#even if rn it seems it's the worst birthday of his

[buttercupshands]

Happy (almost belated) Birthday, Tenko Shimura!

wanted to draw something light after... you know 419...

[mimipolo]

Can u write headcanons for the sakamoto days characters as the animes coming out on Saturday. For ur bestie friendie 😆😆

Sakamoto days x reader headcanons

Yes I will, happy birthday to you. You should be ecstatic rn.

Is the Sakamoto days fandom alive on here??? Hope so.

Shin

He's really obvious about the fact he like you, like reallyyy obvious

Puts extra effort into every little action he does so you think he's cool(he's really not),if you two met in the JCC he'd make sure his entire routine for group assassination missions is basically flawless.

Can't help being curious about what you thought and tunes into your thoughts and has to pretend his face isn't growing hotter by the second as he walks back in line, your inner thoughts of admiration replaying in his head.

Has at least one person(Mr Sakamoto) who he talks to endlessly about you, if he was still an assassin he'd have found it unbearable but now he sits blissfully with a ramen cup in hand as Shin talks away, when his mind wanders to young love and then eventually his wife, Shin snaps at him to pay attention.

Knows a lot about you (most without you knowing but sh), sometimes he just comes up to you and reminds you of something you're about to forget or a question too niche for him to ask and you're like "huh?" and he just blinks at you before going "huh-?"

Takes a deep breath and does that silly shake thing guys do when they're about to run when he's determined to talk to you, ends up folding anyway because he's geeked you asked to eat with him today.

Does the absolute most to keep you out of danger, at the JCC and at the shop, enemies seem to be popping up from anywhere now he and Sakamoto had dropped from the ranks and he didn't want you wrapped up in that.

Cannot flirt, he cannot and it's so embarassing, it's sweet when he tries though, the moment he sees you trying to hold your laugh he just gives up and holds his flushed face as you double over laughing. At least you said he was cute(internally.)

I can imagine you two in his or your room on a hot day, the windows wide open and the fan is blasting in your faces as you split twin popsicles, he thinks you look beautiful even as you sweat profusely and fan your face with your hand.

Nagumo

So annoying, to the point it's almost driving you mad, makes every excuse under the sun to come see you, be it day or night. People often ask how you deal with his unprecedented visits and you can only drag out a sigh and shrug.

Terrible gift giver but it's clear he tries, hands you a beaten up rubber duck and looks at you expectantly when you're not immediately ecstatic (cause what??). He'll explain like some expertise in the science of you that he saw you cooing and feeding ducks one day in the summer five years ago. You look down at the small colourful bird and decide it's actually quite cute, it can go in your random trinket box.

Naturally touchy guy, an arm around your shoulder is not a rare thing but one thing he does get nervous about is holding your hand. Yes he could hold you against his chest for ages as you read out something to him but the idea of holding your has his head in his hands as he squats on the floor.

Would love it if you liked his stupid jokes but would love it even more if you made it your goal to absolutely despite them. He finds the dynamic quite funny. Actively enjoys seeing the way your face crumples up when he cracks a joke at the absolute worst time, something dumb about grannies as the both of you are still panting and painted in blood in a care home of all places.

Not that jealous or possessive but will feel left out when he notices you're hanging out with someone a bit more than him. Will insert himself between you and this new person, mostly unaware he's acting on self preservation to keep himself in your sights.

Shishiba

He's so calm and collected all the time, the concept of him liking someone and that person possibly being you had never crossed your mind and it probably never will.

He likes to praise your work ethic a lot, "Looks good." , "You cleaned them up yourself?" You just nod back with a smile and he's convinced he made the boldest move in the books.

Would want to make absolute certain you like him before saying anything life threateningly risky. Pretty traditional with it, asks you out to eat after work and lets you choose the place. Insists he pays because he earns more than you but he just wanted to treat you. Has a list on his phone of the places you two enjoyed the most and pins them on Maps in case you want to go again.

The type to stare daggers into you while you're busy talking to someone else, when you're done talking he's still looking your way and waits for you to acknowledge him. Sometimes he announces himself, sometimes he'll just walk up beside you and hands your new assignment over which honestly startles you at times.

Wish he could've met you under different circumstances, wherever you're in his line of work or not. He'll never be truly satisfied with the way things are, constantly weighing the options.

For now he's enjoying watching you enjoy your favourite snacks and his heart warms when you offer him a generous bite.

Kashimo

Doesn't know what he's feeling towards you, the only thing he knew was his loyalty to Slur and you were gradually changing that one situation at a time.

It started when you'd apply ointments to where his body disconnected even though he was literally designed to be able to be broken and put back together with no effort. But you put in that effort, insisting he should let you and it'd be beneficial in the long wrong, he liked to believe you.

Often shows up to your cubicle at work just to say good morning then walk away, not even waiting for you to respond. You find it oddly charming and he just likes hearing your giggle as he leaves the office.

He believes you're also one of those people whose never done anything worth damning in their entire life. You're so kind and considerate of him he couldn't even fathom you doing anything wrong. Sometimes he hopes he's still capable of dying just so it could be alongside you, doesn't understand what that means fully though, it's just an ideal.

Likes it when you hold his arm, patting it slightly as you give some feedback on the latest mission. Doesn't understand the point in it but is far from complaining, he enjoys your attention and doting words.

Doesn't like to hold delicate things, like cats he really likes them but has a lingering fear he'd accidentally hurt the small thing. Instead he likes watching you hold these fragile things, pointing to them and you pick them up with a questioning look on your face, he makes a motion for you to scratch it's ears, he's pleased when you do.

(Y'all know like those slime stimboard monkey vids💀💀)

He considers you to also be delicate, so you'll never catch him making a move to touch you even though sometimes his bones ache to, he's fine with the brief touches you give him he couldn't ask for anything more.

Heisuke

He's also helplessly down bad for you, instead he tries his best to be helpful to you but you always seem to one up him in that area, especially when you let him crash at your place. Like a true angel.

Doesn't bother with pickup lines he's tried them out and they're not really his thing but sometimes he says something so heartmoving you pause all together. When he notices your reaction he's completely oblivious he's successfully shot his shot, "Pfft look at ya face."

Piisuke loves you because he does, it's like their brains are interlinked. The bird will catch small sight of you and immediately rush over to perch itself on your shoulder and snuggle its beak into your cheek, it hurts but how could you say no. Heisuke already knows that whenever his small partner did this you were likely around, so he's walking up to you bashfully and taking Piisuke back (he's secretly setting the two of you up.)

Showers you with compliments and praise likes it's nothing, words of affirmation is definitely one of his top love languages on hopefully getting you to like him back. But the moment you reciprocate, admiring his terrifyingly precise sniping skill he's so flushed and hot and fumbling his words he just has to slap a hand over his mouth. Needs a minute before he's chucking softly, his hands smoothly over the rough build of the artillery as he thanks you.

The forgetful sort but not when it comes to you, suddenly he remembers everything. Sometimes he comes to you to say something he needs to remember because it's so much easier when it's your face and voice he remembers reprimanding him.

Dreams of a soft domestic life with you, maybe, if you like, a kid or two to complete the picture and of course the family pet as Piisuke. Grins stupidly to himself at the idea of how he'd propose to you (you're not even together yet.)

[lascvitae]

the hills. — kim minjeong x reader.

"when i'm fucked up, that's the real me."

sypnosis ⸝⸝⸝ park y/n has always hated minjeong, and the feeling has always mutual. growing up as rivals, it only made sense for their rivalry to carry on with them to college. but when minjeong became student council president she devloped a knack for using that power over y/n, causing for the line in between love and hate to blur.

pairing ⸝⸝⸝ enemies to lovers, stuco president!minjeong x campus player!reader

warnings ⸝⸝⸝ profanity, suggestive, alcohol & cannabis consumption, cheating, y/n is lowk big mad, minjeong is down bad

note ⸝⸝⸝ HAPPY (belated) BIRTHDAY TO ME AND MINJEONGGG 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 and happy new year too!!! idk how i feel about this fic, it’s kinda out of my comfort zone (also its so late rn, i took WAYYY too long to post this)

word count: 4.4k

if there was one thing that every college student looked forward to during midterms, it was the month long break. whether they spend it sleeping, partying, or with their loved ones, it was always the fuel of their excitement.

this had even been the case for park y/n, an extremely popular student yonsei university. the popularity wasn’t due to her looks & lovable bold personality, but she was also park sunghoon’s little sister. sunghoon was notorius for his ability to ice skate, entracing everyone who watched him dance across the ice almost insantly.

y/n went viral after being spotted giving her brother a pep talk before a big performance, resulting in praise for her demeanor and refreshing visuals.

this event lead to her current boyfriend at the time, kim sunwoo, who was one of the most popular campus crushes. he was known for throwing the craziest parties, especially during the breaks.

even though y/n is well-known for breaking hearts and then moving onto the next person she deems worthy, sunwoo didn’t seem to mind this at all. he was happily enjoying his 15 minutes of fame. and in his mind, they were the hottest couple the university had laid their eyes upon.

this hadn’t been the case for student council president kim minjeong, who was currently eyeing the said girl with disdain. the annoyance was practically radiating off of her at this point.

minjeong wasn’t the typical president, though. while she exuded the punk and rock aesthetic perfectly, she was extremely nice to everyone. some would even describe her as shy, but everyone could tell that she genuinely cared for the students. with the way she coordinated all the activities, advocated for the students’ needs and concerns, and represented the entire studdent body. her leadership and communication skills were out of this world.

that was with everyone except for park y/n.

they had been enemies — or more so rivals, for years now. it started in elementary school, where they used to be table partners.

their table was pretty far in the back, so the teacher would always reach them last.

on the very first day when the teacher handed out colored construction paper, minjeong took the last blue colored one. the one that y/n had been waiting so patiently for.

that wasn’t the worst part about it all. she even left a friendly comment for her so-called table partner.

“i’m smarter, so i get it instead of you!” she chirped.

y/n smacked her gum angrily, crossing her arms as the teacher scolded minjeong.

“you’re a big fat liar!” y/n spat back, resulting in a loss of two class dojo points.

“park y/n! give me your gum, now.” the teacher scolded, and y/n immediately obeyed.

two more class dojo points that she needed for her favorite candy — the big blow pops with gum inside.

she could still remember the event as clear as water to this day.

and everytime she does, she reminds herself that she is indeed better than minjeong, and she wouldn’t let that anger consume her. it wouldn’t have been possible to beat minjeong in every spelling bee if the girl was better than her.

minjeong and y/n used to compete in the spelling bee every year during middle school, and they would always be the final two left standing.

but minjeong could never beat y/n. and the smile that y/n would give everyone once she got the award was worth losing.

and the time in high school where —

“are you even listening?” minjeong quirked a brow, patience running thin. her teeth grazed against the piercings that looped around her bottom lip. the piercings that made minjeong look ten times hotter.

y/n hated those.

“yeah, whatever. i, park y/n, swear to improve my behavior over the break. can i go now?” the blonde-haired girl shook her head in disappointment.

“today isn’t the day to be testing my patience.” even if there was any real threat behind the warning, y/n didn’t care. she rolled her eyes before standing up from the chair, smacking her gum to take it a step further as usual. she always knew exactly how to push minjeong’s buttons.

“just get out.” minjeong ordered before holding out the palm of her hand, tilting her head as her eyes zeroed in on her rival’s lips.

a reluctant y/n spat out her gum with crossed arms, huffing quietly. this wasn’t uncommon for the two, and y/n was never truly bugged by the action. she only feigned annoyance so that minjeong had a reason to do it more often.

and she definitely did.

“ugh! i can’t stand minjeong!” y/n complained in the canteen, fixing her lip combo as sunwoo held up the phone camera for her.

sunwoo was currently seated with y/n and her friends, listening to his girlfriend rant on and on about their student council president. this wasn’t a new topic for him.

yuqi was absent this time — she had probably been lip locking in a hallway with her boyfriend, waiting to get caught.

“is there something i should know about her?” aeri raised an eyebrow. “she’s my r—“

“mm-mm. just let her finish, aeri.” sunwoo cut her off, waving his hand side to side in the air. aeri could only shrug in response.

“i swear she does it on purpose too… she never reports anyone as much as she reports you.” ningning chimed in, sipping from the lilac stanley cup that sat on the table.

“exactly! urgh, like she’s so infuriating!” her boyfriend, who was more of a decoration, watched y/n work her magic, amazed by how pretty she was. “i swear we’ve memorized each other’s schedule.” aeri’s face contorted into one of confusion.

“maybe she wants to be your friend.” sunwoo shrugged, resulting in y/n giving him her signature eye roll.

“be my friend? baby, come on now…” she had looked up at him for a moment, sighing quietly before passing her attention to aeri instead. “babes! you should totally come to sunwoo’s party tonight.“

aeri was the newest addition to y/n, yuqi, and ningning’s interchangable clique.

while the three of them stuck together like glue, it was never the same case for the fourth person.

but they had high hopes for aeri.

“i wouldn’t miss it, y/n. anything in particular i need to wear?” she questioned.

“just come to y/n’s house. she’ll get you all fixed up.” ningning’s smile widened, twirling a strand of aeri’s hair. and if anyone was paying enough attention, they could see the faint blush appearing onto the pink-haired girl’s cheeks.

“yuqi had designer dresses made for all of us! today’s your lucky day, because we have a fourth.” y/n smirked, stuffing her makeup into sunwoo’s hands.

the boy hurriedly but carefully put everything back into her purse, along with the pink iphone 16 he knew she loved so much.

