding it over your arm, “It was getting a little toasty.”

He smiles warmly and heads into what you assume is Hajime’s room. Leaving you alone with the notion that he has just invited you into his bedroom. Your heart is racing. It’s literally just a room with a bed in it, you don't know why you are getting so worked up about this. The nailpolish on your fingers is practically all gone with all the nervous picking you've been doing today.

You force yourself to round the couch and head over to the door, trying not to notice the way your knees are wobbling. You suck in a breath, reach for the doorknob and even though the moment feels immense, you are comforted when you realise that his room is very normal.

There's a soft green rug on the floor, and the bed is made in a haphazard way that suggests he didn't want to leave it messy, but couldn't be bothered doing it properly either. His wardrobe is slightly ajar and you can see a row of boots lined up below a collection of sweaters and coats. It’s cosy, it suits him. The sound of your heartbeat is loud in your ears as you step over to the bed and drop the folded coat on the end of it. It smells like him in here, like camomile and sunday evenings. Your hands are sweating.

You notice a collection of polaroid photos strung up above his desk. At this point you’re probably being a little too nosy, but your feet are already walking over to the desk before you can stop yourself. There’s a textbook on the desk and a notepad filled with quotes and page numbers, he’s drawn a couple of flowers in the margins, you smile. A post-it shaped like a four leaf clover catches your eye, the handwriting is different from Nagito’s.

Don’t forget to drink water, dumbass.

A laugh bubbles up out of your chest, you assume that was a reminder from Hajime. There are plenty more pictures of him and Nagito amongst the polaroids, a number of them taken at some sort of beach getaway. Nagito has his eyes closed in a wide smile, his cheeks turning red from the sun as he wraps one arm around the shoulders of a short girl engrossed in her PSP. You assume that she is Hajime’s girlfriend, based on a different photo of the two of them kissing while Nagito throws up a peace sign in the foreground. They seem like very good friends, you’re happy for him.

“Are you done sightseeing?”

You whirl around to see Nagito standing in the open doorway with a bundle of cloth in his hands. His tone is teasing, but his lips are curled up in a smile. You feel yourself blushing, “ah, sorry. I shouldn't have-”

He laughs pleasantly, stepping into the room proper, “No, it's fine! I don't mind at all, sorry my room isn't very exciting.”

“It’s cozy.” You say, wringing your hands together, “I like it...it suits you.”

Nagito turns red now, all the way up to his ears and down to his collarbones. He clears his throat, “I found some sleep shorts and a shirt that I don't think Chiaki will mind you borrowing. I'll just have to wash them tomorrow.”

He passes the bundle of clothing over to you. When you unfold the shirt you snicker at the phrase ‘gamers don't die. We respawn’ that is printed in bold across the front of it, “Chiaki is a gamer, I take it?”

Nagito chuckles pleasantly, “The best one I know. Smash nights with her are something to behold.”

“Well…” you start, trying your best to seem like you aren't thinking about kissing him, “Thanks for the clothes...should I change in the bathroom, or?”

He dismisses you with a wave of his hand, eyes closing in a wide smile, “No, it's okay. You can get changed in here, I'll sit on the couch. Don't worry about it.”

Your heart is pounding. He's so handsome and so nice, your mind is racing with the thought that if you don't finally tell him how you feel now, you probably never will. Your fingers dig tight into the shirt you're holding as you try to find a way to ground yourself. You take a deep breath, “Nagito…?”

“Hm?”

Your stomach is churning, your hands feel clammy. You think and think but you just can't find the right words, to tell him how you feel, to tell him what you want . In the end, you decide that maybe words aren't the best course of action, and pull your shirt up over your head.

The room goes so silent that the sound of your blouse hitting the carpet sounds like a thunderclap. Your chest is heaving with the gravity of what you've just done. Why the fuck did you do that??? This was a terrible, awful, bad idea. You almost go scrambling to shove Chiaki’s shirt on and pretend this never happened.

