#i felt like a mere mortal making an offering to the gods

[faunsoda]

oh i am so glad my odysseus doodles were well received i felt like a cat bringing their owner a gift

[ciciyup]

Yandere! Apollo X fem! Human reader headcanons.

cw: Little nsfw, obsession, possessiveness, dark themes, cheating? (I don't know how I should categorize it, but it's not a direct hoax), angst, kidnapping, forced marriage.

🏹 a/n: This is the first yandere! What do I do, I hope I did well. I was feeling quite inspired so I think a little story formed as well.

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Apollo has never been one to worry, he is the epitome of beauty, no other God in the pantheon was as beautiful as he was. Being surrounded by women and men who are not only there beside him, but also queue for his attention, is something Apollo enjoys, attention and all eyes on him was something he loved.

He doesn't need to lower himself and have less, he must have all the best, that includes the most beautiful people, which was not a problem. Nymphs, goddesses and even mortals, rained down on him in droves, although the latter could not matter less to him.

Sometimes, among the millions of mortals that inhabited the earth, Apollo chose those who could stand out the most and had a unique beauty to take them with him. Sure they had always been adventures, he had fun with them, but that was all.

On one of his many trips around the earth he found you. He saw you picking oranges from a large tree, carefully storing them in your basket that was almost full. You were... Perfect. Your hair moved in time with the pleasant breeze of the day, your eyes were brighter than the stars, your smile could heal sore eyes, your voice was like hearing the singing of angels. You were so beautiful.

He didn't care much about you at first if he had to admit it. You seemed very common, very normal, just another mortal woman, however, something made him go to you. He didn't need to do much, just introduce himself and talk nonsense. You were nothing but nice and kind, you offered to help him find his way if he was lost, you asked him if he was hungry and offered him an orange.

He just looked for silly excuses to make more time and get to know you better, he lamented when you told him that your family was waiting for you and you couldn't stay. He watched your form as you left his vision until you were lost, your beautiful floral dress disappearing into the crowd and being replaced by sad shades of colors from people walking on their own path.

What made you so special? Was it the way you were so kind and modest with everyone else? Was it the way you saw things? Apollo, not having enough, kept seeing you regularly on different occasions, strangely always appearing out of nowhere when you were alone in some places or doing your own tasks. At first, it didn't seem strange to you, you thought it was just a coincidence, which made Apollo take advantage of your naivety even more.

Apollo thought you would fall at his feet as soon as he saw you, he wouldn't even need three days to leave you enchanted, but then it happens and he hits reality. He discovers that you are not interested in him in the slightest, at least not in the way he wants. You don't even worship the gods, you're not interested in them, you don't bring offerings or pray to them like other mortals. You don't lose yourself in him, you don't beg for attention, you don't adore him, you just see him as if he were just another man and that made Apollo's blood boil.

So when Apollo proposes to you and to go with him, you politely decline, feeling flattered, but refusing because you don't love him and you don't feel the same way. Apollo's face contorts, his brow furrows quickly and he tries to hide his inner side as best he can. His ego felt hurt, was he rejected by a mere mortal?

You move on with your life, Apollo seemed to have taken it well and wasn't upset, that's what you believed after he left. When you think everything is fine, he arrives silently to take what is his, what belonged to him from the beginning. No more games, there would be no more facades of the just and understanding God, he lets the true face of the coin come to light, then you don't have time to react.

He takes you, sees you walking towards your house and surprises you there. Your basket falls with a thud and the fruit falls scattered all over the floor, but no one else was there anymore.

Upon arriving at his kingdom, Apollo introduces you to it as your new home, showing you all the places keeping you close, holding your wrist so you wouldn't run away, even though there was nowhere to run, you were too far from earth and you wouldn't be coming back, he would make sure of that.

You resist for a long time, you don't want to talk to him or look at him or kiss him or touch him, you don't want his presence. Apollo doesn't want to be mean to you, he really doesn't, but your impertinence pissed him off, and when you didn't learn things there were consequences.

He pushes you into a room after you refused to sleep with him in what would be your shared room, the room was cold and almost empty, it had a mirror and a small couch, it didn't seem to be very frequented by anyone, since you could even see cracks in the walls. He dared to leave you there for almost four days, without seeing you even once, without leaving you food or water or any other basic resources, and when he decided to see you, believing that you had learned your lesson, he found you on the floor of the room almost dying.

You were pale, your lips dry, you could barely move, your stomach hurt from the lack of food and your throat was crying out for some water.

As he carried you to his shared room and laid you there, as he watched you eat the food voraciously and drink more than six glasses of water, as he watched you rest covered by the finest and warmest blankets on his bed, yes, now you would learn that things would be his way, you had no say in any decision, you would only focus on him.

And even after you became his beloved, faithful and devoted wife with the finest jewelry and the most beautiful dresses, he would remain the same, not even for you would he change. As you sat on a rock in front of the beautiful landscape of the place thinking about everything he had taken from you, Apollo was no less than a meter away from you in the hot springs with the nymphs at his side, each one laughing and talking to him, hugging and tracing his chest with their thumbs at the slightest opportunity. He relaxed with each one, every now and then, ignoring your presence, ignoring your pain.

Still, he refused to let you go. He didn’t care about silly nymphs, they were just for hanging out and feeling adored, if he didn’t have you he had nothing. He wanted you by his side, in the hot springs, on another throne next to him, in meetings with other gods, he wanted you.

It was only a matter of time, he would fuck you so hard you would carry his child and then he would finally have you with no chance of escape. He would take you every night in his marital bed and fill your belly until it was full and swollen, he would bury himself deep inside you to fill you again and again with his seed and he would claim you. You were his. You were from the first moment he saw you.

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🏹 a/n: I didn't think I would like it so much but in the end I really liked the result. I wrote it in less than two hours, although it is revised I am sorry if there are any errors. I was thinking of doing more yandere! For other characters, I like the theme. I have ideas for the next one so wait for it (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

—cici🏹

[apricot-blossomss]

Can I have a one shot of Dionysus please? v-v (sorry if I'm disturbing anything)

- Anon 🦋

☛ you stumble upon dionysus and his followers and he offers to free you from your abusive husband

☛ sfw; cw: spousal abuse, alcohol (duh), death, panic attack

The world was spinning. Quite literally. With no idea how you had gotten here or how to get out of the tangled mess of limbs and shredded fabric surrounding you, you stumbled through the noisy crowd. Only the ground beneath your feat felt real, or did it? Had it just moved? Didn't it rumble and thunder beneath your feet?

When you had entered the forest this evening, you had merely been looking for mushrooms for the stew. Of course you knew it was dangerous out here, but your husband had insisted on this specific dish and you didn't want him to hit you again. So you had trudged into the mysterious dark of the trees, and stumbled upon this- a large group of wildly dancing women, throwing their heads back in ecstasy, hollering and screaming, discarding clothes and drinking wine.

And here you were, caught in the middle of this horrible storm, being pulled left and right, squashed by naked bodies, hands clawing at your clothing. Your desperate attempts to find a way out of this hurricane of bodies and voices were fruitless, as, anytime you came close to escaping, you were swept away by the women again. They seemed to think you one of them, too caught up in their haze to differentiate you from them.

Panic consumed your body as you felt your control slip. You were pulled this way and that way like a ragdoll, your ears thrumming with noise. Everything was too bright, too loud, too cramped. The hectic dance drew all air from your lungs, they constricted in fear that you would be caught in this whirlwind for eternity. Tears started streaming down your cheeks, but none of the shrieking women noticed. Sobbing, you begged them to let you go, but they didn't hear you, passing you along as if you were one of them.

"Help!" you found yourself screaming, but the noise around you was so loud that you couldn't even hear your own voice. Your hands gripped the handle of your basket in desperation as you sobbed helplessly, trying to free yourself, but to no avail. When you felt your clothes rip under the wild hands of the women, you screamed again, trying to hold them up to cover yourself, sobbing helplessly.

"MENEADS!"

Somehow, a voice rang over the music and women's voices, a voice so soul-shattering and mighty that you felt like your whole body was vibrating upon hearing it. And, even more bewilderingly, the women stopped. Something happened you hadn't thought possible: the thrumming feet came to a halt, the hands let go of you, the storm subsided and the dreadful clearing was overtaken by an eerie silence. Now, you could even hear your own breath, gasping for air through your veil of tears- both terrified and relieved.

The crowd, now completely still and panting alongside you, parted before you to make way for a haunting figure. It was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. His youthful features were delicate, framed by bronze locks that were adorned by a crown of ivy leaves. Purple ornaments adorned his fair skin, exposed to the air, safe for the part of his body covered by a loincloth. In his hands was a thyrsus, ridding you of all remaining doubt of his identity.

When he stopped right before you, you let go of your basket and it met the forest ground with a soft thud. Falling to your knees, you cowered before him and pressed your forehead into the dirt and raised your hands pleadingly. "Great god Dionysus," you started, but your voice wavered in fear and broke of.

You didn't dare look up when you heard a light shuffle before you, until you felt a soft touch under your skin. "Look at me, mortal." With a quivering lip, you raised your head from the ground. The god had crouched down and was studying your face intently, his thumb brushing over your jaw. His touch left tingles in its wake. His soft, pink lips pulled into a small smile. "Now, what have we here?"

"I beg your forgiveness, lord Dionysus," you said hastily, finally having found your voice again. "Please, I... I was just looking for mushrooms, I was sent to collect some when I came across this clearing. I didn't mean to- forgive me..." You didn't exactly know what crime you had committed or if you had done something wrong at all, but experience taught you that it was best to apologize to powerful men, just in case they took offense.

"Sit up"

You did, still kneeling in the dirt but now on eye level with the god. Though you didn't know wether he would take offense, you attempted to cover yourself with the remaining shreds of your dress- you were a married woman after all. When you raised your gaze from the ground, you found yourself looking directly into the gods eyes. Purple and mesmerizing, they pulled you in with an intensity that it required a great deal of restraint to look away. The god tutted and raised your chin gently once more, making you lock eyes with him.

"There is nothing to apologize for, sweet thing," he mused, giving you another smile. Your heart leapt from your chest as he did. "Now, who would send such a pretty little thing like you are alone into the woods at night?"

Under his piercing yet gentle gaze, the truth fell from your lips without your consent. "My husband. And-" you hesitated, glancing at your basket. "He will be very angry with me if I'm late." The god followed your gaze and picked up the basket, eying the few shriveled up mushrooms you had managed to find. Then, his eyes landed upon yours once more.

"What will he do if he's angry, sweet thing?" he asked softly and again, the truth escaped your lips without your permission. "He'll beat me," you whispered and heard a few meneads whisper empathetically. "He's done it before, I- I really need to get home."

After a short silence, the god sighed and handed you your basket. When you looked inside, your eyes widened. It was filled to the brim with fresh, ripe mushrooms of the kind they only had in the best taverns. Unable to utter a word, you stared at the god who gave you a cheeky smile and tipped his ivy crown, as if to say 'at your service'. "Thank you," was all you managed to say, feeling your eyes burning with relief. "Thank you so much"

Over the basket, you momentarily forgot to hold up your dress and squeaked in shock, but the god reached over, pulling one strap over your shoulder, and by his divine touch, it was restored again. Dionysus silenced your string of 'thank you's with a simple gesture. "If you do not wish to go back to your husband, I would be able to offer you another life. In another place. Even with another husband, if you wish."

"Why?" was all you managed to ask as a sudden wave of hope flooded you. You had thought you would have to spend the rest of your days a slave for your repulsive husband. Was there another way? A fresh start, somewhere? With another man? Even though you doubted you could ever find a mortal man attractive again after having seen Dionysus smile. When it faded from his face, you were spooked, as if he had made a loud noise, by the seriousness of his features.

"I don't like seeing pretty young women like yourself cry." He offered you a hand and you ogled it, gears turning very slowly in your head, though still managing to brew up a storm. "Come with me, and I will give you the life you deserve."

The offer was so tempting it took everything in you to not take his hand. Looking up at the god apologetically, you gripped your basket more tightly, knuckles turning white. "I'm sorry, I can't. I'm a married woman, I have to stay loyal to my husband." Did you imagine the slight pain in the god's eyes, or did they just reflect your own?

"Alright," the god said, nodding at to meneads who rushed to your side to help you stand. "You will not have to fear on your way back, for you will be protected, pretty lady," the god spoke, rising from his sitting position as well. Then, he got a hold of your hand, brought it to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss onto it. Again, his touch left you breathless, and you found yourself longing for it as the two women guided you into the woods, feeling as if you had just made a big mistake.

As promised by the god, your way home wasn't disturbed by neither animals nor fellow mortals, though you felt like the same pair of eyes that had been burned into your memory forever were appearing behind every tree, as a fox, a bird or a snake.

Sooner than you thought possible, you had reached the edge of the forest and dread came over you when you saw your house. Your heart thumped rapidly in your chest at the prospect of stepping through that door, being at the non-existent mercy of your husband once more, his punching bag, his unpaid maid. Thinking back to the encounter with the god, you felt as if your mind had suddenly be cleared.

For the first time in your life, you had been given a choice, and you had chosen to stay in your chains? "Fuck this," you found yourself muttering, throwing the basket onto the ground and turning on your heel to flee into the sanctuary of the woods. Rushing past trees and clearings, you tried to trace back your steps, wild with hope that you weren't too late, that you would find them again. Find him again. Your lungs tightened as you ran, but you only accelerated, desperate to reach Dionysus and the meneads before they left the clearing.

