#((love

[monttrealxo]

[titsay]

[biblicallyaccuratemoth]

My twin brother is the most important person in my life. He is a wonderful, kind person who (like me) often struggles with communication. But I never doubt that he loves me and he supports me. Where he struggles with stating feelings, he excels in gestures to show his love and support. On top of learning how to braid hair, he also did intricate research into fashion to help me develop my style, stood with me in the face of transphobia in the workplace, and buys me plushies when he knows that I'm sad. I would not be where I am today without him.

[loveisgame]

[thoughtkick]

The devil doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you’ve ever wished for.

Tucker Max

[remanence-of-love]

[dolutufegiterstut]

[boredom-is-a-burden]

Lazy Sunday mornings together..

[eleganceofhersoul]

[shisasan]

21 February, 1936 Letters to Véra by Vladimir Nabokov

[monttrealxo]

[elryuse]

Miss Me Pt.2

Yandere Wonyoung X Male Reader

Tags : Yandere, Obsession, Posessive, Kissing, Edging, Creampies, Biting, Seduction, Marking, Non Consensual Sex (Reverse Rape) Words : 5,428 Words

A Continuation of Miss Me. A Commision By My Friend @Pizza_anon From Ko-fi. I Hoped You Liked it, Enjoy.

For a while, you thought you had finally escaped her.

Wonyoung was nothing more than a ghost in your past, a name you refused to utter, a memory you buried so deep it almost felt like she had never existed.

After that ill-fated date—after seeing her again across that dimly lit restaurant—you ran. Not just from her, but from everything. From the lingering pain, the suffocating paranoia, the scars she left on your body and mind.

You changed everything. Your name, your address, your entire life.

A quiet town far removed from everything you once knew became your sanctuary. Here, no one whispered rumors about her, no one looked at you with pity, no one asked about the girl who used to own you.

At last, you had peace.

Or so you thought.

The Devil Returns It had been a simple errand—just a quick trip to the store.

You carried the grocery bags up the steps of your home, the late afternoon sun casting golden hues against the walls. You exhaled slowly, reveling in the quiet, the stillness that you had fought so hard to find.

But the moment you stepped inside, something felt off.

The air was wrong.

Cold. Unsettling.

And then, you saw it.

Your window—open. The curtains swayed gently, the breeze chilling your skin.

Your heart hammered against your ribcage, and a sinking feeling settled in your gut. You set the groceries down, every nerve in your body screaming at you to turn around and run.

But then, you heard it.

The soft clink of a wine glass being placed on the table.

You turned your head slowly—

And there she was.

Wonyoung.

Sitting at your dinner table, legs elegantly crossed, a glass of red wine in her delicate fingers.

She looked the same, yet somehow different.

Her long dark hair cascaded over her shoulder in effortless waves. The dim lighting of your home cast shadows across her perfect face, making her look almost ethereal.

She swirled the wine in her glass, her crimson lips curving into a wicked smile.

Then, she spoke.

"Miss me?"

Your blood turned to ice.

A year.

A whole fucking year of running, of rebuilding your life, and yet, here she was.

As if she had never left.

As if she had always known where you were.

And at that moment, as the weight of her presence suffocated you, something inside of you snapped.

If Wonyoung could never leave you alone in this world—

Then maybe it was time to fight back.

Your footsteps echoed against the dimly lit pavement, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as you moved through the empty streets.

Run. Just keep running.

The cold night air bit at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill that clawed at your spine—the phantom touch of a past that refused to die.

Wonyoung.

Her voice still clung to your ears, Miss me? slithering into your mind like a poison you couldn’t purge.

That date…

That fucking date.

It had never left you.

Not even for a second.

You thought you had been healing. Thought you had finally clawed your way out of the abyss she had thrown you into. But the second you saw her again—

The second you heard her voice—

It all came flooding back.

The pain. The betrayal. The torment she put you through.

It wasn’t just the physical scars she left behind. No, those were the least of your worries.

It was what she did to your mind.

How she twisted every thought, every emotion, until you doubted your own sanity.

How she made you feel like you were the problem.

How she smiled at you in one moment and tore you apart in the next.

It hurt.

