#and like is their breaks between the sad or is it sad all the way

[nastybuckybarnes]

The Aftermath

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Summary: How can what's done be undone? Let's watch.

Warnings: Language, PTSD, Angst, Fluff, Injuries, Angst,

Word Count: 2.3K

A/n: I made y'all wait for this one lol. I hope you enjoy. Yes, there will be more so dont you worry. i really wanna try hammering out more of this and tbp cause i may or may not do another 12 days of ficmas or somethin but we'll see!

~*~

When Task Force 141 finally heads into the basement to free you, the scene before them has more than one of them sick to their stomach.

You're curled up in a ball, whispering to yourself in a language they're not familiar with, and when you finally catch a glimpse of them, it's like gas to a flame.

You're pleading, begging in that same language as you slowly back up, shaking your head at them as tears fall down your cheeks.

The words are desperate, spat with haste and fear, and it hurts Ghost's heart to know that the first time he's hearing your mother tongue is when you're trying to escape him.

"Mouse, it's me. You're safe, please. Please, s'just me," he tries, getting on his knees to seem less imposing.

You only scramble back further, holding your hands out in front of you in a pathetic attempt at protecting yourself from danger that doesn't exist.

The blood on your hand catches his attention and he's immediately looking for the source.

"You're hurt. Let me help, please."

You're hiccuping and sobbing, beyond consolation at this point and he's at a loss.

Slowly, he glances over his shoulder to his teammates, the ones who were so quick to follow the traitorous finger that was pointed in your direction.

Soap's eyes are on you, full of sadness and guilt, while Price has his eyes cast down to the floor.

They were just trying to protect their team. Their family.

An idea pops into Simon's head, and he slowly brings his hands to the chain around his neck.

He pulls off the necklace and holds it out in front of you, watching closely as your gaze slowly focuses on the silver pendant.

Your fighting lessens, breathing evens, and then you're reaching out with trembling fingers, gingerly brushing against the warm metal.

A soft word falls from your lips in the same language you were speaking before, and new tears well up in your eyes as you grab the necklace from him and hold it close to your chest.

Slowly, he backs up, motioning for the other men to get out of the way, and then he's swinging the cell door open as wide as it can go and carefully peeling his mask back.

Your wild eyes are focused on his face as he slowly reveals himself to you, and you feel your stomach flip.

"Simon?" You croak, voice scratchy and hoarse.

"S'right, little one. S'me. C'mon out now, you're safe."

You glance over at the other men in the room, your lip wobbling slightly.

"Don't look at them, look at me. Eyes on me, m'right here 'n m'not goin' anywhere."

Reluctantly, your eyes meet his again and he nods encouragingly at you.

Soap can feel his stomach tying in knots with every moment that passes, every word spoken between the two of you.

He never expected this to be the result of his accusations. Of his efforts to be a good soldier.

Slowly, you crawl toward the door, pausing every few seconds as if bracing yourself for an attack.

When you get to the doorway you take a deep breath, holding it as you cross the threshold.

And then a sob bubbles out of your chest and the dam breaks.

You're hiccuping and crying, reaching for Simon desperately, and he all but yanks you into his arms, shushing you quietly.

"I-I didn't do it!" You gasp, bloody hands grabbing handfuls of his sweater.

Simon only nods, rocking you gently in his arms.

"I know, lovie. I know."

"I-I'll be good! J-just don't... don't bring me ba-ack here, please!"

Price's jaw clenches hard, hard enough to almost crack a tooth. His hands are in tight fists by his sides and the lump in his throat is getting harder and harder to swallow.

Simon hadn't exactly been the most forthcoming with your personal information, your history, but in their search for you, they found your sketchbooks. It wasn't hard to piece together your past after that.

"Shh, it's okay. You're safe. You're never going to come back down here, I swear it. Let me take you upstairs."

Your entire frame is trembling in his arms, your bloodshot eyes focused on the men over his shoulder.

Your pupils are wide and your gaze is piercing, sharper than a blade and harder than the walls that seem to be closing in around you.

"Not safe," you whisper, tugging at his sweater then pushing out of his grip and crawling away.

"You're safe, Mouse."

"No, no not safe! Not here! Not with them!" You hiss, glaring at the men behind him.

"I try so hard! But everywhere I go you-you people... you try to hurt me! You lock me in cage! I do nothing wrong!" You're shouting now, voice hoarse and broken, but it makes Soap wince nonetheless.

You look between the men, the soldiers, and push yourself back until you hit the bars of the cell.

"I know your time here hasn't exactly been the easiest, but I swear I won't let anyone else hurt you," Simon tries, holding his hands up in surrender as he scoots closer.

"This... all of this... is because I met you," you finally whisper, the words slicing Simon to his core.

Because you're right.

From the kidnapping to the Corporal in the shower to the accusations. None of it would've happened if you'd never met the man.

"Her thigh" Gaz says softly, eyes focused on the blood darkening the fabric of your pants.

That snaps Ghost out of his feelings and his focus is on you once more. Your safety, your wellbeing.

"Mouse, you're hurt. Let me help you, please."

You glance down at your leg, the still-bleeding wound from yesterday, then cover it with your hand.

"Don't need help."

"You need medical help. Food, water. Please, Mouse." He glances over his shoulder at his teammates. "Leave."

With that one word, the three of them are gone, leaving you alone with your Ghost.

"S'just you n me now, little one. You know I'd never hurt you. Let me help you. Please."

You swallow hard, looking at him for a long silent moment before dropping your gaze back down to your thigh.

"I'll take you upstairs, we can go straight to medical and then-"

"No."

He frowns.

"No?"

"I-I don't want to see... anyone else. Only you."

He nods immediately, inching toward you carefully, as if you're a wild animal that could lash out at any moment.

It's not like he couldn't handle it, couldn't overpower you. But he wouldn't. Even if you did decide to lash out, he'd take it. S'what he deserves, after all. He should've been faster. Should've convinced Price sooner, killed both Jacobs and Matthews in that alley the first night he met you.

But he didn't.

"Can I touch you? I just want to see how bad it is." He motions to your leg.

Slowly, you give him a nod, watching through puffy eyes as he gets close enough to inspect your wound.

His hands are gentle when he touches you, tilting your leg to the side then looking back up at you.

"Let me take you out of here. Please."

"Where?"

"With me. Our quarters."

Ours. Not his. Ours.

Yours.

That's where you belong.

Up in your quarters with your Ghost and far far away from here.

Far from the holding cells that remind you too much of the cages you used to call home.

Far from people who would hurt you, lie to you, betray you.

Ghost's words from what feels like only days ago ring out in your ears, taunting you, humiliating you.

Johnny's not gonna let anything happen to you.

The man's own words when he'd cleaned that Corporal off of the bathroom floor.

You've saved my arse.....I owe you.

This is how they repay people?

Simon, upon seeing the distant starry look in your eyes, smooths his bare fingers over your wrist, tugging you gently toward him.

You follow wordlessly, lost in thought, in your mind, and he seems to recognize this.

"M'gonna bring you upstairs. Straight to our quarters, yeah? Nobody's gonna be around, I'll be quick."

He takes your silence as understanding and tugs his balaclava back on, then pulls you up into his arms and heads out of the basement and up the stairs.

A shiver rolls down his spine when he emerges in the hallway.

All of this bears an eery closeness to when he first brought you to base.

Your limp body in his arms, the looks from the poor few stragglers around base, the determination in his eyes and the pit in his stomach.

He hates it.

He hates that his team, the men he's supposed to be closest with, are the ones who've brought him back here.

The ones who've pushed you to this.

But he's not absolved of wrongdoing in this.

No, he's the one who closed the cell door behind you. He's the one who locked you in your deepest traumas.

He turned the key and tucked it in his pocket.

He's just as much to blame as they are.

His self-loathing comes to a momentary pause when he finally pushes open the door to your shared quarters.

He sets you down on the desk, much like he did the day he came back to find Corporal Jacobs dead on the bathroom floor, and grabs his first aid kit.

Expert fingers slip the blade of a knife into the tear in your pants, and then he's cutting the fabric away from your leg and spraying the wound with antiseptic.

His eyes dart up to your face, searching for any sign of pain or discomfort as he begins bandaging your wound.

He finds none.

Your eyes are still distant, as if you're not really here with him, and he feels his heart drop into his stomach.

"Mouse?"

Nothing.

Swallowing hard, he reaches for your face, smoothing his fingers over your cheek and jaw. To anyone looking, he's composed, but you feel his fingers tremble the tiniest bit as they meet your skin.

Your eyes flutter to his, pupils dilating slightly as you focus on him.

"You with me?"

You blink a few times then slowly nod, eyes staying focused on his.

"Yes... here... with Ghost."

His eyes get sad for a moment before he nods, tugging off his balaclava and dropping it onto the ground.

"Simon. You're here with Simon."

You let out a quivering sigh and nod, reaching forward to touch his face.

Red stains his pale cheek and you look to the source, brows pulling together when you see the blood on your fingers.

"What...?" You inspect your hands, the blood covering them, then drop your gaze to the half-covered wound on your thigh.

"Oh."

"Looks worse than it is. Just gotta stay off it a bit," he says softly, getting back to work until your wound is wrapped.

You say nothing, your gaze shooting back to your hands. Specifically, the necklace in your left hand.

"Want me to help put that back on?" He asks after a moment, watching the way tears fill your eyes as you nod.

He takes the necklace from you and carefully reaches around your neck, leaning in close to watch himself clasp it.

You're engulfed in his scent as he invades your personal space, and you can't stop your hands from darting out and grabbing onto his sweater to hold him there, to pull him close.

When the necklace is secure, he pulls back just enough to fix his footing, and then he's yanking you to the edge of the desk and wrapping you in his strong arms.

He hunches over the desk, dropping his head to yours and pressing kiss after kiss to the top of your head.

You wrap yourself around him, in him, as much as you can, pressing your face to his chest and burrowing into him deep enough to taste his soul.

He pulls you closer still, eyes squeezed shut tightly as he lets himself feel you. Really feel you.

Feel you in your pain, in your trauma, your helplessness. Feel you in your trust, your fear, your love. For him.

He feels you as much as he feels himself now, and all he wants is to take your pain away. Strip you of it even if it kills him.

But he can't.

So instead, he holds you close until you begin to tug away. And then he's taking your hands in his once more.

"I'll run you a shower, yeah?"

You nod wordlessly, eyes cast down as silent tears trek down your cheeks.

He moves swiftly, turning the water on and testing the temperature.

When it's finally warm enough, he returns to you, reaching for you only to freeze when you flinch back.

Refusing to meet his gaze, you slide off of the desk and step around him, cringing away when dusts his fingers over your arm.

The rejection stings, but he knows he has no right to feel hurt.

"I'll stay right here 'till you're done."

You say nothing, only close the bathroom door and turn the lock.

Simon ends up staying there for hours, long enough to realize that you're not coming out of there anytime soon.

With the lights off, he leans his head against the door separating you.

"I'll be right out here, if you wanna come out. Make sure I save a spot on the bed for ya, yeah?"

You say nothing.

He can hear the steady sound of your breath so he knows that -physically, at least- you're okay.

Sighing softly, he slides his hand down the door then turns away and takes a seat on the bed.

He sits there for a few minutes, hoping he'll hear the lock click, that you'll come to bed and the two of you will be able to put everything behind you.

But he's never been a big dreamer.

Instead, he settles down in bed, his eyes locked on the bathroom door, the faint light shining through the cracks.

Simon goes to bed that night with a full bladder and an empty bed.

[littlelamy]

Request hehe: Maybe Reader has some trust issues due to past cheating etc. So she is constantly doubting If Rafe is doing something behind her back and it’s damaging their relationship/Rafe is feeling very offended that she could ever think that and leaves very upset. So some self-sabotage on her part.

a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! 💗 pngs from @saizun

the tension in the room was as palpable as the crisp autumn air seeping through the edges of rafe's window. you stood by the edge of the bed, arms crossed, while rafe paced near the door, his brows furrowed and lips drawn tight. it wasn’t the first time you’d found yourself in this situation—accusations hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

“i just don’t get why you think i’m lying to you,” rafe finally said, running a hand through his messy blond hair. his voice was raw, teetering between frustration and sadness. “what did i do this time?”

the pang of guilt that shot through you was immediate, but it was quickly overshadowed by the relentless doubt that had been gnawing at you for weeks.

“i don’t know, rafe,” you muttered, staring down at your hands. “you’re just… too good to be true sometimes. i mean, look at you.” you gestured vaguely at his tall, athletic frame, the way he looked even in a simple t-shirt and jeans. “how do i know you’re not out there talking to someone else? everyone likes you.”

he stopped pacing, standing still for a moment as your words sank in.

“you think just because people like me, i’d cheat on you?” his voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that made you wince.

“it’s not like that—”

“then what is it like, y/n?” he interrupted, his tone sharp now. he stepped closer, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. “because this isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. you keep accusing me of something i’m not doing, and it’s…” he exhaled shakily, taking a step back. “it’s killing me, honestly.”

the tears you’d been holding back began to sting your eyes. you hated how this always ended—with you feeling like the villain and rafe looking at you like you’d just run over his dog.

“it’s not about you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “it’s about me. i’ve been through this before, rafe. i’ve trusted someone before, and they… they betrayed me.”

“and i’m paying for what someone else did?” his voice cracked, and he shook his head in disbelief. “do you even hear yourself?”

you stayed silent, your chest tightening with every second that passed.

rafe let out a bitter laugh, running his hands over his face. “do you really think i’m that kind of person? that after everything we’ve been through, i’d just—what? throw it all away for someone else?”

“i don’t know!” you blurted out, tears finally spilling over. “i don’t know what to believe anymore. i want to trust you, rafe, but it’s so hard. every time you’re late, every time you get a text and don’t tell me who it’s from, my mind goes to the worst place.”

“that’s not fair,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “you don’t even give me the benefit of the doubt. you don’t even try to trust me.”

you wiped at your tears angrily, hating how vulnerable you felt. “maybe i don’t know how,” you admitted, your voice breaking.

rafe stared at you for a long moment, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he fought to keep his composure.

“i can’t do this,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

your heart sank. “what do you mean?”

“i can’t keep proving myself to you when i’ve done nothing wrong,” he said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i love you, y/n. i love you so much it hurts, but this?” he gestured between the two of you. “this is tearing me apart.”

you took a step toward him, panic rising in your chest. “rafe, please. i’m sorry. i’ll work on it, i promise. just don’t… don’t leave.”

but he shook his head, his expression a mixture of sadness and resolve. “i need some time to think,” he said, his voice trembling. “i can’t keep feeling like i’m not enough for you when i’ve given you everything i have.”

he turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. the sound of the front door closing echoed through the house, and you collapsed onto the bed, sobbing into your hands.

you had pushed him away. the one person who had always been there for you, who had loved you despite your flaws, was gone—and it was your fault.

the days that followed were a blur. you went through the motions of life, but everything felt hollow without rafe. he didn’t call, didn’t text, and the silence was deafening. you wanted to reach out, to beg for his forgiveness, but every time you picked up your phone, the shame stopped you.

instead, you spent your time reflecting on the mess you’d made. you thought about the way you’d let your past dictate your present, how you’d let your insecurities poison something good.

you thought about rafe’s face the last time you saw him—the hurt in his eyes, the way his voice broke when he said he loved you.

you loved him too. you always had. but you’d let your fear overshadow that love, and now you were paying the price.

a week later, you found yourself standing outside rafe’s house, your heart pounding in your chest. you’d rehearsed what you wanted to say a million times, but now that you were here, your mind was blank.

taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

it opened a moment later, and there he was—rafe, looking as handsome as ever despite the tiredness in his eyes.

“y/n,” he said, his voice soft but guarded.

“hi,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “can i come in?”

he hesitated for a moment before stepping aside to let you in. you walked into the living room, the familiar space feeling foreign without the warmth you were used to.

“i’m sorry for just showing up,” you said, turning to face him. “i just… i needed to see you.”

he nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “what do you want, y/n?”

“i want to fix this,” you said, your voice trembling. “i want to fix us.”

rafe let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “you can’t just say that and expect everything to go back to normal.”

“i know,” you said quickly. “i know i’ve hurt you, and i hate myself for it. but i’ve spent the last week thinking about everything, and i realized… i’ve been so unfair to you, rafe. i let my past ruin what we had, and i’m so sorry.”

he looked at you, his expression unreadable. “do you even trust me?”

“yes,” you said without hesitation. “or… i want to. i know i’ve given you every reason to think i don’t, but i do, rafe. i trust you more than anyone. i’m just scared. scared of losing you, scared of getting hurt again.”

