#I love twisted strand the atmosphere is so cool

[sagestitches]

I’ve missed a couple more Dredgetober days that I swear I’ll go back and do but I realized I never showed the finished twisted strand painting!

It was an experiment with watercolor pens combined with my watercolors! I like how it turned out, but I think I still need some practice.

[da-rulah]

A Personal Ritual - Cardinal Copia x gn! reader

This fic was inspired by the incomparably talented @delulluart. When she dropped the initial sketch into our discord server, I lost my mind, and wrote this for her. Now she's finished the final painting, we've decided to collaborate...

GO AND LOOK AT THIS GORGEOUS PAINTING HERE

(If you don't go and check out this painting you will find me standing above your bed at 3:00am wielding something shiny and sharp.)

Summary: After a wonderfully sinful night in your lover's embrace, you catch him in a moment of domestic bliss that has you falling in love all over again...

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Barely any, tooth rotting fluff, some worship elements, hints at previous smut, teasing and flirtation, nudity

These sheets are softer than your own. Perhaps they’re the reason you continue to spend the night here instead of in your own bed. It couldn’t have anything to do with the warm body that usually occupied it at all, could it?  

Except that warm body wasn’t next to you right now. It wasn’t beside you, on top of you, or under you. Even the warmth hadn’t lingered, the emptiness cool and uninviting as you stretched your hand across the mattress in search of your lover. Sleep had only just begun to evade you, and opening your eyes to a golden morning sun was simply not yet in the cards, so instead you patted the mattress over and over, yet to no avail. 

With a subtle sigh, you roused your head from the pillow, squinting as the light attacked your retinas. The sheets concealed the evidence of a night well spent; nude skin peppered with marks only a lover could make. Your muscles ached as you stretched yourself out, still reaching and hoping he may appear at your fingertips if you just wished hard enough.  

As you came around, you thought maybe that was exactly what had happened, spotting movement from the corner of your eye. The bathroom door was wide open, steam still pouring out of it like an atmospheric addition, special effects that just seemed to follow this dreamy man around. That movement you’d spotted had been him, stepping out of the shower and wrapping himself with a towel around his waist. Regrettably, you’d missed the best part, but even now you could see the way the muscles in his back flexed when he moved, the freckles over his shoulders that cascaded down his spine, the dip where the towel dug into the softness of his hips, tied a little too tight... 

His hair was getting longer, grey starting to speckle through the roots. He must have just towel dried it, the strands damp and wild in all manner of twists and curls but of course, they almost looked intentionally done. You shifted in the bed, laying your head on the pillow and snuggling back into the sheets at an angle that allowed you to watch him reach into the cabinet above the sink and gather products and tools to get himself ready for the day. As of yet, he hadn’t noticed you were awake let alone watching him, lost in his own little routine. 

He shut the cabinet, the mirrored glass of the door now lining up perfectly with his face, projecting an image of him back to you. A shadow was forming across his jawline; the same shadow that had left its mark on you the night before, grazing the sensitive skin across your body. Stubble looked good on him, you always thought, wondering what it would look like should he decide to grow it out like the rest of his moustache. But no, you liked this look; the face you���d fallen in love with to begin with, with its signature lonely moustache and carefully sculpted sideburns. 

He fiddled with something in front of him out of view, then lifted a brush to his face that he swiped in circles against his stubbled skin, painting it white with a creamy substance that from here smelled like citrus – but then, that could be any number of products he’d used in the shower too. He traced the circular pattern over his stubble, reaching it down his neck as he stretched and covering every inch of darkened skin. He lidded the product and stacked it on the edge of the sink, now reaching for a shiny little thing he’d already laid out.  

With an expert flick of his wrist, it unfolded, a glinting silver blade unsheathing itself from the brilliant red of the marbled handle. When he leaned forward, he stretched his neck with a lean to one side, lining the blade up against his skin and in one quick, clean motion he’d swiped a stripe up to the sharp edge of his jawline. The blade was wiped off on a cloth draped over the sink, then brought to do the same thing again next to the already created strip of clean, smooth skin.  

You'd never seen him do this before, but you were enraptured – privileged, even... It was you and you alone that had the honour bestowed upon them to watch the man you loved in his most humble and domestic of moments, to see the parts of him that nobody else in the world got to see just because they were usually saved for him, and him alone. While you’d spent many an intimate night in his bed, sharing your bodies and souls in every way a lover can, these were the moments that felt truly intimate.  

There was only ever one person in the world who would see him in moments like these and however simple or mundane these little tasks were, they were humanising and so normal. The man before you was anything but normal with the life he led, the talents he possessed and the future he had ahead of him but those were things he shared with everyone. Much like his rituals, these moments were also planned and served a purpose and yet they were personal to him, and him only – until you. It was the normal moments, these ‘personal rituals’ that made him so special to you, and you alone.  

The razor continued to scrape along his neck in clean swipes, glinting in the bathroom light and sounding with a familiar scrape and ring of the metal. With his neck smooth and clean, he moved onto his face, carefully guiding the razor’s swipes to give him the sharp, clean edges of his sideburns on either side if his face. You’d always wondered how he got them to such a sharp point like this, but it was clear now; especially knowing he used a straight razor to do so. He’d clearly had years of practise perfecting his signature looks, avoiding his moustache yet tidying it to two thinner, well-kept halves.  

As he worked, your eyes drifted over him as they often did at any given moment. But these quiet moments of intimacy were ones you spent time burning into your memory, the details kept safe and hidden for only you. In his reflection, you watched as the muscles and tendons in his neck stretched and flexed with each lean forward and swipe of his razor. The more you watched, the more your eyes committed the details of his shoulders and chest to memory; the freckles, the dark hair that settled over his chest and barely concealed his tattoo, then tapered off into a trail to disappear beneath the low hanging towel. His stomach looked soft and warm where he kept leaning against the edge of the sink, the porcelain digging into the flesh just as his towel did his hips.  

There wasn’t a single thing you didn’t adore about him. There wasn’t a single thing you would change. All of it you would sync into your memories in a collection of things you never wanted to forget the sight of.  

Now clean of the shaving cream from his face, he took the washcloth he’d been using as a wipe rag and ran it under the faucets, cleaning away the excess he’d missed between swipes of his blade. Once clean, he ran the cloth over his freshly smooth face, a satisfying hum rumbling from his chest at the warm sensation of soft cotton on polished skin.  

Part of his routine included a moisturiser, dabbing it onto his forehead, cheeks, chin and one on the nose with a tiny little “heh” sound that encouraged a lazy little smile on your lips. He rubbed it in gently, similar circular motions to before with the shaving cream.  

He reached for a little blue glass bottle, pouring a liquid onto his fingertips and lathering them up before patting them against the freshly shaved skin of his neck. A hiss pushed itself from between his teeth, his nose wrinkling as he patted the liquid into the skin quickly, like the speed would help the sting of cologne on recently opened pores.  

“Ah, shit,” he muttered to himself, endearingly silly and something else you loved so dearly about him. You didn’t hold back the small giggle that bubbled in your throat but unfortunately now, that meant you had his attention. You were no longer peacefully watching your lover from afar, your show interrupted. 

His head moved only slightly, but his eyes somehow found you in the reflection of the mirrored cabinet door. They were wide at first, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t or had forgotten in his routine that you were present at all. But they soon softened, seeing you draped in his sheets, still breathtakingly beautiful in your sleepy state. His lips curled into a fond smile, and he wiped his hands on the towel around his hips while he quickly tidied away the products and tools, every so often checking back in the reflection that you hadn’t disappeared only to find you still watching him with hooded, lazy eyes.  

His own little sacred ritual complete, he wondered over to you, towel clinging to his hips for dear life until he stopped by the edge of the bed in front of you. You met him there on your knees, holding the sheets under your armpits with only the smallest and cheekiest amount of skin from your arms and collarbone displayed to him. He lifted a hand to trail his fingertips down your bare arm, lifting your hand in his and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to the back of your palm.  

“You were watching, eh?” he asked, his accent deeper and thicker as the first he’d spoken aloud this morning.  

“Admiring,” you corrected him, holding the sheet against your chest with your free hand.  

“I see...” he mused, another kiss being planted to your hand. His eyes scanned the parts of your body he could see, marks from your long and impassioned night together still very visible on your skin. His eyes darkened at the sight, a need rising in him to always create more. He tugged you to his chest, using the pads of his fingertips to trace the bursts of colour across your neck and collarbone while he held you there, other hand still in yours.  

As if by instinct, you leaned your head to the side to accommodate him, stretching your neck like he had as he was shaving to elongate the space in which his fingers danced. He leaned in, pressing delicate kisses to each bruise and each mark he had left there. In contrast to his stubbly, rushed and feral kisses and bites from last night, you were met with the smoothest skin against yours and featherlight pecks as if trying to heal them. You weren’t sure which you preferred; both were divine. 

“You tempt me to stay like un succubo diabolico (a demonic succubus),” he whispers against your skin, goosebumps raising across every inch. How badly you wanted him to stay... You would take every second you could with him.  

“Is it working?” you asked with a playful lilt to your tone, yet the breathiness in your voice gave away your bubbling arousal. Lips continued to press against the marks, the tip of his nose dragging across the skin from one point to the next like he was drawing constellations from the bursts of colour he’d made last night.  

“Sí, sí,” he mumbled into your neck, “cediamo alla tentazione in questa cappella... (we give in to temptation in this chapel...)”  

He felt the chuckle that left your throat and broke away from you long enough to find your lips with his. The hand still holding yours squeezed against his chest and you forgot about the sheets precariously held up under your armpit when you wrapped your arm around his neck to deepen the kiss, fingers finding purchase in the damp curls on his head.  

He let go of your hand, instead, whipping the towel from his hips and gripping onto your waist, kneeling on the bed with you as you scooted back to the middle, never letting him go. He felt warm against you, his body pressing so deliciously to yours.  

“I don’t want to get you into trouble, Cardinal...” you teased, brushing your nose with his.  

“Amore, you have been doing so since the day I let you into my bed,” he grinned devilishly, bringing his lips back to yours as he toppled the two of you over and back into his sheets. The two of you could think of your excuses later; for now, there was no denying the palpable need that the intimacy of his personal rituals had stirred. A man, with so much power to his name and weight to his shoulders, boiled down to a moment of banality reserved for only the one closest to him.  

Oh, how deep you had fallen for your Cardinal...  

Once again, please go and check out THIS ARTWORK that inspired this. @delulluart put an initial sketch of this into our discord server, and she triggered this brain dump. This is all on her.

[eunseoksimp]

PLS PLS PLS we NEEEED a part 3 where she finally realises how manipulative he is and finally lets go 😩🙏🙏

your wish is my command anon. a couple of people requested for a part three, so i hope this doesn't disappoint. this is the final part of the series (something i never intended to make in the first place :)

synopsis: a poignant exploration of secrecy and infidelity, where you finds yourself trapped in a tumultuous relationship with a man you deeply love, yet who views you merely as the object of his desires. delving into the intricate emotions and heartache that arise from such a dynamic, painting a tragic picture of a woman who elevates a mortal man to the status of a god, only to face the devastating consequences of your misplaced reverence.

Pairing:Toxic! Park Wonbin x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Warning: wonbin is being the worst person alive yet again, extreme levels of manipulation and gaslighting, strong language, brief description of sex, small mention of depression and suicide towards the end, reader still being delusional, 20k word count!

part 1 — part 2

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the night air outside was crisp, a sharp contrast to the heavy, suffocating atmosphere in wonbin's apartment. you lay curled under his sheets, the fabric cool against your skin, but offering no real comfort. the weight of the decision you had made last night pressed down on you like a stone, rendering you almost immobile. you stare at the ceiling, the room bathed in shadows that seemed to stretch and twist like the thoughts in your mind.

your phone lay abandoned on the nightstand, its screen dark. you couldn't bear to turn it on, to face the barrage of messages from your friends, especially from donghyuck. the disappointment  you saw in their eyes at the party haunted you, their silent pleas and furrowed brows etched into your memory. you imagined their texts, each one a dagger of concern and bewilderment, a reminder of how you had let them down.

wonbin's voice drifted through the fog of your thoughts, a low and persistent murmur. he was saying something, his tone smooth and convincing, but the words barely registered. they washed over you like a cold, relentless tide, each wave pulling you deeper into a sea of numbness. you felt detached, as if you were floating above yourself, watching this sad, broken version of you trying to make sense of the choices you had made.

‘you know you belong here,’ wonbin said, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. his touch was gentle, almost tender, but it felt like ice against your skin. ‘they don't understand you like i do. they never will.’

you wanted to protest, to argue, to say anything intelligible to him, but your throat felt tight, voice lost somewhere in the haze of regret and guilt. instead, you closed your eyes, trying to block out his words, but they seeped in anyway, like smoke curling through the cracks of your resolve.

‘you’re better off without them,’ he continued, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm. ‘they hold you back. with me, you can be your true self.’

each word was a hook, digging into your already fragile heart. you knew he was manipulating you, twisting the truth to keep you close, but you were too exhausted to fight it. the numbness was easier, a blanket of indifference that protected you from the sharper edges of reality.

pulling the sheets tighter around yourself,  you seek solace in his embrace even as it stifled you. the room felt like a cage, the walls closing in with every passing moment. you wished you could turn back time, undo the choices that had led you here, but the past was a chain that bound you to this present, inescapable and unyielding.

in the silence that followed, broken only by the distant hum of the city outside, you felt the sting of tears. they welled up, blurring your vision, but you refused to let them fall. crying would mean acknowledging the depth of your despair, and you weren't ready for that. not yet.

instead, you lay there, a prisoner of your own making, caught between the regret of last night and the fear of what tomorrow would bring. wonbin's words continued to weave their insidious spell, deep down, beneath the layers of guilt and numbness.

for now, you let the numbness take over, let the darkness of the room and the weight of the sheets shield you from the pain.

‘i know it's hard,’ wonbin murmured, his voice a velvet trap, soothing yet suffocating. ‘but you have to trust me. we're meant to be together. they can't give you what i can.’

your mind flashed to donghyuck, his kind eyes full of worry, his voice a beacon of sanity in the chaotic storm of your life. but that light felt so distant now, obscured by the fog of wonbin's influence.

‘stop thinking about them, focus on me instead. not everyone understands us.’

‘you don't understand,’ you finally whispered, your voice barely audible. ‘they care about me. they want what's best for me."

‘and so do i,’ wonbin insisted, his tone sharpening slightly. ‘but they can't see the real you. they don't know your struggles, your pain. i do. i see you.’

‘i bet you still haven’t told anyone else about that night.’

his words were a double-edged sword, cutting through your defenses yet binding you closer to him. you felt the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his belief in his own twisted version of love. it was intoxicating, this dark allure that promised understanding and acceptance, even as it isolated you from the people who truly cared.

‘please,’ you whispered, a plea more to yourself than to him. ‘i just need time.’

‘time won't change anything,’ he said softly, his fingers continuing their hypnotic dance on your arm. ‘but I'm here for you, always.’

wonbin's voice broke through the silence once more, softer now, almost a whisper. ‘stay with me. here, you don't have to pretend. here, you're free.’

free. the word echoed in your mind, a bitter irony. his definition of freedom was a gilded cage, a place where you could be yourself only if that self conformed to his desires and expectations. yet, in your current state, the illusion of freedom seemed more bearable than the harsh reality awaiting you outside these walls.

‘i.. i don't know,’ you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible. the words felt foreign, as if they belonged to someone else. someone stronger.

‘we'll figure it out together,’ he promised, his hand now resting on your shoulder, a weight that felt both grounding and suffocating. ‘trust me.’

trust. another word tainted by the complexities of your relationship. you wanted to trust him, to believe that he had your best interests at heart. but the undercurrent of control and manipulation was too strong to ignore.

you sighed, a sound filled with a mixture of acceptance and despair. ‘okay,’ you whispered, more to yourself than to him. ‘we'll figure it out.’

and with that, you closed your eyes, allowing the darkness to envelop you once more, seeking a momentary escape from the labyrinth of your emotions.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the late afternoon sun cast a muted light over the city as wonbin's car finally pulled up outside your apartment. the building loomed like a sanctuary and a prison all at once, its familiar facade a stark contrast to the turmoil churning within you. you felt hollow, a shell of the person you had been just a few days ago. as you stepped out of the car, the weight of wonbin's influence clung to you like a shroud.

he leaned out of the window, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. ‘remember what i said baby,’ he murmured, his voice smooth and insidious. ‘no one understands you like i do,’ his words echoed in your mind, a dark mantra you couldn’t seem to shake, while you’re left watching him drive away.

your feet felt leaden as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, the hallway stretching before you like an endless tunnel. each step felt like a struggle, the decision you had made two nights ago weighing heavily on her heart. when you finally pushed open the door, the sight that greeted you sent a jolt through your numbed senses.

yunjin was there, pacing the living room with a stormy expression, and mark sat on the couch, his face a mix of worry and determination. the air crackled with tension, a stark contrast to the dull numbness you had been wrapped in.

‘finally,’ yunjin said, her voice sharp as a knife, slicing through the silence. ‘do you have any idea how worried we’ve been? you just disappeared, and now you show up like nothing happened?’

you flinched at yunjin’s words, the guilt hitting you hard and you hung your head in shame. your friend's frustration washing over you like icy water, but it barely penetrated the fog of your mind. you knew yunjin was right, but the web wonbin had spun around you was so tight, so suffocating, that you could barely think straight.

‘i… i didn’t plan to,’ you murmured, voice barely audible as you wrapped your arms around yourself, seeking some semblance of comfort. ‘he… he just… i don’t know what to say yunjin.’

yunjin’s eyes flashed with a mix of anger and desperation. ‘this isn’t you, ‘ she said, her voice rising. ‘you’re not the person who lets him control you like this anymore. we’ve been through this before, and you got out! why are you letting him drag you back?’

mark stood up, his calm presence a counterpoint to yunjin’s fervor, aiming to ease the tension. he stepped closer, his gaze gentle but firm. ‘we’re here for you,’ he said softly. ‘wonbin’s a terrible person, he’ll destroy you.’’

you looked at him, feeling the weight of their concern pressing down on you. the words that had been hammered into your mind over the past two days surfaced like an automatic response, a defense mechanism you couldn’t quite shake. ‘he’s the only one who can love me,’ you whispered, the phrase dripping with the poison wonbin had fed you.

yunjin’s face fell, her eyes widening with a mix of shock and sorrow. ‘no,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘that’s not true, you know that’s not true. we love you. donghyuck loves you. you don’t need him. you don’t need park wonbin.’

but the numbness was too thick, the web too tangled. you felt like a marionette, strings pulled by a master manipulator who knew exactly which buttons to press. yunjin looked at mark, her frustration giving way to worry, her hands shaking as she tried to hold back tears.

mark reached out, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. ‘it’s going to be okay,’ he said, though the uncertainty in his eyes belied his words. ‘we’ll get through this together.’

yunjin nodded, wiping at her eyes. ‘you’re not alone,’ she repeated, her voice firmer now. ‘we’ll help you untangle from him, even if it takes time. but you have to believe us, that you really don’t need him. you have to believe in yourself.’

you wanted to believe them, to feel the warmth of their support seep into the cold void within you. but the echoes of wonbin’s manipulation were still too loud, drowning out the voices of reason and love. you sank onto the couch, curling into a ball as if to shield yourself from the overwhelming reality.

yunjin's frustration simmered just below the surface, her voice rising again as she stepped closer, her presence a mixture of fierce protectiveness and desperation. 

‘look at me,’ she demanded, her voice trembling. ‘look at what he's doing to you. this isn't love, it's control. he's manipulating you, making you think you're nothing without him. but that's not true. you're so much more than he says you are.’

the words struck a chord deep within you, a faint spark of resistance flickering in the depths of your soul. but the numbness was overpowering, a dense fog that obscured your thoughts and dulled your senses. you closed your eyes, trying to block out the world, but yunjin's voice cut through the haze.

mark sat beside you, yunjin on the other side, his hand gently resting on your back, a steady anchor in the storm. ‘we're not giving up on you,’ he said quietly. ‘no matter how long it takes, we'll be here. you don't have to fight this alone.’

your eyes open, tears blurring your vision as you looked at the two people who cared for you more than anything. the love in their eyes was a stark contrast to the cold manipulation you had endured from wonbin. it was overwhelming, the intensity of their concern, their unwavering support.

but the poison of wonbin's words still lingered, a dark cloud that loomed over your heart. ‘he's the only one who can love me, the only one who still wants me,’ you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, the phrase feeling like a shield against the reality you weren't ready to face.

yunjin's shoulders slumped, the realization dawning on her that this battle wouldn't be easy. she exchanged a worried glance with mark, the weight of the situation settling heavily on them both. they had seen you like this before, trapped in the web of wonbin's deceit, and they knew how hard it would be to pull you free.

but they also knew your strength, even if you had forgotten it. they had seen you fight your way out once, and they believed you could do it again.

yunjin knelt in front of you, taking your hands in her own, her touch warm and grounding. ‘we'll get through this,’ she said softly, her voice filled with determination. ‘one step at a time. we'll remind you of who you are, of how much you're loved. and we'll help you see the truth, even if it takes time.’

all you could do was hold on to the faint glimmer of hope that their love and support could one day help you break free from wonbin's grasp. as you lay there, wrapped in the cocoon of their concern and their arms,  you felt trapped between two worlds—the dark, insidious pull of wonbin’s influence and the bright, hopeful promise of your friends’ unwavering support. it was a battle you wasn’t sure you had the strength to fight, but nevertheless clung to the faintest glimmer of hope allowing yourself to feel a flicker of gratitude, a small light in the overwhelming darkness.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

wonbin's presence lingered like a ghost, haunting every corner of your life. from the moment you woke up, the shadows of his influence clung to you, whispering reminders of the control he held over you. 

he was the one who picked you up for college, his car a cage of false comfort, its leather seats cold and unwelcoming. he was the one who dropped you home, his eyes constantly watching for any sign of disobedience. he demanded hours-long conversations on the phone, his voice a chain that bound you tighter with every word.

it had been two weeks since the party, a week since you had felt anything resembling happiness. every morning was a chore, and you felt like you were wading through a thick fog, your reflection in the mirror a distant, unfamiliar face. the vibrant person who had began to surface not too long ago was now buried under layers of guilt and manipulation. you couldn't shake the feeling that everyone you knew hated you, thoughts of donghyuck weighing down on you heavily. the gestures wonbin normally did—buying you gifts, taking you to restaurants—no longer brought the giddy excitement they once did. now, they felt hollow, empty rituals that failed to stir you.

‘what’s up with you?’ wonbin asked, his voice cutting through your reverie as he pulled up to the front of the college building. his tone was sharp, eyes narrowing as he studied you. he wasn’t pleased with how ungrateful you had been acting, how distant you had become. you no longer fawned over everything he did, no longer showered him with the adoration he demanded.

you shrugged in response, unable to summon the energy for words. leaning over the console, you gave him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. ‘i’ll see you this afternoon,’ you said, voice flat and devoid of emotion. wonbin’s eyes, sharp and unreadable, followed you as you adjusted the strap of your tote bag on your shoulder, turning away from the car.

the morning sun, bright yet indifferent, cast long shadows that seemed to elongate your already heavy stride. the walk from the parking lot to the main campus building felt interminable, the path lined with meticulously trimmed hedges and vibrant flowerbeds seemingly mocking in its serenity. how could everything look so perfect whilst inside of you was a maelstrom of confusion and guilt?

students milled about, the campus alive with the usual morning energy of chattering, with laughter ringing out and conversations filling the air. yet to you, the scene was muffled, distorted by the haze of your own disquiet. it was as if a veil of grey had descended over the vibrant colours of the world, dulling every sound and every sight. you moved around like the world like a ghost, barely touching it, keenly aware of stares and casual greetings that seemed to float past like distant echoes.

you kept your head down, eyes fixed on the cobblestone path beneath your feet. the burden of your relationship with wonbin, the secrecy, the lies, the manipulation, felt like an iron shackle around your heart. you were a marionette as he held the strings, each pull tightening the noose of deceit. ‘no one will ever love you like i do.’

sighing as you approached the entrance of your lecture hall, the oak doors looming before you like the gates of some ancient fortress, you pushed through them, ignoring the murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of footsteps on the tiled floor as you opted for a seat near the back, hoping to remain inconspicuous.

settling into your chair, the cool hard surface grazing your skin, you listen to the clatter of notebooks and pens being arranged, and how the sounds all dissipated as soon as the lecturer walked in. his voice droned on, a monotone narration that barely registered in your consciousness.

you tried to focus, to anchor yourself to the present moment, but your thoughts were a storm-tossed sea, each wave crashing against the fragile vessel of your sanity, a chaotic whirlpool that was spinning with thoughts of park wonbin. his face flashed in your mind, his smile charming yet sinister, his voice sweet but poisonous. his presence loomed large in your mind, an omnipresent shadow that stretched across every corner of your being. you could feel the weight of his gaze, how the closer you got to him, the more entangled you felt and the more distant you seemed.

why couldn’t you break free from his grasp? what was it about wonbin that rendered you a soulless vessel, awaiting his input into making you come alive again? your mind was a labyrinth of questions, each corridor leading to another dead end. the pen in your hand felt foreign, the notes on your page mere scribbles, devoid of meaning.

when the class ended you were one of the first to get up, gathering your things with mechanical precision before moving through the throng of students.

the day wore on, each class a monotonous blur as the minutes dragged on, each one a tiny eternity as you tried to piece together your scattered thoughts. you had successfully managed to avoid yunjin and mark, the former seemingly not in school today. even though you had seen mark at lunch time, he could only watch with a sad smile as wonbin whisked you away, urging you to eat with him and leaving you with no other option. even donghyuck, who you were used to seeing around almost every corner of the college had only appeared once in the courtyard, his back turned to you as he spoke to one of his roomates, giving you the opportunity to swiftly speed walk in the other direction.

the guilt was a storm of its own within you, its winds whipping you fiercely, leaving you feeling battered and bruised. you missed your friends and you loved them dearly, but it was hard to face them. you had chosen this path, allowing yourself to be drawn into wonbin’s orbit, yet instead of being liberating, the sensation was suffocating. it felt like you had traded your peace for a cage of your own making. 

each interaction with him had once been a thrill, but now every word, every touch was tainted with unease. the realisation was like a cold, hard truth sinking into your chest, its impact echoing through every faucet of your existence.

snapping out of your thoughts, your last class of the day just concluding, you attempted to shake this feeling, instead focusing on how wonbin had invited you to watch his basketball practice, something that he had never let you do before. a small part of you clung to the possibility that this was a sign of change, a step towards something deeper in your tangled relationship. your mind raced as you thought about what it could mean, that perhaps he had finally decided to let you into his world, a flicker of hope that was like a fragile flame in the cavern of your doubt.

you arrived earlier than planned, the doors closed as the sounds of dribbling basketballs and the rhythmic squeak of sneakers on polished wood grew louder. stepping into the dimly lit auditorium with a sense of foreboding. the bright lights of the gymnasium flooded your vision, momentarily blinding you, but as your eyes adjusted, the scene in front of you made your heart plummet into a chasm of disbelief.

there, on the court, wonbin was with ning ning, standing close to her, his posture relaxed and his expression one of playful concentration as he guided her hands on the basketball, helping her aim for the hoop. they were absorbed in their own world, a bubble of intimacy that excluded everyone else. ning ning's laughter rang out, a melodious sound that echoed painfully in your ears.

wonbin's hand lingered on hers a moment longer than necessary, his smile warm and genuine as he leaned in to give her a quick, affectionate kiss, a gesture so casual yet intimate that it made your heart sting and your throat tighten, your legs weakening beneath you. 

your breath caught in your chest, the pain of betrayal wrapping around your heart like a vice, the scene playing on like deja vu. you couldn't tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding before you, each moment a new twist of the knife. the sounds of the bouncing ball and their muted voices were a cruel soundtrack to your torment.

you stood frozen, the scene unfolding before you like a cruel movie. the numbness that had settled over you was a heavy blanket, smothering your emotions. you wanted to cry, to scream, but the tears wouldn’t come. you were a spectator in your own life, watching as everything you had feared came true. ning ning’s presence lingered like an unwelcome shadow, her influence casting a persistent, uneasy haze over your relationship.

‘hey, it's been a while since I've seen you,’ shotaro's voice broke through your paralysis, his tone friendly and warm, his cheerful greeting like a jolt, snapping you back to the present. he approached with a bright smile, his enthusiasm genuine, his eyes not yet falling on what you could see. 

wonbin's head turned at the sound of shotaro's voice, his eyes locking onto yours. for a fleeting moment, surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a mask of innocence. he jumped away from ning ning, his movements abrupt and almost comical in their obviousness. his attempt to appear nonchalant was belied by the smirk that began to curl at the corners of his mouth when he realized you weren’t walking away or lashing out.

instead, you forced a smile, directing it at shotaro. ‘yeah, it has,’ you said, your voice surprisingly steady. his smirk deepened, a silent acknowledgement of the power he held over you. he watched as you made your way down to the court, your steps measured and deliberate even though your hands trembled and your stomach churned. he was confident in the knowledge that you wouldn’t confront him. you were back to being the obedient girl he had molded, the one who wouldn't dare challenge him.

you let him pull you close to him as he planted a kiss on your cheek before turning his attention to shotaro as you took your seat on the bench, your body moving on autopilot while your mind was consumed by the image of wonbin and ning ning. the latter drew nearer to you, blissfully unaware of the pain she caused you.

‘hey, it’s good to see you here,’ she greeted you, lowering herself so she could fling her arms around your neck, your stiff body doing nothing to deter her.

‘i’m glad i finally have someone else to sit with.’

the implications of her words, the true meaning hidden behind them that entailed this wasn’t the first time she had come to watch them was enough to accelerate the movement of bile to your throat, barely managing to give her a tight lipped smile.

the rest of the practice was a blur, a nightmarish sequence of events that played out in slow motion. every time wonbin scored, he would glance in your direction, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. he winked at you, expecting a reaction, and you forced a smile, your lips stretching painfully as you clapped your hands together. each gesture felt like a betrayal of your own dignity, but you couldn’t muster the strength to do otherwise.

the other players moved around the court, their movements fluid and coordinated, but to you, they were mere shadows, their actions meaningless against the backdrop of your inner turmoil. the sounds of the game, the cheers, and the shouts of encouragement all faded into a dull roar, a cacophony that underscored your isolation.

wonbin's presence was a constant, oppressive weight. his every move seemed calculated to draw your attention, to remind you of his dominance. he was the star of the show, and you were the captive audience, forced to watch as he reveled in his power. each successful shot, each display of skill was a taunt, a reminder of the hold he had over you.

the practice dragged on, each minute an eternity. you were  acutely aware of the eyes on you—shotaro's concerned glances, ning ning's occasional, curious looks, and, most of all, wonbin's constant, predatory gaze. you felt exposed, vulnerable, like a specimen under a microscope, every emotion laid bare for Wonbin's amusement.

finally, the practice ended, and the players gave one last bow to the coach before they began to disperse, their laughter and chatter filling the gymnasium once more.  you stood, your legs shaky, your mind a swirling maelstrom of hurt and betrayal. ning ning approached them with grace, practically floating over as she gave them some words of encouragement.

