#on something that hopefully never will happen

[acid-ixx]

mea culpa (again &. again mini chapter)

tw: allusions to self harm, depression and suicidal thoughts. sensitive content ahead. this happens in between the end of chapter 3 and start of chapter 4.

if you were to describe the first few years at the manor, the first word that comes to you would be...

well, regret.

at every attempt, at every woeful request, and the rejection that follows. their distant stares, as if looking elsewhere other than you, or the way some wouldn't even acknowledge your name, or presence; it would've devoured anyone else's hope, would've been an already telltale sign that they had no interest in the likes of you.

invitations to spend time with them, to hopefully gain insights about their interests— just for that sliver of desire that somehow, someday you wouldn't have to constantly be on your knees, asking pleases in the sweetest tone a six year old like you could muster to a butler who had more important duties to attend to other than a desperate child wanting to spend time with their family.

when you lose something dear, you begin to desire that very same treasure lost. your mother is no more, her kisses were no more, her lingering touches long since disappeared.

it's only after a few weeks did the grief register within you. only then did the desire to recreate all those soft moments with her manifested into the threshold of your mind; clawing, hungry appendages that disguise itself as innocent ambition ready to hurt you.

all you simply wanted was to meet your father, to see him outside of camera flashes, or in news channels and interviews that only capture one part of him. you wish to see the man idolized by hundreds of civilians for his charitable actions, admired by thousands; a man who you were lucky enough to have as a father.

the very same man who, after having to take you under his care after news about your appearance sparked traction in media— was never in the same room as you.

and if he was? he'd be gone as soon before you could quickly greet him with a hello.

you remember those days, though. the first time where you'd get to pass by your... dad.

a lonesome afternoon, with a storm transpiring outside, the thick gusts of air and heavy rain thumping against the expanse of windows. it was only a quarter to six, yet the scene outside portrayed a sky far darker the shade of blue, and looked almost as if it was midnight. only the dissonant patterns of beating rain guides you to wander around listlessly with nothing to do; bored and delirious after a day of simply being... alone.

but the erratic noises didn't stop you from ceasing in your steps upon the sight of the man, standing in a room and looking out. his silhouette casting against the chandelier's orange light.

it was enough to stumble over, and do a double take at the man in front of you, only a few feet away, before coming closer to his distracted form to further take in his features.

how tall he actually was, towering over your impish, malnutritioned body like a wall. slicked, black hair, some strands loose and freed. his was more intimidating in person. gruff voice you've never once heard on tv, demanding control and respect. thick arms that contrast your sinewy ones, with veins that protruding from jagged skin; all hidded with fancy business suits and a charismatic smile that beckons your eyes to look upon his face instead.

he was handsome in person, more regal than the street thugs you've seen out the windows of your apartment windows. and, for a second, you couldn't believe that this was your father, standing in a room looking as if he could be painted then and there; your fingers buzzing to catch your hands on your sketchbook to draw every detail of the man in question.

your father, your dad, your papa that you've always marveled upon. now standing right before you like a statue concocted by a renaissance artist.

though the most important aspect of your father is his piercing blue eyes. brighter than anything you've seen before, yet duller than the bleak colors of the manor's wallpaper; gazing endlessly outside with no acknowledgement of the way you shake, or how the thumping in your

after one year of begging alfred to see him in person, you get to see him now on such an unannounced day.

yet you're happy all throughout. because he's here now and that's all that matters to the mind of tiny you, gasping and exhilarated to near tears.

fingers shaking, eyes never ripping itself from the man who's stripped you away of all words you wished to say.

it's as if he fits within the gothic setting perfectly. hell, even annunciating its splendor; the sharp edges on his face that are perfectly shadowed by the lack of illuminated, yellowish light, his stiff posture surveying the room, and muscled form speaking volumes of how much he truly acts as a pillar of support for the city.

safe to say his beauty was ethereal.

seeing him up close was far ever a better spectacle. you weren't just enamored; you were in every bit frozen in your stance, burning the memories of your first union with him into every crevice of your mind. dumbfounded, breathless, and buzzing with ecstasy of being face to face with a man your mother must've loved.

after all, he wasn't just one of the kindest souls to bless all of gotham, he was more than that. he was, in most important of details, your father.

a father you haven't seen, nor met, in the first years of your life.

yet those same eyes squint at something, anything else, and never once looked down at you, who modestly tries to pull at his loose house wear to capture his attention after moments you were locked in place. too small, too stubborn and young to understand why his gaze never wandered below and kept to his thoughts instead.

"papa!" you call out to him in a high pitched voice with a wide smile, trying your best to overpower the sound of the raging storm outside. your actions prove fruitless, yet you still attempt to make him snap out of his trance, jumping and shivering in near childish excitement.

and this was all you needed: a single grunt in response was enough to make you all the more feel ecstatic. it washed away your prior somberness at the weather since you're unable to play in the garden, and was replaced with overpowering fulfillment to a single noise he produced.

it never once crossed your mind that the grunt you thought he reciprocated wasn't acknowledgement of your actions.

no, it was merely him seemingly too preoccupied at the thought of his dead son; mind lost, and with no direction to take other than the grief that's still instilled into the pools of his deep, blue eyes.

it never once occurred to you how he hasn't looked down at all, or heard the wispy intonations of your voice blending into the faint, whimsical tune of jazz music that does the least to ease the pain eating away at his chest every time he's given a moment alone to ponder ever-so deeper into his current world of worries.

a world where you don't exist, and you've never once come to realize that until it was too late.

whilst you were busy admiring every side of your father, the good and the bad, you were ignorant to the unforeseen implications of how he never reciprocated the love you've shown him that faithful day; forgotten and buried under lonely silent walls and echoing halls that could only echo a figment of your voice.

when he had left the room and you to find tim, you were left to your own devices once again. yet at that time, you simply bounced with joy and jumped to the nearest couch, allowing the delusions of an improving life shackle you to the deepest of regrets after.

and despite everything, the manor was colder still. and it is cruel and unforgiving to a child like you.

others would've given up, others wouldn't even try so hard after the first failed attempts.

but you? you just weren't them, and you continued trying, one after the other attempt all failing miserably; your first mistake, yet never the last.

it went on like that for 13 and a half years.

these occurrences where you thug at the fabric of the adults roaming around the hallways, only to be ignored or downright rejected. dick broke his promise about visiting your room a second time, but you still chose to bother him every time he comes to visit for anybody but you, tim was no better and preferred to keep his space all for himself; accustomed to the life of a being a single child and preferring it that way, alfred had butler duties, and secret identites he had to tend to every night, and your father was... just that.

thirteen.

an unlucky number in some cultures, a number that was too long when translated in the language of time.

a decade, and nearly a half spent trying and failing. even then, everything you do amounted to nothing. every sweet smile, every baked treats long discarded in the bin, every longing gaze, and effort to set about physical affections for people who were more like strangers to you than family.

strangers under the same roof, living and thriving whilst you wait for admission to be accepted into their comfortable circles and inside joke that raptures from their luminous eyes.

you remember every single moment you had when you were in close proximity with your siblings, and the moments they exactly leave and forget you were even besides them in the first place— quietly humming as if understood that you didn't wish to disturb their presence with yours, but happy enough that they could at least tolerate you.

even if that tolerance stems from the mere fact that you were akin to a ghost in their ever-so busy eyes.

even so, you still remember. young and forgiving, spite a foreign emotion on your tongue, not until you've met the youngest of your lot which would only be after a few years, when you were too late.

you remember the faint elation that courses off through your veins every time alfred promises to get you at least a sliver of meeting bruce again— but even that has barely any updates, you've long since given up the hope that you would see him beyond his busy days.

and you remember it very clearly when dick first introduced you to your room, the sheer brightness that emanates off of your idol, the curls of his hair that flow like ocean waves framing his chiseled face; and his smile, a grin that sports the brightest of teeth, which brings warmth that makes you forget why you were even taken in the first place, replaced with whimsy and giddiness that you get to meet your favorite person in the world, second to your mother.

the way his bright blue eyes contrast with bruce's, seemingly sunnier, more kinder in its approach that makes you drown deeper into the same gaze that forgets you a day after.

and those memories were stored in your heart, both good and bad, kept under lock and key to both haunt and tempt you throughout the entire months you had to deal with the loneliness clawing in your heart.

the pain was surreal every time you reminisce upon the windowsill, watching distantly in the garden that stretches far beyond thick fields of trees, flora and fauna; as tim spends his waking moments with his new group of friends who all praise the colorful array of bloom planted root-deep with love, and care and perseverance— all with soft, vibrant petals and sturdy stems that were a product of your hard-earned labor.

nobody truly acknowledged it was you who planted all those colorful arrays of flowers.

yet you remember everything, or at least recollections of when and how you came to realize just how truly invisible you are to the world.

the hope that flickers within once someone sets their eyes on you, family or friends. the heartbreak that settles within every fiber of pallid skin and sinewy bones every time those eyes leave your form after the slightest of seconds; you remember them all in record time and run to lock yourself in your room to write all these instances in an endless supply of diaries documenting just how miserable you truly are.

no matter if it pains you, and rips at the edges of thinly lined paper stained with black-inked pen writing down your harrowing rants; bleeding into the pages just like how your emotions run deeper than depression and ebbing anxiety.

dates were plastered as both a reminder and punishment for you to reflect upon— on all your wrongs, and ways on how to better yourself so someone, other than alfred, could finally acknowledge you for more than a few seconds.

you remember everything, you were sure of it, but not the first time you purposely drew blood from your skin, or when you contemplated ending it all.

maybe it was all stemming from pressure, or the constant subjection to emotional neglect paired with no support system helping you handle your instability to control your emotions.

or it came after you had first met damian, with your youngest brother threatening you with a damn sword that nicked your skin; making it his mission to torment you consistently your entire life. pushing you down the stairs, calling you and your mother names; a disgrace, mere baggage to the wayne's reputation— even if you glare at him with the slightest bit of bite does he retaliate with an even stronger approach. until you give up, until the fire in your eyes are washed away by the current of dizzying turmoil. until you couldn't even look at him eye-to-eye anymore, ignoring the wide stares he gives you and the way his hands reaches out to you after you run to a different room from his presence alone.

or it all probably fucking started when the lump in your throat had refused to go away, when the heavy boulder you call your heart weighs you down to watch in a corner as yet another member gets introduced into the family, when jealousy raptures and seers into your veins at just how easy...

how easy it is to actually integrate your presence into the wayne family, so why couldn't you?!

a week after you were integrated, it was tim who was welcomed warmly, who fits in so perfectly like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle whilst you were considered an exclusion, an extra who doesn't don a fucking cowl every night, who couldn't in your damn life break every bone and return in one piece, serving as a symbol inspiration for the media to set its eyes upon, and your smile most definitely doesn't brighten the entire room.

you're nothing compared to them.

to try so hard, to fail all the same— as your achievements, your successes and milestones all amount to nothing but heartbroken expectations and a pat of pity from your butler.

the hurt piles, and piles, and piles itself until the colossal infrastructure falls and obliterates around you in its torrid pits of flames and carnage, until glass shards erupt and pierce at your skin until it reaches bones— much like the blades you store and use to butcher skin until it turns into an unintelligible mess of bloodied lines flimsily slashed across the expanse of your body.

like an artwork, a canvas that pictures slaughter in the wake of tragedy. with blood that seeps and stains into the crevices of everything it touches, with you as both the painter and the muse of the chaos you chose to wreck upon yourself.

thick ropes, pill bottles, bottomless water, and sharp blades; they all became topics of interest within the pages of your flabbily designed sketchbook. there was a period of time where all you could do was subjecting each blank slate of ivory sheets with stabs of pencil lead and ruined brushes every time you handle things too roughly. you'd clench into whatever you're holding, and bite at your teeth until it draws blood that drips on grayscale sketches portraying you meeting brutal fates.

and it always ends in your ripping those sketches apart whilst curling in on yourself, pulling at unkempt hair and scratching at hollow, sunken cheeks.

with screams unheard, silent and voiceless through the halls of the manor you once considered a home— like a ghost with no words that come out its mouth, a robot with no voicebox, a doll whose mouth is stitched shut.

it was always silent every night, but the voice of doubt was always louder, and it beckons you to hang yourself, to end your life and to never look back at their wide grins as they spend yet another night together.

it convinces you to write a note for each and every member of the family, to bid them farewell and pass to the world; even if those letters would forego the same fate as you— neglected, stored at the dustiest corners of the room.

you're hurt, both inside and out, alone and deserted with only your thoughts; loud and unforgiving, terrible yet comforting. you feel hurt, at dick's broken promises and sideward glances, jealousy at jason's hold over bruce even after years of his death, spite at tim's brilliance and all the friends who come over at the manor, as if taunting you of his social privileges, and fear for damian to spring up against you, to kill you with his blades and serve your cold body upfront on top of the dinner table.

and you were hurting all the damn time. if not physically, then mentally and emotionally. you allowed the invisible shackles to scar you, trapping you with spikes constantly piercing through your organs. you let yourself be a victim to the past, subjecting yourself to punishment by remembering your mother, sprawled all across the floor in crimson carnage— as you're taken away from her by policemen scouring the area before you could even run to her limp body. it was enough to tempt you to draw sharp object on your skin, condemnation for a life that shouldn't be saved— you would've preferred if your mother lived, rather than you. she had so much more to do with her youthful life, you had nothing.

life was unbearable, you were always teethering on the edge of a cliff suspending in thin air; choosing to run for either hill, holding a string ready to break, for safety always required great risk. one you'd rather jump off of than expend anymore energy of your already weary life altogether—

until you had decided to change the course of your life. until, one day, through gradual thinking and contemplation, that they were the main source of your torment. that you needed to say goodbye, you need to live to honor your mother.

that was the only ideal part of your twisted world. all for your mother, who had sacrificed herself, her kind heart, all to keep you safe and contented.

when you had made the ultimate decision to move out of the manor, throwing away your past life and moving on with a different chapter, you thought your habits would've ceased. that you're cured, that nothing stands in the way of your developing independence and uprising confidence.

you are free, unchained to both the confines of your emotions and the neglect of your family.

happy, content, and living the best of your world despite the financial circumstances and... overdue bills. either way, you're satisfied and that counts. counts for the six-seven months you were away, meeting new friends, ignoring the prying eyes of a certain individual always watching you from afar, as you party and drink and come to only regret not staying sober the day after.

you were at your peak.

feeling the best of all worlds.

at least, not until dick's sudden messages flipped a switch, into a dormant part of your mind, adrenaline surging through your veins, your vision flooded with similar images of your past: of eerie hallways and lonely birthdays. those memories taunt you, and dick's gleaming pair of ocean eyes, that once bring comfort into your oblivious brain now traps you in his spiteful gaze.

and you really, genuinely thought you were no longer in need of anymore pain.

yet you were always wrong. of course you always are.

you're just you, remember?

now, in your current apartment, you stand hidden in the safety of your bathroom, staring at the mirror without thought, with only resignation; unprepared at your family's plans to take you back into their caging arms, but ready for the blade to once again reunite with the familiar lines long healed.

all to wash away your regret.

reblogs, and most especially comments and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: sometimes, the pain you bear is too much to handle alone. sometimes, it can manifest through physical means to overpower the anguish that hurts you from within. but that doesn't mean going through the notion is deserved; nobody should ever resort through hurting themselves. when writing this, i was projecting all my emotions into the mc. in truth, as much as i love goofy drabbles, or write for the pleasures of myself and others; that doesn't change any problems i have at all. chronic depression is a pain in the ass. releasing my emotions through writing helps me a lot. and i hope that whoever reads this little drabble know that this is a love letter both to me for how far i've come, and the readers who've supported me with comments and praises that helped me go through the day. i've nothing else to say, i feel indifferent to the draft.