“you’re not the only one who’s scared,” he said, his voice softening. “do you know how it feels to love someone who’s always waiting for you to screw up? to feel like no matter what you do, it’s never going to be enough?”

tears welled up in your eyes, and you stepped closer to him. “i’m so sorry, rafe,” you whispered. “i never meant to make you feel that way. you are enough—more than enough. and i don’t want to lose you because i couldn’t get out of my own head.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know, y/n. i don’t know if i can keep doing this.”

“please,” you said, your voice breaking. “i’ll do better. i’ll prove to you that i can be better, that i can trust you the way you deserve to be trusted.”

he studied your face, his blue eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“i love you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “but this has to change. i can’t keep living like this.”

“it will,” you promised, stepping closer and taking his hands in yours. “i’ll change. i’ll prove to you that i can be better.”

he sighed but didn’t pull away from you. “this is your last chance, y/n,” he said quietly. “i mean it.”

“i won’t waste it,” you promised, looking up at him.

for a moment, there was nothing but silence between you, the tension thick and heavy. then, slowly, rafe’s hands moved to cup your face.

“don’t make me regret this,” he murmured, his voice soft and raw.

“i won’t,” you whispered, your breath hitching as he leaned down.

his lips met yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender, a silent promise of forgiveness and hope. you clung to him, pouring every ounce of your love and regret into the kiss, vowing to yourself that this time, you would get it right.

when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed.

“i love you, baby,” he said again, his voice steady this time.

“i love you too,” you whispered, your heart swelling with both relief and determination.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl l @evermorx89 @aariahnaa @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[napofawhalien]

This was so depressing, and that's a compliment because your writing made me feel every thing that I was supposed to, as if I was going through what both of the characters were. But when you said angst you meant pure ANGST and I was not prepared! Like I genuinely need to go and read something soft and happy now because my heart just got trodden on repeatedly reading this (in a good way) 😅

It's actually sad how much I related to this story and it brought up so many memories and emotions lol you really hit the nail on the head with this, pen game so strong. Here are some highlights I made on my ereader while reading:

"I don't understand why i have to explain basic human emotion to you, and i really don't understand why i have to beg and plead for you to care about how i feel!"

–as if he can't fathom why you'd be upset. as if he's not watching you break down in real time. You captured this perfectly

maybe he'd find someone to change for someday ... but for whatever reason, you weren't her.

what did he get you for your birthday again? anything?

each word feels tailor-made to slash at his heart. I really liked this line

Seeing her happy and treated right by Taehyun after all that though 🥺💓

I swear I got the best chills when she used his words back to him! Because I was feeling what both sides were feeling I was conflicted between satisfaction and my heart sinking, but I think my vengeful side won a little bit because damn, that was good!

i know it's over | oneshot

read the alternate ending here!

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, kang taehyun x you

summary: you love beomgyu — you truly do — you just wish he loved you back, but after a particularly humiliating night in which he shows you just how little he cares, you finally decide enough is enough. enter kang taehyun, a sweet boy who's the polar opposite of beomgyu; but while you begin to develop your relationship with him, beomgyu realizes exactly what he's missing.

genre: ANGST, romance, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end

warnings: toxic relationships

word count: 7.3k

notes: repost/rewrite of one of my first works (formerly titled: to know him is to love him, and i do) THERE WILL BE AN ALTERNATE ENDING, YES the best friend's little brother!beomgyu au won the poll but i'm so hesitant to post it because i hate it so i thought i'd post this for now until i'm able to edit the other work enough to where it's not an actual eyesore.

you're tired. really tired. exhausted, even, as you stalk through the doorway of beomgyu's apartment. you practically tear off your coat, letting it land harshly on the living room floor with a slight thud. beomgyu rolls his eyes and picks it up with a sigh before hanging it up on the rack.

"i told you it was nothing. why are you freaking out?" he asks flatly.

"she was fucking you with her eyes, beomgyu!" you exclaim in frustration.

"and that's my fault how?"

"it's not your fault, but i'm sick of you entertaining women, let alone your actual fucking ex, while i'm standing right next to you!" his ex is just another fish in the barrel, or at least that's what he says, but the thought that they were intimate together at one point still makes you feel sick. truthfully, your boyfriend is handsome, so you've spent the better part of the past 10 months warding off the women who circle him like vultures. you wouldn't mind as much as you do if he seemed at all interested in helping you do so, especially when faced with his ex that you suspect he still has feelings for, but he does not. quite the opposite, actually. it's like he thrives off of the attention and, god, it hurts. 

"i'm not entertaining anybody. i told her i have a girlfriend now," he, well, you would say argues, but it's said so nonchalantly it doesn't warrant the term. 

"a girlfriend you proceeded to ignore while she hung off of your shoulders and laughed all night! i just don't understand how you don't understand how much it hurts my feelings. i'm a human, too! how would you feel if my ex, who was very clearly interested in me, hung around me right in front of you?" and it's like you're explaining empathy to a child. 

"me? i wouldn't give a fuck because it's not that serious," he replies with a slightly irritated shake of his head. 

it's always like this. always. you're always the one who cares more between the two of you. you were the one who asked him out in the first place. you were the one who initiated your first kiss. your first fight. hell, even your first reconciliation. you're not stupid, you know he doesn't feel quite the same way you do, but he has to feel something, right? otherwise, why would he say yes to you when he's rejected so many other women? your brain hurts trying to wrap your head around it all.

 "you're missing the point! if you were me, you would—" you begin frustratedly, but you cut yourself off. "you know what? i don't even have the energy to explain this to you. i don't understand why i have to explain basic human emotion to you, and i really don't understand why i have to beg and plead for you to care about how i feel!" you all but shriek.  

"you don't have to do shit, just leave if you're that fucking unhappy," he spits out angrily, which is the first real emotion — besides mild annoyance —  you've seen out of him this entire conversation. he gets impatient when you're like this, which usually results in you relenting, but not tonight. you're far too hurt to let go so easily.

"you're right! i am unhappy! i just — why don't you care that i'm unhappy? what can i do to make you give a fuck about me?" you have a brave face on but you can feel your eyes getting hot and your voice trembling ever so slightly. 

"you could try not being so damn needy, maybe that'd help."

your eyes redden even further and your lips unintentionally twist themselves into a sour frown. you hate it when he calls you needy because you do need a lot from him, it feels like. his time. his care. his attention and affection. yet you never seem to get it.

"do you not love me? like at all?" you ask. all of the venom in your tone has been sucked out mercilessly and you sound more helpless than angry.

"do you not realize how fucking crazy you sound?" he scoffs as if he can't fathom why you'd be upset. as if he's not watching you break down in real time. 

"why won't you give me a straight answer?" you question, voice softer than it was before.

he does nothing but scowl, and that's enough of an answer as it stands. he doesn't care. never has. probably never will. 

"then why'd you even say yes to dating me?" you truly don't understand. you thought you were different. you thought he saw something in you he didn't see in his harem of other suitors, and trust that there were many.  

"i dunno. i was just bored, i guess," he answers with a shrug and your world as you know it collapses. the man you love sees you as nothing more than a way to kill time. he's picking you up right now just to toss you away when the next shiny toy presents itself, and so far, you've let him drag you around because you love him — that's how much you love him — but looking at him now, at how unbothered he is, you wonder if you've even got anything left to give.

"i really do love you," you manage to squeeze out with a bitter smile. your poor heart is on display for the naked eye to see, and it seems like he really couldn't care less, but that won't stop you from asking: "does that mean anything at all to you?" 

"well, i'm sorry you feel that way," he says simply, "but that's not my fucking problem."

your heart sinks to your stomach and you feel like you're going to throw up. in this moment, as you watch the love of your life dismiss you like you're a fucking dog begging for scraps of food, you feel an overwhelming sense of clarity as you realize he doesn't love you. he doesn't even like you. he probably hates you, actually. like a mental montage, every moment in which he showed you that exact sentiment plays all at once in your head.

all those times you let him choose everything from movies to dinner because the idea of a compromise was inconceivable. all of those occasions, special and otherwise, where you were supposed to go out on a date, but he'd bail without a word and you'd forgive him with no apology. even something as menial as when you'd offer him your share of dessert because he ate all of his and you knew he wanted more, and he'd take it without so much as a thank you. how you'd sit and listen to him tell stories about how amazing his friends were, but he'd never even ask about your day. when those same friends would jokingly call you the perfect girlfriend, and you thought it was an indication of how good your relationship was, but in reality, it was a way to tease him because the thought of actually being with you was so abhorrent and ridiculous that it must be a joke. nobody likes a desperate girl, after all. all those times you told him you loved him and he'd just smile and kiss you deeper. memories like these flood your brain with a vengeance so cruel it makes your head ache, and in a way, you realize it's ridiculous to be surprised when there was so much proof of his feelings in the first place.  

"oh. okay," you say with what you hope is a soft and unbothered laugh, but comes out more as a choked one. "i guess there's nothing left to say. i'll get my shit and go." 

you hesitate for a few excruciatingly awkward moments before collecting yourself enough to start gathering your things, which are scattered haphazardly around his apartment from his bedroom to his bathroom. it's like a walk of shame, almost, and you feel even shittier when he plops down on the couch with a long suffering sigh as he begins to massage the bridge of his nose. you feel so small in this moment — like a petulant child who just got done throwing an unsuccessful tantrum — and you're now soaking in the sobering aftermath and sitting with the thought that he just watched you have a meltdown like he was watching a monkey putting on a show. how much more is he going to humiliate you? enough is enough, you think, so before you can actually finish collecting all of your belongings, you're scurrying out of the apartment. before you go, you glance back at him one last time. 

"beomgyu?" you ask tentatively, tears clouding your eyes. 

"yeah?" he replies with a sigh. this is it, you think.

"i don't want to see you ever again," you say firmly. before he can reply, if he ever intended to in the first place, you slam the door. 

-

there's a lot to love about beomgyu. for one, he's handsome, which is obvious, but he has a certain allure you could never help but be drawn in by. he's always been a charming man, but even more so when he's talking to a woman he's interested in. as interested as he could be, that is. he's funny and comically pompous when he wants to be, but still somehow down to earth despite it all. 

he's been described as a mood-maker, and while he grew to resent that term, you thought it was at least partially true, if only in the context of your relationship. when he's sad, you're devastated. when he's happy, you're over the fucking moon. his feelings are your whole world — or were, you guess, since all that's over now.

it wasn't all bad all the time, you think. there were times where you thought he really might reciprocate even a fraction of what you felt for him, and most of the time, that was enough. you could work with that. love looks different for everyone, you would reason. maybe he just had a funny way of showing it. 

there were days where you'd laugh together and end the night lying in each other's arms while you'd cradle him like he was the most precious thing in the whole world because, to you, he really was. he was normally so boisterous when with his friends, but while he would never admit it to anyone else, he'd tell you about some of his insecurities while you gently combed your fingers through his long, silky hair. he'd speak of regrets and longing for people to take him more seriously. he'd never say it, but he wanted people to see you like you saw him. the real him. you'd let him cry while your hands cupped his cheeks and you'd shush him while he fiddled mindlessly with your hair like a child. you'd kiss the tip of his reddened nose until he laughed instead of cried. times like those, you'd really think you were someone special to him, but now you realize you were wrong. you were just an outlet for him, and anyone willing to be an emotional dumping ground would do the trick, too.

after a few weeks of moping, your sadness has begun to morph into anger and resentment. you spent nearly a year of your life trying to make an emotionally stunted man care about you, and that's not even counting the years of pining over him before you finally worked up the courage to ask him out. it was difficult to see it in the moment, but after being away from him for so long, it's crystal clear that he was honestly just an asshole who didn't really like you. nothing more, nothing less. maybe he'd find someone to change for someday, maybe he'd even work things out with his ex, but for whatever reason, you weren't her. that's just the way it goes, you guess. what really bothers you are the "what if's" of the situation. what if you were prettier, or smarter, or kinder; would he have seen you for who you really are? would he have grown to appreciate you if you had given him more to appreciate? 

either way, there's no use crying over spilled milk now. you won't be going back to him any time soon, and he certainly won't come crawling back to you. you'll continue to think of him less and less until your time together fades into a distant (and unpleasant) memory. you smile at the thought.

-

the first time beomgyu realizes just how impactful your absence is, nothing in particular happens. it's a regular tuesday night a week or so after your "breakup" and he's bored out of his mind. he showers, listens to music, texts his friends and makes himself dinner, but something is missing. 

as he sits on his couch, he realizes what it is: you. right about now, you should be pestering him to hang out and showing up on his doorstep to watch a movie. he'd roll his eyes at first, but eventually relent as long as he got to pick the movie, of course. he wouldn't say it, but he'd actually enjoy glancing over and seeing your reactions. you were comically expressive and every twist and turn of the plot had your eyes bulging and mouth agape, turning to him for confirmation that he was seeing the same things you were. when you watched inception for the first time, it absolutely rocked your world.

he's alone, but he puts on a movie, anyway. every so often, his head turns to the side with the corner of his mouth raised, but you're not there to give a reaction. he should be used to your absence by the third twist, but he still finds himself subconsciously turning to you throughout the rest of the movie. when the credits roll, he's half expecting to hear you chatter on about how crazy it was, but it's silent. the only time that would happen would be when you'd accidentally drift off in spite of how engrossed you were. you'd try to fight it off like a stubborn kid, but would succumb by the final act. he smiles at the memory before shaking his head in disbelief. what's wrong with him? 

moments like these plague him more and more frequently, but the most notable one is the night before his first day at a new job. he briefly talks to his friends about his excitement, but he's too embarrassed to divulge just how anxious he is. times like this, he'd come over and complain for however long he needed. you'd sit and nod, asking questions during his pauses to encourage him to continue, always adding appropriate and thoughtful commentary. 

his thoughts wander to how you're doing alone. you really love him, it seems, so he can only imagine how you're faring without him. he wishes you hadn't blocked his number so he could at least ask how you are. maybe you'd even tell him you miss him. not for the first time, he begins to wonder if he pushed you too far this time around. you've gotten angry and given him the silent treatment before, sure, but you've never blocked him and you've certainly never done it for so long. 

he looks you up on instagram for the first time since your breakup. he's not terribly surprised when he sees he's blocked on there too, but all it takes is a switch to his photography account, which you had forgotten to block, to see what you're up to now. 

the first thing he notices is a picture of you sitting outside with an ice cream cone in hand, sun encircling you. your smile is beaming and your eyes are crinkled and he can almost hear your giggle through the screen. the caption reads "ice cream date with my best friend!”

he scrambles through his memories to try to remember a time in recent history when you two did something similar, but he comes up blank. what he does recall, though, is you mentioning a new frozen yogurt place you wanted to visit with him for your birthday. he nodded in response, but he knew he wouldn't go with you, opting instead to get shitfaced with his friends. in retrospect, maybe you knew it, too. he had checked his phone the next morning and saw he had at least half a dozen missed calls and well over a dozen texts from you. when he finally texted you back, you took almost a full 5 hours to respond, which was uncommon. usually, you'd text back within minutes. it occurred to him later on that that was your version of the silent treatment, and it amused him that you could only hold out for a few hours. he honestly found it kind of cute. 

he remembers what you did for his birthday. how you had secretly invited his friends over to his apartment to surprise him after an especially shitty day at work. he came home to an elaborately decorated apartment and all of his favorite people greeting him. he remembers how happy you looked when he opened up your present to him, which was the guitar he had always secretly wanted but could never quite justify buying for himself. you were so excited, any spectator would think he had gotten you the gift of your dreams and not the other way around. you were practically buzzing with excitement when he pulled you in for a kiss. his friends had whooped at the display of affection, and you giggled shyly at their reaction. what did he get you for your birthday again? anything?

he spends days pondering over this and similar circumstances, which eventually turn into weeks upon weeks. what starts as a nagging feeling that he may have gone too far in his neglect for you becomes guilt and anxiety. he recalls just how torn up you seemed the last time he saw you. to be honest, at the time, he was mostly just irritated. but he never thought you'd actually leave. all he can see is that awful look on your face when you finally ended everything, and all he can remember is the fact that he put it there. he knows in his heart that he has no right to feel this way, but he feels it all the same. 

-

you would have never imagined you'd actually like somebody other than beomgyu, but taehyun makes it as easy as possible given the sticky circumstances. you met at a club your best friend dragged you to, both you and taehyun had to remain sober (designated drivers, of course) and ended up having a surprisingly engaging conversation amidst the blaring music and strobe lights. after that, the rest is history. 

he can tell you've been hurt before, but he gently coaxes you into opening up as you spend more and more time with him. you're afraid of being overbearing and coming across as a lovesick puppy again, but taehyun is gentle and seems to enjoy your attention and affection, even if he's a surface level tsundere. more than that, he actually reciprocates it. 

do you still think about beomgyu? of course. do you miss him? well, you'd never admit it to a single soul, but the way you see him in everything has to be an indicator that you do. it's getting better, though. more bearable. 

a month or so into your relationship, you post about taehyun for the first time. you don't know why you're so nervous about announcing to the world that you have a boyfriend again, but happiness overwhelms your fear when you're met with nothing but positivity. 

