#To me it's the only one that makes sense though.

[lovscb97]

— stray kids links [hyung line]

tags: hyung line!stray kids x fem!reader, established relationship, rough sex, unprotected sex (plz wrap it before u tap it), creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, mild dacryphilia, begging, use of collars/leashes, spanking, strength kink, oral sex (f. receiving), squirting, car sex, slight exhibitionism, slight choking, use of nicknames (baby, princess, angel, kitten, etc), degradation (slut, whore, etc), dirty talk, edging, overstimulation, etc

wc: 2.73k

add. notes: hai …. sorry i made this post instead of giving u guys nerd!chan pt. 2 I FUCKIN SWEAR IT’S COMING but it’s just taking the piss out of me n i needed this out for a new post. anyways plz dni if u r a minor like i mean that w my whole chest n also lmk if some of the links stop working or if u can’t see them idk what i can do abt that . but at least i will be aware LMFAOOOOO yea anyways enjoy :3

. . .

⥽ … BANG CHAN: 

link one.

chan is packing. he is absolutely packing to the point you felt like he was going to tear your womb apart when you first got intimate with him, his thick cock stretching you out past your limits as fresh sobs fell from your mouth. since then, he's trained you to take him with enough prep, always making sure to milk at least two orgasms from you before he even thinks about letting his dick near your pussy regardless of how hard it might be throbbing. that wait becomes worthwhile though when he finally sinks inside of you, dirty words and throaty groans rambled in your ear as he releases himself deep inside once he's reached his peak. he loves the feeling of your warm walls sucking him in, never leaving you alone until he's dumped his load empty.

"fuck, baby. how are you so tight?" chan hisses incredulously, wet thumb still circling your clit as you shake in his hold. you're extremely sensitive at this point, twitching from the slightest touch after having cum for the third time, but the only thing in your mind right now is your boyfriend breeding you, the request made obvious with how you tighten your legs around his waist to pull him in. "cum in me, daddy. please!" you plead, teary eyes blinking up at chan whose orbs roll to the back of his head at your keen expression. it only takes a few more thrusts before he's shooting ropes of hot cum inside you, gripping himself to ensure he stays in place. you sigh in content at the warm liquid flooding you, and chan just smiles tiredly, leaning in to sweetly kiss you. "i love you, precious girl." he whispers, resting his body on top of you to keep you plugged up for the rest of the night.

link two.

you're chan's favourite destress toy, that much is obvious. every time he comes home from a long day at work, he knows it'll be worthwhile because you'll be there waiting with open arms and your wet hole longing to be filled up. he'll even take you right then and there in the living room sometimes, making sure everyone around you two knows exactly whose name you're screaming. certain days when he's had it particularly bad though, he'll collar you up and attach a leash to it that he can pull back on, bending you over with your ass up in the air as he slams himself into you repeatedly. it gives him immense pride to have that sense of control over you, to be able to manoeuvre you into whatever position he desires. if he's feeling especially mean, he'll edge you until you're crying into the sheets, cooing at how fucked out you look, knowing he's the only one who can make you feel that way.

"please.. i wan' cum, please." you slur out mindlessly, drool dripping down your mouth as chan slowly drags his cock in and out of you, its mushroom tip pressing deliciously against that spot inside. your boyfriend just chuckles from behind you, his hand yanking on the leash that's tied to your collar which makes you lean back in an instant. his hand sneaks down to grip himself as he pulls out for the nth time, and you whine at the loss of fullness in you, bottom lip jutting out as he slaps the head of his cock against your clit. "yeah, princess? you wanna cum? wanna cum all over daddy's dick?" he mocks you, laughing sadistically when you desperately nod your head. he continues to rub up your little nub, and you're soon about to fall over the edge, gratitude on your lips when he suddenly stops. "oh, baby, you're not cumming that easily tonight." chan growls, causing you to shiver under his hold as he pushes you back onto the bed. it looks like you're in for a long night.

⥽ … LEE MINHO: 

link one.

you love pissing minho off. it's one of the little things in life that gives you so much pleasure, aside from when your boyfriend fucks you, of course. minho, on the other hand, doesn't take lightly to your teasing at all. on days where you're acting out by wearing revealing clothes in front of his friends or sitting too close to one of them for his liking, he'll drag you out with some lame excuse and a clenched jaw, mumbling something about how you're both going home now. he doesn't even care that you're probably smug by the end of it, because that feeling of triumph soon dissipates when he has you bent over his lap, veiny hands kneading the plush of your ass before he's landing a harsh smack on it. he'll spank you and make you count your punishment, and if you lose track, he'll just have to start all over again.

"fucking slut." minho tsk's, cold fingers running themselves against the bruised skin of your butt. he takes a moment to admire his work, tracing the red imprints of his hand on your ass and even the outline of your white panties, which are absolutely soaked by now. "min, please! 'm sorry, it won't happen again." you cry out, and he scoffs, rolling his eyes although you can't see it. another series of repeated spanks land on you, and you yelp in response, legs kicking up from the stinging impact. your body burns by now, every touch minho provides it leaving behind a searing sensation, but you know your boyfriend is far from done with you. "we both know that's a damn lie." he clicks his tongue. "you're always acting out, so it seems like i gotta really start putting you in your place, hm?" you're about to protest when he smacks again, drawing a sob from you; the sound goes straight to his core. he licks his lips, a smirk stretched across them as he readies his palm once more. "now, stop crying and start counting, whore."

link two.

it's no secret that minho is a certified ass man. he loves you, but god does he love your ass just as much. everything about it sends him reeling, from the way it's accentuated in the clothes you wear, to the plump flesh of it that jiggles every time he's got you on your hands and knees. you'd argue he puts you in this position at least once every time you two fuck because knowing your boyfriend, he just wants to watch the way you push back on him when he's bottomed out inside you. he'll give you a few smacks here and there on it too, kneading the skin in his palms before he's snapping his hips into yours. most of the time, he'll refuse to cum inside of you, instead pulling out just before he tips over the edge to release all over your behind and back. you're not complaining though, you love the feeling of his seed dripping over it just as much as he does.

"mm, shit, you look so good right now, kitten." minho groans from behind you, cockhead practically battering your cervix with the way he's shoving himself in and out of you. your whines are high in pitch with how he's fucking you, and you stutter to speak when you try and respond. "y-you say that every time." you eventually manage to heave out, and minho chuckles breathlessly, fingers gripping the flesh of your ass in them as he bites his lip, moaning lowly at the way it bounces back against his dick. "can't help it. you're too hot." he grunts, pistoning his hips at a frenzied pace that knocks the breath out of your lungs. it only takes a matter of minutes before you're both cumming, loud noises filling the room as minho pulls out just in time so he can splatter his release all over your backside. his thumb dips into the seed that now decorates your ass, and he swipes to collect it, pushing it into your mouth. a grin decorates his face as you suck on it. "atta girl."

⥽ … SEO CHANGBIN: 

link one.

changbin is a gym fanatic through and through, and with his rigorous work out routine eventually came his well-built physique, chiselled and bulked up to the point you think you would barely recognise his past self. it refects in the way he walks, talks and holds himself; he loves his strength and he loves showing it off, especially to you. that's why every time you're both entangled in his sheets, it results in him urging you to stand up before hoisting you in his arms. some days he'll hold you in them and bounce you up and down his cock, relishing in the way your cries echo through the room alongside the slapping of skin. other days, he'll toss you around and headlock you as he pounds you from behind, groaning filth in your ear as he pushes you to the edge of tipping. either way, you love what he does, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

"hng, so strong, binnie!" you wail, hands clutching your boyfriend's broad back and shoulders as your nails dig into his soft skin, sure to leave marks the next day. changbin just grunts at your sounds of pleasure, too immersed in fucking you onto his cock in your current position. he's got you clinging onto him for dear life as he enters you repeatedly, pride blooming in his chest when you acknowledge how hot it is that he can pick you up so effortlessly. "y-yeah, pretty? like when binnie fucks you like this?" he stutters slightly, too wrapped up in how your pussy clings to his girth. you nod your head rapidly, babbling about how close you are and how hard you're going to cum, spraying all over your boyfriend in due time when he slams into that spot hidden inside you. you're not even given a chance to recover afterwards, changbin manhandling you onto the bed on your stomach before he's sinking back inside. "just a little more, baby. binnie's gotta cum too, okay?" he's whining, and you keen despite the sting of overstimulation rushing through, not knowing you're going to end up letting him use you for another hour.

link two.

you've always known changbin is a romantic at heart, his soft-spoken nature despite the daunting aura he gives off due to his frame often sending your brain spiralling. it gives you whiplash, the way he treats you. some days he'll fuck you like he hates you, growling dirty comments to your face and spitting in your mouth as you shake through an orgasm. other days, however, he'll craddle you in his arms, caging your body underneath him as he rocks his hips against yours in deep, fluid motions. one of his favourite things to do during these instances is hold your hand. he loves the feeling of your fingers lacing through his, holding onto him as he delivers sharp strokes inside of you. something about it feels so raw, like both your souls are intertwined in one big hug. he'll kiss you dizzy, burying his face into your neck as you both whimper 'i love you's' to each other.

"baby.. fuck, baby." changbin moans, his breath fanning hot against the sticky skin of your shoulder from where he's nosed himself in. his hand clings to yours amidst his movements, and you mewl loudly when he thrusts particularly deep inside of you. "i love you. love you so much, my baby. my pretty, perfect angel." your boyfriend pants, head moving to bring his lips to yours in a messy meeting. it's filled with so much love and care, your mouths moulding perfectly against one another's as you exchange kisses. your stomach feels like it's filled with butterflies, but you're not sure if that's because of how fucking in love you are with him or because of changbin rocking his hips into you. either way, you pull apart from him, trying to say it back in the middle of your noises of pleasure. "l-love you so much, binnie. fuck, you always give it to me so good." you praise, and changbin visibly shivers, burying his face back where it was between your neck to continue making love to you until at last, you're both coming undone together.

⥽ … HWANG HYUNJIN: 

link one.

one thing you adore about your precious lover boy is his mouth. his pretty, plump lips that kiss your tears away, or his dangerously addictive tongue that's always finding it's way between your thighs when he feels like it, which is basically all the time. hyunjin can't help that you taste so sweet, or how you're always so perfectly wet for him by the time he's journeyed down to your legs where you truly need him. he'll spend hours buried between them, parting you with his slender fingers and holding you open for him to lick into. he finds extreme satisfaction in the way you push back against his body when he's having a go at you, too weak to move him in your futile efforts of running away from his mouth once he's had you cum twice without stopping. he'll continue anyways though, because to him, there's no better treat after a long day.

"hyunie, s-slow down." you whimper, the lewd suckling sounds of your clit being wrapped in your boyfriend's mouth resonating through the room as he messily eats you out. his movements are filled with fervour and desperation, something you'll never get used to experiencing despite how long you've been together. each time almost always feels like you're starring in some obscene porno with the way hyunjin always drawls out the most nasty sounds from you. this instance is no different either, because before you can even react, you're spraying droplets of clear liquid on his face, your boyfriend groaning into you at the feeling of you squirting on him. he cleans it all up with great pleasure, breathing heavily as he finally rises from his position to slot himself between your legs. his lips find yours in a dirty kiss, and you can taste yourself on his tongue. "you're insatiable." you murmur when he pulls away, and hyunjin chuckles, mouth hovering over your jaw as you tremble at his next words. "not my fault my baby's got the tastiest cunt in the world."

link two.

hyunjin is a freak through and through. you've known for a while that he gets off on all sorts of things, and one of them is primarily the risk of being sneaky in public, regardless if it's planned or not. there have been one too many occasions of the latter where you've both been out on a date together with you looking a little too good, too good to the point that the waiter starts flirting with you and leaving hyunjin seething. it's only high time after that until he's dragging you out of the restaurant and into his backseat, too lazy to even undress properly before he's sinking inside of you to fuck you as he sees red. he'll get so possessive too, groaning how you're his and his only whilst pulling you back by your hair. it's true that your boyfriend is a big lover, but when times come down to this, he'll drill into you like he absolutely loathes you.

"dirty slut, letting me fuck you where anyone can see. you'd even let that server find you like this, wouldn't you?" hyunjin grits out, his sweat dripping onto your back as he shoves his long length in you. you're sure the windows are fogged up by now, his car rocking with his movements, but neither of you care about that. "n-no, only want you to see. just you, hyune." you whimper, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the way his cock slams in you with each thrust. your boyfriend lets out a low moan at your words, yanking you back by your hair to lick at your neck. "that's right, princess. only i get to look at this pussy, hm? only i can f-fuck it right, yeah?" he grunts, slender fingers coming up to wrap around your throat as you nod shakily, taking a deep breath as hyunjin squeezes slightly. "gonna cum in this cunt and fill you up with my babies so everyone knows who you belong to. then, i'm taking you straight home to fuck you full again. got that?"

. . .

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

[mrsmnsn]

“It looks better on you anyway…”

summary: you’ve been dating for a while and, to make you officially his, Eddie gives you something very special….

*no warnings only fluff (ok maybe there’s a bit of a suggestive content here but nothing too serious)*

(i had this draft for a while now and i loooove this headcannon! hope you like it as much as i do)

“What do you mean by it’s not official?” You desperately asked Robin

“Wait a minute, i didn’t say that! It is official, just not official official.” She says sipping her drink.

“Robin you’re not making any sense right now.” Nancy replies seeing how nervous you got.

The three of you were having a girls night at a bar, only to gossip, have some drinks and celebrate womanhood. But now, after a few drinks, you shared with the girls your story with Eddie and how it was when you finally got to be together. It was actually so casual and simple because Eddie knew you didn’t like to cause a big scene and to have all attention to you. So you had a nice date and on the way back to your house, before you could get in, he asked if you wanted to be his girl and if he could be your boyfriend. You didn’t waist a minute and involved him in a hug and a lot of kisses.

“I’m just saying that some couples like to make a gesture to make it official, so everyone else can see they’re taken. And, in your case, that’s not what happened.” Robin explains herself and now your head was thinking of all the things Eddie might have given to you

“Didn’t you hear her story? That was exactly the opposite Eddie was trying to do, he wanted to be a special moment for just the two of them. I think that’s very sweet of him.” Nancy and Robin keep arguing when it comes to you

“So you’re saying that hypothetically he was supposed to give me something, like a ring?” You interrupt them making both girls look at you

“He’s not supposed to do anything, but yes, that’s what i meant.” She replied and then started to tell a story about one of her old friends.

By the end of the night, Eddie picks you up and takes you to his place, as you agreed. You were going to spend the weekend with him.

“Hey pretty girl! How was girls night?” He kisses the top of you head and help you get in his van.

“It was very nice, but you know how Robin can get very excited about some stuff and how Nancy doesn’t agree with her but still tries to be nice and it goes on and on.” He laughs at your words and he enters the van too. “But you’ll see, i’m still going to make them become best friends!”

You keep talking about your night to him and you two stay in a comfortable silence listening to one of his Black Sabbath tapes until you get to his home. He turns off the car and before he could hop off, you stop him.

“What is it sweetheart?” He asked looking at your face, searching for something wrong.

“Can i ask you something?” You look at his hands full of rings holding yours.

“Of course you can, you can ask me anything.” He said and his tone couldn’t be sweeter

“Earlier we were taking about dating and the girls asked me how it was when you asked to be my boyfriend, and i told them. But Robin said that even though it was the most teeth-rotting story ever there was something wrong, something was missing…”

Eddie was scared of your next words but still encouraged you to continue.

“She said that normally, after a while, it’s common for the guy to give to his girlfriend something, like a gesture or a gift i don’t know. But that’s supposed to be like an affirmation of the relationship… You know what, forget it, it’s fucking stupid.” You give up on telling him what you wanted and turn to leave the car.

“Hey hey, wait a minute. There’s nothing stupid about that! You can take your time, but i want to hear it.” Eddie says, giving your hands gentle rubs.

“I feel stupid asking you this, and you know how you are my first boyfriend so i’m not sure how things are supposed to be now…” You organize the words in your head before you tell him. “Alright, hm, I was going to ask if maybe you plan to do that… i don’t want you to give me anything, and i know we’re not dating for a impressive long time and maybe we’re supposed to wait a bit more for that, i don’t even know if you are expecting me to give something to you. I am a bit lost…” You said everything too fast and got lost on your own words. But Eddie listened to you very carefully and understood what was happening.

“Are you saying that you want something, this ‘gesture’, to officialize our relationship?” He asked and looked at your eyes “Well, i wasn’t actually thinking of giving you something right now, but now that you said that i’m thinking of something here…” He let go of your hands and put them behind his neck. “ I really like the idea of people seeing that you are taken, that you are only mine��� turn around, please.”

You were confused but still, you turn around and you can feel him getting closer. So close that your back is hitting his chest. He starts to whisper when you see him put his necklace in front of you.

“What do you think babe?” His soft voice rings in your ear and you admire his hands holding his necklace that you always made sure to tell him how much you loved it on him, of how attractive he looked with the pick hanging over his chest. “I know how much you like this, and imagine that… you walking around with this very specific necklace around your neck. This screams ‘i have a fucking man, he’s a rockstar, a hottie, and im all fucking his’. Uh, i loved that!”

You were smiling and blushing at his words as he lifted your hair up and put the necklace on you. You didn’t know what to say and got all nervous but you were relieved he liked your idea.

“I loved it Eds, thank you!” You dropped your hair and looked at the pick now hanging in the middle of your tits.

“I loved the placement don’t you.” He teases you and you can hear his mischievous smile and the way he’s giggling when you shove him. “I’m serious, i can imagine already, you on top of me and the pick hanging there and… wait a minute. THATS WHY YOU LIKED IT SO MUCH!

You start to laugh and cover your face embarrassed. “Shut up Eddie!”

“No baby, don’t hide your pretty face. Let me see you.” You lean into his body again and look up at him. “You do look very attractive with it.” And as he speaks, you can feel his hand on your jaw, making you look up at him, and the other, caressing your thigh.

“What about you? I don’t want to just take your necklace like that.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart, i can make another one for me so we can match, if that’s your concern.” He says teasing you once again. “But now that’s your necklace. It looks better on you anyway, so”

You just close your eyes, feeling him touching your nose with his before he kisses you passionately. Even after lots of shared kisses between the two of you, he still manages to take your breath away.

“Come on, let’s go inside.” He opened his door and yours too, being the gentleman he is, and with an arm thrown around your shoulder, he leads you inside. “Maybe we can test that theory, to see if the pick will look good on you when you’re on top of me.” He makes you giggle and you playfully slap his chest as you walk up and open the door.

“Maybe…”

[vidavalor]

<<I would also not accept Crowley hate. I just never see it.>>

Same. Yeah, it doesn't exist. A lot of people's internalized issues at work, if you ask me, as to why there's only hate for Aziraphale when there shouldn't be hate for either of them.

<<I think for that to work, you have to take Crowley as the protagonist of the story and Aziraphale as an -- um, adjunct? romantic interest? Rather than seeing them as 2 equal players in the story.>>

If you want to get really technical about it? From a writing standpoint, Aziraphale is the main character because it's his story arc we're following the most throughout the story. He is the character who will under go the most change from chronological start-to-finish in the story. He and Crowley are two halves of a whole, though, so it's a little tricky and they're closer to being co-main-characters than you might get in other stories. Inside the story, though, the characters are definitely equal partners, and I agree that it's irritating to not always see that reflected in attitudes towards the characters.

The funny thing is, though, that people who think Crowley is the sole main character are showing that they don't really know what one is and are just focused on Crowley. For reasons. I wouldn't presume to know why, exactly, but I suspect that they are likely of 'want to fuck him even though he's fictional and subconsciously hate the main character who gets to' variety. Also shows how little they know the character as Crowley would not. care. for it. if he were to learn that they were disparaging his angel.

<<the Edinburgh minisode, that make it look like Aziraphale is still toeing the Heaven line and he is the only one who still (in 1827!) has learned nothing>>

Yeah, that attitude in people is showing that they're not really putting together the minisode, imho. Aziraphale struggling with conflicts of what he's supposed to be according to Heaven versus who he really is are not the same thing as Aziraphale being on the side of Heaven. He's never been on the side of Heaven. He gave away his sword in Eden. He lied and miracled to save Job's kids. He's been badass since the start.

I think it's also a feature of some people not seeing that Aziraphale is kind of dryly bitching about his job to Crowley in 1827 more than he is actually disagreeing with Crowley and Elspeth. He lives on Earth. He knows how lunacy Heaven's ideas about things are. He's complaining to Crowley about what he's up against and getting some reassurance in Crowley's wtf that's crazy! response that he's not alone in thinking so. The moment that he learns that Dalrymple isn't just a ghoul but someone who wants the bodies for greater good reasons, Aziraphale is happy to throw over whatever Heaven nonsense he's supposed to at least pretend to believe to help. He'll always do what he can to help. It's just all very tiresome that people think Crowley is perfect. He's not always right. There also isn't always a "right" at all.

<<such as the way the f15 was shown (many people do not sense any real threat from the Metatron, don't get the "able to see/hear what's happening in the shop", don't see anything weird about Crowley letting Aziraphale go off with the Metatron, etc.>>

Yeah, this... 😂 My favorite wtf interaction that I've had here on the Tumblr Dot Com is the person who told me that Aziraphale and Crowley weren't worried about being spied on in The Final 15 and when I pointed out things like... Aziraphale, looking out the window at Our Villain, doing the downward hands of "not right now" at Crowley, and trying to get him to stop talking? I was told-- kid you not-- that he just turned his head.

The closet is a theme of the season and there's an entire foreshadowing plot with the Nazi Zombie Flesheaters about Crowley and Aziraphale being spied on through the window and people who cannot make simple connections enough to understand what's happening, so... how's that for irony? There's a whole plot about people being unable to make connections... about which this person couldn't make a connection.

I agree to some extent that it's designed to appear a certain way, with particular emphasis on Crowley acting out of character, but it's not so cloak-and-dagger that we can't see that something is amiss. The number of people who don't seem to see Crowley as acting out of character by letting Aziraphale go alone with The Being Claiming To Be The Metatron amazes me. It should be the primary question to come out of that scene. This is what we were saying above, though-- they are too focused on precious demon got his feelings hurt to notice that there is something really, really wrong with precious demon. He just sat there and let Aziraphale go alone with someone who had tried to kill him and he'd never do that of his own free will and that's somehow not the biggest point of discussion?

But this is also the same problem as most people just believing without question that it's The Metatron at the door. Sure, it might be, but they definitely gave us a laundry list of clues that suggest we should at least be questioning it. Five angels cannot recognize him and he has to get a demon to identify him but that's not Satan? Really? After a whole season of "who are you" in every other scene? And all the minisodes being about Hell? Even if it's not, the point is that it's all very weird and many people are just taking what's happening as if nothing is weird, which I find to be... well, weird.

So many people think that The Metatron was legitimately offering Aziraphale a job and everything was on the up-and-up and... why would he ever do that? He'd never offer Crowley to be restored as an angel, either. That'd collapse Heaven and Hell in a day as every demon then would demand their own status as demons reviewed. They think this is The Metatron and they still believe him, even though he just tried to murder Gabriel? I was so surprised to see the number of people who don't think Aziraphale is in any danger here and think he just got promoted when the whole season seems like it's building towards something quite different but we'll see what happens in The Finale.

The gods of the Disc have never bothered much about judging the souls of the dead, and so people only go to hell if that's where they believe, in their deepest heart, that they deserve to go. Which they won't do if they don't know about it. This explains why it is so important to shoot missionaries on sight.

Eric, Terry Prachett

[fluentmoviequoter]

Bradford Has a Princess

I used one of the amazing Tim Bradford ideas posted by @nevereclipse for this!! I hope you like it and it's along the lines of what you were thinking!☺️

Pairing: Tim Bradford x younger(24-26y/o)!fem!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford is whipped for you, treats you with nothing but the best princess treatment, and when his fellow officers call him out on it, he realizes how he truly feels about you.

Warnings: fluff! princess treatment and Tim being a SOFTIE™

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

You blow your hair out of your face before you tug it painfully behind your ear.

“Easy,” your boyfriend mutters, reaching over carefully. He gathers your hair much gentler than you had, pulls it loosely behind your ears, and uses the hair tie he wears around his wrist to secure it. “Better?”

You hum before you say, “Thank you, Tim.”

His hand moves down your back, resting comfortably against the base. After you finish your project, you take a paper towel from the nearby roll and wipe your hands.

“Need anything else?” Tim asks.

You smile over your shoulder as you rest against Tim’s chest. He’s older than you, and though some people might frown upon your relationship, you love him, not only because of the selfless way he treats you. Tim places his arm around your shoulders, then uses his free hand to pull your hand closer to him. He traces his thumb over your knuckles, then looks at your nails as his calloused palm holds you like you are the most precious thing in his life, in the world.

“I can make you an appointment at the nail salon you like,” he offers. “Tuesday?”

Tim shifts his hands, running his fingertips up and down your palm as he smiles.

“I can wait,” you answer. “I actually saw a kit online that lets you make your own nail art. Maybe I should try that next time.”

“Send me the link.”

Tim kisses your temple, then twirls the ends of your hair around his fingers. He decides he could spend forever here and wouldn’t even care what his friends thought about it.

“Tim!” Angela calls. “We’re all going to Andre’s.”

“Actually,” he begins.

“No, you skipped out the last three times, you’re coming with.”

“No arguments,” Nyla adds. “We might even make you pay.”

Tim sighs, his shoulders dropping as he nods. He follows them out of the station and is unsurprised to see Lucy, Nolan, Aaron, and Wesley waiting in the parking lot.

“Tim, you’re coming too?” Wesley asks. “I thought you’d finally sworn off fraternization.”

“Ha ha,” Tim deadpans.

��Can I ride with you?” Aaron asks. “My car’s getting a new wrap and Wesley’s backseat is a little tight with the carseats.”

Tim doesn’t answer but doesn’t say no, so Lucy nods and encourages Aaron to go. Aaron climbs into Tim’s passenger seat and buckles his seatbelt without a word.

“Oh,” he exclaims as Tim backs out of the space. “Who’s the Dior lip gloss belong to?” He lifts the tube out of the floorboard and recognizes it as part of a set his mom has. “This is expensive, they must be missing it.”

“She knows it’s here,” Tim grumbles, extending his hand to take it.

“Your sister?” Aaron guesses as Tim places it in the center console. He sees several other items, like a scrunchie, a receipt, and powder.

“None of your business,” Tim snaps. “Why are you getting an expensive car wrapped, anyway?”

“Because I can.”

Tim and Aaron fall silent, Tim thinking about you as Aaron wonders if the others know about the woman taking up space in Tim Bradford’s truck and in his life.

During your next date night, Tim opens the door for you, then wraps his arm around your waist as you enter the restaurant. He moves to his left to stand slightly behind you as you wait to be seated, and you smile over your shoulder at him.

At your table, Tim pulls your chair out for you, but you stop before you sit when someone says his name. You turn, and Tim’s shoulders tense beneath his blazer.

“Angela,” he greets tightly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on a date,” she answers with a smile. She looks at you before she asks, “And you?”

You sense the tension and interrupt to introduce yourself. You provide your name and shake her hand, then look to Tim.

“My girlfriend,” he tells Angela. “We’re on a date, so…”

“I’ll ask more later then. I mean that Timothy, you have a lot to tell me.” She turns toward you again and says, “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

Alone, you take Tim’s hand across the table and apologize for interrupting him and his friend. He promises that he wasn’t bothered by that and assures you that he wasn’t avoiding introducing you on purpose but was just surprised. You fall into easy conversation, as usual, and the date is over far too soon.

When the waiter leaves the check on the corner of the table, you ask, “Going Dutch?”

“Going insane if you think I’m letting you pay for a date,” Tim mumbles before speaking up to say, “My treat.”