[niningtori]

for the hope of it all | parts i-iii

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

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

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

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

word count: 18.7k

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

part i: august

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

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

that's what you tell yourself, at least.

-

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

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

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

-

“so what's the plan?” soobin asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“w-well, i —” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

“y-yeah…” you mumble, face downcast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“n-no, nothing like that. i just —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i-i forgot.” 

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

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

“about?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

because it was easy. 

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

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

he’s just using you. 

he’s garbage.

he’s just gonna hurt you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“that’s…” 

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

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

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

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

“i-i didn’t mean to —” 

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“a-and, um, i —”

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

“but i —” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’m… i know i was wrong, b-but i —” 

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

part ii: cardigan

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

you don’t know the first thing about love. 

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“glad you made it,” he grins. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

“what does?” beomgyu asks dumbly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘m close!” you cry out.

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i don’t wanna hurt you.”

“i know you don’t.”

“what can i do?” you ask sincerely.

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

“that’s not fair to you.”

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

“okay,” you nod.

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“are you alright?” beomgyu asks quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

part iii: betty

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i can.”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“well?” beomgyu asks impatiently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

“hey,” you shyly reply with a smile. 

“how are you?” he asks. 

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

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

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

“how are things with beomgyu?” he probes.

“as good as they’ll get, i guess.”

“so not very good, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“w-why did you —” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“okay,” you sigh.

“what?” he asks confusedly, eyebrows furrowed.

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

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

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

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

“thank you,” he says gently.

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

-

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“h-how did you kn—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“no,” you croak. 

“n-no? what do you mean by —” 

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

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

“do you want me to?” 

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

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

“of course!” he exclaims.

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

“h-how do you mean?”

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

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

“yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i love you, too,” you whisper.

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

“you heard me,” you reply. 

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

“i love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

taglist(s)

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[sweetpupii]

oh, she does both and gets so mean with it too </3

thank god cait's uniform has pockets to hide the pink vibrator remote because she's planning on using it during the whole ceremony. yeah, yeah, guard the stage, look out for any suspicious people and whatever… she's far too focused on the way you fidget with the fabric of your uniform as you look around, squirming a little in a way that makes her look down to hold back a small giggle. not wanting to draw attention to herself.

sneaky little shit, got as far away from you as possible to not hear any complaints.

she just wasn't having it today. no amount of whining and puppy dog eyes you give could get her to back down. hopefully that'll teach you to stop getting on her last nerve at the most inopportune times.

keeping her in bed for longer than necessary because 'you were cold’ on a sunny and nowhere near cold morning, the little touches under her nightgown with those coy eyes that hid your true intentions ( or so you thought because she can read you like an open book by now. ), the gentle kisses and bites on her neck that quickly turned heated and ended up with a couple hickeys that were a pain to cover before arriving at the gala. late.

we're you dumb or did you really think she'd be nice enough to wait until you guys got to her bedroom to turn on the vibrator?

either way, you might regret agreeing to her little idea.

more people are starting to arrive but her duty is to be there and intervene only if something bad happens so she can keep having fun while you pat down people to let them in with a forced, polite smile. you shift on your feet, pretending to adjust the holster at your thigh. It’s an innocent enough motion to anyone watching, but caitlyn knows better.

her thumb grazes the remote in her pocket, toggling the setting up one notch higher. a quick glance in your direction tells her all she needs to know: the way your head dips slightly, teeth pressing into your bottom lip as your hand briefly grips the table for balance. you recover quickly, but not before her eyes catch the faint tremble in your legs.

perfect.

when she finally makes her way over to you, the calm authority in her tone betrays none of her mischief. “I’ll be taking her to assist with another entrance.” she tells the nearby guard, who barely spares a glance before nodding in approval.

her hand is warm and steady on your lower back as she leads you away, her grip firm enough to keep you from protesting. not that you could form a coherent argument right now, not with your mind clouded by the relentless buzzing and caitlyn’s touch.

she is not taking you to the other entrance, she's obviously taking you backstage to an empty room.

immediately closing the door, leaning her body weight against it just in case, pulling out the remote from her pocket to turn it up. the buzzing in between your legs now louder and definitely more overwhelming.

“fuck, cait, I'm sorry—” the quiver in your voice, the way you had to lean onto the desk behind you to hold yourself up while your knees trembled and threatened to give up made something flutter in caitlyn's belly, damn.

“sorry?” she repeats, her tone silky but laced with mockery. she holds up the remote in one hand, her thumb hovering over the button as if she was hesitating. “darling, you’re always sorry. but somehow, you never learn.”

she presses the button, and the buzzing between your legs ramps up another level, sharp and insistent. your breath catches, and your knees almost buckle at the sensation. “cait—caitlyn, please,” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper, clear desperation.

“you had so much to say earlier this morning,” the enforcer pointed out with a soft laugh, taking a step closer. her free hand reaches out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet her eyes. “is my name all you can manage to say now? how funny.”

your thighs clench together in a futile attempt to dull the vibration, but it only makes it worse. heat blooms in your cheeks, spreading down your neck, as you bite your lip to muffle the whimper threatening to escape. she notices—of course, she does—and leans in, her lips brushing against yours in a rather sloppy kiss.

she wasn't supposed to kiss you, she never does when trying to teach a lesson but she couldn't resist this time... sigh.

“no need to hold back,” she murmurs against your lips, “we’re alone here.”

“i can't...” you manage, your voice breaking. tears prick at the corners of your eyes as the overwhelming pleasure inside you.

“yes, you can,” she says firmly, one hand brushes along your side, a grounding touch that only makes the intensity more acute. “you always can.”

she watches you intently, taking in every shudder, every gasp, every tremble of your legs as you struggle to stay upright. her chest swells with satisfaction at the sight of you, undone and helpless under her control.

when your legs finally give out, she catches you effortlessly; pulling you close, stroking your back to let you pant against her shoulder, trailing soft kisses down your jaw as she presses the button to turn the vibrator off…only to start it back at the lowest setting.

“don't look at me like that,” caitlyn whispers, a tiny ( cruel. ) smile playing at her lips as she guides you down to the chair. “you already had your fun in the morning, am I not allowed to do the same?”

[heavyhitterheaux]

No Judgments

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: You and Joe do the 'We listen and don't judge' TikTok challenge 🤭

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a few gorgeous anons 💕

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

After wiping your mouth and rinsing it out with mouthwash from your sudden episode of morning sickness, you made your way back into the bedroom where your husband was still peacefully sleeping.

You attempted to climb back into the bed without waking him up, but feeling the weight shift made him flutter his eyes open. Joe had never been a really deep sleeper, but since he found out you were pregnant, usually he wakes up at the smallest noise and it left you surprised this morning when he didn’t feel you get out of bed the first time.

“Baby, you okay?” He asked as he pulled you towards him so he could wrap his arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

“Your children won't let me be great and made me throw up again.” You quietly answered and you had now grown frustrated since it seemed like the morning sickness wasn't only happening in the morning, but throughout the day.

“You want me to make you some tea?”

“Yes, please. I'm miserable.”

Joe then placed his hand on your belly and began to rub small circles on it as he noticed that your bump was actually starting to show.

“Babies, stop making mommy sick so she can sleep. Daddy’s orders.”

“Hopefully they'll listen to you because clearly they pay me no attention.”

“When they hear ‘the voice’ for the first time, they're going to be running for their lives.” Joe said, referring to the first time he heard it and made sure to stay out of your way for the rest of the day.

“I still to this day have no idea what you are talking about when you say that.”

“It's a voice you make when you get really annoyed. Ask Ja'Marr, he'll back me up.”

“I just think you two are being dramatic.”

“Says the most dramatic person in the room….”

“Husband! Take it back!”

“Nope, it's facts and I'm not going to lie to you.”

All you did was roll your eyes in response as Joe raised his eyebrows at you.

“Don't catch an attitude with me because it's something you didn't want to hear. Fix your face.”

“I'll fix mine if you let me ride yours.”

“I… These pregnancy hormones are giving me a run for my money and got me fighting for my damn life. One thing at a time and let's get your nausea under control first.”

Later on in the day, when Joe was sitting at the island in the kitchen, you went and sat next to him while setting up your phone. He quickly noticed and looked over at you.

“Whatever it is, no.”

“But baby! Pleaseeee?!”

You knew Joe hated being in front of a camera, but you loved doing TikTok challenges with him from time to time.

Sighing and finally giving in, he put his phone down to give you his undivided attention.

“Okay, what are we doing?”

“We listen and we don't judge challenge. I sent you a few so you would have an example to know what to do.”

“Only because it's you. Let's get this over with.”

“Yay! And I want you to go first.” You told him as you pressed record.

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“When I feel like I'm getting sick, I act like I'm so drained so I can't do anything so you'll baby me.” Joe was the first one up and smiled at you when he was finished.

“What the? I baby you anyway! Like 98% of the time.”

“AHT! No judging. You just take it to a different level. Moving on.”

“You are literally MY baby though. My 6’4 baby and I'm 4'11, but who's to say anything about that? I love you bad and I see you're using it to your advantage.”

“To get endless cuddles from my wife? Hell yeah I'm taking advantage of it.”

“Okay, next.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“So after you fall asleep since your bedtime is like 6 pm.. like a grandpa…” You started to say, but was immediately interrupted.

“9 during the season!”

“Stop interrupting me, husband! After you fall asleep, I go and buy things on your phone and make sure to delete the notifications so you don't find out.”

“BABY!”

“HEY! I BUY YOU THINGS TOO!”

“And you hide the packages too because I literally never see any of them.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“Fine. Keep your secrets.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“When we were at LSU and we were just friends, I memorized your schedule and knew you had a lot of late classes and I would purposely wait for you if it was dark outside to walk you to your car to make sure you were safe. And it gave me a chance to spend more time with you.”

“So, that's why it seemed like you were always around? Aww, you love me!” You told him as you pinched his cheek.

“And don't you ever forget it.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“During last season when I saw you wore THOSE PANTS, yes you know the ones I'm talking about, after I specifically told you not to because they looked crazy and you wore them anyway, you kept asking if I've seen them but I hid them somewhere in our house and they have been hidden for so long that I forgot their location.”

“I LOVE THOSE PANTS, BABE!”

“THEY ARE HIDEOUS, BABY. NO!”

“I'm making it my mission later to find my pants.”

“I know Ja'Marr probably bought you those ugly ass pants.”

“AHT! You're judging!”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“When you're mad at me, I purposely go into the cabinet and make all of the jar lids tighter so you have to come and talk to me.” Joe confessed and you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms at the same time.

“SERIOUSLY? And here I am thinking I'm a weak bitch! I can lift almost as heavy as you can! And a jar lid is what does me in?!?”

“Works every time.”

“I'm going to have to do it myself next time.”

“Like that will ever happen…” Joe said and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“Okay, so….” You started to say as you glanced at Joe and he sighed knowing that something crazy and out of pocket was about to come out of your mouth.

“Oh shit, here we go.”

“Sometimes, I purposely piss you off and I don't know that you know you do this but your voice gets deeper and it turns me on so bad. Like your voice by itself turns me on, but when you get mad, whew. Sign me up for EVERY position. It's happening now and I'm just thinking about it. Gets your girl all hot and bothered.” You quietly said as Joe stared at you since you were now squirming in your chair and trying to keep your legs as tight as possible.

“Are you seriously squirming over there? And I’m not surprised by this in the slightest. Just wait until we're finished with this, I'm about to turn you every way but loose. And hold on! I thought we were keeping this PG!?” He asked as he leaned over and kissed you.

“Don't threaten me with a good time and when are the videos we do ever PG? Especially when it's something like this? And don't get me started because I will literally rip off your clothes at this very moment.”

“Good point and see? And that's why you're pregnant now.”

“Because my husband is fine as hell and I'll fu-” Joe's eyes went wide as he promptly covered your mouth with his hand and in protest, you licked it, making him look at you dumbfounded.

“No! Do not finish that sentence. This is really about to turn into something else if you don't stop. And did you just lick my hand!?”

