#tears on a withered flower x reader

[ayno-magi]

Tears on a Withered Flower 🥀: Ch. 1

⤷ (Reader Insert)

── ⋅ ⋅ ── 𖦹

this might be not everyone’s cup of tea since it’s mostly reader simping over na hae (mc)

but, if you guys really want i GUESS i can make beom tae x reader w smut maybe 😒🥱

pls PLS lmk what you guys think in the comments 🫶

kind of shitty to be honest since the next word I kept typing was coming out of my ass

additional tags: afab reader, reader being a bisexual icon, how could you not fall for this fine mama cause GYYATT DAYUM, na hae soo x reader x beom tae ha, reader simping over na hae, reader is in mid 20s, sesbian lex???, reader with a milf/dilf complex

incorrect grammar and misspelling ahead

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It was nearly midnight when the shrill ringtone of your phone jolted you awake. Blinking against the darkness, you fumbled for your device, the screen's harsh light making you squint. The name that flashed across the display sent a jolt of adrenaline through you: Na Hae Soo. In an instant, you shot upright, heart pounding as surged of mostly nervousness and excitement, your blood rushing to your head.

This was the first time Haesoo called you first. Your hands shook as you answered, breathless, “...hello?” Your voice came out hoarse, prompting you to clear your throat, but before you could speak again, a shaky voice broke through the line. 

“(L/N)... I-I... need you *hic*,” Haesoo's words were laced with distress, and you could hear the tremor in her voice, hinting at tears. A wave of concern washed over you—was she in trouble? Had her husband hurt her? “Is everything okay? Are you hurt? Where are you? Are you at home? I’m coming to get you!” you blurted out, kicking off the covers and reflexively putting on your slippers.

You stumbled around your room, colliding with furniture and nearly tripping over the chaos strewn about. Catching yourself against the wall, you flicked on the light, urgency propelling you forward. “Just wait for me, okay, Na Hae!” you shouted as you dashed out, grabbing your keys from the counter.

Pulling the phone away, you realize she had hung up. Panic flooded your body as you burst through the door, the chill of the night air prickling your skin. You raced down the stairs, nearly losing your footing, and slammed into your car. With a quick flick, you unlocked it and started the engine, ignoring the seatbelt as you sped out of the parking lot, foot pressing hard on the gas, heart racing with every second that passed.

*Several Months Ago*

You finally finished doing pick up orders, your knees protesting as you bent down to ease the strain from standing too long. Glancing around you spotted Jeong sweeping the floor, you called out to her, "Could you take this out to the front for me once you're done?" Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the table brimming with bouquets. "You finished that quickly! It hasn't been long at all! Thank you, Unnie!" She exclaimed, her joy palpable, mostly because it meant she was spared from the heavy lifting that you had just tackled.

"Yeah yeah, no problem," you replied, you wiped your green-stained hands on your apron and let out a weary sigh, contemplating a much-deserved lunch break.

But just as you began to relax, a loud voice pierced the air, "¿Dónde está la perra que estaba coqueteando con mi novio?!” (“ᵂʰᵉʳᵉ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᶦᵗᶜʰ ʷʰᵒ ʷᵃˢ ᶠˡᶦʳᵗᶦⁿᵍ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵐʸ ᵇᵒʸᶠʳᶦᵉⁿᵈ!”)

Ooor not. 

You and Jeong exchanged alarmed glances, the malice in the voice unmistakable despite the foreign language. Your shoulders slumped in resignation. "I'll go check it out," you said, steeling yourself for the confrontation ahead.

"Estas flores... ¿quién se las dio a mi novio?!" the voice continued, sharp and accusatory. ("ᵀʰᵉˢᵉ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ—ʷʰᵒ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ᵇᵒʸᶠʳᶦᵉⁿᵈ!?")

"Um- ma'am please, I-" You heard Haesoo's voice trembled, laced with fear.

"¡Fuiste tú quien le dio esto a mi novio, puta!" the woman shouted, her fury palpable. ("ᵂᵃˢ ᶦᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰᵒ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ᵇᵒʸᶠʳᶦᵉⁿᵈ, ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰᵒʳᵉ!")

Your heart raced as you quickened your steps, rounding a corner to find a woman violently waving a bouquet, petals scattering like confetti in a storm, while Hae-soo stood with her head bowed, clearly shaken. Without hesitation, you moved closer, wrapping one arm around Haesoo's shoulder and taking her trembling cold hands in yours, offering her a sense of safety. Haesoo snapped her head up in surprise at your presence, but the warmth of your embrace enveloped her, and for a moment, she felt shielded from the chaos surrounding them.

You pulled her in close, your voice low and soothing,  "¿Cómo podemos ayudarle?" ("ᴴᵒʷ ᶜᵃⁿ ʷᵉ ʰᵉˡᵖ ʸᵒᵘ?") A gentle smile graced your lips as the woman turned her attention to you, her thrashing seemingly to subside, "Quiero enfrentar a la zorra que le envió estas flores a mi novio; ¡al parecer estaba coqueteando con él!" Her voice escalated with each word, and you could see Haesoo ever so slightly trembling beside you, yet your warm grip around her hands remained steady and reassuring. ("ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒⁿᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵏᵃⁿᵏ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵉⁿᵗ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ ᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ᵇᵒʸᶠʳᶦᵉⁿᵈ; ᵃᵖᵖᵃʳᵉⁿᵗˡʸ, ˢʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᶠˡᶦʳᵗᶦⁿᵍ ʷᶦᵗʰ ʰᶦᵐ!")

"Lo siento, pero no vendemos ese tipo de flores-" ("ᴵ'ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵉˡˡ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ᵗʸᵖ�� ᵒᶠ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ-" ) you were interrupted.

"¡NO! ¡Esta es una florería donde mi novio las compró! ¡¿Dónde está la zorra que le dio esto a mi novio?!" Her words dripped with venom, and you felt your eyebrow twitch, but you maintained your calm demeanor, the smile still plastered on your face. ("ᴺᴼ! ᵀʰᶦˢ ᶦˢ ᵃ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳ ˢʰᵒᵖ ᵐʸ ᵇᵒʸᶠʳᶦᵉⁿᵈ ᵍᵒᵗ ᶦᵗ ᶠʳᵒᵐ! ᴺᵒʷ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᶦˢ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵏᵃⁿᵏ ʷʰᵒ ᵍᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵐʸ ᵇᵒʸᶠʳᶦᵉⁿᵈ!!")

"Lamentablemente señora, no sabemos quién le vendió esas flores a su novio, ¿tiene usted un recibo” ("ᵁⁿᶠᵒʳᵗᵘⁿᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ᵐᵃ'ᵃᵐ, ʷᵉ ᵈᵒ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵒˡᵈ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ᶠˡᵒʷᵉʳˢ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵒʸᶠʳᶦᵉⁿᵈ, ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ʳᵉᶜᵉᶦᵖᵗ?")

"Por qué demonios-" ("ᵂʰʸ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵉˡˡ-")

""Si no lo haces, entonces debo pedirte que te vayas."(“ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ’ᵗ, ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᴵ ᵐᵘˢᵗ ᵃˢᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ.")

Her indignation was palpable as she raised the arm clutching the flowers, and you braced yourself, is this chick gonna do what you think she's gonna do. With a swift motion, she swung her arm down, aiming to strike you with the sharp thorns. Instinctively, you released Hae-soo's hand and seized the woman's wrist with a firm grip.

"Por favor, vete ahora." ("ᴾˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ, ⁿᵒʷ.")Your eyes narrowed into slits, trying to channel the intensity of a movie villain, you think it worked cause she seemed like she was gonna shit her pants; she struggled in your grasp, shaking you off, the flowers tumbling from her grasp. Taking a few steps back, she muttered under her breath, "Perra loca...." Stomping off as the door's bells jingled in her wake, you stuck out your tongue, retorting, "You're the crazy puta.” ( “ᵇᶦᵗᶜʰ”) You scoffed. (“ᶜʳᵃᶻʸ ᵇᶦᵗᶜʰ...”)

How infuriating.

"Um..." a soft, hesitant voice broke the silence beside you, drawing your attention to Haesoo, who remained nestled in your embrace. Her face was mere inches from yours, and while she appeared to look much more at ease, she was still shaken. 

Ah, maybe cause you were squeezing her tight against you to the point her chest was squishing against yours creating an overwhelming closeness. The warmth of her body was pressed against yours was almost overwhelming. Her wide, expressive eyes seemed to drift into a distant haze, while her delicate lips formed a subtle frown that tugged at your heart.

Jesus fucking christ her boobs are just so-

What the hell am I thinking!

You lifted your hands up in the air like her body burned your skin, "I'm so sorry!!" your cheeks flushing a deep crimson as you averted your gaze, feeling as though you had stumbled upon something you weren’t meant to witness, "I didn't mean to touch you without your consent; it's just that I was worried that lady was gonna-"

"No! It’s not that, it’s just..." Her voice cut through your flustered ramble and as you lowered your hands, you turned your head to meet her gaze. To your surprise, she appeared more bashful than upset, her head bowed in a gesture of humility. "I’m sorry for not being any help," she murmured, her tone soft and laden with sincerity. You gasped hard, feeling your soul left your body, "Oh my goodness! Please raise your head! There's no need to apologize something when you did nothing wrong!" You were more embarrassed that an older women, like her, was bowing to someone younger, like you. 

"I should be thanking you and I'm sorry you had to deal with a person like that, conflict is one of the most difficult situations we face because it thrusts us out of our comfort zone, don't feel the need to apologize so please raise your head Haesoo," you urged, your heart swelling with empathy for her.

She raised her gaze to meet yours, and as your words washed over her, a sense of calm enveloped her. The tension in her shoulders eased, and the frown that had etched itself on her lips began to fade. Her hands came together in front of her, fingers nervously intertwining as she spoke, "Thank you for your help. If there's any way I can repay you, please let me know." There was a shyness in her demeanor, a timidity that hinted at the weight of her thoughts, as if she were perpetually lost in her own world.

Yet, the sudden outburst from a customer jolted her back to reality, the harshness of the shouting ringing in her ears, though the words were lost on her. She struggled to appease the irate woman, but nothing seemed to work, and soon tears pricked at her eyes while her hands trembled uncontrollably. A wave of helplessness washed over her; she didn't know what to do, she needed to do something to fix this but what? What could she do, she can't even fix her relationship how can she do this. The air thickened around her, her vision blurred, and her mind spiraled with despair—she can't, she can't fix this. 

But then, the warmth of your hands enveloped hers, and your presence shattered the oppressive atmosphere that had weighed so heavily on her. The burdens that had felt suffocating began to lift, and as she watched you effortlessly converse with the lady in a language with ease, a flicker of hope ignited within her. Your eyes met hers, and a reassuring smile broke through the tension;

Everything is gonna be okay.

Is what your smile said.

Haeso felt...

She felt protected, she felt safe. Even though it was such a simple touch on the shoulder and on her trembling hands, she just melted into you. Those small gestures, so seemingly insignificant—transforming her anxiety into a comforting warmth—meant everything at that moment. 

You shook you head, a playful grin spreading across your face. "There's no need, anyone sensible would do that for someone in your position," you admitted, a sudden wave of shyness washing over you as you absentmindedly scratched the back of your neck. "And if you ever need someone to give those pesky customers a good scare, just say the word—I'm totally your girl," you added with a cheeky wink, feeling your cheeks start to burn. 

Ah, I’m so cringe.

Despite the countless hours spent in the same space, you had never really engaged in a meaningful conversation with Haesoo. You had always assumed she preferred her solitude or the chatting with Jeong, which often consisted of the young girl doing most of the talking while Haesoo listened quietly.

Yet, as you looked into her eyes, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her than met the eye. As cliche as it sounds.

Haesoo had an air of mystery about her, a quiet strength that intrigued you.

Your eyes glazed over at her, as you wonder what she was like outside of work.

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The days you saw Haesoo you greeted her and when there was downtime you made light conversations that never ventured too deep, careful not to probe too much into her life, as her responses often carried a hint of hesitation. It was as if she wore a veil over her thoughts, keeping herself at a distance, and you respected that unspoken boundary. 

"I finished up over here with the pre-orders, need a hand with yours?" You glanced over at Haesoo, who paused momentarily to look at your end of the table, every flower prepped and wrapped up neatly, "You really are fast," she awes before looking back at the remaining flowers that haven’t been finished, shrugging you took the untouched blooms from her side and began to arrange them, "I majored in art back in college, cause I thought I wanted to do something with that. I was wanted to find something that would help me be able to express myself back then. So the alluring of colors, shapes, and the stories they could tell captivated me. I wanted to share my vision with others and I thought I was convinced that this would be my passion, but that didn't really happen in the end."

Jeez college seemed like forever ago.

Haesoo listened carefully, her ears perking up, "You want to become an artist?" She folded the cellophane wrap on the table, glancing at the flowers you had completed. "Hmm, I did. But now I'm not sure what I want to do," you admitted, grabbing the back of your neck and titled your head to the side, feeling satisfied after hearing a pop. 

"Now, I'm unsure of my future, I feel a little lost so I don't know what I want to do right now, kind of losing hope to be honest," you joked at the end, but it held some truth, Haesoo fell silent, which made you wondered if you overshared-

"Don't worry about the future; you should enjoy the present while you're young," she finally said

Haesoo pauses for a minute, "But, I hope you can create the future you want as well," she added, her gaze drifting into the distance, as if she was thinking something more about than she had said. Her eyes always look like they have something yearning, that’s what you thought anyway.

"I will try my best," you replied, giving her a cheeky smile as you nodded in agreement, but after that, a comfortable silence enveloped you both, leaving the air thick with unspoken thoughts.

You glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, a sense of urgency washing over you as you sprang to your feet, "I have to get going," you exclaimed, hastily wiping your hands on your apron for the umpteenth time, but the faint of green stained your fingers still. Haesoo looked up, unexpected at your sudden leaving, "You have a short shift?" Haesoo looked up from her work, surprise flickering across her face at your abrupt departure. "Do you have a short shift today?" she inquired, her hands deftly adding the final touches to a vibrant bouquet.

You nodded, removing your apron and balled it up half hazardly, "Yeah, I have another job and my boss isn't very lenient about the schedule, so I have to be there on time whenever he calls for me." You lowered your gaze, a hint of regret creeping into your voice. "I’m really sorry I can’t stick around to help you finish up." The thought of leaving her despite not being alone still tugged at your conscience, but the clock was relentless, and you could already feel the weight of your next responsibility pressing down on you.

Haesoo waved her hands in front of her, "No need to apologizes," she reassured you, her understanding nature shining through like sunlight breaking through clouds. "I completely get it. You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. Besides, you helped me so much,” She returned her focus to the bouquet, her fingers dancing among the petals as she arranged them with care. "Just make sure you take a moment to breathe, okay? You’re doing so much already."

You appreciated her kindness, but the urgency of your situation loomed large. "Thanks, Haesoo. I promise I’ll make it up to you. Maybe I can come in early tomorrow to help open?" You offered, hoping to ease the guilt that gnawed at you.

"That sounds perfect," she replied her voice laced with gratitude. "Just don’t overwork yourself. You need to take care of you too." 

With a pep in your step, you felt a spark of giddiness in your chest, "I will! I’ll see you tomorrow!" You called over your shoulder as you rushed toward the door.

Haesoo's gaze lingered at where you had just disappeared, an unexpected wave of loneliness crashing over her like a sudden storm. It felt as though a piece had been whisked away, leaving behind a hollow ache. Like she had forgotten something a long time ago and wanted to see it once more, and she found herself closing her eyes, lost in contemplation. What was this strange sensation that had crept in so swiftly? Just moments ago, she had felt perfectly content, completely fine a second ago.

"I will try my best," you had said, your smile bright.

In that instant, Haesoo's heart raced, a wild drumbeat that seemed to drown out the world around her. She opened her eyes, her palms instinctively pressing against her chest as if to steady the tumult within. Confusion swirled in her mind; why did the mere thought of you send her spiraling into a dizzying mix of emotions?

"Unnie! We have customers!" Jeong's voice cut her thoughts.

"C-Coming!.." Haesoo called out softly, she looked down at her hands, remembering your warmed hands that touched hers. She remembered they were stained with green from the flowers, your fingers and knuckles having small cuts and scabs, and the smell of blue gum lingering on your hands. A small pout fell on her lips;

She wished she could've talked more with you.

To be continued…

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The story is far from over, but I want to know you’re guys’ thought so far,

Beom Tae is definitely gonna make an appearance if I kept going

(I have the rest of the story saved somewhere else hehe).

Lmk if you like it and all,

I know ya’ll want Beom Tae,

but I didn’t want to continue if ya’ll aren’t interested😩🫶

[moondvncer]

tears on a withered flower is serving 🍽✨️ but also let me tell you: Zayne.

[sasucaty]

A MAN.

[21aurora]

Guys , help ! I need a fanfic story for this manhwa so badly

Tears on a Withered Flower

Beom tae-ha x reader

[mymagicalsubs]

look like Na Haesoo subliminal ( reupload)

mf youtube deleted my previous video, I had to create it again :'))

➺ 𝗕𝗢𝗗𝗬 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗡𝗔 𝗛𝗔𝗘𝗦𝗢𝗢 (𝓮𝔁𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭)

🧸𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙛𝙧𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 🧸𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙚 🧸𝙗𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙮 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙨 🧸𝙡𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙨 🧸𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙡 & 𝙥𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙩𝙚 🧸𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 🧸𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚𝙨

➺ 𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟 𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘𝗦 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗡𝗔 𝗛𝗔𝗘𝗦𝗢𝗢 (𝓮𝔁𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭)

🧸𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙮 🧸𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚 🧸𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙨𝙮𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙧𝙮 🧸𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙩𝙝 🧸𝙗𝙞𝙜 𝙙𝙤𝙚 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 🧸𝙨𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙥𝙡𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙨

➺ 𝗕𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗬 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗡𝗔 𝗛𝗔𝗘𝗦𝗢𝗢 (𝓮𝔁𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭)

🧸𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣 + 𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙗𝙧𝙪𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣 🧸𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙪𝙢𝙥𝙮 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣 🧸𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙩𝙨 𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣 🧸𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚!

