#tw previous suicidal thoughts

[hippolotamus]

Listen, yesterday my angsty wife @bidisasterevankinard said ‘what would Buck get from Eddie? Just the will?’ and jfc here we are. Mostly under the cut for length and mentioned past suicidal thoughts. I apologize in advance. (Please let me know if I’m missing any important tags)

“Jeez, Eds, you really gotta clean out your junk drawer,” Buck calls from the kitchen.

Eddie huffs a little laugh to himself because he knows if he lets said drawer go long enough Buck will inevitably clean it himself. He always does, always has. The messiness of Eddie’s junk drawer always gets to him eventually.

“Aha!” Buck exclaims.

“Find it?” Eddie calls back. Buck is searching for a notepad to keep score. Chris is coming home in a few weeks, for the start of school, and Buck wants to brush up on Scattergories before he does.

“No, but I did find the missing Yahtzee pencil.”

Eddie shakes his head fondly, listening as Buck continues sifting through the contents, like a woodland creature making a nest.

“Finally! I didn’t think it would be so hard finding a note…pad.”

Buck’s voice trails off into silence. No sounds of the gentle giant bounding through the house. Nothing until the shaky ‘E-eds?’ so quiet Eddie almost doesn’t hear it.

He hurries to the other room, curious what could have made Buck sound so upset. But as soon as he sees his friend he knows. He recognizes the lined notebook, hurriedly hidden there months ago. Shoved in the darkness and now in Buck’s trembling hands, open to a page that was never meant to be discovered.

“Eddie,” Buck says, lifting his gaze to reveal red-rimmed eyes that dull the beautiful endless blue Eddie’s used to. “What- Is this-”

Eddie swallows, steeling himself for this conversation he wants to have even less than telling Chris he was letting him go. He manages to calmly cross the room, gently taking the pad from Buck. He stays in Buck’s space, one hand hovering over his shoulder, unsure if he has the right to offer anything soothing right now. Eventually Eddie withdraws, keeping to himself.

“It is,” Eddie confirms. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”

“But- why?!” Buck’s words are so broken and Eddie doesn’t know that any reasoning will be good enough. “Why would you- Eddie you were planning to kill yourself! And this- this is addressed to me. Was I meant to find you?! What about the rest of the team? Our family!”

Eddie can see the hurt building to rage. And he gets it. He does. He’s been on the other side of this, too. He offers the only explanation he can, even if he knows it’s piss poor and inadequate.

“Buck, the only reason you’ve never seen this before is because you did find me. It was right after Chris left and Gerrard took Bobby’s place. Everything was messy as hell. I just didn’t see the point anymore. And I thought- I thought even if Chris did come back, I wasn’t fit to parent him.”

“Eddie-”

“But you showed up. Just barged through my door like always. Because I swear you must have some kind of sixth sense. So I shoved the note away. We had beer and pizza, and you told me we could talk about Chris or anything else if I wanted to not think about it. And Tommy FaceTimed from Harbor while he was on shift, and I saw you being all gooey and gross together.” Eddie laughs, remembering how lovestruck Buck was even then. “You stayed over, slept on the sofa and something changed. Made me start to realize there might be something left for me after all. First thing the next morning I called and made an appointment with Frank.”

“O-okay,” Buck start, hesitantly. “That still does explain why this is written to me. Why not a generic note or something for Chris?”

“There was one for him, too. But when Shannon died, she left a note for Christopher. Something to explain why she was gone in case she never came back.” Eddie’s throat becomes clogged with emotion and hurt, demons he’s still fighting. “She left one for him. But nothing for me. Nothing to explain why I had to go on and live life without her. And I couldn’t do that to you. As the only other person that close to my son, I couldn’t let you wonder. I couldn’t let you waste years of your life questioning. Yes, you’re in my will, but I couldn’t leave you with only that. Like you were some arbitrary footnote meant to take care of Chris if something happened to me. I needed you to have the closure I never got. That I was never given a chance to hear.”

Between one breath and the next, Buck tackles Eddie in a tight embrace, holding on for dear life. He clutches and sobs into the crook of Eddie’s neck while Eddie clings right back, wondering how he let the darkness of everything convince him he could die without leaving a trail of hurt in his wake.

They cry together, a conversation of a million unsaid things in every wretched, anguished moment.

“Eds, please. You can’t-“ Buck’s muffled voice comes from where he’s trying to burrow further into Eddie. “You just can’t.”

“I know. I’m so sorry,” he whispers, carding his fingers through Buck’s hair. “So sorry, Evan. I won’t. Ever. I promise.”

[therainbowwillow]

I am not by any means someone who has a large platform on the internet, but seeing as my most popular post of all time, seen by tens of thousands of people, was on hbomberguy's Plagiarism and You(Tube), I would like to publicly get my thoughts straight on what has happened since.

I've seen a lot of discussion about who is to blame for James' recent mental health crisis and I would like to firmly state that hbomberguy (and Kat, his producer), others who made good faith videos on the situation (The Ace Couple, Jessie Gender, Todd in the Shadows), and people who commented on the situation in good faith are not to blame in the slightest. At the same time, I understand that the sudden loss of support, friends, and a career undoubtedly harmed James Somerton and that it is upsetting to me to see anyone put in that position, regardless of their actions. I believe that hbomberguy used his platform responsibly. From the beginning, I noticed that he was making clear, intentional choices regarding his treatment of the situation, including framing Nick as a possible victim rather than an accomplice to the plagiarism, reminding his audience not to harass James Somerton, and refusing to stoop to personal attacks in his video. Having seen hbomberguy's professional handling of the situation, I believe that he is a person who has a good understanding of the sway he has online and how to use that power delicately. I'm sure a choice was made weighing the benefit of speaking out against the possible harm and I believe that hbomberguy & crew made the correct decision. The same goes for The Ace Couple, Jessie Gender, and Todd in the Shadows. I think it is a creator's duty to understand that regardless of how professionally they treat a situation, there are bound to be some bad actors in their audience who will attempt to harass others in their name. It seems to me that all of these creators understood that and made an educated decision to speak out publicly. Had they kept quiet, harm would have continued to be done to the authors and artists who had their work stolen and monetized by someone who did not fairly compensate them (or even acknowledge their existence). With this in mind, I do believe that it is important to have empathy for James as well. I understand feeling hurt, betrayed, and skeptical of the legitimacy of everything he says from this point on, knowing what we know now about how he built his career. I have those feelings myself. They are valid. However, there is no situation in which people should be publicly speculating on the legitimacy of his mental health struggles or celebrating his suffering. I do believe that James knew what he was doing, I believe he knew that he was causing some harm (to what extent he understood that, no one but James can say), and I do believe that it was wrong. At this point, the community does as well. I think the best thing for him would've been to step away from the internet, but at the same time, I understand why he did not. He went from being a fairly popular online queer voice to one of the community's most hated content creators. I imagine there was some whiplash and confusion and that it must've been upsetting and scary. James did not make the right decision in trying to come back and that poor choice was his own, but at the same time, I don't think there's much use in rehashing that to him in the comments of his apology or on Twitter.

I don't think it would've been any better to let his actions fade to complete obscurity, but I also believe that trying to hold him immediately accountable was doomed from the start. If there was a path forward as a content creator, James strayed far from it. Regardless, I think the moral thing to do right now is to treat him with grace and not speculate about his honesty or intentions online. I hesitate to invalidate people's concerns, but regardless, they don't belong in the public sphere at this moment.

Ultimately, I wish James the best. I hope he finds safety, comfort, and happiness going forwards. I also wish hbomberguy & team as well as all the other creators and audience members who spoke to their experiences in good faith all the best. These people are not to blame for James' mental health struggles. If we mean to reduce as much harm as possible, I think the ideal path forwards is show empathy for everyone involved and lay the idea of blame to rest.

[victorluvsalice]

AU Thursday: Valicer Severance AU Time

Okay, so, it's been a while since I talked about this one -- blame various things in my life being distracting and having trouble getting all of my thoughts together, for there are a loooot of thoughts. But I am here now and we are going to talk about it, damn it. Let's go --

-->To recap from my previous post, this is a multi-fandom crossover AU using the premise of the "Severance" (2022) Apple TV+ show, where a group of workers for the Lumon company have their consciousnesses "severed," splitting their minds into Innies (who only exist on Lumon's "severed floor" and are perpetually at work, with no memories of their outside lives) and Outies (who only exist outside the floor and have no memory of what they do at work), with the switchover between the two happening in the elevator that goes to and from the severed floor. My AU would focus primarily on the Innie versions of Victor, Alice, and Smiler, who together with their supervisor Wheatley make up the Macrodata Refinement team on the severed floor of Aperture Science. Because I can't see corporate malfeasance and not think "Aperture Science." XD

-->Some worldbuilding for you about how the severance procedure came about in this universe: When Cave Johnson got sick and started demanding that, if they couldn't successfully shove HIS consciousness into a computer before he died, they shove CAROLINE'S into a computer instead, one lab boy, seeing how reluctant Caroline WAS to become a computer, went, "Well, what if we try copying your brain into a computer instead?" Caroline was more on board with that, and they gave it a go --

And got GLaDOS, a computer intelligence that had most of Caroline's personality and intelligence, but none of her memories. This version of GLaDOS did indeed still try to kill the scientists (pissed off by them insisting she was an "imperfect copy" and yet trying to force her to work for them regardless), but they managed to shut her down -- and Caroline, despite the danger, thought there was something to this. They thus started experimenting with scanning the brains of various employees, turning them into artificial intelligences, and seeing what resulted. Some were -- imperfect (one "personality core" wouldn't do anything but recite cake recipes, while another wouldn't stop going on about space), while others were almost perfect replicas of their human counterparts, just without any memories of who they were before. Which made them more amendable to doing jobs that their human counterparts might have balked at. Caroline was all for having a workforce that couldn't REMEMBER why they might not want to work at Aperture and do inadvisable science, and thus the severance chip was born!

-->And one of the first test subjects for that chip? Why, none other than Test Subject 0001, aka Chell! Who was just as intent as escaping THIS version of Aperture as she is the canonical one. The scientists at Aperture were hoping that her Innie would be much more amendable to doing all their tests without complaint --

Instead, they got an even angrier Chell who, upon realizing she couldn't fucking remember anything, rebelled by refusing to even talk to anyone and tried even harder to escape. The scientists decided to try and put her under the supervision of one of their newly-made personality cores -- a scan of one of their janitors, Stephen "Wheatley" Wilco -- to see if the talkative robot could maybe convince her to be more compliant --

Instead, Wheatley -- who, having overheard some scientists talking about the outside world and grown very curious about it -- ended up befriending Chell and helping her escape. The IDEA was that he would join her in the elevator to the surface world once he got her safely inside -- but when he disconnected from his rail, Chell failed to catch him. And of course, once the elevator went up, Chell swapped to her Outie form, who had no idea that Wheatley even existed, and Outie!Chell just fucking ran for it when she reached the surface. Leaving poor Wheatley still trapped in Aperture. The angry and embarrassed scientists promptly wiped his memory of the whole incident and moved onto new test subjects, figuring maybe they should start with office workers instead...

-->Bringing us to the "present day" and the Macrodata Refinement team! So why exactly are Victor, Alice, and Smiler all down there when they're not canonically Aperture employees? Well --

Victor signed up after the death of his fiancee Victoria Everglot and their mutual friend/secret third Emily Merrimack during a mugging perpetrated by Emily's old boyfriend Barkis Bittern. The poor guy ended up extremely depressed after their deaths and even tried to take his own life, which led to him (unwisely) allowing his parents to take more control over his life and finances to stop that happening again. They were told about the program by one Dr. Kellard Kelman, one of Aperture's chief psychiatrists and "social compliance officer," and they talked Victor into trying it so he'd have at least eight hours a day where he wasn't moping about his lost love (William also wanted to see how it worked because, well, as owner of Van Dort Fish, he was interested in the procedure for his own employees...).

Alice was signed up for the program after it was offered as a "rehabilitation program" -- to the prison she was currently in. Yes, unfortunately in this reality, while Alice did successfully shove Bumby in front of a train for what he did to the children of Houndsditch and her own family, she was subsequently caught and convicted of murder. (With the silver lining being that Bumby was exposed for all the horrible things he was doing in the process, so the public is pretty sympathetic to her reasons for murder.) She wasn't exactly keen on the program, as you might admit, but as a prisoner of the state and an orphan with no one really speaking up on her behalf (not even Nanny, who thought it might be good for Alice to forget Wonderland, even for a short time each day), she didn't really have a choice in the matter.

And Smiler -- well. Smiler, aka Marmaduke Kelman, had no interest in joining the program, having no real idea it existed because they'd gotten away from their asshole father as soon as it was possible for them to do so. They were happily living on their own, hanging out with their friends and working a barista job they loved while studying chemistry in college --

And then Kelman, with the help of his assistant Miles Cedars, managed to kidnap them and forced the procedure on them because a) he thought it would make his "son" more socially compliant and b) it would look good for Aperture for his kid to have gone through the procedure as well. Smiler, as you might imagine, was furious about the whole thing, but unfortunately they were also trapped inside Kelman's "Sanctuary" and unable to do anything about it. The most they were able to do was to convince Kelman to let them keep their purple-tipped hair and yellow contacts -- and that was only because Kelman decided that Smiler asking for a haircut "would be a good sign that you're becoming more socially compliant." (Smiler made a vow right then and there that they would do ANYTHING they needed to maintain their haircut.)

-->As for the order they were "hired" -- Alice entered the program first, then Victor came along about a month later, and Smiler a month after that. However, despite being the second employee hired, Victor is in fact the Team Lead of Macrodata Refinement (aka MDR) because Nell insisted he have some sort of "managerial" role, and that was the best they could offer under the circumstances. Innie!Victor has no freaking idea why he's Team Lead and doesn't actually want the position, basically ignoring it as much as possible.

--As stated above, their supervisor is Wheatley, post-Chell memory wipe, with the scientists wanting to see if his "deviant" behavior of "wanting to escape the horrible basement" comes back despite the change in circumstances. Caroline especially wants to keep an eye on this experiment after the whole "Chell" debacle, so she takes on the persona of "Miss Glados" for the Innies, serving as their terrifying and misanthropic boss. She finds it a great way to blow off steam after having to play up the perky "Ms. Caroline McLain" persona for the rest of the world. Dr. Kelman rounds out the department as their "social compliance therapist," monitoring the group for unwanted behaviors and pushing them to become happy corporate drones with the help of "guard core" Rick (who keeps hitting on Alice, to her annoyance). (And yes, Rick has a human counterpart upstairs -- ironically, he's the security guard who swipes all the severed employees into the elevator at the start of their day. And yes, he still hits on Alice, to her annoyance.)

-->The AU would "officially" start with Smiler's hiring, with their Innie self ("Marmaduke A" according to their badge -- Dr. Kelman thought it best not to even hint that they might be his kid) waking up on a table in a conference room and being asked a series of questions to confirm that all their personal memories have been locked off by the chip (as per "Severance" canon). Once that's been sorted, they're introduced to the rest of the team by Wheatley, and learn from them what exactly it is they do -- which is stare at files full of various numbers on their computers and try to sort them into bins based on if the numbers make them feel scared, happy, angry, or sad. (Smiler: ...we sort numbers based on vibes? Alice: [sarcastically] The work is mysterious and important.) They also learn the incentive system for sorting these numbers -- at 10% file completion, you get an Aperture-branded eraser; at 25% done, you get an Aperture-branded finger trap; at 75% done, you get a "Music & Dance Experience" (a five-minute dance party for the team); and at 100%, there is a Cake Day for everyone. Though -- well, I'll let Alice explain it --

Smiler: We get cake if we complete a file? Victor: Ah -- theoretically. Alice: Yes, don't get your hopes up -- for whatever reason, these files mysteriously vanish on us after a while, and we have to start new ones. Victor and I have never been able to fully complete one. Smiler: Really? Victor: [shaking his head] 73% is the closest I've come. Alice: 74% for me...so while earning the "Music & Dance Experience" is probably possible -- I think the cake is a lie.

:D

Oh, and there's also the possibility of earning a "waffle party" if the entire team does really well, which Wheatley is mildly obsessed with.

-->Speaking of food, the Innies have lunches provided for them by Van Dort Fish -- tuna fish sandwiches and carrot sticks! Every single goddamn day! Victor has made it clear that, if he ever meets him, he is punching "that asshole with the mustache" on the label. XD There is also a vending machine, with each Innie allowed two tokens per day to get snacks -- Victor, however, immediately warns Smiler off getting any of the pudding cups in there. Reason being, Victor got one of the blue puddings shortly after he was brought in, only for Alice -- annoyed with him for some reason, I haven't quite decided why yet -- to grab it from him and throw it on the floor -- and the damn thing BOUNCED all the way up to the CEILING. There's still a small blue stain up there. Among the "safe" snacks are dried blueberries, cubed ginseng, roasted peanuts, and "Raisins (Shriveled)." Smiler is naturally like "what" and Alice tells them "this place is so weird I bet they HAVE made unshriveled raisins."

As for drinks, the Innies have their choice between water, lemonade, and coffee from the coffee machine. Smiler feels oddly drawn to the latter, and it is quickly discovered that they are mysteriously amazing at making coffee -- to the point where, after allowing Smiler to make her a cup, even Miss Glados has to say "...good job." XD They cheerfully take over all coffee duties going forward, which everyone is happy to let them do.

-->Anyway -- after some time spent as part of the MDR team, dealing with the baffling work and the fact that they're trapped on the severed floor (because every time they get into the elevator, from their perspective, they just end up getting right back out again in different clothes -- Smiler had a bit of a hard time adjusting to that the first time it happened), Smiler goes "I am assigning myself the duty of keeping us all sane so we don't snap" and goes to raid the supply closet for stuff to decorate their cubicle with, settling on grabbing as many colorful Post-It notes as they can. Victor and Alice are initially reluctant to join in, but Smiler points out that there's nothing in their employee manual that says they can't decorate their cubicle -- and when Wheatley protests, saying they can't "deface company property," Smiler shows him how the notes just pull right off. And then gives him an orange Post-It note with "Supervisor" written on it, which makes him MUCH more amendable to the whole idea. XD The gang ends up having a lovely time using the Post-Its to make pictures on their walls, and even manage to suss out what they think are their favorite colors (Smiler yellow, Victor blue, Alice red).

-->Not long afterward, Smiler comes up with the name "Smiler" for themselves (they'd been going by "M" previously because, well, their name is fucking Marmaduke) and uses a label maker they found to update their name badge appropriately. Wheatley insists THAT is defacing company property and gives them their first write-up for it --

Smiler: What exactly happens when I get written up? Wheatley: It means you can't earn any incentives -- no erasers, no finger traps, no nothing -- for a week! [beat] Alice: [holds out her hand] Give me the label maker.

Yes, it's not exactly a deterrent. XD However, unfortunately, not long after that, Miss Glados shows up and starts making snide comments about their decorations -- and a fed-up Smiler deliberately tears a hole in their cubicle wall. Victor immediately is like "I'm sorry, I didn't onboard them well, please don't punish them," but Miss Glados will not be deterred, and Smiler is taken to the Break Room. Which, as per "Severance" canon --

is the place where they break you. Usually by having you recite an apology over and over and over again until they're content you mean it, but occasionally Miss Glados gets -- creative. Smiler gets the apology, though, and ends up staying in there three hours until she's content they're truly sorry. They slump back to their cubicle feeling miserable, and with the "Smiler" label on their badge scraped off. Victor and Alice immediately offer them water and comfort, talking about the first times they ended up in the break room (Alice actually ended up in there on her second day after trying to smash her way through the fire escape door with a fire extinguisher; Victor ended up there at the end of his first week for threatening to take his fingers off with a paper cutter unless they let him go home) -- and Wheatley, who was being a bit of an ass about the "Smiler" thing before, starts using their preferred name because now he feels bad.

-->From there, we have a bunch of random Innie adventures and discussions --

A) Victor taking the group on a trip to the "Johnson Memorial Wing" as a "team-building exercise" when Smiler asks who the hell "Cave Johnson" is anyway -- the little museum features such things like the giant singing "stone" head from the Desk Job game/tech demo, causing Smiler to go "Are we in a cult?" (Alice: "I haven't ruled out the possibility.") Grady from that game is also there as the local "Maintenance Core" -- Wheatley hates him because he gets to have an arm and Wheatley doesn't XD

B) Smiler discovering one day while playing with index cards that they can fold hopping frog origami, and the Innie trio wondering what other skills they have that they might not know about -- notably, Victor discovers that he can speak French when Wheatley tries to show off his command of languages (telling the core that he said "Please consult your user manual for help using this translation software"), and Alice realizes she seems to know a weird amount about photography

C) Relatedly, the trio wondering who their Outies are and why they would go through severance -- notably, Alice's theory is that they are all in jail and were made to get severed to make sure they remained "productive citizens." Smiler goes "like we're all murderers or something?" and Alice goes, "oh no -- you robbed a bank, and Victor probably committed tax evasion." An amused Victor goes "what about you?" and she replies, with a big grin, "Oh, I totally killed someone."

D) Alice dealing with hallucinations still, because being severed does NOT cure her mental illness -- most often, she sees horrible black goo dripping from the ceiling, and the walls being covered in rotting pink flesh, with occasional glimpses of this weird grinning cat and this white rabbit with a pocket watch observing her. Victor and Smiler do their best to support her as she deals with the weirdness

E) Smiler getting the orange pudding cup of the vending machine one day just to see what the "pudding" does -- after determining that it massively speeds up anything rolled across it after painting some on a piece of paper, the gang end up making rally cars out of office supplies and holding a race. Unfortunately, Miss Glados catches them partway through -- and while she doesn't force any of them to go to the Break Room, she does give them all a second-level write-up. Which means they don't get any vending machine tokens at all for the rest of the week. As you might imagine, they spend the rest of that week kinda hungry

F) The gang having "social compliance sessions" with Dr. Kelman which don't really make them feel any better about their lives -- Smiler in particular does not understand why the guy seems so annoyed by them using they/them pronouns, or why he's utterly obsessed with their haircut...

G) The gang going on a trip through the hallways after getting utterly bored and disgusted with their jobs, taking Wheatley with them on a handcart after it's revealed his management rail doesn't go to the places where they want to explore They find on their wanderings two people named Dan and Trish making a video of some sort (a reference to the "Smile Always" ad campaign for The Smiler); someone named "Des J." inspecting toilets in a room with a giant conveyor belt (aka the protagonist of Desk Job); a room of defective cores, including the aforementioned Cake Core and Space Core; a room full of musical instruments, with Smiler discovering they can play guitar and Victor piano; and a random guy who is taking care of baby goats and insists they're "not ready" when the MDR group shows up (this is something that actually happens in "Severance" itself -- though unlike in the show, the MDR team here gets to pet the goats). Unfortunately, all this wandering causes them to get lost, and they're unsure how to get back to their department --

And then Alice spots the mysterious white rabbit waiting for her at the end of the hall they're in. She asks Victor and Smiler if they trust her, and when they affirm they do, she goes "then maybe I can trust myself" and chases the rabbit. Rabbit, naturally, does successfully lead them back to their own department -- though unfortunately Miss Glados catches them as they return. Smiler immediately takes responsibility for the trip, having been the one to suggest the "mental health walk" -- however, Miss Glados decides that this is actually a failure of their Team Lead and punishes Victor instead, knowing that this will get to them worse than if she punished Smiler. Victor's actually in the Break Room for the rest of the day, to the point where, when he goes home, he has lost his voice from repeating the apology -- leading Outie!Victor to think maybe he's getting sick and take a day off. Smiler and Alice are naturally a bit freaked out by their coworker not showing up for work, and only calm down when Victor reappears the next day (a bit freaked out himself after he realizes they experienced a whole day without him).

H) On the opposite end of that, Smiler actually gets to 75% on a file and earns them all a Music/Dance Experience -- cue the gang actually having corporate-mandated fun with five minutes of "defiant jazz" played through Wheatley's speakers and learning which of them can dance XD

I) Victor doing something to piss off Miss Glados and getting one of the "creative" Break Room punishments -- namely, he's locked in a pitch black room and left to stew on his own baffled terror for a while. He ends up in the kitchenette afterward, curled up on the floor having a panic attack -- Smiler finds him in there and -- without really knowing how they're doing it -- hypnotizes him to calm him down (having Victor picture an image of that swirly-eyed smiley face they keep doodling when they're bored). Having thus discovered the talent, they end up using their surprise hypnosis skills on Victor and Alice at their request whenever they come in a bad mood thanks to their Outies or after a bad Break Room session or the like (yes, Alice too -- no memory of Dr. Bumby's hypnosis shenanigans, remember?). Victor and Alice are very grateful for the chance to turn their brains off for a bit and do their best to return the favor however they can to Smiler (Victor, it is eventually revealed, is quite good at shoulder massages).

-->Now, this is a Valicer AU, so we must have Valicer content -- so how do the romantic times start? Well, at one point after the hypnosis stuff is discovered, Smiler and Alice both help Victor coming in with a nasty headache thanks to his Outie. Victor desperately wants to pay them back for all the good they've brought into his life afterward, so he gets Wheatley to distract them right before their lunch break and tapes up a bunch of green and blue construction paper in the corner of the kitchenette by the vending machine and spreads more paper on the ground for a "blanket" for their sandwiches so they can have a picnic together (as it's the closest they'll ever get to going outside). Alice and Smiler are naturally touched, and the three enjoy a lovely lunch together...and during said lunch, Victor goes "fuck the fraternization policy" and kissing happens. Alice and Smiler fully reciprocate, and the trio become romantic partners as well as coworkers. Now, there are some initial worries about them getting punished when they realize their accidental "date" got recorded on the security camera --

But then they come in the next day, and discover Miss Glados giving Wheatley shit for practicing his "hacking" skills on the security footage, which reveals that he deliberately deleted the footage to stop them getting in trouble. :) The trio thank him, and keep their romantic activities (mainly just making out, though I have some ideas related to the "Kink Discovery" prompt on this year's Polyship Week prompt list...) to the storage closet from then on.

...and holy HELL this is getting long! O.O Like I said, lot of thoughts here. So let's take a quick break to have our tuna fish sandwiches, and we'll pick up after lunch for Part II -- The Rest Of The AU!

[scarletcomet]

i was talking with my dad because i don’t really understand a lot of things in my computer engineering class, and my dad has a degree in computer engineering. he said i should try to meet with the professor. i told him that the exam is in the morning, and he was like oh people usually start studying more than a day in advance. like first of all, i did not start studying today. second of all, did he miss the part where i’ve been severely depressed for the last like month to the point where im going to have to take incompletes in all (except maybe one) of my classes??

[greensaplinggrace]

#the thing that gets me about this #is how when bookling dies he's almost relieved #and in king of scars he has this moment where he thinks *this* is life #and he hates it #it's a miracle he never just killed himself #and yet he's a survivor against his own will almost #he hurtles himself towards destruction but comes out unscathed again and again #sorry op for ranting on your (lovely) gifset! literally never apologize for ranting on my gifsets @callstolike!!

I think about this all the time. because this gifset is about the darkling being a survivor, as in he has survived the worst atrocities known to man for centuries, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he enjoys life. I like to describe the darkling as more of a symbol than a person or character, because it honestly feels like that a lot of the time. he has one drive, and one hope, and they are the only things keeping him going. when he loses both, suddenly there is nothing.

I find it interesting how people talk about the darkling as if he ever wanted to come back from the dead. he clearly hates it. all of his life was miserable. he never even had the chance to live a normal one. he never had the chance to find peace. like talk about doomed by the narrative, he was hurtling towards his destruction the moment he was born as both grisha and shadow summoner, with as much empathy and compassion as he had.

he reaches a point of complete and utter self destruction because he spent centuries fighting so desperately for a goal that carved out every last piece of him and left nothing, and then that goal is utterly destroyed in the last moments of his life. 

the darkling is the ultimate survivor of life’s atrocities and the horrific things done to his people. but he cared too much about others and it destroyed him.

aspects of shadow and bone that resonate ↳ the darkling as a survivor

[hazmatazz]

why do i have to have debilitating anxieties, mental issues, depressive episodes, high expectations, and responsibilities. like girls just wanna have fun </33

[hannahbarberra162]

Emperor's Prize (Alpha Shanks x Omega Reader)

18+ MDNI, on Ao3

Chapter 2

Oops! Accidentally wrote another yandere story. This time its Alpha Shanks and Omega Reader.

