#I LOVE HIM HE'S EVERYTHING TO ME 😭😭

[afterglowsainz]

last train to london | lando norris

pairing: actress!reader x lando norris

summary: you start to get closer to certain mclaren driver while shooting the new f1 movie

fc: simone ashley

warnings: the timeline is a bit weird in this one, please ignore it

a/n: i’m back! (maybe? i still don’t know, perhaps) but at least the fics for the race winner are kinda back? this time for the australian grand prix winner mr. lando norris !!! (a bit late but if it’s fine to you it’s fine to me😊)

—

liked by damsonidris, oscarpiastri and others

yourusername they love me i swear

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username dare i say the queen of the paddock

username even if it’s fake i agree

alexandrasaintmleux beautiful! 💗 (liked by yourusername)

username i admit i was unsure about this f1 movie at first but after knowing y/n will be in it i’m invested now

username the second pic 😭

damsonidris we don’t actually! we’re pretty much annoyed

piaargyros agree 👍🏽

yourusername too bad!

lewishamilton 🔥 (liked by yourusername)

username need to see her on my screen nowwww

[yourusername’s instagram story] [lando’s instagram story]

[caption 1: 🍾]

liked by lando, carlossainz55 and others

yourusername watching the actual cars for a change

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username oh hell yeah

username mclaren girlie sealed confirmed

username the outfits ATEEE

username lando appearing not one but TWO times in the photo dump ??? thinking thoughts

lando 🍊🙂‍↕️

yourusername oscarpiastri come get your boyfriend

oscarpiastri nurse he’s out again

liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername and others

lando preeeetty lucky australia 🐨

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username congratulations!!!

username best way to start the season 🥳

mclaren so so well done lando 🙌🏽

username masterclass‼️

yourusername well done!

lando thank you 😊

username and if i say #she was the lucky charm then what

username i see the vision

[yourusername’s instagram story] [lando’s instagram story]

[caption 1: 💚] [caption 2: 📍london, uk]

liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe and others

yourusername i know london hates to see me coming

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damsonidris and all of us in it as well

yourusername always so charming 🫶🏽

username try not to say mother challenge

lando share me your pastries

yourusername omg oscarpiastri he’s calling you

username y/n please choose me i beg of you 🙏🏽

francisca.cgomes absolutely gorgeous (liked by yourusername)

username i love that all the wags adopted her already

username best fake wag in the paddock!!

piaargyros london 🤭 ofc 🤭

yourusername you want me to talk? because i will

piaargyros 🤐

liked by lando, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername aaaand that’s a wrap for me! love this movie and the memories i made and the people i met and the sport i discover and everything everywhere all at once ❤️

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oscarpiastri congrats on the movie y/n!

yourusername thank you osc 🫶🏽

piaargyros so incredibly proud of you 💗

yourusername love love love you ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux i’m gonna miss you😩

yourusername girl we’re gonna keep hanging out you’re not getting rid of me!

damsonidris you’re the best! 🔥

yourusername i knew you love me 🤭

fernandoalo_official you’re brilliant y/n congrats 👍🏽

yourusername 🥹🥹

lando very talented 😊 can’t wait to see it!

yourusername 🥰

liked by f1wags, piaargyros and others

f1gossip lando norris and actress y/n y/l/n recently spotted in monaco

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username wait what

username omg the twitter girlies were right 😭

username if they’re not dating istg

username not even in my wildest dreams

username how did he BAG HER

username i’m gonna be honest, i didn’t thought he had it in him

username kiss or it isn’t real

liked by piaargyros, f1 and others

mclaren the stars are shining in the garage✨

tagged yourusername, jacobelordi and anyataylorjoy

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username y/n omg !!!!

username the queen of the paddock is finally back‼️

username ohhh they’re paddock official now

username i decide to be delusional until i see the “lando norris partner” under her name

username the signs were everywhere now that i think about it

username her photo dump with lando in it TWICE? yeah we were blind

username all the face cards in mclaren rn are insane

username the only requirement to be in that garage is to have a lethal face card

liked by f1wags and others

f1gossip lando norris before an event tonight, he stopped to talk with some fans and sign autographs. one of the fans asked him if he was dating someone and according to them “he blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl and whispered “yes” with the biggest grin on his face”

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username oh he’s soooo down bad

username the video of him saying that is in twitter btw

username omg my shaylas 🥹

username how in the world did that happen but also i’m so happy for them 🥰

username “blushed and giggled like a schoolgirl” that man is in LOVE

username i get it if i was dating y/n i would also act pathetic at the mention of her name

username i <3 simps

[ham1lton]

EVERYTHING IS EMBARRASSING ?

pairings: max verstappen x podcaster!reader

faceclaim: taylor russell

summary: you run the number one podcast on spotify, agonyauntie, and your dream guest is max verstappen. too bad for you that he hates podcasts.

or the one where your podcast is max’s guilty pleasure.

author’s note: clearing out drafts.

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by yourbestfriend, alexandrasaintmleux and 1,837,892 others.

yourusername: after a month long hiatus, agonyauntie is back with bigger and better stories. i’m excited to share the newest episode with you on all of the available channels.

please tune in so my mom won’t regret letting me drop out of university to pursue airing people’s dirty laundry on the internet. thank you xoxo

view all comments

user1: WE WON WE WON HELLO!!!!!

user2: will you ever top mango man? i don’t think so.

-> yourusername: trust me user2. we will.

user3: the way during the hiatus the podcast was still #4 on the spotify chart is crazy.

-> user4: WE COMIN FOR THAT NUMBER ONE SPOT YUP!!!

user5: prettiest girl ever. you need a youtube channel so we can see that facecard.

-> user6: she said she prefers podcasting to making videos because she’s awkward asf 😭

-> user7: real omg

-> user8: she’s so me.

user9: who is this 😻

-> user10: yn yln! she’s the creator and host of agonyauntie, which she started back in university. it was originally a radio show in which people would email her their problems and she’d tell them advice. it went viral when she did the episode of ‘mango man’ (just google it, it’s hilarious) and then she moved to a podcast format so it was more accessible. it went to number one and she’s halfway through s2. it’s so good!!! honestly you need to listen to the episodes.

landonorris: SO EXCITED YESSSS 🤩

-> user11: always at the scene of the crime

-> user12: how many fandoms is this guy in? 🤨

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

AGONYAUNT! season 2, episode 7.

[soft jazzy intro music fades out]

yn: okay, this next email is… wow. honestly, when i read it, i had to sit back, take a sip of tea, and whisper, “what the actual hell?” to myself. so naturally, i had to include it in the episode.

let me just read it for you.

[mock-serious tone as she reads aloud]

“hi yn, first off, i love the podcast. you’re literally the only person i trust to handle this because everyone else would either call me crazy or tell me to dump him, and honestly, neither of those options feel right (yet). anyway, here goes: i think my boyfriend is trying to become a bird.

i know that sounds like i’ve lost the plot, but please hear me out. it started small—like him watching a lot of bird documentaries and casually saying things like, ‘owls are the wolves of the sky’ (which i didn’t think about at the time because men say weird things constantly). but then he started doing… bird things. he whistles now. a lot. not cute whistling, yn. it’s more like he’s calling for backup.

then last week i caught him eating sunflower seeds—not out of a bag, but cracking them open with his teeth and spitting the shells on the carpet. the carpet, yn. he’s also been spending suspicious amounts of time sitting on the windowsill ‘for the breeze’ and called a pigeon his ‘mate’ the other day like they’re friends now??

but the final straw? he built a nest. like, an actual nest. i came home from work to find him on the couch surrounded by twigs, string, and what i think might’ve been my missing socks. he said it was ‘just a joke,’ but when i asked why there were eggs in it, he got all defensive and said i ‘wouldn’t understand.’

so now i don’t know what to do. do i confront him and risk him flying away (literally)? or do i just let him… become whatever he’s becoming? pls help me yn. i miss my normal boyfriend who used to just binge-watch love island and occasionally make me toast.

cheers, girl who might be dating a parrot.”

[pause for comedic effect]

yn: okay. wow. first of all, thank you for this email. genuinely, it’s given me a lot to think about. like, this man has gone full National Geographic, and you’re just… casually living with it? incredible. i’m so glad you came to me because i don’t think your friends would’ve taken this seriously enough, and frankly, neither will i, but we’ll do our best.

so. is your boyfriend trying to become a bird? honestly, yeah. sounds like he’s halfway there. whistling, befriending pigeons, eating seeds like he’s at a football match—this man is leaning in hard. and i have to say, the nest? iconic. horrifying, but iconic. he built an actual nest in your home. he didn’t just think about it; he did it. that’s commitment.

but here’s the thing: you have to ask yourself, are you okay with this? like, if you imagine your life five years from now and you’re still with him, is he going to be perched on top of the fridge, squawking about how you don’t appreciate him? or is this just a phase? because maybe it’s temporary. maybe he’s stressed, and this is his way of coping—some people journal, some people go bird-mode.

what i suggest is this: sit him down for a chat. calmly ask, “babe, are you going through something? or are you genuinely preparing to molt?” like, we need clarity here. and if he doubles down on the bird thing, you have a choice to make. either support him and start buying bulk birdseed, or set him free—preferably in a park, not near any major roads.

also, maybe keep your eye on those eggs. i don’t know where he got them, but i’d be concerned.

anyway, good luck with your pigeon-man. i wish you nothing but the best, and if it escalates, please email me again. i have to know what happens.

[transition music fades in]

yn: right, let’s move on before i spiral into a full TED talk about men and their inability to handle hobbies normally. honestly, this man saw blue planet one time and said, “that’s my personality now.” unbelievable.

[music fades out, next segment begins]

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

liked by landonorris, ynsfanpage and 1,727,908 others

agonyauntie: our newest episode is out next week, here are three clues about what it will include.

(hint: the middle one is that our host will be involved. spoiler alert! 😉)

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user1: omg it’s MAX VERSTAPPEN

-> user2: who tf is that

-> user3: exactly like yn said celebrities as guests

-> user4: he’s literally famous? he’s a formula one star???

-> user3: okay congrats

-> user4: ??

-> user3: girl idk what u want me to say idgaf abt that man 😭 good for him getting the krabby patty formula one or wtvr

user5: OMG MAX AND YN…

-> user6: new ship name needed asap

-> user7: new job application needed ASAP!

user8: omg what if yn and max get together? he’s her dream guest and she seemed a little into him om the live she did watching the f1 race.

-> user9: um he’s literally gay i just googled it…

-> user10? HUH?

-> user9: his fiance is charles leclerc i just read how they met on this gossip website called ao3. very cute. it also told me more about obama’s secret lover, some guy called harry styles. you should check it out.

-> user10: u grown as hell and u can vote. the world is a scary place.

user11: AND NEXT GUEST WILL BE LANDONORRIS LETS PRAY TOGETHER 😎

-> user12: lando we know it’s you take them glasses OFF!

-> user11: 🥲 🕶🤏🥲

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

author’s note: hi :) just looking for some feedback. send me an ask with what sort of fics u guys like. idk what to post. have a lot of drafts. also idk this will get a pt2. i just want it GONE! sorry <3

[delugyu]

i preface this with an apology for how long my reaction is… you’re gonna click read more and go DAMNNNN 😭

DIVING RIGHT IN!!! i always say this but you seriously do write so well, and you paint such a good image of your scenes. i could feel how hollow and fake that wedding was for mc, and how no one’s heart was really in it. also soobin is such a sweetheart and i’m so glad she had him as some sort of saving grace

the whole school sequence of mc constantly being beomgyu’s hero meanwhile he doesn’t even know shows so much about her character 😖 i love her so much omg she deserves better.

“The next time you see him is on your wedding day.” DAMN. honestly at this point in the fic i can’t really blame beomgyu too much, and i don’t hate him for being resentful for the position he’s forced to be in. he had someone else he wanted to be with but instead had to enter a marriage with someone he barely knew. but poor mc my god 😭 she’ll be stuck feeling like the other woman for the rest of her life, like she’ll never be good enough for beomgyu. it especially stings when you remember that she was pretty much groomed into this idea that her whole future is just being a wife, and how that had to be her ultimate goal in life.

goddd it’s so haunting how isolated and alone mc was in preparing the wedding�� this whole section is just leaving me with a pit in my stomach. AND THE PARALLEL BETWEEN GYU AND MC FIRST MEETING VS THEIR WEDDING.. beomgyu bringing mc to soobin when they were kids being the start of it all, and then beomgyu leaving mc to cry to soobin on their wedding day feeling like the end of all things. you genius omg come here and kiss me.

“Someday, you'll have children, and your child will give you a new purpose.” i smell foreshadowing 😇 also mc picturing her imaginary child across from her to keep her company is actually gut wrenching. i feel for her so much

beomgyu thinking about mc if only for a second before getting interrupted by jiwon. NOOOOOO 😭 wait but why do i kinda feel bad for jiwon omg. her asking if gyu thinks they’d be married by now… there’s such heartbreak in that question. all these characters are so three dimensional and well-developed, kudos to you on that 👏

when he wanted to see her face while they were fucking ACKKKK i got butterflies but also it was so sad that she was literally sobbing cause she couldn’t separate physical intimacy from emotional intimacy like beomgyu could. and then beomgyu feeling so bad abt it afterwards omg

GYU BRINGING MC TO HER BED AFTER SHE FELL ASLEEP IN THE COUCH!!!! unless i’m crazy and i just jumped to that conclusion out of nowhere. either way my heart is fluttering 🙈 “A wave of nausea rushes through you, sharp and sudden.” omg is she pregnant. he came inside her. FAWKKKK “untouched box of tampons” OH MY GODDDD. beomgyu getting jealous about the flowers is making me heat up ngl. i’m such a whore for jealousy i can’t help it

ryujin calling mc pretty girl and spoiling her with gifts… they should scissor lowkey omg who said that. LMFAO but i love ryujin so much, i always ALWAYS love it in a fic when the mc has a girl best friend to go to hehe

sooo glad mc is finally getting to voice out her thoughts with beomgyu! she’s been bottling everything up for so long and she deserves to let him know how his apathy has been hurting her. “You can feel his eyes on you, and it's your turn to refuse to meet them. You’re done searching his face for answers that will never come.” QUEENNN

ACK i can feel beomgyu’s panic so well in the scene where mc has her bag packed and ready to go. him feeling hurt by her taking off the ring omgggg. mc crying into soobin’s shoulder becoming a common theme… 🥲 i’m glad she has him and yeonjun though. and ryujin. shit’s hard but that support system will help u power through!!

“He had to see you. Alive. Breathing. Anything less would destroy him.” AHHHHHH

OMG YEONJUN AND GYU GETTING INTO IT… beomgyu getting defensive over her n calling her his wife, this has me kicking my feet. omg yeonjun’s really handing it to him, deserved honestly like get him again! beomgyu feeling kind of threatened by yeonjun is everything sorry i love jealousy 😭😭😭

“‘Yeonjun…’ she starts hesitantly. ‘You’re not… in love with her or something, are you?’ Her words made Yeonjun’s head snap up. His eyes meet hers, and for the first time, Ryu-jin sees it—really sees it. The glassy sheen in his eyes, the way his lips part but no words come out. The heartbreak painted so clearly on his face that it makes her chest ache. ‘You idiot,’ she whispers, her voice soft with pity.” omg i try not to copy and paste whole paragraphs but this one i just couldn’t help myself… this whole part is so perfect.

WHEN BEOMGYU CALLED HER BABY AFTER SEEING HER AGAIN… i died i actually died. HIM SAYING I LOVE YOU??? ack if only it didn’t take him so long to realize, hope this isn’t a too little too late moment 😣

this little fantasy world where they’re happily married and talking about what their kids will be like… ughhh mourning what could have been. if only gyu realized he was in love sooner. then mc waking up from her coma and not even thinking about or mentioning beomgyu at all, the heartbreak of losing a child conquers all ☹️ i feel so bad for her. she’d been looking so much forward to having a child one day too

godddd beomgyu being worried sick about mc and not even being able to see her in the hospital… “But by night, when the world quiets, he’s left with nothing but his tears, falling asleep with the weight of your absence pressing down on his heart.” go fight for herrrr gyu!!! need to see him pathetic and begging for her back.

my wish came true like two scenes later YAYYY him drunk texting her asking for another chance THIS IS WHAT WE LIKE TO SEE!!! and then the whole jiwon call leading to her booking a flight far away… i mean honestly good for her. she’s been living her whole life letting her obsessions and jealousy take over, she needs a fresh start away from everything. i like the window of opportunity she’s given there to grow hehe

“He doesn’t make a scene or beg to be let in. He just waits, bouquet in hand, a fragile hope flickering in his eyes.” FUCK MY LIFEEE this is so fucking AGHHHHHH i need him. OH MY GOD literally a few paragraphs later THE DIVORCE PAPERS?? HELLO?? my life is over

beomgyu sleeping in her bed. my mind is spinning. this is poetic levels of patheticness <3 HIM BEGGING NOW EEK THIS IS EVERYTHING. i feel insane sorry i’m just so obsessed with desperate men as u know by now 😭 him asking DO YOU NOT LOVE ME ANYMOREEEE gawd gyu is just pulling out all the stops i luv it. and then how he can’t take the ring from her im literally so obsessed u don’t get it

“He won’t take the ring, so he takes your hand and pulled you to him, kissing your lips fervently and enduring the slam of your fists against his body and chest. It was all him; it was all his fault. He is an emotional wreck who doesn’t know what to do and how to contain his feelings.” AHHHSJJSHDJJSJV here i go quoting a whole paragraph again but this is literally rewiring my brain i’m short circuiting

omg this is everything a smut scene should be: desperate, needy, raunchy, sensual, steamyyyy whew thank u raya this scene’s gonna be in the back of my mind for a few weeks. the divorce papers being forgotten hell yeahhhh fuck her so good she forgets why she wanted to leave you 🔥🔥🔥

wait i feel kinda bad for yeonjun omg when mc kisses him on the cheek and he’s like “anything for you.” like i just realized he has to live his whole life in love with her while she’s in love with someone else 😭 beomgyu and soobin getting along like brothers now ack my heart is warmed.

raya you did your thing with this one. seriously this was insane im telepathically kissing u so hard rn. ur writing is so stunning and i just adore your creativity. this was an amazing read i love you so much

THE SLOW SURRENDER

Pairing: chaebol husband choi beomgyu x wife chaebol fem!reader

summary: The fear that you’re losing something you never truly had. Your own ring, now too heavy in your palm. A ring that should have meant forever.

Your deepest fear. Your husband.

warnings: reader discretion is advised. infidelity, arranged marriage, slow-burn, angst, toxic dynamics, emotional attachment, miscarriage!, misunderstandings, lovelorn, alcohol!consumption, guilt, repentance, rectification, accident, DUI(pls don't), anxiety!, panic-attack, implication of postpartum!depression, used different idols as ocs. if any of the warnings above might be triggering for you, please step back. let me know if I missed anything.

smut-warnings: MDNI, dubcon, explicit!descriptions, different smut-scenes. guilt-ridden!smut,beomgyu begging and crying while doing"it".

wc: 24k — playlist here.

notes: may this story tear you apart, and somehow, when it’s over, stitch you back together piece by piece.

a big thank you to @killa-1009 for beta reading. ilysm.

How is it that your own wedding makes you want to flee?

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

His voice is strangely distant—the words belong to someone else, rehearsed and repeated.

The ring slips onto your finger, its cold touch startling against your skin. You can’t tell if it’s the chill of the metal that makes you shiver—or the way his voice carries an indifference that seems to sit deep in your chest, pulling your breath with it.

The wedding dress—tailored from the finest silk, adorned with labyrinthine details—feels like something borrowed. Isn’t this supposed to be every girl’s dream? The happiest day of your life? The moment where everything begins—the start of your own family, your own story?

None of it feels like it. Not when he hasn’t said a single word to you since you arrived. It plagues your mind. And all you want to do is kick off the heels that bite into your feet, rip off the tiara that feels like a crown of lead, and run.

You let out a shaky exhale, the breath trembling in your chest when the ring settles on your finger. Your hands slip from his grasp, falling limply to your sides. The vows are done, the words spoken, but all you feel is an overwhelming urge to escape.

Your head turns, seeking the one person who feels safe. Your unsteady gaze finds Soobin, his worried eyes already fixed on you. He gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, the kind only he would know how to give. All you want is to fall apart—to let the tears come, to crumble into the silent comfort of his eyes, whispering it’s okay.

The pastor’s voice pulls you back, and your soon-to-be husband cups your face with a tenderness that feels reluctance, almost calculated. Hands warm but the eyes that meet yours, cold.

He leans in, and you close your eyes. His lips brush yours, soft, landing just shy of your bottom lip.

“And now, I pronounce you husband and wife,” the pastor declares, the words echoing hollowly in your ears.

Everyone claps.

It's official.

He is now your husband.

"Can you at least smile?" your mother’s sharp voice cuts, gaze fixed on you with her usual expectation. Her lips press together in disapproval. "I don’t want you embarrassing us, honey," she adds, eyes narrowing.

You force a small, strained smile as another guest offers their congratulations. The words feel hollow, and meaningless.

"Mother." Soobin’s voice interrupts, his equally sharp gaze lands on her, and without waiting for her permission, he steps closer, hand brushing your elbow. "We have friends over there. I’ll take Y/N for a bit."

Your mother opens her mouth, distaste printed on her face. "I could go with her—"

"It’s just our friends, Mother," Soobin interjects, his words clipped but polite enough to stop her in her tracks. "Nothing that requires your attention. Besides, I believe Miss Park was trying to get your attention earlier."

Before she can argue further, Soobin’s hand slips into yours, and he gently tugs you away. The grip is reassuring, steady—something to anchor you in this mess.

The crowd seems endless. More congratulations, more empty smiles. Your eyes wander, scanning the room, searching for the one person who should be at your side. But he isn’t there. He isn't… here.

Your husband is nowhere to be found. He vanished as soon as the ceremony ended.

Soobin doesn’t say anything as he leads you into a quiet, empty room. Once inside, he shuts the door firmly behind you, sealing out the noise of the party.

The second the door clicks, his hands are on your face, cradling you like you might break. And you do.

"Soobin," you choke out, your voice trembling. Hot tears stream down your face, and he pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

"Shh," he murmurs, his voice shaky, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back. "It’s okay. Let it out."

The tears come in waves, carrying with them all the weight you’ve been holding in—every forced smile, every empty thank yous, every aching reminder of your husband. That today isn’t what it should be.

"It hurts me," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "It hurts me that my dearest, sister had to go through with this." His words tremble, just like his hands that hold you tightly.

You can’t bring yourself to reply. Instead, you cling to him, your fingers twisting into the fabric of his jacket—making his heart clench. "Where the fuck is he anyway?" his voice betrays his frustration.

"I don’t—I don’t know," you whisper through your sobs. "How am I supposed to do this, Soobin? He wouldn’t even look at me." And beneath it all, the deeper truth haunts you. It isn’t just his absence or his coldness that hurts.

It’s the undeniable, unspoken reality that settles into your bones and refuses to leave: Choi Beomgyu doesn’t love you—not the way you love him.

The echoes of your wedding vows dance in your ears. For better or worse, you hear. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health.

Until death do us part.

Three families—known as the Choi Enterprises—dominate the landscape of your country.

Names synonymous with power, wealth, and control. Together, they form an empire that touches nearly every facet of life, businesses towering over the economy like unshakable pillars.

Untouchable.

The first family commands the skies. They own the nation’s largest airline, a fleet that spans lands, with Choi Yeonjun, the celebrated heir, poised to inherit it all.

The second family shapes the skyline with their sprawling malls, and colossal structures that symbolize luxury and excess. Choi Beomgyu, their only son, is the face of it.

And then there’s your family, the architects of indulgence. You own the most prestigious hotels in the country, five-star havens that host the rich, the famous, and the powerful. Your brother, Choi Soobin—the prodigy, the golden child who has been groomed for this role his entire life.

And then there’s you. The second child. Since young, you were conditioned, moulded—not to lead, not to build, but to belong to someone else. To be a wife. One whose marriage would serve a purpose, a bargaining chip in a deal that you have no voice to protest.

Every day since you came of age felt like walking on thin ice, never knowing when it would crack beneath you. You lived with the constant dread that your father could announce your engagement at any last moment. If you were lucky, perhaps it would be someone whose face you recognized, or someone whose name didn’t sound foreign on your lips.

The three families have stood side by side for decades, their ties intertwined by history and convenience. With the heirs of each family so close in age, it was inevitable that you all ended up in the same place: a ridiculously expensive university your families could buy their way into.

It was no surprise that you had known Choi Beomgyu since you were children. And that you've loved him since.

Though you could never quite pinpoint when it began.

Your nine-year-old eyes scanned the room, overwhelmed by the sea of adults towering over you. Too many big, tall people, too many unfamiliar faces. It was the first time your dad had brought you along, always choosing your older brother instead. Never you.

“Would you like something to eat, Y/N?” your nanny asked. You shook your head, distracted. You were trying to find your brother, the one you’d begged to follow today, only to lose him. You had thought this place would be exciting, but now, you would have preferred serving tea to your dolls.