-

beomgyu is shellshocked, to put it mildly. the picture of you and your so-called boyfriend is sickly sweet. it's not over the top or anything—just a candid of you in a café holding hands with him while looking over the same menu. the caption is nothing other than a heart and squirrel emoji (why?) and both he and your best friend are tagged. his finger jumps to the boy's profile and he sees the same photo. he scoffs at the cheesiness of it all, but his heart aches at the way all of your friends have commented on the post expressing their happiness for you — they had never approved of him for reasons he's only now beginning to understand.

you always defended him in front of your friends no matter what he did or didn't do. you'd "comfort" him after your friends said something snarky and explain that they just didn't understand him. you'd say that if they knew the real him, they'd see him differently. at the time, he'd scoff and say something along the lines of "i don't need for them to see me differently because i couldn't give less of a fuck about what they think”. you'd be hurt, of course you would be, but you'd never say so.

more and more, like an outsider looking in, he can see just how awful he was to you. it's to his horror that he realizes this must be the case for you, too. the chances of you getting back together with him seem slimmer and slimmer, especially now that you've got that pretty boy on your arm. your words echo in his mind as if to haunt him: "what can i do to make you give a fuck about me?" leave, apparently, and don't look back. 

he can't keep living like this. 

-

a knock on your door is all it takes to ruin your night — you had actually had a really good day up until now. you and taehyun had gone on a breakfast date and napped together until he had to leave in the afternoon, so you're humming now in contentment while applying your nightly skincare, thinking relentlessly about the boy you think you might be starting to love. it feels different from the love you felt for beomgyu, but in a good way. you still think about him and wonder how he's doing, but you always derail that train of thought with a god-given force previously unknown to you. he doesn't care about you, you chant to yourself — it's almost like your daily mantra. in the midst of your thoughts, you hear a knock on the door. you smile widely when you surmise that it's probably taehyun again. you don't realize just how big your grin is until it drops. 

standing before you is not your lovely boyfriend, but the man who made you question whether or not you were even lovable in the first place. he has a small smile on his face, and if you were to look a little more carefully, you'd notice that he actually seems a little nervous. 

"hi," he says, breaking the silence. his heart is racing a mile a minute, and potential scenarios battered his mind the entire way here. what would you do when you saw him? smile? he could handle that. cry? he could also handle that, even if he didn't want to see your tears. what he is not prepared for is the blankness of your features when you ask: 

"what are you doing here?" 

his smile falters almost imperceptibly.

"i, uh, i just wanted to see you." you're merciful enough to give him a nod of encouragement to continue. "a-and i wanted to tell you that i haven't stopped thinking about you for the past few months, and that i, um, i think i'm finally ready to be with you," he finishes with a shaky breath.

you're quiet for a moment and squint your eyes as if you're deep in thought.

"but i thought you were dating someone now? your ex?"

"i'm not!" he says almost a little too quickly.

"i heard you were," you counter, not quite believing him. you heard he had been seeing his ex from one of your friends who happened to live in her apartment complex. she had seen his car in the parking lot a few times in the last couple of weeks and had no reason to lie to you.

"w-well, i've seen her a few times, but not seriously. i — to be honest, i was just trying to get over you, but i've finally realized that i can't becau—"

"so, just to make sure i understand, you're not over me so you're seeing her?" his eyes widen in shock before his head hangs in shame as he realizes exactly what he's done and how he must look to you right about now, but you're not finished. "isn't that what you were doing with me?" your voice is low and indifferent, but each word feels tailor-made to slash at his heart. "wow, i guess some things really never change, but don't worry, i'm sure once she moves on, you'll finally see the good in her instead of me," you spit out.

"can you listen to me? please?" beomgyu is so ashamed he wants to die. he fumbles for the right words, but when he accidentally makes eye contact with you, they die on his lips. he wishes you would give him time to process what you're saying and mull over what to respond with because you always knew he was bad with words, but he supposes he lost the right to your patience a long time ago.

"you want me to listen to you so you can fuck with my head until the next person rolls around?" the latter words are strangled by the tightness in your throat, and he can't help but wince. when he thinks it's over, you continue. 

"nobody has ever made me feel as small as you have. i hated myself because of you," your lip trembles and before he can say a word, you're raising your hand to shut the door.

"wait, wait, wait! just let me say this," he pleads as he gently grasps the doorframe. "i... i love you." he almost thinks he hears you gasp, but he's too busy looking into your unreadable eyes to know for sure. he has never said anything like this to you before. you're completely silent for a few moments before breaking the tense atmosphere.

"j-jesus, i mean, i guess i just don't know what to say," you sputter and his eyes alight with what looks suspiciously like hope. "except maybe that... i'm sorry you feel that way?" you finish with a sardonic smile and a roll of your eyes. before he can respond, which he actually intends to do this time around, you slam the door in his face.

-

if you were to ask beomgyu if he loved his ex mere months ago, he'd say he didn't know for sure, but probably. they ended things rather messily, which seems to be a trend for him, but if he really thinks about it, he doesn't know what he liked about her after all. if he had to pinpoint it, he liked the thrill of the chase and the idea of never knowing how explosive things would inevitably get between the two of them. he liked the toxicity. only now does he understand that that wasn't love at all, but some sort of sick game of hurting and being hurt he doesn't want to play anymore. he doesn't want to hurt the people around him, especially not you, but it would appear that that sentiment has presented itself a little too late. 

there's always been a lot to love about you. always. you're so kind and so incredibly patient, at least with the people you love. you're thoughtful and intentional with your words and actions. you're not perfect, but you try your best to be a good and fair person. and you listen. like, really listen. the kind of listening where you're not just waiting for your turn to talk, but the kind where you genuinely want to know what the other person has to say. even if he didn't know it at the time, beomgyu always did love you. was it in the way you deserved? obviously, with the way things are now, it's perfectly clear it was not. 

even if he does bump into you, it's completely pointless. you made it perfectly clear that you want nothing to do with him. the last thing you said to him echoes in his head with an unspeakable viciousness. 

"i'm sorry you feel that way." he didn't realize just how cruel those words were until they were falling from your lips instead of his. he didn't realize just how cruel he was in general. 

he ponders over how succinctly you summed up your entire dynamic:

"i don't understand why i have to explain basic human emotion to you, and i really don't understand why i have to beg and plead for you to care about how i feel!" to be honest? he doesn't understand why you had to do that, either. 

contrary to what one might suppose about him given his overall shitty personality, he had actually had a pretty good go at life. he was innately able to make the world sit and watch him go, and he wouldn't let anyone forget it. but what should he do since you don't want to watch him anymore? what should he do since you don't want anything to do with him anymore? 

as he sits in the extremely uncomfortable chair of his new least favorite bar, he's confronted by this truth over and over again. he's not completely sure why he's even here — he hates this place, but he remembers you mentioning you liked to come here. in hindsight, there's no doubt that that was a way to hint that you'd like to come with him, but what use is it to recognize it now, after all this time? 

not much, apparently. or at least that's what his conscience is telling him. he should leave, he thinks. he should stop coming here every night hoping he'll run into you because it's wrong to make you uncomfortable when you've said in no uncertain terms that you don't want him anymore. he should, he should, he should. and he will, really. in just a minute. that's what he tells himself, but he just watches the door as he gets drunker and drunker, still.

he's on the brink of literally passing out when he hears a sound he'd recognize anywhere: your laugh. he actually thinks he's hallucinating just because he wants to hear it so fucking badly, but it takes the sound of your voice to convince him it's real. you're actually here. he's incredibly drunk, so the idea of being tactful escapes him. he can't miss this chance.

-

you try, and try, and try some more, but you can't seem to forget beomgyu's last words to you. he loves you? you scoff at the idea. does he even know what love is? it doesn't feel like it —  truly, it doesn't. if that's what his love feels like, you'd rather not feel it at all. 

that's what you keep trying to hammer into your head along with the idea that you're doing well, and you are doing well. seriously. things with taehyun are better than ever and you can really see yourself building a life with him. everything feels so pure and brand new. your feelings for him may lack the intensity that you felt with beomgyu, but that was years in the making, so it's only fair that you nurture the love that's blossoming between the two of you while smothering out the embers of what used to be with beomgyu. it's only right, right? it should be, but the way you're so torn makes your head spin.

so you decide to go to your favorite bar and forget about everything for the night. it's been a long while since you've let loose, and you're excited. you're surrounded by your friends and you're ready to let go. it's only when you excuse yourself to get some fresh air that you realize fate has other plans. 

when you're walking to the curb to take a seat, you feel a tug on your elbow and whip around. 

"who —" you stop dead in your tracks as your eyes meet with beomgyu's misty ones. the ones you used to love so much. 

"hey," he says weakly.

"what do you want?" you seethe while harshly yanking your elbow from his grasp. his lips purse and even in the dim lighting outside of the bar, you can see his eyes water even more. he's always been such a baby when he's drunk. 

"i just wanna talk," he pleads. he sounds so out of it and looks so pathetic you almost feel bad for him. almost.

"i have nothing to say to you," you reply coldly. 

"but i do." he sounds desperate to a degree that you sincerely never thought you'd hear.

"what, are you gonna tell me you love me again?" you retort with a roll of your eyes. you're obviously being sarcastic, but all he can think in his drunken state is how pretty your eyes shine even when they're impatient to look away from him.

"if you're not gonna say anything, i'm leaving," you snap, turning away, but beomgyu is awoken from his daze and gently pulls you back.

"n-no! i mean, yes. i love you, b-but that's not what i wanted to say."

"well, what did you want to say?" you ask, tone laced with annoyance. 

seeing that you'll actually give him a chance to hear him out, he scrambles for a moment before clearing his throat. he’s so anxious that you can see his hands shaking as he wrings them.

"i just want to tell you that i’m sorry. i know i’ve said it before, but i want you to hear it again, and i’ll tell you as many times as it takes for you to believe me. i want to make it up to you — i really do — and i know that i can change. i'm — i just miss you so much i can't stand it. i-if you don’t feel the same way, or don’t care, or however it is, i understand; but i meant it when i said i love you, and i mean it now when i say that i'm so, so fucking sorry," his voice cracks as he finishes and hot tears threaten to find their way down his face. 

"beomgyu..." you begin, not really sure what to say. what is there to say? and any hope he has of being with you is almost extinguished when he sees how much you pity him in this moment, but he'll hold on for as long as you'll let him.

"you said you saw the real me. you know i'm not all bad, right? i'm a piece of shit, but i can't be all bad," he pleads, tears now streaming unabashedly from his eyes. maybe if he can just find the right words, you won't leave him.

"beomgyu," you sigh, "i've never thought that about you. i know you're not all bad," his face perks up at this and he's tempted to bury his face in your neck and sob in pure relief. the pain he's been feeling for the past few months is about to be over because you understand him. always have. even though he's like this, you can still see the good in him. just the thought alone is enough to fill him with pure ecstasy. he goes to close the distance between the two of you to pull you into his embrace, but you gently place your hand on his chest before he can come any closer.

"thank you for telling me how you feel, beomgyu, but if you think you can fix everything with a few words, you're delusional." his face crumbles at this and a sense of panic and dread pools in his stomach.

"w-what? b-but you said —" 

"i know you're sorry, and i know you'd probably try to make it up to me if i let you, but that's not enough. you really hurt me, okay? and it's just, you know, i'm finally happy now, and i have taehyun. i really like him, beomgyu. and he really likes me," you say with a fond smile, as if you're thinking of taehyun right now, and his heart shatters into a million pieces. 

"it's okay," he smiles bitterly, tears still flowing freely. "i... i understand. i just want you to be happy. i want you to be so happy. you deserve it."

"but..."

"go back in," he sniffles. "you don't need to stay here with me anymore." he swipes at his eyes with his sleeve and tries to send you off with a smile, but it's so forlorn, you wish he'd just keep frowning.

"... okay." you turn away, and even though he told you to do it, he can't help but feel an even bigger lump in his throat now that you're actually listening to him.

"beomgyu?" you say softly, before you enter the door. 

his damned heart can't help but flutter again against his will. 

"yes?" 

"don't wait for me anymore, okay?" and he knows you’re being kind, but it feels so final, it hurts more than any hateful words ever could. he should agree, but the ugly and selfish part of him refuses to lie, so he just shakes his head and waves you off. his love is ugly and his heart is broken, but it's still yours to have. 

"I'm sorry," he murmurs again to nobody but himself as you enter the bar.

-

“tyuuunn,” you whine into your phone’s speaker. you can’t tell how it's been since your final conversation with beomgyu, but now you’re drunk and all you can think about is taehyun. about his kindness, how happy he makes you feel, and how much you want to give him all of that in return.

“what is it, baby?” he coos. even in your inebriated state, you can hear the smile in his voice and it makes you wanna smile, too. 

“miss youuu,” you groan. he laughs at your childishness, and you can feel just how much he’s doting on you. it’s a relatively new feeling, being cared for like this, but it’s one you welcome with fervor.

“let me pick you up from that stupid bar so you can stay the night. how’s that sound?” 

“mmm, hurry up,” you pout, and he just laughs again. god, you’re gonna feel so embarrassed by your neediness come tomorrow morning, and he can’t wait to tease you. 

taehyun is so eager to see you, he almost gets pulled over twice while making his way to the bar. he just can’t wait to see how cute you’ll look in his arms, all whiny and grumpy and begging for affection; and he’ll baby you, like he always does, because you deserve it. when he had heard about your appalling history with beomgyu, he couldn’t believe how someone could treat a person as sweet as you so cruelly. truth be told, you do have a bit of a softer personality, but that only evoked the need to protect and cherish you in taehyun. he can’t fathom the idea that somebody would see someone so pure and decide to take advantage instead of nurturing that innocence. his friends keep saying he’s a sucker, and they’re probably right, but he’ll happily be one for you. 

he’s lost in his thoughts when he pulls into the parking lot of the bar you’re in, but his dopey grin drops the second he sees your dreaded ex stumbling away from the building. his face is red, and he’s feverishly wiping away tears and snot. taehyun is a smart man, so he can easily piece together what must have happened, but the thought that you were still thinking of taehyun in this moment comforts him. you had run into your ex, and instead of running back to him, you’re thinking of your new boyfriend. what a relief. taehyun has always known you were still a little broken up about your split with beomgyu. he came into this relationship fully knowing that, but he liked you so much, he really didn’t care. maybe it was rash of him, but he thought it was worth taking a chance. he thought you were worth taking a chance, and so far, he had been correct. 

he parks and stays in his car. if he were a petty person, he might ignore beomgyu and just walk right by him with his arm wrapped around your waist. taehyun, however, is a good person. so good, in fact, he waits for beomgyu’s friend to pick him up before leaving his car to find you.

when he enters the bar, he scans the crowd before he finds you sitting with your friends. your phone is to your ear and it only takes a few seconds for his own to ring. he smiles when he sees your contact photo (the one you both took on a date to your favorite frozen yogurt shop) appear on his screen. he rejects the call and watches you pout before striding over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder. you turn around with a scowl, but your features immediately melt, and you grace him with a toothy grin. you excitedly squeal and wrap your arms around him. he matches your enthusiasm as he peppers your face with kisses.

beomgyu, who has very unfortunately come back to get his phone, watches it all and it’s enough to make him nauseous. he’s in such a daze as he watches you two that he barely registers his own friend honking at him to hurry up. he sees the afterimage of you leaning into taehyun’s touch and accepts the fact that you’ve truly moved on and won’t be coming back. he replays the last conversation you had and he decides he’ll hold onto your words forever. they’re all he has left, after all.

-

you’re so used to taehyun’s apartment that even though you’re drunk enough to see stars, you’re still able to navigate it with ease. taehyun sits you down on his couch and kneels while removing your shoes for you. 

“so chivalrous,” you giggle. 

“anything for my princess,” he replies cheekily with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. 

“why are you so nice?” 

“because i like you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“i like you, too.” you whisper while your face warms. your gaze becomes heated, and he cups your cheeks while gently guiding your face towards his. his touch is soft, and his lips? even softer. 

he doesn’t push for more. you’re drunk and vulnerable at the moment, so he graciously grabs some of his clothes for you to change into and waits for you to come to bed. when you do, you plop down and he pulls you into his arms. you smile at his earnestness. he locks his arms around you, and for the first time in your life, a man is making you feel so happy and secure you can’t help but melt into the feeling. you feel safe. you feel loved.

“i really like you, you know?” he whispers into your hair, and it’s all you can do to keep your heart inside of your chest. 

“i know. i really like you, too.” and you do. things with taehyun are still new, but as his breathing slows, you realize this is how love should be, and you think you want to be with him for a long, long time.

notes pt. 2: yes there will be an alternate ending where she ends up with gyu :,)

[taglist]

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if you would like to join any of my taglists, send an ask or join here!

