#still saw him and he’s so pretty like what????

[shouyuus]

mma!bakugo who just so happens to train at the gym that you part-time at on the weekends (front desk stuff, bookkeeping, etc) and has always been a bit scary from afar bc he's got this constant scowl as if he's got a bone to pick with just about anyone and anything who crosses his path, but his coach (also ur boss) assures you that he's a big softie once you get to know him. you tell him in no uncertain terms that you think you're good, thanks.

mma!bakugo who's always the first one in and the last one out on your shifts, who's got shit manners but always holds the door open for you and sometimes you swear you can catch him watching you as you go about cleaning some of the equipment but goes tomato red whenever you catch him in the act and immediately yeets off to work on drills for about half an hour before he'll glance at you again.

mma!bakugo who doesn't know how good he looks when he's wiping sweat from his chin or chugging water from his massive 2-liter water bottle, a trickle of cold water dripping down his chin to run down his neck, his adam's apple bobbing as he gulps down the water, smacking his lips as he wipes his mouth on the back of his bandaged hand; doesn't notice the way that every girl (and a lot of the guys tbh) are staring at him, but he'll glance towards where he saw you last, standing helping a new guy sign up for the gym membership, smiling and laughing, and he knows it's what you're supposed to do but it doesn't stop the way his gut twists or the way he goes way too hard at the punching bag, hard enough for his coach to hike an eyebrow and ask what's gotten into him today? it's not like him to "lose control" like this

mma!bakugo who never calls you by your name where other ppl can hear, always says like "hey sweetcheeks, can you hand me a water?" or "dollface, can you do me a favor?" and you'd always roll your eyes and remind him that "that's not my name, bakugou-kun," even as you're doing whatever thing he asked for anyway.

mma!bakugo who keeps quiet and watches when a guy tries to hit on you (unsuccessfully) bc he knows you can handle yourself, but the moment the guy reaches out to try and put hands on you, he's on his feet, stalking across the gym to shove his way between the pair of you like "oi. she ain't interested." and by now, everyone's gone quiet, their eyes trained on him and the guy and you; the guy sizes bakugou up, puffing out his chest for a second, but the next, he seems to notice the thick cords of muscles braiding down bakugou's arms, the expertly wrapped knuckles on both his hands, and he puts two and two together fast enough to know that this really isn't a fight he should be picking.

so he scoffs and makes as if he weren't ever really that interested anyway, turning around and muttering beneath his breath that you weren't even that pretty to begin with.

"thanks," you say, but bakugo just frowns and cocks his head.

"don't let anyone talk to you like that, got it?" and there's still that signature grit to his voice, the sharpness to his eyes, but something about it is different today -- it's ever so slightly softer than he usually is. he opens his mouth like he's about to say something more but pauses at the last second and turns around, shoulders a little hunched, and you could swear you can see the tips of his ears go red.

mma!bakugo who, after you get him an omamori from a shrine visit that says "certain victory", can only stare down at his, mouth open, a lil speechless, until he looks up to find you blushing just as hard as he is, purses his lips, clears his throat and glances off towards the side, tucking the charm into his training shorts like "thanks. now i've really got no excuse huh."

mma!bakugo who when he wins (as you knew he would), throws up his hand, the charm you gave him clutched in his palm, catches your eye in the crowd, smirks and jerks his head; when you squeeze your way up to the barrier, he boops your nose with a gloved hand before tugging it off with his teeth, letting it drop to the ground, bending down so his eyes are level with yours, his chest still heaving, his skin flushed from the recent fight, there's a cut on his lip and a bruise blossoming high on his right cheek but neither of you seem to care -- all he can see is you.

he tugs on a loose strand of hair, cocks his head, you smile and glance at the omamori clutched in his hand and say, "guess the lucky charm really worked."

mma!bakugo who hikes an eyebrow at your words before his eyes track down to your lips and he sighs, leaning against the soft barriers, not caring that there are just about seven different cameras trained on the pair of you right now, runs a finger down your jawline till he can tip your chin back --

"or..." his voice is just a little hoarse, his normally bright eyes dark, his pupils nearly completely blown out, a total eclipse of the usual ruby red of his gaze --

"maybe my lucky charm is just you."

[bloatedandalone04]

My Drug is My Baby

➪the one where you and rafe can’t keep your hands off each other during your honeymoon.

Warnings: kook rafe/pogue reader, swearing, fluff (barely), smut, unprotected sex, semi-public smut, slight exhibition kink, hair pulling, dirty talk, size difference/kink, cock warming i think, spanking (whoops), rafe’s an ass man, i said what i said, he’s also a dom, bc obviously. (all i’ve been thinking about lately is rafe, so i’m doing something about it, yw).

Word Count: 2.5k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Rafe never thought he’d be one to get his life in order or find a nice girl to settle down with and get married to, but here he is in a stunning (and very expensive) resort in Florida with you by his side. 

Wrapped around your finger were two rings, one holding a large, heavy diamond, and the other being a simple wedding band. ‘Simple’, yet it was embedded with smaller diamonds. 

Around Rafe’s finger was a gold band that showed every girl at this resort who gave him the ‘fuck me’ eyes how committed he is to you and only you, and how they could waste their time all they want. He’d be a fucking idiot to ever let you go. 

It was kind of crazy to think that less than a year ago, you were just another Pogue and he was a Kook who vowed to never do more than sleep with someone who was much less privileged than he was, but now he is married to you. Really, the standards of the society pretty much flew right out the window the second he saw you. 

You were drop dead gorgeous, the most beautiful girl Rafe had ever seen. And though his friends told him to not waste his time with someone like you, Rafe was really fucking glad that he promptly ignored them and got you to go on a date with him, because less than four months after that date, you were engaged, and only five months later, you were married. 

And now you were on your honeymoon and even more clingy and touchy than ever. Rafe never thought of himself as a very touchy person, but with you, he wanted to touch you all the time. Holding your hand in stores or on the street, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind when standing in lines, having his arm draped around your shoulders while sitting on the couch, or placing his hand on your thigh while in a car. 

Right now, he was leaning back on a pool lounger with you in his arms, your back pressed against his bare chest as his fingers traced random shapes onto the skin of your stomach. For some reason, ever since that first date, Rafe couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you. You were so much smaller than him, but you fit perfectly against him, he couldn’t help but want to touch you everywhere all the time. 

He had fallen so in love with you in so little time, he wasn’t sure if the honeymoon phase would ever end. And honestly, he didn’t want it to.

The sun was beating down on the both of you, but the breeze from the empty, still pool helped keep you from overheating. You sighed quietly, leaning more against him as you closed your eyes, the sun still very bright even through your sunglasses. “It’s so pretty here, Rae,” you mumbled, turning your head to place a soft kiss to his heated skin. “Makes me want to never leave. I want to stay right here, with you, for the rest of my life.”

That sounded amazing to Rafe, and he wouldn’t mind starting every morning exactly like this for the next week. He’d gone all out on both the wedding and the honeymoon, spending a pretty penny on them to ensure you’d have the best experience during both events. The room you were staying in was huge, and it has a huge bed that Rafe had fucked you in for a solid hour on your first night here.

He couldn’t help it and he couldn’t be blamed. You were his wife now. You were all his.  

Rafe laughed, the deep sound vibrating your back as his breath tickled the shell of your ear. “I’d be more than willing to stay right here if you want to spend the rest of your life on top of me,” he teased, his fingers dipping lower to brush against the inside of your thigh. “We’ve got a whole week ahead of us, baby. A week of doing nothing but this all day. And you’re looking really fucking hot right now.” His other hand moved to grope your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple through the thin fabric of your bikini top as his lips found your pulse point and kissed it gently. 

“Rae,” you laughed quietly, pressing your thighs together as you leaned back against him more firmly, your sunglasses sliding down your nose until you just decided to take them off. “We’re in public…you can’t say that to me.” Your words were a feeble attempt at teasing him, because he had rented the room that came with the private pool and patio. No one was around to hear you, let alone see you. 

Rafe smirked, licking and sucking at your neck before he lifted his head, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can say whatever the fuck I want to my wife,” he murmured into your ear, his hand sliding back up your thigh until his fingers grazed the edge of your bikini bottoms. His teeth gently tugged at your earlobe as his hand slid beneath the red fabric, his lips curving when he heard your sharp inhale. “Are you forgetting that this place belongs to us for the next eight days? No one’s around to see my pretty girl get all needy for me.”

“Rafe,” you whined, biting down on your lip as you arched your back and subtly spread your thighs a bit wider. You turned your head again and pressed your face against the side of his neck, brushing soft kisses along his skin. “God, you’re so hot, baby.”

Rafe groaned, his cock starting to harden as his fingers slid through your slick folds. “Mmm, you’re so wet for me,” he mumbled, his middle finger dipping inside your wet heat before he pulled it back out and brought it up to his lips for a taste. “So fucking good, baby.”

He leaned in and kissed you deeply as his hands gripped your hips, turning you on his lap so you’re properly straddling him. Slowly, he guided you to grind against him, the outline of his cock evident through the dark fabric of his trunks. 

“Ride me, pretty girl,” he rasped against your mouth, his fingers playing with the thin strings of your bikini on either side of your hips. One pull, and your lower half would be bare, and the thought was becoming more and more appealing to him the longer you moved on top of him. 

“Like this?” You asked, already breathless as you caressed his face in your hands, your clothed pussy rubbing against his cock through the fabric of his shorts. 

Rafe groaned, tipping his head back on the chair. “Exactly like that, baby,” he muttered, his hands gripping your ass as he guided you to move a bit faster. “Just like that.”

The rough fabric of his swimming trunks brushed deliciously against your clit, making you moan a bit louder and brace your hands on his shoulders for more support. 

You were so hot, Rafe couldn’t believe that you were all his. The sexy, shameless woman riding his lap in public was all his. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, leaning up and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue brushed against yours, one of his hands tangling in your hair as he bucked up against you. He broke the kiss, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he grunted, “I need to be inside you, baby. Right now.” 

With that, he wrapped his arms under your thighs and lifted you as he stood up, carrying you towards the sliding doors that lead back into the suite. You squealed, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist as you peppered kisses along his neck. “You love me so much,” you teased, nuzzling your nose behind his ear as he slid the door closed behind him, not bothering to close the curtains as he walked over to the bed and pulled at the strings of your bikini bottoms, letting the damp fabric fall to the floor. 

“Yeah, I fucking do,” he agreed, giving your ass a firm squeeze before tossing you onto the king sized bed. You bounced a bit as you tried to steady yourself, a needy whine of excitement leaving your lips.  “Get on your knees for me, baby.”

When you quickly turned around and braced yourself up on your hands and knees, Rafe stepped towards the bed, one of his hands running along the length of your spine. His other hand came down onto your ass, giving it a sharp smack that made a loud moan slip past your lips. 

God, you were so fucking sexy and so perfect for him, Rafe would never get enough. “That’s for getting me so addicted to you,” he mumbled before pulling at the strings of his shorts and pushing them down his legs. He propped one knee up on the bed next to yours, keeping one foot planted firmly on the floor as gripped your waist. “You’re so perfect, aren’t you? My perfect girl.” 

Rafe gripped the base of his cock with one hand, running his length along your wet folds before bumping his tip against your clit a few times. “Rae,” you whined, clearly getting more and more riled up from his teasing. 

He smirked before guiding himself inside you, your soaked walls making him slide in with ease. Rafe groaned, his teeth sinking into his lip as he refrained from railing you like he wanted to. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered, his palm soothing your reddening skin from his previous smack. 

When he pulled back nearly all the way and then slid right back in, you let out a loud moan, your hands fisting the sheets of the unmade bed. “Fuck,” you whimpered, your head falling forward as he began to slowly fuck you from behind. 

“That’s it, baby,” Rafe grunted, moving his hips in slow, deep thrusts as he pulled at the string of your top, making the fabric hang loosely from your neck before you tugged it off and tossed it aside carelessly. 

He leaned down and pushed your hair to the side so he could press open mouthed kisses to the back of your neck, one of his hands reaching around to squeeze your breast. His grip on your waist tightened as he increased the pace, the soft slap of skin on skin filling the room as he began to pound into you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So wet and tight for me,” he panted, leaning over you as he changed the angle just slightly. Your moans grew louder, your arms shaking a bit as his cock reached even deeper inside you, making his lips turn upwards in a smug smirk. “You like that, pretty girl? You love being stuffed full of me, don’t you?”

Rafe’s mouth was filthy both in and out of the bedroom, something he knew you loved, and that was very obvious from the way you clenched around him and got even louder. “Yes,” you answered, your body jolting forward with every deep thrust. “Fuck…yes.”

It was hard to believe that ten minutes ago, you were simply in his arms by the pool, and now here you are, on your hands and knees for him as he railed you from behind, your body completely bare for his greedy eyes and hands. His perfect little wife.

“Fuck, listen to those pretty noises you’re making,” he grunted, his hand gripping your waist tightly as he guided you back onto his cock. You were so tight, he could literally see the way your walls hugged him and took him in so deep every time he entered you, and the sight had his abs tensing as he groaned loudly. His free hand slid up your back until he had a fistful of your hair, and he tugged your head back just enough for you to feel it but not hard enough to hurt you. 

The bed, though sturdy, clearly wasn’t prepared for the rough fucking Rafe planned to give you every day for the next week since it creaked with every thrust, and he briefly wondered just how many honeymoon’s this suite had seen, and how many horny newly-weds this bed had fallen victim to. 

One thing he knew for sure was that you were the prettiest bride that had ever and will ever stay in this room, and he was one lucky fucker. 

When he gave your hair a sharp tug, you let out a whiny moan and clenched around him again, and Rafe knew you were close. “Yeah, that’s it. Cum for me, baby,” he rasped, speeding up even more until you were mumbling and moaning incoherently as your head tipped back onto his shoulder. He kissed all over the side of your neck and face as you came on his cock, his grip on your hair loosening as he fucked you through your high. 

“Rae,” you whimpered, shaking in his arms as you relied solely on him to keep you upright. 

“I got you, sweet girl,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw as he slowed his pace, his own high creeping up on him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, baby. You feel too good.” 

Your face turned a faint shade of pink as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, your arm lifting up as you tangled your fingers in his hair. “Cum for me, Rafe,” you encouraged weakly, nearly limp in his arms as you trembled from the sensitivity. 

His hand groped your breast, his thumb and index finger gently pinching your nipple as he buried himself as deep as physically possible and emptied himself inside you. “Fuck,” he grunted, pressing his face against the side of your neck as his hips jerked and stuttered, his cock filling you up with ropes of white. 