Tim offers his blazer before you walk out into the windy Los Angeles night, and you wrap your hands around his arm as he leads you to his truck. You’ve never felt as loved and as cherished as you do with Tim Bradford.

As you enter Tim’s house, he uses your joined hands to pull you back toward him. He dips his chin, gesturing for you to sit on the couch, then lowers to the table before it. With a gentle touch, Tim runs his hands down your leg, from your knee to your ankle. After he hooks his finger under the strap of your heel, he pulls your foot up, resting your calf on his knee to unhook the small buckle against your ankle and remove your shoe. He repeats the process with the other shoe, then lays his hands on your knees and leans forward.

“Hi,” you whisper with a smile.

Tim smiles in the proximity, then runs his hands up your legs to rest on your thighs.

“I love you,” you add.

“I love you,” he replies before he moves beside you on the couch, cups the back of your neck in his hand, and pulls into a kiss that proves it.

Tim stops mid-step as he enters the roll call room the following morning. Angela and Aaron are perched atop the tables to watch him with matching looks.

“What?” Tim asks.

“You have a girlfriend,” Angela says.

“That I’m thinking you bought Dior for,” Aaron adds.

“Who are you and what did you do with Timothy Bradford?”

“Yes, I have a girlfriend, and I bought her some makeup,” Tim admits. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal?” Aaron repeats incredulously. “You, Tim Bradford, are whipped.”

“He took her to an expensive restaurant last night,” Angela tells Aaron without looking away from Tim. “I bet he footed the bill, too.”

“There is no reason to be discussing this at work,” Tim points out. “So, drop it.”

“Drop what?” Lucy asks from the doorway.

One word, Tim mouths to Aaron. Aaron nods, but Angela smiles. Tim knows he has no power over her, but when she changes the subject, he sighs and nods once. She’ll bring it up again when he least expects it, but for now, the ‘news’ of his ‘being whipped’ for you is contained. He isn’t ashamed of you, of course, but some things need to be private.

Immediately after walking into Tim’s house, he kisses you so hard that you can feel the sticky texture of your lip gloss as it smears from the corners of your lips and onto your chin. When he pulls back, holding you up as you blink at him, breathless, he uses his thumb to wipe away the shiny mess he made.

“I missed you too,” you say.

“I was told today that I’m whipped,” Tim replies.

You furrow your brows, and Tim taps his knuckle against your forehead and smiles as he shakes his head. You relax but hold his side as you wait for more information.

“Aaron and Angela know about you, and he told me I was whipped. I realized that he’s right.”

Terrified that Tim is about to break up with you after this realization, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. He huffs and tugs it free.

“I am more in love with you than I ever dreamed of being capable of. So…”

Tim is clearly trying to find the right words, and you smile as you offer, “Incandescently happy?”

“Completely and incandescently happy,” he agrees. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tim smiles, then notices he disturbed your outfit with his sudden affection. He tugs the ridden-up fabric down over your hips before dragging his fingertips along your upper arm to fix your top.

“Remember when you bought me the makeup wipes?” you ask.

Tim nods and inquires, “Do you need them?”

You try to contain your smile but fail. “No, you just proved you can take off lip gloss without them.”

Tim tugs you closer, hooks his arms under your hips, and lifts you up. You gasp in surprise before gripping his shoulders. After he carries you to the kitchen and sets you on the counter, he takes your shoes off and stands between your legs.

“Should I make dinner or are you going to keep distracting me?”

You tap your finger against your jaw and pretend to ponder the question. “That depends… will your friends still be okay with this relationship when they find out you’re a cradle robber?”

“Maybe I should give you back then.”

You pout, and Tim kisses your forehead before he turns away. He passes you a bouquet of red roses, then sets a glass of your favorite beverage beside you. It’s the response you hoped for, and after you gently place the flowers aside, you pull Tim closer by his collar and smile against his lips.

[goldfades]

TIGHTLING ─── LUKE HUGHES

request: "luke hughes + reader doing tiktok couple trends??"

here is the trend i was doing!

The phone props precariously against a stack of books on the coffee table, its tiny lens trained on you and Luke as he lounges on the couch beside you. His long legs are sprawled out, a stark contrast to your cross-legged position, and he looks completely at ease, a faded Michigan sweatshirt hanging loosely on his broad frame.

It was your idea—of course it was—to rope him into yet another TikTok trend. And honestly, it didn’t take much convincing. Luke, for all his teasing about how “obsessed” you are with the app, has never been one to back down from your antics. You swear he secretly loves these little moments where the two of you can just be goofy together.

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” you start, holding your phone up to demonstrate the angle and framing, even though he’s barely paying attention. His eyes flick lazily from your face to the camera. “I’m gonna ask you a bunch of questions, and they’re things only girls would know—like, makeup stuff, skincare stuff. You just have to guess what they mean.”

Luke blinks at you, visibly unimpressed. “That’s it? I just guess?”

“Yes.” You grin, wide and mischievous, and he narrows his eyes at you suspiciously.

“Why do I feel like this is just a setup to make me look stupid?”

“It's not, I promise.” You say, patting his knee in mock reassurance.

He scoffs, rolling his eyes, but the corners of his mouth tug upward into the faintest smile. You’ve won, and he knows it. “Fine. But you owe me for this.”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpan, grabbing the remote and shoving it out of the frame. “And what exactly do I owe you for a few minutes of your time?”

He tilts his head, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you stop stealing my clothes every time you come over?”

“That’s a deal I’ll never make,” you quip, setting the phone back on its makeshift tripod. “Okay, ready?”

Luke leans forward slightly, brushing his hair out of his face as he flashes you a lopsided grin. “Hit me with it.”

And just like that, you hit record.

You settle back into the couch, phone recording, and glance at Luke, who’s already sitting straighter, his focus zeroed in like this is some kind of high-stakes playoff. The intensity is so out of place that it’s almost impossible not to laugh, but you manage to keep a straight face. Barely.

“Alright,” you say, scrolling through your mental list of girl-specific words. “First question: What does waterline mean?”

Luke blinks. “Waterline?” His brows furrow, and he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees like he’s trying to think through an SAT question. “Like... the edge of a body of water? Or where water stops?”

You gasp dramatically, clapping your hands together. “Oh my God, yes! That’s exactly it. How did you know?”

His face lights up, the corners of his mouth quirking into a self-satisfied grin. “Seriously? I mean, it makes sense, right?”

“Totally,” you nod fervently, resisting the urge to crack up. “You’re so smart.”

He smirks, leaning back against the couch. “Told you. What’s next?”

You bite your lip, stifling a laugh, and move on. “Okay, next question. What’s a cuticle pusher?”

Luke’s face scrunches up, his confusion written all over it. “A... what?”

“Cuticle pusher,” you repeat innocently, as though this is a perfectly normal thing for him to know.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes at you. “Uh... is it like... something you use to push dirt out from under your nails?”

You gasp again, clutching your chest like you’re shocked by his brilliance. “Yes! Oh my God, Luke, how do you know these things?”

He lets out a laugh, visibly proud of himself. “I don’t know! It just made sense!”

“Wow,” you say, shaking your head like you’re genuinely impressed. “You’re two for two.”

“Duh,” he quips, leaning forward again, his confidence swelling. “Keep going. I’m on a roll.”

You suppress another laugh and press on. “Okay, what about... baking?”

“Baking?” he repeats, frowning. “Like... cooking?”

You shake your head quickly. “Not that kind of baking. It’s a makeup thing.”

He sits back, tapping his fingers against his leg as he thinks. “Makeup... baking... Does it have something to do with heat? Like, you heat the makeup onto your face or something?”

It takes every ounce of willpower not to break character. “Oh my God, yes! Exactly! You bake it onto your face to, like, set it. You’re literally on fire, Luke. I can’t believe this.”

He laughs again, a full, genuine laugh this time, his cheeks a little pink. “I’m just that good.”

“You really are,” you say with mock awe. “Okay, okay, one more for now. What’s a winged liner?”

Luke doesn’t even pause to think this time. “Easy. It’s eyeliner, but it’s, like... shaped like wings.”

You clap your hands together, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes! Oh my God, Luke! You’re literally unstoppable!”

“I know, right?” He beams, clearly riding the high of getting “everything” right. “See? I told you I’d win.”

You bite back your laughter, nodding along like you’re his number-one fan. “You’re seriously the best at this. I’ve never seen anyone crush these questions like you.”

Luke leans back, folding his arms across his chest, looking far too pleased with himself. “Alright, what’s the next round? I’m ready.”

You can’t hold it in anymore and burst into laughter, but he just looks at you, confused but still grinning. “What? Why are you laughing? I’m killing it!”

And the best part? He truly believes it.

You shake your head, waving your hand as if to dismiss your laughter. “Nothing, nothing! You’re just—you’re killing it, Luke. Like, I think you might know more about this stuff than I do.”

He grins, sitting up straighter. “I mean, you said it was trivia. I’m just good at picking stuff up.”

“Right, right,” you say, wiping an imaginary tear from your eye as you compose yourself. “Okay, next question. What’s... double cleansing?”

Luke pauses, his competitive streak kicking back in as he furrows his brow in concentration. “Double cleansing... like, washing your face twice? First to get the dirt off and then... to, I don’t know, make it extra clean?”

You gasp again, clutching his arm this time. “Yes! Oh my God, that’s exactly it. How do you keep doing this?”

He looks so smug now, like he just nailed a game-winning goal. “It just makes sense, you know? Two steps—one for the surface, one for deep cleaning. I’m basically an expert.”

You nod vigorously, stifling another laugh. “Seriously. Like, you should teach a class or something.”

“Maybe I will,” he says with a smirk. “Alright, next one. Hit me.”

You glance at your mental list again, biting your lip to keep from cracking up. “Alright. What’s a dupe?”

Luke tilts his head, confused but determined. “A dupe... like... a duplicate? Something that looks like something else?”

You slap your hand over your mouth, pretending to be floored. “Yes! Oh my God, Luke, you’re literally on fire. It’s like a cheaper version of something expensive. How are you so good at this?”

He’s grinning so wide now, his cheeks pink with pride. “I don’t know. I guess I just have a natural instinct for this stuff.”

“Clearly,” you say, barely holding it together. “Okay, okay, next one. What’s a beauty blender?”

“A beauty blender?” He pauses, his competitive edge shining through as he carefully thinks it over. “Uh... like... a machine that mixes stuff? Like makeup or foundation or something?”

You clasp your hands dramatically, your jaw dropping. “Yes! Oh my God, Luke, are you kidding me? How do you know this?”

He throws his hands up like it’s no big deal, even though he’s clearly eating up the praise. “What can I say? I’m just built different.”

You double over with laughter, but quickly try to disguise it as a cough when he narrows his eyes. “I’m serious! You’re like... a prodigy.”

“I know,” he says, fully leaning into the role now. “Alright, what’s next? Let’s keep going.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, wondering how far you can push this before he catches on. “Okay, this one’s tricky,” you warn, straightening up. “What’s... tightlining?”

He blinks at you, a little wary but still confident. “Tightlining? Uh... when you line something up really close together? Like... packing it in tight?”

You gasp again, throwing your head back. “Yes! Oh my God, Luke! It’s when you line your eyes super close to your lashes! You’re incredible!”

His grin is so wide now, he looks like a kid who just found out he’s getting a puppy for Christmas. “I mean, it’s just logical, right? Tightlining. Tight lines. Easy.”

“Easy for you,” you say, shaking your head in mock amazement. “You’re like a makeup genius.”

“I should probably put that on my résumé,” he jokes, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Luke Hughes: NHL defenseman, trivia champion, and makeup expert.”

You can’t help but laugh again, your chest aching from holding it in for so long. But he still doesn’t catch on—he’s far too busy basking in the glory of his “success.”

“Alright,” you say, wiping a pretend tear from your eye. “One last question, and this one’s a doozy. What’s a halo eye?”

Luke’s face scrunches up in confusion, but he’s clearly not backing down. “Halo eye... uh... is it like... when your eyes look shiny? Like they’re glowing or something?”

You clasp your chest, pretending to be in awe. “Yes! That’s exactly it! How did you know?”

He throws his hands in the air, grinning ear to ear. “I mean, it’s in the name. Halo. Glow. It’s not that hard.”

You’re practically wheezing at this point, barely able to hold yourself together. But Luke? He’s still riding that high, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s been getting it hilariously wrong the entire time.

── COMMENTS

melia 🤍 "halo eye… uh… when your eyes look shiny?" IM SCREAMING ♡ 18k

abby grace 🌸 the gasp after every answer has me CRYING 💀 ♡ 14.5k

lily 🦋 the fact that he’s dead serious makes this even better ♡ 6.3k

viv 🪩 “double cleansing… to make it extra clean?” i can’t breathe 😭 ♡ 292

nj devils enthusiast “baking… does it have something to do with heat?” AND YOU SAID YES 💀💀 ♡ 500

sarah rose ☁️ his face when you said he got it right 😭😭😭 pure joy ♡ 4.2k

ellie ✨ he’s never gonna trust you again when he finds out 😭 ♡ 1.8k

emma 🤍 “tightlining… tight lines… easy” LUKE WHAT ♡ 239

sophia 💕 he’s gonna tell people he’s a skincare guru after this 😭 ♡ 2k

madeline you could’ve asked him anything and he’d still be so proud of himself lmaoo ♡ 103

noah’s gf how is he so wrong yet so sure every time 💀 ♡ 89

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[niningtori]

for the hope of it all | parts i-iii

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi soobin x you

summary: you've been in love with beomgyu since the first time you saw him, but he sees you as nothing more than a good friend and faithful wingwoman. when he asks you to help him catch another girl, who just so happens to be one of your closest friends, things get complicated.

genre: ANGST, melodrama, romance, smut (mdni), fluff at the end

warnings: smut (mdni), beomgyu is a fucking asshole but he gets better, manipulative!gyu, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (vaginal), oral (f. receiving), dom!gyu, dirty talk, praise, if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 18.7k

notes: ... hi. literally nobody asked for this, but i realized that part 2 of this work didn't even show up in the tags, so i decided to compile all of the previous parts as well as the ending together. hopefully, you all enjoy this. i'm still struggling, but i pray you all still like it even if it's not me at my best. feedback is always appreciated :) thank you!

part i: august

beomgyu really likes her — like, really— and who can blame him? you certainly can’t. chaewon is a lovely, lovely girl, so it should come as no surprise when beomgyu asks you to, in his words, help him bag her. you’re not one with a particularly strong character at the best of times, so when he practically begs you to convince one of your closest friends that he’s actually not the heartbreaking manwhore he definitely is, you can’t find it in yourself to say no.

it doesn't help that he has enough charisma to charm even the most indifferent target he sets his eyes on, it doesn't help that he's so handsome it makes everyone either want him or want to be him, and it most certainly doesn't help that you've been in love with the boy for the entire time that you've known him. him asking absolutely anything of you would result in you relenting, so when he asks for something as seemingly inconsequential as setting him up with a mutual friend, accepting it is a matter of course. does it hurt your heart to see him pining after someone else when you basically consider him as your soulmate? of course. but his happiness means more to you than your own. if she makes him happy, then so be it.

that's what you tell yourself, at least.

-

beomgyu doesn’t know that you love him — he can’t possibly know — or else he’d treat you differently, right? you don’t want that. you don’t want anything to change, at least not in the disastrous way you anticipate confessing your love to him would go, so you’ve kept your feelings close to your chest to keep him from suspecting anything. you think you’ve gotten pretty good at concealing your feelings. for example, you laugh when he tells you about his sexual escapades, and you don’t hesitate to give him advice on how to woo the girls who are wary of his lasciviousness. you only want to show him the good parts of you, carefully tucking any ugly seeds of jealousy or sadness away from his prying eyes.

the thing is, though, beomgyu is not stupid; and to your never-ending misery, you are not the greatest actress. he can see the crestfallen look on your face for the split second before you can contort your features into a smile. he can hear the tremble in your voice as you force out a laugh. with his godforsaken intuition, he can sense the hesitation in your movement when you playfully push him aside as he over-dramatically recounts his latest raunchy fuck. 

all of this has no discernible consequence, though. if anything, your feelings have been his faithful friend and ally when it comes to conspiring with you to land whatever girl piques his interest at the moment. you may not be a prospective partner, but you are a great wingwoman, he’ll give you that much. and that’s exactly what he needs when dealing with chaewon, who has proven to be a particularly tough nut to crack. he doesn’t usually go for people he would consider friends, if only because he doesn’t like dealing with the messy aftermath, but her refusal to look his way is just too entertaining. he has no earthly idea why this cat and mouse game intrigues him the way it does, but he’s hooked like none other, especially because her reasons for pulling away when she’s definitely as attracted to him as he is to her are unclear. maybe she just doesn’t want to seem easy? whatever it is, he likes it. he likes her.

-

“so what's the plan?” soobin asks. 

“what do you mean?” you blink as you turn towards him, effectively taken out of your daze. you've been staring at a new instagram picture of beomgyu for at least ten minutes now. there's not much going on in it — it's just a candid taehyun took of him — but you can't stop the yearning you feel in your heart as you wish you had been the one to take it, instead.

“i mean, what's your big plan to ‘help’ him this time?” there’s a trace of resentment in his tone as he puts air quotes around “help”. you know he thinks you're just wasting your time on a boy who will never feel the same way you do, but what can you do? you still love him.

“i’m… i’m just going to talk him up to chae, no big deal,” you say rather unconvincingly, because it is a big deal. it’s the biggest deal in the world to you.

“and what are you gonna say? ‘hey, i know you know beomgyu is garbage, but deep down, he’s actually not garbage even though, even deeper down, he really is?’” his words are sarcastic and, for lack of a better term, downright hateful. 

“he’s not garbage, binnie,” you chastise. “he’s actually really sweet once you get to know him.”

“sweet? sweet how, exactly?” he sneers. you just sigh and shake your head. beomgyu is a frequent point of contention in your friendship with soobin, but you don’t know how to overcome it. mostly, arguments surrounding him devolve into conversations like the one you’re having right now. 

“he puts on a tough act, but he’s not really like that on the inside,” you insist. “you just don’t know him like i do.”

“and thank god for that,” he snorts, and you frown. you can tell he feels guilty by the way his expression immediately softens. 

“hey, i’m sorry,” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear. “i just don’t like to see you hurting.”

“i’m not hurting,” you lie. “i’m totally fine. it’s just… i just want to see him happy.” you actually do mean that last part. beomgyu, though seemingly carefree, is actually a lot more insecure and sensitive than one might think. you know this because he’s shown you that side of him many, many times, which must mean that he trusts you like no one else. you are honored to be the one he feels comfortable with, and even if it never amounts to anything more than that, you’re thankful you get to see how he really is. 

“and you think being with a new girl every week will make him happy?” he softly asks, no edge to his voice, but his words hurt even more than they did before.

“it's different this time, binnie. i'm serious. i've never seen him like this before. i think he really likes her.” and the words almost kill you to say, but you mean them, anyway. 

“okay,” he relents. “just do what you want to do. i’ll be there for you no matter what.” 

“thank you,” you reply with a small smile, before putting your nose back into your phone and staring at beomgyu’s pictures again. you don’t catch it, but soobin sighs as he watches you. 

-

you’ve been trying really, really hard. usually, all you have to do is talk about good points about beomgyu, and women fall for it hook, line, and sinker. chaewon is not most women, though, and she makes that abundantly clear with the polite smiles and airy laughs she gives you when you try to bring up beomgyu. 

you don't get it. if you had beomgyu’s attention, you’d never let it go, so it makes no sense to you how someone could have it without taking the opportunity to seize it. if it were you, you’d seize it. if it were you, you'd tell him you’ve loved him since the first time you saw him. if it were you — well, it doesn't really matter, does it? because it isn't you. still, you can’t help but dream.

the sentiment that it will never be you becomes clearer and clearer as you watch beomgyu try to initiate conversation with chaewon at his very own house party you are currently attending. you watch from the sidelines as they sit uncomfortably close together, legs flush against one another, as beomgyu wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her in to whisper in her ear. you like to think you’re content with him being with her even if it means you’ll be without him, but it’s difficult to feel that way when you actually see it playing out before you. your heart feels like stone weighing heavily in your chest as she giggles at whatever he says, and you think that things might start looking up for him before her smile suddenly melts into a little frown. 

without warning, she pries his arm off of her and gives him a perfunctory smile before standing up and smoothing out her skirt. then, she grabs her drink from the coffee table and he's left alone. his previously delighted expression is now filled with irritation and disappointment. you're still staring at him, just trying to get a read on the situation as you're left reeling, and before you know it, he's looking up at you. you're a little embarrassed at being caught, but you realize you can play your intrigue off as objectively analyzing the situation in order to help him better. surely he’ll fall for that, right? every time you say something similar, he buys it with no further questions.

he makes eye contact with you then nods towards his room as a silent plea to talk to him in private. if someone were to ask you how you’re able to deduce all of that from one look alone, you’d probably say it’s because you know beomgyu like the back of your hand — and maybe you do, but it’s like a subconsciously trained reaction more than anything. just as you know what beomgyu will do next, he knows you’ll understand his seemingly innocuous gestures. 

you head up the stairs and beomgyu shuts his bedroom door behind you. you prepare to launch into your readymade explanation as to why you were rubbernecking earlier, but he speaks before you can say anything at all.

“why isn’t it working?” he huffs. “did you talk to her like i asked you to?”

“yes, of course i did!” you eagerly insist. you would never lie to beomgyu — well, not about this, at least. your secret feelings are another story. 

“then why does she keep rejecting me?” he huffs. you wish you could answer him. truly, you do. you scramble for the right words, but you sincerely can't wrap your head around her logic, or lack thereof. 

he’s still waiting for an answer, though, so you think back to the recent conversations you’ve had with soobin, and you realize there’s only one plausible conclusion. 

“she just doesn’t know you enough, beoms. if she knew how you really are and how much you like her, she wouldn't act this way; but honestly, she probably thinks you’re just messing with her,” you explain, and you hope beyond hope that he doesn’t take it the wrong way. you don’t want to hurt his feelings by suggesting that his (newly) former playboy ways could be ruining his chances with her.

beomgyu’s feelings, of course, are not hurt. in fact, he just feels more annoyed than anything else. it’s really fucking irritating how he can’t seem to get a read on her or her intentions. she likes him, he can definitely tell, so what’s the problem with him having a messy past? it’s clear that it doesn’t bother you. well, it does, but in a different way. you’d forgive his previous transgressions in a heartbeat if it meant that he’d look your way, so why can’t she be the same? but then, he supposes that comparing someone as lovesick as you are to a normal girl is a bit unfair. 

but why are you so lovesick? it’s obvious that he’s handsome and funny, so falling for him is only natural, but your devotion is on another level. not only that, but you’re devoted in spite of the fact that he clearly wants nothing to do with you. in all honesty, it’s almost like you love him even more when you see him chasing after somebody else... then suddenly, the solution is clear. he has to make her think he doesn’t want her; and the easiest way to do that is to pretend he’s interested in someone else. in the same vein, who better else to pretend with than one of chaewon’s closest friends? you’re absolutely perfect for the job.

beomgyu’s demeanor goes from irritated to self-satisfied, and it puzzles you to no end. maybe he figured out a way to show his true feelings for her? but then why is he looking at you with such intensity? he’s never looked at you this way in the many years that you’ve known him. wait, did he realize something?  please, god, don’t let that be the case. you really don’t think you can —

and your train of thought is stopped when beomgyu strides over to you and locks the door behind you. you look up at him with confusion in your eyes before you finally register what that intense gaze of his really is: predatory.

suddenly, his lips are on yours and you’re holding back a squeal. your eyes widen as he cups his big hands around your cheeks and pulls you in even closer. he tastes like alcohol, which is to be expected, but there's a certain uniqueness to his taste that you can't really put into words; and you’re able to taste it even more as his tongue enters your mouth. you groan at the action, and surprisingly, he does, too. 

you always assumed kissing beomgyu would make you feel like everything was finally right in the world, and it does — it really, sincerely does — but there’s also a certain spark you were not anticipating. something a lot more fiery, and it shoots straight to your core as your tongues tangle together lasciviously. beomgyu seems to know this, and he smirks into the kiss before trailing his warm mouth down your neck. you gasp at the sensation, which just makes him laugh. 

his hands have traveled from your cheeks to your chest, one staying there to grab at your tits while the other one carelessly finds its way up your skirt. 

“so wet,” he whispers in awe when he rubs his fingers against your soaked panties. “is this all because of me?” you feel your cheeks warm and you’re stammering out your next words.

“w-well, i —” 

“is this all because of me?” he repeats, and you give him a feeble nod before covering your face in shame.

“cute,” he snickers, and your previously warm cheeks are now scorching to the touch. 

he moves your panties to the side and rubs against your sensitive clit, which sends pulsations through your entire body, but that’s nothing in comparison to how you feel when he presses a finger into your dripping hole. 

“you’re so tight,” he whispers, lust clearly written all over his face at the prospect of being in your pussy relatively soon; but he wants to enjoy this, he wants to enjoy the way your face screws up as he presses his finger so deep, he’s hitting places previously untouched. he slowly pulls it out, grazing your most sensitive spot with ease before adding another digit in, making you almost groan from the stretch. you bite your lip to avoid making such a sound, but beomgyu pays your attempted discretion no mind as he starts to hammer his fingers into you at a brutal pace. 

it doesn’t take long for you to come undone around his skilled fingers, and once you’re done pulsating around him, he takes them out for a taste. 

“so good,” he remarks, and though your breathing is heavy and your eyes are hazy, you still have it in you to feel embarrassed. he takes your smaller hand in his and leads you to his messy bed, carelessly sweeping every loose item — a t-shirt here, an old cd there — off of it in one go. he lays you down and hungrily licks his lips once he strips you down until you’re fully unclothed. 

you’re feeling extremely small in this moment. you know beomgyu has had his pick of the litter when it comes to women, so you can’t help but wonder how you fare in comparison to the literal bombshells he’s been known to take home. mostly, though, you wonder how you compare to chaewon, as awful as that sounds. if you really think about it, there’s no comparison to be made, really. she’s her, and you’re you. what else is there to say, honestly? still, you’re comforted by the thought that you are the one underneath him right now, not her, and he does not seem disappointed in the slightest if the tent in his jeans means anything at all.

before you can think too much about it, he’s practically tearing his shirt off and you can’t help but stare. his torso is lean and a little paler than the rest of him, probably due to the lack of sun. objectively speaking, he’s no greek god or anything similar, but to you, he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. if he notices your awed reaction, he doesn’t say anything or really care, because he is simply too busy studying how perfect you seem to look under his dimmed lights. again, he is delighted at the prospect of being inside of you very soon.

he unzips his jeans and slides them, along with his boxers, off of his slim thighs and you can finally see him completely. his cock is a red so deep it’s nearly purple, with evidence of his lust leaking out of its flared tip. you’ve heard a lot about beomgyu’s physique from stories, his and his hookups’ alike, but nothing prepared you for the real thing. you’re not a virgin or anything, but you’re still unsure of how you’re meant to fit him inside of you. and you have no idea how you’re supposed to approach the subject. 

beomgyu does not seem to understand your internal battle, though, because he wastes no time in lining himself up with your entrance. before he pushes in, though, he drags his cock along your soaking wet seam just to coat himself in your slick. when he feels he can’t take any more of his own teasing, he begins to push in.

“j-jesus christ!” he exclaims as he tries to push his tip through your entrance. “are you a virgin or some shit?”

“nngh — n-no! i-i’m not. i’ve — mmh — i’ve had boyfriends before,” you say as best as you can while dealing with the feeling of him literally fucking you open. you’re worried he’s not enjoying himself in light of his outburst and his decidedly strained expression. 

