#(They said knowing well it's never worked before)

[vivwritesfics]

Series masterlist

You had never given him your address, so dinner was forgotten about. You never brought it up again, and neither did Oscar.

Until you were sitting at the vanity in your childhood bedroom, amelia watching as you got ready for the day. "Mama," whe began, the bench beneath you moving every time she swung her legs. "When is Oscar coming over for dinner?"

You stopped with your makeup the second the memories of asking him came flooding back. "I don't know, 'melia," you answered honestly, putting your foundation down. "But we'll ask him today."

Your daughter was a wild child. You couldn't control her. The second Oscsr entered your line of sight in the park, wearing his workout gear, Amelia ran towards him. Still holding Coopers pram, you couldn't catch up with her.

But you didn't need to worry. Oscar hugged her and held her hand, walking her back towards you. "My mummy wants to know if you can come to ours for dinner," she said.

No, Amelia was meant to ask, not ask for you. But that was exactly what had happened. Your eyes were wide as you looked at Oscar. He matched your expression.

But then he crouched down, meeting Amelia's height. "I'd love to, 'melia," he said and held out his hand, high fiving her.

***

It hadn't been easy to convince your mother and brother to leave for the night. With embarrassment written on your face, you confessed that you were having someone over for dinner.

A friend, just a friend. Yes, the friend that you, Cooper and Amelia met at the park. No, it's not something romantic. Yes you will kick him out before 10pm so they can come back.

Your brother was laughing at you as he and your mother left the apartment.

Getting all three of you AND the apartment ready was no easy task. You got amelia dressed, sparkly shoes and cute little bow in her hair. You put Cooper down to sleep and left his baby monitor on the kitchen counter, listening for him.

The ingredients for dinner were left out on the side, a bottle of white wine accompanying it.

Just before seven, there was a knock on the door. Amelia held your leg as you pulled the door open, revealing Oscar.

White shirt and jeans. It was a simple outfit, but it worked so damn well on him. You swallowed, holding back to inappropriate whistle you were ready to release and stepped aside to welcome him into your mother's apartment.

It was a little embarrassing. Single, with two kids, living in your mother's apartment. You didn't hide that fact from Oscar. It was the circumstances life had thrown that way, and you weren't going to let it hold you back.

Oscar sat at the table as Amelia showed him the crafts she had done at nursery. "And at Christmas we can make decorations! I wanna make something to put on grandma's tree!"

Oscar grinned as he looked at her paintings. "Would you make something for my tree, 'melia?" He asked and she nodded.

"Yeah!"

You laughed at your place at the stove. Every time Oscar asked if he could help, you shook your head and sat him back down, fingers lingering on his chest for longer than you meant for them to.

You picked up the baby monitor and listened for any noise from Cooper. Nothing. Your baby was fast asleep.

Plating up the foot, you sat opposite Oscar. You talked between bites of food, learning more about each other. It was more details than you'd discussed in the park, more intimate details.

About his childhood. His dreams (although he kept it brief). His family life, living in Australia, going to school in England. It was all so interesting.

After dinner, you put Amelia to bed. She was reluctant, making you use the stern mum voice. Amelia huffed as she got into her pyjamas. But she hugged you and climbed into bed.

Grabbing your glass of wine, you led Oscar over to the couch. He sat beside you and placed his own glass on the coffee table.

Tucking your legs beneath you, you sipped your wine. Oscar swallowed and asked the question that had been playing on his mind. "What happened for you to be living with your mum?" He asked, adding a quiet 'if you don't mind me asking'.

Your mother didn't even know what happened. Your hand shook as you put the glass down, looking back towards the hallway, to the room Amelia was sleeping in (your oldest brothers room had becomes hers for when you stayed over. Perks of giving birth to the first grandchild).

"Amelia's dad was an asshole," you muttered, folding your arms over your chest. "He was sweet all the time I was pregnant with Amelia and Cooper, but things changed the moment I gave birth. The shouting and screaming, spending all of the money I had saved to take care of my kids while I was out of work-" You didn't go into details about the worst bits. "-I knew I had to get out of there. So, I came to stay with my mother."

For a moment, Oscar was quiet. "Yeah," he agreed. "Sounds like an asshole."

You released a weak laugh. "Thank you for agreeing to this," you whispered, moving slightly closer to him. "Amelia really likes you."

"Is she the only one?" He asked it so fast, you almost didn't hear it. But you moved closer, pressing your lips against his cheek. When you pulled away, his cheek was stained with lipstick. You moved to wipe it away, but Oscar caught your hand, stopping you.

***

It was just before ten when Charles Leclerc escorted his mother back to her apartment. "She's fine, mama," Charles said as he pushed his key into the lock and twisted it. "She's a big girl now."

He opened the door and let his mother walk in. The apartment was quiet, but that was to be expected. You had kicked your date out, as you agreed, and Cooper and Amelia were asleep.

The kitchen was a state, not yet cleaned up after dinner. Pascale blew out the candle on the table and walked forward.

A gasp left her lips as she walked into the living room.

There you were, lips pressed against your dates cheek. But she knew your date, as did Charles.

"Oscar?"

[mminghaos]

best friend seungcheol whom you have a crush on, but never told him. he doesn't know it either and y'all just bicker all the time as bsf, one day all of it changes when you finally say you found a match on some dating app. he realises it and bam! hot and heavy shit go down.

bitter crush , choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYPNOSIS: your bestfriend doesn’t know you’ve had a crush on him for years, but when you mention matching with someone on a dating app, everything changes.

WARNINGS: smut, fingering, kissing, teasing, mingyu as the failed date lmfao

requests are open, do send some in!!

you’ve been friends with seungcheol since high school, watching each other grow up — first jobs, first kisses, and everything in between, sticking together through the highs and lows. your friendship is built on bickering and teasing each other like it’s second nature. but now, the bickering feels different.

“i matched with someone on that app i told you about,” you say, placing your coffee down on the wooden table of the café you and seungcheol are sitting at.

you’d decided to give a dating app a shot, hoping it would help you take your mind off seungcheol. maybe meeting someone new will help you move on, or at least distract you from the constant thoughts about him. but so far, it’s just more of the same — swiping, chatting, but none of its ever seemed to match the energy you share with him. you might as well move on, since seungcheol has is own hookups and girlfriends, and none of them will ever be you. its frustrating, the way this burning crush for him is always shimmering beneath the surface, gnawing at you. this is going to be the death of you — that’s what you always tell yourself.

“so you’re telling me you’re out here swiping on strangers?” he responds, his voice laced with something you can’t quite place. “what happened to the whole ‘not needing anyone’ thing?”

“it changed.”

“really? that’s weird.” he says, his eyes never leaving you. “thought you were too busy to deal with anyone new.”

you roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. “yeah, well, apparently im not as busy as i thought.”

you’ve never been the type to casually date or get involved with someone just for the sake of it. but lately, things feel different. seungcheol’s always been there — constant, reliable, and annoyingly perfect in his own way — and it’s hard to ignore how your thoughts always circle back to him, no matter how many times you try to push them away. you’ve never said it out loud, never let him in on the truth of how much he’s been occupying your mind, and the idea of dating someone else? it almost feels like a joke. you’re not really here for some random guy who doesn’t know you like he does. but the more you try to distract yourself, the more you realize how little it helps. no matter how many matches you get, no conversation ever seems to compare to the effortless back and forth you share with seungcheol. it’s like you’re chasing something that doesn’t quite exist, and each swipe only makes you feel more frustrated. but you can’t exactly admit that, not to him, not to anyone. so you keep trying, hoping maybe this time will be different, even though you know deep down it won’t be.

“so, who’s this guy?”

you shrug, trying to keep your voice steady. “kim mingyu. he’s nice. we’ve met a few times before, actually — works at that bar down the street.”

seungcheol leans back in his chair, his arms crossed as he watched you. he clears his throat. “just don’t pick some random guy who doesn’t get you, alright?”

“what, are you jealous or something?”

“no.”

the date with mingyu went well. you two got along really great — there was no shortage of conversation, and the chemistry was comfortable. you both enjoyed the meal and found common ground in ways that made the evening feel lighthearted and easy. it was nice, actually, to just relax and enjoy someone’s company without any pressure.

even if the date was good, you and mingyu both agreed that you should just be friends, neither of you feeling the sparks you were hoping for.

you walk into your apartment, slipping off your shoes and placing your keys under the mat. its quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. you head towards the living room, where seungcheol is sprawled on your couch, sorting through the groceries he offered to pick up for you earlier this week.

“you’re back early,” he says, glancing up with a smirk. “thought you were gonna be out all night with your… date.”

you roll your eyes, not really in the mood to talk about it. “it was fine,” you reply, shrugging as you drop your purse on the counter. “nothing special.”

seungcheol raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “really?”

you let out a breath, trying to sound casual. “yeah, well, turns out i’m not as interested as i thought.”

he tilts his head, looking at you like he’s trying to figure you out. “what do you mean?”

you hesitate, leaning against the kitchen counter, fingers tapping against the countertop. “we got along, i guess. but we just decided to be friends.”

“huh.” seungcheol shrugs, clearly unconcerned, though there’s something in the way he watches you that makes you pause. “so you’re saying you don’t feel any connection with him at all?”

you shift, rubbing the back of your neck. “it’s just… not there. but whatever. i’m fine.”

“you sure?” seungcheol presses, his voice dropping an octave, and you can’t help but notice how close he’s sitting now. “because i’m sure someone else would love the chance to—”

“ugh, please.” you cut him off, trying to brush it off. “i don’t need some random guy to be interested.”

he smirks, clearly not buying it. “really? sounds like you do.”

you bite your lip, trying to hold onto your patience, but it’s slipping through your fingers. you know he’s teasing, and usually, you’d laugh it off, but tonight feels different. there’s a tension in the air that you can’t ignore, something that’s been building for years. frustration bubbles up inside you, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“cheol, i like you, okay?” you blurt out, your voice trembling slightly, surprised by how easily it all comes rushing out.

he pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. there’s a moment of silence, and you feel like you’re about to suffocate under the weight of it. his gaze flickers to your face, then down to your hands, then back to your eyes, as if trying to figure out what’s really going on.

“wait,” he says slowly, his tone less playful and more cautious now. “you’re not drunk, are you? had drinks or something when you were out?”

you quickly shake your head, trying to steady your breath. “no, i’m not drunk. i just—” but the words feel clumsy on your tongue, and suddenly, you’re unsure of how to take them back.

“i shouldn’t have said that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “this was stupid, i’m sorry. i don’t even know why i—”

you start rambling, trying to downplay the confession that’s just slipped out. each word feels like it’s digging you deeper, and you just want to take it all back. “i mean, i don’t even know what i was thinking—this is—god, i’m so—”

but before you can finish, seungcheol pushes himself off the couch and walks towards you, stopping just a few inches away. his eyes still lock on yours. the silence stretches, and you feel your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. you want to say something, to apologize again, but all the words are caught in your chest.

“stop,” he says softly, his voice low, but there’s an intensity in it that you can’t ignore.

you open your mouth, wanting to explain, to take back the awkward confession, but the words jumble in your mind. “it’s just… i didn’t want to make it weird, and now i’ve probably ruined everything—”

seungcheol doesn’t say anything, just watches you with an unreadable look in his eyes, waiting for you to stop rambling. you go on anyway, trying to explain yourself, even though you can feel yourself getting more flustered with each passing second.

before you can continue, he steps forward, his hand gently cupping your face, cutting off your words. you freeze, eyes wide, but before you can process anything, his lips crash onto yours, effectively silencing you.

the kiss is deep and urgent, like he’s been holding back too. your brain barely registers what’s happening as your hands instinctively move to his chest, but the tension that had been building between you both for so long snaps. everything goes quiet in your mind, and for the first time tonight, all the chaos and nerves fall away, replaced by the heat of his kiss.

the kiss lingers for a moment, intense and raw, as if neither of you wants to pull away. your breath mingles with his, the world around you blurring until there’s only the feeling of him so close, so real. your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears, and you can feel the tension in his body as he holds you just a bit tighter, as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

when he finally pulls back, you’re left breathless, your forehead resting against his as you both try to catch your breath. his hands are still on you, one gently holding your face, the other resting on your hip, grounding you.

“you really don’t make things easy, do you?” he murmurs, his voice a little hoarse, the teasing edge back in his tone, but it’s softer now, more affectionate.

you don’t trust yourself to speak right away. all the words that had been stuck in your chest before are now lost, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of him so close, his touch still lingering on your skin. instead, you look up at him, meeting his eyes, trying to make sense of everything, but before you can say anything, he smiles slightly, a genuine, soft expression.

“i didn’t realise how much i liked you until you told me about that guy,” he admits, brushing his thumb over your cheek gently. “i was too stupid to notice.”

you dont get to reply because his hand moves down your back, pulling you closer, your chest pressed against his. the room feels warmer now, charged with something you can't ignore. your hands find their way to his chest, pushing lightly at first, unsure if you should pull away or let it happen. but he doesn't give you that chance.

his lips return to yours, but this time, there's more urgency in it, his kiss deepening as his tongue brushes against yours. you let out a soft sigh, the tension that's been building between you two for what feels like forever finally snapping. he groans, his hand moving to your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss further. the heat between you both grows, and you can feel every inch of him pressing against you, making your pulse quicken.

seungcheol's voice is low, almost a whisper as he takes a step back, hands resting on your waist, grounding you both. "do you want to keep going?" he asks.

you nod, your heart racing, but your mind is clear. “yes.”

he doesn't say anything more, just nods and gently takes your hand, leading you through the apartment. when you get to your room, he lays you down on the bed gently, his hands never leaving you.

seungcheol hovers over you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation, any sign that you’re unsure. you can feel his body close to yours, the warmth radiating off him. “are you sure?”

“yes, cheol.” you let out a light laugh, pulling him closer. “im sure.”

his lips trail down your jaw, each kiss softer than the last before he moves to your neck, his teeth grazing slightly over the skin. you let out a soft sigh once he pulls back after reaching where your shirt starts. before he can say anything, you’re reaching for the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric over your head.

seungcheol takes a moment, his gaze lingering on you before meeting your eyes again.

“you’re so beautiful,” he says, unclasping your bra and slipping it off. “god.”

his hands find their way to your pants as he trails kisses down your chest, each one growing more desperate as his lips move lower. the warmth of his breath against your skin sends a shiver through you, and you can feel your heart race with every gentle press of his lips.

eventually, he pulls your pants off, discarding them somewhere on the floor behind him. “please.” you breathe out

“hmm?” he responds, his fingers slipping just under the band of your panties. “what do you want, baby?”

“need you inside me, please.”

he glances down at you, lips twitching up into a smirk. “patience.”

“no, no, no— cheol, please—” you whimper out.

“don’t worry, you’ll get what you want.” he cuts you off, pressing a light kiss to your collarbone.

when he finally stops teasing you and pulls your panties down, tossing them god knows where, you’re already a mess underneath him. every nerve in your body is on edge, anticipation building as he slides two fingers through your folds. “fuck, you’re soaking wet for me, baby.” a low groan escapes his lips, his restraint wavering as he fights to hold himself back.

he slowly pushes one finger into your pussy, giving you a moment to relax before he adds another and starts to curl them into all the right places.

“cheol!” your head falls back against the pillow, hand going to grab his wrist for some sort of stability.

“yeah, you like that?”

you’re already so close — just from the way his fingers move inside you, hitting every spot that sends sparks shooting througu your body.

you nod over and over again, hips rising to match the rhythm of his movements. “don’t stop— fuck— please, im so close.” 

your breath hitches, and you clutch at his arm, desperate for grounding as the sensations overwhelm you. every stroke of his fingers feels like its pulling you closer to the brink, and the tension in your body winds tighter with each passing second. “please—” the word slips out as a whisper, barely audible. your legs start to shake, the pleasure coursing through you almost too much to bear.

before you can even warn seungcheol, you’re coming undone all over his fingers, hips bucking up at the same time.

“god, thats so hot.” he mutters, but you’re too out of it to know if its to you or himself.

"you alright?" seungcheol asks softly, his hand resting on your hip as he looks down at you with concern. his touch is gentle, almost hesitant, as if he's checking for any sign of discomfort.

you nod, your breath still ragged, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "yeah, i'm good. just... didn't expect that." your voice is breathy, the lingering effects of the moment still making your body tingle.

seungcheol smirks, clearly pleased with the reaction. "you sure you're not too overwhelmed?" he teases, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

you laugh softly, the sound shaky but genuine. "im fine" you reply, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye. "was that your way of saying you like me too?"

“it was.” he smirks, eyes locking onto yours. “think you can go for one more round?”

he really is going to be the death of you.

[rmview]

saying they want to break up during a fight, SKZ.

featuring — stray kids members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of what happens when the stray kids boys impulsively say they want to break up during a fight!

contents — angst, fighting, some tears, reconciliation.

bang ☆ chan

fights with bang chan weren’t common, but when they happened, they hit hard. his naturally calm and rational demeanor made it rare for him to lose his temper, but tonight was different. the stress of balancing his responsibilities, combined with your ongoing disagreement, pushed him to the edge.

“you always think i’m not doing enough!” he shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of frustration. “i’m doing everything i can, and it’s still not enough for you!”

“that’s not what i said, chan,” you retorted, equally exasperated. “i just need you to make time for us — just once without your work taking over.”

his jaw tightened as he ran a hand through his hair, his usual composure unraveling. “maybe we’re not right for each other,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “maybe we should just… break up.”

the silence that followed was deafening. bangchan’s eyes widened, and his expression immediately softened as he realized what he’d just said. “wait — no. that’s not what i meant,” he stammered, his voice trembling.

you took a shaky breath, stepping back. “you said it, chan. if that’s how you feel…”

“no, please,” he interrupted, his voice pleading. he reached for your hand, but you pulled away. “i didn’t mean it. i swear, i didn’t mean it. i’m just… i’m tired and overwhelmed, but that’s not an excuse. please, don’t leave.”

tears welled up in his eyes as he stepped closer, desperate to fix what he’d just shattered. “you’re the most important thing in my life,” he said, his voice breaking. “i’ll do better. i’ll make time — i promise. just… don’t walk away.”

felix ☆

felix hated confrontation. he was always the one to diffuse tension, his warm smiles and soothing words calming any storm. but tonight, the argument spiraled beyond his control.

“why do you always think the worst of me?” he asked, his usually soft voice laced with hurt. “i’m trying my best, but it’s like you don’t trust me.”

“it’s not about trust, felix,” you shot back, your voice rising. “it’s about feeling like i’m not a priority!”

his frustration bubbled over, and before he could think, he blurted out, “maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore. maybe we should just break up.”

the words hung in the air like a punch to the gut. felix’s freckles seemed to pale as the weight of what he’d said hit him. “no, wait,” he said quickly, his voice trembling. “i didn’t mean that. i didn’t mean that at all.”

you stood frozen, your heart aching. “how could you say that, felix?”

tears brimmed in his eyes as he stepped closer, his hands shaking. “i’m sorry,” he whispered. “i was angry, and i wasn’t thinking. you mean everything to me, and the thought of losing you —” his voice cracked. “please, don’t leave. i’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

lee ☆ know

lee know was known for his sharp tongue, but he rarely let his emotions get the best of him. tonight was an exception.

“you never understand my side!” he snapped, his voice colder than usual. “you always make it about you.”

“that’s not fair, minho,” you replied, your voice quivering. “i just want us to communicate better.”

“maybe we shouldn’t communicate at all,” he shot back, the words cutting like a blade. “maybe we should just end this.”

the moment the words left his mouth, regret washed over him. his face fell, and his usually stoic demeanor cracked. “wait,” he said softly, his voice laced with panic. “that’s not what i meant.”

you stared at him, hurt evident in your eyes. “minho…”

“i was angry,” he admitted, his tone desperate. “i didn’t think before i spoke. i don’t want this to end. i don’t want to lose you.”

he reached out tentatively, his eyes searching yours. “i’m sorry,” he murmured. “i know i hurt you, but please give me a chance to fix this. i’ll prove to you that you mean more to me than my pride ever could.”

hyun ☆ jin

hyunjin’s emotions always ran high, and tonight, they overwhelmed him completely.

“you don’t understand what it’s like to be me!” he yelled, tears streaming down his face. “i’m constantly trying to be perfect, and it’s never enough — not for you, not for anyone!”

“i never said you had to be perfect, hyunjin,” you replied, your voice trembling. “i just want you to let me in!”

“maybe it’s better if we’re not together,” he snapped, his voice breaking. “maybe i can’t give you what you need.”

the silence that followed was suffocating. hyunjin’s chest heaved as he realized what he’d just said. “no,” he whispered, shaking his head. “that’s not true. i didn’t mean that.”

tears welled in your eyes as you took a step back. “hyunjin, you can’t just say things like that.”

“i know,” he said, his voice cracking as he stepped closer. “i’m sorry. i was scared and angry, but i don’t want to lose you. you’re the one thing that makes me feel like i’m enough.”

hyunjin fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he clutched yours. “please don’t go,” he begged, tears streaming down his face. “i’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. just… don’t leave me.”

i.n ☆

jeongin wasn’t someone who fought often, but when he did, it was because something had truly gotten under his skin. tonight was one of those nights. the argument had started small, but it escalated quickly.

“you’re always treating me like i’m a kid,” jeongin snapped, his voice louder than usual. “like i don’t know what i’m doing or how i feel.”

“that’s not what i’m doing,” you countered, frustration evident in your tone. “i just worry about you, jeongin. is that so bad?”

“well, maybe i don’t need you to worry about me!” he shouted back. then, in a moment of blind frustration, he added, “maybe we shouldn’t even be together if you don’t trust me to take care of myself.”

as soon as the words left his mouth, regret hit him like a wave. his eyes widened, and he looked at you as if he wanted to take it all back. “wait, no,” he stammered, his voice softer now. “i didn’t mean that. i… i don’t want that.”

your expression faltered, hurt flashing across your face. “jeongin…”

he stepped closer, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “i didn’t mean it. i was angry, and i said something stupid. please don’t take it seriously. you mean so much to me, and i can’t lose you.”

tears welled up in his eyes as he looked at you, desperate to fix the mess he’d created. “i’ll do better,” he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. “just don’t leave.”

han ☆

han’s emotions always bubbled just beneath the surface, and when he was upset, it showed in every word and expression. tonight, his frustration boiled over in a way he hadn’t intended.

“you don’t get it!” he yelled, pacing back and forth. “you don’t understand what it’s like to feel like you’re never enough!”

“jisung, i’m just trying to talk to you,” you said, your voice shaky. “why are you shutting me out?”

“because i don’t know how to talk about this!” he shouted back, his voice cracking. “maybe… maybe it’d be better if we weren’t together. maybe then you wouldn’t have to deal with me.”

the second the words left his mouth, he froze. his hands dropped to his sides, and he looked at you with wide, tear-filled eyes. “no,” he whispered, shaking his head. “that’s not what i meant. i didn’t mean that at all.”

you stared at him, hurt and disbelief written all over your face. “how can you say that, jisung?”

he stepped closer, his voice trembling. “i’m sorry,” he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. “i was scared, and i let my fear get the best of me. i don’t want to lose you. you’re the only person who makes me feel like i’m enough, even when i don’t believe it myself.”

seung ☆ min

seungmin was usually calm and level-headed, but even he had his limits. tonight, the argument had pushed him to a place he rarely went.