Once you had drained him of every drop, Rafe’s hand released your breast as his arm wrapped around your middle, slowly guiding you back on the bed as he leaned over you. 

“You’re so perfect, baby. I love you so fucking much, more than anything,” he mumbled, peppering your sweaty shoulder in kisses as he carefully rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so he was holding you from behind. “Stay just like this…I don’t wanna pull out yet.”

His words were slurred as his body still thrummed with the aftershocks, his big hand splayed across your stomach as he nuzzled his face against your neck. You hummed, pressing yourself more firmly against him. “Then stay inside me,” you mumbled, “We’ll stay like this for as long as you want to.” 

Rafe grinned lazily, holding you close to him. “I’m gonna hold you like this forever,” he said, his voice muffled against your neck as his thumb stroked along your stomach. “Never letting you go.”

Even though it was just past noon, you both had grown rather tired from that intense workout you just got finished doing. A quick nap sounded fucking amazing right now, especially if he got to stay connected with you and have your body wrapped up in his arms the whole time. 

This was heaven, Rafe decided, and he never wanted to go a single day without you ever again. 

And luckily, he would never have to.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 17

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16

Eddie’s back to school on Tuesday, black eye turning a mottled sort of green, lip scabbed over. From where he’s hemmed in by Robin and Chrissy, Steve watches Eddie catch a glimpse of him and bolt the other way.

Jeff sighs, lets go of his hold on Chrissy’s arm, and says, “sorry, Steve. I’m just gonna—” and then he points toward Eddie and follows after him without another word.

Steve’s gut clenches with guilt. He’d put that look on Eddie’s face, had caused the rift in his and Jeff’s friendship, had split the forming group up with his ridiculous crush. But Chrissy and Robin are still here, standing by his side.

“Are he and Jeff okay?” Steve asks, biting his lip as he glances at Chrissy.

“I think so,” she says, looking after her boyfriend. “They talked on the phone, but Jeff didn’t tell me what about.”

“Forget about them,” Robin replies, reaching out to take his hand even as it makes everyone around them stare. “Come on, Stevie, or we’ll be late to Ms. Clickity Clack’s class.”

Steve passes the rest of the day in a daze, the spot at his side a revolving cast of Chrissy, Robin, and Jeff, like they’d all talked behind his back and decided he couldn’t be trusted with being alone right now. Steve can’t blame them because as soon as he’s left unattended in his big empty house, he gets out his notebook and pen, and begins to write.

   Eddie —

   I’m sorry I never got to read your last letter, but it wasn’t for me anyways. Maybe none of them were, not really. And I’m sorry about that, even sorrier about how your pretty face got caught in the ceasefire. I’m just full of sorries I’m to scared to tell to your face—from the way you ran when you saw me in the hallway this morning, maybe you wouldn’t want me to anyway.

   You’ve always been the brave one, so you must really want to not see me, huh? I hope you and Jeff are friends again. I’m sorry about that too, I’m the one who asked him not to tell you. I was afraid, but that’s no excuse.

   I don’t know how to stop wanting to right write to you. I can’t turn off the part of me that still wants to know everything about you. There’s a whole in my heart, and I keep trying to find people to fill it, but I can never be in love with someone who loves me back. You know?

   I’m sorry, Eddie. Maybe someday, I’ll get to say it to your face.

   Sorry,

   Steve

He closes the notebook on the damning words and shoves it into his nightstand so he doesn’t have to look at it. Sleep doesn’t come—the house is too quiet. He grabs the phone off his dresser and calls the only other person he knows whose parents trust them enough to have a phone in their bedroom.

“H’lo?” Robin mutters sleepily after finally picking up the phone six rings later.

She sounds tired—Steve’s sorry he woke her. “I wrote another letter,” he says.

That seems to perk her up instantly, as she hisses down the line, “Steven James Harrington.”

“Not my name, Robin Steven Bobbington,” he replies, talking right over her shrieked “well, that’s not mine!” to continue, “I’m not going to send it.”

“You better not,” she replies, and Steve can hear some rustling on her end, like she’s settling back down into her bed. He wishes, suddenly, that he was in there with her, clutching her hand as they fall asleep side by side. Instead, he lays down on his own bed and concentrates on the noises coming down the line.

“Is it stupid that I miss him?” he asks.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Robin!”

She laughs, a quiet sleepy chuckle that warms him straight through. “I’m just saying! He’s been treating you like shit, Stevie.”

Steve sighs, burrowing down under his comforter and taking the phone with him. “He was different in the letters,” he whispers, like someone in his empty house might hear him otherwise. “Sweeter, you know?”

Robin sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

There’s enough sorries to go around for all of them, apparently. They’re quiet for a while, Robin’s breathing keeping him company in his big, lonely bed with his big, lonely thoughts.

“I love you, Robbie,” he whispers. “You know that, right?”

He’s been saying it a lot lately, throwing the words around like they’ll connect this time and get him something real. And they had, with Chrissy, with Robin, hell, even with Jeff. Just, not with Eddie. Maybe someday, he’ll learn to be okay with that.

“Love you, too, Dingus,” Robin replies, like it’s easy.

He falls asleep that night to the sound of Robin’s quiet snoring.

***

Eddie thinks about it—obsessively, compulsively. He dreams about it, jerks off about it, fucking cries about it. He reads the letters, again, and again, and again, wishing desperately that he still had that first one. At school, he checks his locker obsessively, compulsively, hoping there’s another note in his locker—there never is.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Gareth asks, an elbow into Eddie’s side.

“Ow, ribs!” Eddie cries, curling away from him and into Doug at their usual lunch table.

“Sorry!” Gareth replies, leaning away from him and raising his hands up like that’ll somehow prove he’s harmless.

Jeff snorts around his sandwich, “gotta be careful, Gare-bear. He’s precious cargo now.”

“Oh fuck off,” Eddie replies, rolling his eyes as the rest of Hellfire laugh around him.

“No, but seriously, dude,” Gareth asks, this time without the thrown elbow. “What’s up with you?”

Eddie looks across the cafeteria at Steve and Chrissy’s usual spots, still empty the way they have been for weeks. He worries, sometimes, that they’re not eating, and it’s his fault.

Hopefully, they’re just packing lunches from home and eating somewhere else (he’s been too afraid to check).

“Can’t tell you buddy,” Eddie replies, still looking at the empty spot like that’ll somehow make the duo appear. “I promised.”

Gareth, clearly having followed his line of sight, leans closer and asks in an unsubtle whisper, “but it’s about you know what?”

Doug sits on, oblivious, but Jeff snorts again and asks, “okay, you didn’t tell me jack shit, but you told the freshman?”

“Sophomore, jackass!” Gareth cries, before seeming to realize the implications of Jeff’s sentence. “You told Jeff?”

“I knew before you did,” Jeff says smugly, and Eddie’s starting to get pissed off about that again.

“How!”

“Jeff, dearest?” Eddie grits out. “Do you want me to punch you in the face?”

That shuts the table up catastrophically. But in the end, Jeff sighs and says, “I’m coming over after school,” and the rest of lunch is spent fielding Gareth’s indignant questions.

True to his word, Jeff climbs into Eddie’s passenger seat at the end of the day. Eddie doesn’t take them to the trailer, he just drives around, taking back roads round and round, restlessness making his fingers twitch in the gear shift.

Jeff’s the one who breaks the silence, in the end. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, making Eddie flinch at the sudden noise. “Steve just seemed so scared, and Chrissy was crying so—”

“He was scared?” Eddie interrupts, stuck on the thought. He’d known that, before, but now that Eddie’s afraid, too, it hits like a punch to the chest.

“Of course he was,” Eddie replies to his own question. Suddenly unable to focus, Eddie pulls over to the side of the road. “I’m scared, too.”

Jeff sucks in a breath; Eddie doesn’t look away from his own knees.

“Yeah?”

Eddie bites his lip, knowing that Jeff will be able to read between the lines. “Yeah.” His eyes are watering, and Eddie swipes at them, embarrassed. “And I know we’re supposed to be talking about us, but I just—”

“No, hey,” Jeff replies. Eddie hears the sound of his seatbelt unbuckling, and the rustle of him shifting in his seat, and suddenly, Jeff’s hand is clasping Eddie’s shoulder, shaking him around just a little. “You’re my best friend—we’re fine, dude.”

Eddie swipes at his eyes again, “I think I want to ask him out, but what if I’m wrong?” Eddie asks, tracking Jeff’s expression out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t want to hurt him again.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, voice deadpan. “You find out he likes you and suddenly he’s not just a jock anymore?”

Eddie looks down at his own knees, bracing for a hit he knows will never come. But, Eddie’s always been good at hurting himself, so he thinks about that yellow nail polish again, the enraptured look in Steve’s eyes during every D&D session, the way he’d glued himself to Robin Buckley, band nerd supreme’s side in recent weeks. The way he’d look at Eddie like he wasn’t the king of the freaks, like he was worth something.

“He was never just a jock,” Eddie murmurs. “I just never let myself think about it.”

Jeff mmmhmms him and Eddie knows him well enough to hear the doubt beneath the agreement.

“I was afraid, okay?” Eddie laments, scrunching his eyes closed tight until that makes his bruised eye ache too much. “You wouldn’t get it.”

At that, Jeff scoffs, and before Eddie can start up another tirade, he replies, “right, the black guy dating a white girl in Po-dunk, Indiana has no idea how scary it can be to make a move on the person you like.”

Okay, fair.

“You know what could happen if the wrong person finds out?” Jeff continues. “I’ll be lucky if they let me get out of town alive.”

“Okay, okay! I get it, sorry!” Eddie cries, throwing his hands up in defeat. And Jeff, being the asshole he is, just laughs at his discomfort. “How’s that going anyway?”

“With Chrissy?” Jeff asks, continuing when Eddie nods. “She’s great, man. I really, really like her.”

He’s smiling all goofy and in love. Eddie waits for the jealousy to hit; it never comes. Even as he’d flirted with her, there’d always been a disconnect for him between the letters and the girl. He knows why, now.

“I’m happy for you.”

Jeff aims that same goofy smile at him and punches his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

Eddie wants to feel that way about someone. He wants to think of them and smile like he just can’t help himself. And with Steve Harrington of all people, maybe he can.

“If I ask Steve out, do you think he’ll still say yes?”

“Oh, for sure,” Jeff replies without hesitation before he turns to Eddie and eyes him up and down. “But are you sure you want to?”

Eddie bites back the defensive retort rising on his tongue, and grits out, “what do you mean?”

Jeff sighs and leans back in his chair. Eddie waits, three seconds from snapping as he stews in Jeff’s silence, hands clenched so hard against the steering wheel that it feels like one of his nails might pop clean off. 

“Jeff–”

“No one’s ever liked you before!” Jeff cries, and it hits Eddie like a punch to the sternum. “And maybe it’s not fair of me to ask but, are you sure you even really like him?��

“What?” Eddie asks, his mind a record skipping against a bent needle. “What do you–”

“Eddie, man,” Jeff sighs, swiveling his head to finally look Eddie directly in the eyes. “Do you like Steve Harrington, or do you just like that he likes you?”

He drops the wheel, hands almost numb as he shakes them out, no longer able to meet Jeff’s eye. 

How would anyone ever know that for sure? How can he know the origin of a feeling when it’s been there, simmering in the background of his brain, just waiting for him to wake up? How can he separate the feeling for a person and the person’s feeling for them?

That’s like asking him to unbraid his hair, let it fall back together, and still be able to tell which strands made up each component of the braid–it can’t be done.

But, “Gareth said I was obsessed with him,” Eddie replies, barely above a whisper. “Like, before I knew he wrote the letters?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughs, but it’s just like Steve said–it sounds different when he doesn’t think it’s funny. “And, he was right, you know? I was flirting with Chrissy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

Eddie runs a shaking hand through his hair and buries his face into his hands with a shudder. “He’s just–he’s Steve Harrington, right? Everyone knows everything about him, but then he just changes the script!” Eddie’s smiling now, manic, animated. “And I wanted to know everything.”

Eddie drops his hands to look over at Jeff, meeting his eyes once more. Jeff looks patient, ready, hopeful in a way he hadn’t before, so Eddie keeps talking.

“Like, Chrissy was flirting with you and he didn’t even seem to care, and the yellow nail polish, and he came to Hellfire, Jeff. Steve Harrington came and watched us play Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I know,” Jeff replies, grinning now, pearly whites all on full display. 

“And when he came to band practice, he was just like, watching me, and I sort of wanted to die, but in a good way, you know?”

Jeff decidedly does not look like he knows, but he’s still grinning across at Eddie like he’s proud of him. Eddie’s kind of proud, too, that he’s managing to say all of this aloud. It feels somehow new and a long time coming at the same time. 

“Okay, you can ask him out,” Jeff says, turning forward in his seat and buckling his seatbelt once more. 

Eddie laughs. “Oh, because I needed your blessing?”

“Yeah,” Jeff replies, grinning as he turns back to Eddie, looking him up and down like he’s a slab of meat Jeff’s checking for its quality. “Maybe wait until you’re healed up, though. You look like one of those cardboard box kittens that I keep seeing on the news.”

“Shut up!” Eddie squawks, but he’s smiling, helplessly, hopefully.

Eddie Munson with a chance at love, who would’ve thought?

PART 18

[alchemistc]

Everything's so damn dark when the blindfold slips off that for a second she can't see a thing.

Don't panic. Don't scream. Don't hurt the baby.

Something groans at her feet and she startles straight into the pipe behind her head.

"'lo?" A voice asks, familiar enough to give her pause, and she wonders for a moment if this is a joke, if this is a trick, if this - "s'there?"

His words are slurred. A concussion, maybe, then. Great. Biggest man she knows and he's gonna be a useless pile of puke to her.

Don't panic, Maddie reminds herself, and then she starts giggling.

"Tommy?"

He groans an affirmative.

"Oh good. I feel a lot better about getting overpowered, now."

A hand grabs for her ankle and Maddie bites back a scream. It's Tommy's hand, big and warm and - fully unbound, which feels a little unfair. "Cunt drugged me," he says, then pauses. Squeezes her ankle. "Sorry for the language."

"No, it's, uh - I think it's warranted this time."

Maddie can't remember exactly how it'd happened to her. Had she been hit? Is she injured? She does a mental tally. Her lip feels swollen. Nose and eyes feel fine, though, so maybe she bit it? Neck, shoulders, all good. She's been bending her elbows and wrists just fine, she just doesn't have the leverage to do anything about the zip ties keeping her affixed to the probably pipe behind her. Hips, legs, knees. She wiggles her toes and in the darkness Tommy chuckles. "Everything accounted for?"

