#when it comes to those days i only feel at worst bitter. like i know my brain and my body are incredibly uncoordinated it's objective for me

[amoristt]

the night falls like heaven

「 ✦nam-gyu/reader ✦ 」 tags: sfw // hurt/comfort, pining, nam-gyu's pov, lots of angst in an edgy way, very light drxg mentions,

a/n: this'll be a 2 part mini series! so excited to get this started ugh tysm to anon who requested this word count: 9.2k | songs i listened to (x) (x) original request (x)

・❥・Nam-gyu was not a man of many regrets. 

If he had to count, he could fit them all on one hand. Mostly from when he was a teen. Younger and somehow even more impulsive than he was now, drinking through money like water and getting into fights he’d never remember. The worst of them all, however, was one he hadn’t thought would really eat at him. It was unlike himself to get hung up over a girl of all things, but good lord, he was hanging. Strings and all, like a marionette, bleeding and sore at the joints. 

Tough to swallow couldn’t even compare to the feeling of when that specific regret suddenly pops up in the same room after years of abandon. If he hadn’t been so down bad, the sight of you would have only ruffled up his feathers enough to remind him of a better time, but in God’s honest eyes, those feathers of his had been ruffled since the dawn of the very instant you left. The door hadn’t even had a chance to hit you on your way out, nothing but dust and tears in your wake. He was stuck fast, left to his own devices, bouncing between wondering why he let it go so bad and whilst also begging God himself to make you stop being such a bitch. 

But the worst part, the worst part is that even now you still carry this aura of over it all around you. Self-respect colliding with the want to be loved was never an easy tango to dance, all steps just pulling and pushing and trying to snuff out useless feelings and red hot passion. But you twirled until he did what he did best and nudged you to the brink of your breaking point. All that sweet, sweet adoration drained from your face and he saw it- dignity. He saw it on you on your  way out of his apartment, storming past him with biting tears in your eyes. And now, years later, he gets to see it again from across the room.

You’re sitting on a high, high bunk you’ve claimed as yours, people watching. Other than the initial moment you’d seen him in the bubble of people, you haven't bothered sparing him a second glance. It was a beautiful moment- your eyes widening, stopped dead in your tracks before you were on the move all over again. He’s sneaking glances through the corners of his eyes, watching you over his shoulder, and you can’t even give him another second of your day. And the thing that really bothers him is that he knows he can’t stop. 

Out of everyone in this room, your distant presence is a fiery beacon in the darkness and he’s an angry, bitter moth. It’s in his very nature to circle and flutter one step behind, seeking the light, burning at its touch. Singed wings and an endless sneer. If only he could just stop touching the heat, he would surely move on. But he just can’t, and the fact that you can pisses him off so much it makes him lose his breath at times. 

He wished, with the very core of his entire being, that you were weaker. Or, at least, stupider. Maybe then you would have lived up to his expectations and showed up to his door, or at his club, teary eyed and lonely without his superior presence around. He could see it behind his eyes at night, the waver in your voice when you’d beg him to come back into your arms, and more importantly, back into your bed. 

I told you so, he’d say, with that shit eating grin and a hand on your waist guiding you out from the cold.

A forlorn, guideless sheep in need of your shepherd. He could be that for you. If only the word boyfriend didn’t make him shudder with every last fiber of his being. If only that specific little thing wasn’t your breaking point. Your face haunted him- that halo around your irises fading into something far away and charred when he’d had the nerve to actually laugh at you for it. You were grabbing your things and leaving, and he sat watching every moment in clips. It wasn’t anything, back then. You were just mad, in a few days you’d be right as rain climbing into his lap and peppering kisses along his throat. You’d be back, he was sure of it. 

But then the days turned into weeks. And then, to his distaste, those weeks faded into months of silence. He started to catch himself looking for you in crowds, visiting places you’d frequented at just to linger around like an awkward ghost in case he spotted you through the shifting crowds. But you were gone- vanished.

Fine. You’ll never see me again, asshole. 

Those words had been etched into the very walls of his cranium since they’d left your lips in a scathing hiss. Such nasty words, but they shook with every consonant. 

Among your pride was a healthy blend of honesty. You had been true to your word- he really did never see you again. Wiped your slate spotless of anything Nam-gyu.

And it drove him fucking crazy. It made him sick to his stomach in a way he did not think was possible. It was out of control- he couldn’t stop thinking about you, you, you. He missed you more than he didn’t, and he was angrier at himself than he’d like to admit. So instead of admitting, he funnels all that anger into the very shape of you. Drags in the idea of you, his memories of you and shoves them down, down, down, until he truly did think he hated you, after all. 

Until he’s clenching his fist so tight he’s drawing blood and telling himself he’s better off now, without some whining bitch in his ear begging him to stick that boyfriend pin into the thinness of his skin. Thinks that without you hanging on his arm all the damn time, he could really go out and have some fun. He thinks, and he thinks and he thinks until he’s thought too much and suddenly he loves you again and he misses you so bad it’s crushing him under the sheer weight of your absence. 

So, Nam-gyu does what Nam-gyu does best once again, and he drowns himself out with the bitter taste of drugs on his tongue and the sear of alcohol in his blood. 

It all stops.

For a time, anyway. 

You always found ways to seep back into his mind one way or another. Songs that would only make it a second in before he was mashing the skip button. A tv show you’d watched together surviving on the screen roughly a whole minute before it’s switched off. Sometimes it was when he saw something he knew you’d like- a shitty video or meme. Other times you came to him in whispers while he laid out on his own living room floor, out of his mind watching the blank ceiling above him twist and writhe under his spotty vision with a needle poking out of his arm. 

But, most times… Most times you would slither your way to the forefront of his mind just before bed. The touch of you, the smell of you. 

The shape of you underneath him. Hands and quiet breaths. He could still hear the noises you made ringing in his ears, stored away in his memories just to taunt him when he was indisputably alone. Soft skin, even softer thighs. Always so warm, and so wet. So willing. You would come to him while he curled over himself in bed, drunk on porn and memories. 

And afterwards, when Nam-gyu had finished, he would throw his head back onto his pillow and ignore the way it felt like there was a lump in his throat. And that would piss him off even more, because fuck, you should be there with him. Laying by his side running your hands through his hair until he’s falling asleep balancing on the fine line of afterglow and dozing off. 

But you aren’t. You’re doing fuck all with who knows in places he’s never been to, places you probably begged him to go but he couldn’t even remember the name of. You hadn’t answered a single one of his texts, you hadn’t picked up a single call and everytime he hears the first couple seconds of your stupid voicemail he wants to crush his phone in his hands. Vexation was a slippery slope into the fires of fury- rage was like a parasite under his skin, eating away at what little rational thinking he had. 