“god, s-so tight,” he drawls. “feels so goddamn good.” he draws his hips back before pushing in again, further this time, and his words of praise seem to comfort you somehow, because he’s able to sheathe himself completely in you. 

he groans when he feels your gummy walls wildly contracting around him — unsure of what to do with the pleasurable intrusion and working tirelessly to simultaneously push him out and pull him in. you, on the other hand, feel nothing but full. you’re so full you ache, so after a few moments of adjusting, your watery eyes are filled with an insatiable sense of pleading. 

“you okay?” he asks, actually somewhat sweetly.

“y-yes — ah — i just feel w-weird,” you say. “feel so — fuck — full.” your seemingly innocent words drive him to the brink of insanity, so with reddened eyes, he grabs your hips so hard, you know he’ll leave marks in his wake, and without warning he begins drilling into you.

his thrusts are not calculated or intentional in any sense — they’re rough and fast and show his desperation. why he’s so desperate, he has no idea. beomgyu is sleazy even on a good day, so women come a dime a dozen, but he feels an unquenchable need he feels will only be satisfied if he continues to fuck you like a man gone mad. so he does.

your breasts bounce with every thrust and while he wants to grab one, his thirst only makes him want to go even deeper in you, so he employs his hands to manhandling you into a mating press. the new position has him going even deeper, and you can feel him hitting your cervix with each nasty snap of his hips. tears at the sheer feeling of being overwhelmed spring in your eyes and you have to clamp your hand over your lips to keep from crying out.

“let me hear you,” he pleads while gently moving your hand from your mouth and not-so-gently fucking you like a breeding whore, and he’s not sure if he’s saying it because he wants to make sure chaewon hears or just because he desperately wants to hear you for himself. 

“fuck!” you exclaim, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. “s-so big!”

“oh, sweetheart,” he rambles, “who were you fucking before? they didn’t deserve this tight little pussy. they didn’t fuck you like you deserve to be fucked — like a good little whore.” 

“‘m n-not a whore,” you tearily insist, somehow convinced that he means his words. you’re not completely inexperienced, but you’re not a whore, right?

but your innocence only makes him wanna ruin you more, claim you completely. 

“you’re taking cock so well, but you wanna tell me you’re not a whore?” he snickers meanly, and you feel so delirious, you find yourself agreeing with what he says. 

the lewd sounds of skin meeting skin and the sharp knocking of the headboard fill the room, and the heat you feel building up inside of you has you seeing stars. beomgyu pulls you in for a sloppy, wet kiss as he finally lets one of your legs down in order to snake his hand against your clit, which he languidly rolls in the midst of his pistoning in and out of you. 

“are you gonna come for me?” he asks as his lips part from yours. “are you gonna come all over my cock?” 

“y-yes, please,” you sob. “wanna come!”

“then do it, baby. let go for me,” and with the way he’s rolling your clit while fucking into you, you can’t help but comply.

he hisses when he feels you contracting around him, tightening up even more than before and pulling him in impossibly deeper. that’s all it takes, really, before he comes undone himself and sprays his thick, hot load into your spasming pussy. 

he collapses on top of you, and both of you take a few moments just to catch your breath before he pulls out of you with a wince. he’s absolutely enthralled by the way the mix of both of you two’s cum leaks out of you as soon as he does so. he’s almost tempted to swirl it back in and plug you up, but his rational side stops him before he can do anything he’ll regret. 

“are you on the pill?” he asks, and you nod.

“good, go ahead and get a plan b, too. just in case,” he says with a quick kiss to your forehead, and you nod with a delirious smile even in spite of his pedantic words. you’re just so happy you got to sleep with him, be closer to him.

“oh, i almost forgot to actually tell you,” he laughs. “i think fucking you will make chaewon jealous. i think we put on a pretty good show tonight, don’t you?” 

and your heart and your hope and your dignity shatter like nothing else. 

“y-yeah,” you try to reply with a laugh, but it sounds more forced than anything else you’ve ever heard in your life. “it was a really good show.”

-

“you slept with him?!” soobin asks, and he seems beyond frustrated. if you had the guts to look him in his eyes, though, you’d notice just how much hurt is in them. 

“y-yeah…” you mumble, face downcast.

“why? why would you do that? you’re just going to be even more hurt!” he exclaims, and you shrink into yourself even more, not out of fear, but out of pure shame. 

“i don’t know! it all just happened so fast, a-and i, i don’t know, i just couldn’t stop myself,” is all you manage to say. soobin groans at your words. 

“you do realize that getting over him is going to be even harder for you now, right?” he asks, and you finally look up at him for a second before looking back down and nodding, and it’s almost like you’re a child who got caught doing something they knew was wrong.

“i know, and i’m sorry,” you mutter, still struggling to make eye contact, but soobin catches your timidity and his gaze is softened as he pulls your face up to look at him. 

“you don’t have to apologize to me,” he sighs. “i’m just worried about you, you know?” 

“i know, i know. but i’m still really sorry.” and you don’t have to elaborate on why that is because you both know that he’ll be the one helping you pick up the pieces when this situation inevitably breaks your heart even more than it’s already broken, if that’s even possible.

“it’s alright,” he says, pulling you in for a hug that’s so warm and kind you almost burst into tears. “you’ll be alright. i’m here.” 

-

this is a bad idea. soobin would yell at you if you told him what you’re up to, but you don’t want to think about that right now. all you want to think about is how much better you’ll feel after you get your secret feelings off of your chest. up until now, the fear of rejection has made you too afraid to tell beomgyu how you really feel, but things can’t get much worse than they are at present, can they? it’s only been a few days since your hookup with beomgyu, but your love is eating you alive and you doubt that you’ll be able to hold it in for much longer.

things will probably go badly, and he’ll probably be completely blindsided, but the thought of continuing to lie to beomgyu’s face hurts more than anything else ever could. even more than the pain you feel every day that he unconsciously hurts your feelings. maybe this will ruin your friendship, but you love beomgyu, and he loves you, even if it’s not in the way that you want. all you can do is hope that your friendship is strong enough to overcome this.

with that mindset, you find yourself at his doorstep on this particularly cool summer night. you know he’s home because you can hear the faint sounds of whatever movie he’s watching emanating from his door. before you can lose your nerve, you begin to rapidly knock. before long, you hear the shuffling of feet nearing you, and you almost bolt then and there, but he’s quick to open the door when he realizes it’s just you.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, agitation apparent. oh god, were you interrupting something? what if he was working? what if he was sleeping? you should've texted before just showing up unannounced. 

“i-i’m sorry, are you busy?” you ask sheepishly.

“... no,” he says after a slight pause, and he opens the door to let you in. you sit yourself on his couch, posture ramrod straight due to how fucking uncomfortable you are, and you try to steady your breathing as you fiddle with your fingers. 

“is this about chaewon?” he asks, breaking the silence, and your heart aches at the trace of hope in his words.

“n-no, nothing like that. i just —”

“is there any update on that?” he cuts in before you can even get your words out.

“oh, um, not really,” you reply before remembering that something has happened, but you’ve been so out of it, it genuinely didn't occur to you to tell him. “wait, actually, she mentioned that you seem different lately, but she, uh, she’s still… well, to be honest, she’s —” 

“what? she’s still what?” and there’s no patience for your rambling to be seen.

“she’s still not interested in dating you,” you mumble, unable to look him in the eyes when you say it. he’s completely silent after your words, and when you do finally gather enough guts to actually look at him, you really, really wish you had just kept your face down. because he’s pissed. 

“are you fucking with me? she really said that?” he asks, and you nod. 

“why didn’t you tell me earlier?!” and you feel so disoriented at the way things are unfolding that you can barely croak out a reply.

“i-i forgot.” 

“you forgot? jesus christ, if it’s not about her, then why are you here?” he seems angrier than you’ve ever seen him, but his words get you to finally remember what you’re here for.

“i just… i needed to talk to you,” you say pleadingly, looking into his eyes as you try your hardest to give yourself the strength to be honest with him.

“about?” 

it takes all of the courage in your poor little heart to choke out your next words. 

“beomgyu, you know, for the longest time, i’ve —”

“i know,” he impatiently snaps. you’re unsure of what he’s referencing, but you do know he has no idea about the feelings you’ve kept hidden for so long. 

“no. no, you don’t know, actually,” you argue, brave face on, but voice shakier than a leaf. “i just need to tell you that i —”

“that you love me? i know, that’s what i just fucking said,” he sighs irritatedly. “why else would you help me? ‘cause you love me so much, right?” he knows it’s wrong to take his frustration out on you, but you’re so pathetic, you make it too damn easy. you’re the perfect outlet for him to unleash all of his anger.

“you… you knew? this entire time?” you ask incredulously. you feel like you’re suffocating in the face of his callousness and disgust, and the room feels smaller than it did before.

“i mean, yeah. it was kind of obvious,” he muses. your cheeks feel so hot you’re sure you’re on the brink of immolation. it was obvious? if it was obvious, then why did he keep you around in the first place? because you’re useful when it comes to helping him get his dick wet?

“so… so why did you…” you trail off, still finding it inconceivable that the beomgyu you know and love could possibly know about your feelings; and not only are they unreciprocated by him, which you could understand and respect, but they’re nothing more than a fucking joke and means to an end. the end in question being burying himself into other women.

“why did i act like i didn’t know? because i don't feel the same way,” he answers, and you already knew it and knew it well, but that doesn't make it any more digestible to hear.

“y-yeah, but you — how could you still sleep with me? how could you do that to me?” you ask, lips wobbling and voice cracking. you can't believe this. you won't believe this. you have to be misunderstanding something somewhere. there's just no way this is it.

“because it was easy,” he says with a shrug, and your heart shatters into a million pieces. 

because it was easy. 

easy. what a funny word. you don’t think you even fully comprehend what it means in this context, actually. easy, easy, easy, but what part of this has been easy for you? every day, it’s like you’re killing yourself by trying to twist into what he wants you to be. a friend, a confidant, and now, even a lover. but lover is being too generous, isn't it? because he does not love you, not even as a friend, and this discovery becomes clearer and clearer as you think back to every time he’s shown you just how little he cares.

soobin’s litany of warnings come back to haunt you with a vengeance. 

he’s just using you. 

he’s garbage.

he’s just gonna hurt you.

and though you know soobin will take no pleasure in being correct, you can't help but dread the “i told you so” you know he will never be mean enough to say, but will inevitably think.

“i thought we were friends,” you say incredulously, dread and anxiety pooling in the deepest recesses of your heart. “i thought you cared about me” 

and he doesn’t shrug or anything because he doesn’t really need to, but he might as well seeing as how it clearly makes no difference to him. and this is finally how you come to understand that beomgyu is just as bad as everyone says. maybe even a little worse. and he will continue to act like a sociopath for as long as you let him. 

“i-i love you, i really do. but no fucking way. i won’t sit here and let you treat me like shit,” you declare, tears flowing down your cheeks so quickly and steadily you’d probably be unable to wipe them away even if you tried. luckily or unluckily, you don’t even have the strength to find out. 

“you’re going to regret this,” you whisper, and it’s said with such certainty that for a moment, he almost believes you. almost, but not quite.

either way, you’re booking it out of his door before he can even reply.

-

this is everything beomgyu ever could’ve asked for. chaewon is sitting next to him on his bed, eyes dark with lust as she unceremoniously grabs the end of her top and tugs it off. she's beautiful, no doubt about that, but he feels more and more like something is incredibly wrong. 

she leans in to press her lips onto his, but he flinches, scooting almost imperceptibly further away from her on the bed. she falters for a moment before sighing and crawling on all fours to situate herself between his legs. she begins to unzip his pants and tug on his waistband before he frantically stops her.

“w-what are you doing?” he asks, voice shaking.

“blowing you, what does it look like i’m doing?” she replies with a roll of her eyes. “i just wish i had known you wouldn’t be into kissing or, like, actual foreplay, but whatever.” she continues her movement to pull his pants down before he stops her again. 

“what’s wrong?” she asks curiously, before finally realizing that he is, to what would normally be his eternal shame, completely soft. her mouth drops in shock, and in another universe, beomgyu has enough energy to care. but not in this one. in this one, his eyes are teary as he feels an implacable sense of dread he can’t seem to shake off. 

“oh god,” she says with conviction, pulling herself back up and running one hand through her hair. “i knew this would happen.” 

beomgyu, on his part, looks somewhat out of it, but her words bring him back to earth. 

“knew what would happen?” he asks tentatively, sniffling for reasons unknown to him while he tries not to let his tears run over his waterlines.

“i knew you’d act like this because of her,” she says begrudgingly. 

his eyebrows furrow for a second, not because he doesn’t already know who she’s talking about, but because he doesn’t understand the correlation between you and the situation he presently finds himself in.

“think about it,” she says slowly, condescendingly. “who do you trust, like, actually? and i’m not just talking about with getting girls, but with everything.” beomgyu is silent as he tries to comprehend what she's saying, but he’s nothing if not slow on the uptake in regards to human emotion. 

“oh, beomgyu, come the fuck on,” she sighs in frustration. “i mean, when you were stressed about that presentation for your job, who did you call? yunjin told me all about it. she said you spent hours reciting a 15 minute presentation to the girl you supposedly don’t give a fuck about.” ah. he remembers that night, actually, and he remembers it well. he called you in a panic, so you brought over some dinner because you knew he was stressed, but he was so wound up that you didn’t leave and even insisted that he practice with you in order to give him feedback. he spent the whole night repeating the same speech over and over again, but you sat patiently and encouragingly as he repeated the boring, inconsequential drivel to you. you never complained, not even once, and you didn’t ask him for any compensation in the form of him doing something — anything — similar for you, either. even if you had, he realizes, he wouldn't have given any to you, anyway.

“that’s…” 

“and that’s not even all of it. who’s the first one you look for when you walk into a room? and when something good happens, who do you tell first? not anybody else, and i know for a fact that it’s not me, never will be,” she says bitterly. every new point slashes at his heart and ego.

and suddenly, things start making sense, albeit in the worst possible way. beomgyu loves you. his trust and dependence on you all make an awful sort of sense, but in a way, it’s relieving to finally be able to put a name to this feeling. his eyes still feel hot, but not so much because something feels wrong, but because things finally feel right for the first time in forever. he loves you, has loved you, and will continue to love you.

her words resonate with him so deeply, she can read it all over his face. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he finally understands, but he’s still missing an important fact. the most important fact, even. 

“yeah, i guess you finally get it now. you have feelings for her. and the worst thing is: you treat her like shit.” his eyes widen and the tears that were just threatening to escape are completely let loose. how could he only come to this realization after he already effectively stomped on your heart and your pure intentions? after you’ve made it clear that you don’t want anything to do with him anymore? and he has nobody but himself to blame, really; he practically shoved you away over and over and over again. 

“i-i didn’t mean to —” 

“sure, of course you didn’t,” she says with a sarcastic smile. “whatever makes you feel better for fucking over the girl who’s been in love with you for years.”

-

beomgyu may not know much about the inner workings of interpersonal relationships, but he does know he needs to see you, and he’s smart enough to understand that he needs to apologize. 

but beomgyu has never apologized for anything in his life — not unless you count the times his mother made him grit them out as a child when he would objectively do something wrong, but this is another matter entirely. nobody will be holding his hand as he does it, and he’s not even really sure where to start. but he knows he has to try.

surely there’s a better place to try than at the bar where he currently finds himself, but then, there’s no time like the present. not to mention that he has a sneaking suspicion that you're avoiding all of your mutual friends’ get-togethers for the sole purpose of avoiding him. if the blocking of all of his socials wasn’t enough, the blocking of his phone number certainly was.

it’s not necessarily fate’s fault that he finds himself here, either. he heard from a friend (chaewon) that you’d be here tonight. he sees you from across the bar looking lively and chatty, and he prays that the good mood you seem to be in will help soften the upcoming conversation with him. to his luck, you step out of the bar to take a call, so he slides from his seat with an open beer bottle in tow, and follows you outside. 

your back is turned, and he doesn’t quite hear what you’re talking about over the phone, but he does catch a giggle and a name, soobin’s, and it makes his heart ache. when you hang up, you turn to head back into the bar, but you’re met with his figure. 

“h-hey,” he says, and he wants to smack himself for the casual greeting he still managed to fuck up.

your eyes widen for a moment before they go blank, and you’re pushing past him without a response. 

“i need to talk to you,” he says, voice trembling as he grabs the back of your elbow, which you snatch out of his grip like his touch is poison. 

“about?” you ask curtly, barely even deigning to turn your head to look at him. you have never been so hostile towards anyone, let alone him, and it's making him spiral. 

“i’m sorry. i’m just really, really sorry,” he desperately apologizes. you’re silent for a few moments as you turn to completely face him with your arms crossed, and he’s trying his damndest to read your expression, but he can’t quite make it out.

“okay… and?” is all you say in response, and he fumbles over his words at your nonchalance. 

“a-and, um, i —”

“you know what?” you cut in with an impatient sigh and a wave of your hand. “i don’t care anymore. you’ve said enough.”

“but i —” 

“i don’t care, beomgyu.” and his name is said in such disgust that it sounds to him like it’s a chore for you to spit out. you’re about to turn and reenter the bar when his next words come tumbling out. 

“i think — i know —  i love you,” he says urgently, and your previously unreadable gaze turns into one of pure, sheer amusement. you’re so amused, you laugh, even. 

“what the fuck are you talking about?” you say between giggles.

“i-i didn’t realize it before, but i talked to chaewon, and she even said that i’ve probably always felt that way about you. i know i didn’t show it, but i really do love —”

“okay, just stop. stop it right there, beomgyu. i’m only going to say it just this once, so listen carefully, okay?” you ask, and he fervently nods. 

“okay. you don't know the first thing about love.” and he goes to interrupt you, but you don’t let him. “loving somebody means you put their feelings above your own. what the hell would you know about that?” 

“i’m… i know i was wrong, b-but i —” 

“beomgyu,” you say exasperatedly. “i’m so glad you’re finally reaching enlightenment, and i’m so happy i was cannon fodder for you to use to get there. but i just really, really don’t care anymore, okay? do what you want with whoever you want, but don’t bother me about it anymore, alright?” and he’s so stunned he can’t even form words, but you just shake your head and prepare to leave again. unconsciously, he goes to grab you again, which you consequently dodge, and he thinks this is the most rejected he’s ever felt before realizing it’s not over yet. it’s only truly over when you grab his bottle from him and splash its contents across his face before throwing the bottle back into his arms and leaving for good.

part ii: cardigan

beomgyu can’t tell if his eyes are stinging from the alcohol you splashed in his face or from the sheer humiliation he feels. maybe from both. probably from both. either way, tears fall as a result. he probably looks like a madman as he stumbles along the concrete on his walk home from the bar. he still has the beer bottle you shoved at him in his hand, and luckily for him, there’s still enough in there to help him get a little tipsier than he already is. he needs it, too, because your words play like a broken record in his head.

you don’t know the first thing about love. 

do what you want with whoever you want, but don’t bother me about it anymore.

each and every word feels like you knew exactly the right thing to say to pierce his heart, but he knows better than to think you cared enough to think about it to the point of choosing them so carefully. no, the words you said were what you really felt at the moment. you didn’t even have to try to hurt him, you just had to tell the truth. somehow, that hurts even more. 

he replays the entire debacle in his head and tries to think of what he could have said differently. to be honest, there are a lot things, but he has a feeling that no matter what he said, you would’ve reacted the same exact way. if he really thinks about it, maybe some small, ugly part of him hoped you’d forgive him as easily as you have always been wont to do, but it's clear to him now that he was just being delusional. maybe he was still under the impression that you’d be as easy to please as ever, but with how repulsed you seemed to be by his words, his touch, him, he has no such expectations anymore.

he now finds himself at an impasse. where does he go from here? you made it clear that you’re done with him, but he still loves you. you don't want his love anymore, so where is that love supposed to go? the only person he feels like he can ask no longer wants to speak to him. he’s unsure if he wants to turn to you because you’d understand, or just because you’re the only person he trusts.

needless to say, the walk home from the bar is a long one, indeed. one filled with pensive silence, save for the steady sound of swigs being taken from his bottle and the occasional sob. 

-

most people in your friend group have no idea what transpired between you and beomgyu, but the smart ones, like taehyun, know something must have happened by the way you avoid hangouts in which beomgyu is present like the plague. he doesn’t pry when you bail, though, for which you are thankful. a few weeks pass before you have the epiphany that beomgyu has already ruined enough, and you won’t let him ruin your friendships, too.

when you show up to taehyun’s for his celebratory house party in lieu of a promotion at his job, everyone cheers when you walk through the door, which makes your cheeks heat up, and you feel so relieved that your friends are still the same even when it feels like it’s been an eternity since you’ve seen them. taehyun pulls you in for a hug, and you eagerly reciprocate it.

“glad you made it,” he grins. 

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you say with a smile, which just makes him beam even more.

you’re pleasantly surprised to note that beomgyu is nowhere to be seen, and you relax for a bit before falling into the familiar rhythm that is being with your friends. you missed this. you missed them. and it seems like they’ve missed you just as much if their excited chatter is anything to go by. you were, admittedly, a little tense when you first came in, but all of that melts away as you join in on the banter and pure fun that is being with the people you love the most.

although beomgyu is nowhere to be found, soobin still never leaves your side. he watches the door like a hawk, and you feel at ease with the knowledge that he’s beside you regardless of the outcome. so what if beomgyu shows up? you belong here, and you have soobin and the rest of your friends with you. knowing beomgyu like you do, his passing fancy has almost certainly ended and he will ignore you like the son of a bitch that he is. 

with this notion in mind, you are not at all prepared for the way the aforementioned boy slams taehyun’s front door open and drunkenly stumbles in. the room gets quiet after he does so, and everyone stares as he scans the room with blank, reddened eyes. when his gaze catches yours, you break eye contact almost immediately, opting to turn to soobin with what you hope is an unbothered look, not to keep up any pretenses with him, but because you don’t want anyone other than him to know how uncomfortable you are. in turn, he grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours, giving your hand a small, reassuring squeeze, and he does not move to unlace his hand with yours even after he does it.

while you’re trying to be discreet, beomgyu is anything but as he continues to stare at you with a dumbed out look on his face. the intense atmosphere is only broken when taehyun stands up to greet him with a side hug and a pat on the other boy’s back. 

“hey, gyu. i’m happy you’re here,” he says.

“mm,” beomgyu replies, eyes still never leaving you and lingering at the way you and soobin have your hands joined, and taehyun’s casual side hug turns into him having to support beomgyu’s weight as beomgyu almost falls over while standing. 

“you’re really fucking drunk,” taehyun murmurs with a wrinkled nose as he smells the alcohol on beomgyu’s entire person. “c’mon, you can relax in my room for a bit.”

beomgyu can only nod as he leans on taehyun for stability and walks towards taehyun’s room. his gaze on you only breaks when taehyun shuts the door behind him, and if your friends didn’t know that something odd was afoot with the two of you, they certainly seem to know now as they look between taehyun’s room and your awkward figure.

“you okay?” a soft, sweet voice whispers. you turn to soobin and muster up a forced smile and a nod. his hand is still holding yours and he soothingly brushes his thumb over your hand in order to try to calm you down. somehow, it actually kind of works. 

-

you’re here. beomgyu thought he may be hallucinating or something just because you seem to haunt him everywhere he goes now, but he knew it was the real thing when he saw how uncomfortable you were. he knows this because in his delusions, you’re either flatout rejecting him or, in the good ones, you’re forgiving him. those are the ones he likes the most, but he hates the sobering aftermath when he realizes they are, in fact, only figments of his imagination.

so now he sits on taehyun’s bed in a daze as he focuses on the door. you’re so close that his heart physically aches in yearning as it insists on closing the distance between you two, but taehyun’s sharp look stops him from doing anything too terribly stupid. 

“this has got to stop,” taehyun halfway pleads, halfway scolds.

“what does?” beomgyu asks dumbly.

“showing up everywhere drunk as hell,” he replies. “look, i don’t know what’s going on, but i know it has to do with her, and i know you’re probably — definitely — in the wrong.” 

beomgyu has enough shame to hang his head and purse his lips in response.

“i don’t know what you did, i don’t know what you said, but whatever it was, i know you’re not making any of it better by getting fucked up every night. stay in here, sober up, and only come out when you’re ready to act like an adult.” and with that, taehyun stalks over to the door before shutting it behind him.

beomgyu is not stupid, but he’s not exactly emotionally intelligent, either; so while taehyun’s words sting, they’re not enough to pull him out of his pity party. all he seems to care about in this moment is being next to you, but he remembers the scene of your hands locking with soobin’s. are you seeing each other now? that can’t be it. the heart does not move on that quickly, but maybe yours did. maybe you buried your feelings for him as deep as they could go in the face of the seemingly repulsive confession of love he gave to you. maybe you belong with somebody like soobin, who’s so gentle and caring. soobin definitely listens to you, cherishes you, treats you gently. maybe beomgyu didn’t exactly understand it before now, but he really understands it at this moment: soobin loves you.

maybe, in a way, he always sort of knew. maybe he felt some sort of sick satisfaction at the way you kept your eyes trained on him while soobin was training his eyes on you. maybe he felt some 12-year-old boy kind of pride at the way you seemed to put him before anyone else in spite of such a viable prospective suitor, but any contentment he may have felt is flushed away at the anxiety of you having somebody so good right besides you — somebody who is obviously much better than him.

do you feel the same way? no, even before that, are you okay? he knows he hurt you really badly. are you still hurting? he wants to know. he has to know. so before he can talk himself out of it, he’s stumbling towards the door.

-

things are still pretty tense when taehyun walks out, but they begin to calm down after everyone asks if beomgyu is alright and taehyun answers in the positive, and you think you might just be in the clear before realizing things are never that easy. beomgyu stumbles out of the door and his gaze immediately locks on you.

“hey,” he says a little too loudly. the room is quiet, and though he didn’t say who he was addressing, it’s obvious it’s you with the way he’s staring so intensely. 

“hey,” he repeats even louder this time. to his chagrin, soobin is still next to you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t slide into the open space on the other side of you. of course, propriety would say that he shouldn’t, but propriety means nothing to beomgyu at this moment. not when he’s so drunk he smells like rubbing alcohol, and not when he’s so openly desperate he looks like a man gone mad.

with no grace to be seen, he plops down next to you, and even through your clothes and his jeans, his legs against yours still feel like they burn you. you try to move to avoid his touch so aggressively that poor, large soobin is squeezed into the armrest even more; and it’s all for naught, anyway, because beomgyu just scoots himself even closer. 

“how’re you?” he slurs, and though everyone tries their best not to seem like they’re eavesdropping, they most certainly are. no matter how hard they try not to stare, their gazes keep flicking towards the two of you and their voices are a little more hushed. you’re beyond embarrassed, but beomgyu doesn’t seem to mind their looks one bit.

“beomgyu…” you whisper exasperatedly, accepting your fate as the spectacle that you currently are and trying to nip it in the bud with your obvious distaste for the situation.

“i jus’ wanna know how you are,” he says desperately as he senses your clear rejection, but to his eventual regret, he doesn't stop. you try to keep your voice low as you say your next words.

“good. look, i really don’t wanna do this with you right now. i have nothing to say to you and you don’t have anything to say to me that i actually want to hear, so i think it’s best if —” 

“but i told you i love you!” he exclaims, and everyone around you ceases to pretend that they aren’t listening. how can they even pretend when he’s quite literally yelling? you don’t notice a thing, though. you’re too absorbed in the melodrama unfolding before you, in which you are in the starring role. “i… i jus’ love you so much, i —” and before he can get out his next words, you’re swiftly standing up with soobin in tow and thanking taehyun for the invite while shuffling out of the front door.

-

beomgyu is devastated when you leave. he takes to walking outside to taehyun’s balcony as he lets tears roam freely down his reddened face. he thinks he’s alone before he hears somebody opening the door and shutting it behind them.

