#and i don't care particularly for that but i know it's important and i'm sure some of you are interested in sports

[dracimexidae]

So yeah since Jasmine and Sara are out of the Finals 😢, I'm left with the BJK Cup and then i'm basically on vacation myself from tennis (as for the more engaged and "stressful" part of watching matches😝- honestly it's "exhausting" being a fan a pause is definitely needed phew 😮‍💨🤣)

[indie-queer-movie-tournament]

Mario

Follow your heart, or play by the rules? Two young gay soccer players get caught up between the politics of the game and the politics of love.

Letterboxd:

the reason why this is so sad is that it's realistic :/ fuck toxic masculinity, fuck toxic masculinity in sports and fuck homophobia

[niningtori]

the way we were before | oneshot

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

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

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

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

word count: 12.7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“get out,” you mumble between clenched teeth.

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

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

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

-

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

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

“my resignation,” you tell him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“not hungry,” you reply. he frowns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“what is it?” you ask flatly.

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

“yep,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you can’t,” you argue.

“why not?” 

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

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

“i did. i changed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“h-hello?”

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“firstly, i’d like to celebrate the success of this collaboration. everyone has worked hard to make everything come to fruition. secondly, i’d like to recognize two of the people who made this possible.” he specially thanks you and beomgyu, which is normal, but the unexpected happens when he voices his regret that you’ll be resigning. 

your coworkers look at you in shock, but one person in particular is especially stunned. beomgyu. your manager probably thanks employees of the other company, too, but he doesn’t hear it. other voices, other people, are drowned out by the buzzing in his ears. you’re leaving, and it's all because of him. 

he tries to drown his feelings in alcohol, stomach burning with every round, but the regret never seems to numb. the room seems to be spinning, and he looks visibly ill. eventually, a familiar figure takes a seat next to him. ah. his previous fiancée.

“hey,” she says, somewhat coyly. he doesn't respond. “wow, are you okay? you look a little green. how are you getting home?” again, he doesn't respond. she actually appears to be embarrassed, but she tries one more time. 

“i actually—i came over here because you're really… cute. if you don't have a way home, i can take you. i won't try anything on you, but i can't just let you go home alone. and maybe, you know, when you're sober, we can—”

“beat it,” he snaps. he knows it’s not her fault, and that she hasn’t done anything, but he still can’t help his resentment, even when it should all be directed towards himself. but his recognition of his unfairness isn’t enough for him to care. she blinks in surprise and embarrassment, rising from her seat in defeat. 

beomgyu continues to drink until he’s on the verge of passing out, putting his face in his hands. he draws attention from everyone, but he doesn’t have the mind to care. people try to approach him, but he flatly rejects everyone who attempts to offer their help in order to ensure that he gets home safely. 

“should you… should you take him home?” mingi asks. it’s obvious who he’s referring to.

“it’s not my problem,” you reply, a bit more curtly than you intended. 

“you’re right, it’s not. but you’re the only one he’ll listen to, and i think you know that.” mingi argues. you sigh. he’s right. as much as you want to blame beomgyu for everything, you’ve come to realize that after the conversation—more like confrontation—you two had, you’re not angry anymore. it was hard to see in the moment, but you’ve begun to question your merciless stance towards him. isn’t it partially your fault that things turned out the way they did? he didn't make you check your phone that day, so isn’t it unfair to completely blame him for everything? 

with this in mind, you approach him. he initially bats you away, assuming you’re just another one of his coworkers, but your voice pulls him out of his drunken stupor.

“c��mon. i’ll take you home.” his head whips up in surprise, and he almost thinks you’re joking, but your face is completely serious.

“o-okay,” he replies, sounding extremely docile. you don’t respond, but you begin to walk ahead of him as you head to the exit. he’s having a hard time even following you as he clumsily staggers through the crowd, following you like a lost puppy. hesitantly, he reaches out for your hand, though the fear of you telling him not to touch you remains. you turn back to see his fingers hesitantly outstretched to your hand, and with a look of resignation, you let him grab it as you lead him out.

the ride to his home is a silent one. beomgyu rests his head upon the cold window as he stares at the scenery outside. he doesn’t really take anything in, far too dazed to appreciate the view, but he looks, anyway. 

when you enter his apartment, begrudgingly letting him lean on you for support, you take him to his bedroom. he plops down onto his bed in an unnaturally clumsy manner. 

“th-thanks for taking me home,” he says meekly. 

“mm,” you reply, no inflection of emotion in your tone, getting ready to leave and head to your apartment. 

“w-wait! can you… can you stay here tonight?” you look at him doubtfully, but before you can resolutely deny him, he begins to retch. with widened eyes, you pull him up and drag him to his bathroom. he hunches over the toilet and lets everything go. he’s trembling after he’s finished, and you clean him up as best as you can. he melts into your touch as you gently wipe his face. you’re not soothing him with your words like you would’ve a few months ago, but your care, no matter how unwilling you seem to give it, is something he revels in. he brushes his teeth, but he keeps his eyes on your pensive reflection in the mirror. after he's finished, you speak.

“i’ll stay,” you tell him. 

“w-what?” he questions, eyes watery.

“i’ll stay for tonight. i’ll take the couch. i just don’t want to leave you when you’re feeling like this. it’s dangerous.” 

“n-no! you can stay in the guest room.” 

“i need to be able to hear you if something happens,” you argue. 

“th-then i’ll sleep on the couch. i don’t want you to—” 

“beomgyu, you need to properly rest. if you don’t sleep in your room, i’ll leave.” his face crumbles before he acquiesces with a strained nod.

“good,” you say with a ghost of a smile at his blind obedience, but he's too drunk to notice it. if he had, he would’ve clung to it like a man drowning. 

“thank you,” he solemnly whispers.  

“goodnight, beomgyu.”

“goodnight,” he says, and you rifle through his drawer for some clothes before heading to his living room and changing. you pull out spare blankets from his linen closet before sliding onto his couch.

you sleep rather peacefully, but beomgyu has no such luck. instead, he's pulled into a dream—one he comes to realize is a memory.

-

when beomgyu arrives at the coroner’s office, there is a moment, albeit brief, that he sickly hopes that it’s literally anyone else in the world, but when he sees you—body mangled nearly beyond recognition—he realizes that there is no such mercy. apparently, you didn't even die on impact, but by the time somebody reached you, you were already gone. he doesn't want to imagine how you must've felt, being alone in your last moments, but he feels like he should. against the warnings of the coroner and surrounding police officers, he demands for your face to be uncovered. he can surely identify you based on frame and clothing alone, but for reasons he doesn’t dare to dwell on, he feels like he just has to see. he just has to be sure. he just has to know what he did to you. 

and he does come to know it. to his eternal regret, he begins to know it at that moment, and consequently, every moment after. as it turns out, they suspect that you were looking at your phone before you swerved off of the road. he doesn’t know how, but he’s instinctively sure that it’s because you were waiting on his call. one  resounding thought thrums incessantly in his head: it’s all his fault, all his fault, all his fault.

your face is bloody, barely even showing any of the underlying skin, and marred from shattered glass. he swallows thickly as he reaches out to touch you, running his hands over the gashes on your face as softly as he can as to avoid hurting you, and he can’t help but wonder if it’s at all possible for him to tend to your wounds. he would go over single one, softly patching you up back to normal; but you're already cold to the touch, and though you definitely can’t feel anything, his mind imagines how much it must hurt to have him caress the gaping wounds on your face. he snatches back his hand, as if his touch is poison to you. 

“s-sorry, i’m really sorry!” he panickedly exclaims. “i-i won’t—i didn’t mean to hurt you.” he’s unsure if he means that in the current physical or the previous emotional sense, but does that really matter? he already has. besides, you can’t feel anything anymore. all of your muscles are relaxed, leaving you devoid of any expression as your eyes hollowly stare up at the ceiling. for a moment, he wishes the hurt he saw in them a mere hour ago was still there. anything would be better than the current blankness of your features. 

the blankness remains, however, even after all of the makeup and superficial repairs done to make you look like you’re only peacefully asleep. to him, you just look dead, no matter how badly he wishes the former were the case. as much as he wants to speak at your funeral, he does not. he doesn't deserve the dignity to speak, much less to properly mourn you. not after what he said to you. not when everything that's happened is all his fault.

the breakup with his girlfriend—or fiancée—is more bothersome than he can handle. in between her pleas and attempts to reason, all he can do is coolly recite the constant refrain: “i’m sorry, i just don’t want to be with you.” she tells him he’s just grieving, that he’ll get over it with time, and she wants to support him while he does it; but he montonously repeats his words as if they're the only ones he knows. in her anger and desperation, she tells him he’s making a mistake, and that he’s just feeling guilty because of your unrequited love, which ultimately proves itself to be the categorically worst thing to say. he finally explodes, telling her that she was the mistake, that he doesn't know what he ever saw in her that even closely compares to you, and he'd take every moment with her back if he could. she's the biggest regret of his life, which previously felt like it had only just begun, but now feels like it stretches far beyond what he can tolerate. 

in the days, weeks, months that follow, he struggles to understand how something so unjust could occur. it doesn't make sense. really, it just doesn't make sense. eventually, even his initially patient friends grow weary of his neurotic harping upon how unfair it is, how sudden and wrong it all is. he should be punished. you shouldn’t have had to be the one to suffer, but you were. what kind of justice is that? what kind of universe allows something so cruel to happen right under its nose?

when everyone finally tells him that it’s time to move on and let go, he resorts to speaking to the only person who can’t argue back. you. he visits you every day, bringing you gifts on christmas and your birthday, and even just when he sees something he think you'd like. in a way, they’re almost like sacrifices to you to atone for what he did. his contrition. he spends many of his visits by raving like a man gone mad at a stone slab. he likes to think that you’re agreeing with him, that you see the unfairness for what it is. he’s realized that he loves you, has always loved you, but he was too self-absorbed to notice. as hypocritical as it is, he’s only noticed after you… left, and he’s more disgusted by himself than he ever thought possible. still, he thinks you deserve to know. you deserve for him to be brave and tell the truth, but who cares? what’s the use of only recognizing it after everything he’s done? 

he apologizes to you while crying about how much he misses you. he tries to tell you about other things, too. about the things he thinks you would’ve liked to hear. about current events he decides you’d find funny or interesting, about life updates on your friends that you’d want to know, about how a new album has been released by an artist you really liked, and that he can't quite bring himself to listen to it yet. he’ll definitely listen, though, someday. he’ll give you his opinions after describing each track in great detail, once he’s able to bear it, that is. you always look(ed) forward to their releases, so it’s the least he can do to repay his debt to you. 

but if you owe someone a debt as deep as their life, how can you repay that debt when they’re no longer here to collect it? if he really thinks about it, there are a lot of things he owes you. he owes you the years you spent caring about him when he couldn’t be bothered to reciprocate a fraction of the same courtesy. he owes you every thoughtful action, every encouraging word you wasted on him. he owes you the time you dedicated to make sure he always felt seen, felt understood, felt loved. yes, he owes you a lot of things—too many to properly account for, actually. and now, he even owes you your life. his debt is so heavy, he crumbles under it every day, squirming pathetically beneath the crushing weight of it all like an insect. the worst part is: he owes you more than you ever asked him for. all you wanted in return was honesty, but it appears that even that was too much to ask from him.

he wishes you were here to punish him, to scorn him for being such a fucking bastard. yell at him, hit him, kill him. anything would be fine—he’d tolerate it all—just as long as you were still here. he’d be perfectly content with your hatred, he’d revel in it, even; but he supposes that he doesn’t even deserve that much. as it is, your silence is the most punishment he can receive, but that doesn't feel like it's even close to enough. he finds himself praying for mercy, for some bizarre, cosmic event to put him out of his misery once and for all. he indulges in the idea that if he plays his cards right, if he begs and pleads enough, he’ll find you again. such a notion is initially enough to placate him, but it is to his horror when he realizes that he’s more afraid of that than anything else. what if he finds you, and you tell him, “i never want to see you again,” just like before? such a terrifying outcome is enough to keep him from snuffing out his own light with his own two hands for good. he’d rather live as if he were dead than hear those words again.

so he does. he lives like that for years, decades, until death mercifully takes him. he lives quietly and utterly alone. no wife, no children, and hardly any friends. if your life was robbed from you by his actions, then it’s only right that he lives as if his own were robbed from him, too. it’s the least he can do to atone for what he’s done. what keeps him up at night, though, is the possibility that it’s just not enough. if you do meet him again, what will you say? will you still tell him that you don't want to see him? that the lifetime he spent regretting everything he's ever done pales in comparison to the price you paid for caring about him? as the darkness overcomes him, however, he realizes that you deigning to say anything at all to him is better than your unbearable silence. his final thought before he's swallowed whole is: please, just let me see you one more time.

-

beomgyu awakens in a cold sweat, panting heavily as he struggles to understand where he is. is he still alive? that can’t be right—he clearly felt himself slipping away. but what if he can’t die? what if that’s his punishment? the thought alone is enough to elicit a guttural, “no, no, no!” out of him as he realizes that his nightmare is not yet over, and may very well never be. tears pour down his face as he wails like a child.

“beomgyu?” you say as you walk through the doorway, looking somewhat sleepy and disheveled in clothes he subconsciously registers as his own. when he looks at you, he's relieved, but the regret he feels is what overwhelms him.

“oh, god. i'm—it's all my fault.”

“what?” you ask, still a bit disoriented from just waking up, seeing as how it's still the middle of the night.

“it's all my fault. it's all my fucking fault. i did that to you.” suddenly, you realize what he’s saying, and your heart clenches at his words.

“beomgyu, no. i was distracted. i didn’t see—”

“you were distracted because of me. you thought i was calling you, i just know it. you were there because of me. because i’m a fucking coward who couldn't just tell you the truth.” you don’t know what to say. did he really blame himself for everything? even after all of this time? before you can answer, he speaks again.

“i saw—you just looked so small. i've never—i didn't even think anyone could bleed that much. you were so cold, a-and your face was—” 

“hey, hey, hey, stop it,” you say firmly, but gently, “you're not—” 

“they said you died at the scene, all… all alone. and i know i was the one who did that. if i had just listened to you, if i had just been honest with you, you would've been alright. but i called you crazy. i said you were being stupid. w-why did i say that? what did i do it for?” 

“look at me,” you say firmly, which makes his unfocused eyes zero in on you. “listen, listen to me. it's not your fault, okay? i used to feel like it was, but now i understand that you were scared. i know you couldn't control how you felt about her, and you were right about you not owing me your feelings. you could've been honest, but that doesn't mean you killed me.” 

“no, i did it. i did it. i did that to you. if i had just—”

“gyu,” you sigh, and his heart can’t help but stutter at the nickname you haven’t called him in months. “i’m telling you it’s not your fault. i used to blame it all on you, and i was wrong for doing that. but you get it now, right? you're supposed to be with her. you love her.”