➺ 𝗜𝗡𝗡𝗢𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗡𝗔 𝗛𝗔𝗘𝗦𝗢𝗢 (𝓮𝔁𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭)

🧸 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 🧸 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙨𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙚🧸 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚

➺ 𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗔𝗜𝗥 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗡𝗔 𝗛𝗔𝗘𝗦𝗢𝗢 (𝓮𝔁𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓭)

🧸 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧 🧸 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙠𝙮 𝙡𝙪𝙨𝙘𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧 🧸 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙜𝙚𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧 🧸 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙮𝙡𝙚

𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫: 🌷 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 & 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 🌷 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 🌷 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲

guys shower my channel some love (ㅠ﹏ㅠ)

[zerocoded]

summary: you need a favor and beom taeha always have a way to be back on your life.

authors note: why haven't i seen ANY english work about this webtoon here on tumblr? i've been OBSESSED for a while and found out i could try to write a piece about it. i searched for fanfics of it before sleeping yesterday and was CRUSHED bc there isn't one. so this is my contribuition to the fandom, i hope at least one person will find this teehee.

warnings and tags: oc x beom taeha • reader x beom taeha • not na haesoo even tho she's a queen • i described reader with long dark hair at one point, sorry

word count: 3.1k

beom taeha’s voice sliced through the silence with a hint of stiffness, as if it had always been waiting for the perfect moment to unsettle you. whether the two of you were alone, sharing unspoken thoughts, or when your presence grew too much for him to handle, he always found a way to keep you on edge.

the suits he wore, the elegance he carried—none of it ever fooled you. 

his every breath seemed measured, his movements precise, as though he was rationing the number of steps he could take in a day. and when you weren’t captivated by his breathtaking beauty, you found yourself quietly mourning the fragments of a boy who had never really been allowed to grow up.

whether the two of you were alone, sharing unspoken thoughts, or when your presence grew too much for him to handle, he always found a way to keep you on edge.

not that you had such a great childhood yourself—you hadn’t—but somehow, you’d managed to sidestep the darkness waiting to swallow fragile minds like yours and taeha’s whole.

you managed to suffer by the hands of an unknown man at the time, while for taeha that man was his own father. you were slightly more lucky than the two beom boys when it came to the experiments all of you were put under.

so, in a way, you were beom taeha’s shield, and that’s exactly why you were here now.

the ponytail guard sucked in a breath when he saw you, standing calmly in the center of taeha’s living room, the delicate crunch of rose petals under your heels filling the space. you wore a refined three-piece beige suit, its clean lines complementing the cascade of long dark hair framing your figure. stilettos gave weight to your graceful steps, while the soft touch of makeup subtly highlighted the elegance of your features.

for a few seconds, you and the guard stood in silence, locked in an unspoken exchange. a white stick rested between his lips, unmoving, and for a fleeting moment, it reminded you of beom taeha’s habit of sucking on a lollipop whenever he was excited. but even with the sweetness of the memory tugging at the edges of your mind, your face betrayed none of those emotions.

"who are you?" the guard asked, his voice rigid, the fifth-generation g22 aimed squarely at you as his face hardened with misplaced seriousness. his steps were deliberate, closing the distance in an attempt to intimidate someone who had clearly stood in front of a gun more times than he ever would.

you didn’t answer right away. instead, your gaze remained fixed on the taller man standing just beyond the bodyguard, tracing the familiar details of his face like an old, obsessed lover reliving a memory they couldn’t let go of. he didn’t meet your eyes immediately, calmly slipping off his shoes as if the scene unfolding before him was nothing but routine, as if the gun pointed at you was no more than a minor inconvenience.

beom taeha was calm—because he already knew who you were. hell, he probably was expecting you to come already after what happened.

“did beom taeju send you here?” taeha’s voice was calm, collected—completely detached from the idiot standing beside him, still holding you at gunpoint like a clueless accessory to this whole mess.

he shrugged off his dark coat and let it drape over his arm, his gaze settling on you with an air of disinterest, hands buried lazily in the pockets of his slacks, as if your presence had become just another inconvenience in his life. beside him, the ponytailed bodyguard glanced between the two of you, unsure if he should maintain the threat or quietly disappear from the room before things got worse. you met his gaze with the same dull disinterest taeha was throwing your way, both of you mirroring the exhaustion of a dance you’d long grown tired of.

before the guard could make a decision, taeha stepped forward, gripping the gun and gently lowering it, effortlessly disarming whatever false authority the bodyguard thought he had. the poor guy looked even more confused, defeated in a fight that never had a winner.

“please,” you sighed, the weight of the past slipping into your voice as you spoke, calm but bittersweet. “we both know your father hates me more than he does you.”

“right,” taeha chuckled softly, the shift in his expression perfectly aligned with the man you remembered. “so, you ran away just to be here?” he asked, the question curling off his lips with casual curiosity.

“it’s been a while since i’ve been on prison furlough,” you replied, your voice steady. “i didn’t exactly run away.”

“so, what brings you here? want me to kill your grandpa now?” he said it with such effortless nonchalance, as if it were as simple as ordering takeout. but even though you’d never been on good terms with the old man, you didn’t laugh. instead, you watched as taeha’s playful mask slipped, his expression shifting into something more serious when he realized you weren’t in the mood for nostalgic banter.

“why are you here, y/n?”

“just wanted to see you. it’s been a while,” you said, half-truths rolling off your tongue like second nature.

“right, that sounds like you,” taeha muttered, running his fingers through his dark strands as he circled the table separating the two of you. when he was close enough to touch you, he stopped, but instead of reaching out, he sank into the cushioned sofa next to your purse.

you watched him relax, unbothered by the mess of red petals scattered across his apartment floor. the ponytailed guard—jay, you knew him—stood by taeha’s shoes at the door, observing the scene with a fake, emotionless gaze, as if trying to decode the situation.

“young master?” jay finally spoke, as though he’d been waiting for an explanation of who you were or how you’d gotten here without so much as a scratch. but he didn’t get one. taeha ignored him completely, lazily gesturing for you to sit in the chair across from him.

with jay dismissed, you crossed the room and sat down without hesitation, your gaze never breaking from taeha’s.

“i think you know your apartment is clipped. i’d rather have this conversation outside,” you said, your tone carrying no hint of submission to the boy seated before you.

“are you taking me on a date, miss ryeo?” taeha smirked, his teasing sarcasm floating through the air like a strange perfume, coating his features in something that felt slightly off. “do you still have feelings for me?”

“please,” you scoffed, the sharpness of your words cutting through the room. “i am no do heejin.”

taeha didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on you with quiet curiosity, as if trying to piece together the version of you sitting before him. it had been just under a year since the two of you last saw each other, and though you were never the type to be compared to heejin’s sweet, innocent love for him, both of you knew exactly how things had unraveled. the ties you shared were complicated, something far too close to love but tangled in despair instead.

“where do you suggest we go, then?” he finally asked, a trace of genuine interest flickering across his face. and he should be curious—after all, the two of you had cut each other off so abruptly that neither had time to consider the aftermath.

“somewhere your little dog won’t follow you,” you replied sharply, your eyes darting toward the bodyguard by the door, filled with nothing but disdain. 

you knew exactly where he’d go once this was over.

taeha chuckled at your reaction, his laughter soft but amused, as if your distaste for his new guard was the most entertaining part of his day. “okay,” 

protests spilled from the bodyguard’s lips, but you didn’t bother listening. instead, you found a small sense of relief in knowing that a flicker of taeha’s trust still rested in your grasp. with a simple flick of his fingers, he dismissed the worker without a second thought, then reached for your purse beside him, casually handing it over as if the two of you hadn’t just reopened old wounds.

little did taeha know, your words weren’t just a reflection of your usual disdain for men with guns. you knew jay—knew exactly why he was here. and that was the very reason you’d come to warn him.

as you slung your purse over your shoulder, taeha rose from the sofa with the same effortless grace he always carried, as if nothing in the world could ever really shake him. without a word, he led you toward the door, his hand barely grazing the small of your back, a silent gesture that reminded you he still knew how to navigate you in moments like this. the crunch of rose petals followed the two of you as you stepped into the hallway.

jay, of course, wasn’t far behind. you could hear the hurried shuffle of his shoes as he tried to catch up, his voice cutting through the air before you even reached the elevator.

“boss, i should come with you,” jay insisted, his tone laced with that overly eager loyalty you couldn’t stand.

taeha didn’t slow down, didn’t even glance back. instead, as the elevator doors opened, he gave a soft laugh, low and knowing, before turning his head slightly over his shoulder. “stay here, jay.”

the words were said with such casual finality that even jay, despite whatever stubborn determination he had, hesitated. you smirked as the guard stopped dead in his tracks, unsure whether to argue or obey.

the elevator doors closed, sealing jay out of whatever was about to come next. the ride down was quiet, the tension between you and taeha thick but familiar, as if the ghosts of your shared past were riding with you. when the doors opened, you followed him outside, where the cool evening air greeted you like a reminder of just how far the two of you had drifted from the people you used to be.

taeha’s car was waiting—a sleek, black luxury model that looked as untouchable as he made himself appear. you slid into the passenger seat, and soon, the hum of the engine filled the silence. the car wasn’t the same he used to drive when you both still dated, the change was a good thing considering the silence inside the vehicle. neither of you spoke during the drive, but the occasional glance from him didn’t go unnoticed. he was observing you, studying you, as if trying to uncover what you weren’t saying yet.

it wasn’t long before he pulled into a discreet side entrance of a dimly lit restaurant, the kind of place only those in the know would find. the valet barely blinked as taeha handed over the keys, and moments later, the two of you were escorted to a private room tucked away from prying eyes.

as you settled into the plush seat across from him, a glass of water already waiting at your side, taeha leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady and expectant. “so,” he said, breaking the silence with that familiar, smooth tone, “what exactly did you come to warn me about?”

you exhaled, fingers lightly tapping the edge of the glass as you met his gaze. “don’t trust lee jay. your father hired him to stalk you,” you began, watching the slight shift in taeha’s posture—still appearing relaxed, but the sharp glint of curiosity in his eyes betrayed him. “last week, the chairman went to my grandpa’s company,” you continued, your voice steady but laced with warning. “he reinforced cameras in all the hotels.”

taeha didn’t respond right away, but you could tell the gears in his mind were turning. his fingers drummed lazily against the armrest, though the air between you grew noticeably heavier. “hotels,” he repeated softly, as if weighing the significance of the move. “so, he’s extending his reach. monitoring me even outside the main properties.”

you nodded, leaning forward slightly. “it’s not just that. he’s got jay tailing you, waiting for a misstep. your father’s planning something—he’s paranoid, and he doesn’t trust the decisions you’re making.”

taeha chuckled, a humorless sound that sent a chill down your spine. “when does he ever trust me?” he muttered, shaking his head before locking eyes with you again. “but you’re not just here to warn me about him, are you?”

you hesitated for a second, but there was no point in dancing around the truth. “no. i’m here because if jay’s following you, it’s not just your father you should be worried about. there’s a bigger network involved, and if they’re watching you, they’re watching me too.”

taeha leaned back, a slight smirk curling at the corner of his lips. “you think you’re still that important to them?”

“i know i am,” you replied firmly. “because if you go down, i go down with you. and they’re not about to let either of us slip through the cracks again.”

“so… just because your grandpa runs the most hired security company out of the country, you end up knowing everyone’s secrets?” taeha’s tone was casual, almost amused, as if he’d expected nothing less from you.

“i’m not here to talk about that right now, taeha,” you replied, your voice sharp enough to cut through his smugness. his gaze lingered on you, waiting for what you’d say next.

you didn’t flinch. “you should stop meeting the woman you’re stalking,” you warned, the weight of your words settling heavily between you. “i know how this ends, and it’s not going to turn out well for her.”

taeha’s expression didn’t shift much, but you caught the brief flicker in his eyes—a mixture of realization and something darker, as if he was already aware of the potential fallout. “so, you know about na haesoo,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“of course, i do,” you said, folding your arms. “i’m a ryeo, i know all of the chaebol’s secrets. i’ve seen what obsession like this does, taeha. i’ve lived through it. don’t let her be collateral damage.”

he exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair, the tension in his shoulders betraying him for the first time. “it’s not like that,” he whispered, but the conviction in his voice wavered just enough to tell you otherwise.

“then make sure it doesn’t become that,” you shot back. “before taeju discards her. he is not going to merciful like he was with me, trust what i’m saying.”

“and what do you gain from telling me all this, princess?” there it was—the nickname. the one that always hit you harder than you wanted it to. your body tensed, a barely noticeable flinch that didn’t go unnoticed by taeha. his smirk deepened, eyes glinting with amusement. “do you really want me to kill your grandpa?” he added, a chuckle escaping as if the idea itself was ridiculous, yet somehow tempting.

“i need a favor,” you said, cutting through his teasing like a blade. your tone left no room for him to twist the conversation further. you knew how to play with beom taeha, and he didn’t seem to mind that sometimes.

taeha leaned against the window, arms crossed lazily over his chest as he studied you, his amusement slowly giving way to curiosity. “a favor,” he repeated, drawing out the word like it held more weight than you intended. “that’s why you came here. not to warn me out of the goodness of your heart.”

“warning you was part of it,” you admitted, stepping closer, your eyes locked on his. “but yes, i need something in return.”

“what kind of favor, y/n?” his voice softened, but it didn’t lose its edge.

“my grandpa is selling me off for a marriage,” you said, the weight of the words draining your energy even as you spoke them. “the kim’s oldest son showed some interest. apparently, being too old and desperate for a woman made me the perfect choice.”

taeha raised a brow, leaning casually against the back of the booth as if your misery was just another piece of gossip. “you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend again?”

“not exactly,” you corrected, sighing. “i need to redirect my grandpa’s attention to the beom family again. just one date, that’s all. you show up, make him believe you’re serious about marrying me, and he’ll back off for at least a year.”

taeha tilted his head, his expression bored but not entirely dismissive. “except i won’t,” he said plainly. “i’m in love with another woman.”

“no shit, sherlock,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “i said pretend, didn’t i? i’m not asking you to fall in love with me. i need you to act like you might.”

he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he weighed the proposition. “so, let me get this straight,” he muttered. “you want me to fake being madly in love with you, scare off the kim family, and keep your grandpa off your back. what’s in it for me?”

“i’ll make sure to wipe some images of you carrying your princess to the hotel last night,” you said simply, your tone steady as your eyes locked on his. “your dad won’t like that, so i’ll deal with it. give you a few weeks to slap that fake smile back on and maintain the illusion of happiness.”

taeha’s fingers drummed rhythmically against the table, the sound filling the heavy silence between you. the pause stretched long enough to make you wonder if he’d walk away from the deal. but then, just as you started to prepare a backup plan, he leaned back, a small smirk curving his lips.

“fine,” he said, voice low and deliberate. “one date. but don’t expect me to play the perfect fiancé for too long, princess. you better have your plan airtight.”

you exhaled quietly, relief hidden behind a neutral expression. “i always do,” you replied.

taeha chuckled softly, leaning forward just enough to close the distance between you, his gaze playful but sharp. “and here i thought you’d outgrown me. turns out, you still know how to get under my skin.”

“oh, i never stopped,” you shot back, rising from your seat and grabbing your purse. “i just took a break.”

taeha laughed under his breath as he watched you walk away. “this is going to be fun, isn’t it?”

“as fun as pretending you’re in love with me can get,” you called back without turning around. “don’t be late.”

author's note: unrelated but i think do heeji is a BADDIE. i suck at endings, ik. send me a request • my masterpost

[jeonginsleftcheek]

With you, always

pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader (implied fem)

genre: fluff, suggestive, pinch of angst

wc: 5.5k

synopsis: you ask your best friend to help you win over your crush.

warnings: college!au, fake dating, best friends to lovers trope, crying, a few kissing scenes and one make out scene

a/n: wanted to try my hand out at a fake dating scenario, hope you like this one🥹🫶🏻

(i also needed something cute and fluffy bcs i had the shittiest week😭)

divider by: @strangergraphics-archive

masterlist

Maybe it was an exaggeration, but for Hyunjin today was the most important day of his life.

It had been more than a month since he started gathering the courage to finally confess to his best friend, you.

He was more than nervous, tossing and turning in his bed the night prior, imagining all the scenarios, every single possibility from you falling into his arms to you slapping him and walking away forever.

He couldn't stand the thought of the last option, hoping that even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, maybe you'd still be his best friend cause he really would suck it up for you, just so he can stay by your side.

But Hyunjin was 99% sure you felt the same, and that the 1% was just his own doubts creating negative outcomes in his mind.

You've been best friends for almost five years now, meeting through your mutual friend Changbin who you lived close to and hung out with, inevitably becoming close to Hyunjin too.

Changbin moved away but still kept in touch, leaving Hyunjin and you to bond with each other; going as far as attending the same university.

You've been inseparable since then, there was rarely any moment you didn't spend together.

There was no way you spent so much time with him and didn't come to love him the way he loved you; that's what Hyunjin kept telling himself.

Anyways, you were always so good to him, it must mean something right?

Hyunjin's palms were clammy as he wiped them on his jeans for the nth time today, giving himself the ick for a moment.

He was on the edge, jittery as he kept shifting from foot to foot, waiting for you to arrive so you can go to your classes together.

He had it all planned.

After class he would ask you to meet up in your 'secret place', a bench under a tree near the campus where you two would sit and spend time together, and there he would gift you the painting he had carefully created for you, the beautiful everlasting bouquet of flowers that would never wither just like his love for you.

Then he would tell you how much you mean to him, how he has loved you this whole time... And he didn't know how you'd react, maybe your eyes would tear up, maybe you'd hug him instantly... But he knew it would end with a sweet kiss and Hyunjin asking you to be his.

He got lost in the scenarios he's been making up for weeks, not even noticing that you appeared before him.

"Earth to Hyunjin?" you wave your hand in front of his face and he snaps out of his thoughts, hoping he didn't say anything out loud and accidentally revealed his plan.

"Oh, sorry I'm still asleep." Hyunjin chuckles, his cheeks rosy.

"That's why I got you this." you give him a cup of coffee, holding another cup in your other hand.

"See now, this is why I hang out with you." Hyunjin nods, grabbing the cup from your hand.