He must have done his own check while she was working through hers. She can hear him rustling around. "I'm still incredibly mad at you, but it's nice to hear your voice," she says, and Tommy goes still. "Tommy? All good?"

"...why are you mad at me?"

"Like you don't know?" Oh. Actually maybe she is more mad than she is glad. "You broke my brother's heart, idiot. I don't have any more room in my entire house for the coping mechanism he's come up with." She kicks, a little. Tommy grunts and shifts. "I hope that hit something painful and non-essential to our escape."

"He's - he'll be fine."

"What exactly is your definition of fine? Because it's been a few months and he's still bringing me baked goods on a bi-weekly basis."

"Bi-weekly like -."

"Do not get pedantic on me, Kinard. Two times a week. What's your status? Moving parts all still moving?"

"I think my balls have taken a vacation, but that's more a reflection on how terrifying you are than on this current situation."

Flippant. Sarcasm in the face of Maddie trying to get a full picture. Buck had called him funny and charming. Maddie's second kick doesn't land, but only because he's got a hand wrapped around her foot. "Once we're out of here, I'm gonna punch you in the face."

He hums. "For the balls comment, or the cunt thing?"

Maddie shrugs. Remembers that he can't see it. "Which part of 'broke my brother's heart' are you not getting?"

He sounds like he's moving gingerly. She can hear heavy bulky fabric rustle and she wonders if he's in three layers like usual. She could use something warm. "I - figured he'd be over it by now."

Maddie snorts. If she had to make a guess, Tommy glowers at the noise. "Dumbass."

And then it hits her. "The cunt? Skinny, brunette, pretty? Kind of...angular face?"

Tommy hums and takes her weight as she tries to kick again. "Sounds like her."

"Oh, Buck's gonna be pissed and embarrassed. She's rebound attempt number two."

Tommy's silent long enough that Maddie has to check in. He hums, and goes back to silence. "Rebound attempt?"

"If you hadn't noticed, we've actually been kidnapped, so maybe I can save your relationship afterwards?"

"I think she was trying to kill me," Tommy admits. "Otherwise why am I unbound in this shitty Saw knockoff?"

Maddie feels some extra pieces dropping into place. Oh, Buck is never gonna live this down actually.

"Can you overpower her if she comes in?"

"If she's not quick to try to drug me again. If I can figure out where the fucking door is. If -."

"A yes or no is fine. Pretty sure she's the Bay Butcher, if that helps you answer."

His pause is long. "...maybe," he says, and accepts the kick this time without block or protest.

[vampiresbloodx]

Arcane imagine.

arcane characters react to you confessing your feelings to them.

characters included: Mel medarda, Caitlyn, vi, jinx, sevika

warnings: mutual pinning, yearning, fluff, slight angst, happy ending, implied smut, flirting, kissing, yeah .

Mel medarda;

You've been crushing on Mel for the longest time, you don't even know when it started, as you two have known each other for a while now, you both were kinda friends, you were never really sure, but you always felt so close to her

She had felt the same, she liked sticking by your side, hearing about your day, your projects, what you are thinking, anything, she loved listening to you talk

It was the one thing that made her day better, and seeing your face of course

It happened so suddenly, these feelings you'd never expect just came to you, Mel was just there, and you fell in love

Not that anyone could blame you, really, she's a goddess

you always wondered why on earth she'd spend time with you, someone so beautiful, so perfect, that you can't help but always admire, no matter the time and place

When you're anxious, you think of Mel, she makes everything better

When you're alone, you think of Mel

When you're with mel, you think of her

When you spot a pretty flower, you think of Mel

One time, you unintentionally picked a couple of flowers, making them look all pretty as you practically skipped your way to where Mel would be. But she wasn't alone, jayce was there, another boy she was working with

You thought they looked close, and you started to back away from them, your heart sinking, you felt your throat get tight, god, you felt so stupid, of course she would like a man like jayce, why would she ever like you? You were always just going to be her friend

Later that same day, it had turned to night, you spent the rest of the day in bed, ignoring everything and everyone, you were hurt, confused, annoyed with yourself

You just wanted it all to go away

When you heard a knock at your door, and your eyes widened, you looked up, you were about to tell them to go away, whoever it was, that's when you heard a familiar voice

"hey, it's me."

It was Mel's.

You wanted so badly to ignore her, for her to just walk away, but you knew she wasn't going to do that, you closed your eyes and signed, eventually getting up as you walked towards the door and opened it for her

"what do you want? I'm trying to sleep..." You said, hating how you sounded speaking to her. You watched the way Mel frowned, how she looked so worried, her hand reached out and you flinched, she didn't show how much that saddend her.

"you didn't join me for dinner, I was worried. I had came to check on you, oh! I should tell you on what Jayce and I have been up to so far-"

You shook your head, turning away as your back faced her, "I don't wanna hear about him."

That was all Mel needed to hear.

She smiled, stepping closer to you as she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in, you tried to protect but nothing came out and she wasn't letting you go anyways

There was no point

"tell me what's wrong, I know what you're like when you try and push others away, don't do that to me, please" she murmured, her voice soft and calming in your ears as you stared at the ground

you felt your eyes water

"I like you, Mel" you sniffled, you were ready for her to leave, for your friendship to be over. "I've always liked you Mel, more than how friends should like one another, I just I was so scared. But then I saw you with Jayce, and I got jealous, I grew distant, because I couldn't face you, I couldn't look at you in the eyes the same, knowing that he can be better for you than I could ever be."

For a moment, you didn't hear anything, you still heard her breathing from behind you as your heart thumped loudly in your chest.

Then she forced you to turn around and look into her eyes as her hand grabbed your chin, "you mean more to me than anyone could ever be, Why would you think such things?, you're more than my friend, you're my love, my laughter, my everything, this is all I ever wanted to hear from you" Mel said, she smiled so brightly, she looked gorgeous, you wanted to kiss her

You caressed her cheek with her hand, "can... Can I?" You were hesitant to ask, she chuckled, crashing her lips against yours, you melted into the kiss, wanting to stay here forever and ever, she tasted like strawberries and honey, you never wanted to get rid of that taste

Caitlyn;

Caitlyn knew there was something off about you the moment you stopped talking to her as much like you usually would

She found it strange, so unlike you, she looked forward to seeing you whenever she could and hear your voice

But as of lately, she's been alone and missing a certain someone, you

She's been talking to Jayce and wondering what to do and how she can help you if there is anything going on, she'd want to help, she was your friend, your best friend even

So it hurt her when you suddenly stopped hanging out with her

She couldn't stop thinking about you, if she had done anything to cause this, she was freaking herself out

She had even gone to Viktor and ask for his advice, he was sort of helpful, but it wasn't like he was cupid and had the best advice for crushing on your friend

Caitlyn missed you, a lot

She went to your place to find you, surprisingly, you weren't there, she looked at the library, she didn't see you, eventually, she did find you, sitting outside by a tree, you looked so pretty, she couldn't help but admire, she ran up to you, excited, she needed to be around you again

"Cait?..." You said, looking surprised, she wasn't sure why you would be, she didn't say anything and just hugged you tightly

You hugged her back

"where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you, you had me worried" Caitlyn's words came out rushed, you smiled at her.

"can you sit with me?" You asked.

She happily did.

"what's going on? Did something happen?-"

"Cait, let me speak."

You had cut her off before she could even finish asking more, she immediately shut up, she knew you needed to take your time to gather your words, she wanted to touch you again, but she restrained herself

"there's been a lot on my mind, that's why I haven't seen you, but I need to tell you something" you said, she can see the way you were fidgeting with your fingers, a thing you do when you're nervous, then you just randomly stood up, pacing back and forth.

"whatever you have to tell me won't be that bad-" Caitlyn tried to reassure, still you didn't listen

"I like you" you shouted at her, she blinked.

"you what?" She muttered, still processing your words

"I know this was a bad idea to tell you how I really felt, but I had to, I couldn't not tell you, I really fucking like you, Caitlyn" you said, it almost looked like you were on the verge of tears

Caitlyn stood up, you stared up at her expecting the worst, but then she cupped your face and kissed you

That alone told you enough of what she really meant, as you kissed her back, smiling

Vi;

You have always liked Vi for as long as you've known her, that wasn't anything new, anyone who's ever met you knows about your crush on her, except for one person, Vi

She's always claimed not to be an oblivious person, but people who know her also know that's obvious to see from a mile away

Vi has always been a good friend to you, more than anyone has ever been

Ekko, one of your other friends, has been telling you to confess your crush to Vi for years, yeah, it's not something that's new, you two have known each other for ages, Ekko has been through it all witnessing it, and he just wants you to tell her already

"Ekko, I don't know. I don't wanna ruin what I have with her" you muttered, the two of you were hanging out one night, catching up over snacks and games, you hear him chuckle

"you won't, trust me. I wouldn't be telling you to do this if I wasn't sure."

He was right about that. You've always trusted Ekko no matter what it is, he's always had a good heart

and almost most of the time he was always right

Just maybe things will go okay, if you told Vi how you really feel, she won't stop being your friend, but the fact that everyone else can see your crush on her except for her you just weren't sure

Even when you think you know her, you still can't wrap your head around her

You had planned to tell her this Friday night, where you know she'd always meet at your hangout spot, you wanted to make it look pretty, make it feel special, also it was an excuse to distract yourself from what tonight was actually for

Ekko had helped picked out the music, Vi has always liked metal and punk rock, you were sure in another lifetime she would be in a band

you had gotten the snacks, her favorites and yours, including the drinks and the gift you wanted to give her, you've set up a blanket and pillows down for you both

Your heart felt like it was beating so hard it could rip out of your chest any minute

You checked the time and your eyes widened, she was going to be here any second, fuck

You tried to stop pacing around, before you knew it she had arrived right on time, she greeted you with a smile and immediately hugged you, your cheeks warmed as you hugged her back, god you missed her so much

"what's the special occasion?" She asks with a raised eyebrow, biting her cherry as she laid down onto the blankets. "Everything looks so nice, and you got me my favorites? You spoil me."

You smiled, sitting down with her as you contemplated even telling her how you really felt, with how pretty she looks right now, you so badly wanted to kiss her

"I may have something" you said, finally able to get your words together. "Actually yes, I need to tell you something, vi" you hated how you were stuttering, you bit down on your bottom lip as you avoided her gaze.

"what's up, angel?" She said with a grin, she's always called you that, it's been her personal nickname made for you, it's always made you flustered

"Vi, I like... " You paused, trying to actually look into her eyes without looking away, "I like you."

Vi smiled, she looked like she didn't get it at first

"I like you to, angel" she chuckled.

You shake your head.

"no, vi, I actually like like you, I wanna be your girlfriend."

God you couldn't believe you actually told her

you waited for her to reject you, to just stand up and leave, but she didn't do any of that, instead Vi pulled you in closer, pressing her lips to yours as she kissed you hard, you gasped into her mouth, processing whats happening, that she's kissing you, her lips feel so soft against your own, your hand reached up to cup her face

She pulled away, letting you two have a moment to catch your breath as you felt ecstatic, "vi..."

"I've always liked you too, I'm glad you told me. I was actually planning on telling you myself, I didn't know when but you bet me to it, I'm glad you did, because this was the best, it was perfect."

You smiled, leaning in as your nose brushed against hers, she grabbed you by the shirt, making you fall into her as the night was not over just yet

Jinx;

Jinx had always been by your side for as long as you've known her, you have always been by hers, and she's always been by yours, that's just how you two were, when you met, it was an instant click, it was rare for jinx to experience that, so she kept you by for as long as she can

She loves everything about you, your entire personality, how no matter what you always make her day better, you were different, you meant a lot to her

She meant a lot to you as well

More than she'd ever know

Despite all that was happening, what you two have been through, you have always defended her, even when you didn't have to

She appreciates that, even if she doesn't tell you herself

It's like you somehow knew

She needed you, when Vi left, she needed you the most

You were one of the very few that stuck around, and you weren't going anywhere anytime soon

Jinx notices something was up when you weren't showing up to her place like you'd usually be, you were always around, as of late, she didn't see much of you

She wondered why

Did she do something wrong? Are you finally realizing you're better off without her?

No, she couldn't think like that

She was able to easily find you again, you were standing by yourself on an edge, she was concerned, extremely worried, she was so happy to see you again, but she knew she shouldn't rush you

"hey" you said, she didn't even say anything yet you knew she was here

"hi" she smiled, "what are you doing out here? It's cold" she starts to take off her jacket, she always gave you something to wear even if you don't need it right then

You let her put it on

You've always looked so pretty in her clothes

"you know, you'd be a good model, definitely have the body for it" she chuckles with a grin, unable to keep her eyes off you. She saw the way you looked down, how you smiled, she felt proud of that, a little bit cocky too. "You okay? You wanna tell me what's up? You've been avoiding me. You know how I am when people try to ignore me" she couldn't help but pout.

You turn to face her, finally looking at her, she smiles at the sight of you. "I know, I'm sorry about that, a lot has been on my mind. Jinx, there's something I have to tell you, I can't hide it anymore."

She frowned, unsure of what you meant, were you planning on leaving her? Moving away forever? Was she not going to be able to see you ever again? So many thoughts clouded her

But what you told her was nothing she was expecting

"I like you, Jinx, for so long, I've liked you, and no, not in the platonic way, yes, that too, I mean you've meant something more to me for a long time" you said, staring into her gaze as her mouth hangs open, you what?

She rushes to you, wrapping her arms around you tightly as she feels like she could almost cry, good tears this time, her heart was beating so fast she laughed loudly

"why didn't you tell me sooner?" She grinned, cupping your face with both of her hands like you were her entire world, you are, you've always been. "I've liked you since forever, idiot, jeez, finally one of us came clean about it. I was gonna make a dramatic reveal to you but this was so you. I like it. I really like you too. A lot. Please be mine."

And you happily did, you kissed her, that night was the best night of your lives.