“no, no, no! i don't. i really don't,” he desperately exclaims, trying to convince you in the only way he knows how.

“maybe not yet,” you concede, “but you will. once you get to know her, you'll want to spend the rest of your life with her. that's how it's supposed to be, just like before.”

“there is no before,” he cuts in pleadingly. “i lived and died alone, just like i deserved. i just—i love you so much, i couldn't stand to let you go.” you frown at his words—they make you actually feel guilty. even so, you guess that it's time to let the purgatory you find yourselves in go. besides, maybe he needs an apology to finally put it all to rest. 

“i'm sorry that—” his heart drops to his stomach. please don’t say it. he’s begging you not to say it. not to someone as unworthy and filthy as him.

“don't. please, please, don't apologize to m—”

“—i made you feel that way. even when i hated you, i never wanted you to live like that; but you can't mistake guilt for… something else. maybe this is another chance to get it right. you can be with her guilt-free, and i can live without regrets.”

“no, i-i didn’t break up with her because of guilt! i did it because i realized that if it’s not you, i don’t want it to be anyone else. it can’t be anyone else.” 

“you don’t know that,” you sigh. “you think you feel that way, but you’re just sad that things ended how they did.” 

“you’re wrong!” he exclaims. “i didn’t realize it—i was too stupid to realize it. and i know it’s disgusting of me, but i only… i only understood it after i lost you. i-i’m sorry i didn’t realize it before, but please don’t tell me how i feel. i spent every day wishing i would just fucking die so i could see you again. i just couldn’t stand living without you. that’s not normal—that’s not how friends feel, no matter how guilty they are. i just wanted to die.” you purse your lips at his words as you feel dread pooling in your stomach. at least when you died, you didn’t suffer for long, but he suffered for the rest of his life. in the same way, you didn’t want him to hurt himself, no matter how angry you were. 

beomgyu has begun to hyperventilate, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you—too afraid that you’ll disappear if he does. he’s probably having a panic attack as tears stream down his face, and he ruthlessly tugs at his hair in pure distress. all he can do is repeat that it's all his fault and how sorry he is, and any lingering resentment you may feel dissipates like smoke at his absolutely shattered state. it seems like he really can't live without you, so are you sure you can abandon him like this? you don't think so. although it may not be right, you still think that it's worth a shot. you don't think he has the capacity to hurt you ever again, and you realize that even after everything, you don't think you can love somebody the way that you love him. so, you're willing to let him try again.

“hey, hey. stop it,” you coax, seating yourself on his bed. but he can’t stop it, he physically can’t. he’s whimpering now, like a wild beast with a mortal wound. you don’t hesitate to take him into your arms, holding him tightly as you shush him. “shh, it’s okay, i’m here. don’t cry. i’m here, and i won’t leave again. i promise. just breathe, in… then out. that’s it, just like that. good job.” 

eventually, his breath begins to even out, though his body is still racked with shudders. you’re here. you’re okay. you promised that you won’t leave him, and you always keep your word when it comes to him. he finally feels like he can breathe, and even though he’s in so much pain, he still wishes this moment will never end. he wishes he could stay in your arms forever, never letting you leave his side. always staying where he can reach you.

“better?” you ask, pulling away to get a good look at him, but he shakily grips your sleeve in sheer desperation. he just has to be touching you, somehow. he forces himself to nod.

“good,” you say, eyes soft and lips slightly upturned in relief. he almost loses it again at the sight of your smile, no matter how small. he never thought he’d see it directed towards him again in this life or the next. “do you want to start over?” 

“s-start over?” he asks. he doesn't dare to let himself hope that you mean what he thinks you mean. 

“start over,” you nod. “we can try again, okay?” 

“oh, p-please,” he begs. he’s so pathetic. he doesn’t deserve your mercy, but he supposes he’s too selfish to reject it. you look at him for a long, long time with soft eyes. you’re not angry anymore—he’s suffered more than enough, and you finally believe that he loves you just as much as you love him, and maybe even a little more than that.

“you promise you won't hurt me again?”

“i promise. i swear to god—” 

without a second thought, you gently cup his face in your hands, which makes his words catch in his throat. his eyes widen as you lean in while pulling him towards you. when your lips meet, he’s electrified to his bones. he melts into the kiss, whimpering slightly at the feeling of your lips against his. when you break apart, you rest his forehead on his own, closing your eyes as he stares at you before he does the same. he clutches the hand you have on his face and grazes his thumb over it as he lets out a contented sigh. nobody has ever made him feel this way before, and if he could go back to the first day he met you, he’d tie you to him immediately. 

“thank you, thank you so much,” he whispers. with a smile, you press your lips against his again. he falls into the feeling just as easily as the first time, and you push him down before continuing to go even deeper. before completely giving in. 

you spend the night loving and being loved in a way that you never thought you could. you feel cherished to a degree you previously considered impossible. beomgyu reveres you as if you’re his god, and he shows you as much with how loving and gentle he is. when you’re finished, panting heavily against each other, he holds his hand against your cheek as he stares at you in awe.

“i missed you so much. i love you so much. i promise that nobody will ever love you as much as i do. i promise that nobody will ever treat you as well as i will. just don’t leave me, okay?” and when the time comes, even if you do leave first, he’ll be sure to follow you. he won't let you be alone ever again. but he definitely can’t tell you that, or else you’d yell at him for not caring about his life enough.

“okay,” you tell him with a sleepy smile, and he beams before kissing your forehead and letting you drift off. he stares at your peaceful face, resolving to always give you what you want, no matter what it costs him. even if it kills him, he'll gladly do whatever it takes to ensure that you're happier with him than you could ever be with anyone else. he'll prove to you how much he loves you, and he'll pay back the debt he owes you a million times over. you'll see. he’ll marry you, start a new life with you, and chain himself to you forever; which may sound selfish, but he’ll make up for his willfulness by being everything you could ever want and need. and finally, before he joins you to sleep, he thanks the universe for having mercy on him—for letting him see you again.

notes pt. 2: ... so? LMAOOOOO i hope this was worth the wait bc this work was so hard for me to get through it was making me so sad to write it. anyway, love yew. please don't be mean to me tho like if u don't like it just close your eyes n scroll 🙏

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[chuusmuts]

imagine innocent!kabukimono finding out you lactate

smut(?) i'm not sure myself, sorry. afab reader, lactation kink, nipple play, fingering, just kabukimono being in love with your boobs/breast milk.

kind of another version of innocent kabukimono going wild because gosh, i'm so horny for him (´┓`*)

some nights ago, while doing the laundry, he noticed some milk stains on your clothes, particularly on the chest part. as far as he remembered, the milk stock had already finished, so being the curious boy he was, he decided to ask you about it. kabukimono could feel his heart beating faster, feeling nervous for some reason as he walked over to you. it's nothing wrong, right? he just wanted to know where did you get the milk. "hey, umm... can i ask something?" he asked quietly as he looked at you timidly.

your ears perked up at his voice, and you turned your head to look at him with a surprised face. it was unusual for him to look so shy like that. "um... yes? what is it?" you asked in confusion. there was it again. when you turned to look at him, he noticed a wet spot on your kimono. and again, on the chest part, on your breasts. did you not notice it?

"oh, it's nothing important." kabukimono said softly, his heart still pounding. "i saw some milk stains on your clothes, specifically on your chest area. i just wondered how they got there." he bit his lip, feeling even more nervous than before. he wasn't sure why he cared so much about this, but he felt like he needed to know.

still confused, you tilted your head in puzzlement before impulsively looking at your clothes, and oh gosh, the milk stains were big. your cheeks and ears immediately flushed, your eyes widening as you covered your breasts with your arms. like he said, it's nothing important, your milk was just leaking. you were merely lactating, and it's something kabukimono didn’t know.

"t– this!" you stammered. "it's nothing, s– so, you don't have to worry." from the look of your reaction, he could sense the embarrassment coming from you. normally, people would've already guessed what was happening, but that's not the case with kabukimono. since he's a puppet, he was completely clueless about this whole situation.

"mhm." kabukimono nodded, trying to process everything you said. he was lost, unsure of how to respond. he watched you cover your breasts, feeling both confused and intrigued. "umm..." he started in hesitation. "why do you think i'm asking, then?" he looked down at himself, frowning slightly. "you see, i'm not really used to seeing that kind of thing, y'know? It makes me curious, and... well, I want to know about it." he blushed shyly under your gaze.

"y– you want to know..?" fiddling with your fingers, you watched him sit beside you on the bed. "that's um..." you looked down for a while before looking at him again. you weren't really uncomfortable, just abashed. well, maybe it's not a bad idea to tell him. he already found out, anyway.

"s– so, uh... basically, women's breasts produce milk... whereafter, it will come out from the nipples." you started as you tilted your head down so your hair would fall over on your face to hide your embarrassment. "this usually happens while pregnancy to feed the baby later, s– so, i don't know why it's happening to me. it even keeps leaking from my breasts..." obviously, you felt insecure and shy since lactation doesn't usually happen to unmarried women.

kabukimono's eyes widened, and he could feel his own cheeks flush with heat as you explained everything, his heart pounding once more. "mhm," he murmured, nodding slowly. "that's interesting." he shifted, feeling awkward, unsure of what to say next. "so... does it taste good?" he asked, smiling nervously.

for a moment, you thought he was asking about the taste of your breast milk thus, you got extra embarrassed. "that's... i, myself, do not know since the only time i drink it was when i was a baby. so, i'm not really sure. i'm sorry, i can't help you with that." you said in a quiet tone, your arms still covering the wet part on your breasts as you chewed on your bottom lip. still, what you didn’t notice was him looking at your breasts intently.

he swallowed hard, feeling a sudden urge to taste the milk. it seemed like such an odd desire, but he couldn't help but feel drawn to it. "umm... could I try it?" he asked, glancing back at you, his eyes pleading. he felt vulnerable and exposed, but he also felt like he had to know. there was just something about breast milk that fascinated him.

"e– excuse me?" you almost choked on your saliva since you didn't expect him to ask the most unforeseen question. your heart began to thump as fast as his when he asked to drink your milk. was he... that interested in it? "c– could you repeat that again?" you were so embarrassed that you're afraid you heard him wrong, and it's just a hallucination.

"could I taste your milk?" kabukimono repeated, this time without stuttering. he was practically quivering with excitement, his hands clasped together in front of him. how could he not when he's about to try something new? "please, please let me try it." he leaned forward, his breath hitching in anticipation as he begged you.

in your eyes, you could see how his eyes sparkled. you could see that he really wanted to taste the milk so badly and be needed to know if it was good or not. that stupid eyes of his. sometimes, his curiosity is really out of this world. you just let out a shaky breath as you looked away. you knew he didn't have an evil purpose and was just curious about the taste of breast milk, but... this was clearly wrong. however, when you looked at him once again, you found yourself hard to deny him even though you felt like your heart was going to burst.

"i– uh, okay." you whispered quietly, looking away again. kabukimono smiled brightly as he reached out to touch your breasts, sliding them off your kimono and gently cupping them in his hands. his thumbs brushed against your nipples which were leaking with milk, causing them to harden. "is this alright?" he asked, his eyes never leaving yours as he continued to rub your nipples.

"y– yeah." you let out a shaky sigh as you closed your own eyes, refusing to look at the sight of him brushing his fingers against your soft nipples. "j– just don't take too long, please." you continued with another whisper before whimpering quietly, which you hope he didn't hear it.

kabukimono nodded and hummed softly, his eyes roaming over your boobs, taking in every detail. he licked his lips, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips before leaning in closer and pressing his mouth against one of your nipples, sucking gently. as he suckled on your sensitive bud, he began to lave it, his teeth scraping lightly across its surface.

a soft moan was ripped off of your throat, and it made you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment. this was the first time he had seen a woman's boobs and the sight of it was too intrigued for him to ignore. to add in, your milk was delicious, too. as he continued to lick and suck, his tongue flicked against your nipples, savouring every drop, causing his mouth to make little sucking sounds as he did so. you could feel your breasts slowly getting emptied as he started to suckle harder.

kabukimono groaned impulsively, his tongue dancing over your nipples, sucking deeply. he pulled your kimono aside, exposing your entire chest, his mouth working furiously as his tongue lapped up the excess milk that dripped onto your skin. he licked up every last drop, dragging his tongue across your skin until your breasts were coated in a thin layer of milky saliva. when he finished, he released your nipples with a wet pop before lifting his head, his eyes gazing at your flushed face.

your nipples were now swollen from how hard he sucked and when you realised he was done, you peeked through your fingers to look at him as you asked, "y– you... you're done?" you asked breathlessly, not noticing your top was already stripped off by him. "yeah." kabukimono said, grinning, his tongue slipping out to lick the milk off his lips. he glanced down at your breasts, his eyes lingering on each of your swollen nipples. "it tastes good." he said simply, his voice full of satisfaction. looking up at you again, his eyes filled with wonder and excitement. "i'd love to taste more if you'll allow it."

sliding on your kimono again, you only smiled awkwardly as you thought nothing of it. yeah, he was just joking, you thought to yourself. he might even forget about it on the next day. wrong. on the following day, kabukimono knocked on the door of your room again. obviously, he wanted to drink more of your milk. however, you being clueless like always, you had no idea that he really liked and still remembered your tits and breast milk. "yes, kabukimono? do you need anything?" you questioned.

"yes." kabukimono answered, his eyes twinkling. he glanced down at your chest, and his eyes lingered on each of your plump breasts. "i want some more of your milk." he said it like a normal request, his voice soft and sweet. his gaze was still fixed on your breasts even after stepping into your room and shutting the door behind him. "i can't stop thinking about how delicious it tasted." he said, his voice low and husky, completely different from earlier.