Your fingers touch for a moment and he feels electricity run through his body.

"Glad to know you're just using me for coffee." you act annoyed even though you know he's just teasing you.

"And your notes. You're way better at taking them than I am." he says after taking a sip of his beverage, a smug smile spreading on his face.

"That's cause you daydream 24/7, you dork." you nudge him with your shoulder as you start making your way across the campus.

"I do not." Hyunjin pouts.

"Yes, you do. You were literally doing it just now when I came up to you." you poke his side and he jumps a little, letting out a squeak.

"I was just... nevermind. Listen-" Hyunjin starts, swallowing a big lump that's forming in his throat.

You look up at him, your eyes big and curious as you stare into his, making him melt into the ground.

"There's something I want to tell you. Today. I mean, later. Yeah. We can meet up at our spot?"

You notice his voice trembling a little, hoping it's not some bad news.

"Really? I have something I wanna tell you too." you smile wide and Hyunjin's heart starts pounding against his chest.

Did you think of confessing to him too?

"What?" he laughs in disbelief. "About what?"

"Well... Should I just say it? I'm impatient, you know that." your eyes sparkle as you keep looking at Hyunjin, your smile wide and cheeks dusted in pink.

"Yeah." Hyunjin's throat constricts. This is it.

"Okay. Well. Remember Minho? We have a few classes with him?"

Hyunjin frowns. What does Minho have to do with anything?

"Yeah, vaguely. What about him?" he gulps.

"I think I have a crush on him."

And just like that, Hyunjin's ears start ringing as he stands there, feeling like someone just dumped icy water all over him and also smacked him with the bucket for good measure.

"What?" he doesn't want to believe that you just said that.

"Minho, I have a crush on him. Like- it's been there for some time but it was just a little one, I didn't pay attention to it but last weekend I ran into him and we talked, and he was really sweet."

"Is that all that it took for you to develop a crush on him?" Hyunjin's scowl is evident, annoyance written all over his face.

"Hyunjin!" you were taken aback by his tone. "No. It's just- we had a brief conversation and I felt like we had so much in common. I thought you'd be happy for me, you always tease me that I'll die alone if I don't find someone."

Hyunjin can see the confusion and insecurities reflecting in your eyes and his face softens.

He can't be cruel to you, never.

"I- I am happy for you. I just... Need to process."

"Are you jealous?" you smirk. "You'll always be my best friend, Jinnie, you know I'll never replace you."

"Best friend, huh?" Hyunjin scoffs. "Great. I just remembered I gotta go do something." he turns around, muttering under his breath.

"What? Class is about to start, where are you going?" you look at him confusedly as Hyunjin stares at the floor, walking away from you.

"Hyunjin, watch out!" you try to warn him, but it's already too late, his head collides with one of the trees growing in front of the building, the force of it making him fall back down on his butt as he wails loudly, grabbing at his forehead, his coffee spilled by his side.

"This is what I get." he mumbles, his bottom lip trembling as his eyes water.

"You dumbass." you appear by his side in mere seconds. "Let me see."

Hyunjin puts his hands down as you inspect his forehead.

"I think it's gonna be okay." you say, leaning so close to him so he can feel your warmth and smell your shampoo.

"Since when is this tree here?" Hyunjin grunts.

"Since like 60 years ago." you giggle.

Before he can compute what's happening, you grab Hyunjin's face and lean in, pressing your lips on his forehead gently.

How could you do this and not love him?

His eyes water again.

"Oh, don't cry you drama queen. This is like the third time this week that you ran into something with that thick head of yours. By now, I think the tree took more damage than you." you joke, trying to lift the mood up.

Hyunjin chuckles a little, not being able to stay mad at you even though you were driving him crazy in this moment.

"Come on, let's go to class now." you help pull him up, throwing the spilled cup in the trash.

"Here, we can share my coffee." you give him your cup, and Hyunjin shakes his head.

"It's okay."

"Also, what were you going to tell me?" you beam at him and Hyunjin feels like someone has squeezed his heart and lungs.

"Nothing. It's not important." he forces a smile, finding it harder to breathe suddenly.

"Really? Sounded important to me."

"It's not. Forget about it." he says as you walk through the front door.

"Alright, if you say so."

The two of you sit in one of the back rows as always, your eyes immediately searching for Minho, who always sits up front.

It's one of the classes you share with him and you await eagerly to see him, hoping he'd look up and wave at you.

Hyunjin takes out his notebook and pen, trying to act normal even though he feels as if he's been shot right in the chest and his heart is now bleeding out slowly.

He hears you gasp quietly and looks up.

Minho just walked in, dressed in a sleek black shirt and some jeans, looking effortlessly perfect and Hyunjin can see you visibly perk up as you stare at the man with a smile.

You should be looking at Hyunjin like that.

No, Hyunjin shakes his head. He shouldn't be thinking like this, he should be happy for you, he should support you.

After all, that's what best friends do.

You're getting ready to wave, but Minho doesn't even spare a glance your way, his face unreadable as he sits down, talking to some guy that's sitting next to him.

You visibly deflate and Hyunjin feels bad, putting his hand on your shoulder to reassure you.

"I'm sure he'll say hello to you later." Hyunjin says and you nod at him with a sigh.

During the entire lecture, your eyes kept wandering over to Minho while Hyunjin kept his eyes on you, his heart breaking as he watched you falling for someone else right before his eyes.

Why the hell did he wait for so long to tell you how he feels?

Now, he's lost his chance.

Hyunjin slumps back in his seat and decides to actually start taking notes even though he knows he'll end up stealing yours like he always does.

For the last three days you've been gushing about Minho nonstop.

Minho did this, Minho did that, Minho said this, Minho said that. Minho, Minho, Minho.

Hyunjin was already sick of it and imagining that guy actually reciprocating your feelings and becoming your boyfriend was making Hyunjin's stomach churn.

Minho seemed to take some kind of interest in you, at least that's what you thought from the brief conversations you'd have with him in the halls while Hyunjin watched you interact with him, your eyes sparkly and cheeks rosy.

He wanted to smack his own forehead against the wall until it hurts enough so he can forget about the pain he feels on the inside.

But the more Hyunjin observed Minho, it seemed to him that the guy was just being polite to you, answering your questions with a small smile on his face, nodding here and there as you talked.

That was not the face of a man in love, at least that's what Hyunjin believed.

"Minho told me that this shirt really matches my eye color." you're almost jumping around Hyunjin and he rolls his eyes.

"It's ugly."

"Hyunjin!" you smack your best friend's arm and he winces, acting like you just broke his bones.

"What?" he looks at you, his brows furrowed.

"You're jealous, Hyun. Admit it." you smirk, poking his side.

"Am not. Let's just go to class."

"Did you know that Minho's a dancer?" you quip suddenly as the two of you sit down.

"So what? I dance too." Hyunjin answers, taking his notebook out and not sparing you a glance.

He can't bring himself to look at your face while you talk about your crush.

"I know you dance but I didn't know he does too. He told me I could come watch him practice some time." you smile and Hyunjin almost chokes on his breath.

"He w-what?"

"I'm gonna watch him dance." you smirk and Hyunjin shakes his head.

"Whatever. Enjoy."

"Come with me." you grab at his arm and he tries to swat you away.

"I don't want to."

"Come on, pleaseeeeee." you whine, pouting at your best friend as you lean your cheek on his shoulder.

Hyunjin melts when he looks down at you.

"Fine." he sighs.

"Yay!" you quickly kiss his cheek and Hyunjin dies on the inside a little. "You're the best, Jinnie."

"Yeah, yeah, I know I am." he smirks at you while shaking his head.

Hoping somewhere deep inside that this is just a phase.

-

The very same day, Minho has dance practice and you drag Hyunjin to the dance room to watch.

There are some other dancers there, and some people sitting and watching so the two of you sit down next to them.

Hyunjin takes out his phone and you frown at him.

"Aren't you gonna watch with me?" you ask.

"I don't really care about his dancing. But you go ahead and enjoy." he shrugs.

"Sure." you look at Hyunjin for a few more moments as he concentrates on scrolling, a little sigh escaping your lips.

You're a bit worried since Hyunjin has never acted like this before and you kept wracking your brain, trying to figure out what is going on with him.

The music starts soon and you look up, your eyes falling on Minho.

His dance moves are sharp and on time, executed so smoothly, you've never seen someone dance so perfectly before.

You stare in awe and Hyunjin looks up with an annoyed face, his eyes traveling between the two of you and how flabbergasted you look.

When Minho finishes dancing, you're ready for him to come up to you and talk but instead a guy skips towards him and starts talking with a big smile on his face, his arms flailing around in excitement.

Minho smiles wide, eyes all sparkly and cheeks all rosy, you've never seen him react like that.

"So, what did you think?" you ask Hyunjin, hoping Minho won't just ignore you.

"He's too stiff." Hyunjin mutters, still looking at his phone.

"He totally isn't." you squint your eyes at him before standing up.

Sadly for you, Minho doesn't spare you a glance, quickly leaving the room with the guy who joined him.

"Are you fucking crazy?!" Hyunjin laughs in disbelief.

"Keep your voice down." you pinch his thigh.

"Ow!" he swats your hand away. "There is no way, y/n. I'm not gonna pretend to be your boyfriend."

"Please, Hyun! Who else will I ask? You want me to go to some stranger?!" you almost yell yourself and Hyunjin shushes you.

"What's in it for me?" Hyunjin crosses his arms and leans back.

"Mm, you're helping your lovely best friend?" you bat your eyelashes at him.

"This is crazy." he shakes his head.

"Is that a yes or no?" you beam at him.

"Fine. Fine, I'll be your fake boyfriend." Hyunjin feels like crying and laughing at the same time, the absurdity of his reality was really something.

"Yes! Thank you, Jinnie!" you throw your arms around him and he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close, his heart fluttering in his chest.

"I owe you." you mutter into him.

"Damn right you do." he exhales, trying to calm his fast beating heart down.

For some reason, in your mind it made perfect sense.

Minho needed a nudge to make a move on you, and what better way to nudge him than making him jealous?

Hyunjin thought it was the dumbest idea he had ever heard but at this point, he was hoping that through your fake relationship you'd come to realize that he would be the perfect boyfriend for you, not some random guy you talked to a few times.

While he was trying to fall asleep in his bed that night, Hyunjin wondered just how far are you willing to take the lie.

-

The next morning, while Hyunjin waited for you to arrive like he always did, his heart was beating fast.

He was so nervous about the whole ordeal, not knowing how you'll approach him.

"Jinnie!" you waved slightly with a cup of coffee as soon as you spotted him.

He waved back a bit reluctantly as you beamed at him.

"Morning. Coffee for my handsome boyfriend." you smirked as you gave him his cup.

What the actual fuck?

His legs trembled for a moment and Hyunjin felt like the ground was crumbling underneath his feet and pretty soon he'll be joining it.

"Don't say it like that." he freaked out on the inside, hoping he wasn't blushing too hard.

"What? We need to get into character." you smiled, hooking your arm with his and practically dragging him towards the campus.

Oh, you are so going to be the end of him.

"Why can't we just act like we normally do?" Hyunjin whined as you approached the building.

"Because it won't be believeable. We have to act sweet like... like imagine if we were actually dating what would you do?"

You must be crazy, Hyunjin thinks as his lips fall open in shock.

"I'd probably kiss you." he says, half joking and knowing you'd never say yes to something so ludicrous.

"Okay, let's do it." you stand close to him, your hand slipping down to his as you interlace your fingers.

"What?!" Hyunjin yells and you squeeze his hand as a few people look your way.

"Hyunjin. Make it believeable. Come on, kiss me." you nod quickly.

Hyunjin's lips open and close a few times as he searches your face.

"In front of everyone? Shouldn't our first kiss be more intimate?" Hyunjin swallows and that's when your cheeks become rosy.

"They don't know it's our first kiss. Plus it's just pretend so let's do it." you don't know how much your words hurt him but Hyunjin is a fool for you so he nods.

"Okay." he lets go of your hand only to cup your cheek, and for some reason your heartbeat picks up speed.

You chalk it up to not kissing anyone for so long.

It's definitely not because of Hyunjin, right?

His eyes soften as he leans in and you meet him halfway, hearing his breath hitch before your lips finally make contact.

Hyunjin doesn't care why you're kissing him, because in this moment nothing really exists except you and him, the world around you melting away.

His lips are soft against yours, he tastes of coffee and the chocolate croissant he had for breakfast and just so Hyunjin.

It's exactly what you imagined he'd taste like.

Not that you ever thought about kissing your best friend.

You lean back before thoughts consume you and before the kiss can escalate.

Hyunjin feels like you just took his breath away.

"See? It went good." you say, but your voice trembles and your face is red.

"I think that was better than good." Hyunjin pouts but before you can retaliate someone calls out to you.

The two of you turn towards the voice and see Chan, one of your acquaintances from class as he approaches you with a smirk.

"Did you two finally get together?" he asks and Hyunjin coughs as your eyes widen.

"I- yes we did." you answer quickly as Hyunjin tranforms into a frozen tomato next to you.

"Gosh, I'm so happy for you guys. I always knew you were into each other, it was so obvious. Good luck!" Chan throws finger guns your way before running off to class.

His words echo in your mind. You were obvious? What the heck does that mean?

"Let's go to class." you grip Hyunjin's hand and he nods, still stunned by the kiss you shared and what Chan had said.

You sit in your usual spot in the back, Minho arriving a few minutes later and you visibly perk up.

"Quick, put your arm around me!" you startle Hyunjin who was doodling in his notebook but he does exactly what you asked.

His arm wraps around your shoulder and he brings you closer to his body just as Minho looks up your way.

You wave at him and Minho waves back with a smile, his eyes moving to Hyunjin shortly before he turns around and sits down.

"Did you see that? Do you think he looked jealous?" you whisper to your best friend.

"Maybe." Hyunjin shrugs, retracting his arm.

"Maybe?" you whine. "I need a yes not a maybe."

"Give it some time, y/n." Hyunjin is back to doodling.

How is he gonna endure this torture?

As it always was on the weekends, Hyunjin came to your place to hang out.

Usually your roommate was staying with her boyfriend every weekend so you had the apartment all to yourself.

After a good old gossip session and a movie marathon with snacks, Hyunjin and you were still snuggled up in your bed.

You were barely awake now, trying to focus on the third movie in a row while Hyunjin was keeping his eyes only on you.

A small smile danced on his lips as he observed your pouty face, your eyes fighting to stay open as you blinked tiredly, your face illuminated only by the tv.

He scooted closer to you, putting his arm around you and that jolted you from your half asleep state.

"What are you doing?" you asked and he chuckled, leaning his head on your shoulder.

"Getting my cuddles." Hyunjin smirks.

"Who gave you cuddle privileges?" you smirk back, deciding to tease him a little.

"I'm your best friend, of course I get cuddle privileges. Plus, consider it your payment for making me fake-date you." Hyunjin nuzzles into you, making you shiver a little.

"So it's that horrible to date me, hm?" you giggle, some kind of tension washing over you.

"Oh yeah, the absolute worst." Hyunjin jokes and you smack his arm immediately.

"Hey!" you protest and he laughs.

It's quiet for some time, and you close your eyes, your body is suddenly aware of everything.

You're aware of Hyunjin's warmth, his familiar and comforting scent, the way his breath hits your neck, his fluffy hair tickling your cheek, the heaviness of his arm and leg thrown over you and your heart starts beating faster.

You wonder why since this is not the first time Hyunjin and you cuddled, you started this tradition a year ago, it became normal to cuddle every weekend he stayed over.

You suddenly also wondered if that was normal; to cuddle your guy best friend.

You also thought about the kiss the two of you shared, what mostly replayed in your mind wasn't the actual kiss, it was the way Hyunjin looked at you when you parted.

His eyes seemed full of love and affection, he seemed soft and putty in that moment like he really wanted to kiss you, like it meant so much to him.

"Hyunjin?"

"Hm?"

"Can we practice kissing?" your brain just always comes up with great ideas.

Hyunjin freezes, his body stiff against yours.

"What?" he looks up at you with a nervous chuckle.

"So that it's more believeable in public."

He smirks.

"Are you sure it's not because you liked kissing me?" Hyunjin jokes, though on the inside he hopes you'll say yes.

"Shut up!" you whine. "This is just pretend, okay?"

"Sure, if you say so." he stares at you with a grin and you don't know if you would rather slap him or kiss him.

"Go on then." you whisper.

Hyunjin chuckles at your impatience, throwing his head back for a moment as his laughter jostles you.

When he looks back at you, something shifts in his eyes and you swallow the lump in your throat.

He slowly leans in and why are you nervous suddenly?

Hyunjin's lips press against yours and this time you melt as he hovers above you, kissing you gently, his fingers caressing your cheek and tracing your skin.

Your hand comes up to hold the back of his neck and play with his hair which makes Hyunjin press against your lips harder, kissing you with more passion than before.

Your mind is dizzy suddenly, this is nothing like the innocent kiss you shared in public, and something starts stirring up inside you as you drown out the noise of the movie, focusing only on your best friend.

Oh my god, you're making out with your best friend!

That thought crosses your mind just when Hyunjin's big hand ends up on your waist, squeezing a little as his tongue swipes your lip and you hear it in his heavy breathing, how worked up he's getting.

Something inside you ignites when you part your lips, letting him push his tongue inside as he starts gently playing with yours.

You almost quit thinking, your brain feeling foggy as your fingers tangle in his hair and you pull just a little.

It's enough to make Hyunjin groan into you and that snaps you back into reality.

You gasp, suddenly backing away as Hyunjin slowly blinks his eyes open, his face filled with lust and confusion of the sudden stop, his plump lips even more swollen and red after kissing you.

You can't believe he looks so attractive.

"I think we should stop now." you gulp.

"Was it too much?" Hyunjin's voice is raspy and something throbs inside you.

"Yeah."

"You wanted to practice." he adds, his eyes glued to your lips.

You didn't know what to say. Suddenly, you felt so confused about your feelings.

It's not like you never imagined kissing your best friend or being in a relationship with him but it always seemed to you like you would never be able to cross that barrier.

Being Hyunjin's best friend was familiar, comfortable, you didn't want to spoil that.