[childrenofcain-if]

The D scenario was way too sad, author, I'm begging for you to make it up for our sad rockstar cowboy/cowgirl 😭👺

here’s the pt. 1 of this.

the phone call ended with a terrible finality. the sound of D’s voice cutting off mid-sentence felt like a door slamming shut, loud and unmistakable.

you stood in your new york city apartment, one hand still gripping the phone, the other clenched at your side. your heart was racing, every beat a thud of regret, anger, and guilt. the city hummed outside your window, a discordant symphony of car horns and distant chatter, but you barely noticed it. all you could hear was D’s voice echoing in your head, sharp and raw: “i’m here, waiting by the damn phone every night like some—some pathetic—”

you ran a hand through your hair, pulling at the roots as you began pacing back and forth across the narrow strip of space between the kitchenette and the window. the floorboards creaked under your weight, an old building’s way of reminding you it was there, but it couldn’t anchor you.

“what is wrong with me?” you muttered, your voice harsh in the quiet room.

your anger had already started to unravel, leaving only the jagged edges of shame. you replayed the conversation in your head, your own voice rising, defensive and cold. and then D’s, breaking apart in places they hadn’t meant to let you hear.

D wasn’t needy. not really. at least not to you. they were just... D. passionate, fiery, always a little too much and never quite enough, all at the same time. and you—you were a mess in your own way, carrying your ambitions like armor and forgetting, sometimes, to reach out from behind it.

you slumped onto the couch, your elbows on your knees, your head in your hands. this wasn’t who you wanted to be. this wasn’t the kind of partner you wanted to be.

after what felt like hours, you finally sat back, exhaling shakily. the truth was as clear as it was painful: you’d both been wrong. neither of you was handling this well. the distance, the texts, the calls—it was a pressure cooker, and tonight it had finally boiled over.

but you loved D. that thought settled over you like a weight and a balm all at once. you loved them, and love meant showing up, not just when it was convenient, but especially when it wasn’t.

you grabbed your phone, fingers flying over the screen as you pulled up flight options. austin. friday night. it wasn’t exactly cheap, but money wasn’t an issue. you booked the ticket before you could overthink it, the confirmation email lighting up your inbox a second later.

***

the week passed in a haze of classes and half-hearted meals. every time your phone buzzed, your stomach twisted, but the messages were always mundane. updates from classmates, a sale alert from your favorite store. nothing from D.

by the time friday rolled around, you were vibrating with nerves. your luggage was packed and sitting by the door. you made sure your phone was fully charged, and set your alarm two hours earlier than necessary. you checked on your luggage three times before finally locking it and hauling it out of the apartment.

the subway station was crowded, the air thick with the smell of metal and sweat. you stood with one hand on your phone, your other clutching your bag, eyes darting to the mytransit nyc app and the digital displays above to make sure you don’t miss the subway leaving for the airport. five more minutes to go.

and then you saw them.

at first, it didn’t register. just another figure in the sea of commuters near the turnstiles, fumbling with a yellow metrocard at the machine. but then they turned, and your heart stopped.

D.

they looked different here, out-of-place but somehow not. the edges of their leather jacket were fraying, and their doc martens were scuffed, a sharp contrast to the polished shoes and sleek coats of the people bustling around them. but their eyes—those stormy gray eyes you could pick out in a crowd of thousands—were unmistakable.

D saw you at the same moment.

for a second, neither of you moved. the station swirled around you, a blur of noise and movement, but it might as well have been silent.

then, like magnets, you were drawn together. you barely registered your feet moving, barely noticed the way people swerved to avoid you. and then you were there, your arms around D, their arms around you, and it was everything.

the kiss was messy, desperate, and entirely too public. you could feel D’s hands shaking where they gripped your shoulders, could taste the salt of what might have been tears.

when you finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, you were both laughing breathlessly.

“w-what are you doing here?” you asked, the words tumbling out between shaky breaths.

D gave a sheepish smile, one hand rubbing at the back of their neck.

“i was coming to see you. i couldn’t—” their voice caught, and they shook their head, trying again. “i couldn’t stand it. i couldn’t stand being apart anymore.”

“i was on my way to the airport,” you said, still holding onto them like they might vanish if you let go. “i booked a flight to austin. i was coming to apologize. to fix this.”

D’s arms tightened around you, their eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your chest ache.

“you don’t need to apologize,” they said, their voice low and rough. “i’m the one who... god, i’ve been a mess without you. i keep overthinking everything, and then i get scared, and then i just—” they broke off, exhaling shakily. “i love you so much, and i’m sorry. for all of it.”

“i love you and i’m sorry too,” you said, reaching up to cup their face. their skin was warm under your palms and the familiar scent of expensive marlboros, leather and cinnamon made your head spin pleasantly. “i should’ve called more. i should’ve—”

“stop,” D interrupted, shaking their head. “we’re both idiots. let’s just agree on that and call it even.”

you laughed, a wet, shaky laugh that felt more like relief than humor. “deal.”

a few people were giving you strange looks as they looked over you two, but you both ignored them. one older woman smiled as she passed, muttering something about young love.

you took D’s hand, threading your fingers through theirs.

“come on,” you said, a grin breaking through the tears. “i can’t wait to show you around the city.”

D huffed a laugh. “don’t know if i’m gonna like it too much,” they said, but their eyes were soft, and their grip on your hand was firm.

“you’ll like it,” you promised. “i’ll make sure of it.”

D glanced at you, their gray eyes soft and full of something that made your chest feel too small.

“maybe,” they said. “but even if i don’t... i’ve already found you here, that alone makes the city tolerable in my book.”

[hemlock-dreams]

PleSe may I ask for a tiny morsel of the written word depicting bartender Petey taking care of business when some customers get too rowdy? Saw the "80s theme" and immediately thought he'd look amazing tossing out the trash (ideally covered in blood cause can't make an omelets without breaking eggs but bartenders don't tend to break faces sadly)

Here yo go! Have a snippet from the upcoming Chapter 2 of Pick Your Poison!! Hope you enjoy!!

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

Wade sees Baby Boy snatch a bottle that comes flying at him out of the air without looking. 

Damn, they threw the thing at mach speed, too. Wade’s got to hand it to the kid; those are some impressive reflexes. He follows the easy catch by spinning the glass with enough flair to make a schoolgirl swoon, setting it against the bartop like he’s the main character.

The jackasses in the back don’t even notice, hauling each other over the tables in a messy, drunken sprawl. Wade hasn’t seen this much fumbling since prom night.

It’s embarrassing. He should do Weasel a favor (and indulge himself) by shooting them in the legs for interrupting plans between Wade and his future paycheck. But the look of intense concentration on Baby Boy’s face is distracting. That’s the furrowed brow of a man who is about to fuck around and find out.

Boo. Three more days and Baby Boy would have passed the cutoff mark. 

Wade usually likes hedging his bets on the underdog for the thrill, but four against one is bad odds for anyone who isn’t Deadpool, even a civvie with so many tough-guy tattoos. 

“And he was this close to being the final girl,” Wade mourns performatively, sparing a glance at Weasel to gauge how the man is feeling about the prospect of watching his civilian pet project get snapped in half. But the asshole just looks vaguely amused, which piques Wade’s interest.

So he turns back around just in time to watch Baby Boy march right into fucking around territory, straight up walking toward the group of heavily-armed mercs, no weapons, no foreplay, no nothing– just moxie.

Damn. He’s stupid. Wade likes that in a guy.

“Hey,” Baby Boy says, wrapping a hand around the leg of one wooden chair as the one with a bad haircut raises it over his head. 

Their kerfuffle is interrupted as four extremely drunk mercs with more bullets than brains pause to reorient their attention on Baby Boy.

“You know the rules. Sit down, or take it outside,” He continues, tugging on the chair like he’s trying to take it from an unruly toddler. 

There’s a collective laugh from all four bozos as they forget their beef to unionize against a new, soft, and squishy target.

“Oh yeah?” The short one smiles, revealing a row of really ugly teeth. Wade’s fist immediately itches to plant itself into that mouth, just for offending his eyes like that. “Who’s going to make us, you?” 

The edge of Baby Boy’s mouth curves, “If I have to,” he says, and it can’t be mistaken as anything but a taunt.

Bold move, Cotton. 

The rest of the bar, normally oblivious to a few broken pieces of furniture and some blood, takes notice of the audacity. Wade can practically hear eyeballs turning and the collective bating of breath. 

“That’s cute. He thinks he can take us.” Bad Haircut snickers, drunkenly swaying into the conversation. He gives Baby Boy a once-over, expression turning lewd, “Then again, maybe he can…in one of the back rooms.” 

“He does have bigger tits than most of the girls here,” His unfortunate-looking friend leers, staring at Baby Boy’s admittedly mouth-watering chest. Motherfucker is tall and top-heavy, built like a linebacker, invading the kid’s space like he’s looking for a touchdown if you get Wade’s drift. “Got a pretty face, too. What do you say, sweetheart? Why don’t we go to the back and we can apologize to you real good.”

Baby Boy’s hand constricts halfway into a fist before he forces it to relax. He looks like he’s barely holding himself back, and coin flip on whether this is going to be very funny or very sad, but either way, Wade’s on board to be entertained.

“Yo Weasel,” Ugly Smile calls out, eyes locked on Baby Boy, lurid and alcohol-glazed, “You mind if we take your bar boy for a spin?”

His grin promises an unpleasant time, but Wade isn’t worried. Maggie’s is a shithole for sure, with morals looser than Wade’s jaw, but some things are still too far. Not that it keeps these loser shitheads from defaulting to it when they need to compensate.

“You break it, you buy it,” Weasel replies gamely. Which, dang, cold. Always nice to be reminded why Wade kind of likes the guy. 

Baby Boy’s mouth twitches into a smile, and Wade’s entire body goes on alert, “Take the chair out of my rent, then.”

Ready, set, action. An invisible hand slams the clapboard, and everyone bursts into motion.

The chair in question swings and misses. Baby Boy fluidly sidestepping both Bad Haircut and his buddy, grabbing the support and using the momentum to hook the wooden back over Linebacker’s neck, flipping the chair and twisting both mercs like puppets before sending them crashing to the floor. 

Bad Haircut is scrambling up, but Linebacker is pinned to the floor by his chair necklace, anchored by Baby Boy’s leg as he presses down hard enough to snap the wood and drive the remaining air out of his lungs.

The bigger they are, the dumber they fall. Linebacker is immediately out for the count, but a broken chair is still useful, and Baby Boy is apparently the creative sort.

The snapped leg turns into a baton, and Baby Boy leisurely sways out of pistol-whipping range when Bad Haircut pulls out his gun, dancing back in to drive the splintered wood under the merc’s armpit on the outswing.

Screaming in pain, Bad Haircut stumbles back only for Baby Boy to grab his wrist and haul him forward, twisting his arm in a fancy maneuver that ends up with the gun on the floor and kicked safely out of reach.

Interesting.

Then it’s a pas de deux, with Baby Boy’s back against Haircut’s chest, using the impaled baton as leverage to toss the man over his shoulder and straight into Ugly Smile. 

The merc falls out of the way, only to run into Baby Boy’s fist as it buries deep in his guts. Even at a distance, Wade can hear his ribs break. Doubled over, Ugly Smile is coughing up blood and vomit when a tattooed hand cradles the back of his head and slams his mouth into the table once, twice, three times. Then it’s lights out.

It’s over almost as soon as it began, and as the dust settles, Wade is reevaluating the merits of his earlier bet. 

Yes, they were drunk, but Wade still expected it to be fast, if not messy. He hadn’t been counting on class. He hadn’t been counting on Baby Boy to be the one last standing, let alone to have shut them down so completely it barely merits the paragraph.

And the kid isn’t even done. He’s locked eyes with the fourth guy, jaw flexing like an attack dog straining against its leash, but the dumbass looks like he’s turned over a new leaf and become a law-abiding citizen in the few heartbeats it took Baby Boy to clean the floor with his buddies. 

When the guy doesn’t make a move, Baby Boy leans back, completely relaxed, eyes flat, no sense of triumph in the aftermath, just…disappointment– like he’d been craving something more and been left wanting.

Wade can’t resist a low, appreciative whistle, clocking the way Baby Boy’s entire body reacts to the sound. His head snaps in Wade’s direction, and the whole room vignettes as he stares Wade down, eyes flashing like he wants to crumble his spine like a cookie. 

Lust stabs Wade’s gut all the way to the hilt.

“Changed my mind, Weas,” Wade breathes, feeling the tension drain from the room and right into his dick. “You should keep him.”

[wishfulsketching]

So. That was Arcane. As a whole.

Best episode of the season was episode 7. I might be a bit biased thanks to Silco and Vander living it up as their older selves but also, Ekko is truly the mvp of the show.

I hmm. Well. Victor. I see what was going on there. I see the vision. I loved lot of it. I had the sudden realizations of "that's Victor, right" before it happened....dude looked more like Jesus than ever before too. But uhh. Hmm. Hmm. There is like a chapter missing between s1 and s2 with Victor. Or more like mid season 2 chapter. Love my boy still. I did not care for his Machine Herald look. I liked the idea of the face being split. It hmm. I feel like they said, instead of showed, a lot with Victor this season.

My controversial opinion: Isha was unnecessary. The black rose mage stuff was unnecessary. Same end result could've been achieved with other means. Vi was just there to experience things and be sad. Jinx can't have shit and should suffer all the time, I guess.

BUT

Nice

My man was a positive voice for Jinx. Uhhh in a way. Kinda made her go suicidal but like, he was trying. He is always trying. Even after death. Maybe after his hallucination talk people will understand that Silco wasn't just a evil dude with evil things to do, he was as trapped as everyone else in Zaun and wanted to break free.

Tho, I doubt it. The main enemy in Arcane is the class divide. In my eyes.

I do love the exploration of Hextech and how using magic in a technological way can be super dangerous and fuck shit up. I wanted to see that. And I did see that in season 1, when Jayce realizes how dangerous the hextech weapons are! Exploring the time loop and how abstract magic is, was great! I just.

I love this show. Very much. Season 1, no notes. It's made for me.

Season 2 seems like a people pleaser. And I am pleased! Yet I also wanted something different.

I am still happy because I got my vindication. Zaundads is canon, fuck yeah! No man looks at another man like that and is not in love with them!

I loved that they kept that Vander still tried to kill Silco. Silco went "yea ok that ass too good to quit. What is little murder between lovers, anyway. Come here bby"

Only thing. Silco should've interacted with Jinx in the alternative timeline. A simple "you look beautiful" when she has her entrance or "hey here's snack have fun building whatever you guys are building. Don't make too much noise, your father and I need to get up early tomorrow ok bye bye my perfect little genius"

[daisymbin]

Would you mind writing about Vernon with the angst prompt #22 and second chance prompt #36? Thank you so much m💜

of course!! thank you for requesting such a good combo!!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hansol's m.list

angst prompt #22: "I can't lose you again." +

second chance prompt #36: "you're still the first person i think of when i hear good news."

hansol didn’t think he’d ever have this moment again.

you, standing in front of him, looking at him like you were waiting for him to speak, waiting for him to say something that mattered.

it had been months. months since that fight, months since the slammed door, months since the version of him that loved you was tucked away in a part of him he didn’t think he could reach again. except he did reach it. every time he saw something funny. every time he heard a song you’d love. every time someone said your name.

and now you were here, and he was scrambling, piecing together fragments of himself that shattered the day he lost you.

“you look... good,” he managed, voice breaking on the second word.

your lips curled into a faint smile. “so do you.”

but you didn’t. not really. not to him.

you looked tired, as if you’d carried something heavy all the way to him, and hansol wondered if he was the weight you’d been dragging behind you all this time.

“what are you doing here?” he asked softly, hands shoved deep into his pockets to keep them from shaking.

you hesitated. he knew you hated confrontation, and part of him wanted to tell you it was okay, that you didn’t owe him anything. but the other part—the bigger part—couldn’t stand to see you turn away again.

“i don’t know,” you said finally, voice as fragile as glass. “i just… i guess i needed to see you.”

he couldn’t breathe.

“why?”

you laughed, but it wasn’t the laugh he missed. this one was bitter, almost sad.

“i guess i was hoping you could tell me,” you admitted. the words falling out of mouth like an apology.

hansol took a step closer, his hands twitching at his sides. he didn’t dare touch you, not yet, not when it felt like you might disappear if he blinked too hard.

and hansol realized something then—he didn’t care why. all he cared about was that you were here.

“i thought about you,” he confessed, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

your eyes met his, wide and unsure, and hansol pressed on, desperate to fill the silence between you.

“every day,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. “even when i tried not to. i thought about you.”

you didn’t say anything, and hansol felt the panic rising in his chest.