"...eh?" you froze in your track when he asked for your milk again. did you just... fucked up?

thus and so, breastfeeding him had become a routine for you as he kept asking for your milk every day. you knew you could say no, and he would stop immediately, but you didn't have the courage to. he's so innocent, you almost thought he was still a child for a moment since he kept begging you to breastfeed him.

it had been a month, and yet you're still nursing him as a routine. and even though it had been that long, you still couldn't shake off the embarrassment every time you fed him. howbeit, you had noticed something strange lately. every time you breastfed him, he would occasionally moan, leave marks on your breasts, nibble on your nipples and fondle with your breast while he drank the other one.

today was no different as he suckled on your nipples while fondling with your breast. whilst you struggled to hold back your moans, kabukimono moaned shamelessly and loudly, his tongue swirling around your nipple as his hand pinched and twisted your other nipple, rolling it between his fingers, causing you to whimper and squirm. his eyes glanced up at you, and he murmured lowly against your boob. "mmm..."

eventually, he lifted his head, and as his eyes locked with yours, he spoke, his tone suddenly becoming passionate. "you're so beautiful." he wasted no time as he leaned in and kissed your collarbone before biting it softly. subsequently, he turned his attention to your other breast, suckling on your nipple as he bit and pulled on it lightly before swirling his tongue around it.

he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely as he sucked on your nipples. he had no idea, but he had been experiencing weird feelings every time he drank your milk. he had this strange attraction toward your breasts and milk, and he wanted to keep sucking on them. in other words, he had come to know what it was to feel desire and pleasure without realising it himself. maybe he wasn't as innocent as thought because unknowingly, a few days ago, he had found out what sex is without you knowing. and even if he's just a puppet, he's still a man.

you mewled a muffle moan as your hand moved to grip onto his hair, rubbing your thighs together as you felt your slick drip down between your legs. at this point, you already gave up on trying to hide your whimpers as another one escaped your lips when he flicked his tongue over your nipple and rolled the other one simultaneously. "a– ah, kabuki..." your voice was as delicious as your milk as you called out his name.

kabukimono's lips parted widely, his tongue sliding along your other nipple as his body trembled with lust and desire. lashing his tongue out, his teeth grazing your flesh. he let out a husky moan, his eyes watching you as your face contorted in pleasure. "mmm... i'm sorry, y/n." he whispered half-heartedly. he came to know what he was doing was wrong. therefore, he needed to at least apologize, even though it was unenthusiastic.

still, his desire won over him, and he couldn't stop himself from suckling on your nipples, from leaving hickeys all over your soft boobs. he didn't know how bad it was affecting you as your eyes welled with tears, and you almost became a sobbing mess from too much pleasure. he swirled his tongue around your nipple once again before suckling on it, each suck sending a stronger jolt of pleasure right to your clit.

you also felt how he pressed his body against you, his hips pushing against your thighs and his hard length pressing against your leg. your grip on his hair tightened a little, and your moans began to get louder as you were slowly falling apart, kabukimono having zero idea about this. he was only focusing on your body, more precisely, obviously your boobs and breast milk.

even after your breasts were emptied, he couldn't stop himself from sucking on your nipples. it was too addictive to him, he just liked it when your soft breasts were pressed against his face. whereas your body writhed underneath his, he slid his fingers inside your pants before brushing his thumb against your clit and rubbing it at a slow pace, causing you to let out the cutest whimper. he could feel how wet you were and if he had to be honest, he was proud of himself.

"i love your breasts... they taste so good." he mumbled, sucking on your nipple harder as his thumb began to pick up its pace and rub your clit faster, his fingers pressing into your folds. drool dribbled down from the corner of your lips as you bucked your hips, unable to control yourself any further. your breath slowly became ragged as he stroked your clit and and swirled his tongue around your nipple before sucking on it again.

shortly after that, he moved his lips from your nipples down to your tummy, licking your tummy and leaving trail of kisses and marks. while he did so, he inserted his fingers inside your hole and began to fuck you, causing you to cry out and arch your back in pleasure. "k– kabuki–!" you screamed his name as tears streamed down your cheeks.

hearing you screamed his name only fueled his desire as he didn't stop and instead thrusted his fingers harder inside you, teasing your sweet spot. he wanted to make you feel good, to hear you moan, to hear you whimper. he wanted to watch you squirm, to watch you cum because of him, just like he read and saw in the book. shortly afterward, your walls clenched around his three fingers and an orgasm washed over you as you moaned loudly, your eyes rolling back and cum pooling out of your cunt endlessly, coating his fingers.

he stopped for a moment and took out his fingers, lashing out his tongue to taste your delicious slick. after he licked it clean, he inserted his fingers again inside your tight walls and began to thrust inside you. he didn't give you any break and instead quickened his pace. you catched a glance of his very pure eyes glancing down at your wet pussy and you just knew he wasn't done with you yet. "i wonder what else my tongue can do with your delicious body."

[transhitman]

Ok I posted about this in anger a while back but I'm gonna say it more intelligently and actually tag it because I think it's something people need to hear. Something that bugs me about how people talk about the morality of the men in this game is that a lot of analysis totally glosses over Anya's motives and what she actually asks of people, and in doing so once again strips her of agency. Like. The reason Curly sucks isn't because he failed to properly punish Jimmy, it's because he ignored Anya in favor of her abuser. He didn't listen to her regarding how to move forward, he didn't give her a way to protect herself. No matter what he would have done to Jimmy, Anya is still traumatized and in danger, and that's the most important point of failure.

I think a lot of people are projecting a revenge fantasy on Anya, and while I'm not gonna argue about the validity of revenge here, for Anya specifically I think that's a major mischaracterization. She's the one who says that our worst moments don't make us monsters. And while yes, this could just be her trying to appease her abusers, she still doesn't strike me as a particularly vindictive person. She's a nurse, symbolically in a role associated with care and healing. Before the crash, she seems like a very soft-spoken and restrained person. Hell, she can't stand giving Curly his meds because she feels so bad for him. There isn't really a point in the game where she calls for violence at all. And even if punishing Jimmy or Curly is morally correct (subjective), saying that it's what anyone Should have done still glosses over Anya's wants and needs. It still centers the abuser, even in vitriol.

It's especially weird to see people judge Swansea on these grounds, because like... We don't know what his dynamic with Anya was like. We don't actually know what she said to him, if she even confided about her pregnancy or the SA at all! I honestly think Swansea's actions give more credence to the idea that Anya herself wanted a peaceful resolution. The whole "Oh, I'm holding it together" thing, him becoming more hostile after speaking with Anya... He waits until Daisuke AND ANYA are dead before trying to kill Jimmy. I think the obvious reading is that he wants Jimmy dead, but Anya asked him not to do anything crazy. Genuinely, I think Anya just wanted to be safe. She wanted out above everything. She didn't want more violence. The only violence she commits is against herself in the end, in order to escape this hell her coworkers made for her.

And like. Swansea is kind of the only one who actually did try to protect Anya in a meaningful way. I won't say that he couldn't have done more for her - all of the men on that ship failed her in some regard - but Swansea intentionally keeps the axe out of Jimmy's hands. He keeps the pod a secret, probably to give to Daisuke, but we can't say anything for sure. I joke that Swansea should have killed Jimmy from the start, but if we're being real that would have been an insane thing to do given what the characters know. But Swansea isn't the point of this post. Like. Idk I just think it's really bizarre that when people discuss Anya's assault, they still do it from the perspective of the men involved. It's weird and I don't like it. Like people have said before me: it's not enough to hate abusers, you have to love victims.

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Night in Vegas- Lando x fem reader

Summary: Y/N had been Lando's PR, it had been messy and she moved to Red Bull, but maybe things were not as bad as she thought.

Warnings: Abusive Max (Sorry someone had to be the bad guy) smutty ending.

Notes: No hate to anyone this story just needed a villain.

___________________________________________

The moment the job offer came from Red Bull you didn't think it twice. You had been Lando's PR for the last 2 years, which was kind of a nightmare. He had the worst cases of verbal diarrhea, not that Max didn't but the paycheck was worth the extra work. Also, the interactions with Lando had always been weird and uncomfortable.

He was so nice and funny around everyone else but you, whenever it was just you two, you could hear the grass grow. In the beginning, you tried to get to know him, create somewhat of a bond so you could understand him better and work around that info, but every time you tried to get him to tell you something about him he would shut you out, keeping his answers short and dry.

And here you were, your first six months as Max PR agent were...interesting, he was a master in driving but thanks to his dad and the people around him, his public image was a challenge, a challenge you loved to work, at least you did until he started showing his real self. It began with small tantrums, mood swings when an interview had been scheduled when he had agreed to go play paddle, or that one time on a bad day when a reporter asked him about his dad's history with the law even when you had precisely warned them not to ask about any of that.

But that was all fun and games until tonight's event for the Vegas GP. Usually, the US GP's parties were a nightmare. Tons and tons of media people and influencers with little idea about F1. Yet they were important to attend because of the amount of rich people the teams craved as their lawful sponsors, so all the drivers were requested to go. This meant an awful fight with Max who hated these events where he had to "prostitute" himself for a couple of millions, it was particularly tricky now that some pictures and supposed messages showing Kelly might have been cheating, surfaced. You promised him to warn everybody that any questions about his personal life were off the table for any of the interviews, but American media cared little about that.

"Are you stupid or something?" His angry voice was so much like his dad's. Dry, hurtful, and insulting even when he wasn't using big curse words.

"Max, I told everyone personal questions were off the table. I sent a memo last week and a reminder this morning" You walked following him closely as he exited the event venue. Your heels making it difficult for you to keep his pace.

"I don't care!" He stopped and turned towards you abruptly, making you crash against his body. "If Christian gives me any shit about not being here I will make sure he knows this was all your fault" His voice loud and angry felt even more intimidating as he was towering over you, his red face so close to yours you could feel the heat radiate from it.

"But-"

"Shut it, I don't want to hear it" He spat.

"Hey, mate, easy" You both turned to look at the curled hair driver approaching at a firm pace.

"Lando, this has nothing to do with you"

"It does when you're talking like that to Y/N" He gently held your arm pulling you back, placing himself between you and Max.

"How did you deal with this shit for two years? she's the worst"

"I disagree, she's the best"

"What? Why are you defending her?" Max looked in shock from Lando's intervention, and to be honest, so were you.

"Because I know the mess you are and you talking to her like that is unacceptable and most likely uncalled for. We should've never let her go, I've begging Zak to get her back and after this, there's no way I'm letting her stay at RB"

"What the fuck? I don't...Wait, did you two ...? She must be a good fuck if you want her back so bad" A bitter laugh left his chest.

There it was, the angry verbal diarrhea.

You wanted to jump in and tell him you had never even crossed two complete phrases with Lando, how the hell were you going to fuck him? But no sound left your body, you were just a passenger in this trainwreck.

"Max, come on, It's not her fault your life's a fucking mess and that you have no idea how to deal with it. And take it from me, mate, you don't need a PR manager, you need a therapist."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Max took a couple of steps forward and faced Lando menacingly. He wasn't much taller than the Brit but seemed angry enough to cause damage.

"This is enough" You finally spoke, your voice shaky as you grabbed Lando's arm trying to pull him back. But he didn't move an inch.

"I'm not afraid of you mate" Lando hissed.

"Ok enough" You said in the most motherly voice ever and stepped in between them. "Lando, thanks but that's enough. You two don't want to do or say anything you'll regret later"

"See you on the track, mate" Said Lando as he took your hand and pulled you toward the parking lot.

You walked with him still in shock from the situation, expecting for him to let go of your hand as soon as you were out of sight from Max, but he kept going until he reached the Valet and gave him his ticket.

"Thanks fo that" You tried breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I think I need to go back there tho, I might not have a job tomorrow, but I don't need them to fire me because of not complying with my duties, Maybe I can find Max and convince him-"

"If they don't fire you, you're quitting" He said as he typed on his phone.

"What?! No, I can't do that, I can't afford to lose my job"

"You'll have a job"His voice was confident as he kept typing.

"Lando, I really-"

"Your car, Mr.Norris" The valet cut you off opening the passenger door for you.

"Get in" Lando walked toward the door to hold it himself.

"Lan-"

"Get in... please" He finally looked at you, something in his eyes telling you to do it. Not wanting to perform another scene now in front of the valet, you got inside the fancy McLaren. Your feet thanked you for the much-needed rest after the little sprint.

He removed his suit jacket, got in the driver's side, and drove off.

"I swear, you're not going to be jobless, you can stop with the bouncy leg" A hint of a laugh in his voice. Of course, he could laugh about it, he was worth millions, if he lost his job that same night, he'd have enough money to live comfortably for two lives.

Your phone started ringing in your bag. Chirstian's face on your screen made your heart beat a thousand miles. You could almost hear him, his calm yet angry voice made your skin crawl.

"Don't answer him, there's no need"

"Lando, you don't get it, it's not that simple"

A ding on his phone and a pop-up notification on his console screen called your attention.

Zak: Fine, I'm ok with it, we can talk details tomorrow.

"See?" He said smiling at the notification. You stared at him confused.

"I promised him I would behave my best for the rest of my contract if they took you back. Welcome back to Mclaren" A big smile on his face. It was odd being on the receiving end of that smile.

"Sadly, you won't be working with me. You will be part of the team's PR, I think that's an even bigger paycheck, tho"

"Ok, stop stop stop" Your voice filled with slight panic. "What the fuck's happening?"

"Wow, your first bad word" He was way too entertained with the situation.

"That you know of" Your facade was off, screw being professional, this moment was a moment for panic.

Christian's number shined on your screen again.

"Hello" You finally answered.

"Y/N, I just got a thousand messages from Max, and from the team at the event, what's going on?"

"Christian, Max lost it after some journalist asked him about Kelly, I had clearly said no questions about that were allowed"

"You should not have left Max to leave the party, we need him back there"

"I tried to stop him but-"

"No buts, Y/n, that's your job"

"No"

"What?"

"No, that's not my job, I'm not a babysitter, I'm a PR agent, I should not be dealing with tantrums and the equivalent of being spit in the face by an angry baby just because he's Max Verstappen"

You took a deep breath as the man on the other side of the phone kept quiet. Netflix would kill to have footage of this situation.

"I quit" You finally said

"What?" His high-pitched voice told you he was as surprised as you by the words leaving your mouth. You turned to look a Lando, he had the biggest smile on his face.

"I quit, Christian. I can stop by to sign my resignation tomorrow."

"But-"

"I'm sorry but I have to go now. I will stop by your office tomorrow to sign whatever is needed and to return my credentials. Have a good night" You hung up with shaky hands. As much as you sounded confident you were screaming inside.

"Nice" Lando's accent so thick.

"Oh my God" You placed your head between your legs and took deep breaths, trying not to faint.

"It's ok, it will all be ok" You felt his hand run softly up and down your back which felt weirdly soothing and calming.

You finally felt calm enough to lift your head, realizing he had pulled over at a truck stop next to the highway.

"What the fuck just happened?" You closed your eyes, the world felt as if it was spinning out of orbit.

"It will be ok, you were amazing"

"I will regret this tomorrow"

"I could help you with that" he said under his breath, you barely catching his words.

"What?"

"Never mind. Listen, you'll be fine, you'll join the team for the next season, and you can take this time as a well-deserved vacation"

"What are you talking about? Maybe Zak only told you that so you would stop bothering him. I can't wait until the next season. Oh my God, I need to call Christian back, if I apologize and explain that I was drunk or something he might not fire me" you said as you fumbled with your phone trying to get your shaky hands to get your calls.

"Stop, no, Y/n" In a swift move, Lando took your phone from your hand.

"Give it back! This is all your fault!"

"What?!"

"If you had stayed out of this I might have convinced Max to go back to the party and none of this had happened" You said as you almost jumped over him to get your phone back as he moved his hand around keeping you away from it.