“it was originally meant for yujin.” ningning explained, sipping from her stanley as they all stood up. “before she went… rogue.” her voice dropped an octave on the word ‘rogue.’ aeri believed that she understood what that meant — yujin had made friends with minjeong and the rest of the student council.

“but it’s okay, because you’re totally prettier.” y/n giggled before grabbing aeri’s arm and walking off, ningning following close behind.

sunwoo dropped his girlfriend’s phone just as they walked off, picking it up and wiping it off with his hands. “y/n, wait!”

“yuqi, we look like cheap fucking whores. i thought you said this was designer?” y/n complained over the music after they arrived fashionably late to sunwoo’s christmas party.

there were already tons of people there. people that y/n could recognize and some that she couldn’t. some were dressed appropriately for the occasion, and some were in casual clothing.

they all had something in common though — hazy clouds filled the air, and the scent of alcohol boomed throughout the whole building. clearly whoever the dj was didn’t give a fuck about christmas, and that was obvious enough with the way rihanna blasted through all of the speakers.

“this is designer! feel the material.” yuqi retaliated, caressing the faux fur that stuck out of the top and bottom of the red minidress. the belt that defined their waists brought it all together.

aeri shrugged, being pulled closer by ningning. “it’s not too bad.”

their dresses were topped off with a matching santa hat, as well as black gloves and boots.

y/n crossed her arms, poking her hip out as she scanned the crowd. they had noticed their arrival now, earning the attention from a select number of the partygoers. she sighed, knowing that she couldn’t leave early because she rode with yuqi.

unless she were to leave with someone else tonight.

“damn, baby. you look good.” sunwoo sauntered over with his red cup in hand, smelling like a mixture of weed and his signature cologne as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss against y/n’s lips.

he was dressed up as an elf. santa and the elf, how fitting for the couple.

“we look no different than the cup in your hand right now.” she pushed him away, furrowing her eyebrows.

“you look good in everything, though.” he pulled her close once more, planting open mouthed kisses to her neck.

“where’s the weed?” y/n subtly pried him off of her neck, clearing her throat. “this is a party, right?” she tilted her head, eyes burning into his.

“just come this way, baby.” and with that, he maneuvered his way through the crowd, being extremely easy to lose due to the dim and multicolored lighting and the way his green outfit looked underneath it.

the group had a bit of trouble following behind. all different types of people were around with their train of thought altered. high, drunk, both. sober.

they staggered into the kitchen, watching sunwoo open the door to a room just some feet away from them. “he went in there.” yuqi pointed out.

“hey! fucking watch it!” y/n shoved a random person after seeing them bump into aeri, who was being pulled close to ningning’s side once more.

the girl turned around, and y/n validated her own anger once she saw the girl’s face. it was ahn yujin.

yuqi stepped in front of aeri and ningning before gasping comically.

“hey! she didn’t even touch her.” a tall girl that had long brown hair spoke up for yujin with an alert expression painting her features. her name was wonyoung or something? whatever. y/n didn’t care.

“bitch, don’t lie! i saw it!” yuqi raised her voice, and wonyoung gave her a look of annoyance. this made both yuqi and y/n’s temper flare up.

y/n moved in closer to give them both a piece of her mind, but she was stopped by the familiar voice that she could recognize over any symphony.

kim minjeong’s.

“yujin? wony? what’s going on?…” the blonde haired girl was accompanied by the vice president of the student council, yu jimin.

jimin had two drinks in her hand, and yujin scurried out of sight. wonyoung was quick to give the two girls an apologetic look before following.

minjeong’s breath stopped as her eyes met y/n’s, studying the girl’s attire whilst her tongue played with her lip piercings. it was like her expression did a whole one-eighty. taken over completely by anger and something else that y/n couldn’t name.

y/n hated it.

“minjeong, huh?” she let out a laugh that was annoying to minjeong’s ears. “didn’t expect to see you here.”

it’s not that minjeong wasn’t expecting to run into y/n. this was her boyfriend’s party.

after all, y/n was the reason why she left the house tonight.

“this doesn’t look like improving your behavior.” her hand waved around y/n’s figure, arms crossed in her leather jacket. her shirt was short enough that her abs were on display.

y/n hated that.

“you aren’t innocent either, president.” y/n motioned to the red cup that was in jimin’s hand.

jimin laughed awkwardly, opening her mouth to de-escalate the situation.

“i earned this, don’t you think? for being valedictorian this semester.” minjeong spoke in a condescending manner, inching closer to y/n. the way she could see y/n’s eye twitch was the icing on the cake, smirk dancing onto her lips.

and y/n fucking hated it.

“you’re not better than me at everything, minjeong.” her words were laced with venom, even though the person in front of her was the snake.

“i’m sorry? name it.” minjeong chuckled, shoving jimin’s hand that came onto her shoulder.

“if you really wanna hear the answer, come smoke with us. i spent too much time on you.” y/n crossed her arms, smacking her gum.

minjeong was slightly taken aback, and jimin noticed this.

“hey, minjeong… we can—“

“lead the way, y/n.”

jimin’s face fell. how far was minjeong willing to go just to prove y/n wrong? her friends were in need of her help right now.

“hurry up! yuqi said sunwoo went this way.” aeri grabbed ningning’s arm, guiding her through the ocean of people as the rest of them followed, leaving jimin there alone.

“president finally letting loose, huh?” yuqi’s boyfriend, juyeon vocalized in an intrigued tone while sparking up both the blunt and the conversation. the group shared laughter of their own.

yuqi was cuddled close next to him, with aeri and ningning exactly to her left.

y/n was seated in between sunwoo and minjeong, while jake sat next to sunwoo. they were having their own conversation that y/n couldn’t care less about.

as the blunt started it’s rotation, the topic of conversation started to get lost. random thoughts were being talked about now. minjeong swore that she could hear juyeon lighting another blunt.

once it y/n passed it to minjeong, all eyes were on her.

“just do it.” y/n laughed at the worry plastered on the girl’s face.

“or are you a pussy, kim minjeong?”

that was all it took for minjeong to take a hit. a big one, too.

she blew out the smoke and immediately went into a coughing fit, sunwoo rushing to get the girl some water.

y/n felt jealousy coursing through her veins over this. but she wasn’t feeling jealous of minjeong.

“hey.” y/n stood up, elbowing sunwoo away from the blonde haired girl. she pat her back, taking the water bottle and waiting patiently for the coughing to come to an end.

once it did, minjeong tilted her head back so y/n could pour the water into her mouth. yet neither of them broke eye contact.

had aeri seen that right? because it looked like y/n pushed sunwoo away just to help minjeong. purposely.

but if sunwoo didn’t find anything wrong, she didn’t find a reason to, either.

all it took was a few minutes for the whole group to be completely faded. yuqi and her boyfriend left the room a while ago, and ningning excused herself to the bathroom. aeri followed to make sure the girl was okay.

this left jake, sunwoo, y/n, and minjeong. jake had the blunt, and he was laughing after y/n politely asked for a game of truth or dare.

“i might admit something i’ll regret later.” he shook his head, eyeing y/n considerably. this didn’t go unnoticed by sunwoo or minjeong.

she nudged y/n’s shoulder, leaning in to speak quietly once she had acquired her attention.

“the fuck does that mean, jaeyun?” sunwoo barked, sitting up slightly.

jake raised his hands, shaking his head as he yielded.

“still haven’t told me what you’re better at.” the president whispered, and the corners of y/n’s lips went upward.

“come here.” y/n grabbed minjeong’s hand as they stood up, sneaking out from the room that was full of hazy clouds.

sunwoo clicked his tongue, leaning back onto the couch as he looked over at his friend. “you gonna keep babysitting or what?”

“my bad. would hate to ruin y/n’s night.” his voice was lower now, and he handed the blunt to sunwoo, who was obviously upset.

sunwoo took a hit while shaking his head, turning his head to talk to his girlfriend.

“you good y/n—“

“the fuck? where’d they go?” he asked, coughing as he took the blunt from between his lips.

jake shrugged, and sunwoo left him alone in the room to start his search for y/n and minjeong.

“he took the blunt.” jake lifted his arms up dramatically.

y/n and minjeong were in the corner of the kitchen, and y/n smirked as she settled onto the side of the table parallel to her rival.

random people were watching as they began their game of beer pong.

“if minjeong wins, i’ll sleep with chaewon tonight.” a classmate named yunjin spoke out.

y/n started the game, easily taking the lead with two cups to zero.

“seriously? you can drink better than me? everyone knows that, y/n.” minjeong spat out once she kept losing. there were ten cups and y/n had already scored four, while she was at zero.

“hey, now. you know what they say. if you’re not drinking, you’re not playing.” y/n teased.

minjeong huffed, realizing that people were recording now. a light flush painted her cheeks. she didn’t want to seem like a total loser, at least.

she played with the piercings on her lip, finally landing the ping pong ball into one of the cups.

y/n couldn’t focus on anything else after seeing minjeong tease the lip rings, slowly losing her lead.

and after two more, the crowd began to ramp up. they were surrounded by red cups and camera flashes.

“yo, the president is about to beat y/n in beer pong!” some guy yelled out, and y/n furrowed her eyebrows. that’s not what she wanted to be remembered at this party for.

then suddenly, the crowd exchanged gasps as all of the cameras were suddenly pointed at y/n.

jimin had splashed a drink onto y/n’s dress, the liquid coating almost the entire top half of it.

and while y/n was enraged, minjeong found it the hottest sight laid upon her eyes. ever.

“minjeong! the fuck are you doing! people are recording!” jimin scolded her, grabbing her arm to drag her out of the party.

minjeong was crossfaded — she didn’t care. she hadn’t even zoned back in all the way yet.

“this is designer, you whore! it costs more than your whole life!” y/n yelled, and the room had gone quiet.

“you bitches post this anywhere and i’ll kill you.” she threatened the crowd, stomping off to the bathroom.

finally coming back to her senses, the blonde-haired girl spoke up. “jimin, what the hell?” minjeong pushed the vice president off of her shoulder, running after the girl she claimed to be the bane of her existence.

“what the fuck just happened?” a troubled sunwoo asked the crowd that had quickly dispersed and continued on with their previous activities.

a few had sobered up, but the rest replaced their tasks with getting wasted.

“i don’t know. chaewon ain’t getting laid tonight though.” ryujin commented, pouring a drink for yeji.

y/n found herself in some random bathroom, wiping frantically at the stain and trail of drink mixture trickling down her cleavage.

she groaned loudly, grabbing more paper towels when she heard the door open and close. it was no one other than kim minjeong.

she even heard the lock click.

the fucking audacity, y/n thought.

“y/n—“

“get the fuck out, minjeong!” she yelled out, words coming out slower than intended.

“let me help you—“ y/n pushed her away, chest heaving with anger as minjeong stumbled back into the door, leaning against it.

“this is all your fault, kim minjeong. she wouldn’t have spilled that drink on me if it wasn’t for you.” y/n yelled, pointing her finger at the girl. “it’s always your fucking fault!”

her words were slurred, but minjeong thought it was the hottest thing ever. had she ever gotten turned on from a girl yelling at her before?

“w-what jimin did isn’t—“

“shut up!” she moved closer to the blonde haired girl, and she didn’t even try to hide the fact that she was looking straight at her chest.

y/n couldn’t help but notice this, and it made her heartbeat accelerate. “you know what? my whole mood is ruined. just… just shut the fuck up.”

minjeong fiddled with the piercings on her lip. she didn’t want to shut up.

“let me take you home.”

“while you’re drunk? no. this is why you just need to shut up.” y/n scoffed, making minjeong want to try even harder.

“then let me pay for your uber.” minjeong spoke up again.

“what do you not understand about shutting the fuck up?“

“please, y/n?” she breathed out, pushing off of the door to hold herself up on the edge of the sink. “i’ll make sure you get home safe.”

y/n looked at the other from over her shoulder, imaging how it would feel to have her lips against her own.

“okay.” the conversation ended there and the room went silent. only for a while though.

“does sunwoo do that?”

y/n’s breath hitched, and she swallowed harshly. “do what?” she whispered back, skin ablaze with the amount of fire that was burning in minjeong’s eyes.

this was the moment that they realized they both wanted each other this whole time. the way that minjeong slammed their lips together proved it.

it didn’t take long for y/n to get into the feel of the kiss, lips dancing together in a rhythmic manner as y/n pushed her back against the door.

y/n smiled into the kiss as she finally fulfilled her dream of finding out how those piercings would feel at her lips, and it had her craving more.

the president let out a quiet moan as her rival’s tongue slithered into her own mouth, cheeks flushing as she lost herself in the sensation of their heated kiss.

“y-y/n...” she breathed out, and y/n pulled back to witness the sight.

minjeong was so cute.

“this isn’t the student council president i know.” y/n smirked, challenging the girl as she connected their lips once more.

they were drowning so deep into each other that they didn’t even notice that someone was knocking at the door.

“y/n? y/n, you in here?” sunwoo called out, twisting the doorknob.

oh fuck. y/n’s stomach dropped.

minjeong took this opportunity to switch them around, trapping y/n against the door as she attacked her neck with desperate kisses.

y/n didn’t know what to do. should she stay silent?

surely sunwoo had heard the noise of her colliding with the door.

should she just pretend that they were some random couple making out?

minjeong had gotten touchy, shakily gripping y/ns waist as she marked her as her territory.

sunwoo was persistent — knocking again as he continued to call out for y/n. does this guy ever give up?

just as she heard another guy approach the door, minjeong bit down on the sweet spot of y/n’s neck.

y/n whimpered at the action, listening to the conversation that happened on the other side of the door with heavy breaths.

sunwoo was asking someone if they had seen his girlfriend.

even if y/n did want to answer now, minjeong swallowed her noises, tongues fighting each other for dominance as y/n traced the other girl’s abs.

she whined into y/n’s mouth, feeling all of her fantasies finally coming to life.