Sevika;

Sevika wasn't an easy woman to read, some people have found it hard to even get under her skin, find out what makes her tick, what makes her squirm, loose balance

But you'd be a fool to test her

Then again, you were always known to be a foolish one

When people see you two together, they can't see it, you were brighter, much bubbly, always smiling then there was Sevika, scary, intimating, will kill you with one look

You two were total opposites, no one could understand how you worked so well together

But you just made it work

You were the book smart to Sevika's street smart, which is why silco partnered you with his most trusted a lot, she couldn't exactly argue with it at first, she still did, complaining about having to babysit you, despite the fact that she wasn't that much older than you anyways

Okay, maybe by a few years older, but you didn't need a god damn babysitter

She knew how to piss you off, and you knew how to annoy her as well

It went back and forth, at first, you two fought a lot,there were a lot of misunderstandings, people were even nervous to get in between you both, you two were just so loud about everything that only silco can shut you both up

Eventually, after a while, a long while, things started to settle, and Sevika understood why silco picked you

She knew he wouldn't pick any random person, he had his reasons

Then something weird started to happen, she grew more protective over you, sure, she knew she was already protective of those she cared most, but you, she wasn't sure about, it just happened all of a sudden, if anyone was bothering you, hell, if anyone tried to hurt you, hell would be unleashed

Jinx would always mock her of how much she protects you and will do anything for you, Sevika tries to fight it, her stubbornness winning, but as soon as she sees you, her walls are being cut down, forced to let you see her, as she watches you from afar, admiring your work and talents, how much dedication and time you put into things, she's actually impressed by you

The first time she ever complimented you had you feeling all giddy for weeks, months even, you wanted nothing more than to be praised by her again

Jinx was over it

How much you talked about her, how pretty she is, she'd literally gagged at how love sick you were about her, she was so tempted to shove you both in a closet to hurry the hell up and get it over with

But she knew sevika would kill her

Then again, she's reached a point where she couldn't care less

When Jinx was able to get you two alone together to finally actually talk things out, she did, she was gonna make it work, even if she had to be dramatic and pull a little strings

She would live with the fact that Sevika was gonna be pissed at her for a long time, possibly forever if this goes terribly wrong, but she doubts it would

It was a late Saturday night, everyone was still awake and hanging around, Sevika was sitting at the bar, right where Jinx told her where to meet, Jinx watched as you finally showed up, looking all nice as she grinned, walking away from it, letting it all play out

"Sevika?" You muttered, confused to see her there

But fuck did she look good

She frowned at the sight of you, about to say something, but her words fell flat at what you were wearing, you looked beautiful

Like really fucking gorgeous

"you look... Nice."

Your cheeks warmed at that, hearing her compliment you as you looked away from her gaze that was too intense for you

"yeah, I was told you'd be here... Jinx told me you wanted to speak to me about something important."

Then it clicked to her.

"fuckin' jinx" she groaned, shoving her glass away. "She set us up."

"what?" You said, dumbfounded, going to sit next to her.

There was a pause, you stared in the distance, distracted, she stared at you more, admiring your features, how pretty you looked in that dress

She's never seen you wear something so formal

It suited you

She bit down on her bottom lip, all of a sudden feeling nervous to speak

"how do you feel about us?" You asked, still not looking at her, she frowned

"us?" She repeated.

You nodded, turning your head to look at her in the eyes

"yeah, me and you. We're a good team, you make a good partner" you say. She felt her heart skip a beat, what the fuck was happening? Why were you being so nice to her?

"what is it" she muttered, "just tell me what you want."

"huh?" You looked confused.

"fuckin' hell" she groaned, running a hand through her hair. "Tell me."

"I like you" you spat out before you could even think.

She raised an eyebrow at you.

"say that again?."

"sevika" you sighed, she liked the way her name sounded coming from your lips, she wanted to hear it again. "This is already awkward as fuck, I like you, okay, fuck, I never hated you, well, maybe at some point I disliked you, at the start, but even then, you're a goddess, fucking look at you, your stunning, anyone would fall for that."

That took her off guard, definitely not what she was expecting

"if you want to cuss me out and stop being partners I'll accept I-"

She shut you up with her lips, pressing herself into you as you almost fell off your stool. She grabbed onto you as you held on tight, kissing her hard, as you moaned into her mouth.

After a while, she didn't want to stop kissing you, neither did you want to stop, you both broke away breathless, pressing your foreheads against each others

"come to mine?" She says with a smile

It's not often you see Sevika smile

"lead the way."

[lady-griffin]

Jinx's Hallucinations + Ekko

Before Act III drops, I wanted to talk about an aspect of Timebomb that I'm quite fascinated by -

Ekko isn’t a trigger for Jinx’s hallucinations.

He has even stopped her hallucinations – not intentionally or anything, but more than once Ekko's presence seems to have a nullifying impact on Jinx.

Which is odd, right?

One would assume due to their history Ekko would be just as triggering to Jinx as anyone else, if not more so, and yet the opposite seems to be true.

In Jinx's first reunion with Vi, she quickly becomes overwhelmed and has an episode due to a whole combination of factors, but notably because her hallucinations of Mylo and Claggor start attacking her, largely because she's starting to breakdown and is getting overwhelmed (a self-perpetuating cycle).

Jinx can't even begin to calm herself down, in fact she yells at everyone to shut up, because she needs to think.

Then she hears Ekko’s hoverboard and suddenly the hallucinations are completely gone.

Jinx isn’t sure if what she heard was real or not.

Which is a great detail, since it indicates Jinx is aware that the voices she hears aren’t “real," meaning she knows other people can’t hear them too. So, it's rather telling (at least for me) that she asks Vi to confirm if she too heard the hoverboard sound.

It's also impressive Jinx was able to instantly recognize the sound of Ekko's hoverboard, despite her being in the midst of a mental breakdown and unable to think properly.

It’s almost like Jinx’s brain went into fight mode or something, because seemingly all the hallucinations stopped at once because there’s now a much bigger threat Jinx needs to be on guard for – Ekko is heading her way.

I really can't emphasize how much I love that.

While not traditionally romantic, in any sense, this shows the amount of respect Jinx has towards Ekko and the threat he poses to her. He’s someone she actually has to take seriously when fighting.

Which is a bit unique for Jinx.

Throughout S1 we saw Jinx being far more scared of her hallucinations then actual real, physical threats, but in this moment it’s like her brain recognized Ekko as being the far greater threat than her hallucinations.

Which he is - but that’s also true for many of the other things Jinx faces and isn’t scared of.

Jinx does “glitch out” while fighting Ekko and the Firelights in “When These Walls Come Tumbling Down,” - but it’s more of an asset than a problem, as she easily dodges the Gorilla Mask Firelight (at least I think it’s a gorilla).

Then when Ekko disappears, Jinx's psychoses come rushing back; obviously, this has less to do with Ekko himself and everything to do with him taking Vi, but nonetheless, it's still a slight repetition of the pattern that keeps happening between them.

In "The Boy Savior," during Jinx's bridge fight with Ekko, she once again specifically doesn't experience any hallucinations; even though she was just experiencing them not too long ago.

Mylo was this 'demon' on her back that while she could initially argue against, the more upset she became, the bigger his presence was.

She saw Caitlyn as this devil figure, laughing and mocking her and her psychoses even blocked Vi almost entirely from her sight; whether literally or symbolically, Jinx clearly wasn’t fully aware she was shooting at Vi, despite her obviously seeing Vi and then shooting in her direction.

Then Ekko bursts onto the scene and suddenly no more hallucinations. Which is just...

I honestly don’t know what this is. I really don’t.

To be clear, I absolutely love this whole thing despite not knowing what it is exactly, because honestly, I'm just fascinated by this dynamic, because for whatever reason, Jinx isn't triggered by Ekko nor does she hallucinate him.

In S2, Jinx’s hallucinations have significantly decreased, but in “Paint the Town Blue," she's suddenly bombarded with pretty much everyone’s voices because she’s beyond upset and panicking about Isha being taken by the enforcers.

She sees pretty much everyone - Silco, Vi, Mylo, Claggor, Sevika, and Isha.

Jinx seeing Vi, Sevika, and Isha shows us that she can/does hallucinate people who she knows are alive.

In addition, Isha being one of her hallucinations shows us that Jinx doesn’t need to have negative or even complicated feelings towards someone for them to become a part of her psychoses, as Jinx largely thinks/feels positively towards Isha.

Though it should be noted, the hallucination of Isha isn’t acting aggressive towards Jinx, not like the others are.

Finally, Ekko or Vander are the only two she doesn't hallucinate, but we know Jinx has hallucinated Vander in the past, making Ekko the odd one out when it comes to Jinx's hallucinations once again.

Which for the millionth is absolutely fascinating to me.

Because why?

Why doesn't Ekko trigger Jinx? Why isn't he one of her hallucinations? How come he's the only one we've seen having the ability to stop Jinx's hallucinations altogether (even if it's completely unintentional)?

For whatever reason, Jinx’s mind has seemingly categorized Ekko as being different than everyone else and while it’s obviously not this big thing the show brings your attention to, it’s also clearly there, albeit subtly.

And yeah...

I don’t really have much more to say, I just wanted to talk about this interesting aspect of Timebomb before we get to the last and final arc of Arcane.

[aquaticmercy]

Full Throttle

Summary : Bucky thinks he hooked up with a really pretty mechanic. 

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x motorcycle racer!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : cursing. Sex is implied. Bucky on a motorcycle. Purely self-indulgent fic.

Word count : 3.9k

Note : reader is a MotoGP rider! I’m still reeling from the championship battle last week that I just needed to write this. Also I apologise for everyone who wasn’t tagged in waste a moment! I lost half my notes and I’ve been trying to recover it. Hopefully it’ll be resolved by tomorrow. Enjoy!

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just drawn to motorcycles because they were fast or dangerous— at least not entirely. 

He loved them because of the freedom they gave him, the sense of control when everything else in his life felt it had spiralled into oblivion. Riding demanded focus and precision—all the things he’d spent the last couple of years training. 

When he was on his bike, the world faded away. There was only the hum of the engine, the wind in his hair, and the open road.

And sure, being on the road was fun, but sometimes, all he wanted was a challenge.

That’s when he found the dirt track in the edge of town— a place where he could train for missions that called for high-speed chases— a place he could lose himself for a while. 

It was something fun to do once in a while, you know? Sam would call this a hobby.

The roar of engines and the earthy tang of kicked-up dirt felt like home. In a way, it was strangely meditative. It reminded him of what it felt like to be human— to push himself to the limit, to make mistakes and learn.

Every Tuesday, after training, he came to the track. 

And every Tuesday, so did you.

The first time he saw you, Bucky had to do a double take. You were standing by your bike, helmet tucked under one arm, dirt streaked across your padded leather jacket.

Bucky was no stranger to beautiful people, but there was something about you that struck him differently— maybe it was the confidence in the way you carried yourself or the fire in your eyes when you looked his way. Either way, he was floored.

At first, he figured you were just another skilled rider trying to forget the world. That it was just a hobby, like it was to him. But as the weeks went on, you realised this was your life. 

It must be.

The way you rode was… incredible. Every turn was sharp, calculated. Precise. 

And despite your obvious talent, you never made a big deal about it. Just like you never made a big deal out of the fact that he was the fucking Winter Soldier. 

Of course, you knew who he was—he’d caught the occasional glint of recognition in your eyes. But you never brought it up, never asked for autographs or photos. Instead, you treated him like just another guy at the track.

That didn’t mean you didn’t flirt, though.

Every now and then, you’d throw him a cheeky grin. You’d playfully tell him things like, “Nice lap, soldier,” and Bucky would just blush (which you found adorable, of course).

He would always try to laugh it off, but the truth was, your teasing left his heart racing faster than his bike ever could.

—

Bucky had been working up the nerve for weeks, and today, he thought he would finally bite the bullet. 

Today he was going to ask you out. 

You were wiping the sweat from your brow when he leaned casually against his bike, trying to look more confident than he felt.

“You’re always here on a Tuesday,” he said, before mentally groaning at himself

What the fuck was that? He thought. Is Always here on a Tuesday really the best flirty opening line he had? It was not even an open-ended question. It was just an observation. Nice one, Barnes.

But instead of brushing him off, you paused, setting your gloves down with an amused spark lighting up in your eyes. “Could say the same for you, Barnes.” You tilted your head and gave a casual shrug, acting as if having a stunning super soldier gawking over you wasn’t flattering. “You stalking me?”

The corner of his lips curved upward, the nervous tension melting away ever so slightly. “Maybe I just like the view.”

That earned him a smirk. You let your eyes descend over him—his dark hair falling in perfect disarray, his shirt clinging to his chest under his jacket. “Sure,” you teased. 

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ve got a good reason to show up.”

“Oh?” you asked, stepping closer, tossing your helmet onto your bike seat with a little dramatic flair. “Don’t tell me the Winter Soldier needs more practice catching bad guys on a bike. Thought you had that down.”

“Yeah, well,” he drawled, letting his gaze linger on you. “Never hurts to train. Especially when there’s someone like you around to keep me humble.”

“Humble?” You quirked an eyebrow, folding your arms as you leaned a hip against the leather seat of the bike. “Looked pretty cocky last week, pulling that stunt to take down the bad guy.”

He blinked, genuinely surprised. “You saw that?”

It had been a theft— some guy thought he could steal experimental weapons from an old Stark warehouse and get away with it. Not his cleanest chase, but he did the job.

“Please, it was all over the news. Did you not see the four helicopters following the chase?” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I gotta say, you’re not bad, Barnes.”

“Not bad?” he echoed, feigning offence.

You leaned in just a little, dropping your voice. “I’ve seen smoother turns. If you want pointers, I could teach you a thing or two.”

His lips parted, but no words came out for a moment as he processed how close you were. “You offering lessons now?”

You laughed before gesturing at his bike. 

This was his dirt bike, a recreational bike— not the one he used for the chase last week. Still, it could use a bit of… fine tuning. 

“Tell you what, soldier,” you said, “Fix that lag in your throttle response first. Then I’ll teach you a thing or two about taking corners.”

Bucky tilted his head, narrowing his eyes “There’s nothing wrong with my throttle response.”

“Oh, honey,” you purred, stepping just close enough for your shoulder to brush his. “I could hear it lagging from halfway across the track.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. 

“You saying I need a tune-up?”

“I’m saying,” you said, your voice like velvet, “that if you wanna keep up, you’re gonna need a better setup.”

He couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. He still didn’t have the guts to ask you out that day, but he walked away with hope, that maybe, this could grow into something more.

—

“So, you gonna tell me why you’ve been walking around with that goofy smile lately?” Sam asked, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look.

“What smile?” Bucky muttered, immediately defensive.

“The one you think nobody notices,” he shrugged. “Spill it, Buck. What’s her name?”

Bucky hesitated, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t planned to tell anyone about his little crush. least of all Sam, but the look on his friend’s face said he wasn’t getting out of this conversation.

“Fine,” he said, exhaling. “There’s this girl.”