“why do you always think i’m the bad guy?” he snapped, his voice sharp. “i’m doing my best, but it’s never enough for you.”

“that’s not fair, seungmin,” you replied, your tone frustrated. “i just want us to communicate better.”

“maybe we shouldn’t communicate at all,” he said coldly. “maybe we should just end this.”

the second the words left his mouth, his heart sank. he saw the look of hurt on your face, and regret washed over him. “wait,” he said quickly, his voice softer now. “i didn’t mean that.”

you took a shaky breath, stepping back. “seungmin, you can’t just say things like that.”

he nodded, his expression filled with guilt. “i know. i’m sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “i was angry, and i wasn’t thinking. please don’t take it seriously. i don’t want this to end. you’re… everything to me.”

chang ☆ bin

changbin’s temper was quick, but so was his regret. tonight, his frustration boiled over in a way he couldn’t control.

“why do you always have to push me?” he snapped, his voice rising. “can’t you just let me be for once?”

“i’m not pushing you, changbin,” you replied, hurt evident in your tone. “i just want to talk about what’s bothering you.”

“maybe we shouldn’t talk at all,” he shot back, his voice colder than usual. “maybe we should just end this.”

as soon as the words left his mouth, regret hit him like a truck. he froze, his eyes wide with realization. “wait,” he said quickly, his voice shaking. “no, i didn’t mean that.”

you stared at him, tears welling in your eyes. “how could you say that, changbin?”

“i’m sorry,” he said, stepping closer. his voice was softer now, filled with guilt. “i didn’t mean it. i was angry, and i wasn’t thinking. please don’t walk away. you mean everything to me, and i’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.”

notes: i don’t like redoing the same prompt, but angst is fun, so enjoy!

[orangeblossomsintheair]

A LESSON ON HUNGER | SIMON RILEY

summary : You were small. He would give you grief about it until the end of time. End of story. Well end of story till the two of you started fucking in the dead of night.

wc : 5k of pure filth

an : if yall see @keen-eyed-creature suddenly in ur likes, that's me 😔

Simon knew you were small.

Hard to miss, really, when you had to tilt your head back just to look him in the eye. He was the first to admit that it was a bit of a laugh sometimes.

But it was never something he really thought much about, not in any serious way at least.

It was a detail, like the way you tied your boots or the way your hair stuck out from under your cap. It wasn’t like being short affected your ability to pull the trigger or call in air support.

You got the job done. That was what he cared about. You could be a foot shorter and it wouldn’t make a damn difference.

Still, he couldn’t help himself.

Every now and then, he would drop a jab, something about needing a step ladder to talk to him, or how he has to stoop down like he's dealing with a kid. He had a knack for teasing, and you were an easy target.

It was harmless, though.

Just some friendly fire. You took it well, knew that it was all part of the routine. Gallows humor. Good for morale, or whatever the hell Price said. Kept things light, even if it was at your expense.

You were small. He would give you grief about it until the end of time. End of story.

Well end of story till the two of you started fucking.

He first noticed it when your hand wrapped around his cock, the tips of your fingers barely brushing each other. His breath hitched, and his cock pulsed in your grip, thick and heavy in your tiny hold.

“Bloody hell,” he hissed, mesmerized by the sight. “Look at you.”

Your eyes darted up to his face, wide and innocent, as if you didn’t know exactly what you were doing to him. His chest heaved, the tight control he usually prided himself on slipping with every stroke of your hand.

"Fuckin' tiny," he muttered again, half to himself, watching the way your hand moved over him, struggling to take him all in. He hadn’t thought he’d ever care about something like that, never thought the size difference would drive him this insane, but here you were, bringing him to the brink without even realizing it.

You started slow, pressing soft, wet kisses along the length of his cock like a damn kitten, rubbing it against our cheek and spreading his pre-cum across your face.

When your lips parted, dipped your head, the first touch of your tongue against his tip had him groaning. Hot, wet, and so fucking soft.

��Jesus Christ,” he hissed, one gloved hand moving to the back of your head, the other braced against his thigh. He resisted the urge clawing at his chest that told him to shove himself deeper, to push till your throat bulged with the shape of him.

The first swipe of your tongue had him groaning, body tensing. Knuckles white, muscles straining as his hips jerked forward

You dragged your tongue slowly along the underside of his cock, the soft, wet muscle flicking over him. It swirled around the head before dipping into the slit, teasing, before tracing every vein on the underside.

Spit began to gather, dripping down his length as you worked him over, your desperation pushing you to keep going, keep pleasing him. Your doe eyes locked on his, wide and pleading, as you swallowed him as deep as you could.

“You look so fucking pretty like this,” he rasped, his voice gravelly. “Mouth all full, dripping down your chin. Bet you’d let me fuck your throat, wouldn’t you?”

You moaned around him, the vibration making him swear under his breath. He couldn’t look away. The way your lips stretched around him, your cheeks hollowing as you tried to take more of him—Ghost knew he was a ruined man.

When the blunt head of his cock hit the back of your throat, you gagged softly, pausing there, and he felt the tension in your body. His hand moved to cradle your jaw, fingers curling around it.

“Relax,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Don’t fight it. Doing so fuckin’ good for me.”

You blinked up at him, tears spilling down your cheeks, and he felt his cock throb at the sight.

“Let me fuck your mouth,” he said, voice low.

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut, but he wasn’t satisfied.

“Look at me,” he barked, tone sharpening. “Need to see you mean it.”

Your eyes opened again, glassy and wide, pupils blown. You nodded again, and he let out a dark chuckle.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Obedient when you’ve got a cock in your mouth, huh?”

The glare you shot him would’ve been more convincing if your jaw wasn’t slack, the weight of him resting heavy on your tongue.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” His hand sliding to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. “Now, open up. Gonna make you take all of me.”

You obeyed, jaw slackening, and Ghost wasted no time. His hips rolled forward, the thick length of him pressing deep into your throat, stretching, filling.

His breath hitched as he slid deeper, the tightness of your throat trying desperately to accommodate him. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. A sick part of him thrilled at the way you fought to take him all the way, despite the fact that he really was too fucking big for you to handle.

He watched you for a moment, eyes fluttering as your lips met his base, tears slipping down your cheeks as you struggled to keep your breathing steady, swallowing around him.

“Shit,” he hissed, his other hand moving to cup your jaw, holding you steady. “Feel that? Feel how good you are, huh? You’re a fuckin’ mess, love. Spit everywhere, tears down your face. Fuck’s sakes, you’re perfect.”

Ghost growled under his breath, feeling you pulse around him. “..Takin’ me so well, little thing.”

He gripped your hair tighter, guiding you, forcing his cock deeper. The sounds—wet, obscene—drove him insane. You were taking all of him, your mouth and throat the perfect fit, even though it was clear you were struggling.

“Fuck, you feel so good... Perfect,” he groaned. "You're so fucking beautiful, letting me fuck your throat like this." He slammed into you again, deeper, and watched your face contort in that beautiful, desperate way, knowing you’d take every inch of him, no matter how overwhelming it was

Your hands gripped his thighs, nails digging into the fabric of his pants as you braced yourself, letting him take control. He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping forward, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth with practiced precision.

“Gonna fuck your throat ‘til you can’t think straight,” he growled, his voice dark and heavy with lust. “Gonna make you choke on it, make you feel how deep I can go.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you moaned around him, the sound vibrating against his cock. His head tipped back briefly, a deep groan rumbling in his chest before he forced himself to look at you again.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. “Wanna see you when I come. Wanna see that pretty little face all wrecked for me.”

You obeyed, your gaze locking with his, and the intensity in your eyes nearly undid him. He could feel the heat building low in his belly, the tension coiling tighter with every thrust.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his hips stuttering as he drove deeper one last time. “Gonna fill that pretty mouth of yours. Don’t spill a fucking drop.”

And when he came, spilling hot and thick down your throat, the way you swallowed around him had him swearing again, his grip on you tightening as he rode out his release. “F-fuck- damn it, damn it-“

When he finally pulled back, his cock slipping from your swollen, spit-slick lips, he couldn’t help the crooked grin that stretched his lips at the sight of you. Messy, tear-streaked, and utterly ruined.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your chin to catch the stray drips. “Knew you could take it.”

The praise lingered in the warm air as he leaned back, watching you catch your breath. His thumb lingered at your jaw for a moment before retreating, replaced by a hand gently coaxing you to your feet.

“C’mere,” he said, tone still rough around the edges, but laced with something terrifyingly tender.

He pulled you up until you were straddling his lap, broad hands settling on your waist. The heat of his palms seeped through the thin fabric still clinging to your skin.

“Alright?” he asked, pale eyes scanning your face.

You nodded. “Better than okay.”

He shifted beneath you, guiding you closer. “Think you’ve got one more in you, sweetheart?” He spoke against your lips, eyes searching.

You swallowed, the anticipation curling low in your stomach. “I can take it,” you whispered.

The grin that spread across his face was something wicked. “That’s my girl.

With your confirmation, Ghost moved, lowering himself between your trembling thighs. He shouldered your legs apart, spreading you wide as he settled in like a man on a mission.

“G-Ghost,” you whimpered, instinctively reaching for his head as the heat of his breath teased over your cunt.

“Shh.” He looked up. “Let me return the favor, yeah?”

The first swipe of his tongue had you arching off the bed, a startled cry ripping from your throat. He groaned against you, eyes rolling back. Always tasted so good. He could cream his fucking pants just licking your pretty pussy.

You squirmed beneath him, thighs trembling as he licked a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit, a thumb spreading you open as he pressed the flat of his tongue against the bud.

As you squirmed in place, Ghost’s hands flexed, refusing to let you wriggle away for a moment of reprieve.

“Stay still,” he growled, voice muffled against your clit. “Let me enjoy this.”

His mouth worked you open slowly, licking and sucking at your clit with just enough pressure to have whimpers tumbling out of your lips.

He moved downwards, dipping his tongue into your heat before thrusting it inside, fucking you with it in deep, deliberate strokes.

The slick muscle pistoned into you like it was a cock, curling and stroking every inch of your walls, nose brushing against your clit with every movement.

Your thighs trembled around his head, but his strong hands kept them spread wide, holding you open for him.

“Ghost,” you sobbed, your hands fisting in his hair.

“Keep those legs open,” he ordered, his grip tightening on your thighs as he pushed them wider.

Your hips bucked against him instinctively, but he pinned you down as he worked his tongue deeper, faster. “Look at you,” he rasped, pulling back briefly to catch his breath, his lips glistening with your arousal. “Fuckin’ soaked for me. S’small and tight.”

You sobbed out as he latched onto your clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. The sharp jolt of pleasure made you cry out, back arching off the bed.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, his voice rough and needy as he returned to thrusting his tongue inside you. He fucked you with his mouth like a man possessed, his hands roaming over your thighs, your hips, everywhere he could reach,

When he latched onto your clit and sucked gently, you shattered. Your cry echoed in the room, your body arching as the orgasm ripped through you, shaking and gasping for air.

“There it is,” he murmured, every line in his body thick with satisfaction as he lapped up every bit of your release.

But he didn’t stop.

He growled against you, hands sliding under your thighs to lift your hips higher, giving him better access as his tongue delved deeper, dragging out your orgasm until you were sobbing beneath him.

“Too much,” you whimpered, body twitching with the aftershocks.

“Not for me.” Ghost pulled back to look at you. His pale eyes were filled with hunger and pride as he took in the sight of you. Tear-streaked, trembling, and utterly ruined.

“P-please,” you whimpered, tears pooling in your eyes as the overstimulation hit you like a tidal wave.

“Not done with you yet, love.” His tongue returned to your clit, circling the swollen bud with ruthless precision until you were sobbing beneath him, your hands weakly pushing at his shoulders.

“Ghost-”

Another climax built impossibly fast, and before you could protest, it crashed over you. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, your hands clutching at his shoulders, his hair, anything to ground yourself as he lapped at your release like a dog.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening and his chin slick with your release, he looked at you like you were a feast he hadn’t quite finished.

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before he was moving again, his strong hands gripping your waist as he positioned himself above you. The sheer size of him looming over you sent a thrill down your spine.

“Think you’re ready for me now, yeah?”

Ghost pressed you down against the mattress. Your thighs trembled as he pressed them further apart.

The sheer size of him left you gasping before he even moved, the head of his cock brushing against your slick entrance as he teased you.

“Relax,” he muttered, voice laced with a hunger that made your head spin. “Need you to open up for me.”

You whined, the sound barely coherent as he held you in place with a grip that bordered on bruising. He pushed forward, just enough to let the blunt tip breach you, and the stretch had you clutching at his forearms in desperation.

Your walls clenched around him instinctively, drawing a sharp hiss from his lips. “So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ..”

“H-hah.. too- too big-” you whimpered, clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as if to anchor yourself.

“Y’can take it.” His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he bullied his way inside your pretty cunt.

His jaw tightened, burying himself deeper, head dropping to your shoulder. “You’re gonna take it.”

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes as he pressed further in, splitting you open inch by inch. The burn was sharp but his hands kept you pinned, leaving no room for escape.

“Stop squirmin’,” he ordered. His weight pressed you deeper into the mattress, his shadow covering yours entirely. “You’re only making it harder for yourself.”

Your sobs broke free as he surged forward, his cock sinking deeper into your heat. “I c-can’t,” you whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks as you clung to him.

“You can,” he insisted, his tone softening but his pace unrelenting. His lips brushed against your temple, a stark contrast to the overwhelming force of him inside you. “Breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”

You tried to focus on his voice, the rasp of it grounding you even as your body felt like it was being torn apart. His thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear, before his hand drifted down to cradle your throat.

“Look at me,” he demanded. “Taking me so well, yeah? D’you feel how tight you are, hm? How perfect you’re gripping me?”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through you, and you whimpered as your body finally began to yield, the burn giving way to an ache that bordered on pleasure.

“That’s it.” Ghost’s lips curved into a grin as he watched you fall apart beneath him. “Knew you could do it. Knew this perfect little cunt could take all of me.”

Your sobs turned to broken moans as he pulled back, only to thrust forward again, burying himself to the hilt. The force of it knocked the air from your lungs, and your hands scrambled for purchase, gripping at anything to ground yourself.

“Feel that?” he rasped, his thrusts slowing down as he grinded against you. “Feel how deep I am?”

You could only nod, the words stuck in your throat as the pleasure began to build, overwhelming in its intensity.

“Good girl,” he praised.

The pressure inside you coiled tighter as he picked up the pace, the sobs spilling from your lips mingling with broken cries of his name.

You were a mess. Tear-streaked, trembling, utterly consumed by the sheer size and force of him.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he groaned, quickening as he pressed you further into the mattress. “Ruined, cryin’ for me. Takin’ everythin’ I give you.”

His words tipped you over the edge, and when you came, it was with a shattering cry that left you trembling in his arms. But he didn’t stop, didn’t even slow. Oh no, Ghost dragged you through the aftershocks and straight into the next wave of pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” you sobbed, your nails raking down his back as he growled against your neck. “Please, Ghost- don’t stop-”

“‘M not going anywhere,” he promised, pulling out of you slowly and you felt an unbearable emptiness that followed his absence. Gasping at the way your walls clenched around nothing, already missing the stretch of him.

Before you could voice your complaints, his hands were on you again, lifting you effortlessly as he shifted onto his back.

“C’mere,” he ordered, his voice rough with need, guiding you to straddle his hips. The sight of him, broad chest heaving, his cock glistening and impossibly thick, standing proudly between you, made your stomach flutter with equal parts apprehension and arousal.

“Ghost, I-“ you started, but his hands ground you in place as he pressed his forehead against your trembling body.

“Be good,” he murmured, his thumbs stroking your skin in slow, deliberate circles. “Take what you need. I’ll make it fit.”

Your breath hitched, and with his steadying hands guiding you, you reached down, positioning the thick head of his cock at your entrance.

The pressure was instant, overwhelming, as you sank down the smallest fraction.

“Bloody fuck,” he growled, his head falling back against the pillow. “Look at you. So tight, so perfect-” His words cut off in a guttural groan when you shifted your weight, trying to take him deeper.

The stretch burned, his girth spearing you open inch by inch, and you couldn’t help the broken sob that fell from your lips. “S’too- too much,” you whimpered, your thighs trembling as you hovered above him, the sheer size of him making your head spin.

“Shhh,” he cooed, though his own voice was strained, his jaw clenched tight as he fought to keep still beneath you. “Doin’ s’good, sweetheart. Just take your time. Lemme fill you up.”

You nodded shakily, nails digging into his chest as you slowly lowered yourself further, feeling every ridge and vein of him stretching you impossibly wide.

He felt endless, and the way he groaned only heightened the unbearable pleasure-pain of being split open by him.

“That’s it,” he growled, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, urging you to take him all. “Don’t stop now. You’re almost there. Gonna take every inch, yeah?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you finally sank down to the hilt, his cock buried so deep inside you that it felt like he was in your very core.

You let out a choked sob, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

“Fuck, look at you,” he rasped, his voice thick with awe and something darker. His gaze burned into you, watching as you struggled to adjust to his size. “So fucking tight, squeezing me like you don’ wanna let go.”

You couldn’t form words, your mind hazy and overwhelmed as he filled you completely, stretching you to your limits. He let you sit there for a moment, his hands tracing soothing patterns on your thighs as you trembled above him.

“Move,” he commanded softly, voice coaxing but firm. “Show me how good you feel, baby. Ride me.”

You whimpered, your hands splaying across his chest for balance as you lifted yourself slightly, only to sink back down again. The friction was devastating, and the stretch still burned, but the heat building in your core had you panting for more.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his fingers digging into your skin as he met you halfway with a shallow thrust that left you crying out. “Taking me so fucking well.”

Each rise and fall of your hips had him spearing you open all over again, the sheer size of him filling you in a way that made you feel utterly wrecked, utterly his. Your sobs mixed with moans as the pleasure overwhelmed you, Ghost taking over to guide your movements with a possessive grip.

“Made for this,” he growled, his voice raw as his gaze locked on the place where your bodies joined, watching as his cock disappeared inside you with every thrust. “Made for me to fuck you like this. Look at how you’re taking me- so greedy, so fucking pretty.”

The sound of your sobs only seemed to spur him on, his hands gripping your waist tighter as he thrust up into you, meeting your movements with a force that left you breathless.

“Ghost,” you whimpered, your nails raking down his chest as your thighs burned from the effort, your body trembling from the relentless pace.

“Don’t stop,” he growled, his voice a low, possessive snarl. “You’re not stopping until I feel you come around me. Wanna feel this tight little cunt squeeze me, got it?”

You nodded, unable to do anything but obey as his hands gripped your waist firmly, slamming you down on his cock with a force that had you keening.

The stretch was unbearable, your body trembling from the sheer effort of taking him. The swollen ache between your thighs was overwhelming, but the pleasure sparking through you burned brighter.

“Good girl..” He guided you to ride him faster, deeper.

Your head fell back, tears streaming down your cheeks as your body clenched around him. The first climax tore through you like a lightning strike, sudden and all-consuming, leaving you shuddering and gasping for air.

“Fuck, there it is,” he rasped, thrusting up into you, dragging the aftershocks out longer. “That’s my girl..so fucking perfect when you come for me.”

You barely had time to recover before his hand slid between your bodies, his thumb pressing down hard on your swollen clit.

Your scream echoed in the room, your hands scrambling against his chest as the sharp jolt of overstimulation hit you like a tidal wave.

“N-no!” you sobbed, trying to lift yourself off of him, but his hands held you down, refusing to let you escape.

“Don’t think so.” His thumb circled your sensitive bud in maddening, unrelenting strokes. “You’re not running from me. You’re gonna take it, all of it. Gon’ make you come over and over until you can’t think straight.”

Your body jerked uncontrollably, every nerve alight as his cock drove into you, his thumb working your clit. The relentless friction sent you tumbling headfirst into another orgasm, this one sharper, rawer.

You screamed his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as you shook in his hold, but he didn’t stop.

“That’s two,” he growled, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he watched you fall apart. “Think you’ve got another one in you, sweetheart?”

“I c-can’t,” you sobbed, tears spilling freely as your body quivered against him. “It’s too much, I c-can’t-”

“You can,” he interrupted, his voice dark and commanding as his hips snapped up again, driving his cock deeper.

His thumb pressed harder against your bud. Your thighs trembled violently, every nerve in your body raw and exposed as he pushed you toward another peak.

“You’re so sensitive,” he rasped, voice thick with satisfaction as his thumb slowed just enough to keep you on the edge. “So swollen, so perfect..”

“Ghost-!” you sobbed, voice breaking as another climax slammed into you, your walls clenching around him like a vice. The pleasure was too much, too overwhelming, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from chasing it, your hips grinding against him despite the tears streaming down your face.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his free hand gripping your ass as he guided your movements, keeping you firmly in place. “Keep going, love. Don’t stop until I say so.”

Your body was beyond exhausted, trembling violently as his relentless pace and the constant attention on your clit drove you into the kind of pleasure that felt like madness. Every stroke of his cock, every circle of his thumb sent shockwaves through you, leaving you an incoherent mess.

“Ngh..” you whimpered, your voice breaking as your head fell forward, your hands clutching desperately at his chest. “Can’t- please-“

“But you’re being such a good girl,” he murmured, softening slightly as his hand slid from your clit to grip your waist again. “You’re taking me so well..look at how swollen and perfect you are.”

His cock throbbed inside you, and as you slumped against his chest, he leaned up to press a kiss to your tear-streaked cheek, his voice a rough whisper in your ear.

“Think you’ve got one more?”

Your body trembled uncontrollably, tears streaking down your face as you shook your head weakly, barely able to form words. “N-no more.. please, Ghost… it’s too much,” you sobbed, breaking as you slumped against him, completely spent.

But he wasn’t having it.

“Thought you wanted to be good for me?”

Effortlessly, he lifted you off his still-throbbing cock, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness, your thighs trembling as they struggled to hold your weight.

“Shhh,” he murmured, his voice deceptively soothing as he shifted you, his large frame easily maneuvering you like you weighed nothing. “You’re not done yet, baby. I’ve got you.”

“Ghost, no-” you whimpered, trying to squirm away as he laid back fully, his broad shoulders pressing into the mattress.

But he didn’t give you a choice.

His hands tightened on your thighs, pulling you forward until you were straddling his chest. The heat of his skin against yours made you shiver, your swollen, oversensitive core throbbing as he moved you higher.

“Be a good girl and sit,” he ordered, eyes locking onto yours with a predatory intensity that made your breath hitch.

You shook your head frantically, tears pooling in your eyes as you whimpered, “Ghost… I’m too sensitive, I-”

His grip on your thighs tightened, silencing your protests.

Before you could protest further, he pulled you up, positioning you directly over his face. The heat of his breath against your soaked, swollen folds made you cry out, your hands flying to his shoulders for balance as you tried to lift yourself away.

“Don’t run from me.” He forced you down, lowering you onto his waiting mouth.

The first swipe of his tongue against your overstimulated clit sent a sharp jolt through you, and you sobbed, your body jerking as the overwhelming sensation threatened to pull you under. “Ghost, Ghost-“”

But he didn’t stop.

His tongue was relentless, licking and sucking at your sensitive bud, his hands holding you firmly in place no matter how much you tried to squirm away.

“That’s it,” he whispered between long, torturous strokes. “Don’t you dare run from me. You’re gonna take everything.”