“please, y/n..” it was a desperate whisper as they pulled away just enough to breathe, not wanting to create any more distance.

“i’ll take care of you.” she panted, playing with the piercings on her lip as she eyed y/n hungrily.

“i love it when you do that.” y/n whispered, keeping eye contact with minjeong while the footsteps retreated. “yeah?” minjeong closed the gap between them, pressing their lips together in a needy kiss.

“minjeong— baby, wait...” y/n moaned, pushing the girl away.

“call the uber.”

it felt like y/n’s brain was doing summersalts inside of her head, hammering against the edges with each routine. she groaned, reluctantly opening her eyes as she scanned the room that she found herself in.

the sheets smelled like amber vanilla with a hint of tart cherry. a scent she had come to love and hate over the years.

because it belonged to kim minjeong.

y/n sat up abruptly, breathing frantically as she really examined the room that she was in. she hadn’t even noticed the figure with blonde hair that she had been previously cuddled up with. that’s why she didn’t recognize this room.

because it belonged to kim minjeong.

“shit shit shit! what the fuck?” y/n bounced out of the bed, searching for her clothes that were scattered on the floor. her phone was on the nightstand, and she could see the multiple notifications that she had received from sunwoo.

she collected everything, tip-toeing into the connected bathroom and slipping back into the outfit she had on previously.

the mirror revealed that her lip combo was stained and there were marks scattered over her skin.

she would have to hide all of this from sunwoo.

feeling the realization really sinking in now, y/n grabbed her phone and traversed into the hallway. she saw that there was a door that seemed to lead to another room, and she began to panic more.

of course minjeong has a roommate.

quickly finding her way to the living area, it was barely lit up by the sunrise. the blinds were completely closed, and there was no other light available. y/n could barely see now, so how did anyone even see when they got home?

her mind tunneled on getting out of this mess, finding one of her boots at the door. after slipping it on, she ran a hand through her hair as her eyes scanned the space for the other pair.

it had to be close, right?

she hit her knee on the sofa, yelping and kneeling down to grab it. “fuck!” she whisper-yelled, pouting up at the sofa as she mentally cursed it out.

someone walked into the living room, flicking the light on and y/n fell silent. she froze in place, closing her eyes as she hoped the sofa would hide her figure completely.

“y/n. i can see your hat.” a familiar voice called out.

what the fuck?

y/n jumped up. “ningning!” her eyes were damn near poking out of their sockets.

ningning’s lips spread into a smile, letting out a melodious laugh after she scanned all of the hickeys and love bites scattered on y/n’s collarbone area and up.

y/n was confused and embarrassed, but not ashamed. “wait, but minjeong isn’t your roommate?…” that was when another figure left the room, grabbing both of their attention.

“holy shit, aeri??” y/n yelled out in surprise.

taglist — @saysirhc

[h4ndwr1tten]

𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?

characters — nanami kento x reader

note — this took me a long ass time to write. if it seems familiar to any other works, i requested something with the same plot on someone else's blog lololol. THIS IS PART 1 AS IT'S A LITTLE LENGTHY!!! dividers by benkeibear.

(am i posting this on nanami's birthday? yes.)

cw — not proof read, established relationship, kinda ooc nanami? like one mention of sex, pregnancy, strong language, arguing, crying, accusations of cheating, hurt/no comfort.

synopsis — the test results are positive and you aren't ready. when you try to hide this from your boyfriend of 5 years, he assumes the worst.

part 1 | part 2

this wasn't supposed to happen. it shouldn't have happened. you both took every precaution possible to prevent an outcome neither of you were prepared for — from condoms, to birth control, to plan b. it had kept you safe for as long as you started having sex. you never found yourself worried about carrying a life in you for 9 months.

so why now does the test read positive?

it felt like the world stopped moving. you didn't even know if you were still breathing. your heart had fallen into the pit of your stomach, your eyes wide and full of disbelief. you couldn't believe it. it couldn't have been correct. the 99% accurate claim on the kit had to be lying. there was no way it could've been true.

it took some time, but you were able to tear your gaze away from the test. you looked up to the ceiling, blinking away the hot tears you could feel building up. you took a few deep breaths and tried to swallow down the lump in your throat, your fingers trembling around the test.

you've thought about having kids before. you did want them, just not now. you were unprepared for this. how do you raise a kid when you aren't ready, when you aren't even married?

then it hit you — nanami's involved in this too.

the realization made you feel 10x worse. if you weren't ready for a child, you could only imagine how he would feel about this. his life was going so well right now. he was happy with his career and his salary, he was content with the apartment you both shared, and he was even more happy to be with you. he had his whole life and future planned out. he knew when he would retire and even what he'll do in life after he retires. nanami saw you in his future, you were always there when he would think of it. but would you still be there if he found out you were currently pregnant with his child?

you two had never fully talked about having kids together. you both were confident that you would spend the rest of your lives together. you've discussed marriage, homes, and briefly, kids. it was never a deep conversation — you only ever talked about having them and how many there would be. but never about having them earlier than expected.

gosh, you felt like shit. utter, absolute shit. you felt even worse for nanami. you felt like you were going to ruin his life plans. you felt like this would be the downfall of your relationship. and if it was, who knew if you would ever recover.

your phone buzzed with a notification, pulling you back to reality. you didn't realize tears had fallen until one slipped from your chin and landed on the hand gripping the test. you stood from where you sat on the closed toilet and checked your phone. it was a text from nanami.

i'll be home soon, my love. do you want me to bring anything home?

he was so caring. always considering you, always putting you first. you couldn't help but feel even more guilty.

hi ken. could you get some takeout pls? i'm sorry, i'm not in the mood to be cooking rn.

of course. want anything specific? are you feeling alright?

i'm fine. you can choose tonight :)

alright then. i'll be home soon, i love you ❤️

i love you too 💕

you shut your phone off and placed it back on the counter, screen facing down. you felt horrible — he was always thinking of your needs before his. would this end now that your carrying his child? certainly he wouldn't want to have to worry about another person in his life at the moment. you wouldn't want him to worry.

you stood from the toilet seat, about to leave the restroom when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. your face was bright pink and red, your eyes also red but not super puffy and swollen. some people might think it was allergies, but not nanami. nanami wasn't some people — he knew you better than anyone, perhaps even yourself. he could see right through you, read you like a book. you began to worry what he would say if the pigment in your face didn't fade in time, if he would ask if you had been crying.

what would you say if he did ask? he knows you so well, it's nearly impossible to lie to the man. you could say you were rewatching your favorite show and got emotional, or reading another chapter or more of the book he bought you the other day. but nanami isn't dumb. he would catch on before you could even finish your excuse, he'd know something's up.

you sighed, inhaling and exhaling deeply. you didn't know how this was going to play out. you didn't know how to act or what to say to nanami when he came home. you were just hoping for the best.

the lock on the door clicked once, twice, and then the door opened. you had been in your shared bedroom, watching some corny rom-com to ease your mind. you had hidden any evidence of the pregnancy test. you threw away the box and instructions, then threw out the trash bag you tossed them in. you kept the test, however, and hid it in your purse that was now laying on your bed. nanami wasn't one to snoop. if he wanted to check something of yours, he would ask permission. and if you didn't grant it, he would respect your boundaries like he always does.

"my love?" you heard nanami's voice echo throughout the apartment. normally, you would've been waiting by the door for him and greeted him excitedly, but for obvious reasons, you weren't.

leaving the bedroom and walking to nanami, who was walking in the hallway and you assumed he was looking for you, you gave him a small smile.

"hi ken," you said quietly, wrapping your arms around his waist instead of his neck where you usually do. you stood up on your toes to reach his lips, kissing them gently and not for long. when you pulled back, nanami leaned down for another, a longer one. were you ever going to get these kisses again if he found out you were carrying his child?

for real this time, you both pulled away. you still smiled softly up at nanami, but he was observing you closely, worry swimming in his honey brown eyes.

three things were running through his mind right now: why were your cheeks and eyes tinted a bright red, as if you had been crying? why didn't you seem as eager to see him after work like usual, wrap your arms over his shoulders and around his neck, and kiss him for more than a second? something was wrong. did he do something? did you know what food he bought and were you not pleased by it? were you feeling sick?

"ken?" you asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. "are you alright?"

"are you alright?" he returned, worry still plastered throughout his face.

you then looked confused, though you weren't, slowly nodding your head, "yeah... why?"

nanami stayed quiet for a second. maybe you were just tired, maybe he was overthinking this. but that idea didn't sit right with him. it was like his gut was telling him that something was up with you. but he didn't know what.

not wanting to push you, he answered, "nothing. i missed you though. let's go eat?"

throughout dinner, nanami noticed how quiet you were. if it were any other day, you would have been telling him about your day, the latest gossip, about the episode you watched or the chapter you read. you were barely even touching your food too. you occasionally took small bites, but most of the time, you were just poking it with your fork.

while he was putting the dishes away, you grabbed yourself a glass of water. that's when nanami asked you, "love, are you sure you're alright?"

"yeah, i'm fine. why do you ask that?" you replied unsurely, looking down at your water.

"i'm sorry. you just seem... off." nanami washed his hands, looking you up and down carefully.

that was another strange thing he noticed. you hadn't looked in his eyes when you told him you were fine. you always make eye contact with him. you're never afraid to and you're not one to break it so quickly, much less avoid it.

he was beginning to question whether you were really fine.

you had just finished getting ready for bed, teeth and hair brushed, skin care routine done. nanami had finished getting ready before you, so he was waiting for you by the bed. but instead of reading a book or even scrolling through his phone, his eyes were glued to you in worry. you could tell he was becoming suspicious of you, and you wished you hadn't made your troubles so obvious. your head was beginning to ache and you were desperately hoping that nanami wouldn't ask any questions.

those hopes were left unsatisfied.

"my love, are you sure you're okay?" nanami asked for what felt like the hundredth time today.

you sighed deeply. "yes, kento, i'm fine," emphasizing the fine. "my head just hurts right now. have you seen the tylenol?" you added, hoping that it would be enough to stop his questioning.

"no, do you want me to check your bag?"

you felt stupid for having kept an small extra bottle of tylenol in your bag. nanami reached over to your side of the bed, grabbing your purse. he had pulled the zipper open when you realized what was about to happen.

"no!" you yelped, practically sprinting to the bed and snatching the bag away from him. you checked to see if the bag had been open enough to see the test, which it hadn't, and some relief washed over you. but then you realized how much worse you had made your current situation with nanami.

fuck. i fucked up. i'm fucked.

nanami's brows were furrowed together, his face painted with a mix of frustration, confusion, and concern. he looked you up and down over and over again, gaze switching from you to your bag repeatedly.

"okay, y/n, seriously. what the hell is going on with you? first, i come home and you don't seem as excited as you tend to be. then your face is all red like you had been crying. then you—you barely talk to me, hell, even look at me throughout dinner! you touched your food like, what, 5 times? and then when i try to look through your bag to help you, you panic and snatch it away from me?"

kento's ramble had you silent. you didn't know how what to say, what stupid excuse you could use, how to explain your behavior. you only avoided his gaze and stared down at your bag. the thick, suffocating silence lasted for a moment longer, then nanami finally spoke again.

"y/n, are you..."

he paused and took a deep breath, as if to prepare himself for what he was about to say.

"are you cheating on me, y/n...?"

you were dumbfounded. in absolute, utter shock. how could nanami, the person who you believed to have the most trust in you, think that you would be unfaithful to him? yes, you realized how skeptical your behavior was. but for him to come to the assumption that you'd cheat on him? it stung a little—a lot, actually.

"what? no... no, of course not, kento! how could you say that?" you retorted, finally looking him in the eyes.

"gee, i don't know, maybe 'cause you can barely even look at me and you're very obviously hiding something!" his voice raising more with each word spoken.

you had no argument to counter what he had just laid out to you because he was right. you couldn't look at him for more than 5 seconds and you were hiding something. you eyed the floor beneath you, opening and shutting your mouth as you tried to think of something to say. nothing ever came out though.

a heavy sigh cut through your thoughts. you looked up from the floor and saw nanami shaking his head, running his hand down his face. he was so disappointed, you could feel his hurt radiating off of him.

"i'm going to sleep," he muttered, reaching for the lamp and dimming it. lying down, nanami shuffled into a more comfortable position, facing away from your side of the bed, and pulling the covers up to his shoulders.

"ken—"

"night, y/n."

you didn't know what you were going to say anyways. tears slid down your cheeks and the least you could do for nanami was keep quiet and let him rest. you realized that you wanted to apologize. apologize for the way you had been behaving towards him this entire evening, for making him doubt your faithfulness to him.

you slid into bed next to him, facing away from him as well. your body shook with the sobs you fought hard to keep in, nose stuffy and pillow quickly becoming soaked. you thought that the positive pregnancy test would have been the downfall of this relationship—now you wonder, will this argument turn these past 5 years into a mere memory?

m. list

[reverieblondie]

Can you write something spicy involving rolan and spanking? Why am I obsessed with spanking rn

So when writing this I tried my best to channel my inner @lemonsrosesandlavender which I would like to dedicate this to them for their birthday! enjoy the drabble! Now lets spank that brat!