"What's wrong?" Hyunjin asks, seeing the cogs turning in your head.

"Hyunjin, why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Pretending to be my boyfriend." you sit up so he follows.

"Because you asked me to? I wanted to help you." Hyunjin lies through his teeth and you can read it now. It's like everything became clear to you.

"Would you really be happy if I got together with Minho?"

Hyunjin's stomach churns and anything good he felt just moments ago when he was kissing you disappears and is replaced by a feeling of nausea.

He averts his eyes from you, nervously biting on his lip.

"Hyunjin?"

"No. No, I wouldn't be happy." he admits quietly, his eyes trained on his lap, unable to look at you.

"Why?" you ask.

"Why? Why? Is it not obvious, y/n?" he says and your eyes meet.

"I love you, that's why." Hyunjin feels the weight of his hidden feelings finally lifting from his heart.

Your lips tremble as you stare at him in shock.

"Since when?"

"Since forever."

You suddenly get up, the reality of the situation dawning on you.

"You've loved me this whole time? And I never realized? And I asked you to fake date me to make another guy jealous and you- you went with it." your eyes well up with tears. "Oh my god, I am so stupid and insensitive!"

Hyunjin gets up too, quickly wanting to comfort you.

"No, y/n it's okay, I wanted to help you! I mean, if you're happy, I'm happy too even if it's not with me." you can hear the pain in his voice when he says that and your chest hurts.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"It's okay if you don't love me like I love you, I can't force you to feel the same." Hyunjin shakes his head.

"It's not like that... It's just; I need to process all of this." you back away from him as he looks at you, sadness in his eyes.

You can't look at him in that moment.

"Do you want me to leave?" his voice is quiet and small when he asks that.

"Yeah, I need to be alone."

Hyunjin doesn't say anything at first, only grabs his things as you stare at the wall, your brain on overdrive.

"Call me when you're ready to talk." he says and you nod, watching his back as he leaves your room.

As soon as you hear the apartment door close, you break into tears.

How could you've been so blind? Hyunjin was always right next to you, he was your person, your comfort, your best friend.

He did everything to make you happy, even indulging you in dumb requests like this one and now that he told you how he feels, everything started flooding in.

The way he'd hold you, the way he looked at you, the way he blushed when you touched his hand, how he seemed annoyed when you told him about Minho.

You were beating yourself up for being so stupid and hurting him when deep inside you always knew you loved him too.

But now, you were afraid that you'd also hurt Minho if he liked you.

So you decided to test that.

-

The next morning, Hyunjin was already awake when his alarm rang, a sleepless night behind him filled with tears and scenarios of you not being a part of his life anymore.

He screwed up, confessing like that, in the heat of the moment.

He can't forget your face, how shocked and sad you looked and how you didn't even wanna look at his face.

Hyunjin still waits for you at your meeting spot, hoping you'll arrive with a smile and a cup of coffee like you always do.

But as minutes pass, with a heavy heart, Hyunjin realizes you're not coming so he reluctantly makes his way to class alone.

His heart freezes when he walks into the building and sees you talking to Minho.

Unable to look at that, he quickly walks into class, sitting at his usual spot.

This is a disaster, he thinks.

If he just kept his mouth shut, you'd be here sitting next to him now, joking around and laughing like you always do.

If he'd kept it all in, maybe he'd have just a glimpse of how it would feel to be yours.

Maybe you'd have that sleepover you always do, when you fall asleep in his arms and Hyunjin can pretend you're his.

But you never come into class, even after Minho did, sitting up front at his usual spot, smiling at the boy next to him.

Hyunjin frowns and stands up, quickly making his way out before the class started as he searches for you.

He finds you sitting on one of the benches outside, looking exhausted and sad.

He wants to run to you but instead he decides to approach you slowly.

"Y/n?" he leans down to look at you and you scoff.

"Minho has a boyfriend."

"What?" Hyunjin asks.

"Minho. He's gay. Or whatever. He's dating Jisung. And I'm just so stupid." you frown as Hyunjin takes in the information.

You can hear the laughter bubbling up inside him.

"Go ahead, laugh at my embarrassment, I know you want to." you look at him and he does just that.

Hyunjin starts laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation and as you see his cute face becoming red from the laughter, you can't stay serious.

Breaking into giggles yourself, the two of you probably end up looking like a pair of maniacs as you keep laughing.

"You were really barking up the wrong tree." he sits next to you and you smack his arm, making him whine.

"Stop it, at least let some time pass before you start making jokes about this." you pout and he chuckles at you, finding you so endearing at that moment.

Without thinking, Hyunjin tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and you feel your face warm up.

"I'm sorry for dumping all my feelings on you. I didn't wanna make anything awkward and that is not the way I wanted to confess. Actually... I wanted to confess to you that day when you told me about Minho." Hyunjin says.

"Oh my god! When you asked me to meet up? I am double stupid." you groan, smacking your forehead with your palm.

"It's fine. We can be friends, I'll just try to-"

"Hyunjin." you stop him.

"Hm?"

"I love you too. And I'm sorry for not realizing that before and hurting you."

"Oh. Oh!" Hyunjin's eyes are wide. "You feel the same?"

You chuckle at his surprised expression, needing him close so you wrap your arms around his waist, scooting closer to him, your face buried in his chest.

Hyunjin feels relief wash over him as he wraps his arms around you, his hand caressing your head.

"Does this mean you want to be mine?" he asks breathlessly.

"Oh, I always was." you look up at him with a smile and he giggles, his heart beating fast.

"I'm gonna kiss you now." he leans in.

"Please do." you chuckle and he cradles your head in his hand as his lips press gently into yours.

This kiss feels even more special, the confession between you melting through your lips as you taste each other.

"Wanna ditch classes and get some coffee?" you ask when you part.

"With you, always."

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @laughatdanger @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun

[v1x3n]

REUNITE! ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - angst - mentions of torture, panic attacks and breakdowns.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

Days go by, long fucking days where you're practically stuck in this bed. You could get up and walk around but you didn't want to. You stared at the ceiling, kind of hoping it would fall down on you but it never came. Your face stuck in the same position for hours as you melted into the bare sheets of the hospital bed. A singular tear pricks down your cheek while you look towards the dying flowers that sit on your bedside table.

"Hi honey!" Your nurse walks into your room with some food clumped on the plate. You glance up at her with weak eyes. She places the food on your bedside table. Glancing at the withered flowers, she sighs. "They been in here recently?" Jane asks with a hint of disappointment. Your head shakes, not really wanting to even think about or even talk about them, let alone speak to them. "Listen, I know what they did to you was terrible and you probably never want to open that wound but-"

When you scoff and look away after the 'but', she continues talking. "...You should talk to someone about it. I'm not asking you to talk to them. Because god knows I wouldn't even look at them, but you should see a therapist. You do need one and you can't keep pushing away everyone who wants you to get better." Jane's sweet smile makes you acknowledge that there are nice people in this world.

"I-I uhm- I was forced to go to a session like within the first week of being here but they just..." you trail off, looking towards the flowers that had lost nearly all their life. Huh, you never thought you could relate to flowers.

"I understand, I do." She gently puts her hands on your knee. This time you don't flinch though. This time, memories didn't flash through your eyes - forcing you to relive the horrible things those fucking four put you through. This time, it was peaceful, it was comforting. "You should still give it another go, after what you went through - you need someone safe." Your nurse's thumb rubs against your knee as she speaks.

You take in her words, the lingering feeling of wanting to get better - to heal - stabs at your heart but you also wanted to show those fucking horrible four that this is what they fucking did to you. Not wanting to waste time getting better, if you even could, you knew deep down you'd always hurt. You wouldn't be able to trust anyone again - especially a man. What they did to you tore you apart.

So, you shrugged off your nurse's words before she let you be, to eat your hospital food. The slop slumped onto the plate looked so disgusting. The sandwich that you could tell would stick to the roof of your mouth was unappetizing. Honestly the food there made you less hungry. After sighing and shoving the meal to the bedside table, pushing the dead flowers off the wood so they splattered all over the floor. The hard floor was littered with wilted petals and the dark, pale green stems.

So here you are. Sat in another white fucking room, except there wasn't a lonely bed or flowers scattered across the floor. There were two cream couches and a massive window. And a woman wearing a tight pair of trousers, a white blouse with a blazer swept over the couch she was sitting on top of. The girl was holding a clipboard with text filling the papers. Her hair was straight and was neatly brushed - the total opposite of you. “Ah, y/n? Right? You can call me Jones." she smiled as you came into her viewline. You nod nervously as you swipe down on your little gown the hospital gave you. 

Multiple panic attacks. Your body was in pain. The wounds that litter your body - not to be healed ever again. Your 8 fingers that trailed over the stitched up cut across your cheek. The breakdown you had just a week ago. How you flinch when anyone (but Jane) gets close.

All of that flashes through your head while you sit opposite the women. "You're quite famous, you know?” the woman states. You tilt your head towards the left. 

“Oh?” you hum, looking around the room, clearly avoiding eye contact. She scribbles something quick onto a clean bit of paper, the one with text flopped over the top of the clipboard. “Heard about your ‘story’ a lot, from a lot of different people.” You slump against the sofa. Feeling the soft fabric beneath your fingertips. “Oh.” mumbling when your eyes finally meet hers for the first time. Her blue eyes connect with yours. A deep passion for helping was buried in her eyes. You could tell. 

“I haven't heard the story from the person who went through it all though.” Jones looks down at her clipboard, “why don't you tell me about it? How are you feeling?”

“What's there to tell?" you scoff. Sweat starts pouring from your forehead so you pull an arm that was littered with healing bruises up across it. Your question was not much of a question, more of a statement. What was there to tell? She knew the story, everyone fucking did. “Let's start with how's your day?” Jones smiled with a hint of amusement when your scoff reached her ears. “Fine.” She raised an eyebrow skeptically at your answer but didn't comment on anything. She leaned forward. Placing her clipboard on the seat beside her. 

Your figit uncomfortably, "that's.. all? Fine?” Jones questions, her voice hinting at suspicion. “Yep.” 

“You know if you aren't honest, I can't help you." 

After burying your head into your hands, you drag your cheek down with your palm as you let out a long sigh, "I'm doing better.” 

“Well that is good to hear,” she coos, reaching for her clipboard and writing down a few words in the margin. “Has anyone visited you lately?” Her question makes you hesitate for a moment. “Like family and friends?” Jones nods whilst leaning back.

Looking around the office you notice the way the woman in front of you tilts her head in the slightest when you shake your head. Her ramblings go on and on but you end up blurring them out. High squeaking forms in your ears, blinding out your therapist talking. 

That's when a loud bang sounds from the door that you entered through. It brings you back to life. You flinch back as the door opens. “Hey Jones, sorry 'm late just got outa trainin’” the blurred man walks through the door, holding tight onto a notebook. His scruffy appearance so familiar.

You wish you didn't have to face him yet.

“Your session is on a Thursday from now on, I told you-” she gets cut off when Johnny drops the book in his hands as he stares at you with wide eyes, his mouth opening slightly as fear shoots through your stomach and heart. The man before you mumbles one quiet word.

 “...Bonnie.”

[fulloflambing]

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ KINICH: boyfriend headcanons ♡

pairing: kinich x gn!reader/you banner artist: @/Lion_2929 on twitter/x !! warnings: some hcs apply to canon!au and some in modern!au, nothing all sappy cutie stuff cho's note: triple posting tonight cause i miss him dearly:( this is just yap centered about kinich. might make an nsfw version .. also feel free to tell me other characters you guys want to see wtih this! happy reads :)

his nicknames for you would definitely be: baby, love, princess/prince, angel, pretty/handsome

kinich's love language would definitely be acts of service, and subtle physical touch.

often writes and leaves you love letters, to make up for his struggle in giving you verbal affections :)

big homebody. if he could, he just wants to stay at home with you cuddling, and taking care of the house with you forever ㅠㅠ.

possessive to a certain degree. like he likes to stand behind you when your talking to someone he doesnt know or like until you introduce him or end your conversation

a very composed and gentleman most of the time, but deep inside just wants to be babied by you

when your crying, he would definitely gently cup your face and kiss your eyes and tears away while whispering comforting words to your skin (will write about this. stay tuned hihi)

his kisses are very delicate, but likes to give plenty!!

his favorite spots to kiss you on is your lips, cheek, temples, and hands

finds mundane but spontaneous trips/errands fun! like he'll randomly wake you up at 2am and invite you to drink a quick slushie in 7/11

more of a listener than a speaker

since he's quiet a lot of the time, hes also super observant.

really likes it when you ask for his help or opinion on something

has you keep a vase of flowers he's given you at home, and when he notices that they are slowly withering he'll immediately buy you a new bouquet to replace them with!

ipad kid. he definitely wants to watch 1 hour long documentaries on youtube with you while the both of you eat together

gets jealous easily. you'll know when he suddenly falls quiet during a public setting, or hes suddenly showing more pda

wears a chained necklace with a pendant on him at all times, but usually hidden underneath his shirt. the pendant has a picture of you in it, and he kisses the pendant for goodluck during sports tournaments, busy days, or any other morning!

loves to match discreet accessories/items with you! like matching keychains, shoes, social media bios, or even matching plushies

during arguments, he's the type of person who wants to have their own space for awhile. but! he won't overstay his leave, and he'll tell you when he's going to be okay and when you both can talk it out properly.

will never make you think he hates you or hes planning to break up with you because of a fight. even during misunderstandings, you'll know he still loves you with the way he stays consistent on the way he treats you

loves to get coffee/drinks with you ^^ one of his favorite pass times to do with you

definitely a gamer, and he'll try and teach you how to play his favorite games. if your a gamer, hes more into fighting other people with you than trying to win against you

has trouble being emotionally open to you, but he tries his best

the type to want to isolate and resolve his personal problems on his own, so it means a lot to him if you check up on him

prefers crafting, making and building personalized gifts for you over being you expensive ones (wouldnt deny you if you asked for something expensive! just likes everything made just for you ^^)

when hes busy out, he updates you on the phone with a picture or video and a simple caption. prefers that rather than long text messages

when he has bad days, he likes to come home and just hug you infront of the door for awhile to remind him your still there for him and thats what matters

overall, the type of boyfriend that shows his overwhelming love for you in small, mundane ways.

[peachylynnie]

blackjack

word count: 1.5k synopsis: in which you pique sylus' interest with a game of blackjack. contains: sylus x fem!reader (not mc, first time meeting), sylus is lowkey messed up, alcohol consumption, cursing, violence, and gambling (know the rules of blackjack). a/n: yes, this will be a series. it's not obvious in this part but this story was inspired by the cover art of the ml and fl from tears on a withered flower, an adult webtoon. do not copy or translate my work, sylus does not endorse plagiarism. reblogs and comments are appreciated. next chapter | lads masterlist

sylus is bored. inconceivably fucking bored.

on his right is sherman, a greedy, corrupt imbecile who thinks he can get away with promising counterfeit protocores. on his left is sherman's lackey, a two-faced, ambitious moron who thinks he can improve his boss' hideous image by claiming the so-called protocores were "hard to find." and in front of him is a pitiful dealer who not only fumbles the cards every time he tries to shuffle for a new game of blackjack but also loses every single round to the point no one is afraid to hit more than once.

unfortunately for sylus, dealing with people like sherman and his minion is a daily occurrence. after all, he runs the n109 zone, a wasteland filled with scums of the planet who are not only shallow to the point a fucking newborn can tread the depths of their hearts but also manipulative of the lives of the weak solely for the sake of monetary growth.

exhaling an irritated sigh, he reaches for his glass of gin fizz, causing a series of flinches from the men at the table. normally, sylus would revel in the effect he has on people. he never would have gotten this far if it hadn't been for his steel-like business ethic and unwavering confidence. but again, he's bored, severely bored of the constant mingling with shitty people at shitty lounges. though he supposes this lounge isn't bad, considering how pleasant the fizz tastes on his tongue. at least the alcohol will help him get through another dull round of blackjack.

"ha!" sherman laughs as he collects more chips. "this table is quite lucky. i have never played against a dealer with such buttery fingers."

the dealer winces before apologizing meekly. sylus makes a note to tip him later.

"agreed," the lackey continues his ass-kissing. "i feel bad for the table next to us, though. that lady dealer has been ruthless all night."

sylus doesn't think much as he brings his cup to his mouth and averts his attention to the table beside him. however, his tongue never makes contact with the fizz. it lingers on the rim of the cup instead. furrowing his brows, the silver-haired man takes a closer look at you, the supposed ruthless lady dealer.

there you were, clad in a crisp dress shirt with a tight button-up vest on top and a pair of sleek trousers. but never mind what you're wearing (it's what all the employees of this lounge have to wear, but you looked good); you're new. sylus has never seen you before, and that astounds him because this is the n109 zone, the very domain he is in charge of. even if he has never met every single person in this place, he sure as hell has seen them through records. it's his job as the head of onychinus. but you, you're new, a fresh new face he has never seen on any digital or physical records.

but what astonishes the man even more is your winning streak. in the last three minutes sylus has been staring at you, you haven't lost a single game of blackjack. moreover, your hands have been impressively consistent, only flipping twenties or immediate blackjacks.

however, what catches sylus' eye the most is your face. not because of your undeniable beauty (he can think about this later) but because of your expression. in the last four minutes sylus has been staring at you, you never showed an ounce of emotion. your lips never quirked when you won. your eyes never flared when the men at your table accused you of cheating. heck, you didn't even react when one of them dared to grab you by the collar of your shirt and shake you violently with demands to give him back what he lost.

taking a quick sip of his fizz, sylus stands up and strides over to your table. firmly gripping the outstretched arm of your aggressor, he gives him a subtle yet threatening smile. "is there a problem here, sir?"

"s-sylus?!" the man immediately lets go of you, trying to release his poor arm from sylus' unrelenting grip. "i didn't realize you were here."

sylus tilts his head, recognizing the man's face. "mason? the last time i saw you was when you tried to strike me a deal with fake protocores."

gulps can be heard around the room.

"i must say," he continues, tightening his grip. "it's one thing to try and deceive me, but it's another to harm an innocent person just because you're losing sorely."