Sam grinned. 

“She goes to the dirt track I go to every Tuesday,” Bucky said, staring at the bottle in his hands like it held the secret to not sounding like a lovesick idiot as he told him all about you. 

—

From then on, Tuesdays became his favourite day of the week.

Bucky found himself counting down the hours until he could see you again, his mind replaying every smile, every laugh, every teasing touch.

You became bolder, not afraid of calling him handsome, of touching his arm even if it wasn’t necessary. 

And damn it if didn’t make his heart race.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling session on the track, Bucky decided he’d had enough of dancing around what he wanted. 

Leaning casually against his handlebars, he called out, “Race me.”

You looked up, one eyebrow raising in surprise. “What’s in it for me?” you asked, folding your arms and tilting your head in that way that always made his stomach flip.

“If you win,” he started, “you get bragging rights for a week.”

“A week, huh?” You repeated dramatically, “and if you win?”

Bucky’s lips curled into a slow grin, trying to appear confident even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “I get your number.”

Your giggle rang out, bright and sweet, and for a second, Bucky forgot how to breathe. “You got yourself a deal, soldier,” you said, shaking your head. 

—

The two of you lined up at the start of the track, engines growling. 

Bucky’s focus sharpened—he wasn’t just racing for pride; he was racing for the chance to finally take a step toward something he had wanted for months now. 

When the signal came, you both shot off like bullets, dirt kicking up in clouds behind your tires. Bucky pushed his bike to the limit, leaning into every corner, his muscles strained with effort, grappling the dirt bike for control. But no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were holding back. 

You were supposed to be faster, more precise than this sloppy performance you were giving. He’d seen you before. What happened?

As you neared the final stretch, you slowed, just enough for him to surge ahead and cross the finish line first. 

He skidded to a stop, panting and exhilarated, but the smug grin on your face told him everything he needed to know.

When you walked over later and handed him a scrap of paper with your number scrawled on it, you leaned in close enough for him to catch the faint scent of sweat and motor oil. “You won it fair and square,” you said.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, his lips twitching with a grin he couldn’t suppress. “You let me win.”

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” you feigned innocence, but couldn’t help the grin widening on your face.

He tucked the paper into his pocket, shaking his head.

As you put on your helmet back on, you casually remarked, “Throttle’s still lagging, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Bucky groaned, pretending to be annoyed. Secretly, he was thrilled to keep the conversation going. “I think it’s the fuel filter, but I haven’t had time to swap it out.”

“I’ve got one at my place,” you told him, turning on your engine, “Why don’t you come by?”

His head snapped up, surprised at the offer. “Now?”

“Why not?” 

—

When arrived at your place, he had braced himself for something simple—a cosy apartment, maybe a small cluttered corner dedicated to your bike tools. 

What he hadn’t expected was this.

Standing in the doorway, he blinked at the modern yet homey design laid out before him. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in golden evening light, reflecting off polished floors and expensive-looking furniture. The view of the city stretched out like a postcard behind you as you stood, arms crossed, watching him with a hint of amusement.

“This… is your apartment?” he asked, taking a step inside. His greasy leather jacket suddenly felt so out of place. His gaze darted over to a marble countertop in the kitchen, a plush couch, and then the walls— lined with the kind of art he’s only seen in high society auctions.

You tilted your head, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Not what you expected, Barnes?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Not really…”

“Ah,” you replied, moving toward a door off the main living area. “So just because I work with bikes, I can’t have nice things?”

“I didn’t say that,” he countered quickly, following you.

You threw a sly glance over your shoulder. “Didn’t have to.”

He tried to think of a witty response, but he was distracted by the thought of you—the way you moved, confident and unbothered, like you belonged in every room you entered.

You led him to a heavy door and pushed it open, revealing a contrast to the rest of the apartment— your workshop.

The workshop smelled like oil, grease, and faintly of rubber, the air swirling with the comforting scent of metal and machinery. The walls were lined with shelves holding neatly organised tools, spare parts, and bottles of lubricants. A stripped-down high-performance bike stood at the centre of the room, its engine exposed, wires and cables hanging loose. 

Now this room, he thought, was undoubtedly you.

“This is more like it,” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint smile.

“See?” You smirked, moving to grab the replacement part he needed. “I’m not as fancy as you think.”

After pulling his bike through the back, he leaned against the wall, watching as you crouch next to his bike and get to work. 

For a moment, he was quiet.

He watched in silence— the way your hands moved with precision, the way you were entirely in your element. 

“So,” you began, glancing up at him. “What’s the Winter Soldier doing on a dirt track every Tuesday, anyway? Don’t you have, I don’t know, a world to save?”

He chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “The world can wait.”

You laughed softly, returning your focus to the filter. 

“I get it, kind of,” you replied, loosening a bolt. “Wanting to get away from everything.”

From then on, the conversation came effortlessly. 

At first, he kept it light, sticking to anecdotes about the track or the occasional joke about his less-than-smooth bike handling in the beginning. But there was something about the way you listened—your easy, genuine curiosity—that made him feel safe, like he didn’t have to keep everything locked away anymore.

At one point, he couldn’t help but ask how someone who worked with bikes could afford a place like this. You only shrugged with a smile, giving the same answer you always did: “I got lucky.” He didn’t press, though he was curious—the ease in which you sidestepped the question intrigued him.

Before long, the conversation drifted again. He found himself sharing more than he ever thought he would. He told you about his missions, the chaos of his Winter Soldier days, the things he’d done and the memories he was still piecing together. 

And you listened—not with pity, but with an understanding that felt rare, even among the people he called friends.

“You’re good at this,” he finally said. 

“Bikes?”

“People,” he admitted, his eyes flicking to yours.

“Well, bikes are like people,” You tilted your head, studying him with a small, curious smile. “Both require care, attention, and understanding to perform at their best.”

When you finally finished, you stood, wiping your hands on a cloth. “All set,” you said, gesturing toward his bike. 

“Thank you.” he said, though he made no move to leave. Instead, he lingered, his eyes on you as you leaned back against the counter.

“So,” you said, breaking the thick silence, your voice dipping into something almost playful. “You gonna stick around, or do you have somewhere to be?”

“Nowhere important,” he admitted quietly.

He took a step closer, then another.

The space separating you seemed to dissolve, his eyes locked on yours, pulling you in like gravity.

“Careful,” you murmured, teasing. “I might think you’re stalling just to spend more time with me.”

His lips curved into a faint, almost shy smile. “And if I am?”

The words hit you like a shot of adrenaline, your heart beating out of your chest. There was no humour in his tone, no hint of the usual back-and-forth banter that had defined so many of your conversations. Just desire staring back at you.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He was close now, so close you could feel the heat rolling off him, his metal hand brushing against the counter as he leaned in.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice rough, a low growl in his throat. He cupped your jawline, mustering all the courage she could possibly gather. 

You didn’t.

Instead, your lips parted in anticipation as he leaned in. Unable to bear it any longer, you tilted your head up, meeting him halfway.

The first press of his lips against yours was gentle, and the second was anything but. The restraint shattered immediately, giving way to something feral. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer, his lips moving with a hunger that’s been brewing since he first saw you on the track.

Your hands found his chest, sliding up to his shoulders, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. You tugged him closer, your chest pressing against his. He let out a low moan that sent a shiver down your spine.

When you finally broke apart for air, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mixing in the narrow space between you. His voice was husky, as if he was still recovering. “I should really take you out on a date first.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your hands still fisted in his shirt. “You can still do that.”

His lips brushed yours again. “Aren’t you trouble?”

“You love it,” you whispered, grinning wickedly as you pulled him back in.

The next kiss was hotter, hungrier—  it consumed you both. His hands slid to your waist, gripping you firmly as he backed you out of the workshop and into the apartment. 

Your movements were uncoordinated, messy, your lips never leaving his as you stumbled against walls, furniture, and whatever else got in the way.

By the time you reached the bedroom, nothing else mattered.

—

Bucky woke to the soft light peeking through your curtains.

The scent of coffee reached him first. When he stumbled out of your bedroom, he spotted you at the marble kitchen counter, leaning on your elbows with a steaming mug in hand. You were dressed in one of your oversized shirts— and looked far too innocent for all the filthy things you did to him last night.

“Mornin’ doll,” he greeted  as he sat across from you.

“Morning,” you chuckled at his adorable tousled hair. 

“So…” he started, his voice thick with sleep, “about that date…”

You smirked, setting your mug down and sauntered around the island kitchen. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“Sunday?” he offered, watching you with a lazy smile as you perched on the stool next to his.

You shook your head, “I work weekends.”

That caught him off guard, but he didn’t let it show. “Remind me what exactly it is you do?”

“Bikes,” you said simply, the corner of your mouth twitching like you were holding back sensitive information.

He chuckled, assuming you were talking about your mechanic work. “Fair.”

You hummed, but the mischievous glint in your eyes didn’t escape him.

He tilted his head, curiosity tugging at the edge of his thoughts, but he decided not to push. You’d tell him when you wanted to. Instead, he flashed a small grin. “I’ll text you to arrange something, then.”

“You better,” you teased, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You won my number, Barnes. Don’t make me regret giving it to you. 

The challenge in your tone made his smirk widen, his hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “Oh, I won’t.”

—

That Sunday, Bucky was slouched on Sam’s couch, one leg kicked over the side of the coffee table, a book resting on his chest. Sam, on the other hand, was waging war with the TV remote, flipping through channels at record speeds.

“Just pick something already,” Bucky grumbled without looking up.

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring him. 

“Oh, MotoGP’s on,” he said suddenly, tossing the remote aside.

Bucky didn’t even glance at the screen at first, the low growl of engines and the commentator’s frantic observation was little more than background noise. But something about the sheer speed on display tugged at his attention. He finally looked up— and when he did, he could not take his eyes off the screen.

The camera focused on a Ducati weaving through the pack with a relentlessness that looked… familiar. The rider’s movements were fluid, each turn carved with precision, every overtake risky but calculated.

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered, leaning forward. Sam wasn’t the biggest fan— but he did watch these races from time to time. It always intrigued him, the danger they willingly took to win a race. “Look at—did you see that overtake?”

Bucky didn’t respond, his eyes locked on the rider. There was something about them—the way they leaned into each corner, never hesitating, always pushing for the absolute edge of human limitation.

The commentator’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“And there it is! The factory Ducati taking the lead with that beautiful overtake from the inside line! Unbelievable control!”

The Ducati was now in front, pulling away from the others as the final lap approached. 

Bucky watched, as they flew through a sweeping right turn, knees and shoulders skimming the asphalt like it was second nature.

As the Ducati roared down toward the finish line, the chequered flag waved. 

First place.

The crowd erupted, but Bucky barely heard it. The rider slowed, their gloved fist pumping the air, before coming to a stop after the cooldown lap. 

The other riders were congratulating them, patting their helmet with friendly taps.

Soon, the camera zoomed in, capturing the moment they pulled off their helmet.

And Bucky’s stomach dropped.

It was you.

No helmet, no visor—just you, smiling that confident smile that he knew so well.

Oh. He was stupid. Bucky Barnes was so incredibly stupid.

Of course you were a motorcycle racer. The sleek apartment, the effortless style, the way you moved on the dirt track. The way you told him you worked on weekends— it all made perfect sense.

And yet, somehow, he'd convinced himself you were a mechanic. Of course he did.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, bolting upright.

Sam shot him a confused look. “What?”

“That’s her,” Bucky said, his voice low in disbelief.

“Who’s ‘her’?”

“The mechanic,” he said, gesturing at the TV, as you celebrated with your team of race engineers. “The girl I told you about. That’s her.”

Sam blinked, staring at the screen, then back at Bucky. “Wait—you’re telling me she fixed up your fuel filter?”

Bucky didn’t answer, still staring at the screen. You were heading toward the press now, handing your helmet to a crew member as reporters swarmed you.

The camera cut for a post-race interview. You looked exhilarated, but still composed as you answered questions about your strategy— about the win. 

Then the interviewer threw in a curveball:

“You’ve been on a hot streak lately. Is there anyone you want to dedicate this victory to?”

You hesitated just long enough for a sly grin to tug at your lips. Then, you looked directly into the camera.

“This win’s for a super soldier,” you said, your tone as playful as ever. You made a phone gesture with your fingers and winked. “Call me, Barnes.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped.

Sam burst out laughing, but in no less shock. “I cannot believe you hooked up with her! Bucky, You lucky son of a—“

But Bucky wasn’t listening anymore.

He couldn’t believe it. Of course he could keep up— you were literally leagues ahead of him.

And somehow, you were still into him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sam said, nudging him hard enough to make him wince. “You gonna call her or not?”

Bucky didn’t answer, already scrambling for his phone. His hands trembled a little as he unlocked it, a smile already tugging at his lips.

He wasn’t sure what he was gonna say when you picked up, but he knew one thing for certain: Tuesdays just got a whole lot more interesting.

-end.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

64 / 4.1k / soap soulmate au, final part

...

"You doing okay?"

Hearing Graves’ voice knocks what little breath you had out of your lungs. It's been months, but that's him. Your old boss. You never thought you'd hear his voice again.

"I've been better," you say finally. "Been awhile."

"Yeah, it has," he says. "Wish you'd've called me to catch up sometime, rather than under the circumstances. You don't sound too banged up. They treat you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"I didn't ask how you feel. I asked if they roughed you up."

You feel your own temper shorten in response. "I need you to call KorTac off."

There's a pause. You can imagine his frowning face, the way he's thinking that one over. "I'll take that under advisement," he finally says, but you can tell he's not going to do what you ask of him. "Puttin' me in a predicament here, kid. You're giving those boys a hard time, and here I thought I was helping you out. Paying your bail, so to speak."

"It’s more complicated than that."

"Always is. Let’s just have you dropped off back on base with us. You can clean yourself up and we’ll talk."

He waits for your crisp yes, sir, but it never comes.

He speaks again. "You got somewhere else to be?"

"I can't go back."

"Can't or won't? You got something you ain't tellin me, soldier?"

"I said I can't go back. And I'm not your soldier anymore. You're not my boss. I don't work for you."

"You know Shadows don't leave one of our own behind. Not to rot in some CIA prison cell. So lose the attitude," he says, voice like iron. "This ain't a good time to play games, kid. You're comin' back with me because I spent a pretty penny on you. You owe me. You have your personal business, fine. Come on back to base and let's talk this out face to face before you go makin' any hasty decisions."