This place wasn’t fun at all.

When your nanny got busy with a conversation, you seized the chance to slip away. You weaved through the crowd, ducking under tables when the adults became too dense. You spotted Soobin ahead, standing with his friend—Yeonja? No, Yeonjun. The one who teased you mercilessly whenever he visited your house. They were too far away.

Giggling with excitement, you ran towards them, eager to finally reach your brother. But your foot caught on the edge of a rug, and you fell hard. “Ow.” You whimpered, face smacking the floor. A sharp, stinging pain in your mouth made your eyes well up. You wiped at your lips and froze when your fingers brushed against something small and hard.

Your front tooth had come out. “No. Soobin, Daddy!” you wailed, embarrassment creeping in as people started to stare. You were about to shout again when a boy appeared, no taller than you, holding out a handkerchief.

“Use this,” he said.

“No,” you mumbled.

“Huh?”

“I said I don’t want it.”

He raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Do you want everyone to think you’re ugly?” His words made you pause, his brown eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and something else—something protective. The way he stood, it was as if he was shielding you from the judgmental eyes around you. “If you keep crying like that, everyone will think you are.”

The bluntness startled you, and it worked. Your mommy doesn't like it whenever you're crying anyway. She says it's unsightly. You grabbed the handkerchief, sniffling as you dabbed at your mouth. He watched you stand wobbly, one brow raised in quiet observation.

“Soobin?” he asked, recognizing your brother’s name.

You nodded, surprised that he knew.

He nodded back, taking your pinkie in his small hand and leading you across the yard, toward your brother safely.

That day was the day you first met your husband.

"Hey, have you heard? Choi Beomgyu and Park Ji-won broke up for the fourth time this semester," Jake, one of your batchmates, announces with a grin, his voice cutting through the chatter of your little group. The names make you freeze mid-conversation. "It’s hilarious, bro. Ji-won was literally stomping her feet like a kid."

"You little scandalmonger," Ryu-jin quips from beside you, rolling her eyes. "Why are you so invested in them? They’re a batch ahead of us. We don’t even cross paths with them."

You won’t encounter Choi Beomgyu often. The last time you had a proper, civil conversation—one forced by your parents—was when you were fifteen, and even then, your brother had been there too. That was five years ago.

During your first year, Choi Beomgyu was in the second. He got a girlfriend, Park Ji-won, the queen bee of their batch. Beomgyu was already famous, and their relationship quickly gained a reputation of its own, known for its ups and downs, the drama playing out like a spectacle for everyone to watch.

“Uh, h-hi, Y/N.” A boy stammers nervously in front of you. You look up, surprised to see him holding out a small box of chocolates. “I… I made these for you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

A soft smile forms on your lips as you reach out to take it. “Thank you, Hanbin.”

The way his name rolls so easily off your tongue catches him off guard. His eyes widen, and his face flushes a deep shade of red. He stammers out something that might be “you’re welcome” before ducking his head in a quick bow and practically fleeing the scene.

As he disappears into the crowd, Ryu-jin lets out a low whistle, her grin mischievous. “Oh-ho, my ever-charming and impossibly kind Y/N,” she teases, pinching your cheek in a way that makes you laugh and bat her hand away.

You hold the box of chocolates out to her, and without missing a beat, she takes it with a delighted, “Don’t mind if I do!”

“Why do you always know everyone’s names?” Jake asks, leaning over to snag a piece of chocolate before Ryu-jin can stop him. He pops it into his mouth, then gives you a mock incredulous look. “There are way too many people trying to win you over. If I were you, I wouldn’t even bother keeping track.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I don’t really try to memorize their names, Jake,” you explain, your voice softening. “But when someone puts themselves out there like that—when they go out of their way to do something kind for me—even if I don’t feel the same, the least I can do is acknowledge it. Knowing their name… it’s just part of respecting the effort they made.”

Jake leans back, arms crossed, pretending to look unimpressed. “You’re way too nice for your own good, you know that?”

The rest of the conversation became a blur. The details didn’t matter—they never really did. Choi Beomgyu had gotten back together with her again. That’s how it always went, didn’t it? Still, your mind dawdled on him, as it often did, bonded to a memory from so long ago: the boy with sceptic eyes and a hand who had guided you safely to your brother.

You couldn’t explain it fully, this quiet pull you felt toward him.

Maybe it was the way he kept to himself at gatherings, speaking only when necessary. His words always carried a weight your mother would later describe as "intelligent," her tone laced with rare approval. It could’ve been his eyes, dark and warm, matching the soft chaos of his hair. Or perhaps it was his low voice, that left a faint shiver dancing along your spine without warning.

Life had always been laid out for you, each piece polished and placed neatly on a silver platter. Nothing ever seemed truly exciting, not when you could have anything you wanted with minimal effort. You’d never been particularly interested in dating, either. Why chase something when the pursuit itself felt dull?

Choi Beomgyu was… different. He wasn’t even someone you could simply talk to. Maybe that’s why he fascinated you so much.

He's impossible to ignore.

"He's sick again… ugh."

The words grated on your nerves, cutting through the hallway like nails on a chalkboard. You were at your locker, minding your own business, stacking books into your bag. Ji-won’s loud voice, drew the attention of everyone within earshot.

You were ready to walk away from the nauseating cheap fog of their perfume, when her next words stopped you cold.

"Beomgyu's sick," she continued, tossing her hair back like it was some grand inconvenience to her. "We went shopping yesterday, and he lent me his umbrella when it rained. Now he's sick. Honestly, such an idiot move."

How could she talk about him like that? Here, in front of all these people, where anyone could hear?

"And I told him not to play basketball today," Ji-won added with a careless shrug. "I mean, it's not like some game is more important than my plans."

Some game? The basketball match wasn’t just some game—it was one of the biggest events of the year, something their team had poured weeks of practice into. And she expected him to ditch it for her whims?

The sharp clang of your locker shutting ripped through the air, louder than you intended when you closed it. The hallway fell silent. Ji-won flinched, startled by the sound, then turned, ready to snap at whoever dared interrupt her. But when her eyes met yours, the words died in her throat.

Your stare pinned her in place, unwavering. The entire hallway seemed to hold its breath, watching, waiting. Everyone knew better than to cross you—Choi trinity’s princess.

After a few long seconds, you broke eye contact, turned on your heel and walked away, each step of your Valentino sandals echoing with you.

As much as you wanted to speak, as much as the words burned at the back of your throat, you couldn’t. Because no matter how much Ji-won infuriated you, no matter how carelessly she spoke about him, this wasn’t your battle to fight.

You had no right to.

Beomgyu wasn’t yours to defend.

You body moved without thinking, pulling your phone out to call your driver. Medicine. Ingredients for a recovery soup. You listed everything quickly, your voice brisk to mask the slight shake in it.

Cooking had always been something you loved. There was a comfort in its simplicity—a recipe was just steps to follow, a methodical course that brought things to life. You liked how it could make someone happy, how it could bring warmth, even when words couldn’t.

When the ingredients arrived, you made your way to the university’s cooking room. It was meant for culinary students, but a single request to the club president had granted you access.

You tied your hair back, rolled up your sleeves and got to work. The familiar motions of chopping, stirring, and seasoning steadied you. The savoury aroma filled the room, spilling over into your senses. When the soup was done, you ladled it into a glass container, the warmth radiating through your hands. Perfect for the chilly wind outside.

It's no surprise that he got sick.

You packed it carefully, along with the medicine, into a small bag, and made your way toward his classroom. Sunghoon had told you where Beomgyu’s seat was, promising to keep it quiet. No one could know about this.

Not even Beomgyu himself.

The classroom was empty when you arrived, just as you’d hoped. Rows of desks stretched before you, soaked in the soft, dim light of late afternoon. Your steps faltered when you unexpectedly spotted him. You were about to turn around when you noticed he was asleep.

There he was, slumped over his desk, his head resting on folded arms. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, his face flushed with fever.

You swallowed hard, the sight tugging at something deep inside you. His eyelashes, dark and delicate, brushed against his cheeks, and for a moment, he looked so unguarded, so unlike the version of him you were used to seeing.

Slowly, you approached, placing the bag on the desk beside him with the utmost care, as if any sound might disturb him. But as much as you tried to stay quiet, the pounding of your heart seemed impossibly loud in the silence.

You stood there longer than you should have, your gaze lingering on the soft lines of his face. His fever-reddened cheeks, his slightly parted lips—he looked so vulnerable, so human in a way that made your chest ache.

Your breath caught as you turned to leave. It was hard to breathe in this room, hard to ignore the charm he had on you, even now. With one last glance at his sleeping form, you turned and walked out.

It felt like you were leaving your heart with him.

Beomgyu stirs awake, his body aching and cold, as if the chill had seeped into his skin. His head feels heavy, but a faint warmth near him pulls him in. He blinks sluggishly, there's—a container of soup resting on his desk. Soup?

Confused but drawn to it, he sits up slowly, the movement making his head spin. His fingers tremble slightly as he uncaps the container, and the smell that greets him is like a hug he didn’t know he needed. His stomach rumbles in response.

His gaze drops to the items beside it: medicine, utensils, carefully placed. Whoever left this thought of everything.

He picks up the spoon, dipping it into the golden broth. Bringing it to his lips, he tastes it. His eyes widen, a soft sound escaping him—surprised. It’s incredible.

It reminds him of his mother’s cooking, back when she still had time to make him meals. A strange fullness settles in his chest as he takes another spoonful, the warmth spreading, chasing away the numbness. He can’t stop eating—it’s too good.

“Babe?”

The sound of Ji-won’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He looks up as she walks in, holding two water bottles. Her eyes land on the container in his hands, her expression flickering with something unreadable.

“Oh,” she says casually, stepping closer.

Beomgyu smiles, his lips curving softly, his voice lighter than it’s been all day. “Did you make this?” he asks, hope threading through his tone. “It’s amazing. Seriously, it’s… it’s so good. Fucking delicious.”

Ji-won blinks, startled by his enthusiasm. He was grumpy and on edge all day because of his fever. Who left this? she wonders, panic flickering beneath her composed exterior, her gaze darts to the container again, then back to Beomgyu, who’s looking at her expectantly.

“Oh, yeah—yeah!” she blurts, forcing a bright smile. “Of course, I made it.”

Beomgyu tilts his head, surprised. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Anything for my boyfriend,” Ji-won replies, stepping closer as she places the water bottles on his desk. Her smile feels tight, but she pushes through. “That’s how much I love you.”

He chuckles softly, eating a spoonful again. “Well, I love it. Thank you for this. It made me feel so much better.”

That wasn’t the last time.

You told yourself it would be. Swore it, even. No more going out of your way for him. No more small, secret gestures. But every time you thought it was over, you found yourself pulled back in, like some invisible thread tying you to him.

It started with the soup. The day after you left it, you saw him. His face, pale and tired the day before, was flushed with warmth again, life returning to his features. Sunghoon mentioned, almost offhandedly, how Beomgyu wouldn’t stop bragging about the meal, how he raved about it like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

And something about that stuck with you.

From then on, it became quite a bad habit. Throughout college, whenever you heard he was sick, you found yourself leaving small comforts behind. A bottle of tea on his desk, sweets slipped into his lockers during a lecture. And it didn’t stop there.

One time, Beomgyu forgot something important—a book, a charger, you don’t even remember now. You lent yours to Sunghoon, pretending you didn’t care, pretending it wasn’t just another way to help Beomgyu without him knowing.

Because you didn't want anything back.

When rumors spread about him sneaking around with his girlfriend, you stepped in before it escalated. His father will be angry about it, so you talked to that person who caught him, not for his sake but for your own, because the thought of his world unraveling in front of him was something you couldn’t bear to witness.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

It wasn’t for him. It couldn’t be.

It was for you.

The way your eyes scanned every room at social gatherings, always searching for his familiar face in the crowd. The way you couldn’t relax until you caught sight of him or the way your heart jumped whenever you spotted him, even if he didn’t notice you.

It was an addiction. One you couldn’t seem to break, no matter how many times you promised yourself you’d let go.

Were you in love with him for those four years? Or was it more than that?

"As you already know, this is Y/N, son," Beomgyu's mother announces, her perfectly manicured hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Beomgyu’s gaze meets yours. His hair is longer now, sitting at the edges of his sharp jawline, almost to his shoulders—much different to how you remember him last, on his graduation day. A whole year has passed since then. And you've graduated now too.

His suit—a dark blue so deep it could pass for black—fits him perfectly, exuding quiet sophistication. In contrast, your white Balmain dress feels almost too bright, too bold, clinging to you in a way that leaves no room for subtlety. You feel exposed under his probing eyes.

This morning, your mother had insisted—no, demanded—that you wear an elegant dress. You hadn’t understood why, but now the reason stands clear.

Beside you, your brother Soobin sits rigid, yet observing. He’s always been offensive, and tonight is no exception.

The two Choi family heads are deep in conversation, their voices low but purposeful, like they’re planning something big. It’s just the two families here tonight, seated at an impossibly long table in an equally expensive restaurant. The grandeur of the setting only amplifies it—the entire floor of this lavish place reserved just for this dinner, the emptiness around you making it feel more like a stage than a private meal.

“Your marriage will take place at the end of the year,” Beomgyu’s father declares. The words snap you out of your daze, and your head jerks toward him in shock. A soft gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“What?” Beomgyu’s voice is sharp. His jaw tightens when he leans forward, composure beginning to crack. “You made me end things with Ji-won last week, and now you’re telling me I’m engaged?” He practically spits the words, hands curl into fists on the table. “To someone I don’t even know?”

Ji-won. You flinch involuntarily, hands dropping to your lap. You start picking at your nailbeds. The air feels thick—too thick to breathe.

“Who is that?” Beomgyu’s father demands, his tone filled with disdain. “I told you not to mention that whore again.” His words are venomous, and you barely have time to register the insult before the sound of Beomgyu’s chair scraping against the polished floor reverberates through the room.

Everyone flinches as he rises, his movements full of suppressed fury. Your heart pounds. He stands there seething, glaring at his father, everyone staring, daring for him to do something before he turns on his heel.

You bite your bottom lip, trying to hold yourself together. The sting in your chest is undeniable. Disappointment wells up, as Beomgyu's actions fill the silence you can’t bear to break, your gaze fixed anywhere but the head table. Soobin’s hand suddenly moves into your line of sight, prying yours apart gently—stopping you from further tormenting your hands. His fingers curl around yours, tight.

Beomgyu's retreating footsteps echo, each one louder than the last, leaving a charged silence in their wake.

The next time you see him is on your wedding day.

You didn’t think it would happen like this. You truly didn’t. You’d clung to the faint hope that he’d at least show up before the ceremony—just once. You went to the fittings alone, picked out the rings by yourself, and stood in bakeries surrounded by couples, as you chose the cake flavour on your own. A conversation, even a brief one, might have eased the unease that had settled in your chest like a stone.

Maybe, when the time comes, you’ll work up the courage to ask him if he can at least try to be casual with you.

But every assurance came from his parents—empty promises that fell on ears too tired to process anymore. Your parents clung to those words, desperate for this union. A necessary marriage, they said. A solution.

None of it reassured you. How could it, when the groom himself was nowhere to be found? You never saw him. It was as though you were preparing to marry a ghost.

When he finally sees you, it’s as you walk down the aisle, dressed in a gown that feels heavier than it should. His gaze lands on you, a one-second glance that’s gone before you can even register it. He doesn’t look at you again. Not during the vows, not during the ceremony, not even as you both stand side by side, bound by words you barely believe.

And now, instead of his arms around you, you find yourself sobbing into your brother’s shoulder. Soobin holds you tightly. The irony was funny—it was Soobin, the whole reason to why Beomgyu was introduced to you all those years ago.

Beomgyu, the boy who returned you safely to your brother that night, the one who left a permanent mark so indelible it stayed for years. The same mark that now hurts you, refusing to fade no matter how many years passed.

It's cruel.

Happy 26th birthday baby girl! xoxo

You smiled faintly at Ryujin's text as you stirred the pancake batter you'd made from scratch. The comforting smell of vanilla and butter filled the kitchen—your kitchen.

As much as you endured your parents' endless whims, you had to admit, you loved the simplicity of domesticity. There was something grounding about it. It made you feel useful, capable—like you could create something perfect, even in a life that often felt far from it.

"Y/N." The sound of your name broke your focus. You looked up, catching Beomgyu standing at the doorway. He was already dressed in his usual impeccably tailored suit, his fingers fiddling with the knot of his tie. "I'm heading to the office early today,"

"Again?" Your voice was softer than you'd intended. "At least have breakfast before you go. I can finish this quickly."

"Thank you," he dismissed, gaze shifting away. Avoiding yours. Reminding you the line that's stretched between you cannot ever cross. "But I'll eat at the office. I don't want to be late. I might be back for dinner later. Maybe."

He adjusted his tie one last time, nodded in your direction, and walked out without another word. The soft click of it closing behind him felt louder than it should have.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. It was fine. You were used to this. Not because he left early again, but because it was an important day for you. A day you’d spend, once again, without him. Another day spent in the quiet of this too-big penthouse, with no one but yourself for company.

Two years into your marriage, you had learned to temper your expectations. Love was never meant to be part of the deal, and you had told yourself, over and over, that you didn’t need it. But no amount of reason could stop your heart from aching, from yearning—for Beomgyu to see you. Not as a piece of some agreement or a cog in the machinery of alliances, but as a person. As you.

Maybe even as a friend.

He wasn’t unkind. Not once had he raised his voice or shown you disrespect. But in some ways, his indifference stung more. He was here, yet not here—like a shadow that lived in the same space but never touched yours.

And sometimes, you wished that he would be mean to you, he would shout at you or he would hurt you—at least then, there would be something to feel. You hate that you gave him power over yourself.

You told your mother about it—you never saw your parents love each other, not in a way that felt real, not in front of you. She offered one thing that made sense to you.

Someday, you'll have children, and your child will give you a new purpose. You wanted to push back, to argue, but the next words stopped you cold—“Because if being an invisible wife isn’t enough, your children will see you.” You didn’t want to bring a child into this—into a life painted in shades of grey. An innocent child shouldn’t have to bear it. A child born not out of love? The thought made your chest tighten.

And yet, in the darkest, most desperate corners of your mind, another voice whispered something wicked. A voice that insisted maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

You sighed, finding the courage to pick up the spoon to eat, imagining a child sitting across from you, soft brown eyes mirroring his.

Alone, but somehow, it felt a little less lonely.

"Boss, there's a party later. It's Mr. Yoon's farewell dinner."

Beomgyu glanced up from his laptop, his secretary’s voice pulling him from the post-meeting haze. Mr. Yoon—one of his father’s most loyal employees, someone who had been with the company for years. Letting this occasion go unnoticed wasn’t an option, not for someone like him.

Later that evening, Beomgyu arrived at the resto-bar, the space already alive with the hum of laughter and conversation. As soon as he stepped inside, heads turned. Employees greeted him with a mix of respect and warmth, but his smile, though polite, didn’t reach his eyes. It was business, like always. When someone announced that the night’s tab was on him, a wave of cheers erupted, but Beomgyu barely reacted. He offered only a nod before grabbing a beer and retreating into his thoughts. Are you asleep—

"Omg, Beomgyu?"

The familiar voice jolted him. He turned his head sharply, and there she was—Ji-won. Her platinum blonde bleached hair gleamed under the bar lights, her lips curved into a playful smile. She looked almost the same, except more polished. She hadn’t changed much, down to the way her manicured fingers grazed her cheek as she tucked her hair behind her ears.

"It's you! I haven't seen you in what, two years? Almost?" she said, her tone bright, her lashes fluttering in the way she knew he once liked.

"Yeah," Beomgyu replied curtly, his voice neutral. "Nice to see you here." He grabbed his beer and took a long sip. Her laugh rang out, light and infectious, the same laugh that used to feel like heaven to him. She knew exactly what to do, exactly how to pull him in.

Beomgyu raised his beer and took a long sip again, letting the alcohol burn its way down. He probably should go now. Her friends surrounded them, teasing and nudging, playful comments flying back and forth. He stayed composed, answering in clipped sentences, trying to keep his distance. He just needs to find the time to excuse himself.

But at some point, her friends drifted away, leaving her behind—drunk and alone, leaning heavily against the table. Beomgyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could have left her there. Maybe he should have. But instead, he found himself walking over.

"Come on," he said quietly, offering his hand. "Let me take you home."

She looked up at him, her eyes glassy but soft, and smiled. It was a smile that used to mean so much more.

Her warm hands envelop his.

The drive to her address was heavy with silence. Ji-won kept glancing at him, her eyes longing, but Beomgyu stayed focused on the road. Her address glowed faintly from his phone’s GPS. When they arrived, he got out, rounding the car to help her. She wobbled slightly, her drunken state evident, but he steadied her without a word and walked her to her door. She didn’t let go of his arm.

As they reached her doorstep, she turned to him, her voice trembling, raw. “Did you forget all about me already?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly. “Because… because I haven’t. It's still you, Beomgyu. I still love you.”

The words stopped him cold. He looked at her then—really looked at her. The faint blush on her cheeks, the way her hair fell messily over her shoulders, and that familiar scent of her perfume. Memories flashed. The way she’d cried when he said goodbye. The way she’d begged him to stay, her arms wrapped around him like she could keep him forever. He remembered the way he had talked to his father—looking for any chance. Only to be met with a no. A hard, unrelenting no.

It was too much. She's too familiar. He's too close.

And then, she leaned in.

Her lips touched his, soft just like they used to be. He shouldn’t. But when the small of her hands gripped the lapels of his suit, pulling him closer, he kissed her back.

It wasn’t gentle—it was desperate, messy, like trying to reclaim something lost. Her body pressed against his, and the sound of her soft moan made him grip her arms. He presses her against the door. Her hands tried to open the front door for them to go inside. It felt like a reunion, a fleeting taste of something they weren’t supposed to have.

But then she whispered against his lips, “Do you think we’d be married now if your father hadn’t stopped us?”

The word married—hit him, made him open his eyes, freezing in place.

He pulled away, his breath ragged, staring at her. His lips still burned with the sin of hers. What the hell was he doing?

Ji-won stared at him, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “Beomgyu—” she started, but he shook his head, taking another step back.

“I… I can’t,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked away, his steps hurried and uneven. She reached for him—called his name, voice crying, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

All he could see was your face.

At home. Waiting for him. Leaning to the countertop with your stupidly sweet unnecessary smile. The crinkle by your eyes. It flashes over and over, drowning out everyone, and everything else.

Beomgyu gets into his car, his hands trembling as he fumbles with the keys. The engine roars to life with an urgency that matches his racing thoughts.

His grip tightens on the wheel as the image of Ji-won flashes in his mind. Her words. Her touch. The kiss. His stomach churns. What the hell was he thinking? Did he still love her?

The elevator ride to your floor feels agonizingly slow, every second stretching endlessly. He can barely hear his own breathing over the pounding of his heart. When the doors open, he steps out hesitantly, his footsteps dragging as he approaches the front door.

He pauses in the entryway, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you.

He sees you.

You're curled up on the couch, your head resting on a pillow, a blanket draped loosely over your legs. His eyes dart on the kitchen, there sits a plate of untouched food, now cold. Dinner.

His chest tightens. You waited for him. Despite everything—despite the fact that he’d made no promises, despite the countless nights like this—you still waited.

How? he thinks, his mind reeling. How could you wait for him, when he hadn't given you anything to hold on to?

He glances at the clock on the wall. 6 a.m. His jaw clenches. He hadn’t even noticed the time had passed. He’d been so caught up at the party, so lost in the haze of old memories and poor decisions, that he’d forgotten about you entirely.

He steps closer, his gaze softening as it falls on your face. You look peaceful, your breathing even, your features illuminated by the dim light filtering in from the window. There’s something unfamiliar stirring in his chest.

The urge to reach out, to touch you, is overwhelming. But as his eyes fall to your lips, a shameful reminder washes over him—he knows that his lips had been with someone else only minutes ago.

It would be cruel to let it stain the divine of your skin.

“Come here,” Beomgyu spoke, which made you look at him through the mirror for a couple of seconds before seeing him beckon you over. You walked towards him, about to sit on the edge of the bed, when he grabbed your arm and sat you between his thighs.

“What is it?” you asked softly. You felt his arms tighten slightly around you, his fingers brushing the fabric of your robe. He hadn’t spoken to you all day, hadn’t so much as looked at you too. You just got out of your shower when you saw him sitting in your bed. And now, here he was—unexpected, yet demanding this closeness.

He didn’t answer. Instead, his lips pressed against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his breath, warm against your skin. His hand slid slowly from your waist to your side, tracing the outline of your frame. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. You knew what this was. What he wanted. What he was about to do.

This was the pattern you had grown to recognise. The times he came to you like this, seeking the comfort your body could offer. The way his touch made you feel seen. And when morning came, like always, he would retreat—pulling away, storms behind his eye, leaving you to wrestle with the hollow ache in your chest.

Nights like this made it hurt more.

