RYDEN ONESHOTS // A Picturesque Score of Passing Fantasy

†rains

Kinks: masochist, sadist, choking, hair pulling, scratching, pinning, name calling(light), praise(light), begging, marking, dirty talk, yes there's literally this many kinks in here

top: forehead boi

bottom: Ryan

Keep Sinning, My Chemicals. <3 x

He rolls over onto his side for the millionth time. 

It's nearly 3:00 am and he's still awake. 

It's been the fourth night in a row of this. 

His mind just won't settle down. 

He groans quietly as he brings his hands to his face

Just get out of my fucking head!

Pressing his palms Into his eyes in annoyance, he pulls them away frustrated. 

His mind won't settle, and his gut won't settle either. He's not sick or suffering from something bad too eat, no... his stomach won't settle for a different reason. 

Deep in his stomach. 

Deep in his stomach, the pain... is craving. 

He craves him. 

He craves to taste his lips. 

To feel his skin. 

To feel his hands, run up and own his body. 

To feel that heat. 

To feel that burn—

Stop it! Fucking stop stop STOP!  His mind screams to Interrupt his thoughts which only make it worse.

He can't escape his mind. It's awful. 

He hops down off his top bunk and fumbles for the light switch, after, turning to his personal mirror. 

He's a mess. 

He has dark circles under his eyes, and he lifts his hand up to run them through his hair, and they're shaking. He turns the faucet on and splashes the chlorine tainted train water on his face attempting to wash away whatever ever disease has infected his mind. 

Of course it's not going to wash it away, but as he comes up... he reaches enlightenment. 

Truth. conclusion.

A plan. 

The beads of water disappear Into the soft white clothes of the towel as he wipes away the water, before grabbing a t-shirt, and heading out the door. 

It's a private car, just for Panic!, so he doesn't have to worry about being only in his boxers.

He walks down the cold floored hall, the dark night whizzing by, as the muffled 'c-clack c-clack c-clack' of the trains rails fills the air with the only noise at this time of night. 

As a soft yellow light emanates from under the door, his preguilt is lifted in the fact that he won't have to wake him up, but...

Why is he up at this time of night too?

His knuckles gently knock in the door as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The clicking of the door handle makes his stomach drop but he keeps his feet planted. 

He's not going anywhere.

-

"hey... what's up?"