You're so frustrated it's hard to form words. You should be grateful. You know that. Graves doesn’t pretend to care about his men. He cares enough to lead from the front. But you met your soulmate, and you can’t act like it didn't change you. You need to make things right. You also can’t exactly tell Graves you kind of sold him out.

"Hey. Focus up." He doesn't raise his voice to a command. Still, the order is in his voice, and you have been long trained to follow your commander's orders. Then he sighs. "What happened to you, kid?"

"You betrayed the 141. You killed innocent people in Las Almas, looking for them."

You can almost hear his jaw working behind his clenched teeth, the muscles in his face tight. He does not allow this kind of disrespect. "You think I like what I had to do? General Shepherd's orders were clear. We followed them. 141 did not." He huffs out a sigh. "I didn't enjoy it. But that's the job. You of all people know that."

You swallow. "You told us they were our brothers. You killed innocent people, Commander. Johnny said he saw you do it--"

"Johnny?" Grave's voice rises. "You on a first name basis with Soap now?"

"We all know what happened in Las Almas," you retort. Your skin goes hot at the way he says Johnny's name. "I won't work for Shepherd anymore after that. I won't fucking do it."

"Don't pull that with me." The warning is written in his voice. This isn't like you. To the Shadows, you’re calm. Cold. You don't lose your temper. You don't talk back. Especially not to Graves. "You think you can walk away at the drop of a hat just because you don't agree with an order? It doesn't work like that. You follow an order, even if you don't like it, even if it pisses you off. You don't get to decide what you think is right or wrong to carry out. When I give you an order, you follow it. That's your job. Your loyalty is with me. Not with the 141."

"I did my job."

"Then act like it," he snaps. "Stop acting like I'm some evil bastard out here. I made the only choice I could. Task Force 141 was not supposed to be there. They knew my orders, and what did they do? They came after my men, went behind my back, screwed us over. We did what we had to. You wanna be pissed at someone? Be pissed at them."

You glare down at the ice, but say nothing.

"You know I'm right." He knows you. He's getting to you. "And you know what else I find interesting? You don't seem a bit surprised to hear me alive." His voice is too casual and sharp as a knife. "Didn't you get the memo? Did no one forward you my obituary, soldier?"

You stiffen. You're not supposed to know he's alive.

"You're an awful liar. Always have been." He pauses for a long moment. "It ain't easy, surviving against the 141 if they want you dead. You know how I managed it, soldier?"

Yes. "No,” you retort. “And stop calling me that. I'm not your soldier. I don't work for you anymore."

"The hell you aren't. Maybe you're not on the payroll anymore, and maybe you're no longer under my command, but once a Shadow, always a Shadow. That makes you my responsibility. And my goddamn headache." Something shuffles on the other end of the line. "You know exactly what I'm willing to do to keep one of my Shadows safe. But if you're so keen on turning yourself in, fine. I'll have you in front of Shepherd's desk first thing tomorrow. Is that what you want? You know Soap and Ghost put Shadows in the ground that night in Las Almas."

"Shadows tried to put Johnny and Ghost in the ground first."

"This isn't about who shot first. This is about you." His voice is dangerously low, but he keeps his temper in check. Then he huffs a laugh. "You keep callin’ him Johnny. Makes my brain itch." Johnny MacTavish. John MacTavish. Yeah, that's it. "I'll be damned," he mutters.

You touch your exposed soulmark compulsively as if to hide it. Most soldiers hide theirs, but yours has always been tough to cover up. He's seen it more than a few times.

"Got you right out from under my fuckin' nose."

Your stomach tightens. You feel too exposed, like suddenly he’s putting the story together--how 141 got in.

"Shoulda known. Shoulda known. You know the military has a registry for this shit. There are rules. What's wrong with you?"

"I made a mistake," you mutter.

That might be the funniest thing he ever heard. And he's heard some good jokes. "You don't make mistakes, kiddo. You never have. That's not how I trained you." He's right, and you know it. "But hey. Guess it's true what they say about it."

"What?"

"Soulbonds. Make you take your best-laid plans and raze ‘em. Full scorched earth.”

“This isn’t about that. I’m making this decision on my own.”

“You think?” He takes a puff on his cigarette. “I don’t. I don't blame you, either. You sure as hell fought it as best you could. Didn't give in to save your own life. If that's not the soulbond making your decision for you, soldier, I don't know what is."

You look up at the sky. For all the time you spent working with Graves, that past version of you might as well be dead. Maybe that’s the grave you’ve been digging. "I can't work for Shepherd anymore. I won't do it."

"You're a good soldier, 86. You were loyal. I still think you're loyal, even if I'm not who you're loyal to," he finally says. His voice is still calm. It doesn't make you feel any better. "You know if you choose to walk away from this, the next time we meet might well be as enemies."

"Then I guess we won't meet again, sir."

He says nothing. Then he lets out a long huff. You really are going to do him dirty. You can hear his scowl. "That's a damn shame, kid. But you have more of a spine than I gave you credit for," he says. There's a tone of reluctant respect to it. That's as close as you're going to get to a compliment from him now. "You're a loose end, then. You'd best stay well out of the way. Mine and Shepherd's. I hope you're not making the wrong choice, 86," he says quietly. "I really hope you're not."

"It’s out of your hands now. And pay KorTac," you add. "Pay my squad. They did their job."

That makes him scoff. "Now why would I do that? You might be a traitor, but you're still my investment. You were worth more on my payroll than theirs, and that’s a fact I intend to maintain."

"You owe me," you remind him.

"Don't push your luck," he warns. "You're an asset. You don’t get the privileges of rank anymore. But, well..." He sighs. You imagine him with his heels kicked back on his desk, cigarette in hand. "I’ll tell you what. I’m in a charitable mood. I'll pay them off. I'm a man of my word when the time comes to pay off my debts. Hell, I’ll even throw in a tip for a job well done." Despite the annoyance in his voice, you don't doubt he'll do just that. "But that doesn’t mean I trust you anymore. I trusted you once, and you went rogue. I let you go now, that means I expect you to keep my secrets. Don't you go singing if Shepherd puts you in a chair. You got that?"

You glance up out of the corner of your eye at Soap, whose hands are still clenched in tight fists at his sides. "If Shepherd puts me in a chair, he's the one who's gonna sing. Not me."

Graves chuckles. "You're a good soldier, 86, but you can't take on an old war dog like Shepherd. Leave that to someone more qualified."

"Like who? You?"

"As I said, you best steer clear. I don't want to hear your name again." His voice hardens, and you hear your old commander again. "Good luck, kid. You'll need it. And give Soap hell."

You toss the phone back to Horangi. He listens to what Graves has to say. Then, eyes meeting yours for a moment, he wordlessly moves out away from the river, leaving you weary with relief. It's over. Finally.

Soap watches him disappear into the trees. Then, he looks back at you, alone and shivering on the ice. You look half-dead, bleeding, and your lips are near blue. He wants to make his way to you, but the ice is scarcely holding you. It won't hold him, too.

"Oi," Soap calls. His voice is rough with anxiety. "Get over here. You're gonnae freeze to death even if you don't fall through."

You blink up at him. Standing in the rising sun the way he is now, he looks like someone’s guardian angel. Yours? You'd like very much to be wrapped in his wings.

You make your way over to the bank, but the rocky ledge up is slippery and icy. Behind you, between the ice where you're standing and the bank, there's a yawning gap. To your left, there's a bridge, but snow has already melted off the surface of the ice, and it looks thin. "There's no way up," you call. "But downriver..."

"No’ a chance in hell I’m going to let you try to cross that," Soap says as he approaches the edge. "You'll be swept away and drown, hen. You're not in any condition to swim, and even if you were, that river's too bloody fast to risk it."

"Then what do you suggest?"

His eyes sweep over the river once more. It's wide; too wide to attempt a jump across. The ice has fallen in, leaving it almost impossible to make it to the bank. It isn't safe. The longer you stand there, the more the ice cracks under you. He admires your guts for putting yourself on the line like that to get back to him, but damn you. His blood pressure has never been higher.

Soap throws off his pack and slings his gear onto the bank. "I'll pull you up."

"But..."

"But nothing." With the adrenaline still pumping through his system, Soap thinks nothing of the risk of the bank collapsing under you both with his added weight. The only thing on his mind is getting you back in one piece. "We both know damn well, if I was the one on the ice now, you'd already be down there trying to help me, so for once, just shut up and let me help you."

Can't argue with that.

He pulls out an ice hook--mountaineering equipment; he was prepared to climb this mission, luckily--and offers it to you.

You toss the grenade as far as you can in the opposite direction. Then you raise your hands to grasp the rope. He's holding the sharp end and giving you the handle. You try to keep hold, but as he lifts, your bloodied hands slip just as the grenade explodes nearby, too close, spiderwebbing the ice with a final crack.

You land hard, break through, and disappear under the freezing water.

Soap has never known panic faster than when he sees you go under.

He dives after you. He has to get you back to the surface before whatever air you had in your lungs gives out. Your survival is his survival.

He finds you in the rushing black abyss when your fingers hook around his sleeve. Wrapping his hands around your arms, Soap anchors you to his chest.

You come to in his arms. You're colder than you ever have been in your life. Your fingertips tingle in pain and numbness. He's carrying you ashore somehow--far downriver, thinner ice--and he ducks into an old cabin with you in his arms.

Soap kicks the door shut behind him and moves into the cabin to set you on the floor, propping your back against the wall. His hands work fast as he pulls out his knife to cut away your soaked thermal clothes and gear. You dip in and out of consciousness until he wads up a fistful of gauze and packs it into your side wound. The sudden pain chokes you. Then a wave of nausea washes over you. You’d like nothing more than to tell him where precisely he can shove that gauze, but you’re too lightheaded.

"You with me, hen?" His gruff voice wavers. "I need you to stay awake."

He gathers you up in his arms and lifts you into his lap. It's a tight fit, wedged underneath the frosty window and between a table and an upturned stool. You register the warmth of his skin on yours and dimly realize he's stripped both of you almost bare, huddling around you to prevent hypothermia.

You soak up Soap’s body heat instantly. He's a furnace, and he needs to be, given the state you're in. He tucks you as close as he can. You're both shivering, but he doesn't care. He can be cold as long as you're warm. His broad body shields you from the drafts leaking into the decrepit cabin.

"No, no, eyes open." He tilts your face up as your eyes flutter. "Don't go passin' out on me."

You gaze up at him in your stupor. Maybe it's the blood loss, but even through your own pain and frustration, he's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.

"You have really odd eyes," you mutter. "Like blueberry soft serve."

Oh, you're definitely delirious. Maybe concussed.

But he can't deny the look you're giving him right now makes his stomach flip. The sight of you in his lap, your frost-scorched fingers wrapped idly around his ID tag and staring up at him like he's just pulled the moon out of the sky for you... it's the first time he’s seen you with your guard down.

He swallows and keeps you pressed against his skin. There’s a lot of blood. He can’t tell what’s yours and what isn’t. "You're in no shape to flatter me."

You hum, your fingers dabbing idly at a smear of blood on his chest.

He doesn't move to stop you. Instead, his eyes flick down to your hand. Your fingers leave a trail of sparks over everywhere you touch.

With a soft sigh, Soap catches your wrist. "Quit it, hen."

"Quit what?"

"Teasin'. Makin' me wish you'd put those hands to other uses," he says, voice quiet and rough. It's just you and him in the little cabin. The world is far away. His thumb rubs against the inside of your wrist, trying to bring some warmth back into your skin. "You're in no shape to be feelin' me up, either."

Your head lolls against his shoulder. "Maybe it's the perfect time. Maybe we won't get another time."

Hearing you say that twists his insides into knots. He leans down to rest his forehead against yours. "Maybe you just need to shut up and let me take care of you. Don't talk like that." His voice leaves no room for argument. He tightens his grip on you, pressing you closer as if he can somehow press that into your skin by sheer will alone. "There'll be plenty of times for you to get your hands on me."

"Mm." You tuck into him tighter. You'd be mortified with yourself if you weren't half-dead from blood loss. "Sorry."

He exhales into your hair, pressing chaste kisses there.

You're practically in his lap, the two of you tangled into each other from head to foot in the space under the window. He's surrounded by the smell of you. It's a soothing presence in all that surrounds him.

He shouldn't want to touch you, shouldn't want to take advantage of your weakness--but the thought of having you so open and wanting, of you willingly in his arms, makes something in him ache. Makes the selfish parts of him scream.

"You're a pain in my arse," he says. He focuses on taking inventory of your wounds, brushing over your arms with his touch to assess the damage. "You gonnae bleed out on me?"

You shiver a little as he drags you closer by your bare thigh. "Wouldn't be the worst way to go."

"Oi," he snaps in warning. He slides his hand up your side, checking for bleeding. It’s just as much a caress over your bare skin. He has to ignore how his skin tingles every time the curve of your body slides against his in that tantalizing way. Something in his lower belly tightens. "You don't get to tap out after makin' me go through all this trouble for you. You're livin' through tonight or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else." He moves his hand up to the base of your throat, his large, calloused fingers wrapping around your neck and tilting your chin up to look at him. He fixes his blue eyes on yours to take in the dazed expression on your face. "I'll drag your arse out of hell and tan it until you can't sit right."

You're too weary to laugh, but you rest your scuffed cheek on his thumb, and it pushes your lips into a smirk. "All for me?"

"Aye. Hell of a lot more trouble than your pretty face should be worth."

You pull free and rest your head on his shoulder again. "Where do you live?"

"Glasgow," he says. "Not sure I should be tellin' you that."

You trace his chest around the chain of his ID tag. So many muscles. "Probably not."

"And what about you? Do I get to know?"

"No. Maybe. If we get out of here."

"Yeah? Well, you're not goin' anywhere with this wound. Bleedin' out, nearly froze to death, and still mouthin' off. No idea how to shut up and be good." He looks down at the injury, assessing how bad it really is in the dim light of the cabin. "You lost a lot of blood. I bet you feel tired." He brushes your hair off your face. "Stay awake a bit longer. The boys'll be here soon."

"I shouldn't," you mutter.

Soap doesn't miss the slurring of your words. He knew the blood loss would affect you, but he was hoping for more time before he had to really worry. "Shouldn't stay? Too late to get away from me now," he says, trying to keep his tone casual. Your skin is too cold for comfort. The gauze in your wound soaking through with blood can't mean anything good. "I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you. Sure as hell not letting you out of my sight. You've got a lot to repay me for."

You try to keep your eyes open. Every blink is more sluggish than the last. "Like what?"