If I have to keep thinking about it, you can read about it. It’s cringe, it’s overdone, it’s annoying and I don’t care. I did proofread this, but I'll likely do so again in the coming days.

TW: depression, suicidal ideation mentioned, non-con, dubcon, whump, abuse

MIND THE TAGS!

~

Shanks gets more than just the Poneglyphs when he destroys the Victoria Punk, he gets you too. Shanks is kinder than your previous owner, but an Emperor doesn't let treasures slip through his fingers.

~

As you sat on the floor in Kid’s cabin, wrists shackled and chained to his bed, you heard the tell tale sounds of fighting. You knew that Kid was going after Red Haired Shanks in an effort to dislodge the Emperor and take his title. You would never say anything for fear of being slapped across the face or worse, but you didn’t think he was going to win. At least, you hoped he didn’t. You hoped the Emperor killed everyone on board, yourself included. It was what the crew deserved, and your torment would finally end. You would be free of the hell your life had become since the Kid Pirates had taken you from your home. It would probably be a better ending for you than anything else that would happen, anyway.

You’d been living on Beta Island incognito, hiding your status as an Omega. You didn’t want to be sold to a Celestial Dragon in your late teens, as your parents had planned for you. So you’d escaped your home island shortly before your 13th birthday, evading patrol after patrol, living your life on the run. Eventually, you found yourself on Beta Island, which suited you just fine. Only Betas were allowed to live on the island, avoiding all the trouble that the other two dynamics brought with them. You’d taken suppressants since your escape and because you’d never gone into heat, you were able to pass yourself off as a regular Beta. It had been an idyllic time for you, as you worked and made friends with the Betas on your island. You had even deluded yourself into thinking that maybe your life would be alright, when the Kid pirates attacked the island.

You were running away from the chaos and destruction downtown, trying to keep from being spotted as well as you could. Scrambling through an alley, you passed the Captain himself, who was laughing at the bloodshed and pain he was causing innocent people. You thought he hadn’t seen you but you suddenly felt yourself being dragged backwards, back towards the pirate. Panicking, you tried even harder to wriggle away and escape but it proved to be pointless. Later, you found out that he was magnetizing the grommets in your clothes to bring you towards him. Captain Kid grabbed you in his metallic hand once you were close and inhaled a deep whiff of your scent. When you were on suppressants, your ability to scent was dulled but you could still tell you didn’t like his acrid aroma. Kid smelled like sweat, blood, oil, and anger, not an appealing combination. Pushing on the gigantic metallic arm, you tried in vain to dislodge yourself from his grasp. 

“What’s an Omega like you doing on Beta Island?” he asked, crushing your ribs with his gigantic fist. You weren’t sure if he knew his own strength, but he was keeping you in his clutches with ease.

“N-not O-omega,” you grunted out, trying to breathe through the constriction of his hand. You were still squirming, trying to get away from the large pirate.

“Oh yeah? You sure? Your pussy smells like Omega. It’s practically cryin’ for me to take you right here,” he sneered. “Oi! Killer! Take this one back to the ship, lock ‘er in my cabin.” He yelled to a man in a full face mask. Leaning closer to your face, he licked your neck and leered at you. “We’ll find out later if that pussy is Omega or not,” he said, handing you off to Killer. You tried to get away from the masked man, to no avail. Killer was just as strong as his Captain and wasn’t letting you down. Kicking, screaming, pounding his back did nothing as the first mate advanced towards the ship. 

Quickly chaining you to the Captains bed, the first mate considered you for a moment. “I’m going to give you a piece of advice, Omega. Lose the attitude. Otherwise, you won’t last long here.” 

He wasn’t wrong. 

Kid had come back to his cabin once the pirates had sufficiently destroyed your peaceful home. You huddled in the corner of the room, as far as your chains would let you, but the Captain had you before him in seconds. Covered in the blood of your former friends, the Captain had disrobed you, ripping through your clothes like they were paper. 

“Lemme see yer,” Kid said, ogling your now naked form. You tried not to cower, but you couldn’t help but tremble before the raw bloodlust in his eyes. You’d never taken a lover before, you had been too nervous it would interfere with your hormones and expose you as an Omega. Kid's leering had led to groping, which led to much more. That first night he’d bitten, clawed, bruised, kissed, and abused you, leaving you broken in spirit and body. You never fully recovered. You quickly learned he didn’t want you talking, didn't want you making eye contact, didn’t want to hear your crying, didn’t want anything from you except your body. He used you as he saw fit, as ruthless to you as he had been to your island. He never even asked your name, most often calling you ‘Omega,’ or ‘Bitch,’ among other colorful names.

You were the Captain’s sex doll, and the crew treated you as such. No one paid you any mind except to tell you to move the fuck out of the way, or to laugh at you as you stumbled out of the Captain’s quarters when he let you. Killer would occasionally bandage your wounds, but Kid preferred you to wear the marks he put on you. Kid wanted the mating bond to form between the two of you, to solidify the fact that you were his and prevent any rivals from taking you. To do that, he needed to bring you into heat. To try to get you to go into heat, he had tried any old wives tale he could find. He locked you in his quarters, denied you food except for his cum, kept you naked for days on end, bit your neck in a claiming bite, anything that might work. None of it did, but it all left you weakened, depleted, and suicidal. 

Even though you could practically feel his disdain for you, Kid sometimes told you his plans late at night after he finished pumping you full of his come. As you laid with tears drying on your cheeks and blood dripping from fresh wounds he’d given you, he told you about his simmering hatred for Red Haired Shanks and how he wanted his revenge. During these conversations, you encouraged him, praising his strength and skill, and told him that he absolutely was powerful enough to take on the Emperor. You were surprised that your voice held out while you were talking, both from disuse as well as from the effort you had to put into lying to his face. Once when you voiced these opinions, he’d stroked your skin while in thought, the first time his touch hadn’t hurt you. 

The day finally came that he attacked the Emperor. You’d heard him powering up his attack, laughing maniacally as he planned to wipe out the fleet of ships you could see from his cabin window. You cringed, waiting for the sounds of the dying….except it never came. Instead, a sonorous voice boomed out “Divine Departure,” bringing a deafening blast to your ship. Screams had followed, but not the ones you were used to. Rather, you detected the screams coming from the crew, yelling that they didn’t want to die, that the Captain had been defeated, that Killer was also knocked out. 

You couldn’t help it, you laughed long and hard, cackling into the darkness that had consumed the ship. You knew your voice had been ruined from too much choking and screaming, your vocal chords permanently damaged at the hands of your would be Alpha. The sounds you made were harsh and coarse, like a ghoul laughing from beyond the grave. Normally you were too ashamed to speak with your butchered voice, but you were too joyous to care. You were happy he’d received vengeance for some of the violence he brought to the world. You could only hope the ship sank and the rest of you with it. 

A few moments later, the door banged open and Emma stood before you, tears running down her face. She didn’t address you, just unchained you from the post on the Captain's bed and pulled you along with her. She was carrying the Poneglyphs, the Captain’s most prized possession aside from you. Emma was running, giving you barely enough time to avoid being dragged, as she brought you to the center of the deck. She bowed, and when you didn’t follow suit right away, kicked you so that you fell to your knees. Glancing up, you saw why.

All powerful Emperor Red Haired Shanks was on the Victoria Punk, staring down the crew impassively as they pleaded for their lives. You dropped your head, not making eye contact with the Emperor. You’d been hit enough to know that Alphas didn’t want you making eye contact with them in any capacity. Shanks approached Heat, who now held both the Poneglyphs and the end of your chain.

Shanks POV

Shanks observed the panicking Commander as he advanced towards their Captain. Kid’s crew were begging for Shanks’s forgiveness, something that would not be given. They had tried to annihilate his subordinate crews and would have, if Shanks hadn’t acted so quickly. Drawing a gun was dangerous, it put your life on the line. And Kid had been given a warning when Beckman shot off his arm. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way. 

A young woman brought the Road Poneglyphs in her hands, along with someone attached to the end of a chain. Handing her Commander both items, the blue haired girl bowed in supplication to Shanks, awaiting his judgment. Noting the chained woman didn’t do the same, the girl kicked the battered woman, bringing her to her knees. Shanks took the Poneglyphs from the Commander, who also handed him the end of the chain of the cowering woman. Shanks had no interest in slaves, he didn’t keep or want any. The slave kept her gaze averted, looking at the ground as she trembled. Her body was littered with bruises in various stages of healing, as well as cuts and welts. She bore a savage mating bite that was clearly infected, along with bruising circling her neck. Breathing in deeply, Shanks hid his surprise as he realized the small woman was an Omega. 

Omegas were exceedingly rare in the world, they were either sold to Celestial Dragons for an incredible amount of money, or outright stolen from their homes. If an Omega bred with an Alpha or Apex Alpha during their heat, the offspring was guaranteed to be either an Alpha or Omega, unlike other pairings. Because the Celestial Dragons took or bought nearly all of the Omegas in the world, wild Omegas were unbelievably scarce. Shanks hadn’t heard of one being found in over a decade. How the Kid pirates had managed to find one and kept her a secret, Shanks didn’t know. 

He said nothing as his own ship passed by, his crew calling out to him. Shanks removed his Emperor’s cloak, covering the shivering woman in its warmth and his scent. Your small trembling fingers took the fabric and held it shut around your body, as you sniffed the material. You still hadn’t said a word or looked at anything besides the floor, but there would be time to investigate later. Throwing the Omega over his shoulder, Shanks took the Poneglyphs in hand and stepped on the railing of the enemy ship. You were light and put up no struggle when Shanks took you, the only sound emanating from you was the clinking of your chains.

“Look over on the island!” Shanks heard the offending crew yell as he launched himself onto the Red Force. The Omega didn’t shout or scream, just gripped his shoulder a little more tightly as he darted into the air. Landing on the Red Force, Shanks yelled out for Hongo.

“Meet me in my cabin. Ten minutes,” Shanks ordered. The doctor nodded his assent, and went below deck, likely to the infirmary to gather supplies. Handing the Poneglyphs to Beckman, Shanks shifted the Omega in his arms so he was carrying you with his arm under your legs. You moved your face so it was buried in the crook of Shanks’s neck, avoiding looking at either the ship or the crew assembled on the deck. He hoped you were acclimating yourself to his scent, it would make your transition away from your previous mate easier. Even through the fear and pain Shanks smelled on you, he could tell your scent was absolutely delicious, like no other woman he’d smelled before. His cock twitched with the thought of claiming you for his own, though your medical issues needed attention first.

Bringing you to his cabin, Shanks shut the door behind you quietly. Depositing the woman onto his bed, you shrank back further into the cloak as if to hide yourself. You gripped the hem of the garment so hard that your fingers were turning white, matching your face as the color drained out. Ah , Shanks thought to himself, she thinks I’m going to ravage her right now like some animal . It made sense, he’d put you on his bed, what else were you going to think? 

Sitting down next to you on the bed, Shanks didn’t speak. Instead, for the first time in the Emperor’s life, he purred. He was an Apex Alpha, a rare breed of Alpha who was able to control other Alphas. It came with Conqueror’s Haki, the two traits going hand in hand. Purring came to him instinctively, but he’d never felt the urge to do so before. He’d had lovers who’d requested it, but Shanks had always laughed them off like they’d told a joke. But seeing you distressed made the rumble come almost unbidden, rising from his chest like a balm. You still didn’t look at him, but your fingers relaxed incrementally. Shanks continued purring for you as you tensed at his presence next to you, tenderly picking you up to sit on his lap. You sat upright, stiff, your body rigid with fear and apprehension.

“Easy, little Omega, easy,” Shanks said between purrs. You didn’t respond but didn’t object either physically or verbally to anything he was doing. Shanks wound his arm around you, pulling you closer to his chest. The rhythmic sounds were working, lulling you into a state of relaxation and calm as your hands dropped to your lap and your head relaxed against his chest.

Your POV

You were gripping onto the Emperor’s black cloak like it was going to shield you from whatever was going to happen next. It was heavy and warm, smelling like tobacco, cloves, and oranges, a heady combination. Even if your life would be no better under the Emperor, at least this scent wouldn’t make the bile rise in your throat. 

You were still avoiding his gaze, your wrists shaking in the chains under his watch. He’d put you on his bed, likely for the same reasons Kid always had. At least he hadn’t thrown you against the wall or forced you to suck his cock first, making you choke until you cried or passed out. Much to your dismay, he began to purr for you. You’d heard stories during your childhood about the Alpha purr. There were whispers that it was a form of mind control, that it was used to beguile Omegas into doing things against their will. Kid had already done a lot of things against your will, the Emperor didn’t need to purr to make you do anything. You hoped this wasn't a precursor to something vile, though you were long past wishful thinking.

But as the Emperor continued to purr and moved you into his lap, you felt it working despite your efforts to remain alert. The soothing rumble had you taking deep breaths and relaxing your hands. You felt your exhaustion returning to you, adrenaline finally having run its course. Against your better judgment, you laid your head on the broad chest of the Emperor behind you. His well muscled arm encircled you, and you were content to forget the horrors that would likely await you in the coming days, feeling only the warmth and comfort of an Apex Alpha’s purr.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door of the cabin, making you jerk upright once again. You’d looked at the door when you’d been surprised, but you quickly affixed your gaze to the floor once again. You hoped Shanks hadn’t seen your mistake, or that he would be willing to forgive you if he did. But he didn’t move to strike you at all, just called out to whoever had the audacity to bother the Captain. 

“Come in, Hongo,” he said calmly. You wanted to hide your face in the crook of his neck again, but you knew there would be no solace found seeking comfort where there was none. Opening the door, a large man with blonde hair came inside, carrying a black leather doctor’s case. You said nothing and remained in place, it was the safest route for the time being. The man, whose name you now knew to be Hongo, walked slowly towards you and his Captain, as if he was walking towards a wild animal.

“How’re we doin’, Captain?” he asked, surveying the scene in front of him. The Captain obviously hadn’t been hurt, he was talking about you.

“Alright,” Shanks answered, arm squeezing you a little tighter. You flinched as the memories of being crushed by Kid’s arm came flooding back to you. “They had an Omega. She needs some help,” he said softly, patting your thigh over his cloak. You were acutely aware that you were completely nude below the cloak. You hoped Shanks wouldn’t take you in front of Hongo, or at least not for the first time. Kid had done whatever he wanted, it didn’t matter to him who saw what he did to you. 

“Sure, no problem,” Hongo replied easily, opening his bag. He brought out a stethoscope first, something you were familiar with. Winding the scope around his neck, he slowly pried the cloak out of your fingers in order to put the bell on your skin. You desperately wanted to stay within the safety of the cloak, but you knew you had no power. If they wanted to see you naked, they were going to get what they wanted. Surprisingly, Hongo didn’t remove the cloak completely, allowing you use it to cover your breasts and lower half while he worked. As Hongo placed the buds in his ears and reached towards you with the scope, you leaned back and away from the advancing hands. You hadn’t meant to, it was instinctive. Shanks started purring for you again as he gently but firmly kept you in place for Hongo, his arm across your waist.

“You’re safe, Omega, he’s not going to hurt you. He’s just checking your lungs and heart,” the Captain said softly. Hongo took his time listening, moving the scope around your back and front. Once he was done, he put the scope away and took out medical gloves. 

“I’m gonna check the wounds on your top half and neck, OK?” Hongo informed you. You said nothing as he began touching the injuries that you’d suffered at the hands of Kid. You kept yourself from making any noises of pain or recoiling when he touched something painful. You knew you looked beaten and ugly, despite avoiding the mirror. Kid always left bite marks, bruises, hickeys, and cuts whenever he was with you. Your breasts looked like they’d been mauled the last time you’d checked them. But the worst of all was your neck - between the times he’d choked you, the bite he’d given you, and the attention he gave your scent glands nightly, it was a column of black and blue. In spite of your efforts, you hissed when Hongo touched your neck tried to move away from his efficient hands. 

But the men weren’t going to let you shrink away from the medical inspection. Shanks cradled your head against his shoulder when Hongo inspected the agonizing bite on the spot between your neck and shoulder, purring all the while. You knew there was something wrong with it, but Kid had never let you touch it or clean the wound, saying that it would affect your mating bond. You thanked the seas that the bond hadn’t formed, but the throbbing pain of the bite had only gotten worse.

“You’ve got a lot of wounds on your torso and neck. Are there more below?” Hongo asked quietly when he was done inspecting your top half. You waited, not knowing if they wanted you to respond or not. Sometimes it was a trick, people would talk about you while you were there but if you responded, you got in trouble. 

“Hm, do you? I thought I saw some before,” Shanks asked you benignly, rubbing his fingers in circles over your skin. They were both quiet for a few moments and you realized they were waiting for you to respond. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk, so you gave a shaky nod while continuing to look at the floor.

“I’m gonna have to look, OK?” Hongo said, crouching down in front of the Captain. He was trying to make eye contact, but you steadfastly stared down, in order to show your obedience. You blinked rapidly several times, willing the tears not to fall from your eyes. You’d been naked in front of so many people, but the fact that Hongo was asking made you feel more vulnerable than ever. You nodded again, but your hands were frozen in place, gripping the cloak with all your meager strength.

“Brave little Omega, doing so well,” the Emperor said into your hair, kissing the top of your head. You didn’t know when the last time you’d been allowed to bathe was, you were sure you smelled disgusting. Shanks unwound his arm from your waist, and slowly tugged the fabric from your hands, letting it fall onto your lap. You tried not to squirm, not to move as the doctor touched your welts and cuts, but you felt humiliated and debased as he poked and prodded you. After a few minutes of inspection, Hongo sighed, stood up to his full towering height and snapped off the gloves.

“There’s a lot going on,” he said to the Emperor, who had rapidly covered you back in the cloak. “She’s got a lot of wounds, some healing, some new. That bite on her neck is infected, it needs to be taken care of immediately. She’s malnourished and has at least one broken rib. And she’s going to go into heat soon.” 

Your eyes finally snapped to the doctor’s, everything lost to the panic suddenly overwhelming you. 

Shanks POV

Perhaps having Dorry and Broggy destroy the ship wasn’t enough. As Shanks watched you flinch away from Hongo’s inspection, his rage rose by the second. He’d seen your naked form on the ship, but the dim light hadn’t revealed to him the depth of your injuries. It was practically a miracle that you were still alive, Shanks thought. It was well known that Omegas weren’t as durable as Betas and Alphas, they were generally treated with care like the treasures they were. But not only were you littered with wounds from head to toe, but you were a shell of a person. You hadn’t said a single word, you hadn’t made eye contact with him yet, and you hadn’t moved an inch outside of where Shanks had placed you. 

Now, with the information that you were going into heat soon, you were panicking. Shanks could feel your heart beating rapidly and saw your chest rising and falling too quickly. The Alpha in him was worried, wanting to soothe the Omega still perched on his lap. Shanks put his hand over your chest, trying to slow the beating of your heart. Even if the Alpha in him wanted to purr and cuddle you until you calmed down, the Captain needed to get a little more information out of you first. You were still lost in your own world, not responding to any stimulus.

“It’s alright, Sweetheart. Everything is going to be just fine. When was your last heat, hmm?” Shanks asked, holding your face in his hand. The touch seemed to ground you, causing you to blink rapidly as if you suddenly remembered there were other people in the room. You shook your head at his question, making Shanks frown at your answer. The longer an Omega went without a heat, the lengthier and more severe the symptoms were when it reappeared. Shanks hoped you hadn’t gone into heat during your time in captivity, it would increase the likelihood of an unwanted pregnancy. Looking at your body, he couldn’t imagine you were capable of carrying life in your current state. 

“What do you mean, little Omega? You haven’t had a heat in a year? Or longer?” Shanks asked. He knew you were scared and upset, but he and Hongo needed to know this information, it was part of the way they would take care of you. He gently turned your face towards his, forcing you to look up at him. You finally looked at his face, though you didn’t meet his eyes. You shook your head again.

“Tell me more, I need to know how to help you,” Shanks prompted, stroking your cheek. You sucked in a shaky breath, trying to gather yourself before speaking.

“Never,” you said in a hoarse whisper. Shanks recognized the voice from the laughter in the wake of battle.

“Never? What do you mean? This would be your first heat?” Hongo asked incredulously. Shanks hadn’t met another Omega, but it was known that they typically had their first heat cycle in their upper teens. 

You nodded, a tear running down your cheek. 

[starsofang]

Change of Heart

hitman!ghost x f!reader / part 3

previous part

tw: alcohol use, brief mentions of suicide, soft ghost <3

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

Day six.

You made it another day in your deal with Ghost, and it was supposed to feel good. The entire point was to prove to him and yourself that you didn’t want to die, that you could figure out the demons in your head and summon them out, but it was proving to be a much more difficult task than you thought.

Waking up on the morning of your sixth day didn’t feel all that good like you thought it would. Ghost hadn’t returned to your apartment since he stayed to see you make it to day five, and you weren’t sure when he was coming back.

It wasn’t clear why you were taking a liking to his company. Maybe you were lonely, maybe you just needed a friend, and he happened to be there in the right place at the right time.

The thought of it scared you, though. You hadn’t let anybody into your life since your ex-boyfriend, and you always preferred it that way – keeping a distance meant you wouldn’t get hurt again, and certainly, this masked man would eventually do the same thing to you if he decided to stick around.

You wanted to call the deal off. Not because you still wanted him to kill you, not because you wanted your life to end, but because you didn’t want to grow attached, just for you to not have a change of heart in the end.

It would be fucked up of you if you allowed a bond to form between you and Ghost, only to take it away through an act of death after the deal was up. That would just be plain selfish.

So, you tried distracting yourself instead.

It was a nice day today, and the weather, albeit chilly with that slight bite of cold wind, was an almost perfect excuse to take a night off and have fun by yourself in a bar. Surely, that doesn’t count as you going against Ghost’s deal of self-healing bullshit if it’s just for fun, right?

That’s exactly what led you to appear at a local bar downtown. Ironically, it was right down the street from the coffee shop where you first met Simon in the meeting to discuss your self-proclaimed suicide mission. You passed it on your walk to the bar, and a slight feeling of guilt tugged at your heartstrings as your eyes drifted to it, even as it was already behind you.

Shaking the guilt away, you continued on your journey along the sidewalk. There was no reason to feel guilty. You owed nothing to Ghost, and you were still technically keeping up your end of the bargain. A harmless night of fun was something you needed to shoo away those demons, at least that’s what you told yourself.

The bar wasn’t packed, which you didn’t mind. After all, it was only a Thursday night and most people had work the next morning. Lucky for you, that meant the bar wouldn’t take a long time for your drink orders, so you wasted no time in diving in, conversing with the bartender as the night went on.

About four drinks in, you could feel the weight of the alcohol lay heavy on your mind. It made things a bit hazy, like a brewing fog was beginning to loom over you. Your arms rested comfortably on the bar counter, head slightly bowed down as you attempted to keep yourself upright. Being an ex-alcoholic (you absolutely were not an ex, you just loved to float down the river of denial), alcohol was unpredictable in the way it affected your body.

Sometimes, it forced you to loosen up and have fun.

Other times, it made the weight of your issues much heavier.

Right now, it was an awkward middle, like your body was torn between wanting to enjoy this moment of serene relaxation, and wanting to plop right into bed and sleep your worries away, pretending they never existed in the first place.

The sound of somebody plunking themselves down on the stool next to you forced your head to lift, and when you came in sight of that damned mask, you wanted to stand up and let your legs lead you right to the bar’s exit.

Ghost sat unbothered, ordered himself a bourbon from the kind bartender. She flashed him a polite smile, throwing me a slight glance, and when you gave her a shrug, she left the two of you alone after retrieving Ghost’s drink.

“You a stalker now or something?” you grumbled in feigned annoyance, letting your head loll back down on the counter with a huff.

Ghost’s hand wrapped around the glass of bourbon while the other lifted his mask enough to reveal his mouth. You noticed instantly that he wasn’t wearing his gloves, and you stared at the littered scars on his hands as well as the veins that ran up from his knuckles and beneath the cuff of his hoodie sleeve.

Swallowing, you forced yourself to look away from them, opting on his eyes.

“Somethin’ like that,” he hummed, tipping the glass to his mouth to take a sip of the bitter alcohol. You wrinkled your nose up at it, not quite fond of dark liquor (though, who were you to be picky, seeing your collection of scattered bottles that consumed your home?).

“‘M not gonna kill myself, y’know,” you slurred out in defense, rolling your head so your cheek rested flat on the counter as you stared at him with what you hoped was perceived as disapproval.

“I know, love. Wouldn’t hire me if you were.”

Touche.

Frowning to yourself, you observed the way his lips parted to allow more of the murky liquor to pour into his mouth and down his throat, your eyes dropping to see his throat bob as he swallowed. The small scar on his lips caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but stare at it for a moment more, taking in the slight curve of it over his top lip, the scar tissue white in contrast to the light pinkess of his mouth.

“Why are you here?” you managed to ask, having to practically pry your eyes away from him.

The alcohol must’ve been getting to your brain too much, because you had the brief thought that he looked pretty. Gosh, half of his face was still covered by the mask, what was wrong with you?

“Went by your place. Saw you weren’t there.”

“You mean broke into my place,” you corrected, and you swore you nearly saw stars from the way his lip curled up in amusement.

“Mm. Maybe that,” he agreed with a careless shrug.

He leaned one of his arms on the counter, tilting his head in your direction. You could feel his eyes taking you in, studying you as always, as if you were a book he was analyzing every time he saw you. They stare at your cheeks, flushed from the alcohol. Your hair, which was lazily falling in your face from where your head lay. Your mouth, which was pulled into a mix of a frown and a pout that you clearly had no intentions of wiping off.

“Why are you here?” He repeated the question back to you, and you gave him the same shrug he had given you.

“I can’t have fun?”

“This fun to you?”

“...No.”

He chuckled out a laugh that rumbled you to the core, and you blinked stupidly at him as he downed the rest of the bourbon.

“Thought so, sweetheart. It’s a bit dingy in here, innit?”

You shifted your eyes to take in the bar, and sad to say, he was right. The bar itself wasn’t all that great, though you didn’t necessarily come because it was lavish. It was pretty old and outdated, with wooden counters, old floors, and stools that creaked under every movement. But hey, they had a pool table and a dart board, so it wasn’t all that bad.

“Maybe just a bit,” you sighed out, and he smiled at you.

“Right. So why are you here?” He asked again, and you stared at him for a moment before sighing again.

“Figuring myself out like you wanted me to,” you offered, and he raised an unimpressed eyebrow under the balaclava.

“Figurin’ yourself out with half a dozen vodka cranberries isn’t somethin’ I see as helpful. Weird choice in drink, by the way.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but promptly shut it, because damn it, vodka cranberries really weren’t all that good.

His fingers tapped mindlessly along the empty glass in front of him, and you found your gaze once again drifting to take in the rough pads of his fingers and healed cuts on the back of his hand. For a moment, a very, very brief moment, you wished you could reach out and take hold of it, just to feel what it was like to hold somebody else’s hand again.

It had been a long time since you’d had any sort of touch, both innocent and intimate, and your ex-boyfriend certainly wasn’t the type of man to hold your hand like delicate glass and place kisses along the back of it.

Ghost let out a long sigh through his nose as he took note of your mental absence. “That pretty head of yours is always runnin’ around.”

Pretty head. He always said that, and now, it caused a weird clench in your chest.

“You’re pretty,” you blurted out drunkenly, and when Ghost stared at you in silence, you prayed that the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Never in your life had something so embarrassing happened, and you weren’t even sure why you said that.

You’d met Ghost a total of three times, and it wasn’t under normal circumstances. Most people meet a man on dating apps or at a damn park where they accidentally bump into one another and have a moment of love at first sight. You met Ghost off of the fucking dark web.

“You’re pretty too, sweetheart.” He chuckled in amusement, seemingly unbothered by your sudden display of admiration, and you felt your cheeks warm.

You aggressively turned your head away from him, plopping your other cheek on the counter so you wouldn’t have to look at him. He made no move to stop you, which you were thankful for.

“Think it’s ‘bout time you start goin’ home and get yourself ready for day seven, yeah?”

Ghost’s voice sent a buzz through your already fuzzy body, and instead of protesting, you found yourself nodding despite him being unable to see your face.