Voicemail after voicemail. Text after ignored text. Anger was the hardest stage- rage grew horns on the crown of his head and it turned him into something he couldn’t recognize. Or, something he refused to recognize- desperate and heartsick. 

It was supposed to be you. Not him. 

He filled the endless gaps of you with drugs often and women when he could. For a short time it would work and he would wonder why he ever let someone else get him so, so low. But then the drugs would wear off. The random woman in his room that he never bothered to learn the name of would grab her clothes and saunter out the door. He stopped letting them stay the night. He could never sleep, stared at the ceiling until 5am wondering why he still felt like shit. He would be right back where he started, sitting on the couch, staring at the door watching you leave over and over again.  

You stopped updating your socials, quit hanging out with the few people that bounced between his and your crowd, successfully scrubbed him of your life entirely. After a year, he resorted to asking around if anyone had seen you. The answer, as always, was a firm no. It was a corrosive feeling, a constant churn and thrum within the cage of his ribs. It made him even more unrecognizable to himself. Made him invite women into his lap just to shove them away when they didn’t smell like you, or sound like you. Or laugh like you.

It had been so, so perfect before. It was fun, and it was hot all the time, and sex with you felt like heaven was a place on earth. Why couldn’t you see that? Why did you have to go and ruin it with your words and pleading eyes? Nam-gyu doesn’t roll like that. You knew that. He’s a free spirit, he tells himself. No chains, no labels. No holding him down. Even if it was at the feet of this gorgeous, gorgeous body and a honey sweet voice that just always seemed to know what to say. Beautiful eyes that always watched, a smile so saccharine, whispering words against his ear so dirty it made him shiver just to think about. 

The world was too vast to be held down. 

But, truth be told, he was held down. 

He is held down. 

When you walked out of his apartment those years ago, he never left that spot, chewing his nails and anxiously spinning the ring on his finger, watching you go. He started seeing it behind his eyes. Replays it, changes the course, wonders where he’d be right now if he’d just said something different. 

Finding you at the games was like divine intervention. It had to be. Some higher power had crossed his path and plopped you right in front of him. With rolling eyes and a deadpan stare at anything except for him, sure but you were there and you weren't going anywhere anytime soon. God had heard his drug induced prayers of stupor. 

Now it was all about waiting. Waiting for the right moment to dive in and recapture you within him and he’d be right back to drinking you in at every chance he had. He’d do it differently this time, do it right so you’d cling to him and wonder why you ever wanted to leave at all. Make you wonder why you were so stupid to have been so stubborn when everything you could ever need was in the palm of your hand. He was sure of it. That strong, bullheaded expression would blitz is something vulnerable in his hands. A lurch of excitement riveted under his skin among the nerves. 

For now, he waits, and watches. Your presence could never go unnoticed by his dark eyes. 

It’s unfortunate for him that Thanos takes a notice to you, too. It’s hard not to, really, when every time he follows Nam-gyu’s locked line of sight it always leads back to you- this little sweet thing perched up at the peak of the bunks alongside the back, watching the room with this bored stare between mundane yapping with other players. 

“Someone you know?” Thanos’s voice had this subtle drip to it, this underlining excitement that Nam-gyu picks up on almost instantly. His expression stays cool, mostly uninterested despite the way he can’t seem to pry his eyes away from you even as he answers.

“Yeah.”

“Who is she?”

And then he’s stuck. Because his mouth opens for a split second to say, my ex, but he can’t quite say that, now can he? But he also can’t say an old friend either, because you simply weren’t. What you two had was something else entirely- a new plane he struggled to navigate, lovely when things were good, a hellscape when they weren't. The lines were always so blurred, fuzzy with sex and warm laughter.

He decides on something mostly true. “Someone I used to hang out with.”

“Girlfriend?” Thanos’s brow raises with his chirp, leaning forward with clear interest. 

“No.” It comes out quick- too quick, and too heavy. Tinged venom with more baggage than even he could handle at times. Thanos catches it on impact and whistles. 

“I see. So you won’t care if I go chat her up? Hm?” 

“Don’t bother. She’s not like that.” Nam-gyu’s scoffs before he can stop himself, this unsettling seed of jealousy planting itself in his chest. 

“Hm… I guess we’ll see, huh?”

You’re dismounting from your bed and climbing onto the stairs when Thanos jumps to his feet, and Nam-gyu can already feel that itchy panic starting to blotch away at his skin. His hands, his cheeks. That seed takes its place within him bearing vicious roots. 

“Man, don’t bother,” He’s touching at Thanos’s sleeve, his shoulder, anywhere he can to try and gather his friend’s attention. “She can be kind of a bi-”

All it takes is a swat to Nam-gyu’s chest to stop him dead in his tracks, words dying his throat. Shut down, watching his friend take quick steps to you, Nam-gyu following close behind to witness.  If only he could be firmer, never demanding, always suggesting. Always rolling over and showing his soft underbelly at Thanos’s whim. Instead, he lets his lips press into a tight line and let’s it all happen right before him. 

You’re on the bottom step and taking a seat, and you see the rapper approaching before he gets a word in, but your eyes skip over him entirely and settle onto Nam-gyu’s. Distress is building in his muscles, but he’s making damn sure to keep himself in check. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone? You want a friend?”

Up closer now, sharing your space, he sees all the things he’d been missing so deeply throughout the years. You still look just as he remembered- still bearing this expression of bemused coolness, still having these all seeing eyes that seemed to cut right through him. 

“A friend?” you hum, and your voice threatens to pull him in like gravity. “You wanna be my friend?”

If jealousy could sprout through his skin, it’d be an ugly beast of horns and claws. But it can’t, so instead, it takes shape in the way Nam-gyu’s eyes are flicking between yours and the rappers, hands wrapped up in his sleeves. 

“Stick with me, yeah? I promise to keep you safe. My number one priority.” And Thanos is patting his chest, flashing those painted nails. Makes Nam-gyu’s chest tighten, his stomach growing sicker by the second. 

Damn, you can see it, too. There’s no denying the way he’s cringing behind that distant smirk, and he doesn’t think to hide the way he’s twisting his rings on his fingers. When you click your tongue, he knows what's coming. 

“Stick with you, hm… Sorry, but I try to work alone. Partner’s tend to, how do I say…” Those eyes of your slice through him all over again, honing into him when you finish your sentence. “Disappoint me.”

Fuck. Disappointment. Oh god, how that sears into Nam-gyu’s skin. The way you look the rapper up and down, visually sizing him up, would make his heart leap into his throat if he were under that same scrutiny. He never understood how you could always be this intense with such a sweet, sweet face. Kindness was certainly a luxury and he missed it, that never ending fire that kept him warm.

“I can change that for you,” Thanos sings.  “I’m a legend here for a reason.”

“Legend? I’ve never heard of you.” Your brows raise in amusement. 