‘you guys are so good,’ she gushed, giving them a thumbs up as they all secretly marvelled at her effortless beauty. you were transported back to a couple of months ago, you being in the background, a third party in your own relationship as you watched ning ning charm everyone that came upon her path, including wonbin.

they spoke for a while longer whilst you made your way to the exit, your steps unsteady, each one a struggle against the urge to collapse. you had no clue how you would make it back home, given that wonbin was the one now driving you to and from school, but you knew if you didn’t leave now you might collapse. wonbin however intercepted you near the door, his expressions a calculated blend of concern and smugness.

‘hey,’ he said, his voice dripping with faux sincerity. ‘i’'m glad you came. i wanted you to see me in my element.’ you forced a nod, your throat too tight to form words. his eyes searched yours, looking for a crack in your facade, a sign of the devastation he had wrought.

‘give me a second to clean up then we’ll leave.’

like a fool you gave him a final strained smile, rooted in your spot as he left you standing alone to head towards the changing rooms. it wasn’t till he was gone that you let out the breathe you had subconsciously held onto, the feeling of air re-entering your lungs some sort of anchor.

the drive home was silent, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on your chest like a stone. the car hummed along the empty streets, its headlights carving through the darkness in narrow beams. next to you, you could feel his gaze, a searing brand that burned into the side of your face, but you kept your eyes fixed on the road ahead.

the silence between you was thick and oppressive, a tangible fog that dulled your senses and smothered your thoughts. the events of the evening replayed in your mind, each image a fresh stab of pain that reverberated through your entire being. wonbin had invited you to his practice, a gesture that had sparked a fragile hope within you, only to crush it under the weight of his betrayal.

‘are you going to say anything?’ his voice cut through the silence, sharp and cold. his tone was a challenge, a demand for a reaction that you refused to give.

you kept your eyes outside of your window, lips pressed into a thin line. the streetlights cast fleeting shadows across his face, highlighting the hardness in his eyes, the set of his jaw. he was waiting for you to break, to lash out or crumble under the weight of your emotions. but the numbness had settled too deeply, a protective barrier that shielded you from the full brunt of his manipulation.

‘come on, don’t be like this,’ he continued, his voice a mixture of irritation and condescension. ‘it’s not what you think.’

you clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to scream. the lie was so blatant, so casually delivered, that it took your breath away. how many times had he spun his web of deceit, ensnaring you with his charm and false promises? the realization was a bitter pill, its taste acrid and lingering.

‘say something,’ he demanded, his voice rising. ‘i invited you to my practice. I wanted you to see me play, like you’ve always begged me to do. what’s your problem now?’

‘to see what?’ your voice trembled with suppressed emotion. ‘to see you with her? to see how easily you can replace me?’

wonbin’s eyes flashed with anger, the car seemed to close in around you, the space too small to contain the intensity of your confrontation. the tension was palpable, a living thing that thrived on your mutual resentment.

‘you don’t understand,’ he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. ‘ning ning means nothing to me. it was just a bit of fun. you’re the one I care about.’

the words were hollow, empty echoes that rang false in your ears. you turned your attention back to the window, the streetlights blurring into a continuous stream of light and shadow. his attempts at placation only deepened the chasm between you, the fissure that had been growing for so long now a yawning abyss.

‘i didn’t do anything!’ he exclaimed in frustration. ‘you’re overreacting.’

overreacting. the word hung in the air, a toxic reminder of every time he had dismissed your feelings, minimised your pain. how many times he had used that word on you, to make you feel like a fool, as if you were crazy for the things you saw.

the rest of the drive passed in a tense, heavy silence. the city lights gave way to the darkness of the suburbs, the roads winding through quiet neighborhoods. each passing house, with its warm glow of family life, felt like a mockery of your own situation. you yearned for the sanctuary of your room, for the moment you could be alone and let the facade crumble.

when he finally pulled into the driveway of your apartment complex, he killed the engine and sat there, the silence between you thicker than ever. wonbin's hand lingered on yoru leg, his touch a burning brand that you wanted to shake off but couldn't.

‘hey,’ he said softly, his voice a silk trap, ‘you know how much you mean to me. how much i’m trying to make it up to you.’

you turned to face him, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. his eyes were dark, inscrutable pools that promised nothing but more manipulation and pain. ‘yeah,’ you said, your voice barely above a whisper, ‘i know.’

he leaned in, his lips brushing against your cheek, ‘good,’  he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. 

‘let me make it up to you. let’s go out this saturday, just you and me. you would like that, wouldn’t you pretty?’

you nodded mechanically, the numbness spreading like a poison through your veins, ‘yes, i would.’

‘good girl. goodnight my love.’

‘goodnight, wonbin.’

as you got out of the car and watched him drive away you let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling as you made your way inside. the apartment complex was quiet, the shadows deep and comforting.

the moment you closed the door to your apartment, the tears came, hot and unbidden. you sank to the floor, your body shaking with silent sobs. the image of wonbin and ning ning played over and over in your mind, a cruel, unending loop. the pain was a physical ache, a hollowing out of your chest that left you gasping for breath.

you stayed there for what felt like hours, the darkness of the apartment a welcome cocoon. the facade you had maintained all evening crumbled away, leaving you raw and exposed. the numbness was gone, replaced by a deep, searing pain that burned through your veins. the tears flowed freely, a torrent of pain and frustration that you had held back for too long. your throat burned, your eyes stung, but you couldn’t stop. the emotions poured out, raw and unchecked, each sob a desperate plea for release.

you cried until there were no more tears left, your body exhausted and spent until you eventually pulled yourself up, moving through your apartment like a ghost, each step a monumental effort. making your way to the bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, hoping to wash away the remnants of the evening. the reflection in the mirror was a stranger, eyes red and swollen, face pale and drawn.

climbing into bed, the sheets were cool and comforting against your skin. the apartment was silent, the only sound your own ragged breathing. you stared at the ceiling, the events of the evening playing out in your mind like a twisted movie. his smirk, his touch, the way he had looked at ning ning—each memory was a fresh wound, a reminder of the power he held over you.

sleep was elusive, your mind refusing to quiet. the pain was a constant companion, a throbbing ache that refused to be ignored. you tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around you like a suffocating embrace. 

finally, as the early hours of the morning crept in, exhaustion claimed you, pulling you into its merciful embrace. it was not a restful sleep but a restless, fitful slumber, a tangled web of nightmares and half-formed dreams.

wonbin still plagued your mind, his presence a dark shadow that loomed over you even in sleep. his voice echoed in your ears, his touch lingered on your skin, the haunting remnants of his betrayal echoing through the depths of your restless mind,  a stark reminder that even as sleep claimed you, his shadows would never fully relinquish their hold. 

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the morning sun seeped through the curtains, casting a cold, sterile light across the room. your eyes, swollen and raw from crying, barely registered the brightness. you felt like a hollow shell, your emotions drained, your heart heavy with the weight of regret and sorrow. 

your phone buzzed incessantly beside you, the sound a relentless reminder of the world outside your bubble of despair. yunjin’s name flashed on the screen, and you wanted nothing more than to ignore it, to sink back into the void where you could hide from everything.

but guilt gnawed at you, a persistent ache that wouldn't be ignored. you hadn't faced yunjin since that night, since the look of disappointment and hurt in your friend's eyes had carved a deep wound in your soul. with a trembling hand, you picked up the phone and answered.

‘i’m outside with breakfast. let me in,’ yunjin’s voice was gentle but insistent, leaving no room for refusal.

you glanced at yourself in the mirror, wincing at the sight. your eyes were puffy and red, dark circles marring your complexion. you tried to make yourself look less dead inside, splashing cold water on your face and brushing your hair, but it was futile. the pain was etched too deeply, the sorrow too visible.

with a heavy sigh, you unlocked the door and swung it open. before you could utter a word, yunjin flung herself onto you, wrapping her arms around you tightly. the warmth and care in your friend's embrace was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you felt inside. it was too much to bear, and the dam broke once more. you crumbled, sobbing into yunjin’s shoulder, your body shaking with the force of your grief.

mark appeared beside her, his expression a mix of concern and determination. he pulled you both into a hug, his broad frame providing a sturdy support as you cried together. the sound of your sobs filled the small hallway, a symphony of shared pain and sorrow.

inside the house, the silence was heavy, punctuated only by the occasional sniffle. you sat on the couch, yunjin and mark flanking you, their presence a lifeline in the sea of despair. you took a deep breath, the words tumbling out in a rush as you recounted the events of the previous day.

‘i think wonbin is still with ning ning," you tell them, voice barely above a whisper. ‘i saw them together at the gym. he was teaching her how to shoot a basketball, and then he kissed her when she made a basket. i don’t know what i’m doing wrong.’

mark's jaw tightened, a rare flash of anger crossing his normally calm features.  ‘that bastard,’ he muttered, his fists clenching, visibly upset at how dejected you looked. ‘he can't keep doing this to you.’

yunjin's eyes were blazing with determination. ‘we need to get you away from him,’ she said firmly. ‘i've said it before, and i mean it. you need help breaking free from this cycle and i think that therapy might be the best option.’ 

you hesitated, the thought of therapy filling you with uncertainty. a part of you wasn't ready to let go of wonbin, to sever the ties that had bound you to him for so long, as stupid as it sounded. ‘i'll think about it,’ your voice wavered as you spoke. ‘i'm not sure I'm ready.’

yunjin reached out, taking your hand in a gentle but firm grip. ‘i understand. but you need to start somewhere. you've been so strong, and i know it might seem like i’m being hard on you but i’m just worried. i need you to be okay.’

mark nodded in agreement, his expression softening. ‘we just want what's best for you. you deserve to be happy, to be free from his control.’

the morning stretched on, the weight of their concern pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. despite yunjin and mark's unwavering support, you couldn't shake the relentless grip wonbin had on your heart. as they talked about therapy and escape plans, your mind wandered back to him—his voice, his touch, the way he once made you feel special.

you listened to their suggestions with a detached numbness, nodding mechanically as they outlined their hopes for your recovery. yet deep down, you knew you weren’t ready to let go of wonbin, not yet. the thought of severing ties with him, of facing a future without his presence, filled you with a profound emptiness that mirrored the hollow ache in your chest.

he was the lone soul who cherished every flaw you bore, the one who could kiss away your anxieties, wrapping you in a cocoon where the rest of the world ceased to exist, if only for fleeting moments. the imperfection of the relationship was a shadow that never escaped your notice, whispers of its toxicity brushing your ears. it likely was a venomous bond, but it tethered you to the man who had pulled you back from the precipice of despair. for that, you learned to bury the unsettling disquiet deep within, to choke down the acrid taste of bitterness, and to mask the cracks in your heart with a facade of acceptance.

you had withdrawn into yourself, lost in thoughts of wonbin as you replayed your moments together in your mind, the highs and lows of your tumultuous relationship. the room blurred around you, your friends’ voices fading into the background, their words a distant echo in your ears. they were determined to rescue you from wonbin's clutches, but you couldn't summon the strength to break free. 

even when they had gone and you were left to sink onto the couch, alone with your thoughts, the deafening silence did nothing to help  the all consuming nature  of wonbin. all you could do was think about was wonbin—the way he made you feel alive, the promises he whispered in the darkness, the intoxicating allure of his presence. 

in the solitude of your apartment, you faced the harsh reality that you weren’t ready to let go. you retreated into yourself, the echoes of yunjin and mark's concern fading into the background. in the depths of your soul, a whispered voice echoed—a voice that sounded eerily like wonbin's, promising you everything you had ever wanted.

in that moment of quiet desperation, you made a choice—to hold onto him, despite the pain, despite the uncertainty. for now, he was all you had left, the anchor in the storm of your emotions.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the next morning came, the promise of a new day lay ahead, yet a sense of foreboding lingered in the air. you tried to shake off the unease as you prepared yourself, but the memories of last night’s restless sleep clung to you like a shadow.

a knock on the door startled you out of your reverie. you glanced at the clock—10:30am. right on time. with a deep breath, you opened the door to find wonbin standing there, his usual charming smile plastered on his face. he looked effortlessly handsome, his hair tousled just enough to seem natural, but his eyes held a glint that made your stomach twist.

"good morning love,’ he greeted, he greeted, his voice a silky veneer masking the chill beneath.

‘morning,’ you replied, forcing a smile as you grabbed your bag and stepped outside, closing the door behind you.

the drive started in uncomfortable silence. wonbin’s car was sleek and modern, the leather seats cold against your skin. you noticed his good mood immediately, the way he hummed along to the radio, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. it was infectious and at first you were happy to see him in this way, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled in your chest.

he pulled up to a traffic light, his fingers moving rapidly to an incoming text. your eyes caught the name flashing on his phone display as he switched it off—the  name that had become all too familiar. 

‘who was that?’ you asked, striving for nonchalance, but the strain in your voice betrayed you.

‘just ning ning,’ he replied quickly, trying to seem indifferent but he was not meeting your gaze.

the name hung in the air like a dark cloud, a constant reminder of your insecurities. ning ning seemed to be everywhere, her presence looming over you like a spectre, taunting you with the impossibility of living up to her. she was the embodiment of everything you weren’t, and it gnawed at your self-worth like a relentless parasite.

you sighed, sinking deeper into the cold leather seat, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you. the strength to confront him, to demand answers, eluded you. the fear of what those answers might reveal paralyzed you, rendering you silent.

wonbin noticed your demeanour, his eyes flickering with a mix of annoyance and something else—something you couldn’t quite place. ‘hey’, he said sharply, his tone lacking the usual tenderness. 

‘why are you being like this?’

‘it’s nothing. i’m fine,’ you lied, looking out the window to avoid his gaze.

he sighed, a sound of irritation. ‘i know you don't believe me, but there's nothing going on with ning ning. she's just... she's clingy. i’ve been telling her to leave me alone."

‘clingy,’ you repeated, the word tasting bitter on your tongue.

‘yeah,’  he said, his tone dismissive. ‘i’m trying to let her go, but she just doesn't get it.’

you wondered if he had said that about you before, painting you as the desperate one in someone else’s story. the thought twisted in your gut, a nauseating realisation that perhaps you were just another name on his list, another heart he played with.

as he stopped at a red light, he turned to you, his fingers gripping your chin, pulling you towards him. his lips met yours in a kiss, aggressive and demanding, an attempt to erase your doubts and fears. but this time, it felt different. the usual warmth, the comfort of his touch, felt tainted by the lingering presence of ning ning.

you pulled away, staring into his eyes, searching for a truth you feared didn’t exist. hisis gaze was intense, filled with a coldness that made you shiver.

‘please,’ he whispered, his voice a velvet trap. ‘trust me. i’m done with her.’

you wanted to believe him, to let his words wrap around you like a comforting blanket. but the cracks in his story were becoming too glaring to ignore. the light turned green, and he resumed driving, his hand still resting on your thigh, a gesture meant to reassure.

but it only served to remind you of the precariousness of your situation. you were teetering on the edge, clinging to the minuscule amount of hope that he really loved you and that all these things were done out of that love.

the rest of the drive was a masterclass in pretence. wonbin maintained his cheerful demeanour, chatting about inconsequential things, his words flowing like a river that never reached the ocean. but beneath the surface, you could sense the current of unease, the hidden rocks that threatened to capsize your fragile peace.

you arrived at your destination, a picturesque park bathed in the soft light of morning. he parked the car, and you both stepped out, the cool breeze a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside you. the park was serene, a haven of tranquility that felt worlds away from the chaos of your emotions.

wonbin took your hand, leading you down a winding path lined with blooming flowers and towering trees. his touch was warm, his presence comforting, but the questions in your mind refused to be silenced.

as you walked, he talked about his plans, his dreams, his vision for the future. his words were like a beautiful melody, captivating and hypnotic, but beneath the surface, an undercurrent of doubt flowed.

you stopped by a small pond, the water reflecting the azure sky above. wonbin turned to you, his eyes a myriad of emotions, like he was surprising his true emotions.

‘i know i’ve made mistakes,’  he said, mustering up as much fake dejection as he could. ‘but i want to make things right. i want to be with you.’

his words tugged at your heartstrings, everything you wanted to hear floating melodically into your ears. you wanted to believe him, to let go of the fears and insecurities that plagued you. but the scars of past betrayals were not easily erased, and the presence of ning ning lingered like a dark shadow.

‘why is it so hard for you to let her go?’ you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, scared to hear his response.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. ‘it’s complicated,’ he admitted falsely. ‘we’ve  known each other for a long time, and she has a hard time accepting that it's over.’

‘but it’s over between you two, right? you don’t want her anymore?’ you pressed, needing to hear the words, to have a tangible confirmation that you weren't just another name in his web of deceit.

‘she doesn't mean anything to me,’ he finally said, his voice a strained whisper that barely rose above the silence. his gaze flitted away, unable to meet yours, focusing instead on a spot on the floor as if the truth might lie hidden in the weedy grass.

you took a step closer, ‘do you really mean that?’ you asked, your voice barely more than a tremor in the stillness. ‘do you truly not love ning ning anymore?’

wonbin’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, a fleeting emotion that could have been guilt, regret, or merely the reflection of the dying light. ‘how many times do i have to tell you, i don't,’ he replied, a bit more firmly this time. ‘i don't love her. it’s you. it’s always been you.’

wonbin's lips curved into a smile, a masterful facade of warmth and reassurance. he reached out, his fingers grazing your cheek with a touch as soft as silk, sending shivers down your spine. ‘she's nothing to me now,’ he said, his voice a low, soothing murmur that seemed to wrap around you like a velvet cloak. ‘it's only you that i need.’

his words were a balm to your wounded heart, and you drank them in greedily, desperate to believe. the world seemed to brighten, colours more vivid, sounds sharper, as if his declaration had breathed new life into everything around you. the tight knot of jealousy and insecurity that had been gnawing at your insides began to unravel, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest like the first rays of dawn.

you wanted to believe him, needed to believe him, and in that moment, you did. wonbin’s voice was the honeyed trap, his lies the silken threads that ensnared your heart. he was the master puppeteer, and you, his willing marionette, dancing to the tune of his deceitful serenade.

he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear, carrying the faint scent of mint and something darker, something that hinted at the shadows lurking beneath his charm. ‘you're the only one i care about,’ he whispered, and his words were a melody, a siren’s song that drowned out the rational voice in your head.

you closed your eyes, letting his lies wash over you, feeling the weight of your longing lifting. the desperation that had clawed at you for so long was soothed by the simple, sweet assurance that you were his one and only. your heart, so eager to be loved, so willing to be deceived, clung to his words as if they were the very breath of life.

in that twilight moment, with the stars beginning to weave their tapestry across the sky, you allowed yourself to be enveloped in the illusion of his love. you were none the wiser, blissfully ignorant of the web of lies that held you captive. all that mattered was that wonbin loved you, and that was enough to sustain you through the darkness of the night.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the study café was nestled in a quiet corner of the bustling city, a haven for those seeking solace and focus amidst their hectic lives. the soft hum of the espresso machine and the gentle clink of ceramic cups created a comforting symphony, blending seamlessly with the muted conversations that filled the room. the late afternoon sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a warm, golden glow that enveloped the space in a serene, almost ethereal ambiance.

you sat at a corner table with yunjin and mark, the three of you cocooned in a bubble of shared silence. the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint aroma of vanilla and cinnamon from the bakery counter, creating an inviting atmosphere that made it easy to relax. the table was a comfortable chaos of notebooks, highlighters, and laptops, the quintessential tools of students immersed in their studies.

your spirits were noticeably lighter today, a stark contrast to the past few weeks. the recent turmoil with wonbin and ming ning had cast a long shadow over your days, but now, with ning ning out of the picture, a sense of calm had returned. yujin's eyes, soft and observant, flickered with concern as she watched you sip your latte, the steam curling up around your face like a comforting embrace.

‘how are you feeling?’ yujin asked, her voice gentle yet probing as she took a moment to ease her eyes from the strain of the light coming from her laptop. ‘have you thought any more about seeing that therapist i recommended?’

you hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup as you gathered your thoughts. the mention of therapy stirred something uneasy within you, a reminder of the tangled web of emotions and betrayals that had ensnared you.

‘i haven't,’ you admitted, glancing up to meet her gaze. ‘but honestly, i think things are getting better now. wonbin told me he doesn’t love her, that it’s ning ning who’s holding on to their past. he’s trying to break free from her.’

a brief silence fell over the table, the air thick with unspoken words. mark and yujin exchanged a glance, a fleeting moment of disbelief that passed between them like a silent conversation. yujin's lips parted as if to say something, but mark gently placed a hand on her arm, a silent plea for caution.

‘just... don't completely discard the idea, okay?’ mark said, his voice steady and reassuring. ‘it might still help, even if things seem sorted now.’

the words hung in the air, a delicate balance of concern and caution. you looked from one friend to the other, sensing the depth of their worry and care. the soft light caught the edges of their expressions, highlighting the sincerity in their eyes.

‘i know you mean well,’ you said, offering a small, appreciative smile. ‘but i really think it’s different this time. wonbin wants to move forward, and so do i.’

yujin nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving your face. the bustling café around you seemed to fade into the background, the clatter of dishes and the murmur of voices dimming as the weight of the conversation settled over your small group.

‘i get that,’ she said softly. ‘but just remember, sometimes, it helps to talk to someone who can give you a different perspective.’

the café door opened with a gentle chime, letting in a brief gust of cool air that carried the faint scent of rain. outside, the streets were bathed in the soft afterglow of a recent shower, the pavement glistening with a sheen of moisture. you watched as a couple huddled under a shared umbrella, their laughter ringing out as they splashed through puddles, imagining it was you and wonbin in their stead.

‘what makes you so sure?’ yunjin finally speaks up, unable to contain her words any longer. she doesn’t mean to be accusatory, but she wondered if her friends naivety was prompted by any of wonbin’s actions.

you shrugged, trying to keep your voice light and dismissive. ‘i just know. he wouldn't lie to me about something like this. he promised me.’

yunjin’s eyes flickered with something you couldn't quite place—pity, perhaps, or frustration. ‘but remember the times you told us about? like when he was texting her constantly, or that day at the basketball court? you broke down in my arms about that sight.’

‘he explained all that. ning ning is finding it harder to let go of wonbin, and if we’re being honest i don’t blame her. but it’s all in the past now and he only cares about me, not her. i know what you’re thinking but i need you to trust me.’

yunjin put down her highlighter, her expression serious but not unkind. ‘we’re just worried about you,’ she said softly. ‘you deserve someone who makes you feel secure, not someone who keeps you guessing.’

‘i appreciate your concern, i really do. and i know this is coming from a place of concern as my best friend. but i trust him. he loves me again.’

mark sighed, running a hand through his hair. ‘we just want you to be careful. sometimes, when you're close to someone, it's hard to see things clearly. he has a habit of saying things he doesn’t mean.’

you felt a surge of irritation, understanding that it was because they cared about you, but you were tired of them bringing up the past, especially because things had changed now. ‘i get it, you’re sceptical. but this time is different, i know it is.’

the café around you seemed to close in, the familiar sounds and smells fading as the tension at the table grew. you could feel the weight of their concern pressing down on you, but you resisted, clinging to the belief that Wonbin was sincere this time. the light streaming in through the windows seemed harsher now, casting long shadows across the table, and the previously comforting hum of activity felt more like an intrusive buzz.

yunjin sighed, exchanging another glance with mark before returning her gaze to you. ‘alright,’ she said quietly, her voice tinged with resignation as she realised there was nothing she could do or say to change your mind presently. ‘just...promise us you'll be careful, okay?’

you nodded, grateful for the change in subject but also feeling a pang of guilt. ‘i will. thanks guys, i know you’re only doing this because you’re my friends.’

the café’s ambiance wrapped around you again, a gentle reminder of the present moment. the sun had shifted, casting a soft glow on yunjin’s dark hair, highlighting the intensity of her focus as she returned to her textbook. mark was back to his typing, his brow furrowed in concentration. you watched them for a moment, feeling a surge of gratitude for their friendship.

the hours passed, the light outside shifting from the bright gold of afternoon to the softer, muted tones of early evening. the café grew quieter, the rush of the day giving way to a more subdued, intimate atmosphere. you finished your latte, the last sip now cold, and packed up your things, glancing at yunjin and mark as they did the same.

as you stepped out into the cool evening air, the doubts resurfaced, stronger now without the distractions of the café. you hugged your coat tighter around you, feeling the chill seep into your bones. mark and yunjin walked beside you, their presence a comforting anchor, but the uncertainty gnawed at you, a silent, persistent question mark.

the streetlights flickered on, casting a soft, warm glow on the sidewalk. the city seemed quieter now, the rush of the day replaced by a more reflective stillness. you walked in companionable silence, your friends’ presence a silent support as you navigated your thoughts.

when you reached your apartment building, you turned to them, offering a small, grateful smile. ‘thanks for today. i really appreciate it."

‘anytime. we're here for you, always.’

mark nodded, his expression serious but warm. ‘take care, okay? and remember what we talked about.’

you nodded, the weight of their concern settling on your shoulders like a heavy cloak. ‘i will. goodnight, guys.’

the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of the city became a lullaby as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. despite the doubts planted by yunjin and mark, a deeper part of you clung stubbornly to wonbin's words. you replayed the moments when he had reassured you, his voice gentle and sincere, his eyes filled with a promise that seemed too genuine to be a lie.

you remembered the warmth of his embrace, the way he held you close as if you were the most precious thing in his world. you thought about the small, tender moments—the way he smiled when he saw you, the soft kisses on your forehead, the late-night conversations that made you feel seen and understood. these memories were like a balm, soothing the unease that had settled in your heart.

wonbin had his flaws, you knew that. but you had seen sides of him that others hadn't, sides that made you believe in the love he professed. you remembered the way he looked at you, with a mixture of affection and vulnerability that seemed too raw to be faked. it was this belief that you clung to now, letting it wash over you like a comforting wave, drowning out the voices of doubt.

as you turned onto your side, curling into the blankets, you whispered into the quiet room, as if speaking the words aloud would solidify them. ‘he loves me. he really does.’

the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow that illuminated the room. you imagined wonbin's face in that light, his expression open and honest, his love for you evident in every glance. the doubts that had been gnawing at you began to fade, replaced by a renewed sense of conviction.

you were determined to believe in him, to trust in the bond you shared. love, after all, was about faith and trust. and you had chosen to believe in wonbin, to stand by him despite the uncertainties. the love you felt for him was a powerful force, strong enough to drown out the voices of doubt and fill you with a sense of purpose.

as sleep finally began to claim you, the last conscious thought you had was of wonbin's smile, the warmth of his touch, and the promise of his love. it was enough, you told yourself. it had to be enough. with that thought, you drifted into a dreamless sleep, the doubts momentarily silenced by the strength of your love and the conviction of your belief in him.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the restaurant exuded an air of quiet sophistication, its dimly lit ambiance casting a soft glow over the neatly arranged tables. each surface was adorned with a pristine white tablecloth, and flickering candles provided a warm, intimate light that should have felt comforting.

the rich scent of roasted garlic and herbs wafted through the air, mingling with the delicate aroma of the fresh bouquet of wildflowers that sat in a slender vase at the centre of your table. it was the perfect setting for a romantic evening, yet, despite the setting's promise, a profound disconnection settled over your corner like a heavy fog.

wonbin was seated across from you, his presence felt more like a shadow than a companion. his eyes, once brimming with warmth and attentiveness, were now cast downward, glued to the screen of his phone. his fingers moved with a mechanical precision, scrolling through something invisible to you, the rhythm of his taps almost hypnotic. it was as if the digital world had consumed him entirely, leaving no room for the tangible reality of the restaurant or the person sitting right in front of him.

your gaze wandered to the plate of gnocchi before you, a culinary masterpiece of delicate, pillowy dumplings nestled in a bed of rich, creamy sauce. the steam that had once risen from it had long dissipated, leaving the dish cold and uninviting. you poked at the food absentmindedly, pushing it around the plate, trying to summon the appetite that had abandoned you. each bite you had hoped would bring comfort now felt like a chore, as though the simple act of eating was a reminder of the growing chasm between the two of you.

the silence stretched, its weight palpable, and you could feel your stomach tightening into a knot of anxiety. you had hoped that tonight would be a chance to reconnect, to solidify the progress you had made since ning ning was no longer a presence in your lives. the thought of her brought a fresh wave of discomfort, but you were determined not to let it cloud this evening. after all, wasn’t this supposed to be a new beginning for you?

‘wonbin,’ you ventured, voice barely rising above the soft murmur of the restaurant. you could hear the clinking of glasses and the low hum of conversation from nearby tables, their sounds juxtaposed sharply against the isolation you felt. ‘how was your day?’

‘fine,’ he replied, his eyes still locked on the screen. his response was curt, devoid of any warmth or elaboration. it was as if he was offering the bare minimum to satisfy an obligation rather than engaging in a meaningful conversation.

the sting of his disinterest was like a cold, sharp needle piercing your chest. you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making each word you spoke feel like an uphill battle. your mind raced, desperately searching for a topic that might spark even a flicker of interest in him. 

‘did you see the new exhibit at the art gallery?’ you pressed on, hoping to steer the conversation toward something you could both enjoy. ‘i read that they’re showcasing some incredible modern pieces. maybe we could go this weekend.’

he glanced up briefly, his expression unchanging. ‘maybe,’ he said flatly, a single word that carried no hint of enthusiasm. his gaze quickly returned to his phone, the screen lighting up his face in a cold, blue glow.

your heart sank further, the ache in your chest intensifying. you could feel the desperate effort to maintain a semblance of normalcy, but it was like trying to hold onto sand slipping through your fingers. 

the idea of bringing ning ning into the conversation crossed your mind, but you pushed it aside, unwilling to revisit that painful subject. you had worked so hard to move past it; you didn’t want to derail this evening with old grievances.

the minutes ticked by slowly, each one stretching into what felt like an eternity. you fumbled with your fork, the metallic clatter against the plate sounding unnaturally loud in the oppressive quiet. your attempts to engage him were becoming increasingly painful, like trying to breathe in a room with no air. every question you posed was met with terse responses, as if you were intruding on a private, unspoken space that he was unwilling to share.

‘have you been working on anything interesting lately?’ you asked, forcing a light tone that didn’t quite mask the strain in your voice. the question felt as though it was thrown into a void, with no expectation of being answered. you could see the flicker of a notification on his phone, but it was too fleeting to catch the details.

 the sharp pang of anxiety that followed was almost overwhelming. for a moment, you thought you saw ning ning’s contact name, but you dismissed the thought immediately, chalking it up to paranoia.

your stomach churned with an unsettling mix of anxiety and disappointment. each silent pause was a reminder of the growing distance between you, and you found yourself grappling with the fear that he might be losing interest. the thought of another argument—of digging up old wounds—was a torment you wanted to avoid at all costs. you kept trying, even though the effort was slowly draining me of hope and patience.

the candlelight danced across the table, casting shifting shadows that seemed to echo the dissonance between you. the warm glow should have felt comforting, but it only highlighted the cold reality of the situation. your mind was a storm of conflicting emotions—fear, frustration, and a desperate longing for connection. you could almost feel the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on you, a physical manifestation of the emotional chasm that had opened up between you.

‘i saw that you were reading something interesting on your phone,’ you said, attempting a more casual approach. ‘anything you’d like to share?’

‘just some emails,’ he said, his tone indifferent. ‘nothing important.’

the response was as empty as the spaces between your words. your shoulders sagged in defeat, and you looked around the restaurant, searching for something—anything—that might distract you from the growing realisation that the night was slipping away from you. the couples around you seemed to be effortlessly engaged, their conversations filled with laughter and intimacy, a stark contrast to the silence that enveloped your table.

your efforts felt increasingly futile, like trying to light a fire with wet matches. each time you reached out for a connection, it was met with a cold barrier that pushed you further away. the more you tried to bridge the gap, the more pronounced the separation became. it was as though you were speaking into a void,  words swallowed by an emptiness that seemed to grow with each passing minute.