"s-she's not innocent," mason squawks. "she's cheating! she has to be! she hasn't lost once tonight. besides, she's the dealer. she must have been tampering with the cards!"

sylus faces you, still not letting go of mason. "miss dealer. you have been allowing these men," he nudges his head towards the pigs at your table, "to shuffle the cards before each round, correct?"

"yes," you answer calmly, not a single quiver or tremor to be heard. "each person at this table has shuffled before a round. it is protocol to allow customers to shuffle." smoothening your collar and vest, you gesture to the table with a hand. "also, i have been using two separate decks of cards, which not only ensures a faster game but also prevents cheating from both the dealer and the customers."

sylus frowns. you didn't even look at him while answering his question. not a single look of acknowledgment was spared. your eyes never left the poker table, and that bothered sylus greatly. he doesn't know why. but what he knows for sure is that he wants your eyes on him. he wants to break your focus so fucking badly. he wants to see what kind of face you would make when he beats you in a game. it's only fair. after all, you satiated his boredom the moment he laid eyes on you. 

"you heard her." he says as he thrusts mason to the ground. "i'm afraid you are simply terrible at cards. now, i suggest you leave before i break your arm."

"what?! but she's-" sylus stomps on the man's arm, eliciting a terrifying scream. cradling his now-shattered arm, mason hunches over in agony, his wails of pain never ending. 

sylus rolls his eyes as he pulls a seat to your table. "any time now, mason," he snaps.

glancing up at you, the silver-haired man can't help but tut. still no reaction from you. just a formal pose of a hand folded over the other and resting on the stomach. seriously? he just crushed a man's arm in front of you, not to mention a man who's been troubling you nonstop, and you don't even blink? by no means does he expect gratitude. it's the n109 zone, after all. but given the indisputable fact that you're new here, surely you must be unaccustomed to spontaneous violence. but no, you just reach for a deck of cards and start shuffling, never acknowledging the man, the fucking head of onychinus, sitting in front of you.

"excellent display, sylus!" sherman chirps, pulling a seat next to him as mason and his men scamper away. "mason, that moron. never able to accept a loss."

"indeed," his lackey joins as well, causing sylus to sigh in frustration. oh right, the imbecile and his ass-kisser were still here. "accepting losses is vital to surviving in the n109 zone. wouldn't you agree, miss?" 

no answer. you just keep shuffling the cards. first a riffle shuffle, then an overhand shuffle. sylus quirks a brow, mildly impressed by how fast your fingers move. finally, you speak.

"your bets, gentlemen?"

sylus blinks. you looked at him. you finally looked at him. and it wasn’t with any flaming desire to win big against the one and only head of onychinus. no, it was with sheer boredom, as if he was just another one of those insignificant nobodies in the n109 zone. he can't help but chuckle. he can feel the excitement coursing through his veins. oh, he can't wait to see your reaction when he bests you. it’s only fair he returns the favor, right? he’ll gladly satiate your boredom as you did for him. and he is dying to see what kind of face will make. will your unmoving, bewitching eyes flicker? will your smooth, crystalline voice falter? will your expressionless, winsome face finally contort? oh, the man is raring to find out. 

it seems sylus, the man who was bored to tears less than ten minutes ago, is confident tonight will be the most entertaining night of his life.

next chapter

[milkbobatyun]

a ghost of his past

pairing: dan heng x reader

genre: angstober, events

summary: even in his dreams, his past haunts him.

word count: 630

a/n: which clown pulled for dan heng IL just because his design was really pretty? totally not me !! n e ways take this attempt at a dan heng fic.

the gentle, quiet melody of the CD was seeping into the sleeping quarters of the astral express. its inhabitants were deep in sleep. suddenly, with a horrid screech, it halts. an unnerving silence settled over the sleeping quarters. when the disk starts revolving again, a haunting xiaozhou melody sings from the player.

dan heng lies asleep in his bed, where he finds himself in his own dreamscape. a ghost of a figure haunts his, no, dan feng’s dreams.

they stare into his soul with lifeless eyes, silent in their approach.

even without the memories of his past lives, he knew who you were. his lover. or rather, dan feng’s. his gentle, beautiful lover, who offered him unconditional affection, who was always so understanding of him.

you, whose soft hands brushed at his tears when they fell, massaged away the headaches that accompanied the arduous role of being a high elder. 

your love story was spread far and wide in the xianzhou. many children and young couples aspired to have such a fantastical and romantic love. the two of you were the envies of all lovers. the citizens watched as their high elder, always so cold and judicial in his mannerisms, would soften and gaze at you with the warmest look in his eyes, how the fearsome dragon elder became but a mere puppy in your presence.

in danheng’s fragmented dreams, short films of your love played before him, reminding him of every tender moment. times where you were his sole supporter and believer. the seconds of eternity where you would sneak into his office, a boxed lunch, fresh from the stove, cradled in your hands.

the dreams were bright and warm, like the soft touch of spring, flowers booming in his chest.

the fragile flowers, their buds just beginning to bloom, are swallowed by the cold touch of frost, the lively blooms blackening and withering.

in danheng’s fragmented nightmares, he caught glimpses of your demise. your warped screams echo in his mind, bloody hands clawing at the hem of his coat. he hears your voice, begging for mercy.

the nightmares were cold and lonely, like ice seeping into his veins, cutting into his soul and heart.

as he dreams, blade’s voice echoes in his mind.

“you always knew the price better than any of us.” he hissed, his voice a serpent’s hiss, slithering in his thoughts. “that’s why you sacrificed her.”

“you killed her, for the sake of your planet.” blade taunted, his laugh grating in danheng’s ear. “YOU KILLED HER, WITH YOUR OWN TWO HANDS.”

dan heng squeezed his eyes shut, the blackness of his dreamscape pressing in on him, suffocating him. he covered his ears with his hands, tugging and clawing at his hair, to get your echoing screams out of his mind.

he felt a warm liquid running between his fingers. dan heng held his trembling hands in front of him, watching as blood stained his hands, the bloody spear gripped with shaking fingers.

kneeling by his feet was your lifeless body, a bloody hole where your heart should be.  your eyes are fixed ahead, mouth contorting into words that cut his heart deeper than any sword.

“dan feng. how could you.” you breathed, eyes swimming with hurt. “i thought you loved me.”

with a start, dan heng woke from his dreams. the xianzhou lullaby ceases.

drawing his knees up to his chest, dan heng presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“spare me, please,” dan heng pleads to the empty room. “let me forget my past.”

no one responds, but in the depths of his mind, he seems to hear a soft whisper.

“i’m sorry…please don’t forget me.”

the room was silent, but the weight of his past lay burdened on dan heng’s mind.

taglist (open): @leehanscorydora, @pastelmitzuki

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobatyun 2024 / づ ♡

[shadowdaddies]

Living In Color

Azriel x Reader

based on this ask

Summary: After losing everything in the war, you struggle to find the joy in life - until you start having dreams of scarred hands that inspire you to pursue art again.

Warnings: mentions of war, death, trauma/depression

Days blurred together, the dim sunlight that dared to show through the cracks in your window curtains the only sign that time was passing in the outside world. The faelights never turned on in your apartment, food turning stale as you willed your body to shut down, just as your mind had ever since the war. 

Everyone was gone. Your mother, father, brother, friends. All were lost to battle - innocent people, gone from this world, and you were left alone to pick up the pieces. 

You were once an artist, your favorite subjects to paint being your family and friends. The paintings of their joyful faces surrounded you in your home before you tore them all down, hiding them away in the dark as you did yourself. 

You stared at your hands. Hands that were once consistently covered in the bright colors of your paints, now dry and cracked from lack of care. Hands that once created beautiful art and brought joy to yourself and others, now withering away with your heart.

Tears soaked your pillow as you cried yourself to sleep, as you had every night for months. You braced yourself for your usual dreams, the nightmares that haunted you of your mother’s lifeless eyes, your brother’s last words - but they didn’t come. 

That night, you dreamt of hands. They were damaged hands, like your own, but they were covered in scars. You didn’t see who they belonged to, but the hands held yours in their own, a soft, gentle touch despite their appearance.

It was the first night you had slept through in weeks, and you managed that day to take a bath. You looked at your own hands in the tub, holding one in the other as gently as the ones from your dreams held you. It was shocking, to feel that you were still capable of such tenderness. That night, you found oils to rub on your hands, soothing the dry cracks before you fell asleep.

Your dreams were, again, filled with those beautiful scarred hands. Tonight, they offered you a flower - a bright yellow daffodil, vibrant like your favorite sweater. 

The dreams continued - those hands sometimes bringing you flowers, holding your hands, brushing softly against your cheek. One night, they handed you a paint brush. You jerked awake, tears streaming down your face as you ran through your apartment, turning on every faelight as you opened the door to your closet. You pulled out every painting, the bright faces of people you loved and missed smiling at you through your memories of them. 

Something snapped inside of you as you looked at the picture of your mother. You had missed her face so dearly, having only seen it through your nightmares. By hiding the joyful moments, you had only remembered those that haunted you. 

As the sun rose that day, you opened up the curtains and let the light in. Pulling on your favorite yellow sweater, you set off towards the art studio that had opened down the road, ready to live in color.

Thanking the woman at the front counter, you borrowed paints and took a spot at an easel. As you stared at the blank canvas, it occurred to you that the idea of painting the people you missed was much easier in thought. You stared down at your yellow sweater, tears threatening to spill as you felt more and more like an imposter. Someone trying to be who you once were, and as much as you wished to be that person again, you knew you never could. Letting out a shaky sigh, you looked for your bag, ready to leave the studio when a voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

“Having trouble with inspiration?” a sweet voice, like silver bells sounded from behind you. You turned over your shoulder to see the High Lady of the Night Court behind you. Eyes wide, you fumbled for an answer while she smiled softly at you. “My name is Feyre,” she greeted, a tattooed hand reaching for yours. 

You took her hand, feeling its softness against your own as you introduced yourself, and it clicked. “Actually, I think I’ve just found my inspiration.”

You eagerly reached for your paints, mixing the colors together in a vibrant yellow, a golden brown, cobalt blue - and painted the hand that gave you the daffodil. 

You returned to the studio, day after day painting the hands from your dreams. Your inspiration. The hands that brought color back into your life. These were hands that were scarred, the hands of someone who had been hurt like you had, yet still reached out, still brought light and softness to the world.

Slowly, you began feeling like yourself again. You saw the bright colors of the rainbow, the twinkle of the stars against the night sky. When a child accidentally flicked paint on your favorite blue dress while you painted, you laughed for the first time in ages. 

The small boy apologized, his tiny wings tucking in behind him as he gaped at the paint that covered your dress. Feyre ran up behind him, swooping the little tike into her arms as she took in your appearance. “Oh gods, I am so sorry. Nyx, did you apologize to the nice lady?”

You waved her off, giggling as you stood and twirled in your dress. “Actually, Nyx, I think this dress looks even more beautiful now with this extra splash of color.” 

The boy giggled, his mother ruffling his onyx locks as she set him down to run back to his painting station. “I really am sorry. I can fix that for you, or replace the dress,” Feyre insisted. 

You smiled at her, a true smile at her kindness - something you hadn’t realized how desperately you needed. Adjusting the ribbon in your hair, you shook your head. “Really, I like the splash of purple against the blue. I could use more color in my life,” you promised. 

Feyre seemed genuinely surprised and pleased by your reaction, her gaze flicking to your easel, where the latest portrait of those scarred hands rested. She looked around your station, taking in all of the paintings. Dozens of them were set around, and you suddenly found yourself bashful.

“May I ask about your paintings? They’re beautiful. You seem quite inspired by hands.” She spoke in a casual tone, but you had the sense that there was something more to her question. 

Nervously tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you shifted your weight from one foot to another. “I struggled, for a long time... after the war.” You swallowed, a pregnant pause filling the air as she waited for you to continue. “I used to paint a lot, but I couldn’t bring myself to for a long time. Until a few weeks ago, I started dreaming of these hands.” 

Your gaze flicked to Feyre’s expecting confusion or judgment, but her gray-blue eyes sparkled as she nodded in understanding. You smiled slightly, continuing. “I felt as though I was too damaged to create like I used to, but these hands... It felt like a message from the Mother, or some other force, maybe. That even though I’ve experienced such darkness, I can still create light. That my darkness might even make my colors brighter.”

A small yelp escaped your lips as the High Lady pulled you in for a hug. “Thank you for sharing your story with me,” she murmured, her head dipped into your shoulder. Shakily, you dared your hands to move, reciprocating Feyre’s hug, and a weight was lifted off your shoulders. “How would you like to join me for some tea?”

You nodded, willing back the tears that threatened at the simple kindness. Feyre led the way out of the studio, Nyx taking your hand as he tugged you towards the tea shop, babbling about the hot chocolate he wanted. You giggled at the little boy, a loose curl falling in your eyes as he pulled you into a chair outside the cafe. “Uncle Azzy!” the child shouted, and you brushed the hair out of your eyes to find the most striking hazel ones staring back at you.

Something tightened in your chest at the sight of the striking Illyrian male in front of you, his golden-brown skin and dark features somehow familiar to you. His eyes fluttered for a moment, seemingly shocked by something before he caught his breath. 

“Um, pleased to meet you. I’m Azriel,” the name spilling like a song as he reached out to you in greeting. You looked down at the outstretched hand, a spark flaring in your chest at the sight of his scars. 

You gasped, grabbing his hand like a lifeline as you flipped it over, running your fingertips along the beautiful scars. Azriel was frozen in shock, unmoving as you gaped at his beauty, never releasing his hand as a tear fell down your cheek. Your eyes locked with his as you whispered, “you are so beautiful.”

Azriel swallowed thickly, an adorable blush creeping over his cheeks at your comment. A bell sounded from the side, drawing the two of you out of your moment. Eyes flicked to the door where Feyre stood with your drinks, a smirk on her face as she handed Nyx his hot chocolate. 

“I thought you two might hit it off,” the High Lady said through a bright smile. “Here, Az. I got you a tea too. Oh, and I forgot - Nyx, we have to go home. But the two of you should enjoy your drinks together!” With that, Feyre winnowed away and left you with the literal male of your dreams in front of you.

Letting out a soft chuckle, Azriel ran a hand through his wavy black hair as he looked down at your bright, paint-splattered dress. “So, you paint?” 

You laughed, that golden thread between you pulled taught at the sound. “I used to a lot more.” Glancing down at his hands, you smiled. “I’m just getting back into it.”

No, you would never be the person you were before. But as you stared at the shadows that swirled your mate - the darkness who brought you back to the light - you were proud of the person you were becoming.

[jungaji]

calla ❀˖°

boyfriend!jisung x composer gn!reader ♡

genre: comfort

calla, someone said that your time will be over soon

jisung watches silently as you flip through your music sheets again, your eyes distant, and fingers trembling. the weight of the notes scribbled across the pages being too much to bear, too heavy to carry.

"i can't do this anymore, sung," you murmur, voice brittle and fragile, much like a withering flower.

he doesn't respond immediately, letting your words hang in the quiet studio. his heart aches as he takes in the sight of your broken form—hair a chaotic mess, your favorite sweater wrinkled from days of wear, and dark shadows under your eyes from sleepless nights and tears that never seemed to end.

he's never seen you like this before, and it scares him.

it hurts him.

but calla, you can always grow back, oh

"my love," he says softly, hands reaching up to soothe your head, gently combing through your hair, smoothing the unruly strands that stick out.

you lean into his touch instinctively, finding comfort in the warmth of his hands, but your eyes remain fixed on the crumpled sheets in your lap. the music notes and lyrics blurring together, a cruel reminder of everything you think you've failed at.

he kneels beside you, gaze never leaving your fragile form and gently pries the crumpled pages from your hands.

you make a weak attempt to snatch them back, but jisung's grip is firm as his eyes meet yours—soft and filled with an unwavering warmth that cracks open the walls you've built around yourself.

"these notes aren't failures," he starts, his tone steady. "you're not a failure."

"but what if i am?" you whisper, voice cracking as tears start to well up in your eyes again.

"what if i'll never be able to write a song again?"

at your words, jisung's heart clenches, the weight of your pain pressing down on him. it frustrates him to see you like this—struggling and unsure, as if the spark that once burned so brightly in your heart has been put out.

if you don't have enough sunlight,

you used to live for composing. music called out to you in a way no one could understand. it was the love of your life—something jisung used to complain about, how you seemed to love your music more than you loved him.

but despite his endless complaints, jisung never resented it. he always supported you, loved seeing your passion for music, even if it meant he had to lose you to the studio sometimes.

gently, he pulls you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as his voice softens, "don't say that," he murmurs against your hair. "you have so much to give, my love. you don't have to see it all right now. you're not meant to have everything figured out at once."

hearing his words, you bury your face in his chest, trembling as your emotions flood through you. the ache in your chest feels endless, and the doubts eat away at you like an unforgiving tide.

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, cupping your face in his hands. "i'm here," he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "c'mon, we'll get through this. one note at a time."

i'll blow the clouds away, calla

jisung keeps you close, his steady warmth grounding you, and only when your sobs quiet into soft hiccups does he speaks again, his voice low and soothing. "do you trust me?"

you hesitate for awhile, thoughts still clouded with uncertainty, but you eventually nod against him.

he smiles softly, brushing away the tear-streaked hair from your face before reaching for the forgotten music sheets, picking up a pen and scribbling something in big block letters across the page.

curious, you sneak a glance at the page, reading the sentence: MARK'S HAD BAD DAYS TOO.

you blink a few times, re-reading the sentence and processing the absurdity, before bursting out into a fit of giggles. jisung joins, both your laughters filling the studio and pulling you back from the edge of your despair.

"what?!" he teases, grin widening as he watches you giggle. "it's true! mark's had bad days and he still wrote, like, 200 songs."

"you and your admiration for mark..." you tease, wiping the last of your tears away.

he watches you adoringly, gaze soft with nothing but affection in his eyes. "but i admire you the most. you know that right?" the sincerity in his voice settling deep in your heart, almost like a soft embrace that promises everything will be okay.