It fucking hurt.

And as you ran through the dark, your heart pounding in your ears, you realized something.

You weren’t running from her.

You were running from yourself.

Because deep down, in the darkest part of your soul—

You were terrified that you would never escape her.

That no matter how far you went, no matter how hard you tried—

She would always find you.

And worse than that…

Some twisted part of you feared that when she did—

You wouldn’t have the strength to push her away.

The door clicked shut behind you as you stepped into your apartment, locking it instinctively. The dim glow of the streetlights filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room. Everything was silent—too silent.

You exhaled slowly, running a hand through your hair as exhaustion weighed down on you.

Tired.

You were so fucking tired.

Tired of running.

Tired of looking over your shoulder.

Tired of feeling like no matter how far you went, she would always be there.

You leaned against the door, your fingers gripping the doorknob as you tried to steady yourself. But your mind wouldn't let you rest.

The memories clawed their way to the surface.

That night.

The way she had looked at you from across the table, her lips curling into that knowing smirk.

The way her voice dripped with honeyed venom as she whispered your name, making you feel like you were still hers.

And the way she—

Your breath hitched, and you squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the images away.

No.

You had to move forward. You had to get away from her.

But how could you escape something that had already sunk its claws so deep into your soul?

You forced yourself to move, stepping further into the apartment.

Everything was as you left it. The couch, slightly disheveled from where you had sat the night before. The coffee table, still littered with an unfinished book and a cold cup of tea. The faint hum of the refrigerator in the background.

It was supposed to be your space.

Your safe haven.

And yet, it never felt like it.

Not when the ghosts of your past lingered in every shadow, in every breath you took.

You dragged yourself to the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water with shaky hands. The cool liquid did nothing to settle the unease churning in your stomach.

As you set the glass down, you caught your reflection in the dark window.

The tired eyes. The weight of years of torment etched into your expression.

You wanted to fight back.

You really did.

But how could you fight against something that had already consumed you?

Because even now, even after everything she had done to you—

Some sick, twisted part of you still felt like you belonged to her.

And that terrified you more than anything.

The water in the pot bubbled furiously, steam rising in thick clouds as you dropped the instant ramen noodles into the boiling liquid. The scent of artificial broth filled the small apartment, a pathetic attempt at comfort after a night like this.

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you leaned against the counter. The exhaustion clung to you like a second skin. The weight of it bore down on your shoulders, suffocating and relentless.

How long do I have to keep living like this?

The sound of chopsticks clinking against the bowl filled the silence, but it did little to drown out the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind.

Wonyoung.

No matter how much you ran, no matter how many times you told yourself you were free—

She always found a way back in.

Your grip on the countertop tightened.

You needed to be stronger.

You needed to fight back.

But just as that thought formed, a sound pierced the silence.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your body froze.

It was late. Too late for anyone to be visiting.

And yet, the knocking came again. Slow, deliberate, taunting.

Your breath hitched. A cold shiver ran down your spine as you forced yourself to move toward the door, each step heavier than the last.

You already knew.

Somewhere deep inside, you already fucking knew.

But the moment you twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open—

Your entire body shattered.

Because there she was.

The door creaked softly as Wonyoung stepped inside, her presence filling the small space like a storm cloud ready to burst. Her eyes locked onto yours, unrelenting, as if daring you to look away. You couldn’t. Your body was rooted to the spot, your mind screaming at you to do something—anything—but your limbs refused to obey.

She closed the door behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing in the silence like a death knell. Her perfume—that same floral, intoxicating scent that still haunted your dreams—washed over you, sickeningly sweet and suffocating.

“You didn’t answer,” she said, her voice low and velvety, yet laced with a dangerous edge. She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor in a rhythm that felt like a countdown to something inevitable. “Do you miss me?”

You opened your mouth to speak, to tell her to leave, to scream, to do anything but the words caught in your throat. All that came out was a strangled sound, barely audible. Her smirk widened, and she took another step forward, closing the distance between you until you could feel the heat radiating from her body.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she purred, her voice dripping with amusement. Her hand reached up, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. The touch was soft, almost tender, but it sent a shiver down your spine. “You look tired. Have you been thinking about me?”