“You will. Thanos.” He puffs his chest out and nods, a half cocked grin playing over his lips. “Guy’s like me, we don’t disappoint.”

The man actually finds the nerve to reach down and pluck your hand, bringing his knuckles to his lips. Nam-gyu feels red hot scorching through his face but he’s locked in place, watching it like a car crash. Relieved when you yank your hand free and shove it into your jacket’s pocket. It’s the only good thing out of this entire interaction, he finds, especially so when Thanos’s smirk falters into a tight surprised line. 

“Don’t go and do all that. Guy’s like you will always disappoint me.” You lean back against the wall of the step, vexation evident over your features. “How about you talk to me again after the next game, yeah? Maybe I’ll feel different. Thanos.”

You always were so good at slamming the door in people's faces, always brought Nam-gyu joy to witness you shut down the advances of some poor loser trying to gain your affections. Thanos knows he’s been hung out in the cold, too. Barking up the wrong tree in the wrong neighborhood in the wrong country. So, he takes a loose step backwards and shrugs. 

“Your loss.” He sighs, and Nam-gyu follows him all the way back to his bunk in brooding silence. 

Wringing his fingers, he can’t help himself when casts a glance over his shoulder to find you one last time before you’re obscured behind metal frames and moving bodies. When he does, he feels a rush of heat in his cheeks when you’re already stuck fast staring right back, watching him go. He’s silent when he sits down at his little corner of the dormitory, silent when Gyeong-su is harping praises at Thanos. Silent, even, when Thanos says he’s determined to bring you to his side of the map. 

However, he noticeably tenses when Thanos mutters, “What a babe, huh? I should go visit her after lights out.”

Almost immediately there’s hands on his shoulders, pushing and nudging him, demanding his attention. The deepest of sighs leaves the rapper, ducking his head to find Nam-gyu’s eyeline. 

“Come on, man. Don’t be pissed, it’s in my nature, boy. Be honest. You into her?”

“Me and her…” Nam-gyu swallows. “We used to mess around.”

“Lucky you.” Thanos’s is shoving Nam-gyu’s shoulders again. “You cut her lose?”

No, she cut me loose. But Nam-gyu can’t bring himself to say that, the words lost and barred at the tip of his tongue. In the silence, Thanos takes it as confirmation. 

“That’s so cold. If I had her, I’d never let her out of my sight. Sheesh.”

Nam-gyu can’t even form words at all, anymore, irritation and envy wrapping tendrils around his throat and snuffing him out. Your earlier words spin through his brain like a carousel- come find me after the next game. Were you being serious? Were you just saying that to mess with him? He knows you- he knows your tone better than he even realizes, but he suddenly can’t decipher what’s honesty and what isn’t anymore. Jealousy blinds him, thick lenses leading him in all sorts of binds. 

He should have talked to you. He should have made the first move and made sure the first time he was breathing your air was alone. Now he’s anxious, he’s resentful, and he’s humiliated for some reason he can’t quite place. It doesn't help when he can’t resist the urge to look at you one last time, just one for the road, and you’re chatting idly with a man lounging on the other side of the steps you’re currently sitting on. There’s a five foot gap between your bodies but Nam-gyu doesn’t care- the anger that rips through him is blind, you may as well have been fucking the man right in front of him. 

It’s all he can see, tunnel vision encompassing him all the way until the moment lines start to form for lunch. Stewing in his jealousy, a bitter taste blooming over his tongue, he doesn’t jump in line because he’s got an appetite, but simply because you were rather eager to fill your belly. He tails you, matches every step and still has to jump out in front of a random player from taking the spot directly behind you. 

You notice him with a fleeting look tossed over your shoulder, eyes darting from the corners of your eyes and then forward, still as a statue. Desperate to not interact. 

Nam-gyu can’t help himself.

“You into Thanos?”

You audibly laugh at him, and the sound makes him shred the inside of his cheek.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?”

Everything. It’s everything to me. 

You look up at him over your shoulder, watching him through your thick lashes with scorn written all over those beautiful irises. There’s a flash image of you- a memory, tangled between the bedsheets, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes and tear stained cheeks with his hand wrapped around your throat. It’s quick but it hits him like a sucker punch right to the gut. He sucks in a sharp breath. He wants to touch you- he almost does, but the line moves forward a beat and you’re moving with it away from his hesitating fingers. 

“I’m just asking.” He’s trying to be coy, but you can see right through him. 

“You worried, Nam-gyu?” 

That hits him like a sucker punch too. He’d forgotten how his name sounded on your tongue, how it rolled off so perfect and pretty even when you were pissed at him. Sometimes specifically when you were pissed at him, this bubbling anticipation running through him in waves, your passion always the spark lighting the fire in his belly. 

“I’m not worried.”

“You are.” Clocked him, again. Peered into the windows of him and saw that angry ocean of spite and regret behind his eyes. “I know you are. I can see it on you.”

“Not worried.” Nam-gyu shrugs, but he can’t meet your eyes anymore. 

Another sigh ghosts from your lips, but it’s quieter, defeated, almost. 

“I’m not interested in your friend. I’m not interested in anyone.”

And then, he says it. Quietly, as if he doesn’t want you to truly hear.

“...You seemed interested.”

“So you are worried.” You’re crossing your arms and he stares down into your hair, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What if I was? You clearly had nothing to say about it. You were right there- you didn’t tell him we had history? Or did I mean that little to you?”

You’re mad. Holy shit, you’re still so mad at him. But then his brain scrambles to tell him the good side of things- anger is not indifference. So in some ways, maybe more than others, he’s still in that little dome of yours ratting around amongst your thoughts. Means that if he does this right, it would mean something to you to be better this time. 

His lips press into a tight line. He should have talked to you, and now it’s biting him in the ass. It seemed like everything always bit him in the end. And he always let it happen, watched and never interfered. You drive the nail you’d plunged into him even deeper when you throw his words, from all those years ago, right back in his face. That last thing he had said to you before you, or the idea of you, had become a black hole.

“You know what, Nam-gyu? What was it you had said? Oh- uh, why don’t you focus on yourself and I’ll focus on me, yeah?”

It stings. It stings so bad that he physically recoils from the sound of his voice on your tongue, words spilling that just don’t seem right coming from you. Bitter resentment rises in his throat, this reflexive coping mechanism to bite back overtaking his senses. He wants to say I shouldn’t have said that. He wants to say, hear me out. But what ends up leaving him is just as ugly as the rest of his feelings. 

“Jesus. You’re still a bitch.”

The very instance those words tumble from him, he’s already regretting it with every fiber of his being. Even more so when you pluck your bento box from the guard and spin on your heels to glare absolute daggers into the very pits of his soul.

“Get over yourself. I’m glad we had this talk, it was very refreshing.”

This time he does jump to stop you, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. “Just listen-”

“No.” 