“do you seriously still not get it?” chaewon sneers.

“get what?” he sniffles, and she lets out a long-suffering sigh before she gets out her next words.

“you love her, right? and you miss her?” she asks slowly, as if he’s so stupid, he wouldn’t understand her if she said it any other way.

“of course i do,” he snaps, not appreciating the condescension in her tone, but all the bite is lost in translation because he looks nothing short of pathetic as his tears steadily fall. 

“right. you love her, you miss her, you want to talk to her. you, you, you. it’s still all about you and what you feel, but what about what she feels?” she asks, and he falters at her words. “all you’re doing is making things hard on her, and i can promise you that this ‘woe-is-me’ shit you’re doing right now isn’t gonna change her mind.” 

he thinks back to how you acted when you loved him — how you bent over backwards to try to conceal your feelings so as not to inconvenience him. how everything you did was to make life easier on him, no matter how difficult it was for you. yes, you loved him, but you did it in a way he could accept. you did things his way, and for so long; and all he’s done in return is demand your love in his way, yet again.

“so what do i do?” he earnestly asks. “how do i get her back?” 

“... after what you've done to her? you don't,” she answers after a pause, and he deflates at her words. she’s right, of course.

he thinks about how he’d feel if you treated him the way he treated you. he feels like his heart is dying in his chest just at the memory of you rejecting him, but to be rejected so cruelly? what do you even do with yourself then? he wonders how people live with that kind of hurt, but then, you did it for so long and were even able to paste a smile on your face as you did it. he remembers when he thought that you were a horrible actress because of how he could still see through you despite how bothered you obviously were by his actions, but only now does he understand how much resilience it must've taken. somehow, it just makes him miss you even more. makes him love you even more.

-

beomgyu is a pervert. a sick-in-the-head, nasty, freakish, bottom-of-the-barrel, lowdown, dirty pervert. that's the only way he can accurately describe himself in this moment, and the guilt is strong, but not stronger than his need to let this dream play out the way he wants it to. and the way he wants it to goes like this:

your naked body is splayed across beomgyu’s bed as you watch him undress with watery eyes. 

“i need you, gyu,” you whimper as tears threaten to fall.

“shh, baby. lemme take care of you,” he whispers as he lines himself up with your entrance.

you brace yourself by locking your hands around his neck as he pushes in, and you both groan as your pussy struggles to take him in. it’s so real, he feels you spasm around him like it did on the night you spent together, and he knows he’s a goner.

he lets you adjust for a few moments before slowly pulling out, then thrusting himself back in again. each stroke feels like heaven as you cry out with every movement. he grips your hips, but he tries his best not to hurt you when he does it. you’re far too precious to leave marks on, after all. 

beomgyu gets lost in the feeling all too quickly. he wants to be uncharacteristically gentle, but the feeling of you squeezing around him makes his eyes redden, and before long, he’s drilling into you. 

“‘m close!” you cry out.

“me too, baby,” he whispers, and the feeling of you clenching around him as you come is enough to send him over the edge. he spills himself into you with a broken moan. 

“i love you,” he says desperately as he tries to catch his breath. but even in his dreams, you don’t reply. 

-

soobin has always been sweet, but ever since the beomgyu incident he’s been even sweeter. he shows up to your place with your favorite snacks and never asks any unsavory questions. he takes your calls in the dead of night when he’s clearly been trying to sleep. he holds your hand when you start to space out. 

at first, it was easy to chalk it all up to what best friends do, but as the physical intimacy begins to increase, you start suspecting that something deeper is going on. you are not a cruel person — you’re not the type to pretend not to see something so clear when it inconveniences you (unlike a certain someone). so when soobin places your head on his shoulder during a movie night, against your meek disposition, you ask him a very simple question.

“binnie, do you like me?” and you don’t quite have the courage to look up at him while you ask him, opting to stare at the screen before you.

“yeah. yes, i do,” he replies, and while you would rather continue to avoid eye contact, you have enough respect for him to sit up and look him in his eyes.

“i’m so sorry,” you say, because what else can you say? 

“i know. i know you don’t feel the same way, you don’t have to tell me,” he answers with a soft, forced smile.

“i don’t wanna hurt you.”

“i know you don’t.”

“what can i do?” you ask sincerely.

“i… i don’t need you to do anything. if you need me, you have me. if you don’t need me, you still have me,” he tells you.

“that’s not fair to you.”

“then just give me some time,” he replies. “i’ll get over it if you just give me some time.”

“okay,” you nod.

“are you sure you’ll be okay?” he asks, still as concerned about you as ever. as if you’re not breaking his heart.

“i will be,” you lie. regardless of whether he believes you or not, he nods and gathers his things before leaving.

-

you are, in the most crass of terms, pissy drunk. your sticky situation with soobin is one for the history books, if you do say so yourself, and you lack the proper vernacular at the moment to express just how awful it is. who knew your best friend on this planet had secret feelings for you? well, it seems like everyone, actually, because as you confide in your friends, none seem to be particularly surprised. it appears that you’re the last one to find out. 

of course, you’re only able to deal with the revelation by visiting your favorite bar. against your better judgment, you go alone. usually, you’d ask soobin to come with you, but you can’t do that with the way things are right now, which just makes you feel even worse. you’re on drink number three (or four…  or five…) when an unknown man slides into the barstool next to you. you don’t quite catch his name, but you know you’re not interested in him, or, well, anyone at the moment. you’re far too distracted by your current circumstances to even entertain the thought of another man right now, but even as you deny, deny, deny him, he doesn’t quite seem to get the message.

your vision is blurred as you try to hint to him for what must be the umpteenth time that you’re not looking for anything at the moment, but he still doesn’t understand, and you’re starting to feel every ounce of alcohol you’ve consumed until now. you place your head in your hands as you try to keep the room from spinning, but it doesn’t seem to help, and you can feel his hand squeezing your upper thigh. you’re not the most assertive person at the best of times, and you are certainly even less so in your drunken state, so you’re trying to gather your bearings to reject him once and for all when you feel an arm sliding around your neck. 

“there you are, baby. who’s this?” a baritone voice asks rather loudly, a voice you’d recognize anywhere. beomgyu’s. your gut reaction is to push him off and cuss him out, but even with your delayed reactions, you’re able to register that he’s trying to help you out as you lock eyes with his hesitant brown ones.

“gyu,” you say with what you hope is a believable smile. 

“you’re taken?” the man asks disappointedly.

“yep,” you reply, and he scoffs before pushing out his barstool so abruptly, the chair squeaks before storming away. 

“are you alright?” beomgyu asks quietly.

“‘m fine,” you tell him as you rip his arm off from your shoulder. “i don’t need your help.” 

“i know!” he exclaims a little too desperately. “i-i know that, i just —” but the universe smacks you across the face as you begin to gag, alcohol choosing now of all times to rock your stomach with a vengeance. you begin to try to scramble off of the stool, but you’re so drunk, you’re having trouble even standing up. 

without any prompting, beomgyu hurriedly pulls you up and places your arm around his shoulder before hustling you to the bathroom. you don’t even have time to close the door behind you before you’re hunched over the toilet and choking vomit out of your throat. beomgyu slams the door behind him and rushes over to your pitiful frame before shushing you and rubbing circles into your back in an attempt to calm you down. in turn, you bat his hands away without even condescending to look at him when you do it. his heart stings, but he realizes it’s not about him as you lurch forward and continue to empty your stomach. 

when you’re finally finished, you feel a wet paper towel gently rubbing the sweat off of your forehead, then it travels down to your lips where vomit still pools around them. beomgyu intently cleans you up without saying a word.

“a-are you alright?” he asks meekly, and as if only now registering that it’s him, you push his hands away and say your next words. 

“i thought i told you i didn’t need your fucking help. i hate when people make me repeat myself, didn’t you know?” he winces at your harsh words and sharpness of tone.

“i… i know. i’m sorry. i just thought that you might want somebody with you. i’m really sorry.” and even through your drunken stupor, you know he’s not just apologizing for his interference. but you don’t care.

“and why would i want you?” he’s silent at this before finally replying. 

“you know, when you told me i’d regret it, i didn’t really understand what you meant; but i understand it now. i’m really, really regretting it. i should’ve listened to you,” he says softly with tears brimming in his reddened eyes. 

you’re at a loss for words at this. what do you say? what can you say besides “i told you so”? somehow, that doesn’t quite do the sentiment justice.

part iii: betty

after vomiting, you actually feel like you’ve sobered up quite a bit, but you’re still not speaking, which beomgyu takes to heart.

“i can’t — i’m just really, really sorry,” he brokenly sobs in the face of your silence. “so sorry.” 

“i know,” you reply after a pause, and you do know. you didn’t before, but his pathetic actions and demeanor have shown you that he means what he says. your acknowledgment of his repentance just makes him cry even harder, though. because it doesn’t seem to have changed a thing.

“i was a bastard. i was so fucking awful to you when you were just trying to help me, and i didn’t know what i had until you were gone,” he continues, quite openly sobbing at this point. he looks like a man gone mad as he cries in the public restroom of a bar, but what's the point of trying to keep his cool now? maybe this way, you’ll understand just how much he means what he says.

but you’re the victim. you’re the one who should be crying her heart out at the moment. you didn’t even do anything besides reject him after he’s been continuously rejecting you and treating you like gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe for years. why does he get to cry and get what he wants? what about you?  you want to hold onto this injustice, but the way he crumbles in front of you makes your heart soften. no matter how angry you may be, you can't help but try to reason with him.

“beomgyu, i know you’re sorry. i really do,” you sigh, and your tone tells him everything he needs to know, but he still hangs onto every word as if they’re the most important things he’ll ever hear. still, he feels dread at what you have to say next tugging on his heartstrings.

“but it’s just not enough. you treated me like i was garbage for years. you used me and my feelings, and tossed me away whenever you wanted.” and he withers even more with every word. “and i let you do it because i loved you and i thought you didn’t know how i felt, but you fucking knew what you were doing; and you still slept with me while knowing how i felt about you. how can you expect me to forgive you for that?” you ask, and it is not completely rhetorical. you seem to be searching for an answer, but he doesn’t have one. he never did. if he could figure out how to justify any of his actions, he would, but he can’t seem to come up with anything even as he scrambles for a response. 

he knows he's losing you, so why not just be honest? as a last ditch effort, he lays everything out on the table. 

“you said you loved me,” he says. “m-maybe, if i can be better, you’ll love me again. i can be good for you, i-i know i can. so if you just —” 

“beomgyu,” you interrupt, though not maliciously. you seem to have some level of patience for him even in spite of everything. “i still love you. love was never the problem.” and he can’t help but feel a shred of hope bud in the wake of your words, but it’s killed in its crib at what you say next. “but that’s just not enough anymore. the way you’ve been feeling for the past few weeks is how i’ve felt for years. i bet you can’t even imagine that — i don’t even want you to imagine that, actually. it just hurts too much.” 

and while you just said that you didn’t want him to, he can’t help but envision exactly that: the feeling that he had when you were with soobin multiplied exponentially. and for so long. and with different people. that same pain over and over and over again with no reprieve besides for the hope that someday, if you’re lucky, you might have a chance. someday, maybe any day, but probably not any time soon. to live like that and for so long, just thinking about it makes his heart ache and his stomach churn. 

“do you understand me now?” you ask, and gone are the traces of resentment and disgust. your gaze is only filled with pity. somehow, that makes him feel even worse. 

“y-yeah,” he says breathlessly with an inhale so sharp, it’s as if he’s in physical pain, all the while trying desperately to gather his bearings and to look and sound like a functioning member of society. he fails in light of his constant stream of tears. “i, um, i get it now.” 

“okay,” you say softly. “i’m going to call yunjin so she can pick me up. can you get home safely?” this is it. you don’t have to say it, but he knows that you two will never speak again after this. what else is there to say, after all? 

“i can.”

“good,” you smile, and he tries his best to smile, too, but he doesn’t quite make it there. “goodbye, beomgyu.”

“goodbye,” he whispers shakily, and he looks so profoundly devastated that you wish you could comfort him, but you know it’d just make things worse; so without another word, you leave him alone as you prepare to call yunjin.

beomgyu doesn’t know how long he spends in the wake of your absence, but he cries until no more tears will leave his eyes. when he's all cried out, eyes swollen and face red, he leaves the bar in a state of borderline delirium. your words echo in his unstable state of mind, and he realizes that even when you had every right to treat him like the scum of the earth, you were kinder than he could ever reasonably expect for you to be. it seems that you still gave him more than he ever deserved. as always.

-

things with soobin have stayed in an odd sort of purgatory for weeks now, but unfortunately or not, life goes on, so you don't have the luxury of ruminating on it as much as you probably need to. you don't reach out very much for fear of unwittingly making your circumstances with him even more difficult for him to move past, but that certainly doesn't mean that you don't miss him. still, you prioritize his feelings in the matter over your own and patiently await the day where he finally feels comfortable enough to be friends with you once more. he forgoes most of the gatherings that your friends arrange, and it's like a knife to the heart every time. 

as for your situation with beomgyu, you deliberately try to push that out of your mind as frequently as humanly possible. you feel like things have ended on the best note you could ever ask for, and your friends know better than to bring him up around you, so you figure that ignorance is bliss. old habits die hard, though, and you find yourself wanting to check on him, but you remind yourself that that’s not your job anymore — and it never should have been in the first place, really, which is enough to stop you in your tracks on the bad nights where you want nothing more than to reach out. you reason with yourself that he has friends, so there’s no need to concern yourself with him. 

but you miss him. you miss when you were stupid enough to believe that he didn’t know about your feelings. you wish you could go back and erase your love for him so you two could go back to just being friends. what he did was unforgivable, you know that, but you still miss all the times he made you laugh. still, that pales in comparison to all the times he made you cry, right? that's how you should look at things. that's how you will look at things. 

as it is, you’re perfectly fine with never speaking to him again. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

-

“are you okay?” taehyun asks in a hushed tone. he hasn’t seen beomgyu in over a month now, but beomgyu finally agreed to come out with him after taehyun said he missed him. now, they are seated in a booth at the dimly lit bar just down the street from taehyun’s place.

“y-yeah,” beomgyu replies with a forced upturn of his lips as he sloshes around the non-alcoholic drink in his cup. after the last time you saw him, he decided to ditch alcohol for the time being. taehyun was right about him needing to act like an adult, and he just knows that if he were to get even a drop of alcohol in him, he’d come crawling back to you, probably to your disgust. 

“good,” taehyun sighs in relief. “i was really worried about you for a while there, you know? everyone was.”

“i know,” beomgyu answers perfunctorily. everyone has been worried about him and has said as much. well, pretty much everyone except for you. 

“are you ever gonna talk about what happened?” taehyun carefully probes, which causes beomgyu to cease all actions and stare blankly at his cup — liquid still gently swishing back and forth. 

“nothing happened that you probably didn’t already guess,” beomgyu says with a derisive smile. its sentiment is not directed at taehyun, however, but at himself. 

“that doesn't mean i don't want to hear it from you,” taehyun replies.

with a sigh of defeat, beomgyu begrudgingly recounts his circumstances with you, sparing no details. at first, taehyun's eyes widen every so often, but after a while, his face relaxes into something somber and resigned. when beomgyu is finished, his gaze remains locked on taehyun’s face, searching for any semblance of a reaction, but he remains stoic.

“well?” beomgyu asks impatiently.

“well, what?” taehyun says after a moment, and he's tempted to just leave it at that, but after looking into beomgyu’s pleading eyes, he realizes that he needs to say more. “you fucked up, but you know that already. i would say that i can't believe you did that, but if it's you, i can believe it,” he sighs, and beomgyu really wishes he hadn't pressed taehyun for more, because he feels smaller and smaller with every new word. 

“i know. i’m a piece of shit who doesn't deserve her. i never did,” beomgyu relents, feeling completely helpless. he wasn't expecting comfort or anything like that — he doesn't deserve it, but he's still hurt by taehyun's words, regardless of their validity. they just further confirm what he already knows.

“yeah, you're right,” taehyun agrees with a nod, and beomgyu deflates even more, if that's even possible. 

“is… is she okay?” beomgyu asks timidly. he's been too afraid to ask about you, but now that taehyun knows the truth, it seems pointless to beat around the bush.

“not really,” taehyun says with a twitch of his lips. 

“why not?!” beomgyu exclaims a little too loudly. taehyun hurriedly shushes him before glancing around the bar to make sure nobody’s attention has been drawn to the two of them. 

“why not?” beomgyu repeats, voice lower this time, but urgency just as palpable.

“i don't know. i think something happened between her and soobin, but neither of them will talk about it. i'm sure you can guess what happened, though,” taehyun sighs. and he's right. beomgyu can guess, but he can't quite believe it. you must've rejected soobin, but why? why would you reject someone so perfect for you? does it have anything to do with him?

-

beomgyu can’t shake the feeling that your situation with soobin has something to do with him. he knows he’s being vain, he knows he’s being selfish, but he can’t help but hope. he doesn't tell anyone about this, though, for fear that reality will be much crueler than he can cope with. he tells himself he's perfectly content with living with said hope and deluding himself into thinking he still has a place in your heart, but he can't control the way his mind wanders to places he scarcely dares to dream of these days. dreams where you miss him, where you still think about him, where you forgive him play out in a number of ways, but in the end, they're nothing more than, well, dreams.

-

as much as some would like to avoid it, gathering for taehyun’s friendsgiving party is inevitable. no matter the circumstances, nobody can quite justify missing out on your friend group’s collective tradition. you try to steel yourself for the potentially awkward encounters with soobin and beomgyu, but you can’t help but worry about potential “what if’s”. still, you decide to be as mature as possible. if you see soobin, you'll make light conversation before excusing yourself if he seems uncomfortable. if you see beomgyu, well, hopefully he'll just ignore you as you've ignored him.

when you arrive at taehyun's, you greet everyone as usual. honestly, as awful as it sounds, you're pretty relieved to see that neither soobin nor beomgyu have arrived just yet. you drink just enough to take some of the edge off, so when soobin comes in, it's not an earth-shattering event. when he greets you, you're prepared to just leave it at a cordial, somewhat distant conversation, and he seems to be on the exact same page. he says hello and performs all of the necessary niceties before wandering off and getting himself a drink. it hurts your heart that this is what your friendship has been reduced to, but you know it's what's best at the moment. you don't want to unintentionally hurt him by insisting he push his limits by being with you. 

you try to shove this out of your mind, and you're talking to yunjin about nothing in particular when beomgyu walks through the door. you can’t help but look up when he enters, but you will yourself to look away while plastering a smile on your face you already know isn’t believable in the slightest. mercifully, he doesn’t do anything other than wave at you and yunjin before getting lost in the hustle and bustle of the party.

you think the worst of the night is over, and you calmly go through the motions of your friendsgiving traditions as if everything is fine. after dinner, you find yourself sitting alone, wondering if you should just hang it up and go home a bit early. before you can do that, though, you notice soobin approaching your spot on the couch. 

“hey,” he says a little unsteadily as he plops down next to you, no doubt a little tipsy from the drinks he’s had.

“hey,” you shyly reply with a smile. 

“how are you?” he asks. 

“i’m okay,” you answer, trying to maintain your composure. “what about you?”

“better,” he says before hesitantly continuing. “i miss you.” your heart soars, but it also somewhat aches.

“i miss you, too,” you tell him honestly. he smiles, albeit very softly.

“how are things with beomgyu?” he probes.

“as good as they’ll get, i guess.”

“so not very good, huh?”

“no, not very good,” you say truthfully. 

“well, why don't you just cut the bullshit, then?” you're very clearly taken aback by his words. you're even actually offended that he could casually say such a thing.

“what are you talking about?” your tone is more defensive than bewildered, but he just looks at you with knowing eyes that make you feel microscopic.

“you know what i’m talking about,” he argues. “this whole fucked up charade that you two are performing isn’t fooling anybody, so why even try?” 

“he doesn't deserve me,” you scoff. “he can't just treat me like shit and get away with it because he's sorry now. he needs to pay for what he's done.”

“and who are you punishing by doing that? him or yourself?” you're, again, surprised, so you don't quite know what to say in response.

“i know you. i know what you want, and denying that doesn't do anything but hurt the both of you. you might as well get what you want. maybe he doesn't deserve it — i'm not really sure, but don't you want to try, at least? with how desperate he’s been acting, i don’t think he’ll hurt you again.” you seriously ponder his words, but the main conclusion you come to is that soobin is still so, so kind. he had — or has — feelings for you, but he still wants to see you happy. you don’t have to say anything, though, because it seems like he understands how grateful you are just from your smile.

he pulls you in for a hug, one so warm and loving you can't help but melt into it. you could cry at how relieved you are that you two will soon overcome the awkwardness and distance. it seems he wasn't one of your best friends for nothing. when you two break apart, you look up at him with a watery smile. before you can say anything, though, you register the odd look on his face. you look confused for just a second before he says his next words in a hushed, hurried tone.

“i'm doing this for your own good,” he whispers as he leans down and catches your lips in a tender kiss. to say you're stunned is an understatement, indeed, but the kiss ends almost as quickly as it begins, leaving you reeling. 

“w-why did you —” 

“i said it was for your own good, but it was kind of for me, too,” he softly chuckles. “maybe i want to punish him a little bit.” you don't really understand what he means until you follow his gaze and catch beomgyu in his line of sight. oh, you get it now. who knew soobin was such a sadist? 

your conversation with soobin ends and you feel a lot lighter than you have in a long, long time, but his words leave you with more than enough to think about. you shake your head and go out to the balcony to clear your head. after a few minutes, you hear the door behind you creak open. you know it's beomgyu before he even says anything. 

“so, you and soobin, huh?” he questions softly as he settles next to you, leaning against the railing. you glance up at him to respond, but his mirthless smile stops you before you can say a word. 

“i’m happy for you,” he adds as sincerely as he can, and you’re not sure you buy that, but at the very least, he seems to want you to believe it. you're not really sure how to respond. you don't even know if you want to explain everything to him, actually, because you're still debating on whether or not you should forgive him. can things really be that easy? does he deserve your forgiveness? who's to say he won't just break your heart again? as you struggle with how to answer, he continues.

“i'm, um, i'm glad you found somebody. especially soobin. he'll treat you right — you deserve it,” he says before timidly rambling. “s-sorry if i’m overstepping, i just wanted you to know that; and, uh, if you ever need anything, i'm here.”

“need anything? like what?” you can't help but wonder aloud. now, this is unlike the beomgyu you've come to know. if it were, then he'd be throwing a fit trying to get you to change your mind so you'd be with him instead of soobin. 

“l-like, if you need advice or something,” he earnestly answers, somewhat surprised you said anything at all. “or if you just want to talk or complain or anything. whatever it is that you need, i’ll be here. i owe you that much after all you’ve done for me.” you look confused for a moment before you answer him.

“i didn’t do those things so you’d owe me, beomgyu,” you tell him, and his heart flutters against his will at the use of his name.

“i-i know, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it like that. s-sorry. i just want you to know that there’s someone who wants to be there for you, especially since you were always there for me, but even if you weren’t, i would still want to be there for you,” he nervously replies. 

“why?” you quietly ask, and that actually brings a wistful smile to his face. 

“because i care about you,” he says, voice dripping with sincerity and solemnity. what he really wants to tell you is that it's because he loves you, but it's clear that it's the wrong time. he can't just dump his feelings onto you again — that would be wrong since you're obviously involved with someone now. if it were the old him, he'd do it with absolutely no regrets if it meant that you'd come back to him, but he can't do that to you. he can't just steamroll over your wants and feelings like he's always done. 

“but why?” you question persistently. he never saw anything of value in you before, not outside of how he could use you, so what’s so great about you now? you just can’t understand it. his sincere smile turns wry, teeming with a sense of self-mockery as he whispers his next words.

“because you're amazing. you're everything anyone could ever want.” anything i could ever want. he doesn't have to say that last part, because you can already hear the meaning of his words. just because you can hear it, however, doesn't mean you understand it.

“i never thought you, of all people, would think that,” you say honestly. 

“i know, but that's my fault, not yours,” he replies. you purse your lips in response, mulling over your options. you could just walk away right now and go back to ignoring beomgyu forever. it's what he deserves, you reason. he humiliated you in a way like none other, and nobody would blame you if you never let that go; but you look at how hard he's trying, and your heart softens. maybe you want to give it a try. maybe you'll get hurt again, but with how desperate he is, you really don't think so. still, you can’t let him get away with it so easily. you just have to make sure his feelings are pure.

“i know you still have feelings for me,” you say after a long pause, and his face reddens in shame, feeling like his ugly heart that he was desperately trying to conceal has been exposed. he supposes this is the way it should be, but he doesn't want to guilt you into anything, so he chooses to remain silent in his humiliation. “if it were like before, you would just tell me that. why is it different now?” you continue. well, that's it then. he should be truthful and say what he wants to say, and unbeknownst to him, what you want to hear.

“because your feelings should be more important than my own. that's what you do when you love somebody,” he chokes out. “you taught me that.”

you're quiet for a long, long time. too long, in fact. so long, he thinks it's time to call it quits and suppress his unrequited feelings for you until he feels them no longer. he can't imagine a world where he successfully does so, but for your sake, he should try. before he can say his goodbye, though, you speak again.

“okay,” you sigh.

“what?” he asks confusedly, eyebrows furrowed.

“i said, ‘okay’. don't make me regret this,” you tell him before grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to you. your lips softly meet each other and his eyes widen in sheer shock, though he doesn't resist you. his breath is labored when you finally part, eyes hazy with his lips red and swollen. 

“w-what are you — i thought — why are you —”

“i'll give you one chance,” you interrupt. “if you fuck up, it's over. do you understand?” he takes a second to process your words — but it's just a second — and his eyes well up with relieved tears when he understands. he dumbly nods in agreement, too afraid that if he speaks, no intelligible noise will come out. 

“good.” the corners of your mouth curl with a ghost of a smile, and you're prepared to leave it at that as you pull away from him; but like a dog, he earnestly chases after your touch before pulling you towards him, lips meeting yours again. the kiss is hungrier this time — more insistent, but he doesn't push his luck. eventually, he parts from you, leaving you both panting. his tears, which he was previously holding back, now flow from his eyes with no resistance. 

“thank you,” he says gently.

“for what?” you ask, head a little clouded from the kiss, but he just shakes his head with a smile. you will never understand just how grateful he is for the mercy you’ve shown him, but he’ll try to show you how much it means to him. 

-

things go slowly after that — you do your best to ensure that they do; and beomgyu, to his credit, tries to oblige. you’re not official or anything like that, but you let him take you on dates, and he’s always trying to woo you in one way or another. he sends flowers when you work, he shows up to your place with food and drinks, he texts you every morning asking how you’ve slept. it’s everything you could have ever asked for, and you can really see how hard he’s trying, but when kisses become heated, you always pull away before things can go any further. beomgyu tries his best not to show his dejection, but you always end up apologizing before he adamantly insists that he’s more than okay with it. you appreciate his understanding because every time you think about going any further, you can’t help but remember the indelible scar that his previous betrayal left upon you. 