Your thighs shook violently on either side of his head, your body trembling as wave after wave of unbearable pleasure crashed over you.

You sobbed, tears streaming down your face as his tongue circled your clit mercilessly, his mouth devouring you like a man starved.

Ghost snarled, his grip tightening as he dragged you even closer, his tongue plunging deep inside you before returning to your swollen, throbbing bud. “You’re gonna come for me again, and you’re gonna let me taste every fucking bit of you.”

You couldn’t hold back the scream that tore from your throat as another climax ripped through you, your body convulsing violently as his mouth pushed you over the edge.

Your hands tangled in his hair, desperate and needy, as you sobbed his name, begging for mercy even as your hips ground against his face.

Finally, he slowed, his tongue gentle now as he lapped at you lazily, his hands sliding up and down your thighs in soothing strokes. “There you go,” he murmured, his voice softer now, though the satisfaction in his tone was unmistakable. “That’s my pretty girl.”

Your body slumped forward, your chest heaving as tears streamed down your face. He let you collapse against him, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he kissed your temple, his breath warm against your skin.

“I told you you could take it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he held you close.

[ramorazinn]

I don’t hate people. I mean, I have specific people that I hate. I think everyone does. But I have a “work husband” and “work friends” and whatever. I’m not sure what you’re imagining about my life, but my contempt and hostility is for The Neurotypical Code™️, not the concept of interpersonal connection.

I’m sorry, you can gussy it up, but I can’t parse it as anything but NTs tricking me into asking what they want me to ask. “Nothing” as a response to “what did you do [time period]?” gets “aww, surely you did SOMETHING fun?” because The Neurotypical Code™️ has mysterious rules about balancing how much each person talks, so I have to give a “good” answer or they can’t talk about the half-marathon they ran and the funny thing that happened at dinner afterward.

I have had work-friends tell me “so-and-so-you-don’t-know-well is upset you didn’t ask about X after she asked you,” like we’re in kindergarten. I have had my old BOSS tell me to remember to reciprocate small talk questions. (I am not front-facing; small talk is not part of my job description I was failing at.) And I do try, but again, threading that needle of not lying but not telling the truth is WORK. I don’t always have anything left to remember my cues with. People largely don’t accept that.

NTs in my new office (where, as my prev tags stated, old hiring practices have left about half the seats filled with NDs) tend to spread out their visits more, and they come right in and start the conversation with what they want to talk about. They have learned that cornering somebody is not the way to have an enjoyable conversation. And I don’t always get them or care about their specific drama or even remember who they ARE, but doing the call-and-response where the onus is not on me to come up with a “correct” answer is ORDERS OF MAGNITUDE less stressful. And they get the validation or attention or encouragement or connection they wanted! Everybody wins! (Except when it turns into #3 above, losing 2h to chatting.)

But most people stick with that “I have to ask you first before I talk about myself or it’s rude” Neurotypical Code™️ bullshit. I assume you will object to me characterizing that as them not caring whether I’m comfortable. But again, I don’t know how else to parse that. I don’t read social cues well, obviously, but if someone stammered and um-er-ahhed and never seemed to have a good answer when I asked about their weekend, I feel like even I would grok that I shouldn’t ask about their weekend? Eventually?

And yes, I’ve learned to lie without lying. I can dodge “OMG isn’t she the cutest baby you’ve ever seen?” with “she has your nose” or “I love that outfit” or whatever true thing I can find, because no, that is not the cutest baby, but my wife trained that social hack into me. I don’t like it, because it still feels like lying, but I do it. I don’t understand why people would phrase things that way if they didn’t want you to lie and agree. I was always told “don’t ask a question you don’t want an answer to.”

(P.S., it’s often uncomfortable when they “return the favor,” because I cannot always read the cues of when I am supposed to stop talking, either, and they are bound by The Neurotypical Code™️ not to make it more clear, because that would be “rude.” I read an article when I was 8 or 9 that said conversation had two parts: talking about yourself and waiting to talk about yourself. That sounded horrible to me, so I vowed to talk about myself as little as possible, until people got mad about that, too. Still haven’t found the sweet spot.)

But also… I don’t understand why I can’t just love people because they do their job and that means I can do mine. That’s way more important to me as a trust exercise – and when you know you can trust people, you have REAL conversations instead of “small talk.”

I'm trying to figure out a good way to say "you really should actually learn the basics of small talk" with sounding like I'm biased against autistic people.

[ameliathornromance]

The Other Woman - Part 2

A/N: I'm blown away by the support you guys have given me with this part. I want to thank everyone who commented on the first post and gave me feedback! I'm always happy to recieve constructive critisim to make my work better for you all. This part 2 is a little different from how I usually handle part twos, so I hope you guys enjoy!

Link to PT 1

Your eyes itched as you dragged them open the next morning. The tears you shed last night had completely exhausted you by the time you got back to your room in the Palace, you had just flopped into bed without changing, skirts covered in melted icing.

A part of you was glad for it, as you had something to distract yourself from the soreness of heart break in your chest. You had no idea what you were going to do when you headed to court. The King’s personal guard would be there, and as far as you were aware, he hadn’t seen you the previous night.

Which means to him, nothing had gone wrong between the two of you.

You weren’t sure what to do knowing that. You could: A) Pretend nothing is wrong, carry on with this affair like you’d never seen what you had, or B) End things with the Orc and live with the guilt of what you did for the rest of your life.

Option A was just too difficult for you to do. You couldn’t bare the thought of doing something so heartless to that lovely Orc lady who worked in the kitchens. She was too kind to you, and always willing to lend a shoulder when you needed it… She would be a great mother.

So, it looks like option B is the only way to go.

As you finished remaking your bed, a shaky sigh escaped you as you leaned against your mattress, trying to steady yourself to face the day.

Leaving your quarters, you walked through the halls with your head in the clouds, thinking about how exactly you were supposed to end this affair. Would the King’s guard be angry? Upset?

After stewing on it, a wave of indignity washed over you. Really, none of this is your fault, it’s not like you were aware of his marriage. So, why should you be the one to break it off?

Of course, the last thing you wanted was to stay with the Orc, but if anything, he should be the one ending things with you! He was the one who chose to lie to you and hurt you in that way.

But how would you send that message to him? It’s not like you could just tell him what you saw. He might try to convince you to stay with him and you would not be persuaded into doing such a thing.

… Maybe, if you ignored him, he’d get the message and just leave you alone? Then that way, he’d know that you were angry with him and then, he would have no choice but to apologise to you. He’s not a stupid Orc, he should realise sooner or later what you were upset with him about.

But then, how do you regain your dignity as a Lady?

You chewed your lip as you greeted the Queen, apologised for your lateness and then followed her, alongside the other ladies in waiting to the throne room.

Thinking about this anymore would have to wait. You had a job to do as the Queens lady in waiting.

Their excited whispers brought you back down to Earth.

“Do you think that he’s handsome?”

“I don’t know, have you ever seen a forest dweller before?”

“Well no, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not good looking!”

“(Y/N) what do you think?”

“Hm?” You looked over your shoulder at the others. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve really been all over the place this week haven’t you?” One of the ladies said, “you know we’ve been preparing for the Forest Fae? Well, the Lord of the Forest Fae, is apparently, devilishly handsome. And, he’s not married or in any other kind of commitment with a woman or man!”

Another one of the ladies giggled, “do you think he’s come here looking for someone to marry?”

“Unlikely.” The third lady said, dismissively. “Men of any species love to flounder, even when they’re married. Why make their promiscuity more complicated than it has to be? You agree with me, don’t you (Y/N)?”

You didn’t answer. Due to recent experience, you had no interest in trying to romance a Fae Lord, there was no point in trying to if he was so easily led astray. “All men seemed to be like that.” You said, callously. “Even if he is loyal to those he sleeps with, I’m not looking to marry a Fae Lord.”

“Oh come on (Y/N), don’t pretend you’re not even slightly interested!”

“Ladies,” The Queen shushed and all the other women fell silent. “Gossip is unbecoming of all of you. If any of you wish to become involved with the Lord, I’ve heard he’s not one for those who spread rumours.”

Upon reaching the throne room, all the chattering of the ladies had fallen silent.

The doors to the impressive room opened, the Queen, you and the other ladies in waiting taking their respective places next to their mistress as they waited for the Fae Lord to make his entrance.

Sunlight caught the Queen’s glittering necklace, making you look around in surprise. And infuriatingly, you caught the King’s Guard’s eye. He smiled at you, eyes kind and wide like he was expecting you to return it.

Instead, you whipped your head away from him and locked on the throne room door. Other courtiers bustled around the room, discussing whatever was on the nobles minds at that moment in time.

For now, you would just have to stick to your plan of ignoring him. What else could you do until you could think of something more suitable for vengeance?

Soon, the doors to the throne room opened and the whole room fell silent.

The first few Fae glided in like they were sliding on ice, their ethereal beauty suffocating and snuffing out any other attractive person in the room. There were eight of them, four entering from opposite sides of the doors, who twirled in what looked to be spider web like dresses, their skirts sparkling in the light as they came to a stop, their long blonde hair falling down their backs with an eery gracefulness.

One of the ladies next to you mumbled something about how the Fae were so lucky, but you were so focused on not looking around at the Orc standing beside the King, that you couldn’t hear what the rest of her sentence was about.

After the graceful – and attention stealing – dance, a Fae man, taller than the others you’d seen so far, graced the courts prescence.

His hair was so white you might have thought that he was an old man, if not for his smooth skin untouched by aging. His eyes were deep pools of black that threatened to suck you in and never let you go, while his smile was kind and serene.

The Fae Lord came to a stop a few feet away from the thrones, and bowed his head. “Your Majestys, it is so wonderful to see you all again. I’m so pleased that I could finally make this trip like my father before me.”

“And we are pleased to have you, my Lord.” The King returned. “As it’s your first time staying here at the Palace, we’ve prepared a little celebration in honour of your new position…”

As the King droned on about how he hopes that this will be the new beginning of a fruitful alliance between humans and Fae, yada-ya, a chill went down your spine.

While the King’s announcement had been going in one ear and out the other, you brought yourself back into the room and carefully searched for the source of your discomfort… only to find the Fae Lord, looking directly at you.

You stood a little taller, returning his gaze in an attempt to be polite. When you gave him a polite inclination of the head, his smile widened as the King finished his speech.

“And so, we will have this little ball to welcome you and hope that your stay will be as comfortable as possible.”

“Yes,” the Fae Lord said, airily. “I’m sure it will be.” He turned to look back at the King and inclined his head once again. “I appreciate that the ball isn’t until tonight, and since this is your court, I’d like to ask if I can be a little forward, your Majesty?”

The King frowned, but nodded his head.

“You see, I couldn’t help but notice that lovely lady standing over there,” the Fae Lord pointed at you, “and was wondering if it would be too much for me to ask her for her first dance tonight?”

Your eyes widened.

The other ladies beside you, nudged you in the ribs. “So it was you he was looking at! I was wondering why his eyes were wandering, I thought he was just bored!”

Face burning, your eyes darted to the Queen and in the process, caught sight of the Orcs face.

His nose was scrunched up as he snarled, “awfully cocky, aren’t you?”

The Fae Lord ignored the Orc as he looked at you once again, hands behind his back.

When you looked at the Queen, she smiled at you and jerked her head to the Fae. “Well? You don’t have to ask me for permission, Lady (Y/N).”

All eyes on you, you bit your lip and sucked in a deep breath. Most of all, you could feel the Orc’s eyes baring into the side of your skull, like he was trying to make you face him, daring you to accept the Lord’s offer.

But the image you saw the previous night, flashed through your mind.

Spite leading you, you answered the Fae Lord. “I’ll have my first dance with you, my Lord.” You said, firmly.

The Fae bowed his head to you, “I look forward to it, my Lady.” And with that, he said his goodbyes to the King and Queen before the entire court was dismissed.

The rest of the day went by with a bubbly air, all the ladies sneaking glances and smiles at you as you went about your day.

You, yourself, could hardly believe that you had accepted the dance. It was true, you weren’t interested in romancing this Fae Lord in the slightest… but if it meant that you could piss off the King’s Guard, then you would gladly accept anything else that the Fae Lord had to offer.

After all, it’s not like the Orc could jump in and say that you couldn’t do something, people would get suspicious then.

As soon as the Queen had sent the ladies in waiting to go and prepare for the ball later in the afternoon, they all pounced on you.

“I can’t believe it!” One of them said as they took you by the wrist. “He really asked you, in front of the whole court!”

“It’s just a dance,” you told them all as you made your way back to your apartments. And that was all it would probably be, you told yourself. “It was just formality that I accept him. It would have been an awful start to his stay if I had told him no.”

“But even so, to ask you in front of the entire court!” Another one of the ladies squawked. “He must really like you.”

“We haven’t even formally met.” You said.

“Oh can’t you just be romantic for one minute?!” The first Lady huffed. “I’m imagining a star-crossed lovers romance, where he dramatically proposes to you just before he’s about to leave, flying through the corridors, abandoning his carriage in search of you-”

“Alright.” You said, firmly. “I get it. Well you can have your fantasies all you like.” Once you reached your apartments, you yanked open the door and slammed it shut behind you, locking the other ladies outside.

Sliding to the floor, you pulled your knees to your chest and squeezed. When you’d first started seeing the Orc, all you did was fantasize like that. Dream of running away with him and sharing all sorts of romantic ventures together.

But any kind of desire for that experience had left the moment you saw his wife.

You didn’t want to colour all men with the same brush, but a betrayal like the Orcs, isn’t something that you can just shake off.

And although it gave you the slightest bit of pleasure to know that the Orc was angry with the Fae, you knew you couldn’t allow yourself to get caught up in the romance of it all. He may be the exact same as the King’s Guard for all you knew.

And… you didn’t want to end up hurt again.

Once evening finally did come around and you joined with the other ladies in waiting – who were all too eager to have you be the leader of the group – the ballroom was full of chatter, people drinking and watching couples dance in the centre of the room.

“Oh, he’s not here yet?” Frowned a lady beside you, “don’t worry, he’ll turn up soon I’m sure, most of the other Fae are here. You should sit by the entrance that way, he’ll see you as soon as he enters.”

The suggestion made you want to roll your eyes. While you were going to dance with this Fae, you didn’t want to be seen as desperate for company. Taking a glass of wine from a passing waiter, you decided to hover to the side of the room.

As you sipped on the delicate glass, your eyes scanned the room where you spied the Queen dancing with the King, the other ladies mingling and chatting animatedly with other guests.

You caught yourself glancing at the entrance to the doors a lot. Keeping an eye out for the Fae Lord. You had to keep internally slapping yourself. This was just a means of getting back at the King’s guard.

And perhaps it was because the King’s guard was standing opposite the room, within perfect line of sight of keeping an eye on you that you were eager for the Fae Lord to arrive.

The Orc’s eyes glazed over the room, mostly following the King, but occasionally, he found you.

Anger boiled in your veins as you kept your eyes firmly fixed on the doors to the ballroom.

Even now, the Orc was good at keeping his affection for you a secret.

A part of you wanted to throw the wine glass in your hand at him, just to keep him on edge.

But, before you could put your thoughts into practice, gasps echoed around the room, drawing your attention to the ballroom doors.

The crowd parted as the Fae Lord’s eyes searched the room and found you. His eyes lit up at the sight of you and he passed through the crowd of people, and held a hand out to you. “There you are,” he said, smiling. “What are you doing hiding in the shadows over here? A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be hidden away like this.”

You shook your head as he took a wine glass from a waiter and sipped from it, “do you mind if I have a drink before we dance?”

“No, not at all my Lord.” You replied.

Over his shoulder, you chanced a glance at the Orc, whose eyes were now locked onto you and the Lord.

The Fae spoke, “I’m sorry I didn’t ask for your name first before asking for your dance, my Lady…?”

“(Y/N).” You answered smiling. “Thank you, for asking me for this dance.” You held your hand out to him, which he took and pressed a kiss onto your knuckles. A pleasant chill ran up your arm.

The Fae Lord bowed his head as he took another sip from his glass. “It’s an honour that you accepted. I should be thanking you for not humiliating me in front of all those courtiers.”

You chuckled at that. “I wouldn’t have done that to you, that would’ve been cruel, even if you were being very forward.”

“I just don’t have a care for all of these silly procedures,” the Fae said, waving his free hand around the ballroom. “There’s no point in any of it, I’d have preferred that the King and I just talk about what I’m here for and then to just leave, you know. But, a simple ball isn’t so bad.”

“So, you’d say you’re a simple man?” You asked.

“Completely.” The Fae finished his drink and you rushed to do the same too.

“My Lady, please, don’t do that on my account, we have the whole evening to dance, you can take your time.” He pulled the glass by the stem away from your lips.

You frowned, holding your free hand up to cover your mouth. “But I don’t want to keep you waiting, it would be rude of me to do that.”

With a sly wink, the Fae Lord said in a low whisper, “if I didn’t want to be kept waiting by you, I wouldn’t have asked for your first dance.”

You gave him a suspicious look, to which the Lord replied, “I want to get to know you, (Y/N).”

“Why?” You asked, shortly. “We’ve never even met before.”

The Fae Lord didn’t flinch at your tone. Instead, he searched your eyes. “Because, it seemed as though you were in need of some cheering up.” He said, simply. “And I don’t like seeing people upset.”

With a gentle smile, he patted your shoulder. “Don’t feel like you have to tell me what’s going on right now, after all, we did just meet each other. But whenever you’re ready, I’m here if you want to talk.”

You stared at him. Was he being serious? As you looked into his eyes you could sense no malice, no playfulness or manipulation in his face… Maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to give this Fae a chance?

Once you’d finished your drink the pair of you took to the dance floor.

And for the next few days, he always made a point of talking to you. At first, it was mundane things, how did you sleep? Did you eat breakfast yet? Before it became more involved questions, like what your family did for business, asked about your other ladies in waiting and if they were doing well.

And gradually, you started to look forward to your little chats and began to ask about him and his life. It turned out he was an only child and took the Lordship after his father had died of some kind of tree associated illness.

He was funny, had a quick wit and was fond of lymerics. He liked the smell of morning dew on grass and the way the forest smelt after a rain storm. Oh, and he enjoyed rum cake.

Your stomach bubbled with excitement every morning now at the prospect of seeing him around the Palace and speaking to him in the evening, the Orc barely even crossed your mind anymore.

Except for when you were on your way to your apartments one time, and the Orc ambushed you from a dark corner of the halls.

“What is with you?” He snarled at you. “You’re completely ignoring me in favour of that pretty Fae man.”

You didn’t spare the Orc a glance and kept walking. “He’s nice to me.” You shrugged, “I can’t talk to other men?”

“It’s not just talking to other men!” The Orc hissed. “You’ve been ignoring me and the gifts I leave you, along with letters as well! Whenever I enter your rooms to give you something else, the other gift is always left unopened!”

He grabbed you by the wrist, forcing you to stop in your tracks. He tightened his grip, “did I do something wrong?” He asked you. “Tell me if I have, I will do what I have to do make up for it.”

Anger flared like a fire stoked with gunpowder. You wanted to yell at him, to shout at him that he should go back to his wife, confess that he was an adulterer and that he should be begging for her forgiveness.

But for some reason, you couldn’t let that anger escape. It refused to climb up and out of your throat. You shook your hand free of his grip. “You really want to fix it?” you hissed. “You can leave me alone. Pretend that this never happened. Take your hush gifts and give them to the person who really deserves them!”

And with that, you stormed off to your apartments.

Once you were inside the drawing room, you let out a groan of frustration. Of course, going off with the Fae Lord was definitely one way of getting revenge… but it didn’t feel like it was enough.

You still felt awful for the Orc lady, who was pregnant with that adulterers baby. There had to be something else you could do… some other way of getting back at him and really sticking it to the King’s guard.

And then, an idea came to you. It was a risk to ask, sure… but, the Fae Lord really seemed genuinely interested in you. And he did say himself that he would be open to listening to you if you had any problems. Who knows? Maybe he would be up for your revenge too.

So, that night you arranged a private dinner for the two of you, away from court to tell him what was really going on.

He was perplexed by your request to meet him in a place away from the public eye, but never the less accepted and arrived to dinner with that same pleasant smile he always gave you.

“What’s all this about?” He had asked as you finished setting the table.

You intertwined your fingers together and clasped them in front of you, as if you were about to start praying.

“… Do you remember when you told me that you could sense a sadness within me?” You asked. And over dinner, you told him everything. The secretive meetings, the presents. As you told your sombre tale, you realised how badly it all truly sounded.

Of course, the affair was awful enough on it’s own… but the fact that the Fae Lord had been unwittingly helping you in your payback, would come across as you using him.

And as you finished with the climax of your story, the Fae Lord’s fists clenched tighter around his cutlery. His jaw tightened.

You bit your lip, wanting to explain yourself. “I have to say that your asking me to dance in front of the whole court was what inspired me to continue on with this plan of revenge. I have truly enjoyed spending time with you and didn’t mean to use you my Lord…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” The Fae spat. “It’s an awful thing for him to do to you, it’s no wonder he was so against us dancing and being seen together in the first place. I had half a mind to complain to the King about his behaviour.”

He knocked the butt of his fork on the table as the Lord looked around your drawing room, like there would be some kind of explanation somewhere. “How dare he use someone like that to get his own rocks off!” The Fae Lord hissed. “And especially you. You should have told me sooner, this isn’t something that you should have to deal with alone!

“No, do you know what?” The Fae pointed at you, “don’t do anything else until I say so, alright? We’re going to get this bastard man-whore… or should it be Orc-whore?” He gave you smug smile as you laughed. “For this plan to work,” he continued, “I’ll need to ask permission from someone before I go through with it.”

You frowned. “Ask permission for what?”

The Fae Lord gave another sly grin, “It’s a surprise.” His smile faded as he reached out across the table with a free hand and took yours in his, “I’ve grown very fond of you, (Y/N) and I hope that you have of me too, so with that in mind, please trust me, okay?”

He was right, you had grown fond of him and his presence. It would be strange for him to not be around in court any more. Your heart sunk in your chest at the realisation that he wouldn’t be around for much longer.

You nodded. Lowering your head, you stared at your empty plate and sighed. “… I feel really silly for thinking that he could have actually liked me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The Fae Lord asked, frowning. “I like you.”

You sighed. “I mean honestly liked me. Not just used me as a means to have an affair… I thought that we would get married one day and…” You gripped your skirts.

For a moment, the Fae stayed silent. “You don’t deserve to be loved by trash like him.” He said, firmly. He gave another squeeze of your hand. “And we’ll make sure he knows it. So don’t put yourself down, alright? It’s not you who’s in the wrong, it’s him.”

And once again, he was right. You sniffed. It made you feel a lot better to hear someone say it out loud, and to talk to someone about this affair. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off your chest.

Weeks went by and everything continued on as it had been before. The Fae Lord acted no differently than before your dinner together and the King’s guard grew more and more furious each time he saw you and the Fae together.

He had stopped bothering you since you’d told him to leave you alone… but there was still that foreboding feeling that the Orc was still looking for ways to win back your approval, proved by his scathing looks of the Fae Lord when you and he were together.

And with that feeling hovering in the air at court, you began to realise how stupid you must have been, to believe that you were only worthy of such a deceitful kind of love. You deserved so much more, wanted so much more.