“Nothing.” He says. You felt his hand caress your thigh as he kisses your shoulder. He turns you around. He licked his lips before letting it explore the inside of your mouth, making you moan. He grunts in your mouth as his hand snakes to the inside of your thighs, kneading the soft flesh.

He pushes his clothed crotch to your heat. He removes the top part of your robe, his lips easily finding themselves on your nipple, kissing around it before hungrily latching his mouth on it. The feeling of his wet tongue circling your bead and the growing tent on his pants rubbing on you made your body heat up.

You should push him away.

But then he looked up into your eyes, almost begging. It's soft, glassy which makes you wonder if you're ever going to see it other than like this. At that moment, the truth hit you: this was all he could offer. This collision, the press of his skin against yours—this was all you’d ever have of him. The pain intensified. He goes up and captures your lips again.

“I want to be inside you,” he murmured against your kisses. Fine, you thought. Just this once more—one last time. You placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back gently, turned around and got on all fours. You arched your back, pressing your head onto the mattress. Your ass was in the air, and you were exposed to him. Hearing him move behind you made you close your eyes.

Beomgyu was shocked. For you to offer yourself like this, so quickly, caught him off guard. He blinked, taking in the curve of your back, and the way you presented yourself.

You felt his tip rub against your folds and swollen clit, making you whine. He pulled your legs farther apart before plunging two fingers to make sure you were ready to take him.

You moaned, feeling his long fingers massage your walls. Your wetness trickled on his hand, and it only made him harder. He sucked his fingers when he pulled out. You felt every inch, his cock reaching places that made your body arch instinctively beneath.

It burns, and it burns so good.

“You're always fucking tight.” He kneads your ass cheeks, thrusting slowly at first before gradually increasing in speed. You felt so full as he pushed into you. He reached for your clit as you buried your face into the pillow. “Y/N…” His hard cock reaches the deepest parts of you. Beomgyu flipped your body without warning, and your arm immediately flew to your face. You turned your face away from him, not knowing that he’s been observing you.

You’ve been hiding your face the whole time as much as you can. Seeing his eyes felt unbearable. Because meeting his eyes will make you want him. To want him more than this. Something he will never be able to give.

“Y/N…I want to see your face.” He grabbed your hand to move them away, and Beomgyu felt a pang in his chest when he saw your swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You were sobbing underneath him.

“Please…” Your voice cracked, barely a whisper. “Just make me cum. Okay?”

You were breaking your own heart, chasing his own. And as he stared down at you, his indifference, the wall he’d built so carefully around himself, was killing you.

“What's wrong?” He urges you. His thrusts are unceasing as tears continue to fall down from your eyes. “Y/N…” Your orgasm hits you hard. Your toes curled as you cried out his name. Your walls were squeezing his cock. He grunts at how tight you feel around him. His hands were gripping the back of your knees as his hips stuttered, about to reach his own climax.

Even as he continued to move, his pace sloppy and desperate, your quiet sobs filled the room, uncontrollable. Beomgyu stilled above you, his heart twisting painfully at the sound. He hated himself—hated the way he’d reduced you to this.

You feel his hot cum inside you. When he finally pulled away, he collapsed beside you, the bed dipping under his weight. His unsure eyes drifted to you, curled up in the blankets, your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle your cries. You moved your whole body under the sheets, clung to the fabric like it was the only thing holding you together.

Hiding. Hiding from the one who was supposed to be your other half.

The sight of you like this made his throat tighten, his chest heavy with something he couldn’t put into words. He had never wanted to hurt you, yet here you were.

That night, Beomgyu lay unable to find sleep, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling of your bedroom walls. You were an angel, one he had broken with his own hands.

You wake up, heart racing.

Your hands instinctively move to your face. It’s that dream again. The same one that’s haunted you night after night. The memory of him. That night. The last time Beomgyu touched you. It’s been just over four weeks.

Even in sleep, he doesn’t let you go.

You blinked, your surroundings blurry in the faint light of your room. How did you get here? You were sure you’d fallen asleep on the couch. The question barely settles before an uneasy twist in your stomach pulls you back to the present. A wave of nausea rushes through you, sharp and sudden.

Your hand flies to your mouth as you scramble out of bed, your legs barely keeping up as you dart to the bathroom. You made it just in time, collapsing onto your knees as your body seized itself forward. The bitter taste burned your throat, each heave leaving you weaker than the last. You sat there, gripping the cool edge of the toilet, tears slipping silently down your cheeks.

You pushed yourself up, legs still shaky, and made your way to the sink. The cold water was a welcome distraction, splashing against your skin and dripping down in rivulets. You scrubbed at your face harder than you needed to, as if the water could somehow rinse away more than just the sweat clinging to your skin.

Grabbing a towel, you patted your face dry, letting your gaze drift to the untouched box of tampons sitting quietly on the shelf.

“Y/N?” The knock on your door startled you. Tossing the towel aside, you stepped out of the small bathroom and crossed the room to open the door.

There he stood, his dark eyes locking onto yours the second the door opened. He scanned your face. “Are… are you okay? I heard a loud thump.” His voice was uneven, like he wasn’t sure he should even be asking.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. You moved to step past him, but the moment you did, he took a cautious step back, his body shifting as though he couldn’t bear to be too close.

It stung, but you didn’t let it show. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No,” he replies, eyes darting to the vases on the table. “You got flowers?” Beomgyu’s stares on your face. The way your face softens at the mention of them—he notices it instantly. He doesn’t like it—not one bit.

“They were given to me.”

“Two dozen?” he presses, “By who?”

“Soobin,”

“And?” he asks again, though there’s no need. He already knows who.

“Yeonjun,” The name lands heavy between you.

His jaw tightens. “He dropped them off here yesterday? Why did—” His words tumble out quickly, too quickly.

Because it's your birthday.

“He was with Soobin, Beomgyu,” you interrupt, brushing past him toward the refrigerator. Your steps feel heavier than they should Blinking, you try to push the swelling emotions back down. Normally, you’d brush this off. So why does it feel so different today? Why are you getting emotional? You pull out a bottle of water, taking a long sip to steady yourself before asking, “What time did you come home yesterday?”

Silence.

You drink slowly, giving him time to answer, but he doesn’t. The room feels stifling in the stillness, the hum of the refrigerator suddenly too loud. You set your empty glass on the table with a dull thud, your eyes drifting back to him.

He’s standing there in his usual morning look—white shirt hanging loose, black pyjama pants slightly wrinkled. His hair is a mess from sleep, and his skin looks paler in the soft light. There’s something about how vulnerable he looks in the mornings that always catches you off guard.

He's painfully beautiful.

“Around the morning,” He's hesitant. He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t meet your eyes, and the tightness in your chest only grows. There’s an ugly nagging feeling at the edges of your thoughts.

“I’ll go get ready for work,” he says, shutting the conversation before it even has a chance to go further.

It doesn't surprise you anymore.

You step into the opulent glow of the five-star Skyline Restaurant, the clink of fine china and hushed laughter swirled around. Fingers gripping your white Dior purse, you scan the room, heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Your eyes sweep over faces until a familiar one stops you in your tracks.

“Pretty girl.” Ryujin’s voice called out, smooth and warm. She raises a hand in a poised wave, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. You mirror her expression, weaving your way toward her. Heads turn as you pass, your perfume—delicate yet potent.

“How are you?” she asks as you reach her, gaze soft yet probing.

“I’m okay,” you reply, sinking into the plush couch across from her. The tension in your shoulders eases, if only slightly. “Thank you for the gifts, by the way. And I’m sorry I couldn’t meet up with you yesterday, like you wanted.”

“I understand.” Her reply is casual, but her eyes betray her. They flicker to the dark crescents under yours, the ones you’ve tried to conceal but can never quite hide. “It’s always him, isn’t it? At the end of the day.”

Your fingers wrap around the porcelain cup in front of you. The tea is hot against your palms, and you take a tentative sip. It tasted faintly of jasmine, soothing and bittersweet. The silence between you stretches.

“Y/N.” Her voice pulls you back, insistent. Your eyes meet hers, and for a moment, you can’t look away. “He’s the reason you’re like this. It doesn't have to be, but he made it this way. You see that, don’t you?”

"I know."

Ryujin’s eyes flickered with hesitation, the way someone falters before delivering a blow. Eyes darting between you and the untouched tea in front of her. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” she began, her voice soft but unsteady. “But I… I heard something.”

Her words made your heart clench. “What is it?”

“I mean, I’m not completely sure, but it came from someone I trust and—”

“Ryujin,” you snapped, sharper than you intended. Your chest tightened as dread crept in. “Tell me.”

She hesitated, her lips parting slightly before closing again. “Did he spend the night with you yesterday?”

You felt the world shift under your feet. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Your silence was enough.

He wasn't.

Ryujin’s expression softened, pity creeping into her features, “I—there was a party,” she said, her voice quieter now, hesitant. “One with Beomgyu and Ji-won.”

The name made your stomach drop.

“They were together all night,” she said, her words rushed, like she wanted to get them out before she lost her nerve. “And someone… someone saw them. Beomgyu practically carried her into his car. They left together.”

Your vision blurred for a second, the edges of the room fading as her words registered. You forced yourself to blink, to breathe. “Oh,” you whispered.

Ryujin stood abruptly and moved to sit beside you, taking your trembling hands into hers. “Confront him,” she urged. “Find out if it’s true.” She squeezed your hands. “I’m so tired of seeing you like this. Always giving and giving while he takes whatever’s left of you.” Her voice cracked. “Loving him silently. Loving him so hard isn’t going to make him love you back.”

You didn’t even realise you were crying until the tears started dripping onto your lap, soaking into the fabric of your dress. Ryujin hated it. She remembered you in college—how you laughed so freely, how your eyes sparkled. But now, that light she admired so much was dimming, as if someone had reached inside you and quietly stolen it piece by piece.

Ryujin swallowed hard, blinking back her own tears as she watched yours fall. How hurt must you be to cry like this—without a sound, without even a gasp? Just the quiet, stream of tears slipping down your face, carving paths of pain?

She hated seeing you like this—hated how one person had managed to turn the full-bloomed, radiant version of you into a shadow of yourself, a bud closed off to the world. That someone can easily break you, when you spent years building yourself.

You're waiting.

It's 10 p.m. The hours have crawled by since you drove back here. You look around. This space, where you are supposed to build a family, where love is supposed to be—is nothing but a cold place to you.

You're sitting on the couch, the same couch you’ve spent countless nights on, staring at the clock, waiting for him. Your hands rest in your lap, trembling slightly, though you don’t realise it. With nothing but fear, the fear that you’re losing something you never truly had.

Your phone buzzes again. Two names alternate, calling over and over. You don’t pick up. You don’t even look. You can’t.

Because the truth is, you don’t know if you’ll make it through the night without hearing from him. Your husband.

The elevator dings softly, and Beomgyu steps into the penthouse. His tie hangs loose around his neck, his hair tousled and far from his usual pristine self. He looks tired, distracted—like he’s been anywhere but here. His eyes met yours.

"Why are you still awake—"

"Do you think I don’t know what you’ve done?" Your voice cuts, trembling. You see his eyes widen, just a fraction. It’s so small you almost missed it.

"Ji-won." Her name burns as it leaves your mouth, bitter. His eyes flicker toward you for just a second—a split second, just long enough to know that he heard—but there is nothing in them. Nothing.

He moves with calculated slowness, setting his bag down on the table, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. Time ticked. He doesn’t even try to explain. Doesn’t even look at you long enough for you to find a trace of the man you once thought you knew. His thumb brushes over his ring like it’s something he’s forgotten. A ring that should have meant forever.

"I can handle it all, Choi Beomgyu," you say, your voice firmer now, though your hands tremble at your sides. "I’ve handled it all, haven’t I? I didn’t say anything when you kept talking about her—days after we got married—on our honeymoon, or right in front of your family."

His back stiffens, his hands gripping the edge of the countertop. Beomgyu swallows the lump in his throat.

"Not once in these two years did I tell you how small you made me feel, how you made me feel like I didn’t belong in your world. Like I was a stranger in my own marriage." Your voice cracks, but you keep going. "I stayed silent, And after all of that—after everything—I stayed. I stayed because I thought… maybe it was enough. And yet, you still chose to cheat on me?"

You’re shaking now, and your voice rises despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "If you had just come to me and said you didn’t want this anymore, I would’ve let you go. I would’ve walked away, Beomgyu. Because everything I’ve done—every single thing—has been for you. For this marriage. For our families."

His head finally lifts, and his eyes meet yours. You hate how you feel small under his gaze, how his silence feels like a condemnation of your own vulnerability.

Beomgyu swallows hard, his jaw tightening. "That’s not what happened, Y/N."

"That you didn’t go home with her? That you weren’t with her on my fucking birthday?"

Your words hit him like a punch, and his eyes widen, the crack in his composure visible now.

"What?"

"You heard me." The burden festering inside you for so long is finally out. It feels small, inadequate even, but you don’t care anymore. You can’t. You can feel his eyes on you, and it's your turn to refuse to meet them. You’re done searching his face for answers that will never come.

You rise from the couch, your movements sharp, fueled by hurt and exhaustion. Steps are quick, your breaths are shallow as you reach your room. The door slams shut behind you with a force that echoes behind. Your hands tremble as you swipe on your phone. Tears blur your vision, falling onto the screen as you scroll, fingers fumbling to find the number you need.

You don’t think. You can’t. The tears are hot and relentless, burning tracks down your cheeks as you press the call button.

The line clicks immediately.

Outside your room, Beomgyu stands in the hallway, pacing back and forth. His footsteps are uneven, restless. The truth is, he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know where to begin. Every time he tries to form the words in his head, they fall apart before they can leave his lips.

How can he explain it? How can he make you understand? He never thought it would come to this—never thought he’d have to say it out loud. He’d always believed he could keep it buried, that you’d never find out.

He presses a hand to his forehead, exhaling sharply. He hasn’t spoken to Ji-won since that night. Not once. She tried to reach out—texts, calls, even showing up unannounced—but he shut it all down. He shut her out.

The irony isn’t lost on him. He, who once was hopelessly in love with her had turned his back on her entirely. What surprised him the most was how easy it was. All it took was thinking of you.

And the sight of your tears now terrifies him.

Beomgyu has always been a confident man. He was raised to be one. It’s who he was taught to be—the man who could command a room, close deals, deliver speeches without a stutter. But none of that matters now. Standing here, in front of your door, he feels small. Helpless. Negotiating with the world is one thing; facing the pain in your eyes is another.

He sighs, dragging his hands through his hair in frustration. His chest feels tight, his mind racing. He should knock. He knows he should try—should say something, anything.

He lifts his hand to knock, but the door swings open before he can. Your eyes meet his—red, swollen, glassy with unshed tears—and it feels like the air is knocked out of him. Beomgyu's chest tightens painfully, and then his gaze falls to the suitcase in your hand,"Where are you going?"

You don’t answer. Instead, you step past him, avoiding even the smallest brush against him. The sound of your suitcase wheels echoes in the hall. His heart stutters, his feet frozen in place.

"Y/N," he pleads, reaching for your wrist. His eyes flicker down to your hand, and the absence of your ring feels like a blow he wasn’t ready for.

"Beomgyu," you say quietly, pulling your hand away from his grasp."I’m going to stay with my brother for a while."

You don’t wait for his response. You can’t. If you stop now—if you meet his eyes again—you might change your mind. You walk toward the elevator, heart pounding, and breaking, but you don’t look back. When he doesn’t follow, when he doesn’t try to stop you, it cracks a little more.

The elevator doors begin to close, you think that’s it.This is the end. But then, his hand darts between the doors, forcing them open. You glance up in surprise. You've never seen him this unsure, or nervous before.

"At least let me see you out," he says softly. "Please,"

He stares at you. You nod, stepping aside to make room for him. Neither of you speaks, and the distance between you feels impossibly wide, even in the small space.

"Call me if you ever want to talk again," he finally breaks the silence, eyes fixed on the ground, "I’ll wait for you," You don’t respond, your throat tightening as you stare straight ahead, willing yourself not to cry.

Perhaps, it is his turn to wait for you.

It’s the longest elevator ride of your life.

In the parking lot, your brother is the first thing you see—tall and imposing, his glasses doing nothing to soften the sharp frown etched across his face. His eyes sweep over you, landing on the suitcase in your hand before darting behind you. The worry darkens instantly into anger when he sees Beomgyu trailing a few steps behind.

"You fucker," Soobin spits, brushing past you to square off with him. His voice is cold and furious. Beomgyu doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down, even as your brother towers over him.

"I gave you the benefit of the doubt," Soobin growls. "I thought, at the very least, you’d treat my sister with the respect she deserves. But you—"

"Soobin, stop!" You step forward, your hands desperately reaching out to hold your brother’s fists clenched at his sides. "Please, let’s just go."

He hesitates, jaw tightening as he swallows his anger. With a final, scathing glare at Beomgyu, Soobin turns away. He reached for your suitcase, grabbed it without a word and shoved it into the trunk of his car. Then he opens the passenger door, his expression softening ever so slightly as he looks at you. "Get inside."

You slide into the car, your hands trembling as you clutch them in your lap. Soobin slams the door shut behind you, the sound shouting in the empty parking lot like a final warning.

Beomgyu stands there eyes never leaving your form, unmoving, as the car engine roars to life. His chest feels like it’s caving in as he watches Soobin pull away, the tyres screeching against the pavement. It’s almost insulting, the way the sound seems to echo his own turmoil.

His eyes follow the car until it vanishes from sight, leaving nothing but silence and the crushing weight of knowing you’re gone.

Beomgyu steps back, dragging his feet to somehow delay the reality settling in around him. Every few steps, he glances over his shoulder, the faintest flicker of hope burning in his chest. Maybe you’d be there. Maybe you’d come back.

Maybe this was just a nightmare he hadn’t woken up from yet.

But you didn't.

The elevator doors slide open, and he strides inside, his mind blank and racing all at once. He walks, heading straight to the kitchen for water—something to soothe the dryness in his throat, the tightness in his chest. But as he passes the living room, his eyes catch on the portrait hanging above the mantel.

The wedding photo.

It hangs on there, just as it always has, but tonight it feels unbearable. His eyes lock on your face, and he falters. How could he have missed it? The slight redness in your eyes, the way your smile looks stretched too thin. How can a bride look so unhappy? How did it take him this long to realise how beautiful you looked that day—despite everything? How could he have failed to tell you?

How could he have been so blind?

He wasn’t the only one hurting that day. You had to stand there, dressed in white, while he grieved for someone else. On the day that was supposed to be yours, his mind had been somewhere else, tangled in memories of a woman who wasn’t you. And he never talked to you about it—not once. He never told you what you needed to hear. That it wasn’t your fault. That none of it was your fault.

He blinks hard, his vision blurring. The cracks were always there, weren’t they? Small at first, almost invisible, but they spread, creeping through everything until you were barely holding on. And he didn’t see it. He didn’t see you. Now, he stares at the picture like it might give him some kind of answer, some kind of clue to undo it all, but all it does is make the ache in his chest grow sharper.

He wished he had known. He wished he had known that the hurt consuming him would fade. He wished he could’ve said it all sooner, when the chance was still there. To tell you the truth. That he indeed had kissed her. That it was a mistake. He should have fallen to his knees and begged you to forgive him.

Would it have made a difference? Could one moment of honesty, one action, one choice have been enough to hold you here, to make you stay?

"Fuck," His voice was unsteady, tears stinging his eyes—tears he didn’t even know he was capable of. He can’t remember the last time he cried. Maybe he never has. He never cried. His hand moves on instinct, reaching for the cabinet, but instead of a glass, his fingers close around the neck of the whisky bottle. Water won’t cut it tonight. He twists the cap off, letting it fall to the counter with a hollow clink, and takes a long, burning sip.

It doesn't dull anything. Not yet. So he drinks.

It’s only been an hour—barely even that—since you left, but it feels like his world is already collapsing.

You wake up groggy, your head spinning and eyes feeling heavy. You can’t remember when you fell asleep or even how. You shift on the bed—Soobin must have carried you here.

Right. You’re at his place now.

"Y/N, you awake?" your brother’s voice carries down the hall, accompanied by the mouthwatering smell of bacon. Your stomach growls unexpectedly. You drag yourself out of bed, splash water on your face in the bathroom, and head out of the room.

“Good morning,” you mumble, stepping into the kitchen. The sight of Soobin setting down a plate of pancakes and Yeonjun grinning at you makes your chest feel warm.

Yeonjun stands and strides over, wrapping you in a tight hug. His hugs are always the warmest. He’s your brother’s best friend, someone who’s been in your life long enough to feel like family. He's known you since you were children, and you see him as your own brother.

He rests his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to the table as the corners of your lips tug into a soft smile you can’t seem to hold back. You sit down, and Soobin begins piling food onto your plate.

"Do you have any plans today?" Soobin asks casually, his focus still on divvying up breakfast.

“None, really,” you reply, your attention entirely on the bacon in front of you. Your stomach practically growls in anticipation, and without waiting, you dig in.

A little too eagerly, apparently. You choke, coughing as you try to swallow too quickly.

Yeonjun’s reaction is immediate—he’s already filling a glass of water before you even finish coughing. He places it in front of you and grabs a few napkins, sliding them your way with a concerned look. “Slow down, Y/N,” he says, his tone gentle but firm.

“Sorry,” you croak out, taking a sip of water to soothe your throat.

Last night, when you arrived, your brother didn’t ask for explanations. He didn’t push, didn’t pry. Instead, he pulled you into a hug, letting you collapse into him, tears soaking into his shirt as you broke down.

You heard him curse, his voice tight with restrained anger, but he didn’t say anything else. He just let you cry. His hands rested firmly on your back.

He didn’t ask because he knew. He knew that words wouldn’t help—not now. And maybe, he was afraid that asking would only deepen the pain already spreading through you.

It’s the reason Soobin hasn’t married yet. He’s had plenty of offers—proposals that would benefit his business, alliances that would make sense on paper. But none of it feels right. Not when he knows what you’ve endured.

He can't forget the look on your face on the day of your wedding. He keeps his distance, telling himself he has no right to fall in love or build a life of his own. How could he, knowing the choice was never yours? How could he allow himself to stand in the light of his own happiness, knowing it would only cast a longer shadow over you?

It would be unfair. Unfair to chase his own happiness.

He’s afraid. Afraid that loving someone, finding joy in his own marriage, would feel like betrayal or it would mean abandoning you to face your burdens alone.

"How are you?" Yeonjun asks, his gaze lingering on the dark circles under your eyes. His frown deepens.

"I'm… better," you say, the words catching in your throat as you force them out. It’s a lie, and you both know it. You’re far from better. Not when the image of Beomgyu standing in the parking lot, staring at you as you left, keeps haunting you. He looked… You shake your head, forcing the thought away.

You can’t go there—not now.

“There’s a party this weekend,” Yeonjun says, trying to sound lighthearted as he takes a bite of his food. “Some kind of school reunion. I think it’s three batches combined. You should come with us.”

"Yeah," you mumble, poking at your plate. "Ryu-jin’s been bugging me about it. Since Jakey won’t be able to make it—he’s overseas right now."

But the words falter on your lips as the thought you’ve been trying to avoid pushes its way forward. You don’t have to say it out loud; it’s already there, written on your face. Beomgyu. He might be there.

"He won’t be," Soobin says firmly, it's almost as if he read your thoughts. "I made sure of it. And if, by some chance, he shows up, I’ll stick by your side all night."

Your eyes flick over to Yeonjun, and he gives you a slight nod, his expression softening. "I’ll be there too,"

The days pass in a haze, each one blurring into the next, but this time, you’re not navigating them by yourself. You lean on your brother more than you ever thought you would, and somehow, he never seems to mind.

Soobin, who skips work without a second thought, pulling you out of the house when he sees you sinking too deep into yourself. He drags you to museums, to quiet cafés, or even just for drives with no destination.

And then there’s Yeonjun. No matter how busy his life is, he keeps... showing up. When Soobin’s tied up, Yeonjun is there, knocking on your door with his humor pulling reluctant smiles from you when you least expect it.

It’s not perfect—it’s still hard. Some days, you still lock your doors and don't come out no matter how many times they knock. There are days you don't even utter a single word. But they’re there, both of them, holding you up when you can’t do it yourself.

For the first time in two years, you don't feel alone.

“He’s not on the list, don’t worry,” Ryu-jin’s voice crackles through the speaker of your phone. You grip the steering wheel a little tighter, your eyes fixed on the road ahead. Soobin’s car leads in the lane in front of you.

"It's fine," you say, "It's not like I'm going for him, anyway."

"Okay. See you there," Ryu-jin replies before hanging up. You swallow hard, trying to push down yet another nausea rising in your throat. You focus on the road.

When you arrive, you walk alongside Soobin toward the entrance. Heads turn, whispers ripple through the crowd. The two of you—the university’s so-called power siblings—command attention without even trying. People smile, greet you, and their eyes linger on your Dior dress, but you barely notice.