But Nagito’s face stops you in your tracks. He’s staring at you, shaking visibly. His big green eyes keep flitting between your face and your torso. He heaves a wavering breath and whispers, “Tell me not to kiss you. Stop me, please .”

You feel elated, “I don't want to stop you.”

He swallows, nails biting into the palms of his hands, “I cant...I shouldn't...you’re too good for-”

You take a step towards him and cup his cheek in your palm. Whatever words he was going to say die in his throat.

“How long have you wanted me, Nagito?” You trace your thumb over his lower lip, his erratic breathing is so loud you can hear it, “I’ve wanted you for months .”

He nods loosely, squeezing his eyes shut, “Me too. Me too.”

his skin is soft under your palm, your move your hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. His eyes open at your touch and he is beautiful . You smile, gently running your fingers in his soft hair before whispering, “Then what are you waiting for?”

He sucks in a breath, and his hand shakes as he brings it up to your cheek. The skin of his palm is dry and warm, you can’t help leaning into it. His second hand slowly slips around to the small of your back, you can feel him trembling.

“God you’re…” you can feel his breath on your face, he is so close to you now, “you’re so beautiful…”

You smile, “so are you.”

He gasps, eyes widening as he looks down at you. Then, his thumb gently runs along the length of your cheekbone, and he leans in to press his lips to yours.

He is perfect

His lips are soft and cool, his palm on your back presses you firmly up against him as you slowly curl your arms around the back of his neck. You whine gently into his mouth, kissing him only more incessantly, desperately. Months of yearning and desire is escaping in this one kiss and one of your hands tangles it’s fingers in the hair on the back of his head. It’s as soft as you dreamed it would be. He is how you dreamed he would be.

Nagito pulls away from you, green eyes blown wide and breath heaving. The hand on your lower back is shaking, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long…” his throat bobs, “I can’t...I can’t believe you let me kiss you.”

“Why not?” You breathe, letting one of your hands slip down his torso, toying with the hem of his shirt.

His breathing grows shaky, “b-because I don’t deserve you. Someone like you desiring someone like me it’s just- hah! ”

Your fingers have crept up under his shirt, tracing light circles on his hip bone. You hadn’t expected it to stun him into silence like this, you lean in a press a soft kiss to his neck, “is this okay?”

“H-huh?”

You laugh gently against his skin, “are you okay with me touching you like this?”

“Y-yes! I just don’t understand why? ”

“Because I have feelings for you, Nagito” you feel your cheeks burning, “I’ve uh- been trying to gather the confidence to tell you that all night. I sort of assumed it was pretty obvious with the kissing and-“

You're cut off when he tugs you against him, wrapping both arms around your waist and burying his head in the crook of your neck. you gasp at the feeling of his thin arms tight around you, and he quickly pulls back at the sound.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No! Um, I liked it! You just surprised me.”

He laughs, a giggle that sounds like disbelief, “I surprised you? You took your shirt off…”

You’re burning up. Suddenly remembering your state of undress and crossing your arms over your chest, “Ah. Yes. That was stupid of me. I just...panicked?”

His brow furrows, “panicked?”

“Yeah I- I dunno, I was worried that if I didn’t make a move now I’d never have a chance to do…” you swallow, looking up at him nervously, “do whatever it is we’re going to do.”

You hear him take a shaky breath, his eyes open wide, “You want to...keep going?”

“...Yes” you whisper

“With...me?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes and take a deep breath, “I want to go as far as you will let me.”

He’s laughing again, hand cupping over his mouth as he stares at you in shock, “O-Okay...if you’re sure you want to. Then I-“ his voice drops an octave, you aren’t sure if it was intentional, but you feel it in your stomach, “I want to as well.”

“Do you want to sit on the bed?” You ask, trying to contain your nerves.

“Ah, yes. Of course!” He’s shaking when he steps around you and sinks down onto his bed. You can see his knees bouncing a little, he’s as overwhelmed as you are, “Are you going to sit down too- ah~”

You do sit down. On his lap. Gently straddling him and looping your arms around the back of his head, “Is this okay?”

He shifts underneath you a little, and his hands shakily come to rest on the dip of your waist, “I’m probably not very comfortable.”