Yeah, home sounded good. Your bed sounded good. Sleeping this shame off sounded good.

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, and when you felt a hand lightly rest on your shoulder, you picked your head up to look at him.

His mask was back over his mouth, but his eyes crinkled in a familiar smile as he gestured his head to the bar door.

Oh. He wanted to walk you.

You stood on legs of jelly, lightly swaying as you gained your balance. His hand reached out to grab hold of your elbow, and when you met his soft gaze, you felt small underneath it. Tall was what he was, towering over you, but instead of feeling intimidated like you did in your first meeting, you felt a wave of security.

Ghost had somehow knew you would be here, drinking away your sorrows, and he showed up with no judgment. Now he was offering to walk you to your apartment, even though he barely knew you.

Were hitmen always this sweet? Or was it just Ghost?

You let your mind run astray as he gently guided you out of the bar and on the sidewalk of downtown, keeping a light grip on you the entire way. No words were said, but none needed to be. The silence was comforting, and it allowed you your moment of serenity while you processed just how much this man was doing for you on his own free whim.

You expected Ghost to simply drop you off at your door and leave you to go inside, but when he fumbled with the doorknob and led you into your home, you realized he wasn’t that kind of asshole and he wanted to make sure you made it to bed instead of a heap on the floor.

His hand remained on your elbow as he took you to your room. The sight of your bed was one that could’ve brought you to tears, and you happily crawled into it, curling up in a ball the moment your head hit the pillow.

Ghost stood by your bedside as he waited for you to get comfortable, before stepping out of the room. At first, you thought he left you without saying goodbye.

Your mind plagued you in those futile seconds. Was he mad at you? Did you disappoint him by going out and drinking again?

Then you heard the tell tale signs of him rummaging around in cabinets, and you could only guess he was in the kitchen. You continued to lay there patiently while he proceeded with whatever task he busied himself with, eyes staring into the darkness that filled the room.

When he returned, he was holding a glass of water, which he set carefully on the nightstand near your head.

You didn’t understand. Nobody had ever shown you such kindness before. Life had only ever given you the hands of people who would use you up until you were wrung dry. People always expected things in return, and your fear was making you wonder if that was what Ghost was expecting.

To make things worse, you practically invited that idea into his head by saying he was pretty.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. It came out in a tone that revealed your hidden uncertainty, and he instantly took note of it from the way his eyes softened beneath the fabric of his mask.

“You’re drunk. Not goin’ to just leave you there to dehydrate.”

“No.” You shook your head, frowning up at him. “I mean, why are you doing any of this? The deal, helping me, watching me, I– I don’t understand. I can’t give you what you want.”

“And what is it that I want, sweetheart?” he asked you, crouching down by your bedside so he could be eye level with you. You wanted to look away, you should’ve looked away, but you had never seen such gentle eyes before.

“I… I don’t know. Sex? More money? Isn’t this all some sort of trick?”

“Sex? A trick?” His tone was slightly offended, perhaps even hurt, and you instantly wanted to take your words back. “No, sweetheart, that’s not why I’m doin’ any of this. I’m doin’ this ‘cause I care.”

“But why?”

The air filled with silence as we competed in a staredown, and the sobering side of you was regretting every moment of this conversation. Stupid girl, always ruining good things, why can’t you ever keep your mouth shut–

“I see myself in you,” he confessed, and you shut your mind up. You didn’t respond, only continuing to stare at him, waiting for him to continue. “You’re hurtin’. I can see that. Life’s treated you real bad, hasn’t it?”

His words felt both like salt being poured into your open wounds, while simultaneously placing a bandaid over them with loving hands.

“You’re the only person who’s ever tried to hire me to kill themselves. Couldn’t just leave you high ‘n dry like that, not when you’re hurtin’ that bad. I don’t want to kill you, sweetheart.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“But… you will, if I end up deciding that’s what I want, right?” You weren’t sure if you were convincing yourself or convincing him.

Ghost stared at you, eyes flickering over your face that was dimly lit up from the stray rays of moonlight peeking in through your sliding door of your balcony. Your eyes were slightly glossed over from both the alcohol and unshed tears that threatened to spill, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe them away, to encourage you to let them fall.

“Don’t know if I have the willpower to do that to you anymore, sweetheart.”

He stood up from where he was crouched beside your bed, and your eyes followed, staying locked on his.For a pause in time, the two of you said nothing, and the room filled with a deafening silence that made it hard to breathe.

It was broken when he carefully lifted his hand, reaching to your face to brush a stray hair that was hanging over your eyes. The rough pad of his finger lingered, tracing along your eyebrow and tracing out the feature before promptly pulling back.

“Get some rest,” he said, voice soft and quiet, but still with the tinges of gravelly undertone that made it sound like a sweet lullaby.

Your nod was confirmation for him to leave, and as he stepped out of your bedroom, you called out to him.

“Thank you for bringing me home, Ghost,” you thanked with a grateful smile.

He looked at you for a moment before smiling himself, evident in the way his eyes wrinkled.

“Call me Simon, love.”

[rorylovesangst]

A Burning Hill

construction worker/underground fighter simon riley x

waitress

mood board

song of the chapter is Velvet Ring by Big Thief

tws: physical/emotional abuse, sexual harassment, self harm/suicidal thoughts, trauma/ PTSD

previous chapter → chapter 5 -> next chapter

word count: 2.7k

The next two days are spent watching random TV shows and eating the random soups Simon cooks up and taking sluggish walks up and down your street, bundled up in a hat, gloves, and jacket Simon made you put on before you go. He insisted that getting outside would help, even though it's hardly 35 degrees. “You need to get outside,” he insisted, standing in your doorway with his arms crossed and a wool beanie tugged low over his ears. “Fresh air’ll do you good.”

“It’s barely above freezing,” you’d protested, sinking deeper into the cocoon of your blanket on the futon.

“Good for the immune system,” Simon said, deadpan, as he tossed your gloves onto the armrest beside you. “Hat. Gloves. Jacket. Let’s go. You’re not stayin’ cooped up like this.” Next thing you know, he was herding you out the door like a sheep, your protests muffled by the scarf he wrapped snugly around your neck.

 So, as he whips up some more soup and toast, you pace up and down the street twiddling your thumbs until you hear him beckoning you back inside. “Soup’s ready. Come in before you turn into an icicle.”

Back inside, the aroma of simmering soup and freshly toasted bread filled the air. You sat at your small, slightly wobbly table, a steaming bowl in front of you. Simon pulled out the chair across from you but never took a seat; instead, he leaned against the counter, arms folded, sipping tea from one of your mismatched mugs.

“Not hungry?” you asked, gesturing to the untouched pot on the stove.

“I’ll eat later,” he replied.

Simon doesn’t eat much while he’s here—you’ve noticed that. He focuses on making sure you’re eating instead, dishing out ladles of creamy broth or chunky stew, nudging the toast plate closer when it looks like you’re slowing down.

Conversation didn’t come easily. You didn’t feel up to it, and Simon never seemed to mind the quiet. He filled the space with odd little remarks—a fact about some bird he saw once, a sarcastic jab about your cluttered counter.

“Nice tapestry,” he said once, nodding at the woven fabric hanging crookedly on your wall. “Very… thrift store chic.”

“It was $2.50,” you replied dryly, between spoonfuls.

“Bargain.”

When he wasn’t orchestrating your meals or sending you out into the cold for what he called “revitalizing,” Simon kept busy. He cleaned your bandages with careful precision, his hands steady and warm as they worked. The first time, he winced as he crouched down beside you, and you caught the slightest hiss of pain under his breath.

“Are you okay?” you asked, craning your neck to look at him.

“Fine,” he replied quickly, but you noticed the way his knuckles looked bruised and raw, like he’d been punching something—or someone.

You gestured at his hand. “What happened there?”

“Work,” he said simply, pulling the gauze tight over your wound.

“What kind of work leaves you with knuckles like that?”

“The kind that pays.” He glanced up, catching your narrowed eyes. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

But you did. And it wasn’t just his knuckles. You caught the way he’d press his hand to his ribs when he thought you weren’t looking or the tightness in his jaw whenever he had to bend over. You didn’t push, though. It wasn’t your place, and besides, Simon was an immovable object when it came to talking about himself.

“You could’ve been a nurse,” you’d said, watching him out of the corner of your eye.

“Yeah, right. Imagine me in scrubs.”

You huffed a laugh, but the motion tugged at the burn, and Simon shook his head, muttering something about you being a nightmare patient.

This filled the gaps in what you can remember of that 4-day haze. The four S’s: Soup. Strolls. Sanitize. Simon.  

“Nice of you to show up,” Ronny sneered from behind the counter, a smile on his lips that makes your stomach curl into itself. You’d just walked in, jacket still slung over your shoulders that were already pinched tight.

“I was sick,” you go to explain yourself, but you’re cut off buy his scoff.

“Don’t give a fuck if you were dyin’, you answer my damn calls. Got it, peach?” He raises his eyebrows expectantly, not waiting for you to answer, before turning back to his office and slamming his door, a gust of wind blowing back in your face.  

The day crawls by, thick and sluggish, like wading through molasses. Alamort weights down your limbs, dragging you closer to the dead with every passing hour. When a silverware pair slips from your hands and clatters against the floor, Ronny is on you in an instant. His hand tangles in your hair, yanking you upright, making you squeak. His voice adust as he hissed against the shell of your ear. You keep your eyes anywhere but on him—on the grimy tiles, the peeling paint, the water stains seeping through the drop-ceiling. This only makes him angrier.

His thumb and forefinger clamp down on your cheeks, pressing deep enough to leave dimples against your lithe skin, shaking your head like a rag doll’s. The motion rattles more than just your skull; it sends tremors down your spine, sparking shame and fury in equal measure. You wonder, not for the first time, how no one notices.

But maybe they do. Maybe they’ve just decided it’s easier to pretend they don’t.

Tony must have some idea. The kitchen isn’t far from the office Ronny so often drags you into, and his voice has a way of carrying even when he tries to keep it contained. But Tony doesn’t say anything. None of them do. Not Olive, not the other girls whose names you can’t remember. Those girls, so fleeting they’re like whispers caught on the wind, here one moment and gone the next. Scooped up and whisked away to better things—or maybe just different ones.

You wish you had it that easy.

Your leash is tighter than theirs, short and choking, pulling taut every time Ronny drags you back toward him. You feel it constantly, the invisible leather, rubbing raw against your throat.

Even while you're crouched on a flipped-over milk crate in the stockroom, Olive rambling about some rude costumer, you can still feel Ronny's fingers dimpling your cheeks.

Worthless ditz.

Worthless, due to being spat in your face at least weekly during any minor mistake, has lost its meaning. It’s punch. So overused and washed out it’s almost laughable when Ronny attempts to reprimand you with it.

“You look like shit,” Olive says, interrupting your thoughts. Her mouth is full of bread and cheese, sliding the plate over to you while she speaks.

“Thanks,” you muttered, picking at the crust of the sandwich instead of eating it. Your stomach churned too much for food to feel like anything but a burden.

“I mean it,” she pressed, chewing on her half. “You’ve been off for, what? Four days? You’re not better yet?”

“I’m fine,” you reply, forcing a shrug.

Olive gives you a skeptical look, tearing off another bite from the grilled cheese you’re both sharing. “I told you Simon’s a good guy, didn’t I? Even if he doesn’t seem like it. So, how did it go anyway?”

You glance at the crust in your hand, pulling it apart bit by bit. “He didn’t need to come,” you say, the words quiet but resolute. “I would’ve handled it.”

“Sure you would’ve,” Olive says, smirking as she leans back slightly. “Simon said you were snappy as hell. Didn’t even want him there.”

“I wasn’t—” You stop yourself with a sharp sigh, shaking your head. “I just… I wanted to rest on my own. That’s it.”

“Right. And rest yourself into oblivion,” Olive says with a dramatic eye roll, taking another bite. “And let me guess, you didn’t say thank you, did you?”

You hesitate, shuffling through false memories. “I thanked him.”

“Oh, you did, did you?” she teases, grinning around her bite. “Well, you’re welcome for the cream, just so we’re clear.”

A reluctant smile pulls at your lips. “Thank you.”

“Good. And you’re welcome for this too.” She gestures with the half-eaten sandwich before tearing off another piece and passing it to you. “Next time, just tell me, alright? I had to send Simon since I couldn’t call off, but I could’ve been there, y’know?”

You chew on her words more than the sandwich, your stomach tying itself in a knot. “I know. I just didn’t…didn’t want to worry you.”  

Olive gives you a look that’s both soft and stern, her green eyes narrowing slightly. “Blue, you being you means I’m always gonna worry. That’s how this works.”

Her words settle warmly in your chest, even as you avoid her gaze and focus on the sandwich. You tear another piece but hesitate to eat it. Olive notices immediately, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. “You’re still not eating,” she says pointedly, nudging your arm with her elbow.

“I’ll eat,” you grumble, forcing a bite. The sandwich is dry as it crumbles against your tongue, but you manage.

Olive watches you with a raised brow, making sure you finish before leaning back with a satisfied nod. “Good. I wasn’t about to let you waste half of my lunch.” She didn’t press you further, instead leaning her head back against a shelf. Her brown curls caught the light, forming a kind of messy halo. “Hey, by the way. You doing anything Saturday night?”

You blinked at her, confused. “Why?”

“It’s Friendsgiving at my place. Just a small thing—me, Price, a couple of his work buddies. You should come. I already told Simon to swing by for a bit, so you won’t be totally out of place.”

You winced inwardly at the mention of a social gathering, though you couldn’t explain why.

“I don’t know…” you started.

“Don’t be like that,” she interrupted. “You’re coming. No excuses. Besides,” she added with a sly grin, “I don’t have any other friends, so you have to come. For me, at least. I’ve got Gaz and Soap showing up, too. Thought I’d finally introduce you properly.”

You groaned, rubbing your face with your hands. “Jesus, Olive. I’m bad enough at talking to you. You really think I can handle three more of you?”

She laughed, honeyed and dulcet, like the warmth of sun on your back. “Trust me, you’ll be fine. I’ll even make you a plate to take home if you survive.”

You smiled faintly despite yourself. The thought of her elysian little flat—lush dining room chairs, bergamot candles, hanging plants—felt like a foreign concept. But a small part of you was curious—curious enough to consider it.

“Guys,” Tony’s voice cut through the quiet of the storage room, his head appearing in the doorway like a jack-in-the-box. “You might wanna clear outta here. Ronny’s on one—don’t need him catching you two splitting a grilled cheese, y’know?”

Before either of you could reply, he was gone, vanishing as quickly as he’d appeared.

You sighed, grabbing the plate from the floor. “Did you invite him to Friendsgiving?”

“Yeah,” Olive replied, brushing crumbs from her lap. “But he said he’s got his kids this year. First time in a while. Wants to spend it with them.”

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “I didn’t know he had kids.”

“Yeah, four and seven. Two girls,” Olive said, her voice softening at the mention of them.

“He’s so old,” you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Olive stopped mid-step as you both exited the room, giving you a look that was half incredulous, half amused. “Blue, he’s five years older than me.”

You shrugged innocently, barely holding back a grin. “I’m just kidding!”

The day drags, but you survive—barely. The bell over the door jingles one last time as the final customer leaves, and you begin wiping down tables while Olive sweeps the floor. The clink of glasses and the hum of the lights were your only companions as you scrubbed counters. Olive hummed some forgotten tune while sweeping the floor, the rhythm of her movements steady and grounding.

Ronny’s voice shattered the quiet. “Hey. You.”

Your spine stiffened, the rag freezing in your hand. His eyes locked onto yours like a predator— saccharine visions of tearing through the meat of your skin with pointy teeth and a bloody maw.

“Come here. Now.”

You cast a glance at Olive, who arched a brow but said nothing. Setting the rag down, you followed him into the cramped cage of his office, walking right into his territory.

The door shut behind you, and the air turned heavy, suffocating. You’re waiting for him to pounce. To strike.

“Take off for a week, and then sit around slackin’? Messin’ shit up?” He was backing you against his desk, only stopping once you were pressed against the chipping wood.

“I—I wasn’t sla—” you started, but he cut you off.

“The fuck you were, lazy skank.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Shut up.” His breath was hot against your head, towering over you with something resembling repugnance in his Tartarean eyes.

His hands were on your throat before you could process it, his grip tightening as he slammed you against his desk. His right hand braced against your nape as his left squeezed the column of your throat making you wheeze. Hot tears were already streaming down your cheek before you could recognize the feeling in your chest as panic. It quickly spread like wildfire. You were grabbing at his wrists frantically, crescent shaped holes littering his arms as you tried to pry him off.

“You think you can disrespect me?” he hissed, his face inches from yours. You let out a meek sound—a cry, maybe?—with all the air you had. It was no use. Black started to creep into the corners of your vision, and you were almost glad: Glad that maybe he’d put an end to your misery, glad that you’d get to stop seeing his wicked sneer as you clamped down harder. Which one you’d father prefer was a mystery to you.

Then, as suddenly as it began, he released you.

You stumbled onto your knees, choking on shallow breaths, your fingers clawing at your throat, desperate for anything thinner than air to rush in and soothe the ache. Weeping into the carpet, tears staining it a darker shade of tan.

“Get the fuck up,” he barked, his voice a cruel whip. You tried—you really did—but the oxygen hadn’t yet traveled back to your brain, and you floundered right into his desk with another choked sob. “Out! Get out!” He grabbed you by the shoulder and shoved you at the door. With your legs trembling beneath you, you escaped as quickly as you could with what strength you had.

Olive looked up when you reentered the dining area. Your efforts to swallow the sobs and catch your breath did nothing to hide the mess you were. She paused, broom in hand, her expression morphing into something soft and concerned.

The sight of that worry on her face made the pit in your stomach grow, swallowing up your bones and tissue.

“Blue—honey—oh no…oh no.” She quickly dropped the broom and pulled you into her arms. “What happened?”

The words jammed in your throat, thick and lumpy. You swallowed hard, trying to force them down without choking. “N-nothing. He was j-just...really me-mean.”

Her lips pressed lips against the top of your head, pulling you closer to her chest. “That man’s a nightmare,” she muttered. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded quickly, your voice cracking when you spoke. “I’m f-fine. Let’s just finish up.” You wiped your face with a trembling hand, and even as you did, the dampness was already seeping through your fingers.

Olive didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press further. She resumed sweeping, her movements slow and careful, as if testing the water before continuing. You turned back to the counter, your hands shaking as you scrubbed at spots that weren't even there, trying to make sense of the silence that stretched between you and the world.

Later, at home, the mirror told the truth. Through the cracks and the dust, the bruises on your neck flourished like flowers in May, purple and blue spreading against pale skin. You traced them with trembling fingers before you could notice the tears running down your cheeks and dripping onto your hands.

Your phone buzzed on the counter, breaking the silence. A text from Olive.

friendsgiving. don’t forget. saturday. pls be there

You hesitated, the words blurring before your eyes. Finally, you typed back:

i will.

The reply felt fragile, a candle’s flickering flame, but it was something.

In the quiet that followed, you leaned against the counter, staring at the message. Somewhere, beneath the weight of bruises and silence, a small hope burned. The violent desire for something new. But even a worm will turn.

[casuallyanidiot]

Yantober Day 2

Day 2: Fate [Yandere M. Ghost x Gn. Reader]

Using @ozzgin's Yantober prompt list

Tipjar :)

Dead Dove Do Not Eat! MDNI! Tw. Possession, Death, Murder, Forced suicide, haunting, general ghost stuff, Nsfw themes, groping, soulmates

In which you find out your soulmate haunts your new apartment.

1.9k words

Everyone had a red string tied around their pinky finger that connected them to their soulmate. You were no different. For years you had absently twirled the thread around, dreaming about the day when you would meet your one and only.

That all came crashing down one day in your early 20s. 

You had been sitting in a lecture, diligently taking notes and listening when the red string, normally taut, went gray and grew limp in your lap. You had instantly broken down, screamed, cried and clutched the last vestiges of your other half leaving the realm of the living. 

Your soulmate died one cold autumn day, and you had felt hopeless ever since.

Years later, in your late twenties after you had worked like a slave in a corporate office, you had finally managed to save up to be able to afford a nice place in the heart of the city. You began touring different apartments you could potentially live in, and, though there were many options, you ended up going with a cozy and surprisingly cheap one bedroom place with a great view of the nearby river.

Upon further inspection, about almost a decade ago, a young man died here from a surprising and tragic accident.

It was a bit of a turn off, but it was too nice to pass up. You could picture yourself having a life there, and for whatever reason, your heartstrings tugged every time you let your hands run over the antique carvings on the doorway.

So you put down a deposit, packed up all your things, and moved into the place within a week. 

The windows were large and wide, lighting the whole place light up with sun and a cool breeze, The floorboards were made of a rich, old mahogany that creaked under your every footstep, and each of the rooms had this nice, homey feel to it that seemed like it would be perfect for a young couple living together for the first time. You felt relaxed there. It suited your needs perfectly, and never once did the thought of the previous owner cross your mind.

A few weeks into living there, and suddenly strange noises would be made beyond your bedroom door. 

Squeaking, groaning noises, too. They sounded like heavy, uncoordinated footsteps, and you grabbed a knife you kept near your bedside and peered out with fear twisted in your gut into the rest of your home. There was no one there, and you were left feeling paranoid and confused, unaware of your severed thread twitching despite the lack of wind.

Stranger happenings began to occur after that.

Lights would flicker, objects would be knocked over randomly, and you’d feel a chill take over your body randomly. They were all things you could consider to be kind of normal, so you tried your best to ignore them for the sake of your own sanity. Your pinky would ache slightly with each thing, though. It gave you pause, but your thread remained lax and gray as the day the other owner died.

But other things weren’t as easy to brush off.

It would become so cold in your house that you could see your breath come out in wispy puffs, your teeth chattering as the mirrors and windows would become frosted over in the dead of summer, only for the whole frigid interior to disappear with a quick blink of the eye. It would drive you crazy, but you could only chalk it up to being stressed from work and the recent change of scenery. Another odd thing was the fact that when you would come back from a long day at your job to find that nearly every object on your bookshelf, your couch pillows, and shoes had been scattered on the ground.

You called the police and contacted the building in a panic, but nothing came out of it. No one had broken in, nothing was stolen, and nothing happened. Your finger burned the entire time they searched your apartment. 

You began to feel unsettled in your own home. Something was most definitely wrong. There was this familiar, twisting feeling deep in your gut. It was the same feeling you had that fateful day, the one where you had screamed and cried out for someone you had never actually met before. There was nothing to justify it, but you felt it anyway. You felt it when the candles you had lit would suddenly blow out despite the windows being closed. You felt it when the doors would remain shut no matter how hard you tried to open them when it was time to leave for the day. 

It was only when you saw someone else standing in the mirror behind you when you knew it was validated.

You froze in shock, your heart nearly stopping in your chest. You let out a little whimper and slowly turned your head to face the tall, slouched man whose face was hidden beneath the shadow of his hair. But there was no one there. You blinked, your hands trembling and laughed as you wiped your face.

“Holy fuck… I really am losing it,” You gasped out in a mix of relief and dread, yet it was cut short when your eyes met your pinky finger. The thread was still ashen in color, but it was taut once again for the first time in years. It was connected to the open air.

Your expression was blank, and you turned back to the mirror. The man was still there.

“What the fuck?” 

You stared in horror at the mirror as he approached you. You felt like your feet were rooted to the ground, but for some reason, a glimmer of hope ignited in you.

“Are you… are you my soulmate?” You asked, barely a whisper, and the shadowy figure paused in his steps(?). It tilted its head, and you could faintly make out the fully connected string, scarlet as blood. A dark hand reached for you, and you stayed still, allowing it.

Cold. He was so cold. You gasped, your lips trembling, and you realized you were crying. His hand passed through you, and you shuddered. “O-oh,” you whimpered, and you could feel him in your bones, your organs, your everything. You raised your head as a transparent, frigid finger prompted you to raise your head back. 

It was exploratory, almost innocent at first. He was like a shepherd guiding a flock of lambs, gilding your fingers, limbs and body into different poses, and you felt how amazed he was. You could only keep your gaze ahead, for you were afraid that if you blinked or turned away, this would all somehow vanish. There were alarm bells screaming in the back of your head, but the chill embraced you. He embraced you. It was all you had ever wanted.

And then it felt like something inside of you had been grabbed.

“Urk!” You let out a shocked noise as the feeling spread through your entire form. Every cell, every follicle of hair, even the way your nose wrinkles and twitched as whoever inside of you, no… no as your soulmate smelled for the first time in years. A hand you didn’t control touched your face. You touched your face.

He made you examine your face, laughing softly as he traced over your features with your own fingers. You wanted to scream and cry tears of joy at the same time. Instead, he smiled, and in the mirror you smiled back.

“I can’t believe it,” He spoke in a way you would never, the words feeling unnatural as they left your grinning lips. He laughed, you laughed, and he hugged you. He trailed up his touch over your body, shuddering with pleasure as your cheeks flushed red. 

“Stop that,” You wanted to say. “Don’t touch me there.” But your tongue even belonged to him now, and the thread on your pinky had formed into a little loop, twitching on itself every now and then. He looked at it, and you viewed everything through your eyes. It was a strange feeling, as if you were watching a show where you could feel, smell, taste and hear what was happening on screen. 

“I hoped it would be you. I hoped that I was right. I thought I was going to spend forever without you,” He whispered, a solemn expression crossing over you both. You wanted to throw up for some reason. It was like you could sense what he was thinking. Was it because he was your soulmate? Or was it because he was actually inside of you?

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you,” he said, a giddy warmth blooming in him, but your stomach dropped. His face twitched, you both flinched, and he hummed.

“You know… I was so happy when I realized you were mine. I’m glad that I finally got to talk to you,” He looked directly into the mirror, so you looked into your own eyes, so you could stare at him. You couldn’t look away. He touched you, and pulled open your shirt. You felt sweat roll down your temple as did he. He just kept going.

 More. He pulled your pants down. More, he shoved your own fingers down your throat. More. He posed you as he pleased, touched were he wanted, groaned and laughed in euphoric bliss as he made you watch. Goosebumps raised all over your skin, and he clicked his tongue.

“You just don’t understand. You wouldn’t get it. I watched you for months and you never even noticed. And then you would try to drive me out when all I was doing was trying to talk to you. Do you know what I thought when I died? I thought of how devastated I was that I was never going to get the chance to meet you.”

Your hands crept up, trailing over your naked torso, tracing your chest, until the reached your neck and began to squeeze. You gasped, and he laughed in two disjointed noises, both vying to use your vocal cords.

“Plea-”

“I would’ve died for you, you know? If you died. I wouldn’t be able to live unless I had you. I think you owe me that,” He drawled in wheezing, short gasps.

Fear gripped you, and you crashed to the ground. No, no he didn’t understand! He didn’t know how long you mourned, how long you grieved for the loss of him, how many times you wished you could join him. He didn’t know. Tears slipped out of your eyes, and he darted your tongue out to taste them. Your heart began to beat rapidly within your chest, trying to fight for your life.

“Die for me [Name], die for me.”

You curled onto the cold floor, almost as cold as his embrace. Your lips parted like a gaping fish, your skin turning blue. You could feel him smile despite it all. You heard your pulse thundering in your ears.

"Our.. forever.. starts …now.” Your voice was so foreign now. In your dimming, fuzzy vision, you could almost pretend he was whispering in your ear. It was like your feelings echoed and overlapped over themselves. Betrayal, anger, sorrow. All of it clashed with his absolute excitement. You were hurting, and your soulmate didn’t care.  Your body shook one last time, his freezing grip tightening, and then your heart stopped.

[poisonouspastels]

^^ prev tags so they dont get lost. I did talk about Stephen and White Eyes last night a bit as well:

Thinking about Rana introducing Groda to other people bc she has to be forced to socialize eventually. And like, Groda meeting Sunny eventually and immediately clocking that he's missing an arm and trying to subtly tug on Rana's shirt almost instantly while being very clearly panicked but still trying to hide it. And Rana eventually pulls her aside like "What?? what is it?" "You didn't tell me he was missing an arm!!" "...Why would that matter?" <- understandably getting the wrong impression from this "Because I've seen it before." "Oh."

And that was the day that Rana learned Sunny's arm was ripped off by Groda's Warden at the worst possible timing.