But when you reached it, not a soul was left. It was empty, and the frustration and desperation made you topple over and sink to your knees, tears in your eyes and cursing yourself. Too late. You were too late.

"There you are."

Your head shot up st the voice, the voice that had been so deeply embedded in your memory as that of your tormentor. It was your husband, panting at the edge of the clearing. He had followed you. Dread pooled in your stomach when he stepped towards you and you crawled back, standing up and stumbling over your own feet in retreat. There was a look in his eyes that scared the shit out of you- he looked predatory, dangerous.

"I'll scream," you threatened with a quivering noise as he kept approaching you. But it only elicited a mocking laugh from him as he got a hold of your arm and pulled you into his chest. His brutal eyes ran along your form hungrily as he licked his lips, a mean smile distorting his face. "Who would hear you in here?"

He was right. And as the realization sank in, your stomach constricted painfully. You hated yourself for the way a tremble overtook your entire body. Your weak attempts of escape were only met with another laugh. "Did you think you could run from me, you whore?" Mustering up a last bit of strength, your arm shot forward and your clenched fist met his jaw with such force a sharp pain shot through your knuckles.

Momentarily stunned, your husband stumbled back a few steps before setting his furious eyes on you once more. "You!" Panic overtook you and you tried to run, but he grabbed you and threw you onto the ground, hovering over you and pinning your limbs to the forest floor. Your screams for help lost themselves in the cold night air as he raised his hand and-

"Am I interrupting something?"

You immediately recognized the voice, though the figure it belonged to looked quite a bit different. Dionysus sat on a tree stump a few feet away, though fully dressed and without his godly symbol. Someone who hadn't been blessed by his presence before could've mistaken him for an exceptionally beautiful mortal, as did your husband. "Fuck off, pretty boy," you said gruffly. "How I punish my wife is none of your business."

The god didn't reply, but suddenly, your husbands eyes widened and he scrambled away from you, as if he had forgotten your presence. Sitting up, you watched him stumble over his own feet, hitting and screaming at nothing, frenzied with panicked. When he stumbled over a root, he shrieked in fear, and it closed around his angle. Another grapevine reached down to trap his hands and close around his throat, squeezing as he was still yelling deliriously. Realizing what was about to happen, you turned away when his breathing got strangled and finally, stopped and a body met the ground in a thud.

A few breathless seconds of silence, then- "Thank you," you panted, standing up shakily. Somehow, he was right there, steadying you against him. When you turned your face to what was left of your husband, he tutted and guided it back to him. "Don't look at that ugly business, pretty lady. I take it you have pondered my offer, then?"

You nodded, captivated by his glowing eyes. "If it's still on the table, I'd like to join your followers, please." The god raised an eyebrow, frowning. "You sure, darling? I can get you anything and anywhere, any life you could want."

"I know." You were relieved at the steadiness of your voice and, not quite believing your own courage, dared to take the god's hand. His eyes widened, but he made no attempt to remove his hand or punish you. In fact, he even closed his fingers around yours and stroked the back of your hand with his thumb. "If it's what you wish..." he smiled softly, "you shall have your place among my followers."

You would never understand how giddy it had made him to hear those words from you that day. The god had taken a liking to you, and he was determined to give you the freedom you craved, and a life worthy of you.

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[portraitofalinkonfyre]

I’m literally going feral over ur fierce deity fics I’ve been dehydrated for so long and these are like a tall glass of water

Could I pretty please with a cherry on top request a Fierce Deity x reader where Like theyre Just hanging out together and fierce is just really gently putting flowers in the readers hair and they’re watching the sunset together and fierce just thinks the reader is really pretty while they’re yapping about their day

THANK YOU SO MUCH IN ADVANCE IF YOU DO DECIDE TO DO THIS BUT YOU DONT HAVE TO <333

CONSIDER IT WRITTEN. Fierce Deity is literally my weakness, so I'm ecstatic more people love him!

Braided Daisies

Pairing: Fierce Deity x Reader

Warning(s): Tooth-rotting fluff and philosophical discussions that probably shouldn't be read before one's morning coffee.

Masterlist

There was a clearing a mile's walk from your house. It was small and quiet, filled to the brim with tall, swaying grass. In early spring, a myriad of flowers bloomed among the vegetation, as if sprinkled by the gods themselves. But its best feature was by far its proximity to a staggering, craggy cliff, and the accompanying view that followed for anyone lucky enough to stumble upon it.

"—And THEN I told him I don't make the rules around here, but nooo," you ranted to the Fierce Deity from your sprawled position on the grass. You had originally intended to come here alone, but it seemed you had an adventurer in your midst. That, and the fact that it was becoming increasingly hard to refute him when he looked at you with such... care? Want? You weren't quite sure, but from the looks the other boys would shoot him, you assumed it was deep. "—of course I look rich enough to be the owner... in my work uniform!"

"That is... unfortunate," mused the deity, looking almost offended. When his gaze turned menacing, you realized you probably shouldn't have shared your troubles with a literal guard dog of a god. "If you require assistance—"

"Nope, nope, nope," you waved your hands frantically. "I am not dealing with you mauling someone."

The put-off expression on his face would have made you cackle if you hadn't known his offer was very much real. "Shame."

Shame?!

"I'll stop baking if you kill someone," you leveraged, holding back the urge to laugh when his expression turned to one of abject horror, then what you could only assume was his version of a pouty face. "Don't look at me like that, I will do it."

There was silence as you held his gaze, setting your jaw in what you hoped was a stern expression. Miraculously, Fierce was the first to break eye contact, leaning back on his arms with a deep sigh. "You are brave," he said, and there was something soft in his tone that you couldn't place for the life of you. "Have you always been this way?"

It was such a him question, yet you had to stop and process why in the world the Fierce Deity wanted to know something so mundane about you, a mere mortal. It couldn't have been genuine curiosity... but there was no other explanation. "I... maybe? It depends on your definition of bravery, I guess."

"And what is yours?" He was getting closer, practically casting a shadow over you. A callused hand drew forward, capturing a strand of your hair, rubbing softly, and the notion that he was feeling your hair threw you for the greatest loop of your life.

"Bravery is..." you trailed off, averting your eyes. What was bravery? To say one had bravery meant they had a strong character... some could even say a heroic one, but it felt too simple an answer to give to such a being, especially when he gazed down at you with a warmth you hadn't felt in a long time. Not even the burning tangerine of the horizon—smattered with flashes of gold and honeysuckle— could ignite your skin in the way his eyes could. "...immediate."

Impossibly, the deity leaned closer, tone expectant. "Immediate?"

Fuck, he was practically on top of you. "I-It's not like courage, because that comes slow and is more moral based, but..." you gulped. "I guess bravery is what happens in the moment, as in the choices you make when there's no time to make them."

"I see," rumbled Fierce as he withdrew, resuming his cross-legged position next to you. As if on instinct, you raised yourself onto your elbows and huffed.

"Why do you even want to know?" you questioned, emboldened by the falling sun. "You're a god and I'm just... human. I'm sure there's a million more interesting things out there."

"You speak as though my curiosity is an insult," intoned the deity, gaze fixed on the bleeding horizon. "I can assure you, it is not."

And that was all there was to it, really. You knew the topic had died as soon as he fell silent, though it didn't mean you were giving up just yet. You reached out, picked a nearby daisy, and offered it to him. "Can you braid?"

"Excuse me?"

"You said you wanted to discover," you defended lightly, even though there was no need to. "Hair braiding is easy when you get the hang of it, but it's a lot easier to learn using someone else's hair."

A beat passed, and you thought for sure he was going to reject the idea. That is, until his hand twitched up to take the flower, examining it with keen eyes. You took it as an invitation to scoot closer—already parting your hair in preparation—until your legs brushed his own and your chests were nary two feet apart. "Okay," you relinquished the flower and put the head at the top of the braid. "You're going to want to cover it with one section like so, then keep braiding like you normally would without letting the stem fall, capiche?" You held up the half finished braid for inspection, eventually pulling it apart and offering him the flow. "Now you try!"

There was determination in the Fierce Deity's eyes as he relinquished the flower and did as instructed: laying the head at the top of the brain and incorporating it with every cross and pull. His touch was so gentle you could have mistaken it for the wind pulling your hair, and you wondered it he feared anything harder than featherlight pressure would shatter you, though that was most certainly not the case. Before you knew it, he had reached the bottom of the strands, and was merely holding it as to not fall apart. You took that as a cue to snap a hair tie on that sucker and shoot him a happy grin. "It looks great, awesome job!"

But the Fierce Deity remained silent, simply gazing at you with eyes softer than silk before rising to his feet. You tilted your head in confusion, about to ask where he was going, when he bent down, plucked another daisy from the earth, and plopped down behind you. "What are you—"

A heavy hand laid itself on your shoulder, applying gentle, firm pressure as the deity's voice rumbled in your ear. "Be still, I am only using the skills you have shown me."

And, without preamble, he sectioned your hair like a pro and began to braid while you sort of just sat there, questioning everything that had lead up to this point. He was so close that you could feel the press of his muscled abdomen against your very unmuscled back, and it was doing unspeakable things to the beating organ in your chest. A sort of choked gasp left your lips when he reached down to capture your wrist before pulling a hair tie from it, but you forced yourself into silence—he seemed to enjoy it, so who were you to deny him—?

"Have I upset you?" Came Fierce's voice, clear as day. His actions with your hair halted, and you nearly morned the loss of his body heat when he pulled away.

"I— what?" How in the world could he have upset you? There was simply no way.

"You are quiet," answered the deity, as if it made perfect sense. "I ask again: have I upset you?"

"No?" You could hardly comprehend how he came to such a conclusion, but you would do everything in your power to rectify whatever misunderstanding he was living under. "How does that have anything to do with me being upset?"

"You talk when you are happy," and he noticed?? Did he think you were upset because you weren't rambling?

"Well, yes," dear lord, he was too precious. "But I can be happy in silence, too."

"Ah," you felt a wave of relief when his hands fell on the braid again, lifting it for what you could only guess was inspection. "I had assumed you disliked quiet."

"Funny, because I thought the same."

"Then it appears we both assumed wrong," stated the deity, and you couldn't have agreed more.

The fading light was filled with laugher as you regaled him with more stories from work, throwing in a few embarrassing childhood ones when things became dry. During this, Fierce fitted two more braids into your hair, each with a different flower. You could hardly wait to look in the mirror when you arrived home, an idea that seemed less and less pleasant as your conversation dragged on.

When the sun was all but a speck in a sea of navy, you reluctantly started the trek back, noting how insignificant the darkness seemed when you had Fierce by your side, expression attentive as he listened to you talk about nothing in particular. It puzzled you how he seemed to hang off of every word, but you assumed it was merely loneliness. Had it been lighter outside, or your attention sharper, you would have noticed the crimson flush painting his cheeks a deeper red than the very horizon.

The plot got away from me a bit, but I still think it turned out great. Hope y'all enjoyed!

[bigidiotenergytm]

After what to Odysseus felt like an entire year of walking, the two finally made it to their destination. A spacious, oval room come into view. In its center sat a large throne - Poseidon's.

The god walked over to his seat wordlessly. Just like the rest of the palace, the throne was painted in the various shades of blue coupled with white details. A multitude of gems and seashells, as well as intricate reliefs in the patterns of waves served as decoration.

A couple of steps behind the throne stood a wide, circular, golden, dish proped up on an equally ornate column. Blood-red wine shimmered temptingly from within it, making the starving captain's mouth water.

Without uttering a word, the god sat down on his thrown. His chin rested on the palm of his hand as a long, tired sigh escaped his lips, indicating that he was exhausted.

"I tire of you mortals. Always causing me trouble..."

He complained, although Odysseus could tell Poseidon's words weren't addressed to him directly. The god kept his gaze fixated on the ground as he rubbed his temples, venting his frustrations all the while.

Then, his eyes suddenly looked up and met the former king's. Lazily, he pointed at the bowl of wine behind him.

"Go make yourself useful and bring me some wine to drink."

Although the mortal didn't want to obey, he knew he had no other choice. Hesitantely, he picked up a golden chalice that sat by the bowl and began filling it with the scarlet liquid. Once he was done, he brought the goblet over to his captor, careful not to spill its precious contents.

The lord of waters took the golden cup from his servant's hands and took a refreshing sip. Impressed by its quality, he decided to later thank Dionysus for the delicious gift.

"Good. Now, see that plate that lies over there? Bring it to me and hurry."

Odysseus did as he was instructed. He returned bearing a plate full of strange, yet exquisite-looking fruit and meats. He could hear his stomach growling just looking at the food and he could do nothing but pray that the god hadn't heard it as well.

Standing before the lord of tides, the human offered him what he had asked for. Poseidon, however, had different plans in mind.

Swiftly, the god reached out his hand and pulled the man closer. Odysseus gasped in surprise and almost tripped, but thankfully, he managed to abstain from falling directly onto the most ruthless Olympian and spilling the divine food all over the god's robes.

With his strength much greater than the mortal's, the god's hand guided the man until he found himself seated on his lap, the plate still firmly grasped in his hands.

The former king hated the sudden lack of distance between them. He despised how close the god's face was to his own and how his hands rested on his back and thigh respectively.

Odysseus' burning glare was met with a smug smile. Poseidon was enjoying tormenting the small captain, that much was apparent.