-

christmas parties at beomgyu’s, much like friendsgivings at taehyun’s, are a tradition within your friend group. now that the tension with soobin and (most of) the tension with beomgyu is no longer there, you find that you’re actually really excited to gather again. you have no intention of revealing the nature of your… circumstances with beomgyu to everyone, though, and beomgyu will never say it for fear of making you uncomfortable, but it makes his heart ache. he can't really blame you for not wanting to be tied to him, but that doesn't soothe the pain in his chest.

secret santa takes place without a hitch. that is, until you open up your gift, which is a necklace with a pendant of a silver sun, and it is revealed that soobin got it for you. it’s not the most expensive gift in the world, but it is uncommonly sentimental. many write it off as a pretty, but ultimately meaningless piece of jewelry, but beomgyu instinctively knows it’s because of how so much of you resembles the sun. how could he not understand? you’re warm and nurturing, but it’s unsettling to realize that you’re not his alone. he tries to tell himself that it's not the end of the world, but when soobin turns you around and gently clasps the necklace for you before smoothing out your hair, he can't help but feel like it is. that’s enough for him to excuse himself to his room, but you’re far too preoccupied with gushing over how much you love the gift to soobin to really notice. 

when he enters his room, he sits on the edge of his bed, placing his head in his hands with a groan. he shouldn't be feeling like this. he has no right to feel like this. you had already taken the time to explain that you and soobin are just friends, and you stressed that he’ll have to be okay with that fact if he wants to be with you, to which he eagerly agreed; but he can't help but think that it's only a matter of time before you come to your senses and leave him to be with soobin for good. 

you two aren't even technically official, and your hesitance to be classified as such to your closest friends only shows him just how much you want that to continue to be true. what if he's just a pit stop in yours and soobin's love story? that seems like the most likely outcome. he can just see it now, you and soobin laughingly recalling your tumultuous history to your future kids. is beomgyu being dramatic? probably, but that doesn't stop his mind from running wild. why would you choose to stay with him when soobin, who's been devoted to you since the beginning, is right there? 

the door to his room opens, and he whips his head up in hopes that it's you coming back to him, so he can't hide his disappointment when he's greeted by chaewon’s figure shutting the door behind her before she plops down beside him. his mood turns even more sour than it already was when he sees her.

“if you're here to laugh at me for how pathetic i am, i don’t want to hear it,” he says bitingly. she’s quiet for a moment, as if she’s digesting his words, before she nods.

“you’re right, you are pathetic,” she deadpans. his temper flares, but before he can lash out, she continues. “you look stupid just sulking here because your little girlfriend got attention from another man.”

“h-how did you kn—” 

“she may be subtle, but you definitely aren’t,” she snorts. 

“oh,” he defeatedly replies with a laughably crestfallen look.

“doesn't feel good, does it? seeing the person you love with somebody else,” she asks snarkily. “it’s one of the worst feelings in the world, if you ask me.” 

“and what the hell do you know about that?” he spits. chaewon is one of the most spiteful and bull-headed people he knows. he can't imagine her being too broken up about supposed unrequited love. 

“because that's how i feel when i look at the both of you,” she says matter-of-factly, as if she didn't just drop the bomb of the century. he knew that she was attracted to him, obviously, but he never knew her feelings ran any deeper than that. he sputters as he looks at her, but she cuts him off.

“i know you didn't know about my feelings, for real this time. i guess i'm a better actress than her, or maybe you just never cared enough to find out. whatever it is, i know it's hopeless, so you don't have to tell me.”

“i'm sorry,” he murmurs, but she just shakes her head.

“thanks, but your apology just makes me feel worse,” she scoffs. “i don’t need or want the pity of the most pitiful person in the world.” her words are undeniably harsh, but he can register the amount of hurt in them.

“i'm still sorry,” he says. “i know how you feel, and i know it's really hard. i'm sorry for never noticing.” his sincerity makes her calloused heart soften.

“yeah, it's hard; but for what it's worth, i think she loves you, too,” she tells him.

“i really hope so,” he replies with a sardonic smile before it melts into something more genuine. “thank you for telling me about your feelings. i'm sorry that i don't feel the same way, but i hope you find somebody who does.”

“thank you,” she says, more sincerely this time. “friends?” with this, she extends her hand for him to shake. he smiles at her gesture as he complies. 

“friends.” hesitantly, she pulls him into a hug. he’s stunned for a second before patting her back in reciprocation. he can’t love her, but he can learn to appreciate her, which he has never done, even with all of her help. maybe he’s becoming a better person because of you. 

as if on cue, the door opens the moment that thought is fully formed. he’s relieved to see you for the split second before he realizes how this must look to you. he madly breaks away from her in a haste.

“it's not what it looks like!” he exclaims, and chaewon tactfully rises and scurries out of the door before shutting it behind her, but you remain silent and rooted to your spot.

“i swear! it's really not what it looks like,” he says pleadingly as he stands and grabs your hands, which you promptly smack away. 

“i just fucking knew this would happen,” you spit. “i won't give it up to you, so you turn around and pull this shit — is that it?”

“n-no! seriously, we’re just friends! she told me that she had feelings for me, but i rejected her, and we said we would just be friends,” he desperately explains. “i swear to god i would never do that to y—” he wants to continue, but the way your shoulders shake as you put your head in your hands stops him in his tracks. 

he hurriedly embraces you as he hears muffled cries escape your lips.

“i’m so sorry, please don’t cry. it wasn’t what it looked like, i promise,” he says as soothingly as he can muster, but that doesn't seem to stop your tears. he feels more and more helpless as you continue to break down in front of him, so he resorts to saying whatever he can think of to calm you down. 

“i’m sorry, it’s all my fault. i never should’ve touched her. just don't cry, okay? i hate seeing you cry,” he whispers as he draws circles on your back, pressing you closer to him. after a while, your sobs die out and your breathing becomes more steady. 

“a-are you okay?” he timidly probes. you stare at him with eyebrows furrowed for a bit before you slightly nod. he purses his lips before continuing.

“are you going to leave me?” he whispers, and he regrets asking as soon as the words leave his lips. 

it's okay if you're only indulging him in this would-be relationship because you pity him. it's okay if he's just a pit stop in your love story with soobin. it's okay if he turns out to be nothing more than a momentary distraction from the actual love of your life, just as long as you stay with him for as long as you can stand it. why would he question his place in your life? why would he ruin a good thing by making you tell him to his face that you don't want him? he should've just waited for you to figure it out on your own instead of forcing you to confront the true nature of your feelings for him. 

when he’s met with nothing but your pensive silence, he speaks again.

“i-i’m sorry i asked. i, um, i understand,” he adds defeatedly.

“no,” you croak. 

“n-no? what do you mean by —” 

“no, i won’t leave you,” you declare, a little bit more confidently this time.

“you won’t?” he asks doubtfully, taken aback by this sentiment.

“do you want me to?” 

“no! i-i just can’t believe it. why would you stay with me?” 

“because i think you love me. do you?” 

“of course!” he exclaims.

“then will you show me? how much you love me, i mean?” you ask.

“h-how do you mean?”

you look up at him and pull him by his collar so his lips meet yours, and his eyes widen before he melts into the kiss. he feels like he’s floating as you move your lips against his, but he groans when you softly tug his hair, which allows you to snake your tongue into his welcoming mouth. that’s enough to replace the floating feeling with one of pure need. when you part, you're both gasping for air. 

“are you sure?” he seemed so lost in the feeling before, but he looks nothing short of timid right now, endearing you in a way you previously thought was impossible.

“yes.”

he gulps and guides you to his bed, firmly gripping your hand as if he’ll lose you if he doesn’t hold onto you. carefully, reverently, he begins to undress you, making sure not to be too rough, juxtaposing how crass he was the first (and last) time you two did this. when you’re fully undressed, he shamelessly takes the view of you in. you subconsciously feel embarrassed and start to cover yourself, and he gently, but firmly, takes your arms and pulls them away from your shivering frame.

“don’t hide from me. you’re beautiful,” he whispers, before ducking down and pulling you in for a heated kiss. it’s still gentle, but there’s more fire behind it than usual. eventually, he breaks away and quickly rids himself of his clothes, contrasting greatly with the tenderness he showed you as he took yours off. when he’s finished, he kisses you again. this time, though, he doesn’t just stop at your lips, and he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck before he pushes you down onto the bed and finds his way down to your aching pussy.

he plants kisses on your open thighs until your legs are trembling and your core is glistening with anticipation. greedily, he takes one experimental, flat-tongued lick from your pussy and groans at your taste. he starts slowly — licking stripes until his movements become a series of alternating between this and more focused licks to your folds and clit. eventually, he takes one of his fingers and prods at your weeping hole before pushing it in to the knuckle. he curls and teases until he finds your sweet spot with little effort. 

“o-oh,” you sigh, but before you can get used to the feeling, he slides another finger in and repeats his movements, softly sucking on your clit as he does it. beomgyu tries to show restraint, he really does, but you taste so good that before long, he’s practically hammering his fingers into you while he licks and sucks on your lower lips. you’re no match for his skilled tongue, so you’re falling apart more quickly than you’d like to admit. you hold onto his hair for dear life, tugging a little harder than you probably should, but you’re in no state to control your harshness as you reach the end. 

“gyu, i’m gonna — oh, shit — i’m coming! i’m coming!” you cry as your legs buckle, tightening around his head against your will. he doesn’t pull away, however; he just lets you cage him in between your thighs as if he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world. as you come down, he laps up your cum and removes his fingers to directly stick his tongue in your clenching hole. you think you might have to pull him off of you due to overstimulation, but he (reluctantly) does it himself before you can quite get there. 

he makes no move to clean himself up, and his expression is one of pure bliss, as if you were the one who just gave him the best oral of his life and not the other way around. he pulls you in for a heavy kiss, and you taste yourself along with the sweetness that is beomgyu. he tries to be patient, but he can't help but frantically line himself up with your entrance, poking and prodding his tip against your still-spasming hole as he takes one of your hands into his own while using the other to guide himself into you. 

“is this okay?” he nervously asks. you nod. with a strained breath, he slowly begins to push into you. 

it's a struggle to push himself in, meeting resistance as you clench around him, pussy trying desperately to accommodate his length. your hand tightly grips his as you feel the almost unbearable stretch, and he soothingly caresses his thumb over your finger, shuddering as you take him in inch by inch. it feels even better than the first time, somehow — you're even warmer and wetter than before. with labored breaths, he tries to keep himself from coming early as he feels you contracting around him. when he’s finally completely sheathed in you, it's like puzzle pieces fitting together; things seem more right than they have since, well, the last time you two did this. you stay like  that for what must be a long time — just feeling each other in an act of pure intimacy as you both heave out labored breaths. 

“are you ready?” he whispers, and after a few seconds, you nod. he shakily pulls out, feeling your pussy struggling to keep him in, and takes a deep breath before piercing you in one fluid motion, scraping against your g-spot with ease. you whimper at the sensation as he pulls himself out before ramming back in again. 

“relax, baby. i know you can take me. you were made for me,” he says soothingly as he sets his pace. he tries to take things slowly, but it’s difficult when it feels like you’re sucking him in with every thrust. his words comfort you, and before long, you're melting into his touch.

“so good,” he groans as he repeatedly hits your cervix. “you’re so fucking perfect.” all you can do is moan in response, feeling so detached from reality that the only thing chaining you to it is the way he’s fucking you. your grip on his hand tightens until you’re sure his fingers are numb, but he makes no move to stop you. he even leans down to plant a kiss on your lips, which was meant to be mostly innocent, but it quickly devolves into your tongues and teeth clashing against  each other as he snaps his hips into yours. you feel more than full as he stretches you out and pounds into you so deeply, you feel him in your stomach. you can only be described as lightheaded as he hits the deepest parts of you relentlessly, and you feel yourself getting closer to your climax — causing you to let out an animalistic whine.

“shh, baby. i’ve got you. just let go, okay?” you have no choice but to oblige when he continues drilling into you. you couldn't stop even if you wanted to. it's only a few moments before your eyes are rolling backwards as you mercilessly clamp down around him. the feeling of you tightening on his length pushes him to his own end, and he moans out “oh, g-god, i love you,” while he spills himself into you, shuddering as he does it. you feel his hot cum flooding your insides, eventually leaking out of your aching cunt as he slowly thrusts it into you. you stay like that, just joined together, for a long while.

with reluctance, he pulls out of you. you're both silent as he collapses on top of you and mindlessly toys with your hair. 

“i love you, too,” you whisper.

“w-what?” he shoots up and stares at you in disbelief, scanning your face in earnest.

“you heard me,” you reply. 

“can you — can you say it again? please?” your purse your lips before responding.

“i love you, too.”

he doesn't mean for them to, but his eyes well up with tears. he grabs you and flips you on top of him before locking his arms around you. your head rests comfortably against his chest as he pulls you closer and closer, nuzzling his cheek onto the top of your head. 

“i can't believe this is real,” he whispers between his tears, and you can't stop yourself from smiling at the sheer amount of awe in his tone. “i'll be so good to you, you won't believe it.”

“okay,” you chuckle, in spite of yourself. what can you do other than believe him when he's so damn desperate? 

notes pt. 2: finishing this has most certainly been an uphill battle. i was writing like a few sentences a day for the longest time. still, i hope you all enjoyed this. i love you very much, my friends. also, please let me know what you thought about it (as long as it's not mean!)

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[sanriovin]

hear me out on this one y'all.

imagine yourself coming back home from a hard day at work, right? all overwhelmed, exhausted, annoyed at the world, and so on. as soon as you walk into your shared room though, you see a sight you weren't expecting in the least.

your husband, kento nanami, jerking himself off.

poor man, on his one day off, which were EXTREMELY rare for him, you, as luck had it, had to go to work :( and he was all needy and desperate for you, resorting to masturbating, which he never did often, even more so after the two of you became a couple.

his big, strong, calloused hand from the type of jobs he was involved in, wrapped nicely around his aching, pulsing cock, fisting himself, as pathetic, desperate groans and moans of your name and how good he was feeling left his lips, as his hips bucked up further into his hand from the pleasure he was feeling.

his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, head lolling back into the soft, welcoming pillows, dressed in a gentle linen pillowcase, undoubtedly not even realising that you had came home. the sight before you stirred something inside of you, making the exhaustion and annoyance from the day disappear completely, instead, replacing it with a feeling of your own neediness, and a sense of pride, seeing how your husband could fall apart. it gave you ideas. MANY ideas.

"Kento?" you spoke from your spot at the door, your eyes trailing down your husband's half-nude form; his trousers and boxers gone, his tie loosened, three tops buttons undone from the top.

hearing your voice breaking through the sounds of his ragged breathing, loud grunts of pleasure, and the occasional moan or two, his hand came to a stop, his eyes opened wide, looking at you, with shock, embarrassment, and shame. he couldn't even bring himself to hide his body, in a state of processing what had happened.

placing your bag down on the dresser near the door, you took one step, then another, then another, as you approached your shared bed, your eyes locked onto kento, not looking away for even a mere second, in fear that you would miss even the slightest reaction from your normally composed husband.

he swallowed harshly, audibly, slowly moving his hand away from where it was nicely wrapped around previously, placing it down on the linen clad duvet, averting eye contact with you, his cheeks flushed a soft pink, from either the embarrassment, or the physicality and feelings that masturbation brought, or both?

"I'm sorry, darling, I wasn't expecting you to be home so soon." he spoke a quiet apology, seeming genuine with it, but how could you even be mad at him? or how could he even think you would be mad at him?

shaking your head, you moved yourself down onto the bed, situating yourself in between his thighs, watching how his adam's apple bobbed with nervousness and excitement, how a dribble of precum ran down his dick with every tremor that ran down his body.

"You're sorry for what, Kento?" you asked, the question being more of a chastise for him even thinking that he needed to apologise for this, rather than an actual question. in all honesty, seeing your husband like this, undone into a puddle of desperation and lust, was something you would kill to see on a daily, so you were definitely not complaining.

taking a single finger, you trailed it down his thigh, inching closer and closer to the one spot that was the key to getting rid of all his frustrations and stress, even if just for a day. he let out a quiet sigh, watching you with eager eyes, silently pleading with you to do something, anything, to relieve the pulsing ache.

"Do you want me to help you, Kento?" you, once again, gave him a question. your voice was sweet, soft, as if lulling him into a sort of haze. your voice worked like a siren's, bringing him in and in, with only mere words. having him wrapped around your pinky. true, most of the time, nanami preferred to be the dominating one, the one in control, however, he also knew how to let himself be taken care of by others, specifically, you.

"Please, honey, please, I need you so badly." his voice was strained, barely managing to hold himself back; hold himself out for long enough for you to do something.

taking that as your sign to continue, you put a coy little smile on your face, lowering yourself to lay comfortably between his legs on the soft bed, before placing one, single, chaste kiss to his angry, red tip.

he let out a groan in response, head falling back, peeking at you from under his eyelashes, hands trembling slightly at the feeling. your kiss felt good, so good, but it wasn't near enough for what he wanted, no, needed.

"Darling you, fuck, tease..." he groaned out, situating himself to rest on his elbows, so he could see you better, and see what you were up to.

you would have teased him for longer, but the look on his face, one of love, neediness, pure eagerness and desire, was enough to pull you out of your teasing and cruel state, and you decided to help your beloved partner, help him release all the stress within him.

opening your lips, you slowly lowered yourself onto his aching, hardened cock, lowering yourself further and further, as you attempted to take him fully, with, as you soon found out, ended futilely on the first go, with uncovered space still left at his base. however, that alone was enough to cause nanami to let out a low moan, pressing his eyes shut again, letting the darkness consume him as he focused entirely on the pleasure he felt in the moment.

the scene was messy. your drool dribbling down nanami's sensitive cock, the tip of it pressed and poked against the back of your throat, trying to push further and further, however, it was stopped through the tightening of your throat, and the sounds of gags and chokes on his large size.

he gently moved one of his hands to rest on your head, not pushing, not pressing down, just trying to ground himself to reality from the immense pleasure he felt. "Sweetheart, it feels so good... You're doing so well..."

nanami kento has a way with words. a way that made you feel eager and excited to pleasure him, to satisfy him, in hopes of getting more and more praise.

trying to breathe through your nose, you slowly relaxed your throat, bobbing your head up and down, attempting to inch further and further down his large dick, holding onto his thighs with trembling hands, as your tongue swirled around his leaking tip, which resulted in a loud, higher pitched moan than before from nanami.

the moan was all you needed to proceed with your actions, desperately trying to bring your beloved to the edge of release, as you hollowed out your cheeks, sucking on his cock so well he could practically see stars in his eyes.

taking one of your hands, you gingerly brought it to his balls, beginning to slowly mess and play with them, testing new waters to see if it would have the desired effect on nanami.

and it did not fail.

in mere seconds, nanami was falling apart on the bed, his legs trembling pathetically, his hips jerking up to your mouth, his back on the bed, his arms having lost all strength to support himself. curses, moans, and groans of your name kept spilling from his mouth, as not once did he open his eyes. hot spurts of his cum landed in your mouth, on your tongue, as you began to taste the salty yet slightly bitter taste of it on your tongue.

letting him ride out high long-awaited orgasm, you took all that he gave you, only pulling off once you saw his body laying practically limp on the bed, regaining himself from the experience.

but, of course, he was a gentleman at heart. he wouldn't let such a favour go unrewarded, oh no, he couldn't have that.

"How about you let me pleasure you now, love? What do you say?"

(author's note: finished writing this after finishing AOT S3 - the ending hurt so bad that i couldn't even cry)

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

yandere!young justice x magician and sorcerer!reader

BUUUUUUUUUT,the readed is a part of the team,however,shows no interest in them,and it just there because she kinda just has to,and no matter how much they try to get her attention,she never gives them any of it.

(I love your writing btw😼)

Yandere! Young Justice x magician! Reader

The Cave was quiet, as it always was at night, the hum of machines and distant murmurs of the world outside barely touching the stillness that clung to the mountain like a second skin. In this isolated hollow, surrounded by the cool stone walls, you could hear your own thoughts—the whisper of spells, the pulse of magic, the unspoken words you chose not to say.

You never had to explain yourself here, never had to wear the mask of pleasantries or pretend you cared about anything more than the mission. The others, they didn’t understand. They couldn’t, not really. You weren’t like them, never had been. You didn’t need the comfort of their companionship. You didn’t want their attention, their curiosity, or their pity.

And yet, they tried.

Conner was always watching. A silent presence, brooding and intense, always lingering in the background, his eyes following your every movement. He never asked questions—no, that wasn’t his style. Instead, he observed, the way a predator watches its prey, calculating, waiting. He never made an effort to speak, not in the way Wally did with his incessant jokes or M'gann with her quiet warmth. Conner was patient, cold, waiting for something to crack, for something to change.

His silence was a constant reminder. He didn’t need to speak; you could feel his presence, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you, always at the edge of your vision, always waiting.

It was unsettling, but you never let it show.

Wally was a different story altogether. His energy was like a crackling fire, unpredictable, always bouncing from one thing to the next. He couldn’t sit still, couldn’t leave you be. "Come on," he would say, leaning over your shoulder as you worked on a spell, his grin wide and carefree. "Show me something cool. You know you’ve got some crazy magic tricks up your sleeve."

His insistence was always accompanied by that grin of his, mischievous and bright, as though his charm could draw you out of your shell. But you never did. You never gave him the satisfaction of seeing you smile, never let him see you as more than just another teammate. It wasn’t his fault—he was just trying to make the team feel more like a family. But you didn’t care about family. You didn’t care about any of them.

“I’m busy,” you’d say, dismissing him with a flick of your hand, returning to your spell. And Wally, ever the optimist, would laugh and zip away, the sound of his footsteps echoing as he left you to your silence.

But it wasn’t enough for him, no. His persistence was a thing of legend. Sometimes you’d catch him watching you, his gaze fixed, a question burning in his eyes. "Why are you always like this?" he seemed to ask with every look. But he never voiced it. Instead, he’d turn away, hoping that somehow, eventually, you’d change your mind.

Then there was Robin. The dark and silent watcher. He knew how to stay in the shadows, how to be everywhere without being seen. His presence was like the night itself—always there, always watching, never truly gone. Robin was the most subtle of them all. He never asked outright; instead, he would drop little comments, observations that always felt like a puzzle, like he was trying to figure you out, piece by piece.

"You know, you could talk to us more," he’d say, casually leaning against the wall as he watched you work. His tone was light, almost playful, but you could sense the undercurrent of something more—something deeper. “We don’t bite, you know.”

You didn’t respond. Of course, you didn’t. The only response he got was the steady flick of your fingers over the spellbook, the quiet hum of magic filling the space between you. He didn’t try to get too close, not like Wally or M'gann, but his eyes never stopped tracking you, always measuring, always calculating. Robin was patient, the kind of person who knew that some things took time, that some people had walls that needed to be broken down slowly.

And you? You weren’t going to let him.

M'gann was the opposite. Her presence was always warm, soft, inviting. She would sit beside you, her legs tucked under her, her eyes wide with curiosity. "You know," she would say with that gentle voice of hers, "I could help you with your spells. I can be a good study partner, if you ever need one."

Her kindness wasn’t forced, never had been. It was natural for her, as natural as breathing. She wasn’t like the others who were driven by some sense of duty or curiosity. No, M'gann’s attention was genuine, a quiet offer of companionship. She was the one who tried to reach you without asking, without expecting anything in return.

But you didn’t need help. You didn’t need her to reach you. And so, you’d quietly decline, giving her nothing more than a polite smile before returning to the words in your book, the pages filled with symbols that had no need for her warmth.

And then there was Artemis. The sharp, straightforward one. She didn’t waste time on subtlety. Her approach was always direct, blunt, like a sharp blade that never hesitated. "You don’t have to be so closed off, you know," she’d say, her voice a mix of irritation and something else. It was hard to tell with Artemis—her eyes were always guarded, her emotions always hidden behind a wall of indifference. "We’re all in this together."

She had a point, of course. But you didn’t care. You didn’t care about being “in it together.” You had your own path to follow, and they weren’t a part of it. You didn’t need to explain that to her, or to anyone. So, you’d give her a nod, a brief acknowledgment that wasn’t really an acknowledgment, and move on with your work.

Kaldur was the calm one, the quiet one. His respect for you was obvious, but it never crossed the line into anything more. He would offer you a nod as he passed, his gaze soft, his presence steady like the water he controlled. He didn’t push you the way the others did. He didn’t try to break down your walls. He simply respected them, kept his distance, and allowed you to be as you were.

But even Kaldur had moments when his gaze would linger on you, just a second too long, like he was waiting for you to finally open up, to let him see more than the cold silence you kept locked behind your eyes.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough for you to feel the weight of their gaze, the quiet pressure of their attention. They thought they understood you. They thought that if they just tried enough, kept reaching out, eventually, you’d let them in.

But you wouldn’t.

In the midst of their attempts, you kept your distance, always lost in the pages of your spells, your incantations, the quiet hum of power that thrummed beneath your fingertips. They were drawn to you, like moths to a flame, their fascination burning just beneath the surface of their words, their glances, their actions.

But you would remain untouched. You would keep your secrets locked away, your magic a barrier between you and the world they wanted to draw you into.

They didn’t understand it, not really. They couldn’t. You were not like them. You didn’t need what they offered. You didn’t need to be a part of their team, their family, their world. You were the silent watcher, the one who kept their distance while they reached out, always hoping that something would change.

But it wouldn’t.

You weren’t there for them. You were there because you had a purpose, one that had nothing to do with them, nothing to do with the team, and nothing to do with any of their quiet, unspoken obsessions. You would remain distant, and they would keep trying, never understanding why you remained so cold, so unreachable.

And that, for now, was enough.

(A/n: thank you kind fellow fur🤭😽)

[keepingitformyself]

especially for tender ones like us

A/N: hehehehehehehehehehehehe synopsis: humor, anxiety, and the salvation of love.

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: fluff.

warnings: no?

MASTERLIST

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

natasha tries not to stumble over her words when she suggests staying in, instead of going out. she does not mean to, but she does. 

how could she not? could you really blame her for wanting a quiet night? something that isn’t so public. she wanted to see you, of course, but she wanted to see you in a space you could be comfortable in, without any of the outside world and free from any distractions.  

you listen intently through the other line, you fight the giggle at catching her little stutter. she can’t see, but you smile widely at the whole thing.

“yeah, we can stay in. i can cook us dinner,” you nod. natasha’s shoulders drop in a quiet sense of relief at your words. her lips curl into a smile. “i’d like that. i can’t wait.”

although this would only be the fourth time you had met up together, to natasha, it felt like the first every single time. 

you continue talking for a little while more. natasha shares details about her day, work, and what she ate during lunch. she tells you how on her way to grab her usual coffee order, an americano, she decided she’d switch her order to a matcha latte after having had you recommend it to her. she tells you, 

“it was good, but not nearly enough caffeine for me to keep up with,” she said, her tone light but teasing. and while it hadn’t become her new favorite drink, just knowing she’d tried it for you was more than enough. her words sent your thoughts spiraling, a warmth blooming in your chest. you were certain that if she were standing next to you, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss her right then and there.

but you can’t do that so instead, you just fall back on your bed like a high schooler talking to her crush. 

when you finally do meet up the following evening, natasha is buzzing with nerves she doesn't understand. she has taken down whole regimes and has fought aliens from space, yet she seems to draw the line when it comes to facing you. 

she knocks on your door, her other arm clutching a brown bag containing wine and flowers. a reasonable offering if you’re having dinner with someone you want to impress. 

when you answer the door, you're wearing a cream-colored knit sweater. 