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x You

Summary: It was supposed to be an entertaining evening. Boxing fights, booze and party. It wasn't supposed to be one of the worst days of your life. || Featuring Tommy Shelby x Reader

Words: 4.5k

TW: angst+++, alteration of canon events, canonical violence, depictions of slaughter and body horror, main character death, Reader's husband dying, suicidal thoughts, graphic murder. Parts in bold are direct quotes from the show. Parts in Italics are direct quotes from preceding chapters. Also, Tommy will take more space in the next chapters.

Notes:

✞ Shorter chapter because it's extremely violent and angsty. Also, I'm super rusty so I tried to write it in a more direct style so it's prolly less poetic and beautiful.

✞ This is chapter 16 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alones but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT PART

The extraordinary general meeting of the Shelby Ladies Club.

This is what Polly called this unexpected little meeting in the bathroom right in the middle of the rigged fight happening a few rooms away. When you entered the lavatory with Ada complaining about the sparring between Goliath and Bonnie, Aunt Pol was taking a cigarette from the silver case she was holding while Lizzie was fixing her hair.

“I love your messy bun, Heaven.” Lizzie complimented when she saw your reflection in the mirror she was using.

“Thank you Liz. Ada scolded me and decided that it would be a better hairstyle for tonight.”

“You never style your hair except for braids and it’s a fucking shame considering how beautiful and long your white mane is.” The young Shelby sister insisted.

“If you say so,” You snorted, amused, “What are you doing here? Plotting and scheming? Leave these for Thomas.” You smirked, sitting on the edge of a sink with movements as nimble as a cat. Your little cutting remark had the expected effect: the three girls laughed with sincerity, somewhat amused by the beef between you and the family’s boss. They had eventually learned that nothing could ever ease the tension between the two of you, so laughing about the matter was the only thing they could do. A part of you couldn’t help but think that they wouldn’t find it that amusing anymore if they knew the unhealthy turn your mutual hatred had taken.

What did you feel when we kissed? A shiver ran down your spine as you heard Tommy’s husky voice, as charming as venomous, whispering in your ear. It might only have been a memory, but you could almost feel his hot whisky breath brushing your skin.

“Heaven has some news.” Polly’s voice resounded in the bathroom, snatching you from your thoughts.

“Me?” You asked, batting your bambi lashes in incomprehension before the understanding of the situation slapped you right in the face.

“Well, tell her. Now! While the men are screaming for blood.”  Polly sneaked a cigarette between her thin, red lips. 

Your blood momentarily froze in your pale veins for this unexpected pregnancy wasn’t something you wanted to talk about. For sure Aunt Pol didn’t mean to do harm, but the surrounding chaos and your last encounter with Luca Changretta seriously eroded your wish to have a baby. The baby who made you so vulnerable during times that were anything but good. Moreover, a quick glance at Lizzie’s sad and anxious eyes had been enough for you to understand that something was weighing on her shoulders. Something you had guessed for a few days. Something she needed to talk about more than you. The corner of your mouth turned up in a half-smile.

“Well, I discovered something about Lizzie but I think she should be the one making the announcement. Shouldn’t you, Lizzie?” You winked, replacing one of your long white strands of hair behind your pierced ear with a naive pout. Glitters of hope and gratefulness suddenly sparkled in the ocean blue of the secretary’s eyes to whom you replied with a discreet nod before grabbing Polly’s cigarette case.

“I’m up the duff. And it’s Tommy’s.”

You took a long drag on the cigarette and slowly exhaled the smoke by your nostrils as the attention was now on Lizzie. Even though Ada almost choked on her sip of gin, she quickly showed interest in the tall woman’s pregnancy. The only one you didn’t fool was old and cunning Aunt Pol who gave you a brief “okay I get it” glance before turning back to Lizzie.

It’s a girl. Call her Ruby. Ruby Shelby. She’ll be a star in a Hollywood movie.

You watched the scene with a light smile floating upon your plump and glossy lips, satisfied by the outcome of your little trick as well as the surprising unconditional support Lizzie was receiving after years of being seen only through her job as a prostitute. Admittedly, the reason behind the little push you gave to Lizzie Stark was purely selfish, but you couldn’t deny the fact that you kind of liked the woman despite never really interacting with her. She got the attention, and you got peace. It was a win-win situation.

“Congratulations, Lizzie.” You said, your siren-like voice as soft as a lazy ocean.

“She’s a real Shelby lady now. Just like you, Devil.”  Polly’s smirk betrayed her amusement. You rolled your eyes teasingly before proudly showing your left hand and wiggling your small fingers to display the magnificent wedding ring Arthur had gifted you.

“What about you Hev? When are you planning to give us a little Arthur?” Ada suddenly asked, Lizzie's news had visibly rendered her sour mood better.

“I think one Arthur is enough for now, don’t you?” You got up from the sink and carefully smoothed the folds your revealing black dress, “Anyway. Ladies, let’s rejoin our gentlemen.”

“I guess the meeting is over.” Ada added with a little chuckle

Joining deeds to words, Polly gently hooked her arm with yours in a motherly gesture and guided you outside, where the crowd’s roars were echoing.

Laughs and cheers filled the room as Johnny Dog put on a show to get more men to bet on the winner of this fight. Swallowing a mouthful of gin, your seraphic traits turned into a wince at the burning sensation the alcohol left in your throat – that new batch was strong, indeed. The sweet taste that exploded on your tastebuds, when the tip of your rosy tongue licked your juicy lips, made you grin, or maybe it was the all-consuming smell of sweat and blood that lingered in the air. It might come off as surprising for other women, but you enjoyed watching fights. There was something brutal but so real about them. After all, humans were just animals wearing suits. Animals which, according to you, had barely learned to speak instead of growling.

Your lips pinched the cigarette as you took another drag you quickly blew, your eyes following blood spurting from Bonnie’s nose and splattering the ground. Although quieter than Polly, Lizzie, and Ada, who were laughing, screaming, and sometimes nudging you in excitement at each violent blow the Romani boy gave back to his opponent, you had a lot of fun. Until a peculiar but familiar feeling blossomed within.

It started with a chill creeping down your spine and ended up with light tremors shaking your frail silhouette. Instinctively, you raised your piercing gaze and searched for Arthur somewhere among the crowded rows of folded seats. Your usual calm demeanor faltered as you noticed that your husband seemed troubled by something, rapidly glancing from here and there, attempting to read the room for whatever reason. He didn’t even pay attention to you, far too busy observing the men that were around the boxing ring. Eventually, Arthur stood up and left, his steel blue eyes fixed on someone he followed through the depths of the building. Let me do my fucking job! That’s what he barked at Tommy, or at least what you thought you overheard.

You frowned as a strange sensation rippled through your mind – like a distant, haunting whisper of something looming, a threat. Nervously swallowing your saliva, your first reflex was looking at Tommy. You couldn’t place it, but the odd feeling gripped you tightly like an omen you couldn’t shake, warning you of an approaching storm. It seemed like little King Shelby shared your inner agitation though, for his mesmerizing turquoise eyes dived into yours with the same nervousness and incomprehension. Whatever the many reasons behind your hatred, you were definitely on the same wavelength at this very moment. The silent conversation, expressed through brief eyebrows and eye movements, was more or less the following:

-Where is he going?

-I don’t know. It’s prolly the booze and the pills.

-It’s not. I’ll check.

-Don’t fucking do that.

You stood up from your seat with a clenched jaw and, feeling the vibration of this bad omen quaking your soul itself, you nimbly snaked in and out through seats and followed Arthur’s steps. As was the case for your husband a few minutes ago, the dark corridor into which you rushed engulfed your ethereal silhouette like a hungry giant.

“Fuck.” Tommy mumbled, straightening on his seat and leaning forward, “Fuck.” He repeated, torn between his own doubts and his disdain for you. Nevertheless, if there was one thing he had learned since you joined the family was that your gut feelings were never wrong. You proved it several times, starting by foreseeing Charlie’s abduction. The dark-haired gangster sniffed and nervously rubbed his chin, his catlike eyes going back on forth between the corridor and the crowd. A few minutes later, Tommy finally left the fighting pit.

Something was definitely off.

Cautiously walking through the maze of dark hallways dimly lit by a bluish light, you tried to ignore the maddening beat of your heart that was drumming so loud you felt it hammering in your temples. You didn’t really know where you were heading, nor where Arthur went, but the more you moved forward, the more this unbearable feeling of dread and panic invaded you. Your aimless wandering came to an end when the strong and metallic smell of fresh blood and the atrocious sight that followed jumped at your face.

No.

Your heart nearly stopped when you saw him – your husband, slumped on the ground, blood soaking through the collar of his shirt as it gushed from the wound across his throat.

No!

Time seemed to slow down, and your heart seemed to stop as you took in the scene: the gun the Italian bastard was holding in his steady hand aimed at Arthur’s head.

Panic crashed over you like a tidal wave, washing away everything but the rage that had piled up within you during all these years. In that moment, something primal and destructive snapped inside of you. In a blur of rage and raw instinct, and with a guttural scream that seemed too inhumane to come from you, you launched yourself at the mafioso, who barely had the time to turn around. Another furious shriek escaped from your quivering lips, similar to the rabid screech of a wounded banshee, and with your fingers curled into claws, your sharp nails slashed across his face.  

“PUTTANA!” The man yelled and gasped, taken aback by your unleashed fury.

The mafioso fired with his gun in a desperate attempt to kill you but the brutal impact between your two bodies threw him off balance and the shot reached the wall instead of your brain. As his spine crashed against the tiled ground, Changretta’s henchman dropped the weapon. You gave it a brutal blow to make it slide away from him.

Another wave of insults followed as he realized that he struggled to overpower you. You were fighting like a cornered animal, wild and relentless. Your claws scratched him again and again, leaving raw and jagged lines of blood all over his face. The mafioso's strength was starting to falter as he realized that you weren’t just fighting to win; you were fighting to kill him, your body moved by the instinct of a bloodthirsty beast that refused to be caged.

"Stop it, you fucking bitch!" A scream of utter pain brutally tore the air as, completely out of your mind, you dug your thumbs into his skull, pushing harder and harder in an attempt to gouge his eyes. The Sicilian man produced a second sound so twisted that it seemed beyond anything a human throat could produce. The more you pushed with your thumbs, the more you felt his eyeball turning into a viscous pulp. The feeling of the moist and warm liquid on your fingers didn’t stop you. Nor the man’s wails of pure agony, with its pitch far too high and too broken.

“Ajùtami! Ajùtami!” He pleaded, his hands felt the ground in panic, searching for anything he could use to push you away from him. Anything to make you stop. Realizing that nothing was around him, not even the thread he used to attack Arthur, he managed to overcome the pain and gather his strength to grab your throat.

With your air squeezed, you wheezed and removed your fingers from his skull to claw his strong hands. “S-Stop!” Panic flooded you as your vision blurred, black spots dancing at the edges. The harder you fought, the harder he strangled you. Seriously lacking air, you clawed at his arms, desperate to breathe, but his grip was iron. Now you had to do something and do it quickly if you wanted to have a chance to save Arthur.

Your thoughts raced, frantic, until instinct took over.

I love your messy bun, Hev!

The judas stick – now you had a chance. With one quick movement, you brought your hand to your bun and your fingers fumbled for the sharp metal judas stick that was holding your hair in place. It came in handy. With a choked sound, you drove it upward and sunk the sharp edge of the stick into the man’s side.

One time.

Two times.

Three, four, five, six…

Side, chest, shoulder, face… 

Each impact was vicious and powerful, tearing through the flesh like butter and drilling into organs and bones with the sheer will of maiming your enemy. Hot blood splashed all over you and around, but you didn’t care. The only thing that made you stop stabbing him was when you felt the man’s grip loosen around your throat until his arms dropped on the red-smeared ground in a loud thud.

“Fuck!” You sucked in a sharp breath, your voice hoarse from being choked. However, you quickly got up from the corpse to run to your husband.  “Arthur!” You screamed, rushing to his side, your hands trembling as you knelt beside him – or rather as you dropped to your knees, your legs unable to support your weight anymore. Panic seized you even more violently as you saw Arthur's deep wound and the blood—too much blood.

“No, no, no… not like this,” You whispered, voice cracking. You couldn’t lose him, not here, not now. Never. Your fingers brushed over his chest and, in your deepest desperation, you looked for his pulse. A pulse you found, but which was becoming slower and fainter as seconds flew by. “Arthur! Please!” You started sobbing, tears streaming down your face and mixing with the fresh blood that was painting your skin in a disgusting shade of red. You had to face the truth: Arthur was dying. The damages were too serious and the bleeding too much… But you were a witch. The gift of healing was coursing through your veins. The only problem was that if you tried to save him by using your magic, you’d hurt the baby. After all, that was what happened when you tried to kill Luca Changretta with a heart attack.

The baby.

Your husband or the baby?

Your heart painfully raced in your chest. Your erratic breathing and your sore throat made you feel like you weren’t getting enough air.

 “I’d love to have kids with ye, eh. Little white-haired and blue-eyed us running barefoot in the forest… Little embodiments of our love brightening our life.” His voice was merely a whisper now for he was slowly falling asleep, “I’ve always wanted to be a dad… but thought I was too messed up for that.”

You could save him. You had to. Despite this torture of a dilemma and the harshness of the decision, nothing could change your mind, not even the feeling of your heart shattering into millions of shards. Closing your eyes, you placed one hand over his throat, the blood warm under your palm, and the other on his chest. Wasting no time, you channel all your strength – the connection sparked, and the raw, untamed magic you inherited from your mother surged through you. It seemed to work at first, his pulse lightly responding to yours.

But the more the magic surged, the more you felt a terrible pain in your belly. It started as cramps but quickly escalated into suffering so high that you felt like someone was stabbing you. A trembling squeal escaped from your red lips. You were killing it, you knew it. You were killing your own baby.

"Come on, come on," You muttered, pushing harder, forcing your will into his body. "Stay with me, Arthur," You whispered, tears streaking down your face, each sentence cut by muffled cries of the mafioso you had slaughtered and who was still alive— not for too long to be honest. He seemed to say something in Sicilian but you couldn't understand what. And you didn't care. "Just... stay with me." You gritted your teeth, doing your best to put up with the pain.

Click.

You froze.

“You nosey little slut. You should've stayed with the others.” 

Your heart missed a leap at the unknown male voice, carried by a thick Italian accent. The mafioso’s colleague looked at you, gun pointed right to your head.

"Remember me?" He asked with a wicked smile, recalling the moment he had offered you a cigarette a few hours ago. During your brief chit-chat, he told you that his name was Damiano but you didn't make the connection between Changretta and his Italian heritage.

“Don't cry, you're going to meet with your husband again very soon." the imposing man added, a few seconds away from ending your life. However, Damiano didn't know what you were capable of. Even less now that you were driven by pure rage and despair.

“Shut the fuck up!” You suddenly yelled, your claws firmly anchored in your husband to make Damiano understand that no one would snatch him from your arms. Your voice, a seductive melody that could enchant like a siren’s song, suddenly sounded monstrous. Raw and primal, the way you screamed the threat echoed in the entire maze of hallways and made Tommy’s blood freeze in his veins, a few corridors away. “Fucking die!”

Damiano didn't know that he never stood a chance. You sealed that man's demise with one blunt arm movement as if you had wanted to chase a mosquito from your face.  

"Wh-What..."

Damiano, fell on his knees next to his dying friend, and writhed on the floor. With his two hands pressing on his chest, he suddenly started to choke and, right after, threw up a great amount of thick blood. Apart from the vomiting, blood soon seeped from his eyes and ears, bubbling like something inside was boiling them alive.

"P-Please!" He begged but you didn't stop. The man obviously tried to scream but the only sound he could produce was disgusting gurgles.

"Don't worry, you're going to meet your friend pretty soon." You replied with a cold and sardonic tone before closing your fist, the man's lungs responding to your gesture by imploding in his chest. Like his colleague's arms did a few minutes ago, Damiano's whole body crashed against the floor with a thud.

Quickly, you shifted back your attention to your husband and kept giving him all your energy while ignoring the black dots that were dancing in front of your eyes, as well as the awful, unbearable stabbing sensation in your core. You were definitely hurting yourself by using your power that much but you didn't give a fuck. “Arthur, please.” You growled, a feeling of dizziness building up so bad that you didn’t even hear the hurried footsteps that were coming closer, nor the hoarse, familiar voice of your brother-in-law.

"FUCK!" You exclaimed. You were losing Arthur again.

The three bodies lay strewn like discarded puppets, their lifeless forms twisted and broken on the blood-flown concrete floor. The once clean backroom had transformed into a nightmare realm of gore and horror that made Tommy's stomach turn upside-down.

The Peaky Blinder's boss took two steps back and brought his calloused hand to his mouth, fighting against the urge to puke – and God knew it took him a lot considering the atrocities he witnessed and did during the war. His turquoise gaze scanned the room, which had turned into a slaughterhouse. A fucking pool of crimson blood. First, he saw the limp and distorted corpse of Damiano, whose eyes were open wide in horror despite him being dead and cold. The terror in his frozen facial expression left no doubt about how awful his last moments must have been: he had suffered, and he had suffered more than a lot. Then, he caught a quick glimpse of the second victim. With his eyeballs reduced to a reddish foul mush, the lacerations on his face, and the abnormal number of stabbing wounds, the mafioso’s body was so maimed that it looked disgustingly grotesque.

Then he saw Arthur.

"Oh my God. Oh my fucking God — Arthur!"

Amidst the chaos, where the air hung heavy with the acrid and pungent scent of blood, Tommy's screams echoed far away in the distance as you knelt there, eyes wide open and silent tears streaming down your cheeks, mixed with dark trails of ruined mascara.

Tommy reacted immediately and knelt near his brother with a panic so uncontrollable that it swept away every ounce of coldness and self-control he usually displayed. He slapped his brother's cheeks several times in a vain attempt to help him come back to a conscious state but it didn't work. Thomas Shelby's fist hit the floor with frustration as the feeling of powerlessness crept into his heart. He was losing another brother and there was nothing he could do to save him.

But you could.

"Heaven, d'ya hear me?"

You let out a muffled whimper, or at least you thought you did as your senses saturated with one unique sound: a relentless ringing that echoed in the hollow caverns of your mind. With each pulse of your heart, the sound intensified, threatening to consume the last remnant of sanity you had left. The world around you had seemed to fade into obscurity, your sight blurry and reduced to only one color: red. Vibrant red splattered everywhere, on the walls, and yourself but most of it was on the floor. In fact, the ground itself seemed to writhe beneath the weight of the corpses, as crimson rivers flowed freely, painting the concrete in shades of crimson that gleamed like freshly spilled paint.

“Oi! Listen to me!” Tommy’s powerful voice suddenly snatched you from your daze just enough time to catch your attention and plunge his turquoise iris into your Arctic eyes.

“I—I can’t. I can’t, I can’t...” You repeated in a whisper, just like a broken record, because your husband’s pulse was weakening again, blind to your exhausting and painful efforts. Arthur was dying, your baby was dying and the intensity of the pain you went through was so insufferable that all you wanted to do was curl up in a ball and wait for death to make this nightmare stop.

Tommy rapidly shifted his body to be by your side, his sharp eyes focused, but softer than usual. “You’ve got this,” he whispered, meeting your panicked gaze. “Keep going. Don’t stop.” He pressed his hand firmly over yours, steadying the trembling fingers that worked to save his brother. His voice was low, gravelly, but laced with a quiet strength he tried to share with you. His grip was warm, grounding you in the chaos, his presence like an anchor. At that moment, the weight of the world felt momentarily lighter with him by your side. You replied to his help with a muffled sob.

"You've got this!" Tommy tried to keep you from falling apart but the sight of a thin trickle of blood slowly running down your nose worried him almost to death. He looked at you and he knew. He knew that you had given everything – every ounce of your energy to save his brother, your magic now drained. Your hand trembled, still pressed to Arthur’s chest, but the world around you was seriously fading to black.

Caught amid this Hell with Tommy by your side, you didn't hear nor feel Polly, who had found the crime scene.

"Oh lord please help us, oh Lord, oh Lord..." Polly cried, horrified by the bloodbath as well as by the sight of you clinging to Arthur's limp body. She had already lost one of her nephews and couldn't bear the weight of losing another one. Not her sweet Arthur. Not him,

"We're fucking losing her too!" Tommy exclaimed, "fucking help me!"

"Heaven!" She called, grabbing your shoulder and shaking you but all you did was scream one last time. A haunting and otherworldly wail that pierced the darkness. A sound so agonizing and inhumane that it seemed to tear at the very fabric of existence. It echoed across the building, carrying with it the weight indescribable of sorrow and despair as your arms tightened your grip around your dying husband.

The smell of blood hid Tommy's musky perfume that was tingling your nostrils. The deafening ringing in your ears covered Polly and her nephew's voice. Your breaths came shallow and weak, your body becoming heavier as darkness crept in. Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut. In one final movement, you collapsed beside your husband, your last thought a silent hope that he would live.

Or that you would at least die trying to save him.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language. gif by the wonderful @alicent-targaryen.

✞ Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @lokigirlszendaya @justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature

[itz-pandora]

Doomed Sonadow AU (A-1)

TW for vomiting and suicidal thoughts

it’s not super essential to plot, it’s just explaining some stuff about Shadow

[PREVIOUS] | [NEXT] | [FIRST] [MEANWHILE WITH SONIC]

Finish reading below cut!

[lordprettyflackotara]

Chapter Thirteen || Hitchhiker || The Proxies

tw: PLEASE READ: mentions of suicidal thoughts, various torture methods mentioned & described, descriptions of gore, depression, etc. this chapter is one of the darker ones. viewer discretion is advised.

<— previous chapter

Brian Thomas was the first. He had seen everything.

Hoodie was the first proxy. He had done everything.

Being the first can make you feel alone, if Hoodie was being honest with you. He had not only had his own mind corrupted, but he watched The Operator corrupt everyone else's around him too. Brian refused to crack at first, putting up quite a fight. Mentally and physically he fought. He refused to be The Operator's puppet. The static torture was enough to knock him down for a few days, but it didn't shatter his determination like The Operator had hoped. Brian began to try to escape. He begged, cried, and ran. Each time he landed himself in the same basement, the air stale and cold. Each time he would curl himself into a ball, his cheek laying on the raw concrete. The static would make him incapable of moving, unable to even sit up.

Once that failed, Brian tried a different tactic. He tried every method of suicide he could think of. He tried to drown himself in the mansions pond. He attempted to silt his wrist. He even had hung himself. Unfortunately, death was not his friend and feared The Operator just as much as he did. With each attempt The Operator would haul his body to Eyeless Jack, a tall demon with endless medical knowledge. With his expertise and The Operator's supernatural abilities, Brian was never granted his wish. His soul was always yanked back into his body, his wish for death never even having a consideration of being granted.

The Operator did not enjoy Brian's resistance. He had only tried to create a proxy before, Jeff the killer not the pick of the litter he soon learned. But if he could start with someone like Brian, sane but with darker underlying tendencies. He would have a much better chance of successfully crafting a personal proxy. Brian however, was much more tough than he thought. All of these death attempts, mixed in with his orders not getting completed, did not sit well with him. He knew Brian was doing it on purpose, in an attempt to get him to torture him to death. Unfortunately for Brian, The Operator had much larger plans. One that included his dear friend Tim. Brian didn't take that knowledge well, landing himself strapped to a chair in the basement he was imprisoned in.

The Operator hadn't considered traditional human torture methods, but he was growing bored of Brian's antics. Brian's memory gets spotty at this point, remembering endless buckets of water being thrown on him. At one point he swore a hose of that same water was shoved down his throat, but he may have been hallucinating at that point. The Operator attached electric wires to the man, turning the switch on. He watched his newest toys body twitch against the restraints, cries of pain escaping his lips. Seeing The Operator looming over him sopping wet, was Hoodie's first memory. He wasn't sure what he was doing there, but his wrist and ankles had been burned raw from the rope that restrained him. The Operator could see the switch in his newest proxy's eyes, his long white fingers gripping Hoodie's face.

Hoodie stared at him blankly, blinking a few times to ensure what he was seeing was real. The Operator had done it. He had corrupted Brian into what he needed him to be.

The next few years after that went by in a flash. First thing was first after Hoodie's creation: The Operator wanted him to have a partner. Who else better to join him in his new life of misery other than Tim Wright? Hoodie recognized why he wanted Tim right away, something Brian would've never spotted. Tim had anger issues, ones that were uncontrolled. He was also smart, seeking psychological help after seeing The Operator. The pills that were given to him kept The Operator away. Brian wished he had thought of that. But it was too late for that. It was too late for him. Hoodie didn't feel bad stealing the medication. If anything, he was overjoyed. Finally, a companion in this lonesome life of slavery. His joy was selfish, he knew this. He also knew Tim would never forgive him once he found out. But to Hoodie that was the glorious part: he didn't have a choice.

Neither of them did. Tim's approach was much more aggressive than Brian's, his retaliation more homicidal than suicidal. What Tim didn't realize, was that this was exactly what The Operator wanted. Masky's grand appearance was made after a long night of static, Tim's ears bleeding and raw by the time The Operator was done with him. Even when Brian and Tim fronted, Brian knew that a part of Tim would never ever forgive him. But the boys didn't have anyone else beside each other, it was a forced friendship. Toby was next, Hoodie more than unamused when he was recruited. The kid was unstable, constantly ticking and seeing things that weren't there. His story was all over the news, Hoodie didn't need to ask questions. Not like he would've anyways.

It was a different ball game with Toby. He didn't need an alter. The kid so unstable with his list of disorders he hardly needed any mental manipulation at all. Masky nor Hoodie liked this, the kid completely off of his rockers. Hoodie hated to see that he was genuinely happy slaughtering people. He hated the way he walked. The way he talked. The sound of his laughter. Masky and Hoodie tried to shove the kid off, Toby always following them around like a lost puppy. The Operator had a soft spot for the kid, one Hoodie could never pinpoint as to why. Maybe it was because he didn't need to waste his time scrambling his brains. He had lost his sanity a long time ago. The Operator didn't need to force it. With the three of them Hoodie figured he wouldn't need anymore proxies. They got the work done efficiently, the blood and gore becoming a desensitized sight to both Hoodie and Brian.

Kate the Chaser came next. She was a scrawny little thing when The Operator first brought her around, her face covered by a sunken in and stained mask. Empty black eyes and white porcelain stared back at him when he looked at her. She was borderline feral, snarling and growling anytime the three of them tried to talk to her. Hoodie suspected The Operator wanted her to become a member of their band of misfit toys, but the girl was too out of touch with human nature. She behaved like an animal, her snowy white skin constantly covered in coal dust. Hoodie suspected he had sent her down to coal mines for prolonged amounts of time, creating lack of vitamin d and animal like behavior. It was a grand mystery to Hoodie why he recruited her until he saw her run. The girl could've been a track star if her life hadn't steered so far off course. Eventually The Operator took her out of the mines, allowing her to work alone. She gained human like tendencies again, but despised sunlight.

Hoodie thought The Operator was done, until he met Cat Hunter. The Operator typically didn't present a proxy to him until they were completely mentally diminished. Hoodie was surprised that The Operator was so open about his torture of the new proxy, his tentacles wrapped around his throat as he dragged him down the hallway. Cat Hunter was a resistant one come to find out, more resistant than him. It made Hoodie feel spiteful in a way, despising the new proxy for being able to hold out longer than him. Even when Cat Hunter had fully mentally submitted, he didn't form an alter like Brian and Tim did. This only made Hoodie resent him more. The sadistic side of Hoodie relished in his corruption when he was finally instructed to meet them.

Cat Hunter was a new, more shiny toy. One The Operator took great pride in. He didn't attempt to force them to be a group this time, announcing straight away that Cat Hunter would be working alone. His metal claws were eerie, his cat mask concealing his face entirely. He only spoken when spoken to, his reclusive behavior reminding Hoodie of his own. Hoodie couldn't stand this. This life of jealousy, rage, and despair. The mourning of his own loss a constant nagging factor that ate at his brain, while being forced to watch more innocent individuals become homicidal slaves. Hoodie hadn't thought of escape in a long time. But Cat Hunter. Something about Cat Hunter brought it out of him. The desire to escape. The will to escape.