‘i’ve been thinking,’ you said, trying to grasp at straws. ‘maybe we could plan a short trip somewhere? a change of scenery might be nice.’

his response was a mere nod, his eyes remaining fixed on his phone. the effort to maintain the conversation was becoming increasingly painful, like a relentless grind that left you feeling hollow and exhausted. you forced a smile, though it felt as if it were painted on, a mask to hide the turmoil churning beneath the surface.

the longer the silence stretched, the more you felt like a spectator in your own life, watching as the connection you once cherished disintegrated before your eyes. the gnocchi on your plate remained untouched, a silent testament to the disheartening reality of the evening. the warmth of the restaurant felt like a cruel irony, amplifying the coldness between you.

as you reached for your glass of water, you unintentionally caught another glimpse of his phone, and for a brief moment, as the corners of his lips curled, you thought you saw ning ning’s face again in the photo of the person he was messaging.

your breath hitched, and your heart raced, the old insecurities flaring up with a vengeance. you tried to push the thought aside, convincing yourself it was just a figment of your imagination. but the doubt lingered, a nagging voice that refused to be silenced.

eventually, you fell silent, words exhausted and energy depleted. the effort to keep the evening going, to salvage something from the night, felt like an impossible task. you watched as wonbin continued to tap away on his phone, his detachment a stark reminder of the growing distance. the gentle hum of the restaurant, once soothing, now seemed like a distant echo, a reminder of the world that continued to move forward while you were trapped in this painful limbo.

as the final course of dessert arrived, you picked at it absently, the sweetness doing little to alleviate the bitterness you felt. you glanced at wonbin one last time, hoping for a sign of the person you once knew, but the look in his eyes was unchanged—distant, detached. the finality of the moment settled over you like a shroud, a painful acceptance of the reality that the connection you had hoped to rekindle might be slipping away.

the drive home was equally quiet, each passing streetlight a silent witness to the unspoken words and unresolved feelings that lingered. your thoughts were a tangled mess of emotions, a swirling vortex of doubt and longing. you knew that the night would end, but the echo of its silence would linger far longer, a painful reminder of the struggle to keep a relationship alive when the other person seemed determined to remain just out of reach.

the finality of the evening hit you as you reached your doorstep.

the cool night air clung to your skin as you closed the door behind you, the muted sounds of the city a distant hum against the heavy silence that enveloped you both. your heart thudded in your chest, the last flickers of hope still flickering like a candle in a storm. you turned to wonbin, his silhouette standing in the hallway like a forlorn statue, his eyes lost in the shadows.

‘do you want to stay over?’ you asked, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt at nonchalance. ‘i mean, it’s late, and it might be nice to relax at home for a bit longer.’

wonbin looked at you, his expression unreadable. for a moment, you wondered if he might decline, but then he nodded slowly, the movement so slight it might have been a gesture of resignation. ‘sure,’ he said softly.

the quiet of the house seemed to amplify the tension that had followed you from the restaurant. you led him to the living room, your footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor, each creak a reminder of the effort you were making to keep connected. the room was bathed in a gentle, ambient light, the soft glow of a few strategically placed lamps casting a warm, inviting aura. but even the inviting atmosphere felt like a mere backdrop to the palpable disconnection between you.

you busied yourself with making tea, the rhythmic clinking of cups and the hiss of the kettle providing a feeble attempt at breaking the silence. your hands moved with practised precision, but your mind was a tangled mess of anxiety and determination. every action was a calculated effort to reignite something that felt all too distant. the scent of chamomile filled the room, mingling with the faint aroma of the candles you had lit earlier, each fragrance a fragile attempt to soothe the evening’s growing tension.

‘i thought we could watch something together,’ you said as you returned to the living room, placing the steaming mugs on the coffee table. you picked up the remote, your fingers brushing over the buttons as if willing them to summon some form of connection. ‘there’s a new movie on that i thought we might like.’

wonbin took a seat on the couch, his posture rigid, and he nodded absentmindedly. the space between you felt like an invisible barrier, one that you were desperate to bridge. you settled next to him, close but not touching, your heart aching with each passing second of his indifference.

the movie played on the screen, but the images seemed to blur into the background as you tried to focus on wonbin. you could feel the warmth of his body next to yours, a tantalising reminder of the closeness you once shared. you reached out, your hand brushing against his, a tentative gesture that felt both intimate and desperate.

‘wonbin,’ you said his name gently, your breath warm against his skin. ‘can we talk? i really want to hear about what’s been going on with you.’

he glanced at you briefly, his eyes dark and distant. ‘it’s nothing much,’ he replied, his tone flat. ‘just basketball and school stuff.’

you tried to read the emotion behind his words, but the emptiness in his gaze made it difficult. you took a deep breath, trying to summon the courage to push forward, even as the sting of his detachment cut through you. ‘i  miss talking to you,’ you admitted, your voice catching in your throat. ‘i miss us. i just want to feel close to you again.’

‘how can you miss me when i’m right here?’

‘that’s the point. you’re here physically, but it seems like your mind has ventured elsewhere.’

his silence was more painful than any words he could have spoken. the movie continued to play, but the sound was a mere backdrop to the strained effort of trying to keep him engaged. you reached out, wrapping your fingers gently around his hand, your touch a plea for a connection that seemed to be slipping further away with each passing moment.

it’s what made you pause the movie and lead him to your room, the soft light of the overhead bulbs casting a warm glow over the space. you needed him, physically, and you felt it would be a good thing to bring the both of you closer.

the room was dim, the only light coming from the faint glow of the bedside lamp casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. the air was thick with an unspoken heaviness, an almost palpable silence that seemed to seep into every corner of the space. you lay beside wonbin, the intimacy that once brought you together now feeling like a distant echo, muffled by the cold, mechanical reality that had replaced it.

you reached out tentatively, your hand brushing against his, feeling the familiar texture of his skin but missing the warmth that once accompanied it. his response was automatic, a slight shift of his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours, but the contact felt flat and lifeless, devoid of the passion and connection you used to share.

the moments of touch and proximity, once sources of deep emotional connection, now felt like empty rituals. his movements were mechanical, his responses perfunctory, as if he were following a script rather than engaging in an act of intimacy. you pressed closer, trying to find solace in the physical closeness, but each movement felt like an exercise in futility. his body was unyielding, and the warmth you sought seemed to elude you like a mirage.

“wonbin,” you whispered, your voice a delicate thread in the thick silence. “i need you. please… just be present with me.”

he turned to you, his eyes reflecting an emptiness that made your heart ache. he adjusted his position slightly, and you could feel his body moving in a practised, almost automatic way. his hands, once a source of comfort and affection, now traced your skin with a detached precision. every touch, every caress, felt rehearsed and hollow, the physical act devoid of the emotional resonance that once accompanied it.

you reached for him, your hands exploring his body with a desperation that felt almost painful. you sought the familiar spark, the connection that used to ignite with every touch, but instead found only a cold, distant surface. his responses were muted, his body unresponsive, and the intimacy you sought felt like a distant dream slipping further from your grasp.

as you moved together, the act felt like a mere exchange of physical needs rather than an expression of shared desire. each motion, each touch, was devoid of the passion and engagement that had once marked your moments together. the rhythm of your bodies seemed out of sync, the movements mechanical and without the spark of genuine connection.

you closed your eyes, trying to focus on the sensations, but even they felt distant and muted, like an echo of something that had once been vivid and real. the pleasure you sought was elusive, a shadow of its former self, and each moment felt like a bitter reminder of how far you had drifted apart.

the silence of the room pressed in on you, a heavy shroud that seemed to amplify the emptiness of the moment. the act itself, once a source of deep connection, now felt like an empty transaction, a physical exercise that failed to bridge the emotional chasm between you. his breathing was steady but lacked the depth of shared emotion, the sound of it a stark contrast to the passion you had once known.

you held onto him, your arms wrapped around his body in an attempt to find solace, but the embrace felt hollow, a formality rather than a genuine connection. the warmth you craved was absent, and the act that should have brought you closer only served to highlight the distance that had grown between you.

as the moments passed, the physical connection that had once been a source of joy now left you feeling more alone than ever. the room remained silent, the only sound the steady rhythm of your combined breathing, a reminder of how disconnected you had become. the intimacy you sought was like a fading memory, and as the night wore on, the weight of the soulless encounter lingered, a poignant reminder of the emotional void that now defined your relationship.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the morning sun slanted through the blinds, slicing the room with narrow, trembling stripes of light that fell across the cold, vacant kitchen floor. you sat at the table, the coffee in front of you a bitter, dark pool slowly growing cold, a symbol of the morning's unspoken disappointment. 

your phone lay still, an inert black slab, void of messages or calls from wonbin. his silence was an alien chill; he always greeted you with the warmth of his voice, a daily sunbeam that now seemed to have vanished. a knot of worry tightened in your chest, twisting tighter with each tick of the clock, each second of unbroken silence gnawing at your heart like a hungry predator. an unsettling sense of foreboding urged you to his place.

the walk was a disorienting blur, the familiar path stretching and warping, each step a slog through a mire of dread. the streets seemed to close in around you, their familiar outlines now menacing. your heart pounded a frantic rhythm, anticipation mingling with a chilling, gut-deep dread. 

by the time you reached his building, the sky had draped itself in a shroud of grey clouds, as if mourning with you. you inhaled deeply, a breath that felt like a last vestige of hope, and knocked on his door. the sound was hollow, reverberating through the silence of the quiet hallway like a ghostly whisper.

silence.

you knocked again, louder this time, each rap of your knuckles like a drumbeat of despair, but the void remained unbroken, and your heart sank with the weight of a thousand unspoken fears. you knew his passcode, a small but significant thread that had always made you feel intimately connected to him. with shaking fingers, you entered the numbers, and the door clicked open, a sound that felt like the cracking of a fragile barrier.

as you stepped inside, the apartment greeted you with an unsettling stillness, the usual warmth and cosiness replaced by a cold, oppressive silence. your voice trembled as you called his name, the sound of it lost and swallowed by the emptiness. the only responses were the mechanical hum of the refrigerator and the distant, metronomic ticking of a clock, each beat a cruel reminder of the moment slipping away.

then, a faint, unmistakable sound drifted from the bedroom—a shuffling noise, followed by a low, intimate murmur. your heart lurched into your throat, and your hands trembled uncontrollably. a tempest of emotions swirled within you, torn between the primal urge to flee and the insatiable need to know. curiosity propelled you forward on unsteady legs, each step feeling like wading through a mire of fear and hope.

as you approached the bedroom door, your mind raced with a kaleidoscope of anxious possibilities. you hesitated only a moment before reaching for the handle, your fingers brushing against it as if touching the edge of a chasm. you pushed the door open, and the sight that greeted you was a gut-wrenching punch to the soul. 

there, entangled in the sheets, was wonbin on top of ning ning, their bodies intertwined in a way that shattered your world. her laughter, a cruel and melodic sound, hung in the air like a mocking serenade. wonbin’s hand rested possessively on her knee, his touch a jagged knife to your heart.

for a moment, the world seemed to contract, the room closing in around you with a suffocating pressure. time itself seemed to freeze, your breath caught in your throat like a trapped bird. ning ning’s eyes widened in shock and embarrassment as she scrambled to cover herself, her vulnerability a stark contrast to the scene you had walked into.

‘what—what are you doing here?’ she stammered, her voice a fragile tremor of confusion and discomfort.

wonbin turned, his expression shifting from surprise to something darker, a storm brewing behind his eyes. he was not panicked or remorseful but exuded a sullen annoyance, his jaw clenched as though your presence was an irritating blemish on his day.

a frigid, relentless fury surged through you, intertwining with an unrelenting, raw pain. “ning ning,” you spat, your voice breaking with the force of your emotions, your anger lashing out like a tempest.

‘how could you? why are you doing this to us?’ your words were jagged shards of glass, each one cutting deeper into the fragile veneer of your relationship.

ning ning’s confusion was palpable, her brows knitting together as she looked between you and wonbin, her voice filled with genuine perplexity. ‘what are you talking about?’ she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and concern.

before you could respond, wonbin stood up, his face contorted with a simmering rage. he had reached the breaking point with you, his patience evaporated by the constant need for reassurance.

‘stop this,’ he snapped, his voice a whip-crack of finality, but it was no use. tears streamed down your face, your eyes still locked on ning ning, a bitter, impotent rage consuming you. why did she always seem to be the one who ruined everything? why couldn’t she just disappear from your lives?

‘every time i think i’m rid of you, you just keep coming back, like a damn shadow. i’m sick of it. i’m sick of you tearing us apart.’ ning ning, the unfair target of your wrath, shivered under the weight of your unrestrained emotions, her discomfort palpable as she stood up, trying to escape the searing intensity of the moment.

‘ning ning, don’t go,’ wonbin said, his voice steely and authoritative, placing a hand on her arm to stop her. his gesture was the final, shattering confirmation of your deepest fears.

‘please,’ you begged, your voice cracking as you turned your desperation toward him. ‘don’t do this. don’t leave me for her,’ you pleaded, your words a broken, desperate prayer.

‘we- we were doing so well and we had finally- finally moved on, and i thought that she was finally gone. but now she’s here, and i’m sure there’s an explanation for this, a reason why you’re laying in bed with another girl who’s not your girlfriend,’ you’re rambling at this point, the words tumbling out as your nature of finding a defence for every wrongdoing of wonbin’s takes control.

wonbin turned to you, his expression hardening into a cold, unrecognisable mask. ‘you’re crazy,’ he said, his words laced with venom. ‘i  showed you a sliver of kindness, and you turned it into this... obsession. you took it too far.’

the room spun around you, your heart collapsing under the weight of his betrayal. ‘no,’ you whispered, shaking your head as if to deny the searing reality before you. ‘i love you. i believe in you. this was just a mistake right?’

wonbin’s eyes were icy, a void where warmth once lived. ‘you need help,’ he said, his tone a final dismissal. ‘this was never what you thought it was.’

your knees buckled, and you sank to the floor, the sobs wracking your body with an almost physical force, leaving you breathless and broken. the world blurred into a smear of colours, your vision obscured by a cascade of tears as you watched him turn away, his hand still possessively resting on ning ning’s arm.

you stared at him, disbelief washing over you like a relentless tide. ‘i thought you loved me,’ you whispered, your voice barely a breath against the storm of emotions. ‘i thought…’

but he cut you off, his words the final, crushing blow. ‘i never loved you, how could you let your delusions run so far?’ he said coldly. ‘get out of my house, and stop bothering me and my girlfriend. don’t make me get a restraining order.’

the world seemed to crumble around you. each word he spoke was a dagger to your heart, the pain radiating through your entire being. the air felt thick and suffocating, the room spinning as you tried to make sense of the betrayal. you had loved him so deeply, had believed in the bond you shared. but now, it was clear that it had all been an illusion, that you were a fool, like everyone had told you.

you rushed to the door, flinging it open as if to escape the walls that seemed to close in on you. the hallway was a blur, the world outside a muted haze. you needed air, space, something to break the suffocating grip of your despair. each step felt like an eternity, your legs heavy and unsteady as you made your way down the stairs, barely aware of your surroundings.

outside, the sky had finally broken open, the rain falling in heavy sheets, mingling with the tears that streamed down your face. the cold droplets felt like needles against your skin, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the agony in your heart. you pulled out your phone, fingers trembling so violently that it took three tries to unlock it. 

‘yunjin,’ you whispered, your voice breaking as you selected her contact. the phone rang once, twice, before her familiar voice filled the line, a lifeline in the storm. 

‘hello? are you there? i can’t hear you,’ her voice was tinged with concern, the warmth of her friendship a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you felt.

‘i—i need you," you managed to choke out, your voice barely audible, each breath a struggle against the crushing weight of betrayal,

‘please, yunjin, he—he's with ning ning. he said I'm crazy. he never loved me."

there was a brief pause, the silence on the other end heavy with shock and anger. ‘i’m coming. stay right there. i’m on my way,’ she said, her voice firm and reassuring. ‘mark's with me. we'll be there in a few minutes.’

you hung up, the phone slipping from your grasp to fall on the wet pavement but you didn’t bother to pick it up. the rain continued to pour, soaking through your clothes and plastering your hair to your face, but you barely felt it. the world around you seemed distant and surreal, the pain in your chest the only thing grounding you to reality.

minutes felt like hours as you collapsed onto the pavement, the cold, wet concrete seeping through your clothes, adding a physical chill to the emotional numbness spreading through you. the rain mingled with your tears, washing away the remnants of your composure. the city around you felt like a distant, indifferent entity, its usual vibrancy muted by your all-consuming despair.

finally, headlights pierced through the downpour, and yunjin’s car screeched to a halt beside you. she flung the door open and rushed towards you, her face a mask of worry and anger.

‘oh my god,’ she breathed, wrapping her arms around you, not caring about the rain soaking through her clothes. ‘i'm here. we're here.’ mark followed closely behind, his face pale with concern as he hovered nearby, unsure of how to help.

you collapsed into yunjin’s embrace, your sobs coming in heaving gasps that shook your entire body. she held you tightly, her grip an anchor in the storm of your emotions. ‘i can’t— i can’t breathe,’ you whispered, clutching her shirt as if it was the only thing keeping you from drowning in your sorrow.

‘it's okay, take a deep breathe in, just like that. and then let it out all, yes’ yunjin’s voice was soothing even as her own tears mingled with the rain. ‘you're safe now. we're going to get through this.’

mark stepped closer, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. ‘let’s get you inside. you’re going to catch a cold out here.’

they guided you to the car, the warmth inside a stark contrast to the icy rain. you huddled in the back seat, yunjin beside you, her arms never leaving your shoulders. mark drove quickly but carefully, the windshield wipers working furiously to keep the view clear.

the drive passed in a blur, your mind replaying the scene with wonbin over and over, each memory a fresh stab of pain. yunjin murmured comforting words, but they barely penetrated the fog of your grief. by the time you reached her apartment, your sobs had quieted to silent tears, your body exhausted from the emotional upheaval.

inside, yunjin guided you to the couch, wrapping you in a warm blanket as mark made tea. the familiar surroundings of your living room offered a small measure of comfort, but the ache in your chest remained a gaping wound.

yunjin sat beside you, her arm around your shoulders, her presence a steady reassurance. ‘do you want to talk about it?’ she asked gently, her eyes full of concern.

you shook your head, unable to find the words to describe the depth of your pain. instead, you leaned into her, drawing comfort from her warmth and the steady rhythm of her breathing. mark returned with a steaming cup of tea, pressing it into your hands with a soft smile.

‘drink this. it will help warm you up.’

you sipped the tea, the hot liquid burning a path down your throat and settling like a small flame in your stomach. the warmth spread through your body, easing the cold but doing little to touch the chill in your heart.

‘i don’t understand,’ you whispered, staring into the cup as if it held the answers. ‘how could he do this to me? how could he say he never loved me?’

yunjin’s grip tightened around you, her own tears shining in her eyes. ‘some people are just…cruel,’  she said, her voice trembling with anger. ‘he didn’t deserve you. he never did.’

‘but I loved him. i love him,’ you said, the words a broken confession. ‘i gave him everything. why am i not good enough?’

mark assumed a different position, kneeling in front of you, his expression serious and full of compassion. ‘i know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you’ll get through this," he said. ‘you’re an amazing girl, and i promise you that when the time is right, you’ll end up with someone who can love you truly.’

donghyuck. his name flashes briefly in your mind, and you feel the clench of your heart as you think back to all of the times you had declined his calls, or left his messages unread, or refused to see him in person, all because wonbin said it made him feel uncomfortable. all of that was for nothing now.

the hours passed in a haze of tears and quiet reassurances. yunjin and mark stayed by your side, their presence a balm to your wounded soul. As the rain continued to pour outside, the storm within you slowly began to subside, the sharp edges of your pain dulling to a persistent ache.

the enormity of your heartbreak loomed over you, a shadow that threatened to engulf you whole. you didn’t know how to move forward, how to rebuild the pieces of your shattered heart.

that night, sleep was elusive, your mind replaying the scene over and over, each iteration a fresh wound. you saw wonbin’s cold eyes, heard his cruel words, felt the weight of his betrayal pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. when sleep finally came, it was restless and filled with fragmented dreams of happier times, only to wake up to the harsh reality of your loss.

when you woke, the apartment was quiet, the only sound the soft patter of rain against the windows. yunjin sat beside you, her hand resting gently on your arm.

‘how are you feeling?’ she asked softly, her eyes full of concern.

you took a deep breath, the pain in your chest still there but no longer suffocating. ‘i don’t know,’  you admitted, your voice hoarse from crying. ‘it still hurts.’

‘it’s going to hurt for a while,’ yunjin said, her voice gentle. ‘but it will get better. you’re stronger than you think.’

you nodded, knowing she was right but unable to see a future beyond the pain. ‘i just don’t know how to move on,’ you said, your voice breaking. ‘i  don’t know how to let go.’

‘one step at a time,’ yunjin replied. ‘lean on us. let yourself feel the pain, but don’t let it define you. you’re more than what he did to you.’

her words were a balm, a small but significant comfort. you nodded, a spark of determination igniting within you. it was faint, fragile, but it was there and you clung to it, knowing it was the first step towards healing.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the days that followed were a blur of tears, anger, and quiet moments of reflection. yunjin and mark were constant presences, their support a steady anchor as you navigated the turbulent waters of your emotions. you spent hours talking, crying, and slowly beginning to piece together the fragments of your broken heart.

there were moments when the pain seemed unbearable, when the weight of your grief threatened to pull you under. each day was a struggle, the pain of wonbin’s betrayal a constant, gnawing presence. you avoided mirrors, unable to face the reflection of your own brokenness. your thoughts were a chaotic storm, memories of your time with wonbin interspersed with the harsh reality of his deceit.

two weeks since his words cut through you like shards of glass, leaving behind wounds that seem to refuse to heal. the memories lingered in the quiet moments, like smoke that clings to your clothes long after the fire has burned out. you can still hear his voice, dripping with the venom of half-truths and twisted affection, echoing in your mind as you stare at the ceiling, unable to escape the weight of it all.

your body felt heavy, like it was made of lead, each movement a struggle against the invisible chains that bind you to the bed. the sheets are tangled around you, a reflection of the chaos inside your mind. sleep has been a rare visitor, fleeting and unsatisfying, leaving you more exhausted than before. the clock on your nightstand ticks away, each second a reminder that time is moving forward, dragging you along with it, whether you’re ready or not.

you force yourself to get up, the cold floor sending a shiver up your spine as your feet make contact. the air is thick with the scent of stale coffee and something else, something you can’t quite place—maybe it’s the lingering traces of him, his presence still woven into the fabric of your life despite your best efforts to untangle yourself. you wonder if you’ll ever truly be free of him, if the ghost of what you thought you had will haunt you forever.

yunjin’s words from last night replay in your head, her voice soft but firm, like a lifeline in the darkness. ‘you need to talk to someone,’ she had said, her eyes filled with concern. ‘you can’t keep carrying this by yourself. it’s eating you alive.’

‘you deserve to be happy, to be whole again. please, just consider it.’

at the time, you’d nodded, more to placate her than out of any real belief that talking to a stranger could help. but now, as you stand in the shower, the water scalding against your skin, you realise she’s right. you can’t keep going like this, stumbling through the days in a haze of pain and confusion.

you find yourself dialling the number she gave you, your hands trembling slightly as you press the phone to your ear. 

‘hello, dr. kim's office," a calm, professional voice answered. ‘how can I help you?’

the voice on the other end is warm, inviting, and it pushes you to say something. ‘hi, um, I'd like to make an appointment,’  you stammered, your voice wavering. ‘i  need to talk to someone.’

‘of course. we have an opening later this day luckily. would that work for you?’

‘yes, that would be fine,’  you replied, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety, the words leaving your mouth before you can second guess yourself.

when you hang up, there’s a strange feeling in your chest, a mixture of dread and relief. it’s the first step, you tell yourself, though the thought of opening up to someone about the tangled mess of your emotions fills you with anxiety. it was a small but significant move towards reclaiming your life from the shadow of wonbin’s manipulation.

the therapist’s office is small and cozy, the kind of space that feels like a sanctuary, removed from the outside world. you sit in a plush chair, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, as you try to ignore the way your heart races in your chest. you sit across from her, your hands twisting the hem of your sweater as you try to find the strength to speak. the room smells faintly of lavender, a scent meant to be calming, but it does little to soothe the turmoil inside you. your chest feels tight, like there's a vice around your heart, squeezing tighter with every breath.

‘i've been used my entire life,’ you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. it's the first time you've said it out loud, the first time you've dared to give voice to the darkness that has been festering inside you for as long as you can remember. 

‘by men. they... they never saw me as anything more than something to take from. i was never valued, never cared for. just... used. for their pleasure.’

the therapist nods, her expression one of quiet understanding, but she doesn’t interrupt. she knows you need to get this out, to let the words flow even if they cut you open in the process.

‘i was alone for so long,’ you continue, your eyes fixed on the carpet, unable to meet her gaze. ‘except for yunjin, i had no one. my family... they weren't there for me. i was abandoned, neglected. i learned to expect nothing from anyone because that's all i ever got—nothing. no one ever loved me. i was told, over and over, that i would never be loved.’

your voice cracks on the last word, and you pause, swallowing hard as the memories rise up like a tide, threatening to drown you. you think of all the times you were left behind, all the times you were told you were worthless, all the times you were made to feel like you were nothing more than a burden.

‘and then... i met him.’ his face flashes in your mind, and you have to close your eyes against the rush of emotions that follow. ‘it was late, on a bridge. i was ready to jump, to end it all. i couldn’t take the emptiness anymore, the loneliness. i just wanted it to stop.’

you hear yourself saying the words, but it’s almost like they belong to someone else, some broken version of you that you don’t fully recognize anymore.

‘he found me there,’ you say, your voice trembling as you recall the night that changed everything. ‘he talked me out of it. he said... he said, 'let me love you.' and i believed him. i was so desperate, so empty. he convinced me to live, convinced me that maybe, just maybe, i could be happy.’

you let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the armrests of the chair so tightly your knuckles turn white. ‘and for a while, i was. i was happy. he treated me like a princess, spoiled me, made me feel like i was the centre of his world. he made me believe that i was worth something, that i was deserving of love.’

the therapist leans forward slightly, her gaze never leaving you. ‘it must have felt like a dream come true,’ she says softly.

you nod, the tears that have been building finally spilling over. ‘it did. for the first time in my life, i felt like i mattered. but... it was all a lie, wasn't it? he didn't love me. he didn't care about me. he just wanted to own me, to control me.’

‘he saved me, but not because he cared about my life—he did it because he wanted to have power over me. he wanted someone who would be eternally devoted to him, someone who owed him everything. i was just a... a possession to him, something he could use to feed his own god complex.’

the words feel like acid on your tongue, burning as they leave your mouth. it's the first time you've admitted the truth to yourself, the first time you've allowed yourself to see him for what he really was. he didn’t save you out of love—he saved you because it gave him a sick sense of satisfaction, because it made him feel like a god, like he had the power to give and take life.

‘he made me believe that i needed him,’ you say, your voice growing steadier as you continue. ‘that without him, i was nothing. and i believed it. god, i believed it so completely. i let him control me, let him make all the decisions, because i was so afraid of losing that feeling, of losing the love that i thought i finally had.’

the therapist watches you carefully, her eyes full of empathy. ‘but it wasn’t love,’ she says gently. ‘it was manipulation, control. he preyed on your vulnerability, on your desperation for love, and he twisted it into something toxic.’

you nod again, tears blurring your vision as you wipe them away with the back of your hand. ‘i see that now,’ you say, your voice thick with emotion. ‘but at the time, it felt real. it felt like the only real thing in my life. and when he started to show his true colours, when he started to use me, to hurt me... i couldn't leave. i couldn't walk away, because i thought that was all i deserved. i thought that was love.’

the therapist leans back in her chair, giving you space to breathe, to process everything you've just said, her presence calm and steady, like an anchor in the storm of your thoughts. after you’ve poured out your story, your emotions raw and exposed, she lets the silence linger for a moment, giving you space to breathe, to collect yourself. then, gently, she begins to speak.

‘you mentioned that you were used to being abandoned, neglected,’ she says, her voice soft but direct. ‘that no one ever really saw you, valued you. can you tell me more about how that made you feel? what fears did that create in you?’

you hesitate, the words caught in your throat. it’s hard to articulate the deep, gnawing fear that has been with you for as long as you can remember, the fear of being unwanted, unworthy. but you know she’s right—you need to confront it, to bring it into the light if you’re ever going to move forward.

‘i guess… i’ve always been afraid of being alone,’ you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. ‘of being invisible. it’s like… if no one loves me, then what’s the point? i’ve spent my whole life feeling like i’m not enough, like i have to do something, be something more to deserve love. but no matter what i did, it was never enough. i was always left behind.’

the therapist nods, her expression one of deep empathy. ‘and that fear, that sense of inadequacy… it’s something that wonbin played on, isn’t it? he made you believe that he was the only one who could love you, the only one who saw your worth. but in reality, he was using those insecurities to keep you close, to keep you dependent on him. he made you feel like you needed him to be whole.”

the truth of her words hits you like a punch to the gut, and you can feel the tears welling up again. ‘he did,’ you say, your voice shaking. ‘he made me feel like… like i was nothing without him. he’d say things like, ‘no one else would ever want you,’ or ‘you’re lucky i’m here to take care of you.’ and i believed him. i believed that he was all i had, that he was the only one who could make me feel loved.’

the therapist leans forward slightly, her gaze intent. ‘but let me ask you this: why did you believe him? what part of you thought that he was right, that you didn’t deserve anything more?’

the question lingers in the air, heavy with the weight of its implications. you know the answer, but it’s one you’ve been avoiding for a long time, burying deep beneath layers of denial and self-preservation.

‘because… because that’s what i’ve always been told,’ you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. ‘by everyone. growing up, all i ever heard was that i wasn’t good enough, that i wasn’t worthy of love. my parents, they… they never really cared about me. they were too wrapped up in their own lives, their own problems. and the few relationships i’ve had before wonbin… they were the same. men who just wanted to use me, who didn’t see me as a person, just… just a thing. so when wonbin came along, and he said he loved me, that he saw me… i wanted so badly to believe him.’

the therapist lets out a small sigh, her eyes filled with compassion. ‘it’s understandable, given everything you’ve been through. but what wonbin did was cruel. he took advantage of your deepest fears and insecurities, and he used them to manipulate you, to keep you trapped in a cycle of need and despair. he made you feel like you had no choice but to stay with him, because if you left, you’d be alone again, invisible, unwanted. but that’s not true. you are so much more than what he made you believe.’

you feel a lump forming in your throat, the tears threatening to spill over once more. ‘but how do i unlearn all of that?’ you ask, your voice trembling. ‘how do i stop believing that i’m worthless, that i don’t deserve love?’

the therapist’s expression softens, and she reaches out, placing a comforting hand on yours. ‘it’s going to take time, and it’s going to take work. but the first step is recognizing that these beliefs—these lies—were never true to begin with. they were planted in you by people who were incapable of giving you the love and care you deserved. but just because they couldn’t see your worth doesn’t mean it isn’t there. it’s about challenging those negative thoughts when they arise, about reminding yourself that you are deserving of love, simply because you exist, because you are you.’

she pauses, letting her words sink in before continuing. ‘and it’s about learning to set boundaries, to recognize when someone is trying to manipulate you, when they’re trying to take advantage of your fears. it’s about reclaiming your power, your sense of self, and not letting anyone else dictate your worth. wonbin didn’t own you. he didn’t save you. he just made you think that he did, because it gave him power over you. but you have the power to break free from that, to create a life that isn’t defined by what others think of you, but by what you think of yourself.’