"Runnin' away and makin' me chase after you, for one. Puttin' yourself in the line of fire for me, second. Takin' a swim in a frozen river. Scared me to death." He presses his lips to the crown of your head, a gentle, chaste touch at odds with the possessive, dominating instinct he can feel creeping into his thoughts. You're vulnerable right now, something he should never want, but part of him wonders if he’d ever have caught up with you without this. "Aye, you owe me. First thing we do once you're patched up? We have a long talk. We have a whole hell of a lot we need to say to one another. And you'll answer every question I ask you."

"I dunno if you'll like the stuff I say," you mutter.

"Hardly matters. You’re plenty keen on spittin’ fire at me as it is. No reason you can’t keep tellin’ me everything I don’t want tae hear."

Another shiver wracks your body.

Soap rubs your arms. "You gotta give your word you stay awake for me, aye? Stay here."

His radio beeps nearby. You huff. "Fine."

"Fine." He leans over to grab his radio and tries to keep an arm around your shoulders to keep you warm as he does. He keeps you cradled against his chest as he responds to Price.

"Soap here."

You don't hear the conversation. Instead, you listen to Soap's voice vibrate through his chest. He speaks to Price in hushed tones, talking about your condition and the team's ETA.

Price has a laundry list of questions, but Soap manages to wrangle them into holding off until they have everyone back on base. No sense exhausting you on a mission that's already been a shitshow. Finally, they're done. Soap lets the radio go to focus entirely on you again. "Still with me?"

"How long do we have?"

"Shouldn't be too much longer," he says. He checks your side again. The coldness of the air has soaked into the wet gauze. You shiver again. It makes something in him ache. "ETA's about ten minutes out."

You pull his lips down to yours and kiss him.

He's surprised, but he doesn't pull back--not from you. He lets you kiss him. Your taste seeps into his brain and turns all rational thought to white noise. One hand cups your jaw with a surprising gentleness, and the other slides behind your waist to keep you against his body. He's gentle--you need to be handled with care right now.

He pulls back before he loses himself in the desire to deepen the kiss. His eyes search your face, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot against your lips.

"You're lucky you're injured," he murmurs. "Or you'd be in a very different kind of trouble right now."

You shiver, but not with the cold. Just that one kiss has you feeling much warmer. You touch your name where it's written on his arm. Then you curl your fingers around the back of his neck and pull yourself closer. "Hold onto that thought for later," you murmur. "Give me something to wait for."

Then you kiss him again.

...

← previous part / [part 13] / epilogue →

part 1 / more Soap / masterlist

thank you <3

[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)

permanent (sfw/[n]sfw): @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @midwinterblizzard @everythingvirgoes @sooberryworld @20-cms @inkigayocamman @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1 @shymexican @that1sadgrl @archoive @paegesoobin @buttercreamerie @ifwtxt @softesyoongi @serenityism00 @fairfootedflekk @kyanmeai @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @taehyunluvrs @m00gyu @denleave1088 @hwanghyunjinismybae @bmo-bri

for the hope of it all: @calssunflower @wildernessuntothemselves @pluslandminun @enhasrii @vixensss @pagetammgyu @tyongluvs @aduh0308 @11thenightwemet11

[callmecoke]

Thinking of the first time the 141 discover you on a website for Sugar Babies...

TW: Sex work, specifically being a sugar baby. Mention of insanity, but it's mostly exaggeration; this one's pretty SFW, but I would proceed with caution because the subject matter is adult. Not Proofread!!

This is the first instalment of something I’ll continue writing about!!! And also my first post!!!! Yipeeee😆😆😆

I’m thinking about one tired, slow, dull day with our favourite 141 boys as they sit around waiting to receive orders and go-tos from higher-ups. They’ve done everything they could to pass the time: Polished and prepared the weaponry, sorted and stored old files, and Simon even got desperate enough to fold, wash and tuck in bedding for the second time. But eventually, they ran out of little distractions and were left waiting for orders that might never come. Bit by bit, it was driving them mad. The first to snap was Gaz, who was already pacing up and down the base like a madman. Out of desperation, he grabbed his laptop that he hid under his bed and opened it. He knew he wasn’t allowed to access electronic devices while at base; frankly, he wasn’t even supposed to have them at all. But Price couldn’t be bothered to chastise his sergeant, as he was equally starting to get desperate for some action too. 

Gaz just started opening tabs, looking for anything to pass the time. He wasn’t sure what his goal was other than to find something that might quell his building insanity. That’s when he saw it. Some sort of…dating website? No, not entirely that. It was filled with livestreams, gorgeous younger men and women just talking. He looked further and found it was some kind of sugar baby service where people could come on and interact with lonely rich fellas with cash to spend. Interesting, but not his thing. He was about to exit the page when he spotted your livestream. You were attractive, no doubt about that, but you also seemed a lot more nervous than the other ‘sugar babies’ on this website acted. Like you were new to all this. Your live stream was just you sitting on your bed with the laptop in front of you, only having a dozen or so viewers at most. Curiosity struck him, and his finger moved to click on your livestream. 

The audio of you talking played out of the speakers on the laptop, making the other three men's heads turn in Gaz’s direction. You spoke softly, careful with your words as you talked about yourself and your day, answering questions now and again. It was intriguing. You had each of their attention with the way you spoke. None of them had spoken to a civilian for months. Outside of the 141, they barely even saw another human being with the way they were stuck there. So hearing your voice felt like singing angels to them, one that came to pull them out of the darkness of their minds. Soap and Simon silently shuffled to where Gaz was and leered behind him, watching you talk over his shoulder. Price continued to sit on his side of the room, but he was still entranced by your voice. Even ordering Gaz to turn up the volume if it got too quiet.

Gaz soon realised that the livestream was nearing its end. You hadn’t earned a lot of money, and you were slowly losing steam. But Gaz was desperate. He needed to hear your voice again. To talk to you, speak to you, interact with you somehow. His fingers moved before his brain did, and he input his card details into the website faster than the speed of sound. You had to pay in order to leave a comment and interact on this kind of website, so he tipped you a healthy sum of cash before typing out the quickest sentence he could to get your attention.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

[maryangelex]

loser!reader x simon riley

loser!reader who’s hired by lasswel to help price with the immense amount of paperwork that he never gets to. who’s assigned to sit pretty at the beaten desk outside of his office. but I like the idea of reader not being the typical “sexy assistant” but more like loser girl frumpy sweater and thick rimmed glasses type of assistant who still gets these Kyle and Johnny riled up working extra hard and making dorks out of themselves trying to woo you but you’re just too oblivious to men’s advances. not simon though, he’s the one that’s the most awkward yet somehow effective? you get hired and on your first day, as you acclimate to your office with your matching pastel supplies that you so delicately organize across your desk to give this t-filled office a feminine touch, one by one the boys drop off their report files at your desk to be revised and handed over to price. the first one’s Kyle, who showers you in compliments that go way over your head, “sargeant Garrick sure is polite!” Is all you really think of it; kinda frustrating for him. the next one coming over is Johnny, who hands you his files with his eyes eating you up like you’re a bar of chocolate. Johnny makes you feel um, intimidated? it’s the way he’s got that look in his eyes that feels like he’ll eat you whole, like he’s got X-ray vision staring right through that bulky knitted sweater. It makes your cheeks turn beet red in embarrassment when he makes comments and one-liners to get you worked up. the last one to visit your desk that first day caught you off-guard. while you were turned around alphabetizing the manila folders in the file cabinet behind you, you turned around to the large apparition of a skull-faced man that might as well have been a hallucination because 2 seconds ago he was not there and a man that size should be impossible to go unnoticed. your heart jumps and gets caught in your throat when you turn around and see him; dark and massive and the only visible human feature in him are the dark brown eyes behind that mask. you greet him politely through a stutter as you return to your seat, and all he responds with is an extended arm with the reports in hand. you mutter a thank you, your throat constricted, and what you get in return is a grunt before he turns on his heels and disappears down the hallway.

you’re scared shitless of that man on your very first day.

little did you know, simon’s face under the mask was scarlet red and flushed hot the second he saw your innocent glimmering eyes behind your skewed frames, making him unable to get a word out and having no other option but to retreat.

[coryndoll]

plot ── tasked with interviewing actor drew starkey about his latest movie, you unintentionally steal the spotlight, leaving him blushing and lost for words under your mesmerizing gaze.

content ── reader being toooo pretty that drew is just like woah, drew being so observant ugh love him, reader not even trying to get his attention at all but ure just so alluring to him

authors note ── yea FUCK my series even tho i made that poll tbh im just so unmotivated. i saw this pic of drew n had some ideas for this lil oneshot of reader interviewing him post-premiere or something and him literally falling in love n reader noticing the little things n he becomes soheart eyes for u omg

you were a little nervous, to say the least. it was supposed to be a one-on-one interview, which somehow felt more intense than group ones with an entire cast. at least in those, the attention wasn’t entirely on you. but now? now it was just you and drew starkey, a handful of questions, and an awkwardly large camera crew standing just out of frame, watching everything. no pressure, right?

your boss had insisted that this interview focus on drew’s performance in his latest film. fair enough, but it also meant no backup—no costar to bounce off of or share the spotlight. it felt intimate in a way you weren’t entirely comfortable with, no matter how many times you’d done this. at the end of the day, it was just you sitting across from a celebrity while everyone else quietly judged your ability to hold a conversation.

you had almost turned this job down when you first started, not because of the nerves (though there were plenty) but because of the sheer vulnerability of it. still, the exposure wasn’t bad, and the paycheck? even better.

as you stepped into the room, clipboard in hand, the tension in your chest tightened just a bit. drew starkey, an actor you were only somewhat familiar with, sat casually in his chair. outer banks, hellraiser, the other zoey—you’d done your homework, skimming through his projects like your career depended on it. because, well, it kind of did. and he was . . . well, better looking in person, if that was even possible. the kind of face that made you forget you had questions to ask in the first place.

meanwhile, drew had been at this for hours. interviews were basically part of the job, but after a while, they all blended together. same questions, same conversations, just with different faces. he was tired but not miserable, holding onto the thought of dinner plans with some friends later that night.

interviews weren’t bad—he liked the connection when it happened, like the guy he was first interviewed by had laughed when he cracked a joke—but there was only so much charm drew could muster after a full day of talking about himself and the same film.

when you walked into the room, he barely glanced up at first. another assistant, probably, or someone from the crew running around to keep things moving. he didn’t pay much attention until you stopped right in front of him, introducing yourself and the network you worked for, arm extended for a handshake.

his gaze flicked to yours, and for a moment, he forgot how to move, but he pulled himself together quickly, or at least he hoped it looked that way. he shook your hand, smiling the kind of easy, practiced smile he’d perfected over the years, but there was something a little shaky in his voice when he said, “nice to meet you.”

he sat back down, reminding himself to focus. you were a professional. he was a professional. this was just another interview. but it was hard to ignore the way his heart picked up every time you looked at him like that—focused, curious, maybe even a little nervous yourself. he wasn’t sure what it was about you, but for the first time that day, he couldn’t wait for the next question.

his hand went to his earlobe almost instinctively, a nervous habit he hadn’t really noticed until now. yeah, you were . . . stunning, in the kind of way that made him feel like he should stand up straighter or check his hair. if someone had told him you were a celebrity, he wouldn’t have questioned it. but the fact that you were here to interview him? that just felt unfair.

but the interview was smooth, the kind he’d done a hundred times before. the questions were predictable again, circling around the same themes: his character, the challenges of filming, the energy on set. drew answered easily, slipping into that familiar rhythm, but every so often, his focus wavered—not on the questions, but on you.

you glanced down at your list, scanning it for the next prompt, and then back up at him with those eyes. god, those eyes. drew swore they could make anyone feel like they were the only person in the room, even though he knew there were at least ten crew members just beyond the cameras.

he noticed it, though—how bored you seemed, even if you were too professional to let it show. your smile was polite, your tone unwavering, but every now and then, you hesitated just slightly before asking him a question, like you were already tired of the script you’d been given.

and then there was him, barely able to hold eye contact. it was almost embarrassing when he caught himself smiling at you, just a small, almost shy curve of his lips, but it was enough for you to pause, tilting your head slightly as if you were studying him.

"are you okay?" you asked softly, your own lips quirking into a smile that practically knocked the wind out of him.

it was such a simple exchange, but drew could feel the heat creeping up his neck. “yeah. yeah, i’m . . . awesome,” he managed, clearing his throat and looking away for half a second before his eyes found their way back to yours. he had to play it off, had to stay professional, but the way you smiled back at him, like his answer had made your day a little brighter? it felt like a win. still, he reminded himself: there was only so much time left. you were on a clock, and he couldn’t afford to waste it, even if you made it almost too easy to get distracted.

you just laughed, accepting his answer, but the moment lingered. your smile lingered. and the questions rolled on, one after another. nothing groundbreaking, but you kept it light, adding just enough to make it feel like a conversation. drew appreciated that. but eventually, after a particularly shared laugh—he couldn’t even remember what the joke had been—he leaned in slightly, his voice carrying a hint of playful curiosity.

“okay, so what did you think about the movie?” he asked, a smile tugging at his lips. it caught you off guard; he could tell by the way your posture shifted, your pen stilling over your notes.

and then you started talking.

at first, it was simple—a few observations, some praise for the direction, the performances. but the more you went on, the more animated you became, your voice lifting slightly, your words flowing effortlessly. you dove deep, unraveling moments and emotions from the film like you’d been holding them in since the premiere. drew leaned back, one hand resting against his chin as he watched you, utterly mesmerized.

you talked about the subtlety of his character, how his guarded exterior felt like a shield hiding something raw and vulnerable. you mentioned the tension between the characters—the way their connection felt like a push-and-pull dance neither could fully commit to but couldn’t walk away from either. you dissected the music, the cinematography, how it all wove together like a symphony of yearning and restraint.

and the way you talked about his performance . . .

you didn’t gush, which he appreciated, but your words were thoughtful, specific. you spoke about his quiet expressions, the way he held so much in his body language—the hesitation in his glances, the way his character seemed to pull back just when you thought he’d lean in. it was like you’d been watching with a magnifying glass, picking apart moments even he hadn’t considered.

he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. not just because you liked the movie, though that didn’t hurt, but because it was you. you, sitting across from him, completely unaware of how captivating you looked while tearing apart his work in the best possible way. if someone had asked him to focus on anything other than the way you gestured, your fingers brushing lightly against the edge of your clipboard, or the way your lips curved when you spoke, he would’ve failed miserably.

drew just sat there, watching you, and he couldn’t help but smile. you weren’t just pretty—you were sharp, insightful, and clearly so much more than the routine questions your clipboard suggested.