“you’re still the first person i think of when i hear good news,” he admitted, his hands curling into fists. “every time something happens, i want to tell you. and then i remember i can’t. not anymore,”

your breath hitched, and hansol felt like he was unraveling, the words pouring out faster than he could catch them.

“i can’t lose you again,” he said, the desperation thick in his voice. “not after this. not after—”

“hansol.”

your voice was soft but firm, and it stopped him in his tracks.

you stepped closer, your eyes searching his face for something he didn’t know if he could give you.

“why?” you asked, echoing his earlier question.

“because you’re here,” he said, and it was the only answer he had. “because i never stopped wanting to fix this. fix us. but i didn’t know how. i didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

you didn’t say anything right away, and hansol’s heart felt like it was seconds away from shattering.

“do you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

you looked down, your fingers twitching like you were debating something, and when you looked back up, there was something in your eyes that hansol hadn’t seen in months.

“i don’t know,” you said honestly, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

but then your lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and hansol felt the slightest flicker of hope.

“maybe,” you said, and hansol realized that maybe was enough. maybe meant there was a chance.

“can we try?” he asked, his voice trembling.

you didn’t answer, not with words. but when your fingers brushed against his, hesitant and unsure, hansol felt the air return to his lungs.

he didn’t know what would happen next. he didn’t know if this was the start of something new or the beginning of another heartbreak.

but when your hand slipped into his, he decided it didn’t matter.

[daydaydayrk420]

Space for third?

Ororo Munroe x male reader x Logan Howlett

⚠️threesome, kissing, head⚠️

🚨minors and girls do not interact🚨

______________________________________________________________

...

..

.

The movie starts off well. But then suddenly it turns into porn. Like literally. The actors start off with kissing. Then stripping. And then fucking. All of their body parts are visible.

Ororo and Logan are suddenly reminded of their earlier actions. Their faces flush.

Y/n looks aside questioning the situation and what he should do. Suddenly he feels a large hand on his thigh. And two smaller hands on his belly. He looks down.

Ororo's hands are tracing the hem of his shirt while Logan rubs circles on his inner thigh. The third wheel gasps and looks at them.

"Wha-" y/n is about to question what's happening but Logan cuts him off with a kiss. Y/n gasps yet again but it doesn't take him long before he returns the kiss with desperation.

In the meantime, Ororo's hands traveled under y/n's shirt. Y/n whines and grabs Ororo's hands through his shirt. The lovers stop. Logan pulls back from the kiss and looks at the younger man with concern that matches the white-haired lady's expression.

"What's wrong?" Storm asks softly. Y/n pouts as he processes the situation. Both Logan and Ororo would smile at that cute pout if they weren't worried about his comfort.

"You... you're not just humoring me right...? The third wheel asks with a quiet and shaky voice. The lovers' hearts break. "No. No no no. Why would we do that? We wouldn't play with your emotions like that." Ororo said from behind him. She turned his head gently so they could lock eyes and y/n would know she was telling the truth.

Y/N sniffles. Not because he's sad. But because he's overwhelmed.

Ororo hugs him tightly while Lagan brushes his hair. "Hey... it's alright, we don't gotta do anything if you don't want to." The older man said.

Y/n shakes his head. "I want to. Fuck. I want to so much. I'm just overwhelmed." The third wheel explained with a shaky voice.

Storm kissed the younger man's neck for comfort. "Take your time." She murmured and slowly retraced his belly.

Logan joined in and kissed y/n's other side of his neck. The third lover closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling he's been yearning for so long.

His hands move on their own. They reach up and grab Logan's hair. Logan groans and presses his face into y/n's neck.

Before they all know it, clothes are scattered around the room while their bodies mingle. The room is filled with moans and kissing sounds as the throuple enjoy their bare bodies pressed together.

Y/n is lying down while Ororo is sitting next to him kissing him like a madwoman while Logan is kissing his inner thighs.

He moans into Storm's lips when he feels Logan's breath on his balls. But Logan ignores that spot and kisses the v dent that's on y/n's abdomen and hips.Logan knows he's torturing the younger man, but he can't help but tease him.

But when y/n whines Logan gives in. He presses a gentle kiss to y/n's tip. Said man gasps in surprise, and his hand flies to the older mans hair.

Ororo giggles and pulls back to look at y/n's flustered expression.

The younger man pouts, but that's soon replaced with a gaping mouth as he gasps when Logan takes him into his mouth.

The older man bobs his head and hollows his cheeks for better pleasure. Y/n's so close to coming. Logan can probably tell because he pulls off. The younger man is about to protest, but Ororo's thigh moving past his face distracts him.

Y/n focuses on how the delicious chocolate thighs rest by his head. The heat radiating out of Storm's weeping cunt sends a shiver down y/n's back. He looks at her.

The way she towers over him. The way she looks at him. The way her delicate hands move down her body towards her white hairs surrounding the delicious looking lips between her legs. The way her fingers spread her folds apart before she slowly and teasingly lowers herself onto y/n's face.

The younger man's hands fly to her thighs and grip them as he eagerly sticks his tongue out to taste her.

Both Ororo and y/n moan when his tongue makes contact with her folds. She grips the headboard to hold up her weight so she doesn't suffocate the man.

In the meantime, Logan watches as he preps himself.

Ororo gasps and digs her nails into the wooden headboard when y/n's nails dig into her thighs. She looks behind herself and sees how logan is slowly lowering himself on y/n's dick.

The younger man's hips thrust up into Logan eagerly. Logan groans and leans forward to rest his forehead on his girlfriends shoulder.

She leans back so Logan can reach. They both roll their hips. Ororo rides y/n's tongue while Logan starts bouncing on y/n's cock.

Y/n whines and wraps one arm around Ororo's leg, where it meets her hip to pull her more onto his face while his other hands grip Logan's thigh.

Ororo moans as y/n's tongue made wonders inside her heat. Logan clawed at the bed as he angled his hips, so y/n's dick hit the perfect spot.

The room is filled with moans and wet skin slapping against wet skin. Storm's knees buckle, and her eyes turn white. Her thighs squeeze around the younger man's head, and her body sparkles, causing her skin to zap y/n's, but he keeps on licking. In fact, it sends bolts (literally) of adrenaline down his body that only pushes him further.

Logan whines as he watches his girlfriend buckle on y/n's tongue. The way her white hair stands with the electricity running through her body. The way you can see little electricity sparks in her hair and around her body.

Logan's close too. His claws penetrate the mattress all the way through as his hips drop onto y/n's with full weight.

The younger man groans and arches his back as he claws at their thighs. He's so overwhelmed. Ororo's powers are zapping his body where it's touching hers. His hips are sore as Logan's full weight drops each time. This man is not walking after this. Fuck he's lucky if he gets out of this without a broken hip.

He cries out as both Logan and Ororo colapse on him. His owm hair stands up with electricity, and his legs give out from the weight. His face gets covered in Ororo's cum while his stomach gets covered with Logan's.

The heavier man rolls his hips a few times until he feels his ass getting stuffed with y/n's cum.

Once Ororo and Logan gain the energy back, they get off of y/n's drained body. Storm giggles when she sees that y/n is half asleep with a wet face and a lazy grin. His hair is a mess, and there's still some sparks visible.

Logan gets up to get something to clean his lovers with. Once he returns, he sees how Ororo is caressing y/n's hair, but the man is still in the same starfish position he was in when Logan left.

"Are you alright, bub?" Logan asks as he wipes his cum off of y/n's stomach. Y/n mumbles tiredly. Both Ororo and Logan chuckle. "Used?" Logan asks. Y/n nods and yawns.

Logan cleans all of them up before he lays down on y/n's side. Ororo lays on the other side, and they both cuddle him.

The younger man is long asleep while Logan and Ororo just admire him.

Why did they wait so long to confront him. They both look at each other and smile. They finally have the one they wanted. They can sleep calmly now.

Eventually, Ororo and Logan fall asleep too and cuddle onto the younger man.

They sleep with grins on their faces because they know y/n will need all the attention and help in the morning. He might even need to borrow Charles's wheelchair.

[thursdayinspace]

ficlet (breaking up just doesn't work for them)

or: thing that can stand on its own but might also maybe possibly be a WIP now, who the fuck even knows anymore, my WIP folder has given up on me at this point. Rating: Explicit

tagging @today-in-fic

---

They shouldn’t. They said they wouldn’t do this anymore. And she knows it’s the right decision—they can’t risk it interfering with their work, with their partnership. What they have together is too important. That hadn’t stopped her from spending the weekend on the couch crying after they’d decided to end it. And he’d been quiet on Monday morning, looking like he hadn’t slept in days, and the pain in his eyes every time he’d looked at her told her he was as heartbroken as she was.

It’s been weeks now. And she misses him like a severed limb even though they’re together all the time. But he doesn’t put his hand on her back anymore. He looks quickly away every time their eyes meet. She understands. He’s hurting the same way she is. She’s starting to wonder if they made the right decision. Some days it feels like she’s losing him, and she has to excuse herself and step outside for a moment, sit down somewhere out of view because her head is spinning as she tries to stop herself from hyperventilating. She knows it wouldn’t take more than a single look, a single touch to have him in her arms again, but she can’t, she can’t. They said they wouldn’t.

Five weeks. That’s how long they last before he knocks on her door on a Wednesday night after a long day at the office where they barely exchanged a word. He looks awful, like he’s been crying, and her heart hurts in her chest.

“Send me away,” he says, his voice breaking on the last syllable. “Please send me away.”

She doesn’t answer, keeps one hand on the door. She should close it. She should step back and let him in. She shouldn’t look into his beautiful sad eyes that cut into her soul and destroy her utterly until she feels tears prickling behind her eyes. She stands frozen in speechless indecision as the seconds tick past and give him her answer, and his palms framing her face make her paper-thin walls crumble. His first kiss is tentative but she can feel him trembling as she puts her hands on his chest, she can feel the pounding of his heart, and she wraps her arms around him and jumps as he lifts, her legs coming around his hips. She kicks the door closed once he steps over the threshold. Neither of them speaks as he carries her to the bedroom.

Touching his naked skin as he stretches out next to her isn’t the comfort she expected; it makes her desperate for him until she feels like she’s shaking apart with the love that’s pushing at the confines of her being. Finally he meets her eyes, the hunger in them stealing the breath from her lungs. All she can do as he kisses his way down her body is to close her eyes and put her hands in his hair. She can’t move, all her muscles are gone. She’s his now to do with as he pleases.

His mouth on her makes her moan and arch her back off the mattress. There are no words, not after these past few weeks, not for the magnitude of this love that only managed to grow during their separation. But she understands what he’s telling her. There are no words, but his mouth is saying everything she longed to hear for so long. His lips closing around her clit, his tongue pushing into her, the sounds he makes as he presses in closer, buries his face deeper against her and eats her out like he’s been starving. There’s relief and ecstasy in his voice as he gives himself to her, gives her what she needs.

Her orgasm washes through her in wave after wave of release so intense it makes her tears finally spill over; she’s coming for the first time in five weeks. She hadn’t even been able to touch herself with the loss of him numbing every part of her body and soul. He waits until she’s done before he crawls back up the bed, waits for her nod before he lowers himself between her legs and pushes into her, stretching her, filling her so completely. She’s always loved his size, but she welcomes it more than ever now. He’s everywhere.

His thrusts are slow and hard, his hands hooked around her shoulders to keep her in place, and she’s pinned to the mattress beneath him. He’s taking her, claiming her, and she digs her nails into his back, knowing he likes when she marks him, she’s seen him twisting around in front of a mirror admiring the scratch marks on his skin. He fucks her like he owns her, and he does, he does. The same way he’s given her ownership of his heart a long, long time ago.

She knows he needs to come, she can hear it in his breath, can feel it in the controlled, forceful roll of his hips, but he makes her come again first, and this time it happens slowly, the pressure building and building until she falls over the edge with a final push. She can’t breathe, can’t make a sound, her whole body is alive with pleasure that won’t end as he keeps going relentlessly even when his movements become frantic, erratic. He waits, he holds on until she’s spent, her body unclenching, sinking down against the rumpled sheets.

She holds him as he lets go, as he buries himself deep inside her and cries out, and she’s missed this more than she can fully understand. He’s shaking in her arms after he’s done and she wonders if it feels like this for everyone, like the universe isn’t big enough for everything she feels.

They don’t say the words. They don’t have to. They both already know.

[nightlyrequiem]

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 11- Cohabitation

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: We were making monthly payments on a bedframe, and it's been fully paid off for three months now and I still don't have it. I've been sleeping on just a mattress since May. Three months of waiting is crazy. Or maybe I'm just impatient. Should've used Wayfair.

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH20.), Dual POV

You use the wall to help you walk. You should have crutches. Or a cane. Even a large stick would've been nice. Instead, you're left to awkwardly navigate the halls of the compound with a barely useable leg. Every step sends sharp pains shooting up your calf.  It turns into a dull ache in your thigh. You just climbed a flight of stairs and have to pause to catch your breath. It's not that effective, considering every deep breath makes your lungs push against your ribs in a hellish manner. You shake your head and limp along to Valeria's office.

You rap your knuckles against the wooden door and wait. You were supposed to be here by eleven but you were slowed considerably by your injures by ten minutes. A dark splotch has appeared on your punctuality record, and you are not pleased about it.

"Come in." Valeria calls, smooth voiced muffled.

You push open the door and hobble on inside. Valeria sighs and pushes a small stack of paperwork to the side. She stretches, arms and head back. Exposing the tan column of her throat. You lean against the wall to give your leg a break while Valeria stands.

"Lets go." she jerks her head, beckoning you to follow.

The drive to Valeria's home isn't long. You expect to see something extravagant like Diego's villa.  Wrapping balconies and large potted plants. Instead, she pulls up to a more modest dwelling. Still miles nicer than your sad, cramped apartment. It's one story, though you suspect there's a basement. Large floor to ceiling windows reflects the headlights of Valeria's vehicle as she pulls up and cuts the engine. The lights cut out and leave you two in the darkness. Barely illuminated by the full moon.

"I'll help you get out." Valeria sighs. She gets out and the car shakes a little when she closes the door.

You watch her silhouette round the front towards your side, pulling open the sleek black door. You grip Valeria's forearm and allow her to slowly pull you out. Your leg jostles but you ignore the pain. Valeria lets go of you once your secure and sets ahead of you, clearly not going to help you inside. Her keys jingle as she roots for them in her pocket. There are no walls to help you along the way. You try to limp the good old-fashioned way but without anything to help you distribute your weight, you end up putting too much pressure on your bad leg. You should have crutches. Or a cane. you spread your arms for balance and hop towards her. You gasp in pain as your leg jerks. That's not a great idea.

Valeria, hearing the noise pushes open the door and turns to look at you.

"What are you doing?" She scoffs. Approaching you.

You don't like her judgmental tone. "I'm trying to get inside." There's some bite to your voice. 

"Well you're going to hurt yourself doing that." Valeria says disapprovingly. Before you can protest she places her hands just below the backs of your knees and lifts you. 

"Hey?" You say, caught off guard. Her strength is surprising. You'd expect her to struggle a bit more but the only sign she gives is a light grunt. An unbidden thought enters your mind about how much she must lift. An image soon follows. A sweaty, grunting Valeria with flexing muscles as she lifts heavy weights. You shoo it away.

The warmth coming from Valeria is distracting. So is the way she smells. A hint of sandalwood and under that, her. Valeria shoulders a light switch and flicks on some bright, warm lighting. Inside, the house is quite spacious. The foyer is tidy and has enough room for at least six people to stand comfortably. The walls are white except for a brown accent wall. A few paintings with religious imagery hang from it.

"I think you can put me down now." You say. The walls will aid you in your movement now. At least until you get crutches. You're convinced you weren't given any because they thought it would be amusing to see you hobble everywhere. Well it wasn't and the joke is over.

"I'll just carry you." Valeria dismisses to your surprise. She adjusts her hold, and you feel too awkward to tell her that her hands are under your ass. "It'll be quicker."

You don't protest. Being carried by your evil, criminal, drug lord of a boss is weird. You'd never tell a soul, but it does feel nice though. Valeria carries you through her home. The hallways are narrower than the rest of the house naturally, but even they are somehow still spacious. She stops outside of a dark room and pushes open a white door - not a faded, splintering brown door like the ones in your apartment - and steps inside. She turns on a light.

It's a blank canvas of a room. A curtain covered window with a double bed right below it. There's a single night table to the right of the bed. The sheets are white and there's a distinct smell of unoccupancy. You feel a sharp spike of homesickness. for your small, creaky bed. For the sheets that smell like you and the decor that watches over you at night. 

"You'll be in here for a while." Valeria speaks. You can hear her voice vibrating in her chest. "My room is the first one down to the right."

"... Okay." You reply quietly.

Valeria sets you down on the bed with careful consideration for your leg. The blankets are cold. They smell like failure and loneliness.