“i thought i heard pacing out there.” you joke. 

natasha’s cheeks flush as she tries—and ultimately fails—to fight the smile tugging at her lips. “i wasn’t pacing,” she says, though the slight crack in her voice gives her away.

you step aside and invite her in, and neither of you acknowledges the quiet intimacy of the moment. it feels like more than just dinner, more than just a simple evening in your apartment.

you’re about to cook for her, and somehow, that feels monumental.

natasha’s nerves are a mess, though she can’t quite figure out why—or maybe she can. maybe it’s the way your presence makes her feel unsteady, as though the ground beneath her shifts whenever you’re near.

but natasha doesn’t want to be nervous.

she saw once—a penguin mistaking a sleeping walrus for a rock. the penguin had been caught completely off guard when the walrus stirred, nearly crushing it before it scurried away just in time.

natasha had found it funny at the time, the way surprises can sneak up on you. but now, thinking about it, it doesn’t feel so funny. it feels… unnerving.

surprises are bad for the heart, she thinks. she’s been taught her whole life to avoid them, to anticipate every possibility before it unfolds.

but knowing too much, being too prepared—that can hurt, too.

her thoughts are interrupted by your laughter, light and unburdened, as you guide her toward the kitchen. your smile is so easy, so genuine, and she can’t help but feel how good it is to exist in this space with you.

she offers to help you cook, but you shoo her away instead. you make her watch.

she sits there, with her hands on her lap, and just stares. and she can’t help the look of longing on her face. the kind of thing that suggests she wouldn’t mind this being a constant. 

you made pasta for the evening. nothing too spectacular, but natasha had treated it like you were a top chef and had spent hours crafting everything with your bare hands. 

and then once you’ve plated food for you both and you’ve gotten down to a few bites, you notice the small sigh natasha lets out. the flutter of her eyes as she takes in the meal. 

you smile at her reaction as you move some of the food with your fork. 

“do you like it?”

she looks at you, mid-chew, her mouth stuffed with the food, but she manages a smile. 

“yeah, uh, yes it’s good. it’s so good,” she says, hand over her mouth. 

you continue eating, talking about everything and anything. the night was filled with small moments that would bleed into much deeper ones. you laughed, she smiled, you smiled, she laughed. the kind of things one feels they become when around those who make you tender. 

and you don’t know how or when but you try not to notice how little by little natasha seems to retract a little. 

you decide maybe she needs a small moment for herself and start cleaning up the table. she offers to help, but you wave her off, insisting she relaxes. 

she tries to, but realistically, natasha doesn’t know how to relax. so she sits back and stares at you like she isn’t sure what to do with herself. she isn’t used to this at all. spaces like this–warm, cozy, comfortable.

the impending guilt comes. it’s all so layered. she feels so much at once. the nervousness, the anxiety, the fear of loss, the fear of not being present enough. 

natasha doesn’t know how to be here without sacrificing so much. 

after a while, natasha speaks up. 

“i should probably get going.” her voice too casual to sound like she meant it. she tries not to notice the look of disappointment on your face when you turn around to face her. 

“you don’t have to.” you find yourself saying, not wanting her to leave. 

she hums, something that says she’s already made up her mind. she gets up and gathers her things. 

you follow her to the door, or at least try to—but you pause at the end of the hall when you see her linger near the door, uncomfortably. unsure if she should leave. 

you call her out on it. “you can stay longer if you want.”

natasha wrestles with herself because she really wants to. she looks at the door as if it’d answer for her. 

you’re letting her know. 

natasha feels awkward, clammy hands. she doesn't know what she’s doing. and it’s hard to think of anything else when your eyes are screaming, don't actually leave, at her. 

you look at her carefully, trying to see if you can find any clear indication of what she may be feeling, but it isn’t hard to figure out the redhead in front of you. 

you’ve noted quite quickly how easy it comes for her walls to lower when you’re around. and if there’s anything you’ve learned from that, it’s that natasha romanoff isn’t the trained killer everyone thinks she is. 

sure we all have certain versions we show to certain people. but the natasha you know is anything but rough-edged. the natasha you’ve come to know is actually quite the opposite of what everyone else perceives. 

she’s tender, in her own silent way. too afraid to ever let too much slip away that she’s so painfully aware of everything around her. 

natasha is tenderness wrapped in quiet strength, a paradox of someone who feels deeply but guards herself fiercely. she sees the world clearly—the beauty and the harm—and carries that weight like a constant ache.

like she knows the world hurts more for those most aware of hurt. 

her tenderness isn’t soft; it’s sharp, vigilant, always bracing for the pain that comes with letting others in. you can see it in the flicker of her gaze, the way she hesitates as if expecting the world to hurt her.

and yet, she doesn’t harden. she holds onto that fragile, open part of herself, even when it would be easier not to. it’s beautiful and a little heartbreaking.

natasha looks up at you, then back down at her hands. just above a whisper, she says, 

“i don't know what i’m doing.” 

“that’s the most fun part.” you joke. she smiles, she doesn’t know how to say she wants more time. 

how could she say she feels greedy at this moment? she wants to protect being here with you. we have such little time, she thinks. 

bashfully, she steps closer to you, “i don't want to go.” she says. 

“then don’t.” and natasha almost complies. instead, she takes a step closer, her hand lifting towards your cheek. she’s so close now. 

she kisses you, soft, and shy, but you make her feel sure when your arm circles her neck, deepening the kiss altogether. when she pulls back, her forehead rests against yours, she lets out a shaky breath. 

“maybe i’ll forget my scarf,” she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“please do,” you replied. please leave your scarf, please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of leaving. please always come back. “that way you’ll have to come back later for it.”  

and just like that, her quiet uncertainty washes away. 

she takes her scarf off and drops it near the door. you follow her actions, you smile, amusement in your eyes. 

later that night, when natasha gets home, she texts you. 

i forgot my scarf. 

you reply, you’ll have to come get it then. 

[loganhowlettshousewife]

animal

chapter 6

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (fem!receiving), unprotected piv, my first time writing smut so i'm sorry if it's horrible

series masterlist │my masterlist

you’ve known three versions of logan so far. the feral, animalistic version of logan that seems to be at the core of who he is - without any memories, that’s the personality he reverted to, those were the actions he took when controlled only by his baser instincts. then there’s the version of logan you imagine he’s created over the years to deal with his pain, the one that drinks himself stupid and fights against his nature to make others more comfortable, terrified to hurt anyone, terrified that he’ll prove to everyone that he’s a monster.

this version of logan though, the one you see before you now, is as close as you’ve ever gotten to knowing the real him. a person's memories and experiences make them who they are, shape them as a person, and the same can be said for logan. but he’s no longer trying to hide what his mutation makes him, at least not as much as before. he’s not the innocent, loving man you’d brought into your home - you doubt you’ll ever get that exact version of logan back - but he expresses himself in a new way now.

he’s explained to you some of the conditions of his mutation, why he acts the way he does. it makes more sense to you now, why his face is always finding its way to your neck, pressed to the spot where your scent is the most pronounced, mixing your scent with his to mark you. it soothes him, to walk by you and recognise that even when he’s not at your side his presence clings to you.

it’s nice, watching him slowly let his guard down, opening up to you. you’re proud of him every time he mutters something about himself or his past to you, quickly and quietly as though he’s partially hoping you won't hear him.

“i love you,” he says, taking a break from kissing you to breathe the words into the shared air between you.

you smile back at him. the words are as easy as breathing. “i love you too.”

he kisses you again, loving and intimate, a hand going to your waist, gripping onto your flesh tightly as if you’ll vanish if he ever lets go. you’ll have bruises in the shapes of his fingers tomorrow, a reminder of his touch, of the way he worships your body. you part your lips for him, gasping lightly when his grip tightens, giving him free reign to explore your mouth with his tongue.

heat grows in your stomach, wetness flooding between your legs, insistent, and you grind down on his lap, feeling him growing hard underneath you. he’s big, you’ve seen him naked enough times to know, but it feels different with you pressed against him, much more imposing.

“need you,” he groans, fingers sliding under the elastic waistband of your sleep shorts, releasing it to watch it slap your skin. you gasp again and he chases the noise with his mouth, catching it on your lips.

he takes his time pulling your sleep shorts down your legs, reverently. there’s always a strange duality to intimacy with logan. he’s intense in everything he does, taking you apart multiple times a night, his gaze almost predatory as he explores your body. and yet he treats you like a queen, taking his time to make sure you feel good before he ever does anything for himself.

he spreads your legs open with his large hands, kneeling between your legs. he kisses up your thighs, so close to where you want him and you squirm.

“please, lo,” you beg, your hands in his hair.

he starts off slow, a consistent rhythm that has you begging for more, your moans growing breathier and louder until he can no longer control himself, eating you out like a man starved. his beard burns against your thighs, a delicious pain that only makes the pleasure more intense.

he adds one finger, the thick digit brushing against your walls, pressing against the spot inside you that makes you cry out. his fingers are bigger than your own, longer too, and he’s always much more effective at fingering you to an orgasm, able to give you what you need. he always knows what you need.

he adds a second finger, and that paired with the way his tongue drags against your clit, catching on the tip, has the pressure building inside you. 

your orgasm hits you like a wave, a slow crescendo and then you’re falling. you ride his face as you cum, using your grip on his hair to pull him closer to you, feeling his nose bump against your clit as you press your cunt against his mouth. you shudder as you come down from your high and logan pulls away, mouth and beard glistening with you.

he’s still nearly fully dressed, which you find absolutely unfair, so you pull his shirt off, tossing it aside, making quick work of removing the rest of his clothes until he’s gloriously naked. his cock is hard and proud, flushed and straining.

he needs you, and he tells you so, the words echoing between you, the sentiment going straight to your core.

you wrap a hand around his cock, stroking him a few times, running your thumb over the tip to collect the beads of precum and rub it down his shaft. he groans at the feeling, rutting into your hand. usually this is the part where you take him into your mouth, let him fuck your throat until you’re gagging around him and spit dribbles from your lips around his thick cock.

but you want something different today, you want more. you haven’t taken this step yet, you didn’t feel ready before, wanting to wait until you were at a point where your rocky, unlabeled relationship felt solid. now, you couldn’t imagine not being ready to share this step with him, to give him every piece of you, putting your life and your love in his hands and begging him to keep it, keep you.

“lay down,” you order him, letting go of his cock to shove lightly at his chest, not hard enough to actually move him - you’re definitely not strong enough for that - but he goes willingly, and you smile at how quickly he complies.

you’re not usually the one giving orders in the bedroom, but he’s always weak to your whims, regardless of how small or meaningless they might seem. he wants to make you happy, something he’s told you multiple times when you teased him about how willing he was to do anything you asked of him. you could easily make him submit to you in bed if you batted your eyelashes at him and asked nicely.

he watches you with dark, lustful eyes as you crawl over him, straddling his lap, grinding your leaking pussy against his hard cock. you both moan at the feeling of your wetness sliding against his length, at how ready you both are for this.

“i want you inside me,” you say.

“are you sure?” logan asks, breathless. he wants it, you can see how hard he’s fighting not to rut up into you, but he’s holding back. it makes you feel warm all over, the way he cares so deeply about you, never pushing your boundaries, never wanting to push for more than what you’ll allow. it makes you want him even more.

“i’m sure,” you affirm, “don’t think i’ve ever felt more ready for anything, actually.”

you line him up with your entrance and slowly sink down, feeling the stretch with every inch of him. you're thankful he stretched you out with his fingers, but you have to stop to breathe regardless when he’s halfway inside, the sound of your heavy breathing mixing with his own ragged pants as he fights to let you take the time you need.

finally you sink down onto him, a sigh escaping your lips when he’s fully sheathed inside you. you roll your hips to adjust to the feeling and logan growls, low in his throat. 

you lift yourself up halfway before sinking back down, a new rush of heat rolling over you when you hear the way logan groans. he holds onto your waist as you move, helping lift you so you don’t get too tired, but eventually you start to falter, unable to keep up the steady rhythm. you pout as your movements become slower, annoyed at yourself, but logan takes over the moment you can’t, rolling you over onto your back so he’s hovering above you.

you wince at the feeling of him slipping out of you, but as soon as he has you positioned on your back the way he wants you, he’s lining himself up with your hole again, fucking into you hard and fast.

“this okay?” he asks, though you doubt he needs the answer given how you’re whining and writhing underneath him.

his thrusts are relentless, a steady pace that he could probably keep up for days and days. he has wonderful stamina, something you’d learnt the first time you’d made him cum when his cock immediately hardened again in your hand, your eyes widening as you looked up at him. he’d shrugged and smirked as he explained he didn’t have much of a refractory period. “‘least not when i’m with someone as pretty as you,” he’d continued.

he’s using one hand to grope your breasts and the other sneaks down between your legs, rubbing circles over your clit. he’s hitting that perfect spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, and you can feel your second orgasm approaching, more intense than the first.

“fuck,” logan grunts, “y’feel so good, so tight.”

he looks wild, fucking into you like this, his eyes roaming over your body like a predator assessing his prey. you feel your stomach twist pleasantly at the thought. he keeps up his pace until you’re coming around him and even as you squeeze around him he doesn’t falter.

“logan!” you scream as he continues, overstimulation bordering on painful.

he grunts and growls, and you grip onto his shoulders, your nails digging into his arms. he moans loud when you accidentally draw blood from the intensity of the hold you have on him. you feel the blood welling against your fingertips and then the strange sensation of his skin stitching itself back together until it's smooth again under your touch.

“gonna breed you,” logan growls, and you babble incoherently in response. you’re not quite sure his words are even penetrating your mind. all you hear is the sound of his voice, the rough timbre of it. “gonna make you mine. my mate.”

“yes, yes logan, please, come inside me. need you!” his thrusts get more erratic as he gets closer to the edge, and then they falter for a moment and he’s coming. hot spurts painting your insides as he keeps fucking into you, shallow thrusts that push his cum deeper, closer to your womb.

he presses a kiss to your stomach, nuzzling his head into the soft flesh there. his breathing is as ragged as yours. you feel completely undone, your mind fuzzy and content, like you could stay right here forever and you’d be perfectly happy.

“that was amazing,” you say.

he looks worried now, eyes narrowing like he’s not quite sure he trusts you to be telling the truth, like what just happened wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

“you sure?” he asks, “that wasn’t too much?”

“no,” you smile, “i told you, i like when you act like an animal.”

you can feel his cock hardening again inside you, pressing against your walls. he moves his hips so you can feel it shifting with the change in position, at the perfect angle that he knows will make you scream. you watch his lips curl up, a dark smile that matches the darkness in his eyes as he stares at the way you’re trapped underneath him.

“do you?” he says, not a real question. you love when the feral side of him takes control, and you’re watching it happen now, can read what he wants from the look in his eyes.

yeah, you’re in for a long night. and you couldn’t think of anything better.

“you called me your mate,” you comment much later, feeling sated and boneless with your head resting on logan’s solid chest, feeling it rise and fall along with the steady pace of his breathing.

logan hesitates for a long moment. you can feel him tense underneath you, his muscles freezing in place, the smallest hitch in his breath that you wouldn’t have noticed if not for your close proximity. you don’t mind waiting for him to cycle through his thoughts, the words caught in his throat, seconds ticking by in comfortable silence until his frame relaxes once more and he pulls you in closer.

“i did,” is his only reply. short, succinct, waiting expectantly for your response, your reaction to a term that is distinctly animal-like. it’s also the first time he’s put any sort of label on your relationship, other than calling you “mine”, possessively whispering the word in your ear as if you’ll forget if he doesn’t remind you.

“what does that mean for us?” you ask, tracing patterns on his skin, forming each letter of your name with your index finger, “we’ve never actually said what we are, you know. and i can’t say i know the ‘human’ equivalent of the term mate. does this mean you’re my boyfriend? something else?”

“that’s a childish term,” logan says, lines forming between his brows as he frowns.

you smile, leaning in to kiss away the tension there, feeling the slight sheen of sweat that had formed over his skin while he fucked you, not quite dry yet. you should be getting up to shower, rinsing away the salty layer of sweat from your activities, throwing the ruined bedsheets into the laundry to be replaced by clean ones.

but you’re comfortable where you are now, avoiding the mess you’d made of the sheets by curling up on the other side of the bed, wishing you could push up closer to logan despite the fact that you’re already as close as humanly possible. if only you could crawl into his skin, break past his ribs and settle there, protected where no one else could ever reach you, tucked right against his heart.

“what would you want me to call you then?” you ask.

“for now, nothing,” logan says. in his eyes you see a battle, words and thoughts that you wish you could read, that you hope he’ll one day say aloud. “there isn’t a word that’s enough to describe this. one day i’ll be your husband, but until then, just say you’re mine. my girl.”

“are you proposing to me?” you laugh, eyes bright and smile pulling at your cheeks in a way that’s nearly painful.

“no,” he grunts, “when i propose to you it’ll be much better than this.”

and what else can you do but fall into him? your heart feels like it might burst from the warmth that fills you, threatening to spill out from every cell in your body, too much for anyone to properly handle. it’s on your hands when you use them to hold him down, swinging your leg over his lap so you’re straddled atop of him, kissing him in the hopes that it’s enough to express what words will never be enough to express.

he meets you in the middle, mouth hot and demanding. you’ve never felt more wanted, never felt more loved, like you could take on any struggle the universe may throw at you and be fine because logan’s by your side, always there to catch you. you read the promise on his lips, and the word forever is unspoken but you both hear it anyway.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666

[writingmeraki]

patch you right up — a r.c drabble.

★ pairing: rafe cameron x frenemy!reader, enemies to ?? ★ genre: hurt/comfort, unresolved feelings. ★ warnings: cussing, mentions of being drunk, violence, mentions of wounds and treating them. ★ a/n : urm very...random, silly, might not make sense but it was rotting in my mind, lmk what you think <3 ★ w.c : 1.1k

“This was very fucking stupid of me.”

Hissing in pain as the hydrogen peroxide made contact with your torn knuckles on your hand, you held your bruised jaw with the free hand and looked away from the blood glistening because of the light above.

“Oh you don’t say?” His voice was mocking, nothing new but it held an underlying annoyance you could somehow detect. 

Sighing, you pulled your hand abruptly, which earned you a sharp turn of his head in your direction and his dark blue eyes glaring at you, “What are you doing?”

“You don’t have to do this-”

“Shut up.”

“No I mean it, Rafe. It’s my fault, ‘ll patch it up myself.”

It did not help how horrible your head seemed to ache as you shut your eyes briefly, everything felt overwhelming, especially with him being this close to you. Him just anywhere near you was enough to drive you a little over the edge and it seemed to get worse when you had a bit too much liquid courage in your system. 

“Look at me.” You hated how easily you complied as you opened your eyes to find him staring at you, only this time, they were much softer.

That wasn’t hard to do, considering the position you were in. On his impossibly large bathroom counter as he stood between your legs, really you didn’t have much to look at. 

“It’s not your fault, alright?” You spited it when people would always give you fake sentences for the sake of being ‘kind’, it was all sugar coated shit to you. But somehow when Rafe Cameron said that to you, your heart felt like it would combust then and there.

It didn’t help how the daziness was elevated as you scanned his features up close. He was unrealistically beautiful, carved gently.

Because he was who he was, you knew he meant what he said. For all the time you knew him, he was one to be honest. About how he felt, about what he felt and for who he felt. Though, when you questioned yourself what he might feel for you now, you’d say you don’t know.

Nodding along to his words, you leaned to your left, luckily having a wall to support you and not embarrassingly falling, you’d done enough that night. 

Without more words, he gently grabbed your hand and finished cleaning up the burst skin and spilled blood. You once again shut your eyes, this time tightly as you clenched your jaw when he applied ointment.

“ ‘hurts.” The treating part made you wince even more than when you were getting the injury. Probably how most of the adrenaline wore out by now.

“I know, ‘almost done.” He gently spoke up as he concentrated on patching up a bandage around your hand.

A quiet silence filled the space for a moment, and even though you did feel out of it, you could sense he had something to say.

“Why-why’d you do it?” He said as he finished with your hand, instructing you to sit up straight. His hand on your jaw did make you more alert even though he was very…gently doing it. It was colder than you expected, and you were sure he could feel how warm you were getting when he was slowly caressing it with a delicate touch.

“That’s outta bruise badly.” His eyes held remorse and his frown deepened. You didn’t even realize your own gaze lingered on his lips.

Gulping, your eyes darted away from his face. Maybe it was the guilt or the buzz, but you murmured out,

“...I- it was well…It was stupid but I- couldn’t control myself. I got mad.”

His hand paused and he raised an eyebrow in curiosity. This was new. 

“They- they were saying stupid shit. I knew they were doing it to rile me and well they did that just right. It was fine when it was about me, I ignored it but I couldn’t stand the rest.”

Something in his chest flared as his confusion was slowly turning into realization but he continued letting you speak,

“They began talking shit about…about you.” You recalled the tone they used, the words they called him and you could feel the familiar annoyance and anger build up as they replayed in your mind.

“And I couldn’t stand it alright. I just…no one talks shit about you. No one except me. I mean, the fucking audacity to even say those…those things when they’re probably even worse!”

He blinked a few times to make sure he heard you right. You’d looked to the side, scowling as you clicked your tongue.

“Next thing I knew, I’d just hit someone and then the same happened to me. I guess maybe I deserved one but you should see the other idiot’s face.” You finally looked back into his eyes, a slight smile on your face when you recalled hearing the other dude’s nose definitely crunching and you were sure it would never be the same. You’d made it very sure.

He did not know what to feel. Amusement? Shock? Disbelief? But over them all, his heart fluttered wildly as his eyes scanned your face. The same one that had been haunting his mind since the first time he’d seen you, the first time he’d ever have someone make him more mad than anything yet made him want you closer. You were simply driving him insane since he’d met you. 

He just never realized, until now, that maybe he was never the only one who felt the same.

Tilting your head, you licked your lower lip, his gaze moving there for a brief moment, you said, “But you know what?”

One corner of your lip turned up as you smirked lightly, “I don’t regret it. I’d do it again in fact.”

His tongue felt heavy as the words clogged up in his throat, he gulped down the knot formed as he clenched his hand that was beside you, over the counter edge. He stared intently into your eyes, you could feel your heart beating faster as you leaned closer. 

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours as you fluttered your eyes shut, hand going over his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. His hands moved to your hips, pressing into them as if he was afraid you’d disappear and it was all a dream.

It was messy as you’d expect from two people whose own feelings were a mess, your non-injured hand ran over his hair and he groaned into the kiss. You might as well have just combusted then and there. 

Feeling the need to breathe, you gently pulled away, resting your forehead on his as his hand came up to your face, caressing it gently.

“You’re fucking insane, you know that right?” He breathed out as he tried to steady his own breathing and rapidly beating heart.

“Over you? Fuck yeah.”

extra a/n : ...yeah I'm sorry if the uhm kissing part sucked...it's been a very whole while.

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

feedback is always appreciated 💌 ! links : main navi ! | misc masterlist | main masterlist | info !

[dreamscapeee222]

Viktor Headcannons

Viktor x reader

Masterlist

Viktor Relationship Headcanons

Viktor may not be one for grand romantic gestures, but his love shines in the subtle ways he cares for you. He’ll adjust his chair so you’re always beside him, brush your hair behind your ear while deep in thought, or gently press a kiss to your hand when he’s lost in admiration.

He loves learning everything about you—your favorite books, the stories you tell, even the little quirks that make you who you are. Viktor thrives on knowing you inside and out, finding every detail fascinating.

Despite his busy schedule, Viktor treasures quiet moments with you. Even if you’re just reading beside him while he works, he’ll occasionally pause to brush his fingers over yours, murmuring, “You make everything...better.”

Viktor shows his affection in practical ways, like designing small gadgets to make your life easier or ensuring you’re comfortable in his lab. His love is meticulous and thoughtful, always considering your needs before you even realize them.

He enjoys peaceful evenings with you, where words aren’t necessary. Whether it’s a walk through Piltover at dusk or sharing a cup of tea, those quiet moments mean the world to him.

While he often hides his insecurities, he’s completely honest with you. Viktor trusts you deeply and values your reassurance, finding comfort in your unwavering support during difficult times.

Though often serious, Viktor has a dry sense of humor that he reserves just for you. He’ll tease you in subtle, clever ways that make you laugh, his eyes gleaming with affection.

When Viktor loves, he loves deeply. You’re his muse, his anchor, and his safe haven. He’ll remind you of this in quiet moments, saying softly, “You give me hope, even when the world feels dark.”

Requests may be sent through the ask box. Only SFW.

[kindslut]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐃

╰ SHOW ﹕ ARCANE !

︵ WARNING(S) ﹕╰ swearing ⸝ violence ﹕ sex

︵ relationship ﹕ Vi x fem!fragile!reader x Caitlyn

⟣・S2・HEAVY IS THE CROWN︰

THE SOUND OF screaming could be heard when you had awoken from being on the ground, your hair in a messy style as you couldn’t see your surroundings. was Jayce and viktor okay? was everyone alright? mel..? of course you wouldn’t know, everything in your body hurt, it felt like some sort of piece of metal lodged in your side.

Being a well trained solider had its many perks but you weren’t prepared for this. Of course you weren’t. like they say, the most unexpected things come.

For you though it felt a little far fetched whenever your mom would tell you the stories about the ghost and salem. Where the witch would be haunted down and hunted but towards the end they found her having did no wrong doing.

Sad tale it was. really.

Everything on your body hurt like hell, the only voice you could hear was Jayce’s. was he carrying you and viktor? probably.

That dude had some incredible strength.

JAYCE SITS IN a chair with his head in his hand, looking over at viktor who lays inside the hextech. seeing you and viktor in this condition was tearing him limb from limb, not in a gruesome way but a much more sadder way.

He had hated not being able to protect the both of you, it felt like hell. But you know, some things just come and go…you lay there on a bed with a bunch of iv’s attached to your arms and lower half, your hair was in a messy bun since Jayce had tried thing it himself.

Mel walks inside his office as she takes a look around, her eyes landing on Jayce. “How are they?” She questioned.

“Same as before. They’re both breathing.” Jayce answers in reply, a distressed look on his face. “Their pluses are consistent. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mines.”

Mel walks over to viktor, her eyes landing on the hextech as she starts reaching her hand out with curiosity. When she goes to touch it, it reacts differently with her making her gasp and step back.

“What’s it doing to him?” Mel questions.

“The hexcore has been evolving.” Jayce explains, “shifting through runic patters faster than I can keep up. All I know for certain is that it’s keeping him and her alive.”

Jayce eyes land on where you laid, his heart aching with devastation as he sees you reacting differently to the hextech aside from viktor, your body was rejecting it but also accepting it at the same time.

If it was the only thing keeping you alive he wasn’t gonna mess with it.

“It should be me up there instead of him. I should be laying in that bed instead of her,” Jayce grumbled, gesturing to an unconscious you on the bed barely breathing. “Vi and cait are gonna lose it.”

“Don’t say that.” Mel placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “They’ll both come back to us.”

“I still don’t understand.” Jayce replies. “They were both right next to me. How does the explosion do that to them, and I just…? I just walk out without a scratch? [name] almost lost a hand, my god.”

Mel sighs. “There’s no sense to these things, Jayce.”

The male was quiet for a while before speaking again, “how’d it go with the council?” he asks.

Mel scoffs. “My mother’s entered the game. She’s already gotten her hooks into salo. Using his grief to make a play for hextech.”

“Mel, I promised viktor, never again.” Jayce tells the woman.

Mel places her hand over his. “It’s all right. I handled it. I won’t let them corrupt your dream.”

Jayce looks over at an unconscious you again, before laying his head on mel’s thighs, tears threaten to fall down his eyes but he holds them back.

He just wanted you and viktor back, that’s all.

You were very important to caitlyn and vi after all.

“I should get going now.” Mel says, “you might want to spend some alone time with them.”

With that, she stood up and patted his shoulder one last time before walking out the door. The door slams shut behind her by itself, making Jayce flinch a little.

He feels you stir, his head perks up immediately.

When it does, he saw you already staring at him, a confused look on your gaze.

“What was that about?” You questioned, sitting up with your back pressed against the pillows. It was a little hard to breathe but it was manageable with the breathing machine.

“I don’t even care-- i just-- you’re--?” Jayce launches forward and pulls you into a huge, a huge so tight you had gasped. He wasn’t hugging you too tight as though you couldn’t breathe— he just hugged you with desperation and worry.

“Woah! hey, hey, it’s okay.” You reassured, patting his back. “I’m okay.”

He was so happy to hear your voice.