“You’re finally here,” Yeonjun’s familiar voice calls out as he approaches, his warm smile cutting the tension in your chest. He grabs your arm gently, pulling you closer. “I’m glad you came,” he says softly, his eyes holding yours before focusing on Soobin.

"You're early." Soobin exchanges a quick greeting with him, heading off briefly to grab drinks for the three of you.

“Y/N!” Ryu-jin throws her arms around you, grinning as her eyes sweep over you. “Why do you always have to look this good?” she teases playfully. You laugh softly, a flicker of warmth in an otherwise heavy evening. The four of you settle at a table, waiting for the event to begin.

The night feels… okay. Not great, not life-changing, but okay. A simple glimpse of normalcy.

The week leading up to tonight lingers in your mind. Beomgyu’s messages. The flowers left at Soobin’s door. The missed calls that filled your screen, each one a reminder of everything you’ve been trying to forget.

You ignored them all. You had to.

Even now, standing here among friends, the memories creep in when you least expect them. Every time you close your eyes, you see them. You see her. And you see him.

And all the things that could’ve happened between them.

No matter how hard you try, the ghosts cling to you, refusing to let go.

You scrub your hands under the cold stream of water, the scent of soap mingling with the sterile air. The sound of the bathroom door creaking open doesn’t register at first—not until you hear her voice.

“Hi, Y/N.” You freeze, your stomach twisting before you even turn around. Through the mirror, her face appears behind you—Ji-won. The last person you wanted to see.

“What do you want?” Your reflection betrays the tension in your jaw. Your stomach twists violently. You don’t want to do this. Not here. Not now.

“Look, I just… I just wanted to say I’m sorry. About what happened between you and Beomgyu.” Her words falter, her tone weak, as if that soft voice could somehow soften the blow. “I—I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she continues, “It just… it just happened. We didn’t mean it.”

You know what hurts more than being cheated on? It’s the sickening realization that the person they chose is better than you in every way. Prettier. Maybe even smarter. More… everything.

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to speak, “Stop, Ji-won.” You glance at her through the mirror, your chest tightening painfully. “I get it. I can see why.”

She looks startled, her brows drawing together. “Y/N, I’m really sorry. I know you know we had… unfinished business—”

“Unfinished business?” You spin around to face her, and the words tumble out before you can stop them, “With someone else’s husband?”

“That’s why I came to apologize,”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head as your chest burns with a mixture of anger and pain. “Well, I don’t need it. Did you expect me to hug you?” You let out another laugh, this one harsher.

“Congratulations, I guess.” You step closer, each word laced with venom. “But don’t you ever come near me again. If you do, I’ll press charges. It will be really ugly. Do you understand?”

Ji-won nods stiffly, her expression crumbling under the weight of your stare. Without another glance, you turn on your heel and walk out of the bathroom, your steps hurried, the adrenaline rushing through your veins.

By the time you’re in the hallway, your breath is coming in short gasps. Your chest feels tight, constricted, like you’re drowning in your own emotions. You press a hand to your chest, forcing yourself to keep walking, but your vision blurs with unshed tears.

You can’t breathe.

The alcohol should’ve been enough. You thought it would drown everything out—the ache, the gnawing in your gut, the weight pressing down on your shoulders. But the pain is relentless, carving its way through you, burning and cold.

It starts in your chest, spreading like wildfire, suffocating your lungs, and crawling up your spine until it feels like you’re being pulled apart from the inside. It’s sharp, chaotic, like a bullet ricocheting through your body, tearing apart every fragile piece it touches.

You hear Ryu-jin’s voice calling your name, faint and distant, but you don’t turn around. You can’t. No. The crowd around you feels stifling, every laugh and every cheer scraping against your raw nerves. You’re barely holding it together, and you know that if you stay even a second longer, you’ll shatter in front of everyone.

You just need to go. To get away. Anywhere but here. Because right now, in the middle of this party, you feel like an open wound, with no place to hide.

“Where the hell did she go?” Ryu-jin muttered under her breath, panic creeping into her voice as she scanned the hallway outside the bathroom. She had only stepped away for a minute, grabbed what she needed, and when she came back—you were gone.

She storms back to the table, her heart racing. “Soobin, did you see Y/N?”

Soobin looked up immediately, concern flashing across his face. “She was with you, wasn’t she?”

“I lost her,” Ryu-jin admits, held up her phone, frustrated. “I’ve been trying to call, but her phone’s not connecting.” The worry on Soobin’s face mirrors her own, and for a moment, neither of them speaks.

“I’ll check outside,” Soobin says, already rising to his feet, his determination written all over his face. Yeonjun appears at the table just as Soobin leaves. “I’ll go with him.”

“Ryu-jin? Hey, long time no see.”

She turned to see Jay standing there, his familiar easygoing smile not quite registering in the chaos of her mind. “Jay,” she said, forcing a tight smile. “Hey. Yeah. Long time.”

Jay tilted his head. “Surprising. Where’s Choi’s golden girl? Isn’t she usually glued to your side?”

Ryu-jin hesitated, her smile faltering. “They… stepped out for a bit,” she lied, tone distracted.

Her gaze drifted across the room, and that’s when she saw her. Ji-won. Sitting with her group of friends, laughing, carefree, as if she hadn’t done enough damage already. The sight of her felt like a slap to the face. “The audacity…” Ryu-jin muttered under her breath.

Jay follows her line of sight, his eyebrows raising when he spots her. “That’s Ji-won, right?” he asks, his tone laced with something between curiosity and disdain. “The one who’s always been weirdly obsessed with Y/N?”

Ryu-jin’s head snapped toward him. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean,” Jay continues, shrugging, “back in college, she had this… thing. Like, she couldn’t stand it whenever someone said Y/N was pretty, which was often. It was kind of insane, honestly. Everyone knew Y/N was the prettiest girl back then, and Ji-won hated it. Like, visibly hated it.”

Ryu-jin chokes on her drink, coughing as she shakes her head in disbelief. Her fingers twitch with the urge to march over to Ji-won and give her a piece of her mind, but before she can act on the intrusive thought, Soobin reappears. His face is pale.

“She’s been in an accident,”

You got into an accident.

Beomgyu was sitting in his office when the call came. Everything around him blurred, the world spinning out of focus. It felt as if time had stopped for him, while the Earth kept spinning mercilessly. His body froze, but his mind was spiralling.

Y/N. Accident. The words replayed on a loop in his head, loud and cruel. He couldn't process them, couldn't let them sink in, because doing so would mean accepting that something terrible had happened to you.

You got into a car accident. Something terrible happened.

His throat tightened as he gripped the phone with trembling hands. "Wh-where… which hospital?" he stammered, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might shatter.

The answer came, muffled like it was coming from underwater. The call ended before he could fully react. The phone slipped from his hand onto the desk as he staggered to his feet, his legs shaky beneath him.

Somehow, he made it to his car, though he couldn’t remember how. His chest heaved. With shaking fingers, he dialled another number, desperate for more answers.

“Don’t bother coming here, Choi Beomgyu.” Soobin’s voice was sharp and breathless when he answered. It sounded strained, furious even, and it only made Beomgyu’s heart sink further.

“Is she okay?” Beomgyu whispered, his voice barely audible. The question felt like it would break him. His chest felt like it was caving in, the pain clawing at him as he braced himself for the answer. He bit down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood, his free hand digging into his hair as he fought to stay grounded.

“She’s…” Soobin’s voice faltered, and that hesitation was enough to send Beomgyu spiraling further. “They’re trying. The doctors are doing everything they can.”

It wasn’t enough. Those words, those pitiful attempts at reassurance, did nothing to quiet the storm raging inside him. His hands tightened around the steering wheel as panic surged through him. If Soobin couldn’t say you were okay, it meant you weren’t.

Beomgyu floored the gas pedal.

His mind raced as fast as the car, every thought more horrifying than the last. What if he was too late? What if he never got to see you again? His breath hitched at the thought. His hands gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles pale.

He had to see you. Alive. Breathing.

Anything less would destroy him.

Beomgyu bursts into the hospital, his heart pounding so loudly it drowns out the sterile beeping and muffled voices around him. He barely registers the nurse’s directions to your room. All he knows is that he has to see you. His feet carry him faster than his thoughts, and when he spots the door, he doesn’t expect the two familiar figures standing outside.

Ryu-jin sits on a chair, her face buried in her hands as her shoulders shake with sobs. Yeonjun is pacing, his expression tight with worry, his hands clenched into fists.

The moment Yeonjun sees Beomgyu, he stops dead in his tracks. His gaze hardens, sharp and unyielding, as he steps forward and blocks the door with his arm.

“She wouldn’t want to see you,” Yeonjun snaps, his voice low and venomous. “Get the fuck out of here, you piece of shit.”

Beomgyu freezes for half a second before anger flares in his chest, red-hot and uncontrollable. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he shouts, shoving Yeonjun hard enough to make him stumble back a step. “I’m going to see my wife!”

Yeonjun doesn’t back down. If anything, he looks even angrier.

“Stop it! Both of you!” Ryu-jin’s voice cracks as she looks up, mascara streaked down her tear-stained cheeks. She doesn’t bother wiping it away. Her hands tremble as she points at the door. “Visitors aren’t allowed until tomorrow. She’s in surgery, Beomgyu. And it’s not… it’s not a minor one.”

Those words hit him like a freight train. The fight drains out of him, leaving only fear in its place. He stumbles back a step, his hands running through his hair as he struggles to breathe. “Surgery?” he whispers, his voice breaking. “What kind of surgery?”

Yeonjun glares at him, unmoving. “And now you come running,” he spits, his tone bitter. “After all this time? Now you care?”

Beomgyu clenches his jaw, meeting Yeonjun’s fiery gaze but saying nothing. Because he knows Yeonjun’s right.

Yeonjun’s shoulders sag, and his voice softens, “You don’t even know,” he says, eyes on the floor. “You don’t know what a fucking queen your wife is.”

The unexpected shift in tone stops Beomgyu in his tracks. He stares at Yeonjun. His words—they're spoken with such devastation that it leaves him frozen. He sees the sullen look on Yeonjun's face. After all, Yeonjun has always been soft when it comes to you.

So soft that it terrifies Beomgyu.

"Beomgyu." Soobin's voice cuts through the heavy silence, pulling Beomgyu out of his spiralling thoughts. He turns toward him, barely able to focus. "Let's talk here."

Beomgyu nods silently and walks over, his legs feeling heavier with every step. He follows without a word, leaving Yeonjun and Ryu-jin standing alone near the door.

Ryu-jin watches Yeonjun out of the corner of her eye. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a single word since his last bitter remark to Beomgyu. He stands there, staring at the floor. His hands clasped together.

The silence stretches uncomfortably, and she can’t help herself. “Yeonjun…” she starts hesitantly. “You’re not… in love with her or something, are you?”

Her words made Yeonjun’s head snap up. His eyes meet hers, and for the first time, Ryu-jin sees it—really sees it. The glassy sheen in his eyes, the way his lips part but no words come out. The heartbreak painted so clearly on his face that it makes her chest ache. “You idiot,” she whispers, her voice soft with pity.

Yeonjun lets out a shaky breath, his gaze dropping again as if he can’t bear the weight of her sympathy. “She’s… my best friend’s little sister,” he murmurs, his voice raw and quiet. “I didn’t think it was possible. Not for me. Not for her.” He doesn’t answer directly. He doesn’t need to. It’s all over his face.

Yeonjun was in love with you, ever since he first saw you.

Beomgyu sat across from Soobin, his hands clenched tightly in his lap as he listened. Soobin’s voice was calm but firm as he explained what the doctors had said—stress was the last thing you could handle right now. “I’ll let you know if it’s okay for you to see her."

The words didn’t settle easily. Beomgyu didn’t understand why no one would tell him anything about your condition, why every detail was kept from him. But knowing you were stable, even for the moment, was enough. He swallowed his frustration and nodded, agreeing to Soobin’s terms.

Still, he couldn’t help himself. As Soobin turned to leave, Beomgyu’s voice cracked, raw with desperation. “Please,” he begged, “Let me see her. Just once… before I go.”

Beomgyu felt like his heart was clawing its way out of his chest, beating so erratically it left him breathless. It begged to escape, just as he begged silently to be allowed into the ICU. His hands trembled, numb and unsteady. He flexed his fingers, forcing a crack to echo through his knuckles, before gripping the cold metal of the doorknob.

On the other side of this door was you—the woman he hurt.

The thought made him pause, the ache in his chest spreading to his throat, tightening it like a noose. He wasn’t sure he could face you—not like this. But he couldn’t stay away, not anymore.

The door creaked softly as it opened, and his heart stuttered at the sight of you. Your face was pale but peaceful, your eyes closed, your breaths slow and steady. The sound of the machines around you was the only thing keeping him grounded.

He stepped closer, each movement hesitant, his guilt weighing heavier with every inch he bridged between you. When he finally reached your bedside, he froze, staring down at your hand—fragile and adorned with IV needles. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. They were soft. Warm. And just that small, simple touch made him breathe again—really breathe—for the first time in days.

“Baby,” he whispered, the word breaking in his throat.

He sank to his knees beside you, clutching your hand to his face. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over before he could stop them. They fell onto your skin, warm and unrelenting, a silent apology for every mistake he had made. He pressed his lips to your hand, shoulders shook as he cried.

The past few days without you had been unbearable. If he ever had doubts, or worries, if he ever hesitated—those thoughts were gone now. It's you. He’d thought about every little thing you did that he had taken for granted. All of it. And he realized, how much it all mattered.

How much you mattered to him.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, whispers to your skin as he continue to kiss your palm. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the words pouring out of him. “You mean everything to me. I didn’t see it before, but I see it now. I love you. God, I love you so much.”

He squeezed your hand, hoping—praying—that somehow you could feel him. That even in this fragile, unconscious state, you could hear the desperate beating of his heart, could feel the truth in his touch. “I’ll do better,” he whispered, “I’ll be better. If you’ll just… if you’ll just give me another chance. Please.”

He didn’t know if you could hear him. He didn’t know if you’d ever forgive him. And he hates himself how it took him this long to figure it out.

Beomgyu’s heart was in his hands now, fully exposed and vulnerable, waiting—you could somehow feel it. He rested his forehead against your hand, tears pooling on the stark white sheets. If you gave him the chance, he’d spend the rest of his life proving that his love is real. He was finally here, standing in the world where you had once stood so heartbreakingly alone. And that his heart was yours, completely yours.

He would spend forever making up for what he had done. Even if it kills him.

“Where were you?” you asked, reaching over to grab the strawberry from the basket on the kitchen table. Beomgyu’s chuckle filled the room. “I went drinking with Taehyun. Just a light drink,” he said casually, his hand brushing your shoulder as he passed behind you to grab a plate.

“Why? Did you miss your husband?” he teased, carefully plating the food before setting it down in front of you. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You wish.”

He chuckled, handing you a spoon and fork before moving around the kitchen. A tall glass appeared on the table next to your plate and he poured you water.

“Did he miss me too?” Beomgyu’s voice was soft, almost tentative, drawing your gaze upward. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you were caught in the tenderness there. It made your heart ache in that way only he could.

“He?” You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you swallowed. “What makes you so sure it's a boy?” Your hand instinctively brushed over your stomach as a quiet smile softened your face. The thought of your little one—boy or girl—filled you with a warmth you couldn’t quite put into words.

“I just feel it,” A small smile flickered across his lips, “What if we get twins?”

You looked down, your thoughts wandering to tiny clothes, little shoes scattered across the floor, and pastel-painted walls filled with light and laughter. “That would be… amazing,” you murmured.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Beomgyu pulling out the chair beside you. He sat down at first, but then, almost as if drawn closer by some unseen force, he shifted. You felt his gaze before you saw him—soft, unwavering, and filled with a kind of awe that made your chest tighten.

“That sounds nice, two little you running around.” he breathed, his voice almost a whisper. His hand reached out slowly, brushing against your stomach. You set down your utensils, giving him a soft nod as you shifted slightly, allowing him more access.

Beomgyu lowered himself onto his knees in front of you, his large hands resting gently on either side of your growing belly. He glanced up at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment before he let out a long, steady breath. Then, with a tenderness that made your throat tighten, he leaned closer, pressing his forehead gently against your stomach.

“Mommy and Daddy love you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. He sounded so vulnerable, so small—like all the pain he had been carrying had finally spilled over. His lips pressed softly against your stomach. And then, without a word, he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face against you.

Your hand moved instinctively, threading through his soft hair with slow, soothing strokes. He pulled you closer, as though being near you could quiet the storm in his heart. Your fingers trailed down the back of his neck, over his shoulders, and down his back.

And then—it shifted.

In your dream, you were cradling a baby to your chest, its tiny body safe in your arms. Beomgyu leaned down, smiling widely as you do.

You woke up, panting.

You were dreaming. It shattered as reality came rushing back. Pain coursed through you, sharp and unrelenting, pulling a small, involuntary sound from your lips.

The memory hit next, as vivid as the moment it happened. Driving through the night with tears blurring your vision, your hands trembling on the wheel. The sound of your ragged breathing, the pounding of your heart. You were speeding, desperate to outrun the ache inside. Then the impact—another car colliding into yours, the violent spin before your vision went black.

“Hnn,” you whimpered, barely able to get the sound out. Your throat was dry, parched, and every part of you ached. You needed water.

"Y/N," a voice broke through the haze of your awakening. You turned your head to see your brother, Soobin. His face paled as he dropped whatever he was holding and rushed to your side. “I—I—”

“Water. Please,” you rasped, your throat dry and raw.

Soobin nodded quickly, his hands trembling as he reached for the water bottle on the nearby table. He uncapped it, holding it to your lips as you drank. Relief was fleeting; the ache in your chest outweighed the dryness in your throat.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice a little stronger now, though your hands still shook.

“You got into an accident,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. His voice was low, almost fragile. “A surgery was performed. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

You nodded, trying to process his words, but his silence that followed unsettled you. ou looked at him, noticing the way his eyes darted away from yours, how his lips pressed together like he was holding back something he didn’t know how to say.

“What is it?” you pressed, your chest tightening with dread.

Soobin hesitated, his hands fidgeting in his lap before he reached out to take yours. “Let me call the nurse first, okay?” You nodded, though the fear in his voice made it hard to breathe.

You nodded, your anxiety growing as he stepped out. Moments later, the nurse arrived, and then the doctor, their voices calm and professional as they began explaining the details of your condition. But their words blurred together—a haze of medical jargon that barely registered—until one sentence shattered everything.

“You were in your first trimester when the accident occurred. The baby didn’t survive. I’m so sorry for your loss.” Your world tilted. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, it felt like your heart had stopped.

“A baby?” you whispered, the word foreign and fragile on your lips.

The nurse and doctor offered their condolences before quietly excusing themselves, leaving you alone with Soobin. Your hands trembled as they instinctively moved to your stomach. “I was pregnant?” Your voice cracked, disbelief and anguish bleeding into every word. "Soobin?"

“Y/N…” Soobin’s voice was choked with emotion.

“I mean… they’re saying I was…” You stopped, the reality sinking in with a force so cruel. “Oh.”

“I didn’t even know,” Tears blurred your vision as the enormity of it all crashed down on you. You lost a baby. A life you didn’t even know you were carrying. A piece of you that was gone before you ever had the chance to feel it, to know it, to love it.

Did you have to lose your child too?

The sobs came hard and fast, wracking your body until you could barely breathe. Your hands covered your mouth, trying to hold in the grief that spilled over anyway. “I didn’t even know I was pregnant.” you choked out, your voice breaking. “And now… they’re gone.” Your hands clutched at your stomach as if trying to hold on to something that was no longer there. "It's all my fault."

Soobin wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as your cries tore the room. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice shaking. He held you tightly. The only thing that kept you from falling out.

Your cries grew louder, as the loss consumed you. The one you saw in your dream, so warm in your arms. You had held them, hadn’t you? You could still feel the weight of their tiny body in your arms.

Your baby.

All you could do was mourn for the life that had slipped away before you even knew it existed.

It’s been a week since Soobin made his last call to Beomgyu. A week since you opened your eyes in the hospital. And yet, Beomgyu has heard nothing.

Every day, he drags himself to the hospital. But every time, the answer is the same: no. On the fourth day, he arrived—you’d been discharged. You were gone.

Still, every morning, Beomgyu wakes up with that same aching hope that refuses to let go no matter how much it hurts. He gets through the day somehow, clutching at the thought of seeing your face again. But by night, when the world quiets, he’s left with nothing but his tears, falling asleep with the weight of your absence pressing down on his heart.

He’s distracted, eyes fixed on the same line of text glowing on his computer screen. It’s been minutes, maybe longer, and he still hasn’t moved past the first sentence. His mind is elsewhere—adrift—when a knock on the office door pulls him back.

His secretary peeks in, face filled with cautious expression. “Sir, I’ve been calling your phone. Someone’s here to see you—Park Sunghoon.”

Beomgyu blinked, confused. Sunghoon? His old batchmate, someone he’d shared classes with years ago. They hadn’t talked in forever. He nodded slowly, signalling her to let him in.

The door opens fully, and Sunghoon strides in. His pale complexion contrasts starkly with the black polo shirt he’s wearing, and Beomgyu notices the glasses perched on his nose—something he didn't have before. Sunghoon doesn’t look quite the same as Beomgyu remembers.

“Beomgyu,” Sunghoon said with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How’ve you been, man?”

“Sunghoon,” Beomgyu responds, sitting up straighter in his chair. “What brings you here?” He gestures toward the seat across the desk, and Sunghoon takes it. The frown etched into his brow didn’t escape Beomgyu’s notice. “Is everything okay?”

Sunghoon exhales, leaning forward and clasping his hands together on his knees. “You know I’m close with Jay, right?”

Beomgyu narrows his eyes, unsure where this is heading, but he nods. “Yeah. And?”

“Well…” Sunghoon hesitates, the words seemingly heavy in his throat before he finally speaks. “I heard about Y/N. That she got into an accident recently.” The sound of your name halts Beomgyu.

“I couldn’t ignore it anymore,” Sunghoon continues, voice quieter. “I made promises to her, you know? But lately… I don’t know. It’s been eating me alive.”

Beomgyu runs his hand to his hair, "Sunghoon…”

"I didn’t think it was my place to say this," Sunghoon begins, "When I heard you two got married, I thought maybe she’d tell you. Maybe you already know. But I came here personally, just in case. Because you deserve to know. And if I don’t tell you now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life."

He exhales deeply before continuing. “Do you remember how you used to talk about Ji-won? How you’d brag about her cooking for you, leaving little things for you—sweets, medicine, hot packs. Or the cold water she’d always leave at your bench during those grueling practices under the sun? Do you remember how she saved your ass that time you forgot your assignment, staying up late just to finish it for you? You told us all those things, over and over, like she a gem.” Beomgyu feels his chest tighten as Sunghoon meets his nervous gaze.

“All of that, Beomgyu… it wasn’t Ji-won,” Sunghoon says carefully, “It was Y/N. Every single one of those things. I know because… she asked me to help her sometimes. She didn’t want you to know. She didn’t do it for recognition or because she wanted anything back. She just cared about you. I even told her once—maybe she should tell you how she felt, and even if you didn’t feel the same, at least it’d help her move on. But she wouldn’t. She told me… her love for you wasn’t about getting something back. It wasn’t about her. It wasn’t selfish.”

Beomgyu’s hand trembles under the table, his knuckles white as he clenches his fists. His throat feels tight, each word hitting his ears.

“At first, I couldn’t understand her decision—I even judged her for it, thinking she was only making... things harder on herself,” Sunghoon admits, voice softening. “But over time, I realized—none of us have the right to judge someone else’s pain. You can’t measure someone else’s actions by your own standards. What might seem small or insignificant to one person could be earth-shattering to someone else.”

Beomgyu had been in love with the idea of Ji-won all along.

Those moments—the little gestures, the care, the comfort—they had become the foundation of his attachment to her. How he remembered her. They were the memories he clung to, the ones burned so deeply into his mind that letting her go had felt impossible. She was, in his mind, someone who cared for him. Someone who truly knew him.

But it wasn’t her. It was you. It had been you all along.

He thinks about Ji-won, the girl he once believed was willing to stand by him no matter what. She made him think about defying his parents, about running away from everything—his responsibilities, his future, his entire life. Ji-won was the one who fueled his anger, who stood beside him as he cursed the world and everyone in it.

And then there was you.

You, who never let him go too far. You didn’t encourage his anger—you challenged it. Even when it meant standing against him, because you wanted him to understand—not everything could be run from. It was you who reminded him that his obligations weren’t a prison but a part of him, something he couldn’t just abandon. It was you who helped him rebuild the bridge to his parents when he didn’t even realise it had been burned.

It’s suffocating now, the truth. To realise that the very actions that made him fall for Ji-won—the moments he thought defined her love for him—were never hers. They were yours.

Ji-won had been nothing but a mirror to his rebellion. This truth, made him want to see you more.

“Pour me another,” Beomgyu muttered to the bartender he leaned heavily on his forearm. The man hesitated, his concern written all over his face. Beomgyu noticed but didn’t care. “I said, pour me another one.”