"Tomorrow, we'll go to your apartment and get some of your things." Valeria states calmly. 

"Okay, um.." You hesitate. "Thank you for this, it's very kind of you."

Valeria doesn't reply right away. Instead regarding you with a guarded look. Finally, she speaks. "Nothing I ever do is with the intention of kindness."

"Oh." You weren't expecting such a... blunt response. Embarrassment warms your face. You should know better than to humanize Valeria. To think she might have anything human inside of her.

"I wouldn't be doing this if I weren't getting something out of it."

You blink, rubbing your hands together in your lap. "What are you getting out of it?"

Valeria shakes her head, strands of black hair swaying with the motion.

"Nothing that you need to be concerned about."

Yet somehow, you remain concerned. It dawns on you that you are almost immobile, isolated in the desert, alone with Valeria. It's not that you don't trust her, (although one should always regard Valeria with a certain level of mistrust.) but you're painfully aware that should she decide to attack you, you'd be practically defenseless. An unbidden, intrusive thought about her slinking into your room while you sleep and shooting you point blank between the eyes floats through your mind.

You shake the thought away. Valeria is violent but it's not baseless. Instead, a new thought takes its place. Somehow causing you more anxiety than the first. You hadn't thought about it, considering you had been more focused on your injuries. Your notes were on your desk. The ones containing every single recipe and ratio for the meth. You barely register her bidding you a goodnight and leaving the room. Trying to come your breathing as you fight off the dread threatening to consume you.

[pacificwaternymph]

I. ADORED. S2 of Arcane.

Final thoughts on the season below the cut

Season two was incredibly emotionally fulfilling. The climax was amazing. I loved the constant butterfly effect throughout the entire show, starting with Jayce as a child in the snow and Vi and Powder pulling off a heist leading up to all of this. All of it felt like a natural progression, so many threads of fate being woven together into one.

But there is a part of me that almost wishes they hadn't raised the stakes quite so high.

I know it's literally the namesake of the show and therefore this was probably always the plan, but there's a part of me that wishes they had left the Arcane out of it and just focused on the class war that got kind of... brushed over in Act 2?

It feels like they had to brush aside the themes of classism and oppression for the sake of making room for this bigger climax. And I think a big part of the reason I feel like this is because season 1 chose to focus so much on that part rather than the Arcane plot. So maybe I would have felt this way no matter what they did. But in their defense, they didn't forget about it entirely.

The shot with Sevika joining the council and several councilors giving her disgusted or mistrustful looks is a wonderful way to show that while they may have temporarily joined forces to defeat a bigger threat, the tensions between Piltover and Zaun are not automatically resolved. And I do like how Sevika is still the only councilor from Zaun. Everyone else is still topside. It's a good way to show that while a little progress has been made, it's only the beginning, and Sevika will likely have to fight tooth and nail for any reform.

Jinx's death... well I suppose I should have seen it coming. It was a good conclusion to her arc. But I still wish it hadn't happened. I am of the personal opinion that it didn't need to happen, and now I'm just left wondering how the hell Warwick/Vander was still alive when every other construct or whatever the hell they were had already died.

Vi... my darling. Even at the very end, couldn't catch a break. She really did lose everything. I'm glad she has Cait. I'm glad we got the sesbian lex scene. I just wish she could have ended the show genuinely happy, after having suffered so much throughout her entire life. I know for Arcane it's kind of a long shot for anyone to end up truly happy, but... I still really wanted it for her.

And on a lighter note: just when I thought I couldn't be any more attracted to Mel, the character designers decided to take that as a personal challenge.

I LOVE that they gave Mel more attention this season. The whole witch plotline and Mel having magic came kind of totally out of left field, but I still really enjoyed it. It gave Mel an actual role in this season which was less focused on internal politics, which I am glad for. It meant that she wasn't pushed to the side when the final climax came up. And I liked how her being a black rose put her in direct opposition to Ambessa, as opposed to the subtlety both of them had been employing up until that point. I liked the juxtaposition between the two of them, and I liked how she became the leader of Noxus following everything. Returning home after a long exile.

The completion of Viktor and Jayce's arc together was so fulfilling. I wasn't even sad about their deaths, I was glad that they were together, and that they could finish what they started together, just as both of them had always wanted.

I know everyone ships them but honestly I don't. I don't think their bond needs to be romantic. It transcends the need for those kind of labels. What's important isn't the exact nature of the relationship, it's the depth of it. It's the fact that their destinies, their souls have always been and always will be intertwined. And honestly the fact that they weren't explicitly romantic is almost better to me, because it defies the idea that relationships that deep always have to be romantic.

Ekko, as always, was perfect. My only complaint about him at all this season is that we didn't get more of him. I so adore him, I loved his episode in arc 3, it felt so perfect for him. To see what could have been, having just briefly everything he could ever want, and then knowing he had to leave it behind in order to keep moving forward.

And gosh, what a way of tying his time travel abilities into the story. It does make me kind of question what was going on with his fight with Jinx in season 1, if it wasn't actually time travel, though? Maybe we were just seeing another timeline, and he wasn't? Idk.

I'm so glad that at the end of the day, it was him that managed to save everyone. It wasn't perfect. He didn't bring anyone back to life. He didn't reset any timelines (which I am immensely grateful for, I would not have wanted everything that happened to be erased, it would have been such lazy writing), but he turned back time just enough to let Jayce snap out of his trance and free Viktor from the emotionless shell he'd surrounded himself with. He gave them one last moment together. And that's all they needed.

I don't know how I'm ever going to be the same after this. I am so glad for Arcane's existence.

[bookie-bookdust]

Sebastian Sallow Headcanons

Shitty attempt at headcanons for my morally gray, stubborn Sebby boy in Sebastian Sallow Fucking Sucks. It's long for literally no reason besides I don't know how to shut up.

My Seb has gone through it. He suffers - but he also deserves it for that whole "ignorant" outburst days after what happened in the Restricted Section on the night of the Yule Ball. So yeah, he's begging for forgiveness by the end when he realizes how torn he and MC's relationship has become - not without stubbornly trying to get under her skin first.

This idiot constantly wears tight clothes - not because he knows it drives MC insane, though if he noticed, it would get much much worse for her lol- but it's because he's so damn messy he grabs the first clean thing he can find in the morning (slutty little vests, tight sweaters, button downs with stressing buttons - RIP MC).

Reading glasses - enough said.

He's an extremely adept magic wielder. Not only can he cast multiple Unforgivables with shorter cooldowns, but his spells are obscenely strong. MC has not been able to beat him in a duel since that very first time.

That being said, he can't cast a patronus because he's a sad emo boy.

Fav spell: Confringo. Secret fav spell: Imperio.

It's not with the times, but he would definitely listen to metal music. You can't convince me otherwise.

The morally gray/dark wizard line is sooooo veryyyyyy thinnnnnnnn and will get worse.

He doesn't trust aurors and would NEVER BECOME ONE!!!!!!!! Why do ya’ll want him to be a cop so bad??? (Unless he's a dirty cop lol)

Career-wise, he'd be a curse breaker, healer, or a dark wizard 😌

Irrevocably dedicated to the ones he loves, and if he feels its dire enough, he will hurt them to protect them. Trust me on this - for no reason in particular😇

Not opposed to getting on his knees and begging hehehehe...

A skilled healer due to countless hours in the library studying up on a cure for Anne.

Has burned his fingerprints off with too many fire spells. And speaking of his fingers, it's common to spot him with ink staining his skin from all his note taking.

While he's charming and cocky, he sees himself as lesser, dispensable, and directly blames himself for all of his life tragedies.

Anger issues - duh.

Not sure if I'll even get into this in SSFS, but my Seb comes from a family of the Dark Arts - whether he's aware of it or not. We already know Solomon used them. I'd like to think his parents did as well, which is what led to their deaths. The Sallow line is cursed as fuck. Will be exploring this more in a future Dark Seb project where he has to break this curse.

Will make dick jokes. No one is safe.

While he'd make a great beater in Quidditch, his life just doesn't have space for trivial things. He's too busy with murder.

Speaking of body count LOL, he's charmed quite a few witches, but no one has shorted his brain quite like MC. He's intently studied some interesting books in the Restricted Section fantasizing testing out some things.

Idk when his birthday is lol. I'm just agreeing with everyone else.

Seb's relationship with Ominis is interesting....I'll be perfectly honest, I'm not sure if their friendship is going to survive in my world. Seb crosses too many lines. Obliviating your best friend really drives a wedge between you.

THE manipulator. We don't get to see too much of this in SSFS because we're in MC's pov. Particularly because he uses his wiles differently on her. But one of my favorite examples is even as he's mocking her for her poor attempt at lying in the broom closet, he's actively making her anxious (and hot and bothered lol) with that little thread on her sweater. And eventually she slips up. He's such a mother fucker lol.

Okay this post is way too long. I'm gonna leave now lol. BYEEEEE.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 37 - Um???

So. That happened? UM??!?

On AO3.

Jesus fucking christ fucking lord holy fuck oh god oh god. You lost your whole mind.

You’d felt so small and weak. Had scrubbed at your skin with your nails in that ice-fuck stream until your nails started to hurt.

Then remembered the mushrooms growing outta Astarion’s arm and what if them spores just drift along in the air down here?

You got practice crying silently. All y’all farmstead kids learned it quick. You never grew outta it. Not camped out on Sasha’s couch, not in the group home she helped you find, not even when her organization helped you find a closet of a studio apartment with two garbage bags full of dollar store supplies they all pitched in to help you with. The walls in that place had been so thin, and drawing attention is always, always bad. Nothing chums the water better than audible crying.

But Astarion got fucking elf vampire ears. And he heard you anyway. Brought over a too-tight shirt that rolled up your belly to make a fucked up crop top straining at the seams. And then he gave you armor.

He’d been right there. Hadn’t made fun of you, or even acknowledged it (thank fuck). Just quietly helped you lace up (and you ain’t gonna think about how stupid you look in this, still bursting out along the edges).

On the inside, you was stripped down to nothing. Felt like somebody split you open and scooped out your insides with a rusty fucking spoon. And you remembered him leaning in, and he’s been after you for weeks and weeks and you just…you wanted to feel something that wasn’t small and pitiful.

It ain’t nothing like your first kiss. With him. All caught up in your own head back then, full of panic and shame and trying to analyze everything and figure out what you was supposed to be doing.

This…is nice. His skin is warmer than the cave air. Probably because his breath smells metallic. You don’t let yourself think too hard about that. He’s right there. Fills all your senses. Scent of blood, yeah, and that weird basement smell. But also that perfume or hair oil, and that bright, kinda spiciness you inhale deep into your lungs (maybe if you can suck down enough of that, the molecules can replace the sad, whimpering molecules you’re naturally made out of).

Then you ain’t getting enough air. Everything goes haywire. Your lips seem to buzz and your whole face goes sensitive, almost ticklish.

When his fingertips brush your cheek, a bone-deep shudder runs from the top of your head all the way down to your pinkie toes. Takes a major detour along the way to slam between your legs.

Jesus fuck. No wonder people get stupid about this. It’s like…like…crack cocaine, is what it is. You want to grab him and haul him to you. Run your hands over his face and bury your fingers in his hair (jesus, it looks soft). Want to mash your face to his and breathe him all the way in and you ain’t even tongue kissing this time.

He came back. He ran a goddamn birdshark into that camp from god knows where and he saved your ass and gave you armor. Now he’s kissing you and you can’t fucking breathe.

Then he pulls you closer and your thoughts turn to mashed fucking potatoes. All of the shit, the hurt, the humiliation; all of it gets buried under the onslaught of dopamine and good god almighty, his lips is soft and you could try tongue. That would be fine, and then he does that and you’re actually throbbing in your nethers and does that make you easy, oh who the fuck cares—

He breaks off. You stand there, blinking stupidly at him.

“Sorry,” you say reflexively. For touching him? For breathing on him? For daring to insert your presence into his awareness? You don’t even know.

He only smiles, all soft, and his fingers brush your hair and your skin almost bursts into flames. “No sorry.”

He stays like that for a long moment, fingers of his other hand still knotted through the lacing of your armor. It’s long enough you lean back to get a better look at his face.

He releases you. Blinks. Looks to the lizard and says something ending with “Move this way, darling.”

Because them drow ain’t gonna let you off after stealing their stupid crystal coordinates and their reptilian pony. Astarion helps this thought by nudging your mind: the burst of green light that hit you. Hadn’t hurt, and you thought it was a magic misfire. But he saw the X shimmer above you. It’s a tracking spell.

He helps you climb back up. There’s a bit more room now that he ditched his man-sized capri-sun. You ain’t sure what to think of that, so you bury it for now. Y’all gotta go.

He seats himself right behind you, this time. You do your best to shove down the instinctive flinch (y’all just had your lips on each other and you can still fucking taste the man).

Then you take up the reins, give the lizard a heal nudge (they’re trained like horses, interesting) and off y’all go.

Two steps in, and Astarion’s hand taps the front of your armor.

May I, he wonders.

Oh. Right.

That’s like, protocol for riding double (without a man getting drained to death between you). People ride like that on motorcycles.

“Ye-aw,” you say. It comes out more accented than you intend.

Your face could still light a match, you reckon. Kinda glad he’s behind you, so he can’t see that. Then his arm snakes around your waist, just enough to secure himself, and your ears go hot.

Jesus fucking lord, you are so screwed.

***

You come to at the thin, warbling wail in the distance. Almost launch yourself right outta the saddle. But the arm around your waist tightens and holds you down. Astarion eases up the second you take a deep breath.

“Far, far over there,” he says, by way of drawing out the “over” part of the verb that makes up that phrase. Over the group chat (now a private chat, because you can feel the others in the distance but don’t want that kind of audience now) he adds that drow outpace a walking lizard when they run, but the lizard vastly outpaces drow when it runs. Y’all put some good distance between y’all at that initial retreat.

Then he moves, and you realize he had both arms around you, and you was full on slouched against him. Dozing mouth open, judging from how dry your tongue is.

Good lord.

Your bladder gives you a good out. He hops off and helps you slide down (the last time you rode a horse was as a kid, until the Pastor received word from the lord that it diminished the feminine delicacy girls were born to exemplify).

The insides of your thighs is sore. Gonna start chafing, especially in a fucking skirt. You’d like to waddle far enough away Astarion can’t hear you relieve yourself, but that horn still warbles in the distance, and that stupid man can hear a pulse at a hundred feet.

You make it quick. Don’t got no rags to wipe yourself down, and you’re gonna burn this fucking skirt the second you find some goddamn pants.

Then you have to walk back to Astarion, the both of you knowing all of that, and climb back up and pretend everything is peachy keen.

He still loops both arms around you. Keeps his grip loose enough even as you nudge the lizard into a bizarre, alligator shuffle.

Are…are you a couple now? You don’t know the protocol on this between humans from your own culture, let alone Middle fucking Narnia with vampire elves. Maybe his folk don’t got a concept of, like, going steady. Or maybe Astarion (and his dozens of lovers) just aren’t into all that.

What if this was a mistake? You read it all wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time (though usually you’re in the other seat). It was adrenaline and nerves and the come down from, like, trauma. That makes people do weird shit. Like kiss a man. Like kiss a murder hobo of a goblin man who knew you all of a week before he tried to have sex with you.

He’s just…what did he call it? Having fun. Can’t mean much to him.

Right?

You’d be an idiot to think a kiss meant anything. Children do that to each other, even on the farmstead.

Shit, you don’t even know what it could mean. What you’d want out of it. If you’d want out of it.

(He came back for you.)

Y’all depend on each other down here. It’s group survival.

(He said he would leave you, but he came back with a birdshark and got you out.)

Survival bonding. Hardwired instinct to form a group when scared. That’s what let humans survive all kinds of disasters.

(He singled out that drow who hurt you without you saying a damn thing. And he killed Charbroil all slow, too.)

That’s sociopath behavior. Cat behavior, actually, which is about the same thing (and you like cats). The man is interested in not dying again, and getting some tail—

“Darling,” he says. Holy god his voice is right in your ear.

You really hope he doesn’t notice the quiver that shoots down your spine. But he probably did, because 1. That is precisely your luck and 2. He’s right against your back.

How is he having that effect on you?

(You’ve been feeling it the whole time, huh.)

No, you have not. You would have noticed.

(Been building like water trickling out under a dam. A drip, drip, drip eroding soil, excavating a cavern, hollowing the earth.)

No. He’s funny and fucked up and interesting, but you meet plenty of people, especially recently, that meet that criteria.

(Weakening the ground until it finally gives and the whole thing collapses in on itself and swallows a house whole. That’s you, babygirl.)

“Fuck off,” you say.

And finally notice the bottle Astarion wiggles at you, next to your head. It’s almost the same color as a healing potion, but in a slightly larger container and with a deeper hue.

“Sorry, what?” you say.

“Drink this,” Astarion says.