"Don't look at me like that, king of Ithaca. Or rather, former king."

He mocked cruelly.

"I was going to offer you share this meal with me, but it seems like you're adamant about rejecting my good manners."

Upon hearing these words, the captain's eyes widened in surprise. Poseidon was about to offer him a meal? Oh, how much his stomach rejoiced at the mere thought of food.

"Oh, well. Since you refused my offer, you will-"

"I accept."

His voice came out rushed. Desperate. As much as he didn't want to bend to the arrogant god's will, his hunger was far too great.

He was certain he would soon die if he didn't eat. And, as tempting as that option was, he had to endure. He had to survive and return to his beloved wife and son.

Poseidon smirked at the response he recieved. Little by little, he's chipping away at that pride that Odysseus of Ithaca was so famous for. Bit by bit, he was making him submit.

"Very well, then. Let us dine."

The palace was far grander than Odysseus could have ever imagined. Admittedly, he never did imagine it before— only the general thought of how impressive it must be if it had been the King of the Sea's domain. Just like how impressive Olympus would be. The former king can't imagine it's every day a mortal willingly offers their servitude to the great Poseidon, even more of a scarcity that a mortal would ever roam these halls. But it seems, like always... The King of Ithaca is the exception.

They reach Poseidon's throne. As impressive as its room's decor. But Odysseus isn't there to gawk. He's there to SERVE. Reminded quickly of such, as the Sea God barks his demands at him. There wasn't any moment's hesitation. No. The mortal couldn't afford to hesitate. To keep the King waiting. The orders only serve as a reminder of their agreement.

Something Odysseus offered himself.

So he's forced to remind himself of such. Forced to withhold his end of the bargain. It's the only reason he's still breathing right now. Poseidon had claimed him long ago. The very moment they met, Odysseus's life was in his hands.

The same hands that suddenly grab him. That squeeze around him as they force him on top of their King's lap. Causing every single muscle in his body to TENSE. A pressure so tight that all the man can do was try not to tremble. Try not to break. Try not to feed into the beast that was Poseidon.

He'd disguised himself as a Siren to lure in a sailor. Who have known, that sailor only willingly let himself be claimed?

Odysseus can feel it. The hand on his back. The hand on his THIGH. Causing him to tighten his jaw, swallowing back the feelings he experiences at being so close to the God who wanted him dead. At any point in time, Poseidon could grow bored with him. Poseidon could hold him tight, sinking those sharp teeth into mortal flesh, bone, and MEAT.

Heart racing. Beating so hard it pounds against his broad chest. Pounding underneath the rows of seashells hugging his neck. Making them quiver to the quickening beat.

Of course Odysseus accepts the offer of a meal. With how long he'd gone without food, he unfortunately wasn't nearly as muscular as he had been during the war. That's all this ever was about. Food. Food, and the price of man just to satiate a deepening hunger. The captain was starving. Of course he was starving. It had only but been his duty, even with what little food they had, to keep his men fed. To make sure that they had eaten.

Even now, the mortal didn't dare to be as bold as to eat first.

Tempting as it was, to disregard Poseidon altogether, the surrounding hands on his body advise him otherwise. He knew the wrath of an unpleased God. The wrath of a God who felt as if he'd been disrespected. The wrath of committing blasphemy against a God. Odysseus wouldn't be able to escape this time. Not a single piece of food would touch his lips if he was DEAD. And he hates it. HATES that he knows how to keep a God pleased. Hates how it's come to this. Hates every moment, every movement he makes to grab a large piece of meat from the plate in his hands to reach upwards, offering it to a God.

He hates that he knows how to grovel.

"... for you, My King."

[dawndelion-winery]

Fortune's Blessing

Meeting the God of Luck! Reader

Ft. Capitano(pt.2), Diluc, Dottore(pt.2), Pantalone(pt.2), Zhongli

Part 1

Capitano:

Fortune favours the bold

Or so he's heard, which is why he's once again at your altar, flowers in hand, along with his usual offerings

He takes more time in getting to his requests with each visit ever since you've started entertaining him in person

Terrible, really, the way he stalls, smoothly transitioning between topics the moment he sees you begin to lose interest

He knows there's only so long s mere mortal could hold your attention

Still he tries, adamant to make it work, to leave an impact on you, even if only a fraction of the impact you've had on him

Perhaps it really was time to be bold - what he planned to do would toe the line between courage and foolishness

"What is it you wish me to bless this time, Captain?" You murmur, tilting his chin to have him look at you as he knelt at your feet. He rose, kissing the back of your hand in reverence. Had you been anything but a god, you would have surely melted stthe intensity of his gaze, so steadfast and sure as he looked at you like there was nothing else in the world.

"It is a more...personal endeavour this time, Fortune." You raised an eyebrow at the captain prompting him to continue.

Diluc:

He's never considered himself particularly lucky or unlucky

Nor does he consider himself a devout believer of any god

Like yeah sure, gods exist, good for them, not his problem

Y'all failed him and let his dad die

So his first offering had been more of a formality since you were a friend of their archon and chose to visit their fair land of Mond

It just do happened his wine was the finest you'd tasted, and he found himself in much good fortune over the next few days

It felt odd to him, suddenly having this much good fortune after turning into a recluse

Greater still was his shock when you sat comfortably in his living room when he arrived home

"You are young lord Ragnvindr, yes?" you asked gleefully. "Your offering was received with much gratitude, and I am most regretful to inform you that it has run out."

He blinked a few times as you smiled at him expectantly. "You're...Fortune..." You nodded enthusiastically. "And you...you're asking for more wine?" His question sounded clipped, as though he were weighing the consequences of acquainting himself with yet another alcoholic god.

"Indeed, I took the liberty of installing a small shrine by your cellar for your convenience."

Your words left Diluc sighing, yet he couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips as you left.

Dottore:

Attention whore.

You thought you were dealing with a genius mad scientist?

Well, technically yes, BUT he is also an attention whore

Why did you not shower him with praise when he showed you the experiments he had used your luck for?

He takes it as your cue to him that he hasn't impressed you sufficiently

Which does make him grumpier

And he's not professional enough to hide it

"Take a look at this, Fortune."

You nodded in response, gingerly lifting the small device from his hands and raising it to the light to observe it. Your face remained impassive since you didn't really understand just what you were looking at, but of course, to Dottore, he'd expect a god to know these things.

"Well?" Dottore tapped his foot impatiently, his gleeful smile fading, slowly replaced by a frustrated scowl when all you comment is that "it's nice". Only nice?

The little office chair he pulled out for you is now carting you off around the lab to look at larger scale projects at speeds it was certainly not designed for.

Pantalone:

It's an investment, as you should know

Except luck is always a gamble, and who's to say his competitors don't worship you as well?

He finds out the hard way that his competitors were, in fact petty enough to come together and pool their offerings to one up his offerings

He does call for a business meeting with you over dinner

Enjoy it? Lovely, he certainly hopes you do

Gives you an ultimatum, in a way, because at the end of the day, he's got more to offer you long term

"Forsake them, Fortune. Whatever it is you want from me, it's yours. Is that not tempting enough of an offer to you?"

He's batting his eyes at you, plastering a pleading expression on his face, but you can tell it's an act. You know full well he'd cope just fine even if you declined, that this was just the most direct way out for him. Yet you found yourself caving for the sly, coy grin that tugged at his lips. So against your better judgement you agree. For a second, you note how serpentine his victorious smirk looks, and he seems to believe he has you trapped in his coils. No matter. It amused you for the time being; and you would continue to humour him for as long as he intrigued you.

Zhongli:

It's been a while since he's met another god who wasn't one of the seven

Heck, it's been ages since he'd even seen the seven, each of them preoccupied with their own affairs

So he's more than obliged to show you around, to accompany you when you visit Liyue

He has no need for luck, just as you have no need for material wealth

It's an odd sort of comfort, not being exalted, and it feels like two ordinary old friends walking along the harbour together

The two of you definitely jokingly exchange gifts as "offerings" and tease each other about your respective abilities

"Do you recall our contract?" Zhongli mused as he fidgeted with a single mora, rolling it between his fingers.

"Which? When you were only known as Morax? Or when you first were revered as Rex Lapis?"

"From our first farewell." You nodded, thinking back to that moment, back when Zhongli had kept his hair more unkempt, and worn the most fitted of shirts, flaunting the geo lines that adorned his arms. Back then, he'd lost Guizhong not long ago, and it was beginning to get lonely as more and more of his friends succumbed to erosion. So he'd proposed a contract, that no matter what, as long as he remained in Liyue, you'd one day return.

"Well, I did return," you hummed. "That you did," he agreed. "And I'd like to propose the same contract when you depart again. Something to look forward whole you're away."

Taglist:@myluvkeiji @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @cxlrose @astrequa @eowinthetraveler @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate @the-lost-anime-dad @moonbyunniee @greyrain23 @heavenlyfloof

Commissioned by @monstersealclubber

[eunseoksimp]

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

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

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

Pairing:Toxic! Park Wonbin x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst

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

part 1 — part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘good girl. goodnight my love.’

‘goodnight, wonbin.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘why are you being like this?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

donghyuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘i’ve missed you.’

[izvmimi]

cw: gods au. fem!reader and izuku are both gods, although izuku is now a human. pining. part 2 of this.

“You should stop watching.”

The sudden voice behind you shocks you out of your reverie, and the gash that you’ve formed in the veil between your world and the human realm shrinks to almost imperceptible, yet your best friend can tell you’ve been peering behind the proverbial curtain again. You haven’t spent a millenia together for nothing.

You frown. 

“How did you know?” 

She scoffs, gliding over to you along marbled paths to where you sit, legs folded to the side and tucked beneath your robes, in your garden of never-wilting flowers. 

“How don’t I know? You have that look in your eye.” Her voice lowers and softens as she circles around your chair, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder as she stands behind you to see from your vantage point. “There’s no use watching,” she continues, “I understand that you want to keep him safe, but all humans will deteriorate and die eventually. You cannot stop the natural flow of time and circumstance.”

As expected from one who hails from the clan that stitches the thread of mortal life into the tapestry of Fate.

You shrug her off; it’s not meant to be an act of aggression but she frowns even deeper before raising her hands in feigned surrender and letting out a sigh. 

“He’s not a mere human and you know it,” you reply as you turn to glare at her. 

“Yes… right.” 

It’s a statement that she offers you that also is not meant to be condescending, yet somehow is. It’s been like this, for the two of you, any time he is brought into conversation. Although it’s been nearly a century since the transmutation of your lover’s soul, you have failed to come to terms with the fact that your partner is truly not ever coming back. 

He’d disappeared out of the fabric of time and space after the event, and you’d been so numb from tears that you were not sure you’d make it through the next millennium without letting your soul rot from bitterness, but just a couple decades ago, you had felt him reborn, his light, although significantly dimmed reappearing again in the womb of a young woman. And although his signature was nothing like you’d known of him your entire existence, it still burned brighter than the typical human, likely owing to the fact that he was once a god. You’d wondered if there was a loophole to the punishment - this was not something that was supposed to happen - but things were different for those immortals who descended directly from the Sun, more powerful than the rest.

“Is he still feeding the cat?” your companion asks. Raye comes to sit besides you, shifting your legs so that they lay on her lap. She wants to understand. She has tried to understand for so very long now, but she fails to understand why you haven’t given up the part of your heart that longs for him. There are rituals to harden your heart that she knows very well and have often been prescribed to people with your plight, and yet you prefer to suffer this way. 

So instead she indulges you with questions like this. Her gray eyes shift and watch your profile as you widen the gash between realms and watch the mortal once more. Raye peers into the hole to see from your vantage point.

Izuku Midoriya, the man, is not doing anything very interesting at this moment. You watch him on his couch, opening up a plastic bag containing a prepared dinner he must have picked up from a convenience store a few blocks away. Earlier today, he had a fanmeeting where he’d smiled and signed hundreds of autographs, and only now was getting the opportunity to eat. Sleep would probably occur to him soon and you would have to find something else to do aside from watching him tirelessly. 

“I didn’t descend today,” you reply. 

She lays her head on your shoulder and the two of you lay in silence. There’s a gentle warm breeze that runs in your garden and in the snap of your fingers, you could request some music to fill the pregnant pause between you too but you refrain. Your heart doesn’t hurt right now so you don’t need it. But it will soon.

“What would you do if he stopped?” she asks.

It’s a question that makes your heart pound ever so slightly in your chest. The idea of your Izuku walking by you, without even noticing, without any offer of attention to you, seems far too much to reconcile in your conscience.

But you lie.

“I’d have to accept it.”

“You wouldn’t turn into anything else?” she asks.

You pause, and lie again. “I wouldn’t.”

She blows out air from her nostrils in a slow, deliberate sigh.

“Liar,” she hisses before straightening up to a sitting position. She pauses, and then instead decides to stand before marching off to your front gate. 

“I’m not-” you call after her.

“You are such a bad liar! You would never let him go, face it.”

Her lips are pressed into a tight smile, and she’s somewhere between amused and annoyed as she runs a hand through her orchid-pink hair.

And you have started to get angry too, but you bite your lip so as to not let the honeysuckles that sprout around you wilt in your rage. 

“Why should I?” you demand.

“Because he’s a HUMAN.”

You grit your teeth but let your rage simmer. You can see that there’s an edge to her voice, a small plea to come back to your senses. 

It’s your turn to sigh.