You wanted to pull away, to slap her hand aside, to tell her to stop. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Her touch was like a drug, and despite everything, some part of you craved it. The realization made you sick to your stomach.

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, “I’ve missed you. More than you know.” Her breath was warm against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “You belong to me. You always have.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you could react, her hands were on you, gripping your shoulders tightly as she pushed you back. You stumbled, your legs giving out as she forced you down onto the bed. She climbed on top of you in one fluid motion, her dress riding up her thighs as she straddled your hips.

“Wonyoung—” you started, but she cut you off with a harsh groan at the back of her throat.

“Don’t,” she hissed, her eyes blazing with a fire that made your blood run cold. “Don’t pretend you don’t want this. Don’t pretend you don’t want me.”

Her hands moved quickly, undoing your pants with practiced ease. You tried to protest, to push her away, but she caught your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head with a strength that left you breathless.

“You’re mine,” she growled, her voice low and filled with a possessiveness that sent a shudder through you. “You’ve always been mine. And you always will be.”

Her other hand dipped between your legs, fingers brushing against the fabric of your boxers, and you couldn’t suppress the involuntary gasp that escaped your lips. She smirked, her eyes boring into yours as she leaned down, her lips brushing against your neck.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her voice soft but commanding. “Just let go. Let me take care of you.”

Her lips moved lower, teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of your neck as she bit down lightly, drawing a sharp gasp from you. Her hand slipped inside your boxers, fingers wrapping around your length, already hard despite the chaos raging in your mind.

“Wonyoung—” you tried again, but she cut you off with a harsh moan.

“Shut up,” she hissed, her grip tightening as she began to stroke you slowly, her fingers moving with a practiced precision that left you trembling. “You don’t get to talk. You don’t get to think. You just get to feel.”

She leaned back slightly, her eyes never leaving yours as she positioned herself over you. Her free hand lifted the hem of her dress, revealing the lace of her panties. She pulled them to the side, her breath hitching as she lowered herself onto you, taking you in one smooth motion.

You groaned, your head falling back against the pillow as she began to move, her hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that was both familiar and devastating. Her hands found your chest, nails digging into your skin as she leaned forward, her breath hot against your ear.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly with exertion. “Just like that. Just like old times.”

Her pace quickened, her movements becoming more urgent as she rode you with a ferocity that left you breathless. Her nails dragged across your chest, leaving red marks in their wake, and she bit down on your neck again, harder this time, drawing a sharp cry from you.

“Say it,” she demanded, her voice harsh and commanding. “Say you’re mine.”

You shook your head, your body betraying you as you arched into her, your hips meeting hers with a force that made her gasp.

“Say it!” she snarled, her nails digging into your skin as she leaned back, her eyes blazing with a wild, almost feral intensity.

You couldn’t fight it anymore. The words spilled from your lips, unbidden, trembling with a mixture of shame and need.

“I’m yours,” you choked out, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing.

She smiled, a cruel, victorious smile that sent a chill down your spine. “That’s right,” she purred, her voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re mine. And you always will be.”

Her pace slowed, but her movements became more deliberate, more intense. She leaned down, her lips brushing against yours as she whispered, “Now come for me.”

The command was all it took. Your body tensed, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you gave in, completely and utterly. She followed soon after, her body shuddering against yours as she buried her face in your neck, her breathing ragged and uneven.

For a moment, there was silence, save for the sound of your labored breathing. Then, she lifted her head, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your stomach churn.

“Don’t forget,” she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. “You’re mine. And I’m not letting you go. Not ever again.”

The silk scarves slid around your wrists with a soft, almost imperceptible hiss, their texture cool against your skin. Wonyoung’s hands worked with practiced ease, tying intricate knots that were tight enough to hold you in place but not so tight that they hurt. Her movements were deliberate, her fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. You wanted to pull away, to resist, but the look in her eyes—sharp, predatory, and utterly in control—made it impossible to move.

“There,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry as she finished the last knot. “Now you can’t run away. Not that you ever could, really.”