“I wanna lick something else too, but I'll save that for when we turn the camera off.” You tried to whisper, but failed miserably.

“BABY QUIT IT!” Joe pleaded and all you did was shrug.

“I was like this before you married me and you should have known that once this ring was on my finger, I was about to be ten times worse.”

“Hmm, that's putting it lightly.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“I hide some of your perfumes so that you'll only use my favorite ones that I've bought for you.”

“Babe! How many have you hidden!? And here I am thinking that I've lost them!”

“Hmm, not telling.”

“You're annoying.”

“I'm cute and you love me.”

“Survey says that both of those responses are correct.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“So, when you got hurt during your rookie year, I was watching the game and saw it happen and my heart immediately dropped. Because we literally had an argument hours before that game and we weren't talking and now I think back on it, I had no idea what the argument was about. But, I low-key felt that you getting hurt was somehow my fault. I remember packing my things and getting on a plane and crying the entire way there and I honestly didn't know if you wanted to see me at that point. Because I had sent you a text right before the game and you didn't respond. And to this day, I still feel like that.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before Joe said anything.

“That… baby that wasn't your fault. It was a bad hit. And of course I wanted to see you. You were actually the first person I asked for. I never knew you felt like that.”

“I hate seeing you in pain and I…. I'm about to cry again.”

“I can tell, hormones.” Joe replied as he wiped your eyes for you.

“But I came back from it because of you and how you helped me. You being there was enough. You love me bad, don't you?” He asked as he was trying to get you to smile.

“So much, and you know it.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“Ever since you told me you were pregnant, I watch you until you fall asleep to make sure you’re okay. Doesn't matter how long it takes or if I have to get up early. You're my priority.”

“And, I'm about to cry again. Damn these hormones.”

“You are literally MY person and I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“Ladies, get you a husband who treats you like the queen you are every day because….. shoutout to Jimmy and Robin because the two of them gave me one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

“Wait… ONE of the best things? I'm not THE best thing!?”

“Hmm, you're top five.” You replied as you shrugged.

“Uh? You mean number one?”

“If it makes you feel better, the top five things all have to do with you.”

“That sounds suspicious, but I'll let it slide for now.”

“I love you Joseph Lee Burrow!” You exclaimed as you kissed his cheek and wrapped your arms around him.

“Stop trying to change the subject and I know for a damn fact you didn't just call me by my full name. I get anxious when you do that.”

“Wait, huh?”

“We've gone over this a million times. My name is BABY to you. When it comes to you I don't know who Joseph is.”

“And he calls me the dramatic one.”

[gravestrain]

gave you too much but it wasn't enough (qh43)

In which you wonder if your relationship with Quinn might end in death by a thousand cuts.

This is my submission for the eras tour fic challenge hosted by @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy! I am thrilled to be a part of this event. I received DBATC, and if you know me you know any kind of angst is not my wheelhouse, but I was thrilled to get this challenge and try to create something angsty. It will never be unresolved in my world but hopefully this does the trick :) 2.5k words, fem reader, no warnings that I know of, not proofread.

When Quinn was named the captain of the Vancouver Canucks, you had never felt so proud.

Being with Quinn for two plus years at the time, you were over the moon to see the love of your life, your favorite person in the world, being given such an honor, an honor he worked so hard for, an honor you know he deserved. Quinn was one of the most dedicated people you've ever met. With that dedication of course, comes time. Quinn dedicated countless hours to improving his game, practicing with his teammates, working out in the gym, going on runs, anything he could do to be the best he could be, he was doing it.

Under the moonlight, as you and Quinn celebrated his accomplishment, he promised you that he wouldn't stray away. That his commitment to the team wouldn't outweigh his commitment to you. To being a loving partner. A companion. However, when you woke up, stretching your arm out to feel an empty bed yet again, despite knowing that it couldn't have been much past 7 am, you wondered what went wrong. What happened to cause those promises to crumble. His words to be empty, lifeless. Void of meaning. When did you and Quinn become a couple that told each other lies? Told each other things just because the other person wanted to hear them, not because they genuinely intended to fulfill them.

It was the start of Quinn's second season as the Canucks captain. At first, you thought it was too good to be true. Quinn was thriving in his new role, yet still being the perfect partner. Attentive and on time, compassionate and loving. Now, that version of Quinn is a distant memory, mocking you as you think of him.

It started after the holidays in Quinn's first season of being captain. You chalked it up to post holiday stress and all star weekend buzz, maybe even trade deadline drama. Then the all star game passed, and even the trade deadline. Shortly after you started blaming it on the playoff push, then the playoff loss. And now here you were in November, searching for answers, trying to figure out what happened to the love of your life who turned into a stranger right in front of your own eyes, with nothing you could do about it but watch it happen.

You got yourself ready for work, looking around in the bathroom, on the bedside table, and eventually the kitchen to see if maybe Quinn left you a note, a cup of coffee in your favorite travel mug, a bagel from your favorite bakery around the corner, a sign of his love, signs that he used to never leave the house without showing. Just as you thought, there was nothing. You couldn't even remember the last time you felt Quinn kiss your forehead before he left for God knows what. Another workout, another two mile run after the three miles he did on the treadmill, or locking himself in his office watching film.

Work came and went that day, taking the long way home, dreading going home to an empty house. You thought it would be worse trying to interact with the stranger you lived with, but the silence, the emptiness, the sterile, unwelcoming cold was always worse. You stared up at the traffic lights, wondering if others saw just how foolish you felt. Writing lines to a story that was long over. Grasping on to the book, hoping for a surprise ending, one that would make everything worth it.

To say you were surprised to see Quinn's Porsche in the driveway was an understatement. Usually on practice days he didn't get home until well after 6 pm. You unlocked the front door, not expecting much. Just because he was home, doesn't mean he wasn't locked up in his office, taking notes from last night's game. A game that you never bothered to go to anymore. You knew the other WAGs missed you, people speculated about your absence on the internet, always cruel and judgmental. You couldn't bring yourself to go. You had learned to despise hockey for taking Quinn from you.

You opened the door and were surprised to see Quinn in the kitchen, grabbing a snack. Quinn looked as surprised to see you as you were, almost like he didn't know where you were, or if he even remembered that you lived there. Quiet "hi's" were exchanged, Quinn leaving a soft kiss on your cheek then awkwardly brushing past you to go towards the fridge.

"I thought we could have chicken and pasta for dinner tonight. It sounded good on my way home, I hope that's okay," Quinn muttered out, but already getting a pot of water for pasta ready, as though it didn't matter what you truly wanted. "That's okay," you offered back. "I'm gonna go sit down and read my book. If you need me, just holler." You offered and Quinn gave a nod in response. You wanted to grunt and groan under your breath. How could this be okay with him? It was as though you didn't know him, despite him knowing everything about you.

You tried to distract yourself with your book, but frustrated tears welled up in your eyes. You wiped them away aggressively, not wanting Quinn to see you cry. He couldn't muster up simple greetings, and an I love you would be almost toxic coming out of his mouth. He didn't care anymore, that much was obvious. So why should you?

You didn't know how long time passed, but it was enough time for Quinn to come over with a plate of dinner, unaware of your state. Your heart swelled. Most days, you had been eating dinner at the table, the memories of the two of you loved up on the couch, enjoying your meal and watching your latest binge watch were long gone. It seemed that Quinn was looking for one of those nights, until he saw your tears. His face dropped, setting your plate down and kneeling in front of you.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" He asked, trying to get you to meet his eyes. You shook your head. How could he be so oblivious? "Are you serious?" You ask and Quinn's expression changed, like you had hurt him. "What do you mean by that? Why would I not be serious?" he asked, causing you to shake your head. "Quinn, things haven't been right between us for months. You leave me everyday without saying goodbye or even kissing me goodbye, you act like spending time with me is the worst thing in the world. I never go to games anymore because I resent hockey for taking you from me. When you were named captain, I was so proud of you I could explode. Now I can't even bare to be in the hockey setting because it reminds me of everything you chose over me. Quinn, I don't even know if you love me anymore." You took a breath after getting it off your chest, but at the same time a wounded gasp came out of Quinn's mouth, like he was a wounded animal.

"You think I don't love you anymore? How could you think that?" he asked, clearly hurt by what you had said. "What else do you want me to believe, Quinn? I can't even remember the last time you told me you loved me. And beyond that, that you ever even showed that you might. I feel like I live with a stranger. You can't honestly tell me that you have felt satisfied in this relationship. That you feel that we love each other to the fullest, that we love spending time together. I haven't felt confident that you feel that way in a long time." At this point you both had tears in your eyes, Quinn feeling devastated by what he was hearing.

Of course Quinn wasn't 100% satisfied with your relationship. He wasn't delusional enough to believe that everything was perfect. He knew that hockey had been his number one priority lately, and he had been trying to make that not be the case.

"Baby, I know I haven't been putting you first lately, and I'm sorry for that. I truly am. But I feel like it's only been this way since the start of the regular season." This had you scoffing immediately. "You don't seriously believe that. Quinn, I could say I have felt this way on and off since January." This caused another hurt gasp to leave Quinn's lips. "Why didn't you say something..." he trailed off, hurt, but he knew the answer.

"I shouldn't have to beg you to love me, Quinn. I shouldn't have to tell you that you have been neglecting me, neglecting us. If you truly can't see what's been going on, I don't know how I can explain it to you. If you think that this relationship has been satisfactory for both parties, I can't change your mind of that. But I won't be treated like this any longer. I think we should spend some time apart." Quinn backed up as soon as the suggestion came out of your mouth, looking like he had been shot.

"You don't mean that, you can't" he gasped. "Quinn, I'm not saying I want to breakup. If I didn't believe this was salvageable, if I didn't believe you could fix this, I would just say I wanted to break up. I believe we can fix this, but I think some time apart would do us good. For us both to figure out what we're looking for and what we truly want. If we find that this is still what we want, that's great, I believe that we will make it work. But this, this... arrangement, this isn't working. I know you seem shocked and hurt, but I know you don't believe that this is working for both of us, or honestly either of us."

"I'll go stay with Petey, I don't want to be in your way," Quinn suggested and you shook your head. "It's okay, really. I can go stay with Brock's girlfriend. Since she lives by herself it won't be awkward for any of us. I do believe we can make this work Quinn, I just don't think we can do it in these conditions." You put your hand on his cheek and his face softened, leaning into your touch.

"Tell me how to fix it, please, I'll do anything," he begged, tears steadily streaming down his face. "I can't tell you that, Quinn. I want you to figure out. To understand where I'm coming from, and want to work to fix it. I haven't been perfect either Quinn, we can both work on this. I shouldn't have to tell you that spending time together once a month isn't enough. I don't know how it can be enough for you, either. If that's okay with you, then this just isn't going to work."

"I'll fix it baby, I promise, I'll do anything." he whispered, almost defeatedly but feeling much better. "I believe you, baby. I do."

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

The flowers started on Mondays. Each Monday, a different bouquet of beautifully arranged flowers arrived at your office. The message was also different each week but it always ended the same way: " I love you, I believe in us." You texted Quinn every week when the flowers came to let him know you got them and to send your thanks. After four weeks of flowers, you were sitting in the front room of Brock's girlfriend, Bella's, apartment, getting stuff done on your computer on a chilly Saturday afternoon. A knock on the door sounded, causing you to pause your work. You had been staying with Bella long enough that you felt comfortable getting the door. Not to mention Bella liked to sleep in super late on weekends, meaning you would be the only one to even be available to open the door.

Your heart sank to your toes as you looked through the peephole, seeing Quinn. He looked different. If your gut was right, he looked tired, a far away look in his eyes, almost as though he missed you as much as you missed him. You didn't want to believe it, wary of getting your heart broken. He was holding something in his hands, fidgeting with it as he waited for the door to open.

"Y/N, hi," Quinn whispered out, taking a step towards you. "Hi Quinn, it's great to see you. How have you been? Would you like to come inside?" You asked, causing him to shake his head. "I can't stay, but thank you for offering," he stopped himself, wanting to keep boundaries in between you two in order for you to be most comfortable.

"It's been a while since we've seen each other, and I wanted to come ask you something. I was hoping you'd like to come to the game tomorrow night? I was hoping this would be enough time, but if not it's okay." His voice was shaky, unsure, almost like he was scared of your response. "I'm not sure, Quinn. Won't it be weird that I'm there? I don't want to cause any drama." You said apprehensively. You were also nervous of what that step in your relationship would be.

"There would be no drama at all, babe. You could just sit with Bell in the stands if you would prefer that, but I know the WAGs have really been missing you. I heard Millsy's daughters have been waiting for you to paint their nails on intermission again," he joked, causing you to smile. His heart melted at the smile on your face, finally feeling fulfilled, that he made you happy.

"I'll be there, Quinn. You can put me in the box. Don't worry about parking, though. I'm sure I can catch a ride with Bella." You both smiled, joyful at the step in the right direction for the both of you. "I can't wait."

________________

For all the time you had spent at Canucks games, you never thought you would be so nervous about what to wear, but here you are. Finally, settling on a stylish Canucks long sleeve with no distinction of Quinn on the shirt, paired with dark jeans and sneakers.

Quinn played a great game, getting a goal and an assist, the Canucks winning 3-1. You were ecstatic. Being back at the games, with your friends, cheering on Quinn, just felt right. It felt like where you were supposed to be. When you met Quinn after the game, he couldn't help himself either, jogging up to you and wrapping his arms around you, lifting you up off the ground. "Quinn!" you exclaimed, laughing out loud. "You did so good!" You laughed as he set you back on the ground. "It's because you were here, my good luck charm." He mused, causing you to blush.

Before he could stop himself, Quinn asked: "come home with me?" Your breath shortened, definitely not expecting that to come out of his mouth. "Are you sure?" You asked him, heart racing at the idea of going home with Quinn, truly where you belonged. "I would want nothing more."