“He isn’t meant to be…” you try to ignore the tears that well up in your eyes, aware that by now you’ve cried a flowing river over the years. 

She scoffs - not because she no longer cares but because the outcome of your moroseness is no longer beneficial to any of you. She misses him too, believe it or not, but she cannot watch you deteriorate forever. 

There’s an eternity that remains, and she wants you to be happy.

—

Izuku Midoriya, aged 27, dreams of fire and felines.

He wakes up in a cold, uncomfortable sweat, panting heavily in a too-sticky mess of matted bedsheets. It’s not the first time and it likely won’t be the last time he wakes up in a shock like this.

Izuku steadies his breath and grabs his phone from the end table, rubbing his eyes as he brings himself to a sitting position before checking the time and any pending notifications from overnight. There’s a text from his mother, reminding him to eat breakfast every morning. He smiles, then immediately frowns as he remembers that he actually has nothing left in his fridge aside from ketchup and katsudon leftovers from the night before. 

It’s Saturday morning, and he’s not sure what to do first, but there’s a long list of tasks and upkeep that he has to perform before the week starts. Laundry piles up in the corner of his room, overflowing from his laundry basket and he’s pretty sure the dishes in the sink have been there since last weekend. These are the moments he’s reminded that, despite being admittedly lonely in this apartment, he’s not equipped to take care of much else aside from himself, especially not a pet.

However…

There is a jet black cat that he’s been seeing constantly since he moved to this neighborhood several months ago that seems to haunt him, although it should be a sign of good luck. Golden eyes watch him, glowing and far too intense, enough so that the first time he met it, he wondered if it would speak to him in formal Japanese.

It seemed to be waiting for him, the way it sat perfectly still on his route home from work. He had been mostly lost in thought when he suddenly encountered the animal, trying to decide if it were a good idea moving so far away from his mother when he had no other compelling reason besides asserting his independence. He saw the cat from a distance - rather felt compelled to look - and stood just as still. The two beings faced each other, and the cat seemed to size him up, as though hesitating, with far more interest in him than strays usually do. Perhaps it was hungry, he figured, and that made it friendly enough to beg for scraps, but its movements towards him - when it eventually decided he was worthy - were too graceful for a being humbled by starvation.

It passed between his legs once, then twice, then stood before him with far too much familiarity in its eyes. Squatting to his knees to look at it more closely, he decided eventually to pet it, gingerly placing his hand on its fur to test the waters. It purred to his touch, its coat again far too soft for an animal that wasn’t being taken care of somehow, by someone. He looked around for a collar and saw nothing on first pass, but as the animal continued to mew, he noticed an inscription behind its ear. 

It was a symbol he couldn’t recognize but felt intrinsically like he should be able to read. It bothered him for a split second, that feeling of uneasiness, but he soon forgot it, eventually realizing he had to get home. He took his time however to say goodbye to the small creature before he continued on his way, leaving the animal to watch him with newly shiny feline irises.

It almost seemed like it was sad to see him go.

As he stirs his protein shake, Izuku ponders on that symbol again, recreating it in his mind’s eye on his counter with the pad of his finger. It seemed not to be shaved in, but rather etched into its very flesh. Did it hurt? Who would brand their cat like this? Is that why it’s so oddly trusting?

He takes a sip of his drink and lets out a sigh. This is a lot of energy to be wasting on a stray and he has things to get to. 

But first, he needs to make a phone call to a friend.

—

Ochaco is far better at grocery shopping than Izuku is. 

“Buy the organic eggs, they’re better for you~”

“These snack bars are on sale if you buy two packs, and you can always save some for later!”

“The produce at this store isn’t high quality enough to be this expensive! Let’s go to the farmer’s market three blocks down!”

Ochaco reminds him a lot of his mother, Izuku thinks, and all he can do is nod and smile as she drags him from place to place that morning.

“I have an incredible recipe for an apple pie, “ she chirps, holding two apples to her face with a grin. The light red tones of the fruit compliment the pinks of her cheeks well, he notices, and his own face reddens ever so slightly as he realizes he’s staring.

He should tell her how he feels, he thinks. One day, when the dust settles, and his dreams are no longer dreams, he should tell her what she means to him. She’s always been there for him after all. The one constant in his hectic life, the only person he has never had to prove anything to.

Someone who knows all of him.

Izuku digs through the first heavenly bite of his longtime crush’s apple pie and excitedly exclaims that it’s the most delicious thing he’s had in a while. Ochaco beams, and she cuts herself a piece before slipping into the chair next to him and taking a bite. 

“It’s best with vanilla ice cream too!” she adds. “We should get some next time,” she hums, kicking her feet as she enjoys her pie. 

Izuku nods emphatically and Ochaco grins widely, brushing a few crumbs off his mouth. Her eyes linger just too long on his lips, but then she looks away and smiles. The air in the room gets quiet and he wonders if now is the time to kiss her. She tenses and right before he considers holding her hand, she jumps off the barstool and circles back around to the freezer.

His heart slows and then he chuckles gently to himself before occupying himself with finishing his desert.

In the skies, millions of miles above, pink hydrangeas wilt to nothing.

[ramayantika]

The dance of the devi

Flowers for the goddess 

in my alta-dyed hands,

I offer them at the lotus feet

of the Mother of the Universe.

***

Gentle blues of the skies move out 

And Surya slowly rises from slumber

in its captivating regal glory,

its golden rays adorning

the Devi’s forehead.

***

I behold the golden complexioned goddess

set in stone with a benevolent smile.

My anklets lay at her feet

with turmeric and vermillion coating

some of those melodious bells.

***

A sweet summer breeze blows by.

A bell jingles and a lotus from her garland

falls to the brown earth at my dust laden feet.

A jingle of bangles and anklets,

A low hum of a mysterious yet beautiful tune,

And a voice sings,

A voice that I can recognize anywhere –

The Devi has risen!

***

Draped in silks and gold,

fragrant garlands around her limbs,

She steps outside to my courtyard,

A very humble stage for the one

who is the abode of this entire Universe.

The sun makes her ornaments gleam, 

yet her moon-like face is the brightest.

My anklets are around her feet

But what truly do I own 

in this illusionary world?

What I receive –

Beauty, intelligence, riches and power,

All comes from her.

***

And by the bright yellows of dawn

I see her dance in my courtyard.

Wherever her feet travel, little blooms arise

and where her hands softly touch,

Golden dust flies.

She twirls round and round

And I see the might cosmic Gods

Swirling around her magnificence.

Her veil, the illusionary veil,

which she playfully casts 

around this world

escapes the clutches 

of her beautiful braided hair.

And now I see. Clearly.

***

She leaps into the air,

Resembling a warrior

and a warrior she is,

for she is the Devi,

The ferocious Bhairavi,

The invincible Durga,

the slayer of Mahishasura.

She is the dark one, Kali,

The slayer of Raktabija.

***

Her dance of grace and elegance

transforms to a dance of death and destruction.

She is Shivatrinayani and Maheshwari.

She leaps and twirls with her trident

and her anklets and the temple bells ring 

harmoniously,

Just like the eternal forces of nature.

Devi is Nitya, the eternal one.

***

I, a mere mortal woman, a devotee

akin to the turmeric and vermillion on her feet

watch the goddess dance in all her glory.

I see all the worlds and this vast universe 

dance with her,

And maybe it is really true:

That everything in the world dances.

Laasya performs in every object,

in the largest to the very smallest.

***

And then I see the radiant one

stretch her palm to me.

I see my world in her hand

And clasp her hand tightly.

Which daughter lets go of her mother’s hand?

So we dance.

***

Stars and galaxies, planets and cosmic bodies,

Fire and snow, gods, demons and mortals,

I see her in everything

And this is the Dance of Realisation.

The music, the drums and the bells slowly fade 

But the dancing soul now awakened

dances in ecstasy.

I see, I hear, I dance, I understand everything now.

***

The Devi twirls, spins, sings, smiles and laughs

And finally heads to her abode, to Shiva, her life.

My life, a thread in her hands,

I now submit to her eternal play 

of this Life’s Dance.

***

I haven't written poetry in a while now. Somehow I couldn't capture this in a story format, it felt bland and very large and long. I didn't like it. The poem format perhaps gives me a little peace to form the vision I once had a few years ago while meditating on the goddess. I will obviously edit this later for the book, but for now here's the first draft poem for the book

Tagging: @swayamev @indiansapphic @jukti-torko-golpo (big thank you to you for the devi content!) @navaratna @rhysaka @krishna-priyatama @krsnaradhika @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @alhad-si-simran @ramcharantitties @kaal-naagin

[captainpulisic]

you've ruined my life by not being mine - m. mount

wrote this during a severe brain rot so I hope it isn't too mid, thank you to anyone who reads & I hope you enjoy :) word count : 4.4 k gif creds to owner

mason mount is absolutely gorgeous. nothing else to say, no need to elaborate. everyone who comes across him can confirm this. he’s a god amongst mere mortals, you’re sure of it. being an intern for chelsea's social media team, you have had the privilege of crossing paths with him several times a day. all these small interactions and polite ‘hellos’ have made you smitten. you’re positive that is the case for every girl who has the honour to be the winner of his attention.

you’ve come to the conclusion that he has a gift of making anyone he's talking to feel special. his eyes never leave yours, making it known that his attention is solely on you. the real killer is that smile of his. it’s very soft and boyish, with just a hint of shyness. as if he’s as nervous to talk to you, as you are to him. that bastard. how dare he make your cheeks go deep red and hands shake just by saying ‘have a nice day’. the audacity! 

he could be worn out from an extensive training session or surrounded by other important chelsea people, yet he’d always find a way to squeeze in a conversation with you. it was sweet of him, really. the fact that he was nice enough to make you feel so welcome to the family, like part of the team. he probably did it for everyone, yet it still made you feel special, nonetheless. 

mason was always going out of his way to make small talk with you, to ask how your weekend had been. he assured you that once you finished uni, he was positive the club would offer you a full time position. he’d confide that your ideas and content was the best, engaging everyone from fans to the players. 

‘why wouldn’t they try to keep the best when they already have them, yeah?’ he would assure you, squeezing your arm. you always felt you skin burning by the time he let go. 

you find yourself in that exact situation right now. 

after a particularly long week full of training, everyone was filing out of the locker room. freshly showered and exhausted, mason’s only mission in life was to get home and sleep for the next twelve hours. no agents or coaches or ‘after training, distress at a club’ plans will stop that. end of discussion.

he’s almost out the doors and into the parking lot.

well, that is until he sees you. you’re near the office doors, all smiles and cheerfulness as you talk to other people from the social media team. he’d never admit this to anyone but you have him quite smitten, too. one time he practically bumped into all his teammates when he saw you across the hallway. conor bitched to him for the next hour, annoyed at how he’d accidentally shoved him into a wall. he’d speed walk at an embarrassing pace, just to be able to say hello you, to be in your presence.  

as he approached your group, your co workers left you to face him by yourself. your small fangirl crush on him was a well known topic, since they swore he fancied you back. as if, you’d blush and wave them off. 

“hi,” he halted, ending his unusually fast pace. “hey, you.”

“to what do I owe the pleasure, mr mount?” you felt your grin go wide. you both laughed at the nickname. it was a recurring joke from when you had just started your internship, too starstruck and using only formal names to address the players. 

the first time you had been introduced to mason, you had addressed him as ‘mr. mount’. you were scared and confused when he started to turn around and look at all the people passing behind him. you weren’t sure what you had said wrong. 

“oh, ‘m sorry. I heard mr. mount and immediately thought my dad was here. please, call me mason.”

you had been a giggling mess since then and even now, you always found yourself laughing around him. on masons side, he heard your laugh that first encounter and vowed to himself he’d do anything to keep hearing it. 

“I just wanted to let you know that a bunch of us are going to a club tonight,” he didn’t even know what he was saying until he had already said it. his tired limbs were yearning for his bed but his y/n crazed brain overpowered him. the chance to see you outside of the bridge was such a sweet opportunity he couldn’t pass up. “come, please?”

you had never really been invited to those club or party hangouts, they were mostly reserved for the players and their girlfriends. you’re a bit stunned, you thought he’d come over to ask you if he had to do any reshoots for last week's youtube video. 

you’re both silent, waiting for your own response. your face is crimson red and he’s nervously tapping his foot. it doesn’t help that you can’t even make eye contact with him, too shy to look at his face. you’ve always found it hard to say anything directly to his pretty face. of course you want to go but you don’t want to make this into something bigger than it is. you don’t want to get your hopes up that this might be a step into seeing each other in a non work environment, like a pregame for a date?

no. what if he’s just being polite and this is a work get-together? what if he’s mistaken you with a different y/n, a cooler famous y/n?

before you can even choke out an answer, you notice a goddess type woman approaching the two of you. she’s wearing an all-access visitor pass around her neck and walking with the confidence of someone who owns the place. and her heavy gaze is set upon mason. she’s truly beautiful, like someone you’d see on the runway or a vogue cover. in a totally progressive and feminist way, you don’t like how much skin she’s showing. at least not when you’re forced wear such workplace appropriate attire, anyway. it makes you green with envy on how she looks like someone more fit for mason. now that’s the type of woman he would be seen with at the club . 

“time to go home, mason?” she sounds sweet, too sweet. hearing her delicate voice call mason makes your skin crawl and heart plummet.

he quickly gravitates all of his attention on her, giving her a nod. as soon as he’s in arms reach, her delicately manicured hand is wrapping around his foreman. she doesn’t even spare you a glance. she begins to pull him away from your shared spot, causing your mood to significantly dampen. 