You laugh and press a kiss to his temple, “You’re plenty comfortable. Best seat in the house.”

His eyes meet yours. Dilated. Blinking slowly as he examines the contours of your face. You can feel his breath on your lips, you can’t believe that you’re this close to him. You’re the luckiest person in the world. When your lips press together again, his fingers dig tighter into your waist and your toes curl. He gasps against your mouth when you swipe at the seam of his lips with your tongue, moaning deep in the back of his throat as his tongue tangles with yours. There’s a warmth steadily growing between your thighs, your legs tighten around Nagito’s and your fingers dig into his soft white hair, pulling him closer to you. Then you shift in his lap, and feel a hardness growing in his jeans. Nagito gasps and pulls his lips from yours.

“I--I’m sorry...I just…”

“Nagito.” You whisper, letting one of your hands trail down his chest, “I told you. I want to go as far as you will let me.” Your hand comes in contact with his cock, rubbing him encouragingly through his jeans, “Is this still okay?”

He whimpers, hips stuttering up into your hand, “Ah! Are you sure you want to?”

“Very.” You shuffle backwards, slipping down off the bed and onto your knees between his legs. Your hands are resting on his waistband, just waiting for his permission, “Can i take your pants off?”

Nagito nods nervously, but lifts up his hips to help you tug his jeans down over his thighs. You get them down to his knees before you stop, toying with the hemline of his boxers, “Can these come off too?”

“Ah...If you want?” His voice is shaky, but he doesn't seem reluctant when you grab the elastic waistband and start tugging them down. You are trying to keep your cool, to seem like you have done this many times more than you actually have, but when his erect cock pops out and slaps backwards onto his stomach. You can feel your eyes grow wider, and have to physically bite down on your lip to hold in a gasp. Nagito is looking down at you nervously as you pull his jeans and boxers over his feet and drop them onto the floor. He sits up on his elbows and you can see his throat bob, “Are you sure you still want this? I...ah...I know i'm not much to look at.”

“I’ll have to respectfully disagree…” you whisper, eyes trailing up the length of his pale legs, lingering on the jut of his hips where they disappear up under his shirt. His breathing is heavy, cheeks turned pink and hair in disarray from your tangling fingers, “you’re gorgeous.”

“Aha...You are too kind…” Nagito breathes, avoiding your eyes.

You swallow, hands coming up to rub encouraging circles on his bare thighs, “I want to use my mouth.” You cock your head to the side, “would that be alright?”

Nagito makes a shocked noise in the back of his throat. Eyes wide in disbelief, even as his cock twitches at your words, “I’m not sure it’s a good idea...I...I would not be worthy of such a thing…”

“Is that a no because you think i don't want to?” you ask gently, pressing a kiss to one of his bony knees, “or is it a no because you don't want me to? Those are two very different things.”

He looks at you, almost incredulous, “Well of course I want you to! But I don't want you to ruin your- ack!~”

You grip tight on his jutting hip bones and sink your mouth down on his cock, as far as you can take it. Nagito moans loud , his legs tensing under your arms as you start lathing the underside of his head with your tongue and slowly pulling your lips up and down the length of him. He feels hot and smooth in your mouth and a gasp escapes you when his hips stutter in deeper, the head of his cock kissing the back of your throat.

“I...I’m sorry…” he whimpers, breathless and panicked, “Did i choke you? I’m a pathetic excuse for a human being…”

He is apparently too lost in his own head, to notice how thoroughly you are enjoying yourself. Moaning wontanly as you bob your head up and down, thighs rubbing together with every little noise you hear escaping his throat. He makes such pretty sounds, you want desperately to hear more of them.

“You...Your mouth...it’s so warm” Nagtio hisses through clenched teeth. You can feel the muscles working in his thighs as he tries to hold back the urge to chase the heat of your mouth. His legs are quivering , “I cant believe that you would let me-- ahhhh! ” his fingers curl tight into the sheets, chest heaving as you slowly insert a finger inside of him.