Her lips curved into a smile, one that was both alluring and dangerous. She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, “But I think you like it when I take control, don’t you? Admit it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could say a word, her lips were on yours, silencing you with a kiss that was both demanding and sweet. Her tongue teased the seam of your lips, and when you finally relented, letting her in, she deepened the kiss with a moan that sent heat straight to your core. Her hands roamed over your chest, her nails scraping lightly against your skin as she explored every inch of you.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes were dark with desire, her lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss. She didn’t say a word as she slowly, deliberately, began to trace your body with her tongue. Her lips pressed against your neck, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. Her tongue flicked out, tasting your skin, and you couldn’t suppress the involuntary shiver that ran through you.

“You taste so good,” she murmured against your skin, her voice low and husky. “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

She continued her slow descent, her tongue laving over your chest, her lips brushing against your nipples in a way that made you shudder. Her hands were everywhere, touching, teasing, exploring every inch of you as she worked her way down your body. When she finally reached your hips, she paused, her fingers curling around the waistband of your pants.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, her voice a whisper as she looked up at you, her eyes dark with desire.

You should have said yes. You knew you should have said yes. But the way she looked at you, the way her lips curved into that familiar, predatory smile, made it impossible to say anything but, “No.”

Her smile widened, and without another word, she pulled your pants down, freeing your already hard cock. Her eyes darkened with desire as she took you in her hand, her fingers wrapping around you in a firm grip. Her thumb brushed over the tip, spreading the precum that had already gathered there, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips.

“You’re so ready for me,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry as she stroked you slowly, her eyes never leaving yours. “And I’m going to make you feel so good.”

Before you could respond, she was on top of you, her body pressing against yours as she positioned herself over you. Her hips moved slowly, deliberately, as she lowered herself onto you, taking you in inch by inch. The feeling of her warmth enveloping you was almost too much to bear, and you couldn’t suppress the groan that escaped your lips.

“That’s it,” she murmured, her voice low and husky as she began to move, her hips rocking against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm. “Let go. Just feel me.”

Her movements were slow at first, almost teasing, as she adjusted to the feel of you inside her. But as her pace quickened, her hips began to move in a way that drove you wild. She moaned your name, her voice low and sultry, as her hips rocked against yours, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“You feel so good inside me,” she murmured, her voice low and husky as she leaned down, her lips brushing against yours. “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. You wanted to resist, to push her away, but the pleasure she was giving you was too much to ignore. Her hips moved in a way that drove you wild, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“Come for me,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry as her hips moved against yours in a way that drove you wild. “I want to feel you come inside me.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. You wanted to resist, to push her away, but the pleasure she was giving you was too much to ignore. Her hips moved in a way that drove you wild, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“Do it,” she commanded, her voice low and dangerous as her hips moved against yours in a way that drove you wild. “Come for me.”

The command was all it took. Your body tensed, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you gave in completely and utterly. She followed soon after, her body shuddering against yours as she buried her face in your neck, her breathing ragged and uneven.

For a moment, there was silence, save for the sound of your labored breathing. Then, she lifted her head, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your stomach churn.

“Don’t forget,” she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. “You’re mine. And I’m not letting you go. Not ever again.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. You wanted to resist, to push her away, but the pleasure she was giving you was too much to ignore. Her hips moved in a way that drove you wild, each movement sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“Do it,” she commanded, her voice low and dangerous as her hips moved against yours in a way that drove you wild. “Come for me.”

The room felt suffocating, her perfume still clinging to the air like a ghost of the past. Wonyoung’s eyes bore into you, her lips curling into that same predatory smile that once sent shivers down your spine. But this time, the shivers felt different—less of fear, more of disgust.

”I’ve thought about it,” she began, her voice smooth and deliberate, like honey laced with poison. ”And I’ve decided. I’m ready. Ready to make you my husband.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and absurd. You blinked, your mind struggling to process what she had just said. Her husband? After everything she had done? After the lies, the manipulation, the infidelity? Your chest tightened, a wave of anger rising inside you like a tempest.

”You’re out of your damn mind,” you said, your voice low but firm.

Her smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered, tilting her head as if she were amused by your defiance. ”Oh, come on. You know this is what we’ve both wanted. We’re meant to be together.”