A few weeks after Cat Hunter had officially settled in, The Operator assigned the two of them on a mission together. Hoodie didn't know why, but it wasn't his job to ask why. If anything, this was the perfect opportunity for him to make his grand escape. The two were walking back from their mission, the leafs crunching below them as they trudged through the Slender woods. There was always the chance of getting caught by The Rake, a creature from hell who fed off of human flesh. But Hoodie was never afraid, always sure if The Rake got him that he would finally be granted his wish for death. But with hope carrying him every step, he didn't want to think about The Rake at all.

A rusty pipe sat in his hand, an unusual weapon. He hadn't picked one he was used to yet, all of them feeling uncomfortable in his hand. Hoodie shifted his grip on the pipe, raising it above Cat Hunter's head. He slammed it down on his skull, the newest proxies body falling onto the ground. Hoodie panicked at the sight of a small pool of blood forming around his head. He threw the pipe aside, throwing himself in a random direction. He had come to the conclusion as he ran that if he killed Cat Hunter, it would be for his own good. He weaved in and out of the giant trees, jumping over overgrown vines. His heart was pounding, his head spinning at the thought of Jack possibly hearing him.

Unfortunately for him Jack wouldn’t kill him, he had trained himself to not crave the proxies meat. If Jack were to catch him, he’d haul him back to The Operator. His lungs began to burn as they carried him deeper into the forest, his breath becoming shallow. He cringed as the muscles in his leg began to feel strained, every fiber in him screaming at him to run faster. Maybe if he had trained as much Cat Hunter he would have more stamina, Hoodie falling short as he slowed down to a stand still. He leaned against a tree, a gush of wind ripping past him as he looked up.

Over the horizon was a city. He didn’t know which one. He didn’t need to know which one. The city lights twinkled in the night, multiple shapes and colors blowing Hoodie’s pupils. He grinned as he straightened his back, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. Looking down he noted a very steep hill, one littered with overgrown grass. He knew he’d have to be careful going down, but that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was that he could taste his freedom. He’d have to spend the rest of his life on the run, but none of that mattered. He let out a laugh of relief, his mind wondering to what he’d do first.

He’d have to try to find everyone. His parents. He could buy a phone, listen to all of the music that was getting him through college. Could he do college while traveling? He’d need a career that took him around the world, not just the country. He sighed in relief, that glorious feeling then swiped away from him in an instant. It was hard for him to describe what came next. A sharp pain swiped its way through his ankles, a cry escaping his lips and echoing into the night. Before Hoodie knew it he was falling forward, colliding with the hard ground roughly. Grass and dirty flung around him as he rolled down the hill, unable to stop himself. His body only stopped when he collided with a tree, the air being knocked out of his lungs. Hoodie gasped for oxygen as he tried to see past his blurry vision full of tears.

Blinking profusely he forced himself to look down. Three blades had cleaned swiped through his ankles, the flesh now mangled and hanging loosely in various chunks. His tendons and muscles had been ripped out, his left ankle broken. His breath was shaky as he looked at it, the foot turned completely around. He cringed at the sight, his raw bones exposed through the mutilated flesh and blood. He felt his stomach churn, nausea washing over him like a violent wave. He propped himself up on his elbows, trying to prepare himself for what came next. He was surprised to hear footsteps coming down the hill, his gaze avoiding the attacker. The footsteps stopped beside him, Hoodie able to feel the attackers set of eyes study him.

Forcing himself to look up, he wanted to be surprised he saw Cat Hunter. Despite his mask concealing his expression, he could feel his pitiful look as he watched Hoodie shiver with pain. Hoodie practically bit tongue, refusing to let the strings of pleas or cries of pain out. Cat Hunter tilted his head to the side. The faint sound of static could be heard, Hoodie’s ears ringing from the agony he was under. Cat Hunter crouched down beside him, taking out a small handgun.

“I’m gonna do you a favor. Thank me later.”

It was then he was knocked out cold.

All of these years later Hoodie could remember it like it was yesterday. He rocked slowly back and forth on the back porch’s rocking chair, his hands clasped together. He watched as the snow slowly fell from the sky, coating the ground. The memories circulated his brain as he tried to make sense of Cat Hunter’s mistake. He ignored the back porch door opening, his mind heavy on Cat Hunter. You made your way over to Hoodie, hugging a blanket around your shoulders. “Can I sit?” You asked. You could see your breath in front of you. Hoodie silently gestured for you to have a seat in the rocking chair beside him.

“What’s bothering you?” You asked. You knew about the discovery of the claw. The next morning Toby was cradling you like a baby, afraid that if he didn’t have his eyes directly on you that Cat Hunter would strike. You got given the stale answer upon asking who he was. Hoodie had been avoiding you all morning. Not only was that a red flag, but it was also a red flag to you that Brian hadn’t fronted once since the discovery of the claw. Hoodie didn’t answer for a moment, watching snowflakes fall onto the earth. “You can tell me anything you know. I’m here for you,” You say. Hoodie remained silent, pondering his choices. “Hoodie,” You say, catching his attention. You lifted yourself out of your rocking chair, your hands slipping onto the sides of his hood.

You slipped the hood downwards, before slowly grabbing the hem of his ski mask. You were surprised he didn’t stop you, allowing you to unmask him. You cupped his face with your hands, your small fingers shaking from the cold. “You really should be wearing gloves,” Hoodie scolded softly. You gave him a smile, planting a kiss on his head. “Dont change the subject. Tell me what’s wrong,” You insisted. Hoodie sighed, his gaze finally meeting yours. Yeah, his life had been absolutely miserable. Until he had met you. With your stupid smile and stupid doe eyes. As he looked up into your eyes, he understood why Tim was so determined to let you live.

“Cat Hunter and I have history. If it wasn’t for Jack I wouldn’t be able to walk,” Hoodie admitted. He grabbed your waist, pulling you into his lap. You threw your legs over the arm rest, his large hands pulling you closer to him. He rewrapped the blanket around you, his body radiating warmth like a personalized heater. “I can’t imagine him hurting you like that. It bothers me,” He confessed. You nuzzled yourself into his neck, his stubble poking at your skin. “I’m pretty tough you know, i’m not just an easy target for him to kill off,” You say. Hoodie rocked you both back and forth in the rocking chair slowly, the ancient wood creaking each time the chair went backwards. “It’s not about being tough. He’s spent every waking moment of his free time becoming a better proxy. He’s made it his life’s mission to be the best,” He explained.

Your fingers found their way to his hair, running it through his locs, which had grown quite long since the two of you had met. “I’ll make you a deal,” You say. It was a long shot at making him feel better, but Hoodie appeared to be the type who preferred to handle his issues more physically than not. “I’m listening,” Hoodie mused. You pulled away from his neck, looking up into his eyes. “Let me give you a haircut and you can train me. Fighting, weapons, whatever you want. Whatever you think is best,” You offered. Hoodie gave you a cocky grin, running his fingers through his overgrown hair. “Not digging the mullet huh?” He chuckled. You playfully rolled your eyes. “I’d adore you with whatever haircut you decide to have, but if I have a say so and a pair of scissors i’d say you’re due for a trim,” You replied.

You nuzzled back into his neck, his warmth so enticing you almost forgot entirely that it was snowing. As Hoodie rocked you back and forth he could feel his chest radiating with an unfamiliar warmth, only the kind you could produce. He watched as your eyes fluttered shut, your breathing growing heavy. You were so perfect like this, so peaceful and content. For the first time in Hoodie’s existence he didn’t want to corrupt you. He wanted to keep you pure and intact. It was an odd feeling, wanting to persevere one’s innocence instead of taking it. He felt his heart skip a beat as he realized why that was. How long could this really last? Could they really pull this off? Escaping The Operator once and for all? Hoodie had done horrible, hellish things under The Operators influence. What if in the end he pinned him against you?

The feeling that had embedded itself inside of him was a parasite known as one of pure endearment. Hoodie sighed, continuing to rock you back and forth. He loved you and he’d do everything in his power to protect you. Even if that meant protecting you from himself.

—> next chapter

[maggstar]

𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐃𝐢𝐞

───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+, mni DNI!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 365 days since the incident, in which Heeseung's life turned upside down, is today. Will he be able to save her this time?

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, hard angst, veryyy emotional, trauma bonding/coping, cop!Hee (injured reader, guns, shooting, kidnapping, violence, death) kissing, biting, marking, handjob, oral (f. receiving) , fingering, vanilla, very intimiate and loving unprotected s3x, missionary, spooning, lotus.

!!!TW: ED, suicidal thoughts, mentioned attempts, s3lf harm (both characters)

𝐖𝐂: 21k+ (ehm..., yea)

𝐀/𝐍: Finally. It is here. this one is for ♡ anon. ily. I want to say I loved writing this whole fic even though it was emotionally difficult. I wrote about heavy topics, so please be aware before reading as this might not be everyone's cup of tea! Both characters are in pretty messed up mental states, but their love to each other is what keeps them going. I hope you guys enjoy this fic as I never put this much effort into any fic before.

Please leave any sort of feedback: reblogging and commenting is the best for me, so let me know!! ───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────

As Heeseung approached the town, he immediately recognized the steep, rocky road that led to the street of his most ominous memories. Despite the passing of a year, everything remained the same. The familiar layout felt like coming home after years of being abroad. In a way, he had been. 

He found it amusing how visiting his past brought such mixed feelings. Given how messed up things were before his departure, he was afraid to face all the negative emotions. Merely thinking about the events crawled an uncanny sensation. 

Yet, here he was, letting the comforting sentimentality alight on his heart and beam at the faint breeze entering through his window as he soaked up the evocative atmosphere. It had a hint of gloom as the rain amplified with his reappearance, making the ominous night colder than usual. Goosebumps took over his body, observing the surroundings while the car shifted its gear to neutral. 

The park was abandoned at this time, reminiscing on the children's laughter in the evenings, playing for hours without a care. He liked to come there after work, sit for a few minutes, and listen to them. They still had the monkey bars and pirate-themed wooden ship in the middle of the playground, which he helped paint. 

He examined the residences next to his old one, all appearing the same. Looking at the colorful houses with picturesque gardens pierced an arduous nostalgia. A few had undergone reconstructions as the previous owners seemed to have parted. 

Some even had new furniture or repainting, their garages containing bigger and more luxurious vehicles. New additions like swings or slides for children were also notable. A small number of areas were also seemingly building new homes for the future, expanding the population in the tainted town.

With a glance beside, he examined the house he spent his student years in. 

"Would you look at that," he scoffed, studying the untouched exterior, still covered in that sensational buttermilk paint. 

Even the pecan concrete tiles on the roof were there, with additional solar panels. The current owners also installed a masonry chimney to the side - something he had always wished for but couldn't afford. 

They were definitely more knowledgeable in Botanics than he was. The garden looked completely different. The condition Heeseung left it in was atrocious, with dead flowers and dried weeds scattering the place. Zora Neale Hurston once quoted: "Trees and plants always look like the people they live with." He didn't know if this disclosure was comical or tragic, heavily soughing instead. 

Currently, the place had more of a Japanese style: a little lake in the middle underneath beautiful white lotuses. Oak and cherry trees surrounded the layout, whereas perfectly cut bonsai trees greeted passers-by in the front. The family likely had their roots there because it was uncommon to opt for this type in this area. Yet again, he was inexperienced in this topic, so who was he to say anything? 

He sighed, lowering his head to take a deep breath to process all the garnering memories reaching the surface from the seabed. It was bound to happen, and he still didn't manage to prepare for it. 

Back then, there was too much weight on his shoulders. From college to his family, there was only so much a teenager could handle. 90% of his memories were the ones he sincerely wished to omit evermore. He didn't want to rub salt into his wounds by reliving them, aiming to concentrate on the better side.

After all, it was this place he achieved and lost everything at once. The city that welcomed the lost pup with open arms after the death of his parents, soothing with empty promises and fraudulent head pats. 

Back then, he was too naive to differentiate malicious intentions, foolishly jumping onto every proposition. He thought people wanted to help and not take advantage of his incapacity, that they would aid the broken one with the loving words he needed. 

Fundamentally, he was an emotional wreck, emptiness and numbness following him all day. 

There wasn't anyone left in his life, just miscellaneous pictures gathered in a photo album and recollections of happy moments in carton boxes. Going through their belongings hurt more than anything, smudging their smiles with tears and repeated callouts to which no one could respond anymore. 

In other words, it was the worst period of his life.

His nights were established on puffy eyes, a terrible headache, and a stuffy nose, suffering in silence for months. The money he was supposed to spend on food went to tissues, trashing the whole place. Getting up in the mornings was incredibly demanding, failing often at convincing himself. Staying in and laying in his PJs permanently tolled more promising.

No one seemed to care about his late arrival to classes anyway. The teachers were the exclusive individuals, questioning his defect of attendance and interest. They often came to various false conclusions. They didn't consider asking for the real reason behind his struggles at handing in assignments and essays on time without lying to dodge admonitions. 

In the same way, no one doubted the sunglasses he wore every day. They assumed it was part of a fashion trend when, in reality, it was an excuse to hide the redness and semicircle exhaustion. 

The clothes that fit him weeks ago began loosening, appearing enormous on his underweight body. When his friends pointed out his lack of appetite during lunch, he put it behind him and led the conversation in another direction. That way, he felt he had control over reality. 

In reality, he knew it was avoidance. He wasn't ready to concede he was struggling. Something wasn't alright, and he deteriorated with each passing day. 

Reminiscing on the past, optimistic Heeseung wearing a warming smile mirrored the numb motionlessness, not containing enough confidence to face the drastic and tragic change.

The only courageous people were the Choi family. 

He turned his head to the left, catching a glimpse of the elderly couple sitting at the table inside their closed terrace. They were laughing and enjoying dinner, accompanied by two other people, handing out the freshly grilled food on their plates. A little boy was attending the meal as well, gesturing widely. He leaned forward to examine the guests, scanning their faces. For some reason, they were so familiar...

"No way," a gasp forsake, realizing that turn of events. 

The handsome, tall young man with an athletic build was no other than Choi Hyun-woo, the son of the married pair. Heeseung facepalmed himself for taking so long to figure out his identity, doubting his dexterities.

His parents had introduced the two after a few weeks of Heeseung visiting. Around that time, he was in a custody battle with his dangerous wife. That adjective was an understatement when considering her malicious threats. They were predominantly about hurting their son if he didn't leave her alone or running away with him.

That wasn't the only crazy part. The more unsettling information he learned, the more he feared for the safety of the small boy. Besides being mentally unstable, she also struggled with psychosis. The doctors warned her countless times, but she didn't reflect on any of their words when entering a new relationship. If anyone was the victim in this situation, it was Hyun-woo. 

Seeing them reunited was all he could have ever wished for them, smiling at the cheerful sight. 

"Thank you for being here for us, Heeseung. We just want you to know we're also here for you," he could hear the oldster sighing while patting his back, sensing the weariness from the mere flicker.

"We're all humans in the end. Even the strongest ones cannot lift the weight the world pushes on us." The stogie burned further whenever he would take a whiff, passing it on for a moment of peace.

"Life hasn't been easy on you, has it?" the bearded man turned to face the youngster, quietly sitting and observing the night sky. 

"No, sir, it hasn't," he took the long roll of tobacco to try it out, analyzing its shape and thickness.

"Pretending to be happy when you're in pain is an example of how strong you are as a person, Lee."

"Never doubt your strength, you hear me?" he repeatedly swung his index finger to reprimand him. 

"Yessir," Heeseung nodded before inhaling the cigar, not foreseeing its power. On the other hand, the veteran couldn't help but enjoy the outcome, laughing as he expectorated. 

"How can you smoke this?" he punched his chest numerous times to get the bubble of smoke out of his system. 

"Times were different back in my days. We had nothing else."

"Still..."

"Do one thing for me," the senior flipped the page, taking another load and slowly exhaling a white cloud into the cold fall night. Heeseung faced him after successfully getting rid of the awful irritation in his throat. He sat there, waiting for another round of sagacious words from the wise man. 

"Don't give up. Whatever it takes, don't give up, son. Even when you feel like there's no purpose, don't because nothing lasts forever. It will get better."

It was those words that made Heeseung push through the days. It was almost unbelievable how much of an impact it had on him. Never in a million years would he have thought a motivational speech could get him back on his feet. Then again, he never gave anyone a chance to see behind his facade.

Although they were the ones who required assistance, Heeseung ended up receiving all of the help. 

"Have you eaten? No? That's unacceptable! Come over as soon as you're done with school!"

Mrs. Choi's disappointment still rang through his ears, envisioning her in her French kitchen with a spatula in her hand. It was a vista he missed, alongside the delectable smell of her exceptional cooking.

She constantly checked on him, calling once his school was over and asking if he needed anything. Cooking him meals became a habit whenever he stopped by to help in the garden, practically shoving packets of food into his chest. She knew it wasn't much, but for Heeseung, it meant the world. Knowing that someone actually appreciated his company and cared about his well-being without solely thinking about theirs was unknown. 

So unknown that in the beginning, he assumed the lunch boxes in his backpack ended up by accident and that Mrs. Choi had mixed it up. 

That's how messed up people have been to him that his mind found it unbelievable. Every bit of aid had to have a twisted meaning behind it because why would anyone care about him? No one was there when he was bereaved. No one came to say their condolences or ask if he was alright. It was just him in the columbarium as he placed the ceramic pot with the last remains of his loved ones into the repository. The sole visitor on his free days, leaving the deceased ones' favorite snacks underneath their memorial. He was the boy the guard always had to wake up and send home. 

"It's just thee, thy, and thou, huh?"

"Yes, Mr. Choi."

It is how he achieved his dream and became a successful officer and the person he is now. 

All the hardships and woes he underwent in his early adulthood built up the future he worked for without resting. The mornings and nights would meld into one, struggling to distinguish AM from PM. Around that time, his coffee intake started slipping out, and he tried out every possibility to stay awake and finish everything. 

So much he had to do in such little time. Heeseung didn't understand how he finished it, but his body did. It was giving up, slowly but gradually, because he wouldn't stop pushing the limits. He thought he could do more each time, twisting the meaning of "just a bit more."

One day, the strings finally tore off, and his body had enough. 

Without looking back, it gave in. It handed in the shattered pieces of his soul to the unknown, streaming down like a feather. Nothing had left within, no recollections to reflect on his actions. All his hopes had dashed, molding his fears into a vase of entrapment. The more he tried to climb out of the well, the deeper he fell back, the walls elevating. He screamed into the darkness, the exclamations reflecting due to the scarcity of allowance. 

The next thing you know, he woke up in an unfamiliar and cold environment, with doctors coming in and out. They kept asking various questions and filling out some forms before leaving. The 

He expected the nurses checking up on him now and then to answer the question marks in his head, watching them flush the tube in his nostrils.

It was when he opened his mouth to ask about it that one of the nurses responded, explaining its essential purpose.

She called it "Nasogastric tube feeding". A line delivering nutrients directly into his stomach through his nose. Heeseung kept listening while the woman cleaned the skin around his nose with a warm washcloth, describing his situation. 

Apparently, he had been in the ICU for a few days, and the doctors ran various tests to unravel his deficiencies. The stats showed the deceleration of cardiac activity, leading to low heart rate and blood pressure. They also mentioned low body temperature, which Heeseung had been battling for centuries. It exemplified why he felt faint and weak all the time. Maybe it even answered his apathy toward life.

The results of his BMI indicated severe underweight, whereas the blood test showcased micronutrient imbalances. Heeseung couldn't fathom all of the details his doctor kept streaming, closing his eyes in a vain attempt to ignore the consequences of his stubbornness and lack of eating. 

Not only did he have to wear a plastic tube, but he also had to talk with dietologists and healthcare professionals to make changes in his life.  

Heeseung loathed it and didn't listen to anything they had to offer because, in his mind, he had already decided what was best for him. Suggestions like attending occupational therapy gave him a laugh, not comprehending the reason for such an absurd and useless alternative. There was still a belief that everything was alright, and the situation was being blown out of proportion. 

Even after all that information, he refused to accept reality. If he did, he would have to reconcile with his aggravating condition and shape. He would have to acknowledge how bad the situation was. That if he didn't take action now, it could end terribly. 

And Heeseung wasn't prepared to admit it aloud. Admit he had been suffering for so long that he lost track of days because they began blending into one endless loop where he couldn't live in peace. Confess the terrible feelings of hopelessness, loneliness, and emptiness. The feeling that he woke up to bypass that motivating bright sun hiding behind those dark, self-destructive clouds. The ones which slowly perished his soul.

Disclose the deep yearning for love, tenderness, and affection lingering in his sore throat. Reveal the hope to knit his tattered heart, wrapping around his neck so delicately that he didn't want it to stop. Divulge the need to end everything trussing in the back of his head, increasing whenever an obstacle occurred, doubting everything about himself. Concede the crossing between life and death, questioning the meaning of existence. 

Relent that the word suicide kept repeating in his mind like an old cassette player, seeing the curse inscribed over everything. Allow the guilt to take over and condemn him for leaning towards the balcony whenever it whispered the word "jump". It conveyed it so alluringly that it made him go crazy, holding onto the railings in pure despair. 

Describe how sharp blades appeared veracious. Explain why he deleted the Google search history to hide the questions on overdoes. 

He wasn't ready, but he had to be. Otherwise, he would ultimately lose himself in the hollowness and disperse forever. 

So, he decided to bite the bullet and push through by turning the page.

Thanks to his determination, he could now sit in a police car and help those in need. Do a job where he could be the person he needed others to be at his lowest. 

There had been one. However, Heeseung was forbidden from ever thinking about that person. 

Why? Because he made the biggest mistake of his life, which he atoned for till today.

A beautiful mistake that he deeply missed every hour, every minute, every second.

"Dispatch to Patrol One," the sudden statistic transmitted through the two-way radio, pulling back the officer from daydreaming. 

"10-04," he quickly responded, grabbing the transmitter and acknowledging the callsign. 

"Are you alright, sir?" the worry conveyed, belonging to none other than Seo-Jun. 

"Yes," He sighed, resting his head on the steering wheel. 

"Sir, pardon me, but you don't sound like it," the young officer evoked, tentative about probing her senior. 

She could hear him repeat the proverb: "Curiosity killed the cat." It wasn't her best trait, and she knew it. It was always these times she couldn't help but push it forward and let concern get the better of her. 

After all, it was Lee Heeseung, the guy who managed to turn her life over. 

If he hadn't helped her escape from her toxic ex-boyfriend last summer, she wouldn't be sitting in the obsolete office now. She was lucky to dial 112 in time and come out alive. If he had been a few minutes late, she could have suffered to death from the undying abuse. The memory was deeply engraved in the depth of her heart, recalling him standing by her side during the hospital procedures. He never wanted to admit it, but he was the town's hero for saving the mayor's daughter. 

Therefore, her gratitude towards him was prodigious. And for the same reason, she wanted to be there for him during tough times. No matter how hard she tried, her approach would emerge unsuited and unfit each time. People told her to get ahold of her steps countless times, and she still made the same slips every time. Nevertheless, she didn't give up and reached out to dial the official. 

"Seo-Jun, I-"

"My apologies, sir. I've crossed my line," she hastily tried to cover up her actions, slapping her forehead for being nosy and pushy. 

"I'm not okay," the voice on the other side emitted into the discomfiting silence, a heavy sigh following the statement. Seo-Jun opened her eyes to perceive the sentence, staring at the floor beneath her as the declaration reiterated in her brain. She widened her pupils when she finally realized what he had uttered, almost falling off her chair after swiftly turning and grabbing back the radio. 

"Sir, is this about the note you've received?"

"What note?" he frowned, backing up. 

"Well, you've got a message on your account, and you know it goes through me first, so I might have accidentally read what was on it-"

"What note are you talking about?" The stern change in speech startled her, contemplating if it was due to her admitting her horrible demeanor or the want of information. 

"The one that states: Broadway 123, 11:30 PM," she reread the email, stuffing her mouth with another strawberry-flavored lollipop. At this point, it was a miracle her teeth hadn't fallen out yet. 

"Any signatures?"

"Just two initials: K.J."

Heeseung's stomach dropped at the revelation, which only confirmed his prior thoughts. It was the 13th of March, after all. What was he thinking?

He looked at the time on the display, typing in the coordinates to the navigation. It showed an estimated arrival in 15 minutes. His jaw clenched, attempting to pulverize the inexhaustible alarm ringing in his skull.

"Fuck, why didn't you tell me earlier?" his panic disseminated into anger, hastily starting up the car. He grabbed the gearstick, his leg pressing the accelerator. 

"I'm sorry, sir. I thought you knew about it."

"You know goddamn well I never check my email," he shifted to 3rd gear already, turning on the emergency lights on the car. They switched from one color to the other, the sound of sirens following right after every blick. 

"I'm really sorry, sir, but what does it even tell? It sounds dangerous."

"Cause it is," Heeseung cut her off, "and that's why you should have told me earlier." 

Seo-jun's voice went quiet, the time on the call prolonging without either side speaking. 

She had nothing to say, as she realized the severity of her actions. 

Frankly, she had difficulty understanding the whole situation and why it aggravated Heeseung this much. She stared at the email, trying to find a hidden clue or something that would cure her curiosity. 

Despite her attempts, she ended with disappointment, leaning back on the chair with a loud sigh. 

She turned her head to the side while Heeseung turned his back on the road, which was moderately clean, with no traffic jams preventing him from reaching his destination. Most cars quickly reacted to the situation and pulled to the side of the road. 

He looked in the rear mirror, seeing a silhouette sitting in the backseat with blood all over her face, a faded smile visible. 

"Help her, I beg you," The voice echoed in his ears as he made a left, entering the mentioned street. 

He fought the unwanted shakiness in his body, the sentence replaying like a broken cassette, causing him to break down the walls he had built in the past months.

He had to be more collected. His duty was to stay calm under pressure and not to invoke panic, but here he was, gripping the wheel too much. His nails began to hurt from the prolonged force, eyes ungluing from the road for a split second. He looked at his image in the mirror, sensing a faint taste of blood. There, he could see the deep cut on his lip, his teeth responsible for choosing the wrong coping mechanism. 

He could also see the same hopeless look as the one on that day, anger building up from within to curse him for being a wreck in such a crucial situation again. The consequences of it taunted him, internally punching him for his incompetence. An officer who couldn't control his emotions was the same one trying to rescue someone. He couldn't even stop himself from deteriorating, and here he was, seeking to thwart others.

It was all foolish, just like he was at this moment. 

What a fool he was for wanting a chance to right the wrongs. 

Without a second thought, Heeseung immediately parked near the reported location, practically jumping out of the car. He checked if his gun was locked and loaded again before heading out. 

He looked around, eyes looking for potential gang associates in the surroundings. He expected at least some bodyguards or watchdogs near the building, but no one was around. Grabbing his flashlight, he took an overhand grip, shortening the distance to the building with each cautious but fast step. 

The residence was outdated, definitely abandoned by the looks of its upkeep. What seemed like a factory was now an empty, deserted residence. No one had visited this place for a long time. 

He approached the door, reaching the porch to see if anything was happening inside. 

The front door was locked from the other side, the darkness concealing the image inside. Heeseung had to go through the back to enter, listening for any noise on his way. It was too quiet for his liking, not a single peep emanating from the residence. He climbed over the wire fence, sucking up the pain the metal left after puncturing his skin. 

Nothing was more important than reaching inside.

He did suspect the message, wondering if it was another prank pulled by the bored teenagers. Sadly, it happened quite too often, with them lining up the emergency number and creating false stories to bring out the hirelings for their entertainment.

Still, none of them knew about his past, so the chances were nearly impossible. Not even his colleagues knew why he decided to take a day off today. They had zero keen on why this day was so important for him. They had no idea it was this day that turned his life around.

He took a position behind the wall as he glanced for the back door, peeking out carefully. To his surprise, it was wide open, bestowing him an entrance. 

He approached it slowly, looking out for a possible intruder since the unusual stillness wasn't preventing the tension in his muscles from stiffening. When he met no obstacles, he determined it was clear to proceed, stepping inside.

The uneven concrete underneath welcomed him back, permitting a path towards the middle. Just like last time, he thought to himself, before approaching the cursed center. 

Here.

It all happened here.

It was where he found Seo-Jun. Right here. 

He could see the silhouette in the wooden chair, bound by duct tape. He could still feel the hopelessness and helplessness.