"Oh c'mon, you wouldn't have lasted two more weeks with his annoying ass, I love Max but he's a pain" He sounded way too entertained by all this.

"Lando, stop it! Give me back my phone!"

"No, you have to calm down"

"No, give it back" you were almost kneeling over the seat.

"Y/n, stop"

"No"

"Y/n!"

"NO, GIVE IT-" Before you could finish your sentence his free hand grabbed you from your neck and pulled you toward him, his lips crashed into yours, finally getting you to stop moving. You even stopped breathing.

After a couple of seconds or hours, you weren't sure anymore, he let go of the fist he had formed around your hair and pulled back. His cheeks flushed as if he had been the one who had gotten kissed out of nowhere.

"Have I been drugged? Am I hallucinating? This has to be a weird trip"

His particular laugh sent chills down your spine.

"C'mon, it wasn't my best job but I'm not used to kissing people as they're having a panic attack, I needed you to calm down"

"And kissing me was the best you could come up with?"

"You're not thinking about your phone or Christian anymore, are you?"

"You're sick"

"Listen, I'm sorry I did it like that, ok? I stepped over a boundary and I apologize, but I know that after this you might hate me for the rest of your life and this seemed like the only moment I was going to be able to do it, so I'm sorry but not really"

"You can't go around kissing people just because"

"I didn't do it just because"

"What?"

"Y/N, I'm fucking in love with you!" He screamed.

"What?" Your voice is barely a whisper

"I'm sorry, I was dumb ok?"

"I'm not getting any of this"

"Ok, I'll explain. It took me about 2 months to fall head over heels for you, ok? You're smart, incredibly beautiful, funny, and so good at your job, it was hard not to fall in love with you. But I know I can be an asshole, so trying to stay away from you and not ruin everything I behaved like an even bigger asshole, pushing you away and into Red Bull's arms. So as an apology, I've been having talks with Zak. this has been going on for months. So no this just didn't come up, Max just made it easier for me to set the plan in motion"

You stared at his proud face in awe.

"Are you breathing?" He asked when not. single sound had left your body for a long time.

"You're in love with me?"

"Um yeah" He blushed and almost looked away but he didn't.

"For the two years we worked together, you were in love with me?"

"Yeah, basically"

"You have a shitty way of showing love"

"Sorry" he laughed under his breath

"You're nuts"

"I know" As soon as he saw you had calmed down he stretched his hand softly caressing your cheek. "I'm nuts for you"

"Ew, don't"

He laughed, the sound making you feel something new.

"I don't know"

"What?"

"What's going on"

"Maybe another kiss might help? I'm actually asking this time"

"Ok" You answered in a low whisper.

"Ok" He softly whispered as he took you by the neck, and pulled you toward him. It was a mutual kiss now, your lips dancing with his. His tongue traced your lips and they parted allowing your tongue to start a fight with his.

The kiss heated up as his other hand grabbed your hips and pulled you over him. Your ass pressed on the horn startling both of you and making you laugh, but quickly you returned to your make-out session.

His hand shily traveled down your spine and stopped over the soft satin fabric covering your ass. You knew exactly what he was trying to test, so you moved yours down his chest, feeling his racing heart, and traveled down all the way to his pants. You could feel his growing bulge and you gave it a squeeze. He moaned deeply and he gave a slap to your ass, making you moan too.

You were about to unbuckle his belt but his hand landed over yours.

"Wait, do you actually want to do this?" he asked out of breath.

"Yes" Your voice shaky from the excitement.

"Are you sure? I don't want to force you or-"

"Lando, I want you to fuck me"

Your words sent an electric shock through his body, you could even feel his dick twitch under your hand.

"I'm all yours" He smiled and moved his lips to your neck, you threw your head back giving him space to explore it and its sensitive areas. He gave soft bites around it, as he stretched to the glove compartment getting a condom out of it.

"You're a manwhore"

"I was just manifesting this"

"Sure" you answered squinting your eyes.

"I promise, You can ask Oscar, I've not had sex for months"

"I don't need to know that"

"Yeah you do, I swear I wasn't going to use this with anyone else, I promise"

He was most likely lying, but you decided to believe him, at least for tonight.

"Fine" You said as you took the condom from his hand and opened it as your lips went back to his.

He helped you by pulling down his pants and his boxers enough for his throbbing cock to spring out and slap his stomach.

"Hello Mr. Norris" You said with a cheeky smile

"Don't act so surprised"

"Sorry"

He now took the hem of your dark blue dress and pulled it over your hips, softly caressing the soft flesh of your thighs and ass. He moaned at the feeling of no underwear under it.

"You're naughty"

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me"

"I love it" He said and bit your lower lip as he placed you over his hard cock. You took the condom and without breaking the kiss you rolled it over his dick, enjoying the feeling of the heat and the veins that ran through it.

He couldn't wait any longer and as soon as he felt the condom in place he lifted his hips entering you in one deep thrust making you moan loudly from the incredible feeling of being so full.

"Fuck, Lando" you said as he started thrusting. A slow yet hard pace made your eyes roll to the back of your head, as he held you one hand by the neck the other one caressing your ass.

"Fuck, you're so fucking perfect" He moaned against your tits that were spilling out your dress.

He took one of your nipples in his mouth, pushing you closer to your release.

You had forgotten when was the last time you had sex, but none of your previous experiences could compare to this one. Lando being a manwhore was quite a benefit.

His hips hitting against yours at such a perfect pace was driving you crazy. He could tell by the way you were pulsing around him that you were close. This was probably a record and he was going to savor it.

He brought one of his hands down to your clit and just a couple of circles helped by how wet you were pushed you over the edge, loudly moaning his name in his ear. That sweet sound looped in his brain, making him reach his climax shortly after.

"Fuck" he finally said after you two had reached a decent breathing pace.

"Shit"

"Fourth curse word of the night"

"Shut it" You said as you pushed yourself off his chest and kissed him.

"I'm going to love having you around again"

"Me too"

"Well, Max was right about one thing" A cheeky grin on his face.

"What?"

"You're such a good fuck"

"You're a dick" You slapped his chest as he pulled you back to kiss him.

This was probably going to be a mess, but at least for a couple of months you were unemployed and free to date whoever you wanted, that included F1 drivers who would probably be off limits once your contract started, but that was a problem for your versions of the future.

Tag List: @wtrmlnsgr94, @ricsaigaslec, @ironmaiden1313, @formulas-bitch,

[pressureplus]

Sebastian Solace Injury Headcannons

Warnings: Mentions of blood, anxiety, and Injury, but nothing too particularly graphic, You show up at his shop hurt and he takes care of you

(The way he cares for your injuries slightly varies depending on your relationship)

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

Platonic

• Immediately starts to chastise you the second he can smell the blood on you

• He doesn't have a nose, so how he scrunches it up is beyond you

• Your med kit isn't free, so you definitely owe him and yes, he will remember you owe him

• You can't refuse tho, he's already patching you up before you can really do anything about it

• What are you gonna do, fight him? Fight a thing more than 5 times your size with claws like steel knives? I don't think so.

• He's pretty good at patching wounds, and stays relaxed the whole time he's doing it

• The motions are practiced and easy as he cleans and gauzes and wraps you up

• "Because I pity you, I'll even let you lay on the cot in the corner of my shop, hmm?"

• Understands you are useless and stupid and small, so he guesses he can help you out and demand whatever extra data you have I'm your pockets about a week from now

• He isn't exactly the most concerned with your well-being, but does go out of his way to help you and take care of you sooo...

• You must mean something to him right?

If you're not together but he likes you

• Actually gets a little worried

• He flusters easily, the crush he has for you making it a little bit more difficult for him to think clearly

• That crush making his harsh reactions harsher and his soft ones hard to verbalize

• He grabs you

• I don't have any other way to put this, he literally just reaches out and grabs you before he really thinks about it

• You don't get an explanation, you don't get scolding, he just huffs and gets pissy while he's patching you

• "I thought you were better than this- You REALLY ended up this hurt over something so easy to get away from?"

• Yes, he knows the foul mouth he's got is tanking his chances of ever actually being with you, but he already figures you're never going to want to kiss a fish so why should he care?

• Even if rejection is imminent and unavoidable, and even if he feels the constant need to be mean to you so he can protect himself, he'll still take care of you

• He does like you for a reason- a lot of reasons. And he thinks about those reasons quite a bit... Of course he wants you to be okay

• You're his favorite person, and he would rather die than admit that but also would 100% prioritize your medical care over working his shop

• Him being so fast to grab and tend to your wounds is probably one of the only things you've ever seen from him that's made you sure he doesn't hate you

• Look, there's no way this man would be smoothing his thumb over your newly applied bandages and looking upset at the notion you'd be hurt without you being SOME kind of important

• It doesn't matter how stupid you are, dummy or not, this shit is painfully obvious when he's getting vulnerable over the idea of you getting a nasty enough scar

• Will not let you leave the cot in the room until you're all better, so get ready to be defensively degraded by your favourite shopkeeper for several consecutive days!

If you are together

• Open. Meltdown.

• Panicking, throwing the door on his little store closed and coddling you like you'll fall apart if he's not treating you with the utmost care

• Even scraped knees and bumped elbows get treated like they need full medical, so you can imagine the sort of reactions you're getting to actually bleeding

• Part of him immediately blames himself while he's frantically tending to your injuries, thinking he should have watched you better today, thinking that he should have protected you right

• The next part of him promises he'll be getting whoever or whatever did this to you back for it just as soon as you're all mended and comforted

• He's a mess, a muttering, coddling mess

• You get little kisses to the bandages, as well as some quiet murmurs that attempt to get onto you for not being careful

• The grip you've got around this man's heart is too much for him to be angry, nor pretend to

• You may nearly make him cry if it's bad enough, and his hands may shake at the sight of you so hurt

• Will threaten you if you even THINK about dying, remember he can do worse to you and will if you don't shut up, he can't cope with thinking about losing you shut up shut up shut up-

• Until you're healed, you aren't leaving his bed. He puts you in HIS bed and cuddles up to you any chance that he gets

• You're going to get teased when you're all better and his brain registers it's not a big deal, but until then this is your big, protective fishy husband whether you two have gotten married officially or not

[werecreature-addicted]

An Idea of a F!Human working at a ranch((farm?? Idk what you call it)) but a big farm((??)) Like place with lots of acres, and a barn, and all the classic farm stuff.

And she also works with Minotaurs, and centaurs and other sturdy creatures that hang around farms.

But in this world humans are a little bit... Not trusted?? I don't know the word. But they're not trusted because they're known to be cruel to any intelligent life that isn't human, so the Minotaurs, Centaurs, werewolves and all these other creatures are very wary of her only to find out she is a sweetheart.

I'm sorry if this is a bit jumbled, I'm not a good writer but I thought you'd might like the idea 😭

PS. She works with the animals, since all the big sexy beasts do all the heavy lifting and crap ☺️☺️

PS 2. If you do go on with this.. maybe could you like.. hint at a minotaur romance if that's okay?? You don't have too though.

a monster-fuckers guide to ranching.

Most monsters have possessive/ territorial tendencies, it's best to keep males of the same species apart so there's no fighting. While some monsters are territorial they can form bonds or symbiotic relationships with other creatures. For example: harpies and dragons tend to get along, if the two are close the dragon might even let the harpy eat meat from between their teeth. And of course, almost all monster species can form bonds with humans or at least, tolerate human handlers in their space.

The main exception to this rule of thumb is Centaurs. Centaurs travel in big heard usually with 2-5 stallions, and while they handle others of their own species well they are particularly hostile to outside monsters encroaching on their territory.

Werewolves travel in packs and while they are still territorial, they are considered one of the more "friendly" species of monster, which may sound laughable to anyone who's had a werewolf take a snap at them, but as always It's important to remember not to judge monsters by human standards.

-------------

It's rare to find such a wide variety of monsters, the ranch spans hundreds of Aceres to accommodate them all and has countless workers to make sure all of their needs are met.

All of the monsters are a little cool and skittish around you at first as one of the senior workers introduced you to all of the inhabitants. slowly but surely they get used to your scent and they slowly warm up to you.

Most people treat the work like... well, work, but you seem to have a real passion for taking care of the monsters. You learn each of the monsters' names and the little quirks of their individual personalities, they've never had a handler as sweet as you. You quickly become a favorite of most of the monsters at the ranch.

Usually, it's nice being so popular, then heat season comes and multiple monsters are yowling for you to come and help them and suddenly it's a little more stressful.

[just-wrting]

Feeling Fangs

Title: Feeling Fangs

Pairing: Charlotte Katakuri x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: You find out what your husband has been hiding from you after he loses against Straw Hat, but you find yourself fixating on how pretty he is without his scarf.

Master List Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

A/N: My bf won't let me read about this man because I'm not far enough in the anime so I'll just write about him instead. And read about him but my bf doesn't have to know that part yet. He's worried about spoilers but what spoilers am I gonna get from all that smut? Also I just like men with fangs.

You didn't particularly care who one this little war that broke out, as long as your husband is fine. There's no doubt in your mind that he'll survive, you just don't want to see him hurt. Sure, the two of you have never really been romantic or anything, your marriage was somewhat political, but you've grown fond of him. So when his little sister is kneeling on the street saying he lost, your heart drops.

"Brulee, get me in there," you hiss in her ear. "I need to make sure he's okay."

There's tears in her eyes as she looks at you quizzically. "How did you get here?"

"This isn't the time for that. Let me in the mirror dimension."

She nods quickly and lets you through. Her steps are hesitant as she follows behind you. You make note of the chefs slumped against a wall, curious as to who killed them. It doesn't matter to you as you stumble closer to your husband.

It's the first time you've seen him like this. Even when it's time to sleep, he's still awake, sitting up in bed doing who knows what as you drift off. Right now, he's asleep on his back with a hat on his face. You quickly locate his scarf next to a group of people, ignoring them.

You've never seen him without his scarf, but you figure out that everyone here has. The chefs must've seen him without it, so he's the one who killed them. Everyone else must've passed out from something in the battle, but they've all seen him too.

"Brulee, tie up everyone here. It doesn't matter who they are, I want them unable to leave," you say in a low voice. "If you fail to do this, I won't forgive you."

While she follows your orders, you crouch down to rewrap his scarf. You make sure to hide his face from view as you carefully lift the hat. Biting your lip in anticipation, you do your best to not wake him. As you unveil his full face, you feel yourself get flustered.

Poking out from his lips are four shiny fangs. You do your best to not reach out and touch them, wondering how sharp they are. You expected something frightening under the scarf, but Katakuri is actually just as pretty as you thought he was. You don't know how you lucked out to get him, but you'll think about that later.

You make quick work with his scarf, noticing he's missing his jacket. You'll have to look for it later, your focus needs to be on finding Pudding. It doesn't matter that she's rude to you, what matters is her ability. You had overheard it in passing, but her ability to manipulate memories is what makes her the key.