Brat Taming

It had been the longest day he'd had in a long time. It seemed as if everyone in the City was in need of his magical expertise today, asking his every nonsensical question or worst, the ones that were completely obvious. Thinking back on it threatens a headache to boil forth. Uhg-

Rolan undoes his collar as he walks through the portal to the tower. All he wants to do is get to his room and release this irritation the best way he knows how…

He practically runs up the spiraling stairs, taking two at a time, to get to his room as fast as possible. As he passes different rooms, a noise makes him pause. It's Cal and Lia laughing (nothing unusual there), but what is unusual is the sound of the third laugh, and it's a laugh that makes his ears and tail twitch. 

As soon as he gets to the lounge room, where the laughter erupts, he pauses at the sight and leans against the door frame. Sitting around the fire are his siblings and Tav. The mere sight of her is enough to make a growl roll from his throat as he eyes her. 

Rolan straightens his posture before walking in, not even sparing her a glance. "I thought we said we would warn each other before having… guest." 

The trio turns to look at Rolan as he strides through the room. 

"Don't be like that, Rolan. Tav dropped by for a surprise visit. I guess the portal still works for anyone who's passed through it before," Cal says with a smile. 

Rolan only hums before stopping in front of Tav, "That is something to be fixed then." Rolan says with a sneer, causing Tav to furrow her eyebrows at him. 

"Can't just have people wandering in here on a whim." Rolan draws dully before turning on his heels to leave. "Keep the noise down; some of us have worked all day and need to destress!" he snaps before side-eyeing Tav, something none of them miss. 

Lia frowns, "What's up his arse? Forgive his grumpiness, Tav, don't let him bother you." 

Tav watches as Rolan leaves her face unreadable. "Let me go talk to him… maybe I could help…" 

Rolan hears her following footsteps, but he doesn't bother to turn around until he's at his room's door. " Are you following me now?" 

When he turns, he's surprised to see how close she had gotten without him noticing… practically on his tail… Rolan swallows, trying to keep his edge as he looks into her unwavering eyes; he blindly reaches for his doorknob till suddenly, tavs hand is grabbing his shaking hand and the knob at the same time. She steps closer. "Why are you such a damn brat?" 

Rolan whimpers in his throat as her words go straight to his cock. Tav twists his hand so his door opens, and she wastes no time leading him inside and slamming the door closed. He feels his body tingle at the slam, and before he can work up the never to challenge her more, she's grabbing him by the collar, her lips so close to his he dares to lean in to kiss her, but Tav pulls a fist full of his hair keeping him back and making his hard cock throb.

Tav leans in and breathes against his neck, making him shiver with a high-pitched whine; she smirks before giving his throat a nip, making him grip her waist. The feel of her teasing drives him mad. 

"You stand there and talk to me as if you didn't send me a sending spell to come and fuck you." 

Rolan moans as she talks in his ear; she's right… She's been sneaking into the tower and having him at her mercy for weeks now. Rolan has long admitted to himself that he's addicted to her and craves her mere presence everyday. Tav knows what he needs… when to be soft to him, when to tease, how to touch him, how to get him to be open and vulnerable, and when to put his bratty ass in its place. 

Tav's tongue licks the side of his ear, and he moans at the feeling of her slick little tongue; his toes curl at the memory of her rimming him with it not even three days ago. Gods, she's perfection. 

Rolan feels one of Tav's hands travel down his abdomen to where his cock sits hard and straining in his trousers. He hears her hum as she softly caresses his confined length, pebbling and twitching for release. Then, with a quick shive, Rolan stumbles back and falls on his bed; he's practically panting as he looks up at her. Tav looks as dominant as ever as she looks down at him through lidded eyes. "Turn around and drop your trousers, brat." 

Rolan bites his lip as he quickly unfastens his belt and bends over on his elbows, tail raised high and trembling as he exposes his ass to her. Tav traces the soft underside of his tail causing him to shudder a moan. She smiles, "Ready to be punished?" She leans down, pressing her body against his back as she massages his tail's base. "Ready for release?"

Rolan growls Tav's name, "Yes! Gods, just spank me already, you damn tease! Ah-"

Rolan isn't even able to finish his rant as Tav slaps his ass, sending a delicious sting to rush through his body, making his length ache and leak on the bed. His firm ass flushing from the harsh impact. 

"Count." 

"Rolan swallows, "I… won't last…" 

Another crack on his ass makes him dig his claws into the sheets, his back arching in pleasure. Tav caresses the warm flesh, "it wasn't a request." 

Rolan hums, swaying his head as he stills and lifts his tail. With silent confirmation, Tav spanks him again, causing Rolan to keen, "One!" another slap, "Two!" two more in quick secession, Fuck! Three, four!" 

By the time Tav gets to eight, Rolans practically fucking his leaking cock against the mattress. His hips rutted faster and harder the more Tav spanked, drool dripping past his lips at her teasing his taut hole. Rolan's eyes water as the tenth crack sends a painful pleasure past his peak. He moans so loud as he pistons his hips.

Tav grabs his hair and arches him up, "You sound like a whore archmage…" She reaches around and starts to palm his glass-hard cock, so hot and drooling at her touch. "Are you ready to let go of all that tension?" Tav speaks so sweetly into his flushed ears. 

Rolan hums a whine as he buckles his hips into your hand faster, "Yes! I need to… I've wanted this, wanted you all day. Fuck!" Rolan's cock pulses at his own desperation, and then his orgasm crashes down on him like a ton of bricks. His whole body shudders as his cum leaks down, dripping and making a mess all over the sheets and himself. 

Tav kisses on his sweaty neck moving her hands up and down his body as she watches him ride out his orgasm.

Rolan slides down to his knees, his eyes shut but with a smile on his face despite the burn to his backside. She always knows exactly what he needs… it makes him fall for her more by the day.

"Th-thank you," he pants with a smile, resting his head against the bed. But his moment of calm is short before his chin is lifted to where Tav sits naked on the bed. Tav smiles coyly as she spreads her legs. 

"Don't thank me yet. You still need to make up for being such a brat." 

Rolan licks his lips as he looks up at her dripping slit and the coarse hairs that decorate Tav's mound. An excited smile curls to his lips as he moves closer. "Of course…" 

Rolan buries his face between Tav's thighs as he breathes her in and licks her cyprine. Definitely falling in love…

[moss-ridden-owl-creature]

Dude gangggg can y’all help

I think I’ve got some fucked up toxic ass friendship going on rn and I don’t know what to do about it. (it’s super long sorry)

Now let’s call this friend Q (he/they) Now Q and I have been friends for about 4 years now. And for the first 2 1/2, 3 years or so. It was a chill friendship. Pretty close, Yada yada, all that. But in the last year and a half or so, Q has gotten drastically meaner. I mean like genuinely shitty behavior. He’s copied things I do, insults me, and on a few occasions, actually physically hurt me. Usually it was semi-harmless stuff, like on my birthday telling me that I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, and another occasion “[deadname], I love you, but you CAN NOT sing.” Both of these instances were about a year ago. Keep in mind, one of my greatest passions, is THEATER. More specifically MUSICAL THEATER. Like dude! That fuckin hurts! BAD. And keep in mind, both those comments were UNSOLICITED ADVICE. I didn’t ask, want or need them, but the moment I ask “Hey, can I offer you some advice on how to adjust your art you made?” (Anthro art, which I am WELL VERSED IN.) his immediate response was “No. and don’t you dare.” OH? SO I GET IT. YOURE ALLOWED TO OFFER UNSOLICITED MUSICAL ADVICE, SOMETHING YOU AT THE TIME KNEW JACK SHIT ABOUT WITHOUT ASKING ME FIRST. BUT THE MOMENT I TRY AND DO THE SAME, AND I ASK YOU FIRST, ITS A BAD THING? You goddamned fucking hypocrite. Just pick a fucking side dude! I’m so TIRED of it. Or recently, a couple weeks ago, me and my friends were talking about this stupid ass like what character you’d be if you were in this show we all watched and I said who I’d be -a character I really liked- and this bitch really responded with “You’re not cool enough to be around to be them.” Like dude, wtf?? Why would you say that shit?? Or the other time when they said “You’re not my best friend” among other things. But the most recent, and imo, the most serious development, is that Q has begun to actually hurt me. Not in a joking way, in a purposeful way. Now, usually as a joke, if you put your hand in front of my face or if I see you do something that I think is pushing the boundaries of one of my friends, I’ll “bite” you (it’s literally just your hand in my mouth dude. I don’t even bite hard enough to indent or bruise the skin.) and Q has begun to respond by slapping me. Keep in mind, I’ve done this for YEARS, this is not a new thing I’ve done, but him slapping me in response is new, But today was a different story. Today when I did it, because I noticed that my friend he was bothering seemed visibly uncomfortable, I “bit” Q. Q decided to respond by sticking his fingers in the bottom of my mouth, taking his thumb and pinching the skin between the fingers inside of my mouth and his thumb on the bottom of my chin (the area on your jaw where it’s only skin) and pulling. Really fuckin hard. And if you haven’t had that experience. It’s fucking painful. Especially for me, who, for a long time has had dental issues in regards to my bottom jaw and teeth. So not only did this hurt, it could have genuine affects on my physical health. Now, about a week ago. I informed a close friend on mine that I wanted to try and distance myself from Q for these exact reasons. He’s gotten meaner. unnecessarily mean, to point where it HAS ME PHYSICALLY FUCKING HURT. and gods I don’t know what to do about it, because my friend was like “oh it’s probably just a misunderstanding” THIS ISNT A FUCKING MISUNDERSTANDING OR A COMMUNICATION ISSUE AT THIS POINT. Because what I am putting into our friendship is NOT reciprocated. Worst part is, he doesn’t apologize for ANY OF IT. he doesn’t even MENTION IT. And I just don’t know what to do about it. I’m so, so tired of this shit.

[ssturniolo]

Bunnies and birthdays

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 - Chris x fem!reader

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 - after thinking everyone forgot her birthday, y/n was met with a pleasant surprise.

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - swearing, kissing, I think that’s it? (Not proofread)

𝔞/𝔫- I know it’s bad and rushed I just needed to get something posted.

You’ve never made your birthday a big deal, and most definitely have never expected any gifts. But you were still surprised and slightly disappointed when you woke up to no ‘Happy Birthday’ messages. Well, at least not from any of your friends. Not even from Chris.

Remembering that the triplets told you they were bad with birthdays, you just assumed they had forgotten. Rolling over in bed, you prop yourself up on your elbows and send Chris a quick text.

Y/n-hey love, wyd today? Wanna hang out?

Chrizz🫶-sorry can’t talk rn

Sighing, you pull yourself out of bed, and walk into your living room, flopping onto the couch. You spent the day watching your favorite Disney movies, eating popcorn, and online shopping to distract yourself.

Just as the end credits of ‘Bambi’ roll onto the tv, a message from Chris pops up on your phone.

Chrizz🫶-y/n,come to my house I need you

Jumping off the couch, you rush towards the door, mind racing. This sounds urgent. Is he ok? What if something bad happened? You couldn’t help but think the worst, as you drove quickly to their house.

Opening the front door, you rush inside, only to find, well… nothing. All the lights were off and the house seemed quiet and still. Almost too quiet.

Just as you reach the top of the stairs, the lights flick on, temporarily blinding you as all of your friends pop out, screaming ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’ in unison. Grabbing the railing so you don’t fall down the stairs, relief floods over you. They didn’t forget.

You smile, taking it all in. The beautiful decorations, the cute birthday cake, the triplets even flew some of your friends from home in. It was perfect. Except one thing. Scanning the room of familiar faces you couldn’t help notice there was one missing. Chris.

After giving hugs and thanking everyone, you walk up to Matt, a confused look on your face. “Where’s Chris?” You ask, still a bit on edge from his previous text.

Furrowing his brows, Matt looks around the room. “He should’ve been up here by now, he’s probably still in his room.”

Thanking him, you walk down the stairs to Chris’s room.

About to turn the knob, you freeze as you hear a crash from inside the room.

“Fuck” Chris’s voice comes out muffled through the door but you can still hear the annoyance.

Slowly entering the room, your met with the sight of Chris on all fours, seemingly searching for something. Noticing your presence, Chris flashes a smile at you before continuing to search.

“Watcha looking for?” You question, bending down as an attempt to help him look for whatever he seems to be missing. Before he can respond, a movement in the corner of his room catches your attention.

You turn to find a small, grey bunny cowering in the corner of his room. You gasp, slowly moving towards the small creature to pick it up. With the bunny now in your arms, you turn to Chris who is already looking at you.

Motioning towards the rabbit, he scoffs. “That little shit tried to kill me.”

“Why’d you have in it the first place?” You question, giggling at his over exaggeration.

“I.. um.. know how much you love thumper from ‘Bambi’ so I thought I would get you your own” he says, finally meeting your eyes.

“It’s- it’s mine?” You whisper, as a smile slowly creeps across your lips.

“Better be, because I’m sure as hell not keeping it”

Setting the bunny on his bed, you run up to Chris, wrapping him in a bear hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank youuu” you squeal into his ear.

Pulling away, he rests his hands on your hips and smiles down at you. “Happy birthday ya goof” he says before leaning down to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I’ve had this idea for awhile and it was supposed to be written and posted on my birthday but as you can see, that didn’t happen. Ik it kinda sucks but hey, it’s something.

XOXO - Zoe

[bardengarde]

I hope you struggle with this ask game as much as I did. Love you.