“you’re good at this,” he said when you finally paused for a breath, and he meant it. but he couldn’t help the slight teasing edge in his tone, the way his smile softened just a little as his eyes met yours again.

[kiryoutann]

another sneak peek because i have yet to find it in me to post the full thing. warning(s): MDNI, sexual contents, graphic description of blood, wounds, burn scars, and violence. past-torture, possible dacryphilia.

“Those scars…” Your voice wavered, and you had to pause to steady it. “Were they from your time in the military?”

Watching those pretty lips tremble, tears marring your beautiful face, he felt a sickening clench in his chest. Part of him hated seeing you so sad, while another swelled with something akin to misplaced pride – that this angel was weeping over scars so old they had long since stopped hurting him.

Scars from battles the old Simon had fought years ago. Scars he had seen as part of his creation, marks he bore without feeling.

“Some from service, yeah. Others… more personal-like.” He said it nonchalantly. In his perspective, as proof that it didn’t hurt anymore, didn't need to numb it with ice like he did in the past—so, sweet thing, stop crying over him.

As if that were possible. He could tell you that it happened years ago, but it doesn't matter; it wouldn't lessen the pain even if your human life spanned a hundred centuries. Your tongue seared, heart sliced—someone touched the one you love with the most brutal violence they could choose in this world.

The image must have been absurd—the two of you completely naked in front of each other, yet instead of continuing, you weep over him. But now that you’ve seen it—those scars etched so cruelly and eternally upon his flesh—how do you look away?

"Why... why would anyone want to hurt you?” Your voice trembled, tracing that scar near his ribs that had caught your attention since you first saw it. It stood out, raised and knotted in a way that spoke of a cruel blade—making you wince at the thought of the pain. “Is… is this from your time in the military too?”

“Yeah,”

“What happened?”

Without any real weight, he said, “Got meself ‘anged by the ribs once,” in a light intonation as if it were some kind of joke.

But it wasn’t. My God, you wished it was, but it wasn’t, judging by the scars.

Despite his effort, it couldn’t mask the horror he’d experienced. Your breath hitches in a sob, your hand trying to cover your mouth. Your airway constricts as you imagine how it must have felt for him then. Hanged by the ribs, feeling your skin tear from holding your weight, flesh on display like they do in a slaughterhouse.

And he still manages to shush you, drawing your head to his chest in a tight hug like you’re the one who’s been through it all.

“Twern’t nothin’ – doesn’t even ‘urt no more.”

Pressed against his skin, you seek the usual solace that his heartbeat brings. But your heart remains unsettled, a lingering question nagging at your mind and tongue, refusing to let you find peace until it's voiced.

Raising your head slightly, chin resting upon his chest, you meet his gaze with red-rimmed eyes. "And... and the burn scars?”

“House fire during a mission.”

You know that’s not the full truth, but you don’t dare to press it, choosing to spare your heart from more details of his agonies.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt.” You said.

Simon gave a small hum in response. Reaching up, he wiped away your tears with his thumb. “Then stop cryin', love. 'Urts more to see yer pretty face all red and puffy.”

The hands around your jaw bring you closer. This time, he's the first to initiate this new kiss, closing his lips around yours with almost hesitant caution. And you want to cry—you want to cry from how gentle his touch is, and yet someone has handled him in the cruelest way possible.

[sneak peek of chapter 10 of "A MAN'S HEART IS TRULY A WRETCHED, WRETCHED THING."]

[writing-mlm]

I think I’ll stay here, just for a second

Summary: Ekko can come to enjoy this Pairing: Ekko x gender neutral reader wc: 700 a/n: SPOILERS FOR ARC 3 OF ARCANEE, i wrote this while watching ep 7

This was wrong. All of this was wrong. Jinx… Powder— whoever she was in this timeline was good, Vander, Milo, Claggor, and— God— Benzo were alive but Vi was dead and… you. Holy shit, you’re alive, too. You’re alive and just how he remembers you. 

He touches your face as he remembers your death, how you died after being taken in by Silko with Powder. How your death was nothing but another day for Zaun, another Undercity kid who got what they deserved from an enforcer. He remembers how he held your body, there’s been so much blood. He didn’t recognize your face, it haunted his dreams for years. It still does, if he’s being honest. 

But now here you were; able to grow up. You still lived with your brother; he didn’t die after he tried to get you back from Silko. He became the chef he always wanted to be and you… his eyes swim in yours as you smile, pressing your face deeper into his hand. 

“You must’ve hit your head pretty hard, huh.” You tease. 

He’d quite literally bumped into you after rushing out from the bar, stumbling into everything, and knocking things over. He looked at you like he saw a ghost and for a moment you swear you saw tears swimming in his eyes. 

“Yeah,” He nods, collecting himself. “Yeah, I did.” His hand drops from your face and you quickly scoop it up, dragging him in another direction before he has the chance to realize. 

“Where’re we going?” His feet stumble forward before he catches himself and keeps pace with you. You look back at him, winking before pressing a finger to your lips. “Okay,” He laughs this light and airy laugh, letting himself believe, even if it’s just for a moment, that you’re alive. That Jinx isn’t Jinx. That Benzo is alive. That this is where he’s meant to be. 

You take him to a spot he’s all too familiar with; a spot you’d created when you were kids tucked inside an empty sewer pipe. Only now it’s grown and the pipe is the entrance. He holds the top as he struggles to keep up, clearly, this was second nature to you. It must’ve been second nature to this timeline Ekko’s too because it quickly grows easier. 

Coming out on the other side, he finds a large room. It’s messy, with drawings and objects haphazardly arranged; lights adorning the ceilings and walls, and couch cushions pushed to the corner. 

He stumbles inside while you toss two cushions into empty spots, waiting for him to join you. 

“C’mon, cupcake. Take a seat, we have a couple of hours before Powder comes and finds us.”

“She— she knows about this place?” His eyebrows pinch, worry overtaking him. The last time she found out about it, she blew it up. He remembers holding the scarps of the cushions, the singed papers that burnt away with the second round of bombs. 

“Well, yeah,” You laugh. “She’s the one who gave us the extra materials. You need to rest, c’m’here.” Patting the seat, he glances around, eyes scanning for bombs because that’s second nature at this point. He only finds his sketches and your hobbies lying around. It’s still your safe haven. 

He settles into the brown seat, your hand wrapping around his shoulder almost immediately and pushing his head onto your shoulder. 

“You still have that headache, Ko?” His eyes close as your nails trail up his fade, the small hairs dancing across your fingers. It feels good, his shoulders relax a bit and he nods, his nose nuzzling into your neck as he sighs. Even here you still smell the same. “I’ll dim the lights for you.” Your free hand reaches up above you, finding the handle that turns the light off and you turn it. He hears it crank twice as the lights lower. 

“Thank you,” He whispers. Your hand trails higher, catching on his hair tie before you pull it off. The white hair falls, sliding off of his head and dangling around his ears. He feels them moving but more so, he feels how you message his temple before lying down, taking him with you. On the way down, he feels your lips against his and he opens his eyes, his chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon. 

He stares at you, his chin resting on your sternum while you smile down at him. 

“You seem shocked.” You hum, still rubbing his head. 

“I’m just… I had a really vivid dream. I guess I forgot about this… us,” Again, his eyebrows pinch and you smile, tucking his hair behind his ear. 

“I’ll be happy to talk about us to you.” You offer. “We’re my favorite story.” 

“Yeah,” He nods. “Mine too.”

[band--psycho]

Vander x Reader - In Another Life (Part 1)

SPOILERS FROM ACT 3 - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Vander Masterlist / Arcane Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Thank you to everyone who's sent in a request so far! I'm absolutely loving the ideas you guys are sharing and will get to work on them soon! 💛

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The way I sobbed during this first episode when I saw Vander again!

I just had to write this afterwards - I hope you all enjoy this!

You woke with a start, your heart beating at a rapid pace as a light bead of sweat formed on your forehead. 

You stayed like that for a minute, just sitting upright in the bed as you began to catch your breath; your eyes focusing on the environment around you. 

You weren’t in your bedroom. 

In fact, you didn’t really know where you were…it was weird, although this place seemed so different to you, it felt oddly familiar at the same time.

The last thing you could remember was being in the room with the hexcore in it. 

Ekko…Heimerdinger…Jayce…where were they?

Thoughts were running around in your mind faster than you could keep up with them; you’d barely finished one thought before another one took over, as you tried to work out what the hell happened and where the hell you were. 

‘Am I dead?’ you thought to yourself, running your hands over your face. 

But all your thoughts were halted when you heard the door to your side creek open; followed by a voice that confirmed you must’ve been dead, or just completely losing your mind.

Vanders voice….

“Good morning, sleepyhead, or should I say afternoon,” he chuckled; a sound that made your heart ache, and yet at the same time, made you feel all warm and fuzzy. 

It was a sound that you never thought you’d hear again… 

A sound that had made you feel safe; regardless of what was going on, even now when you had no idea what was going on. 

You heard his footsteps getting closer to you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

Not even for a second, just in case this was just your mind playing a foul trick on you. 

It wasn’t long before the sounds of his footsteps stopped and the bed that you were sitting on dipped as Vander sat in front of you.  

He lifted his hand to your face, tilting your chin up with his thumb, “You okay, sweetheart?”

His touch; it felt so real, so real that it made you sure it wasn’t your mind deceiving you. 

It couldn’t have been. 

Vander quite often occupied your dreams, and in every single one of them, his touch had never felt as real as it did in this very moment. 

“Am I dead?” The words fell from your lips before you could stop them, coming out in a small whisper.

Your eyes met Vanders gray ones, that’s when you noticed the worry that was slowly building inside them as he stared at you. 

“No, darl,” he cooed, wrapping his other hand around your waist, lifting you out of the bed momentarily before placing you in his lap, “you're safe.”

Safe.

You hadn’t been safe in a long time. 

And yet, here you were feeling safer then you had in years, with a man who should’ve been dead.

Your man. 

The love of your life. 

He was here. 

He was alive. 

You could hear his heart beating as you snuggled into his chest, savoring the all too familiar scent of Vander….smoke, fire and alcohol, mixing together with a small amount of cologne he loved to wear. 

“You’re alive…” you breathed, tentatively reaching out to touch his cheek. 

He seemed different. 

But in a good way.

The dark circles that were once under his eyes were pretty much all but gone; and his eyes seemed happier than when you knew him, as though he was free from all the stress that once plagued him. 

“Course I am, darl,” he assured you with a small smile; before pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head, hoping that his small action would be able to ease your mind. 

It didn’t. Not really at least. 

You were so confused. 

You didn't understand what was happening.

You tried to blink back the tears that were forming in your eyes, tried to keep yourself together so you could figure out what was happening. 

So you could think logically. 

But there was nothing logical about any of this…the arcane….magic…it wasn’t something that was logical. 

But now, being wrapped up in Vanders arms again, made you want to throw logic to the wind and just stay like this with him for as long as you possible could, not knowing how long this could last.

You didn’t know what was happening, or how, or why; all you knew was that Vander was here. 

That was all that mattered.

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @barbersjoy @conretewings @the-lone-librarian @cass-brightwood @fortune-fool02 @arielpanda1 @mothratic @simping-ella @stickyrice5096 @levis-butterfingers @lesbianinyourarea @eternallyvenus @trixiex2 @nagislemontea @dazecrea @littlejoyfullthing

[paragonrobits]

It was an honest question, and not meant in mean-ness or disrespect. So Auxillary Arch-Sciencewretch Bongo paused, a cup of tea up to his mandibles.

He gently put the cup down and folded several of his arms together, contemplating how to proceed. First he wondered if it was important to correct the ambassador on the mistake of referring to him as human. He decided to dismiss it; there was generally a growing period for species new to the galactic community where they were prone to thinking of broad, species-based groups. The error of species-as-society. In time, they'd adjust to the idea of a society being bigger than a single species, of forms of identity on a shared cultural basis in a way different than they might be used to.

He was not human in a technical sense, but as the humans had begun what was generally called the Pansolar Coalition, an interplanetary governing body and representative democracy of many species, it was pretty common to conflate humans with the group as a whole.

And to be fair, his own species had been made on Earth; uplifted arachnids, and he was among those who had chosen to go about piloted a humanoid robotic chassis to interact with larger beings, which also looked like a big humanoid spider-thing because he had an aesthetic and by God he was going to STICK TO IT.

The ambassador was a robot; not an organic being using a chassis or a voluntary cyborg, nor was he a sapient artificial intelligence installed into a robotic platform. His kind were naturally occurring robots; Bongo wasn't sure how that happened, but there they were.

Bongo said, carefully, "That question is more delicate than you may realize."

"How so?" The ambassador's optics flickered in a way conveying genuine puzzlement, so Bongo chose to take things easy on him.

"Well, is not terraforming something done by your people?"

"Ah. Yes, but not as much as you; we don't need to adapt a planet to suit ourselves to it, we just adapt ourselves."

"Indeed. Well, I am afraid the majority of my... well, not my species exactly, but my kind, or rather the fellow kin among the Coalition, we can't adapt as easily as you. And there's ethical concerns."

"Ethics? In what, exactly?"

"Tell me. What do you know about the religious concept of stewardship?"

"Hrm. I think I had a briefing about it. Isn't the idea of sapient beings given a charge by divinity to protect and care for the world as they know it?"

"Quite so."

The ambassador hesitated. Bongo gave off the impression that it was self explainatory, but it seemed a mystery to him. "I'm not sure I follow?"

"As being with the ability and power to do so, we feel it is an obligation to care for our worlds; we have hundreds, yes, and that is because we are prepared to spend so much time and resources caring for a single world, and we apply that to all our worlds. Great damage has been done in the past, during a more thoughtless age. Now we are wiser, and we understand that it is our duty to care for the worlds."

The ambassador was quiet.

Eventually he said, "So its like gardening, I think?"

"Yes, that's a way of looking at it. We're not seperate from the garden; we're a part of it. We're all part of a vast and flowing network of life and death, birth and rebirth. We cannot be seperated from it, and so it is bad, to us, to exert power over it. If we spend many resources to do just that, it is simply our way."

The ambassador was quiet, again, this time for a while.

"I think," he said carefully. "I still don't quite understand, but I think I would like to."

There were some who disputed that the ambassador's people were ready to join the galactic community. But in the ambassador's words, Bongo saw hope for the future yet.

"You humans have hundreds of planets under your control, so why do you waste so many resources trying to make that Earth planet habital? I genuinely don't understand."