“y/n,” mason says, pulling you out of your self wallowing thoughts. he’s giving you that award winning, boyish smile. “you’ll be there tonight, right?”

his tone is so soft and sincere. it warms your heart, even as that beautiful woman is clinging to his arm. 

you brave a fake smile, “i’ll try, mr. mount.”

he’s only able to smile in response, the probable supermodel eagerly tugging him out the door. you see her pull out keys from her purse, as he, ever the gentleman, opens the door for them.  

you feel a fool. mason is one of the most sought out men in the country. he’s sweet and handsome and funny and probably has a thousand girls at his disposal. your chances with him are next to zero. you’ve told yourself countless times to be content with the little attention you get from him. polite conversation and shy smiles is all you’ll ever get from him and that's totally fine. it has to be, anyway.

-

you’re stupid and idiotic. very stupid and idiotic. you knew you shouldn’t have showed up to the club, it wasn’t your place to be here. you weren’t even planning on actually showing, preferring to spend the night at your apartment, yearning for your unreciprocated crush on a certain footballer. yet, as you were heading out of the building for the end of the work week, you bumped into a couple of the other players. you had been too busy wishing it was you asking mason if he was ready to go home, you hadn’t heard them calling after you. 

all of the players were fond of you, fond of the cheeriness and lovely attitude you brought to the bridge. and you were equally as fond of them. so, when they asked if you wanted to join everyone else at the club, you said yes. you figured you’d make yourself miserable and see mason with his supermodel friend the entire night. yeah, you loved the pain.

being at said club now, you regret your decision. the music is too loud and the strobe lights are giving you a headache. everyone else has been nice enough with some small talk when passing by you, except for mason who was nowhere to be found. 

an hour passes by, and you’ve lost count of all the drinks you’ve taken. it’s pathetic to admit that all you’ve done is think of mason. how can someone so beautiful make you feel so sad? 

you finish the remnants of your drink and decide to head back home. coming here was a mistake and the original person who asked you to come didn’t even bother to show up. the bigger mistake though, is how you might have underestimated how many drinks you’d gone through in your short time here. you’re barely out of the main room and in the lobby when your vision begins to get blurry. your balance is wobbly and you’re quickly reaching to support yourself against a wall.  

you’re not sure how long you’re in that position. trying to somewhat sober up, you wonder how difficult it’d be to go back into the main room and find one of the players to help you. 

would you even be able to recognize any of them? you were royally screwed.  

your train of thought is broken when you see someone on the other end of the room relentlessly pacing. you’re only able to make out their moving outline, they look nervous. you disoriented state only hears them mumbling, as if they were talking themselves up.

it endears you. it reminds you of mason, you’ve caught him doing the same before any big game. come to think of it, the figure looks a lot like masons. same build and same pretty hair at the top of their head. plus, the jacket they’re wearing looks a lot like the one you once told mason you loved. that was months ago, though. surely he hadn’t remembered you’d said that. 

wait.

it is mason.

mason. 

oh.

oh.

he sees you right after, his pacing coming to an abrupt stop. not having noticed your intoxicated state, he’s quick to approach you. “y/n?”

your brain isn’t on your side tonight. your mouth speaks the first words that come to mind, “hey there, gorgeous.”

“hi, love.” his smile is instant as his gaze fixes upon your face. He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’s always had. you adored his beautiful prince like hair. it looks as it had been perfectly styled at one point, now it was disheveled from endless tugging and fixing. he frowns when he realises you’re leaning next to the exit door. “are you leaving? I was just heading in there to see you.”

instead of responding, you try to take another step towards the exit. this is too much for you. on a good day, you’re barely able to handle being in his intoxicating presence. in your current state? you can feel him taking up every atom and particle surrounding you.

you stumble and his reflexes are quick to hold you up. as if this is a regular occurence, your hands instantly find their way onto his chest.

oh my god, you scream in your head. mason mount has his hands wrapped around my waist. my skin is burning where he’s touching me, please never let go. 

“i’m okay, i’m okay,” you mumble. 

“having too much fun, yeah?”

you’re tempted to lie to him. you want to tell him that you had the best night of your life without him, that you hadn’t even noticed his absence. you want to tell him that you drank too much because you were having too much fun with other guys. 

you’re tempted to tell him the truth, too. you want to tell him that you were having the worst night of your life, that you drank to forget that he was probably having fun with his supermodel girlfriend. you want to tell him that it should be you asking him if he’s ready to go home, after a long day of work. while you’re at it, you think of telling him that his face is so infuriatingly gorgeous that it’s all you ever think about.

would he even care?

you feel dizzier with the way he’s looking at you with those pretty, concerned eyes. mason has always had a knack for making you blush with just a look but tonight it’s stronger. all you want to do is kiss him silly. these stupid feelings irk you, really. 

“stop looking at me like that!” you take your hands off his chest and your fingers immediately miss the contact. you lightly shove him, “god, you make me so fucking mad sometimes.”

now mason is confused. the corner of his mouth dips, “i’m sorry, love. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“oh, ‘i’m sorry, love. I don’t know what I did wrong’, bite me!” you try your best to copy his accent. you know you’re acting childish, but you can’t help it. common sense left you long ago and now is the only time you can tell him exactly how you feel. “you have no idea how infuriating you are.”

“y/n,” he tries to tilt your head up by your chin. “look at me.”

“please stop, i’m begging you,” you whine. you know you resemble a spoiled child, but you’re on a roll. “don’t you know its actually impossible to look at you? your face is so pretty and I never know what to say when you look at me and you’re always looking at me. can you imagine what that does to me?”

“yeah, well how do you know i’m always looking at you?” he muses. “that’d have to mean you’re always looking at me, too.”

at this point, mason finds the situation very entertaining. he can’t help but laugh. he had arrived at the club twenty minutes ago, trying to build up the courage to walk in there and find you. he still wasn’t even sure if you’d shown, never have given him a real answer. being ever the optimist, he was hopeful you’d be in there waiting for him. he had planned that tonight was the night he’d confess his feelings for you, that he’d ask you out on a proper date.

fear of rejection got the better of him and he had psyched himself out. so, there he was. pacing back and forth, working up the courage to walk into the main room and tell you that he was crazy for you. he was just hoping you felt the same way, that you’d give him a chance. 

the possibility of finding you drunk out of your mind, babbling about how pretty you found his face, had never crossed his mind. this was way better than him stuttering out his feelings for you. mason could spend the entire night in this position, longer, if it meant more time next to you. he’s not cruel, though. he knows he’d be proper embarrassed if the roles were reversed, he doesn’t want you to regret whatever drunken thing you say to him. plus, if you’re going to call him pretty, he wants you to be sober for it. “hey, lets go home, yeah?”

hearing those words are like a trigger to you, a switch that releases the impending dam of tears in your eyes. why can’t he tell you those words under different circumstances? 

“stop,” you’re sputtering out. “this is hurting me too much.”

he lets go of your waist right away, leaning you back against the wall. you miss his touch immediately. “what is? do you want to stay?” 

continuing your drunk tantrum, “you don’t get it!”

“y/n, help me understand.” he’s trying his best to wipe the tears on your cheeks but you’re shaking your head too much. you refuse to look at him, he’s desperately trying to meet your eyes. “what don’t I get?”

“that this is all your fault,” your tears can’t stop. you hate how you can hear yourself slurring your words. “you made me feel this way!”

“what way?”

you make dramatic arm gestures of the space between the two of you, “this way, idiot!”

mason is more confused than ever. nonetheless, he surrenders and apologizes for making you feel ‘that way’. you’re too distracted repeating a slurred ‘you should be’, that you don’t notice that he’s steered you out of the club and to his car. 

“c’mon along now, love.” mason isn’t sure how the night is going. on one hand, he’s with you and that's all he’s wanted for the longest time. on the other hand, he’s not having the easiest time trying to unlock the passenger's seat, while simultaneously making sure you don’t stumble onto the pavement. one things for sure, he’s not complaining on how you’re holding onto his arm for dear life. plus, you keep whispering something into his ear, and it keeps making him blush. 

gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous.

you don’t stop repeating the word to him, as if it's a secret only the two of you could know. you whisper into him once more, as he finally opens the car door and places you inside. the long, eventful night had started to take a toll on your body, your body lazily slumped into the passenger's seat. 

“you really do have a pretty face,” you whisper. you’re much more calm now and the tears have stopped. even in your state, the bittersweet thoughts won’t stop. he has the prettiest face you’ve ever seen, he’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. but he’s not yours, he’s someone else's. before the tears can return, you’re distracted because you have to tell him his face is beautiful but you had been using a different word seconds ago. what was it? its at the tip of your tongue. “it’s like… what's the word? what word was I saying?”

he spares you a quick glance as he buckles your seatbelt. teasingly, “gorgeous?” 

“yeah,” you lazily smile. it’s the last thing you say before the sound of the engine lulls you to sleep, “it’s gorgeous.”

-

the headache is already making you wish you were dead as soon as you open your eyes. before you can tell yourself off for drinking way more than you should’ve, you begin to panic.

this is not your bed.

this is not your room.

that is not your glass full of water on the nightstand that is not yours. 

you’re definitely going to scream when you look down and find yourself adorning a large, unfamiliar shirt and shorts. even though you can’t see yourself, you’re sure your face is red with embarrassment. 

please don’t tell me I hooked up with some rando, you silently beg any god that will listen. 

in this scenario, you’d usually pick up your clothes and sneak out before getting caught but, where the hell are your clothes? and whos fucking house is this? 

stumbling into the hallway, you feel as disoriented as you did when you left the club last night. you wish you could remember who you left the club with, too. 

finding your way through the maze of this large house, you come face to face with some picture frames decorating the wall. the face you see in these frames makes you wish it was actually some random guy house you were in. instead, you’re greeted by mason-fucking-mounts framed and pretty face. 

you hear him before you actually see him. you hear a commotion from the other end of the hallway. you’re tempted to turn around and find the exit instead of facing him. you don’t know what happened last night and you’d rather not find out. 

alas, your feet involuntarily move towards the sound and you’re met with mason sitting on his sofa. the television is on but you can faintly hear him mumbling to himself. his leg is nervously bouncing, and his eyes never waver from the clock on the wall opposite of you. unsure of what to do, you clear your throat. 

you fear he’ll get whiplash from how quickly he turned his head.

“oh, you’re awake,” mason motions you to come closer to him, a smile appearing on his face. he reaches for your arm, pulling you down to sit next to him. he points at the two mugs on the centre table, “I made you some tea, did you drink the water I left you?”

“mason, what happened last night?” you don't know why you’re whispering, but you are. unconsciously, you tug the hem of his oversized shirt you’re wearing. 

“oh, no no no,” he begins to sputter out. “we didn’t do anything, don’t worry!”

you’re only slightly disappointed. 

mason continues, “I think you had too much last night, you were pretty out of it when I saw you.”

you can’t meet his eyes, “oh god, i’m so embarrassed.”

“don’t be!” he’s quick to reassure you. “you said some pretty great stuff when I bumped into you but still, better not to leave you alone, ‘figured you’d need help leaving so I decided to help you home. I didn’t actually know your address so I brought you here. I left you to change by yourself and I slept on the couch, don’t worry.”

“oh,” you look away from him. “i’m sorry, I bet your girlfriend didn’t like that you left her to help me. sorry for ruining your night.”

“girlfriend?” he looks more puzzled than you look sheepish.

this is the last conversation you want to be having, especially hungover. you look down at the floor. “yeah, that stunning supermodel who drove you guys ‘home’ yesterday.”

the bastard has the nerve to laugh at this. seeing your not-so-pleased face, the laugh turns into an awkward cough. “sheryl isn’t my girlfriend. she’s part of the new partnership promotion, shouldn’t you know that? didn’t your team arrange everything?”

your answer without missing a beat, “we didn’t have any involvement in it, ‘above our paygrade or something’. i’d never seen her before.”

“oh, well she’s just part of the campaign, she’s not my girlfriend. the only reason she drove me home was because my car broke down at the film set and she offered to drive me to the bridge and home afterwards. she’s nice but ‘m not interested in her like that.” your heart had just mended a smidge but it was cracking all over again when mason added, “plus, I fancy someone else.”

“cheers.” you give him your best half assed smile. of course he had his heart set on someone, you should be happy for him. it’s not like you ever really had a chance, you’re only hoping you hadn’t said anything too incriminating last night. its better if you leave right now, with what dignity you have left, and act as if none of this ever happened. you can go back to polite conversations at the bridge and he can pine over his crush. you can only imagine how stunning she is. if mason wasn’t falling onto his knees for the goddess that sheryl was, this other girl must be aphrodite herself. 

“yeah,” mason is fully grinning now. “she’s just the best person. I don’t think she knows how stupidly obsessed I am with her, I do anything I can just for the chance to talk to her and be around her. I used to be too scared to make a move, because I didn’t think she’d feel the same.”

she’s an idiot if she doesn’t, you miserably think. 

mason rambles on, “I think all my mates know how I feel. i’m sure they’re just waiting for me to tell her, so they don’t have to hear me talk about ‘how pretty she looked today’ anymore. I say she looks pretty but I think there's a better word.”

you can only smile in return, not trusting your voice to congratulate him on this gem he’s found.