"Let's go, I need to find Pudding."

Thankfully, you can see her hiding on the other side of the mirror you came in. It might take a moment to run and get her, but you'll put yourself through whatever you need to. The most important thing to you is wiping everyone's memory of what Katakuri looks like.

You dash through the fight, weaving your way through both enemies and the Big Mom pirates. Ducking down next to Pudding, you catch your breath for just a moment while she stares starry eyed at someone.

"Sanji..." she mumbles before glaring at you. "What do you want?"

"I need you to alter some memories for me."

She gives you an evil smile. "Why would I do that? Just because you're my big brother's wife doesn't mean I'll help you."

You frown. "I won't tell anyone that you've fallen in love with Sanji and most likely helped him escape."

"What?! You have no proof!"

You pull her up and start dragging her behind you. "I may not have concrete proof, but I'm not stupid. Besides, your reaction is my proof."

She grumbles something about you being an ass, but she follows you.

"You also need to wipe some of Brulee's memory.  If you tell anyone what you saw in them, I'll tell everyone that you helped Sanji escape. Do you understand?"

She nods. "Alright, I understand. Why what did they see?"

You set your jaw. "At the very least, they saw Katakuri without his scarf. I'm not sure what else they saw."

You watch over her shoulder as she shoves her hand into people's memories. It's a little gross, but it'll get the job done. It's better to threaten one person over a dozen.

There's a moment where Luffy slips and falls, gaining a large wound in his stomach due to being numbed. After finding out why, you watch Katakuri stab himself and pull off his scarf. It's nice to see a pirate try to have a fair fight, giving you a bit more insight as to what your husband is actually like.

"I guess it's a bit weird that he didn't want help if he couldn't defeat Straw Hat, but it doesn't make him lame. Those idiots don't realize they're the lame ones," Pudding grumbles. "Do you think Sanji has the same idea?"

You shrug. "It seems like his captain does at least so probably. Do I look like Sanji?"

Pudding scowls. "Shut up. Let me do this."

You don't miss the days when you'd have mood swings about men. That's the one good thing about having an arranged marriage, you don't have to worry about your feelings for other people.

"Mirrors, are any of you in an intact room? One with a big bed and access to water."

One a little ways away responds, and you look back at your passed out husband. You don't know how you're getting him there. Maybe you should've thought about that ahead of time, but it doesn't matter now. You can figure it out, you always do.

—-

It's been at least one day since you dragged him into bed, and Katakuri has yet to wake up. You can feel yourself dozing off every time you sit down, so you do your best to stay occupied. You prepare food, make sure you have enough water to wipe him down and let him drink, and constantly rearranging things. On one hand you want him to wake up so you know he's not in a coma, on the other hand you want him to get as much rest as he needs.

What you want doesn't matter, as you hear him wake up suddenly with a gasp. In your shock, you drop the plate you were holding.

"There's no need to wake up so aggressively, Katakuri. You're safe," you reassure as you pick up the bigger pieces of the plate. "How are you feeling?"

"How did I end up here? What did you see?" His voice is low, almost threatening.

You dump the bigger pieces in the trash and start sweeping. "We can talk about that later. You should have some water and eat. Then you should go back to sleep. I patched you up as well as I can, but I'm not a doctor."

He starts to pull the covers off, giving you a harsh look. "What did you-"

You dump the dustpan's contents into the trash before setting the broom to the side. "Like I said, it can wait. No offense, but you don't particularly scare me when you're ripping open your wounds."

His face goes a bit red as you tell him off. You want him to feel better before you deal with any other matters. That includes the talk of whether he'll choose to kill you for seeing his face.

"I made you some food, so just sit up."

Thankfully, he obeys. Katakuri doesn't even protest as you feed him. You make sure to avert your eyes, just for his comfort. He seems to be extremely hungry, eating all the food you've made. By the time it's all gone, he looks tired again.

"Get some more sleep, I'll lock the door. I wanted to be awake when you woke up, but now that that has happened, I can sleep."

He watches as you turn the lock and slide the broom handle through the loops of the door handles. You do the same with the window, shoving a fire poker through the handle before closing the curtains once more. Giving each of them a tug, you feel satisfied when nothing clatters to the ground.

"When did you sleep?" Katakuri asks, watching you intently. "You look..."

"Terrible, I know. I don't think I've slept since before the tea party, though. I'd have to think about it."

You crawl into the other side of the bed. It's a bit small, but leaning against him makes it a bit more comfortable. Despite your efforts, you find yourself dozing off before making sure he sleeps. There's no way he's getting out of the bed though, you've managed to lay on his arm.

—-

By the time you wake up, Katakuri is fast asleep. For what must be the first time ever, he's got his arm around you, holding you close. You watch him for just a moment, admiring how pretty he is. You want to reach up and play with his hair, but you ignore that feeling and try to wiggle from his grasp.

Even with how battered he is, you find it difficult to free yourself. You knew he was strong, ridiculously so, but you didn't realize he's just this strong. After freeing yourself, you feel exhausted again.

Thankfully, Pudding has left another basket of food for you, complete with an angry note about how she's not your delivery girl and if she's going to bring you stuff you need to be there. You roll your eyes and throw away the note. If she had important things to say, she can say them to your face.

You help yourself to an apple, crunching away as you try to figure out what to make. It would be nice if you could access a bigger kitchen with more ingredients, but this will have to do. Hopefully it's enough food, you've seen the size of  the food he eats.

With a sigh, you give up. Exhaustion still flows through you, so you focus on things that don't require a lot of thought. So you eat and wash the dishes, making sure to be as quiet as possible. It's better for him to wake up naturally, not due to you being a jerk.

Once there's nothing more to do, you make your way to the bed. You check the wounds, letting the smaller and scabbed ones breathe. Almost all of his injuries have stopped bleeding, you just can't check the one you're most worried about. He needs to wake up for you to take a look.

As you reach towards his head, his hand shoots up and grabs your wrist tightly. You wince in pain, surprised at how tight his grip is.

"What are you doing?"

You tug on his fingers. "Checking the scrape on your forehead. I want to make sure it closed up."

He cautiously releases you. "Don't do anything else."

You click your tongue against your teeth. "Have some more faith in me, Katakuri. I'm your wife, I have no ill intentions."

"We need to talk."

You start unwrapping the dressing. "What do you want to know?"

Katakuri breaks eye contact with you. "What happened after I lost?"

"Well, we lost. I dragged you out of here with some help."

"What about the others in the mirror dimension? What happened to them?"

The blood that makes up the scab also goes into his hairline, so you make a note to bathe with him so it doesn't open. "Those chefs are dead. Your little sister and her stupid fan club on the other hand are alive."

"Where are they now?" he asks, furrowing his brow. "What about the cam-snails?"

"I have no idea where they went after they woke up. I collected the cam-snails though, they're in a bag here."

His hand makes its way to your thigh, holding you down. "What did you see? What did you do?"

"I put your scarf on, tied everyone up, and made Pudding alter their memories. Straw Hat knows, but based on how I found you, I don't think that matters."

"How did you-"

You give a small smirk. "Poor little Pudding was so against marriage, but she ended up falling in love with that Sanji boy. I told her that I would keep it a secret if she kept yours. I'm telling you in case you choose to... you know."

His other hand pulls down his scarf. "So you know. And you're still here?"

Satisfied with the head scrape, you pull back a bit. "Of course. You're injured, where else would I be?"

"Aren't you afraid?" He pulls his face into a scowl. "Don't you think-"

Your eyes flutter shut as you lean forward and kiss him. It's nothing romantic, just a quick press of your lips on his, but you pull away flustered.

"Why did you do that?" His eyes are wide.

You blink in surprise. "Why did I do that?"

"How would I know, I'm not-"

You lean forward and kiss him again. His lips are soft, and when you lick your own after pulling away, you find them sweet.

"What are you-" You cut him off again with a kiss.

"This plan isn't-" Even after a fourth kiss, you can't stop.

Before he says anymore, he grabs your face in both hands. "Stop whatever nonsense this is. What are you trying to do?"

You've never seen Katakuri look like this. His face is flushed and his eyes are wide.

"I just really wanted to do that."

It’s now his turn to blink in shock. “Why?”

“You’re just…” You look away, knowing that your face is burning up. “Katakuri, you’re so pretty.”

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at you intensely. You’re worried he’s upset, you did just keep interrupting him with kisses, but that thought is dashed within seconds as he pulls you into a kiss.

His tongue pushes past your bottom lip, pressing into your mouth. Even when you try to take control of the kiss, it takes him no effort to keep you in place. His tongue overpowering yours and exploring your mouth, filling your taste buds with sweetness.

Due to the size difference, his tongue fills your mouth, eagerly searching every part of your mouth. You can’t help the dirty thoughts that start to fill your mind, thinking of other ways he could use his tongue. All you can focus on is how sweet he tastes and how much you enjoy kissing him.

You’re completely breathless once he pulls away, panting as you try to breathe. Through half lidded eyes, you watch him recover. His face is somehow even more flushed and he’s looking at your lips. Without thinking, you blurt out the first thing to come to mind.

“Katakuri, can you bite me? Please?”

His thumb brushes softly against your cheek. “Are you sure you want that?”

You rub your cheek into his palm, letting out a soft hum. “Please?”

Titling your head to the side, you expose your neck. You have no idea why you want him to bite you so badly, you just do. If he tells you no, you won’t ask again, you just want to experience it this once.

The hand on your other cheek slides down to your shoulder. You feel his warm breath on your neck, and you bite your lip in anticipation. At first, he just presses a soft kiss to your neck, carefully holding you like you might break. Then, without warning, you feel his teeth sink into your neck.

You let out a gasp, and your hand grips his shoulder. It’s not a harsh bite, just the very tips of his fangs. The only pain you feel is the initial breaking of your skin, but once that passes, you feel flushed and warm. It’s really doing something for you, and you don’t want him to stop.

“Did that hurt?” Katakuri asks, pulling away at your gasp.

You draw a shaky breath as he licks the marks on your skin. “You drew blood. That’ll always hurt, but I’m fine.”

He hums softly as he makes sure you’re not bleeding anymore. His touch is gentle and light, and you let out a groan as he traces invisible patterns into your skin. You want more, and you lace your hand in his hair.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. You pull away from Katakuri, adjusting your shirt to cover the mark. You wait for him to pull his scarf back up straight under his nose. There’s still a dusting of pink across the tips of his ears, but he doesn’t look as flustered with his scarf up.

He nods, and you open the door. Pudding stands there with her arms crossed, pouting. She pushes past you, dumping a bunch of stuff on table.

“Here’s everything you asked for, don’t ask me for stuff again. You can start getting it yourself!” She puts her hands on her hips. “I’ve done what you wanted for the past three days. I’m done!”

Katakuri moves to get out of the bed, but you wave him down. Both of the siblings deserve their rest. That’s the only thing you should focus on.

“Thank you Pudding. Go get some rest, we’ll be okay.”

She looks surprised, before huffing. “Of course I’m going to get rest. I deserve it.”

She gives you another dirty look before storming out. It’s like a whirlwind came in, scolded you, and left. You don’t really care. She did her best to help you, so you can cut her some slack.

“She shouldn’t talk to you like that.”

You close the door and lock it once more. “It’s fine. Everyone is under stress right now, including you. You should get some more sleep if you can.”

Katakuri tugs his scarf off, letting it rest on the floor. You want to go fluster him again, but you just stay still. Seeing him like this, battered and bruised, makes your heart ache.

“Are you going to sleep as well?”

You give him a soft smile. “Do you want me to come and get more sleep?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes as he answers. “It’s your choice.”

You walk over and place your hand on his cheeks, making him look at you. “Do you need me next to you for you to sleep?”

Unfortunately, you seem to have pushed him just far enough to annoy him. He gives you a stern look as he wraps his arms around you. Even though he’s annoyed, he’s gentle as he pulls you on top of him.

You squirm slightly in a halfhearted attempt to get him to let you go. His grip is iron tight, and he has no intention of letting you go. This is the first time he’s ever insisted on having you sleep next to him, and it makes you feel warm inside.

Once you stop moving, his grip looses just enough for you to get a bit more comfortable. You lay your head on his chest, closing your eyes to listen to his heart beat. It’s relaxing, and you feel yourself get drowsy. You know it’s all over, when he starts to rub your back.

There’s the sound of his saying something, but you fail to catch it as you fall asleep. You don’t even notice the soft kiss he presses to your head while you drift off.

[1800-fight-me]

Pretty

Rick Grimes x Female!Reader

Rating: E (Explicit- MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Explicit sex and Dominant!Rick (it's pretty much only smut)

Word count: About 3.4k

Synopsis: Rick becomes upset with you when you express that you don't feel pretty since the world ended and uses all his skills to convince you otherwise.

Author’s note: This is my first Rick fic! I know I'm soooooo late to the game but I started watching TWD the end of last year and am so obsessed and so in love with Daddy Rick so this is the result lol! If you like this fic please come talk to me!! I am desperate for people to obsess over Rick with lmao

P.S. I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Comments and reblogs make my day! Main Masterlist

“I miss hot showers,” Rosita said. 

There was a chorus of agreements around the small fire. 

“I miss chicken nuggets,” Carl said and you laughed along with everyone else. 

This wasn’t the worst off your group had ever been, but it had certainly been a long time since you had any of the luxuries of life before the world fell apart or even since living at the prison. 

Everyone avoided mentioning the real heavy hurts, the people you truly missed- the ones who hadn’t survived. No, this was supposed to be a lighthearted conversation, a way to end a day of blood and sweat and walkers on a good note. 

“I miss watchin’ movies,” Maggie said and you hummed in agreement. 

“What about you?” Carl asked you. 

You smiled at him and Judith babbled happily where she sat in your lap. 

“Books. I miss the library at the prison. Libraries in general, really,” you replied. 

“Nerd,” the teenager muttered with a roll of his eyes but the smile on his face gave away the fondness of his teasing. 

You laughed as you leaned back further against Rick’s chest. His arms tightened around you and his foot reached out and nudged Carl’s leg in teasing reprimand. 

The conversation continued on, everyone listing little luxuries they missed from their former lives. Things that had been long since forgotten for the sake of survival. As everyone spoke, although you agreed with them you realized you wouldn’t trade the family that you’d found for anything in the world. 

Glenn called your name and you realized your mind had wandered, thinking of the love you had for everyone sitting around the fire. Particularly thinking of the love you had for the man whose body currently enveloped your own, for his children that sat with you. 

“Hm?” 

“Your turn again,” he said. 

You weren’t sure why it was so important that you took another turn since Rick had been quiet this whole conversation. Your only indication that he was still awake was the small soothing circles his fingers rubbed on your arm. 

“Oh, ummm probably feelin’ pretty,” you said absentmindedly. 

“What?” Rick’s voice snapped out, low and in disbelief. 