He doesn’t hide the way he watches you scamper off to your little ledge, hopping up onto your bed and enjoying your vantage point above all else, focusing on your meal. The man you’d been chatting with earlier is in the bed next to yours and that’s just fucking great. The guard has to pry his stare off of you, and a bento box is practically shoved into his chest, urging him out of line. 

Nam-gyu hates the stone anchoring in his guts. Almost as much as he hates how his appetite never quite returned. All food tasted the same when you left, nothing compared to what you’d used to make him. 

The bento box was no different. 

That night, sleep avoided him. There was something keeping him awake- buzzing under his skin no matter how many times he’d rolled over and shifted himself into a new position. Of course he knew what it was- it never really left him, after all. The fact of knowing you were across the room, all alone in your bed, was this incessant knock in the back of his skull tapping him back into reality whenever he found himself comfortable enough to doze off. His mind was stuck on you, as always, wondering what you looked like right now. 

Did you sleep the same as before? Laying on your side, hair messed over the sides of your face and splayed over the pillow, those heavy lashes of yours kissing along the bone of your cheeks. He always told himself that it was you who was attached, that he was some great being and you simply touched the stars through him. How wrong he had been to think that, when the entire time he’d fit so perfectly against you, he a piece to your puzzle. 

How wrong he had been, because when he’s staring up idly at the ceiling, he thinks of the better days in his life. Always, always, it was you. Thinking of you sitting pretty in his passenger seat, watching out the window as the world blurred by in rushes. The wind blowing through your hair, your necklace catching the glint of the sun. You’d feel his eyes on you and you'd turn and smile at him so darling, so lovely, that he thought it could heal. Remembering when you’d walk into a room, shining like a beacon just for him. You’d find his lap, find his hair, find his lips against your own and you’d cry his name like a prayer. 

He was an idiot to have thought he was the something in the nothing- it was you. 

Even when he finally drifted off into sleep were you still infecting the very membrane of his mind. In his dreams, you were just as warm as you had always been. Bated breaths, hanging onto every word that left his lips, fingers that longed to touch and stroke and feel. His heart slowed to a peaceful beat, and his body curled into his pillow and blanket, trying to recreate the shape of you in his arms. For a time that evening, it worked. 

But then he woke up, and Thanos was leaning over his bed asking him if he was dead, and all those wonderful moments he’d relived were gone in a rush of bright lights and endless chatter bouncing off the walls of the dormitory. Like an addiction, the first thing he thought of when he sat up, was you. Thought about you all the way through the winding staircases and into a giant room with rainbow’s painted over the hard floor. So lost in thought that he almost misses it when the speaker starts instructing them- a 5 player minigame race. 

Teams of five. Okay, he could do that. Easy. Gyeong-su, him, Thanos. That was already three. 

It’s natural instinct when he starts to search for you in the bubble of people, his fourth member, even though he’s more than sure you’re all too excited to send him packing. The way you had looked at him at dinner the day before, he wasn’t sure if you’d even entertain a conversation with him at all, let alone join their team. But this is beyond an argument- beyond him trying and failing to lull you in, this is life and death. 

“Hey, there’s your girl again.” Thanos spots you first. He follows Thanos’s line of sight and sure enough, there you are, standing with your hands shoved into your pockets with this far away expression he can’t quite read. 

His girl. It would make him shiver, if he wasn’t already on the brink of tweaking. 

“Let’s go see if she’s changed her mind.” 

Thanos is running his hands through his hair and popping the collar of his tracksuit, a particular bounce to his step when he bounds right for you. Just as the first time, always on the lookout for yourself, you spot him coming before he gets to you. Already you’re annoyed.

By the time Nam-gyu slithers up beside him, you’re already turning Thanos’s first wave of advancements down, a snark to your tone and a glint in your eyes. 

“I’m good, thanks though.”

Thanos blinks, looks left and then right. “You’re good? I don’t see a team?”

“I’ll find one.”

“You got one right here,” He pats his chest again, before he slings his arm over Nam-gyu’s shoulder haphazardly. “Come on. You’ll be safe.”

The intensity in which you roll your eyes is fierce- an expression Nam-gyu really had only thought he could draw out of you. To make matters worse for his friend, you don’t even bother with saying no again. Instead you merely wave a dismissive hand and turn on your heels, meandering into the crowd. 

“You were right, Nam-su.” Thanos’s face drops and he unwinds his arm from Nam-gyu’s shoulder. “Not getting anywhere with that one.”

Nam-gyu is so focused watching you, that all he murmurs is, “It’s Nam-gyu.”

“Yeah. Nam-su, Nam-gyu. Look over there.” He has to force himself to look away, following Thanos’s point in the other direction you’d gone. A girl with short black hair stands off to the side, eyes traveling and sizing up all her potential team mates. Thanos pops his collar again, a hound dog chasing a brand new scent. “Let’s go see what she’s up to.”

For the first time, Nam-gyu doesn’t follow him. He says, you go, you go, and lets Thanos wind himself up all on his own before watching him go. He’s much more concerned with you and your team, this sense of anxiety starting to bud in his gut. 

He finds you like a moth to flame. Your shoulders slump at the sight of him, tired and irked. 

“Not this again.” You groan. “What, do you think you’re gonna come sweeten me up and I’ll say yes? I’m not playing on your damn team.”

Nam-gyu shakes his head and steps in front of you when you try to turn away again. His nerves are on the rise, and so is his temper. You draw it out of him like nothing else, he can’t stop himself. 

“Why not?” He asks, looking down at you with furrowed brows. You cross your arms, barring yourself from him. 

“Because I’m not.”

“This is no time to be stubborn. You don’t know what the next game is. You might need guys on your team.”

“I plan on it. There’s other men here other than you and whatever the hell his name is.”

Other men. Nam-gyu’s mouth dries up, his fingers already wringing in his sleeves. His jaw tenses with his temper, teeth grinding. 

You didn’t need other men, not when he would do anything under the sun to keep you safe. Anyone else may just let you die. Can’t you see that? 

“Why are you being-... Being like-...” He stops himself. Holy shit, his brain actually fires off the warning shot and he stops dead in his tracks staring at you in bewilderment. You adopt this expectant glare, a spiteful uptick to your lips that darkens your eyes. 

“Say it.” You sneer. “Go ahead, say it. I’m being a bitch, right?”

The word fights against his lips to get out. You’re waiting for it, at the edge of your seat, fully ready to take it in and chew it up and spit it out right back at him. But he bites it back and he swallows it down into his chest because this means something to him. Because it might mean something to you. 

“Being like this.” He stammers. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”

Your eyes widen just a fraction. “Keep me alive?”

“Can you really trust anyone here? You know me.”

“I do know you.” A flash of something provoked and somber rivets within your eyes. Anger mounting, your heart colliding with your brain in real time right before him. “That’s exactly why I won’t be on your side.”