A supposed rescue mission turned into a shootout, in which he had zero back-ups to overcome the opponents. 6v1, and Heeseung barely came out alive, with one bullet shot in his right arm. The female he was supposed to save bled out on the spot because of fatal injuries, and there was nothing he could do to help her. He tried so hard to stop the bleeding and apply as much pressure as he could in his injured condition. All just to witness her slowly part away in his arms with a painful "thank you".

Heeseung blamed himself for her death till today. After all, he was the one to blame for it. That's what her parents kept repeating.

"Murderer! It was your job to protect her!"

"She's dead because of you!"

"It should have been you who died, not her!"

They were right. 

He agreed with everything they said. It was the truth. He had failed, and there was nothing he could do to bring her back. 

Nightmares of the terror night practically became the fairytale of his sleep. He would wake up drenched in sweat, pushing himself to successfully save her in his dreams. He was so close but so far away at the same time. 

It was all humorous. How returning to this unfortunate place stirred the wrong memories. How it managed to discern the familiar gut-wrenching feeling in his system. The one he had to take medication for every day to keep his head clear. To stop seeing the silhouettes of her everywhere. 

"Seo-Jun, don't do this to me," his head dropped to his feet, refusing to reexperience his trauma. 

"You're not here anymore," he bit down on his lip, gulping down the ascending guilt.

"But it's not me, Heeseung." 

His eyes rose, staring at the silhouette. They struggled to decipher the person in front of them, barely having the energy to stay open. 

He stepped closer, his heavy steps echoing through the enormous vacant room. He was expecting it to disappear as it was a part of his imagination. However, it stayed there, clear as a day.  

It was her.

Not her her, but her.

The voice that haunted him every night in his nightmares. The one that begged him to save her sister from those psychopaths, putting the last bits of hope into him. The screams replayed in his nightmares when he had come out with her sister in his arms, barely holding the victim as he was close to passing out himself. They soon turned into weeps, coughing up the pain in her system, unable to stop her body from shaking at the sight of her sibling in agonizing pain. 

He remembered the way she looked up at him while the paramedics carried her inside the ambulance, face covered in shock and desperation. 

It was as if both knew the outcome awaiting them in the hospital, not prepared to admit the painful reality. They wanted to pretend like they didn't know, even if it was only for a minute. 

He recalled her running after the car, legs giving out in the middle, getting up over and over again without thinking twice about the damage on her knees. 

The same pain he felt back then kicked in right now, pounding into his stomach because despite disappointing her, she was the one who checked up on him in the ER. She was the only person who turned up. The only one worried about his condition, holding in the tears.

"I know my sister was glad someone tried. That someone cared and wanted to save her."

"I'm happy to know that the last face she saw was yours and not those bastards'."

"Mr. Lee, thank you. Thank you for everything."

Despite everything, she said those words to him, managing to smile at him before leaving. He felt her release the painful ache through the door, mourning for the lost one as the hospital tiles created a path stained with sorrow. 

"It's your chance, Heeseung."

"To do what you couldn't with me."

He looked around to glimpse a ghost of Seo-Jun, to believe it was all real and not a part of his disturbed imagination. 

But she was nowhere to be found. 

It was Y/N instead, encircled by the cause of her sister's death.

The same person he stopped visiting every day after the incident, too thoughtless to leave her all alone in that big city while the perpetrators roamed around freely. 

He thought it would have been for the better to give her space to grieve properly, without him appearing at the door to remind her of the incident. 

She never complained, though, but rather showed her gratitude for the concern, not managing to function alone with her parents passing on their sadness to her. 

It was a difficult time for her to be in, especially alone. That's why Heeseung's presence brought her the peace and comfort she needed. He helped her move out her sister's furniture, going as far as to seclude a deal to sell the apartment so the family could have a proper funeral, which he ended up attending himself. 

Her parents weren't exactly hiding their anger at his presence at such a personal event, holding him accountable for the happening of the ceremony. 

However, she was the one who had invited him. She chewed their disapproval and asked him to stay beside her. She needed someone to hold on during the event, both mentally and physically, thankful for his hand lingering on hers as she watched her other half disappear into the ground. 

He stayed with her for a long time after that, coming every morning to help her get out of bed and get ready for the day, becoming her caregiver for the following weeks. 

She was suffering inside, and he could tell by her blankly staring into the walls, movements so slow it looked like it hurt. It was difficult to convince her to eat, noticing the loss in appetite she kept ignoring, blaming it on her stomach troubles. 

Nonetheless, she never protested when he wanted to feed her, always cooking or ordering something from outside. She felt like a baby in those moments, with him practically begging her to open her mouth, putting a smile on her face instead. 

They talked a lot over those weeks, with Heeseung opening up about his past and traumatic childhood, sharing the fragments of his parent's death and how it has affected him. He talked about the car accident, the one he was also in. He was the sole survivor, the sole person to exit the hospital and not be transferred into the morgue.

He had never told anyone before, and conveying the lingering heartache was such a relief that he couldn't stop talking, gathering up every detail he had in his memories. 

In a way, it connected the two more, having gone through the tragedy of losing a loved one. Y/N couldn't help but notice the feeling of safety in his company. The more he transmitted, the closer she felt, like she could trust him with her whole life.

While she was fully aware of the effects he was having on her, Heeseung was too busy focusing on her condition to catch the sparkles of joy. 

Whenever she opened the door to him, he couldn't help but beam. His heart would fill up with contentment, dopamine levels increasing at the brief touches they shared, hiding the butterflies amassing inside. It was wrong for him to catch feelings after everything he caused her, and the guilt expanded in his chest at the realization.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who had caught up on the situation. Soon enough, her parents personally contacted him and asked to meet without their daughter's knowledge. They were the real reason for his departure, the why for abandoning her when she needed him the most. 

He never had the opportunity to tell her the truth, to tell her he didn't go on his will but was forced into that decision. He wished he could have told her he was threatened with being sued and losing his career forever due to their belief about his negligence on the mission. Either that or he had to leave her alone and go as far away as possible if he didn't want his life to be over. 

That is what he meant when he said he was a coward: a coward who couldn't even tell the truth. It followed him wherever he went, the mere image of her constantly transmitting in his thoughts.  

And now, the image was trapped in another nightmare with little time, falling into his hands yet again. 

This wasn't how he wanted to meet up, but fate had its way of managing things. The only thing Heeseung knew was that he couldn't let her down again. 

She had to come out of here alive.

No matter what it would take.

"You came," a raspy voice loomed from the darkness, causing Heeseung to hastily stand up and point his gun at its origin. 

His stomach dropped when he locked gazes with the criminal. 

"Kang Joon-Woo."

"It is I indeed," he fixed his tie covered in a fleur de lis pattern, showing off his wealth in the black tuxedo. His auburn slick hair drew attention to his green eyes, which turned stone cold once his gaze landed on the officer in front. They were empty, vacant, without any emotion. It was like staring into a deep well at night, manifesting fright and unpleasantness. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Lee." his silver crown shone as the moonlight sheathed his face, lowering his head before looking back at him again. He exuded the same stare that day, slicing through deeply and threatening with its lethal power. 

Kang Joon-Woo, one of the lead rings of the cooperation of Kang Holding, was the chairman and the mastermind of the whole operation a year ago. Kang Jun-Seo was his right hand, more like a lap dog. 

They were both known criminals in the district he used to work in, successful businessmen who led one of the most influential companies in the city. They ran many hotels scattered over the country, using them as a front to conceal their actual intents by managing and commencing new deals. 

Beneath the surface, they hid several classified secrets, ordering various exchanges between dangerous parties. Some reports revealed drug usage and distribution, contacts with the black market, and even active participation on the deep web.

However, their main focus was on sex trafficking, exploiting young women for their income. It has been going on for many years, with the two predators selling out females to different countries, motivated by the big numbers on the cheque. They were both aware of how these girls would end up, forced to become objects for whoever had bought them. That was the twisted part in itself. The fact that the two went off to doing this.

He found out himself when he got ordered to take over one of these cases since the department had a lead and had a high chance of uncovering the trafficker's location, hopeful about the retrieval. So was Heeseung, especially after the Chief of Police had picked him out personally for the case along with two other ambitious corporals as the sergeant was sick that week, unable to operate. It was his biggest chance to prove himself and stand out amongst his coworkers. 

"Months of searching, and now I have you both at my feet," the snarky laugh punctured through.

"What have you done to her?" Heeseung looked back at Y/N from the corner of his eye, unable to bypass her drugged state. He knew he had to act before it was too late, struggling to piece a plan together at the revelation. 

"I just gave her some candy. You know the ones that bring you to another dimension?" he pulled out a pack of Arrirangs from his pockets, finding the whole situation hilarious. It was uproarious to watch the terror in Heeseung's eyes, darting from the girl back to him. 

"You fucker," Heeseung quickly hovered over her, checking her pulse and breathing. 

"Calm down," he scoffed in amusement, taking a whiff of the toxic elements his body lacked. "I need her to be alive as well." 

"What do you want?"

"Come on, Heeseung. You're smart enough to know," a sigh parted in the heavy ambiance, playing with the cigar between his fingers.

"You know goddamn well someone has to pay for the losses you caused on that day."

"Leave her out of it. She has done nothing."

"Who called you on us?"

"She did the right thing. They just chose the wrong officer."

"Fucking pathetic indeed. You couldn't even save her in the end, could you?" the man burst into laughter, brushing back his hair. He was loving every second of this.

"Since you failed to save her. Now, we need someone to replace her place."

"Jun-Seo was thinking about this beauty right here, but I told him it was too dangerous. Didn't I, brother?"

Heeseung froze at the callout, feeling the mentioned one's presence behind him. He also felt the weapon pointed at his head, threatening to be blasted at a slight movement. Every possible curse flashed in his mind, all pointing towards him.

He was screwed.

"Drop it," the baritone ordered. 

Before he could even look at the famous criminal, the man punched him in his back, amplifying his directive. Heeseung had no other option but to comply, slowly placing his gun on the floor. The guy immediately kicked away the weapon, far away from their reach. He stood there with his hands aloft, looking back at the man ahead.

"And what did I also say?" his tongue clicked, putting on a pair of black leather gloves.

"To have her, we must get rid of the cop."

"That's right." He snickered, approaching the injured girl. 

"Poor girl, she has no idea what's happening," his fingers wrapped around her neck, snickering at the beauty. He turned her face to the side, his filthy eyes scanning her features.

"Don't touch her!" Heeseung shouted, attempting to step closer.

"You better calm down." 

"Or do you want my brother to pull the trigger already?" her hair twirled around his finger, "I want her to see it first." He quickly pulled onto it, causing her head to fall with the snatch.

"No, she has nothing to do with this. I killed your men, not her. Let her go, now!" 

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, Heeseung. My client wants a replacement for his previous loss."

"And we decided to give him the other sister," the twin snickered, licking his lips. 

"You're fucking sick." Heeseung looked at the man above Y/N, passing on a distrustful smile. 

"I think we have waited far too long for this one," The snarky laugh punctured through, running his hands on her exposed thighs. 

"I said don't fucking touch her!" 

The delinquent just laughed and took a knife, putting it under her neck. He played with her hair, leaning closer to her ear, whispering something, and smirking right after. Whatever it was, Heeseung was sure it was appalling and lewd. 

"So," the edge of the weapon traveled down her T-shirt, "I'm going to have my fun." He sneered as its sharpness cut the clothing in two, exposing her body to the filthy losers. 

"And you're going to watch."

"You fucking piece of shit!" he jumped the guy, not thinking twice about it. They both rolled down the floor, one trying to keep the weapon, whereas the other risked to grab it. 

"I'll kill you. Right here, right now," Heeseung hissed, head-bumping him as soon as he had the opportunity. 

"You fucker," Joon-woo immediately covered his nose, staining his hand with his very own blood. He was sure it was broken, but it wasn't enough to stop him from returning the favor. 

Heeseung looked back at the other brother, who attempted to shoot the man in black, raising his arm to carry out the movement. 

However, Heeseung was quicker, avoiding the fatal hit by rolling over in time. He still had Joon-woo on his back, getting on his hands to perform a leg sweep. With that, he fell on his back, pushing all the air out of his lungs with a curse.

"You are dead meat, Mr. Lee," the man coughed out, barely having the energy to properly look him in the eye.

Heeseung knew he was minutes away from another blast from Jun-Seo's gun. Without wasting time, he quickly stood up and ran into the other perpetrator with full force. He successfully knocked both of them over, the firearm vanishing in the far distance. The stunt in the movement allowed him to yank and throw the firearm into the far distance. 

"Get him!" the other twin ordered, quickly taking out his Glock 19 to point it at Heeseung. Jun-Seo got on his feet again, shooting a death glare. Despite not having anything to defend himself with, he relied on his strength, rushing to him. His arm extended toward Heeseung's direction, and a sudden hand appeared in front of his face. 

"I should have killed both of you when I had the chance," Heeseung panted, evading each punch like a pro. It was too easy to fight with such an incompetent loser like him, managing to switch positions in the meantime. 

"We should have gotten rid of you two sooner," Joon-woo yelled, shooting into the brawl. He only didn't predict Heeseung doing the unthinkable by pushing the brother in front of him. The bullet entered the wrong body, disappearing in Jun-Seo's chest with a loud gasp. 

"No!" The shooter yelled at the turn of events, watching his twin fall to the ground right next to his feet. He panted in pain and brought his hands to the wound his sibling unintentionally caused, his eyelids losing their tension as his pupils dilated. 

"You piece of shit!" The scourge unleashed from between his lips, a pair of heartless eyes darting back. He looked back to see the cop with his gun right back where it belonged, pointed at him, the main suspect.

"You did all of this just for this stupid bitch!" He raised his arm, turning in the direction of the abducted innocence. 

"Step away from her," Heeseung yelled, blood rushing through his veins.

It was a relief to have taken down one of the obstacles in his way without getting his hands dirty. Nevertheless, there was still the main problem standing in front of him, aiming to assassinate his victim. 

He knew the sicko could pull off a dangerous stunt since his actions were unpredictable, scanning the expressions on his face. He was expecting furrowed brows, hands clenched into fists, or a death glare at least. 

All he got was a loud sigh, followed by a prolongated laughter. The kind of laughter you would hear The Joker do in a quarrel with Batman whenever the two would argue. It was almost as if he was amused or pleased with the outcome, even though his brother was lying inches away in a puddle of blood, practically minutes away from dying.

"You really are a jokester, Mr. Lee," he lowered his gun, ignoring the confusion on the cop's face.

He just passed on a stare and a scowl, fidgeting with the weapon in his hand like it was a toy with no bullets in it. His behavior was so bizarre that Heeseung couldn't help but stare at him in confusion. 

The thing was, the stare he carried didn't belong to someone who had just given up. It wasn't of someone who just surrendered and accepted his fucked-up fate. 

It was the complete opposite of what it was supposed to be -malicious, daring to some degree as if he was taunting him with his capability. He challenged him with a gradually growing smirk. 

At that moment, Heeseung realized it wasn't a renunciation but a part of the plan. The plan that had been constructed from the beginning. Composed to every little point to lure out the enemy. She was his weakness, and they damn well knew about it. They were cruel enough to use it against him. 

With another look, he noticed the turnabout in Joon-Woo's glare, the shade of wrath igniting. 

"For thinking I would let her off so easily," the loud bang emitted through the silence, a sharp "pop" following right after. The noise yielded Heeseung to register the situation, his eyes widening as they quickly scanned for the landing. His gaze landed on the girl in the chair, uncovering a bullet point of entrance on her chest. 

Heeseung's heart dropped as he looked over to the side. 

His eyes widened in horror, staring blankly at the injured girl.

His body went numb, but he still tried to remain as stoic as possible.

All he could do was stare, frozen in fear, as the girl's white shirt slowly turned red.

Heeseung knew he couldn't repeat the same mistake, not hesitating to respond as he pointed his gun directly at the shooter. It was what had to be done. Jun-Seo was going to die today, next to his brother.

His heart skipped a beat as the adrenaline rush towards his veins intensified. He pressed the trigger, watching the evil twin staring back at him in shock, falling back. 

The loud thud confirmed the man was no longer alive, the bullet in his head adding to reason. 

Heeseung slowly approached the corpse, looking at him one last time to ensure himself. 

At that moment, he indeed felt the unbearable weight on his shoulders falling off, all of it evaporating in the air. 

Heeseung finally exhales, dropping his gun to the floor. His heart rate slows down, but the poundage in his body becomes heavier, almost as if the world was collapsing in on him.

"Where-" he quickly turned around at the origin of the sound, his eyes meeting the girl's.

Heeseung instantly rushed to her side, trying to assess the damage.

Her blood flowed onto his hand as he pressed it on the entrance wound, attempting to stop the bleeding.

"I'm going to save you, just hang on..." he whispered, applying pressure after dialing his collegaue. 

As she struggled to remain conscious, her eyes locked into his.

She was unable to express her gratitude with words, so she gave his hand a light squeeze, letting him know that she understood his intentions.

She trusted the man for some reason, even though she couldn't see his face. Everything was pitch dark.

She hoped for the misery to end soon, letting her eyelids rest.

She only waited for the moment to end, for the afterlife to welcome her.

Heeseung was overwhelmed with worry and fear. He knew how close she was to dying, watching her breath grow shallower and more shallow after each passing moment.

He saw her eyes flickering in and out of consciousness, but all he could do was gently stroke her hair away from her face, hoping and wishing for a miracule. 

His hand rested on her chest, feeling her heartbeat. He desperately implored it to keep going, pleading with the higher powers, begging them not to let her slip through his fingers.

"Don't leave me, please," he whispered, kissing her hand.

Heeseung noticed her breathing pattern becoming erratic, her pulse slowly becoming weak, indicating that she was losing the battle for her life.

"Don't go," he whispered, placing his face closer to hers, willing her not to leave. The tears rolled down his cheeks, shaking his head in denial. He desperately tried to keep them from falling again.

"Please stay with me," he beged, unable to handle the thought of her dying in his arms. He continued to caress her cheeks, his voice muffled as his face grew redder and redder.

"Please..."

He recalled all the memories they encountered, the bad and the good, and burst into tears again. He didn't even try to stop them, unable to hold it in any longer.

"I don't know what I'm going to do without you..."

Heeseung's voice filled with anguish, and ha piece of his heart ripped out of his chest. 

His desperation grew as her heartbeat grew weaker and weaker. Her chest rose and fell, labored. 

Each breath was battle for her life, and her body was not winning the fight. It started to grow cold, and her heartbeat became even fainter, as if it was trying to slip through his grasp.

"I'm so sorry." 

"I should have protected you," he cried, pressing into her chest. 

"I love you, Y/N."

Her hand rested on his, a faint smile spreading across her face. 

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

"Y/N," 

"You-"

"It's you?" her brain refused to believe the alternative, pacing back and forth, forth and back, like a spectator at a tennis match. 

Lee Heeseung? 

Her Lee Heeseung?

No, that's impossible.

She foolishly wanted to hold onto the strand of hope even though it was perilous. She knew it would relish on painting her walls within in qualm, scribbling various disquietude lines, and doodling frightening visions.

It appeared so compulsive, eyelids concealing the water amassing beside. The droplets traced her rubicund cold cheeks, reaching the corners of her quivering mouth. She tasted the woeful hopelessness accumulated over the past months. 

How hopelessly she wished for it to be real.

For him to be with her. 

If there was one thing she had been yearning for, it was his return. 

Somewhere deep down in her shattered soul, she dreamed of a reunion. A reconvene in which she could hold onto him without fear. Without having to worry about him letting go once she would look away. Without being afraid of falling asleep because he wouldn't be there in the morning. 

It was the only thing she had been longing for. 

"No. You're not here. I'm seeing things again, right?" She looked around, laughing while groping the mattress. Doing so, she failed to detect the unknown material, repeating the same motion. It wasn't the same at home. It wasn't the latex filling she was used to. 

She swiftly looked around, eyes darting around the unknown layout. They glanced over its walls sheathed in snow without a single trace of a painting, the dim lamp gleaming in the corner. It smothered the gloominess in a soothing tint of beige, strangely comforting. 

It was so familiar, yet so unknown. 

Was it because this wasn't her first time being in this room?

"Why am I here?" Her rapid breathing complicated the question's delivery, hands clutching onto the duvet to prevent them from shaking even more. 

You fool.

She looked down, studying the IV line inserted in her vein. Her eyes popped out of their sockets, desperately trying to recall what had happened to put her in this situation in the first place. 

"Calm down," the man beside appeased, holding her hand. 

Compared to her ice skin, he was a burning flame. 

He wanted to believe it was because of his anticipation and not because of her declining health. 

He didn't want to be attentive to her paper skin or her bones visibly sticking out. Oh, how much he wanted to believe her knuckles weren't poking out next to his hand. 

However, he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to denial when these were all the signs he harbored before. 

The last time he saw her, his thumb couldn't reach his pinky finger. When he wrapped them around her tender wrist now, they managed to join. 

All of these signals were so familiar that he couldn't ignore them. They weren't normal and he knew from experience what effects it could have if not properly treated. Consulting with the doctor during her sleep was a necessary procedure, but he couldn't tell her everything now. 

For God's sake, she couldn't even acknowledge it was him caressing her hand. 

He felt like a stranger sitting there, with a worried expression and no response. He didn't know what to do. The only thing he wanted was to hold her and tell her everything was over. That he had finally accomplished what he should have done a year ago. Something he owed her from the day they met.

Where was the feeling of joy he was supposed to encounter? First and foremost, he executed an outstanding performance on the job tonight. Thanks to him, the case that was open for years had finally come to an end. It was due to his commission the two criminals now lingered behind bars.

"Is this one of those dreams again?" she suddenly grasped his shirt, unable to distinguish fantasy from reality. She held on to the cotton fabric with dear life, knuckles beginning to hurt as the grip amplified. The oaky fragrance disbanded into the air, entering through her nostrils to allow a segment of remembrance. 

Her fingers slid against the black clothing, studying the outlines of it, tracing down and up again. His chest rose with each unanticipated touch, brows sliding upwards to inscribe a few lines. Worry was written all over them when she gaped at him in confusion, refusing to accept his existence.

"Where I hopelessly look for you and never manage to find you?"

The headache was overlapping her brain in confusion, and she struggled to fathom her surroundings. She didn't comprehend the quick change of emotions on his face, looking at her as if she had announced the death of a close relative. In the end, she went through these nightmares almost every night. So, it wasn't abnormal to her. Yet, his stare was intense and frightened, screaming in concern, the complete opposite of her disclosure.

It wasn't.

It couldn't be after all.

He left a long time ago.

"I'm tired of those dreams," her voice broke down, replacing it with a weep, "because I never manage to find you." She broke down, releasing the suppressed pain gathered in her system. 

The mere thought of them ran shivers down her spine, completely despising the state they left her in. The number of times she woke up crying, desperately trying to hold onto the comfort beside was too much to count. The way she would open her eyelids only to realize there was nothing but a cold and untouched bedside. 

She would always look at the empty spot with hope. 

Hope he would come into the room with that dazzling look and hop back in the bed to hold her tight in his embrace. She wanted him to say everything would be okay, just like he used to. She wanted to hear his smile again, see his laughter, and feel his love in her hands. 

Was it that selfish to ask for the undoable? 

It was.

After all, he had always been a far stretch - an unreachable beauty, like a star in the sky she could only admire from afar. Too unreal to be authentic. Too perfect to exist. Too good to be true. Just like their relationship. 

Even stars die eventually and gradually start fading away. It was simply natural for them to end as well. 

So why was it so hard to say goodbye?

Over 365 days have passed since the day, and Y/N still stood at the beginning of the road. It was as if her feet were glued to the floor, trapping her in the moment she desperately tried to eradicate. 

If a samurai's katana could slice through her stomach now, it wouldn't manage to do more damage. Nor his bow stricken to embed in her lungs. It would simply sting for a second before disappearing into the mist, just like everything else in her life. It would form a pool of blood beneath, assembling a shattered reflection. A reflection she would reach for and fall into its never-ending well of hatred and pangs of conscience.

"I did something wrong, right? That's why you left. I was so annoying with my constant mood swings, wasn't I?" 

Heeseung closed his eyelids to prevent the accumulated sadness from firing, trying to stay collected so as not to evoke more sorrow. 

His hands turned into fists, aching to swing on the coward's head.

What a selfish idiot he was. 

He was going to cry? Him? When he was the reason they were both in this room right now?

It was his decision that caused all of this. He wouldn't be right back at the start if he hadn't given her up for his stupid career. If only he had just listened to his inner heart, things could have been different, better.

It was like someone was ripping him open, cutting and slicing with the sharpest blade, puncturing endless rebukes. Not only was he screaming from the pain, but also from witnessing Y/N uncontrollably crying in front of him. 

Her petite hands held onto her hospital gown, slanting over to let out all the misery he had caused her. She couldn't stop herself from wailing in agony and torment, feeling so hopeless and confused with him reappearing in her life. It was a hard pill to swallow. The kind that gets stuck in your throat, and water cannot drown it. 

"I'm so sorry I couldn't control it," she sniveled, clutching her hair tightly and pulling it to inflict more pain on herself. 

"I'm so sorry," she screamed into the duvet, countlessly snuffling. Her cries were muffled, the airways between her lungs and nose becoming tighter with each one. She was practically yelping for air, hyperventilating. 

"I love you, Lee Heeseung. I love you so much that it hurts," her trembling index pointed towards her heart, repeatedly tapping her chest.

At this point, she was out of breath, wailing and gripping her clothes as if they could release the painful embrace around her chest. She lifted her gaze to meet the apples of his eyes. They were glutted with sorrow and guilt, heartbreak and commiseration. They were merely reflecting his feelings - complete hopelessness. 

"I can't live without you, Heeseung. I can't-" Her sob got cut off by his sudden maneuver, palms gently cupping her cheeks before drawing her face closer to him. Now, he stared into her chocolate eyes, gazing at his hickory ones with surprise. 

"I love you more, Y/N." His nose rubbed against hers, foreheads aligning with one another to create an intimate moment between the lovers. They used to do this often, almost every morning, just holding each other and laughing in joy. It was like a routine, something mandatory before getting out of bed.

"More than anything else in this world," his tears caressed hers, tracing them upwards with his lips. He replaced the traces of sorrow with caring pecks, making sure to collect every drop. 

"Heeseung," her hand clutched his shirt, trying to stay sane even though, deep down, she was melting in his touch. 

He lightly tilted her head back, gaining access to her quivering mouth. She had it slightly ajar, huffing the compressed air through the small gap. Waves of electricity were dashing down her cells, causing an upheaval of homeostasis. The more he looked at her, the harder it got to breathe without a strain on her lungs. She had no choice but to say, "Please, just kiss me."

There was no time for that request to have been adequately thought through, as the circumstances deemed the opposite effect. For once, Y/N didn't want to think over her decisions. She wanted them to happen and worry about the consequences later. 

"Can I really?" his hand slid back, holding her head to grant her maximum relaxation. 

"You fool, I just told you to do it."

"I only want to make sure," he murmured, his lips automatically attracting with hers, like two magnets of opposite poles. 

Perhaps it was a lofty comparison, but the way neither side hesitated before carrying out the deed proved otherwise. They have been yearning for this moment ever since they have parted ways. 

Hell, they spent all of their time convincing themselves they weren't a match made to last for centuries when they were. Their love was so powerful that the glue in their bond never dried out. 

Even though they were two completely different people, it was their love that brought them together. No one could change that.

"No one."

"Not ever," he whispered while he damped her lips with his wet and warm tongue, panting with each smacking sound.

It was like entering heaven. 

He could almost feel the bright rays of happiness encircling them with its mighty power, not to mention Y/N's whimpers, which were like music to his ears.

Or maybe it was his poetic description of this incredible ecstasy that made it appear so illusory. 

He felt like a teenage boy again. His hormones were all over the place, and his heartbeat was agitated with an uncomfortable tension in his boxers.

God was cruel for putting his body into this state, especially in this situation. However, he couldn't control it. A whole year without Y/N meant a year full of bottled-up pain and tension. He never went out and slept with someone else because he knew too well no one could compare to her. 

Fuck, no one could be her, so there was no point in doing anything reckless. Plus, his heart wouldn't be able to do something so dishonest. It was loyal, unlike him, and it never erased nor forgot the name of his soulmate.

"I missed you so much," she cried, her grip around him tightening, so afraid he would let go and the feeling of safety would disappear with him.

"I know, Y/N. I missed you, too." Heeseung's hand slid up her arm, then her neck, until his hands rested on her cheeks, and he gently pulled her closer.