"you were taught to believe that love meant sacrifice, that it meant enduring pain and suffering," she says after a moment. "but real love doesn’t hurt. it doesn’t demand that you give up your identity, your autonomy, your sense of self-worth. real love builds you up, supports you, makes you feel safe and valued."

her words hit you like a tidal wave, and you feel something shift inside you, something that has been locked away for far too long. for so long, you’ve been searching for love in all the wrong places, clinging to the hope that someone, anyone, would see you, would love you for who you are. but all you've found is pain, betrayal, and heartache.

the tears finally spill over, and you find yourself crying, not just for the pain of the past, but for the realisation that there is a way forward, a way out of the darkness that has consumed you for so long. ‘i want to believe that,’ you say through your tears. ‘i want to believe that i can be… more.’

‘i just don’t know how to love myself,’ you admit, your voice small, almost childlike. ‘i’ve spent my whole life thinking that love is something you have to earn, something you have to fight for. but i don’t even know where to start.’

the therapist offers you a small, encouraging smile. ‘it’s okay to not know,’ she says softly. ‘healing is a journey, and it’s going to take time. but you’re already taking the first steps by being here, by acknowledging the pain and starting to unpack it. learning to love yourself is a process, but you don’t have to do it alone. you have yunjin, you have me, and most importantly, you have yourself. that’s where it starts—with you, with recognizing that you are deserving of love, not because of what you can give, but simply because you exist.’

her words settle over you like a warm blanket, offering a comfort you haven’t felt in a long time. you nod, more to yourself than to her, as you let the truth sink in. it’s going to be hard, and there will be days when you want to give up, to fall back into old patterns, but you know now that you don’t have to face this alone. you have support, you have people who care about you, and most importantly, you have the strength within yourself to heal, to break free from the chains that have held you down for so long.

as you leave the therapist's office, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter, the air a little easier to breathe. you’re still hurting, still struggling, but you’re not the same person who walked in an hour ago. you’re starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel, starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, there’s a life worth living on the other side of all this pain.

it’s painful, this process of unlearning, of peeling back the layers of lies and distortions that wonbin had wrapped around you like a suffocating blanket. but it’s also liberating, like you’re finally taking a breath after being underwater for too long. you realise that healing isn’t about forgetting him or erasing the memories, but about reclaiming yourself, your identity, your worth. it’s about recognizing that you deserve more than what he gave you, that you are more than the broken pieces he left behind.

as you step out of the therapist’s office, the evening air feels cooler against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth inside the room where you’ve just laid your soul bare. the session left you raw, emotions still tingling on the surface, but there's a clarity that you haven't felt in a long time. each breath feels a little easier, each step a little lighter. you’re beginning to understand the long road of healing ahead of you, and for the first time, it doesn’t seem so daunting.

walking down the quiet street, your thoughts swirl with everything you’ve uncovered today. you’ve confronted the lies you were told, the fears that were planted deep within you, and the ways in which wonbin preyed upon them, turning your vulnerabilities into chains. but most of all, you’ve begun to recognize your own worth—the truth that you are deserving of love that doesn’t come with conditions, that doesn’t require you to sacrifice pieces of yourself.

it’s a liberating realisation, but it also leaves you with a sense of unfinished business. the therapist’s words echo in your mind, a gentle but persistent reminder of the steps you still need to take, the fears you have yet to face. you’ve started to reclaim your life, but there’s one part of your journey that remains unresolved—one final piece that feels both terrifying and necessary.

donghyuck.

his name lingers in your thoughts like a whisper, a soft, persistent presence that you can’t ignore. you’ve avoided thinking about him for so long, scared of what it might mean to reach out, to let someone in again after everything you’ve been through. but now, after all the work you’ve done, after all the truths you’ve uncovered, you realise that this might be the final step in your recovery process.

it’s not just about donghyuck; it’s about you—about proving to yourself that you can take control of your life, that you can choose who you allow into your heart, and that you can set the terms of your own happiness. reaching out to him isn’t just about seeking connection; it’s about facing the fear that’s held you captive for so long, the fear that you aren’t worthy of real, healthy love.

as you stand on the quiet street, the cool evening breeze brushes against your skin, carrying with it the scents of the city—distant car exhaust, the faint sweetness of blooming flowers, and something deeper, like the smell of rain about to fall. your heart is still racing, each beat a reminder of the decision you’ve made. calling him doesn’t feel right, not for this. you need to see donghyuck face to face, to confront everything you’ve been avoiding, to finally put an end to the uncertainty that has haunted you for so long.

the thought is terrifying, but there’s also a strange sense of calm that settles over you. the kind of calm that comes when you’ve made up your mind, when you know that there’s no turning back. you start walking, your feet moving almost of their own accord, each step heavy with the weight of what you’re about to do.

the streets blur around you, the familiar path to his place etched in your memory, your senses heightened as your mind races with a mix of anticipation and fear. you notice everything—the way the shadows lengthen as the sun dips lower, the sound of distant laughter from an open window, the way your breath catches in your throat with each step closer to him. the world feels both vivid and surreal, as if you’re moving through a dream, and yet you’ve never felt more awake.

you reach his building, the sight of it sending a fresh wave of anxiety through your veins. for a moment, you just stand there, staring up at the windows, the ones you know so well. your pulse pounds in your ears, and you feel a momentary urge to turn around, to flee back to the safety of your own space. but then you remember everything you’ve been through, everything you’ve learned. you’re stronger now, stronger than you were before, and you owe it to yourself to take this step.

with a deep breath, you push open the front door, the familiar creak echoing in the small lobby. the sound of your own footsteps on the tiled floor seems unnaturally loud as you walk to the elevator, each second stretching out, the anticipation building. you press the button, the elevator doors sliding open with a soft ding, and step inside. the ride up feels interminable, your heart pounding in your chest as the numbers tick by, each one bringing you closer to him.

when the doors open again, you step out into the dimly lit hallway, the soft hum of fluorescent lights above you the only sound. you can feel your hands trembling, your throat tightening as you approach his door. there’s no going back now, no more hiding, no more avoiding what you know you need to face.

you raise your hand to knock, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before your knuckles rap against the wood, the sound sharp and jarring in the silence. you wait, your breath held, every nerve in your body alive with anticipation. 

footsteps sound from the other side, muffled but distinct, and your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest. the door swings open slowly, and there he is—donghyuck, standing in the doorway, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees you. 

you don’t know what you were expecting, but the sight of him after all this time sends a jolt through you, a rush of emotions you can barely contain. the air between you crackles with tension, thick with all the words that have gone unsaid, all the feelings that have been left unresolved. 

his gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the world around you seems to hold its breath, the sounds of the city fading into the background, leaving just the two of you in this charged, electric silence. his eyes search yours, as if trying to understand why you’re here, what you’re feeling, what this moment means. 

and just as the words are about to spill from your lips, the apology you’ve been clutching so tightly, donghyuck steps closer. his eyes, heavy with a thousand unsaid things, lock onto yours, and the silence around you seems to breathe with his unspoken ache. 

the warmth of his breath mingles with the cool air, a bittersweet reminder of the distance that once separated you. his gaze, intense and filled with a raw, longing glow, makes the world around you blur, leaving only the undeniable tension that crackles between you. you stand there, heart racing.

 then, in a voice that quivers like a leaf in the wind, he utters the words that pierce through the stillness.

‘i’ve missed you.’

[thefiery-phoenix]

Okay now, this is about deku. But is a mafia boss who happens to find the reader in the rain, The reader is being bothered by some men and after they are done messing with her, like calling her names, they leave her there just lying on the floor and deku comes a cross of her and he is experiencing a feeling that he used to feel before he becomes a mafia boss " mercy " and he decides to take her to his big mansion to make her his maid and he starts to feel other different feelings like love but he is confused a lot since he never felt this feeling since he became a big rich mafia boss so he decides to confront her about this btw they are both young adults so no worries, the rest of the story up to you bestie,

Wow this is my first request after a really long time. I sure hope this turns out okay and thank you for requesting

You've always found solace in the rain, you adored the peaceful serenity and calmness the atmosphere brought around you, the slightly gloomy weather brought a smile on your face as the cool breeze rushed against your skin. This was the perfect time to listen to some lofi music that you've downloaded and created a playlist of as you plugged in your earphones, drowning out the noise around you. You kept walking, unsuspecting of what was about to follow and occur. A few moments later you finally stopped when you saw the large mustard yellow colored sign that mentioned there were some construction work going on near your house and you had to take the other route, which was a rather sketchy alleyway which you weren't really too fond of entering. You slightly groaned to yourself as you made your way to the other route to your house

You glanced at the time and saw that it was around 9:00 pm, you were slightly surprised at how fast time seemed to pass but that was the case everytime when you spend half a day in the public library snuggled with books and delving into tales of fantasy. You encountered a group of 5 men who seemed be slurring something to each other as they clutched their alcohol bottles like it was something precious. One of them stopped talking and snuck a glance at you as he whistled and catcalled you while the others grinned at you wolfishly. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing here all by yourself?" one of them asked as you kept a straight face and maintained your demeanor and tried to walk away from them while ignoring them, but no avail. "Oh looks like little princess here thinks she's too good for us" one of them growled angrily as someone sneered "We'll show you what happens to stuck up brats like you". You felt one of them pin your hands back as you felt hands groping all over your body, you kicked and screamed and flailed for all you were worth but they didn't leave you alone, in fact they just reveled in your suffering and your screams and egged them on to mess with you further

They were done messing with you and after calling you a variety of a string of colorful names, you were finally left on the ground, your once kempt and neatly brushed hair was now disheveled, as strands of your hair fell on your face, which was now covered with a few scars. Your dress was tattered and torn and you cursed yourself for not having a jacket with you to cover yourself up. You silently sobbed as your tears fell from your eyes to the ground. You tried to stand up but abruptly tripped on your foot as you grimaced in pain and realized that during your struggle, your ankle got slightly twisted as you cursed under your breath. 'It's okay... I think I can manage to get home' you thought

However your fate had other plans for you as you spotted a silhouette of a person slinking from the corner of the alleyway you were in. You hoped that it wasn't someone else who was going to take advantage of your present situation as you looked at the shadow with a slightly petrified expression. Out from the shadow emerged a green haired guy with freckles covering his face, somehow his stoic look didn't really match his eyes, which glinted with something more dangerous beyond your compression. You peeked a glance at his arms and realized with a start that he was a part of the mafia, as you felt your heart stop beating

"My my, don't look so worried doll, I'm not going to kill you..." he finally spoke as he slowly stepped towards you. You backed backed cautiously and upon instinct as he surveyed you with a calculating look without saying anything for a few moments. His emerald eyes traced the scars on your face and hands, your disheveled and matted hair as he stepped even closer to you than before. Your breath hitched as he gently tucked a hair strand behind your ear and took your soft hand in his rough and calloused hands and spoke "It looks like you've been through a pretty rough time... let's get you home first, yeah?" He took off his coat and put it over your shoulders as he carried you in his arms when he saw you limping, despite your vehement protests

You told him where you lived but once you reached your house, to your immense dismay and horror, your quaint little house was burnt down to the ground. You couldn't even fathom what was happening to you at the moment, you just silently gaped at the charred and burnt ground in front of you, where your house used to be. The stranger's eyes widened in surprise at the scene in front of him and asked "Why did your house burn down, do you know who could have done this?" but you shook your head. The man felt a sense of rage surge through his veins, despite meeting you right now, you most certainly didn't deserve to have your house burned down like this. Thinking about your situation rekindled an emotion that he thought was long forgotten, mercy

Ever since he took over after his mentor Toshinori Yagi, one of the most feared mafia bosses in Japan, he learnt quickly that sparing one's enemies was an early ticket to their own grave. He didn't waste time by going to clubs and bars to get high, he wasn't really fond of the idea of relying on external factors for getting away from his reality. It was a vicious and constant cycle for him ever since he'd entered the underground world, competing with other bosses and making sure his members were protected and kept safe. His name quickly spread around like wildfire, rumors had it that people trembled to even look at him in the eye. His name was something everyone knew and had on the tip of their tongue, which was exactly what he'd wanted

Deku became a force that no one could beat. He was known for his ultimatum, side with him or perish. He was just coming back from a meeting with the syndicate board when he bumped into you. Judging by your scars and your appearance he could guess you've probably been harassed. He knew it couldn't have been Kaachan's men, they had pride and respected women and were quite chivalrous. However now he had to think about your housing situation, he couldn't just leave you alone like this. "Doll, would you like to come over to my house?" he asked you gently as you eyed him suspiciously and replied "Are you going to kill me in my sleep or something?" He chuckled at your endearing question as he replied "If I'd wanted to kill you, I would have done that a long time ago but don't worry, you have my word that you'll be safe"

You agreed to spend the night at his place and your eyes popped out of your head when you saw the grand mansion he stayed in. The lawn and trees were neatly trimmed, the house looked something like an ancient relic filled with secrets along with sturdy oakwood for doors. The interiors were neatly maintained and well furnished as the dim and faint glow from his chandleirs added to the enigmatic aura of the atmosphere. "Please make yourself at home and don't hesitate to ask me for anything you need. You'll find a spare change of clothes in the cupboard in that room" as be gestured towards a room

"I'm curious about something, I hope you don't mind me asking you this.." you started as he beckoned for you to continue. "Why are you being so nice to me, I don't think we've ever met before..." he just smiled and told you to get comfortable as he went to his room. He heaved a sigh and closed his eyes as he recalled the first time he met you, when the two of you were in middle school. He harbored less than savory feelings towards you, feelings of obsession ever since the two of you literally shook hands. He couldn't forget that soft touch of yours. His eyes almost couldn't believe it when he saw you with that broken look on your face, he felt a sharp pang of pain jab his chest as anger coursed through his body. How dare someone do this to you? He had to be sure it was you, he was only a bit regretful that you'd forgotten about him but don't worry he'll make you remember who he is

He opened the little box that he kept hidden away from prying eyes which consisted of a handmade greeting card you've once made for him for his birthday which he treasured with his life even to this day and a bunch of other random stuff that he's managed to salvage from his time with you. Regrettably you had to move to another country but now that you were back, he was going to use this chance to his full advantage. It's like destiny wanted the two of you to meet, he was convinced that the two of you were meant to be soulmates, to be together

After you were done changing clothes, you peered closer at his face and remembered about your classmate, about a certain green haired boy, similar to the man in front of you who had the ambition and hopes of becoming a hero. "Izuku?'' You hesitantly asked him as he smiled and replied "You finally remembered me... took you long enough darling...". The two of you spent the night enjoying each other's company talking about random stuff and whatever happened in both of your lives till now. The next day, Izuku decided to get to work to find out who were the bloody scumbags who decided to hurt you like this. After using his connections and influence among the various other gangs, he received information through his cartel that those men were members from another rival mob, headed by Hideki Dojin. Deku had a score to settle with him anyway, he'd been stalling his debt payment lately and Deku wasn't one for being patient

Eventually Deku confronted Hideki as Hideki laughed and spoke "Come on now Midoriya, I've seen the pictures of her from my boy's phones... she's quite the catch if I have to say so myself, but don't worry, I'll lend her to you after I'm done with her" Deku felt a blinding moment of rage take over his rationality when he heard those loathsome words out of his mouth. Deku used his quirk and activated the full cowling on him. He got hold of a drill and pinned him down and pierced his ear as Hideki's screams of agony fell upon deaf ears. Even his own men were nervous to stand against Deku as he grabbed him by the hair and snarled "I'm going to find those useless lumps and make them pay for what they've done to her... to MY Y/N, if you ever make the mistake of even looking at her once again next time, I'll carve your bloody eyes out..."

Long story short, Deku eventually found them and made them pay dearly by literally chopping off their fingers, saying that they didn't deserve them as he returned back to his manor to be with you. He didn't want to tell you about what he's done, the last thing he needs is for you to be scared of him. Initially he wanted to keep you as a maid so you'd be with him forever as he was confused with his feelings. Years after he'd finally managed to master and overcome his emotions, you finally appeared in front of him, opening a new chasm of obsession for you. He isn't going to deny the fact that he'd kill for you, he was willing to do whatever it takes to make you stay by his side no matter what, even if he had to use his connections. You're his and only his....

[uhblyat]

Hi everyone!! I ' ve already posted this fic on ao3 and ficbook , but i I thought it would be nice to post it here too. I bet it's not an explicit content, but it's half of it😆😆

Closer to five in the morning, the summer gentle sun rose, awakening the sensitive nature outside the window. It slid along the trunks and branches of trees, casting long black shadows on the ground; the outlines of objects in the apartment become clearer under the influence of the rays. The fresh morning air replaced the oppressive atmosphere of the night, which no longer had any right to host: the rare roll call of birds mixed with the rustle of green foliage literally took your breath away, creating a feeling of serenity. Such a soft, warm, and genuine morning. The very beginning of the day, when the forces fill your soul, breathing in hope and carrying it through the doubts of the mind. The waves have washed away the footprints in the sand, and the wind is singing its strange song. Meanwhile, Aleksi is not sleeping either: an unknown force lifts him out of bed and calls him to action: in this case, you need to wake up the Olli with the miracle phrase "Are you asleep???" when he sees the tenth dream, but Kaunisvesi decides that only a kiss from a loved one awakens the princess, so he bends down and carefully covers his lips with Matela's, after which he whispers softly in his ear,

—Get up, stop sleeping,— and while he turns around, pointing out about twenty ways where Aleksi can go early now, the percussionist attentively silently watches from the side, not even thinking about ending the torture. Of course, his boyfriend is interested in what the fuck Aleksi is lifting him up for, to which Kaunisvesi waves him off and literally jumps out of bed,

— I came up with something ,Olli, it's just awful how cool, get up, please, we need to do everything just now, while the sun is not at its zenith and Mercury is not Retrograde, come on, please, please, you love me, and brazenly presses on a weak spot, already triumphant in his thoughts about victory and anticipating the upcoming aesthetic delight. Ten minutes later, the bassist throws off the blanket, gets out of bed and slowly, barely stepping over, crawls into the bathroom, and Aleksi, almost bouncing, follows from behind. A plaid falls on Olli's broad shoulders while he swears at this hateful day and no less, at the moment, an annoying little boy who literally erases the last day off from a busy Matela. Kaunisvesi decides that the best way out of the situation at the moment is to escape from an angry man and quickly clean up the mess in the kitchen, because curly is unlikely to appreciate such cleanliness and will definitely force the little one to make a cocktail with Mr. Proper.

It takes only twenty minutes to do this: skillful hands quickly wipe the plates with a sponge and rinse the mugs; immediately putting the dishes in their place. When the water stops flowing almost simultaneously in the bathroom and in the kitchen, something clicks in the dark-haired man's brain and he leaves for a second, bringing two stools into the shower, placing one after the other. On the first one, which is closer to the mirror, he seats Olli, whose face clearly expresses misunderstanding, and he settles on the second piece of furniture, burying his fingers in curls and fingering them. A hand reaches out to a white cabinet and takes out different jars— Alexiarchy has long reigned in this house, which means that all the shelves will be filled with different bottles of his intricately shaped care products, they will definitely not fit into one compartment and will be scattered in different drawers. In one of the palms there is a silver spray bottle with varnish, and in the other, which becomes momentarily free, a wooden comb with sparse teeth. Kauniswesi lifts up a little to see Matela in the mirror, and begins to comb his hair, sometimes twisting and pushing the strands in different directions to make sure his decisions about the hairstyle are correct. The percussionist notices out of the corner of his eye how the victim of his bullying is struggling He tries not to fall asleep, barely opening his eyelids, and this, of course, flatters, forcing him to take pity and do everything faster, speeding up the process of freeing the prisoner of inexhaustible ideas. The comb turns out to be in his teeth, and his fingers fix the hair in the right position, immediately patching the curl,

—Hold your breath for a second, please,—Aleksi asks and continues to fasten the curls. Having achieved the desired effect of elevation after a while, the guy begins to work on the main part of the head, now kneeling on a chair. Conjuring over the patches for another half hour and, finally, having finished with the image for them, Kaunisvesi proceeds to probably his most favorite thing: on the dressing table there are pallets and various tubes with viscous contents, unknown to anyone. The dark—haired man moves to Olli's hips and stays there, throwing his leg over, hinting at the hopelessness of the situation, — I'll put some shadows here and that's it, honestly, - lies, and brazenly and to his face. Actually, as always. Soft brushes soon and often fall on the skin of the face, creating a dark haze, the moist core of the eyeliner touches the place below the mucous membrane, in the area of eyelash growth, and draws the curve of the eye, focusing on the lower eyelid. A couple more strokes, a couple of drooling cotton swabs—Olli doesn't disdain, does he? And thank the gods, as well as the ruined disks: now, Aleksi is not sitting in front of a familiar lover, but a godlike lover, which is what Kaunisvesi was trying to achieve. After admiring his work for a minute or two, the guy notices the missing element and goes after yesterday's parcel, grabbing scissors and hastily cutting the cardboard along with the tape. All sorts of rubbish almost falls to the floor, and the percussionist sits down, now carefully examining the ordered items.The gaze immediately clings to a metal replica of a thorn wreath with thorns, so he quickly unpacks it and hooks it on Matela's head. After sending the stalls with the request "Do we have at least something to chew?!", Kaunisvesi decides to take care of himself and takes off his robe, completely exposing himself and sitting in front of the mirror.

With a large brush, he randomly applies black pigment to the neck and collarbones, enters the chest and shades the edges. Now he is dirty, smeared and at the same time vulgar. A cold chain helps to add peppercorns to the image: it is attached just below the adam's apple, thin stripes flow in different directions from the middle, imitating the bones of the ribs, and the catchy hanging stones on the solar plexus cannot leave indifferent even those far from art. Aleksi's eyelid makeup is extremely different: a neat haze turns into bold strokes, now flaunting on the blind furrow, temples are also decorated with shadows; eyebrows are laid with gel and clear boundaries of their shape are drawn. The image creates a feeling of complete rebellion, avant-garde and a pinch of sharpness; it remains to add pity to the look and form a nest on the head, which Kaunisvesi, of course, did an excellent job with.

The aroma of fresh coffee wafts from the kitchen, and even among these tart notes, a dark-haired man can catch the smell of unique classics: sandwiches made of rye bread, processed cheese and cucumber along with tomatoes. And there's a hunting sausage on top, but a little bit of it so that it's not greasy. Bare feet barely move on the floor, and the guy is already peering through the door jamb, closely watching Matela's actions. He, as the most caring and gentle chosen one, prepares the table for a meal and lays out kitchen appliances, while Aleksi, in his place, would simply throw the dish in his face and fork along with it, calmly saying "Fuck you" and hiding in another room. But no, in the place of such an ignoramus, the kind Olli, who will serve food, and wipe his mouth, and kiss his forehead, — and meanwhile, the dark-haired man was already sitting his ass at the table,— there is more in the house than a guy who clearly does not want to learn manners. — And what are we going to do?,— it comes from another part of the kitchen and Kaunisvesi looks up from the food, looking at her lover,

— So, listen, only carefully! You are my god, I am your sinner. You are the arbiter of earthly destinies, who noticed another mortal for violating the laws and subsequently arranged for him to be judged in heaven. Like the ancient Greek goddess Themis, only in an improved version,"eating a sandwich, Aleksi sometimes stopped to chew food,

—Do you know her? Themis was an ancient Greek goddess associated with divine law, order and justice. She was known for her sharp mind and impartiality, acting as the personification of justice with scales in one hand and blindfolded, which enhanced the effect of a cold mind. She was also associated with wisdom, because indirectly she controlled divination and clairvoyance. And, of course, in front of me, a violator of all the rules, you couldn't resist. Don't worry, nothing below the torso will be visible, at the level of the end of the ribs at most,— grinning, he bypasses Olli's sidelong glance and reproach about clothes, washes down pieces of coffee with milk and rises from his seat,

—I really wanted us to have a beautiful shared photo. And so I can't shame you by just taking a picture of us kissing against the background of some boring nature,— coming closer and tracing the outline of Matela's nose with the tip of her finger, Aleksi smiles and takes her partner's hand,

—Let's go?

Both are standing on a white background in the bedroom, Kaunisvesi is constantly running, fussing and putting a small mirror in front of the couple soon standing together. Having straightened his hair several times and tousled it even more, he stares at the reflection, poses and moves to the deputy of Themis, starting to build up his position,

—So you take this in your left hand, and holds out a sophisticated golden scale, on the pallet of which there are rose petals, — note, only on one side, — Extend your arm, do not bend at the elbow. Lower. Even lower. Now bend over and come to me a little bit. Yeah, put your finger on the long beam and make the scales unbalanced so that the part with the flowers hangs down. Here! Great, you 're doing well. Look straight at the camera, a stern, confident look. Well, no, not like you're ready to kill me, on the contrary, — when a percussionist thinks about his eyes, he completely forgets about the bandage and takes it out of the piled things. It has already collapsed and got dirty, but this apparently does not bother the guy,

—Stand still, — and places the fabric around his neck in an untied state. The ends of the tattered rags fall on the right shoulder, it does not waver at all from touching and Aleksi unconditionally likes it ,— THAT'S RIGHT!!! Bring your eyebrows together a little, the corners of your lips go down a little. Just a relaxed state, okay? Well, don't lower your lower jaw too much, just close your teeth inside. Now put your right hand on my chin, as if hugging me from below. And hold it, lifting it a little towards you. I'll look up to you, you don't react. The palm falls to the right place and slightly squeezes the convex bone, and Kaunisvesi follows his own plan, and, now staring so pitifully, helplessly and sadly, bites his lower lip at the last moment. The timer goes off after ten seconds and the photo is immediately saved on the device, the dark—haired man hurries to look at the result and admires the picture he took,

—Look, we turned out so good here, it's just so sexy, even multiplied by ten to the third power! Well, judge for yourself, — showing the result to Olli, Aleksi stares so hard that his smile doesn't crack at the seams, "Wait,maybe another one?" — and when the lover gives up, realizing that there is hardly any more If they manage to protest, the percussionist puts the camera back and sets the time for the picture. While Matela does not have time to come to his senses, Kaunisvesi stands on tiptoes and wraps his arms around his neck, clinging to a silk beige fabric that artfully flows over his body; arching his lower back and fixing himself in one position while he kisses his chosen one for the second time in a day; and even very cheekily, as a real sinner should, licking his own with the tip sticky drooling from his lower lip; and he is amused by this, because power over God is inherent only to the creator, but here the soul was taken over by a vicious earthly one who does not know what he is doing. The click symbolizes the photo taken, Aleksi does not want to pull away, but he has to. After looking at the result, he grins and stretches contentedly, hanging himself around his neck again,

—But I'll put the last frame on my wallpaper. And you have to do the same with the first one, don't worry, I remember that you're shy,— Kaunisvesi runs his fingers over the back of his head, feels the literally frozen curls and slightly bows his head,

—What if people'd look at your lockscreen? And here is such a shame, such a perversion… Anyway, I'll edit it on my laptop, transfer it later and send it, okay? You're my most beautiful,— Alex said, running his hand over Olli's cheek, then smeared his shadows a little, drawing thin lines down,

—Let me take a picture of you?

[toradile]

The spectacular sci-fi anime you've probably never watched

Astra Lost in Space is the best anime you probably have never watched. It is a suspenseful show with incredible music and a perfect atmosphere. It is a heartfelt anime that will leave you hooked. It's spectacular ride from start to finish and I’m here to tell you why.

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Astra Lost in Space is a show that starts with some kids going to camp however they get stranded in space and must find their way back home despite the constant obstacles standing in their path. Through this journey they must discover the mysteries of the world and discover how the very foundation of what they believe may not be entirely correct. It is a show on uncovering lies and discovering the true nature of others in order to survive. It even delves into the world as we know it and historical events. I cannot go over any plot points without ruining the show. It’s one that is best to go through completely blind in order to experience it at its fullest potential.

Initially I found this anime through a complete accident. I was watching Blue Period due to my love of art however I found myself not enjoying it for some reason but I did enjoy the opening. So I decided to take a break and listen to the full version,after the song ended a certain track called  Star*frost autoplayed. It was strange that happened considering I always had autoplay turned off but perhaps it was fate. I noticed I liked the art and the name of the show sounded cool and I loved the opening song so being the Sci-fi nerd that I was I could not resist  the idea of watching it. Normally I take ages to start an anime but for some reason I started this one immediately. I initially intended to watch one episode before going to bed but instead it left me hooked. I ended up finishing the entire show in one night.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Astra lost in Space has its  humor and light hearted moments along with its tense and dramatic scenes. It has memorable music in that it could touch your heart while simultaneously allowing you to feel the same anxiety the characters feel through it all.  The music is spectacular for the atmosphere and memorable. It has emotional tracks as well.

The animation for the show is brilliant thus allowing the many planets the characters explore to be memorable. The animation is perfect for the atmosphere of the show, every tense and emotional scene is animated with such care that those scenes really stand out 8j the show.

In a way the story of this show reminds me of Xenoblade Chronicles and Persona. My two favourite video games franchises.

Xenoblade for its atmosphere in exploring the unknown and a plot that goes over the ambitions of mankind with plenty of plot twists to keep you craving for more. It’s similar to Persona in that it follows a large well developed cast uncovering a mystery together all while dealing with the notion that there may be a traitor amongst their midst. By the end of the show it’s hard not to get attached to the characters with how much you have seen them struggle and grow. It has a charming cast of characters that all change through the course of the show. They all have the secrets they keep from each other however the bonds they manage to forge by the end of the show are sweet. Each of the characters manages to find a family together, even if for others it may seem harder or even impossible to do.

Astra Lost in Space is an anime that makes me very emotional. I honestly cried while writing this but remembering this show just makes me very happy. It's a show I hold very close to my heart. It was a roller coaster of emotions, it made me cry, it made me feel tense and anxious, it made me smile. It scared me, it gave me chills, it did it all. It reminded me how well stories can truly be. It's a show that touched my heart in so many ways. This is a journey I cannot recommend enough, it is my favorite anime to exist and I hope that other people can take it upon themselves to give it a chance and remember if you don’t want to watch the anime, there’s always the manga too :)

I would like to thank everyone that made it through the end of this essay. I hope you consider giving this incredible show a watch. I find it very special and perfect. I hope whoever is reading this enjoys it as much as I do.

On a side note please do not skip the endings, there's important after credit scenes on each episode.

[damsnackbar03]

⚠️ Gore ⚠️

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,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

｡･:*:･ﾟ★

,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

｡･:*:･ﾟ★

These are two different excerpts from a current WIP I'm writing called 'I Shot Cupid'. I've literally not written a story in a first-person POV since I was in middle school, so it's likely very choppy. I've had a few people comment on it so far, all positive, but then again they might just be biased judges. This WIP is entirely just an experiment, and I might not even turn it into a full story, but whatever.

Enjoy <333

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Excerpt # 01

The sound of shots were deafening. A continuous string, some sounding hollow — making it clear that they hadn't hit their targets. Others exploding louder than thunder, signing that they had brought the enemy down. The gun was unsteady in my hands, seconds away from falling as I spun, sending wave after wave of unaimed bullets. My eyes were screwed shut, which was only stalling the inevitable image of bullet maimed bodies that would surely be burnt into my mind for years. I only released the trigger when I stopped hearing the dull screams, my fingers sore from the unnecessary pressure I'd been putting on the gun.