If he’d had his foot in the door before, you were properly shoving it back outside. He doesn't know what to do, so he does the first thing he can think of as a creature of impulse, and unfortunately when it came to you that meant he was all hands. 

“Wait-” He catches you just as you’re turning away, tries to bulldoze over your defiance and smooth out all the harsh edges of your protests with the broad flats of his palms. Fingers clutching your tracksuit at your shoulders and then he’s realizing that he’s touching you for the first time in years. Your skin from underneath your jacket is just as warm he remembers, your eyes are just as doe-like at his touch too. Stubborn and ornery but overflowing with passion and static energy that settled into his bones. He needs it, he needs it. The obsession of you hits him in waves of yearn. 

He needs you more than air, he thinks. 

“Get your hands off of me, right now.” But you aren’t tearing him away- so maybe that’s progress. 

“Come on.” He ducks his head, shoulders slumping, and it physically hurts him to feel this desperate. “Stay with me.”

Oh, you don’t like those words one bit. They hit your eardrums and your eyes narrow in slits, and then yeah, you’re reaching up and catching his wrists in his iron grip before ripping his paws off your jacket. It takes a long moment for you to speak, but when you do, he swears he can hear the devil amidst the heartache. 

“You know that I can’t stay with you. Never again.”

His hands twitch to touch you again- anything to keep you there for a moment longer. 

“Come on.” 

Sadness like pits swirl in your eyes, drags your lips into a frown. “You gotta’ stop Nam-gyu. I can’t do it.”

An awful, awful mass grows in his stomach when you turn your back on him. Gets bigger with every inch you build between you and him, threatens to take over entirely and swallow him whole right in the middle of that room. If it did, and he was to be gulped up by the void, perhaps he wouldn't have to feel like this any longer. And he wouldn’t have to watch you disappear behind all the moving bodies. 

He was weaker than he was three years ago. You made him weaker. Back then, if you’d been so sure of yourself he found it rather easy to deter you. A beastly way about him when he would have just ripped you by the hand and brought you over to his team and made you sit the hell down and just stay with him. Something possessive, something under his skin at the thought of you sharing the same air as anyone other than him. You used to be so malleable in his hands- but he knows, now more than ever, that that was truly never the case. You let yourself be pliable. You let yourself fall to him. He could never, not even now, make you do anything. Not really. 

That’s the part that burns him to the peaks of his soul. That strength about you. You’re so much stronger than him, with an energy iron so it’s like running headfirst into a wall when you’d no longer graced him with your softness. Such a double edged sword, that will of yours. That attitude and the passion made him feel alive. Cold and disposed after you’d properly slammed the gate right in his face. No leverage, no space for him in your heart any longer. 

It’s cold, Nam-gyu finds. Lonely without you. 

And then Thanos goes and invites some random girl with a poor attitude (that isn’t yours) and an even weaker buddy. He tries to tell him- remind his friend of the potential disadvantage but like always all it took was a dismissive wave to get him to screw his lips shut. Rolled over, tongue caught in his throat, weakened. 

He spends a majority of his time waiting for his teams turn arguing with Se-mi and tossing gazes over his shoulder to keep a very keen eye on you, only to find a sneer growing on his features after seeing you chatting with the same player as earlier, the man with the bed next to yours. Laughter and smiles roll from your lips as natural as breathing air, and he’s nudging you with his arm and you’re letting him with this expression of pure amusement. 

That should be him. 

That ugly face of betrayal peeks through the cracks all over again, with guilt and anger and regret following in tow close behind. Sitting on his shoulders like little devils, spinning and racing through his body in waves. If you saw his face- you’d never suspect it, but his hands shake in his lap. His jaw tenses so tightly his teeth could burst into powder. Squared shoulders and an endless drag to his lips. Something in the sight of you enjoying that guys presence is reminding him of all these shitty feelings he’d been faced with when you two were together- well, no, not together, he remembers- and then he’s even angrier. Angry at you, angry at that random ass player you were talking up, angry at himself for letting it get here in the first place. 

Thanos pops open his necklace beside him and draws a fun little pill from its contents, and Nam-gyu makes it a mission to get his hands on one of those sweet little pick-me-ups. The pill is bitter on his tongue but he swallows it down in delight. And it works, too, because the moment the colors start to glow and fuse together and all sounds become this echoing fishbowl of noises, you’re vacated from the corners of his fuzzy mind. For a time, he’s at peace all over again, lost in the blurry joy. 

By the time he comes down, he’s already back in the dormitory. 

Though it takes a moment for him to realize it, he’s taking inventory of all the surviving players. One by one, watching them fill the room and find their creaky beds or their little groups. Most were distraught, though some were particularly perturbed. It takes a couple teams before he understands that what he’s really looking for, naturally, is you. He’s always searching for you, even when he knew you weren’t searching for him back. 

That’s the change, and it dawns on him like a rapture. He’d never had to care before- you were always this constant in his life, something that would always bounce right back if he tossed you aside. He didn’t give a damn if it upset you, he didn’t give a damn if it ate away at you like termites through wood. But now he does, and he gives so many damn’s they’re driving him crazy. 

Any moment spent sober and lucid were moments entirely taken up by you.

Any moment now you’ll come strutting through those doors, head held high and gunning it to make sure Nam-gyu knew exactly how much you didn’t need him. 

But then ten teams turn into twenty, and twenty five into thirty. 

“How many teams were there?” Nam-gyu asks with a voice steadier than even he expected. Thanos doesn’t need to question anything, watching the doorway all the same. 

“Fifty-six.” Se-mi hums from her spot, leaning back against the steps. 

Thirty eventually turns to fifty. 

Too much time has passed, and you’ve still yet to pop out through that doorway. He double checks those who’d already shown their faces, hoping to find you through the cracks of them, but you’re simply not there. There’s a shovel digging pits and moats into his stomach. Another wave of players trickles in and he scans them all over the same, only to feel that hollowness inside him grow once more. They saunter to their beds, to their little groups, taking up space and taking up air that should belong to you. 

Where the hell were you?

“Only two teams left,” Thanos hums. “Where’s that girl of yours?”

Nam-gyu can’t force himself to answer this time around. So, instead, he presses his nails between his teeth and nervously shifts his weight from left to right. Though he shrugs, the anxiety within him was palpable, all lines and tension that he tried to bury with nonchalance. But it wasn’t working, and felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside out.

Mind racing, thoughts circling him like birds over fresh kill. The final team walks through the doorway, slow as zombies, shifty eyed and hurriedly rushing to their beds. His eyes sit on the door, waiting, waiting. 

No one comes through. 

His shoulders fall limp. 

You didn’t make it. 

“That’s a shame.” Se-mi sighs, the sound swimming in Nam-gyu’s ears. 