It felt at times that no matter how much you gave to Quinn, it would never be enough. But as you both grew and learned more about yourselves, you both knew that all you could give would always be enough for the both of you.

[firelightfics]

Passerby

Scar x Gn! Reader (Season 2, Act 3 [first episode])

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 ACT 3, EPISODE 7 SPECIFICALLY. fluff for Scar and Reader ig, Angst for my poor boy Ekko.

[This is just something short I wanted to write up]

Masterlist.

---

All these familiar faces, yet they seem so distant to the ones he knows. Jinx never became Jinx, she stayed Powder. Mylo and Claggor, Vander and Silco, Benzo. All alive and happy. This reality feels so far from the timeline he calls home. Like a huge "what if" that never got to happen. Why didn't he get this?

And at what cost, Vi is dead. She never went to Prison. It was real this time. Everything is so much brighter, clearer even. Piltover and Zaun mixed to create a harmonic peace that his own time could never seem to achieve no matter how hard they try. He walks along the same bridge he fought Jinx on. Except it wasn't the same, it would never be the same in this world. Consumed by such thoughts, he fails to move out of the way of a small chirean girl toddling along.

When the child accidentally bumps into him, he's broken from his darker thoughts. She stumbles back a bit, Ekko looks up to see a face that's far too familiar. Y/n. The Firelights best sniper, and his right hand man's partner. Stood not far from them is Scar himself with a grip around their waist. They both look so happy and healthy. He glances back down to look at the child who he recognises as Scar's baby, barely able to keep herself standing straight yet still trying to march on like a little trooper.

Ekko stays silent as the couple give a brief apology and smile towards him. All he can do is stare as he watches a completely different version of his closest friends wander happily past him after their young toddler. Happily unaware of the horrors you all had witnessed in his timeline. Despite it all, he can't help the twitch of a smile that appears at the corner of his mouth as he watches on. Scar seemed so comfortable, his body language being more open, calmer.

It might not be the same back home, but he would get you three a happy ending or as close to one as he can get you. Turning swiftly to continue on his path to the now ex lab.

---

Just a little idea I had because Act 3 WRECKED ME. Anyway, hopefully will be getting more time to write and am writing up a load of the requests I got :D

[bustybounty]

A ssbbw gets a fat transfer, surprising all of her coworkers when she comes in with a tiny tummy and a gigantic ass.

This sounds like the graciebon situation but taken to an even more extreme degree...I love it~

Source: can't find their DA anymore :( it said turok44.

Something like that body type, I imagine... all those hundreds of pounds from all over her body transformed into fatness only on her legs, especially the upper thigh and booty region.

Since it was still pure fat, it jiggled like a damn earthquake was hitting her with the epicenter right in between her gigantic clapping rearmouds. It was impossible not to stare, not just her coworkers but everyone else that she passed by. She simply bit her lip, not making it any easier to look away due to the manner in which she swayed those triple doorframe smashing vast hips, bobbling them side to side, almost like she rewarded you for staring at her... That must have been it, right? She could have just as easily taken the surgery to remove her fat, while keeping some breasts and butt for an hourglass shape, a slim thick shape of sorts. Very attractive, convenient, not so outstanding it causes everyone to look and want to film...but no, she specifically chose to transfer ALL that extra fat into her butt, hips, thighs... she wanted to have a ginormous, colossal ass, and the attention she got from it was just a bonus.

She even made jokes about how they had to increase the number of reinforced chairs for her to sit on. She used to sit on three due to how heavy she was already, fairly wide too - but now she was MUCH wider, to the point where only three chairs would cause too much overflow, not enough equilibrium, and surely a very cushioned, soft landing after those shattered chairs were pushed aside and smothered under every inch of the plumpest butt cheeks anyone had ever seen.

"Wh-what happened?? How did you lose so much weight?...Or well...you know..." A coworker sheepishly asked - she had been a great friend due to both of them being SSBBWs in terms of weight, even if that coworker didn't want to have all that weight, she wanted to be skinny, but was never able to due to a condition that really facilitated weight gain. After explaining how the fat transfer surgery worked, an idea sparked in the mind of the now extremely bottom heavy woman.

"If you still want to get rid of any excess weight to get your dream body...my ass still has room~" Before giving it a firm, hand sinking SPANK that caused those gigawagons to wobble like crazy for what felt like forever.

Hopefully not just her coworker, but many others accept this idea~ <3

[hryniewiecki]

Grand Arcane S2 review

because I really need it to move on

Remember how I mentioned I could write an entire book about everything that went wrong with this season? Well, this is what a little excerpt from it would look like.

Let's start with a personal note to clarify my relationship with this hell of a piece of media.

S1 was this miracle show that was able to break through the several years of depression and anhedonia and make me interested in something, make me try to get back into making art (or at least try to try), to put myself out there on the internet a bit, to try be a part of something and not ashamed of enjoying it, which I never allowed myself before. Coincidentally, I've been at what I thought then was the worst place in my life when it aired and it helped me a lot to get through it. I didn't even think I would make it to see S2, as thee years felt like forever then. Taking all that into consideration, I think you can already tell where this is going.

I honestly thought I was prepared for S2 not being good, as no show could be this perfect. Turns out I wasn't prepared at all. Act 1 made me very happy, so happy I watched it two times, but the rest is something I would've never watch again and rather forget about.

The characters I wanted to see the most were Warwick (body horror, The Wrath of Zaun haunting the streets - got just a glimpse of that, but it felt like nothing) and Viktor (cyborgs and cyber gore, misunderstood idealist, Blitzcrank - got basically nothing; the idea was kinda there somewhere, but got changed so much it didn't matter at all).

I can't believe they took a godforsaken champion like Viktor and not only ruined his story completely, but also managed to fuck up everything else by all of a sudden making him a center of all of this mess. The center being the arcane/hextech/magic, which never even gets resolved/explained. Still no idea why it got corrupted and what was the nature of it; the void was never taken anywhere despite being heavily hinted - everything was evil because it was, but luckily the magic of friendship saved us!! (I'll get to that)

Speaking of crucial plotlines that weren't taken anywhere.. Basically every character got screwed over and made empty. Let's use Vi for a quick example (may not actually be the best example, but hopefully you'll get what I mean) - when I saw the pit fighter scene released early, I expected to see it have a continuation in the show, but instead it ended up just being the exact same music video, nothing more. And that goes for some more events - they get compressed into music videos that make it all incredibly hollow. Fight scenes are fine like this, sure, but not something that was supposed to be a bit more emotional and serious. Anyway, they successfully made me hate most of the characters. Either hate or just straight up not recognize them, and in a bad way.

Long story short the pacing is awful (it only gets back to normal in ep7, as it resembles the structure of S1) and the writing sucks ass. I can't for the love of god believe it was written alongside S1. There's no way in hell - it's literally all the worst fan theories I've seen come to life and get mixed with fanservice. *puts on a tinfoil hat* Maybe this is the real why they needed an extra year or two, as S2 was initially supposed to be released earlier. No way in hell the same people who wrote S1 and cared so much about the characters would do anything like this. Riot must've gotten heavily involved, making us believe they cut the story short (I think 5 seasons in Piltover/Zaun were planned initially?) for the benefit of it, but all it really was is greed - let's make a bunch of bullshit happen and quickly move to another region to sell more skins for new champions.

Now let's get back to the ending. Man, it really had it all - the nonsense, the multiverse bullshit which basically makes nothing make sense anymore (if there was anything left), the (yes, I'm going to say it, because that's exactly what I felt) cringe and embarrassment. Never seen anything more hollow trying to convince me it was deep and emotional (sums up the whole show perfectly).

How the hell the only thing that was supposed to save Viktor from himself was Jayce telling him he's perfect the way he is? Sure, don't try to cure your illness (that my city caused, but "fortunately" another crucial part of the plot, which is the sister cities conflict, ceased to exist), it makes you beautiful, this is who you are (miserable, unwanted, feeling meaningless and like a burden, dying). I am at loss of words.

Now buckle up jayvik fans. I wasn't a fan of the ship as I'm not a fan of any ships in general, but now I despise it. I wouldn't mind if they actually went on with it, which no, they didn't. We don't want two men kissing (women making out is fine tho, won't make the gamers too angry), so let's play extra safe to make sure it could be explained as any type of other close bond (and that's exactly what Christian Linke does when asked about it). You disgusting cowards, either you show me this in plain sight and I wouldn't give it a second thought, or don't even try bring it up at all (and you can't deny it wasn't implied in S1 with all the Viktor's looks and parallels to Mel).

Where do I even begin? Because I don't think you have any idea on how many levels it actually sucks. If you read it as romantic it's basically telling me that if I was a gay man struggling with my feelings and not being able to confess for years, because I'm convinced I'm unworthy of love as something is inherently wrong with me, then the best I could get after surviving all this (what honestly seems like hell) is a hug, because you're ashamed of me and thus I should be ashamed of who I am till the very end.

Something equally bad is Jayce finding out (or rather we finding out) how wonderful the world could look like if he let go of his beautiful dream, his life's work, and killed himself - it never gets denied, as the corruption of hextech doesn't get explained.

Long story short, if you're struggling with your mental health, trauma issues, disability or any of the problems the characters you related to deal with, this show spits you in the face.

I could go on forever about everything that's wrong (even Jinx got played dirty), but let's finish with the few things I liked: act 1 was promising (it's when I believed they could still make sense of Viktor), fun Sevika's arcade arm fight, the epic fight at the Janna's temple (Woodkid goat), Jayce killing Salo (I felt something) and Jayce's glitchy madness in general, young Vander flashback (felt something), ep7 and Singed's story (the only one that makes any sense).

Other than that the show left me with nothing but void in my heart (I guess that's when it all went). The saddest thing being the masses love it anyway, as it seems they'll watch anything that's colorful enough. And Riot will make lots of money of off it, because in the end they never loose. I'm not denying Fortiche absolutely outdid themselves with the art, it's just heartbreaking nothing else even remotely stands up to it.

[azaharinflames]

the ratings are not going to drop, the last episode did very well, so do you think GA really cared about Tommy? We talk about it but sometimes I feel like it's more how we would like to see the situation than what the reality is for viewers who follow the show without interacting on social media.

Hi, Nonnie! Thanks for the ask

Thing is - the ratings are dropping, regardless of Tommy. They’ve been steadily dropping since the beginning of the season, especially since the Young Sheldon spin-off premiered. And again - that is independent from Tommy.

I will also add that there isn’t a real reason for the people to stop watching if it was because of Tommy, which maybe is an unpopular opinion. But what we see in canon is Buck longing for Tommy. If you look at the show and just the show and not the interviews, wouldn’t you expect something to happen? Thus, wouldn’t you still watch, in case it does? The break up was open ended for a reason - if that was to keep the audience engaged until they find a new LI, or if that was to later on have them come back together, we won’t know for a long while.

I will say, some of the GA did express disappointment. GA doesn’t mean they absolutely never use social media, at least with part of the GA. The response to the break up wasn’t just kept in fandom - it was one of the only times I’ve seen some members of the GA actually making themselves known. I think it’s undeniable the GA at the very least liked Tommy, and the insistence that they didn’t seems very like the other side.

All in all - regardless of Tommy, 911 could be doing better in terms of rating. It’s normal for the audience to drop as the season goes, but there is also a clear winner in the competition of the night, and 911 isn’t it. Which is to be expected, as Young Sheldon (the spin off) is fairly new and I know people were excited for it.

We’ll see what happens once 8b airs. Hopefully the hiatus helps the ratings.

My inbox is open for ranting, venting, and discussing (911 or whatever) :)

Take care <3

[wardenparker]

In the Still of the Night, ch 3

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: E for Explicit 18+ Word Count: 8.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Flirting, still a little awkwardness, blindfold, sensory deprivation, foreplay, oral sex (female receiving). Summary: Your day out with Zach gets more intense at every turn. Notes: Hopefully you're all enjoying the prolonged date as much as we -- and they -- are! (As always, chapter gifs are for the vibes, not to physically describe the characters.)

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2

It isn't hard for anyone who sees you during the rest of the day to spot the dreamy couple out on a date. The older woman who shows you to your table at the restaurant Zach picked out for dinner gives you a wink in agreement that he's an absolute cutie pie and comes back a few minutes later with two glasses of wine and a candle for your table despite none of the others having one set out.

He had chosen a restaurant that was more local than tourist and had been thrilled when there was no formal dress code. Eager to sit down with you after so much walking and talk about more of anything and everything that has been the topics of the day. “So how did you start out singing?” He asks curiously.

“My elementary school had a chorus.” It might be the first time in hours you haven’t been holding hands, but you’re still smiling as you sit side by side with your wine watching the sun set. “I stuck with it because I was a kid and it was fun, then the dance lessons got added, and then as I got older I realized that I also liked theater. It became a combination.”

“So you were a theatre kid.” He nods in understanding. He hadn’t been, but he had been friends with some and understood the passion of performing even if he didn’t have it.

“That’s how I ended up in New York.” You tell him, expression twisting into something like regret. “Just another small town kid convinced they could be the next Broadway star. Obviously that didn’t happen.”

“But you tried.” He reminds you, leaning against your shoulder and wishing he could take away the sadness. “Some people never try.”

“I go between thinking that maybe I should have tried harder, and wondering why I ever bothered at all.” With that offer of support there, you lean against his shoulder in turn and shrug gently. “It is what it is, I guess. But…how did you start cooking?”

Zach sighs softly, knowing that it would eventually come up. “Actually, I just started cooking a few years ago.” He admits.

“You did?” That surprises you enough to turn your head and look at him more fully. “So it’s just at natural talent, then?”

“I guess?” He shrugs slightly. “I got a job working in a kitchen. Saved my life.” He tells you. “Threw myself into it and experimented as much as I could and read everything I could get my hands on.”

“So you stumbled into your calling.” There is something else there, something he doesn’t want to tell you, so you don’t push. “That’s wonderful, though. Some people never find what they’re meant to do in their whole lives.”