There was silence, for the first time in what seemed like forever. Perhaps I hadn't shot them all. Maybe they were playing possum, and I'd be blown down as soon as I opened my eyes. There was only one way to know. The thought of a survivor wasn't a worry to me — it was welcome, if anything. I hadn't intended to live past tonight. A shaky breath escaped my lips as I finally allowed my eyes to flutter open. The sight was grotesque. Bodies flooded the surroundings, the floor barely visible. I dropped the gun immediately, my face paling as I fought back a retch. I did this — I shouldn't be acting so surprised. It was only then that the scent of iron flooded my nose, burning into my sinuses like a temporary tattoo. At least, I hope its temporary. I swiftly pulled the front of my shirt over the lower half of my face, and finally moved my feet. It was like a twisted game of 'Floor is Lava' — but rather than worrying about sinking into a fiery death, I was concerned with the idea of stepping in blood, or worse. The sounds that my steel-toed boots made against their bodies was horrible. A grim sort of squelching, blood-soaked fabric stuck to my soles as I made my way towards the exit. The neon sign above the exit of the parking garage reminded me of the 'mission complete', 'level up', in video games. Glowing and flashing as if mockingly congratulating me.

I half expected to see hell in all of its glory as soon as I stepped past the threshold. But no, all I was greeted with was the cool musty air of the city. The entire atmosphere smelled of sweat, cigarette smoke — and now blood. Blood, that's right. Damn, I needed to get out of these blood-stained clothes. I loved tie-dye as much as the next person, but I doubted that this version of it would get passed security cameras without sending up an alarm.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Excerpt # 02

𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵, is all that I can think to block out the dull thudding of skin against plaster. It had started small, simply raising a hand to scare her, but then she guarded her face. She flinched, so how could I help myself? The loose hand tightened, my nails digging into my palm as I struck her, knuckles meeting the bridge of her nose in a sudden movement.

She froze in shock, a beat later her fingers curled around her throbbing nose just as a stream of blood seeped from her left nostril. The sight of the blood validated me, in a way. As well as the stinging in the core of my hand. Before I could process a thought further, I hit her again. And then again — till my fingers curled into her hair, a death grip on the thin strands. She gave me a look that was mixed with pain and confusion, then I slammed her head into the wall. A strangled gasp erupted from her throat as her flesh met the hard surface. Her thick red blood adding character to the boring floral wallpaper. I didn't stop until her writhing slowed, and I slowly pulled her face back from the wall. My eyes flicked across where she had been, and I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped my lips as I saw the dents from where her teeth had met the surface. There was a final desperate whimper, and I released my grip on her scalp. Pulling my hand back, it was followed by the whispy strands of her hair that had gotten caught in my rings. 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘨𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, I noted, swiftly yanking them free. The woman in question slumped down until she met the floor, her limbs splayed about carelessly. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵. I waited for her to rise. She was stubborn, a trait that I couldn't deny I admired. I thought she would come back for more, her manicured hands flying at me. Nails scratching my face, neck, anything she could get to. But nothing — no movements. I kneeled to her level, minding not to let my knees touch the ground, lest they meet the now tarnished rug at my feet. I hesitantly reached a hand down to her neck, checking her pulse. It was barely there, if at all. I rose to my feet and weighed the option of finishing her. Making sure that there was no chance this woman would ever wake up again. But that seemed brutal, even for me. Or maybe death would be welcome for her, her now scarred and disfigured face would be a reminder of this moment. Perhaps that was worse. 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴.

Never mind, I sighed, wiping my hands of imaginary dust on the front of my dress shirt. I glanced around the room before my eyes settled on my original target — a wide and flat envelope, sealed dramatically with a large red stamp. I picked it up gingerly, and slipped it into the inner lip of my jacket, then zipped the fabric up to my neck. I gave one last pitying glare to the crumpled woman, before slipping soundlessly through the glass doors of the conference room. Growing ever more cocky, I gave a wink and a smile to the receptionist. Plastering on my most charming expression, which seemed to work, her cheeks glowing a faint scarlet that crept up to where her honey-blonde hair met her ears as I made my way past her.

But before I could get away, she spoke up. "Did your meeting with Miss Shaw go well?" She asked.

"Lovely," I replied, the smile turning into a grin. "We came to a resounding agreement."

[casspurrjoybell-30]

Cry Me A River - Chapter 15 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Unwanted Guests

"River?" I looked up from my thoughts to a pair of curious browns.

The girl looked around my age in a golden satin dress.

Her hair was pulled up in a loose up-do with two curled strands falling around her round face.

"Yes..?"

"I was calling your name for a while," she giggled.

I blushed as I looked down.

"My apologies. I was lost in my thoughts."

"What were you thinking of."

"If a pervert would be considered a royal pervert if they were royal."

My eyes widened as the words spewed out of my mouth like uncontrollable throw-up.

'God, I have no filter.'

Her eyes widened before she went off into a fit of laughter.

"That's quite the topic to be thinking of," she giggled.

"Though I'd have to say I believe being royal and a pervert should classify one as a royal pervert," she said with a completely serious face.

"You think so?"

"I know so. Just like if one were royal and an ass they would be a royal ass. That's why the term was invented of course."

"Who told you that?"

"My maidservant, Bernese. She comes from Talksville, so, of course, she would know."

I don't think to be from Talksville would classify one as an expert in talk but I had a feeling telling her so would just upset her.

"So what's it like being his mate?" she asked with wide eyes. I assumed by 'him' she was referring to Alastair.

'How does one answer such a question?'

"Umm good..?"

It came out like a question rather than a statement.

She raised a brow.

"You don't like him?"

"Of course, I love him," my voice louder than I meant to speak.

'How could she ask such a thing?'

Everyone at the table looked in my direction with wide eyes.

"S-sorry," I stammered as I looked down at my hands.

"You need to teach your mate some manners, Alastair," a bearded man scoffed in a harsh tone.

"This is our palace, he may speak as he pleases," Alastair declared.

I could tell from his tone that he was trying to keep it cool but you can sense the underlying anger towards the man beneath his words.

"If he were my mate I would teach him proper speaking habits in front of guests," he hissed.

"Good thing he is neither your mate nor you my guest, Victor."

Victor's eyes widened at Alastair's harsh tone along with all our other guests.

"I believe it's time for me to retire for the night," Alastair declared as he stood up from his seat and swooped me into his arms, allowing me a few moments to wrap my arms around his neck before making a beeline from the suffocating area that was once our dining room.

He sped down the halls till I heard the creaking of a door and slamming before I was gently laid into our silken bed.

Since winter had come and gone, Alastair had replaced our once fur-filled bed with sheets of silk, claiming it was less sweat inducing during the heated nights.

He crawled on top of me, keeping both arms outstretched on either side of my head to keep his weight from crushing my small form.

His golden eyes bore into mine, almost causing me to melt into a heated puddle where I laid.

"Don't listen to what he said. He's but an idiot. An idiot friend of my moronic father."

I can see how they would get along so well.

'Two birds of one obnoxious flock.'

The tense atmosphere suddenly lit up as Alastair's soft laughter encased the room in a light, bell-like melody that only he could produce.

"I can't believe you declared your love for me in front of all those people."

My face heated up.

"T-that's not what happened. I was..."

He caught me in a heated lip lock that shut me up almost immediately as I shivered beneath his muscular frame.

Electricity pumped through my veins as he bit my bottom lip in a request for entrance.

I opened my mouth slowly but he wouldn't stand for it.

He pushed through my mouth in a heated urgency as he locked my tongue with his twirling and twisting, tugging and pulling.

He reached his hands beneath my shirt, softly brushing his hand up my stomach, leaving goosebumps in his wake before latching onto my nipples and tugging.

"Aaah."

"That's it, love," he coaxed.

He pulled his mouth from mine as he directed it towards my stomach, leaving small butterfly kisses down the trail of my stomach before pulling my pants off my shaking form.

"A-Alastair."

"What is it, love?"

"I-I want to touch you, too."

My face warmed up in heated desire.

He smiled softly as he stood up on his knees and pulled his shirt off in one swift move before taking my hands in his and directing it to his hard, muscle.

I wanted to memorize his body, so I did the only way I knew how. I ran my fingers slowly down his chest, feeling every rock hard muscle beneath my hesitant touch.

His breath picked up as I got lower down his chest, slowly tracing his V line with the pads of my fingers.

'So soft.'

I brought my lips down and kissed it.

I heard a choking sound and I looked up through my lashes and almost wet myself at Alastair's heated gaze.

He pulled my face up roughly into a heated kiss.

He pried my mouth open with no hesitation as he filled my mouth with growls of heated desire.

"Fuck, love. You don't know what you do to me," he growled as he sank his extended canine into my bottom lip.

I moaned a pleasure filled moan as he reached his hand into my undergarment and grabbed hold of my weeping erection.

He massaged it in a gentle upwards fashion.

Up and down, up and down.

I clenched my teeth together as an overwhelming feeling of electricity shot up my stomach.

'More. More. More.'

With no notice, I reached down and took hold of his large, hardened erection.

He growled above me as his canines extended considerably as they dangled from his agape mouth.

His eyes flashed a bright yellow as I slowly rubbed my thumb against his head.

He growled and gasped above me as I used my other hand to slowly pull his pant down his toned legs, exposing his pulsing erection in full view under my widened gaze.

How in the world is that going to fit in me..?

He looked down at me with hooded eyes, noticing my hesitation.

"What's the matter, love?"

You're too well endowed for my virgin entrance to handle.

"How's that going to fit in me..?"

He laughed as he bent down and kissed my nose.

"We were made for each other, love. We'll fit together perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle."

"Is it going to hurt..?"

"Well, from my understanding it always hurts the first time."

I gasped.

"But I'll try my very hardest to make it hurt the least amount possible."

He cupped my cheeks.

"I would never put you through more pain than what's in my control."

"I... d-don't want to," I whimpered.

His eyes softened.

"That's okay, love. We'll only do it when you're ready, there's no reason rush anything."

He kissed my forehead softly before pecking my lips.

"P-promise?"

I rubbed my eyes before any tears could trail down my face.

"Pinky promise."

He stuck his pinky out towards me.

I laughed and looped my pinky around his.

He brought our entwined pinkies to his lips and kissed mine lightly.

"Now the promise is sealed."

I smiled up at him.

"Forever?"

"Forever," he smiled.

We separated our fingers as he pulled up his pants and pulled me into his arms.

"Are you excited for our mating ceremony?"

Oh, that's right. It's tomorrow.

The reality of it all began to sink in.

"You're finally going to be mine," his eyes softened as he peered down at me.

"I was always yours."

He laughed.

"I guess so, huh?"

He pecked my nose.

"But now you'll officially be mine. The whole kingdom will know."

And more, judging by the foreign guests occupying the palace.

"And they'll all know you're mine as well."

"Forever," he entwined his pinky in mine.

I smiled.

"Forever."

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Gene... My baby mama... I need... More alt!dream... Whatever you got fr. I just need more I'm.. I love him (probs not as much as you) but I love him

You're in luck bc I'm running on rip fuel for him. [ALSO I WROTE THIS BEFORE EVERYONE DID THE TECHWEAR STUFF FOR HIM I'M SORRY. I'LL GET IT IN NEXT TIME. I PINKY SWEAR.]

𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐃. ♘ 𝐚𝐥𝐭!𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: alt!Dreamwastaken x fm!reader

warnings: smut (18+), language, semi-public sex, light mentions of needles, domination

previous part ♘ fanart that i can't stop crying over

recommended listening: Hi Frequency by Vague002

The bus swayed slightly, your grip on the cool bar tightening to keep you from knocking into Clay as it turned. The dark city outside the windows bustled with sparkling lights, catching your eye every few seconds. As more people filed into the cramped space, Clay grabbed your hand, looping your arms around his waist and smugly grinning as you fought not to blush. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Will this be your first time in a parlor?” He asked, voice low and raspy as he whispered to you, not wanting to disturb the other members of society who just wanted to get home after a long day of work.

You nodded your head, making him chuckle. You knew it would be a different experience, mainly because it was taking place during the tattoo shops “after hours,” which Clay had only briefly explained the benefits of attending. “What are you getting done again?” You asked, moving so your hands were holding onto his arm instead, fingers brushing against the exposed skin peeking from beneath the cut-up shirt under his dark jacket.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t decide. Why don’t you pick?” He joshed, smirking at the way your eyebrows raised.

“I don’t want to be responsible for a mark on you,” you murmured, making him snort.

He hooked his fingers into the neckline of his shirt, stretching it down enough to reveal the litter of hickeys peppering his skin that you had left the night before. Your eyes widened as you swatted away his hand, looking around carefully in hopes that no one had seen them. He looped an arm around your shoulders, loving the fact that you were so worried about the crowd when all he wanted to do was fluster you.

He pressed his lips to your cheek, the warmth of his body encompassing you. “I love it when you get all blushy,” he teased. “Seriously though, you should pick. I won’t look at it if I don’t like it,” he snarked.

You groaned lightly. “Clay, come on.” He brushed his lips against yours.

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he cooed almost mockingly, his nose moving to press into your hair.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying your best to remember what was already on his body. You thought about the impending reality that whenever he saw the new tattoo, his mind would linger on you, and for some reason, heat traveled to your ears at that thought. “Um… what about a bird?” You asked, voice uneasy as if on eggshells.

His face twisted into a pleased smile. “A bird?” He repeated. You shrugged beneath his arm, making him chuckle. “I like that. George likes doing bird tattoos too, so you might just make his night,” he added, his praise and approval making your stomach fill with confidence. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your shoulder. Your mind began to forget what the two of you probably looked like to the other people as his scent invaded your senses. “Will you hold my hand while I’m in the chair?” He joked.

You scoffed. “Are you gonna cry?” You teased, making him chuckle.

“No, I’m just clingy,” he answered without skipping a beat. Your grin was hidden in the soft corduroy of his jacket.

The tattoo parlor was nothing like you had expected. The door was locked behind you after a bouncer let the two of you in, the man leading you two up a staircase and into a dimly lit room. The sound of heavy metal music and the buzz of tattoo guns swirled together, echoing off the dark brick walls. You slipped your hand into Clay’s as he talked to the receptionist, your eyes attempting to focus on one detail instead of letting the atmosphere overwhelm you.

The thick layer of smoke above your heads made you scoff, realizing it was coming from the opposite corner of the shop, a hookah lamp sitting on a coffee table like an outstretched octopus. The people around it seemed to be discussing something rather intense, their haircuts sharp and defining almost as if they stepped out of some kind of alternative fashion magazine. There were three tattoo artists, each with a white lamp focusing on their work as they carried on to the beat of the music.

Clay’s description of the place flashed into your mind, making you realize just how off the cards the parlor actually was. Clay took a toothpick from the receptionist’s desk, taking it between his white teeth before being waved down by a shorter man with dark hair across the floor. You followed closely behind him as Clay greeted the man; you quickly realizing that this was the famous George.

As Clay shrugged out of his jacket, George pulled out a binder, standing beside you as he flipped to a page with scattered drawings of different flight poses of birds. Your eyes drifted away from the page as Clay’s arms came into view. His old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off was doing wonders for his biceps. Before you knew it, the two of you agreed on a mix of a few designs resembling a crow and Clay was laying on his back with his hand tucked behind his head. The spot he was filling was in the dead center of the flesh of his upper arm; a spot that George had grumbled about being awkward to reach, especially on someone as large as Clay.

You watched closely with curious eyes as George began to tattoo the design on Clay’s arm. Clay’s other hand was wrapped around the back of your elbow as you leaned on the chair at Clay’s side. His finger pads drew circles into your skin as you asked George about how he got into tattooing, making small talk here and there.

You liked George, mainly because he was quiet until he conjured up some kind of relentless backhanded comment. His tattoos revolved around a giant tree stretching from his back and down his arms. You wondered how long he had to sit for it and what the healing process was like. As he worked, his teeth played at his snake bite piercings, his dark eyes focused intently on the work in front of him.

Clay switched his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, his hand tightening around your arm with a small groan as George reached a sensitive spot. “Don’t be such a pussy,” he grumbled, continuing his work. He stopped, cleaning off some of the sprayed ink and filling a new cap with grey. “You have any work, pretty girl?” He asked you, voice low and charming.

You shook your head, earning a small tsk from him. “This is the closest she’s been to a tattoo gun,” Clay prided, making George sarcastically raise his eyes.

“A total virgin, huh?” He joked, winking at you. “Dream’s not corrupting you, is he?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek trying not to blush. “I’m trying,” Clay leered, smirking at you with his smug ego hinting at his lips.

George bit back a laugh. “Don’t get horny in my chair,” he muttered, eyes trained on the lines he was scaring into Clay. “Speaking of, I heard you got busted up by Punz, and by the looks of it… seems right,” he commented, gesturing to Clay’s eye that seemed to have started fading finally.

Clay let out a dry laugh. “His ribs are still healing,” you added, making George smirk with a shake of his head.

“You know what all that’s about right?” George asked you, taking his foot off the pedal to grab more paper towels from his desk. You looked up at Clay whose jaw tense as he chewed on the toothpick. After you shook your head, George continued. “Punz’s sister is stupidly in love with Dream,” he plopped back in his seat, swiveling his chair, and drawing a hand through his locks, revealing the bleached undersection. You had the fleeting mental image of him tying his hair back to reveal it.

He pulled on a new glove. “Madly in love, huh?” You pried, twisting your chair closer to Clay’s shoulder. Clay rolled his eyes at the fact as if he had been bugged about it for years. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend, Clay,” you teased, and he looked up at you with a tired expression, making you bite back a giggle.

After George finished, you followed Clay through the door, breathing in the fresh air; or as fresh as it could be in the midst of the city’s industrial square. Clay’s fingers knitted together with yours as he led you down an alleyway, flicking aside the toothpick. You chewed on your lip in anticipation before he pinned you against one of the walls. His devious grin sent shivers down your spine as you looked up at him.

You swallowed. “Shouldn’t you take it easy? Let your arm heal a bit?” You asked, voice coming out in a soft whisper as his lips pressed against your neck. “Won’t it hurt a bit with your ribs, too?” Your heart hammered in your chest at the fact that someone could turn the corner and catch the two of you.

He chuckled against your skin, slipping his hands beneath your skirt to grip your ass. “I like the pain,” he mused, tongue grazing against your skin as he pulled your hips against his. He kissed you hungrily as if not being able to press his body against yours for that hour was too much for him. His hand dropped to wrap around the back of your knee, moving his own leg to prop your thigh up against his hip as your hands dug into his hair.

The friction from his jeans made you moan into his mouth as his hand moved beneath your shirt, fingers fitting beneath your bra to palm your breast. He mumbled praises against your lips at how good you made him feel and how beautiful you were.

He turned you, your hands planting against the coarse brick as he ground his hips against you. You bit your lip, trying not to be loud enough to draw attention to the two of you, which seemed to be the last thing on Clay’s mind as you heard him unbuckle his belt behind you. You could practically picture his cocky grin, controlling eyes set as his hand gripped onto your hips, shoving your underwear to the side. “You were so much fun to show off tonight,” he chided darkly, lips brushing against your shoulder. “Such a good girl.”

As he pushed into you, one of his hands moved to knot into your hair. He moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, tugging on your hair as he pulled your hips back against his. A low grunt tumbled from his lips as he set his rhythm, basking in the fact that you were secretly ready for him to ruin you as soon as you stepped into the parlor.

His fingers moved to wrap around your neck, the thought of his tattooed hand tightening around your pristine skin sent shivers through your body and heat flushing your cheeks, the tension in your body tightening. As he pressed you closer against the wall, you thought about the power he had over you; his height and build would make it easy for him to break you if he wanted, yet even as he pounded into you like he wanted you to forget your own name, the restraint he showed was enough to send you over the edge if you let yourself divulge in the thought.

Clay pulled out of you, only to turn you, your shoulders hitting the wall again with a soft thump as he hoisted you up ever so slightly, thrusting up into you as his hand dig into your thigh, the other resting against the brick beside your head. Your arms looped beneath his jacket, raking down his skin as you held onto him.

He groaned as your thighs tightened around him, making his hips stutter as if he were trying not to let himself finish too early. He dug is face into the crook of your neck, burying his teeth in your neck to stifle his grunts of your name. Your head tilted back against the brick, hand moving to tighten around the wrist that was beside your head for some kind of anchor.

His hand wrapped around your waist, driving himself deeper into you, brushing the part of you that needed him the most. You moaned, carding your fingers into his hair as he pressed his lips to yours roughly, wanting to taste your pleasure as it washed over you from his movements.

You tugged on his hair, making his cock throb inside of you, him finishing inside you with a low groan, his hips snapping against yours to stimulate a reaction from you. The feeling of his sloppy pleasure as his movements lost their rhythm sent your hips grinding against his, his teeth marking your shoulders as a reminder of his work on you.

Your toes curled, finally reaching your orgasm as he murmured dirty expressions of him ruining your pretty clothes against the wall. As he pulled out of you, your knees felt weak, threatening to buckle beneath you. You tried not to give off how much he had trashed you, but the warmth snaking down your thighs and your bliss-ridden mind proved otherwise.

Long story short, the bus ride home was rather interesting.

Dream Taglist: (follow this link to be added :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @behzzyboo @darphobic @twist3dtinkerbell @sparkletash @lindsayhunz @shroomieissmall @mintmochiii @clubfairy @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @victory-is-here @rat-poisin

[weaselbrownie]

Draco getting a headjob or handjob? Literally, anything as long as he's whimpering under yn!!

warning : smut

MASTERLIST

You flicked through your thick potions textbook, eyes following the long and complicated instructions of brewing felix felicis as the soft tune hums through the air from the record player placed in the corner of the room. The ticking sound of the clock hanging from the wall only adds to the atmosphere.

You glanced up from the book to see the clock strike 8, it was late and you were waiting for a certain blond boy to appear through the big dark oak door of your dorm. Sighing, you went back to your book hoping he'll come soon. As if he read your mind, Draco came knocking on the door– waiting for you to open it.

You moved to close your book and slipped down your bed, waddling down the cold room to welcome him in after a long day. Your warm hand gripped the cold surface of the doorknob, slowly twisting it to open the door.

Draco stood on the other side of the door, bags heavy under his eyes as his uniform was untucked. He looked tired, but again after the day he had, who wouldn't be? Right after dinner he had to sort something out involving an irresponsible bunch of third years, being head boy comes with great expectations and it definitely isn't easy.

"You look tired" You smiled up at him, lifting your hand to place on his defined bicep, gliding your hand down to grip his before pulling him into the room. He slouched as he moved across the room, kicking his shoes off in the process before crashing face down onto the soft comforter of your bed. "You wanna talk about it?" You asked, bringing your fingers to the side of his head, tucking the longer strands of hair back.

"Assholes..." Draco mumbled into the sheets, "...they were absolute ass-fucking-holes" He turned his head, resting the side of his face on the comforter so he could look up at you. "They didn't listen to a single thing I said and made me chase em down on my broom... if it weren't for Snape intervening, I might have tossed em down the stairs myself" He scoffed, turning his body to lay on his back, grumpily crossing his arms on his chest and pushing his bottom lip slightly forward– pouting.

You smiled at him, watching him throw his little fit as your hand went to rub his biceps slowly, releasing the tensions his muscles hold under the grey sweater. "You know what you need?" You asked, inching your face towards his. He lifted his gaze to meet yours, grey eyes shining in the darkroom, "A massage... and a kiss from your girlfriend" You closed the space in between, closing your eyes to plant a small kiss on his lips. Your lips moved in sync with his as the corner of his lips tugs into a smile.

You slowly parted, drawing your lips away from his as he chases after you. "You'll get more later" You smiled, slowly getting up and walking into the bathroom of your dorm, rummaging through the drawers under the sink for Draco's favorite oils.  When you get back into the room he already got rid of his sweater, unbuttoning his white shirt as he sat on the corner of your bed, his back facing you.

You slipped behind him, folding your legs so your bum was resting on your heel. You opened the cap before angling it on your palm to let the warm oils fall. Not too much, you closed the cap again and tossed it next to you before closing both your palms to tub together. Draco's head hung low as he waited for you, looking tired and achy after the day. Before you began to rub the oils onto him your lips latched themselves on his shoulder, fluttering a few kisses which you know he appreciates.

"Just relax m'kay" You mumbled, continuing to kiss him higher up the nape of his neck, sending vibrations through his body. As you pulled away you could feel that he didn't want you to let go, so as quickly as possible, you pressed your oil-covered palm onto his back. Your hand glided through his bareback, soothing the aching muscles holding him up for the day.

It took everything in him to keep still and quiet, his body fidgeting underneath your tender touch. You continued rubbing your hand down his back, pressing into the tension knots to relieve them. You eventually got up on your knees to bend over his shoulder, your lips lingering the shell of his ear, "Just let it out, love" You whispered before sitting back onto your original position.

Right after you picked up where you left off Draco slightly threw his head back, a groan coming out of that pink lips of his. You smiled to yourself seeing as you are making him feel so good, but it was about to get better.

Your slippery hand glided down to each side of his body and eventually resting them on his lower abdomen. You shuffled in your spot to sit better, pressing your chest onto his exposed back and resting your chin on his broad shoulder. "Y/N..." He called out, his head slightly twisting to the side to meet yours.

Your fingers were dancing dangerously close to his crotch, toying with the button of his dark trousers before undoing them. "Do you want this?" Your voice, barely above a whisper as your lips lingered on the shell of his ear. "We can stop now...I won't be mad I promise" Your lips began leaving kisses on the side of his face as your hand comes to a halt.

"No, p-please don't stop" You felt his hand grabbed onto yours, his warm palms closing around yours to guide them lower and lower. He guided your movements as you began stroking him through his boxer briefs, tracing the veins on his cock as his member was rock hard under your balmy touch. "You did that to me...so now you're gonna help me with it yeah?" His lips latched onto yours for a brief moment, showing that you even in his most vulnerable state he still cherishes you with everything he has.

Your hand slipped into his boxer briefs easily, gliding in between skin and elastic as you took him in your hand, giving his hard member a few pumps before pulling them up. His cock sat heavy, the tip red as it overflows with precum. You started off at his base, giving it slow strokes as your lips lingered on his neck once again, suckling bold purple hues onto his lower neckline, just for your eyes to see.

It wasn't like Draco to whimper under you, with him usually taking the lead when it comes to the bedroom, but it was times like this you value. The oil on your palm made it easier to glide and pump his cock, making your way up until you eventually reach the top, giving his most sensitive part the attention it craves as it drives him crazy under your gentle touch.

You wrap one hand around the upper part of his member as your thumb brushes over his slit, pressing into it slightly to add more pleasure– circling around to pave the pre cum leaking out of him.

Your other hand proceeded to slither their way up his exposed body, raking your nails on his torso as your hand made their way up to the base of his jugular, wrapping around it with slight pressure before letting go, moving onto his tight jaw. You cupped his face, pushing it upwards to give your lips more room to linger.

Draco parted his lips as he lets the deep groan from the bottom of his throat go. His posture stiffens as he leaned back onto you. You hand began to speed up, pumping his cock from the bottom to the top. "Merlin...F-Fuck Y/N" He groaned once more, the warmth of the oil provided the tingling feeling on his cock, something he never thought he liked.

"It's okay, you've gotta let me take care of you sometimes...hm," You left kisses trailing down to his broad shoulder, your hand gliding all over the front of his body, spreading the oil that's left on your slippery palm "You're always so good to me Draco," He was close and he wasn't shy to show you. His back slightly arched as he bucked his hips into your hand, meeting your closed palm half way.

The groans slipping from his lips grew louder, he grunted your name as he searched for the heat radiating from your free hand, holding onto it as his climax grew more intense on the pit of his stomach. "Let it go Draco... I've got you" You mumbled on his neck as he thrusted into your palm, shooting white ropes of cum into the empty space in front of him. You kept pumping him, helping him ride out his high.

Draco slumped back onto you, his pale chest heaving up and down as you gave his cock lazy strokes, helping him cool down. You can't help yourself to leave him more kisses on his face, delicately gliding your hand down to tuck him back into his boxer briefs. "Y'wanna go take a shower?" You asked him, your arm extending to wrap themselves around his torso– rocking the both of you slowly from side to side.

Draco smiled as his slender fingers traced yours. He began sitting up, turning around to cup your face in his palm. He slowly brought your face closer to his, giving your lips a tender kiss before lightly nodding, pulling you up with him to go to the bathroom. Draco reached for his wand, quickly cleaning up the mess he made before dragging you in the shower with him for a possible second round.

TAGLIST : @microwavedhampster @whenuwereyoung @o-rion-sta-r @willowmores @youreso-golden @mzmalice3 @desiredmalfoy @hyuckiesgf @yiamalfoy

[endlessymphony]

It’s You.

pairing - fred weasley x reader

summary - best-friends to lovers <3 fred finally recognizes his feelings for his closest friend. wc - 1.4k

based on some of these - https://oc-interrogation.tumblr.com/post/647240190963908608/friends-to-lovers-prompts-for-when-theyve-finally

a/n - this is cute, but barely has a plot :,) i’m sorry !

Inseparable.

That’s how people would describe you and Fred since the two of you became practically attached at the hip by the age of five. Your parents had gone to school with Molly and Arthur, therefore resulting in your families being quite close- intertwined almost at certain points, hell, your families even vacationed with each other. It was surprising when one was seen without the other, since everyone started to act like you guys were some sort of package deal.

Well, it did seem that way- You guys did everything together and shared a lot of things as well; having a lot of the same classes, the same friends, you were even both on the Quidditch team since Fred didn’t want to go to the try-outs alone, and you guys were even able to understand each other without speaking.

The feelings remained strictly platonic up until sixth year when Fred went home for the winter break. Molly combed through his hair as your family was coming to visit the Weasley’s for dinner and a gift-exchange. She attempted to make small-talk with him, “So Fred, has anyone caught your eye this year?” she hummed, smiling sweetly as he turned to face her. He pursed his lips. “No.” was the easy answer.

“I heard from Y/N’s mum that Y/N is interested in a boy named Cedric,” Molly started, “but you didn’t hear that from me.” His stomach churned, unknown feelings bubbling up into his chest as he felt his heart start to crumble. A small “oh” was the only thing he could muster, turning away to look down at his lap, fiddling with his hands. “He’s handsome, and good at everything. I can see why Y/N would like him.” He tried to contribute to the conversation.

Fred didn’t know why he was taking that information like this, ‘I don’t even like them!’ he practically screamed inside his head.

Molly pulled the comb away and set it down on the dresser, patting his shoulder before smoothing out some of the wrinkles on his shirt. “They’ll be here soon. Come help me set the table, yeah?”

“Yeah.” The feeling in the pit of his stomach was only growing by that point, consuming him.

maybe he did like you after all...

You were sitting in the great-hall, picking at your food as you half-listened to all the chatter around you. You looked up and caught Fred’s gaze, the two of you sharing a small smile. ‘You okay?’ he mouthed and you nodded, ‘not hungry.’ You both went back to what you were doing previously. Dinner eventually came to an end, and you managed to sneak out early. He walked out of the Great Hall with Lee and George, the same sickening feeling returning as he spotted you and Cedric chatting away in the hall; you were giggling over something Cedric said. It made him feel defeated.

You noticed your friends, starting to walk towards them. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow!” you called out to Cedric as you hurried to catch-up with Fred and the others. You began to walk alongside them, looking up at Fred and frowning slightly when you noticed that he had his brows furrowed. “You always do that with your eyebrows when you're sad,” you commented, he looked down at you and released the tension that had unknowingly gathered in his face. You continued, tilting your head slightly. “I hate to see you sad. What’s wrong?”