"But I'm here now," he continued, his voice filled with tenderness and affection. "And I don't plan on leaving your side ever again."

She looked up with red eyes, swollen and aching from the pang inside her heart. "You promise?" she asked innocently, not ready to receive a no for an answer. 

"I promise." His voice was firm, his words soothing. 

He kissed the top of her head, feeling her grip tightening around him while tears still ran down her wet, rosy cheeks. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, refusing to let go. 

"I'm not going anywhere. Not this time."

As if by instinct, she buried her face in his chest yet again, breathing in his scent and feeling his warmth as he enveloped her petite body in his warm embrace. 

Y/N felt her heart beating faster, the rush of emotions overwhelming and confusing her in the process. God, how much she has missed this. Being held, taken care of, and loved. For the first time, she allowed herself to feel vulnerable and let out a pained sob. She had held it for so long.

"Breathe," he whispered in her ear, noticing her shallow breath in a poor attempt at composure.

Her body couldn't stop shaking in his arms, the waves of emotions and shock deluging her.

"I'm here." The man of her dreams whispered, his words soothing out the bump of worries in her head. He stroked her lusciously dark hair once again, caressing her cheek as she leaned her head on the crook of his neck.

"I've got you."

That was all she needed to hear. 

They both remained in each other's arms, the silence broken only by their heavy breathing. At the same time, Y/N leaned in for his hands, holding them in hers. They were big and mighty next to her small and delicate ones, swallowing them in his palms. She played with his fingers, wrapping her digits around each one like an adorable baby. 

She has done this so many times before. It felt so natural each time as if their hands were sculpted to fit between the gaps of their fingers. Every insertion and removal was smooth like butter. She repeated it over and over because she couldn't get enough of it.

It was his hand she was holding and her hand he was kissing.

"Is this alright?" he asked foolishly.

She replied with a passionate kiss instead, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling the strong man as close as possible. Her body pressed against his, so gentle with each movement that it made him shiver. He leaned into the squeeze, letting go of his worries once and for all, only focusing on her warmth blending with his. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, the heat of her against his own sparking lascivious ideas. 

Her lips pressed softly against his skin, enticingly murmuring her name as a result. 

"Y/N..."

"I missed hearing you saying my name," she whispered into his ear before gently biting onto its helix.

Heeseung closed his eyes and exhaled a deep and long breath. He leaned closer and caressed her chin, tilting it upwards so he could meet her eyes again.

"I want to be with you forever," he said softly, hand gently caressing her hip.

"I want to wake up next to you every morning and sleep with you by my side."

"I want to hold your face and feel your lips on mine every chance. To feel our love growing more and more each day."

"I want to spend my life with you. To know you're my home, my heart."

She gaped at him in shock, not expecting to hear such a meaningful trail of confession after everything. It contradicted his ambiguously lengthy absence in which Y/N went through hell thinking about what she had done wrong. 

Now, he sat before her, eyes full of ardor and sincerity, brushing his devotion on her like a naked canvas. 

"I've made the mistake of letting you go once," he held her hand, placing it on his chest. She felt his rhythmic heartbeat gradually increasing with each prolonged second of his speech. 

"I won't make the same mistake twice, Y/N." 

Heeseung's voice is filled with sincerity and truth, determined to finally carry through his feelings to her like he should have done. 

"I can't promise I will always be perfect," he expressed, his hand intertwining with hers. "But I promise, I won't let anyone tear us apart again."

He squeezed her even tighter as if she was the only thing holding him together.

"What do you mean? Who tore us apart?" her face changed instantly, confusedly staring into his apprehensive eyes. The cat was out of the bag, and Heeseung finally had to face the harsh side of reality.

Instead of answering, however, his gaze drifted away. 

His expression became darker, pupils dilating from the rise of anger within. It wasn't directed towards the reason, but himself. He was furious for preserving this crucial information from her for so long.

He looked away, his hand still over hers as he tried to find the words. He took it and brought it to his lips, gently kissing it as he spoke.

"Your parents..." Heeseung said quietly.

"They never approved of us, and I knew."

Heeseung paused, unsure of how to proceed or what to say next. He didn't want to ruin her relationship with her parents or affect their reunion. Telling the truth was the best choice, but he wondered if she would forgive either side.

"They threatened to sue me and ruin my career. They said I was negligent on the mission. That I wasn't a good enough person to be with you."

He stared at her, doubtful of how much information to share. 

"They didn't want me to talk to you ever again," he disclosed, his tone guarded. "They told me either I stayed away from you or they would ruin my life."

He sighed and looked down at the ground, a slight sense of shame on his face. 

"It was their disapproval, combined with the threat of losing everything, that forced me to leave."

"So you chose your career over our love?" she scoffed, pushing his arms away.

"Your career was more important than our relationship?"

She shook her head in disappointment. 

"No..." Heeseung quickly replied, stunned and hurt by her sudden change of attitude. "You know I'm not like that."

The truth was that he completely understood her reaction. He responded to his terrible decision the same way, turning against himself for being such a selfish prick. 

Nevertheless, so much was at stake that he couldn't have done it differently. That's what he wanted to explain. To make her see his point of view and hopefully make her understand. 

"You're the only person who knows what I had to go through to become an officer, Y/N. You know what kind of future I envisioned for myself, for us."

He wavered, rethinking his wording so as not to make it sound wrong. His voice slightly trembled, incredibly scared of what might come after all of this. "It would have been my entire future they would have destroyed."

She shook her head in denial, not wanting to believe her bloodline would stand in the way of her happiness. She couldn't believe her mother and father put her into that misery and pretended to be clueless. 

They blamed him for everything, constantly pointing out how right they were about him from the beginning of their relationship. They kept telling her that he would eventually leave and never look back when, in reality, they were the ones who would cause it to happen. They were pulling the strings behind her back. 

This whole time, while she deteriorated from the uncontrollable pain all alone, they were the culprits of her suffering. 

"I," she covered her mouth, the urge to vomit intensifying at the repulsive revelation. 

"Why," she looked up at him, anger and resentment burning in her eyes. 

"Why didn't you tell me right away?" she whispered, her voice hingeing from the lack of power.

Heeseung shut his eyelids, unable to speak at first due to the words choking him up. He couldn't even look his love in the eyes as he lowered his face in remorse.

"I thought you wouldn't believe me," he replied calmly, his voice full of emotion. "They are your parents, after all."

Heeseung searched for the correct words to express what he felt in those moments right before he took the decision to leave her for good. 

"I thought me leaving would be the least painful, the least harmful choice. I didn't want to ruin your family for one incompetent coward like me."

"Bullshit!" she yelled, throwing all of his attempts away. She was so angry at him and her parents all at once that it molded into one tangled wool of wrath that gushed obstreperous amounts of ire. 

"I would have believed you, Heeseung. These are all just excuses-"

"How can you say these are just excuses," Heeseung oppugned, his voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

"You think I liked being forced to make that decision? You think I liked seeing you in pain because of me?"

He sharply inhaled, almost hissing when exhaling. The words were pouring out of him as fast as a waterfall, and no one could stop him from speaking his mind now.

"Don't you think I regret all of it? Don't you think that I wished every single day that I had just told you the damn truth?" he snapped back, his tone rising at each word. 

"Do you have any idea what I went through this last year?" she shut him down, firmly pushing him away.

Do you have any idea what I was thinking this entire time?" she panted, the wrath inside her escalating through the roof.

"I thought I wasn't good enough for you, that I couldn't even make you happy, that you left because I only rubbed off my bad mental state, and you couldn't handle it anymore. This entire time, I thought it was MY fault you were gone, and I wanted to die." The curses escaped her chapped lips, fists hitting the mattress out of frustration and lack of control over her emotions. Her eyes burned with ire and disarray, quivering from undergoing sudden shock.

"Every day, I dreamt about dying. Every night, I hoped I wouldn't wake up the next day and that I would just die." She shouted into his face, her yells soon enough turning into painful sobs. 

"After you left, Hee, there was no point for me to live anymore."

Heeseung stared at her, totally awed and stunned by her words. He was blind this whole time, ignorant about what was happening behind the curtains.

He couldn't form a sentence, experiencing such strong and intense emotions that he couldn't even find the words to describe them.

"I tried to end my life so many times," she cried, covering her face with trembling hands, entirely losing control of her body.

Chills ran down his spine at the weight of the last sentence, which unraveled the extent of her suffering. 

His worst fear became true: she was hurting because of him. 

From the start, he tried to do what was best for her future. Yet, he only made it all worse. He ruined her and became the cause of her nightmares, of every second of her affliction.

His heart broke into a million pieces. The amount of guilt he had never experienced before struck him intensely, leaving him breathless.

Tears slowly rolled down his cheeks as he realized he had worsened her depression. 

First, he took away the person who loved her the most and then disposed of the one she loved the most. All at the same time, because of him. 

He wanted to shout, to kick himself for being so oblivious. He wanted to hug her and hold her, cry with her, and beg for forgiveness.

But all he could do at that moment was stand like a deer caught in the headlights, completely speechless.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured.

"I never wanted to cause you... pain." His voice broke as he said those words, the guilt eating him alive.

"I-I should have been there for you, I-" Another sigh parted away.

"I failed to protect you."

"Yea, you fucked up. Now, go," her tone drastically changed, sitting up as she crossed her arms, head turning towards the window.

The world outside seemed so much calmer than the one in the room, the tension sticking on the walls.

Heeseung didn't know what to say. He tried to protest, to say something, to do anything to fix things, but after your dismissal, he knew he had to accept the fact that he had messed up beyond all reasoning.

He walked towards the door, waiting for her to change her mind and ask him to stay. 

However, his wish was replaced by a soft "go."

No other words were necessary for this goodbye.

He turned to face her one final time, his eyes full of regret and misery. They couldn't even match hers for more than two seconds before a tear rolled down his cheek.

He had to look away, refusing to see the pain in her eyes and her trembling face.

"No," he said, turning around.

Heeseung was frustrated and felt misunderstood, lost in the words of frustration and anger thrown his way. 

It broke his heart to hear her say these things. Although he expected the worst possible scenario, he couldn't come to terms with this alternative. There was no way he would let her go again. 

He paused, taking a deep breath to process what he was hearing.

"I failed you as a lover and a friend," he whispered, the tone in his voice filled with sorrow and disappointment. 

"I should have been there for you, I should have stayed and fought."

Her stare was still focused outside, refusing to communicate with him further. There was a lot of bitterness and pain inside her to pursue a polite conversation. Any minute, she would go off like a bomb. He was pushing the time until detonation.

Heeseung took a deep breath yet again, looking around the room in disbelief.

He had never seen her so angry before — not even when she was angry with her parents. This was a whole new level of anger.

He couldn't bear the thought of leaving in such a condition while being furious and hurt. Even if he thought she no longer wanted him around, he needed to prove that was not true. He wanted to prove to her his love was real and was not as shallow as she thought.

"Don't make me call the staff and get you kicked out," the threat set a foot on the floor, directly aiming at him.

She finally made eye contact, handing a cold glare, her brows furrowed and her nostrils flared.

For a few seconds, Heeseung was utterly stunned by her sudden threat and the intensity of the stare. Once she made eye contact, he saw deep down the pain and hurt that she was frantically trying to mask.

"I just want to say one more thing before I leave," he whispered, his tone gentle and apologetic. He looked away, unsure if he was doing the right thing.

"I don't want to hear anything from you," she sat up and got her slippers, aiming to stand up and walk him out.

However, a sharp groan escaped instead, her hand automatically positioning on the ache in her chest. His heart sank once again as he noticed the sudden wince in her facial expression.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of worry and concern.

He wanted to reach out but knew he did not deserve to comfort you in such a critical moment. It was all his fault.

Therefore, he remained standing, but only a meter away, as his worries grew over.

"I just need you to leave me alone." her expression changed nattily, practically hissing out the sentence.

He remained silent, not saying a word.He could hear her breathing and the slight wheezing with each inhale. Other than that, there was only the silence of the room.He couldn't find any words to say in such a situation, not when her voice bore hatred and disdain.

Slowly, he backed away from her, his feet making light sounds on the floor, almost unable to hear them. She winced when attempting to slightly move, each muscle in her body tensing at the unexpected action.

Tears summon in her eyes, crawling back from the overlapping ache and sorrow combined into a deadly mixture. Heeseung noticed how her body reacted, recalling the doctor's orders. He couldn't hold back anymore. He couldn't stand idle.

"Wait," he said quickly, his tone filled with worry and panic. He rushed to her side, putting a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from getting up.

"God, you're such a-" Her whine swallows the curse word, shutting her eyelids due to the ascending pain.

"You can hate me as much as you want, but you must lay down this instance," Heeseung sighed, noticing her effort at resisting his actions even if it was all for her safety. He tried to lay her down slowly but firmly, making sure he didn't hurt her any further.

He gently pushed her backward on the bed, hoping the pain from the movement didn't worsen.

"You're a pain in the ass," she coughed, eyes still closed to avoid any form of direct eye contact. His presence beside was enough to rile her up and clench her fists.

He had to hide his smile as her attempts to push him away and the occasional bursts of insults were adorable. She might have been furious at the moment, but her actions gave away the small hint of weakness underneath.

It made him want to apologize for coming back at the wrong time, but he remained silent and waited by her side for the pain to subside.

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking out of the window with a heavy pang in his heart. He stayed silent for a while, content with sitting in silence, even if she was still furious at him.

He occasionally glanced at her with a sorrowful look, as if he was sorry for causing you so much pain and distress.

Slowly, he turned his head back towards the window and exhaled, the only noise he made for the following minutes.

"I should be furious and mad at you for everything," she whispered, "Yet, I can't because it hurts even more."

Heeseung's eyes widened once she spoke up. She might have not looked at him, but he heard her perfectly.

She still sounded angry, but it sounded more like regret than anything else. It was the first time he saw her defenses crack, and he was starting to wonder how long until she completely broke down.

"I prayed every night to see you again, to be held in your arms," she paused, suppressing the wave of tears from flushing down her face.

"I-" she put her arm over her face, fighting herself from speaking up further.

He remained silent, watching her struggle with her emotions. He couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart seeing her trying so hard not to break down in front of him.

With a light, tender gesture, he wiped the tears away from her cheeks and put his hand over her fist, trying to hold her fingers while remaining careful about the injuries.

"I hate you," she whimpered.

"I hate how much I love you after everything."

Those words hit him like a knife to the heart.

Hearing her confess her love and hatred towards him was a bittersweet feeling. Although her words still harbored anger, there was no denying his heart was aching for her.

He looked at her, not saying anything, just staring, his eyebrows furrowing, waiting to hear what else she had to say.

"You broke me, and somehow-" she lingered on her words, snuffling, "you're the only thing I think about."

Heeseung's heart ached with each word she spoke, hearing the emotional confession.

He didn't quite know what to say. Her love for him seemed just as conflicting as her rage and hatred as if both were trying to take the throne as the primary emotion in her heart.

Her tearful, trembling voice made him feel vulnerable too, his entire being consumed by the emotions that made him want to hug her so tightly, wanting so desperately to make everything better.

"You turned me into a mess," she covered her face with her palms, refusing to be seen this vulnerable and weak again.

He couldn't even argue with that statement because, at that moment, he knew she was right. He had turned her into a mess. He had left her without a single thought about if she would be alright, what it would do to her given her psychological condition. 

He had forgotten how much she loved and needed him and how his sudden disappearance would affect her. He was unable to stand her vulnerable state any longer.

He grabbed both her wrists, pulling them away from her face, letting his eyes meet hers.

"Look at me," he said in the softest way possible.

He was doing exactly what she didn't want him to do.

She was concealing her reckless emotions from him, forbidding him to see her like this any longer.

At his words, she reluctantly let go of and slowly lifted her face. She didn't want him here, but she did. She craved, no, needed him.

She looked directly into his eyes, feeling her heart ache, not wanting this moment to end but also wanting to escape it. His orbs had the most solemn expression, looking at her with sorrow and empathy.

He couldn't help but feel how her emotions were constantly switching between rage and sadness, and although she didn't say the words, his heart was still willing to believe that she still loved him.

Because she truly did.

And that's why she hated herself so much.

Heeseung's heart couldn't take it anymore.

When she looked away from his eyes, he saw how much she was still struggling to keep her emotions from breaking down completely. He wanted to help her, he wanted to make everything better, but he didn't know how.

With a light tug, he pulled her close and tightly hugged her. The warmth from his body spread to her, the smell of his cologne filling her nostrils.

As if the whole world had turned upside down, she had officially reached her limits. There were no barriers in her way anymore and she let her emotions burst out.

At last, she allowed herself to cry in front of someone again. In front of him. In his arms, in his embrace, in his chest.

With the sound of her trembling breaths, Heeseung could feel how real this moment was. Every tear falling from her cheeks, every sniffle, and every sob.

He didn't mind one bit. He didn't care how vulnerable she was right now or how weak this moment made her look. To him, her hugging hugging him back and feeling her body pressed against his was all that mattered right now.

She was finally home.

She was finally safe again.

She was where she was supposed to be all along.

With her lover, her soulmate, her other part.

She could finally smile again.

Heeseung tightened the grip on her body, wanting to bring her as close as possible to fill the space of loneliness in her heart.

The feeling of her warm body against his was all he needed to feel complete again. It was like he found the last missing piece of the puzzle. With it, the picture was complete. His heart was finally beating again. 

He kept his arms around her, not letting go of her for a single second. He hoped that this was just the beginning of their second chance.

Her hands rested on his chest as she lifted her head, inches away from his lips.

He brought her closer, making the space between their faces even shorter. He slowly lowered his head to meet her lips, his breath slightly trembling as his heart pumped rapidly in his chest.

She moaned into the kiss, closing her eyes and letting him take control. She was so tired, both mentally and physically, but craved him intensely.

Their tongues collided against each other leisurely and intensely at the same time, desperate to have one another as close as possible. 

The kiss was hungry, both despairing for each other that they were practically devouring each other rather than just simply enjoying the moment.

Heeseung's arms tightly wrapped around her, holding her firmly against his body, his lips moving with a steady pace alongside hers. There was no need for any words, as their entire bodies had already expressed everything they needed to.

His hands ran under her hospital gown, sliding upwards on her back. She arched her back at the contact, moaning and lightly biting onto his lip.

Heeseung couldn't help but moan at her reaction. The feeling of his hands on her skin sent shivers down her spine, his fingers feeling like little sparks of joy spreading through.

He moaned against her lips again, wanting this moment to last even longer.

She was all his, and he was all hers.

There was nothing that could stop them from being so intimate and together right now. All the anger and hatred that lingered inside was washed away by the sheer joy of being reunited.

He began tracing her spine with delicate, light touches, sending a chill down her back despite the warm sensations that the gesture caused.

When his hands moved further up, her back began to arch involuntarily, breathing becoming heavier.

His fingers found themselves tangled in her hair, pulling back as the kisses became even more passionate.

"Someone could come in any moment," she panted as he pulled away for a minute, gripping his shirt for stability since she was in a daze. Any hospital staff could barge in, and she certainly didn't want anyone to catch her engaging in lewd activities...

Heeseung let out a chuckle at her reminder, still feeling his heart pump and his lips vibrating with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

"I don't mind," he whispered, his lips hovering near hers again, teasing.

At that moment, the kiss felt so perfect for him, so right that he didn't care if anyone saw them in such a vulnerable state. He looked around the room and back at her, a small, mischievous grin appearing on his face.

"You're crazy!" she wanted to protest, but he kissed her again, sliding his hand behind her neck so she could fully transfer her weight onto his hand.

"Don't worry," he said, getting up and heading towards the door, getting a "do not disturb" sign out of the shelf and putting it on the door's front handle before locking themselves in.

He was glad he had decided to take her to a private hospital, not only because the surgery was done quickly, but he could also stay the night with her.

She couldn't help but feel a little bit of relief wash over, knowing that they wouldn't be interrupted by anybody walking by. The two of you could finally have some privacy to let the passion and desire run free.

With the heat between both of them building up, Heeseung returned to the bed, this time straddling on top of her.

"Oh," she gaped at him from below, her hands holding onto his arms next to her.

Her gaze landed underneath his shirt as he hovered over her, allowing her to fully see his abs. They were still as sculpted and defined as she remembered, perhaps even more visible now. Her mouth slightly hung loose, biting her lip to conceal her arousal.

He looked down at her, seeing the intent stare at his abs as her finger lightly trailed towards the edge of his shirt.

With a soft smirk, he lifted his arms, letting her expose his entire upper body, the abs, and pecs flexing slightly as he moved. He let her admire and touch every inch of his muscle, even letting her trace the veins on his arms.

For some reason, seeing him suddenly topless caused a couple of fireworks to set off in her stomach, immediately looking away to hide the wave of heat mantling her cheeks.

Heeseung couldn't help but giggle softly at her shyness, finding it utterly appealing. He still got butterflies each time she blushed like this, finding it to be one of her most endearing characteristics.

He leaned closer, lifting her hands off her face and caressing it with his own hands.

"So beautiful," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Don't be shy. You can touch any part of me you want."

"Hee," she panted, feeling breathless from the lewdness of his words.

He chuckled, noticing how overwhelmed she got.

"I can't believe how easily flustered you get."

He paused for a few seconds before placing one of his hands on her pink cheek.

"It's okay to be touched like this, you know," he whispered into her ear.

"You've touched my heart so many times already, you can touch me as much as you like."

"If you keep talking like that, I'll melt," she sighed, placing her hand on his face as his gaze only evoked more attraction.

Heeseung laughed, finding her response to his comments sweet. He could see her already trying not to blush and feeling quite embarrassed, which made him want to tease her even further.

"Is that so?" he inquired, looking at her with a teasing smile on his lips.

"Well, maybe it would be better to see you in liquid form. Then I could at least drink in your beauty all at once."

"What are you even saying!" She widened her eyes, slapping his arm and covering her mouth out of embarrassment.

Heeseung smiled and played with a strand of her hair.

"Am I making you upset?" he teased, "and there I was, planning on making you melt all over me so I could lick it all up." With a smirk, he brought his face closer to hers, letting her feel his breath against her lips.

"You're such a pervert," her head turned to the side on the pillow, closing her eyes as the tip of her ears began to redden.

"You like it, though," his voice was tinged with a teasing undertone, almost daring her to deny it.

"Is this making you nervous?" he asked lusciously, "maybe I should keep kissing your neck until you can't take it anymore."

She moaned and grabbed his back the moment his lips brushed against her neck, breathing heavier than before.

He knew damn well how sensitive her neck was, and he always used that against her. He smirked at her reaction to his kiss, noticing how her body tensed up.

As he continued kissing her neck and leaving hickeys all across it, he could hear how she was trying to repress her moans.He didn't plan on going too far with this, but he was incredibly tempted to make you her out with his touch.

She pushed him away for a minute, her whole body practically shaking from the stimulation.

Heeseung smirked, knowing he had pushed her limits with the kiss.

Still, he didn't hesitate one second to get close to her again and place light kisses across her face.

"Is that too much?" he asked, his voice still maintaining that teasing tone, "I could do even more you know. We have a whole night ahead of us."

"I hate you so much," she grunted, letting him peck her face with smooches.

"Such harsh words coming from such a cute mouth." Heeseung laughed as she kept resisting his kisses, only making him want to tease her more.

"You can hate me all you want, but you can't escape my charm," he grinned at her, kissing her forehead and letting his fingers trail downwards.

"You could have gotten me naked instead of blabbering on."

Heeseung raised his eyebrows and smirked at the straightforwardness of her comment.

"Is that an invitation?" he inquired, "cause if it is, then I accept it completely." He brought her close to his body again, still keeping a firm grasp around her waist.

"Let me make your desire come true."

"Be careful, it hurts," she sat up, holding onto him.

Heeseung smiled softly at her actions, letting her sit up and gently lifting her onto his lap. He saw how tired she was, the exhaustion of the surgery still weighing in on her.

"Are you sure you want to do this right now?" he inquired in a concerned tone, "we don't have to do anything, and still…"

He wavered for a moment, leaning her body against him.

"I still want to be near you."

She nodded, running her hands on his bare chest before giving it soft and tender pecks.

He let out a soft groan as his chest was bombarded with so many kisses, his body feeling warm at the spot her lips placed on. He let her body lean on him, enjoying the softness of her skin on his own. He couldn't stop but smile at how soft and gentle her every gesture was, making him feel the need to protect her.

She traced upwards, bringing her lips to his neck. She soaked up the smell of his scent, letting her lips slowly brush against his honey skin, licking and biting occasionally.

After kissing his cheek, she let her face rest on his shoulder, sighing at the warmth they were passing onto each other.

Heeseung cuddled her, running his hands through her silky hair as he enjoyed the closeness of her presence. They were both lying in silence for a couple of minutes, letting the quietness of the moment envelope them both. He felt content, and so did she. She floundered to explain it, but being in his arms made her feel safe and protected as if she was in a cocoon away from the outside world.

"Help me take this off, please," she pointed at her gown, slowly kissing him one more time.

"You don't have to say it twice."

He paused for a moment, feeling her tongue gently slide across his lips. It was as if she couldn't wait to feel his warmth all over her body. The thought made him eager to get rid of the clothing, so he began pulling the strings to the side, slowly untying them before she could slip the dress over her shoulders.

She looked down to see her chest wrapped with bandages from the surgery, sighing at the sight. Her eyes darted away, slanting a bit.

Heeseung's eyes followed her gaze, realizing how uncomfortable and self-conscious she must have felt about it. Wanting to ease her tension, he smiled and placed his hands on her shoulders before whispering next to her ear.

"You don't have to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable. I am your lover, and nothing you show me will make me love you any less."

With those words, Heeseung's voice was tinged with kindness, as he wanted to make her feel at ease and wanted.

"I'm sorry for looking like this," she lowered your head, trying to hide her chest.

Heeseung gently caressed her face, lifting it so he could stare directly into her eyes.

"Never be sorry for something you have zero control over." He lifted his hand and placed it on top of her chest, his thumb running across the bandages.

"I was here to support you during the surgery, and I'm still here now to support you through your recovery, and no matter what, I will always love you."

She felt her eyes watering, sobbing as his kind words caressed her soul with love.

He didn't hesitate to pull her in a tight hug, soothing her as he cradled her in his arms.

The comfort of his touch was evident, not only from how her body quivered from the sudden embrace but also from her sobbing. It was clear as a day that she was going through a lot, but the thought of being in his arms was enough to calm her nerves and soothe her soul.

"I love you," she whispered, looking for his lips with hers.

"I love you more, Y/N."

Heeseung brought their bodies closer. It was a tender moment, full of affection and love, as they shared a deep kiss full of care and adoration.

"So you still want me? Even though I look like this," she foolishly asked, worried he could be less attracted to her after the surgery. Not only that, but she had lost a lot of weight, and she wasn't comfortable in her skin.

Heeseung was instantly alarmed at the comment, well aware of her insecurities. The way she was concerned was the last thing he needed to see right now.

"Don't ever think like that again," he placed his forehead against hers, wanting her to understand how he felt.

"Nothing will ever make me love you less. You've been through this surgery and lost some weight, but have I ever told you how beautiful you still look? How much I still want you?"

"Please tell me," she hiccuped, getting goosebumps when he cupped her cheeks and softly caressed them in his big hands.

Heeseung smirked softly before leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"You are incredible to me. Nothing has changed how I feel about you. In fact, I feel that my love for you has multiplied, and I want you more than ever."

He waited for a minute, letting his words sink into her heart.

"You've gone through so much today, and all I want to do is take care of you and help you recover fully..."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing from receiving so much care and affection. She had gotten used to being alone and not having anyone for so long that she forgot how it felt to be loved.

Heeseung saw how his behavior was having a huge impact on her, and although he was touched by seeing her reaction, he also felt a certain joy in it, since it meant she was letting him into her life. The more she let him in, the more he felt satisfied, seeing how she accepted his protection. 

"Let me cuddle you again," he smiled, caressing her hair as he pulled her closer to his body.

"No, make love to me, please," she leaned back, letting him gently hold her close.

"I want you so badly."

Heeseung was a bit taken aback by the suddenness of her demand, but the tone of her voice was tempting and irresistible.

He let his hands crawl down her body until they ended up resting on her hips and butt.

"Are you sure you're feeling good enough to do something like this?" he whispered into her ear, not wanting to do anything that could potentially hurt her.