“Was that okay?” you ask, stilling your finger, worried that you’ve hurt him, “Do you need me to stop?”

Nagito whines and shakes his head, hips bucking forward into your hand like he’s trying to force your finger deeper, “M--more... please .”

You laugh a little, gently lapping at the head of his cock while pushing your finger deeper. Nagito wriggles and moans when you get it the whole way in, slowly pumping it in and out. You moan against his cock when you feel him tighten around you, “Can you take another?”

“Yes... yes… ” he pants, breath coming hot and heavy as he quivers beneath you, “I want it...want you ”

It’s getting harder to focus. Hearing his noises, feeling him moving and keening under your touch. You’re soaking wet, craving any sort of friction, but still determined to give Nagito the night of his life. You rub your thighs together, and slip a second finger into him.

The noise he makes is indescribable. The whole neighborhood probably heard it, and all you can think about is how lucky they all are, because it is the most beautiful noise you’ve ever heard.

“I could listen to you forever…” you breathe, pistoning your fingers in and out of him while pumping his cock with your other hand, “Do you want another finger?”

He whines aloud at the thought of it, but still shakes his head, “I don’t... ahh! I don't want to cum…” he hisses a breath in through his teeth, “until you do.”

You can feel your cheeks burning. Embarrassed as his insinuation like you don't currently have your fingers three knuckles deep in his ass, “What do you want to do then…?”

“I...I want to taste you” Nagito purrs, leaning up on his elbows, peering down at you, “Would you indulge me?”

“Oh...sure…” you whisper, slipping your fingers out of him and shimmying out of your pants. Nagito audibly gasps as the sight of your bare legs, and you feel yourself getting a little bit egotistic. No matter what concerns you may have with your body, it’s hard to remember them when he looks at you like that . Just as you are climbing onto the bed, you let out a gasp when Nagito grabs your thighs and tugs you up onto his chest, “Nagito...what-”

“Sit on my face, please. ”

You swallow. Cheeks heating up at the despartation in his voice, “Okay…” you breathe, shuffling up until your knees are resting firmly on the mattress above his shoulders. Your thighs are shaking, “Sorry. I’m kind of embarrassed…”

Nagito chuckles beneath you, peering up at your face through his pale eyelashes, “there’s no need to be embarrassed.” he whispers, hands curling around your thighs, “It’s just me. I want to pleasure you like you did for me. Is that okay?”

Your sex throbs at his words, and you have to sink your teeth into your lip to hold in a moan. He’s smiling at you, you can feel his cool breath on your bare cunt and as you slowly lower yourself to meet his mouth, you feel his fingers tighten against your flesh. He moans unabashedly as he drags his tongue up the length of you, keening and whimpering like he is the one being pleasured. His lips wrap around your swollen clit and your hips buck further into his face, you bite down on your hand to stop yourself from screaming.

“No...please…” nagito whispers from beneath you, “I want to hear you, let me hear how good I am making you feel.”

His tongue gets back to work, slowly dipping in and out of your dripping entrance as his hands curl around your thighs.

“Ooh— ooohhh! ” You croon, grinding your hips sinfully against the lower half of his face, “You’re so good...your tongue feels so-- ahhh! S--So good, Nagito…”

Nagito moans . You can feel the vibrations through his tongue as it thrusts in and out of you. He sucks and licks with the desperation of a man who wants to taste every inch of you, every millimeter . He’s shaking under you, frantic and needy with nothing more than a desire for you. It’s almost overwhelming, you’ve never had someone want you like this before and it makes a powerful heat stroke at your core.

“F-Fuck…” You manage to hiss, centleching your eyes shut and digging a hand into the halo of his hair, “Nagito...I...I want you... please! ”

He slows his ministrations for just a moment. Big green eyes blinking up at you from between your thighs, “Are you sure? I’m more than happy to keep doing this.” he laughs a little, “I’m enjoying myself quite a bit.”

You caution a glance behind yourself to where his cock is still standing at full attention, twitching and dripping . He is enjoying himself, that is very much clear.