“Just got a shitty mark on a research paper, no big deal.” he shrugged your question off, forcing himself to smile so that you would stop asking questions. “Do you want a cookie? I managed to snag some.” Fred offered, pulling out the napkin-wrapped sweets from the pocket of his robe. You struggled to hide the smile spreading across your face as you nodded, reaching out to take one from him. “You always know my weaknesses, Weasley.”

He couldn’t help but notice how your eyes always seemed to glimmer when you smiled, and the way your cheeks flushed slightly, and your lips…

“this is why we’re best-friends.” that comment snapped him out of his daze. He nodded, “yeah, best-friends.”

He finished walking you to your dorm, cracking a few jokes along the way just to catch sight of that breath-taking smile a few times more.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Fred.”

He ruffled your hair slightly, pulling away to watch the door shut behind you; a small sigh escaping his lips as he turned to walk down the stairs, preparing to spend another night staring at the ceiling- wishing that the pillow next to him was you.

‘How do you tell someone you love them? Especially when it could ruin everything you’ve ever known. There’s safety in the comfort of knowing that at least you’ll always be their best-friend, at the very most. The uncertainty of reciprocated feelings twists your stomach, and could alter everything forever.’

A week had passed since then. Classes were out for the day and Fred was sitting on your bed watching you hold up a million different outfit combinations. “C’mon, I need more than an ‘okay’ or a ‘sure’” you whined, stressing yourself out. “what else are best-friends for if not to be each-others fashion advisors?”

“I never signed up for this.” He rolled onto his back, letting out a small huff, “So, you’re really going out with Diggory?”

You turned away from the mirror to raise an eyebrow, “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Nah.” Fred faked a smile, “Why would I have a problem with him? He’s a golden-boy, there's no one better for you.” ‘other than me.’ he thought, biting his tongue.

You smiled, turning back to pick up the two outfits you were torn between. “Ripped jeans and the green top, or…” you held-on to the ‘or’ as you picked up the other option. “The jean shorts and white graphic tee?” Fred pretended to be deep in thought, tapping at his chin with his index finger. “What shoes?” he asks. “My Converse, probably.” You look down at your socked feet briefly before looking back up at him. “Then go with the shorts, it’s hot, and… why don’t you wear the green top with them? The colour works with your skin.” He smiles for real this time, imagining how nice you would look in the outfit.

“Thanks Freddy, now look away, I’m changing.”

“Oh c’mon, it's not like I haven’t seen you change before.” He teases.

“Shut up, it’s different now. Cover your eyes!” you laugh and toss the white top at his face.

“Fine, fine. Eyes are covered.” Fred grumbles as he puts his hands in front of his eyes, waiting for the ‘all good’ from you to look again.

You hurry to get changed, eventually telling Fred he can look again. He hurriedly uncovered his eyes, a smile growing as he looks you up and down. “What are you looking at?” you shoot, playfully. “You look stupid.” he replies as he maneuvers himself so he’s sitting at the edge of your bed, watching you start to struggle with the clasp of a necklace. Fred shakes his head and stands up, standing behind you and taking the clasp from your hands. “Let me help.” His voice was low and gentle. You smile to yourself, face flushing slightly as you feel his cool hands against your warm skin. He finishes with the necklace and you turn to look in the mirror, Fred looking in it with you.

“You look gorgeous.” he places a hand on your shoulder, eyes softening as he looks at you. “Oh, shut up.” you muse back at him, turning to face him. “No, I seriously mean it.” Fred looks at you, looking genuinely sincere. “You look amazing, breathtaking even.” He pretends to brush a strand of hair from your face, just looking for an excuse to touch you, hand eventually resting against your cheek. “Diggory is really lucky.”

For a second, you forgot about Cedric- the outside world seemed to fall away. It was just you and Fred, like it had always been, but this time something was different. The atmosphere had changed, and he was looking at you in a way that you had never seen before. You felt your stomach flip as you locked gazes, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone. Something took over him.

“Kiss me, Y/N.” he mumbled, leaning down slightly to press his forehead against yours. And you did; It was sweet, and short, definitely not what you would expect from someone like Fred.

“I’ve waited so long to do that.” Fred chuckles, a bit breathless. His heart was going what felt like 300 mph, and his face was feeling red-hot. “No one ever compared to you. I mean, how could anyone compare to you?”

“Forget Diggory.” you said, tone breathy. “Kiss me again.” A smile spread across both of your faces.

Fred had no issue doing exactly what you had asked for.

🏷- @miss-starkov @wizardwheezes @i-love-scott-mccall @hogwarts-1d-drarry-stan @angstology

[honeyedhoseok]

Blue | 01

genre | jeon jungkook x reader; lifeguard!JK but this isn't really a lifeguard fic; soulmate!au if you squint; smut; angst

word count | 9.9K

summary | that summer with jungkook was blue--a shade that carries with it a tinge of melancholia that you should have accepted from the beginning.

or,

to say that you fell in love with a color was an overstatement, but to say that you fell in love with him was an understatement.

a/n | i've been writing this to avoid my responsibilities. hope you enjoy! <3

series masterlist

It rained the first day Jungkook worked at the pool.

You’d heard the news of a few new lifeguards starting that day, but you’d been too busy serving ice cream at the snack bar to really get anything other than a quick glance at the lifeguard stand before you were locking eyes with the next greedy customer in line.

It was the beginning of summer, with the air sitting hot, dry and heavy on the normal patrons of the pool: older moms who sunbathed and gossiped with their friends while their kids splashed in the shallow end and gave the lifeguards something to do. Teenagers too cool to actually get in the pool littered the sides, only dipping their feet in while using expensive Ray Ban frames like a headband to hold their hair out of their eyes while they talked with their friends.

The forecast had mentioned some scattered storms, but normally that just meant getting everyone to come inside for a few minutes until it passed. The storm that day, however, had plans of sticking around a little bit longer.

You were passing a cup of strawberry shortcake soft serve out the window when the first clap of thunder sounded, followed by a lightning storm that sent the lifeguards in a tizzy. Multiple whistles blew at the sudden appearance of a storm, and the atmosphere was a rush of splashing and commotion as people made their way out of the water and to their belongings scattered in chairs on the sides.

“Well, that came out of nowhere,” your coworker, Jihyo says, sidling up beside you to look at the clouds looming over what was supposed to be a normal day at the pool. “Wonder if we’ll get to go home early?”

“I hope not,” you reply. “I need these hours, damn it. The Blooming Festival is in a few weeks, and I plan on taking off at least three days to soak it all in.”

Jihyo rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you’ve only mentioned it, maybe, every day I’ve worked with you so far?”

Serving ice cream at the pool was just a summer job. You were working there to make some money so you could do things with your friends, put gas in your car, and occasionally splurge on a new outfit or pair of shoes. It was supposed to be as normal as every other summer you’d worked there in between college semesters—until he showed up.

In fifteen minutes, the pool was shut down completely; all of the patrons were packed up and back in their cars after an announcement from your manager that the storm was forecasted to not let up for at least another hour and a half.

“Oh, we’re definitely going home,” Jihyo says, shutting the serving window and twisting the lock. “When’s the last time Seokjin shut down the pool indefinitely?”

You purse your lips, leaning back against the counter behind you and looking out at the pouring rain behind Jihyo. The wind was starting to pick up now, leaves and debris filling the once-clean surface of the cerulean water of the pool.

You start to make a bitter remark but the sound of heavy, slapping footsteps cuts you off, followed by a loud pounding at the back door. Jihyo looks toward the source of the noise with furrowed eyebrows, tilting her chin up stubbornly.

“More twelve-year-olds coming to demand that we restock Moose Tracks?”

“Hey, Moose Tracks is a classic!” you call at her back as she goes to unlock the door. “It’s not their fault you keep picking unpopular flavors to order each week—like Mint Chocolate Chip!”

The back door opens, and the shop is suddenly flooded with voices following Jihyo back into the small space.

“MCC is the goddamn classic, Y/N,” Jihyo says, stomping back into the conversation like she never left off. “Don’t ever bash it again, or I’ll stop ordering Sea Salt Caramel for your uncultured ass!”

You want to laugh, but you’re too distracted by the hoard of boys—lifeguards—trailing behind her. Yoongi and the two new guys crowd your space suddenly, and you find yourself backing up into one of the corners and trying not to look as embarrassed as you felt for just arguing with Jihyo over ice cream flavors, of all things.

The boys are soaking wet, puddles collecting at their feet on the tiled inside of the kitchen, but they seem unphased by it as they huddle in. Thankfully, one of them comes to your rescue.

“I’m with her,” he says, giving you a nod. His smile fills up his whole face as he talks, making his eyes turn into little crescent half-moons. “Sea Salt Caramel is where it’s at.”

The other lifeguard doesn’t say anything, gaze focused over your heads outside where the wind is knocking sunbathing chairs over. You realize then how tall he is—possibly half a foot or more than you—and the thought that if you were close enough, your nose wouldn’t even brush the dip of his clavicle, has your cheeks burning.

He and the half-moon lifeguard have similar builds: long, lean body statures, almond-shaped eyes, the same dark hair that falls in wet strands in their eyes. You wonder if they’re related. Maybe the taller one is the older brother, you think.

“The great ice cream debate,” Yoongi murmurs suddenly, sounding bored. “How about we have some and solve this problem once and for all?”

As he reaches for one of the serving spoons, Jihyo’s arm flies out, smacking it out of his hands. It falls with a clatter onto the counter, and he looks at her with an animated expression of surprise and disgust.

“Uh-uh,” she says, wagging a finger at him. “It’s like Seokjin’s only rule for us.”

“Seokjin can kiss my—“

As if on cue, the back door swings open and Yoongi shuts his mouth as Seokjin comes in, looking incredibly dry due to the floor-length plastic covering hanging from his umbrella.

Leave it to Seokjin to own something as extra as that, you think.

“Get comfy,” he says as he steps out of the plastic, shaking water off the top that splashes onto your scuffed, white Keds.

You gaze down, realizing only then that none of the lifeguards are wearing shoes. Yoongi’s pinky toe is edging dangerously close to a melted puddle of chocolate ice cream you forgot to clean up, but you don’t have the guts to tell him in front of your manager, so you shoo the thought away and focus on the grim look on Seokjin’s face. He’s chewing gum and looks slightly annoyed at the thought of all five of you huddled inside instead of doing work.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” he says, “but I need you guys to stay here until the storm calms down. It should pass in an hour or two.”

Jihyo frowns. “And if it doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll send you home.”

She grins triumphantly.

“And I’ll need you to come in early tomorrow to clean up that mess out there,” Seokjin adds, giving her a sickly-sweet smile. He blows a bubble with his pink chewing gum for emphasis, the pop resonating in the small space.

Yoongi frowns and Jihyo’s mouth drops open. The new lifeguards seem as surprised as the other two, and they eye Seokjin curiously, probably trying to figure out what kind of manager he is. Even after all this time working for him, you don’t really know the answer to that question, either.

“Any more questions?” he asks, tone leaning somewhat on annoyance. But then again, that’s how Seokjin always sounded.

Jihyo shakes her head and Yoongi gives him a deepened frown in answer.

“Good. You,” he says, looking pointedly at Yoongi and mimicking his annoyed expression. “See to it that Hoseok and Jungkook get acquainted with the rules.” He steps inside his clear cocoon of an umbrella, reaching down to zip it up above his head. “And I’ll let you know when it’s safe to go outside and clean up.”

Jungkook, you think. You know immediately that it’s his name because it just fits him. You feel yourself rolling the unspoken syllables around the inside of your mouth, wondering when you’ll get the first chance to say them aloud.

Yoongi salutes half-assedly, and Jihyo elbows him in the side after Seokjin turns around and makes his exit. After the back door is shut, the five of you visibly deflate, and Yoongi sucks his teeth.

“That guy,” he mutters. “One of these days—”

“I wish you’d learn your lesson and stop messing with him,” Jihyo says, interrupting whatever nasty comment was about to spill from his mouth. “It’s probably because of you that Seokjin wants us to stay, instead of going home in this god-awful weather.”

“Why doesn’t he like Yoongi?” Hoseok asks, eyes flickering to the chestnut-haired, simmering boy to his left.

“His most recent offense?” Jihyo ponders, crossing her arms over her chest as she thinks. “Not showing up for his shift—threedays in a row.”

“I was sick,” Yoongi says dryly, narrowing his eyes at her. “What did you want me to do? Not stay in bed and get better?”

“Oh, your bed must suddenly have relocated to the pool hall at five in the afternoon, huh?” she says, tilting her head to the side in mocking. “Snapchat locations don’t lie, Yoongi. If you’re going to play hooky, do it better.”

Hoseok chuckles. “Damn, man.”

Yoongi, never one to back down from an argument, flicks his brown fringe out of his eyes. “Why don’t you teach me then, Little Miss Stomachache?”

“I had cramps!” Jihyo says indignantly.

“You’ll learn that being around these two is like being around an old married couple,” you murmur to Jungkook and Hoseok as Yoongi and Jihyo’s voices rise louder and louder in contest. “They get along like cats and dogs.”

Jungkook grins at your comment, and you think your heart stops a little in your chest before starting an accelerated rhythm that has you feeling light. His lips pull back prettily over his teeth, his cheeks balling a little from the force of it.

“I’m thinking cats and dogs might actually be more civil than this, to be honest,” Hoseok says, gesturing to an annoyed Yoongi threatening to rub his clammy, wet feet on Jihyo’s bare, shorts-clad legs.

In the time that you had worked there, there were very few civil moments between Jihyo and Yoongi. You think that maybe they were civil when Yoongi first started, and you remember faintly a comment made by Jihyo that Yoongi was “cute” and maybe that they exchanged numbers at some point—but then rumors went around that Yoongi said Jihyo was too loud and controlling, and Jihyo said he was a selfish bastard, and you think they’ve been sworn enemies ever since.

“You’re probably right,” you say finally, giggling at Hoseok’s comment. You stop abruptly when you see Jungkook’s eyes fall to your mouth at the sight of it splitting open with a grin. They linger there for a moment before he speaks for the first time since entering you and Jihyo’s space.

“What did you say your name was, again?” he asks.

His voice is soft and low, almost a lilted hum, and it catches you off guard in comparison to his very boyish, young features. You expected it to be higher, to sound almost preteen-like, but it’s nothing of the sort—it immediately has you questioning how old he is in comparison to Hoseok.

“Y/N,” you say. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, I guess.”

Jungkook smiles again, and this time it feels like one especially conjured up for you.

“Y/N,” he repeats, the sound of his tongue rolling over the syllables sends a little zap to your insides. “You um, have a little something there, on your shirt.”

He takes one hand out of his blue swim trunks and points to your breastbone, where a dark splotch of chocolate ice cream sits over your sternum.

“Aw, fuck!” you murmur, facing burning as you spin around on your heel, grabbing the nearest hand towel and dabbing at your shirt. “These kids—”

“It wouldn’t stain like that if it was Mint Chocolate Chip,” Jihyo sneers suddenly, cutting whatever Yoongi was about to say to her off. She grins triumphantly at the stain, returning to your argument from earlier. “Would it?”

You flip her the bird, still dabbing at the fabric—but you can’t help but revel a little in the cute smile Jungkook gives you as he watches you fuss over yourself, digging around the kitchen space for anything to save you from the ice cream on your shirt.

After that fated day, your mind lingered on Jungkook incessantly. At the pool, you glanced at him more often than not from the serving window of the ice cream stand, committing him to memory. You found yourself reminiscing over the upended triangular shape of his upper body, the lithe muscle covering his shoulder blades, the image of a whistle poised between his rosy lips, his teeth pressed tightly against the metal, his body wet and glistening as he rose out of the pool—

“You’re literally drooling, Y/N,” Jihyo says, breaking you out of your reverie by snapping her fingers in front of your face. “Why don’t you just, I don’t know, go talk to him?”

“I will,” you say indignantly. “I told you—I’m waiting.”

“It’s been three weeks.”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, nodding. “Still waiting.”

“Jesus,” Jihyo sighs. “I didn’t want to do this, but you know he’s only here for the summer, right?”

You freeze in the middle of cleaning the counter. “He’s what?”

“You heard me—you have less than three months, Y/N,” Jihyo says firmly. “I know rushing isn’t your style but, uh, you might not have a choice this time.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me!”

You hate how your voice sounds pitiful and whiny, but your heart is literally sinking at this news—three months? Less than three months? Where was he going? What would you do with your time when he wasn’t there to look out the window at? It dawns on you suddenly that you won’t be there in three months, either. School started back at the end of August—your sophomore year.

“Why didn’t you let me know you were interested in him?” Jihyo crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ve been watching you fawn over him for all this time, just waiting and hoping you’d confide in me, but no.”

“What was I supposed to say?” you retort glumly. “That I like the lifeguard that seems the least interested in my existence? Yeah, no, I’ll save myself from that sadness train going nowhere, thank you very much.”

“Maybe I can help you,” Jihyo says with confidence, turning to the window. “Hey, Jungkook!”

You freeze. “What? What are you doing?”

Jungkook looks your way, raising an eyebrow above his black Ray Bans. Jihyo leans out of the serving window, beckoning him over with a wave of her hand.

She turns to you. “Look how easy this is going to be.”

You swallow to combat the sudden tightness in your throat, watching with bated breath as Jungkook climbs down the lifeguard ladder and walks to you two, his feet slapping a little on the wet cement surrounding the pool.

“What’s up?” he says, pushing his sunglasses back on his head and unknowingly releasing the full intensity of his doe-like eyes.

You inhale a small gasp that Jihyo obviously hears, because she lightly presses her Ked-clad foot on top of yours below the counter.

“Me, you, Y/N, Hoseok,” Jihyo says with a confidence you could never muster. “Dinner and a movie on the boardwalk this weekend?”

Jungkook’s eyes pass from hers to yours for a split second, and your pulse picks up speed in your veins. If he seems surprised from the random invitation, however, he doesn’t let it show on the easy-going expression that he wears.

“Sure,” he says. “Can you remind me when it gets a little closer? I’ll have to make sure my parents don’t have anything planned.”

Jihyo flips her hair over her shoulder, casually producing her phone from what feels like thin air. You blink down at her hand, realizing this was her plan all along.

“Put your number in,” she says. “I’ll make us a group chat. We should probably have one anyways, since we work together. You know?”

Jungkook nods and puts his number in before handing it back to her. A commotion happens in the water behind him, and he glances over his shoulder with concern. “I should probably head back,” he says. He gives you both a small smile before he flips his sunglasses down over his eyes again, hitting a slight jog back to the lifeguard stand.

When he’s out of earshot, Jihyo texts rapidly on her phone. When she’s done yours vibrates three times in your pocket: the start of the group chat, you’re sure.

“And that, my friend,” she says, giving you a grin that could rival the Grinch when he decided to steal Christmas, “is how you get the ball rolling!”

Unfortunately, Jihyo’s plans—which she has annoyingly coined as Operation: Get Y/N Laid—don’t stop there.

On Thursday, just two days before the plans, she convinces Hoseok to come with her to something before the meet up that’s going to coincidentally make them late so that you and Jungkook have time to be alone.

When she tells you this, it’s as she’s making a double scoop chocolate cone, but you can’t help the overwhelming urge that comes over you to put your hands around her neck.

“Ack! Y/N! Let go!” she says between breaths with wide eyes. “I’m going to drop the ice—”

“You’re so dumb!” you yell, squeezing a little harder. “That’s such an obvious ploy to get us alone, he’s going to realize it!”

Jihyo finally squirms out of your grip by turning her head and licking your arm. The warmth of her tongue makes you recoil, and she gasps with relief as air floods back into her lungs, looking at the now-lopsided cone in her left hand.

“Now how am I supposed to give this to that little brat outside?” she says, frowning. “His mom will come and eat me alive if I hand this slop out of the window.”

“You probably deserve it,” you say sourly. You lean your hip into one of the counters, crossing your arms over your chest. “Take your plans back, Jihyo.”

“I can’t,” she says calmly. “Hoseok is already in on it.”

“He’s what?!”

“He’s in on Operation: Get Y/N Laid,” she says again, with that same ridiculous manner of calm, like you didn’t just make her life flash before her eyes thirty seconds ago. “Stop freaking out—he wants to give you some time alone just like I do. So, he’s not going to say anything to Jungkook. The plan will go on like normal, you will just have to do a little acting when we don’t show up on time. Got it?”

In all honesty, it’s not the worse plan she has ever come up with. But you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing so, so you keep your current frown plastered on your mouth for a little longer to let her know your displeasure with the sudden turn of events.

“Oh, don’t you go all pouty on me,” Jihyo says, wagging a finger at you as she trashes the cone you messed up and grabs another. She scoops more ice cream out of the container below her, giving you a look that reminds you of a mother watching her children open Christmas presents after telling them they weren’t getting anything for months. “You’ll thank me later—right after you tell me if Jungkook has anything worthy of talking about.”

“I’m sure he does,” you respond indignantly, falling right into her trap. “He’s intelligent.”

Jihyo hums a nod before brandishing the new cone, two scoops of chocolate perfectly centered and balanced on top of each other. “Before long this will be you two—are you a top or a bottom, though? I forgot.”

You groan in anguish as Jihyo lets out a cackle, opening the window to your stand and handing it out the impatient little boy that waits outside. You’re grateful for the breeze, although its simmering warmth does nothing for the same feeling that has settled high on your cheeks, dusting pigment there reminiscent of a similar shade of red Jungkook sometimes sports on his swim trunks.

The day of the boardwalk date, you find yourself sprawled out on the floor in front of your closet in your underwear and bra, contemplating why you ever purchased every single item of clothing in your closet.

These kinds of freak outs are normally reserved for the pressing dates in life—first day of college, nights out with the girls, birthdays—but today, you find yourself freaking out over the instance of having to wear the perfect outfit in order to feel comfortable around Jungkook.

Comfortable, and most importantly, pretty.

You shuffle through your two final picks, laying them across your bed in order to get the full effect of what they might look like on. They were both incredibly simple—your college wardrobe either consisted of exercise shorts and t-shirts and hoodies or going out clothes that were much too revealing for a fun night on the boardwalk. But you fret over them some more, so much that you almost have a nervous breakdown and text Jihyo to call the whole thing off.

But the slight hum of your phone vibrating your bed stops you before you can do so. It’s from Jungkook, and you heart beats a little off kilter at the sight of his name popping up on your phone screen.

Jungkook 5:15PM : We still meeting at 6?

It’s directed to your group chat with him, Jihyo and Hoseok. You take a deep breath. Jihyo had told you that she wasn’t going to respond to any messages until the last minute, to really sell her “emergency” that she had to bring Hoseok along on. You were driving separately, as was Jungkook, but the two of them had decided to conveniently carpool a day prior.

Y/N 5:18PM : I’ll be there! Park at Pier 14, it’s the closest one to the boardwalk

Jungkook 5:20PM : Yes ma’am 😊

You smile down at your phone, biting down on your bottom lip softly as you read the message over a few times before clicking the screen lock button. You prop your hands on your hips, deciding that it’s now or never. The nights got chilly in the summer when the sun wasn’t beating down as heavy, and you hated being cold. So, you choose the outfit on the right—a simple, oversized pullover and bike shorts, paired with some scuffed white sneakers, and rush into the bathroom to get ready so you’re not late.

You get to the pier at exactly 6:01 and search around for a parking space.

A part of you feels like this is a bad plan. Especially when you look down at your phone after cutting the engine and realize that Jihyo has texted you something that makes your stomach drop.

Jihyo 5:59PM : Haha…bad news

Jihyo 5:59PM : DON’T KILL ME

Y/N 6:02PM : Please, no!!! What is it!!

Jihyo 6:03PM : The check engine light on my car came on as I was leaving Hoseok’s. Don’t panic. We are waiting for AAA to come get us and take us back to his house so he can drive. I repeat: DON’T. PANIC.

“Okay, okay” you say to yourself, taking a few calming, deep breaths in. “At least she has a plan? This can still work out. I’m not panicking. Yet.”

Y/N 6:03PM : When are they estimated to be there?

Her messaging dots appear and disappear for a few minutes and your anxiety skyrockets.

Y/N 6:06PM : JIHYO

Jihyo 6:07PM : between 6:45-7PM…

Y/N 6:08PM : THE MOVIE STARTS AT 7:05 YOU ABSOLUTE

There’s a knock at your window that has you almost jumping out of your skin. When you look up, you’re met by the wide grin and big, childlike eyes of Jungkook. He peers at you through the tinted glass, looking a little sheepish at having scared you on accident.

All your anxiety about Jihyo having an actual emergency disappears as you unclick your seat belt and scramble out of the car to join him.

“I really didn’t mean to do that,” he says, stepping back and giving you space to swing your door open. “Is everything all right?”

“What?” you say. “Oh, yeah. Everything is fine. Well—sort of.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you. “Did something happen?”

“Jihyo is having car trouble, so her and Hoseok are going to be late.”

You bite down on your bottom lip, shifting your weight from leg to leg. The outing was supposed to be all of you as a group—and originally, them being a little late wouldn’t have been such a problem. But you were thinking thirty minutes max, not an hour and a half!

You’re relieved when Jungkook shrugs. “Oh, okay,” he says. “Well, I’m still cool with walking around until the movie starts if you are ?”

You nod with enthusiasm. “Right—we’re already here, might as well go do some stuff?”

Jungkook smiles again, and you finally take a good look at him. He’s wearing a dark t-shirt under a black zip-up hoodie and a pair of chinos—a simpler outfit that looks way too good on his tall, lean frame. You hadn’t seen him in much other than his swim trunks because the only time you two really saw each other outside of this singular moment, was at work.

Of course, you weren’t complaining about that aspect. You could probably pencil out in detail the muscles of Jungkook’s upper chest and stomach, the way water rolled off them when he got out of the pool, the way they flexed when he pulled his whistle to his mouth. That is, if your drawing skills weren’t absolute shit—so bad at that a kindergartener could probably put you to shame with snapped Crayola’s and disproportionate stick figures.

The sun has already sunk below the horizon, taking with it all the heat and warmth of the day and leaving you with a slight breeze that could give you goosebumps if you let it, and a sky the deepened color of cornflowers.

It’s twilight, you realize, as you trail beside Jungkook from the parking lot cement onto the wooden planks of the boardwalk. A backlit, blue-hued time of day that you absolutely adored during the summertime because you still had just enough light accomplish the activities you wanted to.

Not that you needed to worry about light at a time like this—the bright boardwalk stadium lights are almost blinding, and because it’s the weekend, the two of you find yourself periodically weaving in and out of the crowd that seems to get busier and pushier the further you walk.

Jungkook takes the lead, his taller frame holding more of a reason for people to move out of the way than yours. You watch the back of his head the whole time, noticing the way his raven hair reflects the light—shiny and clean and looking incredibly soft.

“How about a snow cone?” he calls over his shoulder. “It looks like there might be somewhere for us to sit up there.”

He points ahead and you call out an agreement to him, hoping to be heard over the ruckus.

You realize that the crowd isn’t going to let up anytime soon—people have no qualms about walking in between you two, and you find yourself speeding up in order to not be further separated from him.

At some point Jungkook glances behind him again and realizes your struggle. He slows his pace, and you happen to look down and realize he is holding out the long sleeve of his hoodie for you to hold on to.

“Don’t get lost,” he says with a grin. “This snow cone will be worth it, I promise!”

You return his smile, holding onto his arm with a light touch as he continues to lead through the crowd. You curse Jihyo silently in your head—despite her fake emergency turning into a real emergency, she was right about one thing: time alone with Jungkook was something you couldn’t pass up.

When you finally make it to the snow cone cart, you let go of Jungkook’s arm quickly. He looks at you with suspicion as you snatch away, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a shit-eating grin, like he knew exactly what he was doing to your racing pulse by offering you his touch.

“What flavor do you want?” he asks, looking at the menu stand on the right. “My treat.”

You both immediately point to Tiger’s Blood, and Jungkook seems pleased with you.

“Good choice,” he says. “If you picked Pina Colada, I was going to lose it.”

You giggle. “You don’t like coconut?”

“No,” he says, frowning. “I snuck some of my mom’s Malibu one time without realizing and I almost barfed.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. You realize that you still don’t how old Jungkook is, and while he orders your snow cones, you look at him with scrutiny. There was something young about his eyes and face, the roundness of the tip of his nose and cheeks making you believe he was younger than you. But his body—good grief, his body—and the sharpness of his jawline and said otherwise.

When you’re both seated at a picnic table, you decide to ask him.

“Why?” he says. “How old do you think?”

You take a timid bite of your snow cone, relishing in the satisfying crunch of ice between your teeth. “Hmm, I know you’re college-age. Just wondering how old.”

“That story I told about sneaking alcohol was from a few years ago,” he says, laughing. “I’m twenty-one.”

“Oh.”

“You’re only nineteen, right?” he says, but it doesn’t seem like he cares much that you’re younger.

You nod. “But my birthday is in September.”

“So is mine,” he replies with a grin. “We’ll have to try to celebrate together, somehow.”

You try not to let on how happy his suggestion makes you—that months from now, you two will be friends that throw parties together, or possibly more—and you settle into your seat, munching happily on the cold treat that is slowly turning from ice to mush in the paper cone in your hands.

“So why the pool?” you say a few moments later. “Did you work at another one before ours?”

Jungkook blinks. “I have my CPR certification from another part time job I had at a gym,” he said. “I don’t know why they made us get it, honestly.”

You laugh. “Maybe in case one of the meatheads lifted too much at once?”

“Maybe,” he says, grinning. “But the gym couldn’t work around my school schedule anymore. So, when I came home I saw the pool was looking for a new part-time lifeguard and I applied.”

“You only come home during the summer?”

Jungkook nods, but a look of annoyance flashes across his face before he answers. “There’s not much for me here, honestly. I like school and being on my own, away from my parents.”

“I get that.”

It was something you could both agree on. You didn’t realize freedom could taste so sweet until you moved into your dorm on campus. You could stay up when you wanted, sleep when you wanted, go out when you wanted. As long as you kept your grades up and didn’t lose your scholarship for your parent’s sake, you were literally allowed to do whatever your heart desired.

“It’s too far away to fly back and forth, anyways,” Jungkook adds, suddenly. He tilts his paper cone back, dumping all of the remaining liquid into his mouth before crumpling it in his left fist.

“How far?”

“California.”

“Oh. Why there?”

Somehow, you were taken aback to hear that he’d chosen a school so far from his home. You wonder suddenly if the sullen look he’d given your earlier had more to it than you realized.

Jungkook ignores your question—like you expected—and stands up. You scramble to finish the remains of your cone and he holds his hand out for your trash. You give it to him, feeling the slight brush of your fingers against his palm that reminds you of earlier when he’d offered his arm. He doesn’t this time, but you find yourself wishing he would again. Or that you two were close enough for you to reach out and grab it without his permission.

“That’s a story for later,” he says, giving you a look meant to soften the blow of his hard statement. “I don’t want to talk about it right now—it’ll ruin the mood.”

You nod slightly, bringing your bottom lip back between your teeth to gnaw on. You hadn’t meant to upset him.

“Is there anything you want to do?” he asks, looking around. “We have about thirty minutes before we should head back to the car for the drive-in movie.”

The boardwalk was in full swing as the night progressed, the sky now a deep shade of indigo behind him. You stand with him, leaning onto your tip toes in an effort to recognize any signs further down the wooden path.