BJ: 3, 20, 22

Hawkeye: 1, 2, 6, 12, 24

God Shan you said you were going easy on me then I reviewed the questions.... I wish I had an emote here for BJ's sarcastic smile. Love you too though, and augh.... *cracks knuckles* BJ Hunnicutt

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

Already this isn't fair, because you know me, you know my blog title, you know my beliefs. ...The entire episode of "Hanky Panky" though. I hate that he cheated on Peg (while still recognizing the significance of it to his character arc, and the archetype he fulfills). It was a hard fall when I got to that episode for the first time. I was rooting for him, we were all rooting for him. And the fact the date the episode released on is so close to my birthday- it felt like a targeted attack.

There are maybe other things..... won't share them here though, y'all stay safe.

20. Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

Assuming I'm meant to answer other than Hawkeye since they're canonically best friends, I really would have liked to see his and Klinger's friendship expand more. I love the banter they have, they seem to get along great, and even if Klinger isn't a dad in the show I feel like he has dad energy and I feel like they'd be really stoked to show each other pictures of their kids in the future and be excited for one another and the milestones their kids reach. I'll stop myself before I go too far off on the deep end with headcanons, but I think their dynamic is often fun and sweet and would love to see it explored more.

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don't like?

To be so real with you, I've not read enough fics to have a good answer for this- like down to details. I guess my thing is knowing that BJ is a very complex characters with multiple layers- I feel like I'd get annoyed if I read a fic that took a very fanon approach to BJ and made him like a malicious liar type, which I don't think he is at all. Or if he was boiled down to jealousy or anger issues. That said, I love reading a fic where someone can nail his sense of humor or puns.

Hawkeye Pierce

1. Why do you like or dislike this character?

Why DO I like him, honestly??? I'm rewatching the show from the beginning rn and god.... I landed on this guy??? Echoing your answer when I asked you, he's definitely very complex and I am always learning new things about him/ coming to a different understanding in my interpretation of him. I really appreciate his character arc and what Alan Alda did with his character; I appreciate his views on him as well. I'm also drawn to characters where just about everything happens to them, and god Hawkeye might have pioneered that trope /hj

I'd also argue that I like Hawkeye so much because he's so much unlike the majority of my favorite characters previously. Traditionally, I've been more drawn to serious, academic characters, or charming and romantic, or softer and gentler, or even clean-cut types, and Hawkeye is.... different, to say the least. Not to say he's not capable of some of those qualities... sometimes, but he's... just vastly different than say Aramis, Enjolras, Riza Hawkeye, Peggy Carter, Philippe (mitim), and so on, and so on...

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Hah.... This is also hard.

I like how imperfect he is. I would personally think of him as a good person (I say while wincing a bit), but I think more accurately he is a person who is trying to do his job to the best of his ability in one of the worst possible circumstances. And he tries to help people who are being mistreated along with it, and while standing up against idiocy and injustice, and being firm in his pacifism.

Despite that, he's sleazy, disrespectful, sometimes outright mean, and overall probably not someone I would want to be close friends with in real life. (At least, not at where he is in my current re-watching of the show.) He's not a 'saint in surgical garb'; he's a person. A very flawed person. And I like that. I like him. 6. What's something you have in common with this character?

I don't think I can answer this without getting too deep with it. Let's just say I like to think I'm funny sometimes.

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

I know none of these are new to you Shan, but you'll hear them again!!!

-I think one of Hawkeye's favorite ice cream flavors is Rum Raisin. I think he also likes splitting a banana split with someone else (as a kid- with either of his parents, does it on dates sometimes, etc)

-I'm purposefully twisting a line given in the show about him having a 'pet' stuffed owl, and saying he had a stuffed owl toy as a kid named Hooty.

-I think his favorite color is red.

-I have a very important headcanon to myself that after his mom passed away, he was given a lot of extra care and love by the moms of a few of his friends in Crabapple Cove. One would send along an extra packed lunch with their kid to make sure Hawkeye had something to eat at school. Another stopping him to fix where his hair looked a mess and straighten his shirt for him. And so, so many hugs and endearments. None of this was done because they thought that Daniel Pierce was neglectful or couldn't take care of Hawkeye, but because Daniel was grieving as well and they wanted to help where they could and ease some of the load off Daniel's shoulders with not only him becoming Hawkeye's sole guardian, but also while still being the towns doctor as well- while he's trying to pick up the pieces and get back on his feet.

I like to think even as an adult when Hawkeye sees one of his friends mom's who had helped taken care of him, he still runs up to them and gives them a big hug. :,)

24. What other character from another fandom of yours that reminds you of them?

Hehe, there's the rub because I don't know if I have one. Mayyyybe Grantaire since I have Les Mis on the mind today, but not reallyyyyy. No offense to Grantaire but Hawkeye is a lot more competent and cares a lot more about things. But drunk, comical, not straight, in love with a blond- that checks out.

[koishua]

koishua's miscellaneous wip list!

say boo and pressure me into finishing these numbers <3

listed: 24/80 proper wips. had to sift through 250 drafts and veto most of them bc honestly we all know they weren't going to see the light of day!! have a suzu icon representing me rn <3 gonna be giving the other wips to the mooties who sent in for the ask game i created ages ago

№1 ) love till the sun sets | heeseung est. 15k

№2 ) from under the magnolia tree | beomgyu est. 10k — on february fourteenth, exactly five years ago, he’d gifted you a small magnolia tree he’d named after you. he’d said that he would love you for as long as the sapling you’d planted together would live. he’d even said that he would watch as it grew bigger and older with both of you taking care of it. he'd said that it would be the most beautiful thing in town. you'd believed him.

№3 ) we were beautiful | sunghoon est. 5k — you were fifteen when you’d first fallen in love with your childhood friend, seventeen when you’d called him your boyfriend, and eighteen when you lost him to life. broken apart by circumstances and necessity, everything you’d built up with him had fallen apart overnight. by the time the dawn of your nineteenth birthday had arrived, you’d no longer have the name park sunghoon present in your everyday life, only contained dearly in your memories and a journal, his name scribbled mindlessly on each and every corner of the aged pages.

№4 ) dear cupid | jake est. 15k — desperate to have his feelings of two years reciprocated, he finds a leather-bound book falling by his feet in the old campus library containing a guide on how to summon the very real and very quirky god of love and desire, cupid. in his next life, jake would come to write a book on why you should read holy contracts thoroughly before signing your name off in blood.

№5 ) man up | heeseung short fic

№6 ) ikigai | niki est 10k — lonely and trying to cope with the deeply settled rage at the world, reader stumbles upon a peculiar boy in the middle of a bridge and falls into a conversation with him where she utters eight damning words. the world consequently stops spinning and the univers halts as it is. time comes to a stand still and the only two ppl able to move happen to be her and the boy beside her. cue the next seven days of adventures in the dark streets, lit only by the streetlamps in the outskirts of tokyo.

№7 ) pocket locket | m. jaehyun short fic

№8 ) foreign exchange student!beomgyu drabble

№9 ) death is for those who stay | heeseung short fic

№10 ) the world and all her pearls | ??

№11 ) do yourself a flavour | ?? — ice cream parlour, r2l

№12 ) i blinked and suddenly i had a valentine | ??

№13 ) enha dates gone awry (in the best ways!)

№14 ) take you out | sunghoon assassin au short fic

№15 ) a conversation between the lost and unloved | yeonjun est 3k

№16 ) mothers and fathers | yeonjun est 5k — a conversation about hungry mothers and forgetful fathers with yeonjun, an unlikely friend from a country you've never been to.

№17 ) signs that enha are dating

№18 ) "why did you give me wings and want me to fall?" | ?? — hunger games-esque!au

№19 ) notes unread | sunghoon — letters you'd written for each other, unsent and unread.

№20 ) enha and your cute little secrets

№21 ) everything sucks, just kidding! | yeonjun short fic

№22 ) do not touch | jay est 5k — bnha!au, living with a quirk damning you to eternal loneliness, not being able to touch or be touched in fear of the other's demise, jay loves you from afar. he loves you without a single touch.

№23 ) i could drown myself in someone like you | gaon short fic

№24 ) dude, go to therapy | beomgyu text fic — your number neighbor just so happens to be choi beomgyu, your old nemesis from high school. it's too late when you find out about it, though, because you'd already dumped all of your emotional baggage on him. worst of all, he seemed to be concerned and not at all like the beomgyu of the past.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

On a Harry Potter kick rn. Soulmate prompt: Harry Potter (male or fem) and Luna Lovegood romantic soul bond, preferably in fourth or fifth year unless you have a specific idea. Type of soulmate mark/indicator is up to you.

I just really adore Luna as a character and the small peeks we get of her dynamic with Harry in the books, so I'd love to see your take on them as a couple and discovering their bond

If you want a good Rec Ignore the Dementor is a Fantastic Luna/Harry fic.

Note: this is not intended as bashing. Rather is is a bit of a ‘expecting people to end up together is dumb’ and how people often get caught up in fantasy dream worlds. The only person I poke at who I mean to be a bad person is Snape.

People take Soulmates seriously. You’re expected to be utterly perfect for one another. In the Muggle World, it’s illegal to marry anyone not your soulmate unless both your Marks have faded. In the Wizarding World it’s not ullegal but it isn’t common unless you’re Pureblood and your Soulmate not.

Marks appear on the younger Soulmate’s fifteenth birthday. Generations of teens have done rituals and little spells to get a glimpse of how it is. There isn’t a solid way to see though, as Fate tends to hide these things.

(There are other Rituals to, forcing a Mark to be fake. Fate burns those who do these, and promises the victims of them salvation. They work but at a cost, a cost that takes and takes. That gives them their worst dream come true. And then they always break. It doesn’t stop the Rituals. Doesn’t stop people from trying.

It never lasts.)

While there is no true way to tell who your Soulmate is, expectations often abound. Oh those two will be Mated. No they’re just friends! I thought she would end up with her not that girl!

These expectations are considered rude. No one knows after all. Dating before your fifteen is permitted, but expecting your soulmate to be your partner is rude. Trying to date someone with the belief they are your Mark is even ruder.

Still it isn’t uncommon.

Harry knew this, and when his best friends ambush him to try and talk about it points it out.

“No mate, you don’t get it.” Ron said, shaking his head. “Mum saw you don’t have a Mark and her eyes lit up Mate. Me and Hermione-“ he smiled at the bushy haired girl who smiled back, the Marks in their neck obvious “-think she assumed either Hermione, me or Ginny for you.”

“When we didn’t get a third and you said you had no Mark, she began saying of course. Look at Ginny! She’s to young. And then she began talking about weddings.” Hermione said.

“What?” Harry asked in shock.

“Sirius told her off. Said back off as it wasn’t a sure thing and she didn’t know. Also said she might claim he sees you as your dad but she’s certainly trying to shove you into that role since she mentioned you marrying Gin would be like your parents again.” Ron reported. “She was right pissed.”

“It doesn’t help everyone else but Remus seem to agree with her,” Hermione scoffed. “I told Ginny to move on. That she couldn’t be sure and her crush would just worsen things for everyone.”

“Nothing wrong with hoping but expecting? Ick.” Ron made a face. Harry had to agree.

The rest of the summer was uncomfortable. Molly kept trying to have him sit next to Ginny or spend time with her. Ginny tried to be less shy but her blush would occur as she looked at him.

Ron and Hermione were safe places. So was Remus and Sirius.

“We were expected to Match,” Sirius told Harry. “Never mind I don’t like men.”

“I prefer men,” Remus admitted. He smirked. “And yet you met my wife.” Tonks had been around during their third year, much younger then Remus but the two were stupidly in love.

“My Mark… she died,” Sirius admitted. His face was pale. “I don’t like talking about it. But there were so many people shocked and the belief some dark ritual was cast.”

“Wait those rituals are real?” Harry asked. He’d heard rumours and the stories but never knew they were true.

“Oh…” Remus said, realizing something. Sirius sighed.

“Your father woke his birthday with a smear where his Mark should be. Someone had tampered with his Soulmate,” Sirius said bluntly. “We took him to the hospital wing and luckily it seemed that it was the more common ritual used. One the nurse could break.”

“Your mother collapsed at breakfast. And the boy she thought who was her soulmate did to. They were rushed to the hospital wing, and that’s when it came out Lily was James’ soulmate.” Remus finished.

“My mom was under a dark ritual?” Harry asked in horror.

“She was, and the fucker who did it got away since he claimed he didn’t,” Sirius sneered.

“It could have been his Soulmate,” Remus said, though his tone said he didn’t believe it.

“Who was it?” Harry asked but they wouldn’t tell him.

It didn’t matter. Not when Harry saw how they glared at Snape when he came through the door, how Tonks refused to go near him.

It was a sickening thought.

(Did he? Did he not? Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.)

While the buffer of his friends and godparents was good, Harry still found himself trapped in a small compartment with Ginny. Across from him was a girl with long blonde hair who blinked at him.

“The Nargles are after you,” she said dreamily.

“What are Nargles?” Harry asked, desperate to not talk to Ginny.

What followed was actually pretty fascinating, and Harry couldn’t help but ask more questions. Luna was pretty damn brilliant, and snarky like how she talked about Snape obviously being under the influence of a Grease Mister that damaged his brain. Harry about died of laughter as Neville chuckled and Ginny giggled.

It was a rather nice start to the school year.

-

“Murtlap works,” Luna said as she studied Harry’s hand. Her tone wasn’t her normal one, harder and angrier. “But so does this.” She dug into her bag to pull out a lotion she began applying.

“Thanks Luna.” Harry said. He was tired. Tired of Umbridge. Tired of the murmurs that followed him. Tired of Snape. Tired of Dumbledore refusing to meet his eyes.