"i know," you whisper, squeezing his hand softly. "thank you for being here, sung."

authors note: dedicated to anybody who has been struggling/overwhelmed with their work! we can get through this together, ily <3 also happy belated birthday to my lele pie (i will write for you soon... one day...)

taglist ♡: @ldh0000 @haechyuckan

[calehenituse-brainrot]

Mors

Cale Henituse | Kim Rok Soo x Transported!Reader

A meeting with a transcendental being.

content warning: blood, cannibalism

Sitting on your haunches, you look at the withered flower inside the ripped heart in your palms. You recalled how your chest was a gaping hole, devoid of a heart as well. Your hands trembled as you cradled the heart, wrenched straight from the chest of a god.

It was still in your hands, bathed in blood and eerily similar to a human’s. Similar to yours. If he was a god, why was he so identical to you? Why does he retain the human traits of his previous life after reaching godhood? Was it his way to be tied still to his roots? Was it his way to honor his previous life? Or was he doing this to be like the god you knew, wanting to be closer in image to the people that worshipped him, so they would feel closer to him?

You let out a small laugh at your questions. ‘God works in mysterious ways, I suppose.’

The flower within, a dianthus, was withering. You remember how that god had opened his mouth and swallowed your heart full. Was there something in your heart that he needed? Could his replace yours…?

You stilled for a moment, realizing that you couldn’t even hear your breathing. The withered flower inside his heart seemed to whisper to you, and you felt the temptation to open your mouth. Murmurs began to fill your senses, overwhelming you. The withering flower seemed to speak to you, promising a forgotten power, its decay a testament to the once-mighty deity's fall from grace. 

You opened your mouth, your mind flashing to the memories of your struggles; the raw, visceral moment when you forcibly tore the heart out of the god’s chest. You felt pure rage then and now it lingered as a hollow echo. You felt… empty. That man had once been your father -- a bad one, and you had the satisfaction of beating him to the ground and killing his image. 

What now?

With a deep breath, you lifted the heart to your mouth, the withered petals coated in blood touching your lips. 

“Will you be able to carry that power?”

You snapped, looking up in shock. The space had turned dark and when you looked up, your eyes glimmered with the sight of the universe before you, surrounding you. You felt a pull, the silent summons that drew you towards it all. Where is all?

A force pulled you to look up, and you seem to be looking into the edge of the universe. There was something that bears no form and defied mortal comprehension, an unyielding force that transcended all understanding. Whatever it was, it was an ungraspable enigma, woven into the fabric of the universe. You felt a presence, its weight palpable and its depth seemed to be pressing against your soul. You feel heavy.

Overwhelmed, your breath catches in your throat and your eyes teared up. It was as if the universe had stilled and you held your breath at the weight of it all in a moment of profound reverence.

The God of Death was neither seen nor heard, but felt—an all-encompassing awareness that filled the space around a person, a shadow that danced at the edge of perception. 

He was the very essence of the end, the silence that followed the final breath each dying person takes. 

You realize how small you are, and how your erratic breathing compares to the calmness He embodied. You were a mere spark in His infinite expanse of time. You smiled through your tears. “You’re here.”

His vastness tilted, and though He had no eyes, you felt its attention fixed on you. His voice was not a voice but a cacophony of sensations: waves crashing, a fire roaring, the soft crackle of ice breaking apart.

“I am,” He said to you. His voice seemed to ring in your ears, vibrating through your very bones, carrying with it the faint echoes of all the lives He had claimed as his.

“You’re not like how I expected you to appear,” you murmured, gently lowering your hands as you looked up at the cosmos. He was everything and everywhere all around you at once. 

“Do you expect me to appear like in your little books?” He asked, His tone amused and it disturbs you to know such a great being was capable of understanding you so intimately. 

You nodded. “Yes.”

The galaxies glimmered as He laughed and you watched it all, mesmerized. “You’re… beautiful.”

This god was not like the one you knew. You knew what Death would look like through the novels, but your idea of an ethereal being that greets you in the afterlife never had a face. You imagined Him to have a figure of kindness cloaked in the despair of the end, a ferryman to guide your soul or a looming, austere angel wrapped in glowing robes. But He was none of that. He was not the gentle shepherd you knew nor was he an angel. There was no humanoid form for you to grasp, to hold for comfort at the end of your life.

He has no voice. He needed none. His presence filled the endless expanse of this space, towering like a mountain, shifting like stormy clouds of a night, the edges fraying into a blinding mix of light and shadows. His body -- can you even call it one? -- was composed of dark clouds, flashing as if a storm was brewing deep within. It swirled in front of you, like the beginning of a hurricane. 

You recalled the cold waters, the tilting ship, and the piercing ache in your chest. The stinging pain of slamming and breaking the water surface before you lost your consciousness. “Is it my time? Is that why you’re here?”

He did not reply for a moment, and you felt the universe vibrate. The heart was lifted from your palms and floated in front of you.

“A God is dying,” He said. “These petals were once radiant with celestial light. Because of you, now they are brittle and dark. His divinity is dying.”

“Is it a sin?” You asked him. “Have I sinned?”

“I am not one of your wrathful gods,” He said. “There is no sin for a child who simply wants to live.”

“Take this heart,” He said. “Eat it whole and consume the flower within. You’ll be able to come back to your family. They wait for you.”

You cupped your palms, and the heart slowly fell back to your hold. You look into the withered flower and then back to the universe. You felt the essence of Death, the profound stillness He was able to provide that calmed the storm in your head. You closed your eyes. “You feel so… peaceful. Heavy, but peaceful.”

“Because this is the edge of your existence,” He told you. However it sounded, it sounded so gentle. Forgiving. The universe warped again and an hourglass appeared, the sand being stardust. It was running out of it. This was your lifespan. “There is no judgment that awaits you here. Nothing awaits you here.”

“Will I stay here if I choose not to consume this heart?” You asked. 

The God of Death let out a sound similar to a surprised hum. “No. This is not death. It will be painful and a glorious sight to see your death. You will feel the pain. At this moment, I am being merciful to you.”

You gulped. “I… I don’t want that. Can’t I die peacefully?

“No,” He answered, quiet and still.

“Why not?” You asked, feeling a lump form on your throat. Deep down, you crave for His approval, for His attention. You wanted comfort from the being that will take your soul, and you’d never admit it, but you were devastated. “If I stay… You will be the one to take me. You take everything… At the very least, make it painless--”

The air stilled as He seemed to focus on you. “Do you think of me as a cruel god?”

“So much,” you whispered. “You take everything away and we all suffered from it.”

The dark clouds surround you and you feel the way they wrap around you close, forcing your chin up to face Death. “You mistake necessity for cruelty. My followers think I must love or hate, guide or punish. But I am neither shepherd nor tyrant. I am the ending of things, as natural as the fall of night. I owe you nothing.”

The sheer indifference in His tone—or His essence—shattered something inside you. You had hoped for solace, for answers, for meaning. Instead, you found yourself face to face with the vast, uncaring truth of mortality. You were a speck of dust in the presence of a cosmic storm. You must understand that you are nothing in front of these Gods.

“All things must end. The cycle cannot hold without me. Your grief is yours to bear. It has never been mine.”

You sat in silence, the heavy truth within His words pressing down on you like the weight of the world. For a moment, you felt like screaming your heart out. This is unfair! I did my best to be a good person and I will die a painful death at the end! 

This was callous -- the final moments of your life would be raw, scathing pain that you’ll feel until you die. Death was easy to face, but dying was not something you wanted, much less in pain. Staring at the mass of dark clouds, the fire in your chest flickered and then immediately dimmed.

Whatever you do, it will be futile. Your rage will be futile, your pleas unheard. You are mortal.

You rose to your feet slowly, panting. The God of Death said nothing, watching—or perhaps not—as you grasped for the heart.

The hourglass slowed.

“Consume the divinity,” He said. “Consume it and let it take you.”

You opened your mouth and lifted the heart to your lips. Your teeth sank onto the bloodied, lifeless flesh and a surge of a cold and ancient energy coursed through you. The taste was something you could never have tasted in your living days. It tasted of iron and stardust, horribly bitter with the remnants of a dying divinity. You gripped at the flesh with your teeth and ripped it away, swallowing the chunks whole and each swallow was a step further into the abyss, your soul intertwining with the fading essence of a dying god.

The withered dianthus crumbled in your mouth, its divine energy dissolving on your tongue and it left you with sorrow and tears.

You swallowed the final piece and your gaping chest began to close itself. Your chest burns with the dying embers of divinity that now reside in your soul. You sat there, looking up at the universe with your bloodied mouth, the weight of your action settling into your bones. 

It was slow at first. A burn on your tongue, and then around your throat that had dared to consume such a sacred thing. You gasped, grasping at your throat and then your chest. You let out a pained wail as your chest seemed to have something slithering inside it, moving inside your flesh and skin and causing you to scream in pain.

“I-I can’t--!” You stammered out through pained gasps. “I-I can’t t-take it! Please!”

“Be calm,” Death whispered to you. “Accept your end. I’m here to take you.”

You slumped to the ground, panting as you began to feel faint, the universe warping around you. 

The inevitability of His embrace filled you with a strange, bittersweet peace, a release from the burdens of mortal toil. In the overwhelming quiet, you found a deep acceptance, a surrender to the inevitable cycle of existence. The God of Death, unseen and formless, held you in a silent embrace, a guardian of the boundary between life and the infinite unknown.

And in that sacred moment, where time and space dissolved into the eternal twilight, you understood the profound peace of surrender, the quiet grace of the end, as you were gently carried into the vastness beyond.

Ron sat in the ship, looking up at the starry skies as Archie swam back to the continent. The ship’s gentle motion cradled the two people who lay unconscious on its wooden floorboards, the soft creaking of its timbers mingling with the sounds of the whales swimming. His eyes, weathered by years of witnessing death, gazed upward. Ron could never think he would seek solace within stars, but here he was.

They always felt so cold to him. They were an ancient, eternal beauty, so indifferent to the troubles that Earth and its inhabitants faced. To think something like that was a small part of a vast existence and Ron felt conflicted about whether or not he should feel glad that his sorrows were so small within that existence. He came to the conclusion that he didn’t care.

The night breeze, cool and salt-tinged, whispered through his silver hair, carrying with it the scent of the open sea. He inhaled deeply, drawing strength from the air, his weathered hand resting gently on your hand. Ohn was tucked under your chin, herself paranoid that in the middle of their way home, your pulse would stop beating and she’d lose you again.

Rosalyn was sitting on her haunches, your head placed on her lap as she was nodding off.

Your skin was cool beneath their touch, a stark contrast to the warmth of their love, a love that burned with the fierce intensity of a dying star.

The ship moved steadily, its course unwavering, slicing through the dark waters toward their home. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, the minutes stretching out as if time itself were reluctant to move forward. The stars above shimmered with a light that seemed to pulse with ancient wisdom. 

He turned his gaze from the stars to you, his heart aching with a deep, primal fear. One that he had not felt in a long time.

“Stay with me,” he implored quietly as if he was praying to himself. The night seemed to hold its breath, the stars flickering in silent sympathy.

Ron paused when he saw something move under the coat he had laid on your front as a blanket. Ohn’s ears twitched and she looked up groggily, only to be met with the grotesque sight of your flesh seemingly moving and writhing underneath the coat.

As if possessed, your back arched violently and dozens of thorns burst off your gaping chest, sprouting like tendrils as it moved wildly around.

Choi Han immediately stood behind Cale’s unconscious body, his sword already out as he stared at your body with a guarded gaze. “W-what the--?”

Rosalyn immediately woke up, stepping away from you and watching as your body convulsed even though you were still unconscious. “[N-name]?!”

Your body convulsed wildly, the thorns growing longer as it seemed to be reaching for the skies. Choi Han looked at them all cautiously and turned to Rosalyn. “Should we cut it down?”

“We don’t know what it will do to her if we do,” Rosalyn said. “We should try to contain her--”

Before Rosalyn could finish her sentence, the thorns slowly began to slow their convulsions and retract back to your gaping chest. Its thorns retracted and grew softer, taking the form of ordinary vines as it draped along your body similar to a tapestry, the prettiest hyacinths growing around you like the most beautiful blanket.

Rosalyn hesitantly touched the flowers, checking for any abnormalities to see if they posed any danger. Once she had confirmed that the flowers were safe, she went ahead to check your chest, trying to see if you were bleeding out from what had just happened. She separated the blankets of flowers to see your once gaping chest was now plugged with dozens of vines knotted together. They started from your flesh as if they were your veins, becoming more prominent as they reached your chest and became all knotted together to plug your wound.

“How fascinating,” Rosalyn murmured, her eyes glimmering. She leaned forward, gently running her fingertips along the green vines, seeing how they faded from red as they came from your veins to green like a typical plant.

You were peaceful within your slumber, unaware of the chaos that you had created in the world of the conscious. 

The world was hazy when Cale slowly opened his eyes, the soft glow of sunlight spilling into the room like liquid gold. The rays struck his pale face, painting him in ethereal light as the weight of sleep still clung to his limbs. The sound of the curtains being drawn filled the air, the faint rustle of fabric accompanying the light's advance. Cale winced, raising a trembling hand to shield his eyes from the brightness.

A low groan escaped his lips, barely audible, but enough to make Ron turn. The ever-composed butler approached swiftly, his steps as quiet as a shadow. 

“Young Master-nim,” Ron’s voice was calm, a steady anchor in the waking haze. “You’re awake…”

Cale sat up slowly, every movement deliberate as though he was piecing himself back together. He barely had a moment to breathe before warmth crashed into him.  

“Huummannnnn! Stupid, stupid human!”  

Raon’s tear-filled cries filled the room as the dragon clung to him, his small body trembling with relief. Ohn and Hong quickly joined, their soft, furred forms pressing close to Cale, their cries mingling with Raon’s as they buried themselves against him. Their tears soaked into his clothes, their overwhelming relief a storm that engulfed him.  

Cale blinked, disoriented, his hands instinctively reaching out to comfort them. He clumsily patted Raon’s head, his fingers trembling as they ruffled the dragon’s dark mane.  

“Hey now,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and weak. “I’m fine. I’m here.”  

His words did little to stem their tears, but they clung to him as though they feared he might vanish again. Raon sniffled loudly, his round eyes peering up at Cale with a mix of relief and scolding.  

Ron stood nearby, watching the scene with quiet detachment, though a faint glimmer of something softer lingered in his eyes. “Five days,” he said at last, his voice cutting through the cacophony. 

Cale glanced up at him, his own exhaustion still clinging to his features. “How long…?”  

“It’s been five days since we rescued Miss [Name],” Ron replied.  

Cale’s brow furrowed, his voice dipping into concern. “Is she—?”  

Ron’s frown was subtle but heavy. He shook his head. “She’s still unconscious. We’ve done all we can, called every advanced healer there is, but nothing seems to work.”  

Hong pressed his small head to Cale’s stomach, his voice a whisper tinged with worry. “She wouldn’t wake up at all… We’ve tried so hard…”  

Cale’s hand moved to Ohn, gently stroking her soft fur. Her wide eyes shimmered with tears as she rested her head on his lap, her quiet sniffles breaking his heart.  

“I missed you…” she murmured, her voice fragile.  

“I never left,” Cale muttered in reply, his hand lingering on her head as a frown tugged at his lips.  

Ron, ever the vigilant butler, stepped forward, his sharp gaze raking over Cale’s form. “How are you feeling, Young Master-nim? Any pain?”  

“I’m fine,” Cale replied, though his voice lacked conviction.  

Ron’s hands were quick, professional as they checked his injuries, his touch brushing lightly against the faint scar over Cale’s chest—the spot where nature itself had torn into him. The wound was sealed now, but it carried the weight of the battle etched into his very being.  

“I would call that impossible,” Ron muttered, his tone flat yet pointed. “But considering it’s you, Young Master-nim, I will simply choose to believe you… and forbid you from overexerting yourself.”  

Cale arched a brow, his lips quirking faintly. “So you don’t believe me.”  

Ron’s mouth twitched in what might have been a smirk. “Oh, I would never distrust your words,” he replied smoothly, his tone laced with faint sarcasm as he finished inspecting the scar.  

“Everything looks good,” Ron concluded, stepping back.  

Cale sighed, leaning back against the headboard. He glanced at Raon, Ohn, and Hong, their tear-streaked faces now calmer but still clinging to him like shadows. A faint smile played on his lips, though weariness hung heavy in his eyes.  

“Looks like you all didn’t miss me at all,” he murmured softly, his words betraying the comfort he found in their presence.  

Raon’s tail flicked, his voice firm despite the lingering tremor. “Stupid human. Of course we missed you! Don’t say stupid things!”  

Cale chuckled faintly, the sound low and hoarse, but genuine. “Alright, alright. I get it. I’m not going anywhere.”  

And though the room was still tinged with the weight of worry, for a brief moment, there was peace. It wasn’t long before he had to wash up and get ready for breakfast, so he reluctantly got out of bed -- the first time he was voluntarily getting up early -- and walked to the en-suite bathroom attached to his bed chambers.

The warmth of the morning lingered as Cale stood at the washbasin, splashing water onto his face. The coolness jolted his senses awake, washing away the haze of sleep and the remnants of the days spent unconscious. His reflection in the mirror stared back at him—pale, with dark shadows beneath his eyes, a silent testament to his overuse of powers.  

Behind him, the soft patter of paws and the faint swish of a tail broke the quiet. Raon, Ohn, and Hong hovered near the doorway, watching his every move as though afraid he might collapse again.  

“Are you just going to stand there?” Cale asked, his tone light but teasing as he toweled off his face.  

Raon puffed out his chest. “I’m supervising! A mighty dragon never leaves his human unattended after such a reckless stunt.”  

Cale chuckled softly, his breath fogging the mirror for a moment. “And what about you two?” He glanced at Ohn and Hong, who stood quietly behind Raon.  

Ohn shuffled her paws, her ears flicking nervously. “We’re just… making sure you’re okay.”  

Hong nodded, his tail swaying faintly. “You scared us, you know.”  

Cale sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning to face them. “I’m fine, see? Now, let’s go eat before Ron starts lecturing me about skipping meals.”  

Raon trotted ahead, his wings fluttering slightly as he led the way to the dining area, while Ohn and Hong stayed close to Cale’s sides, their small forms a comforting presence.  