Loss, real loss was a foreign feeling within his chest. He’d seen it described in the movies, in songs, this soul eating all consuming weight that blanketed over bodies and crushed, but nothing could have ever prepared for the blistering moment it wrenches itself within the confines of his heart, within the deep ache of his bones. It didn’t settle properly in his throat- his body trying to force the alien ripple of dread stitching itself right between his ribs. It hurts- his lungs can’t take in air. His breath wheezes past his lips in shallow pants, unable to tear his eyes away, like at any moment you’ll suddenly materialize right before him. 

He presses his lip into a tight line and digs his nails into his palms, anything to release a fraction of the agony festering within his body. 

Brain on fire, shaking hands and the image of you dead in a thousand different flashes, a sting to his waterlines that has him scrambling to shove his fingers against the thin skin. 

Don’t fucking cry. Don’t fucking cry.

“Bad luck. Sorry, boy.”

All the skin on his body has flushed red and sticky. He ducks his head down towards his lap, desperate to hide within himself, even more desperate to hide this part of himself from the watchful eyes of his group. He should have just made you join them. Should have thrown you over his shoulder and wrapped an immovable grasp around your arm and held you hostage until everyone had a team and then you’d have no one else to turn to. No one else, nothing else except for him. 

He can’t even hear his friend’s counterfeit empathy over the swell of his heartbeat in his ears. His body is too heavy to hold up, his arms dragging as lead, his head even heavier on his shoulders. Uncanny urges to tear at the skin of his face overcome him and he has to bury them into his hair in release, roughly running his digits through the black locks, trying to breathe and breathe and breathe. A lump the size of a boulder burrows into his throat.

Cracking his eyes open to peek down at his lip, squeezing them shut when his vision is wet and blurry. His lower lip trembles until it’s caught in his teeth, biting hard into the skin. 

Don't fucking cry.

Why did you have to be so stubborn? If you’d have just let him take care of you this one fucking time, you would be alive right now. You should be alive right now- pissed and glaring fury in his direction but breathing and taking up space and existing-

“Ah, they made it. Here I thought they were all goners.”

Se-mi’s casual tone barely reaches him, but it’s got him frantically flicking his gaze back up to the archway, his hands falling from his face, trying to see through the blotches in his sight. A handful of players take soft steps into the room, all shaken up, all bewildered.

There you are. His racing heart stops entirely.

You’re sauntering into the dormitory like a wounded animal, all hands wringing out in front of you and lines drawn into your frown. For the first time, in Nam-gyu’s eyes, you look small. Frightened. Every step you take has a weight to it he’s never witnessed you bear. And even from across the room, even with rigid tears trapped in the corners of his eyes, he can see the grip of fear on the flat of your throat. 

All those jumping thoughts settle into a tunnel vision, you at the epicenter of his quaking nerves simmering down into stillness. He forgets how his chest had twisted as if a knife had been planted between his collarbones, and he forgets how he had almost lost his lunch right there on the floor. All because you’re standing there in the middle of the room hugging yourself, white as a ghost, even paler when you lift your head up and see the way Nam-gyu is trapped in your line of sight. 

Nam-gyu see’s it. No hate, no dejection. 

Relief- this instant where your widened eyes soften, your frown lifts into a slack-jawed breath of solace. It rocks his world when it hits him and it lights a flame so hot under his skin it’s burning through his veins. All the air trapped in his lungs leaves him at once and he can pinpoint the exact moment all the tensions in his shoulders and back melt away in nothingness. The tears dry, his lower lip released from his gnashing teeth.

The man you’d joined earlier pats your shoulder and offers you a pathetic, wavering thumbs up. You can’t seem to return his dull enthusiasm. In fact, you look worse than Nam-gyu’s seen you thus far. Changed, all wires sticking exposed and sparking. There’s this lifelessness to your body when you climb up the stairs and have to heave yourself up into your bed, crossing your legs and resting your chin on your palms propped up over your knees. 

When your eyes meet his, he expects some sort of sign of contempt, or perhaps maybe you’d refuse to meet his gaze entirely. Instead, for the first time since you’d arrived, you find him first. 

You offer him a pitiful open palmed wave. 

The pearly gates crack open and Nam-gyu feels it again- warmth. Even just a little bit, like lighting a match in a snowstorm, huddling around the flame. He half cocks a smile, and he waves back. 

--

Lunch came quicker than he’d anticipated, and much to Nam-gyu’s dismay, you weren’t exactly thrilled to hop into line. In fact, ever since you’d let him jam his fingers back into your closing door, you’d hardly acknowledged anything other than your lap. Even more so upsetting, that player you hung around tapped your mattress to gather your attention, pointing to the line, sighing in defeat when you’d shook your head. 

Jealousy seeps into his wounds all over again, quiet, but equally as simmering. Don’t act like you know her. Little devils tapping away at his psyche. She doesn't need you to check up on her.

But then again, he realizes, maybe you do. 

His mouth dries when the sound of his thoughts footsteps come running up on him. His greed. His innate ability to leave you unchecked and grappling. That was among the sea of problems Nam-gyu had been struggling to grasp. Here he was, trying to drag you back into the tar pits of his hold and he hadn’t even tried the basics of kindness. The step one of it all. Always taking, taking, taking and demanding more at every swipe. Always expecting, never building. 

So he jumps into line before he can second guess himself, and he takes his bento box with a grateful nod and he doesn’t waste a second before he’s chasing the trail of you to your bed. From your high point, perched and unmoving, all he can do is climb the stairs and rest his hands over the corner of your mattress. Your far away gaze lifts from your lap and settles down to him. 

The air is different. The landscape of you has changed. 

“What is it.” Your tone is uncannily flat, but it’s void of its bite, its drive. 

“Can I come up?” 

It’s a simple request, but it leaves a shake at the end of his sentence. It’s only natural when he mentally prepares himself for you to slap no onto his forehead, but you scoot over, and he takes the spot so quickly you wouldn’t even have the chance to say no if you thought about it too much. He hoists himself up and over, fills the gap at your side, just as he should have done days ago. He sits the bento box at the crest of your lap.

“What’s this?” Blinking down at the food, you make no effort to pick it up. 

“Fish and rice.” Nam-gyu shrugs. “Looks like an egg, too.” 

“I can see that. I meant, what are you doing giving me this?”

“...You didn’t get anything.”

As your fingers gingerly touch the container, eyes scanning over the contents, Nam-gyu feels he can breathe easier. This is a win for him- you aren’t fighting him anymore. Still on the edge, always ready to run, but the look in your eyes isn’t pure hatred or outright hurt. A swell of pride overcomes him when you pluck the chopstick and murmur, thank you. 

You’re pliable. Now, more than ever. 