“It helps with my anxiety.” He admits with a self deprecating grin. “So I decided that it was the best thing for me. One day I’d like to have a restaurant. One that I can plan every detail, down to free meals for the homeless.”

“I love that.” Without hesitation, the idea is not only a kind one but one you can tell means a great deal to him. “Some places have a system where you can pay for meals for others in advance, too. System like that can be used to pay for extra supplies so no one ever has to be turned away.”

“That would be amazing.” He’s had benefited from that kind of system before, but not often. And he knows how uplifting a good, hot meal can be when you are down.

"You can make it happen." Something in your gut tells you that he can and he will, and even though you have no stake in it, you can't help but feel proud of him for that.

“I’m hoping.” He flashes you a grateful grin. Even your confidence in him sounds so sure when he’s always wondered if he can succeed. “The club on the ship has given me so many ideas.”

"I've been eating your ideas," you remind him with a grin. "And they're fantastic. You're really good, Zach. Any place would be lucky to have you and any team would be lucky to have you lead them."

“What about you?” He asks. “This has to be a stepping stone for you. I’ve already heard from the crew that you might have some head hunters after you.” One of the passengers was apparently connected in the music industry and had been in to the club several nights.

"If I do, that's news to me." Whatever murmurings Zach has heard, you haven't. But you would be lying if you claimed not to be curious. "I don't know, honestly. I think I would rather be a headliner in a little club than wave a rose in a Broadway chorus for the rest of my life. But the chances of either are relatively slim." You take a sip of your wine and offer him a smile, shrugging one shoulder. "In my dreams I'm getting top billing in the biggest musicals and you're running the most popular restaurant in the country. Ultimate New York City power couple."

“That sounds amazing.” Zach chuckles. “Actually, running this style club, I think it would work in New York.” He tells you. “A dinner club.”

"I know it's something that you see in retirement communities in Florida, but I have always loved dinner theater." His laugh is sweet and deep and rolls through you like a wave of joy. "This club is such a great gig for people like us."

“Yes it is, but imagine….” He sighs softly. “Creating a headliner show like you would see in Vegas, right in New York and pairing it with a daily changing menu like we do here.”

"New York would love a show like that." It sounds so doable when he says it. Like a dream you could reach for and pluck out of the sky.

“It would be sold out.” He agrees, flashing a hopeful smile. “One day, maybe if I had the right singer to run the show side of things.”

"I guess you're going to have to get to know some singers then, aren't you?" His bright smile is reflected right back at him, teasing as always but it's because part of you can't dare to dream this big for yourself. Only for him.

“I will.” He nods and shrugs. “Maybe hold auditions or something. Singing for your supper?”

"That's what most of us do." You agree, not wanting your smile to flicker at all even if the memories sting. "Sometimes literally."

Zach catches the change, the dimming of the light in your eyes and he knows that he’s touched on a sensitive topic for you. “I get it.” He promises quietly. “I think I gravitated towards cooking because I knew if I was making food for others, I would not have that gnawing ache of hunger ever again.” He licks his lips. “Food insecurity, the therapist called it.”

Your heart sinks, chest tightening, and you nod as you slip your hand back into his. "I wish I was more surprised to find out that more than a few of us have been there. But a job like ours...with guaranteed housing and meals and a way to save money for months at a time? It makes sense that it would attract people who have had it hard."

Of course you would be understanding. His eyes close as he nods, feeling a little choked up by the compassion in your voice and the understanding in your touch. “Absolutely. And I hate that you’ve had a moments bad luck.” He murmurs. “You deserve so much.”

"So do you." You squeeze his hand gently. "Bad luck doesn't make us bad people."

“Not at all.” His hand slips from yours and his arm wraps around your shoulders protectively. “Now - before we start choking up, what do you want to try?” He wants this date to be nothing but a lovely moment for you and he tries to steer the conversation to more positive thoughts.

Without saying another word about it, you turn your head to kiss his cheek and refocus on the menu in his hands. They have enough tourists in town that the menu from this restaurant has one-sentence item descriptions in English that simply tell non-Greek speakers the main ingredients of each dish. A quick glance around you shows you that everything here seems to be served family style, and you settle in Zach's side again happily.

"How does this sound?" You ask, pointing out the special. Gamopilafo. The menu says, with Arnáki Stamnagathi. "Greek risotto with lamb and vegetables?"

“That sounds amazing.” Zach groans happily and nods. “Do you want to get that and something else?” He doesn’t want you to share with him if you are just trying to make the bill cheaper, he can afford paying for dinner.

"It looks like it's family style? Maybe we can get another side dish to go with it so we can try more?" You shrug slightly, knowing that food was just a topic of some stress for both of you. "Sharing sounds nice. But not if you don't want to."

“I’m not opposed to sharing at all.” He promises, leaning in and nudging his nose to yours. “I’ll share anything with you.”

"Promises, promises." It's too tempting to have him close and not indulge in another kiss, but you keep it short and chaste in case Zach isn't too into public displays of affection. The half dozen or so kisses that you have shared today have been relatively private so you want to respect that for him.

Zach smiles, beams really. “What else do you want, baby?” The term of endearment slips out, but he doesn’t try to take it back or apologize. Feeling like it’s just the natural next step of this amazing day.

While the honest answer is him, that isn't what he's asking so you pull yourself out of the dirty thoughts you've been having on and off all damn day and look back down at the menu. In the top section there is something that lists cheese, fruit, bread, and flavored local olive oil, so you point that out. "Cretan charcuterie plate to start?"

“I think that’s a good idea.” Zach agrees and smiles at you. “We can see if we can come up with our own ideas for a board.”

"We'll have enough menu ideas for three new restaurants if we let our imaginations wander." Which is not a bad thing at all, but it does have both of you grinning when the waitress comes over to take your order.

Zach orders for the both of you, checking in with his eyes to make sure that it’s everything you want and hands the menu over with a pleasant smile for the waitress. Enjoying the knowing glances she shoots between the two of you. “I think that she thinks we are newlyweds or something.” He confesses quietly when she walks away. “What do you think?”

“Maybe.” Don’t be so you, you remind yourself for the hundredth time in your head. “I don’t know how many people come around here being cuddly on a fantastic day-long first date.”

“It has been fantastic, hasn’t it?” He muses, reminding himself that neither one of you has walked away or even been upset today. Not really.

“I think so.” There are clearly more things to talk about in your future, but today has left you optimistic that that future could exist. “I’m glad you do, too.”

“So, what’s your favorite type of wine?” He asks. “With charcuterie? Are you a white wine or sangria girl?”

“I’m a whatever wine you serve me kind of girl,” you tell him with an amused laugh. “But I do love sangria. There are very few things that aren’t made better with a glass of sangria or a margarita.”

“A margarita; huh?” He smirks. “Salt on the rim or sugar?”

“Depends on the flavor.” After all, your palate isn’t nonexistent, it’s just uneducated. “But usually salt.”

“A watermelon margarita is my favorite.” He admits. “Salt and sugar on the rim.”

“Salt and sugar?” That has you raising an eyebrow. “Color me intrigued.”

“It’s delicious.” He chuckles. “Goes with a hamburger or ribs. Drinks just like water.”

“That sounds incredible.” It sounds absolutely mouthwatering, actually, and you crack a grin. “Maybe I’m just really hungry.”

“Next crew party why don’t we do sliders and margaritas?” He offers. “I think you’d love it.”

“It sounds amazing.” You can agree to that without hesitation. “But I would also eat an old sneaker if it came out of your kitchen, so just know I’m always here for your food.”

“So boil shoe leather.” He pretends to make a note and laughs when you shove him playfully.

“You boil shoe leather and I’ll sing scales off key. Our worst work night ever.”

Zach throws his head back and laughs. The deep, belly laugh of a man who is completely convinced that it possible could happen and finds it up-roaringly funny. “You’re perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” He doesn’t need to know that a musical lyric sprung to mind instantly. He doesn’t need to know that you’ve been thinking it for an hour or more now. But you do hope he knows that the absolute affection shining in your eyes is honest and real.

He hums, not exactly able to take a compliment as well as he can give one. Instead he clinks his wine glass against yours. “To being perfect together.” He offers with a smile.

Neither of you take compliments well, you note with a smile, but drink deeply from your glass and enjoy a private smile that he unknowingly completed the thought of the song lyric in your head. “I know you’re supposed to wait until the end of the date to say it,” you set down your glass, thank the waitress when she brings over the first course, and restart your thought after a few seconds. “But I really think we should do this again.”

Zach’s heart leaps at your comment, happy that you have said that. “Well, of course we should.” He agrees, winking at you as he starts to dip a crusty piece of bread into the seasoned olive oil. “But I was thinking maybe we spend a little more time together on the ship when we can?”

"We could always skip the crew parties now and then to have time to ourselves." Following suit, you dive into the cheese board along with him. The cured olives and soft cheese are calling your name. "I wouldn't mind that at all."

“I mainly go to the crew parties to see you.” Zach confesses with a shy smile, offering you the dipped bread after he’s spread a bit of goat’s cheese on top of it.

"I–" Your eyes drop, your whole face heats, and you clear your throat before offering him an olive that you have stuffed with a pinch of soft sheep's milk cheese. "I go to the crew parties to see you."

Zach snorts and shakes his head. “We are pathetic.” He teases. “Mooning over each other and not even aware of it until Shane makes you take me a drink.”

"He tried to tell me," you admit after trying the bite that Zach made for you. Like everything else he's ever fed you, it's perfect. "I just...didn't really think I had a shot."

“He would always talk about you.” He huffs. “Making that crush I was suffering under nearly unbearable.” He smirks. “I guess he was hoping to push me into making a move.”

“And when you didn’t, he pushed me instead.” Which is a very Shane thing to do, really. He’s always been a little bit too cocky for his own good. “He’s like my big brother. So it makes perfect sense that he would meddle endlessly.”

“He basically adopted me once we became roommates.” Zach agrees. “He’s a good guy with a surprisingly big heart.”

“It took him a while to get there,” you acknowledge, not quite knowing how much of Shane’s story he had shared with Zach. “But now that he has? He’ll be damned if he doesn’t help everyone that he can.”

“Yeah.” Zach nods. “From what he’s told me, he’s completely different than when he was first sent away.”

“He showed me a picture once. Oh how he dresses and everything back then.” Just keeping the topic about appearance is lighthearted. That way you don’t dip too far into past seriousness. “Even if that was the only thing that changed, he really is a completely different guy now.”

“Jet black hair.” Zach snorts, shaking his head. “Dude has amazing hair now. I’m a little jealous of it.” Shane still has earrings, but he’s no longer sporting the goth edge he had back in his younger years.

“Do you ever think about growing yours out?” Zach still has short-trimmed hair that is probably a cinch to take care of, but he might look great with it longer.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve worn it long.” He admits, rubbing his hand up the back of his head. “Since high school.” He snorts. “But I’ve not given it a lot of thought, honestly. Why? You think it would look good longer?” He asks, curious about your preferences. Everyone has them, it’s like preferring clean shaven over a beard.

“I caught myself wondering once if your hair was curly when it grows out,” you admit, clearing your throat a little from being flustered. Admitting that you’ve wondered and daydreamed about him is a big step to your mind.

“Yeah?” A slow, pleased grin starts to stretch across his face as he turns back towards you again. “Daydreaming about running your fingers through my hair?”

“Maybe.” The huff in your voice is pure embarrassment, though you’re glad that he seems to like the idea rather than being weirded out by it.

“Then I have to confess something…” he drops his voice down to a whisper like it’s a secret. “I really love when the hairdresser runs her fingers through my hair when cutting it.”

It feels like a far more visceral tease than you’ve been giving him, and you can practically feel how soft his shirt hair is when your eyes flick up to it. “Noted,” you manage to huff out a second later, banishing the mental image of Zach beneath you as you card your fingers through growing curls.

He smirks and winks at you when you manage to look at him again, finding it incredibly empowering to know that you are on the same level as he is. Both of you wanting so much, but being too shy to reach for it. Someone will have to make a move, but right now, he’s enjoying the flirting and bantering.

Neither of you seem to care much that it takes longer to make bites out of your appetizer if you hold hands, enjoying the small show of intimacy more than anything else. You're loathe to give up that connection now that you have it.

Zach enjoys sharing with you. Often making bites for you to try, and he smiles every time you groan in pleasure.

“Just because I have no idea how to cook anything doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it,” you insist, and you’re laughing together when your waitress brings out your shared entree. The large and shallow bowl is obviously meant to be shared but is beautifully arranged — vegetables bringing color with the creamy risotto-like grains and tantalizingly seared and roasted lamb.

“Many blessings.” She is smiling at both of you as she puts the food down between you. “Happy marriage to young love.”

“Thank you.” Zach doesn’t correct her, beaming instead and bringing up your hand and kissing the back of it. If they believe that you are newlyweds, who are you to disclaim it?

Seeing him go with the assumption instead of correcting the woman makes your heart swell. There is something deeply soft and intimate about the gesture and you’re sure you must look so deeply entranced by your date that protesting wouldn’t do any good anyway.

“Soulmates?” The older woman asks, looking at the two of you with the pride of a grandmother.

Zach bites his lip, unsure of how to answer that, so he just wings it. “What do you think?” He asks, reaching out and caressing your cheek. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

"Very." The woman agrees, and with another proud smile she clasps both of your shoulders and heads off again to the kitchen with the purpose and speed of someone off to share vital gossip.

Zach smiles at you. “Well, I guess that makes us official.” He hums. “What do you think?” He asks, lifting a brow. “Want to be my girlfriend? Or should we jump straight to soulmate and wife?” He asks. “We’ve already gotten approval here.”

"It might be a little dramatic to show back up to the ship married." And yet you're grinning. You're absolutely beaming at him in a way that can't possibly be contained and for the first time today you don't want it to be. "But I love the sound of girlfriend."