The dining room was bathed in soft light, the table already set with a simple but hearty breakfast. Ron stood by, his ever-present smile as calm as the morning air. He stepped forward as soon as Cale sat down, pouring a cup of tea and placing it within arm’s reach.  

“Young Master-nim, the tea will help replenish your energy. Please, enjoy the meal.”  

Cale eyed the tea warily. “If this is one of your concoctions, I’ll pass.”  

Ron’s smile didn’t falter. “It is merely a blend to aid recovery. Nothing more.”  

“Hmm.” Cale picked up the cup but didn’t drink just yet, focusing instead on the plate of food in front of him.  

Raon was already settled beside him, his tail thumping against the chair as he reached for a piece of bread. “Human, eat lots! You need to get your strength back.”  

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” Cale muttered as he took a bite, the warm flavors spreading across his tongue.  

Ohn and Hong sat across from him, quietly nibbling on their own portions. Every so often, Ohn would glance up at Cale, her large eyes shimmering with a mixture of relief and lingering concern. Hong, meanwhile, focused on his food but kept sneaking looks at his brother and sister, as though ensuring they were also eating properly.  

Ron moved silently around the room, refilling tea and occasionally adjusting a plate, his movements so seamless they barely registered.  

“So,” Cale began after a few bites, breaking the gentle rhythm of the meal. “What’s the plan for today?”  

Ron paused briefly, his gaze meeting Cale’s. “Today, you rest, Young Master-nim.”  

Cale raised an eyebrow. “I think I’ve rested enough.”  

“Your body would disagree,” Ron replied smoothly. “And so would those who were left worrying over you.” His gaze flicked meaningfully toward the children.  

Raon, mid-chew, nodded emphatically. “You are resting, human. Don’t even think about using that scary power again. I won’t let you!”  

Hong chimed in, “We’ll make sure you don’t.”  

Cale let out a small sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Fine, fine. I’ll rest. But I need to go see [Name] first.”

“Of course, Young Master-nim,” Ron replied immediately, nodding his head.

“Who’s with her right now?” Cale asked, watching Raon happily stuff his mouth with another roll and Ohn and Hong share a quiet exchange.

“Choi Han,” Raon answered with a cheer, smiling widely. “He said there was someone else like him now.”

Cale blinked. Right. Him, Rosalyn, and Cale himself practically walked down your memory lane after being connected by the powers within that island. Choi Han must be happy and even curious about you now that he knew you were someone from another world like he and Cale was. 

He must be eager to talk with you.

“I see,” Cale murmured between bites. “I’ll see her after breakfast.”

“I’ll go too,” Hong said with a smile. “I want to see her too.”

“We all do,” Cale replied softly, caressing Hong’s head.

For now, things were calm. And Cale would take that small mercy, even if he knew it wouldn’t last. Your room constantly haunted his mind throughout the breakfast, but he didn’t rush himself to it. He let himself rest for a moment with he children after breakfast before they all headed there together.

He figured that Choi Han must have left for breakfast when he got there, because the moment he entered your room, he saw Cage standing by your bed. He approached the woman slowly, seeing the anxious expression on her face. “Miss Cage. How are you?”

“Cale-nim!” Cage greeted, her eyes widening. “How are you? Is everything okay? I heard you woke up today but didn’t think I’d see you.”

“I’m fine,” Cale said, unconsciously placing his hand on top of his chest where his heart resides, feeling the bumps of the ugly scar there through his clothing. He looked down to where you were, seeing you lay on the bed, hair spread out on the crisp, white pillows. Your face was sunken and pale, your body hidden away by the neat sheets which proved that you hadn’t moved at all ever since you were laid down there. 

There was a dip on the foot of the bed, similar to the one he had on his where the kids would sleep. He silently wondered how many times the kids had stayed here with you instead of with him. He looked up, back to Cage. “I suppose you’re here to visit [Name]?”

Cage stared at him, her expression grim. “Y-yes… I had a vision, of some sort.”

She glanced back at you. “I saw Miss [Name] and the God of Death. He took her.”

Cale’s heart felt like it missed a beat, his stomach suddenly aching from the anxiety. “What?”

“He took her,” Cage repeated. “H-he gave her something and she took it and then she just… disappeared. She ended up with him.”

“I’m afraid you’re not being very clear,” Cale said with a frown. “Ended up with him?”

“She’s with the God of Death now, Cale-nim,” Cage said. “She’s dying.”

The dim light of the room cast long shadows, the steady rhythm of your breathing the only sound breaking the silence. Cale sat motionless, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair, his chin propped on his hand. Raon was curled up on his lap, his small body radiating warmth against Cale’s exhaustion. The dragon’s tail flicked occasionally, a restless movement betraying his otherwise calm demeanor.  

Cale’s gaze remained fixed on your face, pale and serene, like a marble statue. The delicate rise and fall of your chest was both a comfort and a torment—proof you were still here, yet unmoving, locked in some place Cale couldn’t reach.  

Cage’s words echoed in his mind, a haunting refrain: “She’s with the God of Death now. She’s dying.”  

It has been a full week since then. They tried to gather priests and even the Saint, but nothing seemed to help.

His hand absently moved to Raon’s head, stroking between the dragon’s small horns. Raon let out a soft hum, pressing closer to him.

“Human,” the dragon murmured, his voice barely audible. “She will wake up. I believe it.”  

Cale didn’t respond, his fingers halting for a moment before resuming their gentle rhythm. Raon’s faith was unshakable, but Cage’s vision gnawed at him, a dark weight pressing against his chest.  

Ohn stirred slightly near your shoulder, her soft fur brushing against your skin as she stretched her small legs and resettled herself, her tiny breaths mingling with yours. On your stomach, Hong kneaded gently, his rhythmic purring a soothing backdrop to the heavy silence.  

‘Cage said the God of Death took her,’ Cale thought, his frown deepening. ‘What does that even mean?’

The God of Death was no stranger to him—a force that lingered on the edges of mortal comprehension, powerful and merciless. If you were truly in His hands, what could he possibly do? The thought of someone so close to him caught in the grasp of that enigmatic being churned his stomach.  

“I can’t just sit here,” he muttered, breaking the silence.  

Raon lifted his head, blinking up at him. “Then what will you do, human? You’re supposed to rest.”  

Cale didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on your face, searching for any sign of life, any flicker of movement, but you remained still. His hand moved from Raon’s head to his chest, pressing against the scar there, as though willing himself to focus.  

“I’ll find a way,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “There’s always a way.”  

Raon’s round eyes studied him, filled with worry but also trust. “Then I’ll help. We’ll all help. Ohn, Hong, and I—we’ll do whatever you need.”  

Cale’s lips quirked into a faint, fleeting smile. “Of course you will.”  

But even as he spoke, his mind raced. If the God of Death truly had you, he needed answers—and fast. Few beings in the world could meddle with something as enigmatic as the God of Death, but he wasn’t about to let that stop him. He never did.

“Human.” Raon’s voice was stronger this time, pulling Cale from his thoughts. “She will wake up. We’ll make sure of it.”  

Cale didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back in the chair, his hand returning to Raon’s head. “You’re right, Raon. She will.”  

“Will you wait for her?”

Cale snapped his head up, heart lurching in his chest. The voice was cold, unyielding, and familiar—one he’d never thought he would hear so close again. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes locked onto the figure standing by the foot of your bed.

There He was, the God of Death.

His presence filled the room like a thick, oppressive fog. The air grew colder, and even Raon stirred on Cale’s lap, his small body suddenly rigid with unease. Cale didn’t even notice, too consumed by the figure before him. 

The God of Death stood as He always did—humanoid in form, His features barely human, his tall, shadowed silhouette more an embodiment of the unknown than a mortal being. His face, though not quite like a person’s, was lined with a calm, otherworldly beauty, a mask of serene inevitability. His eyes were voids, endless and fathomless, where time and space seemed to converge, swirling like an endless abyss. Yet His gaze was not unkind—merely detached. He was beyond any emotion Cale could comprehend. 

Cale’s chest tightened, but he refused to flinch. He had met the God of Death before, had bargained with Him, but now? Now, with you lying so still and silent on the bed, now with the knowledge that He was planning to take something precious from him? The chill of His presence felt like it was crawling under Cale’s skin, settling into his bones.

"She is not dead," Cale said, his voice low, more a statement than a question. His fingers tightened around the arm of the chair, his pulse quickening despite himself. "So why are you here?"

The God of Death tilted His head slightly, the faintest movement, but it spoke volumes. His voice came again, like the wind itself—a whisper that reverberated in the back of Cale’s mind. 

"She is dying. Whether you accept it or not, the moment I took her, it was sealed." 

Cale’s heart twisted painfully. He swallowed hard, trying to steady the tremor in his voice. "She’s not dying. I won’t let her. You can’t take her from me."

The God of Death’s gaze shifted from Cale to you, still and pale beneath the sheets. There was no pity in His expression—just an infinite calm, a certainty that made Cale feel small in comparison. 

"She has already given herself to me. She will join me and others," He said, His words floating in the air like an inevitable conclusion. "There is no changing this. She will not wake on her own."

Cale’s chest constricted, and for a moment, the silence felt unbearable, but Cale’s focus never wavered from the God of Death.

"Is that it, then?" Cale’s voice cracked but he held His gaze. "You’re here to tell me there’s nothing I can do? That she’s already gone?"

The God of Death did not respond right away. He simply regarded Cale with an almost imperceptible tilt of His head, as if studying him, contemplating the answer.

"Nothing you can do," He repeated slowly, each word wrapped in finality. 

"But..." The God of Death paused, and for the first time, Cale felt an uneasy shift in the air, as if something far darker was behind those words. "Will you wait for her? Will you stand by her side as she fades from this world and into my domain?"

Cale’s hand clenched into a fist. He could feel the warmth of Raon’s scales against his skin, the steady thrum of his heart, and the weight of the room pressing in on him. 

"I’ll wait," Cale said firmly, his voice quieter now but steady. "But I will not stop looking for a way. I’ll find a way to bring her back."

The God of Death was silent for a long moment, as though considering Cale’s defiance. His eyes, though hollow, seemed to glimmer for just an instant—an unreadable emotion flickering in the depths. 

"Your persistence will not change what is inevitable. But..." His voice trailed off, the weight of His words hanging heavy in the air. "You may stand beside her if you so wish. But know this—she will never belong to you in the way you desire." 

Cale’s eyes hardened. “She belongs to no one but herself. And if she wakes... I’ll make sure of that."

The God of Death gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, His presence pulling back just a fraction, but never quite leaving. He tilted His head again, the faintest trace of something almost like curiosity in His eyes.

“Then I will leave you to your vigil. But remember, Cale Henituse—she cannot escape this.”

And with that, the God of Death faded, His figure dissolving like smoke, leaving Cale alone with the weight of the room and the heavy stillness of your slumber. 

The cold remained, lingering in the air, but something inside Cale hardened. He would wait. He would stand beside you, and even if the God of Death’s words held some truth, Cale would make sure you never felt alone. 

He would not let you fade into the void without a fight.

Suddenly, Ohn and Hong sat up, their fur bristling and tails standing stiff in shock, their wide eyes fixated on you. 

Cale’s heart skipped a beat as he watched the slight movement, the slow twitch of your fingers beneath the sheets, a faint flutter of your eyelids. For a moment, he wondered if he had imagined it, the hope stirring within him like a flicker of light in the darkness. But then you shifted again, your breath hitching as your chest rose just a little more sharply.

Raon leaped off Cale’s lap in an instant, his wings flaring as he shot toward your bedside. 

"H-human?" Raon’s voice was a mixture of disbelief and hope, his small body quivering with excitement. "Is she...?"  

Cale’s breath caught, and without thinking, he moved closer, his eyes never leaving your form as he knelt at the side of the bed. His hand hovered over your own, as if unsure whether to touch you or let you come back to him on your terms. The room seemed to hold its breath as the seconds stretched into eternity.

Then, a soft gasp—your body stirred again, and for the first time, your eyes fluttered open. Not fully, but enough for a sliver of light to break through the veil that had enveloped you. The warmth in Cale’s chest was overwhelming, and he felt his hand tremble as he finally reached for yours, gently cupping it with his own. 

“[Name]?" he whispered, his voice hoarse from the weight of his anxiety. "Can you hear me?"

For a moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breath, shallow but steady. Then, you blinked, slowly focusing on him, your eyes still clouded with confusion, but they were alive. 

"…Cale?" Your voice was weak, barely a whisper, but it was enough to make his heart soar.  

Cale’s throat tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t know if he should smile or cry. Instead, he simply squeezed your hand, his voice a soft murmur of relief. "I’m here." 

Ohn, who had been watching from the side of the bed, let out a relieved whine, nuzzling into your side. Hong, still curled on your stomach, tilted his head and purred softly, rubbing his face against yours in a quiet greeting. The children were no longer anxious, their soft breaths matching the rhythm of yours as they instinctively sought comfort in your revival.

Raon hovered just above the bed, wings flapping lightly in a tiny victory. "Told you, human! She will wake up!"

You blinked again, more clearly this time, and your gaze drifted over to the three of them—Ohn, Hong, and Raon—before finally focusing on Cale. The confusion in your eyes slowly morphed into recognition, but there was something more in them too—a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something even Cale couldn’t quite read.

"What… happened?" Your voice was still weak, barely more than a breath. "Why am I…? I thought…" 

Cale’s heart twinged at the memory of Cage’s words. He fought to steady his voice, to keep his composure as he gently stroked your hand. “You’ve been unconscious for a while, but you’re awake now. That’s all that matters.” 

He hesitated for a moment, casting a glance toward the door as if expecting the God of Death to reappear. But there was nothing—only the quiet hum of life in the room.  

"You’re safe now," Cale continued softly, bending down slightly to be closer to you. "You don’t need to worry."  

The air was thick with unsaid things, but right now, there was no need for explanations. No need to dwell on what had been—only on the fact that you were awake, breathing, here with him.  

The children settled beside you, their presence a comforting weight on the bed, and Raon perched on the edge, eyes full of determination. "I’ll protect you, little [Name]! I won’t let anyone take you again!"  

Cale couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. He turned his attention back to you, watching you slowly blink in and out of focus as you tried to make sense of the world around you. He was patient, as patient as he could be in that moment, his hand never leaving yours.  

"Rest," he whispered, his voice softer now. "You’re safe. You’re here."  

And for the first time in days, Cale let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. You had come back, against all odds. And as long as you were here, he would find a way to keep you from ever slipping away again.

You looked up at him, gaze tender and apologetic as tears well up in the corner of your eyes. “I’m sorry… For leaving.”

“It’s okay,” Cale murmured. “You were… blindsided.”

“I was an idiot,” you murmured with a soft sigh, closing your eyes as the tears slowly fell.

“Sleep,” Cale murmured, hesitantly pressing his lips to your temple. “I’ll be here. We’re all here.”

[prythianpages]

Into the Dark | Eris

Eris x Chaos Witch Reader | Summary: You have a vow to uphold but time is clicking. The darkness that lurks within threatens to take over you but Eris uses the magic of your bargain and bond to bring you back to him.

Day 1 of @erisweekofficial for bargains/bonds

warnings: brief mentions of small injuries (cuts) and death

a/n: This was originally supposed to be posted along with my other witch series but 3K words is too long to be considered a drabble so I decided to post it on its own. I had hoped to post an intro/prologue for this series first but I really wanted to post something for Eris week so I hope this makes sense. If not, then I'm so sorry and hope this can be read as a stand alone for now.

Whispers in the wind stir violently among the Autumn trees, sending leaves spiraling to their fated downfall. A shiver runs up your spine as the wind’s cold fingers grip you, goosebumps rising in a wave over your skin, threatening to burrow into your very bones. The whispers are not just furious—they are vengeful.

A storm of voices lashing at you. 

Your heart hammers madly against your chest as your legs move on their own, driven by those whispers. The moon casts its silver light upon you but tonight, it offers no comfort. There’s something dark, something wicked awakening from somewhere deep inside.

Branches claw at your exposed arms and ankles, tearing into your flesh. But your feet keep moving. Relentless, unstoppable. Even as your vision blurs and your mind drowns in the chilling darkness. You don’t need to see where you’re going—you can feel it.

It’s like a pull deep within. You can feel the gloom looming ahead. The despair, the anguish. With each step, that pull grows stronger, the wind grows colder. It brushes against your skin, tangling in your hair. The trouble stirring in your chest harmonizes with the whispers carried in the howling wind, threatening to pull you down with them.

“Please.” You find yourself whispering–begging.

“We need you.” The wind whispers in protest.

Your steps falter, and as you blink to clear your vision, a cold dread settles in your chest. 

The sight before you is almost unrecognizable, a stark contrast to the place that once thrived with life and vibrant energy. Now, it lies shrouded in darkness, a harrowing shadow of its former self. The autumn flowers, once bright and full of life, wither on their stems, their colors drained. The trees nearby are twisted and gnarled, their ashen branches sagging under the weight of despair.

There were no fireflies fluttering about, no chirping of cricket or night birds. No sign of life. Only death.

It’s eerily silent for a moment until the wind picks up again and the mournful wail of the wind reaches your ears. It sings a song of fury, of vengeful mourning. A lament for what has been lost–what has been wrongfully taken.

At the heart of it all, where a great and magnificent tree once stood proudly, there is now only a void. This was no ordinary tree.

It was the tree of wisdom–the Mnemosyne. It bore magical apples that glowed softly, their surfaces a mesmerizing blend of ruby and gold. Your father had told you stories of it growing up and when you began to practice witchcraft, Deirdre showed it to you.

Deirdre had been your mentor. For many centuries, she had guarded the tree. Sworn to protect it with her life and she took that vow gravely, upheld it until her last breath…

And now, by a wicked strum of fate, it was your turn to protect the Mnemosyne.

But you found yourself in a more precarious situation than your predecessors. High Lord Beron, in a ruthless display of his power, had uprooted the tree and taken it from its sacred grove. Its roots, once intertwined with the ancient magics of the forest, had been severed. Where Beron had taken it, and what he planned to do with the Mnemosyne, was still unknown to you, but by the lengths he had gone to take it, you could only assume his intentions were far from pure.