“you know,” mason cracks a smile, “i think she’s just so gorgeous.”

“what did you just say?” your eyes snap up to meet his. hearing him say those words trigger blurbs of last night to come back to you. you remember the drinking and the crying and the tantrum and repeatedly calling mason gorgeous. now you’re certain you’ll have to disappear off the face of the earth. shaking your head, “oh god, are you making fun of me?”

“of course not.” mason is in utter disbelief. is he not being clear enough? “christ y/n, are you really going to make me get on my knees? it’s you, i’ve been crazy for you for so long. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same but i’m hoping last night was some indication that you do.”

you can’t believe a word you’re hearing. now you’re sure you drank too much last night and got alcohol poisoning. you’re probably laying in the hospital and having these deluded fantasies of mason saying he fancies you. that is the only way this can be happening. 

“y/n, love.” his smile never falters but you can hear the anxiousness in his tone. here he was, being vulnerable and wearing his heart on his sleeve. he was just waiting for you to do the same for him. he was waiting for you to do what you’ve been doing for months now. what you both had been doing, just secretly and shyly. he reaches out to squeeze your hand, “please say something.”

you’re sure you might start crying again. happy tears this time. “god mason, of course I like you. my heart has been yours, pathetically and desperately and always.”

he doesn’t respond, choosing to finally kiss you instead. it’s better than either of you could have imagined, and you know his heart is yours just as much as yours is his.

authors note 2.0 : if I had a nickel for every time I wrote a mason fic where its an unrequited love and he confesses that he loves reader after reader sees him w some girl, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but its still weird that it happened twice (idk im predictable ig)

[theolivetree123]

♡ Isollow ♡

aka - playfulgeddon ♡

Isollow (or playfulgeddon, I use them interchangeably) is one of my many oc x canon ships between Fellow Honest and Isosceles, who's twisted from Bill Cipher. This post will simply be me rambling on about their relationship and sharing facts that won't make it into my oc intros.

! Mention of NSFW !

More under the cut !

◇How did they start?◇

Four years ago, Isosceles visited Playful Land as a way to trick Fellow into selling his soul to him. Isosceles wanted to show his god, Bill Cipher, that he could be just as nasty and cruel as him by manipulating a mortal soul into being his pet. But first, Isosceles had to earn Fellow's trust, and as such, he spent a year with him and Gidel under the lie that he was abandoned by his family and fled the Shaftlands.

At first, Isosceles saw Fellow as just an ordinary mortal. One that he could laugh at and observe like a hamster in a cage. Though, the more Isosceles showed his true and chaotic personality, the more Fellow fell in love with him. The two had very similar goals and personalities, and they would even scam people together. Fellow quickly told Isosceles how he felt, yet Isosceles just laughed, not knowing how to react to someone genuinely having romantic feelings towards him. Isosceles mocked Fellow for having feelings for him and admitted to being a demi-god. Isosceles slightly had the same feelings for Fellow, so he spared him from being his first victim.

After that, the two had a very awkward confrontation that night. Fellow shared his feelings again, and Isosceles felt his heart break. He knew that Fellow and him could never be together. He was a literal demi-god, and Fellow was a mere mortal! But even if Isosceles wasn't fully human, his feelings still got the better of him, and he confessed his true feelings to Fellow. That night, the two had sex, and in the morning, Isosceles fled out of Playful Land in fear and shame. He cursed himself for sleeping with a mortal, especially when he'd made a promise to his god that he would return with a soul! How could he let his human desires get the best of him?!

Fellow woke up that morning and saw that Isosceles wasn't next to him. He had a hunch that he had fled, yet Fellow wasn't angry. Instead, he just mourned, and wished that Isosceles would return someday.

◇How are they doing now?◇

After four years and collecting some souls, Isosceles decided to visit Fellow. He was scared to see him after so long, especially since he had left so cruely, but Isosceles couldn't get Fellow out of his head. What was that mortal doing to him...

Isosceles surprised Fellow with his return and (in true Isosceles fashion) almost entirely ignored how their last meet-up went. Isosceles still apologized to Fellow, and he said that he'd work for him as payment. Fellow simply hugged Isosceles, just happy that he was back. Though, he did take his offer, and Isosceles became a guide at Playful Land.

At this time, Fellow and Isosceles haven't put a label on their relationship yet. The two are close friends again, but on certain occasions, the two do get more romantic and flirty. Fellow now knows about who Isosceles really is and who he works for, so he has stopped trying to make Isosceles his boyfriend. Though, the two still have sex sometimes as they believe it's a good placeholder for dates and other romantic stuff. Fellow still pines for Isosceles and vice-versa, but they both know that it probably won't happen as long as Isosceles is Bill Cipher's pawn.

◇Random Facts◇

Isosceles doesn't need to sleep due to him being a demi-god, but he still does it when sleeping with Fellow.

Isosceles borrows Fellow's clothes a lot.

Fellow loves to give Isosceles flowers, even if Isosceles thinks it's corny to do so.

Even though Isosceles thinks doing romantic things is cringy, he still shows Fellow romantic gestures in his own.... very destructive way. He mostly destroys buildings for Fellow or kills people he dislikes. Fellow finds it endearing.

The two often scam people together. Fellow gets their money, and Isosceles gets their soul. It's a win-win job for both of them.

◇That's it for now! (Until I add more in the future, lol.)◇

[comfysofti]

Some thoughts on The Fury because im absolutely obsessed with her and still can't get over the fact how much she was expanded

Aka me rambling about how I see her chapter, whatever, idk how else to call this-

Everything's under the cut

(｡>﹏<｡)

No matter how you get Fury, through Tower or Adversary, it's always circles back to her inflicting her pain on you. But is she wrong for doing that? I don't really think so

"This one is desecration. She placed the weight of her agony on you, yet it is she who unwound herself. There is passion and empathy buried under her unfeeling skin. She will make for a weathered heart."

What is desecration?

Desecration - the action of damaging or showing no respect towards something holy or very much respected

In one way or another, we do desecrate her. Or lead her in doing so to herself. In Adversery, despite there being multiple scenarios leading to Fury, we still desecrate her or lead her to desecration by denying her what she wants, what she believes we want too - a good fight. Even if it means dying over and over. To get one of her achievements, you have to kill her, even if for a brief moment. Her bloodlust, and us, the player, not satisfying it, leads to her desecration in a way. Overwhelmed with anger and agony, Fury from Adversary still thrives for combat and is, rather ecstatic if player defyingly keeps approaching her, and tries to fight her even as we're getting unwound

In terms of Tower this is more obvious. There's only one way for us to get to Fury through her - make her force her hand on us, someone she sees as something lowly. She believes herself to be an unstoppable god, something holy and sacred. And how dare we, not only, hurt and defy her authority, but also make her force her hand on us? She's arrogant and selfish, so when this happens, she feels like she was tainted. Like we - a mere mortal, nothing but a rock under her feet, tainted her very being. Overwhelmed with anger she wants to take revenge on us, for denying her ascension and turning her into Fury. She believes it's all our fault. For we tainted her flesh, for we dared to break the leash she was using on us

Either of them can end up unwounding you. Atom by atom. And when she does so, she wants to make us understand her. Her pain. Her change

"are you still there? Are you still you?"

Fury from Adversary starts to unwound us to make us continue the fight. To return the spark of bloodlust. Fury from Tower unwounds us to hurt us and destroy us. But is that what they truly want? Just our suffering and nothing else? In the endless cycle?

"What is a person? Is it their body? Is it all of their body? Pluck the eyes, peel the skin, strip the tendons, mince the meat, grind the bones. When it is all gone, do you still have who you started with?"

We changed her drastically. We changed her into this monster of flesh, only capable of pain and hurt. Only capable of unwounding and hurting and destroying and changing. But never healing. She isn't something positive. She's pain, anger, hatred

She wants us to understand how much pain we had brought upon her flesh to make her into this monstrosity. She unwounds us. She changes us in ways that makes it impossible for us to exist. Just like we did with her. She wants us to understand, yet we can't

We only feel pain from her actions. We'll never understand her. Because she can unwound us time and time again, but in the end of the day, we'll never know what she's thinking. We'll never truly know her pain. Unless we would share body and mind with her

That's why she unwounds herself as well, trying to fuse us together. She presents herself to us at her weakest, most naked form. Offering her very heart for you. To make you one. To make you truly understand. To feel what she felt. To see what she sees

But before we're able to do that, she's taken away

"Do not mourn her - she has finally found peace."

She found her peace once she was reunited with Shifting Mound, but even after she was, we still can't understand her, can't we?

[manias-wordcount]

A Mere Promise (Yato)

Kinktober 2023 Day Two: Eating Out

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

The Yato god has been very, very kind to you. Ever since you started working for him. Ever since he found you.

  When you were lost and alone, he opened up the doors to his new shrine to you. When you felt that you had no purpose- no reason to keep living on as you currently are, he offered you a job as his first even shrine maiden with a warm, kind smile. He showered you in compliments even when you struggled to be the priestess worthy of your god. He showered you in praise as you began to learn and grow with his care. He protected you. Kept you safe. Kept you warm. Kept you dry. Kept you fed. 

  Kept you happy. 

  He was your everything. He is your everything. Your entire world. For the small price of taking care of a few duties here and there. And even as his fame grew and his shrine grew vast and large and popular and crowded, your Yato was still there for you. He still kept you safe and warm. He kept you dry and kept you fed. But most of all? He made you feel special. As special as the day you first came to him without a home.

  “Mmm…you’re so sweet, aren’t you?”

  And as special as the day he first told you to drop your hakama to the ground at let yourself be tasted by your god properly.

  You whine at his words as a familiar heat rushes to your cheeks in response to his words. No matter how many times your god tells you to undress and let yourself be taken care of by him, you swear it’s as if your body will never allow itself to get used to it. Perhaps even your physical form has taken to worshipping him subconsciously? You do owe him more than just your life after all. You owe him your everything. It just so happens that part of your everything involved your god kneeling before you and lifting a leg over his shoulder as he takes what was always his in the first place. But still…

  “Um…my lord?” You find yourself mumbling out in a shaky voice. It’s hard to form full strings of words in sentences when he has you like this. Gripping at his clothes and his hair as you selfishly tug him much closer to your body than you, a mere little miko deserves. But it’s the moments that make you so flustered and so shy that add to your boldness.  And right now? The scene just so happens to be this particular moment where he chooses to take his good, sweet time in flicking his tongue against your poor, sensitive little clit. “Shouldn’t it be I who kneels upon the ground for you?”

  Your voice quivers as you voice your concern. Your leg shakes as it’s forced to be held up at an unfamiliar angle. And your pussy particularly floods itself with its own wetness as it’s given the lovely care and attention from your one and only savior. But while your body may only be human, you know in your mind that this couldn’t be right. How could it ever be right? 

      “Are you questioning me, my little follower?”

  Simple

  “N-no, sir. I’m sorry.”

  It’s right because he wills it to be.

  “Good girl.”

  And your god’s will is your law. 

  Even if it means choking down your moans and letting yourself be tongue fucked by the man you admire most. His word is law.

  So you stand there. You stand there with shaking legs and quiver moans as the tongue of a god laps at your insides like a greedy dog. You grip at his dark strands of hair as if he were nothing but just a mere mortal as you once were, and you squeeze. But there are no harsh words of opposition that come flying from his mouth. There are no cruel words of punishment that come biting at your skin. Only there is a god kneeling before you, holding you tighter and opening you up wider for his own personal enjoyment. Because why else would a god indulge in a creature of pitiful as you?

  Surely it’s not because he relishes in the sounds of your moans. Surely it’s not because he relishes in the feeling of your hips bucking into his face, trying to ride what was never yours to begin. And surely it’s not because he wants to worship you. As you worship him and only him. Surely it cannot be that. Because while your god is kind, you have heard his stories. You have listened to his rumors. The whispers of truths and tales and histories young and old. You have heard so, so many things. 

  Yet none of them explain why he’ll grab at your hips and pull you back into his await tongue when you start to run fight the pleasures that he gives you start to feel like too much. None of them explain why he’ll draw small circles into your skin when you start to whine and whimper about how he’s being too harsh- too cruel- when he sucks on your overstimulated clit like that. And none of them explain how soft, and sweet and gentle his eyes look when he peers up at you from below. Only for them to disappear from view as he takes another chance to lick at the entire expanse of your soaking-wet cunt once more before pushing his tongue through your folds. None of them explain a damn thing. 

  But some mysteries are left to those who are smarter. Those who are wiser. Those who are good for more than just reading out a couple of prayers and spreading their legs. Those who can do more than whimper and whine when their god shows them a sliver of what heaven- of what divinity must taste like. Those who aren’t you. 

  But even so, the Yato god has always been very kind to you. He gave you so much. A home. A job. Food. Shelter. Warmth. Comfort. Familiarity. A purpose. He gave you all those things. He gave you all those things and so, so much more. And even so, he still continues to give to you in at this very moment. The feeling of euphoria. The feeling of pleasure. The feeling of warm cheeks. Of shaking legs. Of skillful tongues. Of complete and utter passion. And pretty soon?

  “You’re getting closer, aren’t you? Let me know when you’re ready, alright?”

  An orgasm. 

  “Y-yes, my lord. I will…I will…”

  Delivered to you by your one and only Yato. For a small, small price. And that price?

  “I want to see my first little miko's cute face when I take her cum again, okay? So let me see it this time, okay?”