The strangest part about knowing that, was that you felt it might come true very soon. You didn’t know how you could tell, you just knew it.

You began to worry as the final days of the Fae Lord’s stay drew near. There still had been no update on the Lord’s revenge plan and when you asked him about it, he’d always reassured you and given your hands a reassuring squeeze. “I’m just making the final preparations, alright? Don’t worry about a thing, I’ve got this.”

It was all too soon that the final week of his stay around. Everyone in the Palace was suddenly mournful that the Fae Lord and his company would be departing.

The Monday of the week the Lord was going to leave, you awoke to find a gift box. It was carved of wood, the bark of the tree still on it’s exterior and top, with a mossy bow tying it shut.

And as you opened it up, you couldn’t help but gasp at the sight you saw. In a bed of moss, was a necklace made of spider web, droplets of water beads strewn around it delicately. Underneath it, was a note:

I would like to give you a surprise gift every day leading up to the final day before I leave. I hope that if you appreciate this gift, you’ll wear it today and the others that are to come.

Others to come? Was this part of the revenge plan that the Lord had cooked up?

Without a second thought, you put on the gift and when you entered the Queen’s apartments that morning, all the of other ladies practically screamed with excitement for you.

Even the Queen – who never normally allowed herself to be emotional – got involved with her ladies delighted chattering.

The next morning, it was a bracelet made of hardened tree sap – the note detailed that if you licked it, it would make for a good snack – the morning after that, a broach made of butterfly wings.

And every day you wore them, eventually looking more and more like a forest Fae than a human noblewoman.

When the day finally came of the Fae Lord’s departure, you found that there was no gift that morning. Although strange, it didn’t surprise you.

He was leaving today after all, perhaps he just didn’t have time to leave one final gift.

With a heavy heart, you made your bed, adorned yourself with all the gifts you had received that week, and set off to go to court to wish the Fae Lord a good journey home.

Following the Queen to the throne room, the rest of the ladies in waiting seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet. When you gave them strange looks, they all pursed their lips or looked away from you, as if they were trying to hide something from you.

Even the Queen refused to look at you. Although you were sure that you caught a small smile on her lips whenever you all turned a corner.

When you entered the throne room, it was packed with courtiers, all chattering as usual. But there was something different in the air. You weren’t sure what it was, but there was certainly something going on without your knowing.

Once you had taken your place beside the Queen, the doors to the throne room opened and in stepped the Fae Lord with his company.

You had hoped that he would make time for a private goodbye, or at least tell you how his plans for revenge had been progressing.

The whole time you had seen him in court or in other places in the Palace, it seemed as though he was doing nothing to try and help you with your revenge plan.

A part of you wanted to be angry with him for being so slacked about it.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to be. At the end of the day, you’d been able to get back at the Orc in some way; throughout the whole week of you wearing the gifts that the Fae Lord had been giving you, the King’s guard said nothing to you, apart from giving you foul glares from across the room whenever he saw you.

“Your Majesty's, I must thank you for your hospitality these past weeks, it has been nothing but delightful.” The Fae Lord announced.

As soon as the sentence had left his lips, the whole court went silent, hanging onto his every word.

“But, if you do not mind, your Majesty,” he looked at the Queen, “I would like to steal one of your ladies in waiting.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him as the Queen smiled at him. “But of course, it’s been difficult to ignore that you certainly have a favourite among my girls.” She looked at you and tilted her head. “Go on, (Y/N).”

Your head darted between the two. Again, you caught the Orcs eye, who gave you a warning look of carefully concealed fury.

At that, you straightened your back and headed over to the Fae Lord. Once you had come before him, he held his hand out to you.

You took it. Sandwiching your hand between his, he looked you in the eye. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks,” he said, “but they’ve been some of the best weeks of my life. You’re funny and smart,” he lowered his voice. “Vengeful.”

Rolling your eyes with a smile, he continued, “but most of all, you make me happy. So, I ask that you come back to the forest with me and be my wife?”

Your jaw dropped and you clasped your hands to your mouth. “You… you can’t be serious…”

The Fae Lord let an abashed smile come over him. “I am… so, if you’ll have me as a husband…” He pulled a ring, made of wood from his pocket, a white, misted crystal adorned the top of the ring. “This is the final gift… I’m sorry that there wasn’t one for you to wake up to this morning, but I felt you may appreciate it more if I gave it to you in front of everyone.” He gave you a knowing look.

You allowed a devious grin to broaden your lips.

An aww escaped the crowd, followed by a few claps. But before you could give your reply, a shout rang out.

“No!” You and the Fae Lord whipped around to find the King’s guard, abandoning his post. “No, this is completely inappropriate!”

The Fae Lord pushed you behind him, as the Orc towered over the pair of you. He jabbed a thick green finger at the Fae, “what makes you think you can just wander in here and take one of the ladies in waiting?!”

“Actually,” the Fae returned, plainly. “Her father gave me permission. I asked him last night before coming here… Unlike some people here, I’m actually upfront with future family.”

Your eyes widened as the court gasped and muttering began to rise from the onlookers.

You gripped the Fae’s arm and squeezed it. “No, please don’t. You’ve done enough.”

He looked at you, then back at the Orc. “Well, it’s all down to (Y/N)s decision anyway.” The Fae Lord raised an eyebrow and smirked. “After all, it’s not like you have any interest in her, is it?”

The King’s guard scowled at the Fae. But he said nothing.

“Come back here, now!” The King snapped from his throne. “Don’t ruin this moment for the Lady (Y/N) any more than you have!”

“But you can’t possibly allow this!” The Orc turned to face the Monarchs.

“I just did.” The King glared at his guard. He looked at you with kind eyes as he went on, “well, what is your answer?”

Looking directly at the Orc, you took the ring from the Fae Lord and slid the ring on your finger as slowly as possible.

The Fae Lord grinned and pulled you into a tight hug as the court let out an applause.

Wishing the court goodbye, you and the Fae Lord turned and left, without even giving a second glance to the Orc, who was left in the centre of the room, stunned.

“Now this, was a great revenge plan.” You whispered as the pair of you walked down the corridors.

You bit your lip, “I… I was worried that this was just going to be some kind of holiday fling for you.”

The Fae Lord stopped in his tracks, taking your hand. “My darling, I could never, do that to you.”

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[hoodiegal]

For the first 2-3 years of my medical transition my doc insisted that my blood levels of E should be between 100-200 pg/mL and I didn't know better than to trust him because he was the professional. What a fucking shocker that my changes were incredibly slow and seemed to just stop after some time, (for example, my breasts getting stuck somewhere between tanner stages 2 and 3) and it has taken years after getting to a more reasonable level to see small improvements. I'm upset and feel betrayed. I've seen plenty of trans women who've had greater physical changes than me in two years because they were on the right fucking levels from the start. I sometimes worry my chances of having my body look "right" are permanently ruined because of my shit hrt regimen.

Also when I wanted to add prog to my regimen he hemmed and hawed so much before finally budging and prescribing me... 10 mg oral daily. Which I thought was standard dose back then, and have more recently learned is 1/20th of recommended dose. No shit it didn't do much.

I'll also add on that i wasn't even a minor when I started hrt. My doc was just using 10-20 year old guidelines or something like that.

Oh also I've been trying to get on injections for like a year.

Patches give me rashes and gel is unpleasant to apply and I frequently forget it. He initially said "we can do that, but it requires some paper work and is a bit of a hassle, we'd really like if you could try this spray (lanzetto?) first" so I tried lanzetto and despite taking 1.5x the recommended dosage it tanked my levels to the point I could physically feel it so I was like "can I get injections now?" And he went "it's such a hassle though, can we try pills first?" And I'm like "the ones that have a documented risk of causing throat cancer?" And he went "well that risk is still really small and we've (his clinic) really never seen that it does that in practice" and I went "I don't think I wanna do that." And he went "well reach out if you wanna give it a shot. If that doesn't work we can look into injections" And I'm now looking into starting DIY because fuck this nonsense.

He has a mantra when it comes to different delivery systems. "It's the same estrogen in all of them, as long as your body manages to take it up they do the same thing." Which. Yes, technically. But that doesn't mean they're all the same as should be fucking obvious by the issues I have with the different types. Also, I believe I can remember and manage to do an injection once or twice a week. It's been several years and I'm still struggling with consistently remembering and having the energy to apply my gel daily.

one of the more depressing things about trans subreddits is seeing just how badly people's doctors are lowballing them on HRT dosage and how frequently their doctors are fucking idiots.

[oldsoul007]

unexpected

joel miller x pregnant!reader

summary: y/n finds out some unexpected news and is nervous to tell joel

joel miller masterlist

I paced the small living room, my hands fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. I could hear Sarah in the other room, humming to herself as she worked on some school project. The sound was sweet, grounding, but it didn’t stop the anxious flutter in my chest.

I glanced at Joel, who sat on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He’d been unusually quiet since I asked him to sit down. He hadn’t spoken a word since I said, “I need to tell you something.”

I bit my lip and took a deep breath.

“Okay,” I began, my voice trembling slightly, “so… this isn’t something we planned. At all. I know we’ve been trying to keep things stable for Sarah. She’s still so young, and I know things have been hard, and… well, I just—”

“Y/n.”

I froze, his voice cutting through my rambling. Joel looked up at me, his dark eyes steady and waiting.

“Just say it,” he said, his tone soft but firm.

My heart thudded painfully in my chest. I took another breath and blurted it out before I could lose my nerve.

“I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and terrifying. I searched Joel’s face for a reaction, but he didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable.

My stomach twisted. This wasn’t the reaction I’d hoped for.

“I know it’s not what we talked about,” I said quickly, my voice rising in panic. “I mean, we never even talked about having more kids, and I don’t know how Sarah’s going to feel, and—”

Joel stood up, cutting me off mid-sentence. He took a step toward me, and for a moment, I thought he was angry.

“Joel, I—”

Before I could finish, he closed the distance between us, his hands cupping my face as he kissed me. It wasn’t a soft kiss, but a fierce, overwhelming one that stole my breath.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, and I could feel the smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re pregnant,” he murmured, almost as if testing the words.

I blinked, my eyes wide. “You’re… not mad?”

“Mad?” Joel let out a soft laugh, his thumb brushing my cheek. “Y/n, I’m… I’m so happy. Damn happy.”

My lips parted in surprise. “Really?”

Joel nodded, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t know I could get this lucky twice. First Sarah, and now this.”

Tears stung my eyes as relief washed over me. I let out a shaky laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“God, I thought you were going to freak out,” I admitted, my voice muffled against his shoulder.

Joel chuckled, holding me close. “Nah, I’m not freakin’ out. Just… thinkin’ about how we’re gonna tell Sarah.”

I pulled back slightly to look at him. “You think she’ll be okay with it?”

Joel smiled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Sarah’s got the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. She’s gonna be a great big sister.”

I smiled back, a weight lifting off my shoulders. In that moment, with Joel’s arms around me and his quiet reassurance, I let myself believe everything was going to be okay.

[whatifitis]

♡ I watched it begin again - LN 4 ♡

Summary: You've moved on and found happiness... when Lando reappears and tells you something you truly never expected to hear, but something you had also wished for for so long.

Author's Note: this is the much awaited part 2 to 'i wish you would've stay'. i wanna say a quick thank you to those who read part 1 and shared your thoughts on it, it really made me feel so special 😭 this part would not have been written without yall <3

WC: 2415

CW: fluff, maybe a very little amount of angst? pettiness, if you squint there's a sort of thrupple, or whatever the 4 count of that word is, hinting, overuse of song references

“Okay, I think it’s done.”

“Yay! I can finally see this masterpiece you’ve created.” you smiled. 

“Eh, masterpiece is a bit of a reach. But I definitely tried my hardest to capture your beautiful soul.”

“Ohhh, shush you. Flattering me so much.”

“It’s so you don’t hate me after you see this monstrosity.”

“Okay, enough yapping. Show me.” 

You watched as he took a deep breath and turned the sketchbook towards you.

“Oh. My. God.” you try to stifle your laugh. 

“Why are you laughing?” Gabe chuckled. 

“I’m not laughing. It’s beautiful. Oh my- Where were you when it was time for senior photos?”

“No. Fuck off. That’s rude.” you watched as Gabe tossed a pillow at you and tried to refrain from laughing as hard as you are. 

You were laughing so hard it was getting hard to breathe and tears were rolling down your face. Being with Gabe always felt so high school in a way. There was no pressure or drama within this place. It was just love. 

You and Gabe have been dating for a little over a year and it’s been the greatest time of your life. When the two of you met, you really weren’t looking for anything. You were focused on work and getting your life in line when he happened. 

Since he’s come into your life, it’s like everythings brighter. And while that may sound cliche, it’s true. He makes everything feel miniscule, like as long as he’s there at the end of the day, everything will be okay. 

He was something new as well. For so long, you had spent your time around boys and their expensive cars like range rovers and Aston Martins, but Gabe is just Gabe. He’s a real person who enjoys the same things that you do and he truly loves you for you. And he loves spending time with you. On your first date, he wasn’t ready for the date to be over, so he asked you to walk around Kohl’s with him. And still, to this day, he asks if you want to walk around Kohl’s together, just for a few more moments with you. 

He was the king of your heart.   

“Oh shit, I gotta get going. I have that meeting with Matt tomorrow about working on that album.” Gabe said as he stood up from the couch and stretched, “Can we meet for lunch? I don’t think I can wait all day to see you again.” pulling you closer to him, softly gripping your waist. 

“Definitely, I might be a bit late cause I need to talk to Marjorie about letting me in on that case.” 

“Amazing.” he said as he pressed his lips to yours, feeling your soft lips on his and pouring himself into you. 

The two of you pull apart and you walk him to the door of your apartment. 

“See you tomorrow, my love.” 

“Call me when you get home, please.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Gabe jokes, “At home, I’ve got to greet the most demanding and most precious person in my life. She deserves all my attention.”

“Olive is a cat and she is far from precious.”

“You’re just jealous she prefers lying on me rather than you.”

“We’re girls! There’s a girl code and she’s not sticking to it.”

“I’ll see if I can talk some sense into her then. For the love of my life.” Gabe says, pecking your lips one final time before walking off. 

“Save some time for me.” you called out. 

“All my time is yours, my darling.” 

He turns the corner and once he’s out of sight, you step back into your apartment and close the door. You turn your back to press against the door and you couldn’t help the giddy smile that spread across your face. Even after all this time, he still makes your heart skip. 

You started to get ready for bed and had just settled into your bedsheets when your phone started playing your ringtone for Gabe, ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ by Rick Astley. You don’t remember exactly how it became one of your songs, but it somehow made its way there. You’d even joked with him how if the two of you ever broke up, you hoped that Rick Rolling would become a thing again so that he would be tormented with the thought of you. 

You picked up the phone to hear some shuffling on the other line. “Hello?” you call out. 

“Hey, sorry. I was just taking off my jacket. I made it home.”

“Amazing. How’s home?” 

“It’s okay. Would be better if you were here with me.”

“You just spent all day with me. Are you not sick of me?” you half-joked. 

“I could never be sick of you. You’re my favorite thing the universe gifted us on earth.”

“Stop. You’re gonna make me cry.”

“I’m sorry, my love. I don’t like making you cry, unless it’s from laughter. Ya know, you’re really pretty when you laugh.”

“Only when I laugh?” you poke. 

“Nuh uh. You’re always pretty. So pretty that it almost kills me. But I really like it when you laugh. Especially when I’m the one making you laugh.”

“I like it when you make me laugh too.” you are practically melting at this man's words. He always has you wrapped around his finger and you think he knows. But little do you know, that’s how he feels about you. 

You turn to look at the clock by your bedside and sigh. Even after having him all day, somehow you just want him more. 

“I gotta go to sleep now, my angel. If I sleep now, I can get at least 7 hours of sleep.” you huff. 

“You should really sleep earlier so you can actually sleep well. We both know you’re not sleeping 7 hours with your sleeping habits.”

“Yeahhhh. Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow, darling.” 

“I’ll be waiting, love.” 

The silence sounds after the beep. Was this what true love felt like? Is this how it feels to be loved? How long has it been since someone made you feel like this? For a while, you thought the plane was going down. But someway, somehow, Gabe turned it right around. He would literally break his back to make you break a smile. For the first time ever, you were falling in love with someone who was falling in love with you. 

The next morning, after some strenuous phone calls and exhausting meetings, you excitedly made your way to the restaurant you were meeting Gabe at. You were running a bit early so you decided to take the scenic route to the restaurant, knowing Gabe wouldn’t be there for another 20 minutes. 

You were enjoying the afternoon sun and the fresh air that came with it when you heard something from behind, “Y/n?” 

Why does this person sound familiar? He sounds like… like someone but you can’t quite place your finger on it. 

“Y/n, is that you?” 

When you turn to see who it is, you’re met with them. Those eyes, the eyes you used to dream of. But now they look different, they look so dull and tired. His frame looks lighter and his smile looks torn. 

“Lando?”

“Wow, you look, I mean you look beautiful. You haven’t changed a bit since the last time I saw you.” he says, giving you a soft, shy smile. 

“Yeah. It’s been quite some time.” “Sorry. Uh, how have you been?” 

“I’ve been good. Really good, actually. How about you? How’s Hannah?”

“I’ve been okay and ehm, Hannah and I broke up last year.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry to hear. But I’m sure you’ll find someone. There’s plenty of fish in the sea, as they say.”

“Yeah. I’ve actually been thinking about you recently. Like, a lot.” he softly huffs. 

“Oh.”

“I’ve been meaning to reach out but I wasn’t sure how. I’m actually glad I ran into you now.”

“Lando, I think you-”

“No, please. Let me explain myself, please.”

You stood there for a beat, not knowing that to say. You couldn’t get a single word out. Why? It was just Lando. 

He watches your face, trying to study it and read what you’re thinking, but he can’t, “I have a lot to get off my chest. I won’t take long. Please.”

“Okay.”

With a deep inhale, Lando begins “I fucked up. Big time. I never should have, essentially, ghosted you. All you ever did was love me and care for me. But I just went off and dated another girl cause I didn’t realize it at the time. Y/n, if we’re being honest, I’m still in love with you. And it took a long time for me to realize. Everything is nothing without you. I’m nothing without you. I miss you so much and I regret ever letting you go. Can we start fresh, please? I won’t let you go this time. I’ll hold you closer than I ever did before.”

“I can’t. You hurt me a lot. It took me so long to realize I was going to be okay without you. It took me a long time to realize that it wasn’t my fault for you leaving. That I am good enough and capable of being loved. I’m happy now. I found someone that I love and who loves me. Like, truly loves me. He made me realize that nothing was wrong with me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you were seeing someone. But, does he really make you happy? Happier than I ever made you?” there are tears brimming his eyes. 

“Yeah, he does. I don’t get it, Lando. I was happy for you when you met Hannah, why can’t you be happy for me?” 

“Because I know you still feel something for me. And I truly believe that the universe brought us here today for a reason. Our story isn’t over, y/n.”

“It is over. You can say we’ll be together someday, but things have changed. We’re not the same people we were before and I found my person.”

“So why can’t I stop feeling this way?” he says, a tear slipping down his face. “Because you’re human.” you say, reaching your hand to cup the side of his face, but you don’t. You stop yourself before your fingertips can feel his skin beneath yours because it isn’t fair to him. 

“Do you regret me?” he asks through a wavering voice. 

“No, I don’t regret you. You were one of the most beautiful chapters of my life and you taught me a lot. You know, I used to look for you in a sea of people, knowing you weren’t there. It’s kinda stupid cause we never really existed but-” “We did exist. Just not in the way we should’ve. The way we could’ve if I wasn’t a massive fuck up.”

“You’re not a fuck up. Listen, there was happiness because of you and there was happiness after you. That’s just the way life goes. So there will be happiness after this.’’

“I don’t want there to be an after you. I’m trying my best. I pray that you’ll come back to me one day. And if you do, I’ll give up my hopes and dreams in F1 cause I’ll have my biggest dream of all. You.”

“You can’t change things by loving someone harder. I used to wish you would’ve stayed. But this isn’t a fairytale where you’re my knight in shining armor. I found someone who actually treats me well. And the cost of trying isn’t greater than the reward of having me, to him. He actually loves me and wants to be with me. I used to be so naive and I would get so lost in your eyes, I didn’t realize that being in love wasn’t fighting to have the upper hand.” 

He’s near sobbing when he tells you, “I want to believe I haven’t lost you.”

“I’ll always be here for you. But I can’t be with you. It’s too late, Lando. My heart doesn’t soften to your name anymore.”

“Do you think there’s even a slight possibility that you could fall in love with me again?”

You look at him. This was the boy you once loved. The one you would’ve done anything for, even after everything he’d done. You used to wait for him to love you again. But now all you see is the boy who broke your heart and left you bereft and reeling. 

“No. I hope you find love, Lando. I really do. But it won’t be me. Not anymore.”

With that, you turn your back to him and walk away. It might’ve been harsh, but you couldn’t stand there any longer. The result wouldn't be different if you’d stayed longer and comforted him. You’re happy with Gabe and he has never given you a reason to doubt him. You’d been hurt enough by Lando. But every little moment led you right to where you should be. 

When you finally arrived at the restaurant, Gabe was already there. When he sees you, it’s like he saw you for the first time. There was a sparkle in his eyes and the toothiest grin spread across his face. 

He stands to greet you with a kiss that could heal every wound that might have reopened today. He pulls a chair out for you and takes his seat right at your side. 

“Hi, baby.”

“Hi. I’m sorry I’m late. It’s a long story and I can tell you all about it later. Right now I just want it to be us. Let the world fade away for a bit.”

“Sounds like a plan then. I already ordered your Coke with a lime. It should be on its way.” Gabe says as he plants a thousand soft kisses on your hand. He’s been doing it a lot lately, now that you think about it. 

“You’ve been kissing my hand a lot recently. Why?” you ask out of curiosity. 

“Because whenever I kiss your hand, you hold my face.” 

Gabe is a daydream and you’re the one he’s walking to. You think he’s the one thing you got right. 

You hear your phone ping on the table. You quickly open it to mute it for your lunch date but the text on the screen catches your eye. 

Oscah: So should Lily and I meet you guys at your place or ours? 😉 

Those who wanted to be tagged in part 2: @f1fantasys @jxnellat @hoeforsirius @nina-or-anna-or-nora @sturmatt @hurtblossom

[nerd2614]

She looked at the hero, now flat against the wall of the crumbling building. The building the heroes forced her to destroy. It was funny how much dirty work went into being on the 'good' side. Coverups and assassinations all in the name of a so-called brighter future.

"I" - the young hero cleared their throat - "can't, won't, let you get away."

The villain, still known only as 'Evil One' smiled. "You will." She said in an almost motherly tone. "I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice, young one. Has anyone ever told you why I cannot be permanently caught?"

The hero had stopped cowering now. They shook their head.

"Well," the villain began, "there are two main reasons. The hero association never want me permanently caught because I give the world something to unite against - it helps prevent other large scale wars and the like."

"And the second reason?" The hero asked tentatively.

"I can never be held by someone whose heart has more guilt or apathy than goodness. That's why the heroes capture me every time a new hero appears. To test them. However, I have grown weary of playing their games. I refuse to allow myself to be captured anymore. And I suggest you get out while you still can, young one."