With a reluctant nod, the bartender slid another drink in front of him. Beomgyu downed it in one go, the burn in his throat doing nothing to drown out the ache in his chest. He fumbled for his phone, the screen glaring back at him as he typed out messages he knew you’d never read.

I miss you, baby. Can I see you? Let’s talk, please. Are you not going to see me? Forever? Ok. I understand. I don’t deserve forgiveness. No. Please. Give me a chance. Just one chance to see you. To talk to you, please. I can’t go on another day without you. Please Y/N.

The messages sat there, unanswered.

Stumbling out of the bar, his legs unsteady and his vision blurred, he barely noticed the bartender calling his driver. He collapsed onto the pavement outside, his head in his hands, phone still clutched in his trembling fingers.

As he opened it again, ready to type another desperate plea, his screen lit up with an incoming call. His heart skipped, hope flickering briefly before seeing another unfamiliar number.

“When are you going to stop calling me, Ji-won?” he shouted into the phone, his voice hoarse with frustration and alcohol. “I’ve said it more than once—we don’t need to talk. Not ever again.”

“I just wanted to know how you’re—”

“Please!” he cut her off, his voice breaking as tears streamed freely down his face. He was shaking now, his words spilling out in a desperate sob. “Please, Ji-won… I know everything. I know what you did. You ruined the only good thing I ever had. You… you destroyed it.”

He pressed his palm against his mouth, trying to muffle the sound of his own cries. “Please,” he whispered, the word barely audible through his tears. “Just let me be.”

The line ends.

Ji-won freezes, her fingers trembling as the line goes dead. You ruined the only good thing I ever had. You… you destroyed it.

She exhales shakily, forcing air into her lungs that suddenly feel too tight. Her phone slips from her hand, landing softly on the bedspread. Hot tears well in her eyes, blurring the room around her. She had let herself believe—naively, foolishly—that Choi Beomgyu could still be hers.

Even after everything, she had convinced herself that there was still a piece of him that belonged to her. But now, hearing his words, she knew. She had already lost him.

The tears came harder as her mind betrayed her, pulling her back to the moment it all began. The moment her hatred for you took root.

“Beomgyu,” she had chirped, plopping down beside him on the couch. He had been immersed in a book, his brow furrowed in concentration, but she didn’t care. She wanted his attention, his reassurance. She always did. “There’s this talk going around about… Y/N,” she said, the name leaving a sour taste on her tongue. “People are saying she’s the prettiest girl on campus.” Her voice dropped, tinged with an edge of insecurity.

“But that’s not true, right? She’s not that… pretty.” She trailed off, squeezing his hand, her smile faltering as she waited for the words she longed to hear. She wanted him to say, there was no competition—that she was the most beautiful girl in his eyes.

Beomgyu was half hearing her words because he was engrossed in the book he was reading. So instead, he looked up, his eyes meeting hers with a hint of confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked simply, his tone matter-of-fact. “It's true. I think she’s beautiful.”

It was on that day Ji-won began to hate you with every fiber of her being.

The kind of hatred that wasn’t born overnight, but nurtured by her insecurities, fed by the way you walked through the world without a care—dragging every boy’s eyes in your wake as if it were effortless. And the worst part? You didn’t even seem to notice. You didn’t have to notice.

Jealousy festered in her chest, growing heavier each time she caught a glimpse of you. It didn’t help that you and Beomgyu—her Beomgyu—shared a world she could never truly enter. The Chois. The big families. A legacy. Something she wasn’t, something she could never be.

The announcement of your engagement felt like the final blow. She couldn’t understand how the universe could be so evil. You, the girl she couldn’t stand, were being handed the one thing she clung to the hardest. It wasn’t fair. And as jealousy morphed into bitterness, she let herself simmer in the injustice of it all, until it burned hot enough to ignite a plan.

Ji-won thought of everything. She knew Beomgyu would be there at the party, and she knew what she had to do. She chose the kind of dress he used to love. She styled her hair the way he used to run his fingers through, practised the words he used to adore hearing spill from her lips. She even reached for the used perfume he once said he liked.

It wasn’t an accident. None of it was. Ji-won walked into that room not as a guest, but as someone determined to remind him of what they once had. It didn’t matter that he was married.

You ruined the only good thing I ever had. You destroyed it. Please, just let me be.

She swallows hard, the lump in her throat refusing to go away. The realization settles over her like a heavy fog, a fog that turns clear—she is nothing more than a wall. A futile obstacle standing in the way of two souls who are meant to be together.

She opens her phone, booking a flight—any flight—to anywhere but here.

“It’s here,” Soobin says softly, his hand resting gently on your back as he guides you forward. His finger points to the glass grave in front of you.

Gone, but forever in our hearts. Moon.

Your Moon. The name you gave your baby—a name as delicate and luminous as the child who never got to see the world. You thought long and hard about it. It had to be beautiful, just like him. A name worthy of all the love you poured into his short, fleeting existence.

You pull out your handkerchief, wiping at the thin layer of dust that has settled on the outside of the glass. Your fingers tremble as you do, as though clearing the smudges could make it hurt less. But it doesn’t. It never does. Your brow furrows as you fight the ache swelling in your chest. He’s in there—inside that small, delicate bottle. And this is all you can do for him now.

“Hi, baby,” you whisper, your voice cracking as the words leave your lips. Soobin stands beside you, his smile soft but heavy with sadness. “Do you think I would’ve been a good uncle?” he asks, his voice barely louder than the wind.

You glance at him, your heart aching at the question. He kneels to place the small flowers you’d brought together, arranging them with the utmost care. There's an unfamiliar flower resting beside it. Someone must have wrongly placed it.

“Yes,” you manage to say, your throat tight with emotion. “I think the two of you would’ve been close.” You force a smile, though it wavers, your words choking you as they come out.

He reaches up and smooths your hair, a comforting gesture that almost makes you break. “He’s up there,” Soobin murmurs, his eyes lifting to the sky. “With no pain. Watching over you.”

You nod, swallowing hard, willing your tears to stay back. You can’t cry. Not here. Not now. If you cry, your baby might worry. You’ve convinced yourself of that, even if it doesn’t make sense.

The week after your discharge was unbearable.

You clung to Soobin like a lifeline, your hands gripping his. Your parents moved you back into their house without question, simply knowing you needed them.

Your mother—the strongest woman you’d ever known, the one who never faltered—cried with you when you broke the news. She held you in her arms like you were a child again, her tears falling silently against your hair as you sobbed into her chest. Your father walked with you every day, leading you to the garden where you could sit in the sunlight, as if the warmth could somehow seep into the cracks inside you. They cooked your meals, cleaned your space, and did everything you couldn’t bring yourself to do.

Tonight, you find yourself staring blankly at the walls of your old room.

The quiet feels suffocating, pressing against your chest. Sleep won’t come, and before you even realise it, tears are slipping down your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying until the dampness touches your skin. You sit up abruptly, your chest heaving as if the air refuses to fill your lungs. The stillness of the bed feels unbearable, so you push yourself off it, your feet meeting the cool floor.

Pacing back and forth, you feel the tears come harder now, unchecked and unexplainable. You don’t even know why you’re crying. It’s just there—this ache, this heaviness. You were about to go out, to get Soobin or your parents.

But then your eyes caught the window.

It glows. The moon.

It’s full tonight, impossibly bright, casting a soft, silvery glow across the room. It feels like it’s staring back at you. You stand there, frozen, the phone slipping from your hand. The moon’s reflection shimmers faintly in your tear-filled eyes, and for a moment, you forget the heaviness pressing against your chest. It’s as if the moon is speaking to you, telling you to breathe, to let go, to just be.

Your breathing steadies. You stand there, bathed in its light, feeling the faintest glimmer of peace. And the storm inside you begins to calm.

It’s been six months since you woke up.

Six months since you returned to your parents’ house, where the familiar walls offered some sense of safety. Ryu-jin and Yeonjun visit almost every weekend, their presence a small comfort. Soobin stays, too, refusing to leave your side.

It’s been almost seven months since you last saw Choi Beomgyu.

Seven months since everything fell apart.

Choi Beomgyu, who, for six months now, has spent every single day driving two hours to your parents’ house. He shows up like clockwork, no matter the weather, no matter the time. After work, he makes the trip, arriving at the big gated doors with a bouquet of white roses in his hands. Every single day.

He doesn’t make a scene or beg to be let in. He just waits, bouquet in hand, a fragile hope flickering in his eyes. White roses. Always white roses. They used to be your favourite.

His parents send gifts, too. Packages and handwritten letters arrive, carefully chosen and delicately worded, but you can’t bring yourself to open them.

And every day, you hear the knock at the gate. Every day, you peek from the upstairs window, watching him wait, white roses clutched in his hands like a lifeline. And every day, you stay hidden behind the curtains, your feet stay rooted to the floor, your heart too bruised to carry you to him.

But today is different. Today, it has to be.

The papers are in your hands. Unsigned divorce papers. You tell yourself it’s just paper, just ink, but the trembling in your hands betrays the truth.

You walk to the building you once called home, each step echoing in your chest. The elevator hums softly as you press the button, your reflection in the mirrored doors a stranger to you. When it finally dings open, you step out into the hallway that once smelled of comfort and familiarity. Now it feels like a mausoleum.

Your hand hovers over the doorbell of your home—no, his home. The space you used to share feels distant. The ring in your other hand feels impossibly heavy, its cool metal biting into your palm.

You’ve tried to get rid of it before. Once, you even threw it in the trash, convincing yourself it was the right thing to do. But then came the panic. You tore through the garbage, hands shaking, the stench clinging to you as you clawed through. It didn’t matter that you ruined your clothes or that your mom’s voice cracked as she begged you to stop.

You just couldn’t let it go. Maybe, you should return it properly.

You take a breath and press the button. And then you wait.

When the door swung open, Beomgyu’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything froze. His eyes widened in shock, his lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came out. You felt your chest tighten painfully, the sight of him unravelling something inside you. He looked… so different. His hair, longer now, fell to his shoulders in messy waves, unkempt like he hadn’t bothered to comb it. His skin was pale, almost sickly, and his eyes were rimmed with red, like he’d been crying—or hadn’t slept in days.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand gripped the edge of the door like he needed something to steady him, his heart hammering so loudly he swore you could hear it. Was this real? Were you really standing there? He let his gaze trail over you, taking in your thinner frame, the hollow tiredness etched into your face. He wanted to say something, to invite you in, but the words caught in his throat.

You didn’t say a word. Instead, you stepped past him, the sharp click of your heels against the floor filling the suffocating silence. Each step echoed like a countdown, louder in his ears than it should have been. Beomgyu turned to watch you, his hand hovering uselessly at his side, aching to reach out but too afraid to try.

He closed the door softly behind you.

Your eyes scan the room, and it hits you all at once—everything’s a mess. Clothes are strewn carelessly over the couch, an empty chip bag crumpled on the kitchen counter, dishes piling up in the sink. The air feels heavy, stagnant, like the windows haven’t been opened in weeks.

And then your gaze shifts—to the open door on the right. Your room.

Your breath catches as you take it in. The bed is unmade, the sheets tangled in a way that’s unmistakable.

He’s been sleeping there. Beomgyu. In your room. In your bed.

"Uh," Beomgyu starts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, it's… kind of a mess."

You nod stiffly, not meeting his eyes. "It's okay."

The sound of your voice makes him freeze. It’s been so long since he’s heard it—too long. His chest tightens, but before he can savor it, your next words come like a knife to his heart. "I'm not going to be here for long anyway."

His brows furrow, panic flashing across his face. "Wh-why?" he stammers, his voice breaking. "I mean—"

You cut him off, extending the envelope toward him with trembling hands. "Let’s…" You swallow hard, forcing the words out despite the lump in your throat. "Let’s get a divorce."

Beomgyu stares at you, his mind reeling. The hope that had bloomed in his chest when he saw you standing at his door clashes violently with the reality of your words. His lips part, but no sound comes at first. Finally, he whispers, "Why?"

He can’t stop himself. The panic is overwhelming. "I went to your house every day," he says, his voice breaking. "Every single day, Y/N. I wanted to make this work. I—I sent you messages, I tried everything. Do you…" He swallows hard, his throat tight. "Do you not love me anymore?" He knows he sounds pathetic, but he doesn’t care. The speeches he’d rehearsed in his head dissolve into nothing, overtaken by the fright clawing at him.

Your breath hitches, and when you speak, your voice is cold, trembling with barely contained emotion. "I don’t care if I love you, Beomgyu. I don’t care if it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest, or if it feels like I’m dying inside." You take a shaky breath, your grip tightening on the envelope. "I want a divorce. And when it’s done, you’ll never see me again."

Beomgyu flinches like you’ve struck him, his knees nearly buckling. He shifts uncomfortably, his hands shaking at his sides. "Is this still about Ji-won?" he asks hesitantly, and the way you flinch answers him before your words can.

He swallows hard, his voice growing more frantic. "It’s true, Y/N. It’s true, that I cheated. I kissed her, but as soon as it happened, I pushed her away." He presses a trembling hand to his chest. "It didn’t mean anything—it was a mistake, a horrible mistake, and I hate myself for it every single day. But please…" His voice cracks, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Please, give me a chance."

You shake your head, a sob breaking free despite how hard you’re trying to hold it together. "It’s too late, Beomgyu," you whisper, your voice trembling as your hands shake. You open your hands, and try to give the ring back. "Too much has happened. We can’t go back."

Beomgyu doesn’t take it. He just stands there, staring at the ring in your palm, tears streaming down his face. He knows. If he takes it, it’s over. If he takes it, you’ll be gone for good, out of his life forever.

"I can’t," he whispers, his voice broken. "I can’t take it."

He won’t take the ring, so he takes your hand and pulled you to him, kissing your lips fervently and enduring the slam of your fists against his body and chest. It was all him; it was all his fault. He is an emotional wreck who doesn’t know what to do and how to contain his feelings.

“Beomgyu—” you gasped, your voice breaking as you pushed at his chest. He didn’t let go, his hands cupping your face, fingers brushing against your jaw like you were something fragile and sacred. His touch was shaky, his breathing uneven as his hands slid to the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer.

His movements were hurried, frantic, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go. In one swift motion, he lifted you, his steps unsteady as he carried you to the bedroom. Your bedroom. The air felt heavy as he laid you down on the mattress—his mattress now, the one that carried his scent.

“Wait—,” you said weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt, your voice trembling as much as your resolve. But even as you pushed against him, your lips didn’t stop moving from kissing him back. His hands moved to your shoulders, then slid down to your waist, pulling you to him. You never knew that lips could talk without uttering a word until he declared his love for you through kisses. You let yourself melt under his touch.

Your hands, which had been pushing him away moments before, now found his shoulders for balance as he pressed you back into the bed. The mattress creaked beneath you, and you hated how your body still remembered him—how it responded to him like no time had passed at all.

His breaths were ragged, syncing with your every moan as his tongue tangled with yours, hungry and desperate. You had missed him—every part of him. That truth burned inside you as your fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer, urging him on. His body pressed against yours, grinding to yours, while his hands roamed over your skin, igniting every nerve he touched. His lips trailed downward, leaving soft kisses that melted into your flesh, a path leading straight to your core.

He stripped you of every barrier, leaving you bare under his gaze. His eyes shimmered with something between adoration and hunger as they traced your body. You hadn’t realized how powerless you were against him until your legs parted, welcoming him. He looked at you like you were sacred, like you were his entire world.

“Don’t leave me…” he whispered between kisses, his voice breaking in a way that made your heart ache. Tears pricked your eyes because you wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him. His hands explored further, his fingers reaching for your clit, pinching softly then roughly, coaxing sounds from your lips that you didn’t know you were capable of. You trembled beneath him, gasping and crying out as he whispered confessions into your skin.

His mouth was poetry, speaking without syllables. His kisses, his touch—every movement of his lips and tongue—proclaimed what he hadn’t said out loud. Your body gave in, melting under the weight of his devotion, your mind consumed by him.

“Don’t leave me again, please,” he murmured as he positioned himself, slowly sliding into you. A low, guttural sound escaped him as he felt you, tight and warm, pulling him deeper. He missed you so much that he's sure he'll come right there and then. His face buried itself in the curve of your neck, and his words spilled out—apologies, regrets.

"Please," His touch was gentle, even as his thrusts inside you grew more desperate. He cradled your head, kissed away your tears, and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m in love with you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It’s always been you.”

“I love you…” he murmured, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss as you both unravelled together, bodies trembling in unison. Your thighs clenched tightly around his waist, and he repeated the words softly into your ear, like a prayer he needed you to hear.

"Beomgyu," You whispered his name and it made tears well up in his eyes. His hand gently pushed the damp strands of hair from your face, and he pressed tender kisses along your cheeks, your temple, and your jaw. When he noticed your tears, he wiped them away without hesitation, his touch careful and soothing.

“Shh, angel,” he whispered, pulling you against his chest, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips brushed the crown of your head, and his hand moved in calming strokes up and down your back. “I’m sorry… for everything.”

You had come here to end it. To finally say the words that would close this chapter for good. You’d rehearsed it in your mind, telling yourself you’d leave with your head held high.

But all of that clarity blurred with every kiss he gave you, every whisper of your name that fell from his lips. Every I love you, over and over again, spoken like a spell meant to undo you. And it did. The walls you had worked so hard to build these past seven months—brick by painstaking brick—began to crack and crumble.

And when he pulled you closer, his arms tightening around you like he couldn’t bear to let go, you felt yourself falter completely. Because no matter how much resolve you thought you had, it was never enough when it came to him.

Two fractured bodies came together, love-making to each other to chase away all the scars and time passed.

The papers meant to sever—to declare the ending—lay discarded on the floor, forgotten.

The brightness of the room stings your eyes as they flutter open. You blink, disoriented, your chest tightening with a familiar weight. Panic creeps up, sharp and unforgiving. He must have left. He must have slipped out of bed again, leaving you to wake up alone.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Beomgyu’s voice is soft, tinged with concern as he gently cradles your face in his hands. He had woken up before you, the morning light spilling across the room, but leaving the bed felt impossible. Not when you were curled so closely against him, your bodies still tangled under the warmth of the sheets.

He stayed, wrapping himself around you, his chest pressed to your back, his arms holding you. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the faint scent that now feels like home. It was quiet—so quiet—until he felt the faint tremble on your body. His grip tightened instinctively, his voice barely above a whisper as he called out to you again. “Y/N,"

You blinked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. Turning your head, your eyes met his—heavy-lidded and soft with sleep. His arms tightened around your waist. A shaky breath escaped your lips, your chest tight as tears welled in your eyes. You tried to hold them back, but they came anyway.

Beomgyu’s thumb brushed against your cheek, catching the first tear as it slipped down. He didn’t miss a thing. His gaze traced every flicker of emotion on your face. He opened his mouth, ready to ask what was wrong again, but you spoke first,

“You finally stayed.”

Your words made him froze. Guilt settled heavy in his chest, as he pulled you impossibly closer. His forehead pressed against yours, lips hovered so close to yours.

“I won’t ever leave. Every day, you’ll wake up, and I’ll be here. Right by your side.”

Beomgyu was different—so different it made your heart ache in the best way.

He was there, every single step, helping you out of bed like it was second nature. You had to practically fight for the simple dignity of showering alone, and even then, he lingered just outside the door, making sure you were okay.

And when it was his turn to ask for something, “Please cook for me again,” he’d said, his voice begging.

So you did. You made the soup—the very first one you’d ever cooked for him back in college. As the soup simmered, Beomgyu started to talk. He told you about Ji-won, about his unexpected interaction with Sunghoon, and how he’d rejected Ji-won long before he even knew the full truth. He spoke with an honesty that left no room for doubt, his words meant only for you.

When your mind wandered, when your eyes drifted away, Beomgyu noticed. He always noticed. His fingers would gently close around yours, pulling you back to him. He’d press soft kisses to your palms, his touch saying more than words ever could: Stay with me. I’m here.

“This is too good,” Beomgyu groaned after his first sip of the soup, you know see his face lighting up like what Sunghoon told you about. His hands cradled the bowl, and you couldn’t help but notice the glint of his ring—the one he refused to take off. It made you looked down at your own hand, there it was—your ring, the one Beomgyu fought for last night.

You took a small sip, letting the warmth spread through you. But it did little to settle the weight in your stomach. There was still something left unsaid, something you hadn’t found the courage to tell him yet. “Beomgyu,”

He squeezes your hand—the one he hasn’t let go of, even while eating. His arm stretches across the table to hold yours, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Hmm?” he hums.

“Back in the hospital…” you begin, your voice trembling with of what you’re about to say. You feel his gaze shift to you, “I had a… I had a miscarriage.” You swallow hard, forcing yourself to continue. “I lost our child.”

The silence that follows is unbearable. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, your eyes fixed on the half-eaten soup in front of you. The warmth in his hand disappears, and your heart sinks. When you hear the sound of his chair scraping against the floor, dread floods your chest. He’s walking away.

But then he’s there—beside you. He pulls out the chair next to yours and sits down. When he leans forward to pull you into his arms, it’s like the air returns to your lungs. He guides your face to rest against his shoulder. His arms come around you, holding you close.

“I know,” he whispers, “Soobin told me.”

Your breath catches, and your chest feels both heavy and light at the same time. “I went to him every day, you know,” he continues, his hand running soothing circles on your back. “It’s hard not to. I couldn’t stay away. He… he got me.”

You exhale shakily, your body relaxing into his. The faint memory of flowers on your baby's grave—ones you couldn’t remember bringing yourself—floats to the surface. It all makes sense now. Beomgyu had been there, mourning as you did.

Your hand never leaves Beomgyu’s as he drives.

The road feels both too short and too long, leading you to the place you’ve come to know too well. It’s green here—peaceful and impossibly beautiful in a way that feels both comforting and heartbreaking. He parks the car, steps out, and circles around to open your door. His hand finds yours again as you step out, and together, you walk the path you’ve walked before.

In your other hand, you hold the small bouquet—a gift for the little one who rests here now, your little angel. You kneel gently, placing the flowers at the grave. Beomgyu crouches beside you, his gaze fixed on the name etched into the stone.

Beomgyu’s voice breaks the silence, trembling as he whispers, “Daddy’s here with Mommy now, just like I promised you.” His words catch in his throat, and he pauses, his head bowing slightly as he tries to gather himself. “I told you I could do it,” he continues, his voice shaking, raw with emotion. “Daddy’s so sorry for everything. I promise I’ll take care of your Mommy. I’ll take care of her, I swear. You just play up there, okay? Don’t worry about us. Mommy and Daddy love you more than anything.”

Your heart aches at his words, and you press closer to his side. His arm finds its way around your shoulders, holding you tight. You cling to him just as fiercely, your bodies leaning into one another, trying not to fall apart in front of the greatest what-if of your lives.

I can’t wait to see you, wife. Almost there. I love you.

The corners of your lips tugged into a smile as you read your husband’s text. It had been a week since you decided to reconcile. And in those seven days, he had kept every promise, showing you with quiet consistency that he meant every word.

Reaching for your perfume, you lightly spritzed it onto your pulse points. You glanced at yourself in the mirror, smoothing the fabric of your dress, a small flutter of nerves in your chest.

The past still lingered—it wasn’t something that could just disappear. There were nights you woke up gasping, caught in the grip of nightmares. But the smoke always seemed to lift the moment you heard his voice, the way he whispered comfort like he could chase away the darkness with nothing but his presence. It was a start.

You spent the weekend at your parents’ house. When you told them you were giving your marriage another chance, their eyes had softened, and they gave you their support. And now, here you were, waiting for him—your husband—who was on his way to take you on your first date.

Married for almost three years, and are going out for your first date. The date he’d practically begged for, pouting for hours until you finally agreed, because he said he wanted it.

A beginning.

You make your way down the stairs. When you reach the bottom, your eyes land on Yeonjun, lounging on the couch, his fingers absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. He doesn’t notice you at first, but the moment he does, he sets it down without hesitation.

Walking over to him, you don’t give him a chance to say anything. Your hands gently cup his face, and before he can react, you press a quick kiss to his forehead. “Yeonjun,” you say softly, standing in front of him now, your gaze grateful. “Thank you. For everything.”

Your words seem to light him up. A smile spreads across his face, and he attempts one of his signature winks—a clumsy one at that. It’s so bad it makes you both break into laughter, the sound echoing warmly in the room. “Anything for you, Y/N,” he replies, he stands up and asks for another hug from you.

"Take care, always, okay?" You nod to his shoulders. Grateful to this man who did things for you, without asking anything back.

After saying your goodbyes to Yeonjun, you step outside, your eyes sweeping across the open space in front of the large doors.

Beomgyu leans casually against his sleek black velvet car, the deep color almost absorbing the light, while Soobin stands beside him, mid-conversation. There’s a quiet ease between them, the kind that makes you pause. When they notice you approaching, Soobin pats Beomgyu’s back, their exchange winding down as they mutter their farewells.

They look like... brothers.