  Is nothing more than all you could ever want. All you could ever need. Except the mere promise….

  “Anything for you…my lord….”

  …of always staying by his side. 

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: NSFW/minors DNI

“I can’t believe you put me up to this.”

You grin as you watch Shanks unbuckle his belt slowly, almost provocatively if you didn’t know better. He raises an eyebrow at you, the beginnings of a blush spreading across his cheeks. Shanks was not an easy man to embarrass by any means—he’d seen it all, heard it all, and, you suspected, done it all—so seeing this warmth in his face that wasn’t just the by-product of too much alcohol felt satisfying beyond compare.

“Tch, you knew I was a gambler, Shanks. You’ve known that since the day you met me.” You lean back in your chair, hands behind your head, biting at your lip as your take in the view from across the table. The bunching muscles of his shoulders, the hardness of his chest, the tightness of his abdomen—he had the build of some ancient god, the kind they dedicated statues to, and here he was standing before you like a mere mortal.

“Well of course, but I didn’t think—”

“What? You didn’t think I was any good?”

“I never doubted you for second, sweetheart.” He unzips his trousers and takes his time sliding them down his lean hips. “I just didn’t expect to be losing my shirt here.”

“And your pants.”

He glowers at you, the devious smile on his lips betraying his feigned irritation. He rests his hand on his hip, letting you take in the full spectacle of his form, giving you a little turn to allow you the privilege of admiring his thick, muscular thighs and the taut curves of his ass, all scarcely contained by his body-hugging boxer briefs. A heat rises in your cheeks as your eyes are drawn to something else—something decidedly more obscene: the outline of his cock is blatantly visible through the thin fabric. The blood starts to drain from your limbs as you find yourself unabashedly staring at it, and you drag your teeth across your lower lip, wondering how it would look rock-hard and slapping against your tongue.

“Do you like what you see?” he asks, his voice low and smooth like expensive whiskey, the kind you could never afford but always wanted to taste.

You clear your throat and gather yourself, quickly averting your sinful gaze. “Well, I certainly have no complaints.”

“You know, this doesn’t feel very fair,” he chuckles as he sits back down at the table. “You’ve got quite a view all for yourself and I, well”—he eyes you, his gaze settling on your chest—“I’m just sitting here with only your pretty face to look at. Not that I’m complaining.”

“Would it make it better if I take something off, too, handsome?” You wiggle your fingers at him. “Maybe one of these rings? Or my bracelet?”

“You’re hilarious, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Plenty.” You shuffle the deck of cards, twirling them between your fingers with ease. “Oh, I know! How about I let you win one? Least I can do is offer you a little show for all your troubles.”

“Nah, I don’t need your pity, honey.” He raps the tabletop with his knuckles. “I’m gonna earn a glimpse of you fair and square, one way or another.”

[babybemydownfall]

things that shimmer in the dark Part II: Rhys ( Part I - Part III ) “I’m thinking that I want you. And if you drop that towel to the floor, I will have you.”  NSFW, as always. Notes under the cut. Or read on AO3.

Notes: Here you go! It was really interesting to imagine Rhys's feelings for Feyre so early in their story. And to consider how he might react post-UTM. So I hope you enjoy my interpretation. Now I feel like I might keep going through ACOMAF, making them fuck at every available opportunity...

II

Lonely.

The word cut through me like the sharpest blade.

I had been so close - so close - to rejecting her advance. It would have hurt us both, and I knew she would not be quick to forgive, but it was the right thing to do. Any kind of sexual relationship between us was a colossally bad idea. She had barely started to recover from what happened under the mountain. Neither had I, if I was truly honest with myself. And on top of that, the world was going to hell. We had a gargantuan fight ahead of us, with very few allies and a plan that was almost doomed to fail before we’d even begun.

But Feyre. Beautiful, exquisite Feyre.

She knew me better than she realised. She had sliced into my very core with that single word, leaving me shattered, my blood spilt at her feet.

I was desperately lonely. I had been for most of my life, but especially the last half-century.

And I wanted her.

I wanted her to know me, to know everything. I wanted her to see all of me, the good and the evil, the dream and the nightmare. I wanted her body, her mouth; her fingernails on my skin and her sounds collecting in the all warm, dark spaces between us. I wanted to make her come, to make her smile. To feel joy again, together: every day, for the rest of our lives.

My Feyre.

My mate.

And that was the thing - she had no idea. I couldn’t tell her, not yet. Not when she had been destroyed by Amarantha, by Tamlin; when she had lost everything she thought she’d known and been flung into my world, her mortal heart and Faerie soul destined to be entwined with mine forever. I couldn’t fuck this up. I needed her. Every living being who opposed the King of Hybern needed her.

But she was right. It would be so nice to feel something good, just a for a little while. I had spent my whole life sacrificing myself again and again, selflessly, in servitude of my people. And I would gladly go on doing so until I took my very last breath. But I had also suffered - more than enough. More than I could bear, sometimes.

I refocused on Feyre, standing in front of me in her bathroom, wearing only a towel. She was the most stunning creature I had ever laid eyes on. I had thought it the first moment I saw her, long before I knew she was my mate, and I had wanted her every day since then. And here she was, offering herself to me. Wanting me, in all my darkness and destruction.

The feel of her was still on my fingertips, imprinted there forever; the heavenly scent of her desire filled my nose, making my mouth water. I had been hard for her from the moment she asked me to stay - at the mere thought of her sitting naked just a few feet away. I should have said no, invented some excuse to disappear, but she needed a friend and I couldn’t refuse her. I would never be able to.

Like when she asked so innocently for me to wash her back.

My mistake was touching her with my hands. As soon as we connected so intimately, I was lost. And then I felt her arousal burst to life along our bond, and she moaned… And by all the gods, I nearly lost my fucking mind.

“What are you thinking?” she asked me now, and I realised I’d been silent for too long.

She was standing so close. I was desperate to touch her but I knew that, just like in the bathtub, once I did I wouldn’t be able to stop. And I had to know she was sure. Because a part of me suspected that when we’d had our first taste of each other, nothing would keep us apart.

“I’m thinking that I want you,” I told her simply, honestly. “And if you drop that towel to the floor, I will have you.” Fire blazed in her eyes. “But if we do this, things might get complicated. If the others find out…”

She shook her head. “It’s just sex, Rhys. Gods, we might all die soon. I need to feel something again. Something good.”

“Oh Feyre darling,” I sighed. “You have no idea how good I can make you feel.”

“That’s very… arrogant.” A spark: of playfulness. Of the Feyre I adored most of all.

I held her gaze, trying not to smirk. “Would you like me to prove it?”

She raised her hands, hovering them just over my biceps - as if she, too, knew that one touch would mark the beginning of the end. I waited patiently. I had yearned for her for so long, I could go another few minutes. And I needed her to make the first move, to show me that she was certain, that she wouldn’t regret this.

I watched as she took in my chest where my shirt was open, the swirls of black ink spread over tanned muscle. Cautiously, she reached out her fingers and placed them on my warm skin, tracing the Illyrian patterns. My heart beat wildly beneath them.

I didn’t know what she thought about me - if she was still in love with someone else; if she had ever considered loving me instead. But when she looked up again, I saw curiosity: about the possibility of me, of us.

I saw hope.

And then she said softly: “Rhys… I would like you to kiss me.”

And every remaining ounce of my hesitation vanished.

I reached for her waist, pulling her to me. Her eyes widened as she felt my hardness against her belly. They stayed open, fixed on mine, as I leaned down and lightly, tenderly, pressed my lips to hers. The world stilled; disappeared. I held her in that moment, the single most important one of my life so far, and saw so much in her blue-grey gaze: surprise, desire. Trust.

She trusted me not to hurt her, not to break her even further - and that meant more to me that I could put into words.

Then her eyelids fell shut and her mouth opened, claiming me. I felt her hand go to the back of my neck as her body bowed into mine, as she kissed me hungrily, her tongue sweeping over my lips and then past them as I submitted to her completely. The embers of lust in my blood roared to life again.

I walked her backwards into her bedroom, my fingers buried in her hair, cradling her head as I ravished her. She was the sweetest, sexiest thing and I already felt frenzied, desperate to have her, to make her mine. She matched me moan for moan, her nails clawing at my shoulders and arms, her teeth grazing my lips in such a way that made me want to bite her.

Outside of those years underground, I had always loved sex - in all its forms. Particularly hard, fast, untamed. I liked to be rough, to scratch and bruise, to leave my mark. Inside this perfect body was a feral animal who loved being let out to play. But only ever with permission - and I was so lost in Feyre already, I hadn’t warned her; hadn’t asked what she wanted from me, beyond feeling good. There were a thousand ways I could make that happen. But, at least this first time, I wanted to let her choose.

I managed to slow us down, to extricate myself from her frenzied kisses and draw back for air. She looked so fucking hot, dazed and aroused, her lips swollen and wet from my mouth. My hips twitched and we both groaned.

“I wear a lot of masks. As you know.” My voice was gravelly, low. “Who do you want me to be today?”

What do you need? Tell me, and I’ll gladly give it to you.

I could see she understood. She had encountered many sides of me already, from cruel to relaxed to pure, unadulterated power. I knew that I fascinated her. She had no sides at all, no masks. She was always true to herself, and I both envied and marvelled at her.

Her eyes scanned my face, back and forth. I wondered what she was looking for; if she had found it when she said quietly: “I want… the Rhys who holds my hand in the dark. Who kneels before me and calls me his salvation. Who looks at me like he cares about me.”

There was emotion there, in her voice, in the way her fists curled into my shirt, holding on. But there was also enormous strength in her vulnerability; fierceness in her honesty. It made me want her even more.

“I do,” I breathed, allowing myself to be honest in return. “I do care about you, Feyre. More than you know. More than I should.”

She continued to stare at me. I could hear, feel, her heart racing - but if she was scared by my words, she didn’t show it. Then she asked: “What about me? What do you need from me?”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Is there anything you don’t want me to do? Anything that will… trigger bad memories?”

It took a second for me to realise what - who - she was referring to. I had never been asked by a partner what I wanted, or didn’t want. Oh Feyre.

“You’re talking about Amarantha?” I clarified.

“Yes… her.” Then she flushed. “Although maybe you’ve been with someone else since her, before me. Who am I to-”

“I haven’t.”

She had no idea how much she had changed my life. How much I loved her already.

“I am very good at compartmentalising - as you saw inside my mind. If I dwelt too much on things in my past, I would have been killed or captured a hundred times by now.”

“That’s why you can say her name as if it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. But I don’t give it any power over me.” I held her lovely face in my hands, brushing my thumbs over her cheeks, her lips. “Thank you for asking, but I don’t think about her. Especially not with you in my arms. You are so beautiful, Feyre.”

Her fingers curled gently around my wrists and she almost, almost smiled. Suddenly it was harder to breathe. I was running out of patience for conversation, but there was one final apology I had to make.

“Until you, under the mountain,” I murmured, “I hadn’t kissed anyone for more than fifty years.”

Feyre looked stunned.

“Not once,” I confirmed. “And I am sorry for the way I kissed you down there. I was jealous and pissed off.” My gaze fell to her mouth. “Please allow me to make it up to you.”

There was a pause: the last deep inhale before the dive. Then we reached for each other at the same time. The first kiss was soft and tender, because I loved her. I couldn’t say it so I had to show her, just once.

The second was our surrender.

Her hands pulled at my clothes as our passion flared again, as her tongue fought mine, as the bond between us melted into pure fire. I helped her rip off my shirt, buttons flying; felt her palms on my skin and growled into her mouth. She reached down, her fingers snaking along my length and then around, gripping me through my pants, and I had to break away from her, to cry out to the ceiling as I hardened even further.

“Fuck, Feyre.”

She looked at me; looked down at my bare torso, at my huge erection tenting the fabric, her eyes widening as she took me in. Clearly she hadn’t quite been expecting this. I couldn’t help but smile, even as she continued to gently stroke my cock. I loved seeing her want me so obviously. I loved being desired by her.

I let my hands glide down the sides of her neck to her chest; leaned forward and followed them with my mouth. I kissed all the way along the line where her towel sat; lifted her arms up above her head - partly because I couldn’t focus with her attention below my waist - and held her gaze as I slowly unwrapped her.

I swore again as her incredible body was revealed to me. No paint this time; no sheer fabric, no wine, no shame. Just acres of her soft skin and the black tattoos snaking down her left arm, onto her hand. Tying her to me. Making her mine.

Her perfect breasts rose and fell with her heavy breathing; her rosebud pink nipples were hard and begging to be sucked. And so I did, swirling my tongue over the right first, then the left. The sound she made was so erotic and I felt her entire being, including our bond, tremble. She was exquisitely sensitive here. I stored that piece of knowledge away, hoping I would get the chance to use it again in future.

I trailed my lips lower, moving to my knees before her - the second time in the space of a few hours. I had never knelt to anyone before and now I was making a habit of it. Feyre Archeron was very, very dangerous - and I didn’t care at all. She had curves now, flesh on her bones, her waist and hips and thighs, and I kissed and licked every inch of her as her fingers tangled in my hair, as she continued to whimper and shake. I could smell her arousal as I moved ever closer, and I knew she was soaking wet for me. Gods, I felt like I had been starving and she was the feast. The only meal I would ever want again.

And, like a feast, I wanted her spread out before me.