The 'Evil One' left the young hero standing in the rubble of the broken building. The older heroes arrived to see them alone and started screaming at them. One of the heroes (who was the newbie before they came along) took a swing at them.

"Not in public." Hissed the slightly older hero who had caught his fist before the blow could land. "Wait until we're back at HQ."

The young hero felt numb as rough hands grabbed their arms and pulled them into the sky to fly to HQ. In their disassociated state, they still noted that this wasn't the correct flying technique. They barely let out a whimper as their arm dislocated.

-

"Oh my sweet child." The Villain had broken in to the Hero HQ building to find the young hero curled in a corner of the holding cell she was usually kept in. The young hero was covered in bruises, with one arm dangling uselessly by their side as sobs wracked their body. They had flinched at her voice, squinting through a swollen eye to see who spoke.

"You-" They croaked out.

"Me." The Villain said softly. She opened the door and sat beside the young hero. She started to hum softly as she wiped the grime off their face. "Try to keep quiet now."

A flash of pain made the young hero gasp. Then gentle relief followed. Warm magic started to ease away the worst of the pain.

"Trap." They whispered, once the dizziness had passed.

"I know."

The Villain asked for permission, then hoised the young hero into her arms. "Sleep, we will be there soon."

Prompt #2078

The youngest hero trembled, tripling over their feet as they backed away. [Villain]’s manacles were supposed to be impenetrable, permanently forcing loyalty to the hero’s team.

The villain rubbed their newly bare wrists, gaze never wavering. “It’s okay,” they said, surprisingly soft. “You didn’t put these cuffs on, and you were always kind. I won’t hurt you.”

[niningtori]

the way we were before | oneshot

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: you've been in love with beomgyu for as long as you've known him. deep down, you've always thought that he loved you, too; so when he tells you that he's engaged to another woman, you decide to break it all off after a nasty fight in which he shows you just how little you mean to him. a life-ending accident seems to put your feelings to rest, for good. just when you think it's all over, however, you awaken to a time before everything fell apart; and you're determined not to repeat the same mistakes. it's just that beomgyu can't seem to let you go.

genre: ANGST (literally so much angst it's not even funny), romance, second chancelau, rebirthlau, she falls first but he falls harder, possessive!beomgyu

warnings: mcd (and rebirth), somewhat graphic depictions of death/a corpse, suicidal thoughts, you can interpret a scene at the end as somewhat suggestive but not really

word count: 12.7k

notes: this work contains a lot of angst... and that's coming from ME. this might be too sad to the point of being corny but luckily i was born on the cob. don't be mean to me tho i'm going thru it rn. feedback also means the world 2 me <3

some things are a matter of course. for example, when you were initially paired with beomgyu for a project in your senior year of college, it was a matter of course to fall in love with him. supporting him morally and emotionally while he struggled throughout the rest of the year and well into his adult career? well, that was a matter of course, too. being with him every day, spending every spare second you had with the intention to make him happy, and giving up any concept of self-preservation in exchange for even a morsel of his affection? the answer doesn’t even need to be said. through it all, you’ve suspected that all of the intimacy that you’ve nurtured will inevitably end up with you two being together, of course. 

you haven’t done any of it for the outcome. truly, you haven't. you make him happy simply because it makes you happy just to see him shine. he’s always been such a bright, sunny boy, and it’s always been enough just to be the one who helps maintain his true personality. it absolutely kills you to see him hurting, so it isn’t unusual to drop everything, be it work or social events, just to give him advice, give him comfort, or even just give him company. while he certainly doesn't show his affection towards you as profusely as you do to him, you know he cares about you. you can see it in the way he notices the little things about you, and in the way he listens to you with full attentiveness, even when you have nothing particularly interesting to tell him. when everyone talks over you, he tells you that he wants to hear what you have to say. and that’s enough.  

with all of this in mind, you jump at his invitation to hang out at his apartment. he’s been a little distracted lately, cancelling plans together for reasons unknown. it’s been odd, to be sure, but you know he’ll tell you whatever’s been bothering him soon enough. he always does. you greet him with takeout from his favorite restaurant in tow as a surprise, and he takes it with that smile you love so damn much. he looks a little nervous, but happy, mostly, and you don’t have to wait for very long before he clears his throat and announces that he has something important to tell you.

you try not to get your hopes up, but who can blame you for feeling a hint of anticipation? maybe he’ll finally confess his feelings to you. maybe that’s why he’s been a little weird. naturally, since your mind is racing so much with romantic hypotheticals, of course it comes as a shock to you that he simply says, “i’m getting married.”

beomgyu, notorious for never even having the time nor interest to date around, is not only dating, but engaged. your jaw drops when he tells you that it all happened so quickly, he doesn’t even know how it unfolded. all he knows is that once he met her, a whirlwind romance swept him up, and just a few months have been more than enough for him to know that she’s the one. in fact, as he so fondly declares, he knew it from the very first moment he saw her at the dinner between the company you two work for and her own. the one where you were his “date”. you knew that it wasn’t a real proclamation of love or affection for him to ask you to accompany him, but you can’t say that you weren’t beaming with pride and validation at you being his natural choice. when you arrived at the dinner, you remember some of your coworkers jokingly whispering to you to just make it official already. you spent the night mostly by his side, looking up at him in admiration and love. as it turns out, the time you spent fawning over him was equally spent with him falling in love at first sight with another woman. you weren’t even apart for very long, but apparently he met her when you two broke apart to mingle. 

it’s a kick in the chest, to put it bluntly. you feel the wind being knocked out of your lungs, and you’re struggling to breathe. the first time you caught a glimpse of him, you knew that any attempts to stop yourself from falling in love with him were hopeless. his smile, his charm, his playfulness immediately had you enraptured. you’ve always, always known that he didn't have a similar experience with you, but you just assumed that he simply isn’t the type to be caught up in such childish romanticism. you've always loved him outwardly and persistently, and you've shown him that in every single way you possibly know how. you dared to hope that maybe he was just the type to quietly reciprocate. obviously, with how emphatically he’s professing his love for another woman, you were very, very wrong.

“what's the matter? aren't you happy for me?” you struggle to answer, but he continues as if he doesn’t notice. “you know, i was thinking you could be, like, my best man. i've seen people do it these days—you'd pretty much be my best woman. i really want you to do it. there's no one else i can think of to—well, actually, there's soobin, but you’re my—”

“beomgyu,” you sharply interrupt, wetness pooling in your waterlines. beomgyu may be a little emotionally slow, but he’s not stupid. you know he knows that you've had feelings for him since forever ago. while it hurts, the fact of them being unrequited isn't what really gets you; it’s the fact that he doesn’t have the decency to just tell the truth. he took advantage of your love for him, always calling for you when he needed you, without ever really doing the same for you. “what… what about us?” 

“what about us? you’re my best friend, and i want you to be part of my wedding,” he says smoothly, but you level him with a watery stare. as if realization finally dawns on him, he replies in a way you sincerely did not anticipate.

“c’mon, you know i don’t see you like that,” he chuckles with a wave of his hand, and you really would’ve rathered him say literally anything else. you’d prefer it if he had just punched you in the stomach, actually, because that would feel considerably better than this… this humiliation. you’re silent for a moment before you feel the tears you’ve been struggling to keep in cascade down your face. to his credit, he has the decency to look uncomfortable, and his playful smile drops. before he can reply, however, you speak again.

“you knew how i felt about you this whole fucking time, you were just too much of a coward to be honest with me,“ you declare. “if… if you had just told me, i would’ve understood. i-i would've—you didn't have to do it this way.”

“listen, i’m sorry that you’re hurt, but i really didn’t mean—” 

“are you really sorry that i’m hurt, or are you sorry that i showed you i’m hurt?” you cut in. “beomgyu, you don’t care about how i feel, just as long as you don’t have to be the one to deal with it.” 

“i’m—you're being unfair. i didn't want to hurt your feelings, i just wanted us to stay friends. what's so bad about that? don't you want that?” he seems genuinely puzzled, as if he can't wrap his head around why you'd ever be indignant at the fact that he stayed friends with you mainly for his own comfort.

“jesus christ, beomgyu! a real friend would never do this. you kept me around so i’d keep helping you with work, with life, with what the fuck ever. why can't you just be honest, after all this time? just don’t lie,” you spit.

“i'm not lying! you've helped me a lot, and i'm grateful for that, but you can't expect me to just owe you my feelings,” he snaps.

“that's not what this is about, and you know it,” you tremblingly reply, dignity cut right to the bone.

“seriously? that's exactly what this is about. you're the altruistic angel who does nothing wrong, and i'm just a fucking scumbag who takes advantage of you, right? well, i'm sorry, but it's not my fault that you're acting so goddamn crazy over something so stupid.” your eyes burn with an intensity so great, it feels like they're being seared out of your skull. in this moment, you realize that he will never, ever respect you enough to consider you worthy of being leveled with. he doesn't think you're even worth the time. you're his silly, lovesick best friend who's absolutely delusional to the point of being laughable for suggesting that he actually take you seriously, for once. and that revelation breaks you like nothing else.

you won’t do this anymore. you couldn’t even if you wanted to, and you don’t. 

“i never want to see you again,” you sob, and while it may seem juvenile to say, you truly mean it. before you can hear beomgyu reply, you dash out of the building and to your car. 

everything is a blur when you peel out of the parking lot and onto the road. your eyes are pouring out thick, hot tears, and you try your best to swipe them away as soon as they come, but it’s difficult when they’re seemingly endless. you don’t even attempt to hold in your sobs—they’re far too deep and frequent for that. if someone were to glance at you through their window, they’d think you were absolutely insane. and maybe you are, you don’t know. maybe you’re insane for thinking that things could’ve ever been any different. maybe you were just imagining everything that seemed like confirmation that he loved you back. maybe it was all a delusion because you wanted it so fucking badly. and maybe that’s your fault.

but did he really have to crush you like this? he knew you were in in love with him. he knew you were waiting for him. he knew what he meant to you. why couldn’t he have just been honest instead of stringing you along? to ask for him to return your feelings would’ve been too much, you've always understood that to be the case; but even to the bitter end, he’ll call you crazy before he tells you the truth. 

you try to keep yourself focused, but everything’s a blur with your eyes bleary with a film of tears. you have half a mind to just pull over and have a meltdown on the side of the road, but before you can do that, you hear your phone ringing. you pick it up in a frenzy, silently hoping that it’s beomgyu with an apology, but the number is unknown. you don’t even have time to feel disappointed before you look up and see that you’re barrelling past a red light. in a panic, you realize that you’re about to crash headfirst into another car. you swerve your steering wheel as hard as you can, seemingly avoiding danger, but the sight of a tree coming closer and closer into your vision paralyzes you with fear. you try to brake, but you’re going too quickly for it to be of any use. 

the collision is bone-shattering in the literal sense. you’d think you’d feel adrenaline alone in such a situation, but you can feel pain bursting out of every cell of your body as you still after being thrown back and forth in your seat. every organ, every bone, feels like it’s just been crushed, and not for the first time today, you’re struggling to breathe. 

as you slip out of consciousness, one immovable thought resounds in your head: i wish i'd never met him.

-

the sound of your alarm ringing pulls you out of the darkness. your eyes shoot open and you sit straight up in pure shock. while you pant—just trying to catch your breath—you grab your chest, clutching at your shirt as you feel your heart drumming erratically. did you survive? you scramble out of your bed and look in the mirror. there’s nothing on your face. no fresh wounds, bruises, no scars from what just happened. that can’t be right. you know you were torn up from the collision, and there’s no earthly way you came out of it unscathed. was it a dream? it can’t be; you can still feel the phantom of pain on every inch of you, even when there’s no indication of any material harm. you remember every second you spent before and after wrapping yourself around that tree. does that mean you’re dead? are you in the afterlife? 

that doesn’t seem right, either. you don’t know much about what the afterlife is supposed to be like, if there’s even one at all, but this feels too real and familiar. you reach for your phone, with its alarm still blaring, and as you hit snooze, you notice the date. it’s just a few months before… before everything happened. did you go back in time? is that even possible? you try to reconcile yourself with that fact for a long, long time. so long, in fact, that you don't even realize you're supposed to be heading to work until it's five minutes after you're supposed to be there. 

as if on cue, your phone rings with your boss’ contact displayed on the screen.

“hello,” he says as casually as anyone ever can. this just solidifies the idea that your accident must never have happened, because if it had, he certainly wouldn’t be greeting you as if it’s just another day. 

“h-hey,” you attempt to reply, and your voice is so choked and thick with emotion, he can hear how badly you’re struggling to speak at all. 

“is everything alright?” he asks, concern laced in his tone. that’s enough to make you break, and before you can stop it, you’re outright sobbing into the phone. 

“i’m—i just—i don’t think i can come in today.” you fumble for an excuse, but it’s difficult to think straight as you feel your mind breaking down. “i, um, i—” 

“hey, it’s okay. you can take the day off, alright? don’t worry about anything, just focus on feeling better.” his words, so comforting in nature, do nothing but make you cry even harder. it feels nice to be cared for like this. if you had the coherence to think so, you’d wonder how baffled he must be at your behavior. luckily, you’re far too gone to care. you think you end up stammering out something similar to a thank you, but you’re not quite sure. either way, the call ends, and you collapse onto your bed. you curl yourself up and tuck your knees to your chest as you grip yourself as tightly as you can. this is real. you’ve gone back. thank god, you’ve gone back. 

you cry and cry until no more tears will come out, and while you try to keep yourself awake as the hours pass by, the relief you feel coalesces with the enticing nature of your soft bed, so you can't help but drift off. it’s different from the way you drifted off mere hours ago. it’s a lot warmer and kinder, and you're so, so fucking tired, you don’t even want to fight it anymore. 

a knock on your door wakes you from your sleep. it’s a good thing, too, because you were having a nightmare. rejection, devastation, primal fear, mind-numbing pain, then total darkness repeated incessantly in your head for hours on end. you swipe away your tears, but they continue to flow as you practically drag yourself to your door. you’re so disoriented, you don’t even think to check to see who it is before opening it. what a mistake that turns out to be.

“hey! whoa—are you okay?” he asks, and who else could it be besides beomgyu? your heart pounds in your chest, and even more tears stream down your face as you let out a sob. his mouth contorts into a frown. his face, previously so endearing to you, makes you feel absolutely repulsed. you lost everything for the figure standing before you, and he has the nerve to ask you if you’re okay. a fire is ignited in your stomach, and you feel yourself on the precipice of carnal rage. while you’re trying to suppress that feeling, he speaks again. 

“i heard you called in, so i thought i’d check on you. do you have a fever?” he questions, reaching out his hand to check your forehead for abnormal warmth. without even thinking about it, you smack his hand away.

“don’t touch me,” you all but growl, but beomgyu is undeterred. 

“what’s the matter? i don’t care if you get me sick; i could use the time off,” he teases with a grin, but your face remains twisted up in pure anger. 

“get out,” you mumble between clenched teeth.

“what?” he asks, and it's unclear if that's because he's confused, or because he simply didn't hear you. either way, you don't care.

“get out,” you repeat, louder this time, but not lacking any of the previous anger. your erratic behavior is enough to finally irritate beomgyu. 

“fine, whatever. forget i even bothered,” he scoffs as he stalks out of the door. you slam it behind him before falling to the floor. this is your chance. you came back too late to avoid ever meeting him again, but it’s still good enough for you. from now on, you two will live completely separate lives spent being nothing to each other. owing nothing to each other. again, you find yourself sobbing in relief. 

-

when you return to work the next day, the first thing you do is head to your boss’ office. he looks relieved to see you for a moment before he notices the envelope in your hand. with the way his smile drops, you know he immediately knows what it is. 

“what’s that?” he asks, though the tension in the air is more than enough confirmation that he has no doubts about what the letter reads.

“my resignation,” you tell him. 

“may i ask what this is about?” he probes. no, he can’t, because even if you told him, he’d never believe you.  

“i just don’t think this position is right for me,” you deadpan, and the look on his face shows that he doesn’t really buy it.

“you’ve worked so hard for so long, and you want to give up now?” he has a point. your company is on the brink of a major deal with another company, which will result in a financial breakthrough like none other, if successful. as fate would have it, said company is the one in which beomgyu’s future wife works, and the dinner where the two of them met is the celebratory party for such success. you’d laugh at the circumstances if you could. “whatever the issue is, we can work it out. just don’t leave before we do this. we need you, and even if you want to leave after we close the deal, you’ll still be rewarded for everything you’ve done. don’t you want to see that happen?” you do. you really, really do. you’ve given so much of yourself for this opportunity, and you really want to see it work out. you guess, in a way, you already have seen it; but if you leave now, that’ll never happen. this particular project needs you to get off of its feet.

but can you really stand to see beomgyu for a second longer? have his mere presence fuck with your head? is it even worth it? you’re about to declare that it most certainly is not, but you stop yourself. the money will be good for you to start a new life. maybe you’ll move buildings, maybe even to a new city, maybe across the country, who knows? you’ll be more than comfortable with this potential payout, and then you can start a new life somewhere where you know nobody, and nobody knows you. 

“i want a new partner, at least,” you counter, and his face morphs into a grimace. he’s undoubtedly confused at your sudden aversion towards beomgyu, but he doesn't mention it to you. 

“that’ll be difficult. i need you both for this to work.” you’re about to flatout deny him, but he continues. “if you can just make it through this, i promise that you can go wherever you want to go, and i’ll even give you a bonus for your trouble. deal?” you purse your lips as you mull it over. if you can suffer through being partners with beomgyu, your move will be considerably easier. still, you’re undecided before you have an epiphany: in just a few months, beomgyu will meet his future wife and fall head over heels in love with her. all you have to do is ignore him until then, and he’ll inevitably leave you alone once he meets her. so what if beomgyu’s here? you don’t want to care about him anymore. and once everything’s settled, you’ll pack your life away and start somewhere without the bad memories. 

“okay,” you reply, and his face breaks out into a grin. 

-

beomgyu is very visibly ruffled today, which you would immediately notice if you just spared him a glance, but you do no such thing. your lack of attention towards him serves to only rile him up even further. he wants to be stubborn—act out until you apologize to him, but once he realizes you have no intention of doing so, he finally relents and approaches you.

“hey,” he says coolly, still a little annoyed, but prepared to forgive you. you look up at him blankly, and he’s unsettled by just how empty your eyes look, so he nervously asks you, “are you… are you feeling better?” you look at him as if he just spouted the most asinine question of all time, and for the first time ever, he feels small under your gaze. he shifts awkwardly on his feet before you break the silence. 

“i’m fine,” you tell him. he waits for you to ask him how he is, but the words never come. in fact, you turn away and bury your nose in your work as if he’s not standing there, waiting dumbly for you to respond as you usually would. well, whatever. you’ll have to talk to him, eventually. especially since you two are working on such a big project. 

you don’t really talk to him, though, aside from what’s absolutely necessary. for most of the day, you silently slide papers over to him without even deigning to look at him while you do it. when you do have to speak to him, your words are cold and detached, as if even speaking to him is a chore. it’s like you’re looking past him, almost. like you don’t even really see him, and he’s never felt as unsettled by a gaze in his life. 

at lunch, you quietly remain at your desk instead of joining beomgyu like you usually would, and you can't quite bring yourself to eat. you just feel sick by this entire situation, and while you know you need food to survive, you’re sure you’ll vomit if you try to eat anything. 

beomgyu, on his part, leaves you alone, though he desperately wants to try to get you to eat with him. he won’t admit it, but he’s actually afraid that you’ll reject him again. he doesn't know why, but the thought of you doing so slashes at his heart. this is a mystery to him. he shouldn’t really care if you reject him or not, since he’s been quietly rejecting you for years, but he can’t help it. still, as he watches you space out at your desk, he tries to will himself to bear the brunt of a possible denial before a coworker he recognizes approaches you.

you don’t even notice mingi walking up to you, so you jump in surprise when he greets you. you’re pretty familiar with him, but you’re not particularly close, so you’re a bit surprised by his arrival. 

“can i sit with you?” he asks, grinning as he asks it. you nod in response, and he grins even wider before he pulls up a chair and seats himself in front of you.

“are you going to eat?” he questions, and you shake your head.

“not hungry,” you reply. he frowns.

“you still need to eat. you need energy, especially since you’re working so hard.” you’re actually a little sheepish because of his words. so he’s noticed how hard you’ve been working? it feels nice to be appreciated. is he worried about you? 

“i’ll eat later,” you lie. he seems a bit reluctant, but he eventually nods. 

“make sure you eat, okay? i’ll—i’ll text you and make sure you have. is that alright?” you’re stunned for a few seconds before agreeing, and he ends up sliding you his phone so you can put your number in it.

beomgyu watches it all from his desk, and he feels a sense of loss. is it because you’re directing your attention elsewhere? that has to be it, right? it can't be any deeper than that, but somewhere nearly unreachable inside of him, he feels an unfamiliar sensation scratching at his heart, begging him to  acknowledge it. but he shakes away the thought. you’re acting really weird, but that’s okay. you love him, and you’ll get back to normal really soon.

that’s what he tells himself, but you remain as cold as ever throughout the rest of the week. you don’t look at him with those adoring eyes, and you don’t even crack a smile at his attempted jokes. he feels like he's going insane, as if he's on the brink of understanding something really important, but he can't quite make it there. 

it all comes to a head when beomgyu shows up late back from grabbing lunch. he's done this a million times before, and he's always been greeted by your insistence that his tardiness isn't a big deal. in spite of the tension between you two, he still assumes that you'll be as forgiving as ever.

“hey, sorry i'm late. i got caught up with eating and didn't realize how late it was getting,” he says casually. he searches your face for any traces of leniency, for the indulgence you used to give him, but there is none. only anger, and maybe even something like regret, though he can't quite understand the latter.

“don't be late again. we don't have time for this,” you say coldly before sticking your nose back into your computer, effectively ignoring anything else beomgyu could say to placate you.

you two work late into the night. beomgyu gets so caught up in his work, too afraid to draw your ire again, but when he realizes he hasn't heard any noise coming from you in a while, he peers over to see you staring blankly at the wall. your face seems expressionless, but your eyes are what horrifies him. dead, empty, hopeless. “a-are you okay?”

the sound of his voice does nothing to break you out of your trance, however. in fact, it seems to have triggered something in you, decimated a dam that was already leaking. your eyes still look blank as tears begin to leak out of your eyes. they fall slowly at first, then incessantly. it's hard to reconcile the steady stream with the way your face remains completely devoid of emotion. 

tentatively, he places a hand on your shoulder. suddenly, you're jolted awake, eyes now looking as composed and indifferent as ever.

“are you okay? w-what's wrong?” he asks anxiously, 

you hurriedly wipe away your tears before you say, “nothing. just thinking about something.” you redirect your attention to your work, just trying to fully shake the way you were just locked into the memory of you dying alone.

“what could you possibly be thinking about to make you look like that?” he asks concernedly, his voice unintentionally rising in frustration. your eyes harden before you turn to him.

“none of your business,” you say firmly. before he can say anything, you're packing up your things. “i'm going to call it a night and go home.”

“wait! talk to me! what's been bothering you so much lately? you've been weird for a while now, so just tell me what's going on with you. i'm here. i'm listening,” he says as gently as he can.

“you're here? you're listening?” you sneer. “i'm so honored that you finally give a fuck about how i'm feeling,” you say sarcastically. he frowns at your words.

“what are you talking about? i'm always here for you,” he says, and he looks so genuine, it makes you even angrier. he sincerely thinks he's telling the truth. so fucking clueless and selfish.