Tired of knowing looks when Ginny talked to him and how everyone seemed to expect. It was driving him bonkers. Worse was when Ginny’s boyfriend tried to pick a fight. It was insane.

“Would you like to visit the threstals with me?” Luna asked.

“Sure,” Harry smiled at his friend, letting her lead him off. Visiting death horses was better then worrying about things.

It set up a pattern of Harry seeking Luna out. If them spending time together outside of the lessons Harry taught his fellow students.

Hermione and Ron found it sweet, teasing Harry about a crush. He wasn’t sure if he liked her like that or not. He liked her though. A lot.she was kind and so smart.

When people began commenting about how he was neglecting Ginny he’d turn around and ask what they were expecting. Most shut up after that, wincing at the reminder it wasn’t set in stone.

Luna ignored the whispers and told Harry that it wasn’t his fault people were infected by Nargles. Or Whispims. Or another creature she talked about.

It was nice.

(“Can you stop hanging out with him?”

“He’s not yours Ginny.”

“No but-“

“Are you expecting it?”

“… that’s not fair.”

“Look to your boyfriend.”)

-

In February, specifically the thirteenth, Harry woke with his cheek tingling. Ron glanced at him and paused, before chuckling.

“Well then, looks like expectations are wrong.” He said, purposely loud. Seamus glanced up and stared at Harry who quickly went to their bathroom to check. A Mark had spread across his cheek, silvery and beautiful.

Luna. He knew it was her birthday.

A hope stirred in him and he dressed fast. He hurried down the stairs. He didn’t care it was a school day.

“I’ve got your bag!” Ron called after him anyway, and Harry barely paid attention as he ran past a group of Gryffindors who stared in shock. One of them was Ginny, whose face crumpled as soon as she saw the Mark.

Running to the Great Hall, he skidded to a stop upon seeing Luna waiting.

Her Mark glowed on her cheek as she smiled at him.

He beamed back.

Note again: Snape did not cast the ritual but he DID in fact know who did it and supported it. It was his soulmate, Bellatrix. She didn’t want to be tied to a halfblood and offered the choice to him. He took it.

[istherewifiinhell]

okay apropos of nothing. these idiots

[ID: Rise turtles screenshot redraw (from ep: mystic library) with 3 mutant-sonas, all looking up in apprehension in front of a help desk. They are: a red half mask wearing caimen (a small crocodilian) in dark and light green, a green eye mask wearing snapping turtle, in tealish tones, and blue masked... thing, with reptilian features and antenna, in mint green and warm beige. END]

da dipshit brothers <-collective gendering leave me alone

weep whomp bullshit be below

goes like this

ID: discord msg from: Stop. eating. THE POISON! (green): (going through screenshots) look it us

[ID: Og rise screenshot, the turtles are leo, raph and don. END]

see no mike shot cause we dont have a mike. if ur a mike type and sad abt it idk get urself adopted?

attempt one:

ID: message from: keep it down Vomitello (blue): (RED) mutant sona. NOW image attached is the green and blue characters in sort of proto designs, more 'rise style', lined and coloured, over the screenshot. the red one sketched in with only the expression and a blob of colour. text with an arrow points to it as "YOU GO HERE" END

fugging guy doesnt even have a mutant sona. ridiculous

an aside about styles:

[ID: msg from green: Yours is too cute that’s not fair (edited) blue: JUST CAUSE" i cant draw ur guy aswell rise style harrrrrd look practice sketch came out looking like 03 jhbdjhfg. myyyy bias attached sketch of the green turtles head more in line with 03 shows turtles (smaller eyes, diff head shape) END]

ID: msg from: beautiful birthday baby (red): Oh oof you can't just put me on the spot like that green: yes we can blue: im sorry u havent THOUGHT ABOUT IT. fucked up of u END]

Red: Leatherhead but not as big or smart Blue: HMMM which kind of crocodilian u wanna be. theres some fun ones Red: I'm partial to caimans and alligators Green: well chop chop pick up the pen tool Red: So caiman seems about right for a smaller alligator Blue: theyyyy are just little guyssss Red: Idek if I have clip studio installed rn Blue: u got mspaint. itll do

EIGHT HOURS PASS

[ID: msg from blue: gotta do everything around here attached art now has the caimen character drawn in, mostly the same as above. Though still in broad cartoony style, he has strong eye ridges, flat head, prominent alligator type snout with nostrils and gullet. END]

Green: WOOOOW THATS REALLY GOOD Red: Sorry I've been busy That is good tho thank you Blue: THANKIES. i do like crocodilians. is the thing. [Green] ur odd man out now. beak urself Green: That’s on you for not changing the style Blue: WELL. i was tryna draw ur guy as youuu drew him fghjsdf. gotta put him on the pottery wheel... MOLD HIM [...] Blue: anyway u. any actual animals ur guy is supposed to evoke or should i just look up bulbasaur realistic fanart

ID: Green: Lmfao is supposed to be a normal snapping Turble Blue: arrghhhaa YEAHgg photo of a snapping turtle making a funny face

an aside about... the devils green:

[ID: Green: Now I’m trying to think of how a big croc mouth smokes weed Blue: smoking big doinks in amish silly sketch of the caiman smoking a joint, eyes half lid with a big goofy smile, smoke coming out the nostrils. END]

Green: But [Red] doesn’t use joints Blue: IM NOT DRAWING A BONG. Green: I’m thinking of his big dumb [novelty branded bong] tryina get the croc mouth on it Blue: jhgbhjsdfg Green: That’s what’s making me laugh

ID: Blue: with difficulty sketch of the caiman with head lowered to a excessively long bong, arm stretch to over the distance of both his muzzle and the bong. hand drawn holding lighter to the. smoke bit. smoke comes out of the nostrils again. Green: HELL YEAHHHHH END]

Blue: 2 hours old and hes already schmoking Green: When he exhale becomes a dragon Blue: Yer Green: [Red] look at your weed smoking fursona Red: I got distracted but I hate and love it Green: was the distraction weed Red: No it was tik tok Green: so worse the worst drug

Attempt 2:

[ID: Blue: okay get creatured idiot art now has the turtle as the above art, without only minor touches. He has a wider set eyes, a more shapely and pronounced beak, the 'teeth' coming to a point, eye ridges, and more colour variation. END]

Green: YIPPEEE i forgor is yours a robot Blue: yerrr lol least amount of guy to draw and from front view so idk how to show. the CHOMPERS

(aka, now I FELT left out)

attempt 3: et volia

[ID: All characters as above, with highlights and shadows now, only drawn over the screen shot, not edited into frame. The blue masked reptile robot thing has been moved so its more visible also gaining a flatter head, eye ridges, a pointer (tho still round) beak with more teeth indicated in the comical expression. it has a scarf the same colour as its mask. END]

anyways i was like arggghh how to edit them into the scene better that seeeeeem HARDDDDDD. think about makeing them bigger and moving them and etcetc. until i realised i bet i could just get this background from the episode.... and then i was fucking around on websites. suffering... until i remembered.... i have... ALL OF SEASON 1. on my laptop. and. the thumbnail for this eps file is LITERALLY. this

[ID: the blank background of the library, with the desk in fore, little orb lights above, and the kooky purple mystic library selves and what not in back. END]

s'its about 3 mins in.

[toxycodone]

My favorite Weezer album (also objectively the worst, DO NOT FUCKING LISTEN TO IT PLEASE /srs I will bite you with malicious intent) is the Pinkerton Album, it's misogynistic and pathetic and fetishistic, rivers cuomo made the rawest sounding incel music ever. The whole album is just rivers screaming and pouting about how horrible his life is because women don't love him, my favorite song by the foxing is also rory if that makes it any worse for you LMFAO

my top 3 Pinkerton songs are "I Just Threw Out The Love Of My Dreams", "Butterfly - Alternate Take", and a tie between "El Scorcho" and "Pink Triangle" because pink triangle is so funny to me, rivers is complaining about the girl he liked being a lesbian, get cucked loser. If u decide to listen to the album, only listen to IJTOTLOMD (acronym for the first song I mentioned, I'm not writing that shit out) and Pink Triangle, they are the least egregious out of the entire album, and IJTOTLOMD doesnt even have rivers singing ITS THE BEST SONG WITHOUT THE ACTUAL LEAD SINGER in it this shows you how bad Weezer is, I'm old Weezer's biggest fan and number one hater I will always make fun of weezer

ALSO OMG THANK U ?? u got me smiling and shit. lol I don't want to get into it but my last partner (online dating) pressured me into being xir dominant and guilt tripped me into doing sexual things for xem ... it just was a bad experience overall. And then bro had the gall to break up with me on my birthday after we were together for over a year and showed me xir new boyfriend the day after like...It was fucked. But I'm better now!! And Im not using the word loser in a demeaning way for myself, I'm like, Hmmm... I have that pathetic sopping wet dog rizz yk? Pathetic Loser ™ is my base state of being, my younger siblings bully me about it but its all in good fun I love them lol. (One of them admitted that I was actually cool so heeheehee)

But thank you I feel special, you have a grown man doing this -> ☺️👉🏼👈🏼 and kicking his feet and shit. I'll give you a little kiss on the cheek as a token of my thanks. Mwah 💋

- the same anon who is still scared of admitting who he is lol

okay you know those guys that like. Seethe because terrible men give bad bitches trust issues??? That’s me rn.

anon you have no fucking idea how mad this makes me 😭 like?? Be so so so fucking fr. YALL HAVE TO STOP FUMBLING BADDIES. GIVE THEM TO PEOPLE WHO DESERVE THEM (ME!!! I WILL CHERISH THEM!!!)

okay as someone who also got burned by online dating (long ass story. which I won’t tell unless asked). I’m genuinely so sorry that happened to you. People online can be such a fucking hit or miss (usually a miss). But your ex’s behavior makes me think your ex is jealous LOOOOL. No one flexes anything if they’re truly happy and content—trust.

I’m still doing this to your ex tho bc I’m petty.

AND YESSS YOU GET IT. Like. When I say loser I don’t mean that in a bad way. Like, more in a colloquial sense. Because really I like nerdy guys bc they’re people who are open and proud of their interests even tho they may seem weird. And they’re just honest about who they are and their abilities. It’s actually really brave. And I love that about them. So. Yeah.

ty for the cheek kiss tho hehe I am glad I was able to make u feel good.

[fiddlepot]

What have I been up to?

Rigorous twink drawing, that's what.

This guy's chosen name is Solon and he's 50% a dragon. I've been enjoying my micron pens

And I've also been enjoying scanning from my sketch book it's really fulfilling I do recommend

So!!!!!

Here's a little bit about him bc I'm feeling silly and want to ramble. Ik my original content doesn't get as many notes but I really don't have much motivation for otherwise rn and I don't want to shut up about him. (Anon in my drafts your ask will be answered soon)

Also since I've been feeling demon slayer a lot he will be in my crossover au, particularly with doma bc tbh I kind of ship that guy with most of my ocs these days.... May make a doma x ryūshi!reader soon so watch out for that or whatever..... I still ship kokudouma tho............

He but honestly not him!

He was born of a dragon father and a human mother. The father was a deadbeat just like mine. 💀 He was also the one who gave Solon the name "solon," but upon literally fucking leaving he was left with a western-seeming given name and a Japanese last name because dad never got married to mom. But mom calls him ryūshi (龍子) which means "child of a dragon" or "dragon child"

Which... He is. But he kinda hates it. Hates the meaning and hates the bullying he received for having "demon-like" features...which are literally just traits he inherited from dragons in my ou (Who wouldn't?)

So he goes by his father's name and tells anyone he meets of his western name instead. Which weirds people out when they realize that yeah, he is Japanese lmao! But he usually explains it by saying he studied abroad for a period of time and adopted a western name as a result.

That aside... What traits does he have?

Claws.

Fangs.

Eyes. (Heterochromic, his right eye a direct juxtaposition to his left eye. One is draconic and the other is... Normal 💀)

Bioluminescent marks. Dont ask how.

Carnivorous tendencies. All he'll eat is anything with meat this guy is a vegan's worst nightmare

And he hides all of these to the best of his ability!

Noticeably sharp teeth? Yeah I think I'll just not speak often. Let's throw on a mask to boot and never open my mouth wide when I don't have one.

Carnivorous tendencies? My bad bro I'm just a meat lover (both kinds)

As for his marks, they tend to fizzle out for most of the year, and reappear around the same time his birthday month is right around the corner... Or already there.

He can't control the glow so he kinda just goes into solitary confinement and when he isn't doing that he's bundling up to cover said glow 💀

He's also at his strongest around the time the marks appear. Stronger than he can manage. There's a lot of money spending around those times because if he does literally anything too hard his possessions can and will shatter to pieces.

As far as like, the KNY universe is concerned and his involvement with it?

Mightve considered becoming a slayer, but he instead chose against it because the occupation seemed very risky. You know. In spite of his unusually high endurance. And general hardiness.

He has no reason to become involved with a battle for others when he's battling himself ig

But that's not to say he hasn't bounced around the option.

He's only encountered a demon once and that demon mistook him for another demon. They never saw each other again.

But he has come across slayers plenty of times, and he admires their resolve to protect those around them.

Not exactly sure why nobody knows about them. But he doesn't have the courage to inform, lest he sound more insane than he already looks.

Oh yeah, he has really bad self esteem. And even worse self perception.

His mom wasn't exactly cruel to him all the time, but she was cruel about giving him the name ryūshi given he literally is one.

Although he isn't a doormat and will fight back, he is afraid to most of the time—not necessarily out of kindness (although he doesn't really want to hurt anyone too badly) but rather fear of being reprimanded for self defense. He can't exactly control how strong he is yet.