“I’m sure we wouldn’t have been the first couple to have done that.” He doesn’t take offense to you ignoring the remark about soulmates. He’s seen you without sleeves enough to know that you don’t have his tattoo. You can’t be his soulmate, but he is drawn to you like he’s never been to another woman. “But girlfriend sounds perfect to me too.”

"I'm not one of those people that swears soulmates are the only possible relationship," you explain, as the two of you rearrange your little table to share your entree comfortably. The waitress had also brought you fresh drinks so the little table is loaded down with tantalizing options. "My parents aren't soulmates and they've been happily married for almost forty years. It's a great thing, but I always thought choosing your person yourself was more important than anything else."

“Interesting.” Zach is impressed and he nods. “I know that soulmates aren’t everything, but my parents were.” He tells you, smiling a little sadly. “They were probably the best relationship I’ve ever seen.”

"We both had good role models for healthy relationships. That's far more rare than it should be, I think." You note the past tense in his words but don't push, instead watching as he carefully serves the meal onto the two smaller plates you were given.

The lamb smells amazing and Zach is already drooling, imagining what he could make. “Are you ready to give me ideas?” He teases as he looks up from finishing plating.

"Dinner ideas?" You raise an eyebrow at him and pick up your fork, feeling bold with the help of the waitress who broke the ice and managed to make you Zach's girlfriend with a touch of cute teasing. "Or dirty ideas?"

“I accept all ideas.” Zach promises, his voice dipping down slightly, turning sensual.

"Fuck." Even just a quiet groan of frustration from you is enough to let him know exactly where you're at. Every single time he kisses you, you're convinced that you're going to soak through your shorts, and you no longer care if he knows it or not.

“I’ve been thinking about something.” Zach starts, forking up a bite of the risotto and trying it with a groan of approval.

"Tell me." There have been a few more serious topics touched on today without delving too deep, but you have faith that whatever it is that's on his mind won't be bad.

“We don’t have to be back on the ship until tomorrow morning.” The club is closed for the night while in port since the majority of the passengers are on shore. “What do you think about not going back tonight?”

"Like...find a little hotel?" Your fork is halfway to your mouth when you meet his eyes, seeing that there is the same spark of desire there as in your own. "That would certainly be more comfortable than using one of our bunks after we kick our roommate out," you agree, letting a grin crawl across your face.

“We don’t have to.” He stresses, not wanting you to feel like he expects to spend the night with you.

"I know." But you shrug with just a touch of guilt. "And if you want to wait that's totally fine. But...I definitely want to."

“I want to.” He is quick to reassure you of that. “I really want to. I just—” he bandied about for the right words. “Didn’t want to come off as pushy.”

"Pushy is normally my problem." you promise him. "The other part of Shane's whole 'be less you' advice was not rolling up to our first date and telling you we would make beautiful children." It's still of a hell of a way to come on strong so you laugh it off, but it's true all the same. "You've been anything but pushy, baby."

“You would have beautiful babies with Shrek.” He snorts, shaking his head. “My genes would have nothing to do with it.”

"Don't count yourself out." The grin on your face slides sideways and the two of you dig into your dinner in earnest. "Those curls of yours on a little baby? Cuties."

He blushes slightly, imagining how a baby with you would look. It’s a fantasy that he never even imagined being able to consider just a few years ago. “Only because of you. And most babies are cuties anyway.”

“They are.” That’s just a fact as far as you’re concerned. The two of you continue to eat for another minute or so before your mind catches up with all the possible consequences of that topic coming up and you almost stutter as you reach for your wine glass. “I’m—I’m on birth control, though,” you point out. Like he might think you’re trying to baby trap him on the first date just because you think babies are cute. “That’s…like I want kids eventually but I’m not crazy about it.”

This is happening. Zach swallows a bite of the deliciously fragrant and juicy lamb so he doesn’t choke. “Good. I mean, I would still want to wear a- birth control shouldn’t just be on you.” He tells you. “I’m clean, but I- it’s always good to- you know, uh, be safe.”

“I’m clean too, and if you feel more comfortable with a condom that’s totally fine, I just—” Who knows if more wine is actually a good idea at this point but you take about gulp out of nerves. “I didn’t want you to think I had any motivation for…you know…tonight, other than really liking you.”

He has to laugh at that, reaching for your hand and winking at you. “You’re focusing on your career. I don’t think that your grand plan is to be knocked up by the chef of the club you headline your first contract out.” He promises.

“Well when you say it like that it sounds silly.” And yet? A part of you is certain, beyond any doubt whatsoever, that if it happened you could be such a happy little family.

He smirks slightly and reaches over to brush off a tiny bit of sauce on the edge of your mouth. “So we both know where we stand.” He hums. “Let’s just relax and enjoy where our night takes us.”

******

With the sun set and your meal finished, an intimacy has settled over you and Zach as you sip your coffee together and listen to the busy streets of Knossos bustle with tourists and nightlife. Normally you would be part of that. You would be out with friends or searching out a feeling to get lost in — but today has been so thorough in proving that you can simply get lost in Zach that you don’t want to stray. Everything you could possibly want for your night is right here next to you. And it’s a type of calming feeling that you don’t know you’ve ever felt with another person before.

“That was probably the best meal I’ve ever eaten.” Zach rubs his stomach appreciatively and looks over at you. “Lamb on the menu for the club?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” You’ll eat anything he cooks anyway. But having it be a special memory between the two of you? That’s worth bragging about. “With those whipped carrots you made yesterday? Oh my god.”

“You liked those?” He grins, loving feedback as much as the next person and if it comes from you it makes it even sweeter. “I’ve been thinking about making it a soufflé and putting a topping on it. Similar to a sweet potato soufflé? What do you think? Too much?”

“I don’t know,” you admit with a grin spreading across your face. “I’ve never had a soufflé before.”

“You’ve never had a sweet potato casserole?” His eyes widen. “You’re shitting me?”

You shrug weakly, yet can’t help but laugh at how strong his reaction is. “My dad hates sweet potatoes,” you explain between giggles. “We basically ate like toddlers in my house forever, because he only liked four or five foods.”

“Wow.” He chuckles. “So I know what I’m making you tomorrow.” He grins. “Roasted chicken with sweet potato soufflé, creamed spinach and a fresh cranberry compote.”

“We just ate.” Sure, your tone is complaining, but the teasing is clear and sparkling in your eyes. “Why do you have to make me hungry all over again?”

Laughing, he leans over slightly to pull his wallet out to pay. Having cash is something of a safety net to him, although he’s proud of the shiny credit card with a low limit as he builds his credit back up. Offers have started coming for pre-approval of credit limits, but he’s resisted getting one so far. He pays this card off every month like clockwork. “I’ll let you sleep it off first.” He promises.

A different woman comes out with your check and a small folded bag. She smiles when she sees Zach ready to pay, and hands you the bag. “Congratulations,” she explains in a thick but clear accent. “From my grandparents. They’re very flattered you chose their restaurant for your honeymoon.”

Zach immediately feels guilty. “No— nothing is necessary.” He promises, shaking his head. “We are happy to be here. The food was amazing.”

"It's just a few cookies," she promises, apparently charmed by the display of manners. "And we're always glad to have kind guests."

“Everyone here has been wonderful.” Zach smiles as he hands over his card. “Now we just need to find a hotel with people as wonderful.”

"You don't have a place to stay already?" The bill is easily and silently settled with the exchange of a few bills between them and the woman points down the beach to a three-story white building on the edge of the beach. "Dite is a beautiful hotel. Small. But very nice. And you will see the perfect sunrise in your room."

“What do you think, sweetheart?” He asks, turning towards you. “I think it sounds just about perfect, if they have a room available.”

“Small sounds perfect.” In fact, after the bustle of the ship, it sounds like a small relief. “Thank you for the suggestion.”

“I will call for you.” She offers. “Family.”

“That would be wonderful.” You look to Zach for confirmation. “The hotel is my treat. I promise.”

He huffs, frowning slightly at the notion of you paying and there is a grin on the woman’s face as she nods in approval. “I will go call right now and let them know you are coming.” She beams before scampering off.

“It’s okay.” Sensing a bit of hurt pride that you dismiss as typically male, you lean over and kiss Zach’s cheek. “You can buy our breakfast.”

He can’t tell you that it’s because he somehow still looks at someone paying for something – even if it benefits them – as a handout. That is way too deep for this date and probably means he needs to schedule a visit with the VA therapist next time he’s in New York. “Sounds good, sweetheart.” He hums.

It only takes a few minutes for the younger waitress to return, and when she does she is smiling broadly. To Zach she hands a slip with the name and address of the hotel. “They’re getting your room ready now,” she tells you both gladly.

“Thank you.” He smiles. “For everything.”

“Our pleasure.” She assures him, and trots off again after saying good night.

He turns towards you and gives you a searching look. “Are you ready?”

"Absolutely." Considering you can see the hotel from here, you don't mind walking. A stroll through the streets of the ancient city, hand in hand with your newly minted boyfriend? It sounds perfect to you.

Zach scoots out of the seat and holds out his hand to you. “Then let’s walk off this amazing dinner.”

The roads and the beach stretch on longer than you anticipate but the walk is welcome. You're most quiet, enjoying each other's company without the need to fill the air with idle conversation. You take in the city around you and the overwhelming number of tourists. The hustle and the bustle is beautiful, but something about the fact that you can be comfortable in the quiet with Zach brings and unexpected extra layer of intimacy to the night.

Walking hand in hand is intimate, serene. He doesn’t feel the need to make excuses or fill the silence, he just enjoys the way the smiles seem to be just for you as a couple, coming from others who pass you on the streets.

The hotel is clean and bright, and the extended family of the folks who owned the restaurant are as sweet as can be when you check in. They’ve put you in a top floor room facing the ocean and promise you it’s their best, and you and Zach take the stairs up after thanking them once more.

“I feel bad.” Zach muses. “They think we are on our honeymoon.”

“First dates can be just as special as honeymoons, right?” You offer as you make your way down the hall to your room. “I checked their rates online and it was the same as what we paid. So they’re not giving us big discounts or anything. If they had, I would have said something.”

“Good.” He feels better about that and his stomach twists in nervous anticipation. You both had stopped in a little shop where he had purchased a small box of condoms. They feel heavy in his pocket.

“Hey.” The leaden heaviness sits between you as you unlock the door to your room and push it open. Before you even make a move to step inside, you settle your hand on Zach’s arm and offer him a soft, reassuring smile. “Just because we want to doesn’t mean we have to tonight, okay? We can decide to just hang out and cuddle and sleep beside each other and it will still be perfect.”

“Are you having second thoughts?” He asks seriously, trying not to look disappointed, because he doesn’t want that to pressure you.

“Not at all.” You’re quick to assure him of that, pushing open the door and stepping inside. “You just seem…nervous? I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong.”

“Afraid of disappointing you.” He admits with a small huff of amusement at himself as he flashes you a grin. “It’s been a while for me.”

"Then I'm flattered you would choose me to be the one to break that dry spell with." It really is a vote of confidence from him, and you won't take that for granted. Despite the fact that you don't understand how in the hell anyone has ever let him go, you're glad to be the person that is here and ready to see all of the potential he has as a partner.

“I would be fucking crazy not to.” Zach snorts, shaking his head. “Baby you are gorgeous and kind, and everything I don’t deserve.”

"Hey now." You shake your head as you shut the door behind the two of you, flipping the lock and feeling the shiver of anticipation roll through you. But still, hearing him put himself down is the last thing you're comfortable with and when you turn back to Zach you slide your hands up his arms gently. "I wouldn't let somebody else talk about you like that, what makes you think you get to?"

“Habit.” He admits, biting his lip and reaching for your waist to draw you closer. “I’m working on it.”

"I'm here to remind you how incredible you are anytime you need." A strong support system means everything, you learned that the hard way. And you're more than happy to be that for Zach.

“Thanks.” There’s a bit gratefulness and quite a bit of amazement in his eyes as he looks at you. “You are absolutely amazing, you know that?” He asks. “You take my breath away.”

Your hands creep up his arms, sliding around his neck so your fingers can sink into his short, soft hair. "I'd be happy to do that for you literally, if you'd like."

“How would you do that?” He has a pretty good idea, but he wants to hear what you have in mind.

The hum that leaves your lips as you press your body against his is full of promise. "I'd start at the top and work my way down, of course," you tell him, bringing Zach down to meet your lips for a searing kiss.

He can’t help but groan, a grown man melting against you, but he’s already weak in the knees from the passion in just this one kiss. The sense of complete rightness that washes over him as his own arms band around you tighter and he starts to give back to you.

None of the kisses you had shared yet today had been allowed to be this deep. You were in public. You were sharing space with other people. And this is so intensely intimate. It would have felt wrong just to let other people see your naked heart out there on your sleeve. But when it is just the two of you locked safely away in the privacy of a hotel room? You would be a puddle at his feet if it weren’t for the uncanny strength of him holding you tight against his chest.

It’s not hard for his body to respond instantly. He’s already lived most of the day in a state of arousal just being around you. But with the length of your body pressed against his and your tongue coaxing his further into your mouth? He is rock hard and aching. Groaning slightly as he turns both of you towards where the bed should be based on the split second examination of the room earlier.

And just like that you feel ignited. The press of his body against yours as he steers you blindly through around the room is an errant spark that seems to catch on every inch of you. With one hand your fingers card and tug in his hair, nails grazing over his scalp. With the other you pull his shoulders to keep him impossibly close — feeling like you’ll forget to breathe if you stop sharing gasps with him between kisses.

You taste like sweet wine and cream. A perfect combination when mixed with something that is just…you. He can’t describe it, but it’s warm and earthy.

The backs of your legs bump against the bed frame, almost toppling you over and making you hang onto Zach all the more tightly, giggling into the kiss. “Oops,” You can’t help but laugh at how deeply uncoordinated it was, even as out of breath as you are. “Weak knees aren’t very stable, apparently.”