“are you? do you think offering up your ear once in a blue moon makes you an altruistic angel or something?” you know he can't understand that you're throwing his own words back in his face, because he can't even remember saying them, but you don't care. it just feels too damn vindicating to stop yourself. “beomgyu, you're only as available to me as is convenient to you. you'd never put yourself out of your way to comfort me. meanwhile, i've always been ‘here’ and ‘listening’ at your will. i don't need your pity, and i certainly don't want it.” he's stunned into silence. you're absolutely correct, he realizes with a sinking feeling. before he can formulate the words to defend himself, you pack up your things and leave the office.

-

in the following weeks, you realize that mingi is… nice. really, really nice. you’re not used to prospective romantic partners actually seeming to like you, so the feeling is foreign, but not unwelcome. do you have feelings for him outside of appreciation? well, not really. in the back of your mind, you honestly doubt that you’re even capable of having feelings for other people anymore, but you try not to think about it too much. if you seriously search for an answer, you fear you won’t like what you find.

mingi is diligent, though, and you like that about him. now that you’ve made it clear that you’re not involved with beomgyu (and never want to be), he’s pulling out all the stops to charm you. lunches you would previously spend with beomgyu are now spent laughing with mingi. in the same way, downtime at work, which would normally entail catching up with beomgyu and maybe helping with a few of his assignments, are now reserved for chats with mingi. as beomgyu watches you two giggle with your heads together, he wonders what you two could possibly be talking about to ever be that funny. his jaw ticks in irritation at the scene. most notably, though, is the fact that instead of spending your off days with him, you flatout reject him with no explanation. not even with a perfunctory “sorry”. he doesn't have to wonder what you’ve been doing when he hears your coworkers gossiping about how you're always hanging out with mingi. 

beomgyu feels you slipping away, and it brings a sense of panic he’s never known before. but why? he shouldn't care about your romantic endeavors. granted, you haven’t had one during the entire time that you've known him, but it’s only natural that he supports you as your best friend. best friend. does that term even apply to him anymore? he wants to insist that it does, but as the weeks turn into months, your disgust for him becomes clearer and clearer. as he sits across from you and mingi at an after-work dinner with your department, he watches as mingi flirtatiously whispers into your ear. when some of your coworkers tease the two of you about it, he realizes with sickening certainty that he doesn't just want to be your best friend, he wants to be the one who sits next to you. he wants to be the one your coworkers joke about being your boyfriend, and he wants them to be right about it. the time you two have spent apart has shown him that he can't imagine anyone else occupying the space beside you. with an overwhelming sense of clarity, beomgyu realizes that this feeling, so deep and all-consuming, is love.

how could he not love you? regardless of everything you've done for him, you're still so perfect to him, for him. he finds himself appreciating things he previously took for granted. you're beautiful, caring, funny, and smart. he loves your smile, your laugh, your company. he loves the way you look when you're focused, the way you look so innocent when you sleep. you're the first person he wants to tell any time something happens, good or bad. you're the face he wants to wake up to in the morning. you're the only person he trusts to be his partner for the rest of his life. and now, it's clear that he can't just let you go without a fight.

as everyone begins to leave the restaurant one by one, he follows you out into the parking lot, determined to make his feelings known. even if you don't reciprocate them anymore, he's willing to put in the effort to make you love him again. and even if you don't… even if you can't… the desire to simply be next to you supersedes the need to be loved back. 

you don't realize that beomgyu is trailing after you until you get to your car. he calls out your name as you're about to pull the door handle. with a sigh, you turn around.

“what is it?” you ask flatly.

“are you serious about mingi?” he asks firmly, but he already knows that you are not. the way you look at mingi is laughable compared to the way you looked at beomgyu before your sudden change in behavior.

“yep,” you say.

“no, you're not. i can tell,” he argues with conviction.

“oh, and you know me so fucking well, huh?” you snark.

“i do,” he tells you, stepping closer. “i know you, and i know you don't really like him. not really.” damn. he caught you.

“just because i don’t like him now, doesn't mean i can’t like him later,” you insist.

“so what? you’re just going to string him along while hoping you’ll like him someday? are you just going to spend the rest of your life never really caring about anyone? you can't live like that.” his words leave no room for argument, but you’ll be damned before you don't at least try.

“you’re right, i shouldn’t lead him on, but what’s it matter to you? even if it doesn't work out with him, maybe i’ll meet somebody who i can tolerate, and who can tolerate me. i don’t think i need anything more than that.” beomgyu flinches at your bizarre words, but he's already reconciled with the idea that even if you don't want him anymore, he'll still take whatever you want to give him with a smile on his face.

“then what about me? i… i can be that person.” he's so nervous, you can tell that it took all of his courage to say that. but who cares? 

“you can’t,” you argue.

“why not?” 

“that would mean i’d have to be able to tolerate you, and i don’t want to do that.” not anymore.

“why are you acting like this? you’re acting like i’m so fucking horrible, but you used to lo—” he stops himself, but you both know he was going to bring up the love you had for him. “i just want to know what changed.”

“i did. i changed.”

“but why? i mean, i didn’t realize it before, and i know i wasn’t always the best, but i’ve always had feelings for y—” 

“don’t even bother finishing that sentence. you don't like me at all,” you sneer, “you just don’t like seeing me move on.” this makes him pause, and even you don’t have the heart to pretend like you can’t see the hurt in his eyes.

“why can’t you ever just believe me?” he asks quietly. “i’m telling you i love you, but you don’t even care. i’m saying that it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but you’re acting like… like i'm disgusting to you.” he looks like he's about to cry, and it makes you all the more frustrated.

“you don’t understand,” you reply in between clenched teeth. 

“then help me understand. i just want to know why. i just want to know how to fix it. how can i bring you back?” 

“you can't. look, i’m—” and you’re about to apologize, but you just can’t make yourself do it. “you’ll get it really, really soon. you won’t even remember feeling this way, i can promise you that, and you’ll forget all about me.”

“what are you talking about?” he says exasperatedly. beomgyu may not have always been the best of friends towards you, but he can recognize when you’re holding yourself back. “what aren't you telling me?” you purse your lips in response. 

“nothing. there's no point in saying anything, because you wouldn't understand even if you tried. you wouldn't remember—fuck, never mind. just let it go, beomgyu. i have.” but he can't just let it go. this whole fucking thing as an enigma to him. but your words are… odd. what do you mean he wouldn't remember? there's nothing to remember, no matter how much he tries. before he can respond, you get into your car and drive away.

-

“c’mon, you know i don’t see you like that,” beomgyu tells you, forcing an awkward laugh. your expression immediately crumbles, and he begins to shift uncomfortably when he realizes that he must’ve said the wrong thing. your silence is deafening, ringing in his ears, but he still tries to maintain a smile. maybe you’ll lighten up. maybe you’ll go back to the way you were before. maybe you’ll even crack at smile at this ridiculous situation when you realize that he’s right in his assumption that you’re just being emotional. your feelings for him can only go so deep, right? you can go back to being friends after this, just the way he likes it. 

his smile is wiped clean off of his face when your eyes redden and well up in pure, unadulterated hurt. hurt he’s never seen before. he fumbles for the right words, but before he can find them, you break the suffocating silence. 

“you knew how i felt about you this whole fucking time, you were just too much of a coward to be honest with me. if… if you had just told me, i would’ve understood. i-i would've—you didn't have to do it this way.” any delusions beomgyu has that you’ll just let this go are promptly flushed away at your biting tone. jesus christ. you’re right, and he knows it. he flounders for a response, but nothing he can possibly say could really be enough. 

he spends the duration of the argument mainly trying to defend himself. honestly? he doesn't want to remember everything you two say, but he knows he's being nasty in an effort to keep himself from reconciling with the fact that he is, indeed, a coward. he knows he’s never been the greatest friend to you, though he’s always justified it by recalling the times where he did do thoughtful things for you. when you tell him that your resentment isn’t about the fact that he doesn't feel the same way, but because of the fact that he won’t own up to his actions, he feels a stab to his pride. before he can stop himself, he lashes out. 

“seriously? that's exactly what this is about. you're the altruistic angel who does nothing wrong, and i'm just a fucking scumbag who takes advantage of you, right? well, i'm sorry, but it's not my fault that you're acting so goddamn crazy over something so stupid.” he regrets the words as soon as as he says them. every syllable seems so vile as they leave his lips, but he can't stop himself. when he sees you crack at his words, he really wishes he had just kept his fucking mouth shut. 

“i never want to see you again,” you choke out between sobs, and he feels a piercing pain shoot through his body, all the way down to his bones. you don’t mean that. there’s no way you mean that. you care about him. you love him, and even if he doesn't feel quite the same way, he loves you, too. but one look at your resolute face is enough to tell him that you mean it. he wills himself to say something—anything—but you rush out of the door before he can quite muster up the courage to speak.

he stands in a stunned silence for longer than he could ever rightfully justify, but a call from an unfamiliar number eventually pulls him out of his daze. usually, he’d reject it and chalk it up to spam, but something tells him that he should—needs to—answer it. with shaky hands, he accepts the call. 

“h-hello?”

the response mostly sounds rather clinical in nature, really. there’s a perfunctory greeting before the monotone voice detachedly states that there’s been an accident, and he will need to come to the coroner’s office to accurately identify the corpse, which had been declared deceased at the scene. as it turns out, he was your first emergency contact. 

“we are deeply, deeply sorry.” the final words are the only ones that seem to hold any hint of an emotion in them, but beomgyu is too preoccupied to hear it. in a daze, he gets in his car and makes his way to the coroner’s office. hoping, praying, needing for this to be a bad dream. as he comes to find out, it is not. 

-

beomgyu’s head whips up in horror, and he’s panting like mad in between whimpers. tears incessantly pour out of his eyes, wetting his flushed cheeks. was it all a dream? there’s no way; it was too real to be a dream. he was there—he lived it. no, no, no…

“beomgyu?” a voice says, somewhat breaking him out of his panic. his bleary eyes snap up to the doorway to see you standing there, your eyebrows knit with concern and confusion. you two have been working late again, awkwardly alone together once more after his confession. you saw that he had fallen asleep, but he looked so tired, you couldn't bring yourself to wake him up. “are… are you okay?” he's absolutely frozen as you tentatively approach him, pausing a bit uncertainly before approaching him to get a closer look. he grabs you and tugs you towards him, wrapping his arms around you in an almost bruising grip. he nuzzles his wet face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent in between shudders. 

“beomgyu, are you sick? did you have a bad dream?” you ask. his heart would flutter at your concern, concern you haven’t shown him for so long, in any other context; but as it is, he’s far too distraught to appreciate it. 

“i… i remember,” he croaks, trying to get even closer to you, as if doing so is the only way to keep you safe. you’d like to break out of his embrace, but he’s so distraught while you’re so off-guard, you don’t do it just yet. 

“remember what? something about the project? we can—” 

“no. i’m—i remember… i remember losing you.” he can’t quite bring himself to be any clearer, but you seem to understand him, anyway. you stiffen in his arms before prying him off of you. he fumbles for you, just to touch you again, but you push him away. you exert very little force, but it’s firm and unrelenting. 

“oh,” you reply, looking a little lost, but mostly just cold. he's basically wailing now, but he tries his best to answer.

“i’m so, so fucking sorry. i didn’t—” 

“what, you didn’t mean to? you’re sorry? maybe so, but  does it matter?” you cut in, almost snarling. now that he remembers, all of the feelings, all of the resentment you’ve kept bottled up come tumbling out of your mouth. “what's the point in telling me this now, after everything? you’re not sorry, beomgyu. you only care because i’m—because i was gone. i don’t want to hear about your regrets; they’re worthless to me.” he recoils as if you just punched him. his eyes turn even redder than they were before, too, and he’s silent at your words. 

he wants to tell you that you’re wrong, because he really is sorry, but can he truthfully say that he’d realize his feelings if you didn’t… go? he can’t. for all he knows, he’d have rejected you forever. he's so ashamed, he'd rather die than feel this way. even so, he wants to attempt to explain himself; you deserve that much. before he can reply, however, you rise and stalk towards the doorway. it’s reminiscent of the way you left when everything happened, and he desperately tries to follow you, grabbing your arm before you can make it out the door. 

“don’t touch me. don’t you ever touch me,” you seethe, ripping yourself out of his grip as if the mere feeling of his hands on you burns through your skin, and he staggers backwards. he keeps his arm somewhat outstretched, though. just in case you change your mind.

“don’t leave like this. i-i don’t want you to get hurt.” not again.

“what’s it matter to you?” you sneer. “you didn’t care before, so i won’t waste my life on you ever again.” his eyes widen in terror, and tears fall even more profusely than they already were. you begin to leave, but to your regret—and to his anguish, the angriest part of you forces you to turn around and face him again.

“do you want to know what my last thought was?” you ask, face mostly blank besides the slight traces of disdain in your eyes, and he’s too terrified to move or even speak at all. he knows whatever you say will be something that breaks him, so he tries to shrink himself to be as small as possible; subconsciously praying that doing so will make him disappear in the face of your anger. still, your eyes remain locked on his face—narrowing in on him regardless of his efforts. “it was of you, actually. i was wishing i’d never met you.” he visibly flinches as he gasps sharply, feeling like you just knocked the air out of his lungs. he feels like he can’t breathe. it would have felt better if you had just ripped his heart out of his chest, because as it is, it’s aching so badly, he wishes you had. 

his lips tremble, and he looks like he’s just heard the worst news of his life. and he has. you hate him that much? you regret all of the time you had together to the point of wishing it had never happened? he’s never, ever regretted a moment he’s spent with you, but he guesses your company has always been better than his. how could it not be? you’ve always given him more than he could ever reasonably ask for, and even if you hadn’t, you’re still a much better person than he is. better to the extent of making him realize just how unworthy he is.

he lets you leave, but his anxiety makes him frantically pace about the room. he tugs at his hair, willing himself to calm down, but he just can’t. after a few minutes, he texts you and asks if you made it home. to his relief, it says that you’ve read the message, so he knows you must be okay. still, you don’t respond. 

-

the deal is tied up exceptionally smoothly; you’ve done it before, after all, so that comes as no surprise. on the night of the celebratory dinner, you take mingi as your date. you’ve already told him that you don’t see things panning out, but he actually takes it really well. maybe telling him that you’re planning on moving helped smooth things over. still, he insists that you accompany him to the dinner, just as friends. you oblige. 

it’s mostly the same as you remember. you spend the night mixing with your coworkers for the last time, and it’s bittersweet. they don’t know that this will be the last time you see them, as your two weeks before resignation have already passed in secret, and you’ll spend the next few weeks just packing and finding a new place to stay far, far away from here. it’s freeing, in a way. 

at some point, your manager announces that he’ll be making a toast, and the room quiets as everyone’s attention is placed on him. 

“firstly, i’d like to celebrate the success of this collaboration. everyone has worked hard to make everything come to fruition. secondly, i’d like to recognize two of the people who made this possible.” he specially thanks you and beomgyu, which is normal, but the unexpected happens when he voices his regret that you’ll be resigning. 

your coworkers look at you in shock, but one person in particular is especially stunned. beomgyu. your manager probably thanks employees of the other company, too, but he doesn’t hear it. other voices, other people, are drowned out by the buzzing in his ears. you’re leaving, and it's all because of him. 

he tries to drown his feelings in alcohol, stomach burning with every round, but the regret never seems to numb. the room seems to be spinning, and he looks visibly ill. eventually, a familiar figure takes a seat next to him. ah. his previous fiancée.

“hey,” she says, somewhat coyly. he doesn't respond. “wow, are you okay? you look a little green. how are you getting home?” again, he doesn't respond. she actually appears to be embarrassed, but she tries one more time. 

“i actually—i came over here because you're really… cute. if you don't have a way home, i can take you. i won't try anything on you, but i can't just let you go home alone. and maybe, you know, when you're sober, we can—”

“beat it,” he snaps. he knows it’s not her fault, and that she hasn’t done anything, but he still can’t help his resentment, even when it should all be directed towards himself. but his recognition of his unfairness isn’t enough for him to care. she blinks in surprise and embarrassment, rising from her seat in defeat. 

beomgyu continues to drink until he’s on the verge of passing out, putting his face in his hands. he draws attention from everyone, but he doesn’t have the mind to care. people try to approach him, but he flatly rejects everyone who attempts to offer their help in order to ensure that he gets home safely. 

“should you… should you take him home?” mingi asks. it’s obvious who he’s referring to.

“it’s not my problem,” you reply, a bit more curtly than you intended. 

“you’re right, it’s not. but you’re the only one he’ll listen to, and i think you know that.” mingi argues. you sigh. he’s right. as much as you want to blame beomgyu for everything, you’ve come to realize that after the conversation—more like confrontation—you two had, you’re not angry anymore. it was hard to see in the moment, but you’ve begun to question your merciless stance towards him. isn’t it partially your fault that things turned out the way they did? he didn't make you check your phone that day, so isn’t it unfair to completely blame him for everything? 

with this in mind, you approach him. he initially bats you away, assuming you’re just another one of his coworkers, but your voice pulls him out of his drunken stupor.

“c’mon. i’ll take you home.” his head whips up in surprise, and he almost thinks you’re joking, but your face is completely serious.

“o-okay,” he replies, sounding extremely docile. you don’t respond, but you begin to walk ahead of him as you head to the exit. he’s having a hard time even following you as he clumsily staggers through the crowd, following you like a lost puppy. hesitantly, he reaches out for your hand, though the fear of you telling him not to touch you remains. you turn back to see his fingers hesitantly outstretched to your hand, and with a look of resignation, you let him grab it as you lead him out.

the ride to his home is a silent one. beomgyu rests his head upon the cold window as he stares at the scenery outside. he doesn’t really take anything in, far too dazed to appreciate the view, but he looks, anyway. 

when you enter his apartment, begrudgingly letting him lean on you for support, you take him to his bedroom. he plops down onto his bed in an unnaturally clumsy manner. 

“th-thanks for taking me home,” he says meekly. 

“mm,” you reply, no inflection of emotion in your tone, getting ready to leave and head to your apartment. 

“w-wait! can you… can you stay here tonight?” you look at him doubtfully, but before you can resolutely deny him, he begins to retch. with widened eyes, you pull him up and drag him to his bathroom. he hunches over the toilet and lets everything go. he’s trembling after he’s finished, and you clean him up as best as you can. he melts into your touch as you gently wipe his face. you’re not soothing him with your words like you would’ve a few months ago, but your care, no matter how unwilling you seem to give it, is something he revels in. he brushes his teeth, but he keeps his eyes on your pensive reflection in the mirror. after he's finished, you speak.

“i’ll stay,” you tell him. 

“w-what?” he questions, eyes watery.

“i’ll stay for tonight. i’ll take the couch. i just don’t want to leave you when you’re feeling like this. it’s dangerous.” 

“n-no! you can stay in the guest room.” 

“i need to be able to hear you if something happens,” you argue. 

“th-then i’ll sleep on the couch. i don’t want you to—” 

“beomgyu, you need to properly rest. if you don’t sleep in your room, i’ll leave.” his face crumbles before he acquiesces with a strained nod.

“good,” you say with a ghost of a smile at his blind obedience, but he's too drunk to notice it. if he had, he would’ve clung to it like a man drowning. 

“thank you,” he solemnly whispers.  

“goodnight, beomgyu.”

“goodnight,” he says, and you rifle through his drawer for some clothes before heading to his living room and changing. you pull out spare blankets from his linen closet before sliding onto his couch.

you sleep rather peacefully, but beomgyu has no such luck. instead, he's pulled into a dream—one he comes to realize is a memory.

-

when beomgyu arrives at the coroner’s office, there is a moment, albeit brief, that he sickly hopes that it’s literally anyone else in the world, but when he sees you—body mangled nearly beyond recognition—he realizes that there is no such mercy. apparently, you didn't even die on impact, but by the time somebody reached you, you were already gone. he doesn't want to imagine how you must've felt, being alone in your last moments, but he feels like he should. against the warnings of the coroner and surrounding police officers, he demands for your face to be uncovered. he can surely identify you based on frame and clothing alone, but for reasons he doesn’t dare to dwell on, he feels like he just has to see. he just has to be sure. he just has to know what he did to you. 

and he does come to know it. to his eternal regret, he begins to know it at that moment, and consequently, every moment after. as it turns out, they suspect that you were looking at your phone before you swerved off of the road. he doesn’t know how, but he’s instinctively sure that it’s because you were waiting on his call. one  resounding thought thrums incessantly in his head: it’s all his fault, all his fault, all his fault.

your face is bloody, barely even showing any of the underlying skin, and marred from shattered glass. he swallows thickly as he reaches out to touch you, running his hands over the gashes on your face as softly as he can as to avoid hurting you, and he can’t help but wonder if it’s at all possible for him to tend to your wounds. he would go over single one, softly patching you up back to normal; but you're already cold to the touch, and though you definitely can’t feel anything, his mind imagines how much it must hurt to have him caress the gaping wounds on your face. he snatches back his hand, as if his touch is poison to you. 