But dear God, does he hope he'll be able to soon. 💀

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Okay. Um. I'll probably post a few more parts to this since he's relatively new and I'm still figuring him out but so far I'm loving him! Hope y'all do too, idk. ☠️

[spacedhead]

homestuck reread #12: act 6 p3

this is so funny to me im giggling in call and my friends are asking but im not brave enough to say it

john is fighting jack?? OKAYYYY WIN THIS SHIT THEN

HI ROSE OMG HI ROSE . it sucks how they cant like communicate with each other at all during the three years. like you guys dont have multi dimensional service? get the iphone plan

RAHHHHH

bro shut up LOLLLLLL

what the fuck is this . WHY ARE THEY BEING SO MEAN TO EACH OTHER GUYS PLEASE YOU HAVE TO GET ALONG

TRUE we love a dumb motherfucker

due to speculation???

johntav

john looks so goofy here. also drunk rose was silly but also a bit sad

holy shit this is a lotta trolls

stop pretending. we all know you want attention stop trying to deny it. AND ANOTHER THING. the stuff that is going on with caliborn? WRDGAF. the meenah intermissions were fun though. some funny dialogue in there. i liked them :) . unfortunately it just made me wanna get back to what the beta kids and trolls are doing... even though i see them every so often i feel like i miss them. like i used to see them all the time! and now... i see them once a year....

yeah you really screwed the pooch on that one lil bro

okay this dialogue is actually painful to read BUT it is interesting how a common theme of the alpha kid session is just. Waiting . they have to wait for the beta kids to come to actually make their session winnable and it keeps telling us that . so theyre just sitting around stewing in their juices. also cool that theyre called nobles instead of heroes and their planets each have a noble gas in the title

this doesnt really make sense over text BUT i see what is happening and. yes jake is the worst. jake you suck we all hate you sorry girl maybe stop being flop city

yeah okay jane is actually based right now. i cant remember why i stopped liking her. in this conversation jake is ragging on dirk for being too self indulgent and having zero self awareness while talking to jane about his issues. jane is literally trying to plan her own birthday party . jake you are being so fucking stupid and rude and honestly a pos rn bro. get OVER yourself

cool panel.... a bit scary though! man i love roxy. calliope is good too

holy shit i did not know that your dreamself has to be alive for you to ascend to god tier on your quest bed. that is interesting.

YOOOO HI ROSE. I MISSED YOU SO MUCH YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE EVERYTHING THAT HAS HAPPENED WHILE YOU WERE GONE. and by gone i mean not the center of the story i guess? but either way

bro is like are you serious right now. is this really happening. also hey equius . long time no see. i guess

OH HELL YEAH BEST CHARACTER JUST INTRODUCED BTW

ahahahahaha oh man this guy is a riot. also look at dirk this is huge for the dirk profile picture community which could be me soon

"it seems i demand milk" NEED TO START SAYING THIS ABOUT THINGS

oh man i really hate this part. i hope it isnt too long i dont remember if its really drawn out or short

he is about to die

he deserved this

gahhhhhhhhh its too much PLEASE let this end soon

this shit is IMPOSSIBLE TO READ

NOOOOOOOOOOOOO fefeta :( best character you will be missed on this grand adventure. but alas we will have to carry on without you. how will we cope? how will we survive?

i think you are giving him too much credit there . at this point he definitely IS an asshole

okay well trickster mode is over and things are about to get even worse but i do appreciate the kids talking out their problems albeit in a very non direct way to where they arent actually really solving anything BUT they are at least talking now!! so thats good!! next part things take a turn for the worse somehow see you then

[xylatox]

The Slow Surrender 😞😞 I am so excited it's absolutely unreal

Before I even began reading the note?? may this story tear you apart, and somehow, when it’s over, stitch you back together piece by piece. Raya I will sob and throw up.

I'm already tearing up at the wedding scene, like, Raya, you were able to captivate the emotions so well that I in return too felt sad and absolutely anxious for what is to come; I felt so soft seeing Soobin there tho :((( like my heart I will start crying.

I love that we see how close Soobin and reader are during the reception, they are the cutest siblings your honor:(

And then there’s you. The second child. Since young, you were conditioned, moulded—not to lead, not to build, but to belong to someone else. To be a wife. One whose marriage would serve a purpose, a bargaining chip in a deal that you have no voice to protest. – I'm so close to full on sobbing so early in the fic because I can't even imagine a life where you're just moulded entirely to become someone's wife and it hurts me to my core to even imagine these circumstances. Worst yet, that the love seems so one-sided break me like :(( Raya girl you're making me cry and to make matters worse their first interaction as kids has even more tears forming in my eyes :(

I absolutely feel for reader, she's so sweet and honestly just too kind, the fact that she made soup for Gyu and got him medicine despite his girlfriend not caring shows how different they are and how much more reader cares for him. Reader definitely seems to wear her heart on her sleeve and it makes me so sad thinking that such a sweet person isn't guarding herself.

I absolutely dislike Ji-won taking the credit, like I know Gyu wouldn't have known it was reader anyways since she wouldn't leave a note but it still makes me so angry that Ji-won tries to portray this super caring girlfriend when she doesn't care :( And seeing reader go lengths for those 4 years in University for him just increases the pain I feel.

It's also crazy to me that despite the on and off relationship Gyu had with Ji-won they were still together even after they graduated and it justakes me so angry. I will say arranged marriages always suck but this one hurts even more, that fact that reader had to do all the wedding things on her own, when you're meant to enjoy it with your future spouse just shows the severity of the situation.

Beomgyu, the boy who returned you safely to your brother that night, the one who left a permanent mark so indelible it stayed for years. The same mark that now hurts you, refusing to fade no matter how many years passed. — Raya, this is just plain cruel, like girl, how much more are you going to break my already broken heart.

Seeing their marriage life, I am glad Beomgyu was not cruel to her but I do agree that the indifference hurts on another level. “Because if being an invisible wife isn’t enough, your children will see you.” — oh my god Raya I feel sick.

Beomgyu's Perspective!! I am so excited oh my god😞😞 we are finally about to get his thoughts when this wretched woman interrupts again. My empathic ass feels bad for her now omg😞😞 like I genuinely want to hate her fully, but I can't help and feel a bit bad for her.

THE KISS (in the most gut wrenching pain) — I am absolutely going through it right now. The way his touch made you feel seen. And when morning came, like always, he would retreat—pulling away, storms behind his eye, leaving you to wrestle with the hollow ache in your chest. — my chest is also hollow rn what the fuck Raya, tears are falling, I am not okay😭

Not me crying, I wanna protect reader so bad, like she let's Gyu have so much of her :(( RAYA WHAT THE FCUKNSJSJS?¿?!!!! I didn't even realize it was a dream Raya what the fuck, that transition was amazing??¿? also it was her birthday :((((((( my poor baby I'm in so much tears. I love and appreciate Ryujin for being the much needed friend oh my god.

I managed to frown more than I possibly could, like, what do you mean Gyu talked about Ji-won days after they got married, on their honeymoon and in front of his family???? Like I get it you didn't want to marry her, but at least give her so much more respect than that. Reader is absolutely amazing to just take all of that. I love that she was able to at least stand up for herself at least a little bit

Soobin is such a sweet older brother, like him not getting married because it feels like a betrayal to pursue his own happiness when reader has to endure her pain?? Raya you phrased that so beautifully. I also love how Yeonjun is here too to comfort reader :(( Ji-won is pretty insane to speak to reader and habe the audacity to say that she and Gyu had unfinished business, that's actually...wow.

What.The.Fuck. Like I know an accident was coming but I genuinely did not expect that Raya, are you trying to kill me😞 and to add to my pain Yeonjun is so in love with her :( Between the accident and losing the baby, I am beyond repair, my heart is in a million pieces

Sunghoon being best boy and letting Beomgyu know it was reader all along looking out for him :((( Thus, all this time he really loved her :((( despite thinking it was Ji-won. I take back any empathy I had for Ji-won, actually.

Burying a child isn't easy; to others its a sibling they never got to know fully, but it never gets easy. It only becomes manageable overtime. The scene with reader and Soobin unexpectedly hits home a bit harder than I wanted or anticipated and makes me think back to that time only to be reminded of a pain that is honestly indescribable. Raya, I genuinely appreciate you also showing this side because it isn't seen often, but it is one of the biggest parts when losing a child/someone who means the world to you.

It hurts to see reader hasn't seen Gyu in 7 months but it is expected considering everything she went through. At this point i am crying, my heart breaks to see how everything unravels, from the divorce papers, to Gyu begging her not to leave and finally where we also see that Gyu also mourned the loss of this child. I couldn't put my feelings into words as I read the last 2 sections this, not just because everything as amazing but also because my heart and tears wouldn't allow me to.

As this is the end, I am reminded of the note Raya had at the start of the fic; this story was able to tear me apart but was also able to stitch me back together. I am overall at a lost for words. Raya, you always amaze me with your writing and I always feel blessed than I'm able to read your work. Again, this was amazing and I have felt such a pain I haven't felt in a long time. I will always enjoy your work♡

THE SLOW SURRENDER

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

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

Your deepest fear. Your husband.

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

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

wc: 24k — playlist here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone claps.

It's official.

He is now your husband.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until death do us part.

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

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

Untouchable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Though you could never quite pinpoint when it began.

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

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

This place wasn’t fun at all.

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

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

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

“Use this,” he said.

“No,” you mumbled.

“Huh?”

“I said I don’t want it.”

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

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

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

You nodded, surprised that he knew.

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

That day was the day you first met your husband.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's impossible to ignore.

"He's sick again… ugh."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You had no right to.

Beomgyu wasn’t yours to defend.

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

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

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

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

It's no surprise that he got sick.

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

Not even Beomgyu himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It felt like you were leaving your heart with him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Babe?”

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

“Oh,” she says casually, stepping closer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That wasn’t the last time.

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

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

And something about that stuck with you.

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

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

Because you didn't want anything back.

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

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

It wasn’t for him. It couldn’t be.

It was for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's cruel.

Happy 26th birthday baby girl! xoxo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe even as a friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Omg, Beomgyu?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her warm hands envelop his.

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

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

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

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

And then, she leaned in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All he could see was your face.

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

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

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

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

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

He sees you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nights like this made it hurt more.

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

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

You should push him away.

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

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

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

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

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

It burns, and it burns so good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wake up, heart racing.

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

Even in sleep, he doesn’t let you go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They were given to me.”

“Two dozen?” he presses, “By who?”

“Soobin,”

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

“Yeonjun,” The name lands heavy between you.

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

Because it's your birthday.

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

Silence.

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

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

He's painfully beautiful.

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

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

It doesn't surprise you anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn't.

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

The name made your stomach drop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're waiting.

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are you still awake—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

The line clicks immediately.

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

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

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

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

And the sight of your tears now terrifies him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps, it is his turn to wait for you.

It’s the longest elevator ride of your life.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you didn't.

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

The wedding photo.

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

How could he have been so blind?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right. You’re at his place now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t go there—not now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You ignored them all. You had to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

���That’s why I came to apologize,”

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

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

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

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

You can’t breathe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ryu-jin? Hey, long time no see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s been in an accident,”

You got into an accident.

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

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

You got into a car accident. Something terrible happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beomgyu floored the gas pedal.

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

He had to see you. Alive. Breathing.

Anything less would destroy him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So soft that it terrifies Beomgyu.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How much you mattered to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then—it shifted.

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

You woke up, panting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did you have to lose your child too?

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

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

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

Your baby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then there was you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The messages sat there, unanswered.

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

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

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

“I just wanted to know how you’re—”

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

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

The line ends.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gone, but forever in our hearts. Moon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The week after your discharge was unbearable.

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

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

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

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

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

But then your eyes caught the window.

It glows. The moon.

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

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

It’s been six months since you woke up.

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

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

Seven months since everything fell apart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He closed the door softly behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You finally stayed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your hand never leaves Beomgyu’s as he drives.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

They look like... brothers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because without you, there’s no him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe they have.

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

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

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

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

You’ll be okay.

THE END.

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

[slutzandcuckz]

Title: Not So Not Together

Rated M 18+ ((MINORS (MEANING ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 🙃) ARE NOT WELCOME TO READ OR INTERACT WITH THIS POST. MINOR AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED))

PUT YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO RN

Content Warning: all characters are 18+, katsuki bakugo x reader (gender neutral language used, AFAB reader), angst, exes au, recently broken up, soft bakugo, these bitches in love ❤️‍🩹, crying, kissing, dry humping, ass play (to reader), baby used as a pet name (to reader), sad times 😞

Estimated Word Count < 3200 * I edit my writing too often to commit to a static number 🥴

“I’m coming over.”

Fuck.

“Ok—”

The call ends abruptly. He’s always the one to hang up first, leaving you to reflect on your poor decisions with three mocking beeps ringing in your ear. You don’t have to pick up when he calls. Some days are easier than others, especially when you have things to do or people to see. But it’s late on a Thursday night, and you can’t go to sleep. Why don’t you put forth a better effort to go no-contact? Why can’t you block his number, or unfollow his socials? At the very least you could delete his pictures. But you don’t because you’re weak. And pathetic. And in love.

The phone feels heavy in your hand, like it’s bearing the weight of all your inadequacies. Your arm drops limp in defeat, and your body follows shortly after. All you can bear to do is lie on your back and stare at the ceiling fan.

It’s best to not think about how the past four months have been absolute hell—coping with a break up that neither of you really wanted. Your relationship just ended so abruptly. Not in the sense that you didn’t see it coming, but rather in a way that one day you two were together and then the next day you weren’t.