“ONE OF THE MANY PRIVILEGES OF SERVING AS YOUR COUNCILOR IS HAVING THE OCCASION NOW AND AGAIN TO STAND BEHIND THIS PODIUM TO BEHOLD SO MANY JOINED TOGETHER NOT BY BIRTH OR DICTUM BUT BY ALL THAT WE SHARE.” MEL SPOKE as you stood by the other guards to keep watch, your back was leaned against the wall as the wound with the patch on your side was being healed. Your biceps flexing under the light as your toned abs still hurting from the explosion, but the wounds would heal, you were sure.

You glanced down at the tattoo on your hip and let your thumb graze over it, remembering when it was given.

You see one of the enforcers walk past you, you look them up and down by their attire before your brows furrowed— something felt wrong.

Heading into the crowd you lock gazes with vi, the both of you nodding towards one another before following the enforcer. But another person caught your attention as well, making you turn around and face the other way.

“The hell..?” You whisper lowly.

You push past the crowd of civilians as your hips sway when walking, and you walked with a purpose.

To figure out who the hell these people were.

Walking over to the other enforcers you climbed over the railing, your thighs still hurting but of course you forgot to bring your crutches for support. But it’s whatever.

“Wait, wait, ma’am you can’t--“

“Excuse me, I’m an enforcer too.” You say firmly as your eyes narrowed at the man. “So I can get pass, just like the rest of you.”

“We can’t even go in, so we can’t let you in either.”one of the enforcers replies. “Plus, you’re still injured from the attack so…”

Your piercing (e/c) eyes looked into the man’s brown ones, making his eyes widen a little— least to say, he was intimidated.

“Move, please,” you pleaded this time. “I feel like something is very wrong.”

Caitlyn looks over her shoulder and noticed the panicked look on your face— you would never randomly fuss about anything.

She knew something was wrong.

“Awful, isn’t it?”

Jayce looks over his shoulder when he hears a woman’s voice.

“Losing a loved one.”

When Jayce slowly turns around, the woman slips off her mask as she grabs her chainsaw, swining it at Jayce who barely dodged out of the way quickly.

Everyone starts screaming and shouting, rushing off to find somewhere safe.

“Get all the civilians to safety.” You told the enforcers before turning around to go and find Jayce, your leg still hurting from the explosion. you couldn’t walk around with a weak and injured leg but you thought against it.

“Jayce!” You shouted, searching for him. “Where are you? Jayce?!”

Someone suddenly slams you into a wall, making you hit the solid platform hard. A weak cry of pain escapes past your lips as you slid down the wall, clutching your arm.

Staggering to your knees, you rushed to get away from whatever was chasing you.

Get away, get away, get away

That was just going through your mind.

Something slashes in your back through your coat, “ah!” You shriek as you collapsed to your knees and hit the ground. Back arched as you tried crawling away from whatever had attacked you.

They grab onto your hair, arm wrapping around your neck once they finally got the chance to turn you around, the air in your lungs seemed to have collapsed the second they tighten their large hand around your throat.

You kick and flail your legs around as you gasped for air, eyes heavy and face turning blue as you choked— the breath you were now trying to breathe was very toxic seeping into your nostrils and throat.

You use your fists to hit at the man’s hands, he watched with a sadistic grin on his lips as the life in your eyes were starting to fade.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the life in your eyes seemed to have been fading.

“Get the fuck away from her!” Vi shouted as she rushed towards the much bigger man and knocked him in the face with her knee.

You collapsed to the ground, gasping for air as you clutched at your own throat.

Vi rushed over to you with concern, cupping your cheek as she leaned over you. “Are you okay? does anything hurt?”

“Vi?” You croaked weakly, grasping at her wrist.

Vi presses your hand against her fast beating chest, concern wiping her features. “It’s me. It’s me. you’re okay.”

She helps you up, “I’ll be right back. go and try to find cait, okay?”

You nodded before rushing off to find caitlyn.

“Cait!” You called out.

You couldn’t even get as far before you hit the ground, passing out.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

[littlespoonevan]

your hand in my pocket to keep us both warm

post 8x08 because i'm SAD in a way that can only be eased with buddie hurt/comfort 💔 title from abstract (psychopomp) by hozier

-

Buck is the one to drive him to the airport because who else would it be?

It feels a lot like deja vu as he approaches the glass doors of Departures but his step only falters for a moment before Eddie’s hand is catching his sleeve at the elbow and leading him through them. It’s further than Abby ever let him get.

Eddie lets him go as far the security line and he almost looks regretful when he turns to face Buck.

Buck would like to think he’s handled this well so far. He’s been supportive, helped Eddie choose his new home, listened to his fears about his parents, reassured him about Christopher, promised to oversee the shipping of the rest of Eddie’s stuff next week. He’s done everything right.

It hasn’t made any of this feel less wrong.

They look at each other now, awkward in a way they never are, until Eddie drops his bag and pulls him into a hug without saying anything.

Maybe because there’s nothing to say. Buck’s heart has been lodged in his throat since he parked the car; he’s not even sure he could say anything if he wanted to.

Eddie’s arms around him are a familiar weight though so Buck allows himself to sink into them. To tuck his chin into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder and to fist his hands in the back of his jacket like if he holds on tight enough he might be able to convince Eddie to stay.

When Eddie does pull back he makes no attempt to leave the circle of Buck’s arms. Instead one of his hands goes to that same spot at the juncture of Buck’s neck – always the same spot – and when his thumb makes contact with the divot in Buck’s throat he seeks out Buck’s gaze.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Buck croaks, the tell-tale burn behind his eyes becoming more pronounced by the second.

“Like I’m Abby,” Eddie sighs. “Or Ali. Or Tommy. I’m not leaving you, Buck.”

Buck tries to laugh but it comes out too hysterical and Eddie’s hand tightens on his neck.

“I’m leaving,” he allows. “But I’m not leaving you.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you,” Buck says, the words wobbling in the middle. His hands are still twisted in Eddie’s jacket.

“And you think I do?” Eddie asks with a half-laugh. “Who am I gonna talk to when my folks are driving me crazy? Who am I gonna talk to when I do anything? Besides, you think Chris will accept you not visiting at least once a month?”

Truthfully, Buck has no idea what Chris wants right now but he clings to Eddie’s words anyway.

“Everyone at work is gonna find me insufferable. It was bad enough that last time you weren’t there.”

Eddie laughs again, thumb brushing Buck’s neck seemingly absentmindedly. “No they won’t. And I’ll be on Facetime so much it’ll be like I never left.”

Buck ducks his head but nods anyway, gathering up the courage to say what he wants to say next. “I know you have to go,” he starts, steeling himself as he makes himself meet Eddie’s gaze. “But please don’t go forever.”

Eddie’s expression blanks, his mouth parting over nothing. Buck can only stare back, hoping that just this once it might be different. That he won’t get a, ‘Take care of yourself, Buck,’ and a hand to the cheek before the person in front of him disappears forever.

Eddie doesn’t touch his cheek. Instead he presses their foreheads together hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make Buck’s breath catch and rush out of him on a shaky exhale.

“I won’t. I promise,” Eddie breathes and his hand moves from Buck’s neck to the back of Buck’s head and Buck can’t help wondering for a moment what would happen if he closed the distance between them. If Eddie would kiss him back.

It’s not a thought he’s ever entertained before but he’s thinking it now and it feels…like it makes sense. Like an inevitability.

And what a time to have a realisation like that.

Eddie leans back then and Buck forces himself to unclench his hands, attempting to smooth out the back of Eddie’s jacket with trembling hands.

“You should go,” he says because Eddie won’t.

Eddie nods faintly in agreement and it looks like it takes every ounce of effort for him to take a step back. Buck picks up his bag for him, offers it to him, and tries for a weak smile so Eddie will know it’s okay. That he can go and Buck won’t cause a scene.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get to my parents place.”

Buck nods. “Give Chris a hug for me.”

“I will.”

Eddie starts looking towards the security line again and Buck blurts out, “Tell him I love him.”

Eddie looks back to him, a devastating smile of understanding on his face. “He knows already. But I will.”

Buck nods again and then there’s nothing left to say. Eddie turns to go and Buck does the same because he can’t watch until he’s out of sight. It hurts too much already and he can barely hold his tears back as it is.

He doesn’t need to watch himself get left behind again.

~

He’s just unlocking his car when his phone rings. He doesn’t check who it is as he climbs in, just shoves the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he reaches for his seatbelt.

“Keep me company while I wait for my flight?”

He straightens so quickly the phone almost falls into his lap but he catches it just in time. And he tries to laugh but he thinks it might come out more like a sob. “Keep me company on the drive home?”

“Always,” Eddie says like they’re driving home from work after a long shift.

Buck switches his phone to speaker mode and looks down at the keys in his hand, at the keys to the loft, Maddie’s place and Eddie’s house respectively, considering his options before turning on the ignition.

“So there’s the guy at the gate-“ Eddie starts and Buck lets the sound of his voice wash over him. Allows himself just one singular moment where he closes his eyes and holds his hand to his chest before he pulls himself together and drives out of his space.

Eddie is offering him a play by play of the guy at the gate who’s insisting his luggage is not chirping and Buck gets his breath back enough to make a quip about how that made it through the security scanner.

When he reaches the freeway it takes hardly any thought at all for him to take the exit that’ll get him to the Diaz house fastest.

He’s going home after all.

~

[usuallydyinginside]

"No One Mourns the Wicked" is about Glinda, not Elphaba

Okay, but hear me out. Wicked songs are so good at saying one thing and meaning something entirely different once you have more context. For instance, "I'm Not That Girl" is Elphaba singing about Glinda initially, then in Act 2 flips to Glinda singing about Elphaba. Because it turns out, Elphaba IS that girl and Glinda is not. When we meet the Wizard, he sings about how he always wanted to be a father. When you get to Act 2, you get the sad little reprise in the background music as he realizes that WHOOPS, he was one and he destroyed his only kid. "Defying Gravity" starts with "I hope you're happy" in the sarcastic sense and ends with them both using the same phrase to genuinely wish one another well.

"Thank Goodness" is set up as a cheerful engagement song where Glinda genuinely means "thank goodness for how great my life is" and ends in a place where she's insisting that she IS happy even as she realizes her engagement is a sham, her best friend is gone, and she's left with the Wizard and Madame M, who she doesn't even like.

You get the picture.

Basically, the whole musical is about subverting what you expect, starting with the base premise of "what if the Wicked Witch was the hero of the story" and digging in from there.

Honestly, I'd never paid much attention to the first song. It's a good opener, sets things up well, but it has some big competition with later songs. However, in the movie the staging and camera choices made me really notice it for the first time. Because you know what? Someone DID pay attention to that song, and you can really really tell.

For those who need a refresher, the lyrics to the chorus Glinda sings are: And Goodness knows The Wicked's lives are lonely Goodness knows The Wicked die alone It just shows when you're Wicked You're left only On your own I was always so busy noticing Glinda's grief over thinking Elphaba was genuinely dead that I failed to notice Glinda's grief over her OWN fate. The movie did such a good job with this because every time we get to the pink lines about being alone, Glinda IS alone. She is standing apart from the crowd who adores her. Standing above them. Standing at the center of a bunch of people yet still, isolated.

Because in the end, we know that Elphaba DIDN'T die alone. We know she wasn't on her own. We know her life WASN'T lonely ultimately. She had her flying monkey and animal friends. She had Fiyero.

And who does Glinda have?

Everyone, but realistically, no one. She is an ideal, not a person to most of Oz, just as much as Elphaba has become the token scapegoat. Where Elphaba is the "Wicked Witch," Glinda is "Glinda the Good Witch" - she is literally supposed to be the embodiment of goodness.

And what does Glinda have at the end of this whole thing (as of this song at least)? A disastrous end to her engagement, the death of her best friend, a sorceress who has hated her, demeaned her, and dismissed her from the start, and a con man who is also just a symbol more than a person.

I think it really hit me when Glinda throws the fire on the giant effigy of Elphaba. Ariana's acting was SO good there, because I'd expected us to see that private moment of horror or regret. What I didn't expect was the sort of determined and almost angry glare at the effigy.

But it makes sense. At this point, Glinda has realized that she lost everything and everyone she actually cared about.

As she so aptly puts it in "Thank Goodness"...

Though it is, I admit The tiniest bit Unlike I anticipated. But I couldn't be happier, Simply couldn't be happier, Well, not "simply" 'Cause getting your dreams It's strange, but it seems A little, well, complicated.

There's a kind of a sort of cost. There's a couple of things get lost. There are bridges you cross You didn't know you crossed Until you've crossed!

And if that joy, that thrill Doesn't thrill like you think it will Still-- With this perfect finale, The cheers and the ballyhoo! Who wouldn't be happier? So I couldn't be happier, Because happy is what happens When all your dreams come true.

Well, isn't it?

Happy is what happens when you're dreams come true.

It's not Elphaba's fault that Glinda has ended up this way. Glinda chose it every step of the way. Yet, if Glinda had never met Elphaba, (if she'd never known her, you could say), she might have stayed shallow and vain. She might never have been challenged to look deeper and realize how empty it all felt.

So as Glinda sings "No One Mourns the Wicked," she realizes that even if the Munchkins are singing about the "Wicked Witch," she's not.

She's singing about herself.

The one who traded her morals, friendship, and love for a taste of the admiration and power over those who don't really know her. The one who was so worried about being likable that she herself doesn't like who she's become.

Even after she makes things better for Oz and herself by sending the wizard away and getting rid of Madame M, it just leaves Glinda by herself as the leader and source of goodness in Oz. It leaves her on a pedestal she can never step off of.

It leaves her lonely.

Entirely alone.

[svt-luna]

hi lovely, i hope you are having/had a good day! i woke up this morning to svt winning another daesang (as they should) and the speech had me sobbing 😭

so i was wondering if you’re comfortable, could you possibly write something from lunas pov during the speech and her saying her own heartwarming speech? also maybe writing about their celebration dinner(?) afterwards where they facetimed jun and hannie? (and maybe squeeze in a little jeongna moment if you can 👀) this is my first time making a request so i’m sorry if this doesn’t make sense, i’m a little nervous.

if you don’t want to write it or don’t feel comfortable writing it, that is totally fine. i love your writing btw 🫶🏾

𝜗℘ BIRDS OF A FEATHER

❛ 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘪'𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪'𝘮 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘣��𝘣𝘺, 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘦, '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘦. '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, '𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘦. ❜

synopsis: Amid the rush of the MAMA Awards and the whirlwind of victories, Luna and Jeonghan share quiet moments of love and reflection, as their hearts connect through wins, speeches, and emotions that speak louder than words.

warnings: short but sweet, cursing, fluff, slight angst?, crying, long speeches, established relationship, slight flirting, tooth-rotting fluff

hi, my love!! please don’t be nervous and feel free to request more because this is a great request, i just had to write it real quick. and do not worry, you aren’t the only one who sobbed. i ugly sobbed watching the show, they deserve everything in the world. my heart is full for the guys 🥹🤍

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Luna can still remember their first-ever award show.

The sound of applause echoed around the massive venue, filling every corner of the arena with an energy that Luna could still feel, even years later.

She remembered that night as vividly as if it had just happened, though it was now a memory softened by time and sweetened by the hard-earned successes that followed.

Their first awards show as SEVENTEEN wasn’t glamorous, nor was it triumphant in the conventional sense.

They hadn’t won any awards that night; they were merely performers in a lineup of seasoned artists who had long since carved their names into the fabric of the industry.

Yet, for Luna, that night held a special kind of magic— one that was tinged with equal parts intimidation and exhilaration.

The air backstage had been charged with nervous energy. SEVENTEEN had been a fresh, wide-eyed group at the time, their faces still bright with the unfiltered enthusiasm of newcomers.

Luna remembered her own nerves most distinctly. She had fidgeted with the hem of her stage outfit, her heart pounding as the reality of performing at such a grand event settled over her.

It wasn’t just the thought of performing in front of their fans— Carats, as they would later come to call them— but also the knowledge that the audience was filled with some of the most respected artists in the industry.

Icons.

Legends.

People whose music Luna had grown up listening to, whose names were spoken with reverence in both casual conversation and industry circles.

It was overwhelming.

The stage had felt enormous beneath her feet, its scale almost swallowing them whole. Bright lights illuminated every corner of the arena, rendering the faces of the audience a blur beyond the glare.

Yet, when the music started, something shifted.

The nerves, the apprehension, the sheer weight of the moment— all of it melted away in the rhythm of their choreography and the familiar beats of their song.

They weren’t only a group of rookies anymore; they were SEVENTEEN, standing shoulder to shoulder and filling that stage with their energy and passion.

The applause that followed wasn’t deafening, nor was it as sustained as some of the others they would hear that night. But it was enough to leave a mark, enough to affirm that they had been seen, even if only as one of many acts in a star-studded lineup.

Luna remembered sitting among the audience after their performance, her breath still uneven from exertion but her eyes wide with wonder. They watched as other artists— seasoned veterans with decades of experience, and rising stars who were rapidly ascending the industry ladder— took the stage.

Every performance seemed like a masterclass in artistry, leaving Luna in awe. There was so much to learn from the way they commanded the stage, from the way they carried themselves with a confidence born of years in the spotlight.

When the awards segment began, the awe only deepened.

Category after category, artists stepped up to the stage to receive their trophies, their names etched in gold on placards that would later be photographed, shared, and celebrated.

Luna had clapped until her palms stung, genuinely thrilled for the winners even though a small, quiet voice in her heart whispered that one day, she wanted to be where they were.

The grand prizes were the highlight of the night.

They weren’t just awards; they were accolades that symbolized unparalleled achievement, the kind of recognition that marked an artist as the best of the best.

Luna remembered how the winners’ names were called, the way the room seemed to hold its collective breath before erupting in applause. She watched as these titans of the industry ascended the stage, some with practiced poise, others with teary humility.

Their speeches, though varied in tone and content, all carried the weight of their journey— the sacrifices, the triumphs, the sheer determination it took to reach that pinnacle.

It was both inspiring and humbling.

As the night progressed, Luna felt the spark of something igniting within her. She could sense it in the others too.

Seungcheol’s clenched fists as he silently vowed to lead them to greater heights, Woozi’s laser-focused gaze that already seemed to be dissecting how they could improve, and the way Hoshi had leaned over to murmur something to Joshua, his expression a mix of determination and quiet pride.

They all felt it— that drive to grow, to push themselves harder, to ensure that one day, they would no longer be the rookies sitting in awe of others.

They wanted to be the artists who stood on that stage, holding those trophies, delivering those speeches. To be artists whose music has grown to have an impact on their fans.

Luna carried that moment with her for years.

It became a cornerstone of her resolve, a memory she often revisited on the nights when exhaustion threatened to pull her under. She would remind herself of the awe she had felt, the respect she had for those artists, and the fire it had lit within her.

It wasn’t about proving anyone wrong or chasing fame for its own sake. It was about reaching the level of artistry that deserved to stand among the greats.

And that night, surrounded by her members, Luna had felt the first stirrings of a shared dream. They hadn’t spoken it aloud then— it didn’t need to be said. It was in the way they clapped for the winners, in the way they exchanged glances full of unspoken promises.

One day, they would be the ones to take the stage not just as performers, but as artists recognized for their craft. They would work until their names weren’t just part of the lineup but were written in gold on those placards.

And so they had.

The memory of that night in 2023 glimmered in Luna’s mind, warm and vivid, like a beacon guiding her back to one of the most profound moments of her life.

Almost nine years into their career, SEVENTEEN had already achieved so much.

They had performed on some of the most prestigious stages, sold out arenas worldwide, broken records they hadn’t dared to dream about and won countless awards that decorated their journey.

Each trophy, no matter the category or scale, was a testament to their relentless hard work and the unshakable bond they shared— not just with one another but with the fans who had stood by them every step of the way.

Yet nothing— absolutely nothing— compared to the moment they won their first Grand Prize.

The 2023 MAMA Awards were already a night to remember.

It was one of those moments where Luna found herself marveling at how far they had come. She had stepped onto that stage alongside her thirteen members, the lights glinting off their meticulously designed outfits, the roar of Carats shaking the very foundation of the venue.

The familiarity of it all— the stage, the adrenaline, the chants of their name— felt comforting, like a second skin they had worn for nearly a decade.

But when the announcement came, when their album ‘FML’ was called for Album of the Year, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Luna had felt the breath leave her lungs, her vision blurring as the words echoed through the arena. It was as though time had slowed, each second stretching into eternity as the realization sank in.

They had done it.

After years of climbing, years of pushing themselves past limits they didn’t even know existed, they had reached a summit they had only ever dreamed about.

The fourteen of them had risen to their feet as one, an unspoken unity carrying them toward the stage.

The journey to the microphone felt surreal, like walking through a dream they were afraid to wake from.

Luna remembered catching glimpses of the members’ faces through her tears— Woozi’s eyes already glistening, Seungkwan biting his trembling lip, Mingyu’s hand clenched tightly over his chest as though physically restraining the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

The applause around them was deafening, but Luna could only hear the pounding of her heart, the rush of blood in her ears. By the time they reached the stage, she was trembling.

Standing there, under the brilliant lights, holding the golden trophy that bore their name, Luna felt a strange, overwhelming mix of emotions.

Pride, of course, swelled in her chest, nearly bursting through her ribcage. But beneath it was something deeper— something raw and healing.

It was as though the girl she had been nearly a decade ago, the one who had sat in awe watching other artists take home awards like this, was standing beside her now.

For a brief, fleeting moment, Luna felt that teenage girl’s insecurities and doubts dissolve into the air, replaced by the quiet, undeniable truth that they had earned this.

All fourteen of them crowded around the microphone, a chaotic, beautiful tangle of limbs and emotions.

The trophy, heavier than she had imagined, was passed from hand to hand, each member clutching it as though it might disappear if they let go.

Luna remembered how it felt in her grasp— solid, warm, alive with the energy of their shared victory.

The speeches began, one by one.

Some members could barely get their words out through their tears, their voices cracking as they expressed gratitude that could never fully be captured in words. Others spoke with surprising composure, their emotions shining through in the weight of their pauses and the tremor in their voices.

Every single one of them spoke from the heart, their words a love letter to Carats, to the people who had supported them from the very beginning.

Luna herself had cried— not the graceful, restrained tears one might expect at such a moment, but the kind of sobs that left her shaking.

She cried for the rookie she had been, for the years of hard work and sacrifice, for the moments of doubt when this dream had felt impossibly out of reach. She cried for the fans who had believed in them even when they hadn’t fully believed in themselves, for the members who had become her family, and for the journey that had led them to this stage.

It was as though the moment had cracked something open inside all of them, releasing years of pent-up longing, frustration, and hope. For that brief time, standing together with tears streaming down their faces, they weren’t the polished, professional idols the world saw them as.

They were kids again— wide-eyed, hopeful, and impossibly grateful.

It felt like healing.

The roar of the crowd, the flashing cameras, the dazzling lights— it all blurred together into a kaleidoscope of sensations, but Luna would never forget the way she felt at that moment. It was as though they had stepped back in time, becoming the teenagers who had once dreamed of this very moment.

Winning their first Grand Prize wasn’t just an achievement; it was a culmination of every step they had taken to get there, every challenge they had faced, and every dream they had dared to dream.

And as they stood there, holding their trophy with trembling hands and tearful smiles, it felt like they were rookies all over again.

The present moment felt surreal as well, but Luna couldn’t stop the memories from flooding her mind as she walked alongside her members toward the stage.

The 2024 MAMA Awards were taking place in Japan, and yet the experience felt oddly familiar. She had been here before, in some capacity— another city, another year, but always surrounded by the same faces.

It was the same sequence of events: the glittering red carpet, the dizzying flashes of cameras, the hum of anticipation in the air. They had arrived in sleek, custom-tailored outfits, every detail meticulously planned to exude elegance and confidence. As always, the fans greeted them with deafening cheers, their voices rising above the chaos, a reminder of the love and support that had carried them through the years.

The award show itself had unfolded like so many others before it. They had taken their seats among a sea of familiar faces— some peers, some icons they still admired from afar despite sharing the same industry. They had watched the performances with genuine awe, clapping enthusiastically for their fellow artists, basking in the shared celebration of music and artistry.

These moments were always a highlight for Luna, a chance to witness the diversity and passion of their craft.

Throughout the evening, SEVENTEEN had already won two awards— Fan’s Choice, Super Stage, and Album of the Year which they had won the year prior as well. Each win had been met with cheers and applause, their names called out with the same warmth and pride as every time before.

Luna had stood with the members as they accepted the awards, their speeches heartfelt and grateful, their joy spilling over as they thanked their fans and the people who had helped them get here. The weight of each trophy was a reminder of their hard work, a tangible acknowledgment of the bond they had built with their fans.

But it wasn’t just about those awards.

After their performance— an electrifying stage that showcased a medley of their newer songs— the night took a turn no one had dared to predict.

They had barely returned to their seats, adrenaline still coursing through their veins, when the announcement came. The words seemed to echo in the cavernous arena, sinking into the stunned silence that followed.

SEVENTEEN had won the Grand Prize for Artist of the Year.

The gravity of those words hit Luna like a tidal wave, her heart hammering in her chest as they were ushered to their feet.

Winning Album of the Year two years in a row felt monumental, like breaking through a glass ceiling they had been reaching toward for years.

But this year— this was something else entirely.

Artist of the Year.

The pinnacle of recognition.

A title that declared them not just successful but iconic, a force to be reckoned with.

Luna’s legs felt shaky as she followed the others, the twelve of them making their way toward the stage. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, each step heavy with the weight of everything that moment symbolized.

It wasn’t just another trophy; it was a testament to nearly a decade of unwavering determination, sleepless nights, and sacrifices none of them spoke about openly.

Yet, as monumental as the achievement was, Luna couldn’t stop the pang of sadness that accompanied it.

They were twelve tonight.

Jeonghan was doing his alternative military service, his absence a constant ache in their dynamic, and Jun was in China, pursuing his acting career with the same passion he had always brought to the group.

The two of them were irreplaceable, and though SEVENTEEN had adapted, though they had pressed on with their tour and their schedules, it never stopped feeling incomplete.

Luna’s throat tightened as the thought crossed her mind.

Performing with twelve of them felt empty in a way she couldn’t describe. It was like a song missing its harmonies, a painting with two crucial strokes left undone. Standing here now, walking toward a microphone that should have had fourteen voices ready to speak, that emptiness felt magnified.

The joy of the moment was undeniable, but so was the absence of Jeonghan’s playful smirk and Jun’s calming presence.

They had made it to the stage by now, the bright lights shining down on them, the cheers of the audience deafening in their ears.

Luna blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. She knew she wasn’t alone in feeling this way. She could see it in the way the members carried themselves, their smiles tinged with bittersweet undertones, their gazes flickering to the empty spaces beside them.

Even as the trophy was placed in their hands, even as the reality of the win began to sink in, Luna couldn’t shake the weight of it all.

This was a first for them— Artist of the Year.

It was the kind of award that solidified a legacy, that spoke to the impact they had made not just in one year but across their entire career. And yet, it felt wrong to be accepting it without all of them present.

The tears Luna had been holding back pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Not yet.

Instead, she focused on the moment, on the twelve of them standing shoulder to shoulder, a united front despite the gaps between them. They had worked too hard for this, sacrificed too much, to let the moment pass them by.

Still, as they approached the microphone and prepared to speak, Luna couldn’t help but wish that Jeonghan and Jun were there. The weight of the trophy in her hands felt both comforting and heavy, a symbol of everything they had achieved and everything they still wanted to be.

The stage was awash in golden light, illuminating the twelve figures standing before an audience whose cheers swelled like a tide.

Luna stood slightly behind the others, her fingers playing with her rings that were glittering as she tried to focus on the moment. She caught Seungcheol stepping forward, his calm and steady presence a source of comfort even now. He raised the microphone, his voice strong despite the visible emotion etched into his features.