“s-sorry, i’m really sorry!” he panickedly exclaims. “i-i won’t—i didn’t mean to hurt you.” he’s unsure if he means that in the current physical or the previous emotional sense, but does that really matter? he already has. besides, you can’t feel anything anymore. all of your muscles are relaxed, leaving you devoid of any expression as your eyes hollowly stare up at the ceiling. for a moment, he wishes the hurt he saw in them a mere hour ago was still there. anything would be better than the current blankness of your features. 

the blankness remains, however, even after all of the makeup and superficial repairs done to make you look like you’re only peacefully asleep. to him, you just look dead, no matter how badly he wishes the former were the case. as much as he wants to speak at your funeral, he does not. he doesn't deserve the dignity to speak, much less to properly mourn you. not after what he said to you. not when everything that's happened is all his fault.

the breakup with his girlfriend—or fiancée—is more bothersome than he can handle. in between her pleas and attempts to reason, all he can do is coolly recite the constant refrain: “i’m sorry, i just don’t want to be with you.” she tells him he’s just grieving, that he’ll get over it with time, and she wants to support him while he does it; but he montonously repeats his words as if they're the only ones he knows. in her anger and desperation, she tells him he’s making a mistake, and that he’s just feeling guilty because of your unrequited love, which ultimately proves itself to be the categorically worst thing to say. he finally explodes, telling her that she was the mistake, that he doesn't know what he ever saw in her that even closely compares to you, and he'd take every moment with her back if he could. she's the biggest regret of his life, which previously felt like it had only just begun, but now feels like it stretches far beyond what he can tolerate. 

in the days, weeks, months that follow, he struggles to understand how something so unjust could occur. it doesn't make sense. really, it just doesn't make sense. eventually, even his initially patient friends grow weary of his neurotic harping upon how unfair it is, how sudden and wrong it all is. he should be punished. you shouldn’t have had to be the one to suffer, but you were. what kind of justice is that? what kind of universe allows something so cruel to happen right under its nose?

when everyone finally tells him that it’s time to move on and let go, he resorts to speaking to the only person who can’t argue back. you. he visits you every day, bringing you gifts on christmas and your birthday, and even just when he sees something he think you'd like. in a way, they’re almost like sacrifices to you to atone for what he did. his contrition. he spends many of his visits by raving like a man gone mad at a stone slab. he likes to think that you’re agreeing with him, that you see the unfairness for what it is. he’s realized that he loves you, has always loved you, but he was too self-absorbed to notice. as hypocritical as it is, he’s only noticed after you… left, and he’s more disgusted by himself than he ever thought possible. still, he thinks you deserve to know. you deserve for him to be brave and tell the truth, but who cares? what’s the use of only recognizing it after everything he’s done? 

he apologizes to you while crying about how much he misses you. he tries to tell you about other things, too. about the things he thinks you would’ve liked to hear. about current events he decides you’d find funny or interesting, about life updates on your friends that you’d want to know, about how a new album has been released by an artist you really liked, and that he can't quite bring himself to listen to it yet. he’ll definitely listen, though, someday. he’ll give you his opinions after describing each track in great detail, once he’s able to bear it, that is. you always look(ed) forward to their releases, so it’s the least he can do to repay his debt to you. 

but if you owe someone a debt as deep as their life, how can you repay that debt when they’re no longer here to collect it? if he really thinks about it, there are a lot of things he owes you. he owes you the years you spent caring about him when he couldn’t be bothered to reciprocate a fraction of the same courtesy. he owes you every thoughtful action, every encouraging word you wasted on him. he owes you the time you dedicated to make sure he always felt seen, felt understood, felt loved. yes, he owes you a lot of things—too many to properly account for, actually. and now, he even owes you your life. his debt is so heavy, he crumbles under it every day, squirming pathetically beneath the crushing weight of it all like an insect. the worst part is: he owes you more than you ever asked him for. all you wanted in return was honesty, but it appears that even that was too much to ask from him.

he wishes you were here to punish him, to scorn him for being such a fucking bastard. yell at him, hit him, kill him. anything would be fine—he’d tolerate it all—just as long as you were still here. he’d be perfectly content with your hatred, he’d revel in it, even; but he supposes that he doesn’t even deserve that much. as it is, your silence is the most punishment he can receive, but that doesn't feel like it's even close to enough. he finds himself praying for mercy, for some bizarre, cosmic event to put him out of his misery once and for all. he indulges in the idea that if he plays his cards right, if he begs and pleads enough, he’ll find you again. such a notion is initially enough to placate him, but it is to his horror when he realizes that he’s more afraid of that than anything else. what if he finds you, and you tell him, “i never want to see you again,” just like before? such a terrifying outcome is enough to keep him from snuffing out his own light with his own two hands for good. he’d rather live as if he were dead than hear those words again.

so he does. he lives like that for years, decades, until death mercifully takes him. he lives quietly and utterly alone. no wife, no children, and hardly any friends. if your life was robbed from you by his actions, then it’s only right that he lives as if his own were robbed from him, too. it’s the least he can do to atone for what he’s done. what keeps him up at night, though, is the possibility that it’s just not enough. if you do meet him again, what will you say? will you still tell him that you don't want to see him? that the lifetime he spent regretting everything he's ever done pales in comparison to the price you paid for caring about him? as the darkness overcomes him, however, he realizes that you deigning to say anything at all to him is better than your unbearable silence. his final thought before he's swallowed whole is: please, just let me see you one more time.

-

beomgyu awakens in a cold sweat, panting heavily as he struggles to understand where he is. is he still alive? that can’t be right—he clearly felt himself slipping away. but what if he can’t die? what if that’s his punishment? the thought alone is enough to elicit a guttural, “no, no, no!” out of him as he realizes that his nightmare is not yet over, and may very well never be. tears pour down his face as he wails like a child.

“beomgyu?” you say as you walk through the doorway, looking somewhat sleepy and disheveled in clothes he subconsciously registers as his own. when he looks at you, he's relieved, but the regret he feels is what overwhelms him.

“oh, god. i'm—it's all my fault.”

“what?” you ask, still a bit disoriented from just waking up, seeing as how it's still the middle of the night.

“it's all my fault. it's all my fucking fault. i did that to you.” suddenly, you realize what he’s saying, and your heart clenches at his words.

“beomgyu, no. i was distracted. i didn’t see—”

“you were distracted because of me. you thought i was calling you, i just know it. you were there because of me. because i’m a fucking coward who couldn't just tell you the truth.” you don’t know what to say. did he really blame himself for everything? even after all of this time? before you can answer, he speaks again.

“i saw—you just looked so small. i've never—i didn't even think anyone could bleed that much. you were so cold, a-and your face was—” 

“hey, hey, hey, stop it,” you say firmly, but gently, “you're not—” 

“they said you died at the scene, all… all alone. and i know i was the one who did that. if i had just listened to you, if i had just been honest with you, you would've been alright. but i called you crazy. i said you were being stupid. w-why did i say that? what did i do it for?” 

“look at me,” you say firmly, which makes his unfocused eyes zero in on you. “listen, listen to me. it's not your fault, okay? i used to feel like it was, but now i understand that you were scared. i know you couldn't control how you felt about her, and you were right about you not owing me your feelings. you could've been honest, but that doesn't mean you killed me.” 

“no, i did it. i did it. i did that to you. if i had just—”

“gyu,” you sigh, and his heart can’t help but stutter at the nickname you haven’t called him in months. “i’m telling you it’s not your fault. i used to blame it all on you, and i was wrong for doing that. but you get it now, right? you're supposed to be with her. you love her.”

“no, no, no! i don't. i really don't,” he desperately exclaims, trying to convince you in the only way he knows how.

“maybe not yet,” you concede, “but you will. once you get to know her, you'll want to spend the rest of your life with her. that's how it's supposed to be, just like before.”

“there is no before,” he cuts in pleadingly. “i lived and died alone, just like i deserved. i just—i love you so much, i couldn't stand to let you go.” you frown at his words—they make you actually feel guilty. even so, you guess that it's time to let the purgatory you find yourselves in go. besides, maybe he needs an apology to finally put it all to rest. 

“i'm sorry that—” his heart drops to his stomach. please don’t say it. he’s begging you not to say it. not to someone as unworthy and filthy as him.

“don't. please, please, don't apologize to m—”

“—i made you feel that way. even when i hated you, i never wanted you to live like that; but you can't mistake guilt for… something else. maybe this is another chance to get it right. you can be with her guilt-free, and i can live without regrets.”

“no, i-i didn’t break up with her because of guilt! i did it because i realized that if it’s not you, i don’t want it to be anyone else. it can’t be anyone else.” 

“you don’t know that,” you sigh. “you think you feel that way, but you’re just sad that things ended how they did.” 

“you’re wrong!” he exclaims. “i didn’t realize it—i was too stupid to realize it. and i know it’s disgusting of me, but i only… i only understood it after i lost you. i-i’m sorry i didn’t realize it before, but please don’t tell me how i feel. i spent every day wishing i would just fucking die so i could see you again. i just couldn’t stand living without you. that’s not normal—that’s not how friends feel, no matter how guilty they are. i just wanted to die.” you purse your lips at his words as you feel dread pooling in your stomach. at least when you died, you didn’t suffer for long, but he suffered for the rest of his life. in the same way, you didn’t want him to hurt himself, no matter how angry you were. 

beomgyu has begun to hyperventilate, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you—too afraid that you’ll disappear if he does. he’s probably having a panic attack as tears stream down his face, and he ruthlessly tugs at his hair in pure distress. all he can do is repeat that it's all his fault and how sorry he is, and any lingering resentment you may feel dissipates like smoke at his absolutely shattered state. it seems like he really can't live without you, so are you sure you can abandon him like this? you don't think so. although it may not be right, you still think that it's worth a shot. you don't think he has the capacity to hurt you ever again, and you realize that even after everything, you don't think you can love somebody the way that you love him. so, you're willing to let him try again.

“hey, hey. stop it,” you coax, seating yourself on his bed. but he can’t stop it, he physically can’t. he’s whimpering now, like a wild beast with a mortal wound. you don’t hesitate to take him into your arms, holding him tightly as you shush him. “shh, it’s okay, i’m here. don’t cry. i’m here, and i won’t leave again. i promise. just breathe, in… then out. that’s it, just like that. good job.” 

eventually, his breath begins to even out, though his body is still racked with shudders. you’re here. you’re okay. you promised that you won’t leave him, and you always keep your word when it comes to him. he finally feels like he can breathe, and even though he’s in so much pain, he still wishes this moment will never end. he wishes he could stay in your arms forever, never letting you leave his side. always staying where he can reach you.

“better?” you ask, pulling away to get a good look at him, but he shakily grips your sleeve in sheer desperation. he just has to be touching you, somehow. he forces himself to nod.

“good,” you say, eyes soft and lips slightly upturned in relief. he almost loses it again at the sight of your smile, no matter how small. he never thought he’d see it directed towards him again in this life or the next. “do you want to start over?” 

“s-start over?” he asks. he doesn't dare to let himself hope that you mean what he thinks you mean. 

“start over,” you nod. “we can try again, okay?” 

“oh, p-please,” he begs. he’s so pathetic. he doesn’t deserve your mercy, but he supposes he’s too selfish to reject it. you look at him for a long, long time with soft eyes. you’re not angry anymore—he’s suffered more than enough, and you finally believe that he loves you just as much as you love him, and maybe even a little more than that.

“you promise you won't hurt me again?”

“i promise. i swear to god—” 

without a second thought, you gently cup his face in your hands, which makes his words catch in his throat. his eyes widen as you lean in while pulling him towards you. when your lips meet, he’s electrified to his bones. he melts into the kiss, whimpering slightly at the feeling of your lips against his. when you break apart, you rest his forehead on his own, closing your eyes as he stares at you before he does the same. he clutches the hand you have on his face and grazes his thumb over it as he lets out a contented sigh. nobody has ever made him feel this way before, and if he could go back to the first day he met you, he’d tie you to him immediately. 

“thank you, thank you so much,” he whispers. with a smile, you press your lips against his again. he falls into the feeling just as easily as the first time, and you push him down before continuing to go even deeper. before completely giving in. 

you spend the night loving and being loved in a way that you never thought you could. you feel cherished to a degree you previously considered impossible. beomgyu reveres you as if you’re his god, and he shows you as much with how loving and gentle he is. when you’re finished, panting heavily against each other, he holds his hand against your cheek as he stares at you in awe.

“i missed you so much. i love you so much. i promise that nobody will ever love you as much as i do. i promise that nobody will ever treat you as well as i will. just don’t leave me, okay?” and when the time comes, even if you do leave first, he’ll be sure to follow you. he won't let you be alone ever again. but he definitely can’t tell you that, or else you’d yell at him for not caring about his life enough.

“okay,” you tell him with a sleepy smile, and he beams before kissing your forehead and letting you drift off. he stares at your peaceful face, resolving to always give you what you want, no matter what it costs him. even if it kills him, he'll gladly do whatever it takes to ensure that you're happier with him than you could ever be with anyone else. he'll prove to you how much he loves you, and he'll pay back the debt he owes you a million times over. you'll see. he’ll marry you, start a new life with you, and chain himself to you forever; which may sound selfish, but he’ll make up for his willfulness by being everything you could ever want and need. and finally, before he joins you to sleep, he thanks the universe for having mercy on him—for letting him see you again.

notes pt. 2: ... so? LMAOOOOO i hope this was worth the wait bc this work was so hard for me to get through it was making me so sad to write it. anyway, love yew. please don't be mean to me tho like if u don't like it just close your eyes n scroll 🙏

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[squidwriting]

#1: Welcome To The Team

✁ — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

⇥ Synopsis After a terrible accident, you had lost your memory. After years of struggling with your identity, a lucky coincidence brought everything back - only to find your life in shambles, and your husband missing.

⇥ Pairing Hwang In-ho x fem!reader

⇥ Warnings Spoilers for Season 1 & 2, angst, violence, graphic descriptions of injuries & death

⇥ A/N: Changed In-ho's backstory (obviously lul) so no spoilers there. :3 Hope you enjoy! 💕

⇥ Masterlist | [#2]

✁ — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

"Come again..?"

Your voice was barely above a whisper. Jun-ho's story was as grotesque as it was unbelievable. There was no proof, no way to know if he was actually telling the truth. On the other hand, Jun-ho has never lied to you. He had been there ever since you woke up from your coma.

"What is it your not telling me?" you asked quietly, searching his face with your eyes. You had known him ever since he was a little boy. You knew when he was lying - or hiding something.

"Hyung didn't just participate in the games. He...," Jun-ho swallowed thickly, averting his gaze, "...became a part of it. He's the leader now."

The conversation replayed in your mind as you watched Player 456 talk with the man in question: Player 001, Hwang In-ho - your husband of almost 20 years.

Jun-ho had obviously opposed your idea of joining the games. But you were too stubborn to listen to him, too stubborn for your own good. That's what In-ho always said anyway. Maybe he was right. Still, you lost almost ten years of your life to amnesia. If there was even the slightest chance for a way back to how things were... you would take it.

Ryuk Su-Yun. That was the name you chose for the registration. The name you had chosen after you left the hospital to start over, away from everything and everyone you knew - well, except for Jun-ho. You attempted to cut ties with him several times, too ashamed to let him in, when you absolutely refused to see your husband. But Jun-ho was persistent - even more so than you were.

You pushed the rice around in the tin lazily, thinking about your current situation. Thanks to Player 456, you survived the first game without a scratch. It would probably be wise to stick close to him going forward. Then again, that meant you had to face In-ho sooner or later.

A loud commotion ripped you out of your train of thoughts. Looking up, you found In-ho confronting two players who were ganging up on a third one. In a matter of seconds, the two bullies were silenced and groaning in pain, rolling on the floor dramatically. You bit your lip, trying not to chuckle. In-ho had always been a savage when dealing with bullies. The room erupted in applause, with him being the center of attention. You looked up slowly and found him staring directly at you. His face was like a mask, showing no emotion, betraying no thought of his. Swallowing thickly, you forced yourself to smile at him quickly, before immediately turning your attention back to your lunch.

Sleep did not come easy to you that night. In-ho had not approached you after the incident - and you thought about what to do when you two would eventually come face to face.

Funnily enough, you never thought about that possibility when you chased down the recruiter to enter this hell. Judging by Jun-ho's report, In-ho was working behind the scenes, observing these so-called "games". Why was he a participant? Did he recognize your name after all? Or was it because of Player 456 who claimed to be there for the second time?

In-ho... You sighed quietly and turned onto your side. It was strange to suddenly remember your life with him before you lost your memory. That day you regained it was like a fever dream, all the emotions and images from years ago flooding your mind - as if they were never gone in the first place. It was scary, knowing that you lost nearly 10 years of your life. How would your life be now, had not been run over by a truck? Certainly, you would not find yourself in a room with 400 other people literally gambling for your life. "Shit," you whispered angrily, rolling onto your back again, your eyes glued to the ceiling. What had you gotten yourself into? 

The light was almost blinding when the beginning of a new day was announced. Music sounded from the speakers, a melody far too happy and cheerful for a grim place like this. You climbed down from the bed carefully, stretching your limbs a bit. 

"You are... a strange one," a voice behind you said. "Pardon me?" You turned around, tilting your head slightly. The woman grinned, her eyes widening slightly. "Your aura is different from everybody else's. You're not here for the money, are you?" 

Before you could answer, another voice sounded through the speakers, telling all players that the second game was about to begin. As quickly as the woman appeared, she was gone again, leaving you behind confused and slightly startled. 

Your eyes scanned your surroundings, making out a few already familiar faces - including Gi-hun and In-ho. You bit your lip, contemplating your next move. It would be unwise to approach him directly. If Jun-ho's report was accurate, In-ho was nothing like the man you used to know anymore. What if he felt threatened by your presence? What if he snapped? 

Using a fake name was only a small part of your act. You had to be the woman whose name you were carrying. It was easy when you were still without memories. Now, it was more than complicated. What if you messed up? In-ho was smart, a former high ranking member of the Police. It would be easy for him to debunk your charade if he wanted to. Damn it, why did he have to pose as one of the players anyway? It complicated things to an impossible extent. 

"Hey 371! Come on, let's get going," you heard as you were pushed down the stairs gently. Looking behind you, you saw Player 388 smiling brightly at you. "Right," you nodded, letting him lead you down and outside to follow the guards to the next room. 

"A playground?" you whispered as you took in the scenery around you. "It's as nostalgic as it is morbid." 

Your mumbles remained unheard between the voices of the other ones - and Player 100 who apparently only possessed the ability to scream. The recipient of his ranting was Player 456 again. "That poor guy," you chuckled dryly, shaking your head a bit. 

"Players, welcome to the second game. We will begin shortly." Everytime you heard that voice through the speakers, your insides clenched painfully, for it never brought any joy or good news. "This game will be played in teams. Please take the next ten minutes to divide into groups of five."

You cursed quietly. Teams? There was no such thing in this place. Nobody really knew each other, nobody could be trusted; even more so since you still did not know which game you would play this time. How would you ever find good, reliable team mates? What if your team mates let you down and you would all die? What if-

"Hello again," the familiar voice from before spoke to you once more. 388. 

"Hi," you answered with a small smile. "Looking for a team to join?" 

"Uh, no, actually," he stuttered, rubbing his hands nervously, "we have a team, but we need one more member. If you're interested," he lowered his voice slightly, "we have two Marines and the guy who already won the games," he grinned. 

"And...? Who else?" 

"Oh," he answered quickly, "the guy who beat up those other two yesterday."

In-ho. 

Two marines, a former winner, and a former Policeman. That was probably the best team you could find in this place. Without hesitation, you took 388's outstretched hand and followed him to your new team.

The three men looked at you as 388 approached with you in tow. "This is... 371," 388 said proudly, "a... uhm..." "Taekwondo Instructor," you continued the introduction for him.

"Remind me not to mess with you then," the voice that was still terribly familiar to you said. You would recognize his voice anytime. Chuckling lightly, you bit your lip and willed yourself to look up at him again. He outstretched his hand to you slowly as he spoke up once more.

"Welcome to the team, 371." 

[futureperfectchanges]

The Pride Pin

"Have you got a little rainbow flag? Or maybe a rainbow handkerchief?" Edward asked the man behind the counter. He was on his way to a gay wedding and had seen a large pride flag in the window of this store which had given him an idea. "Basically something that I could put into my breast pocket for a wedding i'm going to." Before quickly adding: "To show my support to the grooms that is."

"Ah, how nice, although I'm afraid I only have large flags at the moment, but I do have a few pins left over from Pride, would one of those work for you?" replied the shopkeeper as he pointed to a box a little further down the counter.

"Looks perfect" Edward said as he picked up one of the pins.

"Just to check - you did say you wanted it to show you're an ally of the gay community didn't you? It's just that some of the items in this store can be a little, well, unpredictable, so just wanted to be clear about things before you try it on."

"Of course" Edward lied.

In truth Edward hadn't wanted to go to this wedding at all. He worked with one of the guys getting married, John. They had joined a law firm at the same time so had met during their induction and had been good friends for a while - at least until John had come out as gay and started dating guys. Edward was glad that John was happy, but had since mostly avoided hanging out together unless it was a work event. He had gone to one dinner soon after John's engagement to his boyfriend, Miguel, but had spent the whole meal feeling embarrassed. Everyone else at the table had been so obviously gay and they had made no attempt to talk quietly, so he was sure all the surrounding tables had been judging him all evening.

When Edward had received the invite to the wedding he had initially planned to decline it. What had changed his mind was the fact that a lot of John's straight female friends were going to be there, and with most of the other guys at the wedding being gay, it was almost guaranteed that he would hook up with one of the girls. He hoped that the pride pin was going to be the 'icing on the cake' with regards to getting attention from the girls. How could they turn down a guy who was so supportive of his friend? With any luck he would be back at home with a lady before the happy couple had even cut the cake.

"Here, let me put it on for you" the shopkeeper offered.

Edward had intended on keeping the pin out of sight until he had entered the wedding, but he didn't want to offend the shopkeeper so let him reach over and place the pin on his lapel - he'd just take if off as soon as he left the store.

Edward looked at the mirror behind the counter and his first thought was to worry that the pin might make the girls at the wedding think he was gay too. He started to wonder if it was a bad idea, and as if to confirm that he felt the pin prick his chest. Soon after he felt another prick and he wondered if the shopkeeper had failed to cover the back of the pin properly. When he started to feel more and more pricks on his chest, and not just where the pin was, he began to worry that something was wrong.

Edward felt like he was being stabbed with needles all across his chest and he felt like he had no choice but to pull his jacket off. He didn't know what was going on, but he needed to stop whatever was causing the pain.

Edward was confused. He had taken off his jacket and the pricking sensations had stopped, but when he looked down at his chest he didn't understand what he was looking at as it. What he first saw on his chest was a mix of colors that hadn't previously been there. It was as though someone had covered his chest in paint.

"¿Cómo?" Edward said aloud whilst continuing to stare at his chest. He had never had a tattoo so didn't understand what he was looking at. As he reached up to rub off whatever was on his chest it quickly dawned on him that the colors were not going to come off easily.

"What is this? Is this a tattoo? How do I get this off?" Edward asked in increasingly frantic tones, all with a slight Spanish accent. He had been so fixed on the new tattoos that he hadn't noticed that the rest of his body had taken on a subtle tan.

The shopkeeper didn't reply, he knew that if an item from his shop was not used as intended it could cause a little confusion for the customer, so he just waited to see what would happen.

"What is going on? And what's wrong with my voice?" Edward asked as he started to get angry. "I'm a dancer at Infernos nightclub and if you want to see me shake my ass... wait... no I meant to say i'm a dancer, no a dancer..." Edward had wanted to tell the shopkeeper that he was a lawyer at a powerful law firm and would kick his ass if he didn't fix what was going on but he didn't seem able to get the right words out.

Whilst Edward's mind tried to deal with what was going on, he started to wonder what sort of options he had to get rid of the tattoo, or what he could do just to cover it up. It was then that he looked back at the mirror and realised how much else had changed across his body. His heart sank as he knew there was no way he could cover everything up.

Edward sighed as he thought again about what to do with the tattoos, but was then confused. Why was he thinking of covering them up? He loved showing them off. He had spent so much of his life hiding who he was, but now there was no one who was going to stop him from being his true self. He was Eduardo - a proud Latino twink.

Eduardo felt the jacket he was holding and then remembered that he had come in to buy a new shirt. "Hey, do you have any dress shirts?" he smiled as he asked the storekeeper. "My best friend is marrying some fancy lawyer today and I want to look good for the occasion!"

[algerian-lady]

^^^ i second this all. To add up to this:

1. The story with Sansal goes deep, this guy used to work in the Algerian government in Boutflika's era (the same he'd criticize as corrupt), he was a cadre working in trade yet he had 'special relations' with France and the French consulate (we know how some of them were involved in corruption now), many consider that he was a spy to the French government in the corruption era because of his links that extended to the head of state (literally tagging along Macron in his official visits). Sansal was kicked off his position for never being present in it, while confronted by the minister back then he was disrespectful (further showed his involvement with corruption) so he ended his work, that former minister had openly exposed his lies ever since.

Ever since he was fired, he was considered some symbol of freedom of speech (as if he was fired for his writings), given the French citizenship and started his full NeoHarka era where he says everything the French government wants him to say, from Islamophobia, to zionism agenda, to shitting on Algeria, its history and government, saying some unacceptable stuff.