His thumb pressed into your elbow and you could feel the sudden tension in his body pressed against yours. 

“Ya know, I miss gettin’ all dolled up and feelin’ pretty. Pretty dresses, goin’ to the nail salon, hairdos that aren’t only practical, makeup, jewelry, heels. Not somethin’ I cared about too much at the time, but still it was nice every once in a while. God, I can’t believe I miss wearin’ heels,” you said with a soft laugh. 

“Y’don’t need any of that to be pretty,” Rick said firmly. His hand slipped to your cheek and jaw and guided you to turn your head back enough to meet his gaze as he leaned forward. 

“I know, pretty isn’t the most important thing. I’ve survived, that’s what matters, that I’m alive-”

“You’re pretty everyday, baby. Even covered in walker blood and guts,” he said firmly then pressed a kiss to your forehead.

Your cheeks burned as you turned your head back around and realized that the conversation had not moved on without the two of you, that everyone was giving rapt attention to your interaction with Rick. 

“Okay,” you muttered quietly, “Daryl I think it’s your turn.” 

He took mercy on you and changed the subject. “I miss booze.” 

Many agreed with him and the conversation chugged right along. Eventually it dwindled out along with the fire as darkness continued to fall and the full moon rose, bathing everyone in its light. 

Camp was prepared for the night and you bundled up with Rick on the hard ground as he held you from behind. Judith slept in Carl’s arms only an arms length away from the two of you. 

Just when you started to doze off, the soft snores of the group lulling you to sleep, Rick gripped your hip. 

“You still awake?” he asked, his voice low and husky. 

“Mmhmm” 

“Good, get up and come with me, pretty girl,” he ordered as he stood. 

You let out a soft groan but took his offered hand and let him carefully guide you away from the camp and further into the woods. He nodded at Daryl who was on watch whose only response was a grunt and a wave of dismissal.

With a hand on your collar he gently pushed your back into a huge tree and said, “Stay here.” 

“Yes sir,” you muttered with an eyeroll as you yawned. 

You watched him place a hand on the gun stuck in the back of his pants as he walked a small perimeter around where he left you to ensure you were safe and completely alone. 

He came back with his gun holstered and your breath caught at the intensity with which he looked at you. 

He was doing that thing, that staring- refusing to speak first- intimidating thing. Heat rushed through your body. It didn’t matter if he was angry with you, you knew him well enough to know his intentions of pulling you here. Weeks on the road had left little time for just the two of you. 

“Are you upset with me or somethin’?” you finally broke the silence with a huff. 

“Maybe,” he said as he tilted his head. His eyes dragged up and down your body and your legs began to quiver. 

You glared at him. 

“I’m not playin’ twenty questions. You gonna tell me why?” you snapped. 

He stepped closer so his body was pressed against yours and you barely managed to hold in your groan at the firm heat of him. 

One hand gripped your waist and the other he placed around your neck- not squeezing but resting there- making sure you felt the potency of his presence, his dominance. 

“How dare you think you’re not pretty,” he finally breathed out. 

You sighed and rolled your eyes again even as you protested, “Rick.” 

His fingers tightened slightly on your throat. 

“You- you of all people don’t feel pretty? Don’t I tell you enough how beautiful I find you?” 

You breathed out his name again in protest to his words. “This is ridiculous-”

“I ain’t done talkin’,” he snapped. “You temptress. Your beauty ruined me. Wracked me with guilt. You’re the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen and I thought that even when my pregnant wife was still alive. Your beauty made me question what kind of man I am because I wanted you even then. The worst part was you didn’t even realize what you were doin’ to me for the longest time. And now, now that I have you. Now that you’re mine- you don’t feel pretty?” 

His breaths were coming heavy and his chest heaved against yours at the confession, at the hissed words in the darkness, the truth heavier than the humidity in the summer heat.

Oh. 

Oh.

You could barely breathe. 

“I didn’t- I’m sorry, I-” 

His firm lips against yours quieted your jumbled words and thought process. His kiss was harsh and demanding. His hand drifted up to the back of your head as he pulled you closer. The low growl he released made you whimper as you gripped at his shirt. He used the opportunity to plunge his tongue inside your mouth. 

You moaned at the taste of him, desperate for more. Your hands drifted down to the seam of his shirt and you started to tug, desperate for the feel of his skin against yours when he suddenly pulled back and took a step back from you. 

There was a wildness in his blue eyes and when you reached out for him he merely held your hand in his, but did not allow you to pull him closer. 

“Rick,” you practically whined. 

“No, it’s not ‘bout me tonight. No, you’re gonna understand exactly how pretty you are before I’m done with you.” He said the words like they were a threat of violence he’d give to an enemy and you felt yourself become wet with desire. 

You only nodded mutely.

“These hands, to start, these hands are pretty,” he said, his voice low as he grabbed your other hand and brought them both to his lips. “It’s real cute how you wave ‘em around when you’re talkin’ all passionate. And they hold the weapons you use to kill to protect our family. The way you touch me, how it feels so perfect when your hand is wrapped around my cock.” 

Your breaths shuddered as his lips began to make their way up your arm. “These hands and arms that hold my children with such tenderness.” His lips rounded your shoulder to reach your collarbone and you sighed in relief that he was finally close enough to feel him pressed against you. 

“This pretty neck that I’ve spent months dreaming about,” he mouthed at the sensitive skin of your throat and you whined as he bit down. 

His tongue soothed the small pain of the bite before he licked all the way up the column of your throat. 

“Please, need you-” you moaned and he pulled back to look you in the eyes again. 

“Patience, pretty baby,” he murmured as his hand caressed your cheek. 

You pressed your thighs together, a desperate and unfruitful attempt to get some sort of relief. The heat that filled your body for this man threatened to overwhelm you. Desperate, you were desperate for him. Rick was normally a filthy talker in bed, but this- this was something different. Even your heart burned with love and desire for him. 

“Your eyes are so pretty. I love that I can always tell exactly what emotion you’re always feeling just by lookin’ in ‘em. That they’re so intense no matter what,” he said with another swift kiss to your lips.

“Pretty forehead. Pretty cheeks. Pretty nose. Pretty chin. Pretty jaw,” he said and every sentence was punctuated by a kiss to the feature he was referring to. Here was a man who’d been inside you countless times and yet you felt bashful at this sort of attention from him.

A whimper slipped past your lips, and he pulled back- eyes devoted to the study of them. 

“Pretty lips. I love the sass that comes out of this gorgeous mouth even when you try my patience. Love the way your lips feel against mine. Love the pretty sounds you make when I’m inside you. Love how you look with my cock down your throat- prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he groaned and kissed you again. 

You could feel the passion in the movement of his lips against yours, in the way his tongue tangled with yours, in the desperate press of his body against yours. You didn’t even care that the rough bark of the tree dug into your back as your frantic desire for him overwhelmed you. 

He pulled your shirt up over your head and dropped it on the ground beside you. Your core clenched at the groan he released at the sight of you in your bra. 

“Prettiest tits I’ve ever fuckin’ seen.” He pulled the bra off immediately, chucking slightly at the knife he had to catch from falling from where you’d stored it in the bra earlier in the day. 

You giggled slightly. “It comes in handy,” you said with a shrug as he dropped the knife on top of the growing pile of your clothes. 

“I don’t doubt that,” he replied but any quip back disappeared from your mind as his large calloused hands enveloped your breasts and you moaned. 

“Quiet, baby, you don’t wanna wake anybody up or draw any walkers,” he reminded you. 

You bit your lip and nodded as you did as you were told. 

His hands squeezed and caressed your breasts before he leaned down and replaced one of his hands with his mouth. He kissed, and licked, and finally sucked at your sensitive nipples. Your hand flew to your mouth to muffle your moan as your other hand plunged into the curls at the back of his head to pull him closer. 

His lips drifted down your stomach, your waist, your hips all while imprinting reassurances of his appreciation of your body onto your skin. He unbuttoned and pulled off your jeans along with your belt and holster that held multiple weapons. The panties came off immediately too. 

“You’ve got the kind of beauty to make a man fall to his knees.” His lips moved to your thighs as he kneeled before you. 

Your legs were shaking with desire, with need. His lips and hands worshiped your thighs and calves all the while murmuring sweet words about how pretty he finds every aspect of your body before his lips drifted back up towards your soaked pussy. 

He lifted one of your legs and placed it atop his broad shoulder to give him access to your core. 

“Prettiest damn pussy I’ve ever seen,” he moaned before his tongue suddenly licked a stripe up from your leaking hole to your clit. 

You bit down on the meat of your palm to avoid screaming in pleasure as he finally gave attention to your throbbing neglected heat. 

“Oh god, oh fuck, Rick, that feels so good,” you whimpered. His tongue plunged and pillaged inside you as his nose ground against your clit. Heat rushed through you and threatened to overcome you quicker than you’d ever experienced before. 

He groaned into your soaked folds before licking back up to your clit. His tongue flicked and swirled around your bud of pleasure. Your grip on his hair tightened and your soft chanting of his name spurred him on. 

The cadence of your quiet breathy moans reached a fever pitch as his lips enveloped your clit and he sucked. 

“Shit, Rick I’m gonna come,” you groaned, the words slightly muffled by your hand over your mouth. 

“Come for me, pretty girl,” he ordered. Just like always- your heart, your soul, and your body followed his orders with a gasp. 

Your release wracked through you with such intensity you became lightheaded and Rick had to press his hand against your stomach to keep you standing upright as your legs shook. 

He looked up at you- a grin on his lips with your slick coating his beard and you swore you could come again on the spot at the sight. 

You took shuddering gasping breaths and once he felt you were steady enough he took your leg from off his shoulder and allowed you to stand for yourself. 

“I wanna say you look prettiest when you come…” he stood up and yanked his shirt off before he reached for his belt. 

“But I think you look prettiest when I put my cock inside you.” 

You couldn’t help the whine that slipped from your lips. He gripped your waist and lifted you up, using the leverage of the tree behind you to hold you up as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist. 

His pants were pulled down just enough to release his hardened length and your core clenched as it rubbed against your abused clit. 

“Need you inside me, please,” you begged- your voice breathy and near pathetic but he grinned. 

“Your beggin’ is real pretty too,” he drawled and gripped his cock and lined it up to your entrance. With one harsh thrust he filled you completely. 

You choked on a gasp as you were stretched open so suddenly and completely. You felt deliciously full as you clenched down on his huge cock. 

“Fuck,” he growled out between gritted teeth and rested his forehead against yours. 

The drag of his hardened length inside your sensitive walls started a crescendo of overwhelming pleasure.

“That’s it baby, you take me so well,” he said and pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that was all consuming even as his pace and intensity of his thrusts increased. 

“Ohhh shit- R-rick, you make me feel so good- so pretty- love you so much,” you babbled as he filled you to the brim and more and you gripped his shoulders. 

His grip on your hips only tightened- the pressure most likely bruising but you didn’t care- couldn’t care as his cock repeatedly hit the spot inside you that no other man had ever found- that made your toes curl and your back arch in overwhelming pleasure. 

He groaned and you swore it was the sexiest sound you’d ever heard. 

“S’much, love you so much my pretty baby,” he said and the words were somewhat muffled as he continued to kiss you and his tongue slipped inside your mouth. 

The friction of his bare chest against yours stimulated your nipples as his groin grinded against your clit with each of his deep thrusts. 

You clenched around him as your desperate pussy sucked him in. 

“I can tell you’re close, come on my cock,” he ordered as his mouth drifted to your neck and he bit down harshly. 

Your release hit you like a freight train and the pulsing of your pussy around his thick cock barreled him towards his own release. 

“Rick!” you gasped and gripped his shoulder- your nails digging into the muscle. 

“Fuck- I know, I know,” he groaned as he pulled out right before he came. He placed you down on your feet as he gripped and stroked his cock. 

Your hand joined his and with a groan of your name his come splattered across your stomach. 

You looked up at him with a grin on your lips and his lips slowly spread into a breathtaking smile. 

“Kiss me?” you asked sweetly as you batted your eyelashes. 

He chuckled as he kissed you slowly and sweetly as if he hadn’t just wrecked you completely. 

All too soon he pulled back and tucked himself back in his jeans before he pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and used it to clean you up. 

He assisted you in clothing yourself and you trailed your hands across his toned chest and torso with hearts in your eyes. 

You pouted as he pulled his shirt back over his head. He shook his head at you with a fond smile on his lips. You both returned all your weapons to their proper places in your belts and holsters. 

“How’re you feelin’?” he asked finally with a hand on your chin. 

“Real pretty,” you purred. 

You could feel his smile as his lips pressed against yours once more. 

“Good,” he replied, tone deep and gravely. 

With a hand on your waist he led you back to the small camp. It didn’t matter that you'll only be getting a couple of hours of sleep at this point, that your back hurt from the tree bark, that you were sore in multiple places, that you probably had bruises- as he led you to lay down and held you in his arms you were perfectly content and wouldn’t change a thing. You felt well loved and appreciated.

You began to drift off when a hand slipped into yours and squeezed, you opened your eyes and Carl was looking at you where he and Judith laid only an arms length in front of you. 

“Judith wants you,” he whispered and you looked down at Judith who stared at you wide eyed and made grabby hands towards you. 

“C’mere princess,” you whispered as you waved her closer. She crawled over to you and you barely held in your laugh as she climbed up over you and wiggled herself between you and Rick. 

He made a sleepy grumbling noise as he pulled you and Judith closer and mumbled, “My girls.” 

You grinned and reached over and brushed the curls from his face, your other hand still held by Carl’s which surprised you, but his day had been particularly harrowing and you were more than willing to offer comfort to him, to your entire family that you now laid tangled up with. 

Despite the apocalypse, the constant daily fear and fight of the walking dead- you wouldn’t trade anything for this moment. For this feeling of knowing exactly your place in the world and being content with Rick and the family you found with him. 

[gyaruhana]

Do you write for hyun ju? Cause i have this idea where she and reader are dating and in the mingle game, we saved young mi and took her place in dying hehehehehe thats all tyy

Hyun-Ju/Player 120 - Sacrifice

Synopsis: you sacrifice yourself to save Youngmi.

A/N: sad sad sad idea ughh

Warnings: angst..

From the moment you stepped foot in this hellhole, death had been looming over your shoulder.

If it were up to you, you would've left after the first game. Sure, money was an issue but you valued your life more than you valued money. Even if the sum was 45.6 billion won, you didn't want to risk your life so carelessly. Besides, there were 455 other people who you'd have to compete against. You didn't see the odds being in your favor.

Fortunately, you managed to make a nice group of friends who you grew to trust through each passing game. You grew closest with a trans woman by the name of Hyun-Ju. You were honestly surprised to make such a good friend here of all places but you were certainly glad you did. Hyun-Ju provided you with much needed comfort and your conversations always filled the quiet air after a particularly challenging game.