”No,” you snapped, your voice rising. ”We’re not. You destroyed whatever we had. You cheated on me, manipulated me, hurt me. And now you think you can just waltz back into my life and decide to marry me? Who the hell do you think you are?”

She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor with that same confidence that had always made her seem untouchable. But this time, you weren’t falling for it. You stood your ground, your fists clenched at your sides.

”I’m the one who knows you better than anyone,” she said, her voice soft but laced with a dangerous edge. ”The one who can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. You’ll never find anyone else who understands you like I do.”

”You don’t understand me,” you shot back. ”You never did. You just wanted to control me, to own me. And I’m done with that. I’m done with you.”

Her smile faded completely now, replaced by a look of genuine confusion. She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to touch your arm, but you jerked away. Her touch felt like fire, but not the kind you wanted.

”What are you saying?” she asked, her voice wavering for the first time. ”You can’t just leave me. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

”I’m not leaving you,” you said, your voice cold. ”I already left you. Three years ago. And I’m not going back.”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked almost… vulnerable. But it was fleeting, quickly replaced by that familiar intensity. She dropped to her knees, her hands clutching at your pants as she looked up at you with pleading eyes.

”Please,” she begged, her voice cracking. ”Just forgive me. I can change. I’ll be better. I’ll do anything. But I can’t lose you. You’re the only one who’s ever really mattered to me.”

Her words should have softened you, but they didn’t. Instead, they made you angrier. How dare she? How dare she act like she cared, like she loved you, when all she ever did was hurt you?

”You don’t love me,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. ”You just love the idea of owning me. But I’m not yours anymore. I’ll never be yours again.”

Her grip tightened on your pants, her nails digging into the fabric. Tears welled up in her eyes, but they didn’t make her any less dangerous. ”You don’t mean that,” she whispered. ”You’ll come back to me. You’ll see. There’s no one else out there who would want you. No one who would love you like I do.”

Her words cut deep, but they didn’t break you. Not this time. You looked down at her, your jaw clenched, and shook your head.

”You’re wrong,” you said, your voice quiet but filled with resolve. ”I deserve better than you. And I’m going to find it. But first, you need to get out of my life. For good.”

She stared up at you, her eyes wide with disbelief. For a moment, she looked like she might argue, might try to manipulate you again. But then, slowly, she let go of your pants and stood up. She took a step back, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of your words had finally crushed her.

”You’ll regret this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. ”You’ll see. You’ll come crawling back to me.”

”I won’t,” you said, your voice firm. ”Now get out.”

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching yours for any sign of weakness. But there was none. You stood tall, unyielding, and for the first time, you were in control.

Finally, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the floor with a rhythm that felt oddly final. You watched her go, your heart pounding in your chest, but you didn’t stop her. Not this time.

As the door closed behind her, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. The room felt lighter, the air easier to breathe. You sank into a chair, your hands trembling, but your mind was clear.

You had made the right choice. You were free.

But as you sat there, a part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over. That Wonyoung wasn’t the type to just walk away. She would be back.

And when she did, you’d be ready.

The air outside felt different now. Lighter. As if the weight you had carried for so long had finally begun to lift. It had been weeks since Wonyoung walked out of your apartment that night, and though the scars of the past still lingered, you were finally taking control of your life again.

You started working again, finding solace in the routine. The office buzzed with life, a world filled with people who didn’t know your past, who didn’t see you as the shattered person Wonyoung had left behind. It was refreshing. For the first time in years, you weren’t looking over your shoulder.

More than that, you were getting out more often—grabbing drinks with coworkers, going to the gym, even walking through the city without the constant paranoia that she was lurking in the shadows.

And, for once, you were enjoying life again.

But the past had a cruel way of finding you, even when you least expected it.

It started small.

An odd feeling. A fleeting sensation of being watched.

The first time it happened, you were leaving work late at night. The office building cast long shadows under the flickering streetlights as you stepped out onto the pavement. You had been scrolling through your phone, replying to a message from a friend who had invited you out for drinks.

And then—

That prickle at the back of your neck.

That familiar, sinking weight in your gut.