I stood suddenly and picked her up, carrying her the few steps to her bed. When I lay over her and kissed her again, I was amazed at how seamlessly our bodies fit together, as if they had been made this way. Perhaps her Fae form really had been Made just for me. It certainly seemed like it. Her breasts fit just right in my hands; her legs wrapped around mine and she shifted her hips and the length of my cock sat perfectly along the apex of her thighs, my base pressing right up against her clit. The noise she made into my mouth as she ground helplessly against me came from deep, deep inside her.

Just where I wanted to be.

But not yet. The temptation to vanish my pants and slide straight into her was almost too much, but there was one thing I needed first: a taste.

“Feyre,” I breathed, kissing her jaw, her throat, moving down her body. “You are so…” I sucked on her nipples again; grazed them with my teeth and her back arched off the bed. “Fucking…” I delved my tongue into her belly button, my fingers rolling her nipples now. “Sexy.”

I pushed her legs apart and knelt between them, letting my gaze roam greedily over every part of her. Her eyelids were heavy, her pupils dilated, her skin flushed the most delicious shade of pink. I could feel her throbbing, aching for release - just as I was.

“Rhys… please.”

I traced her entrance with the tip of my finger, so smooth and glistening beneath her neat strip of light brown hair. Her whole body tensed and she became wetter before my eyes. Mother above. I had never been so turned on.

“What do you want, Feyre darling?”

She couldn’t speak. I slowly pushed my finger inside her, all the way - she clenched around me and writhed and cried out. Fuck me, she felt unbelievable. My cock twitched, desperate to feel her, to be buried deep inside her heat.

I added another finger, sliding in and out a few times before circling her clit, slick with her own fluid.

“Rhys!” she gasped, and I had to hold her down with my other hand to stop her climbing off the bed.

“Does this feel good, beautiful? Do you want to come like this?”

“Yes. Yes.”

Part of me wanted to take my time, to tease her some more - but we were both nearing the edge of our sanity. So instead I slid my arms beneath her thighs, gripped her ass in my hands and lifted her pussy into my face. Our shared groan as we connected was utterly indecent.

I kissed her cunt like I kissed her mouth, sliding my tongue over her again and again, sucking on her softly. Her hips and breathless moans were rhythmic and I matched them, feeling her orgasm building, her pleasure hurtling towards me along the bond, her shield non-existent. Selfishly I did take a moment to really taste her, trailing my tongue down her folds and plunging it inside her, devouring every sweet drop. I knew she would be incredible but I didn’t expect to be this overwhelmed. I wanted this, wanted her, every day. Forever.

She groaned my name again and I returned my attention to her clit, licking and sucking in time with the thrusting of my two fingers into her. She was so taut, so close to the edge. I blindly reached up my free hand and found her breast, brushing my thumb over her nipple, pinching it. My pace never faltered.

She came barely a minute later. I felt the moment she hit her peak; the moment she started to fall down, weightless, over the other side. Her pleasure became mine, crashing over me like a tidal wave as she exploded into nothing but pure sensation. The whole of Velaris must have heard her cries. My cock ached like never before and I would have come too had I had any kind of friction there.

It took a while for her to quieten, to finally still. I kissed her thighs, her abdomen; rose over her and waited for her eyes to open, completely in awe of how stunning she was, of how much I loved taking her to such a blissful, otherworldly place. Of how much I loved her, full stop.

“Feyre,” I breathed. “Look at me.”

She did, and my heart constricted. Whatever was blossoming between us, she felt it too. I could see it right there, in the hazy blue-grey of her gaze.

“That was… You were…” Her hands cupped my face. “I can’t even-”

“It’s okay,” I said, unable to hold back my smile. “Your shield disappeared. I felt everything.”

She blushed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was… very enjoyable.”

She glanced at my lips. She hadn’t even tried to restore her mind’s protection, so I knew exactly what she wanted.

More.

“Fuck,” I growled, and claimed her in a fiery kiss.

Our bodies moved together now like they’d been lovers for years. Her limbs encircled me; I let her roll us so she was on top, straddling my waist, our mouths still joined in messy, tongue-filled kisses. Her breasts pressed against me and I could feel the wetness of her pussy on me through my cotton pants.

With a single thought, they were gone. Feyre paused, looking at me in surprise as she suddenly felt the warmth of my skin against hers. Then her eyes darkened even further as she sat up. She took my cock in her hand, circling her thumb over the tip, spreading my fluid around before she began to stroke me up and down. I wanted to look at her as she did, to let her see how absolutely she had bewitched me, but it was impossible. It felt too fucking good.

“Stop,” I hissed just seconds later. “I’m too close. I need to be inside you.”

“Rhys,” she sighed. I managed to watch again as she rose up, positioning herself above me. When she sank down slowly, allowing herself to accommodate me inch by inch, my breath came out in a gasp and my muscles actually trembled.

“Holy Mother, Feyre.”

She braced her palms on my chest and began to move on me. She was drenched, and so fucking soft and tight. I let her continue for a few moments, let her adjust to my size, before saying: “I need to fuck you. Are you ready?”

She bit her lip and nodded. I braced my feet on the bed and gripped her hips as I began to pound up into her. I was big, and her body was tense as I stretched her open. “Relax,” I breathed, and then I felt her do just that, felt her gush even more wetness over me, and every rapid thrust took me deeper and deeper - and Feyre screamed like I’d never heard before as she came again.

It surprised us both. It also brought me so close to orgasm that I couldn’t hold on much longer. I briefly extricated myself so I could lay her on her back and kneel up before her, lifting her hips and wrapping her legs around my waist. I leaned down to kiss her as I buried myself in her again. I could feel everything slipping away - my grip on my power, my glamour, my mind. There wasn’t enough air inside her mouth so I drew back, drowning in her eyes instead as I fucked her. I could sense darkness and night seeping out of me; knew she saw it too, although she didn’t look away from me.

And then I felt my wings fighting to materialise, their heavy weight pushing at my back, and out of nowhere I was thinking about Amarantha, about how I had always kept them hidden from her, and suddenly everything inside me went very still.

Feyre looked alarmed when I stopped moving. But then her face changed, and I realised that for the first time in my life, my shield had slipped - and she knew exactly what horror had just unfurled inside my head. I slammed it back into place but not before she saw the red hair, the naked curves spread out on black silk sheets. Not before she felt the cruelty and control; the hatred I had for my captor, for myself.

Fingertips brushed lightly over my forehead, along my cheekbones, my jaw. “It’s me. Feyre.” There was so much tenderness in her voice, her expression. My eyes refocused on hers. “It’s just us here,” she whispered. “Feyre and Rhys. Just us. Okay?”

She caressed the walls of my mind too, gentle and soothing. I wanted to lean into her, to purr. Before I knew it, the memories had disappeared into the abyss and all that was left was Feyre. She was everywhere, surrounding me, consuming me. And I was okay.

More than okay.

She kissed me with her eyes open, keeping me with her in the present. And then we started to move together once more, so perfectly matched in every way, and we didn’t stop until I roared, until my final thrusts pushed her over the edge again too.

Coming inside Feyre, with Feyre… there were no words. I was nothing but pure feeling. It was a high unparalleled: better than soaring through the sky on a cloudless day; better than all of my power channelled at once.

And it seemed to last an eternity.

Eventually, I moved to her side and drew her with me, our bodies still curled around each other as we slowly returned to earth together, unwilling and unable to be parted. The room was still and silent except for our heavy breathing; pale, mid-morning sunlight filtered through the windows, the world outside oblivious to the incredible thing that had just occurred.

The words came to me as I looked at Feyre’s gorgeous face: I felt at peace. Totally and utterly fulfilled. With any of my past lovers, the pleasure I’d found was purely in my body. But with her, it pervaded my mind, my heart. It filled up my soul, all the way to the brim, threatening to overflow.

And for the first time ever, I wanted to take down my shield. To let her see me. To see the truth.

But I didn’t. There were too many bright and dangerous things shimmering inside me: other words like mate and love. The image of her wearing my mother’s ring on her finger. The fact that I wanted to hold her, to cherish her, forever.

Feyre was first to speak, her voice barely there after all the noise she’d made. “Are you alright?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes,” I said truthfully. “I am so much more than alright, Feyre darling.” I lifted my fingers to her damp hair, pushing it back behind the point of her ear. “But I am sorry, for what happened there at the end. You were… so sensational, I lost control of myself. She suddenly appeared in my mind and I froze.”

“You don’t have to apologise, Rhys.” She looked down, once again lightly tracing my tattoos. It seemed like an age since she’d done so before. As far as I was concerned, everything had changed since then.

“I was worried I’d be distracted by Tamlin,” she confessed quietly.

“And were you?” Even though I had no right to, I felt sick at the very thought.

She was still staring at my chest, but I noticed her lips lift slightly at the corners. “Not at all,” she said softly. And then she looked into my eyes again and I could see she was starting to fall, like a star descending from the heavens. “You are… all-consuming, Rhys. I didn’t know I could feel so much. That was… so good.”

“It was,” I agreed. I nuzzled my nose against hers; held her gaze as I kissed her. “It was unbelievable."

When she spoke again, her voice was smaller. “I do feel like a betrayer, though.”

And I filled with rage on her behalf, because she was so extraordinary and he - he was nothing in comparison.

“Feyre,” I said sternly, willing her to believe my words. “You can do whatever you want. I don’t think you owe him anything. You don’t owe anyone. Even me.”

“I’m pretty sure I owe you two orgasms.”

I laughed again, loudly and unexpectedly. She rolled onto her back, covering her face with her arm. “Fuck. I am such a bad person.”

“You’re not.” I couldn’t help myself: I ran my fingertip all the way down the middle of her body, from her chin to her centre, watching as she shivered in my wake. “And if even if you were… I’m bad too. The baddest of them all.”

She looked at me very seriously and I had never before felt so bare, so completely exposed.

“Liar,” she murmured. “You are good, Rhys. Underneath it all. I know you pretend otherwise, and I understand why. But I see you.”

I could barely breathe. “And do you… like what you see?”

She laced her fingers through mine.

“Yes. I do.”

And then she smiled at me - a truly beautiful smile, all the way from her heart - and I knew I was fucked.

II

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Hero rescued villain, and brought them into their house, villain offers to pay for their expenses living at the house before leaving. And hero’s heart breaks. Because they can’t explain it to villain on how many levels he’s wrong. Also make it gay.

The villain’s gaze wouldn’t rest. His eyes jumped from spot to spot on the carpet and the hero had almost thought — nearly feared — there were stains on it. But no, embarrassment never reached him but instead, his mind filled with questions.

Eventually, the villain let out an insincere chuckle and scratched the back of his neck. Nervousness had followed him ever since the hero had taken him to his place.

“Funny thing, though. I actually only have like ninety dollars in my bank account,” the villain said, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

The hero raised his eyebrows as the gears in his brain turned and turned. Despite the villain’s unpredictability, he felt relatively safe with him in his own house.

The villain could be very calm when he needed to be but the restlessness was undoubtedly related to the nervousness. Maybe that was the embarrassment the hero had searched for. Maybe the villain was embarrassed.

Oh god, was the hero being awkward again?

“What do you mean?” he asked. He tilted his head and observed the villain’s fidgety fingers. Long and slim fingers that had little wounds cut into them here and there. Proof of the villain’s imperfections. Proof of the villain’s mortality. Of their vulnerability.

“I don’t know if that’s enough. I’ll be gone by tomorrow, don’t worry. I don’t know how much you want from me.” The hero felt stupid for not knowing what the villain was talking about. For a moment, he accused himself of staring too much, of admiring too much. But he only allowed those thoughts for mere seconds.

“Huh?”

The villain looked up, looking weaker than ever sitting right there on the hero’s bed. A tired face of hunted prey. Sometimes he looked angelic, the hero thought. And other times, he looked like an angel that had fallen from heaven.

But it was all the same. He looked tortured, haunted, in every minute of his life.

And didn’t the hero just want to be that person who could change that? The one and only who could take all the weight from the villain’s shoulders and all his worries from him?

He knew he wasn’t that. But, hell, he craved to help the villain. Craved to be a hero, truly a hero, for once and save someone from drowning.

“I mean, I will obviously not be staying here for free. But I’m short on money right now and…” He inhaled deeply and made an involuntarily weak sound.

“Wait,” the hero said. He shook his head slightly and repeated the villain’s words in his head. “You want to pay for staying here?”

“…yes.”

His heart crumbled a bit. Losing both his hideouts with all his equipment was probably bad enough but then feeling like he had to pay the hero to stay here…

“I don’t want your money,” the hero said.

“What do you want then?”

A fraction of you. A taste.

“Nothing,” the hero said. Now he was the one who avoided eye contact. He tried to clean his mind. The villain was easy on the eyes, brilliantly easy but this wasn’t the right moment. The hero and his little crush had been going hand in hand for months now and slowly, it was driving him mad. Whenever the villain looked defeated or needy, the hero’s knees got weak.

Stupid timing.

“I don’t want anything from you,” he said again. “You’re a guest in my home and not someone who booked a hotel room.”

“Are you sure?” the villain asked softly. “I could get more money from elsewhere.”

The hero blushed, simply because the villain’s voice had gone this soft.

Horrible timing.

“Just tell me what you want me to make for dinner and we’re square.” The hero turned around quickly so the villain wouldn’t notice his spreading blush. “I’ll check on you later if that’s alright…”

When he had calmed his racing heart, he decided to make lots of dessert for the villain. No one should mistake kindness for a debt.