Strangely enough, you didn't feel as scared when she was close by. Even though you watched so many people die, you didn't fear you'd be next when she was around. You knew she'd keep you safe and you'd gladly return the favor.

That's how you're here now.

The game was mingle and it involved making groups based on the number called out before the timer runs out. Things had gotten a little messy as Youngmi had accidentally been knocked down while running behind them. Of course, Hyun-Ju realized this after stepping in the room when there was little time left on the clock.

She ran out to try grab Youngmi when someone else barged in, pushing her back and telling her there wasn't enough time. You looked at Hyun-Ju's distraught face as she tried to move past and get out to help Youngmi. It was a rather reckless desperation but Youngmi was important to her. A friend who she cared for.

You glanced toward the timer and read the clock. 6 seconds left.

Without another thought, you pushed past them and opened the door before grabbing Youngmi and helping her up. You didn't waste any time in pushing her in the room before closing the door behind her knowing that you couldn't stay when they already had enough people in the room. On que, the door locked and Hyun-Ju immediately went to it, banging on it desperately.

"What are you doing? Why would you do that?!" She yelled angrily as she looked at you. Hyun-Ju wanted nothing more than for this door to burst open. She would've pushed that guy out for you. She didn't want you to die - not like this. Not when you were one of the few people who actually showed her a shred of empathy and kindness.

"Hyun-Ju, it's fine. I'm fine," you say reassuringly. While you were scared that death would soon take you, you put on a brave face for her. Even as tears formed in both your eyes and hers. "I'm sorry," Hyun-Ju spoke and you quickly shake your head in disapproval. She had no reason to be sorry. This was your choice.

"Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong. This was my decision. My decision, okay?" you speak with a smile that didn't match the fear and worry in your eyes. "You're still going to win that money and go to Thailand, yeah? For me?" you speak and Hyun-Ju couldn't help but let out a choked sob at your words.

"..Yeah," she responded with a nod as she averted her gaze for a moment to compose herself. "Good," you say before the sound of footsteps comes closer to you. You turned around and were met face to face with a guard holding his gun to your face. The sight immediately made Hyun-Ju panic as she started banging on the door again and yelling again.

"No! No!" Hyun-Ju cried out but her cries were quickly cut off by the sound of a gunshot. Some of your blood splattered on her face leaving her in a stunned silence as she came to terms with what just happened. She closed her eyes and leaned against the door as she cried. She was upset and angry. You were supposed to live. Not die like this.

But it was too late now. You were dead, and you were never coming back.

[tackykachowch]

I wanted to make this post really extensive, with a lot of screenshots etc, but I'm literally operating at 0% so forgive me this one time.

So, you all know how I'm constantly after season 2's blood because of how it butchered well...Everything, but especially my favorites Silco and Jinx. And what do you know, they even screwed up Silco's glass. Yes. A Glass. Let me explain.

Animators at Fortiche are real professionals, so they know that every object tells a story, so even small things like glasses or cups can tell us a story or let us understand the character better, or even reflect the whole meta of the show. Arcane season 1 really exceeded at this. Going through every scene of this season I noticed that Piltovans use elegant and neat glasses and cups, and the glasses that are particularly used by the councilors are made out of gold. While Zaunites drink from simple glasses without any ornaments, metal mugs or straight-up out of bottles. But there's this one single glass that's different from any other glass or cup in the ENTIRE season - Silco's glass (also Jinx's cup but I'm not gonna talk about it here).

It's made out of simple glass and is pretty bulky to give an association with Zaun, but also has golden ornaments to associate it with Piltover. This single glass perfectly encapsulates Silco as a character - a Zaunite who rejects living under the status quo and who strives to get his people opportunity and freedom Piltover has. Also it reflects his unique position in society - he operates the entirety of the Undercity, yet even this amount of power is barely enough to compete with Piltover. Silco represents the middle of the barrel, a fusion of both cities at their current states. Then, in ep9 it gets destroyed, foreshadowing Silco's death and destruction of the relative peace the two cities had until this time. It's perfect, no notes.

But theeeen we have season 2 *barely disguised rage*. In it we have my favorite flashback out of all of flashbacks ever, where we see- huh??

Silco's glass?? How did it get in there?? And there's THREE of them now???? This is surely some kind of mistake, right? Let's fast forward a bit- WHAT IS IT DOING IN A CAVE????

So, you want to tell me, that an object unique to Silco and Silco only, which perfectly represented his character and even played a minor narrative role, is in fact NOT unique and its destruction in the season 1 finale meant Literally Nothing???? WHAT??????

This is what I meant when I said that s2 jumped headstrong into the fanservice without the second thought about how it impacts the story and characters. You see, Silco now HAS to keep a glass from the times he, Vander and Felicia were friends. He HAS to keep a diary where he says how he admires Felicia, even though nothing indicated that someone inspired him or something of that sort in prior material. (UPD: Also, Silco is more of an idealistic character in the first place. He DOES care about people to some extent, but he always seemed to fight for the idea itself, and not some people in particular. So to give him this new unknown character as part of his primary motivation is....strange, to say the least. It's almost like writers want to make him more sympathetic hmmm). He HAS to keep a photo of the three of them and an "Our Love" record, because he's a sap like that and he lowed his fwiends so wewy much. We already knew Silco had a soft side because he kept things Jinx made for him, we already knew that he hadn't completely let go of the past because he kept Vander's knife. There's no point in adding all this garbage except make the audience go "awwww". It's disgusting and insulting.

But back to the glasses. It makes no sense that the three of them have the glasses and use them, because none of them have any amount of power yet. Moreover, Vander never has ANY Piltovian aesthetic in his design, and Felicia is literally a non-character, so what is exactly the reason to give her such an important object to begin with? I don't know a thing about her, except that she's arcane's most manic pixie girl ever and that by her sheer existence she ruined Silco and Vander's dynamic. Cool. And why would Silco keep the glass with him throughout all these years? And then openly drink out of it in his office? Is it supposed to mean that he carries on the dream the three of them had? But Vander openly rejected this dream, and the remnant of this is located in the very same office (Vander's knife). Orrr maybe um. Maybe. Ughhh. I can't. Think of anything. Hang on. Maaaybeeee it's ssssupposed to represent how Silco's fight for independence went back to the place it started in (The Last Drop)? Okay, maybe, whatever. But then again, what was the purpose of destroying his glass in season 1 ep9 if presumably the two other glasses are still intact? Except Silco dying it doesn't tell us anything, because it lost the previous weight it had in the narrative.

Then we fast forward again to my favorite episode out of all the episodes ever - s2 ep7. In it Silco appears only for a few seconds, but by God are these one of the most destructive few seconds for his character. First he comes to the scene with his flask in hand. A....weird thing to have in a BAR, but okay.

But then as he says the infamous line about forgiveness Vander hands him- oh. Uhhh...A. A Piltovan glass.

Not Silco's glass, or maybe some entirely new glass to represent Zaun's progress as a free nation, but a Piltiovan one. Okay. You were pretty obvious with the line here writers but I guess it wasn't enough.

S2 proceeds to be an insulting, disgusting mess in its every aspect and I will fight with it for the rest of my life.

[catcze]

not particularly a request if u don't want it to be but as a fellow wriothesley enjoyer I wanted to share this idea

fontaine is based off of france right? so the thought of wrio being able to speak french and absolutely using that to his advantage to be a flirt has been driving me insane. he would be INSUFFERABLE (especially if his s/o isn't fluent) and I'd be loving every second of it

(also love your works <3 it's the main fuel that's been making me so horrifically down bad for him)

OH ?!!? MY GOD ?!?! HEHAKJDJ FUCK I HAVE TO WRITE THIS I CANT NOT !! It's a little short and a little sweet, but i hope you like it!

(Translations listed at the end! I used google translate, so if there's any mistakes, please feel free to correct me!!)

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

Wriothesley has started to say things to you on the regular— but for the life of you, you can't understand. It starts first on a slow day. You're lounging in his office, reading a random book you've plucked from his shelves. He's just looking through some papers, doing nothing too important.

Then, Wriothesley glances up from his papers, lets his eyes fall on you. "Tu me rends si heureux."

And you're furrowing your brow in confusion, staring at him. It's a phrase form his mother tongue, that much you know. But you're not sure what it actually means. The way his smile is a bit too mischievous, you don't think that he intends for you to understand, anyway.

"I'm... sorry?" You ask. What else can you say? You're pretty sure from his insufferably smug expression that he's not going to tell you what it means anytime soon. At the very least, you're pretty sure he's not shit talking you to your face.

Your eyes narrow.

Probably.

He can see the question on the tip of your tongue, the suspicious glance you cast his way. Wriothesley just chuckles and goes back to the papers on his desk.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart."

The next time, he does it as you're having dinner across from each other in the cafeteria. Your meal is halfway done, having been practically shoveled into your mouth. It probably paints an unflattering picture, but you're too hungry to really care. Resting on the table, he's stubbornly gripping your hand in his own, fingers intertwined. Even though it made eating much more difficult, Wriothesley would scowl and reach back for your hand whenever you tried to take it away, so you just considered it a lost cause.

Lost in filling your stomach, you're almost don't hear what he says.

"Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi." Wriothesley mumbles, thumb stroking the back of your hand tenderly.

You narrow your eyes again, a silent question.

Wriothesley just smiles secretively and raises a hand to his mouth, miming zipping up his lips and locking it with a key, then tossing it away. He winks at you, and you roll your eyes. No answers today, apparently.

"Are you ever going to tell me what it is you've been saying?" you ask once you've swallowed your food.

"Mm. Maybe one day. If I feel like it." And he's grinning again— the cheeky one that he wears whenever he one-ups you, that showcases his dimples and his teeth. You kinda want to punch him, but it also makes you remember how handsome he is when he smiles.

"Fine," you grumble, sighing. You busy yourself once more with your food. "Keep your fucking secrets. See if I care." You do. A lot, actually. You're very curious now.

Wriotheley just smiles and lets you eat.

But he slips up, one evening. To be fair, it's late at night after a hard day's work. Both of you are exhausted— a tangled mass of limbs and sheets on your bed, both of you halfway asleep already.

Your head is cushioned on his chest, nose pressed against his collarbone, and his arms wrapped around you. Wriothesley's nose is pressed into the crown of your head, breathing in the smell of your hair. His breaths are deep and slow, and you can tell without even looking that his eyes are fighting to stay awake. You're no better, though.

Just before you nod off though, you can feel the brush of his lips against your hair. "Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement," he says quietly, lips brushing the strands in affection. If you had just been the slightest bit more asleep, you might not have even heard it.

But while you may not be fluent in his language, may know little else aside from the most basic of phrases, you recognize that one. It's hard not to, when it's arguably one of the most popular phrases from his mother tongue. Je t'aime. I love you.

Something gooey finds its way into your chest, and the blood rushes through your body as you're overcome by the sheer sweetness of the man you're laying on. Slowly, you crane your neck up to face him, and can see the slight widening of his eyes, the quiet oh shit that runs through his head.

"Is that what you've been saying?" you ask, voice just as quiet as his. Wriothesley hesitates, arms tightening their hold on you.

"... generally, yes."

You smile gently, scooching up enough to press a kiss to his jaw, then to his lips, giggling when he leans down to make it easier for you. You bury your head into his neck then, resting your cheek against him. "I love you too, Wrio."

Translations:

Tu me rends si heureux. — You make me so happy. Je ne peux pas imaginer le reste de ma vie sans toi. — I can't imagine the rest of my life without you. Je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement. — I love you. I love you so much

[juicedaloe]

Mithrun and brain damage

I'm not sure if anyone is interested in this, but I wanted to make a post talking about why I think that Mithrun has brain damage from a traumatic brain injury instead of him being a representation of other neurological disorders or mental illness. I'm not that involved in the dunmesh fandom so I don't know how common this headcanon is, though I've seen a few people mention it here and there.

This is just my own opinion so if you disagree then that's fine. Some of this is just speculation and I can't say what Kui's intentions were. This post isn't meant to be that serious. I just wanted to talk about it and hopefully inform about how brain damage can affect some people in a way that I hope is interesting and relevant.

This will be kind of long because I like to talk so it will be under the cut. Apologies for the length and how much I ramble. Feel free to give input especially if I got anything wrong or if this is too confusing.

Okay let's go

Traumatic brain injury (TBI) is incredibly complex. The long-term effects of a TBI include a wide array of symptoms. Each injury is different, and some people can completely recover rather quickly while others can become permanently disabled, even for seemingly "minor" injuries. What I'll cover here isn't a definitive representation of the experiences of all those who have long-term effects from TBI, nor do I speak for everyone with brain damage.

Here are some long term symptoms relevant to this post:

Alexithymia (inability to process and name emotions)

Inability to process and name physical perceptions

Mood swings and emotional regulation difficulties

Communication difficulties

Social impairment

Apathy about caring for oneself

Lack of motivation

Alexithymia and inability to process physical perceptions

This one is rather obvious. While Mithrun is shown to feel emotions and have physical sensations (for instance, describing his location when he gets lost in the dungeon as "a cold place"), he is also apathetic to how this affects him. This means that his physical and emotional perceptions are reduced in some way. He says that becoming lord of the dungeon will leave someone "empty", showing he is aware of his dulled emotional state.

A good example of this is can be seen here in a bonus comic where he doesn't give much of a reaction to burning his mouth on hot food.

(I love these two a lot, by the way. Pattadol is really under appreciated.)

He is also not able to recognize bodily signals, such as hunger or when he is tired. Despite collapsing from exhaustion and not eating for long periods of time, he still insists he is not tired or hungry.

Mood swings

Mood swings in combination with alexithymia can be an especially disorientating experience. Those who struggle to perceive their own emotions can still feel them even if they don't know how to recognize it.

Individuals with brain injuries often experience drastic mood swings, particularly anger. To those around them, they can appear to go from 0 to 100 in an instant.

This is more speculation/headcanon on my part, as the strongest emotion Mithrun has for most of his appearances is anger. However one could interpret this as being unrelated as he is seeking revenge for a traumatic experience.

Communication difficulties and social impairment

Not only can naming personal experiences be incredibly difficult with a brain injury, but other areas of communication are often affected as well.

Mithrun is not able to set boundaries for himself even if someone is doing something he would not actually want them to do, which can leave him in a vulnerable position.

People with brain injuries can sometimes have a paradoxical experience when it comes to communicating with others. They can go from being very quiet to speaking at length about one topic, seemingly without regard for the importance of each bit of information. (I see it like Newton's first law of motion. It is hard to start speaking and it can be just as hard to stop.)

I really like this aspect of Mithrun's characterization. Usually, he is very quiet because he has no reason to speak. However, once he starts talking he is shown to be overly specific and goes on for long periods of time. Kabru has to spend multiple days figuring out his story.