Neither of you have done a great job with setting boundaries. He calls or visits at least once every other week since you broke up, usually just to talk, or share news, or even to fuck. And as much as you know it’s not good for either of you to continue with this “not so not together-ship”, it’s better than not having each other at all.

“God, this sucks,” you think out loud, body shifting to lean on your side. “This sucks so hard.” Mr. Snuffles stares blankly at you from across the bed— a weathered and patched stuffed rabbit given to you on your 11th birthday. Out of all the judgement you’ve faced from family and friends, his is the worst. He knows you better than anyone. Knows what you should do, when you should do it, and who you should do it with. He’s your voice of reason, and despite not having a mouth, he’s quite loud. And it seems with each missed opportunity to cut Katsuki completely out of your life, Mr. Snuffles’ judgment grows louder and louder. It’s the eyes honestly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you croak, ashamed that a stuffed animal knows better than you. “I know what I'm doing.”

Three firm knocks reverberate throughout your apartment, and it’s like how a forest grows still in the presence of a predator. The ticking of your clock, the blades of your fan, even your own heartbeat grows quiet.

He’s here.

You’ve seen him a billion times and you’ll see him a billion times more maybe; there’s no need to feel anxious…maybe a little sad. Definitely super guilty. But also really happy? Because you love him and love being around him and love spending time with him. Why is this so fucking complicated? You thought love was supposed to heal all wounds…Or maybe that was time.

Just as his fist readies to bang on your door again, your pretty little head emerges from the other side, surveying his person with interest. His arm lowers, milkshakes in either hand, eyes lidded with tiredness. There are a few awkward moments of staring before he speaks, growing tired from holding the milkshakes (and the unbearable silence).

“You gonna let me in?”

His words seem to snap you from your stupor, a sheepish smile stretching your pretty lips: two-toned and lightly glazed with chapstick, top lip sculpted perfectly in Cupid’s image. He misses waking up to those messy love letters your lips spoke into his skin. He wants to kiss you right now. He thinks you would let him if he asked.

You step backwards and open the door to let him in. He walks in with confidence, like he’s been here a billion times before, and he has even since the break-up. He makes his way to your couch where he sits and sets your milkshake down on the coffee table.

“I got your favorite.”

Goddamn him. You can never reject an Oreo milkshake. It only takes a second for you to join him on the couch, an unorthodox amount of space between two people who are supposedly no longer in a relationship anymore—you could fit four maybe five fingers between that space? The close proximity is suffocating and desired all at once. He grabs your remote, turns the television on, then proceeds to lay his arm across the back of the couch directly behind your head. You both sip from your milkshakes for a while, idly watching the cartoon that flashes across the television screen, neither too bothered by the lack of conversation, or so it seems. It feels like how it used to… but not at the same time. You clear the phlegm from your throat that always accumulates when you nurse a milkshake, before turning to him and speaking.

“So what brings you here tonight?”

Obviously to fuck, or at least, that’s the conclusion you come to. It’s 2:30 in the morning, what other reason would he come?

He continues to face straight ahead, but his gaze shifts to his peripheral, noting the weary look on your face. He sits there for a bit, setting his milkshake down and letting the question smolder in the air. He’s grown a bit anxious from the question if the tapping near your head is any indication. Maybe a minute or three passes before he finally gives in, body sinking into the couch with a heavy sigh.

“Imischew,” he mumbles, body folding in to make himself small.

“You mis chewed?” You repeat confused. “Did an Oreo chunk go down the wrong pipe? Do you need some water?”

“No,” he groans, shifting uncomfortably. He follows up with the same undecipherable mumble, but it’s evident you’re not catching on, on account of the perplexed look on your face. “I don’t think I’m understanding, Suki.” Fuck, he loves it when you call him that.

He takes a deep breath to quell the feelings of frustration and anxiety bubbling in his chest. It’s not your fault, he thinks. He’s a mumbler and you’re borderline hard of hearing.

“I miss you,” he enunciates, finally working up the courage to look you straight in the eyes. He sighs dejectedly. “…I miss you.”

Oh...oh. Despite the time you’ve spent together since the break up, neither of you have uttered anything so… sentimental.

It’s silent again. Your lack of response is making him reeeeally fucking anxious.

Fuck, he thinks. This was a bad idea.

He suddenly shoots up, humiliated and ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he grumbles, “I shouldn’t have come.”

He just about makes it past the couch before you quickly set your milkshake down and dive forward to clasp his wrist, body draped over the arm of the couch.

“No,” you yelp, frightened by his attempted departure. A stale silence follows your outburst. It seems to drag on for far longer than either of you anticipate, both bodies unmoving as if frozen in time. And then you finally speak, voice trembling and small. “Please… I miss you too.”

He turns towards you, the television light highlighting the bubbling in your eyes, reflecting the sullen visage of his own features. God, even when you’re crying you look like an angel.

“Come sit?” You request with a sad smile.

How could he ever say no to you?

He heaves a deep tired sigh and nods, maneuvering his body around the couch with your hand still tightly wrapped around his wrist.

There’s distance between you now; about as far as your arm can stretch, but you refuse to let him go (in every sense and meaning). It’s quiet again, and not the comfortable silence you found yourselves sitting in when things were fine between you both. It’s awkward and stifling.

He’s so tense. His leg is bouncing and his muscles are flexing. You're not doing much better. The grip you hold around his wrist is tight. You can feel his pulse racing in your fingertips. You take a deep breath and make an effort to release the tension from your body, hand reaching lower to caress his palm and intertwine your fingers together. He observes your hands noting how large his is compared to yours, the curves and valleys your fingers form, the heat that emits from your palms. It makes his belly flutter.

“Can I hug you, Suki?”

Of course you can. You are always welcome in his arms (except when you’re not).

He pulls you towards his chest and wraps himself around you, enveloping you in his furnacy hold. Your legs wrap around his hips and you tuck your face safely between his shoulder and his neck. This feels like home more than any house ever could. Maybe that’s why you two find yourselves together so often. You miss sharing a space together. You miss spending time together. You miss him. And even with him pressed firmly against your body, breathing life into your clumsy aching heart, do you even really have him? You’re not together anymore. And that makes you so sad.

His shoulder grows wetter by the second. With each sniffle and sob that greets his ears his heart clenches tighter and tighter. His precious angel, so soft and so sweet. How could anyone bear witness to such sorrowful cries? How had things ended so wrong?

“I miss you, Suki,” you whimper. “ I miss you so much.”

He attempts to blink away his own tears. The racking of your body vibrates him to his core. He pulls you closer, as if to mold your bodies into one. He wishes he could make things not hurt anymore.

“We can’t do this anymore, Suki. I-It hurts too much.”

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m sorry.” He shushes your sobs and cradles your head, rocking your bodies to the rhythm of an unsung lullaby. “It’ll be okay,” he chants, trying to convince himself of that as much as he’s trying to convince you.

You both rock for a while, tears slowly simmering, holds growing looser. You lift from his shoulder and just stare at his face. You failed to notice his own sniffles and chokes. His face is streaked with tears. It’s quiet for a moment, and then another, and another, before a wolfish grin adorns his face in an attempt to make this moment a bit lighthearted. You smile in return. He’s just as good at making you smile as he is at making you cry.

Giggling, you knock your foreheads together, and cradle the back of his head. His hands find solace at the small of your back, thumbs digging beneath your shirt and rubbing patterns into your skin. The angle is a bit awkward, but you both just stare into each other’s eyes, wondering what the other is thinking. If you both knew what the other was thinking, maybe you wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. So many misunderstandings and unaddressed resentment. So many missed opportunities to make things better, and you both fell short on that end. So many things were just…unresolved and unspoken.

But despite all of that, one thing is clear…

“Can I kiss you?”

You still love each other.

He responds by cradling the back of your head and guiding your lips to his own. The kiss is closed and puckered, both sets of lips sitting on the other, unsure of how to proceed, but muscle memory takes over and you fall into a familiar routine, mouths opening and tongues tangling together.

God, he loves this so much: the texture of your lips, the taste of your mouth, the dexterity of your tongue—he dreams about this—about kissing you. It’s all he ever wants to do.

“F-fuck,” he moans, gravely voice resonating in the air. His hands travel back to your hips to encourage the steady grinding you’ve unconsciously started. The motion is smooth, like how a gentle ocean wave licks upon a shore. He follows your lead, grinding up to meet you halfway. The friction is perfect.

His eyes are glazed over and hooded in arousal, unwavering and unable to look away. Your eyebrows are knitted together, and your mouth is ajar and panting. Your head bobs back and forth, unable to hold steady from the pleasure building in your body. It’s mesmerizing.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Rub that pussy on me, baby.”

Your stomach clenches. Despite his reserved disposition, he is a vocal person, especially when it counts.

“Suki,” you whimper, attempting to quell the fluttering of your eyes. You just want to look at his beautiful face, but you can’t, motor functions completely consumed by need.

“What is it, baby?” God, his voice is heaven.

“I wanna feel you.”

“You don’t feel me,” he goads, one hand coming to cradle your head as it bobs back. “You don’t feel how hard I am for you?” You clench again.

You do feel him, all seven and a half inches, hard and steely like an iron rod, nestled neatly between your soaked folds. Even through the layers of clothing that obstruct you from his skin, you can still feel him. “No,” you drawl. “I wanna feel you inside.”

“Yeah? You wanna feel me, baby?” He pulls your hips harder against his own, reveling in the wetness pooling over his shaft. “You wanna clench that wet pussy around my dick?” He pulls your head towards his face, swollen lips wisping across your own. “You wanna ride me and milk the cum from my balls?”

“Please,” you whimper, falling into his chest. “Please, please, please—”

At this rate you’re going to cum. Your clit is hard and pulsing, easily sliding across his shaft and pubic bone. With each roll of your hips, electricity shoots through every nerve ending in your body. You’ve soiled through your shorts and his sweats, sobbing the fabrics so thin you might as well be naked.

The hand at your hip sinks beneath your panties to grab a handful of your ass. He squeezes hard, unable to restrain the molten need surging through his veins.

“You’re close,” he states. He’s close too. His tip is leaking and sticky, balls drawn close to his body in preparation to release his load.

“No,” you shoot up and whimper. “Want you inside!” You’re nearly crying, and yet your hips make no effort to stop.

He shushes you and kisses your lips. You’re so cute when you get like this. The fingers gripping your ass travels further between your cheeks, pass your asshole, and down to your fluttering pussy. He gathers the wetness spilling from your hole, and lathers himself in your slick. He continues to pepper kisses on your lips and cheeks, heart and loins clenching from the desperation in your eyes.

After his fingers are completely soaked and pruned, he transfers your slick to your asshole. His fingers rub and prod at the puckered opening, his breath shuddering at the faraway look in your eyes. That’ll do it. That will definitely take you over the edge. Your hips frenzy and your holes pucker. His length twitches and bobs.

A deafening moment of silence, like how static builds in the air before lightning strikes, and then a wail, guttural and bone chilling. Your body convulses and twitches and seizes like you’re possessed. You see nothing but black. And he sees nothing but you. It’s almost spiritual how his body follows after you. Like a current travels through you body into his own, your pleasure igniting every nerve ending that lies dormant beneath his skin. The last image he sees before his eyes roll to the back of his head, is that of the only person in his life he wishes he worked a little bit harder to keep.

🎶Doofenshmirts Evil Incorporated🎶

Phineas and Ferb is on. All of a sudden, your surroundings are there. Beneath, behind you, and all around you. You feel sticky and gross, and can barely keep your eyes open for more than a second. Katsuki’s head is laid across the back of the couch, mouth open and muscles twitching involuntarily. You smile at how goofy he looks.

“Suki.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He doesn’t respond. You try again, a little louder. “Suki.”

He manages a small hum.

“We should get up and shower.”

He doesn’t respond again for another minute or two , probably fighting off the sleep that comes with such an explosive orgasm.

“Okay.”

You follow his lead when he moves to get up, lifting off of him and waiting at his side for him to collect himself. You look up at him as he looks down at you and you give a small smile before leading him to the bathroom by his hand.

The shower feels nice. You take turns under the water and gently bathe each other of the sweat and cum you’ve collected. This moment feels nostalgic, like it’s a distant memory, and not playing out in real-time. It feels like how it used to be…when you two were together. Intimate. Warm. Fuzzy.

After a while you two just end up holding each other, soaking in the water and the love and comfort this moment offers you. It makes you want to cry how perfect this is.

After you’re clean and dry, you offer him some clothes he hadn’t bothered to take with him when you two broke up. You change in separate rooms.

After it’s all said and done, you escort him to the front door. He’s hurt that you’re kicking him out, but he thinks he understands. You both do a pissy job at setting boundaries, and this is your attempt at establishing one. He gets it.

You both stare at each other for a good long while. You fight the urge to drag him back to your bedroom, but you stand firm on your decision.

“I’ll call you,” he sighs. And he will. He always wants to talk to you.

You take a shuddering breath and nod, weakly smiling up at him.

“Okay.”

He wants to kiss you, but thinks maybe he shouldn’t. He nods, turns towards the door and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.

You’re rooted to your spot, soaking in the gravity of your situation.

You and Katsuki are not together anymore.

The light from your screen seems brighter than the sun. Your fingers move in trepidation, hovering and cycling over icons and back buttons, but you finally make it to the anticipated contact.

Suki ❤️❤️❤️

Send message…

Add to emergency contact…

Block this caller….

You take another deep breath. Mr. Snuffles is right.

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