“I’m sure.” you give him a smile and brush some of his hair from his face, “I’ll take you up on the offer next time though.”

Nagito’s breath hitches, and you feel his fingers dig tight into your thighs, “...next time?”

“Yeah. Next time.” You swallow, “If you want a next time, that is.”

You can't really see his mouth, but you can still tell that he is grinning, “I...I do want a next time.”

“Ah, good. It would have been really awkward if you said no…” you clear your throat, “Condom?”

“Top drawer.” He replies, nodding in the direction of his bedside table before returning his mouth to your clit. You reach behind yourself and slap his thigh.

“Stop that! I’m not going to be able to rip a condom open if I'm shaking…”

He chuckles, “but you taste so good…”

Biting your lower lip to hold in a moan, you manage to wriggle a hand into Nagito’s drawer and locate a box of condoms. Still shrinkwrapped, “ah, shit. I hate opening this stuff.”

Nagito does not offer to help you. Still caressing your sex with his tongue. He hits your clit hard for a moment and your hips jump forward.

“Fuck...Nagito!” You moan and squeeze your eyes shut, “I need to get this stupid box open.” You manage to get a corner of the shrinkwrap between your teeth and tear it open. Nagito now has his tongue back inside of you, “hnng…” you force out, pulling a condom out and just letting the box fall to the floor, “stop distracting me!”

You can feel him laugh against you, gently lapping his tongue at your insides as you finally manage to tear the condom open, “Oh! These are ribbed for my pleasure! How very polite of you.” you tease, shuffling down from his face and between his legs.

Nagito turns red, the lower of his face glistening with your slick. He brings up an arm and cleans himself off with the back of his hand, “Ah...I just...I figured if I was going to buy some…”

Your lips quirk up in a smile as you roll the condom down over his twitching cock. He hisses at the feeling of your palm caressing him, “What are you so worried about? I mean it, it was a nice gesture.”

Nagito gasps when you swing a leg over his bony hips, hovering just over his cock, so close that you can just feel the head brushing your folds. Nagito has his hands buried in the sheets and you can see him quivering beneath you, “Everything okay? Do you need to stop?”

He shakes his head, adam’s apple bobbing as he traces your form with his eyes, “I just...I can’t believe you're about to do this.” he chokes on a laugh, covering his mouth with a hand, “I’m going to ruin you…”

A smile crawls up your cheek as you slowly start lowering yourself down. Nagito makes a shocked noise at the back of his throat when the head pops inside of you, “and I, you.”

You watch in awe as his chest rises and falls, as his eyes squeeze shut. His brow creases, his cheeks are painted in a gorgeous red. He looks like a masterpiece, and there's a little voice in your head, praising yourself for being the one who did this to him. Then, he is fully inside of you, stretching you out and pulsing against your tight heat.

Nagito’s hips buck just a little, a hiss escaping his mouth, “Ah... ahhh .” he swallows thickly as his eyes open, staring up at you in absolute adoration, “I’m inside you...I’m really inside you…”

“Sure are.” You reply, lifting yourself up just a little before dropping back down again. A moan rips from his mouth, and a needy whine escapes yours, “You feel...really good…”

He nods his head, staring up at the ceiling like he is trying to ground himself, “You’re so warm...you’re taking me so perfectly…”

You shiver at the compliment. Relishing in the feeling of Nagito’s desperate little thrusts, it feels like he is trying to hold himself back, but he just can’t . Like he needs you, like he craves you. You roll your hips, moaning long and hard at the sensation of him moving inside of you. Nagito whimpers, hips shaking as he tries his hardest to stay still.

“What are you waiting for?” You ask, “I’m all yours, Nagito. Take me.”

His hips snap up. Just the once, his body responding to your words before his head even has a chance to catch up, “You...you’re mine… ” he breathes, disbelieving, but utterly hungry. His hands slowly curl around your hips, pads of his fingers digging into your flesh as he starts moving in earnest. The sound that cuts loose from your throat is so loud that it surprises even you, the feeling of him bottoming out inside of you is insane. It makes your toes curl, your stomach tense, your heart race.