In a side comic, Kabru tells Mithrun he should condense some of the personal details that Kabru finds irrelevant to the topic of the dungeon.

Mithrun shares many details about himself because his desire not to do so is gone. This mirrors the experience of many people who have brain damage to overshare and not understand how their words will come across to others. Sometimes they say or do things that are insensitive or inappropriate for the situation.

Caring for oneself and motivation

In the dungeon, Mithrun becomes reliant on others for self care. He also seems especially incapable of motivating himself to take care of his body when he is particularly focused on his goals.

In these panels, thus far he had been fairly receptive of Kabru trying to take care of him. However, he could sense that the demon was close and was too focused on that to care to eat.

Refusal of care and treatment is often an effect of traumatic brain injury. This can be for seemingly no reason, even if the person knows that this will help them. Sometimes people will lie about receiving treatment or doing things to take care of themselves, either so they can avoid it or avoid having someone take care of them.

He knows that eating regularly and not pushing himself too much will help him - he's been told multiple times on-screen - but he still has to be continuously told by others to give him that motivation to take care of himself. He's very apathetic to his physical state, even if it seems his only desire is for revenge and he should be doing anything he can to achieve that.

Other things of note

I wasn't sure where to put this, but while Mithrun's sense of direction is speculated by Kabru to be left over from his time as lord of an ever-changing, confusing dungeon, having poor sense of direction in the way he does could also be indicative of brain injury as well.

While the dungeon is confusing and illogical, he is known to have a poor sense of direction and to get frequently lost by those around him, even trying to exit an entrance he just came through. He is shown to be very intelligent, but memory is greatly impacted by brain injuries which affects a person's sense of direction and location.

Something that really stands out to me about Mithrun is how much the things that help him are particularly helpful to those with brain damage. He is physically capable of performing tasks, but he needs an outside source to remind him and get him started. He relies entirely on routine, and when that regularity is taken away he shows extreme difficulty taking care of himself.

Sometimes, the care that some people need is simply someone else to encourage them or to tell them when to do things. The care that he needs is pretty consistent with a person with a brain injury who does not need a full time caretaker and would prefer to have some independence.

Also, healing magic is specified to not work with brain injury unless the person is killed and revived. Mithrun had not been revived after his injuries, so it is entirely possible for him to have sustained a TBI. I don't think this matters that much because one is still allowed to have headcanons even if there is a magical explanation or isn't really possible in canon, but I thought it was an interesting detail.

In conclusion

Because of all this I don't believe that his lack of self care is due solely to mental illness. While mental illnesses like depression or PTSD can cause a decline in self care, the reasons why the affected individual is avoidant of these tasks differs. These disorders can also cause cognitive difficulties and emotional regulation issues, but not to the same extent or in the same way that brain damage would. I think that he does have both depression and PTSD (both are common after a TBI) but those are not his only disabilities.

And on a personal note, I just think that having a character with brain damage is really cool. Most of the time I've seen it the characters are not given very much respect and they are treated as comic relief and a joke. Regardless of whether you agree with this post or not, it is still nice to see a character with a disability like this.

Thank you if you read all of this. I hope it was easy to understand and I did not ramble too much. I don't have anything else to say but I've been wanting to write this out for a while.

Okay bye

[ask-pomni-blog]

Ok this may seem like im grasping at straws here but i need you guys to let me cook for a sec-

HUGE TADC EPISODE 2 SPOILERS

We start off the episode with Pomni’s nightmare, which is a reflection of Pomni’s fears and feelings that are going to be expanded upon throughout the episode. Her main fear isn’t abstracting here, it's the feeling of helplessness, the feeling of not mattering to anybody in the circus. This is seen clearly when Ragatha, Jax, and Caine are shown above the cellar, basically saying “good riddance” upon witnessing Pomni abstract.

And it makes complete sense that Pomni would feel this way once you look back at the circus’ reaction to Kaufmo abstracting (before the second episode). He doesn’t get acknowledged as someone who has just passed away, he doesn’t even get a moment of silence. Pomni notices this, and after she wakes up from her nightmare, she seems almost reluctant to bond with the rest of the circus members because this fear is still on her mind.

This is seen particularly when Pomni is speaking to Ragatha. Ragatha attempts to be helpful at any given chance, but most of the time Pomni is lost in her thoughts. Pomni doesn't seem very open to conversate with Ragatha because of her fears. But this isn't unwarranted, Ragatha literally calls the situation from the day before a “doozy” which brings up the fact that Ragatha constantly dismisses important issues, saying that they should just forget about the situation that happened the day before when Pomni left her for the exit. I understand that she’s trying to ease the tension between them, but I fear she might be making it even worse. Additionally, Ragatha dismissing a very important issue like that makes Pomni’s fears stronger, it may seem to Pomni that Ragatha doesn’t care…

When it’s actually the opposite! The whole episode she tries her best to motivate Pomni (“look, Pomni. We’re already friends with the princess!”, “So, Pomni, I’m sure there’s some way you could help out here.”)

and she’s also very concerned for Pomni when she’s gone (“...Pomni’s still on board!”, “Oh man, Poor Pomni. I hope she's alright.”, “I’m more worried she’s having another horrible experience.”, “Pomni! Are you okay?”)

However, all these remarks could be seen as condescending from Pomni’s perspective… And on the other hand, Ragatha feels like Pomni blames her for the situation, and that Pomni dislikes her. 

Returning to the topic of Pomni’s fears, a lot of this is also reflected in her conversation with Gummigoo:

—

G:“I don’t matter in the slightest. I’m nothing. My life, my memories… my friends… it’s all fake.” 

P:“...I think I know the feeling.”

P:“...I guess I just don't want you to feel like you’re nothing. I don’t want anyone to feel like that.”

G:“But I'm not even a real person. Would I even belong?”

P:“I’m sure you wouldn’t belong any less than me.”

—

Pomni relates to Gummigoo’s fears!! And Pomni is so compassionate and understanding too! …sadly their friendship didn’t last very long… and that brings us back to Ragatha and Pomni. Ragatha tries her best to be reassuring… unfortunately that didn’t work either. AND THIS WHOLE INTERACTION IS JUST- OH MY GOD... LET ME PUT A HUGE EMPHASIS ON THEIR BODY LANGUAGE HERE:

Also the WORDING HERE:

and this scene ooohhhhhhh,,,,,,,, this scene...!!

POMNI IS REASSURED ONCE SHE SEES THAT THE CIRCUS MEMBERS DO CARE. THEY WOULD CARE. HER FEARS DISSAPEAR AND AND- ohhhhmy god this is so sick and twisted.. this ep was.. soooooo good. holy smokes. anyways thank you for listening to my TED talk.

[atheneum-of-you]

This is a repost with added information! The previous post has been deleted in favor of this one. Huge thank you to @theic-manic for reminding me ♡

I recently conducted a poll on what topic people would like an in-depth post/guide on and creating prayers was very largely requested! So today I'll be going step by step on the significance of prayer, how to construct one yourself, how to construct an "offering prayer", and some basic questions surrounding them.

As always, I'm just a single resource, and everything I say comes from my own personal research. Always make sure to do your own when possible!

Buckle up, cause this is a long one!

The Significance of Prayer to the Gods

When we think of prayer, oftentimes, the first thought is Abrahamic religion (Christianity, Catholicism, etc). We're taught that prayer is done to give thanks to the Lord, and to make our requests known.

While this is true to the gods of the hellenic Pantheon, there are some key differences. The biggest being tone and desire. Unlike what we're taught with the Abrahamic faith, the gods don't particularly favor "prayer." This is because prayer to the hellenic gods are typically crafted as petitions, requests for something, and the gods typically don't care for requests without offerings. This directly opposes the usual Abrahamic prayer, which typically is both request and praise simultaneously at all times. However, with the hellenic gods, prayer is typically just request FOLLOWED by offering. That's not to say a prayer can not become an offering, but the working of it is a bit different, and I'll go into detail about that later.

For now, we'll be separating the two as we learn how to construct our prayers.

Constructing a Prayer of Petition

Posture

One of the most important starts to a prayer should be establishing how you pray. If praying to Olympian gods, you'll want to pray standing with your hands upright, facing the sky.

If praying to the chthonic, your prayers should be whispered, with your hands and head down.

If praying to the einalic, your arms should be outstretched towards the sea. If you're not near the sea (as many people aren't), cult images of the deity also suffice!

That said, this applies mostly to the ablebodied. While standing for the Olympic gods during orayer is standard, if this isn't possible for you, then sitting and kneeling are just as fine.

Tone

One of the most important things about a prayer is the consistency of our tone. Naturally, we approach with respect, and that respect should be consistent throughout the entire prayer.

That said, your level of formality should be consistent throughout your prayer. If you start informal, the prayer should remain informal all throughout. The same is held for formal prayers.

When we craft our prayers, they require 3 main components. Invocation, our kharis, and our petition.

Invocation

Naturally, fhe first step to creating a prayer would be to invoke our gods. This is how we get that god's attention, and request their attention. This will always start with the god's name, and for our example prayer, I'll use be using Hermes.

However, there's a lot more to a god than just their name. An invocation should be recognition of that god, and tell them that you know who they are and their significance/importance. For this, you can use epithets, their domains, and even their residences and parentage. Epithets have different meanings, so make sure if you're using one, it should pertain to the reasons for your prayer. For example, if I wanted to ask Hermes for a little extra luck, I might invoke using his luck bringer epithet, Eriounês. Or perhaps I wanted to ask him to deliver a message to a passed loved one, then I would invoke Hermes Trikephalos of the crossroads. So an example invocation could go something like:

"O hear me please Hermes Trikephalos of Arcadia, Herald of the crossroads, son of Zeus."

With this, we've invoked Hermes and informed him of who we are and our placement. We can finally move forward with our petition.

Kharis and Justification

The next step in constructing a prayer is to remind the god who you are, and your relationship with them. This can simply be your name, or your title amongst them (if you have one), or even just direct reference to your status with them (servant, follower, worshipper, devotee, etc). That said, this should also follow the tone of the prayer.

If you were to address Hermes as a worshipper, you'd probably say something such as "I, [name], your follower and worshipper, approach humbly and with grace." Once again, this can be completely tailored to you, and you can change things how you deem more appropriate.

Additionally, reminding the deity of things you've done in their name/provided as offering reminds them of the relationship you've established together. Let's say we've set up an altar for Hermes. We can add that to our prayer!

So altogether, our prayer sounds like:

"O hear me please Hermes Trikephalos of Arcadia, Herald of the crossroads, son of Zeus. I, [name], your follower and worshipper, approach humbly and with grace at the altar I've set in your name."

With this, we've invoked Hermes and informed him of who we are and our placement. We can finally move forward with our petition.

Petition

With what we have, we can now give our petition. Our petition is our request to that god. Naturally, this can be asking for assistance with something, but it can also be asking them to accept an offering or simply asking for their presence to chat, say good morning/night, etc.

I can't really give much guidance on how to craft a petition, because each one is unique and personal to the one praying. However, I can give examples!

If I were to stick to the epithet of Diaktoros, my petition would more than likely involve a message to a passed loved one.

"I ask that you deliver this message to [insert loved one's name]. [Message to be delivered]."

This is, of course, just a basic example but you can tailor this to your needs and desires.

Vow

The vow is incredibly important in prayer, and is a promise of offering or sacrifice to that god for listening to your prayers. Vows can be anything pleasing to the god (ensure it's something your god would enjoy receiving), and you'll want to clearly state the intention of providing it if you're not already. Hermes enjoys coins, so we'll use that as our vow. So perhaps we would say something to the affect of:

"I offer a piety of gold and silver coins for your mercy and kidness."

You dont need to immediately follow up a prayer with an offering, however offerings should absolutely follow answered prayers without fail as this is your vow.

Ensure that your vow is POSITIVE. A promise to give. Negative vows such as "if you help me do x I won't do y ever again!" are unfavorable to the gods. They gain nothing from that, and it's not done for the god but rather yourself.

Prayers as Offerings

As stated before, prayers are not inherently offerings to the gods, moreso, they are requests. But can they be offerings? Well sure! However, our approach to them needs to be different.

Whereas our previous prayers were for requests, prayers for offerings should not contain requests but rather be appealing and aesthetic to the god.

A good example would be dedications of praise to that god. Once again, we'll invoke our god as we did previously. A dedication can start however you want and involve whatever praise you'd like! We'll use Dionysus for this example.

Dedication prayers will require some extra knowledge of your god than simply making requests, as we will be praising achievements of theirs. You can praise several achievements, or focus on a single one! For this example we'll praise several. So our example dedication can go as follows:

"Praise be to Lord Dionysus Eleuthereus, the almighty liberator, twice-born son of Zeus and Seleme!

Praise be to the generous wine giver, traveler of lands far and wide as his almighty vines spread!

Praise be the Bacchus, may we stomp our feet in joy and hail his mighty name! Father of kings!

We praise the mad one, slayer of the fool Damascus who denied our Lord's sacred gift!"

With this dedication, we've done several things. Invoked Dionysus with his epithet and parentage, praised his travels, glorified his lineage/children, praised his slaying of Damascus, and called attention to several iterations of him (the Bacchus and the mad one).

Additionally, this dedication gives the energy of being loud and high energy, things that are appealing to Dionysus. If we were to give praise to Apollo, we might favor a dedication more poetic with a more lyrical scheme. Or for Ares something far more militant and powerful, similar to a battle cry.

These dedications can also be accompanied by other offerings and given to the god during or after. Additionally, these dedications can be as long or short as you please! Just be sure to keep your god in mind while crafting them.

Take time to really learned your god, so thay you can offer dedications and praise to them in earnest!

Common Questions

Will my gods be angry if I pray informally?

I wouldn't say angry, no. That said, every god has a preference. Certain gods simply prefer more formal prayers, but in the end, it all comes down to your personal relationship with your god. If you have a more formal relationship, they would expect a more formal prayer. The same goes for informal.

Do my prayers NEED to be followed up with an offering?

Nope, although it's good practice. That said, if your prayer is answered, an offering of thanks is essential to maintaining good Kharis with your god.

Can the Orphic/Homeric Hymns be used as prayers?

That really depends, but the short answer is yes. I personally don't consider them prayers as the Hymns are moreso dedications, but its entirely up to how you view them.

Are prayers made by other people less valued than prayers I make myself?

Not at all! Prayers are prayers.

My prayer wasn't answered! Does my god hate me?

Nope! There could be a multitude of reasons why your prayer isn't answered, and truly, it all boils down to the will of that god. We have no way of knowing their will or what they think, so if your prayers go unanswered, try not to take it to heart.

This is my first time praying to a god and we have no kharis yet, can I still pray to them?

Yes! All relationships start somewhere~

I hope this was helpful for you all, and I truly hope it inspires more people to write their own prayers and dedications. Feel free to ask for any clarifications at all, and safe travels, friends ♡