Y’all should save it—

“Darling. Drink.” He ain’t gonna hear talk about saving just now. You’re still recovering, and you both need to get to safety.

The bones of your hands still ache. The beds of your nails tingle in a way that makes you think of tissue decay and nail beds blackening and falling off.

You sigh and slam it back. Let Astarion take the bottle from you (and shout when he tosses it over his shoulder). But you ain’t gonna turn around to get it. And it does soothe the tingling. Brings warmth back to the pads of your fingers.

So you sigh and settle in. Nudge the lizard into a run. This time, Astarion clings to you. Tucks his face against the back of your neck and his breath fans over you (goosebumps sweep up your arms and down your chest) and you try to tell yourself it’s just to make y’all more aerodynamic.

[sanjoongie]

𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝐸𝓃𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽

ღPairing: Older Omega! reader (f) x Younger Alpha! Wooyoung

ღGenre: smut, angst, fluff

ღAu: a/b/o au, werewolf au, supernatural au

ღTrope: age gap, hurt/comfort

ღRated: 18+, MDNI

ღWarnings: guiding bottom dom! reader, inexperienced top sub! wooyoung, breast play, pre-ejaculation, masturbation (f&m), fingering (f), outerjob (rubbing cock against labia), penetrative sex with a condom, cum play, (not pre-negotiated) somnophilia

ღWord Count: 3,793

ღSummary: when your date stands you up, you start to believe that you're unlovable, before a young pup of an alpha decides to try to change your mind

ღAuthor's Note: I had this idea rattling in my skull for a while so I'm glad to finally finish it up for Wooyoung's birthday. To the birthday boy who deserves all the recognition in the world: i hope your heart is full of bursting on this day, so full of love and knowledge that you are loved. Keep your smile bright forever and i hope your laughter knows no bounds.

ღdivider by @cafekitsune

You sat at the bar, your heart sinking beyond repair. You had a date. Or you thought you had. The longer you waited, the more sympathetic the looks you got from the bartender. You were clearly being stood up.

You were old for an omega, you knew that. You were at the cusp of not being able to carry healthy pups. But you still remembered the days when alphas used to fight for the right to even buy you a drink.

You sighed and raised your finger to signal to the bartender that you were ready to square up your bill. Gone were those days you supposed. You would have to mentally pack away your pride and your ego and look towards perhaps the pool of older, lone wolves, who were looking for a quick hump between the sheets and give you a slap on the ass in thanks. You would have to come to terms that you wouldn't find your mate, your other half, any time soon.

“Y-you’re leaving?” A male stuttered behind you.

You turned in your bar seat to see a young male stumble forward. His eyes were intense on yours and you guessed he was an alpha. If he was a beta, he'd be fighting with meeting your gaze. 

“This bar serves me no purpose now,” You said with a sad smile. 

The pup--no he was an alpha, you shouldn't demean him that way--squared his shoulders with determination. “Perhaps I could be of service then.”

You scoffed. “I doubt it.”

The alpha frowned at you. “I could!”

Your face became open with honesty. “I offer you no insult, Alpha--”

“--my name is Wooyoung”

“Wooyoung, then. I came here to meet my date. He must have stood me up when he saw me at the bar. So unless you plan on dragging him here--”

“I can replace your date.”

That stunned you for a moment. You blinked, brain unable to absorb his words. “No, you can't,” You disagreed immediately.

The alpha swallowed but stepped forward confidently. “I'm strong. I've got stamina. I might be young and inexperienced but my enthusiasm can make up for that.”

You raised both of your eyebrows in complete surprise. “I didn't come here for a one night stand.”

Wooyoung took another step closer. His nostrils flared. “You smell ripe, like you're ready to be plucked.”

Maybe you had had too much to drink while you waited for your date, or you had grown more and more glum. “You don't want me, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung shook his head adamantly. “You're wrong. I was drawn to you the minute you entered here. I sat patiently, waiting to see if you were expecting someone. The minute I saw you squaring up the bill, I came over here.”

You felt confused. What would a young buck with much to prove want with you? You lifted your chin pridefully. “I'll not break you in only for you to leave me for a younger omega. My heart would break. If that's your plan, just please, leave me alone.”

Wooyoung whined in the back of his throat, not in desperation but in sympathy. “I promise, that is not my intention.”

Your eyes scanned Wooyoung’s face. He appeared eager; he was quivering as if he was holding himself back. More importantly, his scent didn't stink of malintent. 

“A trial, then,” You offered. 

Wooyoung nodded. “Anything. Whatever you like.”

You twisted your mouth, still unsure. “You're entirely too agreeable for an alpha, Wooyoung.”

“You smell like crisp apples and sweet wine,” Wooyoung mentioned with a half smile. 

You gasped and immediately sniffed the air but could not catch a special whiff of anything. How is it that Wooyoung seemed to smell your scent, as if you were a mate for him, but you couldn't? You had never heard of this. “Impossible.”

Wooyoung’s smile grew into a grin. “I like a challenge.”

You shook your head slowly. “That does not sound logical, nor does it sound proper. I can't allow you to throw yourself at me if I don't--”

“Please.” Wooyoung commanding bark made your back straighten to respond to an alpha. “I don't think I can let you out of my sight. My wolf is gnawing at my control right now to claim you in this bar as we speak. He's convinced you're ours. Let me--” Wooyoung closed his eyes. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth in measured breaths. “Let us show you what we can provide for you.”

You were being honest. You had not come to drink and fuck. You were unable to fuck without emotions, you had come to learn about yourself as you phased out of your early omega years. The need to find a den, to find a mate, to--you whined. You just wanted to be loved.

“Would you risk committing your heart even if there was a chance I couldn’t return it?” You asked him bluntly.

Wooyoung’s tongue played with a freckle on his lip. It seemed more like a nervous tick rather than a seduction technique. “Yes.”

“You can come back to my place then,” You finally agreed. “You can show me what you and your wolf can provide.”

That's how you found yourself sitting on your bed, legs crossed, watching with fond amusement as Wooyoung pulled his shirt off by grabbing it from behind. He stood with his baggy pants hanging off his hips, the band of his underwear peeking from under. His eyes swung as it followed the jiggling of your foot.

“Condoms are in the first drawer,” You said. You jerked your head to the direction you had provided. 

Wooyoung’s eyes moved towards the drawer but came back to your form. “I don't think--”

“I may be old but there's still a risk,” You snapped with some irritability. 

Wooyoung frowned. “You're not in heat.”

“Ah, you sweet summer child,” You sighed. You patted a spot beside you on the bed. “Come here, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung lopped over, sitting as close to you as he could. His skin burned against yours, arm to arm. 

“You're an alpha. You could trigger my heat. I'd rather have a clean fuck. There's no need to spill all of your seed--”

Wooyoung groaned. “Please, I--”

You placed a hand on Wooyoung’s thigh and it seemed to soothe him. “Show me your restraint. Show me that you can follow my lead. Show me I can trust you with my body and maybe I'll think about trusting you with my heart.”

Wooyoung licked his lips. “I can do that.”

Your hand moved up his leg and your eyes widened when you found that Wooyoung was already hard. He smiled hopefully and you felt your heart flutter from it. You lifted your hand from his cock and cupped his head instead. You licked his lip, asking for entrance and he dropped his jaw immediately. 

You hummed in approval and slanted your mouth over his to taste his mouth. His kisses were sloppy but they were eager and you felt your lower half tighten in response to that eagerness. 

Wooyoung surged forward, his nose bumping awkwardly against your cheek, but still his hand found your hair as you let him guide you to lie down. His other hand gripped your breast harshly and you hissed at the pain. 

“No, Wooyoung.” Wooyoung watched you with wide-eyed interest as your hand moved over his own. You squeezed his hand and released. “Gently, please.”

Wooyoung cocked his head. “But--”

You shook his head and his mouth snapped shut. “Pain can add to pleasure. But the pleasure has to be there first.”

Wooyoung was either inexperienced or no one had bothered to tell him he was doing it wrong, with his sharp jaw and pretty doe eyes. Still, he picked things up quickly, you noted with pride. In no time at all, he had you moaning as he licked one nipple and played a dull fingernail around the areola of your other, your blouse partway unbuttoned and the bra pushed up. You watched his eyes sharpen with mischief and his teeth gently bite down on your pert nipple. 

You pressed your lips inwards and nodded in approval. “Just like that, Woo--young!” You drew out the last syllable of his name as he pulled your nipple outwards with his teeth. 

Wooyoung whimpered at your praise and thrusted his pelvis against your leg. “I’m--I need--oh god--”

Wooyoung let out the most delicious, delectable, delightful cry as he came in his pants after a few thrusts. He whimpered against your breast, rubbing his cheek against it, as he rode out his high and then sighed. 

“Oh, Wooyoung,” You said his name in sympathy. 

You untangled yourself from Wooyoung’s heavy body and got up to wet a washcloth. You pulled down his pants and underwear and helped clean him up. Wooyoung lazily licked his lips and watched with hooded eyes as you took care of him. The entire time his cock did not soften and it made you excited even though he had come prematurely.  

“I can go again,” Wooyoung assured you.

You chuckled under your breath. “I can see that.” You reached over for the previously mentioned condom and ripped it open with help from your teeth.

“Let--” Wooyoung hissed as you gripped the base of his cock. “Let me!” he insisted. 

You held the tip of the condom between your thumb and forefinger, frozen in the moment from his alpha command. “What’s wrong, Wooyoung? Afraid you’ll come again when I put the condom on you?”

Wooyoung whined in the back of his throat. “Don’t tease me!”

You wiggled the condom until Wooyoung put out his hand so that you could drop it. “As you wish, Alpha.”

Wooyoung rolled the condom down his cock and you nodded in approval. The pretty blue against his dark skin was very complimenting. You ditched your tight pleather skirt and underwear, keeping on the see-through blouse and black bra that Wooyoung had not managed to get you to ditch previously. You moved to your hands and knees on your bed and turned to look over your shoulder. “I’m ready.”

“You want me to mount you from behind?” Wooyoung whined. “That's the mating position. With a condom?”

You shook your head. Your instincts were really messing with you. You turned around, placing your ass on the sheets and propped yourself up with your arms. Your legs were spread, knees bent and inviting. “Show me what you’ve got, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung shuffled until he knelt between your legs. He aimed his cockhead to your entrance and looked at you expectantly from under his brow. 

“Rub against me first, Woo,” You instructed him. 

Wooyoung pushed his lips inwards, nodding and began to rock himself against your lower lips. Your hips jerked at the feeling of his cock against your clit and Wooyoung smiled in satisfaction. “Like that?” He asked.

“Mhmm,” you hummed in confirmation. “Just like that.”

Once you started to clench around nothing, however, as Wooyoung got a rhythm going, the young alpha began to whine. “Please, can I fuck you?” he asked. 

You tried really hard to suppress your laughter in order to not hurt his pride but he really was fucking cute like this. “Push into me, go ahead,” you said with a jerk of your chin. 

You both groaned as Wooyoung filled you up full tilt. You wrapped your arms and your legs around Wooyoung to bring him closer to your body. With little to no room to move, Wooyoung’s hips jerked as he attempted to fuck you. You closed your eyes and rocked your hips with his movements, enjoying some friction of Wooyoung’s pelvis against yours. 

“Oh yes Wooyoung feels good,” You moaned, enjoying the feel of your climax build. “You’re such a good boy.”

“Fuck,” Wooyoung whined at your praise and then his hips stilled inside you again. 

You let him ride his climax, feeling his cock jerking inside of you as he spurted inside of the condom. “ ‘snot fair,” he pouted, mouthing at your neck. “You squeeze me too good.”

After discarding the condom, you patted his shoulder in assurance. “Come on, pup, I’ll show you what to do to make me feel good.”

That’s how Wooyoung ended up crouched between your legs, watching adamantly as you stroke your finger over your clit. He drank in your pace, how you begin by circling but then press much harder once your clit is swollen. He licked his lips, as if he wanted to eat you out, but you decided that was next level to what he was capable of currently. 

“Don’t,” Wooyoung put his hand on top of yours and your fingers halted at his soft alpha bark. “I want to be the one.”

You switched positions, Wooyoung’s arms wrapped around you so that you could show him exactly how to curl his fingers inside of you. He was eager to learn still and would catch on quite quickly, enough to make you surprised at how soon enough, you were moaning at the build up of your climax once again. 

“Yeah, right there Wooyoung, yeah yeah YEAH!” Your hips lift up and soon your climax washed through your nerves, lighting them up with pleasure. 

You can feel Wooyoung rutting against you from behind as you come down from your high. “Wanna feel you clench around my cock. Please,” He added belatedly. 

You turned around in his grasp and pushed him into your bed. “You’re going to ride me?” He squeaked in surprise. 

“Have you not let anyone before?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

Wooyoung shook his head. “No, mostly everyone just lays there waiting for me to fuck them.”

You snorted. “Well this omega knows what she wants.”

Another condom was donned, this one pink. You couldn't help but admire the way Wooyoung was still hard, lying on his back on your bed. His eyes studied you and you couldn't help but feel good at being the object of his desire, tonight. 

This time, while straddling his hips, you work him into you, enjoying the foreplay of his tip in and out of you until your body adjusts to the intrusion. You don’t let yourself rest with Wooyoung fully inside of you, however. You start to wave your body above him. 

You grab Wooyoung’s hands and he squeezes gently, thumbs flicking over your nipples. You lock your hands over his, enjoying the feel of his hands on you. The view of his hands on you isn’t so bad either. 

At this angle, the tip of Wooyoung had the perfect opportunity to rub against your g-spot. Once you started to feel the urge for more pleasure, you got on the balls of your feet and started to bounce. You braced your weight against Wooyoung’s stomach and instructed him to flex his pelvis muscles. The minute he did, you gasped as this allowed some far greater pleasure. 

“You gotta be good for me, sweet pup,” You coached Wooyoung as his hands gripped your thighs. “You gotta hold back.”

Wooyoung’s face screwed up, and he breathed deeply out of his nose. “But it feels so good!”

You slowed your pace, if only to lean down and run a hand over his face to reassure him. “It’ll feel so much better when I’m clenching around you. You want me to come first this time, right? You wanna make your omega come?”

Wooyoung whined, leaning into your touch. “I wanna feel you come around my cock.”

You swallowed hard, hearing those words from his lips felt like sin. “You can do it, Woo, you can hold back for me.”

Wooyoung’s noises of pleasure and frustration filled the room. It sounded like he wanted to come so badly. He whimpered and growled, but he held back as you picked up your pace, bouncing on his flexed pelvic muscles. 

“Al-almost there, Woo--young!” You gasped out, feeling your climax gain some leeway.

This time Wooyoung mirrored the position he took you the first time, locking his arms behind your back, keeping you chest to chest, as he fucked up into your wet pussy. Your moans come out in vibrated ‘yeah’s’ until finally your climax bursts through you. Wooyoung gasped, feeling your pussy walls clench around him and then he was emptying out into the condom once again. 

“That…was…perfect…Wooyoung,” You panted, head tucked in between his shoulder and his neck.

After countless rounds of sex, your climax finally took you out. You fell asleep to the feeling of Wooyoung inside of you and the content smile on your face said it all. 

You’re not sure how long you sleep but you are sure what woke you up: Wooyoung’s whining. You felt his rough tongue around your nipple and smiled to yourself. The alpha was simply insatiable and you cannot find yourself upset that he was using your body for his pleasure once again. 

Your body bounced with the consistency of jerking off. Wooyoung had come three times and still he was reaching for a forth with his hand. You were starting to think you could get used to this. Wooyoung hissed your name, his body quivering against you, and you realize that he’s come now. 

You opened your mouth to tease him gently but are surprised when you feel his fingers prod your entrance. He pushed into you seamlessly, pumping two fingers in and out. Your hips react to the pleasure, thrusting upwards.

“That’s it Sweetheart, take my fucking fingers, god you’re so responsive, even when you’re asleep,” Wooyoung moaned. 

Wooyoung took his time, using his fingers to get you off. Your mouth makes a silent ‘o’ and you come to the tender lovemaking of your new lover. Perhaps you could get used to a man looking to pleasure you despite not receiving something from you in return. 

“That’s it. Be a good omega and take all my cum inside of you.”

Your eyes snapped open. Wooyoung’s face is covered in a satisfied smirk. You looked down to your open legs and find that Wooyoung’s fingers are covered in a white substance and that is not your own. 

“Wooyoung!” You shouted, scaring Wooyoung out of his bliss. 

Wooyoung’s eyes widened, realization hitting him that you had consistently told him to wear a condom that night. “I-I’m sorry, my instincts came over me, I couldn't help myself!”

You pulled your sheet over your body and pulled away from Wooyoung. “I want you to leave my home immediately.”

Wooyoung’s lips wobbled precociously. “I’m sorry, please!”