"As long as you're gentle," she smiled, caressing his face in her palm.

Heeseung let out a low growl as she touched his face, delicate yet sensual, enough to make him harder. The more she touched him, the more he felt his heart racing and his breath speeding up.

He moved in closer, their bodies touching from head to toe as her breath hitched.

"I'm all yours," she whispered.

Heeseung was speechless the moment he heard those words leave her mouth. 

It was the most beautiful thing he could ever imagine. 

Someone who truly loves him and wants to be with him.

He looked down at her, letting his orbs get lost in hers.

"Do you mean those words?"

She nodded, pressing herself onto his erection.

"My heart only beats for you and you only," she smiled, intertwining her hands with his.

He let out a low gasp upon seeing her take control, feeling some blood hastily flowing to his lower regions.

Her words were like music to his ears, and he kept grinning like an idiot. He was so happy she felt this way about him. He lowered his head, kissing the small space between her shoulder and neck.

"Take off your pants, Hee," she grabbed his belt, trying to take it off.

Her command had him on edge. He was so eager to obey that he didn't waste a second and quickly complied, undoing his leather belt and taking off his trousers as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Seeing him completely naked in front of her made her nervous, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear while looking over to the side.

Why did he have to look so ethereal and luscious?

The moment she averted her gaze to another direction and started playing with her hair, urging him to be even closer. He let out a slow breath and took in her appearance from head to toe.

She always had a way of looking vulnerable yet seductive that made his heart flutter with every heartbeat.

He leaned over, gently laying her back on the bed, getting on top. 

She gasped quietly, having him this close making her feel some type of way. Her hand wandered on his neck, pulling him lower to get a taste of his luscious lips one more time.

Heeseung moaned as she tugged him downwards and let her explore his body. It was a feeling that left him with no words.

He let his body rest on hers, making sure she was in a comfortable position as his hands roamed around her flawless body, trailing upwards until they ended up on her breasts.

She hitched once his warm palms held them, cautiously caressing them. Her hands rested upon his, guiding them to cup her breasts a bit more.

His touch was tender and careful, making sure not to hurt her while molding his hands to fit her curves. Her hands encouraged and guided him more, immediately tightening. Nevertheless, he made sure to keep the pressure at a minimum.

The feeling of the heat between their bodies, the sensation of their fingers running over each others' bodies, and the delicate kissing was enough to make his breath pick up pace as he groaned softly.

"You're so beautiful," she breathed out, every bit of oxygen getting cut off in her system whenever he looked at her with that dazzling gaze.

He sensed a deep level of contentment, letting his lips brush against hers. They were warm, and the feeling of her soft body under him left him feeling so excited that his heart would burst.

The fact she even wanted to be with him in that moment made the experience more fulfilling to him, the love only growing with each passing second.

He guided his mouth lower, from her neck to her collarbones, until he had reached her petite breasts, rubbing his face against them. He couldn't get enough of her scent and warmth, kissing and licking her nipples.

The tingling sensation of his tongue made her body shiver, bringing a rush of excitement. Her hands moved upwards to his hair, letting her fingers run through it. She failed to hide her moans, a few escaping, causing a surge of ecstasy to run to her toes, which curled in response. It was quite difficult to maintain her composure.

Her whimpers drove him crazy, glazing her teats tenderly like they were his favorite type of ice cream he couldn't get enough of.

She looked down at Heeseung's erection, grabbing it in her hand. Her fingers wrapped around it gradually, her heart rate racing, mind all over the place. She was lost in passion and had a hard time believing this was happening.

He leaned to her ear, his breath brushing over her after whispering her name. Her touch sent shivers down his spine, but he was also excited at the same time. It's been a while since the last time he had felt the sensation of a woman's touch on him, and he liked it.

She kept guiding her hand, traveling up and down his shaft. He continued twitching in her hand, overstimulated by her touch and existence. She struggled to properly inhale, the intensity of their activities sucking in all the clear oxygen roaming around the room.

Heeseung was going crazy. He was shivering and jolting, all his sensations heightening, and his body was becoming a little sensitive. She didn't have to touch his sensitive area to make him squirm. The way she used her hand to stroke him made any self-control he had left fly out of the window. The pleasure of her touch was overbearing.

"I missed you so much," she confessed, her thumb pressing on the head of his member, causing him to hiss in pleasure.

"I missed you too, Y/N," he whispered, letting a low moan slip out of his lips. She had his full attention. Not even his breath would slip away.

The way she took pride in making him squirm and moan, the way she traced him like a paintbrush across a canvas, made his heart skip a beat, wanting more of her.

He slowly thrust his member into her hand, practically using her to ease his arousal. She guided her palm gently down his shaft, letting him pleasure himself using her body. She kissed his neck, gently biting it. It was fun to care for the dominant one in the relationship.

Heeseung groaned as her lips kissed and nibbled on his neck. The feeling of the kisses left the blood running hot through his veins, sending a rush of heat through, slightly spasming below.

His hands moved down her body, one of them grasping her hips. She groaned as he felt his fingers circling her sacred part, spitting down for easy access inside.

"You shouldn't be doing this," he panted, his index playing with her clit.

"I should be the one pleasuring you," he stopped her from doing anything more, not wanting her to feel as though she needed to compensate him in any way.

His hand moved down to her body, skimming over her skin and body before settling down between her legs. His fingers caressed her folds, sending shivers.

"But I want to," she pouted, attempting to close her legs when his face was inches away from her exposed lower part.

"I know you do, but it's time that I got to return the favor to you," he cupped her thighs, squeezing them gently as he lifted her legs over his shoulders.

She covered her mouth, closing her eyes the minute his tongue brushed over her woman parts, causing her to throw her head back from euphoria.

Heeseung's touch was gentle but firm. He wasn't being forceful, he wasn't being rough, he was merely enjoying the moment of watching her body shake and tremble.

His hand moved lower and lower, his finger tracing your entrance.

His spit slipped inside, alongside his fingers, moving them in and out with ease while licking her clit. He pushed his fingers in more, curling them upwards to hit that sweet spot that would make her moan and groan in pleasure.

"Hee," she panted, drooling over how good she was feeling, tugging his hair since she needed to hold onto something. After all, she was going through cloud nine.

His touch left her gasping for air like a dying woman. She had no choice but to squirm and moan, letting a wave of ecstasy take over. It felt like she was in another world, the feeling extremely intense.

Heeseung's fingers circled and moved inside her, causing her to dissolve. She gritted her teeth, hands forming into fists as the pleasure overstimulated her.

His were moving slowly and methodically, focused on her that the world around him almost didn’t exist anymore.

It was as if the both of them were in their little worlds, enjoying the feeling of being together, their breathings syncing, bodies blending into one blossom. His hands slowly picked up the pace, going slightly quicker while remaining gentle.

"Hee," she called out softly, fighting to contain her lewd sounds, legs shaking slightly as the stimulations were overlapping. She felt like she was going to explode any second.

He knew what you were going through because he could see her expressions rapidly changing with each lick and curl. She was reaching that point where she couldn't hold it in anymore. It made him happy since this was proof that he was capable of pleasuring her to such an extent.

"I love you," she cried from the pleasure, arms crossing over her face to hold it all in. His fingers were quickly moving deeper and faster. He wanted her to experience as much as she could right now.

The words of affection got Heeseung feeling all mushy inside. He wanted to please her, to make her experience everything he could give.

"I-" her mind went blank, turning your head from one side to the other, feeling her climax building up inside. She was so close, and she couldn't hold on anymore. Her hand immediately grabbed his free one, tightly gripping it.

Heeseung didn't stop, speeding up to drive her over that edge.

"Hee-" she called desperately, legs shaking as he kept licking and moving his fingers quicker.

"Relax… Just relax, Y/N… Let go, let go for me," he said, his voice soft but commanding.

Without another minute, her nails dug deeper, her body shaking and tugging rapidly as she reached her climax, completely covering his fingers in her arousal. Heeseung smiled, licking all of her cum from his fingers and entrance, edging her with his kitten licks.

"Fuck," she cursed, overstimulated by everything.

She felt like all the tension had left her body - as if gravity had let go, and she was floating in the air. Her mind was blank, body trembling, breath quick and shaky as the feeling of pleasure was running all through your system.

"Heeseung," she whispered, pulling him closer.

He smiled a little as he moved his hand up to her cheek.

She wrapped her arms and legs around his body, kissing his neck over and over again.

"Please, put it in," she begged, resting in his embrace.

The moment she spoke was almost like music to his ears, and Heeseung knew exactly what you were asking for.

He gently pushed her down onto her back, leaning over with his hand trailing down her shoulder and chest to her neck. He let his other hand move lower slowly to touch her properly.

"Are you ready?", he whispered.

She kissed him, letting her actions speak. Her tongue immediately slid inside, breathing and moaning into his mouth.

He matched her energy, his tongue fighting with hers. He wasn't being gentle, neither was he being a beast. He was allowing the moment to unfold, not rushing it. The wet kisses were leaving them yearning for more.

"I don't want to wait anymore, Hee," she conveyed, wholly resting her body on the bed. Her legs were still wrapped around his waist, putting her arms above her head.

It was her way of letting him know that she was ready. That she needed him, now.

Those words sent his blood boiling, causing his member to twitch and jolt from the feeling of wanting her so badly.

He looked down at her marvelous body, noticing the position she had placed herself in for him - the invitation he saw in her eyes made him go wild.

He leaned down to her, his breath handling her with every word that came out of his mouth.

"Are you sure you can handle me?" he whispered, his voice a little low and husky from the intense moment.

"Stop talking and just do it already," her patience was getting thin, rubbing her lower part against his.

He grinned, unable to hold back the smile on his face after she snapped at him. With his body resting over hers, his hands went to the back of her legs, squeezing them slightly.

He looked into her eyes once more before pushing his body forward, aligning his shaft at her entrance. It wouldn't have been Heeseung if he hadn't teased first, rubbing his member against her slickness. He enjoyed watching her whimper in agony and frustration.

Her mind went blank the more he teased, swept away from his touch. There wasn't one single thought in her mind, merely focusing on this moment.

Her hands gripped his muscular arms, moans getting louder with each moment he rubbed against her beautiful body.

Heeseung's mind was on nothing but giving her satisfaction. Her legs gripped his back, voice becoming more breathy and soft as she wanted him to ease her arousal.

He smiled, and without a warning, he put himself in, his dick sliding inside her smoothly, causing both of them to moan loudly.

Her slippery and hot walls trapped him inside, trying to soothe his tugging and jerking shaft. He groaned, his abdomen drawing in at every push, shaking his head from the vigor of pleasure. She was unreal, her beauty, her body, just all of her.

Heeseung opened his eyes after calming down, his breathing deepening. His lips agonized for hers, huffing his compressed desire and longing into a powerful and passionate kiss. It was the longest one of today, sucking her lips in his mouth, his tongue grazing over, between, or under them continuously. He couldn't get enough, cursing at how unbelievable this was.

Her heart was beating so fast she could feel it in her ears, not believing that this was happening to her right now.

"H-Hees…" she could barely say his name as her voice quivered. He was using one hand to hold her against him, his other moving down to her hand.

"Y/N…" He breathed out, his voice husky and shaky. His thumb rubbed her hand, squeezing it gently to the point she could feel his touch.

The feeling of him being inside was a mix of many things, but the main factor was that it felt right. His body fit like a puzzle inside, like two pieces finally joining together.

She had used this expression before, but there was no better way of describing this bliss. It was too perfect to be true.

She was losing her mind, forgetting to breathe.

“Take a deep breath,” he whispered, the words barely audible from being so lost in the moment.

His hips slowly moved alongside her, their bodies now both thrusting together, absolutely lost in the moment.

All of his thoughts disappeared, the rush for pleasure consuming him. His lips met her shoulder between kisses, his tongue licking along it.

She did as he said, inhaling and exhaling filthy noises, turning him on even more. Her eyes were teary, not because it hurt, but because it felt too good.

“Good girl,” he whispered, caressing her hair.

His hips kept moving, taking longer, his back arching as he did. It took everything in him not to lose himself in the pleasure, to hold back and make sure that this was a long and enjoyable experience for both sides.

"Don't ever leave me again, please," she pleaded, realizing how emotional she was getting with each thrust. The fear inside was climbing over her walls, ready to ambush.

"Never," he vowed, kissing her with such desperation that he couldn't control himself any longer. It was like he was craving more of her.

Her hands held onto his hips, nails digging into his skin for support. Her legs were starting to give up, shaking from the intensity and ecstasy of their lovemaking.

Heeseung noticed her legs, moving his hand down to grip her thigh and hold it up slightly. He knew that he had to make adjustments to take it slower and not wear her out so quickly.

“Heeseung,” she breathed out, watching their bodies moving together with every single thrust. How he slid inside her and pulled away, completely disappearing inside her while hitting her hallowed spot. She threw her back, the image sending goosebumps all over.

He watched her body twitch and shiver, nails digging into his back. His breath was growing shaky, incapable of thinking about anything but being inside of her, enjoying the moment when the two of them were connected completely.

She looked at him through her droopy eyelids, toiling to look straight as he kept pushing himself deeper. Her mouth was drooling slightly, a light string of saliva tracing down her neck. This had to be what they meant by being fucked until your brain was empty.

"I love you," he moaned, his voice shaking and his breath increasing in speed. He could barely keep himself from falling in that moment; he was trying his best to keep a steady rhythm.

Her eyes rolled back, completely deteriorating in his thrusts. The deeper he fucked her, the more her insides quivered.

Heeseung pushed even deeper, his mouth open and his breaths coming out in small puffs of white air.

Her nails left long scratches on his back, losing control over herself.

"I'm here," he whispered against her neck. "I'm not going anywhere." Every word he said had a sense of urgency and determination to it. He was there, in her arms and he wasn't leaving her.

"I love you so much, Hee," she sobbed, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. Her moans occasionally slipped out due to his magical thrusts, becoming one with him.

"I love you too," he said quietly as he raised his other hand to her forehead and gently ran his fingers through her bangs. His hand came down to caress her cheek and he looked directly into her eyes. The passion he felt for her was overwhelming, and he couldn't think of anything at this moment but her and the wonderful moment they were sharing.

Heeseung moved his mouth back to her neck, kissing and nibbling softly. This feeling of belonging and unity between the two of them was just incredible.

His thrusts were longer but at the same time slower, his hand moving down her thigh and moving her legs down to his, he needed more grip for the both of their pleasure.

She bit her lips, eyes shutting at the phenomenal experience, throwing her head back and slightly arching. Her chest started hurting a bit, as their intercourse was getting a bit intense.

"Hey," he breathed, pulling himself out for a moment from your body. "Are you okay?"

It seemed that he caught on to the fact that she was beginning to feel some pain. He moved to the side and looked down at her, his face concerned.

"Sorry, it just," she pointed to the wound, exhaling loudly.

He realized that he made her discomforted. He couldn't stop himself from frowning, his face looking concerned.

"Don't apologize," he said, his voice a little low. "Just tell me what I can do to help relieve the pain, alright?"

"Maybe if we lay on our sides," she proposed, struggling to make herself turn

"That's a good idea," he helped her turn, leaning behind her and putting his arms around to help her stay in that position. His body eased into that position, laying his head behind her, arms holding her, and his chest touching her back.

"That's better," she smiled, breathing a bit easier now.

"I'm sorry for hurting you. I was enjoying the moment so much that I got a little carried away…"

"No, it's ok, I was enjoying it as much as you," she turned her head back a bit, grabbing his hands and putting it on her stomach.

Heeseung's body relaxed after her reassurance, leaning in more to wrap himself around her, the top half of his body covering her while the lower half pushed deeper into her.

She whimpered when he slid back in, squeezing his hands with a resonant sigh. This time, he was slower and more gentle, kissing from her nape all down her spine, leaving a lengthy trace of ardor. His mouth traced slowly down her back, turning his adoration into a sensational experience.

It was different this time because his concerns about her comfort were clambering. He never wanted to hurt her, only aiming to give her pleasure. Hence, he grabbed her leg, putting it over his so he had more space to enter deeper, to hit that spot that sent her through the roof.

As expected, she let out a deep gasp, the sound escaping from her almost involuntarily. Heeseung's tongue traced another slow line down her spine and back up again, savoring her taste.

He caressed her inner thigh, moving his hand back to her chest to play with her teats. His thumb and index grabbed them, twisting them around. He loved her appearance, but her breasts were the real treasure he never got enough of.

Words weren't able to describe how incredible this moment was, how their bodies connected and merged into one blossom of fervor.

His hands trailed up and down, drafting her marvelous curves. His touch felt light and gentle, yet there was still a sense of urgency and power behind it.

"You're so fucking beautiful, it's driving me crazy," he cursed, squeezing her breast.

"You're… you're so perfect," he spat out in between kisses, his body getting comfortable and used to this position. He bit down more forcefully on her neck, his kisses leaving more and more red marks.

"Hold me close, please," she whimpered, looking for his hands on her body.

"I got you," he said, body shifting to fully align with hers, arms gripping her from behind to tighten. He brought his face into her neck, his breathing speeding up with each kiss he gave her.

"Never let go," she sobbed, squeezing his hands with her trembling ones.

"Never, I promise," he pledged, holding her close to his chest.

She could feel his heart beating in time with hers, both sounding like they were about to explode.

"Never," she repeated, praying it was going to become true.

Heeseung kissed her deeply and passionately, pressing his body up against hers.

He was aware of her intonation, the worries raking in her head. Every kiss was stronger, more intense, and hotter than the last as he had to destroy all of them, one by one. His lips moved along her neck, tongue encircling on her neck, licking along it as he left no spot untouched.

She sat up, pushing him back on the bed. Heeseung's eyes widened, his reflexes quickly grabbing her wrists to prevent her from falling back.

She slightly groaned, lowering her head a little to catch her breath.

"Can you also sit up?" she proposed, wanting the two of you to make love while hugging each other.

He did as she asked, lifting himself a bit, leaning his back against the bed as he sat up with his legs spread. His hands held her back, one of his hands moving down to hold her leg as the other rested back on his. His mouth met hers, giving her a long kiss, not letting go of her in any way.

"I wanted to look at you," she voiced as she guided his shaft back inside her, scrunching her face.

"That's fine," he breathed out, his voice hoarse from being in her again, the constant switching driving his member to aggravate.

His eyes looked at her while her body trembled and twitched, his body feeling incredible. It was almost like being high, heavenly, and divine.

"I can feel your heart beating against mine," she smiled, her chest brushing against his, her perky nipples stimulating themselves.

Heeseung's heart beat faster every time she did that, her soft hands tenderly caressing his body, as if it would break in her delicate touch. She went over the muscles of his leg, his stomach, his chest, and eventually his arms. Her touch sent shivers down his spine and made him moan and sigh, realizing just how much she was driving him crazy.

"I missed you so much," she chuckled, masking the pain in her voice by cupping his cheeks.

"I missed you too," he breathed out, his lips locking with yours, making sure to kiss her deeply to show how much she meant to him.

Every kiss and bite seemed to drive a feeling of euphoria through his body, like every time he kissed her, a wave of happiness and satisfaction coursed through.

She closed her eyes when he caressed her back, circling it with a tender push. He made her feel so comfortable and safe, all with just one look, one touch, one kiss.

His kiss was the sweetest thing, his hands and lips exploring every inch of her. He wanted to feel all of her curves and touch every inch of her skin.

Her fingers wandered into his hair as the kiss deepened, huffing into his mouth while gently moving up and down, making both of them feel the most wonderful fractions inside.

He pulled her closer, their bodies wrapped around each other, unable to let go of one another. Their hands rested along each other's sides and their legs slightly entwined underneath.

Heeseung's tongue slid in and out of her mouth, exploring all of the areas he had already tasted before. He licked her upper lip after moving his hands down her hips.

He firmly gripped them, guiding her up and down his cock while he sucked on her neck, leaving trails of hickeys.

His breath warmed her icy skin and his lips kissed and nibbled along. Her body was starting to tremble and shake, his tongue returning to her lips. His kisses were extremely passionate, the ones where she forgot to breathe or think.

She pulled away, staring into his eyes through her lax gaze, mouth slightly agape, lips covered in their saliva. Her brain was empty, not thinking about anything but his presence and being inside her.

It felt like a deer caught in the headlights, clueless and innocent.

Heeseung smirked, watching her stare back but not knowing what to say. She appeared so pure it made him want to kiss her over and over again, fully swallow her in smooches and happiness.

He ran his fingers through her hair and pulled her face towards him again, this time gently kissing her neck.

Her wet lips brushed against his neck, quietly puffing and huffing. Her saliva was pooling on his shoulder since she rested her face on it, unintentionally drooling from the sensation.

Neither of them had any intention of stopping, wanting this moment to be eternal. When he saw how much she was enjoying herself, when he felt how aroused she was and how much he was giving her pleasure his lips curled into a satisfied smile.

His hands moved back from her cheeks to her hips again, squeezing her waist. His kisses still moved along her neck, his tongue occasionally nibbling at her collarbone and leaving it slightly red from the small love bites. 

She was drunk-dazed from his love and affection, from his kisses and touch, from his presence. One man was enough to wreck your entire world over and gather it up back, and that was Lee Heeseung. 

"I love you," he muttered. 

Nothing else was on his mind other than how gorgeous she looked, how incredible she felt, and how good it was to see every expression on her face from pleasure to satisfaction.

"Say it again," she murmured into his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You want me to.. say it again?" he asked, his voice a bit playful, yet his smile warm and genuine.

He moved his tongue to the side of her neck, running it from her ear to her collarbone, kissing it softly.

"I love you."

"Again," she smiled, closing her eyes from the exhaustion.

Heeseung chuckled, caressing her cheeks and running his fingers through her hair.

"Hmm, should I?" He teased, his voice mischievous.

"Should I say it again?" His breath and hand fondled her neck with marks.

"Mhm," she nodded, lazily dragging her lips on his neck.

"I love you..." he breathed out, moving his lips down until they reached hers.

"How many times do you want me to say it?"

"Until the day I die," she mumbled, eyelids shut and mouth still drooling, body completely relaxed and leaning against his.

"I love you," he repeated, giving you a light kiss.

"I love you." Another kiss

"I love you." Another one.

"I love you." The last one, slightly rougher than the rest. 

"How much, though?" her eyelids open a little, giving him a tired, but extremely seductive look, the one he lost himself in each time. 

"Hmm.. let me think," he chuckled, feeling the hotness mounting in himself from her look alone.

"If I could, I would take all of your pain away and replace it with the happiness you deserve. I would give you the whole world just to see you smile in my arms every day. I would give my life to make yours wonderful. I would sacrifice anything just so you can feel safe and loved. "

She whimpered at his words, eyes watering and insides rolling over. Her nails dug into his back again, hiding her flushed, red face in his shoulder.

"I would fight for you and protect you with my life, not allow anyone to hurt you ever again. I would fondle you in love and affection, from the moment you open your eyes till you close them," Heeseung breathed out, her scent intoxicating him.

"S-stop," she whinced in pleasure, eyes rolling back. The more he spoke, the closer she was to cumming, his words messing up her insides.

"You're my world, my life, my home, my reason to breathe every day. I want to take care of you and protect you, make you happy, and keep you warm every single time you feel cold or sad," his breathing shallowed as he spoke, feeling incredibly turned on by her reaction.

"E-enough," she pulled back, throwing her head back. He grabbed her wrists, not allowing her to escape his love.

"Never," he responded, pulling her back into his arms.

"I want to be with you all the time, I want to feel your body against mine, I want to make you feel loved, I want you to be mine and me to be yours until we die."

"S-shut u-up," she stuttered out, knowing she was minutes away from her orgasm.

"Why would I stop? " he asked, moving his thumb over her shoulder, circling and brushing her skin with the slight graze of a nail, leaving little marks on her skin.

He was also close to his climax, so he was more determined to finish the job than ever. His body tightened around her and his kissing became more profound and stronger.

"You need to hear the truth," he hissed in her ear, clasping her buttocks in his hands, pushing her onto his dick. 

"H-Heseung, I'm gonna-" she trembled, biting onto his shoulder to keep her loud moans in.

"Don't hold it in," his mouth ran along her shoulder and her arm, the marks getting darker with every kiss.

"Cum with me, please," she pleaded urgently as if her life mattered to it. 

"I will, don't worry," he kissed her cheek, caressing her head. 

Without another minute, her nails dug deeper, her pussy trapping his shaft in her fully. Her walls spasmed in a periodic pattern, sucking him in. Her clear cum glistened his shaft, wrapping him in its warmth and comfort. 

"Good girl," he whispered, his jaw twitching slightly. He wrapped both of his arms tighter and pulled her into a messy kiss.

His release followed up right after, managing to pull out just in time to cover her abdomen in his crystal white load. He panted as his fingers traced his cum on her stomach, spreading it all across her. 

His other hand gently laid her down, licking all of his mess off of her, the same way he did with her own. 

Perhaps it was the overstimulation he loved to observe on her or the fact that she clung to him more after cumming. Either way, he didn't stop rolling his wet tongue along her body. 

"My good girl," Heeseung whispered into her slick hole, pushing his tongue inside to slurp up all of her cum like it was a treat. 

Did he love her? Yes.

However, was he a bit of a sadist? Yes.

A low moan escaped his lips as he felt his mouth filled with her cum, his free hand gripping hers tightly. 

"H-hee."

He lifted his stare, landing on her adorable one, beseeching him to hug her. 

"You look so cute when you’re all tired like this, Y/N," he smirked, a faint peck landing on her cheek. His hand intertwined with her, the other playing with her hair. 

Sometimes, the amount of love he harvested for her managed to surprise him, finding himself falling apart in her touch and gaze. 

"H-hee," she whispered, closing her eyes. She tried to fight her exhaustion, but it was starting to get to her.

He saw how drowsy she looked, so he pulled her tighter to his body. 

"Go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up," he kissed her, his voice very relaxed and comforting.

"You promise?" she murmured, half asleep on his chest. 

"I promise," he assured, kissing her forehead and tucking her against him, pressing her body against his.

His hands stayed on her side, keeping her safely in his warm embrace.

"Until the day I die."

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Taglist: @end-hyphen, @hee-pster, @jakeswifeyy, @gegeetime, @heerated, @jayked, @forjongseong, @enhastolemyheart

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ^^

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@maggstar

[boujiestpoet]

STARCROSSED (charles leclerc x oc)

SOCIAL MEDIA/NEWS CHAPTER 2

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MASTERLIST

Summary: Is it a pr suicide to post criptic messages

FACECLAIM: The extraordinary Tems

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. THE BEHAVIOUR OF THE CHARACTERS DOES NOT REFLECT THE REAL PERSONALITIES OF THE INDIVIDUAL UPON WHOM THEY ARE BASED. I AM MERELY BORROWING THEIR PHYSICAL LIKENESS AND THE PROFESSION THEY HAVE FOR THE SAKE OF THIS NARRATIVE

TW: Cringiness from the writer, grammatical errors (have mercy english is my semi firsr language)

renee_bennett

like by reneerapp, normani, cocojones and others

renee_bennett: I justcame back from Norway as promised, here's the first part of the photo dump

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charles_leclerc

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"Hey everyone, I wish I didn't have to write this, but I owe it to you, my amazing fans, to be honest about something personal. It’s with a heavy heart that I need to share some news. After a lot of thought, Leah and I have decided to end our relationship. This isn’t something I ever imagined saying, and it’s not easy.

Many of you know how much I cared for Leah. We shared so many memories, laughs, and incredible moments together. But sometimes, life takes unexpected turns, and I’ve learned some things that left me blindsided. I found out that Leah had been seeing someone else behind my back – a model named Ben Fields. To say I was shocked would be an understatement.

I never saw this coming, and it’s been one of the hardest things I’ve ever faced. As much as it hurts, I’m trying to move forward with dignity, staying focused on my career and the people who have always had my back. Trust is something I value deeply, and it’s something I’ll never compromise on.

I just want to say thank you to all of you who have shown us support over the years. I ask for privacy as I try to heal and process everything. I’ll always be grateful for your love, and I promise to keep giving my best on and off the track.

Stay kind. Stay true. And keep racing. 💔

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Author's Note: I'm back with another chapter I saw that in the real life chapter is not getting alot of views, that's fine, I'm having fun. So probably I will blend smau chapter with the irl chapter. If you guys have any advice, advice is welcomed.