“You liked that?” He whispers, voice gravelly and breathless as he continues pounding up into you, like he doesn't want to be outside of you for more than a second, “You feel so good...so perfect...i couldn't resist you even if i wanted to--” he throws his head back and groans, “--you take my cock like it was meant for you and you alone…”

It isn't clear if he is doing it on purpose, or if he is just saying exactly what he is thinking. Either way, Nagito knows exactly what to say to push your buttons. The insinuation that you were made for his cock, and that it was made for you has you clenching hard around him. Sweaty and clammy, grinding your hips harder and harder. Desperate for more of him. More of Nagito. All of Nagito.

“M’close…” You force out, breath growing shaky and thighs quivering on either side of his hips.

Nagito laughs, it's loud and wild. It echoes around the room, “You’re going to cum for me?”

“Just for you. All for you.”

He moans, letting one hand drop down from your hip to circle your clit instead. You howl and Nagito hisses through his teeth, you’re bouncing on his cock now. Keening and whining, the warmth in your stomach is growing unbearable, and watching Nagito’s mouth drop open in a perfect moan doesn't help. It’s right then, that he shoves himself up inside of you hard , hitting just the right place for you to finally come undone. There's white behind your eyes as all the tension within you snaps, hips gyrating furiously as you ride out your orgasm. Nagito lets out a cry and pounds up into you with a surprising ferocity, cock twitching between your walls as he cums. His face in that moment is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

It takes a minute for you to come back down from your high. Falling forward and resting your head in the join between Nagito’s neck and shoulder, breathing deeply as the shivers from your orgasm slowly subside. Nagito starts rubbing gently circles on your back, his hands are shaky, but you aren't sure if he is just lethargic or if he is also nervous. You lift yourself up with your arms and press a kiss to his cheek, “I’m getting off you now, ready?”

He nods sleepily, and you lift your leg up and over him, collapsing bodily onto the bed beside him. Everything is still fizzing and popping, from your heart out to your fingertips. If it feels like the sun has awoken inside your chest. You just want to lie here forever.

“Just...ah...give me a minute, and then I'll move out to the couch.” Nagito says, panting quietly, “You can take the bed.”

You roll over to face him, “Nagito...you really think i'm going to kick you out of your own bed?”

“Oh, i don't know...I just...didn't want to presume.”

With an affectionate sigh, you shuffle a little closer to him, resting your head on his chest and tucking your arm in around his waist, “No presumption necessary. I want to sleep with you.”

Nagito laughs, “You already did.”

“Hey! You know what I meant.” you lean up a little and press a kiss to his shoulder before snuggling deeper into his chest, “I want to actually sleep with you.”

“I still can’t believe you're here with me…” he sighs happily, curling an arm around your shoulders, “In my bed, no less.”

“That’s what you get for being so cute all the time. I’ve been staring at you for like, the past two months.”

“Ah...for a long time i assumed that there was always something stuck in my teeth. That uh, happens to me a lot.”

You press your ear to his chest, closing your eyes and listening to the sound of his heart, “Nah. Nothing stuck in your teeth. I just thought you were the most beautiful man I had ever seen.”

You hear him choke at that, his hand tightening around your shoulders, “You are...the most wonderful person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.” He plants a kiss to the top of your head, “I wouldn't be surprised if this was all a dream, that i’ll wake up tomorrow and you’ll be gone.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper, and the gentle thump of his heart slowly soothes you into sleep.

Hey guys. Note from Bree here. I hope that this was okay, I’ve been feeling really down on my writing recently and I’m really not sure why, but i just dont think anything im posting has been any good. So i just hope that you still enjoyed this even though its a mess. Im so worried that im losing nagito’s voice. im like, scared about it actually, cause this is the only thing im good at, you know? and what’s even the point of me if i cant do this one thing anymore...... ugh, sorry for being such a complain jane. i just, idk. the komaeda who lives in my head is calling me trash 24/7 hahahahahahahhaa

#komaeda x reader #nagito komaeda #komaeda nagito #nagito x reader #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa

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