The sight tugs at your heart. When you told Soobin about Beomgyu’s promises, you weren’t sure how he’d react, but it felt like he already knew. “He’s the only one who doesn’t realise how much he loves you,” Soobin had said, his voice certain. “I saw it—starting back at the hospital. It was all over his face.”

Now, as you reach him, you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug that speaks more than words ever could. “I love you, Soobin.” you say, the words soft but full of conviction.

Soobin holds you for a beat longer than usual, his hand resting lightly on your back. He feels nothing but peace in his chest.

Maybe now, he can start chasing his own happiness too.

Beomgyu watches silently as you pull away from Soobin, his gaze never leaving you. When your eyes meet his and a soft smile spreads across your lips, his chest tightens. You’re beautiful. So achingly beautiful that it feels like his heart might splinter under your stare.

When you reach him, he leans down without a word, brushing a quick kiss against your lips. He knows he needs this. He knows he needs you.

Because without you, there’s no him.

The day felt like stepping back in time, a snapshot of a younger, simpler you.

It started with the movies, where Beomgyu would lean in for quick, stolen kisses during the darker scenes, his grin impossible to resist. Then came the arcade—a chaotic mix of flashing lights and laughter. He was relentless in his mission to win you a comically oversized teddy bear, to the point of nearly bribing the poor guy running the booth. When he finally succeeded, he held it up like a trophy, his smile as wide as the bear itself. For a moment, it felt like you were back in college, like this could’ve been one of your carefree dates from those days.

Now, you’re crammed into a photo booth together, squishing shoulder to shoulder as the timer counts down. Two grown, married adults pulling silly faces at the camera like teenagers. The faint hum of the machine is drowned out by your shared giggles, and you can feel the curious stares of actual teenagers nearby. They’re probably imagining your life is perfect, the kind of love they dream about. If only they knew how far from perfect it’s been—how much work it’s taken to get here.

When the photo strip finally slides out, Beomgyu grabs it first, holding it up with a burst of laughter. “Look at you, sweetheart,” he says, pointing to one particularly goofy expression you made. His laughter is infectious, and soon you’re both doubled over, bumping to each other as you cackle uncontrollably.

Beomgyu—who always seems so composed, so maddeningly serious—looks nothing like that version of himself when he laughs. He’s wide-eyed and carefree, his joy as pure as a child’s, and it’s beautiful. It heals you. Every day with him feels like this—a discovery, a new layer to peel back, something new to fall in love with.

“God, I love you,” he says suddenly, making your heart flutter.

“I love you too,” you whisper, the smile on your face softening as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. The squeals from the teenagers outside are instant, and you roll your eyes, laughing as you glance at them—your accidental audience, swooning over the two of you like you’re straight out of a rom-com, like they’ve just witnessed something magical.

And maybe they have.

It doesn’t matter if it’s slow, or if it took longer than it should have. Life isn’t perfect, and neither are people. Everyone deserves a second chance—just like the one you gave your marriage. Just like the one it deserved. It may have started off messy in ways you couldn’t imagine fixing, but that didn’t mean it had to end the same way.

The road ahead still feels long, but you’re learning to let go. Of the doubt that whispered you’d never make it. Of the pain. Of the mistakes and the past that clings to you. Even the scars—the ones you thought would never fade. Letting them go is the only way forward, the only way to move on. Only then can you begin again.

You glance at Beomgyu, his fingers laced with yours, his grip gentle as he leads you out of this place. His head tilts slightly as he looks back at you, and there it is—that boyish, cheeky smile that has the power to make your heart skip. All you have to do is surrender.

This surrender—is not in defeat, but in trust. Trust in him. Trust with his promises. Trust in the hope of something better. Trust in yourself.

You’ll be okay.

THE END.

taglist: I love you @beombunni @lovingbeomgyudayone @virtaideen @hyukascampfire @fancypeacepersona @bamgeutori @lilbrorufr @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @soobinbunnie5 @pagelets @yoseicour @baekberrie @blossommi @younbeanz @soohashits @brrytears @shycreationdreamland @notevenheretbh1

[dior-luxury]

A Love Worth Fighting For

Background Information: You have been the boys' crush ever since middle school. So, when they suddenly hear about you being in a relationship, they feel an urgent need to win you back and save you from your toxic boyfriend.

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff/drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] ace . deuce . jack . epel . sebek

- [𝐩:𝐬] jealousy . some talk of physical fighting

Note: This piece has no joke, been sitting in my drafts since 2022 😭. So I thought I would re-vamp it, so it can see the light of day

Ace Trappola

Ace had always been a tease, a troublemaker, the kind of guy who’d steal the last piece of your lunch just to get a reaction out of you. But underneath the jokes and smug grins, there was something real—something unspoken between you two.

Which was why when you introduced your new boyfriend, Ace felt his stomach drop like a rock sinking into an abyss.

This guy? Some pompous, possessive jerk who acted like he owned you? Ace saw it immediately—the way he stood too close, the way his arm never left your waist like a leash, the way his eyes flashed with irritation every time you so much as laughed with another guy. It made Ace’s blood boil.

At first, he tried to play it cool. “Oh, so this is the lucky dude, huh?” he said, smirking, but his voice lacked its usual playfulness. “You sure you’re not just keeping him around ‘cause you lost a bet?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing him off, but Ace knew. He saw the hesitation in your smile.

And then the incidents started piling up.

He caught your boyfriend tightening his grip on your wrist when you tried to pull away. Ace had been ready to deck him right then and there if you hadn’t given him a pleading look. Then there was the time he overheard your boyfriend snapping at you for talking to him—Ace, of all people, who had been your friend since forever.

That was when the urgency hit him like a train. He had to get you out.

The next time he found you alone, he cornered you, grabbing your hand with more gentleness than he knew he was capable of. “Oi,” he murmured, his voice unusually serious. “Tell me the truth. You happy with that guy?”

You hesitated. It was all the answer he needed.

His grip tightened. “I swear, if he’s messing with you—hurting you—I don’t care what it takes, I’ll get you out. Even if I have to be the bad guy in your eyes.”

His heart pounded. He was ready to throw away everything—his pride, his dignity—just to make sure you never had to look that hesitant ever again.

Because Ace Trappola didn’t just lose. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to lose you.

Deuce Spade

Deuce had always been the kind of guy who charged in headfirst, fists clenched, heart blazing with conviction. But when he saw you with him, for the first time, he froze.

He wanted to be happy for you. He really did. But something in his gut twisted when he saw the way your boyfriend spoke to you, belittled you in front of others, grabbed your arm a little too hard.

Deuce wasn’t the sharpest when it came to emotions, but he knew what this was. It was wrong.

He tried to brush it off at first, thinking maybe he was overreacting. Maybe he was just jealous. He had always cared about you—more than he ever admitted out loud. But then he saw the way you flinched at your boyfriend’s harsh words. The way you forced a smile when you said everything was fine.

And Deuce saw red.

The next time he found you alone, his hands clenched at his sides. “Listen,” he said, voice trembling with restrained anger, “I don’t know what’s going on, but… you don’t have to stay with him. You know that, right?”

You looked away, swallowing hard. “Deuce, it’s not that simple—”

“Yes, it is!” His voice came out louder than he meant, but he couldn’t help it. He had been a delinquent once, but he swore to turn over a new leaf—to be someone worthy of standing by your side. And yet, here he was, watching you suffer because he hadn’t stepped up sooner.

He took a deep breath, then softer, more desperate: “I promised myself I’d protect you. Even if you think I’m being stupid, even if you hate me for interfering, I—” His throat tightened. “I can’t just watch this happen.”

He met your gaze, willing you to understand. “If you ever need a way out, I’ll be there. Just say the word, and I’ll take you away from him. I don’t care what it takes.”

Because he wasn’t going to let you disappear into someone else’s shadow. Not when he had finally realized—too late—how much he wanted to be the one standing by your side.

Jack Howl

Jack had always respected your choices. He wasn’t one to interfere in your life, and he certainly wasn’t the type to get jealous.

But something about your new boyfriend didn’t sit right with him.

He didn’t like how the guy talked over you. He didn’t like how he always pulled you away from your friends. And he especially didn’t like the way your scent was constantly laced with stress and fear whenever he was around.

Jack tried to ignore it at first, but when he saw your boyfriend grab you roughly by the arm in the hall one day, a low growl rumbled in his chest before he even realized it.

Before he knew it, he had yanked the guy off you, slamming him against the wall with a snarl.

"You don’t touch her like that." Jack’s voice was cold, deadly serious.

Your boyfriend scoffed, rubbing his shoulder. "The hell’s your problem, mutt?"

Jack didn’t care what he called him. His only concern was you.

He turned to you, his ears twitching as he noted the slight tremble in your stance. His golden eyes softened. "Come on. You’re leaving. With me."

You hesitated, your eyes darting between the two of them. "Jack, I…"

"Don’t." His tail flicked sharply. "Don’t defend him. Don’t make excuses for him." His voice lowered, almost pleading. "I know you. And I know this isn’t what you want."

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Jack took that as confirmation.

Without another glance at your boyfriend, Jack stepped beside you, lowering his head. "Let’s go."

You wavered for only a moment before finally nodding. And that was all Jack needed.

As you walked away with him, Jack made a silent promise to himself.

He should’ve told you how he felt sooner. But it wasn’t too late.

Not yet.

He wouldn’t let you go again. Not now, not ever.

Epel Felmier

Epel never really thought about romance much. He figured if he ever got a girlfriend, it’d be simple—he’d just find someone who liked him for who he was, not some delicate image others forced on him. But you… you were different. You saw him for him, not as some pretty boy, not as someone who needed fixing. You laughed at his stubbornness but never made fun of him for it. You supported him.

And somehow, without him realizing it, you had become important to him.

That’s why it felt like a slap to the face when he found out you were dating someone else.

His first reaction? "Tch. Whatever." He played it cool, pretending it didn’t bother him, even laughing it off when his dormmates teased him about it. "She can date whoever she wants, ain't my business."

But then… he started noticing things.

The way you pulled away from your friends more. The way you barely smiled anymore. The way you flinched at sudden noises.

And the final straw? When he caught a glimpse of your boyfriend grabbing your arm too tightly near the Hall of Mirrors, his voice low and filled with venom as he said something Epel couldn’t hear. But he did see the way your expression went blank, like you were forcing yourself to stay still.

Something in him snapped.

The next time he saw you alone, he stormed up to you, grabbing your hand without thinking. "We need to talk."

"Epel, I—"

"Don’t even try lyin’ to me. I know somethin’ ain't right." His voice was sharp, but there was an undeniable softness underneath. "That guy—he ain’t treatin’ you right, is he?"

You hesitated.

That was all the confirmation he needed.

Epel let out a frustrated huff, running a hand through his hair before stepping closer, his grip tightening slightly. "Listen. I ain’t some prince, and I ain’t got fancy words, but I know one thing—I’d never let you look as miserable as he does."

He exhaled, lowering his voice. "You deserve better. And… I want to be that for you."

His ears burned red, but he didn’t let go of your hand. "So, what do ya say? Wanna ditch that loser and come with me instead?"

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek prided himself on discipline. He was not one to let trivial things distract him, especially emotions. But you? You were one of the rare exceptions.

He respected you. Looked up to you, even. You had earned his admiration, something few humans ever did.

That’s why, when he found out you were in a relationship, it was… frustrating. He couldn’t understand why it bothered him so much, but he convinced himself it was fine. If this was your choice, then he would respect it.

But then… he started seeing him.

Your boyfriend.

Sebek didn’t like him from the start. There was something about him that rubbed him the wrong way—the way he carried himself, the way he talked down to you as if he owned you.

At first, Sebek told himself it wasn’t his business. He had no right to interfere in your personal affairs.

Then, he saw your boyfriend yelling at you one day, gripping your wrist too tightly. And that was it.

He marched over without hesitation, standing tall, his voice booming. "UNHAND HER AT ONCE, YOU INSOLENT WORM!"

The force of his voice startled your boyfriend enough that he let go of your wrist, stumbling back. Sebek placed himself in front of you like a shield, green eyes burning with fury.

"You—who do you think you are—"

"WHO DO I THINK I AM?" Sebek scoffed, stepping forward, towering over the man. "I AM SEBEK ZIGVOLT, LOYAL SERVANT OF MALLEUS DRACONIA, AND I WILL NOT STAND IDLY BY WHILE A COWARD LAYS HIS HANDS ON SOMEONE AS PRECIOUS AS HER!"

Your boyfriend paled. Sebek took another step, his voice low and dangerous. "You are not worthy of even speaking her name, let alone holding any claim over her."

Your boyfriend stuttered, clearly realizing he had no chance of winning this. With one final glare, Sebek turned his back to him, grabbing your hand.

"Come. You are leaving with me."

"Sebek, I—"

He turned to you, his voice softening ever so slightly. "You do not need to endure this any longer. I swore to protect you, and I will keep that promise—whether you ask for it or not."

His grip on your hand tightened just a little. "And if you allow it… I would like to stand by your side, not just as your protector… but as the one who cherishes you as you deserve."

His face was red, his jaw tight, but he didn’t waver. He wouldn’t let you go back to that man.

Not when he was right here, willing to give you the world.

[takimakiiiii]

i love you but not as much as i love me

summary: after waiting for lando countless times you finally realise that you deserve more than that.

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

tw: heartbreak, self doubt

a/n: i have absolutely no idea where this came from but it’s kinda bad so bear with me and it’s 12:30am rn and i have a maths test tmr so spare me okay 😭

themes: angst, heartbreak, BADASS Y/N HELL YEAHHHH

word count: like 300 words?

—————————————————————————

The restaurant noises seemed to distort the longer you sat and waited. Thoughts circled through your mind as each minute ticked by slowly but surely. 

“I promise I’ll be on time.” Lando’s words lay heavy on your chest as you sat alone at a table. 

Liar. 

You should have known he wouldn’t come. But you chose to give Lando the benefit of the doubt and look how that ended. Sitting alone with a glass of wine in your hand, you could feel the stares of the people around you. Their pity for you radiating in your direction as you wallowed in silence. 

You nearly laughed out loud at the sheer irony of it all. You thought he would actually come, how pathetic. You already knew the script off by heart. You’d get home, he’d get home, you fight and everyone goes to sleep either mad or sad. Too many times had this occurred and you couldn’t help but blame yourself. Blame yourself for trying too hard, putting in too much effort when you knew it would be the same outcome each time. Work would always be Lando’s first priority, it came before everything, his health, his family and above all, you. 

You couldn’t even count how many times you’d been left waiting alone in a restaurant embarrassed. Peoples stares would linger far too long to be just friendly. Monaco was a small place so there was no way around all the whispers and exchanges of gossip that would occur. Especially surrounding Lando and your relationship. 

The wine tasted bitter in your mouth as you finished the glass. Your eyes flickered up to the clock that hung on the wall, the time reading 9:43pm. 

With a heavy sigh you decided it was time to leave. You payed for your glass and stepped out of the restaurant, the sky already swallowed in darkness. You swallowed, holding back tears as you slowly made your way toward your car. The street lights seemed to buzz tauntingly above your head as your heels clicked against the pavement. 

“Y/N!” an all too recognisable voice called down the street. Your head shot up as your eyes fell on Lando who jogged toward you. You payed no attention to the tears that threatened to fall as you stopped in your tracks. 

Lando finally caught up to you, out of breath. Still in his papaya shirt he looked like a fool next to you. You who had gotten ready for tonight only for it to end like the countless times before. You stared at him unimpressed as you held a steady face. You absolutely refused to let him see how much it affected you.

“What happen to ‘I’ll be on time this time,’ hmm?” you asked, folding your arms across your chest defensively. 

“Look, I got caught up-“

“You’ve already used that before.” you interrupted. Lando frowned, pausing under your stare. 

“What?”

You let out a scoff, anger pulsating through your chest as you tried to remain calm. He looked absolutely clueless.

“You’ve already used that excuse, Lando. Come up with a new one and impress me.” sarcasm seeped off your words. He stared at you is disbelief, words failing to leave his lips. 

“Have you run out? Is that it? Surely you can think of at least one.” you pressed until anger ticked through his eyes. 

“Don’t do this right now, Y/N. I thought you’d be able to understand that work is just too important right now for . . . this.” he gestured to nothing but the space in between you both. You raised your eyebrows, throat beginning to ache from holding back tears. “So you want to break up?” 

“No, that’s not what I meant.” he gritted, running his hand through his hair, frustration thick in his voice. You scoffed, letting out a bitter laugh. 

“What do you mean then?” you asked. “Because right now there is absolutely nothing keeping me from staying. I love you, Lando and I really thought you would see that seeing how many times I’ve waited for you to show up and you haven’t. Your life is work and I get that, I really do but have you ever thought to think how that affects me? That maybe I don’t want to be constantly pushed aside and dismissed as a priority? You can work day and night and everything in between but what about me? Why am I the only one trying to keep this together?”

“That’s untrue, Y/N. I do try, everything I ever do is for us and our future together.”

“Don’t say that. Everything you do is for yourself, Lando.” 

“What do you want me to do then? I should just call up Zak and say ‘sorry boyfriend duties!’ and hang up?”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Lando and you know it.” your heart felt like it was failing inside of your chest as he stood before you.

“Please, enlighten me then. If you can’t understand that work is my priority right now then maybe we shouldn’t be together.” 

His words lay heavy in the silence that followed. You stood before him, that guy who had loved you just as much as you’d loved him was long gone now. 

“God I hate you.” you whispered, biting back a sob. His gaze softened as he watched you rub away tears. Regret washed over him like a tidal wave but as it turns out that wouldn’t be enough to save him this time. 

“That’s not what I meant-“ he began to say

“I’m leaving.” you said in finality, the words seeming like a foreign language to you. Lando looked up in disbelief, “What?” 

You took a deep breath in, the thought in your mind resonating with you. This wasn’t what you wanted. You didn’t deserve someone who wouldn’t give you their time or at least to even try to. You loved yourself far too much to let yourself be treated like that. He didn’t deserve your love or respect, he’d made that clear every single time he didn’t show up. Exhaling slowly you continued, “You’re absolutely right. I won’t ever understand how work can be a priority over your own relationship, so good luck finding someone who will because it most certainly won’t be me.” 

Lando was at lost for words as he stood and stared at you. Silence lay thick in the air as you waited once again for him. “Yeah,” you breathed, “That’s what I thought.” 

And as you walked off into the night your mind and heart finally felt free. 

a/n: well i hope you enjoyeddd and a reminder that you should never doubt yourself and that your health and wellbeing comes first! love yourself first <333 stay safe and have a good day!

[kxsagi]

Good evening to you! I recently read that isagi fic of yours where the reader drooled over his thighs and how they looked in compression shorts (honestly so real #NEEEDTHATT ). I then couldn't stop thinking of Itoshi Rin in compression shorts.

HEAR ME OUT GUYS COME BACK JUST LISTEN WAIT🗣🗣🙍‍♀️🙌🙏

So i wanted to make a request for Itoshi Rin with a fem or gender neutral reader where its similar to that Isagi fic but with Rin? JSHEKAMKKAA IDKK I hope you don't mind this request and thank you if you read this 😭❤

“#𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐”

a/n: i fear this is my villain origin story 

i love watching rin edits and they just show that one part of him with the leg press machine in season 2 and his thighs are bulging out like 🤤

(idk art credits sorry 😖)

you’d like to think you’re a person of dignity. that you have self-restraint. but then rin itoshi walks into the living room in compression shorts like it’s no big deal. like he’s not out here casually committing crimes against your sanity. 

compression shorts. clinging to him. highlighting every sinew of muscle, every sharp curve of his thighs, like the fabric was custom-made to ruin your life. his quads look carved out of stone, taut and firm from years of training. you blink once, twice, and then just openly stare, because what’s the point in pretending? 

“what?” rin’s voice is flat, disinterested, like he hasn’t just casually unleashed the seventh circle of temptation into your living room. 

“... what do you mean ‘what’?” you blurt out, voice far too scandalized. you gesture vaguely at his legs. at the sin itself. “that. that’s illegal.” 

he gives you a slow, unimpressed blink. like you just said something profoundly stupid. because to him, this is nothing. just regular training attire. but to you? it’s a personal attack. 

he stretches his leg slightly, just to adjust his stance, and you swear you see god. the muscle shifts and flexes beneath the fabric, and your soul practically leaves your body. 

“you’re being weird.” his tone is completely flat, but his eyes linger on you for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. 

you snap. “don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing.” 

he shrugs, exuding the kind of calm indifference that makes you want to scream into a pillow. “i’m literally just standing here.” 

oh, the gaslighting. the audacity. as if he isn’t fully aware of the way his compression shorts are clinging to him like a second skin. 

he drops onto the couch beside you, legs slightly spread, muscles still taut from practice. like he’s not driving you insane on purpose. 

“you’re staring,” he mutters, eyes fixed on his phone, like he couldn’t be less bothered. 

“yeah,” you deadpan, “because you’re out here with your thighs of mass destruction.” 

he doesn’t even look up. just a disinterested hum, as if you’ve made an observation about the weather. like you’re not currently fighting for your life over there. 

“not my fault you’re weak,” he mutters. 

your eye twitches. “oh, you think this is funny?” you jab a finger at his thigh. bad decision. because the moment your finger brushes the firm muscle, you’re done for. his thigh is unreasonably solid. unfairly warm. you swear you feel a faint tremor in your hand. 

rin finally, finally, glances at you, one brow arched slightly. no emotion. just mildly condescending boredom. but there’s the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“go on, then.” his voice is low. neutral. “if it’s so distracting, just touch it already.” 

your brain fully short-circuits. you can’t tell if he’s being genuinely dismissive or just subtly cruel, because his expression doesn’t change at all. perfectly calm. unreadable. like he isn’t making you unravel from the inside out. 

and you hate yourself for how fast you comply. your fingers press into the firm muscle, heat blooming under your palm. and god, it’s everything you imagined and worse. 

“done?” rin asks, glancing at you like you’re the one inconveniencing him. 

“no,” you say instantly, gripping his thigh just a little tighter. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[aleskie]

hey idk if you heard the song jonny or the reprise version by faye webster yet but idk i just got this fic idea wherein oscar wasn't just ready for a relationship or its the other way around.. idk just hurt me 😭

I LOVE THIS SONG!!! It's on my crash out playlist HAHAHA This is a lil unedited btw I wrote it in one go and well....here it is!! I hope u like it :>>>

DID YOU EVER EVEN LOVE ME? | Oscar Piastri x Reader

WARNINGS: None. Just. idk it's sad i guess...

The room is tense—air so thick it clings to your skin, somehow warmer despite the usual cold London breeze. The white walls of the apartment stretch around you, casting long, inky shadows, leaving little room for light. The silence is deafening, louder than the hum of traffic below, pressing in on you from all sides.

It’s been your apartment for a month now. Your own space. Something most people would celebrate—throw a housewarming party, invite friends over, fill the rooms with laughter. But for you, it’s been a reminder. An empty echo of everything you’ve lost.

It makes you question everything. Your choices. Your worth. The very foundation of who you are.

You think that’s what love does to people. It breaks them. Leaves them raw. You try to pray sometimes, whispering into the dark, hoping some deity—any deity—might be listening.

Some nights, you ask for revenge, for some cosmic retribution to make him feel the weight of the pain he left you with. Other nights, you just beg to feel nothing at all, to be numb, to let the emptiness take over so the ache would finally stop.

Sometimes you ask for him back.

They say love is patient. Kind. It trusts, hopes, perseveres. And for a time, it was—it did. For a time, love was stolen kisses in hidden corners, hushed phone calls on nights you were apart, midnight screenings of obscure films, hands clasped tight in the bitter cold, just to keep each other warm.

A knock at the door breaks you from your thoughts. Sharp. Unmistakable.

It’s him.

You knew he'd come—you’d read the message over and over, the words burned into your mind. He was coming to get his things. You’d cried yourself to sleep last night, knowing this moment would come.

And now it has.

"You have a key," you tell him as you pull the door open, stepping aside to let him in.

"It's your space," he says simply. "I didn't want to impose."

This is our space, you want to tell him. This is our home. 

But the words lodge in your throat like splinters. Instead, you turn away, walking toward the kitchen counter where the last of his things sit packed away—boxes filled with the remnants of a life that, not too long ago, felt unshakable.

You hand one over, your fingers brushing his.

You hate it. The fire that still flickers beneath your skin when he touches you. The way your body betrays you, how your heart still trips over itself, clinging to some fragile, stupid hope. That this is a mistake. That he’ll realize it, take it all back, and come home.

But he doesn’t. He turns to leave, silent and sure, just like he did that night—the night he decided you weren’t worth staying for.

"Why?" The word slips out before you can stop it, the weight of it filling the room. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Your voice is barely above a whisper, but he hears you. Of course, he does.

He pauses, shoulders tense.

Tears blur your vision, hot and unwelcome, but you refuse to let them fall. You won’t give him that. You won’t let him see you break.

He turns slowly, meeting your gaze. "I don’t know what you want me to say."

"Anything." Your voice shakes. "Literally anything."

He exhales, a quiet, tired sound, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always does when he’s searching for the right words. Or when he knows there aren’t any.