You eat in silence. He lets you eat in silence, even though peace isn’t exactly one of his virtues.  Partly because he doesn’t know what to say to you, but mostly because he’s got this innate fear that he’s going to say something shitty and you’re going to hate him all over again for it. A million words are always shoving and pushing against his lips and he fumbles with navigating them. So, silence, it is. 

But it doesn’t bother him. Silence meant that you were simply just there, existing, the one thing he had longed for over the years. He knew, deep in his heart, he’d fucked up when he began to miss the very presence of you. No sex, no drugs, no push or pull, just you. And now he gets to take whatever you’ll give in micro doses, greedy and starved for you. Fighting the urge to pull you into himself where you could never climb out. He refrains- he forces himself to just be there. 

No longer could he be the creature he had been all those years ago. He had to be different- not all rough edges and clawing hands, ripping and taking. Or dark eyes watching your every move, or jagged words cutting your flesh with the highs and lows of his tone. Something better, this time. Something for you. 

Tomorrow would be a new beast entirely. And, in less than a few hours, the lights would flicker off and bask the dormitory into hues of red and blues. You would lay alone in your all-too-large bed and he would sink into his mattress drugged out of his mind thinking countless thoughts of you, you, you. The distance would feel like miles- he needed you right there, right then, always. Anything other than what he had sitting beside you was a vast ocean. 

The bento box appears in front of his lap, half eaten.

“You’re not going to eat it?” Nam-gyu’s brows knit.

“You should eat, too. What, scared of my germs now?” You murmur, and when he meets your eyeline, he sees something familiar in those hues. Something nurturing, sweet. Tender. 

Nam-gyu picks up the chopsticks, and he eats.  For the first time in years, his food tastes like food.

[bitchinbarzal]

Misunderstood | B Faber

summary: you guys haven’t made it official and it comes back to bite brock when he is pictured out at dinner with a friend.

-

The cold Minnesota air nipped at your skin as you wrapped yourself tighter in your blanket, sitting on your couch with a cup of coffee in hand. The warmth of your apartment contrasted the harsh chill outside, the streets dusted in fresh snow. The quiet morning should have been comforting, but instead, you found yourself scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, the flickering glow of your phone screen somehow amplifying the restlessness gnawing at your mind.

Then, you saw it.

Your thumb froze on the screen as you stared at the image before you. Brock. Your boyfriend—or at least, that’s what you thought he was.

He stood at a table, smiling like he always did, the one you adored and couldn’t get enough of. But this time, it wasn’t just his grin that caught your attention. Standing next to him was a woman—blonde, beautiful, and clearly too comfortable with him. She had her hand resting on his arm, a look of fondness that made your stomach twist. The caption read: “Dinner date with my favorite guy.”

The words blurred in your vision as you stared at the picture, trying to make sense of it. You blinked, trying to calm the rising panic inside you. Your fingers swiped quickly to refresh the feed, hoping this was some kind of mistake, some social media glitch. But no, there were more photos—more pictures of Brock and this girl, the two of them enjoying dinners, laughing at something only they seemed to understand, posing close in a way you hadn’t even been able to get Brock to do with you.

And suddenly, all the confidence you had in the relationship seemed to disappear. Why hadn’t he told you about her? You scrolled through the rest of the posts, each one more intimate than the last. It hit you in waves—the jealousy, the confusion, the bitter taste of betrayal. You had always kept things casual with Brock, no pressure, no expectations. But these pictures… They didn’t look casual. Did he think you were just another option?

A pang of hurt ran through you. Had you been nothing more than a placeholder while he figured out what he really wanted?

You set your phone down, hands shaking slightly. You tried to calm yourself. It could be nothing, right? But then the doubts crept in, taking over your thoughts like an uncontrollable storm. Maybe this wasn’t a casual thing for him after all. Maybe he was just too scared to tell you. You were only ever a backup plan, an afterthought. That’s how it felt. You had no idea where you stood in his life, and that was the worst feeling of all.

The next few days were nothing short of torturous.

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond to his texts. He’d sent a few asking how you were, if you were okay, but each time you read his messages, all you could feel was the knot of jealousy and confusion tightening in your chest. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that you had no right to be angry. You had never set any official boundaries, and he had never made any promises to you.

But it didn’t stop the gnawing feeling inside.

When he called you on the second night of the silence, you debated not answering. But you couldn’t bring yourself to let it ring out. “Hello?” you said, your voice more clipped than you intended.

“Hey, it’s me. You’ve been quiet. Is everything okay?” Brock’s voice came through the phone, sounding concerned but also confused.

You squeezed your eyes shut, the tears you’d been holding back threatening to spill. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” You could feel your chest tightening as the words felt like lies in your mouth.

“Are you sure? You’ve been distant. I just want to know if something’s wrong.”

The frustration hit you suddenly, and it slipped out before you could stop it. “What, you want me to just pretend everything’s fine? Pretend like I don’t see all those photos of you and her?” The words were out before you could catch them, and the silence that followed was deafening.

“Wait, what?” Brock’s voice cracked slightly “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” you spat. “I’ve seen it, Brock. All the pictures. All the dates. Why didn’t you tell me about her?” Your voice trembled now, the anger laced with hurt.

There was a long pause, and you could almost hear him processing what you were saying. Then, a sigh. “Listen, I didn’t think it was a big deal. She’s just a friend. She’s one of my teammate’s sisters. We’ve hung out a few times with the team, but there’s nothing going on. I swear.”

But the doubt lingered in your mind. “You didn’t think it was a big deal? You didn’t think it was a big deal to mention that you were hanging out with another girl? That’s what you’re telling me?” You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears now. The more he explained, the more it sounded like an excuse. And the more it hurt.

“I didn’t think it would bother you” Brock added quietly. “I thought we were just…having fun, you know? I didn’t think it would cause any issues.”

“Well, it’s causing issues now,” you snapped, cutting the conversation short. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Brock. I just need space.”

And with that, you hung up, not giving him the chance to say anything more. The silence after you ended the call was suffocating. You hated that you had let your emotions spiral like this, but the damage felt done. Your heart was heavy with bitterness, and no amount of reasoning could make it feel right again.

Days passed, and the tension only grew. Brock tried to reach out—texts, calls—but you ignored them all. You felt justified in your anger, but the truth was, the silence was killing you both. Each time you saw his name pop up on your phone, your heart wavered, but you couldn’t bring yourself to open the messages. You had decided that if he cared, he’d come to you. He’d fix this.

But it didn’t happen. Not the way you expected, at least.

Instead, you found yourself standing in your apartment on the fourth day, staring at the door as if it might be a dream.

The sound of soft knocks broke through your thoughts. You slowly opened the door, almost dreading what you might find on the other side. But when you looked up, it was Brock—holding a bouquet of wildflowers, his face a mix of anxiety and determination.