“I told you, you could enact my heat! I don’t want to bring pups in this world with a casual lover, are you fucking kidding me, Wooyoung?” You felt hot tears fall down your face and you dash them away angrily. “I knew I should have never taken in such an inexperienced alpha. Leave. Now. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“No,” Wooyoung said in the most broken-hearted voice you had ever heard. “You still smell like crisp apples and sweet wine to me.”

“I don’t care!” You yelled. “Go!”

The next couple days are filled with anxiety and sorrow. You were terrified of getting pregnant from Wooyoung fingerfucking you with his cum. The sorrow came from the wolf song that you heard outside your place day and night. Wooyoung was lamenting that you banished him from your life. You had warned him about risking his heart. He had smelled the scent of his mate and you had not. This was turning out exactly as you had feared.

Finally, when the moon was but a sliver in the sky, you had enough. The pregnancy scare had passed, you did not get put into heat, so you came out to confront Wooyoung.

The minute you stepped out your door, there was Wooyoung. His eyes are sunken and dull. He looks like he’s been through hell and back. “Sweetheart,” he whined, gripping the hem of his shirt tightly between white-knuckled fists. 

“Wooyoung, this has got to stop!” You insisted.

“Please, I want to apologize and make things right,” Wooyoung said with a desperate tone. “I can’t bear to be far away from you, don’t send me away.”

“I’m not pregnant. You didn’t ignite my heat. Your responsibility is done.” You wave your hand away as if to dismiss the alpha. 

“I can be a good boy!” Wooyoung cried out, snatching up both your hands. “I know I can do it.”

You try to pull your hands back but Wooyoung isn’t relenting. “You’re too young, Woo, you can’t control yourself. And that’s fine. Just not with me.”

Wooyoung stomped his foot in frustration. “I can't help it if all my instincts howl to fill you full of my cum and make you mine,” he snarled.

You both stared at each other, surprised at Wooyoung’s outburst. You cautiously sniffed the air, confused as to how Wooyoung recognized you as mate and not… you swallowed nervously. 

Wooyoung hung his head dejectedly in response to your silence. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop bothering you.”

“You smell like cotton candy and campfires,” You spilled out suddenly. 

Wooyoung froze, as if he was afraid to disturb your words. “You smell me now?”

“Do you still smell me?” You wondered. 

“Your scent is permanently etched into my olfactory sense,” Wooyoung growled lowly and then he whined. 

“Well, I guess, perhaps--”

Whatever you had been stumbling through was cut off as Wooyoung gripped your head and slammed his mouth against yours. His kiss was so eager, full of tongue and teeth, that you felt yourself melt into him. Why was he like this? It was as if he was made for you, like he was your--

“Wait, Wooyoung, you don’t want me!” You attempted to protest one more time, your insecurities bleeding out. You didn’t want someone like him to be chained to you. “I’m not--”

“You're my enough,” Wooyoung panted, pressing his forehead to yours. “Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t care. You’re what I need.”

The last bit of resistance you had for this bond dissolved. Your heart seemed to burst from the acknowledgement. And your wolf peaked out from behind where you kept her. With Wooyoung’s stamina, you could have pups growing in weeks, perhaps even--

Wooyoung whimpered. “We need to get inside or I’m going to ravage you in front of the woods.”

You pressed your legs together. God, your body wanted him so badly. “Can you make it that far?” You teased. “As I recall--”

Wooyoung snatched up your hand and began to drag you back to your place. “I’m gonna make you mine over every inch of your home. And then twice over again,” He swore.

At least you knew that was a promise he could keep.

[elizabeth-holland24]

The Beast Within - Chapter 5

Days in the sun when my life has barely begun. Not until my whole life is done will I ever leave you. Will I tremble again, to my dear one's gorgeous refrain. Will you now forever remain. Out of reach of my arms. Oh, those days in the sun. What I’d give to just relive one. Undo what's done. And bring back the light. Oh, I could sing, of the pain these dark days bring. The spell we are under. Still is the wonder of us I sing of tonight. How, in the midst of all this sorrow, can so much hope and love, endure. I was innocent and certain, now I'm wise but unsure. Days in the past, I can't go back into my childhood. Oh, those precious days couldn't last. One that my father made secure. I can feel a change in me. Oh, hold me closer. I'm stronger now, but still not free. Days in the sun, will return. We must believe as others do. That days in the sun. Will come shinning through.

Flashback

The woods always felt alive, even in their stillness. Sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves, casting golden patterns on the forest floor. A young Mausi skipped over roots and around trees, her worn shoes crunching against the earthy path. This was her sanctuary, a place where rules didn’t matter, where she could dream endlessly and imagine a world beyond her small village.

As she wandered deeper, a muffled sound stopped her in her tracks. A soft, hiccupping sniffle.

Curiosity, tinged with concern, bubbled inside her. Who could be crying here, in her woods? The sound pulled her forward, her little feet quiet now, as if afraid to disturb the sadness lingering in the air.

And there he was—a boy, crouched by the base of an ancient oak tree, his head buried in his knees, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly. His clothes, though finer than hers, were dirtied from the forest floor. He looked about her age, maybe a little older, but it was hard to tell. His form was curled in on itself, as if he wanted to disappear, to fold himself into the shadows of the woods and never come out.

Mausi’s heart clenched. She didn’t know why, but seeing him like that hurt her in a way she couldn’t name. She wasn’t the kind of girl to ignore someone in pain—especially not when that someone seemed so lost.

She took a cautious step forward, her small voice breaking the silence. “Why are you crying?”

The boy stiffened but didn’t look up. “Go away,” he muttered, his voice raw and shaky.

Mausi frowned but didn’t leave. Instead, she plopped herself down beside him, tucking her knees under her chin. She wasn’t the type to be scared off easily, not by a little grumpiness.

“I’m Mausi,” she said cheerfully, though her voice was softer than usual, as if she knew not to push too hard.

Silence.

“My dad calls me that. It means ‘little mouse.’” She paused, glancing at him. “What’s your name?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled.

“Well, I’ll just call you ‘grumpy boy’ then,” Mausi said, crossing her arms with mock indignation.

At that, he finally looked up, his tear-streaked face partially hidden by unruly blonde hair. His green eyes, red-rimmed from crying, locked onto hers. For a fleeting moment, something unspoken passed between them—a connection neither could fully understand.

“I don’t need friends,” he said, his tone defensive but weak.

“That’s fine. I don’t need another friend either,” Mausi replied, shrugging. “But I’m not going anywhere. You look like you need someone.”

The boy stared at her, as if trying to decide whether she was a nuisance or a lifeline. Eventually, his shoulders relaxed just a fraction, and he let out a sigh.

They sat there in silence, two small figures against the vastness of the woods. The weight in the air began to lift, little by little, as the boy’s sniffles faded into the rustling of leaves.

From that day on, the two became an unlikely pair, their connection forged in the quiet corners of the forest where the rest of the world couldn’t reach them. The boy never told Mausi his name, and though curiosity burned within her, she never pushed him to share it. Somehow, she understood that names held power, and his reluctance was less about hiding and more about protecting something fragile within himself.

Instead, they created a world of their own, one where names didn’t matter, and labels were irrelevant. They met in the same secluded spot beneath the ancient oak tree, the one whose roots snaked into the earth like veins carrying the lifeblood of the forest. It was their sanctuary—a place where laughter, exploration, and quiet companionship thrived, untainted by the weight of expectations.

The boy was guarded, his words often clipped and his demeanour prickly. He had a way of snapping when he felt too exposed, a defence mechanism Mausi came to recognize as fear rather than anger. But she had a gift for disarming him. Her chatter filled the silences he carried like armour, and though he’d roll his eyes or let out exaggerated sighs, Mausi noticed the corners of his mouth twitching upward when he thought she wasn’t looking.

She talked about anything and everything:how her father was always building something; how she didn't have a mother, how she loves adventures and reading, hoping one day she'll get an adventure of her own, how in her village they made fun of her for being different. Her words painted vibrant pictures, filling their little world with light and warmth.

At first, the boy didn’t respond much beyond a grunt or a sarcastic comment, but slowly, the cracks in his shield began to show. In stolen moments of vulnerability, he shared pieces of himself—little glimpses into the life he kept hidden.

As the weeks turned into months, the boy’s edges softened further. He taught Mausi how to skip stones across the surface of the creek, laughing when her first attempts sent the rocks plunging straight to the bottom. In return, she showed him how to whistle using a blade of grass, their giggles echoing through the forest as they competed to see who could make the loudest sound.

Yet, no matter how much they shared, there was always a heaviness in the boy’s eyes, a weight Mausi couldn’t quite name. 

One day, as they sat side by side on the bank of the creek, Mausi noticed a scar running along the inside of his wrist. It was faint, almost hidden by the dirt smudging his skin, but unmistakable. She reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing against it before she realized what she was doing.

The boy jerked his arm away, his expression darkening. “Don’t,” he said sharply, his voice colder than she’d ever heard it.

“I’m sorry,” Mausi stammered, pulling her hand back. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s nothing,” he interrupted, his tone firm. But the way he turned away from her, his shoulders tense and his hands clenched into fists, told a different story.

Mausi didn’t say anything else, afraid that if she pushed too hard, he might disappear again. But the scar stayed with her, a silent reminder that the boy she called her friend carried more pain than she could see.

Even in their happiest moments, the shadow lingered. It was in the way he sometimes stared off into the distance, his brow furrowed, as if he were reliving something he couldn’t escape. It was in the way he flinched at sudden noises, his head snapping around as though expecting danger.

Mausi wished she could take that shadow from him, to make him laugh so hard it disappeared forever. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple. Some hurts ran too deep to be erased by kind words or shared laughter.

Still, she stayed. Because even if she couldn’t heal him, she could be there—to listen, to laugh, to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

And in return, the boy gave her something she didn’t even know she needed. For all his guardedness and sharp edges, he made her feel seen in a way no one else ever had. When he looked at her, it was as though she mattered—not as the village’s ‘little mouse’ but as Mausi, a girl who could climb trees and weave daisy chains and bring light into the darkest corners of the forest.

Together, they carved out a space where the weight of the world didn’t exist. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t without its complications, but it was theirs. And for a while, that was enough.

The rain came suddenly, drenching the forest in a matter of moments. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky hung low and gray, casting the woods in a shadowy gloom.

Mausi clutched a bundle of wildflowers in her hands as she raced toward their spot, her heart pounding with a strange urgency she couldn’t explain. The rain soaked through her clothes, chilling her to the bone, but she didn’t care. Something felt wrong—terribly wrong.

When she reached the clearing, she saw him.

He was curled up at the base of their tree, just as he’d been the first day they met. But this time, his sobs were not muffled. They tore through the air, raw and gut-wrenching, the kind of sound that made the world feel heavier.

Mausi dropped the flowers and ran to him, falling to her knees beside him. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Are you hurt?”

He didn’t answer. He just shook his head, his hands clutching at the damp fabric of his shirt as if trying to hold himself together.

Mausi hesitated, unsure of what to do. Finally, she did the only thing that felt right—she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, even though she didn’t know if it was. “You’re not alone.”

For a moment, he stiffened in her embrace, as though the kindness was too much to bear. But then he broke, his sobs growing louder as he buried his face in her shoulder.

“I can’t—” he choked out between gasps. “It’s gone. They’re gone. Everything’s gone.”

Mausi didn’t understand what he meant, but she didn’t need to. She just held him tighter, her own tears mixing with the rain as she tried to absorb some of his pain.

For weeks, he didn’t come back.

Mausi visited their spot every day, her heart sinking a little more each time she found it empty. She left little gifts for him—wildflowers, pebbles, even a tiny carved mouse she’d made from a piece of wood. But they remained untouched.

She began to wonder if he was ever coming back.

When he finally did, he wasn’t alone.

Mausi’s face lit up when she saw him, but the joy was short-lived. The boy she knew was gone, replaced by someone colder, harder. He stood with a group of older boys, their laughter sharp and cruel.

“You’re here!” she said, her voice filled with relief. “I was so worried. Are you okay?”

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “What, are you some kind of puppy?” he sneered. “I don’t need you following me around.”

The words stung, but Mausi refused to let him see. “That’s all you have to say?” she asked, her voice trembling. “After disappearing for so long?”

“I don’t owe you anything,” he snapped. “I’m not your friend. We’re not even on the same level.”

The boys around him laughed, their jeers echoing in the clearing.

Mausi blinked back tears, her heartbreaking in a way she didn’t think was possible. “Fine,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sorry I cared.”

She turned and walked away, leaving the flowers she’d brought for him lying on the ground.

The boy watched her go, his fists clenched at his sides. Every instinct screamed at him to call her back, to apologize, to tell her the truth. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

“She’s better off without me,” he told himself. “Everything I care about gets taken away. It’s better this way.”

But as her figure disappeared into the shadows of the woods, he felt the weight of his words crushing him. For the first time in his young life, he wondered if pushing someone away hurt more than losing them.

A/N: Hey guys, sorry it took me so long to publish this chapter. Thank you so much for the love and support this story has gained. We got a flashback, wonder who that boy is. Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter, thank you so much for the love and support on this story again. Don't forget to comment, like and reblog, so I know if you are enjoying it. I think that's all. Thanks for reading <3

[lennon-hendrix]

Lennon stood there, feeling a warmth spreading through her. She didn’t know how she’d made it so long without Sarah in her life, without hearing her voice, seeing the way she looked at her. It was like the weight of everything she’d lost, all the time that had passed, fell away in that instant. The past didn’t matter as much now. Sarah’s words tugged at something inside Lennon—a tenderness she hadn’t expected, especially with how much time had passed and how much had changed. The teasing tone, the little chuckle, all of it felt so… familiar. And Sarah’s admiration for her relationships—it made Lennon smile softly, her heart swelling with a mix of pride and gratitude. She never thought she'd be the kind of person Sarah would look up to, let alone call a "hero." The comment about her relationships made her pause, though. “Well," Lennon began, her eyes softening as she met Sarah's gaze, "I didn’t really plan it like that, you know? It just kind of happened. The right people showed up, and it just… worked.” Her tone turned a little more thoughtful as she leaned back against the nearby counter, glancing at Sarah with a slight grin. “As for how it works? There’s no strict schedule, but we definitely try to spend time together, all of us. We all have our individual moments too, though. It’s not always easy, balancing everything, but when you have people who really care, who really understand you, it’s worth it. It’s about trust, and communication. It’s messy, but it’s real." The way Sarah looked at her—like she was fascinated, impressed, maybe even a little envious—made Lennon feel a sense of validation. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed having Sarah's admiration until now. “Hey, you’ll find your person too,” Lennon said with a warm smile, trying to ease the slight sadness she heard in her sister’s voice. “It’s not about rushing into it, though. You’ve gotta be open to it when the time’s right. You deserve someone who really sees you, Sarah.” Lennon’s smile faltered for a second, the warmth in her chest shifting to something a little heavier. She wasn’t sure she deserved to be anyone’s hero—not after everything that had happened, not after the years she’d spent away. Her gaze softened, a little more vulnerable than she intended. “I don’t know about being a hero, Sarah,” she said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of guilt. “I’ve made so many mistakes, especially with you.” Her eyes dropped for a moment, and for a split second, she could feel the years of silence and distance between them—feel the regret pressing on her chest like a slow, steady ache. “I… I should’ve been there. I should’ve tried harder, fought to stay in your life, no matter what. I wasn’t the sister you deserved. And it breaks my heart that I left you behind, that I just… disappeared. I should’ve done better by you."

she wanted to be part of her sister’s life. how was she supposed to go back to living without lennon after meeting her today? she couldn’t. it would break her heart into a million pieces, she was sure of it. sarah figured she could see her without even telling their family about it. she didn’t want them ruining things again. this could be their time, just the two of them, since their family was already so broken. she wanted to know what lennon had been up to, wanted to meet her partners. sarah was awful at finding a partner, and here was lennon, managing to have both a boyfriend and a girlfriend who loved her. she was seriously impressed. “i survive on energy drinks all year,” she said with a chuckle slipping from her lips. she wouldn’t call it healthy, but it was the only way to keep up with studying and everything else without falling asleep or feeling dead tired. “it’s crazy how you managed to get two people for yourself,” she said with a nod. “i haven’t even kissed anyone, let alone hooked up, in months.” she laughed, not bothered by it but not lying either. “i’m glad you’re happy now,” she said, her voice soft. “i know how much being at home hurt you. you deserved to have people who love you by your side.” sarah gave her a small nod. “i know i look cold and distant now, but you’re easy to love.” her personality had shifted since they last saw each other; she had built her walls higher and kept people out, but with lennon, it felt different. “how does that relationship work? i’m curious,” she asked, her tone lighter now. “like, is there a schedule? do you all hang out together, or is it more one-on-one?” she grinned and leaned in closer. “i need the details. you’re kinda my hero right now.”