"I didn’t want it to be like this.” His voice is low, careful, like he’s stepping over shattered glass. "This isn’t easy for me either. I…" He exhales, voice softening. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did."

"I’m sorry,” he whispers.

"You walked away, Oscar," you say, the words trembling but firm. "You left, and you didn’t think I’d be hurt?"

"I didn’t walk away," he says after a beat. "I just—" He sighs, shaking his head. "You wanted things I couldn’t give you."

“I wanted things that you promised me!” The tears fall, and it feels like you’ve lost, like your very heart has betrayed you. “You said you wanted me—a family, a home. You said you loved me!”

“I do!" His voice is sharp, insistent.

"Then why?"

He falls silent, the weight of the question pressing between you. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter. “I’ve worked my entire life for this. To get that seat. To win. I—” He looks at you then, and it’s the worst part—the way his gaze still holds that tenderness, that warmth, the one you’ve memorized like a scripture, a prayer. The one that makes you hope, even now. ���It’s my dream.”

“You said I was your dream.”

“We were seventeen," he breathes. "What did we know then?”

“I knew I loved you.” The sob rips through you, raw and helpless. “Fuck, I still love you.”

His face twists, pained. “You think I don’t?” His voice is gentle. Soft. Guilty. “You think I don’t regret it?”

For a long moment, it’s just silence. The space between you stretching, breaking, unraveling like the seams of something that was never meant to last.

Finally, you whisper, the words barely holding together—fragile, afraid.

“Oscar…did you ever even love me?”

He doesn’t answer right away. And maybe that’s the answer. Maybe he did. Once. When love was simple and young, when life hadn’t wedged itself between you. When dreams were still dreams, untouched by sacrifice, and the future was some distant thing you had all the time in the world to figure out.

Maybe he’s right and he still does. Just not enough.

Not enough to stay.

He takes a breath, slow and measured, like he’s been holding it in for too long. Then he shifts the box under his arm, adjusting his grip like it’s heavier than it should be.

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

And just like that, he turns.

Walks to the door.

Opens it.

Leaves.

The sound of it clicking shut echoes through the room, louder than it should. Louder than it has any right to be.

You stand there, staring at the empty space where he stood just moments ago, waiting. For something—anything. For him to come back. To say he made a mistake. To tell you this isn’t the end. Or at the very least, to give you some kind of answer, some final piece to help you understand where it all went wrong.

But there’s nothing.

Only silence.

A silence he will never hear.

[sugar-petals]

every time i see him pop up on my dash i’m impressed by how taemin (who else) has debuted and effortlessly resonated in several generations of his genre and remains so bewitchingly relevant. yes i know manwhoring and the dark side of catholicism plus dissecting masculinity/femininty will never go out of fashion and he dances more compellingly than 99% of his peers and his looks never seem to change ever and he works his butt off but you know what i mean: 

an inexplicable longevity. without scandal, lack of sympathy from fans, missing the mark, error, mediocrity. all while provoking thought. taemin’s ultraglittering, seductive musical staying power slash a remarkably consistent message — how on earth does he vary his aesthetic but always manages to express HIS idea?— and drive to do what he does are mysteriously singular. and it’s not just his jesus-honoring buttshaking alright. to use the first gen benchmark, without slighting either of these artists: he is the legacy and work of BOA and Rain in one. seamless even after his difficult enlistment, taemin always keeps going and going and innovating and serving looks and performing and enchanting. 

i don’t mean that in a way of “tch why has taemin not fallen from grace yet?? he’s too goody-two-shoes to be true!” or “this dude must be a cash-hungry slaving robot who uses sex to sell as a sleazy capitalist trick!!”. i just sincerely think he’s done so well, everything else would be unfair and inaccurate to say. enviably, taemin really found his own thing, that inspires. it’s no surprise how every shawol/taemin fan is just on fire (and every phobic tongue that rises against him shall be hilariously ridiculed without even bothering much: i like this idgaf attitude in the fandom, it resembles him a lot lol). can’t blame anybody, one hand movement by that cheeky guy, you’re hooked. 

i simply wanted to stress how taemin pulled off sticking around against the odds, being a charmed personality, and electrifying a multi-generational, multi-gender crowd and look damn sharp while doing it: even with a soft, sweet tenor voice such as his. we really have to thank jonghyun in all regards, whatever he has instilled in taemin was, and we all know that, zero percent in vain. it has given him a huge portion of that “X-factor” (or ‘T’-factor in this case lmao), in front of the camera that only the greats have, far beyond just doing ‘attempted personal branding aaand done, retired, forgotten’.

even if yes, that still contributes on the hard-to-ignore business side, SM knew how to do one thing right after all. we don’t know idols personally still, and taemin clearly found his perfect niche, giving the audience what other artists desperately cannot offer on that ‘market’, if you want to put it like that. but either way, he seems much more than the industry in a way? and MJ/Prince, for that matter, despite an obvious inspiration? like a feeling. or musing. really, how does he do it 😭

taemin’s success, fan-favorite status and concept ahead of the curve is so difficult to explain and that’s probably why people enjoy him and his work: it is curated, not calculated. i think there’s huge difference, even if the production process is the same or similar everywhere. but the way most idols are fascinated by taemin says it all basically, he’ll be talked about for decades after and always come back successfully, gaga-style. ngl taemin could never bore me (am i the only one who still positively loses it when he hits the pose? i never found it annoying, i love that shit) it’s so easy to like what he does. his enigma makes him an artist, and i hope he’ll be around for long to spread his cheeky little mischief.

TLDR; i just wanted to emphasize how awesome taemin is and got totally carried away.

[lady-arcane]

—Nothing Special—

Nanami doesn’t believe in doing things halfway. Not work, not fights, and certainly not meals.

----

It’s something you notice early on, the way he approaches cooking with the same quiet precision he applies to everything else. No shortcuts, no half-hearted attempts. Just careful, deliberate movements—measuring, chopping, stirring, tasting. He doesn’t rush anything, and there’s something almost meditative about the way he works. Like cooking is one of the few things in this world that make sense.

And yet, every time he sets down a plate in front of you, he shrugs it off with a casual, “It’s nothing special.”

Which is, frankly, insane.

Because Nanami’s cooking isn’t just good—it’s absurdly, unfairly good. The kind of good that makes you reconsider every meal you’ve ever had before. It’s balanced and flavorful and just indulgent enough to make you wonder if he missed his true calling.

He didn’t, of course. Because as much as you hate to admit it, he is a good sorcerer.-Even if you’d much rather see him somewhere else, somewhere safer. Somewhere with a kitchen instead of a battlefield.

-----

“You know, most people don’t just whip up a three-course meal on a random weeknight,” you tell him once, staring down at the plate he’s just set in front of you. “This is not ‘nothing special.’”

Nanami exhales through his nose, unamused. “It’s just a simple meal.”

“Nanami, there’s saffron in this.”

He barely reacts. “I had some left over.”

“Of course you did."

It’s a pattern, this quiet form of care he offers. He doesn’t say much about it, doesn’t expect praise or gratitude. But you see it in the way he portions out the food, always making sure your plate is full before serving himself. In the way he adjusts the spice level just enough to match your tastes. In the way he always, always makes sure there’s something comforting on the table after a particularly rough day.

You don’t always call him out on it. Sometimes, you just let it happen—this wordless, steady kind of love that he insists isn’t anything grand.

-----

But one night, after a long, exhausting day, you sit down at the table, take one bite of his cooking, and blurt out, “I think you love me more than I love you.”

Nanami pauses, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. Raises a brow.

You gesture at the food. “This is ridiculous. This is devotion. And I—what? I just show up? I sit here and receive all this?” You shake your head, overwhelmed. “It’s embarrassing, honestly. I need to step up my game.”

For a second, he just looks at you, unreadable as ever. Then, very quietly, he says, “You do more than you realize.”

And maybe it’s the exhaustion talking, or maybe it’s just the way he says it—calm, certain, like an undeniable fact—but you find yourself falling silent. Because when Nanami says something like that, you believe him.

The rest of the meal is quiet. Easy. And when you finish, setting your chopsticks down with a sigh, Nanami gives you a look and says, “So? How was it?”

You meet his eyes, dead serious. “Nothing special.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, just barely. But he doesn’t argue.

He just gets up, takes your plate, and starts cleaning up.

-----

Greetings, Dreamers and Readers ✨🌸

You know, I’ve been thinking—maybe cooking is a love language. My younger Bhai (cousin brother), for example, is an absolute menace most of the time (as younger siblings tend to be lol)

But when he’s in the kitchen, he always makes something for me too. Not in an overly sweet, “look how much I care” kind of way—more like a casual, “I was already making food, so here, take this” way. No big declarations, no dramatic gestures, just... an unspoken understanding.

Which, honestly, is kind of unfair. Because while I can barely cook to save my life, this little brat could probably become a chef if he wanted to. 😭✋

Meanwhile, I struggle to flip a half fry egg without cracking its yolk. Life is cruel like that. 🗿

But anyway—maybe food is one of those quiet ways people show love. No grand speeches, no poetic confessions—just a plate of something warm, made with care, set in front of you without a word. Feels very Nanami-coded, doesn’t it? lol

---

What about you guys? Do you express love through cooking? Or does someone do that for you? Let me know—I’d love to hear your stories! 🎀

[slutoru1207]

Hello!!! I love your writing and how it's satisfying to read! I was wondering if u could possibly do platonic fic with either the variants or just mark! Maybe with a little sister that's similar to sayaka miki or rei ayanami! No rush tho!

Aww, I can already feel the sweetness! 😭💖 Here’s a little platonic fic with Mark being the perfect, protective older brother, looking after his younger sister, who’s a mix of Sayaka Miki and Rei Ayanami.

The Quiet Ones Always Need the Most Care

Mark always had a way of looking out for people without making a big deal of it. His eyes were sharp, and he could sense when someone—especially his little sister—needed a bit more attention, even if they didn’t ask for it.

You were a lot like him. Strong-willed, a bit reserved, and always seeming like you didn’t need anyone. You kept things locked up inside, hiding your emotions behind a wall of stoic indifference, just like some of the heroes Mark knew. But that didn’t fool him. Not for a second.

Mark might not have been great with words, but he was good at showing love in other ways.

It was a quiet evening when Mark noticed you sitting by the window, staring out at the sky, your legs curled up on the couch. He was supposed to be working on some superhero stuff—nothing too serious, just some patrols—but when he saw you like that, he paused.

He walked into the living room and took a seat next to you, careful not to interrupt your thoughts.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his voice unusually gentle.

You didn’t immediately respond. You never did when you were lost in your thoughts. Mark didn't push. Instead, he waited patiently, giving you space to let the words come when you were ready.

Eventually, your gaze shifted to him. It was a small look, but Mark caught it. That was enough.

"I'm fine," you said, a little too quickly. "Just thinking."

Mark smiled, though it was more like a soft curve of his lips than the usual, teasing grin. He knew you too well. You didn't always have to say everything for him to understand.

"You know," he said, looking up at the sky outside, "I used to sit like this a lot when I was younger, too. Just thinking."

You glanced at him again, and for the first time in a while, he saw something soften in your eyes.

"I know," you whispered. "You always seemed so… calm, like nothing ever bothered you."

Mark laughed softly, the sound warm. "Well, maybe I just learned to deal with it better over time. But that doesn’t mean you have to carry everything on your own, okay?" He turned to you, serious now. "You’ve got me, you know?"

You didn’t say anything for a long time, and Mark just sat there with you, his presence a quiet comfort. He wasn’t going to push you to open up. He just wanted to let you know you weren’t alone.

After a while, you leaned your head on his shoulder, the movement gentle, like you weren’t quite sure if it was okay to be this vulnerable. But Mark didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you a little closer.

It wasn’t a grand gesture, but in that moment, it was everything.

"I’ll always be here, no matter what," Mark whispered.

And even though you didn’t answer, you squeezed his hand in silent acknowledgment. You didn’t need to say it out loud. He already knew.

Later, Mark found you out in the backyard, kneeling down in the garden. It was your thing—planting flowers, taking care of the little things that brought color into the world. He’d always been a little amazed by how you found peace in it, especially since you didn’t always show that side of yourself to the world.

Mark stood in the doorway, just watching you for a moment, before he stepped outside.

"You know," he said, breaking the silence, "if you ever need help with the gardening, I’m here."

You gave him a tiny smile—just a flicker of one. "I think I’m okay. But thanks."

Mark came over anyway, squatting beside you and helping to pull out the weeds you’d missed. He didn’t need to do this. He could have gone off on his own, but he wanted to be here, helping in his own way.

It was quiet between the two of you, but there was something soothing about it. No words, no pressure. Just the sound of your hands in the dirt, the faint rustling of the wind, and Mark’s steady presence beside you.

Every now and then, he’d glance at you and notice the way you’d relax just a little more when he was around. He didn’t know exactly how to explain it, but he liked knowing that he was someone you could lean on, even without saying a word.

"Hey, how about we plant something new?" Mark asked one day, holding up a tiny sapling you could add to your little garden.

You looked at the plant for a moment, considering. Then, without a word, you nodded.

Mark smiled as he knelt beside you.

"Good. Let’s make sure this one grows strong."

Mark never needed grand speeches or huge gestures to show his love for you. Sometimes, it was the little things—the quiet moments, the shared spaces, the silent understanding—that meant the most.

And when you finally opened up about what had been on your mind, it would be when you were ready. And Mark would be there, no questions asked, with a steady hand and a heart full of love.

He was your older brother, and that meant he would always be there to protect you—even if you didn’t always need it.

[raven-unkind]

hii, congrats on the 200 followers ❤️ i really like how you write niki for your smau so i was wondering if i could get prompt 1 with him? maybe loser riki who's down bad for reader? 🤭

˚₊‧⁺⋆❤︎ annoying ft. riki nishimura

riki nishimura x fem!reader

wc. 1419 words

200 followers event: “You pierced my ears. That’s like, automatic couple material.”

tw. highschool!au, fluff and crack, inspired by my own high school (gotta love em american highschools 😭), the main situation is loosely inspired by smt that happened to me and my friend (yes we helped some guy in our school pierce his ears. pls dont do that). Saw this prompt on pinterest and I just HAD to add it to my event. 

a/n. This is so long, I couldn't bring myself to stop yapping 😭 anyways I’d like to thank everyone that sent in their requests for the event & those who are supporting me!

If someone told you that helping someone would have resulted in being followed around by your school’s resident bad boy you would have laughed. Since freshman year, Riki Nishimura, had seemingly been doing everything to build himself the reputation of a delinquent. Getting into fights, skipping classes, never wearing his uniform correctly, and somehow always being late as if he didn't live 10 minutes away from school. 

…

It was 4th period – physics class. Now not only did you hate the teacher – Mrs. Makenzie – but you also had absolutely no idea what the hell was even going on in this class. So the best solution? Skipping in the bathroom. Not very exciting but still, it's better than sitting through a 1 hour lecture about thermodynamics, slowly feeling your brain melting away. So you found yourself in the girls bathroom, hidden away in a stall, scrolling on your phone. That’s when you heard it. A string of curses from the boys bathroom. Something you never understood about your highschool was the weird design of the bathrooms. The boys’ and girls’ bathrooms weren’t exactly private. The wall on which the sinks and mirrors are were shared, and said wall doesn't go all the way up to the ceiling; instead, there is a gap at the top, roughly 60 cm wide. That made it impossible to avoid overhearing everything happening in the other bathroom. You could hear conversations, the echo of footsteps, and even the sound of sinks running, as if the space between the two was just one continuous room. It was always a bit awkward, especially if you heard something you weren’t supposed to, like this time. 

“Come on hyung? Please.” The first voice said. “Absolutely not- Thats unsanitary and I don't wanna be responsible if it gets infected- I’m out.” Another one said. You narrow your brows, unable to fathom what in the world these 2 guys could be doing in the bathroom. You shake your head, deciding it might be best to ignore whatever that was. You heard footsteps leaving the bathroom and assume they’re both gone. That's until about 5 minutes later when something falls on the ground, and again, a string of curses. “Fucking- I cant fucking do this.” That makes you raise your head from your phone, that noisy part of you interested. There’s a beat of silence and you can't help but let curiosity get the best of you. “You okay?” You ask, hoping you were loud enough for him to hear.  

“Uh yeah.” Their voice was quick, almost stammering. Flustered is exactly how you’d describe it. Cute, you think. He clears his throat. “Hey uh… any chance you’d be down to help me pierce my ears?” You blink, phone completely forgotten in your left hand. “...Like now?” “Yeah.” You pause, thinking. That explained why the other boy you heard earlier so adamantly refused to help him. School bathrooms aren't really known to be sterile. You couldn't help but feel bad for however was on the other side; so you asked a little hesitant. “Do you have a piercing gun? Or are you like… free handing it with a needle or something?” “Nah- I bought a gun on amazon.” he answers with a chuckle. You nod, even though he can't see you. “Okay sure. I’ll help.” you get up and open the stall. You only accepted for 1 reason. He has a cute voice and he sounds a little shy. Giselle would most definitely laugh at you if you told her that but still, you couldn't help yourself. So imagine your surprise when you peek in the boys bathroom only to find no other than Riki Nishimura, leaning on the bathroom counter, dark cyan piercing gun in hand. 

You stop in your tracks and Riki turns his head towards you. He gives you a lazy smirk, one you’ve seen many times before in the 3 years you’ve been stuck in the same classes as him. “Hey-.... Y/n.” “Uh hi….” The shyness of the voice you heard seconds prior to entering the bathroom is gone, if anything, he sounds pleasantly surprised that you’re there. You shake your head and step into the bathroom, extending a hand towards him. He hands you the gun. “So what ear do you wanna do?” “Both.” He says cockily, eyes not leaving your form. You nod, gesturing for him to get to your height.

The whole ordeal happens pretty fast, without anything going wrong. Tak, tak and done. Both his ear lobe red but you can't lie, the earrings did look good on him, great even. After that, he had given you an intense look, like it was his first time really seeing you and you had excused yourself, eager to escape whatever that look meant, which brings you to your current predicament. 

Riki started following you around, almost like a puppy following its owner. He would appear at the most random places, bring you food and worst of all, flirt with you in the most random moment with the most ridiculous pick up lines you ever had the misfortune to hear. To make matters worse, it seemed the entire school had taken notice of the situation, people going as far as betting on their main story how long it would take for you to accept Riki's advances. 

“I'm never being nice again.” You mutter under your breath. You were trying to enjoy your lunch – keyword is trying – when Riki sat next to you, turning so his body faces yours, a smile on his face. “How are you doing, pretty girl?” You look at him with a deadpan expression and he smirks, clearly not affected. “I changed them look.” He says, bringing your attention to his ear lobes. He switched the silver studs for small silver hoops, one of them with a cross dangling from it. And yeah, shocker – well not really – but it did look great. You give him a blank look and he pouts. Riki fucking Nishimura who claims to be nonchalant and does everything in is power to be cool fucking pouts at you. “Ignored by my own girlfriend.” He whines and you roll your eyes, exasperated by the childish behavior and weird infatuation he seemed to have developed for you in the past month or so. 

“Riki, I'm not your girlfriend.” You deadpan, playing around with your food. “Why not?” You blink at him, finally giving him your full attention. Is he being for real??? “What in the world gave you that idea, you didn't even-” “You pierced my ears. That’s like, automatic couple material.” You can do nothing but gape at him. “THAT'S your reason???? He shrugs. “You held my hand through it. Pretty romantic if you ask me.” You sigh deeply. “Riki. Just because I held your hand doesn't make me your girlfriend. It's not like you asked or something-”  

“Okay- Can I be your boyfriend then?”... “What? NO- I barely know you.” “How about a date then? If you don't like it, I'll leave you alone.” He counters.  You can do nothing but stare, lips parted in surprise. He continues to stare at you, waiting for an answer. Oh. Oh he’s being completely serious. The seriousness of the situation finally dawns on you, the possibility of Riki having genuine feelings for you sounding more and more plausible. Riki fiddles with his left earring under your gaze, awkwardly waiting for you to either accept his proposal or reject him. 

“... Okay.” His eyes snap to yours, full of hope and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Wait really?” You nod, trying your best to look exasperated. Riki is beaming, like a kid who’s been told christmas is coming early this year. “I promise you won't regret it” “I like tulips. Pink or yellow.” He nods. “Tulips. Pink or yellow. Noted. Anything else princess?” You shake your head both at his question and the pet name, but you can't stop the smile forming on your lips. “I’ll text you the details.” He says, getting up.  You narrow your eyes. “Where are you going Riki? Lunch ends in 15 minutes” “I'm going to buy you flowers? I’m taking you out after school.” You let out a soft laugh at the answer. You get up and press a kiss to his left cheek. “I'll be waiting at the gates, don't be late.” He gives you a lovesick look that makes you feel bad for unknowingly torturing the boy for an entire month. “I won't.”

©RAVEN-UNKIND

reblog, comments and likes are appreciated!

taglist: @annybah

[majoryeager104]

Hello, are you taking any requests right now?😅 I kinda want to request mha actor! AU where everything is just acting and Touya, Shigaraki, Keigo (or maybe Chisaki too😅) have a wife and kids. But when they were watching an episode their kids suddenly got scared because in that episode their dad was extremely scary that they avoided their dad🥺 and their S/O is trying to convince them that their daddy is really nice🫶 and the dad's are sulking in the corner🤭

Lowkey got this idea after seeing that fan art of Eri being the daughter of Chisaki mha actor! AU

oh my gosh this is amazing I’ve seen those fanarts too I love this idea 😭🙏🫶 also sorry this took me an eternity to get to

Touya

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It wasn’t difficult for Touya to scare others. On and off set, his scars brought nothing but attention and concern. But the last thing he wanted was for his family to be scared of him, his daughter especially. You’d never been scared of him. your dog? Give or take, he was pretty used to seeing Touya around, and he always gave the thing treats anyways. But his daughter? All he knew was that his daughter being scared of him might just kill him

What he didn’t know was that you’d started watching MHA with her. Not until he walked in on the two of you mid-episode of his fight with Shoto in season seven. Most of what happened; his fully burnt flesh, sinews in his face tearing under the heat, it was all effects and makeup on top of scars that were already there.

but his daughter didn’t know that

She hadn’t noticed him walk in, her young eyes transfixed on the screen as she watched his condition worsen. It got to a point where she covered her eyes and hid her face in your lap. You paused looking down and running your fingers through her hair “what’s wrong sweetie?” You asked, and when she looked up, she was crying

“why does dad look like that?” She whimpered, and if Touya wasn’t frozen in place before, he certainly was now. She was terrified of what was on screen, of him.

“oh..” you said softly, pulling her close. Touya stared for a second before turning to leave the room, his boots just loud enough that your daughter took notice. Before he could turn the corner, she’d already scrambled around the couch and was hugging his leg “dad, why did you look like that?” She repeated, and he winced at her fragile voice, looking down. But before he could be eaten alive by the shamed feeling in his chest, she continued “it looked like it hurt. It was scary… you looked like you were gonna die”

oh.

he was still worried, but that feeling in his chest, the shame that he felt, melted away as he knelt down to hug her, hushing her cries and sending you a look that said ‘I got her’

“hey, hey. Look at me” he said quietly, waiting for her teary eyes to meet his. “It ain’t real, sweetheart, see? I’m fine, ‘kay?” He put her hand on his cheek, letting her run her fingers over his scars to make sure that everything was fine. And it worked, she nodded and wiped her eyes, hugging him again. “Hey dad?”

“yeah?”

“no more fighting with uncle Shoto, okay? You two don’t seem to play very nice with eachother”

he chuckled, lifting her up and carrying her back to you “you’re gonna have to talk to him about that. He’s always picking fights with me. He thinks he’s all that, but I always win” he bluffed, sending you a wink as you rolled your eyes at his antics. “Well mama said you lose this fight” she replied, and you snorted. Touya shot you a playful glare as he sat down.

“Well that’s just cause it’s staged, I was supposed to lose” he replied. “suuuure” she replied, leaving you cackling and Touya absolutely dumbfounded. After a moment he could only sigh and roll his eyes, ruffling his daughter’s hair. He was glad she was scared for him rather than scared of him, so he couldn’t really complain.

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Tomura

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Tomura had loved working on My hero academia. If it hadn’t been for his role he may have never met you, or had this family. The two of you had two daughters and a son, who was only a few months old. You were in the other room with the baby, putting him to sleep while Tomura and the girls had their late night binge watch of Mha. To be fair, it wasn’t a routine that Tomura had put into place, at least not intentionally- no, the girls had absolutely begged to watch it, and you of course didn’t say no. It was only natural that their super villain dad should watch it with them, right? So there he sat, his daughters eating all the popcorn next to him.