“Then we should lay down.” Zach suggests, grinning against your lips and starting to crouch down.

It doesn’t exactly take convincing. Not when every single time he’s kissed you today has turned you a soaking wet, needy mess. The fact that you finally get to do something about it is exhilarating and relieving all at once. “Hell yes,” you agree, nearly hauling him into the bed with you when you try to kiss him and move at the same time.

He laughs when you both nearly topple over, flopping down on your sides in a move that is not nearly as graceful as he had planned in his mind. “Eager?” He asks. Sliding his hand down your side to your ass.

“Oh, absolutely.” You smirk, but shift your leg ever so slightly so your thigh presses against the front of his shorts. “Just as much as you are.”

“Baby, have you looked in the mirror?” Zach groans, twitching under the pressure. “You’re a complete knockout and fucking sweet as pie.”

“As long as you like what you see, the mirror doesn’t matter.” What you see and what he sees looking at you will never be quite the same, so as long as he likes the version of you that he sees, you’re fine with it.

Zach doesn’t say anything else, he just slowly leans in and presses his lips to yours softly.

It’s such a sweet, gentle gesture that you melt deeper into the mattress. For that one moment there are no thoughts at all left in your head. It’s just Zach and the possibilities.

He follows you, body half covering yours as he lets the kiss deepen slightly. Not too much, but he squeezes your ass gently as he grinds into you.

The roll of his hips earns him a moan, and he swallows it up eagerly so you give him another and hitch one leg up to let him get closer.

He presses deeper into you, slotting his hips between yours as you open up and he gasps into your mouth when his hard cock presses against the heat of your core.

The heat in your belly flares hotter, wicking all the way Down your limbs, and you whimper again because you have no prayer of a coherent sentence or even word in that moment. There’s horny and eager then there’s whatever the hell you are as you grind your hips against his to beg for more.

It’s juvenile, but grinding against you over clothes while he kisses you is the height of eroticism right now. He groans into your mouth before breaking away, wanting to taste every inch of your skin.

He trails kisses along your jaw and throat, making your back arch and stealing your breath all over again. While he begins to travel south you tug at his shirt, trying to tear the damn thing off while your whole body aches for him.

Zach smiles against your skin, cutting his eyes up at you playfully. “You’re too impatient” he teases, pulling away. “Think I’ll blindfold you.”

You pout instantly, but the idea is intriguing enough that you raise an eyebrow at him. “Do I get to see you eventually?”

“Eventually.” He smirks, loving that you are going along with his little idea. “That way you can accurately judge how good I am.”

“I can’t judge your skills with my eyes open?” Delighted to have found him not so very vanilla after all, you let the hand you still have in his hair tug in his curls and grin when he moans.

“You might be overwhelmed by my good looks.” He chuckles and shakes his head. One of the things that made him suggest this is his tattoo. He didn’t want to have a ton of questions about it right now. This wasn’t the time for remembering the past, but enjoying the present.

“Is this a ‘hands off’ situation, too? Or can I at least still touch you?” There are plenty of things you’re willing to try out that you already know you enjoy that people might consider out of the ordinary, but the first time with a new partner you want to feel them in every way.

“You can touch me.” He promises. “I’m just feeling a little shy right now.” He jokes playfully, winking at you. “Don’t want you to get too scared.”

“You have nothing you need to be shy about, but I fully respect having a few hang ups. I’ve got plenty, too.” Reluctantly as you are to take your hands off of him, you reach for your belt instead — or rather, the long sash of fabric that you tied through your belt loops today because you thought it looked a little cuter than a standard belt. “Use this.”

“Are you sure?” He takes the fabric from your hands and holds it up to his eyes playfully.

“I trust you.” You trust him somehow inherently. As though it were as simple as trusting yourself. In a way that sticks in your chest and warms through you like hot cocoa in winter.

He watches you for a moment after pulling the scarf down from his face, “Okay.” He agrees. “I just want this to be something we never forget.”

“I can already guarantee I will never forget any part of today,” you promise him, shivering slightly with anticipation as he settles your former belt gently over your eyes.

He ties it firmly, but not too tight. If you need it off, all you need to do is slip it up your forehead or pull it down. The point of this is to be fun, to explore without judgement and he can’t do that if you are uncomfortable. “Hopefully that’s a good thing and it doesn’t go into your ‘worst dates’ catalog.” He jokes before he slides his hands down to the edge of your shirt to push it up your stomach and drop a kiss right above your belly button.

With every small touch now heightened, your skin tingles with the scrap of his calloused fingers and press of the feather-light kiss. “I don’t fuck on the first date unless it’s a really fucking good date.”

“Me either.” Zach smirks against your skin before he decides to nip your side slightly, laughing quietly when you jump and gasp at the grazing of his teeth. Instead of working down, he decides to work up and nuzzles just under the band of your bra.

One hand blindly makes its way to his shoulder again, grasping the thick cords of muscle there and reminding you just how powerful this broad man is that is being so tender and playful with you. At this point it’s Zach’s game — to explore and to pleasure and to discover — and every point of contact between you is a spark catching fire.

It takes just a second to discover that your bra hooks in the front, to Zach's utter delight, making it easy to unbind your breasts and capture a nipple in his mouth before your shirt is even off or your straps slid down your arms.

The heat and pressure of Zach’s mouth feels boiling even on this warm night, sending you gasping and cursing as you grip his shoulder tighter. If you get any wetter your shorts might outright dissolve, but he would probably consider that a bragging right.

Zach groans against your nipple, loving the little arch to your back, pushing your breast to his mouth more. Offering yourself up.

There is no steady rhythm to any of it as Zach works to take you apart piece by piece. He has a method in his madness, surely, but you are breathless and moaning as he reduces you to a human puddle on the bedsheets. While you can’t see him like this you can definitely feel him, and your hands tug at his shirt again to get that luscious skin-on-skin sensation as he starts to travel down your body.

He takes his time, learning the sensitive spots on your body and enjoying every soft sound he pulls out of your mouth. Until he is dragging your shorts down your legs.

It’s about fucking time says the impatient voice in your head as you squirm in the bed and lift your hips to help him move things along. He’s consented to take his shirt off, at least, so that warmth that rolls off of him in waves can seep directly into your bones. You whimper as the cool breeze of exposure hits your overheated cunt, dripping with need and aching for attention.

“Fuck, you look so pretty right now.” Zach groans at the sight of your wet lips, hair trimmed and manicured. You either were hoping that the night would end this way, or you were very meticulous about your grooming. He’s kind of hoping for the former even though he wouldn’t care if you had done anything. “Baby, you look good enough to eat.”

“Tease.” You whine, trying to sound huffy but only succeeding in strangling another moan when his breath ghosts over your swollen pussy. Even with his hands caressing your thighs, you’re squirming.

It’s been a long goddamn time since Zach has had a pussy in his face, but he loves the musky scent of your wet sex. Making him twitch and groan as he slowly spreads your lips wide for him to drag his tongue up your folds for that first, tantalizing lick.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” With your back arching and your fingers tight in his hair, it’s so easy to lose yourself to one little taste.

He makes a sound of pleasure as he flicks his tongue over your clit and comes back for another pass. This time starting lower and letting his tongue tease your entrance before sliding higher.

If you weren’t blindfolded already you might have cum just from the sight of him. His lips and tongue explore while his hands keep you steady, holding you in place so the buck of your hips doesn’t unseat him before he can really get going.

He absorbs your sound, your taste. The very essence of your being, feasted on as he slowly and thoroughly licks through you like a meal he is savoring.

It’s a stunning combination of thorough exploration and eager enthusiasm that has you writing and moaning his name so quickly. You could have had a date yesterday and everything about tonight would already be better. Zach seems somehow to know exactly what you like without asking, reading your signals perfectly air pushing you higher and higher until his name is the only word on your lips.

Zach is completely entranced by the way you respond to his touch, never having a lover he feels so in-sync with. It’s like he’s touched you a million times before rather than just these last few minutes.

The whole world has stopped existing around you. It's just you and Zach and this bed and every new height of pleasure that he keeps building you to. The press of his hands on your hips, the deep push of his tongue, the sharp half-scrape of his teeth near your clit that he's discovered makes you gasp and moan.

“Cum for me baby.” He pulls away to gasp his plea, the need to see you fall apart about to rupture in his veins and make him go mad. His grip tightening on your hips and he dives back into your cunt with the desperation of a man starved that’s reached his oasis.

You don't have to tell me twice, you would say if you could swim through the thick mire of bliss to tease him. Instead, and much more true to the moment, you let out a sobbing moan and beg for just a little bit more to send you over the edge.

He hears the unspoken plea in your whimpers and opens his mouth wider to just devour you. Burying himself into your pussy where his nose is blocked by your mound as he pushes you over the edge and if he died in this moment, he would die blissfully happy.

Your back arches fiercely one more time, lifting your shoulders off the bed as you hit that sharp crest that explodes into your climax. All of your muscles tense and curses spill freely, interspersed with his name and moans entirely without words – until that crest becomes altogether too much, the thread mercifully snaps, and you fall back on the mattress an utterly satisfied puddle.

Zach is slow to pull his mouth away. Savoring the little tremors that race through your thighs and makes your pussy clench against his chin as he laps at your juices one last time before he lifts his head with a groan of satisfaction. “And just think, we’ve only started.” He hums playfully, knowing that the night has just begun.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

ItSotN: @greenwitchfromthewoods @copperhalfcent @ariavitiellos @spishsstuff @76bookworm76

[shy-writer-999]

Hihi it’s ur girl! Could I please request a Crocodile x AFAB reader fic where he uses his devil fruit to control the moisture in the reader’s body (aka he makes her wet without even looking at or talking to or being near her). Tysm queen 💜✨🥺

my fair lady!! i’m so happy to write this for u <3 sorry it took so long, i know you sent this request ages ago. what i wrote is short and turns REALLY filthy at the end... hopefully that's okay! ~850 words and not edited much.

cw: afab reader w/gender neutral language. arousal, masturbation, penetrative sex, croc is mean/kind of a dom. minors do not interact -- nsfw content!

When you started seeing Crocodile in an intimate capacity, you noticed... changes. First, he was on your mind 24/7—the sex was just too good, he was too stern and suave, knew what he was doing and knew how to play with your body like you’d never experienced before.

And second, when he wasn’t around, you felt more feral than ever before, uncharacteristically rabid, so much so that you inexplicably got soaking wet and would have to squeeze your thighs together just thinking about him (multiple times a day).

The sudden and intense bouts of random horniness weren’t troubling, per say, but more so intriguing. You’d be minding your business and then out of nowhere you’d start feeling heat bloom between your thighs, sparks of arousal tingling as you quickly turned your panties and upper thighs into a saturated, sticky mess.

It took you far too long to put the pieces together and realize that Crocodile was responsible.

He got a sense of satisfaction out of controlling the moisture in your body with his devil fruit powers, and he had it down to a science. It was easy to make you wet and he happened to know that when he made you aroused, your body followed suit. He could tell that when he made you wet it felt good. Your body was giving into the sensation of wetness and, in turn, stimulating your brain, making you immediately and instinctively aroused. A positive feedback loop of sorts.

What amused him the most (and coincidentally got him the hardest) was using his powers to make you wet in public, when he was far, far away. But if he was up close, he'd study your face, the flush that dusted your cheeks, your shallow breaths, and distracted eyes. When you got to a certain point, he knew you would come to him.

Sometimes Crocodile teased you—he could tell that you needed him, could sense how much of a mess you were making out of yourself (and that he was making out of you), and he’d deliberately take away some of the moisture, effectively drawing out the time it would take before you lost self-control and came to him, begging him to do something about it.

Even more amusing to him was turning you away when he knew you were desperate for him. He’d shake his head, scoff (if he felt like it), roll his eyes or shoo you away to the bathroom. Imagining you taking care of yourself got him off beyond reason.

But when he decided to humor you, when he felt like indulging, he would do whatever he wanted. He’d throw you across his lap and make you beg for more, or make you straddle him on a chair and move you however he liked.

All the while, he made you ridiculously wet, so wet that you’d literally gush down your legs. Your juices were dragged down in rivulets by the cruel force of gravity, producing simultaneously embarrassing and pitiful puddles at your feet. He was entranced by those puddles. He even thought of bending down to lick them up or telling you to do the same.

Crocodile was just so mean about all of it. He had absolutely no reason to be this mean, this teasing, this scornful, but he just loved seeing you pout and beg, seeing your level of desperation rise until you decided you couldn’t take it anymore. He loved pushing you to the edge.

On occasion, Crocodile would make you take care of yourself in front of him. You’d blush crimson and be shy at first, never getting used to him just sitting there, astute, proud, and glowering. But he’d make you wetter and you’d give in, mouth hanging open in focus and brows bent at the middle.

He stayed still and watched with a sneer sometimes, not even shy about the fact that his erection grew by the second.

Another one of his favorite things about using his devil fruit powers on you was the sounds. The squelching noises sounded like music to him.

Crocodile could only hold out for so long before he had his way with you. And you weren’t going to turn him down. The thing about him was that he’d have his way with you for hours if he felt like it. He was almost incapable of doing quickies. Once he was inside of you he as determined to be there as long as he possibly could. Obviously, you had no problem with that and it was no trouble because even if he wasn’t using his devil fruit powers, he made you wet beyond what you thought was possible.

I didn't initially set out with the idea that this would be as filthy as it turned out, but what can I say!! The heart wants what it wants. I hope you liked it, queen! 🩷🩷

[ramblingautisticman]

A Gift In The Making

Chapter 1 - Decorating In November

Summary : Logan has a problem. What the fuck does he get Wade for Christmas?

(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3.)

(Okay, so I'm pretty excited about this little fic! Hopefully everyone enjoys it! Not sure when the next chapter will be out, but I know the last one will be out on Christmas Day! Anyway, enjoy, and link to the A03 version in is in the title!)