“The arcade, maybe?” you suggest.

Jungkook fake clutches at his chest, staggering with clumsy steps to one side. “A woman after my own heart,” he says theatrically. “I might faint.”

You laugh loudly and roll your eyes to cover up your own heartbeat thumping wildly in your ears. You use the rush to match his energy: “I’m only saying it because I want you to win me a plushie.”

Jungkook smiles, his eyes full of light and mischief at getting to show off his skills. “That, madam, is a deal. Let’s go.”

Jihyo still hasn’t texted you by the time you and Jungkook exit the arcade.

You want to send a scolding text to her, but in reality, you don’t really care if they show up anymore. Jungkook seems to have forgotten they were coming—he doesn’t look at his phone once while you two flit from game to game in the arcade.

You’d watched from the side as he entered a water pistol race with a few other patrons of the boardwalk. He sat down on a stool right in the middle of everyone, leaning over the gun and closing one eye for better accuracy. His tongue poked out between his lips, his form rigid and unyielding until the announcer blew a whistle to start the race. You held back a laugh at his seriousness, pressing a hand to your mouth in case he looked over at you.

He did, but only once the flashing lights above his booth went off, signaling him as the winner. He’d hopped off the stool and raced over to you, placing a hand above your elbow before pulling you over to claim your reward from the prize table.

You chose a blue and white dolphin that was just big enough to be slightly comical. Jungkook carried it over his shoulder as you two walked back toward his car, giddy from the excitement of playing carnival games and teasing each other all the while.

“Okay, but you wouldn’t have even beaten me at basketball if yours didn’t come to my side and knock my shots off course constantly!” Jungkook insists. “You’re a sneaky little thing.”

“Why can’t you just admit my two-pointer is better than yours?”

“Y/N,” Jungkook says, shaking his head in disappointment. “I’m almost six foot and you’re what—five-one? You simply can’t be a better shot that I am because of your genetics. I’m sorry.”

Your mouth drops open. “I’m literally five-three!”

“Minus two.”

“Oh, whatever!”

Jungkook laughs loudly, throwing his head back from the force of it. You pout alongside him, but you can’t help the telling smile that creeps onto your face. You like this side of Jungkook—it was so different from the stoic and quiet lifeguard you knew him as before.

“The drive-in is just a block that way, right?” he asks once you two come up on the parking lot. He shifts the dolphin higher on his shoulder, stopping in his tracks to turn and look at you. “I can drive us in my car, if you want.”

Your eyes widen a little at his suggestion. You didn’t even think about the fact that if Jihyo and Hoseok weren’t here, it would just be you and him watching the movie together.

“Oh—um, I mean,” you stumble over your answer. “If that’s okay with you?”

“I offered, didn’t I?” he says with another laugh. He gestures to the stuffed animal perched on his shoulder. “Plus, we’ve got a nice seat cushion, here.”

You smile and nod before following him to his car. It’s a little navy SUV—something you didn’t expect him drive at all. He seemed like a “car guy” for some reason, one that would have driven something old and sturdy and loud.

“This is—cute,” you say, for lack of better wording.

Jungkook sucks his teeth. “Man, why does everyone say that?” He groans. “This thing is great on gas, okay? And look at all this trunk space! I mean, if you lived all the way in California—"

“Hey, hey,” you say, holding your hands up in defense. “I’m sorry, that was terrible wording. Did I say cute? I meant cutely efficient. You didn’t let me finish.”

Jungkook laughs again, nodding. “That’s what I thought you meant, yeah.”

He throws your dolphin in the backseat and then opens the passenger side door for you to get in. Your cheeks are hot as you move past him to settle into the seat, giving him a timid smile as he shuts the door behind you. You watch him walk around the front of the vehicle, lit up by a neighboring car’s headlights for just a fraction of a second.

He’s handsome to you while doing the most mundane of things, and your heart hurts at the thought. You couldn’t have a crush on him. He was your coworker for one, and for two, he didn’t live there. He went to school across the country, and he was only home for three incredibly short months. There would be nothing to your relationship, so you couldn’t let yourself fall into the trap of having a crush on someone so, well—unavailable. You pinch yourself hard on the thigh as a seal of reminder: this could not, would not, happen.

The slam of the car door brings you back to reality. Jungkook presses the start button on his dashboard before clicking his seatbelt across his upper body.

“You good?” he says, looking over at you with a furrowed brow. When you nod, he backs the car out of the space, his hand on the back of your headrest for good measure.

You take a few uneven breaths in and out at the action, forcing yourself to remain looking out of the front windshield and to not turn your head towards him even a fraction. You know doing so would put your faces at an incredible proximity, and you what the hell did you just pinch yourself over if you weren’t going to stick with it!

“Any word from Jihyo and Hoseok?” he asks. “It would be cool if we could still get dinner with them afterwards, at least.”

You pull your phone out of your crossbody. The screen lights up to no new unread messages, so you sent Jihyo a quick text in your private chat.

Y/N 6:58PM : Update?

It sends but doesn’t get read immediately in normal Jihyo fashion.

“Hm, maybe the tow truck is there, and she can’t talk,” you say. “I hope everything’s all right.”

“Me too,” Jungkook says. “But this is fun—with just us two.” He pauses, glancing over at you. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, of course,” you say quickly, giving him a smile. “I’m having a great time.”

He seems sated by this information, but you’re not sure why. “I’m glad.”

Jungkook drives you to toward the movie parking lot—a grassy field with neat rows of cars guided by a parking attendant in a bright, orange vest—and Jungkook reverses in the directed spot in the middle row of cars. You can see the screen perfectly, but only out of the back window from the way he parked. That does little to deter your excitement, though.

“The screen is huge!” you say in awe, twisting in your seat.

You look on as it plays movie trailer previews for remaining months of the summer, and the thought flits across your mind just how many you might get to see with Jungkook before your time was up.

“You’ve never been to a drive-in?” Jungkook asks. “We gotta make this one extra special, then.”

You look over at him with an eyebrow quirked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Jungkook begins, unlocking the car doors, “I’m pulling out the big guns.”

He hops out and heads to the trunk of the car. You scramble after him, shutting the passenger door behind you and joining him where he stands with the trunk popped open. You watch as he lowers the second row of seats flat after moving the dolphin plushie and a conveniently-packed duvet. You look at him with raised eyebrows as he unfolds the blanket across the flattened seats, making you two a perfect spot to lay in the back of the car while watching the movie.

Jungkook sees the suspicion on your face and chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “I just thought we might want to be comfortable if we’re going to be watching a movie for two hours, you know?”

You ignore him and climb in through the open trunk, settling down with the dolphin as a cushion for your back. “Where’s the popcorn?” you ask, laughing. “This is perfect.”

Jungkook holds up a finger. “One moment, m’lady.”

He takes off from the car and you sit up on your elbows, watching him jog up to a stand at the front of the drive-in parking lot that was selling snacks and drinks for the occasion. You pinch yourself again for good measure when he comes back a few moments later, reminding yourself of your pact. Just because you two were alone, in the back of Jungkook’s car, laying down, about to watch a movie together, alone, didn’t mean anything!

The scent of butter and salt fills your nostrils as Jungkook returns, handing you the popcorn and drinks as he climbs into the trunk and settles beside you. He sits cross-legged and digs into the pockets of his chinos to reveal candy in both hands.

“Sour straws or gummi bears?” he asks.

“Gummi bears, but I want a sour straw, too.”

Jungkook laughs. “Agreed.”

As you two dig in, the beginning of the movie flickers onto the big display screen. People pass by Jungkook’s car on their way to the food stands at the front, and you and Jungkook settle against the giant dolphin propped on the back of the front seats.

“I’ll have to figure out a way to repay you for all of this,” you say quietly in between sips of fizzy Coke. “You keep paying for everything before I can offer.”

“Would you rather us go Dutch?” he asks in the dark.

He’s incredibly close to you—his forearm brushes against yours when he moves because the dolphin only spans so far when you lay it down. It wasn’t the biggest prize, because you didn’t want to carry around a massive plushie, but it certainly wasn’t the smallest they had, either.

On screen, the heroine is introduced going about her daily life. She gets ready, brushes her teeth and hair, puts on her makeup for a normal day at school. When she pulls up to school, a sleek, black motorcycle is parked in her usual spot. A little ways from it, she notices the culprit—an extremely handsome guy holding a bike helmet within the crook of his arm as a swarm of cheerleaders surround him like he’s the coolest thing since sliced bread.

“Yeah,” you say honestly. “I mean, I hate the thought of depending on other people.”

Jungkook turns to look at you as you say this, and when you glance at him, there’s an emotion plastered on his usually friendly face that you can’t pinpoint.

“Consider it our first date,” he says finally, with a shrug. “Then you don’t owe me anything and you’re not depending on me, either.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. “Oh—um—well—”

Jungkook tilts his head down as he bites into a sour straw, pulling the candy away from his clenched teeth so it makes a small pop as it separates. He nudges you with his shoulder that is already leaning against your own.

“Did you see that?” he asks with a chuckle. “The stunt doubles are so noticeable in this movie—they have totally different builds than the main characters.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and manage a breathy laugh. A date. The word echoes within the chambers of your mind, repeating over and over like he just yelled it into a cave at the top of his lungs. It reverberates around your skull until you feel your skin buzzing from the meaning.

So much for your pact when he was saying things like that so casually. God, you couldn’t wait to get Jihyo alone to tell her everything.

The movie continues, and a glance down at your phone lets you know that it’s only thirty minutes in when Jihyo finally texts you back.

Jihyo 7:36PM : Hoseok and I aren’t going to make the movie. We’ll just explore the boardwalk until you two lovebirds are done and then we can get food!

You relay the information to Jungkook—leaving out the lovebirds bit. He nods in understanding.

“I figured they wouldn’t—but I’m glad we’ll get to see them,” he answers. “Hoseok texted me a while ago and said Jihyo’s engine light was on because she slams on her brakes too much. He thinks he has whiplash.”

You giggle. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”

“My little mom-car doesn’t seem so bad now, does it?”

“I told you I liked it! I would totally pick my kids up from soccer at 6PM on Thursday in this!”

Jungkook throws a half-popped kernel at your forehead. “Rude.”

“You said the mom thing first!”

“Because I’m allowed to pick on Cheryl—she’s mine.”

“Cheryl?!” You dissolve into a fit of giggles. “Please—don’t tell me—”

Jungkook takes the weight of his shoulder pressed against yours and pushes you over with it before you can finish your sentence. You lean away from him but bring the force back with your own shoulder, fighting him for more room on the dolphin-plushie-turned-back-rest.

You two battle for a second, pushing against each other like children until Jungkook lifts his arm up and around you, cocooning you in his warmth and bringing you to rest fully on the right side of his body. He’s leaning a little against the corner of the back of the SUV and you are nestled within his side body, feeling the heat of his chest pressed against your cheek. You breathe in and out before you realize that maybe, you should move.

You go to sit up, but Jungkook says, “Wait, stay. You’re warm.”

It’s not you that’s warm—your face, sure—but Jungkook’s body feels like your own personal heater. You try to relax, leaning against him once again in a better cuddling position with your head resting on Jungkook’s chest, right below his collarbones. You can hear his heartbeat this way—thudding what you think is a little faster than normal underneath the layers of his thin hoodie and T-shirt.

“Are you comfortable? Can you see?”

You’re not sure, but you think he sounds a little breathless—from the sudden change in your positions, or the tussle before, you can’t tell which is the culprit.

“Yeah,” you say, shifting a little so that you’re more on your side rather than just leaning over onto him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” he says, and again, it sounds like there’s a hint of smile in his voice.

You can’t focus on the movie after that. Jungkook is too close, his intoxicating scent swirling into your nostrils with every inhale, your head rising up and down with each breath he takes. This was what friends did, right? This was totally friendly. He just wanted you to be comfortable. You repeat this to yourself as Jungkook’s hand—that was once just dangling over your shoulder—begins to trace soft patterns into your side.

You close your eyes, focusing on slowing the thumping of your heart, timing your inhales to let him know that this is okay. This is totally fine. You aren’t freaking out. You’re just here, enjoying everything that Jungkook had to offer you.

It’s fine. He’s fine. You’re fine. Maybe he was just touchy—some boys were like that, after all. Some friendly relationships included tons of skinship. You just weren’t used to it, and you needed to quickly acquaint yourself with the fact that this was how it would be with him if you continued to hang out.

Before you know it, you’re so lost in your thoughts you don’t catch most of the end of the movie. In fact, you don’t even realize it’s over until the credits are rolling and people are moving around you again, the sounds of car doors and trunks slamming as people get ready to move onto their next activity.

It’s only 9PM, but it’s dark outside—the blues of the sky that had enticed you so much once before had faded to an indescribable navy, a blue so deep that it looked black. If you focused, you could see the minute twinkling of stars past the stadium lights on the outskirts that blink on after the movie is over so everyone could exit in a timely and visible fashion.

Jungkook yawns, patting your side. “I think I fell asleep for a moment—I was so comfortable here.”

He laughs in spite of himself, and you give him a breathless chuckle in return. “Sorry if I made your side sore.” You get off of him, scooting over to give him a little room to sit up straight.

“Sore?” he asks incredulously. “Y/N, you’re like a feather. I’m not that breakable.”

Boy, did you know. Thoughts of his muscular stomach flash in your mind, and you will them away. He watch him reach up to close the trunk as people begin to move outside of the car, cocooning you two back into a comfortable darkness from the tints on the back windows.

“Still.”

“Still, what?” he says. There’s a small silence that ensues. “You’re so nervous around me. Is it me?”

“What?” you say, furrowing your brow. Your skin pricks with the same nervousness that you are about refute. “I mean—”

“I know I’m pretty standoffish at the pool, but I don’t mean to be that way,” he admits. “I just felt like I was in this new place with all of these established relationships and rules. You have Jihyo, and well, Hoseok and I are close, but we’re not best friends.” He pauses. “I was really surprised when Jihyo invited me out with you all.”

“Surprised,” you repeat quietly.

His words absolutely contradict the Jungkook you thought you knew. But maybe that’s how it would always be—you realizing he had his own motives and reasons for being the way he was, and you not understanding a bit of it until he decided to divulge you in them.

“Yeah, surprised,” he nods. “I feel out of place, here. If I’m being honest.”

“But you live here.”

“I don’t have any friends though, because I’m gone for nine months out of the year,” he says, shrugging. “I didn’t have any in high school, either. It was just—I don’t know. I didn’t like it here, so I didn’t see a reason to have any ties.”

You can’t really wrap your head around it, but you realize Jungkook is being vulnerable to you in this moment. You don’t want to make him regret it, so you reach out to him—the closest thing to you is his hand, resting on the duvet between you two—and you run your fingers over the soft skin in a timid, unsure fashion.

“Jihyo and I will never say no to new additions to our friend circle,” you say with a smile. “It gives us reasons not to kill each other if someone else is watching.”

Jungkook chuckles a little, holding your gaze. The trunk of the car is still closed, and most of the crowd has dispersed to other parts of the beach where the boardwalk is still alive and filled with weekend nightlife.

“That’s good to know,” Jungkook says softly, looking down at your hands on the blanket. He slides his underneath yours and links his fingers through the spaces in between.

“Y/N—” he says, leaning closer to you, “—thanks. Really.”

You lean closer as well, feeling the magnetism of your two bodies being pulled together in the dark. Your breath comes out in unmeasured puffs, threatening to give away how nervous you are. You’re glad Jungkook can’t really see you anymore, and you’re certainly glad he can’t hear the unsteady beat of your heart as your faces inch closer and closer. As the quiet of the night cocoons you two like a soft blanket, there is no noise other than your heartbeat in your ears as Jungkook’s mouth hovers over your own.

You feel his unsteady sigh outwards as he says, “Are you sure you’re not—”

You use your remaining courage to stop him before he can finish his sentence, closing the distance between your mouths into a soft, sweet kiss. It stays that way for a moment—closed-mouth and innocent—before Jungkook brings his hand to the back of your head and deepens it, pressing his mouth hard against your own in a way that is a command all in its own.

Your lips part involuntarily and Jungkook’s tongue presses softly against the ridge of your mouth, tracing the outline until he is exploring the inside with ease and expertise. As your tongues lace together, you find yourself placing heavy hands on his chest, slightly wrinkling the collar of his shirt with your nails before you slide your hands up and over his shoulders and hook them together behind his neck.

Your head tilts to the right and you push back against him, following the energy and putting it into the most passionate kissing session you’ve had—well, ever. Jungkook places his hands on your hips and pulls you over him so that you are straddling his waist, his experience showing as he places you right on top of his hardening member. You have no choice but to feel it between your thighs and the thin material of your bike shorts—a decision you certainly didn’t realize would come in handy when you’d picked them out a few hours ago in your bedroom closet.

You two kiss and kiss and kiss, getting lost within each other for what feels like hours. You can’t allow yourself to disassociate and think about anything other than what was happening in the moment—although there was a part of your brain that couldn’t believe it was happening, surely.

You were kissing Jungkook. Jungkook was kissing you—no, it was more than that. He was touching you: his hands making a lazy trail up your back, in between your shoulder blades and over the hump of your shoulders until they entangled in your hair and kept your mouth criminal to his. He was breathing you in: making a trail away from your mouth, down your jaw and neck, where he settled on sucking small, reddened splotches into the thin skin just around the collar of your pullover. You want more of him, but more would have to wait.

Jungkook pauses underneath you, much more intact with the real world than you are because he shushes you politely so that you can hear it: the tell-tale sound of your phone humming the vibrations of an incoming call.

“It’s Jihyo,” he says in the darkness, allowing the brightness of your screen to illuminate your faces, inches apart. He hands it to you, and you clear your throat in an attempt to sound less breathless than you actually are as you greet your friend.

“Where are you?” she asks—but it sounds more like a demand. “I know the movie is over by now. You haven’t answered my texts. Are you okay?”

“What?” you say but shake your head. “I’m fine, sorry. Jungkook and I were trying to find our way out of the theatre parking lot. It’s really crowded over here so we had to wait for our turn.”

In the light of your phone pressed against your cheek, you can just barely make out Jungkook’s knowing smirk in the dark.

“Hoseok and I are waiting at Pier 14. Did you two still want to get dinner?”

Jungkook nods in answer, leaning forward a little to press his lips softly against the center of your throat while you talk. You take a calming breath in and out as he mouths at the skin there, swiping his tongue over the space lightly before continuing to kiss away any of your troubles. You close your eyes again, feeling like you’re disappearing under his soft touch before you realize Jihyo is still waiting on your answer.

“Dinner sounds good,” you manage. “Text me an address—you and Hoseok can choose. I don’t care.”

You hang up before she can protest. Your mouth hovers over Jungkook’s, lips pressed together in a solid line.

“That wasn’t very nice,” you admonish him, placing your hands on his firm shoulders. “I was trying to talk.”

“I know,” he says in a soft tone, breathing out a laugh. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“You better.”

He gives you one last lingering kiss—one that steals the breath from your lungs and makes you feel lightheaded before he lets you go. You feel warm all over as you two crawl toward the front of his car, returning to your seats while stealing knowing glances at each other.

You don’t want to dwell on the thoughts too much, but a lot had changed in the last hour that you couldn’t even wrap your head around, much less understand and come to accept. Your lips tingle as your mind flies through the events again, attempting to see you and Jungkook from a third-person perspective in your mind, but really just focusing on the way it felt when he was kissing you, touching you, breathing you in.

You knew one thing for certain, though: your pact with yourself was up. You weren’t just diving into the shallow anymore. You were in the deep end.

[galateagalvanized]

Also how about Codywan for either 36 or 42 on the writing askmeme?? If you want ☺️

42. Braiding the other’s hair

Cody had never understood the idea of a dry heat.

He knew the physics, of course: no humidity means the atmosphere holds less heat, and there’s less heat transfer from air to skin. Knowing the physics is one thing, but it’s another thing entirely to walk from the blistering heat outside and into the cool shade of the adobe.

The air inside is baked but not sweltering, and Cody just stops to breathe, grateful, suddenly, for the simple fact of shelter from the sun. Obi-Wan looks up at him from the floor, surrounded by a minefield of the electronic parts that were once a functioning hydrator.

“Any luck?” Obi-Wan says, and there’s a smile playing at the corners of his lips that says he knows the answer.

“Plenty of luck, but none of it good.” 

Cody reaches up to tug the scarf down from around his face and sighs as he shakes the sand from his boots. They make a point not to go out between 10 and 3 for exactly this reason: it’s too hot to think, let alone get work done, when the suns are beating directly and mercilessly down.

Barefoot and scarf less, Cody carefully picks his way through the scatter of electronics radiating from Obi-Wan. He has to carefully move a coolant hose and a thermostat to make space to kneel, and even then his knees end up pressed against the sides of Obi-Wan’s hips. 

“Careful,” Obi-Wan says when he hears the parts being nudged out of the way, and Cody doesn’t tell him that Cody’s always careful. Fixing things was always Anakin’s specialty, and the pang of memory hurts Obi-Wan more than any simple frustration could.

Cody watches Obi-Wan’s progress for a few minutes, just catching his breath and cooling down. His Jedi’s fingers aren’t quite as nimble as they used to be after almost a couple years of brutal heat and frustrating, slogging labor. The minuscule screws holding some of the fans together might be stripped, and Obi-Wan’s working them free with no small amount of effort or whispered cursing. 

He keeps having to pause, too, to push his hair out of his eyes and away from the parts he’s holding almost to his nose.

“Cyare,” Cody says, reaching out to hold Obi-Wan’s hair back from his face. The strands are soft and a little damp with sweat, and the thickness of it makes Cody wonder, again, why Obi-Wan doesn’t want to clip it short. 

Obi-Wan had said something glib about disguises when Cody had offered to cut, but Cody thinks it’s really something to do with the war. Obi-Wan’s hair had been halfway to Qui-Gon’s length when the war started, but a war makes for a poor barber. That auburn hair had gotten caught in Obi-Wan’s chest armor clasps and in his vac suit seals, and then it had gotten cut.

The war’s over, Cody thinks, and Obi-Wan tilts his head back into the light pressure of Cody’s fingers.

“Yes?” Obi-Wan asks, and Cody has completely forgotten what he was going to say.

“Let me braid this for you,” he says instead. “Just to keep it out of your eyes until you’re done.”

Beneath the curve of his fingers, he can practically feel Obi-Wan mulling the thought over, rolling it from side to side before sighing. 

“Alright,” Obi-Wan says. “But I do remember what happened to Crys, so please keep it neat.”

Cody’s already tugging pieces of Obi-Wan’s hair into sections, pulling groups between his fingers. “Crys’ terrible brassy dye job could only ever be improved.”

There are more rivers of white and gray running through the auburn than there were, Cody thinks clinically. It glistens in the bright yellow glow of midday, and he can’t help but run his fingers over them, suddenly and intensely grateful that his Jedi has lived to see the white grow in. He can’t help but hope, viciously, desperately, that Obi-Wan lives for decades more. That he lives until the white runs rampant, until his bones creak in the mornings, until he has managed to live through more days than the universe ever intended to give him.

“Cody?” Obi-Wan says softly, and he reaches a hand back to rest on where Cody’s have frozen at the end of a neat Naboo braid. He’s woven a rope, he thinks nonsensically. A rope to tether this man to himself. “My dear, you’re shaking.”

It’s abruptly too much.

“I love you,” Cody chokes, and he can’t help but bend forward, far enough to rest his forehead against the newly bare skin at Obi-Wan’s neck. “Stars, I love you so much.”

Obi-Wan turns so that he’s facing Cody. Now that the curtain of his hair is pulled back, Cody can see every golden fleck in his madder blue eyes. He gathers Cody into his arms, headless of the shifting of the hydrator parts, and Cody reaches up to twist one hand into the delicate crisscrosses of the braid he built. To hold onto his tether, to weave himself as tightly around Obi-Wan as he can.

“I love you, too,” Obi-Wan says, and his voice is full of an understanding as gentle as moonlight on the sands. Like shade from the sun: a true respite in a dry heat. “I love you too.”

Send me a ship & a prompt from here, if you’d like!

[sgwrscrsh]

winter days: underneath the tree

☁️a/n☁️ this made my heart very warm to write even though i pulled an all-nighter to get it done because my time-management has gone to shit after finals. requested by @sachirou-senpai​. thank you, ellie, for giving me a reason to bring back my boys. i’ve missed ‘summer on you’ so much. this can be read as a stand-alone or as a spin off of ending b, my fave. either way, merry christmas to my babes who celebrate! i have one more christmas fic for tmr and then i’m hiding away to plan + write an smau.

includes: female!reader, poly!seijoh four, post-timeskip (very minor manga spoilers), lots of domesticity, a little suggestive bit, a lot of eating and sleeping now that i realize, a christmas tree, matching pajamas, a very special christmas gift, makki slapping your ass once, a lil teary moment w tooru, homemade curry + pancakes (but not together), lots of cuddling, lots of love, happy holidays, 4.35k words

☁️masterlist☁️

shivering slightly, you unlock the door to the rather spacious apartment you shared with your four boyfriends later into the evening than you would’ve liked. 

yes, four boyfriends. whom you love very much and are loved by in return.

living with four towering hunks has it’s ups and downs, but you wouldn’t trade tooru’s extensive skin care regiment sprawled across the bathroom counter; hajime’s bag of protein powder that he always forgets to put away; issei’s boots that you always tripped over when you came through the front door; or takahiro’s costco-sized box of cream puffs in the freezer that he insisted he would finish by the end of the month, almost half a year ago, for the world.

you made sure to stomp off the snow stuck on your boots before entering the building, but you couldn’t help but sigh at the warmth that greets you once you toe them off.

“ahhh,” you think. “thank goodness tooru convinced us to invest in heated floors.” another perk of having four boyfriends was that two of them brought in enough bank for you to seriously consider becoming their cute little housewife. snorting, you shake your head, though the idea of prancing around in a maid outfit to tease them seemed very appealing. “maybe we should make hiro dress up and clean the house since he still hasn’t found a new job yet.” 

“what’s so funny, sweets?” speak of the devil. makki’s head pops out from the bathroom nearest to the front door, steam rolling out and droplets falling from his hair, signifying that he had just taken a hot shower. wordlessly, you stare at him, lost in thought imagining the water caressing his toned body, but a second later, he gets a better look at you and laughs. “you look like a wet dog!” your glare loses some of its edge when he takes in your own damp strands. 

“did someone say something about a dog?” tooru comes bounding round the corner, and you could’ve sworn he drooped a little when he realized it was just you in the hallway sans dog. turning your icy glance on the setter, you open your mouth to complain about how mean the two of them were being to you when your prince charming comes in to save the day.

“you two, stop bullying the poor girl and let her take a warm bath before she gets sick!” iwa chides as he helps you unbundle the layers that protected you from the snow and sharp winds of the winter. pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead and promising to pick out comfy clothes for you, he ushers you into your spacious en suite where a steaming tub full of rose petals awaits you. hajime chuckles at the starry eyes you give him, heart warming at the love and appreciation shining clear as day on your face, before he leaves to grab a clean pair of underwear, one of issei’s t-shirts, and a pair of his own sweats, knowing you much prefer to wear their clothes at home.

submerged in the bath, you exhale contentedly, eyelids fluttering shut as you enjoy the product of iwa’s consideration and foresight. letting the stress of work and the chill of the outdoors melt from you, you stay in the water until it cools and your fingers prune. a lone thought of how much more you would’ve enjoyed the bath if the boys had joined you flits through your mind, but you jolt when you open your eyes and find issei sitting on the counter with a towel and your robe in his lap, some of the water sloshing over the side of the tub. 

“oh thank god, i was scared you fell asleep and would drown or choke on a rose petal.” you giggle while he wraps you up in your robe before gently toweling your hair dry. “you can’t leave me to deal with the three of them alone.” 

rolling your eyes, you retort easily, “if anything, i’d feel bad about leaving hajime to deal with the three of you alone. the poor man puts up with enough from his team, he doesn’t need you guys ganging up on him, too.”

“well i’ll have you know, sometimes he really enjoys us ganging up on him.” his cheeky quip paired with his wiggling eyebrows earns him a smack on the chest but regardless, you let him sweep you up into his arms and drop you on the massive bed the five of you shared. “get dressed, babygirl. as much as i’d love to spend more time with you naked, i gotta help haji finish dinner.” with a quick peck on your lips, issei leaves you to do just as he said. 

emerging revitalized and relaxed, your mouth waters at the smell of homemade curry, distracted enough to not notice tooru’s arms wrapping around your shoulders and waist. 

“hey, cutie, i’ve missed you,” he sings, face snuggled into the junction of your shoulder and neck. you spin around in his hold to slip your arms around his slim torso, relishing his firm lines against your soft curves. 

“‘ve missed you too, tooru.” and you really did, grateful that all of you were able to take time off work and he was able to come home a week before the holidays, giving the five of you a whole month to spend together before he had to jet back to argentina for his next bout of training and practice games.

“hell yea! group hug!” makki comes running towards you guys, only for you to twist out of his reach at the last second, sending him straight into the sofa behind you. “oof, that was cold, y/n.”

you stick your tongue out at the strawberry boy. “yea, well that’s what you get for laughing at me when i got home. sucker.” still entangled in tooru’s embrace, you feel his body shake with mirth and bite the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from dissolving into giggles when you see a pout take over hiro’s pretty face.

“dinner’s ready,” comes iwa’s call, beckoning the three of you into the kitchen before you could antagonize each other some more. once you all got your servings of curry, you settle into your proclaimed seats on the large sofa, your body comically small compared to their tall frames dwarfing the cushions. noting the way tooru threw his long legs over iwa’s and how mattsun and makki leaned against each other as they ate, you fold your legs to tuck your feet under takahiro’s thigh and dig in to your meal with some trashy reality show lighting up the tv screen, completely certain that the warmth in your chest was from the company of your loved ones more so than the piping hot potatoes in your stomach.

during breakfast the next day, you blearily rub the sleep out of your eyes before taking a sip of your coffee, a satisfied “ahhh” escaping your parted lips as you lean against the kitchen counter. slowly peeling your eyelids open, you notice all of their gazes were focused on you. “yes? can i help you?” you ask amusedly, awake now that caffeine had be introduced to your tired body.

“how are you still so gorgeous in the morning?” you blink at the dreamy look on iwa’s face propped up in his hands with his elbows on the surface of the island. looking around, you see the other three matching the athletic trainer’s pose and expression next to him. thinking over your messy bedhead, mysteriously stained pajamas, and almost impressively dark eyebags, you want to scoff, but the unfairly handsome men giving you their undivided attention despite all of that (“because of all of that, y/n-chan,” tooru would argue) make you blush instead.

“you’re one to talk, haji,” you opt to remark, hoping to divert their focus from you and your rosy cheeks. “and don’t look at me like that,” your pointed finger swinging wildly between the four of them like the needle of a compass. “you already know you guys are way outta my league, you don’t need me to tell you that.” with one last flourish, you wave your hand dismissively before grabbing your mug with both hands, palms warming against the ceramic.

“as wrong as you are, you can’t blame us for wanting to hear the love of our lives compliment us first thing in the morning as we admire her natural beauty,” mattsun grins once he sees the success his words have at deepening the flush on your face. tooru nods gravely in agreement, but it’s makki’s one-two combo of a wink and an air kiss that breaks you. you roll your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle a laugh but release it immediately when the playful atmosphere takes a heady turn. clearing your throat, you pay no heed to their hungry expressions, knowing full well that they all noticed your little action and how they would react to it.