Grumpy as he watched them scarf down the popcorn without him, he resorted to scrolling on his phone out of boredom. That was, until they both gasped in surprise. He looked up just in time to see what they did; him smiling eerily as he stared at Izuku Midorya over his shoulder. “Dad why do you look like that?” One girl said in an insultingly disgusted tone. “Hey-” “yeah your smile is usually way nicer” “oh-” “Dad why are you stalking a child-”

“okay” he said, flicking both their foreheads. “First off, I look perfectly fine. Second off, if you’d pay attention to the plot it would be obvious why my character is ther-”

“but why do you look so scary?!”

they almost said it in unison, and you were just on time for the show, walking in to see the girls dramatically pointing to the paused screen, his (“PURPOSEFULLY” said Tomura in the background) creepy smile plastered on the screen. Tomura looked to you for help, even though he should’ve known you’d giggle in response. He gave you a deadpanned look as the girls continued their rant. “You know it’s just a show right” “yeah but they made you so creepy” one said “that’s the point! I’m a villain” he replied bluntly “Himiko isn’t creepy! She’s adorable!” One answered “And a much more convincing villain.” Chirped the other “I- HEY!”

the rest of the night was spent with Tomura dragging in a whiteboard and breaking down why he was a much better villain than Himiko

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Keigo

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Another day had gone by, and Keigo, needless to say, was tired. All the interviews, paparazzi, dms, and questions about the next season of MHA that he’d never dare to spoil but was demanded to anyways. Still, he loved the job, the role, and getting to watch the show he worked so hard on with his family in the evening.

Now he was in the kitchen, grabbing snacks mid episode when he heard his daughter yelp in surprise. With a hot pocket sticking out of his mouth, he peeked around the corner in curiosity just as the familiar pitter-patter of her feet hitting the ground approached him.

“DADDY YOU KILLED TWICE!! HOW COULD YOU?!”

She was tiny, adorable, and fuming with rage as she crossed her arms and stomped her foot in front of him. He blinked, glancing between you and the television as his fight with Touya played out. “Come on sweetie, it’s not rea-”

“HE WAS MY FAVORITE” she pouted, glancing back at the tv. Keigo smiled and swept her up in his arms, ignoring her wiggles of protest “he’s my favorite character too you know” he replied, sitting down next to you and kissing his daughter’s forehead. “Then why’d you kill him? And why’d you look so scary doing it?” She said quietly, waving her hand around at his face on the tv, all cold and covered in blood.

“sweetie, I was acting, it’s not real” you reassured quietly, while Keigo tried his best not to giggle. He couldn’t help it- she was so adorable when she pouted, she looked just like you.

“but you killed Mr. Jin.” She looked at Keigo, who only chuckled and shook his head. “Nuh-uh.” “UH-HUH?!?” She replied, pouting when it only made him laugh more as he pulled out his phone

“let’s call him right now then, I’m sure he’d love to hear that Twice is your favorite, you know”

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Sorry I made them all girl dads I just know they’d be girl dads

Also Touya broke me ngl bc I just know he’d despise himself if he ever scared his kids 😭

[sakachichi]

Proper Touch

cw - historical au, virgin fem reader, oral x2, missionary, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, obsessed Geto, annnnd them struggling to stay quiet but giving up lol (im like brain farting so bad idk what else to put 😭)

Summary - part 2 on this drabble! Geto had a huuuge crush on you and only has eyes for you, slowly growing your relationship into something but lwky getting impatient so this happened lol :p 3k words

Authors note! - I would loooove to add on to this lwky, I think like maybe dive deeper into what reader and Geto feel abt each other, and if reader gets scolded lwky (spoiler!) 😭🤣 but yea hope you enjoy!

As you continue to panic Suguru chuckles, “It’s alright if you don’t let me in, really” he reassured, his voice an octave deeper, “I would really regret not helping you miss…” he adds. You made eye contact with him, his eyes so soft and pretty, the lowlight hitting his smooth skin so nicely, literally making him glow like an angel.

“It is a lot of stuff” you mumble, eyes wandering towards your gate where your guard patiently waited, pursing your lips you nodded, “okay..” you agreed as you looked back at him, he responded with a sweet sincere smile. Your heart flutters at the sight, you couldn’t help but smile back. Your guard opened the gate and both of you walked in, quietly motioning him to follow you to your room.

As you walk up to your room you turn on your heels, facing his tall buff figure, awkwardly looking everywhere but his eyes. Your fingers interlock before you as you slightly sway, “ummm…are you gonna go in?” Suguru questions with a quick laugh.

“Oh!” Franticly you open your door, sliding off your shoes. You stand at the door frame, looking up at him before kneeling — signaling him to kneel as well and he does so. But before he does his breath hitches, his heart dramatically drops as he watches you slowly go down on your knees. His dirty thoughts invading his poor brain causing his dick to firm up, he licks his lips as he plants himself on the floor.

His hands full with all the pretty things he bought you, the jewels glittering in the moonlight as he displays them to you. “Thank you again lord Suguru, I really appreciate you buying all these for me” Your voice rings through his ears, smiling as he watches you take each item one by one.

“It’s certainly my pleasure my lady, a beautiful woman like you deserves to have beautiful things” he replies, staring at you with so much affection, but you're so oblivious it hurts. As you stand up to put your things away Suguru’s sight never falters your frame, watching as you leave and come back to him, standing tall at your door. You look at him, the bright moon shining over him as he shadows it.

The two of you stare into each other's eyes before he takes one of his hands to cup your rosy cheek, “my lord, you mustn’t-“ you protest and he interrupts, “oh but I must…please let me enter your chamber my lady” he’s desperate, yearning for you to let him in.

God is he so tempting, his voice drips like honey — so smooth, so sweet. You could melt right there in front of him, his touch is so kind and warm as you unintentionally lean into his hand. What should you say? Should you let him in? What will he do to you? You could scream in anticipation, anxiety sweeping over you quickly. Your stomach doing cartwheels as your mind races, all you could think about is your nosey servants telling your father everything.

How badly he’ll scold you tomorrow, no matter how well respected a man is, he shouldn’t be here — especially at night. But the thought of rebelling against your father right now sounds so right.

“Why do you wish to enter my lord?” Now your flirting, your hand reaching to rest on his, softly closing your eyes as you burrow your cheek into his warm palm. “I’ve grown very attracted to you my lady, I’m afraid I cannot hold myself any longer” he confessed, his tone dripping in confidence.

“Attracted? How so?”

“I’m in love with you, my lady” he ends, his two big hands now cupping your face, his gaze is so intense. Burning into you like if you were his prey.

“Very well then, you may enter” the words leave your mouth without you even realizing, you step aside to let him in. Once you realize what you’ve done you tightly shut your eyes as you slide the door shut, he’s inside now and it’s not just a dream.

Almost instantly he turns you over, bringing you into a deep sloppy kiss, he’s been waiting for this for eons — all his self control is out the window. Gone forever. You gasp as he backs you into the wall, gripping your wrists before holding them up above you. Oh gosh was this so new for you, you’ve never kissed a man let alone been alone like this with one — and your father doesn’t count.

You pull away from the kiss breathless, “is this what you want my lord?” You sweetly ask. “Yes yes, this and more. Please?” He whispers, grazing his swollen lips against your neck. “Kiss me please” you desperately add, almost chasing his lips before he crashes them back onto yours. Your pussy so hot and wet as he groans into the kiss, droll dripping onto your chin as the two of you frantically kiss each other. Teeth crashing, tongues swirling against each other, and the loud pop of sucking filled the room.It’s absolutely filthy, you never knew that someone so kind and humble can be so nasty and rough, but here he was.

“Strip” he deeply commands before starting to strip himself, and you obey instantly, taking off your multiple layers of clothing before leaving yourself completely naked. Standing with your hands behind your back, displaying yourself to him in such a modest way. He stares you down, admiring every inch of your body.

“My, you’re stunning” he says, walking up to you to place his big greedy hands on your pretty tits, fondling them gently. You sigh from the warm contact, his hands feel so good against you, you love it. Your eyes scan his body, catching a good glimpse of his toned abs and his big muscular arms. You couldn’t believe yourself as you lay your eyes upon his fat cock, he’s so big it’s kind of scary. His raging red tip, his balls extremely swollen, his veins so prominent — you thickly gulp at the sight.

“My lord, I’m frightened” you admit, placing your hands on his buff chest. “What’s wrong?” His hands are still placed on your tits, flicking your sensitive nipples. “Yo-you’re so big” you could almost cringe, you’ve never imagined you’d say that. Suguru lets out a deep chuckle, he thinks your so cute, “it’s alright, i'll make sure it won’t hurt you”

‘Hurt?’ You mentally stress, ‘what have I gotten myself into’ you start to panic again, but the way he kisses your neck calms you down. His soft tongue licks your neck and you lean your head to the side, granting him more access to kiss lick and bite.

His fingers drag their way down your sopping cunt, cupping a big warm hand on it, squeezing you into his palms — feeling your wet humid pussy. You whine at the feeling, “I would love to taste you, may I please?” He bites your ear before kitty licking it, you shudder as you nod.

“No no, use your words my lady” he said, swiping a fat thumb against your pink lips, “yes, please do” you gasp. This is so different, you didn't know you could feel this way. The sweet uncomfortable feeling on your pussy making you want to let out the most filthiest moans known to man, the way your walls flutter around nothing every time Suguru does anything was too much. You wanted him so bad.

You fucking love this, the way he gets on his knees before you and the sweet feeling of his fingers dipping into your wet core, you hand gripped onto the side of his head as he dips his mouth into you. His tongue is so gentle on your clit as he laps your sweet juices, creating a lewd squelch with every lick. You whimper at the lack of friction wanting more and more, “please more~” you beg quietly.

He lets out a quick breathy chuckle before latching his entire mouth on you, whatever you want you’ll get in his eyes. He’s gonna make sure to eat you out sooo good, you’ll be obsessed with him for the rest of your life. He can’t wait to bury his cock inside your pretty pussy so deep, and pump you with his precious seed. He can hardly wait, and because of that he finds his hand stroking his cock, twisting his hand over his tip making him moan into your dripping cunt.

The vibrations of his voice send thrilling tidal waves of pleasure throughout your body, throwing your head back as you moan out. “Fuck you make so hard” he whines into your pussy, the profanity makes you gasp but quickly becomes a thing of the past as he sucks on your clit soooo good, making moan so loud you instantly cover your mouth with both of your hands. Your face contorting as you try so hard to suppress your moans, the veins on your neck popping out from the pressure.

“Oh! Lord Suguru I c-can’t, something’s coming, oh goshhhh” you whine, your hands resting on his head as you slightly grind on his pretty face. “Yesyesyes, cum on my face, do it” he’s slurring his words, one lengthy digit thrusts into you — swirling and curling in you threatening to make that knot in your stomach snap. It feels so good, you throw your head back groaning before biting your lip, now grinding harder on his face.

Then another finger joins in, curling in you so deliciously, throwing you off the edge in seconds. Releasing alllll over his face, Suguru opens his mouth to catch every last drop, desperately lapping your juices up. “Shhhiiittt~ yesss, cum all over my face like that, fuckk” his voice so deep as his fingers swipe side to side rapidly over your pussy, sprinkling your essence all over his face and the floor.

This was a sight for sore eyes, you whimper as you watch him lick you clean, you could cum all over again just from this. Once he was done he looked up at you with a huge smile, his pearly whites shining up at you, god was he so happy to finally be able to taste you. Just as sweet and delicious as he imagined you’d be, your pretty moans were also just so perfect.

“M-my lord, that was so-“ Suguru swiftly stood up before placing a finger on your lips, “please, call me Suguru” he suggested, mainly demanding but he wouldn’t mind if you denied him. You hesitate for a moment before continuing again, “Suguru, what just happened to me?” You questioned, you're so innocent it melted him, “you just came, doll” the use of that nickname took you aback, but you loved the way it came out of his mouth.

Your hands explore his body, fingers going over his sensitive nipples, running through his hard abs before stopping at the base of his cock. Looking up at him as you run a finger down his hefty shaft, “can I also…put it in my mouth?” You ask with wide eyes, licking your lips as you wait for him to answer.

“Y-yes, please” he’s so eager to feel your mouth on him, he guides you down on your knees before you take him with your hands. Your hands get a feel of his veiny cock, feeling its warmth, how it’s slightly slippery from his pre-cum. You’re practically drooling. “How?” You ask with glossy eyes staring curiously at him, taking in every detail.

“You suck it, use your tongue, but no teeth ok?” He’s so patient with you, running his fingers through your messed up hair. After a while of slowly stroking him, you place a small kiss on his tip earning a low grunt from him, your tongue lols out before gently licking the tip getting a taste of his bittersweet pre-cum.

That’s new. Nothing like you’ve tasted before, but not bad.

You look up as you begin to take him in, your hands at the base as run your tongue under his dick, hitting that vein just right. He lets out a shaky breath, throwing his head back as you swirl your tongue around him. “Hollow your cheeks for me, doll” he places a soft hand on your cheeks as you obey his command, sucking him just right he let’s out a whimper.

“Yes just like that, keep sucking me like that” he groans, placing his hands on either side of your head, bopping your head along his length. His raging tip threatens to hit the back of your throat as he bucks his hips into your wet mouth, as you continue to suck and swirl your tongue like your life depends on it.

His lips turn into a cute pout as his face contorts, the way your throat tightens around him and the feeling of your tongue was insane, if he were to lose himself to ecstasy he would cum in seconds. It’s like you’re a natural at this, he was so proud of you and he made sure to let it be known — his hands caressed your face so tenderly as he cooed out his filthy praises.

“You're doing so well, sososo well for me” he praised before a loud grunt interrupted him, “yeahh, you're taking me so good , fuckkk”.

You whine as you place your hands on his hips, tears streaming down your face as you continue to gag around him. His thrusts began to fall sloppy, as he slams a free hand on the wall before him, knuckles turning white as he suppresses his moans.

“Ohmygod, fuck!” He loudly whispers as he cums, hips stuttering as he nurses his orgasm in your mouth. His knees on the brink of giving up, his breathing out of control, but he’s hard again. And it’s all from looking at you.

Catching a quick glimpse through dark hooded eyes, the way you kept looking up at him and the way your tears glistened on your plump cheeks was enough to get him hard again. You pull away from him with a loud pop! gasping for air as you wipe your mouth, giving him a sweet toothy smile. “Did I do good, Suguru?” You say as he helps you up, nodding as he cups your face, “you did so well”.

The way he praises you makes your heart skip a beat, despite his current filthy behavior he’s still so kind. He leads you to your bed, asking you to lay down, as you do so you prop up on your elbows to watch him get on his knees — crawling towards you. His hands spread your legs apart, positioning himself in between you. “Don’t be afraid, if it hurts let me know” he reassures, massaging your thighs as he slaps his tip against your slippery core, lubing himself up before he dives into you.

You nod, biting your bottom lip as you watch him intently. He leans in to place a sweet wet kiss against yours —

“Ready?”

“Yes”

He kisses you once again, trying to distract you from the pressure against your cunt. Slowly he pushes himself in, his thumbs rubbing sweet circles on your hips. You let out a loud whine, feeling like you’re being ripped open, but his prep and slow speed made you get used to the feeling. Rolling his hips into you, the rich wet sounds filling the room. Tears run down your face as the pressure of his thick cock continues to stretch you out, slowly though, the pain fades away turning into pure pleasure.

And god does it feel so good, the sweet kiss his tip gives to your cervix makes you relish, begging him to go faster. “Please faster, please Suguru” you beg, voice hushed from the fear of being heard. Suguru doesn’t skip a beat and listens, tightly gripping onto your hips before ramming into you. Desperately you cover your mouth, your sweet moans and whimpers getting swallowed by your palm, your other hand rests on his chest, clawing at his soft skin.

The skin slapping was so loud and nasty, you're sure it could be heard from the courtyard, rolling your eyes back from the pleasure and in hopes to forget about how loud it was. Suguru was so mindful though, keeping his groans and grunts silent — getting caught was the last thing he wanted.

He was sooo pussy whipped, he could go at this for hours and still feel like it’s not enough. His eyes kept threatening to roll back but forcing himself to take in your body’s beauty, enjoying the way your tits bounced with each thrust, almost hypnotizing him. Your slick walls pulsing around him as you feel that familiar knot again, threatening to snap any second now. “Sugu, I-I’m cumming” you whisper, whimpering as he slows down his pace.

Quickly he turns you over to straddle him, the movement so fast you couldn’t even process what just happened. His arms wrapped around your waist before pulling you flush against him, “you’re gonna cum with me, doll” his tone was so rough and demanding, turning a switch inside making you feel so desperate for him. Something actually indescribable, you just knew you wanted him so badly and that it felt good to be treated this way is all your brain could come up with.

You bury your face in his neck, nails digging into his shoulders leaving small crescent shapes behind. He’s now impossibly deep, feeling him so much more than before. Your mouth slacked open but your silent, brows furrowing as your tummy tightens up. Suddenly you feel limp, letting your whines and moans flow out without a care. “You take cock so well, you fucking love this, huh?” you roll your eyes back as you take your time to answer, he’s quite literally fucking your brains out. Not a single thought is being produced as he continues to mercilessly bully your sopping hole.

“I- mmhmm, yes! You feel so good” you muster up, you're so dizzy you feel you might pass out, stars dancing around as you heavily pant into his neck. Suddenly one of Sugurus hands grips at your hair, pulling you out from his neck. Your tits now bouncy in front of his face, you close your eyes so tight as the grip on your hair is sooo tight. “Cum with me baby” he said as a loud slap on your ass rings throughout the room, and a weak whimper leaves your lips.

Multiple slaps land on your plump ass leaving you red before he lets you come back down on his chest, his thrusts are now growing sloppy and you feel like you're gonna burst. Your poor legs shaking as your orgasm creeps closer, your lips desperately latch onto the skin of his neck — sucking and biting him as you keep getting closer.

“Sugu I…I’m!” You whimper before pushing yourself up with your hands on his shoulders, your head rolling back as you begin to twitch and flutter around him. “F-fuck me too” he replies, getting in one last thrust before busting his load sooo deep in you.

You both are shamelessly so loud, forgetting about where you guys are and letting go, enjoying the feeling of each other. Chests heave as you guys come down from your highs, you're shaking above him and he’s watching you with so much adoration. Taking you in so he could remember this moment forever, his hands running up and down your sides gently, taking loose strands of your hair and putting them behind your ears.

You let yourself rest back on him, trying to control your breathing while he runs his fingers down your spine. He’s so warm, you find yourself dozing off on him. Silence fell but wasn’t awkward, enjoying each other’s presence before the two of you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Before dusk Suguru left your home, leaving you sound asleep and clothed.

Fin!!! Anyways yes guys hope you enjoyed and let me know if u want me to dive deeper 😛🙏 also I’m looking for moots 😻 lmk if anyone wants to be moots as well I swear I’m super nice and I’m always active 💗💗💗

[partynbullshit2007]

Shipping with Gary is so funny guys

Bc, why does Gary not care about anyone’s oc in a genuine loving manner? Everyone’s like

“I ship with him!”

“…He killed my ocs family and manipulated their dog…🥀”

This fucker always doin sum unrealistically terrible to the oc and I just gotta sit there wondering what’s happening. He gained like 60 new mental illnesses from this fandom, everything but what he has

OMG WAIT CAN I TALK ABOUT THE RANDOM VIOLENCE PPL MAKE HIM DO BC IT MAKES ME LAUGH SO BADLY. GET HIM AWAAAY

PLEASE JUST MAKE AN OC ATP THIS IS NOT GARY SMITh😭😭😭

[innieirving]

thanks for the detailed info about kcd2! i think i'll play that one (or try to anyway, i suck at video games lmaooo) then maybe go back and play the first one. im already way too invested in these gays lol

LMAO yes honestly that's the best way to go about it!!! get to the meat and bones of the hansry romance in the second game and then play the first game as a little treat afterwards <3 a prologue, if you will lol

honestly the best part of the game is that hans isn't just some like, throwaway gay npc, he's SUCH a big part of the story and henry's character!!! there's so much content with him, so many moments that aren't even explicitly part of the romance that show just how important he is to henry, it's everything 😭❤️ let me know if u start playing it anon, i'd love to hear ur thoughts!!!

[lemotmo]

I just watched 911 8x12!

I really liked it. It didn’t go as hard as the previous three episodes, but it had so many small subtle and interesting Buddie details that make me salivate!

Here are some of my thoughts in no specific order:

The call about the pizza guy and his car was hilarious. I loved the guy and how good Buck and Chim were together in those scenes. But Athena? Come on! You are a clever woman! How could you be so stupid as to park your police car right under a car that is about to fall?

Then the Maddie storyline. I screamed out loud when she dreamed that her throat was slashed again! 😬

I love how they actually showed Maddie having some trauma after what she went through. Her talk with Athena was great and the way she got her voice back? Again, because of the love for her child? Really good. It was also very sweet how Chimney supported her in everything and I’m glad those two have found each other.

This leads me directly into the Eddie storyline, because just like Maddie he had someone there to support him. 😏

We now know that Eddie has been in Texas for three weeks, which is good to know. I like how he didn’t get the job at that El Paso fire house, because then he would have been stuck for real, giving the Captain his word like that. Now we know for sure he’ll be back soon.

I like how we get a parallel to Eddie in Maddie’s first call. That kid called 911 for his father and because the building was on fire. He told Maddie that his dad had just moved to LA for a job. I mean, that is so on the nose. And who swoops in to save them? Buck and Ravi, with Buck actually picking up the boy. Listen, I love Chris, but I’m thinking he’ll be involved in something big this season and Buck will be there to save him and possibly even Eddie. It was such an interesting parallel to the tsunami arc as well. Something is happening to the Diaz family and Buck will save them. 🙂‍↕️

I’m kinda sad that we missed that first meeting between Eddie and Chris, but I love how we can clearly see that Chris is doing okay and he’s ready to forgive his dad.

I still hate Helena though.🙄 The way she subtly undermined Eddie’s agency as a parent in that first scene with the PS5. It was so annoying. I love how his dad obviously seems to realise that his son is trying his best and that his wife is out of line. I think we’ll get a confrontation between Eddie and his mom next episode and his dad will take Eddie’s side.

The way Eddie becomes ‘Edmundo’ when he’s in Texas is so painful as well. That’s why I’m so happy that Buck is always there to call him by his real name: Eddie.

Whatever happened to the robbery at the store? We saw that in those stills, didn't we? Did they cut it?

Eddie as an Uber driver was a good idea, because then he can give up his job anytime to go back to LA. It’s obvious he is trying hard, but he doesn’t like it at all. When he was yapping to all those people? I laughed out loud. How did he not realise that was not a good idea? You know how married couples sometimes take over personality traits from each other? Well he got the nervous yapping from Buck, no doubt. It was such a Buck thing to do. 😋

I hate how alone he seems to be, which again is counteracted by his lifeline to Buck.

I like how Chris found out about his dad being a driver and I love how he is now old enough to not hold it against him and realise his dad is trying hard to do right by him. He gave back the PS5. I mean, that says enough. That last hug. I cried so hard when that happened.😭

Then the whole Buddie of it all. The show could have just shown us Eddie’s struggles in El Paso, him disconnected from everyone in LA. Instead they specifically showed us his connection to Buck. He didn’t call anyone else! If he did they didn’t show us. But they thought they needed to show us the Buddie calls? Come on! They are laying it on so thick right now. I love it!

Buck casually cooking while talking to Eddie? Telling him he can’t come back, because he knows that Eddie will be miserable without Chris? He knows his husband so well. Buck would love Eddie to come back, but he knows he would never be happy without his son. I mean… remember Josh’s speech? Are his concerns your concerns? Is his happiness as important as yours?

We are seeing ALL of that right now! They are tying these two together in a distinctly non-friendship kind of way.

Buck is shown to have his back. He tells him to talk to Chris after the kid found out about his dad’s real job. He knows that Eddie internalizes everything and he knows what Eddie is going to try to avoid the 'talk' and what he needs to do. HE KNOWS HIM so well! Just like Eddie KNOWS Buck so well. They keep showing us this deep understanding and trust between them.

The amount of times Eddie said 'Buck' in this episode as well... I should probably watch again and count it. But it was very noticable.

And then they parallel this with Madney and how deep they support each other. I mean… this is like watching a Buddie fanfiction come to life. They are showing us these two have each other’s back, no matter what happens or where they are. I love how they are telling us their story right now.

A few more random things from this episode:

Eddie selling his car and calling it ‘sexy’? Really? How interesting. 🤭

No Diaz sisters! I’m so sad! 😭

I loved that girl who told Eddie to shut up and gave him some good Uber driver tips!

The PS5 was a nice gesture, but you can’t buy love like that. I’m glad both Eddie and Chris realized it.

LOL! Hot gal and guy were only there to make out in the car. I'm sure the actress has all the ins and outs about the 911 characters. *sarcasm* 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

The puke and Eddie cleaning it up sent me. Eddie! You are a father, firefighter and medic and you are disgusted by some vomit? Come on dude! Woman up!

I love how they casually mentioned that Bobby will always have Eddie’s job in LA lined up for him if he decides to come back. It’ll make things a lot easier when he gets back. We already know where this is going right?

As for next week. Hen becoming a hostage on that bus with a crazy knife guy? And again no sign of Eddie’s storyline? Colour me intrigued. 🤔