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Logan had left Wade in bed at roughly 9am, getting up to let Mary Puppins out to pee and by the time he got back, Logan was met with Wade decorating the apartment for Christmas. In November.

They had moved in a week ago- had all their belongings still in boxes- but apparently he had found the Christmas stuff.

Music was playing softly in the background as Wade stood in the corner of the living room, hanging ornaments on a tall pine tree (that he really hoped was plastic), humming along to the whatever festive song was playing.

"You uh...you know it's not even December yet, right princess?" He asked as he stepped inside and closed the door, placing Mary down on the floor, watching as she ran over to Wade's feet.

"Peanut! Your back! And yes, I know it isn’t December yet, but who doesn't love the festive spirit? Plus, this is your first Christmas here, and our first Christmas together, so I wanted to get a head start on it! Also, I may have seen a tiktok where someone put their decorations up and I instantly needed to put our tree up." Wade rambled, kneeling down to pet Mary's head, then standing back up and walking over to Logan with a huge smile on his face.

And okay, initially he was thinking of telling Wade to take it down for atleast a few more weeks, but he looks so happy that he couldn't bring himself to do so. "Well- it looks good. I like the tinsel." He comment, kissing Wade briefly on the lips before heading into the kitchen and grabbing a soda from the fridge.

He had been sober for a good 4 months now, and Logan wasn't planning on breaking that anytime soon. Wade made it easier, helped when he had a rough day, and they kept alot of soda in the fridge so he could have something in a can. It helped, having something familiar.

"You know, you've never mentioned anything about celebrating holidays. You better celebrate Christmas- if you don't because of religious reasons or whatever, fine- but I'm keeping my decorations up. It took me years to collect all of them!" Wade's voice brought him away from his thoughts, opening the can with a small chuckle, looking up at the other.

"I'm not religious. I don't think I could be living with you- I'd be going to hell if I was." He joked, sipping on his soda before leaning against the counter behind him. "Anyway, I do like Christmas. Just- haven't celebrated in awhile. That's all. Never really had anyone to celebrate with after....everything." Logan added on quietly, looking away.

It was still hard to talk about- his X-Men and what happened to them- but he was getting better. He didn't have a panic attack when people mentioned them now, and he could bring them up himself without feeling sick, which he thought was progress.

Christmas had always been a big deal in the mansion. Mostly for the kids- the ones who didn't have anywhere else to go. The team always made sure that they got to have a christmas like any other kid- getting them each a few presents that they wanted- and showed them that they always had a family here. No matter what.

Logan had never thought about celebrating Christmas after they died, or any other event for that matter. Birthdays, Halloween, Christmas- they had all been such happy funfilled events with the whole school that they left a bitter taste in his mouth whenever he thought of them.

But here he was, a new family and a new home, people to celebrate with. It had been strange, having people to do that with.

They celebrated everything together. Birthdays, Halloween, and anything else that gave them a reason to all gather at Wade's place and eat pizza. Why wouldn't Christmas be the same?

"Well....we don't have to celebrate. If you don't want too- I don't mind. I can deal with it like the big boy I am- but I do expect you to watch some 90 Day Fiance with me as thanks to my understanding." Wade teased, hoping to lighten the mood as he moved to stand infront of Logan, gently wrapping his arms around the others neck.

Logan smiled alittle, looking back towards Wade's eyes, and placing his free hand on his waist. "No- we can celebrate. Just haven't in awhile, that's all. Makes me remeber celebrating with the team...but, I will be very happy to spend Christmas with you and your friends." He said softly, kissing Wade with a smile, slowly pulling away after a second. "Plus, you seem very excited.....and I really don't want to watch that crap again." Logan added, a smirk on his face.

"They are OUR friends Peanut. And yeah- it's always been my favourite holiday. Ever since I was a kid. It was the one day I got a break from my asshole dad, because my family would come over and he couldn't yell at me with guests there. Anyway- away from the angsty headcannons the author clearly wants to insert- do you wanna help me put the rest of the lights on the tree?" Wade asked with a kiss to Logan's cheek, moving away and towards the living room again. "Also, that show is hilarious and you should love it!"

For the rest of November, they would cuddle on the couch under the Christmas tree lights, watching reruns of Golden Girls on the TV that was surrounded by small decorations.

And as Christmas got closer and closer (and by closer and closer, Logan means 3 weeks away), Wade got to planning the big day itself, running everything past Logan as he did.

"So, Laura said she wants to come over Christmas Eve and stay the night- which I'm all for! I'm thinking we can watch movies and eat cookies and it'll be awesome!" "Do you think Al would like a new TV for Christmas?" "We need to get Mary Puppins an ugly Christmas sweater Peanut!"

It seemed never ending, but Logan could see how much this all meant to Wade, so Logan agreed with whatever his partner wanted. He didn't mind what they did, as long as their family were over. Plus, he was alittle distracted with something himself.

He didn't know what to get Wade. At all.

Logan had already gotten everyone else presents (Wade had dragged him to the mall the second week of November), with most of them being from Wade and Logan as joint gifts, but Wade was different. Wade needed something special.

This was their first Christmas together and Wade had done so much for him over this past 10 months, letting him move in with him and teaching him to love again- so Logan wanted (needed) to find a gift that showed how much he cared for him. How much he appreciated everything Wade had done.

And you'd think, well Wade likes so many things, shouldn't that be easy? And the answer would be no. No it wasn't.

Half of the things Wade liked were either kids shows, or weapons, and Logan really wasn't sure how he could get a meaningful gift that involved both bluey and a pistol.

Thankfully, after another week if thinking, he got an idea.

[kngstrnz]

I'm a bit shy about my selfshipping lore, so I never talk about it, but I do love music so hopefully you don't mind haha! Also, I'm hispanic, so there will be a spanish song here.

I have a more grounded lore with Jotaro Kujo and Satoru Gojo, so I'll talk about them.

Jotaro Kujo

Somos Algo ("We Are Something") by Daniel, Me Estas Matando.

Okay, so, to summarize the whole thing. My S/I and Jotaro met during the events of Stardust Crusaders. Joseph knew my S/I because her uncle was becoming a well-known Stand investigator before his passing and it was like fate that he bumped into my S/I (who was on her way to Mexico for summer vacations since she was studying high school abroad), so he asked her for help. The relationship between my S/I and Jotaro was basically an Annoyance to Friends until they both fell in love.

The thing is, they didn't end up together by the end of the events of Stardust Crusaders and they each go their seperate ways until they meet again for Diamond Is Unbreakable. Where the spark that started that summer lit up again (in my universe, Jotaro was going through a divorce by now. Thus, Jolyne does exist.) and there is a lot of unresolved tension between them that is very apparent by everyone around them.

Thus the lyrics:

"Por algo coincidimos en este lugar"

Translation: It's because of something that we met up again in this place. (That something being fate).

"Y el mundo se detiene a vernos girar."

Translation: And the world stops to see us spin. (Referring to practically everyone in Morioh noticing the tension between them that Koichi first mistook them for a couple when he saw them interact for the first time. Also pun intended on The World part lol)

"Mañana yo no se (lo que vaya a pasar)"

Translation: Tomorrow I don't know (what will happen). [Implying that maybe tomorrow will be the day Jotaro takes the first step between them... or maybe not, who knows?]

"Vayamos donde el viento (nos quiera llevar)"

Translation: We'll go wherever the wind (takes us).

"Pero es que al corazón, no lo puedes callar."

Translation: But you can't silence the heart. (The heart wants what it wants basically).

"Los dos sentimos algo."

Translation: We both feel something. (It's clear in their eyes, in the brushing fingers, in the heated silence that they both still feel something for each other even after some years have passed).

Satoru Gojo

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be by Jess Janko.

Funnily enough, despite being sung by a female singer, this song is from Satoru's POV. Basically, my S/I and Satoru Gojo were put in an arranged marriage that neither of them were happy for.

With the promise to break off the engagement at 18, my S/I and Satoru just had fun. Lived their lives and since they didn't hate each other, they got closer as friends. Until Satoru fell in love. My S/I is also someone who sees Satoru as just Satoru, so it was bound to happen that Satoru would start to grow affection for my S/I.

But the promise. Oh, the promise.

This F/O 'canonically' doesn't end up with Satoru (but there is like a Gojo Route AU), so this part of the lyrics:

"I never should have called. 'Cause I knew you would leave me."

Refers to the tragedy that my S/I, by the end of it, still wants to break off the engagement when they are 18 and Satoru knew it was going to end.

Too much happens, but my S/I ends up with Choso (canonically bc he is my husbando #1) and these lyrics:

"Stranger, that's all I see when I look into your eyes."

Refers to Satoru feeling a bitter disconnection between the S/I he knew and the S/I whom he is seeing fall in love with someone else.

"A soulmate who wasn't meant to be."

Right person, wrong time from Satoru's POV.

"Stranger, who knows all my secrets can pull me apart and break my heart."

And it's sad because Satoru felt comfortable around my S/I, feeling for once like he can be himself without having to uphold someone's expectation and still, when it was time to say goodbye. Even if he didn't want to, he let go because he loved them so much, he didn't want to be the one to cause them misery by forcing them to stay together.

Though, there is a bad ending I call 'Marriage Blues' where he doesn't break up the engagement.

As to why my lore with him is so sad... it just kinda happened 😭. But, there is a good ending where he is happy with my S/I, it just doesn't have a specific song yet hahan't.

You there. Selfshipper. Tell me what song(s) you associate with your F/O(s), and if you want to, say why! This is an open call to nerd and gush to your heart's content! Bonus if you do full lyric analysis bc that's my jam :)

[kittlyns]

I have soooo much anxiety abt shit rn and lowkey I kinda wish I were just medicated and/or sedated at this point

[xiewho]

for the art reqs: fig and gorgug drinking smoothies after band practice? :D

they're on their 5th smoothie i think

[hauntingofhouses]

i didn't liveblog episodes 8-10 + bonus epilogue cuz i was lazy <3

but anyway here are my thoughts on those final episodes + the overall season:

i forgot how much i hated jaune's voice so i FELT THAT when jaune said "WAS THIS WHAT I ALWAYS SOUNDED LIKE" i felt that. i felt that deep in my bones. crwby bring back dilf jaune NEOWWW

im so intrigued by the whole blacksmith/tree lady/person/thing and all the lore we got about the two brothers and their experiments in the ever after before they moved on to create remnant. where are they now? off in some other realm messing shit up? calling themselves "gods" but theyre the most messy characters in the whole show i swear

loved the whole ruby finding herself sequence

i never cared much for neo or torchwick before but v9 made me actually find them interesting. neo's whole castle in the ever after was cool and i love how a crazy realm like the ever after works to somehow amplify neo's overactive imagination semblance

the way weiss was into jaune had me lowkey shipping them idk i just find it funny. but again they shouldve kept jaune as a dilf <- biased dilf-liker

even though i didn't like the mouse named little, i could appreciate his role in the story by the end, especially in regards to the relationship with ruby, considering he seems to symbolise the more naive and optimistic version of ruby from earlier seasons. also me finding little annoying tracks considering i also did use to find ruby annoying as well (SUE ME but dont worry i dont think so anymore and i like where ruby's character is at now)

the ending was really sweet with all of them returning to remnant hand-in-hand

i loved the bonus epilogue ending and it's sad it got cut due to all the constraints the show's faced but i hope we will get to see something like what was shown pan out in v10. also the epilogue gave me MUCH needed qrow content cuz i've missed my stupid bird man. i love that he cried at seeing the mural of ruby, but i wish they would acknowledge that yang is ALSO his niece yknow??

the mention of vacuo's "history of colonisation" is very interesting to me and i cannot wait to see more of this setting!

seemingly no development was made this volume in regards to how to beat salem and nothing is even hinted about that in the epilogue either so im really just wondering how the gang's gonna pull this off. i do understand that this volume was a much needed moment of respite for the characters tho, and appreciate all the development we got in that department

CONCLUSION:

it was fun and i can't wait for v10!! hopefully i'll remember everything that happened so far by the time it releases LMFAO. also it really cemented my love for nuts&dolts AKA tragic doomed yuri but on the bright side bumbleby is alive and thriving ❤️

rwby volume 9 liveblog

thanks to @kkglinka i am watching rwby again. i just finished rewatching previous episodes as a refresher, and man i realise i slipped up when i mentioned my fav character was salem lmfao i was thinking of CINDER. girl is such a bitch i love her.

but anyway. new volume. here we go.

starting with episode 1 ruby finds a talking mouse and the tone from the season finale of v8 has drastically shifted LMFAO.

we then cut to blake and weiss who've found each other but no sign of yang. then immediately have some antics with a whole rat pack who ambush the two.

okay now ruby's here and the three of them reunite. yay! not a very happy reunion, theyre all more confused and unsettled than anything and i cant blame them. im confused as hail too.

OKAY new monster??? doesn't look like a typical grimm and it talks, seemingly narrating what it does. i love the vibe, very creepy, love that.

AND YANG!!!!

omg i'm lowkey disappointed that blake's first reaction upon the monster running off isn't to jump into yang's arms. like girl talk about a delayed reaction but fine okay she's just being cautious making sure the monster is thoroughly chased away.

THEN GF HUG!!!!! i love them. i miss them a lot. feeling lots of feelings

but then okay plot and weiss revealing everything that happened after they fell since she was the last one of them who fell down the bridge.

AND UGHHH RUBY'S REACTION TO PENNY 😭😭😭 my nuts&dolts heart 😭😭😭 why must they keep HURTING me this way

okay and blake mentions her gut feeling again. THEYRE IN A FAIRY TALE !!!!!

okay the new opening reveal slaps and looks like neo is gonna be a very prominent character this season. jaune will be showing up soon too no doubt, and a mysterious silhouette. and then OH allusions to alice in wonderland? the girl is alice? she's brown? i'm here for this.

aight bring on episode 2 baybey