“Say the name…” he began, the words resonating through the arena.

“SEVENTEEN!” the members chorused, their hands moving in perfect synchronization to their signature gesture before bowing deeply in unison. “Hello, we are SEVENTEEN.”

The arena erupted in cheers, the kind that echoed endlessly, an overwhelming wave of love and celebration that swept over them all. Luna straightened, her chest swelling with pride as her gaze flickered across the fans who were crying, laughing, and cheering with unrestrained joy.

Hoshi stepped forward next, his energy as bright and infectious as ever. “THANK YOU TO CARATS WHO MADE US ARTIST OF THE YEAR!!” he shouted into the microphone, his voice carrying an uncontainable enthusiasm that filled every corner of the venue.

Luna couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, her heart warming at the sight of Hoshi’s genuine excitement. He continued, his tone softening but still infused with his usual passion. “We really didn’t know we’d be able to receive two big awards at MAMA like this,” he said, pausing as if to collect his thoughts. “But I think our first big award we received after eight years last year gave us the meaning that if we don’t give up, anything is possible. So with the two big awards this time, it gave us the meaning that we will continue forward like SEVENTEEN! We’ll really work hard. Thank you!!”

As he stepped back, the audience roared in approval, their cheers blending with the claps and nods of the other members. Luna turned slightly to glance at the members beside her. Some were wiping away the beginnings of tears, their expressions a mix of disbelief and gratitude.

Dino took the mic next, his youthful presence commanding attention even amidst the grandeur of the moment. Luna watched him closely, noticing the determination shining in his eyes. “Actually, when we received our Daesang last year, I was the only one who couldn’t share my thoughts,” Dino began, his voice steady yet laced with a hint of vulnerability. “But I got to do a bit today.” He paused, a small, almost sheepish smile crossing his face before he continued.

“Ever since our debut, my dream was to be an artist that would remain in history,” he said, his words quiet but powerful, as though he were confiding in every person in the room. “And receiving the Artist of the Year award felt like something new too. In the future, we won’t lose the feelings that made us worthy to receive this award and the feelings we had from the start as we go forward. We will go forward together with Carats. Thank you, and I love you!”

The cheers that erupted then were deafening, the sound wrapping around them like a warm embrace. Dino stepped back into the line of members, his expression softened but proud as the audience responded with unbridled enthusiasm.

It was Dokyeom’s turn next. Luna’s gaze shifted toward him as he stepped up, a bright smile tugging at his lips despite the sheen of emotion glistening in his eyes. His voice was warm and affectionate, as though speaking directly to their fans.

“Carats!! I love you!” he began, his tone as vibrant as his personality. “We got to receive two Daesangs at MAMA like this, and I’m so thankful for that. The reason we’re able to receive such a big award like this is thanks to our Carats. If it weren’t for the love from our Carats, we wouldn’t be able to receive an award this big, so I think today there’s no way for us to be anything but happy.” He paused for a moment, his voice thickening slightly as his words slowed. “You made such a happy day for us today…”

As Dokyeom’s voice trailed off, he turned his head, his eyes meeting Seungcheol, who stood slightly apart from the others. The leader’s back was to the audience, his head tilted downward as his shoulders shook faintly.

The atmosphere shifted, a hush falling over the members as they realized what was happening.

Luna’s breath caught in her throat as Seungcheol turned partially, his head still lowered. Before anyone could react, he leaned toward her, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

Luna froze for a moment, her heart clenching as she felt the subtle tremor of his body against hers. Her hand moved instinctively, intertwining their fingers in a comforting grip as she whispered, “Please don’t cry, Cheollie.” Her own tears threatened to fall, her voice trembling as she tried to keep them at bay.

Luna hated seeing people cry, especially her members. She had always had a soft heart, one that couldn’t bear the sight of the people she loved in pain, and Seungcheol was no exception.

“Are you crying?” Dokyeom’s voice broke through the moment, playful yet tinged with concern as he addressed the mic once more. “Our leader hyung is crying… don’t cry! Don’t cry!” he chanted, his enthusiasm infectious as the fans immediately joined in, their voices echoing throughout the arena.

“Yes, Coups hyung, say a word,” Dokyeom said, his tone encouraging as he gestured toward their leade

Seungcheol inhaled deeply as he moved toward the microphone, his fingers tightly intertwined with Luna’s. Her hands enveloped his trembling one, holding it securely as though anchoring him in the moment. Not once did she loosen her grip, and he drew strength from her silent support. His free hand reached up briefly to wipe his tear-streaked face, but the tears continued to fall unabated.

He couldn’t stop them, and he didn’t try to anymore.

Standing before the mic, Seungcheol’s voice broke as he began to speak, his raw emotions lacing every word. “The thing I want to say the most,” he said, his tone heavy with longing, “is I miss Jeonghan and Jun so much…” His voice faltered momentarily, the weight of his feelings almost overwhelming him, but he pushed through. “It would’ve been better if all fourteen of us received it together, but I’ll keep these feelings well and relay it to them. Thank you.”

The arena erupted into a mixture of cheers and sobs, Carats’ voices merging into one wave of love and encouragement. Seungcheol nodded once, as though solidifying his promise, and returned to his place in line, still clutching Luna’s hand as if letting go would cause him to crumble.

Luna stood quietly, her expression strained as the mention of Jeonghan and Jun hit her like a wave.

Bittersweet emotions surged through her, tugging at her already fragile composure. She lowered her head, her hair falling like a curtain to shield her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately not to let her tears fall because she knew herself too well.

Once Luna started crying, she wouldn’t be able to stop, and tonight she didn’t want that.

But the ache in her chest only grew. The man who could always comfort her, who knew exactly how to make her laugh even on her darkest days, wasn’t here.

Jeonghan wasn’t here.

Seungcheol glanced at her, noticing the way her shoulders trembled as she fought to maintain control. Without hesitation, he draped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him. Luna turned into him instinctively, burying her face in his chest. Her arms wrapped around his torso, holding on tightly as if seeking solace in his steady heartbeat.

The crowd roared again, their love a balm for the open wounds in their hearts, but the bittersweet air lingered around the group like a fog.

Seungkwan, ever the light in their darkest moments, stepped forward to the microphone. His voice carried a bright energy as he called out, “Woozi hyung! Say a word too.”

He turned to where Woozi stood slightly apart, clutching the trophy tightly in his hands. “Woozi hyung was so nervous just now he was talking to himself. In our team, he’s like a mother who feels full just by watching us eat,” Seungkwan continued, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “He’s really a hyung who always gives generously without holding back, so I want to hear hyung’s thoughts.”

The members turned toward Woozi, whose small frame seemed even smaller as he stood there, crying silently. His shoulders shook as Seungkwan approached and handed him the trophy, offering a reassuring pat on his arm.

Woozi wiped at his tears, but they fell faster than he could brush them away. He exhaled a shaky breath before stepping up to the microphone, his voice breaking as he began to speak.

“Ah, really! Please! Why?!” Woozi cried out, his words breaking into a soft whine. He turned to the other members briefly, his expression equal parts frustration and helplessness as the tears kept coming. “Why is it always like this when receiving awards?”

The members chuckled through their tears, their affection for him evident in their soft smiles and knowing nods.

“I don’t know why our emotions are bursting…” Woozi continued, his voice trembling. “What’s so sorrowful, really…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the trophy in his hands before he tightened his grip on it.

His voice steadied slightly as he continued, though the raw emotion remained palpable. “SEVENTEEN got a big award for two years in a row at MAMA, and we got two this year. This was something that really could’ve never been for us. Imagining is free, but that was something we couldn’t even imagine.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, the other members nodding solemnly as they listened. Tears glistened in their eyes, some freely streaming down their faces as they watched Woozi pour his heart out.

“I’m sorry,” Woozi said, his voice breaking again. “I’m not really someone who speaks this much.” He let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh before adding, “Yesterday was actually my birthday, but because it’s burdensome, I don’t like receiving birthday wishes.”

The crowd erupted into affectionate cheers and cries of but Woozi shook his head with a watery laugh, continuing without pause.

“But receiving an award this good as a birthday gift… there’s no way I can’t like it.” His lips trembled as he smiled faintly, his tears falling faster now. “While making music for the past ten years, I can’t take pride in how I have never once been negligent or careless in studying it. I will continue repaying you until the end of my life.”

Woozi paused, glancing down briefly as though gathering the strength to finish. “It’s a very obvious thing, but I think an idol’s best way of repaying people is with good albums. I will never change, and the fourteen of us will continue steadfastly. Thank you, I love you.”

The crowd erupted into cheers and cries once more, their voices blending into a powerful symphony of love and support. Woozi clutched the trophy tighter, his tears flowing freely now.

Seungkwan, standing beside him, reached out and patted his back gently, offering silent comfort. The rest of the members watched with tear-filled eyes, their expressions a mix of pride and understanding as they absorbed Woozi’s heartfelt words.

Seungcheol’s arm stayed secure around Luna as he gently stroked her hair, his touch tender, grounding her. His other hand lightly patted her arm, still wrapped firmly around his, offering her the silent reassurance she needed. Luna’s head remained pressed against his chest as she absorbed the warmth of his presence.

Before Luna could lose herself completely in her thoughts, they both heard Seungkwan’s voice over the mic.

“Noona… do you want to say anything?”

The question drew their attention, and Luna felt Seungcheol gently gesture her forward with his free hand, urging her to speak. She hesitated, the emotions swirling within her still too raw, but the encouraging look on Seungcheol’s face gave her the push she needed.

“Aigo… she’s also crying,” Seungkwan joked, his lighthearted comment drawing soft laughter from the audience and the members. The playful tease made Luna chuckle through her tears, and she reluctantly detached herself from Seungcheol’s comforting hold, stepping forward with a small smile on her face.

As she reached the mic, Woozi handed her the trophy, his face red and tear-streaked but glowing with pride. Luna accepted it with both hands, her expression softening as she glanced at the members behind her. Her voice, however, carried a playful lilt as she turned to the audience and joked, “I’m not crying. Do I look like I’m crying?”

The crowd erupted into laughter at the irony, given her glistening red eyes and flushed cheeks. Her attempt at humor broke the emotional tension for a brief moment, drawing laughter from the members as well. She smiled wider, shaking her head before adding, “I’m not gonna cry today because I want to be cool.”

The lighthearted remark earned more laughter, and Luna couldn’t help but laugh along with them. Her shoulders relaxed as the weight of the moment started to settle into something manageable.

But as she continued, her tone turned earnest, “I just want to make you guys laugh. Carats, I can see some of you crying. Please don’t cry. Today is a happy day. A very happy day.”

She paused, stepping back slightly from the mic, her gaze sweeping over the faces of her members. Her smile softened into something radiant and beautiful, a reflection of the love she held for the people standing beside her. Her eyes met each of theirs, and the warmth in their expressions mirrored her own.

“I’m proud of us,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the tremble in her hands.

The crowd erupted into loud cheers, the sound wrapping around her like a warm embrace.

Luna laughed lightly, her eyes welling up again despite her earlier resolve. “I’m proud of us. I’m proud of myself. I’m proud of Cheollie, Joshie, Soonie, Woo, Jihoonie, Hao, Gyu-gyu, Kyeomie, Kwanie, Nonie, Channie, and of course Hannie and Junnie.”

Her voice cracked as she mentioned Jeonghan and Jun, and a single tear slid down her cheek. She tried to brush it away quickly, chuckling through the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

“I’m not crying, I promise,” she joked again, though her voice wavered as she choked back a sob. Her attempt to lighten the mood made the fans and members laugh, but their own eyes glistened as they watched her fight through her emotions.

She took a deep breath and continued, “As we stand here right now, accepting this award, only one thing comes to mind. It’s that right now we aren’t the SEVENTEEN who are in their late twenties and are in their ninth year. It’s as if right now we are the timid teens who could only dream about receiving an award like this.”

Tears began to fall freely now, each word bringing a fresh wave of emotion that she couldn’t hold back. She turned to the members, her face streaked with tears, and asked in a small voice, “What do I do?”

Her question was met with immediate action. Mingyu and Seungcheol moved to either side of her, their hands patting her back gently as they offered quiet comfort. The rest of the members quickly surrounded her from behind, forming a protective circle as if shielding her from the overwhelming emotions of the moment.

“I still remember when we were at our first award show where we didn’t win anything, we were just happy to be invited, and now we are here, almost ten years later, receiving two Daesangs in one night… I’m proud of us, really.”

Luna’s voice broke again as she spoke, and she paused to collect herself, her gaze drifting over the crowd before settling on the members around her.

“I am also proud of our Carats who have been keeping us steady through the hard times this year. This year hasn’t been easy. A lot of bad and a lot of good. My only wish is that next year will be a little bit kinder to everyone. We promise to work harder for you guys and for Hannie and Jun, who I know are watching right now… I love and miss you two so much. Thank you.”

She bowed deeply, her form trembling as she fought to regain control of her emotions. As she moved away from the mic, she quickly wiped at her tears with the back of her hand, but before she could fully compose herself, Dokyeom stepped forward.

“Come here,” he said softly, his warm smile a balm to her raw emotions as he gently wiped her tears with his hands. Wonwoo followed, patting her head affectionately while Seungcheol and Mingyu remained on either side of her, their presence steady and grounding.

Wonwoo adjusted the mic slightly, leaning in as his calm voice rang out, “Thank you!” His words were simple but carried the weight of his sincerity, and the crowd erupted into applause.

Seungkwan then added, “Thank you so much, really. In the future, we’ll work hard!” He offered a small smile, his genuine demeanor only emphasizing the heartfelt nature of his words.

Then, Seungcheol, ever the leader, took the mic with steady hands, his voice firm yet warm. “It’s been SEVENTEEN. Say the name…”

The members immediately joined in, their voices strong as they performed their signature hand gesture and shouted in unison, “SEVENTEEN!” They bowed deeply toward the crowd before finishing together, “Thank you!”

“Thank you so much to our staff,” Seungkwan spoke again, a gesture echoed by the rest of the group.

“Carats, I love you,” Mingyu added, his voice filled with emotion as he followed. His face broke into a radiant smile as he glanced toward the fans, his love for them evident in every word.

The members closed in tighter, forming a huddle as Luna slipped her arms around Seungcheol and Mingyu’s waists. Their collective warmth was a tangible reminder of their bond, a silent promise that they would continue to lean on one another no matter what came next.

As the members remained in their tight huddle, the crowd cheered louder, their love and pride for SEVENTEEN filling the venue. The crowd’s cheers reached a deafening roar, a wave of love and pride that wrapped around them like a warm embrace. They stood together, united as one, soaking in the moment before ending the night.

The cheers and music of the 2024 MAMA Awards faded into the background as the show came to a close. SEVENTEEN stood united onstage for one last bow before they retreated, their hearts brimming with pride and emotions still raw from the night’s triumphs.

As they stepped backstage, a whirlwind of activity greeted them. Their staff and team members erupted in cheers and applause, filling the air with congratulatory shouts and infectious energy. The members were immediately engulfed in hugs, pats on the back, and words of praise.

Their production team followed close behind, cameras rolling to capture every moment for future content, whether for YouTube or official documentary-style footage. Photographers clicked away, immortalizing the members holding their trophies, their eyes sparkling despite the exhaustion settling in.

In the dressing room, the energy remained electric.

The members posed for group photos, laughing and playfully adjusting each other’s outfits. Luna, with a grin that stretched ear to ear, stood at the center of one photo, cradling a trophy. She switched between group shots and solo moments with the trophies, her genuine joy lighting up each frame.

Hoshi and Seungkwan joked about how she was still the prettiest despite sobbing her makeup off, prompting her to laugh before finally setting the trophy down.

Once the formalities wound down, Luna’s attention immediately darted to her phone. She picked it up and stepped to the side, her fingers swiftly tapping the screen to initiate a video call.

It barely rang once before the familiar face of Jeonghan appeared on the screen, his smile lazy yet warm, as if he had been waiting for her call all night.

The sight of him caused Luna’s heart to skip a beat. The chaotic energy surrounding her melted away, and she immediately felt lighter, her exhaustion replaced by a soothing sense of calm.

“How’s my Artist of the Year?” Jeonghan asked, his voice carrying that familiar teasing lilt as he smirked knowingly.

Luna chuckled, shaking her head as she plopped into a makeup chair. “I feel amazing, my Artist of the Year,” she quipped back, the warmth in her tone matching his.

Jeonghan’s smirk softened into a smile, and his quiet chuckle carried through the phone. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

Luna propped her phone against the mirror, angling it carefully so she could talk to him while undoing her hair. She began removing the pins, placing them methodically on the counter. “The best pair,” she agreed, shooting him a small smile as her fingers worked through her hair.

Jeonghan’s sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing. His gaze softened as he noticed her smudged eye makeup from crying earlier. “You cried so hard,” he pointed out gently, his voice dropping to a soft coo as he watched her before he teased. “You’re so emotional lately, angel.”

Luna rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. “I tried my hardest not to cry! But you know how it is… The moment I started it just hit me and I couldn’t stop.”

Jeonghan nodded in understanding, his tone patient. “I know, baby. But you’re so cute when you cry. I wish I could’ve been there to wipe your tears.”

Luna paused briefly to give him a mock glare, pulling out the last pin from her hair. “That’s not helping,” she muttered, though the fondness in her voice betrayed her words.

Jeonghan chuckled again, his voice warm. “Sorry, sorry. You did so well, though. I was watching the whole time. You were incredible up there. I’m so proud of you.”

His words made Luna’s cheeks warm, and she busied herself by slipping the rings off her fingers, setting them beside the pins. The only ones left were their team pinky ring and her engagement ring, which she twisted absently as she glanced at him.

“Thank you, Han,” she murmured, her voice soft. “I did my best.”

Jeonghan nodded, his eyes following her every movement as she began removing her makeup. “That speech, though. It was perfect. You always know how to say the right things.”

She paused, smiling slightly as she wiped away the remnants of her eyeliner. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Jeonghan replied, his voice unwavering. “You’re amazing, my moon. Every single day, you amaze me.”

“And you say I have a way with words.” Luna shook her head lightly, her laugh soft as she focused on cleaning her face.

Behind her, Hoshi suddenly popped into view, waving enthusiastically at Jeonghan.

“Hyung! Did you see me tonight?” Hoshi asked loudly, grinning.

Jeonghan smirked, tilting his head slightly. “You mean your hip thrust during ‘Ash’? Of course, I did.”

Hoshi preened under the compliment before Luna shooed him off with a laugh. “Okay, okay, go change already!”

“Fine, fine! Hi and bye, hyung!” Hoshi waved dramatically before disappearing again.

The interruptions didn’t stop there. Dokyeom appeared next, leaning over Luna’s shoulder to wave at Jeonghan. “Hyung, we need to hang out! Just the two of us.”

Jeonghan raised a brow. “You miss me that much?”

“Of course,” Dokyeom grinned before Luna nudged him away.

“Go change, Kyeomie!” she scolded playfully with a pout, laughing as Dokyeom wandered off.

As the room quieted down again, Luna sighed, leaning closer to the mirror to check her reflection. Jeonghan’s voice pulled her attention back. “You’re glowing,” he said softly, his tone sincere.

She glanced at him through the screen, her smile returning. “You always know what to say,” she murmured.

Jeonghan’s smile widened slightly, his voice gentle. “And I’ll keep saying it, as long as it makes you smile.”

The rest of the room began to hum with activity again as the members busied themselves changing and tidying up, but Luna and Jeonghan remained in their own little bubble, their connection unwavering despite the distance between them.

The conversation between the two flowed naturally, carrying a comforting sense of ease and intimacy that only came with years of being together. Even as Luna shifted in her seat, preparing to step away to change into more casual clothes, she hesitated. “I should go change,” she murmured reluctantly, glancing at Jeonghan through the phone screen.

Jeonghan’s eyes softened, his smile reassuring. “Take the phone with you,” he said casually, leaning back in his chair. “Just close the camera if you want. I’ll wait.”

Luna laughed softly, shaking her head. “You don’t have to stay on the call while I’m changing, Hannie.”

“I want to,” he replied easily, his voice steady and comforting. “I don’t want to hang up yet.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and she felt a familiar warmth settle over her. “Alright,” she relented with a small smile. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Nana-ya,” Jeonghan promised, his tone light but sincere.

Luna propped the phone on the nearby counter, angling it so Jeonghan wouldn’t see anything as she began to change. She could still hear his voice through the speaker as he filled the quiet with soft humming and the occasional playful comment.

“Is it weird that I find your breathing as you struggle to unzip your dress attractive?” he teased lightly.

Luna chuckled as she slipped out of her dress, reaching for her more comfortable clothes, not at all shocked that Jeonghan knew what she was doing just by the sound of her breathing. “Not weird,” she said. “Just proves you’ve been paying attention all these years.”

“You’re unforgettable,” he said smoothly, the grin evident in his voice.

Luna rolled her eyes fondly as she pulled on her hoodie. “You’re impossible,” she shot back, her tone lighthearted.

Jeonghan laughed, and the sound was a balm to her exhaustion. “Yet you love me.”

“Unfortunately,” Luna quipped, zipping up her jacket before finally picking up the phone again.

She settled back into the makeup chair, her expression softer now. “Okay, your turn to entertain me while I wait for the others to finish changing.”

Jeonghan tilted his head, pretending to think. “What do you want to hear, baby? Should I tell you how perfect you looked on stage? Or maybe how your speech almost made me tear up, but I held it together because I’m supposed to be the composed one out of the two of us?”

Luna laughed, leaning her chin on her hand. “All of the above sounds good. Go on.”

The members began filtering back into the room, grabbing their things and preparing to leave, but Luna remained in her little world with Jeonghan.

Even as they made their way to the car, he stayed on the line.

“Don’t hang up,” she said quietly, slipping into the vehicle and settling into the corner seat.

“I wasn’t planning to,” Jeonghan reassured her, his voice soft as ever.

The call remained active as the car pulled away, and Luna sighed, leaning her head against the window. The night’s events were finally catching up to her, and a wave of exhaustion hit. Her eyes fluttered shut, the phone still balanced in her lap.

Jeonghan didn’t say anything, watching her quietly through the screen. His expression softened at the sight of her, the light on her face, her hair still slightly tousled from the rush of the evening. The sound of her breathing, even and calm, was enough to bring a small, contented smile to his lips.

The car hit a gentle turn, and Luna’s eyes blinked open. She glanced at the phone screen and caught Jeonghan watching her. Her gaze, tired but full of affection, locked with his. “I miss you,” she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jeonghan’s smile grew, and his tone turned even gentler as if speaking to a child. “I know, baby,” he cooed, his voice low and soothing. “I miss you, too. But it’s okay. We’ll see each other tomorrow, hmm?”

Luna let out a small hum of acknowledgment, her eyelids drooping again. “I want you here,” she admitted, the vulnerability in her tone tugging at Jeonghan’s heart.

“I know, my pretty moon,” he said, his voice wrapping around her like a warm blanket. “But tomorrow, you’ll be back in Korea, and I’ll be waiting for you. You know I’ll always be here.”

Her lips curled into a faint smile at his words, and she let out a quiet sigh. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Jeonghan said firmly, his voice unwavering. “And since I have the weekend off, we’ll do whatever you want. Just you and me, okay?”

Luna nodded slowly, her eyes closing once more. “Okay,” she whispered.

Jeonghan stayed on the line, his voice a steady presence as he hummed softly, occasionally murmuring words of reassurance.

Even miles apart, his love for her was palpable, filling the quiet space between them. Luna didn’t have to say anything; his presence, even through a phone screen, was enough.

Soon, Luna found herself with the rest of the members in the restaurant for their dinner.

The restaurant was bustling with the faint hum of conversation and clinking utensils when SEVENTEEN and Luna entered. Their reserved room at the back provided a quieter space for the group to unwind after the overwhelming evening.

Luna, still clutching her phone tightly, smiled at Jeonghan’s face on the screen as they settled into their seats. She propped the phone against the water glass in front of her so he could see her clearly.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at her stubbornness. “Nana-ya,” he said softly, amusement lacing his tone, “you’re going to eat, right? Not stare at me the entire time?”

Luna leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm as she gave him a sleepy smile. “I can do both,” she teased. “You’re not hanging up, Hannie. Don’t even try.”

“You’re really going to keep me here while you eat?” he asked, pretending to be exasperated, though the corners of his lips twitched upward.

“I don’t want to hang up,” Luna said, her voice soft but firm. “I want you here, and this is the next best thing.”

Her honesty, tinged with drowsiness, made Jeonghan chuckle. “Alright, alright. But I don’t want you to feel distracted. Focus on your food, okay?”

“I will.” She nodded, glancing briefly at the menu the waiter placed before her.

Across the table, the members were glancing at her phone with knowing smiles but chose not to interfere.

They were used to Luna’s clinginess, especially when she was tired, and if it meant she got to keep Jeonghan close, even virtually, they weren’t about to stop her.

As the waiter took their orders, Luna kept Jeonghan in the loop. “Hannie, I’m getting the spicy stew. Should I get something for you?” she joked, her lips quirking up.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, amused. “Sure, send it over with a side of your award-winning speech,” he quipped, his voice warm and teasing.

Luna giggled, shaking her head. “I’d do it if I could.”

While waiting for the food, the members engaged in casual chatter. Hoshi was animatedly recounting a moment from the award show, and Seungkwan chimed in with his signature wit.

Luna added her comments here and there, but her focus remained on the phone, occasionally glancing down at the screen to find Jeonghan watching her with fond amusement.

“You’re making me hungry just watching you eat,” Jeonghan teased when the food arrived, and Luna dug into her stew with gusto.

“Then grab yourself something,” she shot back without missing a beat, her tone playful.

“I would, but I’m busy being held hostage on this call,” he said, the smirk on his face betraying his amusement.

Luna rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re not going anywhere, so you might as well sit there and watch me enjoy my meal.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re something else, you know that? I love you so much.”

“I love you the most.” Luna replied.

The members chimed in with their own conversations, the room filled with laughter and light-hearted teasing. Luna participated occasionally, but her focus remained divided between her food and Jeonghan, whose steady presence on the screen made the night feel less lonely.

When the meal was finished, and everyone was relaxing with their drinks or dessert, Seungkwan clapped his hands together. “Guys, before we leave, let’s take a group photo. We’ve got to commemorate tonight.”

Luna perked up at the suggestion, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. She glanced at Jeonghan on the screen. “You’re already here, so you’re joining us for this.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, am I? How exactly are we pulling that off?”

“You sound like a fossil,” Luna said mischievously, picking up her phone.

The members decided to loop in Jun, hoping he wasn’t too busy. After a few rings, Jun’s face appeared on Joshua’s phone, his expression lighting up at the sight of his friends. “Hey, everyone! Congratulations to us! What’s going on?”

A chorus of greetings erupted, their voices overlapping as they filled him in on their dinner plans. Jun’s smile widened. “Wish I could be there with you guys. How’s everything?”

“Good,” Mingyu said, grinning. “We’re just about to take a group photo. You’re joining us.”

Jun laughed. “Of course. Let me get ready.”

The staff moved to position the camera, and everyone quickly returned to their seats. Luna held her phone up, angling it so Jeonghan’s face was visible. Across from her, Joshua did the same with Jun.

The room buzzed with warmth as the group settled in, some leaning closer to the phones to make sure everyone could be seen.

For a brief moment, everything felt whole.

All fourteen of them were present, even if it wasn’t physical.

Luna glanced at Jeonghan on her screen, her heart swelling with gratitude. Despite the distance, they always found a way to come together.

As the camera clicked, capturing the moment, Luna couldn’t help but think about the day’s victories— their awards, the laughter, and the love that tied them all together.

Fourteen hearts, fourteen stories, intertwined in a way that nothing could break.

Even when apart, they were never truly separated.

This was their strength, their bond, their forever.

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