“a-anyways,” you stutter, “i’m gonna go get ready ‘cause i have things to do today so-” you try to slip by, leaving your empty cup in the sink, only to get caught in your tracks by hiro’s long arms. 

“ah, ah, ah, princess. and where do you think you’re going?” soon enough, you find yourself surrounded by your smoking hot boyfriends and heat up in anticipation of their next moves. 

“this so isn’t fair,” you complain aloud, though you were just as eager as they were to get you out of your worn sleep clothes. 

“tough shit, babygirl. guess you’re just gonna have to add four more things to your to-do list, huh?” 

naturally, you leave your errands for some day later in the week when you’re able to walk properly again.

the opportunity comes when you rise earlier than the rest of them, a rare occasion where you found yourself graced with the freedom of sleeping on the outside instead of being sandwiched in the middle of the bed. tiptoeing about, you brush your teeth and get dressed, somehow managing to not wake any of the sleeping beauties. you scribble little love-filled messages on post-it notes and stick them around your apartment on your way out, but not without one last soft smile in the direction of the bedroom, the sight of the four of them cuddled together through the door left ajar renewing your motivation to accomplish your tasks and come home sooner. 

with your laptop bag in tow, you set out for your first destination, settling into a corner booth at the coffee shop with a full cup and a pastry. once you finish your breakfast, you pull out your laptop and get to work, scouring the internet for the perfect gifts for your lovably imperfect partners. you rack your brain for any recollection of any moment where they would’ve let a potential present slip into conversation and light up when you come across volleyball print pajama pants. you check the availability of the sizes you needed and upon realizing that they were all in stock and would be delivered before christmas, you place your order without a moment’s hesitation. satisfied with your progress, you pull up the animal shelter’s hours before heading out of the cafe, the barista’s greetings and the jingling bells echoing behind you. 

by the time you return home, it’s late in the afternoon and you’re greeted by a wall of warm bodies as soon as you step through the front door. 

“where’ve you been, babe?” once again, takahiro is the first to meet your return, but this time he plants a sweet kiss on your lips with his long fingers encircling your waist after his inquiry. 

“oh, you know,” you sigh, dazed from the saccharine embrace. “out and about.”

“busy day? hope it was productive.” you nuzzle into tooru’s chest, feeling the timbre of his voice through your skin, and nod.

“as a matter of fact, it was.” their eyes soften at the proud grin stretched across your face. but your grumbling stomach just had to ruin the moment, making the three of you stare at each other before bursting out in chuckles.

“you skipped lunch?” oiks asks, wrapping each arm around yours and hiro’s waists and guiding you into the kitchen. you rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

“i guess so? i didn’t really notice i was hungry until now.”

“good thing we saved your favorite from that chinese place down the street for you,” mattsun comes up behind you and lands a kiss on the crown of your head. you beam gratefully up at him and skip over to the fridge to retrieve the takeout.

“welcome home, love,” iwaizumi emerges from the bathroom to complete the set and gives you a once over. “you look tired.”

“gee thanks, hajime.” he rolls his eyes playfully at you while you wait for your food to heat up in the microwave.

“what time did you get up this morning?” 

“uhhh,” you start, mouth full. at iwa’s stern glare, you swallow before answering, “seven-ish? earlier than i would’ve like for a vacation day but it was worth it.”

“hm, well i’m glad you had a good day at least.” you shuffle over to kiss his cheek before dropping yourself on top of where tooru and hiro were cuddling on the sofa, eyes drifting around the room to take in the holiday decorations adorning the space.

“thanks, haji. but you’re right, i am sleepy.” suppressing a yawn, you lean back against the broad chests behind you and tuck back into the paper container. “can we take a nap once i’m done?”

“sure thing, babygirl.” the innocent smile mattsun sends your way turns mischievous with his added comment. “we really tuckered ourselves out while you were gone.” you nearly choke but makki’s hand thumping your back helps you dislodge whatever food got caught in your throat. iwa shakes his head and looks to the side in an attempt to hide his face, but the reddening tips of his ears give him away. meanwhile, oikawa catches your eye and winks.

“how else did you suppose we keep ourselves occupied when our baby wasn’t home?” you get up to toss your now empty container, shaking your head as you go. 

“i’m glad to see you at least got the christmas tree up before going at it. god, you’re all insatiable.”

“i mean, it’s hard not to be in this relationship,” hajime grumbles.

“aww, iwa,” makki pushes his lips into an overexaggerated pout. “you make me hard, too.” full-bellied chortles escape the four of you, ignoring iwaizumi’s indignant huffs.

“whatever,” comes his miffed reply, but you know he takes all your antics in stride. soon enough, he returns to the living room with a stack of blankets and finds you and issei added to the pile of limbs tooru and hiro founded. somehow, hajime situates himself to fit perfectly in your cuddle fest, blankets sprawled about to keep you warm.

one last yawn leaves your mouth before you mutter a sleepy, “night, guys. love you,” barely registering the quiet “love you”s you get in return as you drift off, the lights adorning your christmas tree twinkling above you.

christmas day, you wake up before the others again, this time more than willing to feign sleep and revel in the warmth of your shared bed. luckily, you don’t have to wait long for your boys to stir. sitting up, you stretch your arms above you head and begin to climb out of bed only to be caught by the wrist and dragged back down.

“haji, please,” you draw out. “we can finally open the presents under the tree!”

“i don’t care, it’s too early for you to leave me, princess.” you hum as he pulls you closer to him, revisiting your mental note that iwa is much more openly (and selfishly) affectionate in the mornings. 

“oi, the rest of us are still here you know.” face buried against tooru’s back, mattsun’s muffled complaint gets hajime to loosen his hold on you. 

“yea, yea,” he props himself up on his elbow to lean over you and kisses the former middle blocker’s temple. “unfortunately.”

“so mean, iwa-chan,” oikawa pipes up, stretching his arm across you to caress your boyfriend’s toned arm before lacing his fingers with makki’s. the pink haired man himself, still half-asleep, squeezes tooru’s hand before sitting up.

“hey, wait. it’s christmas, isn’t it?” takahiro’s question reminds you of the package you received a couple days prior, prompting you to spring out of bed before one of them could reel you back in. the four watch you rifle through the closet and resurface with the pajama pants you ordered.

“merry christmas!” you cry excitedly, tossing each boy their respective pair and eagerly awaiting their reactions. “they’re matching pj’s! look, i got one for myself, too.” thankful that you chose to go to bed in just one of iwa’s godzilla t-shirts and underwear last night, you rush to slip on your volleyball print pants. the boys take in your childlike joy, chests tightening at how precious you are. “hurry up, i want you to try them on so we can match!” at your insistence, they roll out of bed and dutifully don your gifts. 

“oh these are actually really soft,” tooru murmurs thoughtfully, fingering the fabric on his thigh.

“right?” you pipe up, nearly bouncing off the walls. “i wanted to do something to commemorate our first christmas together in this apartment and i thought these were really cute since volleyball is what brought us together in the first place.” eyes meet each other as you all reminisce that special summer, grateful that you stayed close despite your individual journeys after graduation.

suddenly, the doorbell ringing catches your attention. a brief glance at the clock on the bedside table tells you it’s much later in the morning than you though, but you’re quick to answer the door.

“who could that be?” the boys are left wondering, wandering out into the living room in time to see you wave goodbye to whoever it was with a large gift-wrapped box sitting on the floor next to you. 

“babe? who was it?” tooru is the first to ask the question on all of their minds. 

“oh, just my best friend. they wanted to drop this off on their way to their parents’ house.” you gingerly pick up the box and bring it to where your boys were waiting for you. “go ahead!”

“go ahead?” hajime parrots. 

“yea! open it!”

“it’s not for you?” takahiro ponders.

“well yes and no. c’mon just open it already!” you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet at this point. tooru finally takes the initiative to remove the lid of the box, eyes widening when he sees what it hid.

“oh my gosh,” he breathes. the other three nearly knock heads with how quickly they lean over the opening.

“is that-?” a furry little head pops up over the edge of the box, round eyes peering up at the four of them.

“a dog! yes!” you squeal. “he’s a shelter dog!”

“he is?” hiro is in awe, slowly reaching out to cradle the little guy in his arms.

“i met him the other day when i woke up early and ran errands without you guys. isn’t he just the cutest?” big hands dwarf the small pooch as they gently pet his head and stroke his fur.

“does he have a name?” tooru has the good sense to ask. 

“mhm, the lady at the shelter said his previous owner named him ponyo.”

“ponyo…” issei whispered, eyes shining. 

“i know we’re nowhere near ready to start thinking about kids,” you start, the topic of the conversation instantly drawing their attention. tooru even ignored ponyo’s little tongue lapping at his fingers. “but i thought we could use an addition to our family.” 

“y/n, princess, we obviously all love him already, but we’re busy with work- well, most of us are. who’s gonna take care of him?” hajime questions, almost reluctantly.

“i mean, hiro is home all the time since he’s still unemployed (“i said i was looking, damn!”), but i actually got promoted so my schedule is way more flexible and i can work from home most of the time.” your voice trails off bashfully, but they give you no time to be embarrassed, swallowing you up in a huge hug. 

“why didn’t you say anything sooner, baby? we’re so proud of you!” now you know how the dog felt being smothered by their affection, not that it was anything new for you.

“uhh, surprise?”

“fuck yea, surprise! god, you’re incredible. lemme make a list of things we’ll need to get for ponyo once the stores reopen tomorrow.”

“actually…”

“you didn’t.”

“i did, with help from my best friend.” going into the lowest cupboards in the kitchen, you show off the bag of dog food and water and food bowls you bought soon after visiting the shelter. “his bed and crate are in the other closet by the washroom.”

“how did we get so lucky?” takahiro asks aloud, making you blush as the others nod in sync, all of them blown away by your thoughtfulness.

“this is nothing. i just wanted to show you guys how much i love you.” you play with your fingers, a little overwhelmed now that the initial excitement has worn off. “oh wait!”

“there’s more?” tooru asks, shocked.

“but wait, there’s more!” mattsun and makki chime in simultaneously, making you laugh as you retrieve the last present. you hop over to where tooru was sitting on the sofa with ponyo on his lap, scooping the dog up and locking the two of you in the bathroom. a couple minutes later, you open the door to let ponyo scurry over to his dads, who coo softly once they see him come around the sofa.

“when did you have time to do this?”

“my pants were a little long, so i hemmed them one night after you guys passed out on the sofa watching your old volleyball matches. i kinda guessed ponyo’s measurements based on standard info i found on the internet, but it fits perfectly so i’m glad!” looking at the little sweater you made for your new family member out of the extra fabric from your pj pants, you couldn’t stop the pleased grin that broke out on your face. “now even ponyo matches with us!”

while your gaze was trained on the tiny dog that was exploring his new home, theirs were stuck on you, your resemblance with a proud mother struck something in them, giving them thoughts of you with their children. yes, children. but for now they shoved those images to the backs of their minds, meeting each other’s stares to confirm they were all in silent agreement.

“we’re gonna make breakfast, you just sit there ‘n look pretty while you watch ponyo, yea?” issei announces before pulling you into a searing kiss as he walks by. 

“not that that’s hard for you,” iwa tags on, kissing your cheek and ruffling your hair following mattsun into the kitchen.

“but i’m always hard for you.” you yelp when hiro playfully slaps your ass, flipping him off as he trails after the other two with a loud hoot. tooru comes up behind you and rubs your sore cheek, spinning you around so that you were face to face.

“why’d you do this to me, y/n-chan?” you meet his frown with a confused look of your own. “now it’s gonna be even harder for me to go back to argentina.”

“oh, tooru,” you wrap your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes to bring him close. “you have the next few weeks to spend with us and our new baby.” as if he knew you were talking about him, ponyo pads over to sit by your feet, tail wagging. oikawa sighs melodramatically.

“a few weeks is nothing compared to the months i’ll be gone!” 

“oi, shittykawa, you better not be complaining after everything this morning,” hajime hollers from the kitchen.

“love you, too, iwa-chan!” tooru calls back instinctively then he looks back down at you, his eyes giving away how much leaving will hurt him and it nearly makes you tear up with him.

“tooru, baby, it sucks every time you leave us, but you’re following your dreams and doing what you love. and we want to support you all the way, even if it means doing so from across the world. but with my new work schedule, i’ll be able to call or text you pretty much whenever. and just think how much sweeter it’ll be the next time you do come home to us. so don’t be too sad, okay, my love? we’ll all be here waiting for you.” 

as the last words leave your lips, tooru has you pulled flush against him, arms wrapped tight around your body. his face was hidden, but you could feel the sobs in hot breaths against your shoulder. you guided him over to the sofa and let him cry, petting his hair and peppering kisses on his tear-streaked face until he tired himself out. 

issei, hajime, and takahiro come out of the kitchen with stacks of pancakes and all the fixings, setting them down on the coffee table in front of you once they see tooru snoozing in your lap. iwa picks ponyo up before he could get a bite of your breakfast while you gently shake your boyfriend awake. mattsun and makki set up ponyo’s crate and bedding, leaving him with a toy to keep him occupied while the five of you filled up your plates.

sitting in the living room of the apartment you shared with your four boyfriends on christmas day, stuffing your face with fruit and whipped cream topped pancakes that they made, in matching pajamas with your new rescue dog scampering about, you couldn’t ask for a better gift underneath the tree.

taglist: @lovemeafterhrs​ @sachirou-senpai​ @honey-makki​ @kenmaki​

[vvideonasties]

clear-cut

"Good morning," Jon says.

"Um," Martin replies.

Jon then realises that him holding a pair of scissors so close to his eyes not long after ranting about gouging them out would be rather concerning at first glance. 

word count: 2k

pairing: jonmartin

warnings: discussion of canon related trauma, thoughts about body autonomy

While rifling through the kitchen drawers, Jon is unsurprised by the plethora of blades Daisy owns. There’s every kind of knife you could fathom and, thankfully, a few pairs of scissors. Grabbing what appears to be the sharpest pair (though they all look pretty damn sharp), he heads to the bathroom. He clutches the white of the porcelain sink and stares into the mirror impassively. 

He used to actually quite like his long hair. He’d play with it while he was working, twirling the thick locks around his fingers and untangling knots absentmindedly. When he’d get frustrated he’d pull it out of its tie and tug at it. It was a strange way to ground himself. 

Now, though. It’s been used too much for other people’s gain, has been in too many people’s hands for it to truly belong to him. The gravity it provided began to dissipate when Daisy attacked him - she’d grabbed a chunk of it and used it to yank back his head to expose the vulnerable expanse of his neck. As he’d stood there under the mercy of her blade, shaking and pleading, the stinging in his scalp lingered the entire time. It only got worse from there - the awful attempt at tenderness displayed by the Stranger as Nikola brushed aside a few strands to gain access to more flesh, to paste moisturiser onto it with her stiff fingers. The dirt he couldn’t quite scrub out of it after he left the Buried, even when he sat in the tub for hours on end. Even when the water began to run clear, he could still feel the clumps weighing him down, making his head loll to the side with it.

After all that, it wasn’t much to him. He’d wash it, dry it, tie it up. Try not to think of it. 

Jon stares down at the gleaming scissors in the sink determinedly. Cutting it off won’t solve much, if anything at all, but it would make him feel a little more comfortable. It’s one of the only things he can control about himself at the moment. If he doesn’t like the way it looks, then fine. It’ll grow back. 

His hand flexes and clenches into a fist. Tighten, relax, tighten, relax. 

He reaches for the scissors and holds a piece of hair in front of his face, the blades open, hungry, ready to receive. 

Then there comes a short, polite cough. He turns to see Martin standing just outside the bathroom, eyes a little wider than normal. 

"Good morning," Jon says.

"Um," Martin replies.

Jon then realises that him holding a pair of scissors so close to his eyes not long after ranting about gouging them out would be rather concerning at first glance. 

“I’m cutting my hair,” he clarifies, and Martin seems to relax at that. 

“Okay.” A pause. “Why?”

He puts down the scissors and shrugs, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

“Just felt like it,” he says, which is kind of true. “Not particularly attached to it anymore.”

Martin hums, taking him at his word. He walks over on socked feet, close enough that Jon can feel the heat radiating from him. There’s a brief moment where his hands pass over the scissors.

“I could help?”

Jon turns to face him completely, brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, it’s just that I have experience? Kind of? I cut my own, and I used to cut my mum’s as well...” Martin’s mouth twists downwards at that, and Jon just frowns harder. “I won’t give you my mum’s style, I promise!” He jokes weakly. It falls flat, and the whole atmosphere feels stilted. 

“Okay. Why not.”

“...Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt your whole-”

“It’s fine. I could use some help reaching the back anyway.” As much as he just wants to lop all of it off, he doesn’t want it to look messy. 

Martin seems to brighten, probably at the relief of having something to focus on, and he walks off to grab a chair from the small dining table as Jon hovers awkwardly. He positions it in the living room, close to the small TV they’ve been using sporadically. They’ve been steadily working their way through the small cabinet full of DVDs underneath it. However, Jon isn’t exactly sure how long they’re going to be staying, so they might have to...ration them. The week they’ve been here hasn’t exactly been the most vibrant when it comes to entertainment. Maybe one day they’ll relent and open up the dusty box of Monopoly. That could very well be a major test of their relationship, though. 

At least, Jon thinks this is a relationship. They haven’t talked about it all that much. All that mattered in the beginning was escaping the Lonely, leaving London, then getting settled here. They’re fumbling around blindly in the dark, and all Jon knows is he wants to hold onto Martin as tightly as possible. 

That little train of thought is interrupted by the small clink of Martin taking the scissors off of the sink and grabbing a towel from the rack. He gestures to the chair, inviting Jon to sit, and when he does so he feels the towel being gently wrapped around his shoulders. 

There’s the brief sensation of Jon’s hair being pulled at, only slightly, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Okay?” Martin whispers. He understands without knowing, somehow, and Jon is glad that he can’t see the way his face is taut with apprehension, tinged with pain. 

“Okay,” he whispers back, trying to emulate Martin’s tone. 

“Can I use your tie?” His voice is still soft, and Jon should feel patronised, but he mostly feels soothed. “Just so it’s easier to cut through.”

Jon wordlessly removes the tie from his wrist and hands it over. He tries to hide the little shiver that passes over him when their fingers brush. Martin begins to hum a tune as he gathers the hair up into one handful (not like they did, he would never, it’s Martin, always so good to him), then creates a loose ponytail that falls to his shoulders. 

“Fine so far?” Jon nods tentatively. “Alright then.” 

There’s the distinct sound of the blades opening, and in one fluid motion Jon feels the weight he’d been carrying leave him. 

“There.” Martin comes into view, holding the thick, dark ponytail aloft, smiling crookedly. 

“Oh,” he croaks. “That’s...a lot.” His hand comes up to brush his the side of his head, then travels down and grasps at thin air where hair was a second ago. The cut seems to stop at his jaw, the small strands remaining ghosting over his skin. 

“It is. Can I keep going?”

Jon, hand still close to his head, makes a noise of assent. Martin takes a second to throw away what’s been cut then returns. He sinks his hands into Jon's scalp, massaging the tension out of it, and Jon makes an unbidden noise of satisfaction that causes his motions to still.

"God, sorry, did I hurt-"

"No! No, it's okay. It felt nice." It felt really nice. 

Martin clicks his tongue and continues for a while longer, fingers digging into Jon’s scalp over and over in a wonderful, rhythmic motion until Jon is practically boneless and falling asleep in the chair. He wonders if there’s a not-weird way to ask for this again outside of a hair cutting context. 

“So how short are we going here? You kind of have a bob right now,” Martin laughs. 

Jon hadn’t really thought about that. He just wanted it off, away, binned and out of his face. He shrugs. “I don’t know, short? Whatever you think will suit me.”

“Any hairstyle would suit you,” Martin points out, like it’s nothing. Jon smiles. “But I’ll do my best.” 

A few moments of Martin muttering to himself and circling around the chair is followed by the coolness of the dual blades against the curve of Jon’s ear, the shhk of them pressing together giving him goosebumps. He clearly has done this many times before, given the confident way he navigates the scissors. Jon certainly couldn’t have done this alone, at least not without making a fool out of himself. Martin brushes some hair away from the nape of his neck. His hands are very warm. 

“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with short hair.”

Jon turns to him, puzzled. “Really?”

The thing with Jon is, when he cares about someone a lot, he tends to insert them in all of his memories, assuming that they’ve always been around (he also has the memory of a goldfish, but he’s sure that’s a whole other thing). Martin has become such an integral part of his life, standing neatly by his side like it’s nothing. Like he was meant to be there and always has. 

“It has been quite a few years now, I suppose. Last I remember it was this short I was still in research.” When he goes to touch his head again he notes that he can feel for his ears without having to move a mountain of hair aside.

“Better late than never, I guess! I’m gonna move to the front now.”

Martin has to position himself at an awkward angle to use the scissors properly, his back practically curved into a C shape. His gaze is focused and intense, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Hair falls on Jon’s face as he snips, making him wrinkle his nose and grimace.

“Sorry. You can wash it off soon.”

Jon nods minutely. Then he sneezes. Martin just smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, then continues. 

He remembers why he rarely went to get a professional haircut now. That strange intimacy that comes with someone being so close to you - a stranger - it always disturbed him. The idle chatter that made him grit his teeth, how they’d act like they knew him. Then he didn’t have the time or energy to cut it himself after...everything. 

Now he’s looking at Martin, though. It’s odd, yes. Intimate? Definitely. He doesn’t know whether to close his eyes or keep them open. But he’s always found it very hard to turn his gaze away from Martin regardless.

His eyes are a lovely shade of deep blue, and he has far too many scars alongside the smattering of freckles on his face. He looks tired. Very much so. There’s crows feet at the corners of his eyes and lines on his forehead. He notes absently that he actually has a thick beard, too. Of course he noticed it beforehand - he’s felt it scratching the back of his neck when he wakes in the morning with Martin’s arms around him - but it’s worth pointing out. It makes him look much older, especially since the grey in it seems to be overtaking the red. 

Martin stands up straight and runs his hands through Jon’s hair a few times before standing back, head tilted to the side. 

“I think we’re done. It’s not amazing, but.”

Jon is already shrugging off the towel and heading to the bathroom mirror, feeling weirdly nervous. 

He certainly looks different. Unfortunately, though he searched high and low for them, Daisy doesn’t own any clippers. Martin did the best he could with what he had - he’s kept it a bit longer towards the front, some strands grazing his forehead, but the rest is cropped closely to his scalp. Jon tentatively touches it and leans forward. He tries to grasp a chunk of it, see if it’s long enough to pull. He fails. 

“It’s perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Jon says firmly. “It’s just what I needed.” He walks back over to Martin and wraps his arms around him instinctively, sighing with contentment when he responds in kind. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles into Martin’s t-shirt. 

“Of course.” Martin is stroking the back of his neck gently. “You look very handsome.”

Jon’s face burns at the compliment, and he chooses to hide it further rather than reply. They stand there for a while, hair scattered around the floor like autumn leaves, and it feels like a new beginning. 

[embrassemoi]

Gleamin' Shiny and Bright ✿ L.E

Loving Lily made it feel as if the world suddenly became saturated with varying piercing bright colours that were hidden before. It was endless and expanded with every waking moment. She learned to love Lily in hues and shades of colours: reds also revealed to have pinks, blues suddenly had turquoise and periwinkle, purples became violets and lavender while yellow became creams and blended with red to make orange.

Pairing: Lily Evans x [F]Reader CW: Implied sexual content, fluff, a lot of fluff, discussions of marriage, fluff, Unbeta’d A/N: Inspo: Emerald Eyes by Fleetwood mac

【 Masterlist | Playlist | ao3 】

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Lily’s fingers softly trailed down the contours of Y/N’s spine as her lips trailed her jaw all the way up to her ear. Both laid bare, bodies intertwined in soft silk sheets, basking in the soft golden glow of the setting sun. Lily whispered seductively into her ear which had her skin burning in its wake.

“You’re insatiable!” she giggled, pushing Lily away playfully before turning to face her.

“Only for you.” Lily purred, before attacking her with peppered kisses. Y/N’s hands sneaked to cradle her face, weaving their way through her red, messy hair cascading all around her.

The way the warm rays spilled onto Lily made her look ethereal. A soft blush spread all over her cheekbones as Y/N subconsciously traced her freckles. They were laid out like a constellation, a road hidden with secrets and stories that only she knew.

She would consider herself lucky; to be able to touch, to know, to laugh and to hold someone like Lily Evans. Y/N could live a thousand lifetimes and still never feel worthy of someone like her.

She recalled the early stages of falling in love with Lily. It crept on her slowly, quietly but then pulled her into a whirlwind. Falling in love with her felt like climbing onto a roller coaster, being strapped in tightly and started moving. Every sharp twist, every slump and new loop constantly had her wanting more. The ride would speed up, her heart pound and fluttered before her stomach turned and twisted once the ride flipped upside down. But she was more than fine with that. Perfect, actually. It stayed like that, for weeks, for months until the ride came to a stop.

Being in love with Lily was like climbing off the ride, dazed and high, enriched in the atmosphere around. Everything felt soothing, like slipping into a warm bath on a winter’s eve. Even her name brought her to ease.

Every kiss pressed to her lips made Y/N feel sun-kissed, basked in a thousand stars. “I love you,” she breathed.

There was a soft gaze in Lily’s eyes as her forehead leaned against hers; eyes darting across her face like she was trying to commit everything to memory. Before Y/N went to open her mouth again, she was suddenly interrupted. Her words were quiet, breathy — barely above a whisper but it seemed like the loudest Lily had ever spoken.

“Do you want to get married?”

Y/N halts, becoming motionless and pulls away from Lily to stare unto her bright, emerald eyes as silence ensues. Her jaw is slacked, confused as she studies a-way-too calm Lily whilst her abdomen explodes with fluttering butterflies. They could both hear the soft crashing of waves in the background along with the seagulls singing their daily rituals. They both had rented out a small cottage in Cornwall for their second anniversary, their window wide open as the curtains moved as the breeze flowed in.

She swore her heart stopped.

“. . .What? Was that — are you proposing?”

But then the reality of what she said must’ve hit Lily all at once as the words fell from her lips because she sits upright, eyes wide and tries to seem unperturbed by Y/N’s shock. She rips away, hand threading through her hair as her mouth opens and closes like somehow the action would take back what she said.

“Ugh — Y’know. . . um — right, sorry. I — let’s er. . . forget what I said.”

Lily pushes up, away from her, the cool feeling of the evening breeze now surrounds them but Y/N grabs her wrist and pulls her back.

“No, continue!” she urged. Somehow, Lily’s blush deepens.

“Well — erm, no, I wasn’t proposing,” but then Lily sputters, quickly adding on. “It’s not like I don’t want to! I very much want to — it just won’t be like this? Wait, um — okay.” She stops to recollect herself. “We’ve just never talked about. . .” her eyes glance up to gauge her reaction, “marriage before. . . and once I propose, I just wanted to make sure you were on the same page?”

Y/N’s lungs seem to collapse, rip apart and then piece themselves back together as the implication from Lily’s words reverberated inside her now very empty head.

I want to, she said — once I propose. She said once and want to. That means it will happen — that she has every intention of marrying her eventually.

Lily Evans wants to marry her. She has to take a moment to process it, but the silence leaves Lily panicking.

“Nevermind, it’s stupid — not important —”

“Stop it,” she finally snaps out of her daze, “that wasn’t stupid. Far from it.”

Lily drops her head into her hands as she struggles to put her thoughts into words. Her palms eventually worm their way to press firmly against her eyes as her fingers yank down on her hair. She was struggling, immensely hard and Y/N’s heart ached at the scene. So, she moved closer to her, closing the gap between them as she placed an encouraging hand on Lily’s knee. That seemed to stop the intrusive thoughts altogether as she bit her lip.

She takes a deep breath of air, feeling the breeze help calm her down and chest starts to return to its normal intervals.

“I know I want to get married,” she states. Her eyes lock with Y/N’s as she desperately tries to make out how she’s feeling. Lily read every micro-expression, studied the way she blinked or breathed in hopes of an answer.

Y/N lets the words sink in for a second and her heart beats so hard against her chest she wonders if Lily could hear. But then Lily coughs; she wants a response — some sort — any sort of confirmation that what she said was okay. “So. . .”

“Wow.” Inwardly, she scolds herself.

Lily tilts her head. “Is that a bad wow?”

She gently lays herself back down on the soft pillows as Lily follows. They both face each other as the wind beckons them. She tucks a strand of fallen red hair behind Lily’s ears and Y/N couldn’t help but fall in love just a little more, a little harder and a few imagines of what their potential wedding could look like popped up.

“No," she reassured her, "but you really know how to leave me breathless, literally.” And then Lily let out a breathy chuckle and she smiled. Her smile… it lit Y/N up like a thousand stars. Her smile was so bright, so beautiful that it could make flowers grow and it was the most precious treasure Y/N could ever ask for. Her heart cooled, from the cool wind, to a warm contentedness.

She pulls Lily flush against her, pressing a soft kiss against her velvety lips and pulls back just enough to see her reaction but bathe in her warmth.

“I do too,” her breath fanned gently across Lily’s face.

She couldn’t contain her smile as her eyes crinkle. “You do?”

Her smile was wide and Lily’s eyes gleamed so brightly that they could rival emeralds themselves. Y/N knew for a long time too. Everything about their relationship made her feel safe, surrounded by a serenity that only Lily could provide. She made her feel hugged like freshly fallen snow on a mountain; eyes so profound that searched through the very inner workings of her soul. She felt new and exciting, yet like she’d known her forever. Lily was dazzling, beaming with glittering colours. She’d known for a while, it’s just the realization came a little later than her lover’s.

“I want to get married too.”

Lily tackled her into a hug which had them both chuckling out. Both in amusement, but filled with the purest love that made their hearts ache with pride.

And so they started brainstorming.

“Is there a time you would want to?”

“Anytime. We’re young, in love — the world is our oyster, blah, blah,” Y/N replies, but her answer is honest. Anytime. “Getting the timing down will be hard.”

“Imagine proposing and James see? I think he’ll wail and faint.”

“Or Sirius would make it about himself.”

“He would whine about not proposing to Remus first.”

“What about a public or private proposal?”

“Private.”

“I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“What about flowers?”

“Oh, pfft,” Y/N lets out a snort, “there obviously has to be —” “Don’t you dare say what I think you’re about to say.”

Y/N mocks offensive, dramatically rolling her eyes. “Let me finish!”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Terribly sorry.”

Her lips twitch into a knowing smirk, “— lilies. There have to be lilies. Maybe they’ll be my bouquet.”

“Of course, of course.”

“Preferably. . . would red clash with our scheme?”

“Red, as in my hair?”

“Yes.” “Then probably.”

They burst out into another fit of giggles. Maybe it was paradoxically — a placebo — cliche — but Y/N felt her heartbeat calm at the thought. Maybe it was finally getting an answer, that they’re taking their relationship to the next level. Marriage. . . forever. . . It's said to be scary, but maybe it’s because it’s with Lily that it seems the exact opposite.

Loving Lily made it feel as if the world suddenly became saturated with varying piercing bright colours that were hidden before. It was endless and expanded with every waking moment. She learned to love Lily in hues and shades of colours: reds also revealed to have pinks, blues suddenly had turquoise and periwinkle, purples became violets and lavender while yellow became creams and blended with red to make orange.

Unknowingly, for their fourth anniversary two years from then, they both bought a set of rings with one question heavy in their hearts, knowing deep down what their response would be.

Yes.

And then, I do.