Like you said, he went to visit the zionists, taking pictures in hait al buraq, but what's worse is that he used that to say "hey I did that with the Algerian citizenship, it's completely normal and now I'm allowed on Algerian soils ," while we all know this is completely illegal. But even with everything he said, he was allowed to go to Algeria many times, despite Algerians complaining about it and trying to make a case against him. What was the reason that finally pushed us to arrest him is his latest declaration that the western half of Algeria belongs to Morocco, this is completely illegal in the Algerian law, to question the territorial integrity of Algeria, for some colonialism agenda. (reminder that this guy said the Chouhada were dumb to fight France).

The thing is, the defiance of showing your face after this clear offense to the law was obviously deliberate, Algeria is again a gherbal to hide the disastrous state of France today, as soon as he was arrested and even though it was declared on national news many times "Algeria arrested sensal", was turned to "Sansal disappeared," as if we're a jungle not a sovereign state lol, and all exterme right figures started shitting their pants (ofc a NeoHarka, Islamophobic anti-Algerian spy like that was their ally and still needed, especially now to shit more on Algeria.)

2. The French president said "it is harming Algeria image to keep a sick old man without medical care under lock," when wrong, he is often seeing doctors, and false he wasn't arrested for being an old man, but for doing illegal shit. And I didn't know there was an age for prison in France? Last time I checked, France never batted an eyelash when many countries had been detaining older ppl, including themselves. Is is because he's got French citizenship? Well, before that, he's Algerian and is judged as such.

3. like you said France has no business interfering with our justice, when the French police killed Nahel (who has Algerian origins) and Algeria merely asked where the investigation reached, all of France protested to not interfere in their justice system (that is completely incompetent). This is also the France that illegally financed the FIS, if you go back to their media archives, they used all their means to protect them too (despite being Islamophobic) and are now trying to finance other extremist groups, they also shelter the MAK movement which is considered terrorist here, France whom also illegally jail Palestine supporters. And so on (also obviously France the old colonizer, today neocoloniser)

So yep obviously not a country that can give moral lessons to anyone, least of all Algeria lol. Various Algerians parties have given the French president a proper response, calling his declarations scandalous , yet honestly I just find him cringe and I don't think he deserves our attention. He's just showing the real face of France, how it'd manipulate you will all those petty tactics if you go against their interests.

4. He also said something about "we love Algeria, we have their children" which is similar to what the Algerian president had repeated many times, that we can't cut relations with France because of our diaspora. So here the French president is using another manipulation tactic. Frankly, him saying "Algeria is dishonoring itself" is closely similar to the speech all French media took after Sansal arrestation, albeit a bit softened, since they'd literally say that "the military regime in Algeria is either a dictatorship or with France". I'd like to not that France let all those media talk shit about us for a month (for décennies actually) and after they understood it did nothing, they sent their president, yet again to try and control us, use this case to manipulate us and gaslight us.

5. The second infuriating point of his speech (I actually made a post abt it), was very well responded to by Tchad and Senegal. Not only he is calling Africans, ungrateful, bad-mannered and what was that 'it's not transmissible to humans'? He is simply being decomplexed in his colonialism, flaunting French Interventionism, how it is used to decide for those countries leaders in favor of France, wants Africans to say thank you about that (as if that's something to be thanked for, when you know that's exactly what's been keeping Africa behind, since all those corrupt leaders are never in favor of their people) then he went on and lied about how the French don't get kicked out (apparently they are here for moral reasons lol) but they coordinate their kicking out, they are just polite to let the Africans announce it first, okay, what do you call the fleeting of French armies from Mali and Niger? Coordination apparently, nice job being the kick. Honestly that's such a childish speech, happy to see the two countries responding in detail about it.

6. Yes, France hasn't stopped using the Guillotine long ago lol, in their former colonies that is. And yes I do not care for whether you think some white jokes are more important than our sensitivity, it is about time you start taking amends, change your speech to be more morally acceptable, be hyper aware of the crimes of colonialism, guillotine was considered some morbid symbol of justice, not anymore, now it's just considered a symbol of oppression.

I’m staying away from Tumblr because y’all tend to encourage me a bit too much and lately I don’t need to be encouraged to say what I think. I need to calm down.

But I will make one comment about Macron and France these past few weeks.

Once a colonizer always a colonizer.

[halcyon-writings]

nav.

— There was something different about Caleb.

He was still your sweet boyfriend, no doubt about that. He still surprised you with flowers when he came home, took you out to dinner spontaneously.

But something was different.

The way his arm would tighten at your side, to the way he seemed to be angry at something. Never at you, he’d promise, never. It was as though whatever it was had grasped his mind and turned him into something unrecognizable.

It was not your Caleb.

You didn't like it. It felt like a stranger was in your home at times.

When he slept beside you, chin in the crook of your neck, soft breaths brushing against your skin as you tried to sleep, you couldn’t forget the eyes you loved to stare into would narrow. How they’d set into a glare or a sneer.

His eyes were sharp, focused and narrowed one moment. The next, they softened, as an arm wrapped around your waist, a palm settling on the small of your back.

“Is everything alright?” You ask one night, the dishes on the drying rack, while you dry your hands on a towel nearby.

Caleb laughs. It’s a sharp thing that makes your heart sink.

Everything is fine.

You don’t ask again.

Eyes burn into your back as you exit the kitchen, your hands clutched to your chest. You don’t notice his jaw locking as he looks to the wall with a sharp look to his eyes.

His hand rests loosely on your hip, your shirt rises slightly as you turn onto your side, trying to sleep. Caleb’s thumb finds the skin there, it’s something he’s done before. Tracing loose circles on your skin and embracing you regardless if you were facing him or not.

More often than not, nights would be spent talking about anything. From silly stories at work, to just the simplest occurrences through the day. Anything to fill the silence. Caleb’s cheek rests atop of your head, he says nothing and neither do you.

-

Zayne raises a brow when you come into his office. As much as you try to make a quip or strike conversation, he knows you well enough to know you’re far from fine.

“Have you been sleeping?” He asks, his usual professional indifference melts into a moment of concern.

You smile, but from his raised brow, you know he doesn’t believe whatever it is that you’ll say. You sigh, hands at your knees as you grab at your jeans awkwardly. Feeling the denim in your clammy palms as you try to find the words.

“I just… haven’t been sleeping well is all,” You try. It’s a lame attempt.

Zayne hums.

“How have things been?” With him remains unspoken.

The attempt on Zayne’s part to speak about it makes you relax slightly. They were friends too, of course Zayne would want to know. (It still doesn’t settled your fraying nerves.)

“Fine.”

You clear your throat, trying again, “Things have been fine. It’s been a bit of an adjustment. But Caleb is doing fine, great, even.”

The official report said it was an accident. That Grandma and Caleb had…

Even thinking about it makes your throat tighten.

But somehow, he’d returned. Despite everything, he came back to you.

You’re exiting Zayne’s office, as he follows behind you, ready to meet with another patient when you spot Caleb taking strides over.

“Hey!” His voice is friendly, his arm raised in a wave as he stops just in front of you.

“Caleb? I thought you said you were going to wait in the car-”

“I figured it would be good to walk back to the lot together, with how busy the hospital is today,” He says quickly. Too quickly.

The waiting room isn’t too occupied. There’s only a small handful of people waiting to be seen.

Zayne clears his throat. Caleb’s eyes quickly move from your face, a minuscule movement of his lips, like a frown, is there for just a second. Before it’s schooled into the same friendly smile he greeted you both with.

Caleb’s hand settles on your elbow, it’s not a tight grasp, but you feel the way his hand could easily grip your arm. Another pit forms in your stomach, “Well, let’s go home!”

Home. Right.

You nod, adjusting your bag over your shoulder as you give Zayne a final glance.

“See you later,” You say with a smile that you hope was assuring on your face. You don’t even believe it yourself.

There was something different about Caleb.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Azriel x reader

Word count: +3400

Warnings: none (?)

Summary: When love becomes a painful burden and you can't stand it anymore, you decide to turn it into hate, avoiding its source at any cost. However, Azriel has enough and seeks you out.

When I wrote it in my head (late at night of course), it was perfect. But I forgot the exact wording😮‍💨 Now I'm not so sure about this. Also I bit changed the intended end to cut down the word count

Anyway, I hope you will enjoy it

Despite my resolve to not to look in that direction, my eyes darted to the dance floor again and again, pulled by power stronger than my will. Pain sharp like dagger carved deep into my heart as I watched Azriel dancing with some female whom he just met at bar. Their bodies seemed to be glued together as their hips swayed in the rhythm of the music, even their foreheads were touching. Female's arms wrapped around his strong shoulders and neck, sliding down and back up his biceps and chest only to once again return back to their start point, holding him close. Pulling him closer. He didn't seem to mind it though as his own hands travelled all over her body, squeezing soft flesh wrapped in tight mini-dress at times.

I felt bile rising in my throat and turned back to my drink, wishing it was something stronger than just mojito—something that would burn not only my throat, but also my heart with all the traitorous feelings. I wished I had never made that mistake and fallen in love with him. Things would be much easier.

We used to be friends, really close friends. However, ever since I realized I felt something more for him, my feelings kept deepening with every passing day to the point it physically hurt to even look at him. He didn't seem to feel the same way though, not noticing anything, and I was too scared of refusal and never confessed. After just few months I was so agonized that I couldn't even step out of my room without bursting into tears and that's when I decided to rather hate him than to suffer like that.

I started ignoring him, avoiding him at any cost, twisting everything into anger. I went so far as not even answering him when he directly spoke to me. It still hurt, but it was more manageable kind of pain than what I felt before. This was how I had lived for the last two years, working hard to build the wall of the hatred around my heart brick after brick, yet I had a long journey ahead of me.

I threw the straw on the table and knocked back half of my drink, trying to think about anything except of what was happening to my left. I was so focused that I noticed Cassian only when he tapped his glass to mine.

"What are we drinking to?"

"To fucked up life."

Cassian's guttural laughter was so loud that it even overbeat the pulsing bass of the music.

"To fucked up life then," he toasted and got his drink down in one gulp. He was in his element, beaming with excitement.

Rita's was full of all kinds of faeries as usual, the dance floor pulsed with life, bodies swaying, alcohol flowing. After the warm-up drinks, our group fell apart — some were at bar, some were dancing and some disappeared to who-knows-where. Cassian was the first one to mingle between the dancers. It was almost midnight, yet this was the very first time he stopped for a while. Well, stopped.. His body was somehow managing to keep moving along the music even while he was sitting.

He reached over the table, caressing my cheek, his expression softened. "You need to learn how to let go, doll."

"It's easier said than done," I sighed and straightened up to get away from his reach. I used to be quite touch starved person, enjoying every contact with persons dear to me, but lately I could hardly stand anyone in my close proximity.

His eyes narrowed at me for a second, but he said nothing and drumming fingers on the table turned to the dance floor. He bit on his bottom lip. Devilish smile spread on his face and he turned back to me.

"Then I'll help you."

"Help me with what exactly?" I frowned, already having bad feeling.

"To let go. Come!" He raised a brow, jerking his head toward that maze of bodies. "Come," he repeated, offering me his big hand when I didn't react.

Out of the corner of my eye, I gazed at the full dance floor. "No, never," I grimaced. "I'd rather die than to do that."

"Come! I promise you will have fun."

"I can't dance." All my friends knew that, including Cassian. I wasn't willing to dance even where nobody could see. That kind of activity simply wasn't up to my liking nor ability.

"I'll teach you."

"No."

"I'm not accepting no as an answer this time," he grinned, rounded the table and gripped both of my hands, pulling me with him. He was too strong. I followed him involuntarily, squeezing in between dancing bodies. He took me to the back where weren't so many faeries and we didn't have to jostle with others. Only then he let go of my hands. I immediately crossed them on my chest, feeling awkward.

"Relax," he pulled me closer, his hands on the small of my back. I pulled my lips into thin line, frowning. I didn't like this at all. "Just feel. Let the music lead you."

"The music leads me back to the table," I grunted to which he laughed.

"Just bit move that ass of yours. Like this." He gripped my hips, pulling on and pushing them to demonstrate the movement he wanted me to do.

"Geez, you are so stiff," he was laughing his ass off. The small amount of alcohol I drank finally kicked in. There was nothing funny on this, yet I couldn't help myself and giggled.

"That's it," he praised me when I did as he instructed. "Just like that."

When I got used to the motion, he let go of my hips and took a step back to have a better view. "And now add legs." He demonstrated several simple moves and I tried to mirror them. I felt like idiot.

"You are doing great. Don't stop." He again stepped closer and took me by waist. We danced together for a while, Cassian's mouth never closing — showering me with praise, stupid jokes and stories — and I really had fun just as he'd promised.

"That hardly can be called dance. Let me show you how to do it," a deep voice spoke somewhere behind me and shiver ran down my spine. My heart flipped at that sound and smile froze on my face. I knew that voice too well.

"As if you could dance any better," Cassian snorted, but he started retreating. I desperately grabbed fabric of sleeves on his forearms, wordlessly pleading with him to stay.

"Just have fun, doll," he shrugged and turned away, immediately finding another dance partner. I stared after him in disbelief, my back still to the newcomer. I felt him move, slowly circling me and I swallowed hard. I turned to the opposite side, determined to head back to our table, suddenly too thirsty.

Scarred hand grabbed my elbow, yanking me back and I was met with his broad chest. I didn't dare to look up.

"Not so fast, Y/N," Azriel mumbled and I wondered how it was possible that I heard him so clearly over the loud music.

"I don't dance," I retorted, pulling away. I didn't get far though, his strong arms keeping me at the place.

"I just saw you with Cassian. Just one dance. I'm not asking for too much."

No matter how desperately I searched for good reason to decline, any reason honestly, I found none. "Fine," I grunted at last.

For a while we danced and I moved as Cassian showed me, but I felt so uncomfortable.

"Try it like this," Azriel said, his hands moving to my hips.

"Don't touch me," I barked at him, my mind flooded with imagines of him touching that female not so long ago. "I don't even want to think about where your hands were before."

His body stiffened as if I slapped him and he fell out of rhythm. "I can assure you that I washed my hands properly."

He sounded hurt and I felt pang of pain in my chest. I realized the ambiguity of my own words. And because this was Azriel, he probably thought I meant his work which was quite sensitive topic for him. He didn't torture people because he enjoyed it, but because he had to—to protect this court, to protect his family.

Ignore it! I ordered myself, clenching teeth.

It took him a moment to recover. Just as we began dancing again, he keeping hands at his sides, the song ended, immediately followed by much slower one. A lot of faeries around left the dance floor. I took it as my call and followed the suit.

"Wait!" Azriel grabbed both of my hands. "We haven't even danced yet."

"But-," I stuttered.

"One song. Please."

It was that damn word please. He hardly ever used that word. He was always polite and perfect gentleman and everything, but it seemed he didn't have this word in his vocabulary. I could count on fingers of one hand how many times I heard him to say it in almost two centuries we knew each other.

"Just one song then."

"Yeah, just one," he agreed. His hands reached for my waist. "Can I?"

I just nodded, still feeling bad for unintentionally hurting him like that. He hesitated.

"You should put your hands here," he guided them to his shoulders, but I immediately let them fall to his biceps. I didn't want to hold on to him like that bitch. I inhaled sharply, surprised by the sudden strong wave of jealousy.

Hate. You aren't jealous. You hate him, I had to remind myself.

"That's also fine," he sighed, snapping me out of my spiralling thoughts. "Now you need to come a bit closer."

He gently pulled me to him. I made sure there was a wall of air between us, already sensing where he was heading. Unfortunately, I was so occupied by keeping him as far from me as possible that I didn't notice drunken faerie passing by. She dangerously swayed, unstable on her own feet, and shoved me from behind. Clumsy idiot as I was, I lost balance and once again ended up pressed to Azriel's chest. He was fast, his arms immediately wrapped around me, not letting me step away. Now our bodies were touching.. everywhere — hard parts pressing into soft ones.

I felt heat climbing up my neck, my ears already burning.

"Dance partners usually look each other in the eye," he muttered, amused. He had some guts to tease me.

My head snapped up in rush of disbelief and rage, my eyes met with honeyed hazel ones. Those warm orbs completely captivated me, imprisoned me in their depths and I couldn't look away anymore. All my thoughts vanished at once.

It was long since I properly looked at him, let alone so close up. He hadn't changed much. If anything, he was even more handsome than before.

Idiot! Stop thinking such shit! He isn't handsome. He's disgusting. Not so long ago he was touching some random female and now he's here, touching you with the same hands. He's promiscuous pig. Absolutely repulsive.

My chest heaved as I was fighting with myself, heart against mind. My heart pounded so hard it had an echo.

Wait! What a nonsense! Heart can't have echo, can it?

Just then I realized it wasn't some echo but a beat of another heart. It was Azriel's heart that hammered just as fast as mine and so strongly that I felt it through our connected bodies. And if I felt his, then he had to feel mine as well. At that thought panic started to creep up on me.

Azriel leaned down, so slowly. His warm breath fanned my face, our noses touching.

The song ended replaced by another and dance floor filled again. Azriel seemed to be too occupied and didn't even notice it, but I did. I shoved him away with all my strength.

He didn't expect it and wavered, his grip on me loosened. I jerked from his arms, recoiling. He reached for me.

"Y/N, wait.. Just one more-"

"No more dancing," I said, my voice so cold that I startled even myself. "You wanted one song and you got one. I'm done here."

I didn't wait for his reaction and showed him my back. I marched over to our table, emptied my glass in one go and even one shot that was left there. The alcohol burnt its way down my throat and I grimaced. I grabbed my things and without looking back or leaving a message to others, I left.

I stomped down the snowy road, hardly noticing the slippery ice under soles of my boots. Only once I got all the way down to the Sidra, I paused on one of the bridges, letting out an angry sigh. I drew the thick cloak closer, feeling the chill of winter night, and looked up at sky full of stars, my warm breath creating quickly disappearing puffs of steam. I was on verge of tears, angry, hurt and confused. What was that even about?

"Y/N, are you all right?"

Not again. I wanted to flee away, but his big hand blocked my way.

"Stop already running away from me!"

"Leave me alone!"

In the attempt to get away, I lost my footing on slippery stones. I would fall down into deadly cold waters if it wasn't for his strong arms that kept me upright.

"Please." There was that word again, this time even more desperate than the one before. "I can't do this anymore. Please, tell me what I've done that it made you this mad. I will apologise as many times as you wish. I'm willing to do anything to gain your forgiveness."

"I thought that when I leave you be, your anger will ease and you will eventually tell me what happened, but it's already so long and it's getting worse and worse," he continued when I just stood there, gazing down into dark waters of Sidra.

How was I supposed to tell him that he did nothing? That I was just stupidly in love with him and that I couldn't deal with my own feelings anymore? I couldn't possibly tell him that. So I was silent while cold tears rolled down my cheeks.

"I'm so desperate that I even tried to provoke you to no avail. I don't know what else to do to mend our relationship back to what it used to be. And I miss you.. so much. So please, tell me what happened, so I never again repeat the same mistakes."

He stepped closer, hugging me from behind. "Please." When he breathed out near my ear, shiver ran down my spine and my eyes closed. All strength, all fight left me and my shoulders slumped down. Azriel gently turned me around, so now I faced him. His warm hands cupped my wet and cold cheeks, his thumbs wiping tears away.

"Speak to me otherwise I-.." His voice was low, dangerously low.

"You what?" I whispered the words into silent night, needing to hear the answer.

"I.." Suddenly his face was so close that it was the only thing I saw, his breath hot on my face. My head, heart, lungs, whole my body shut down. I was just standing there, gaping, hypnotized by his sad eyes.

He waited until I inhaled and then his lips sealed over mine, his eyes holding my gaze. The kiss was slow, careful, hesitant.

I was stunned, my eyes the size of full moon above us. As the new sensation settled in, a firework boomed in my chest and I.. moaned.

He made a sound back in his throat that vibrated through whole his chest. Shutting his eyes closed, he unleashed, deepening the kiss. His lips, hard like stone and so soft at the same time, hungrily danced over mine, his tongue gently pushed into my mouth, looting and exploring.

Azriel tasted like an old whiskey Rhys poured me once from his precious collection. The rich spiced and woody taste was mixed with something sweet and delicious and I moaned again as I realised I tasted strawberries on his lips. My knees buckled and I clasped hands around his neck, my fingers tangling with strands of silky dark hair. He swallowed my moan and holding me upright, he pulled me even closer — as if it was possible — his fingers digging into my flesh.

His enormous wings wrapped around me, cutting off the rest of the world, wall of shadows protecting us from any prying eyes.

We kissed and kissed until my lungs began to burn with need for air. Yet I held on as long as I could, wanting this moment to last forever and only when I felt like I was going to faint, I slightly pushed against his shoulders. Reluctantly, his mouth released mine, but stayed close enough that I felt its every move. Both of us staggered weakly and he chuckled.

"Gods," he muttered under the breath, heaving heavily. "You taste better than I've imagined. I wanted to do this for so long."

I was still too dazed to think straight. I just knew that I was happy, my heart hammering into the ribcage so wildly as if it was trying to break through it. His lips travelled all over my face, leaving dozens of small pecks behind. As he calmed down, he hid his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply, still holding me in an iron grip.

"Why are you angry with me?" His voice was muffled by fur of my cloak. Under my cheek pressed to his shoulder, I felt his pulse, strong and fast, just like mine. I inhaled his rich scent of early morning mist in the snowy mountains.

"I'm not angry, not really." My face burned with shame. I sounded pathetic even to myself, somehow defeated. My traitorous heart wanted to believe that this was real and that it would last, while my mind was screaming that it was only a short-lived dream.

He was silent for a while, most likely putting together pieces of a puzzle. Maybe it was my salvation that he was a spymaster with a brilliant mind. I didn't have to sink to the very bottom to voice aloud just how lame and stupid I was, saving me from the most shameful moments.

"Never - do you hear me? Never do that again. There's no need for such..." I thought it impossible yet his grip grew even firmer. He sighed heavily, pushing words through clenched teeth. "-ve you."

He muttered something, but I heard only the last part of it. What did he say? No matter what I filled in, nothing made a sense.

"What?" I whimpered, hardly holding my tears back.

Azriel inhaled deeply. "-ve you."

"I.. don't understand."

He straightened up, looking into my eyes, his face deep shade of crimson.

"I said, I love you." His voice was firm, but his wings around us trembled slightly, giving out just how nervous he was.

My eyes widened in disbelief. I certainly misheard. "Eh?"

"As you heard," he looked away shyly, his hands slowly falling down, releasing me. "I started to feel it shortly after we met, but it took me too long to recognize the feeling for what it is. I was full of myself, I should have noticed your pain much sooner. I'm so sorry, Y/N."

His words tore down the dam and the tears began freely flowing down my cheeks in streams. Years of the pain and suffering for nothing.

"You are really the worst. I hate you," I sobbed.

Azriel stiffened and then chuckled when I leaned in, hiding face on his chest. "Am I? You owe me chocolate for at least last two years. And that is not all. I believe you owe me one more thing."

"What do you mean?"

He licked his lips and biting on the bottom one, he slowly pulled me into another embrace. "When someone-.. No. When I confessed to you, you were supposed to answer something like 'I love you, too', don't you think?"

I hesitantly wrapped my arms around his waist and still sobbing retorted, "as if I could say such thing so easily."

His smile only grew. "Then I have to coax it out of you," he cooed and captured my lips in another sweet kiss and another and he kept kissing me until my heart healed, mending all the wounds of the past years.