Returning the Mnemosyne to its rightful home was of the utmost importance. The longer it remained away from the forest, the greater the risk that its memories, and the history it held, would wither and fade. Entire centuries of knowledge could be lost—forgotten forever. The thought chilled your blood, filling you with an overwhelming unease. 

You had to bring this tree back and restore peace to this forest. Even if it cost you the same price it cost Deirdre. Death was a stranger but not one you feared. It was oblivion you feared. To lose the very essence of yourself. It’s why you refused to let the wicked darkness that lives in you take over. You feared it’d consume you whole.

So Eris Vanserra it was. 

Desperate times had called for desperate measures. You found yourself striking a bargain with Eris Vanserra, Beron’s eldest son. Eris, with his sharp eyes and sharper tongue, had always been a figure of suspicion and intrigue. His loyalty to Beron was unclear, but his cunning and ambition were undeniable.  

Never had you imagined seeking his help. Caught in a delicate dance of mistrust and shared ambition, the bargain was the only way to ensure your safety. That was, until fate played a merciless hand and those strings of fate tethered your soul to his…

A mating bond.

It snapped into place like a steel trap, the golden threads appearing the moment your life teetered on the edge of danger. There had been no warning. Only a sudden, fierce tug that anchored your soul to his. One heartbeat you were fighting for survival, and in the next, you felt the bond latch onto you. Irrevocable and final.

You should thank The Cauldron—it did save your life, after all—but at what cost?

You’d worry about it later. At the very least, the invisible chain that bound your fates together strengthened the bargain you made. A mutual safety net. If you died, a part of him died too. Any loophole of betrayal the two of you had planned had been immediately forfeited the moment the bond snapped.

Because yes, he had promised to help you with the Mnemosyne tree and you had promised to help rid Autumn of Beron. A win-win situation for you both. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t coax him with one of your potions, poison his mind as you’ve done with his brothers to encourage him to do more of your bidding…

However, now it did. There were some things uncertain to you about mating bonds and you worried about potential consequences if you were to sneak one of your potions into his food.

Tears pricked your eyes as the whispers increased with the howling wind, a distant echo of sorrowful cries and anguished screams. It brought you back to the dire situation at hand. The very reason for your deal with Eris.

The forest wanted you to feel what it did. To feel the overwhelming grief, the melancholic heartache. It stirred the shadows sleeping in the pendant you wore around your neck–the ones that harmonize with the darkness that lives inside you now.

 “It’s a burden you must carry.” 

“No,” you cried, dropping to your knees, fingers clenching around the ruby pendant. It was a futile attempt to soothe the shadows kept inside back to sleep. “I can do it. I just need more time. Please.”

But it’s not the whispers carried by the wind that respond this time.

It’s that wicked darkness that has been lurking within you.

The forest grows angry. If you do not answer its call, we will.

That darkness writhes further into your chest. Your breath hitches as you feel it wrap itself around your heart, your body hunching forward.

You cannot keep us away. You are us now and we are you.

“No.” You repeat again but your voice is losing its resolve.

Let us out!

As if hearing that dark voice within, the wind picks up, whirling around you like the beginning of a storm. The whispers in the wind grow louder and so do the voices in your head until you can no longer discern which is which. With a pained cry, you clutch your pulsing and aching head.

You squeeze your eyes shut, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as you try to push the looming darkness away. It’s another futile attempt. The darkness has a firm grip on you, awakened by the howling wind and strengthened by its screaming pleas…

**

Eris found you in the forest.

One glance at you and he knew what was happening. Your body was hunched over, trembling hands pressed tightly against your ears as the wind whirled around you violently, rustling through your hair. The three hounds he brought with him tensed and let out low growls, their keen eyes on the glowing pendant wrapped around your neck.

The hour was late and he had been about to succumb to the sleep his eyes had begged for when he felt a strange stirring in his chest. Until he recognized that it was coming from the bond–from you. The two of you often shut each other out. He did not want to project his emotions to you and he sensed you felt the same.

So for him to feel a tug against his ribcage from you…he knew something was wrong or about to be.

Eris turns to his hounds, the sharpest of his pack. He now realized why they had been insistent on coming with him. The others had tucked themselves into their beds after a goodnight pat on their heads. “Stay,” he says firmly and though their instincts sense danger, they heed his command. Albeit, reluctantly.

He approaches you with slow and cautious steps, despite the urge to run to you. He tells himself it’s the bond. As he gets closer, he can hear you murmuring something but it doesn’t sound like you. Your voice carries a venomous undertone, dripping with malice and ancient wisdom. 

“You are us now and we are you.” The voice repeats over and over again like a serpent hissing in the dark.

A lump forms in his throat but he wills himself to call out your name, hoping you hear him among the many voices swirling around you.

He watches with bated breath as your hands, still trembling, fall from where they had clutched at your ears. Slowly, your head lifts upwards. Your gaze meets his and he finds himself held captive.

Your eyes are glowing red, the way they always do when you call upon your magic. But it’s not that crimson gaze that had startled him. It’s the veins surrounding your eyes that do–they have darkened, giving you a more sinister appearance.

“Son of Autumn. Have you come to play?”

The hounds, who remained feet away, release another growl.

“Y/n, can you hear me?” Eris asks, his heart racing as his amber eyes search your face for any sign of you.

Something flickers in those crimson eyes of yours, a brief hesitation that makes the darkness falter. Eris noticed it instantly, his heart tightening with a sudden urgency that compels him to step closer. He can feel you now—the sharp chill emanating from your body, a coldness that bites at his cheeks. It sends a shiver down his spine as the breeze rustles through his hair.

His body instinctively warms in response, the fire in his veins flaring brighter as if to combat the icy dread that clings to you. You were trembling, and Eris kneels before you, his eyes never straying from yours. He reaches out tentatively to that bond but is met with a steel wall.

So he reaches out physically. You flinch at the warmth coming from him before he can actually touch you and fall back onto your hands. It seems the darkness within you is desperate to put distance between you both.

“She needs us. She can’t do this alone.”

“But you’re not alone,” Eris says softly, ignoring the darkness and speaking directly to you. He knew better than to acknowledge the voice, fearing it would only give it more power. “You have me.”

“The forest wants its beloved back.” The voice hisses and your head tilts slightly, gaze narrowing at him. “It grows more restless every night. Fear makes you hesitate but not us. We can do what you cannot bring yourself to do.”

“Y/n.” Eris calls your name again. This time, when he reaches for you, his hands find their mark, cupping your face with a tenderness that surprises even him. Your skin is frighteningly cold. It fills him with a deep unease, a desperate need to bring warmth back to you.

Your trembling begins to subside, and the wind that had howled around you starts to calm. Eris remains cautious but feels a glimmer of hope. He could do this. He could bring you back. “We made a bargain, remember?” he continued.

“A bargain…”

That glimmer of hope flares up as you sound like you again. Something he’d never thought he’d feel as he often complained about your voice–how it could grate on his nerves. But now, it was the only sound he longed to hear.

The mark of your bargain appears–a ring of fire around your wrist–at the mention of it. It burns faintly with embers like a delicate bracelet, reminding you of the promise you made. That very same ring of fire appears on his left wrist, reflecting in your eyes. It fades away after a moment but the burn of it lingers.

“Yes.” Eris almost smiles. “Y/n, are you with me?”

Your body gives a shudder, wanting to escape from him. His hold on you tightens. The red glow to your eyes slowly gives out, the veins that had darkened around your eyes disappearing. Color returns to your cheeks, coaxed back by the warmth Eris is pouring into you.

“I’m with you,” you breath, your eyes wide with lingering apprehension. Eris’s hands remain firm on your face, holding you steady as you eyes wander. When you look back at him, your eyes seem distant, unfocused.

His brows draw together in concern, casting shadows over his troubled eyes. But before he can say anything, you do, a trace of your usual scorn creeping into your voice. “Why are you looking at me as if I’ve grown two heads?”

There you are.

Relief washes over him, so warm and overwhelming that it brings back that tightness in his chest, strumming those golden threads. The urge to pull you into his arms, to hold you close and never let go, is almost overpowering. But Eris ignores it, instead leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours.

You were no longer cold. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding—a sound that was half-sigh, half-laugh. A mixture of relief and something else he wasn’t ready to name.

“Have you gone mad?”

“No,” Eris replies, reluctantly releasing his hold on you. The warmth of his touch lingering on your skin as he straightens up. He brushes at the leaves clinging to his pants, an attempt to regain his usual composure. “But you almost did.”

He extends his hand out to you and you stare at it for a moment, your gaze heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. “It happened again…” Your voice was barely a whisper, more to yourself than to him. Realization settled over you and your shoulders slump.

“Come on,” Eris says, motioning for you to take his hand. The sound of familiar whines catch your attention, and you look up to see three hounds, waiting anxiously a few feet away. “The hour is late and I’m already dreading dealing with a sleep-deprived version of you. Your usual self is enough of a bane in my existence.”

You shoot him a glare and he waits, watching you. He wonders if you’ll bite back. With a resigned sigh, you take his hand, allowing him to help you up. His gaze flickers to your arms, noticing the scratches that marred your skin and the bond in his chest rages with protectiveness.

“We can stop by the infirmary first.”

“I’ll be fine,” you huff out but that distant look on your face remains, betraying your words.

The hounds approach you with soft whines. They’re careful not to brush against the cuts on your arms, their noses nudging softly against your legs instead. Your hand remains in Eris’s and he takes a step forward, prompting you to let him guide you out of the forest.

A light breeze brushes against you, carrying with it the lingering chill of the mourning forest. You turn your head, your gaze falling on that vacant spot where the sacred tree once stood. Your features soften, a wave of sympathy washing over you. Your heart aches to fill the void, to restore what had been unjustly taken and bring life back to this part of the forest.

But you were running out of time.

The darkness within you was growing stronger with each passing day. If you didn’t return the sacred tree soon, the darkness would come for you again, more relentless, more determined…

“Eris?"

There’s a slight vulnerability to your voice that unsettles him. It has his body tensing. He can only muster a hum in response.

“What if–” Your throat seizes and you’re  grateful your head is turned away from Eris so he can’t see the fear that flashes in your eyes. “What if one day I don’t come back?”

Eris’s hand tightens around yours and a shaky breath escapes from you. His hand is strong and warm and for just this once, you allow the simple touch to ground you. When you finally turn to face him, you find his gaze was already on you, something strange and vulnerable swirling in those amber depths. 

That look in his eyes was enough to chase away the cold that had settled in your bones, kindling a warmth to your chest and tugging those golden threads that now reside there.

“Then, I’ll follow you into the dark.”

His words hung in the air, but a question arose. Would he still follow if it weren’t for the bond?

The thought hovered, restless, at the edge of your tongue, begging to be spoken. But you swallowed it down, unwilling to risk hearing an answer you already believed to be true.

You didn’t think you could bear it if you were right.

[eris x chaos witch masterlist]

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

[farfromstrange]

Is It Over Now? | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader ; (hinted) Frank Castle x Reader ; Elektra Natchios x Matt Murdock

Summary: Matt cheated on you, and you are trying to navigate through it.

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending, break-up, mention of cheating, song references (Taylor Swift), inspired by 'Is It Over Now?', (some) Matt "slander", (somewhat) suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumptions, hint at smut

Word Count: 1.7k

A/n: 1989 TV came out and I am losing my shit. Is It Over Now? Is my new favorite song and I just had a brain fart that made this. You can read this if you're a Swiftie and catch the references or just read it without listening to the song. It works either way.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

To be fair, there was a time when you thought it would never end. The thought of ever having a last kiss with him would have killed you back then. 

He told you that you were the love of his life. You believed him. He was yours, certainly. You can’t deny that.

You were happy, you laughed and cried together, and part of you figured that if you ever broke up, you would find a way to work through it somehow. 

Maybe in another universe, you are still together. Maybe in another universe, you two are still friends. Maybe in another universe, you never had to lose each other.

In this reality though—in this brutal, unforgivable reality—everything changed in a matter of a day. And there is nothing you can do about it now.

Your flower was withering in secret, and you didn’t realize what it was doing to you. Every time you woke up alone, every canceled date, every time he called you and told you he wouldn’t make it home tonight, it was sure to build up to this. 

But this, whatever the hell this is, it hurts beyond compare. 

He said you were a rose, but now that you look in the mirror, you only see a rotten mess.

The past few months have done this to you. He has done this to you. The paper airplanes crashed and burned. There is nothing left but pure bitterness and this hatred you have toward yourself and him; you just want to land your fist in his face, and then maybe your own because how could he hurt you like that after making you love him so very much? 

You loved him so much, but now you doubt he ever loved you back. 

Date after date, coffee after coffee, nights spent together on his couch and in his bed, sharing laughter, sharing tears, it all feels like a hoax now. 

You held him when he was unconscious, stitched him up and told him he was going to be okay. Where was he when you were bleeding out from your own battles? You wonder.

His smile used to be your safe haven, the epitome of innocence and strength, but now it only makes you angry. It makes you resent him. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but you still do.

So much has changed, and all it took was one day. 

One day. 

Three hundred days, all wasted in one. 

If you think about it, you spent almost an entire year attached to each other’s side. You moved in together. You kissed, you had sex, you shared secrets you wouldn’t have told anyone else. You helped him hide away from the world, from his enemies, made the world go quiet, and comforted him while he cried. You waited up, you worried, and you almost lost him more times than you can count, and you still stayed.

When no one else would take a chance on him, when he felt everyone was against him and going to leave him, you acted as his rock. You stayed.

You thought he was the one. 

And then it just… ended. 

You gave him the benefit of the doubt when you found her in his dress shirt on his leather couch. The very same couch you two often shared passionate nights on, but at the same time it used to be a symbol of so much more than that.

You let him explain. He explained that she got seriously hurt after showing up out of nowhere, and he just wanted to help without putting you at risk. You believed him because that is the kind of man he was in your head. He was going through some things, things you couldn’t possibly understand, and she was the connection. You tried to understand. In the process of understanding him though, you lost yourself. 

That is something you will never forgive him for. Making you care, making you love him, and unintentionally making you give up on yourself while he continued to break your heart.

You never wanted this to end, never wanted him to go, but in the end, it was the only way. Sticking around wasn’t an option anymore, you have to remind yourself.

He did the one thing he promised he would never do. He broke your heart and your trust into a million pieces that you are now left to pick up on your own. 

You didn’t want to see it before. You were too in love to open your eyes.

He wouldn’t do such a thing, right? You remember repeating that to yourself, to your friends, to Foggy and Karen, but Karen saw him with her, too, and she gave you little hope.

Still, you believed in him. You believed in his morale and his faith. You had faith in him, not even in God but in him and the man he pretended to be—and somehow, he still picked up the knife when you weren’t looking and buried it in your back. 

There were so many signs, but you were blind. So many flashing lights. Red flags. Screaming voices in the back of your head begging you to think. You were in a forest full of trees, yet you saw nothing.

When you came home to find his lips on hers, that’s when you knew. Too little, too late.

He called your name. He told you, “This isn’t what it looks like!” But you lost count of the times he used the same line in relation to her.

To anything, really. He always knew how to talk his way out of something when you were together, although back then, it was mostly harmless.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. “And you turned right back around and fucked her!”

“It was just a kiss,” he argued. 

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No,” Matt was adamant because he could hear your heart breaking.

The way you spoke to him was so eerily quiet. That was how he knew he lost you, and he tried to fix it with nothing but his hands. 

But that is not how you fix a broken vase. That’s how you make it worse and hurt yourself in the process.

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“No. Fuck you, Matt!”

You tore the necklace with his initial off your neck and tossed it at his feet. You couldn’t even look at it. You wonder what happened to it after he picked it up. 

“I trusted you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I was there when no one else was, and this is how you repay me?” you said.

You should have never let him fool you.

At least you had the decency to keep your lonely nights to yourself.

“Sweetheart, please,” Matt tried to beg again. 

You wouldn’t let him. Thank God you were strong enough to withstand the tears in his eyes. 

“You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock,” was one of the last things you said to him. “I wish we’d never met.”

Three hundred days. You fell in love. You finally knew what love felt like, and then…then he turned around and fucked it all up. 

“We’re done.”

Some days, you still regret it, but if it was so easy for him to toss all this time together down the drain, he probably wasn’t worth it. 

But God, you were so in love. 

Sweet nothings whispered in your ear are gone now. You’re all alone in your bed. No one to cuddle, no one to touch. It has been a while since you heard someone say, “I love you,” and mean it. You felt loved until you didn’t. Until the life he led ate him up. 

Instead of talking, instead of fighting with you, he drove you into a tree. A car that didn’t need sight, and still he crashed. It was winter then, the snow painted red by the blood of your broken heart. Your favorite dress torn up as you tried to escape. He reached for you the same way you reached for him, but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t there when you needed him most.

Part of you feels bad. You could have worked through this if he hadn’t kissed her. Or maybe you wouldn’t have. In the end, it killed you. It killed him. 

You killed each other. 

Though there are still days when you think about jumping off of very high somethings just to get his attention. Just for him to see you. To come to rescue you. It is a hurtful and selfish thought. Yet, you can’t help it. 

He was your first true love. 

Your mind keeps repeating the same sentence: It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told you once. 

He searched for something greater in the bed of someone he loved before. You weren’t his first love. You should have known he would say that and not mean it.

But when exactly did you go wrong?

Was it over when he stopped coming home at night? Was it over when he forgot your anniversary? Was it over when he canceled your birthday dinner? Or was it over when he shoved his throat down his ex-girlfriend’s throat in front of you and acted as if it didn’t matter? Was it over then?

“Another one for the lady,” a voice pipes up beside you. 

Your empty glass of tequila disappears, now replaced by a full one. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger. 

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He sits down next to you. “You look miserable.”

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand with a mention of your name.

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say. 

Broken people make bad decisions, but whether it was over when he took her right there on his couch, or it was over when you told him it was doesn’t matter. 

It is over now, and all you want to do is forget. 

You need to forget Matt Murdock. 

And if this stranger called Frank needs to unbutton your blouse to help you do so, you will gladly follow him home. 

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @ravenclaw617

(also, I keep tagging you in stuff, but I also think you might like this @blackshadowswriter)