You turned, scanning the sidewalk, the alley across the street.

Nothing.

You shook your head, forcing a chuckle. Don’t be ridiculous. She’s gone.

But the feeling didn’t go away.

Days passed, and the unease only grew. You would notice the same car parked across from your apartment complex too many nights in a row. Or a familiar scent—her scent—lingering in the air when you entered your favorite café.

Still, you brushed it off. It had to be paranoia. After all, she had left.

Hadn’t she?

A Message From the Past Then, one evening, after a long day at work, your phone vibrated with a notification.

You barely glanced at it as you tossed your bag onto the couch, but something about it made you pause.

An unknown number.

"Thinking about you."

Your breath caught in your throat.

It couldn’t be.

You hesitated before opening the message fully, hoping—praying—it was some mistake. A wrong number. A coincidence.

But as soon as you opened the text, a second message came through.

"Did you miss me?"

A chill ran down your spine.

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around your phone.

No.

No, no, no—

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you stared at the screen, the words burning into your mind like a scar reopening.

It had to be her.

It was always her.

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to stay calm. You wouldn’t let her shake you again.

You deleted the message without responding.

You blocked the number.

And then, gripping your phone like it was the last lifeline to reality, you told yourself—

It’s over. She can’t hurt me anymore.

But deep down, you knew—

Wonyoung wasn’t done with you yet.

The next time you saw her, something inside you snapped.

It was late—too late for visitors—when the knock came at your door. At first, you ignored it, pretending not to hear, pretending you weren’t home. But the knocking persisted, slow and deliberate, like a predator toying with its prey.

Then, that voice.

"Miss me?"

The words sent a wave of exhaustion through you, but this time, there was no fear. No hesitation.

Just rage.

You swung the door open, and there she stood—Jang Wonyoung, draped in another black gown, her lips curled into that sickeningly sweet smile. Her beauty, once mesmerizing, now felt suffocating. Poisonous.

"You," you muttered, your voice low, heavy with something even you didn’t recognize.

She took a step forward, her hand reaching for you, but you didn’t let her.

For the first time, you didn’t freeze. You didn’t cower. You didn’t let her dictate how this night would go.

Your hand moved before you could think.

SMACK!

The sound echoed through the hallway, ringing in your ears.

Wonyoung staggered back, her head snapping to the side as her cheek turned a deep, angry red.

She didn’t speak.

For the first time, she was speechless.

Your chest heaved with heavy breaths as you clenched your fists, watching her carefully. If she expected you to regret it, she was dead wrong.

"I’ve had enough," you said, your voice raw, unshaken.

She blinked, slow and disbelieving, before her lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

"You hit me," she murmured, as if testing out the words.

"Yeah. I did."

A quiet chuckle escaped her lips, but there was no amusement in it. She straightened, her fingers brushing the stinging mark on her cheek.

"Finally growing a spine?" she asked, tilting her head. "Took you long enough."

Your jaw tightened. "What the hell do you want, Wonyoung?"

She stared at you, eyes dark and unreadable. "You know what I want."

"No. I really don’t." You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "I don’t want you. I don’t want whatever this is. I just want to be free."

Her expression flickered, just for a second, and for the first time, you saw something you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before.

Hurt.

But you didn’t care.

Not anymore.

"You don’t mean that," she whispered, but there was no confidence in her voice this time.

"I do." You stepped back, gripping the edge of the door. "I don’t care what you do anymore. Go ruin someone else’s life. I’m done being your plaything."

She didn’t move.

For a moment, she just stood there, staring at you, searching for something in your face.

Then, slowly, she straightened her posture, regaining that cold, unreadable mask.

"Fine," she said at last, voice detached, distant. "If that’s what you really want."

You nodded. "It is."

A pause.

Then, she turned on her heel, walking away without another word.

You stood frozen, listening to the click of her heels against the floor until the sound faded into silence.

And just like that—

She was gone.

You shut the door and locked it, leaning against the wood as a shaky breath escaped your lips.

For the first time in what felt like forever—

You were free.

[thoughtkick]

The prettier the garden, the dirtier the hands of the gardener.

B. E. Barnes, Put in work.

[remanence-of-love]