You stared at him for a moment before the anger bubbled up again. “What are you doing here?” you asked, trying to hide the pain in your voice.

“Can we talk?” His voice was quiet, almost pleading. “I know I messed up. I should’ve told you about her, but I never meant for any of this to happen. I care about you. I don’t want this to end because of a misunderstanding.”

Your breath hitched, emotions swirling inside you like a tornado. “You should’ve told me” you whispered, the hurt creeping into your voice. “I saw those pictures, Brock. I felt like you were hiding something from me. And I—” You broke off, looking away, your face flushing with embarrassment.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Brock said, stepping closer, his voice full of regret “I never wanted to make you feel like you weren’t important to me. She’s just a friend—nothing more. You mean everything to me.”

You shook your head, trying to hold back the tears. “I shouldn’t have ignored you. I should’ve trusted you, but I didn’t know where I stood.”

Brock reached out for you, taking your hands gently in his. “I should’ve explained sooner. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel second to anyone, especially not because of some misunderstanding.”

His apology, the sincerity in his eyes, hit you harder than you expected. Your walls started to crumble, and with them, the weight that had been pressing on your chest.

“I’m sorry, too,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Brock’s smile was hesitant but warm. He pulled you into an embrace, holding you tight. “Let’s promise no more misunderstandings, okay? I want this,us,to be real.”

You nodded, feeling the tension dissolve. “No more misunderstandings,” you repeated.

[milanesagirlieppopp]

.

[girlivealwaysbean]

slowly becoming everything i was afraid i would be: resentful and bitter

[ikeuverse]

my world | psh

pairing: sunghoon x fem!reader  genres: angst, smut, fluff wc: 14.3k+

꒰ 𝅄 warnings ꒱ : alcohol consumption, swearing, unprotected sex (do it safely), cumming inside, arguing, Sunghoon is completely surrendered to yn. sorry, i can't see him if not cute in this story, this man needs to be taken care of. lmk if i forgot anything else.

꒰ 𝅄 synopsis ꒱ : you're back and you owe Sunghoon an explanation for your departure, but it looks like it's going to be a bit tricky to get him to listen to you.

꒰ 𝅄 notes ꒱ : after so many requests i've come up with the second part, and possibly the final one because i can't think of a continuation after that. it took me a long time because i had a huge blockage and i don't know if i'm satisfied with what came out of here, but i just wanted to give these two a cosy feel. and for you who read my work. i hope you like it!

TAGLIST: this isn't necessarily a taglist, but i decided to tag the people who asked for part two of the story, so… @seunghancore @sunghoonizz @indigoez @heestarry @yunjinhuhjennifer @pollito-sims4 @srhnyx @enhalusional @moon368 @madustos @capri-cuntz @stellanam @flaminghotyourmom @jayshadoww @sovlidago @randommmmmmvheusbs @rjssierjrie @rikiversesworld @lovingvoidgoatee

꒰ 𝅄 part 1 | masterlist ꒱

Avoiding work on Friday nights was one of the first things Sunghoon did after you left. He didn't want to deal with the fact that that particular day was when he found you sitting at one of the tables in his bar with Stella, waiting for his and Jay's shift to finish so you could all drink together.

Now nothing else made sense, and those nights were filled with his bed, a cosy blanket and your mind wandering back to the last night you and he spent together. Sunghoon could feel the touch of your fingers on his skin, the way his name was whispered by you. It felt like an endless melody. Sleeping next to him had a different meaning after so long friendship.

But then the bitter taste of disappointment invaded him with the same intensity. Less than twenty-four hours after you told him you were in love, Sunghoon read the worst letter he could have read in his entire life. He had always wanted to travel and get to know countries, but suddenly he had a grudge against Switzerland because he knew that's where you were apparently staying. Why so far away? Why did you have to go somewhere with no explanation? A letter wasn't enough because it only said what he already knew: it had all been your father's plan. Sunghoon knew how much he controlled your life, but the thought of him causing it all made the boy's blood boil.

"Fuck everything" was what Sunghoon repeated most often every time he remembered something related to you.

How he remembered the first day he saw you at university, or how he heard you call him and greet him every time you met. He remembers every moment you were by his side, with your arms entwined or your head resting on his shoulder.

It was hard to forget every little moment when you and he almost kissed when you were drunk. Faces millimeters apart, heart racing and breathless… But then the day in your flat made it all worthwhile. While he was between your legs, kissing you with all the love he'd ever felt and fucking you on your kitchen worktop. Sunghoon could repeat that day a million times over, even though afterward you went and left him the next day. It was the one thing he didn't want to go through.

"You need to snap out of it, man" Jay threw himself on the sofa in Sunghoon's flat, sitting next to him on Saturday night. At times he was the only one who managed to make his friend feel a little better as they talked.

"How?" Sunghoon hugged the cushion, snuggling further into the sofa and staring at the television. He felt Jay's gaze on him as he listened to his friend talk again.

“I don't know, we—” Jay paused for a moment, sliding his body across the leather of the soft sofa and sighing loudly “How about we go out for a while? Just the boys.”

“I think I'd rather stay in my apartment for the next few years” Sunghoon replied.

Jay sighed again, reaching up and snatching the pillow from Sunghoon's lap. He scrambled up, wanting to take back the one thing he was hugging for comfort at the moment.

That's when he saw his friend's face in pure concern, but with something else that he couldn't decipher. Jay was serious most of the time, no one knew what he was feeling – apart from Stella – but Sunghoon knew his best friend so well that he could tell something was wrong.

“Jay” he called out, seeing that Jay was swallowing and straightening up on the sofa.

“Right, I can't lie” Jay closed his eyes ”I need to get you out of the house today and take you to a club on the other side of town.”

It was Sunghoon's turn to turn from curious to confused. What was Jay talking about, anyway? And why did he have to take him to the other side of town today? They worked in a bar, not quite a club, but pretty much the same thing: loud music, drinking and lots of people. Why go to a place that would be practically the same as his work environment?

“Why?” he asked Jay.

The older man was debating whether to say something so direct or simply make up an excuse to drag Sunghoon along. But Jay couldn't lie like he had said, it was almost impossible not to tell the truth to the eyes that stared at him so expectantly.

“Because Stella's taking Y/n there too” he said ”She's back, man.”

A ringing sound passed through Sunghoon's ears, as if the sound pierced his eardrums and he felt an extremely strong pressure in his head. Grateful to be sitting down and knowing that he would get this reaction, Jay was already getting him something to drink from the coffee table. Even though Sunghoon couldn't swallow anything or move, at least Jay was trying.

“Jay, stop fooling around.”

“I swear to God” he whined ”I found out today, Stella didn't want to tell me anything and just asked me to get you out of the house.”

“Why?” Sunghoon stared at a fixed point in the room, everything he was hearing seeming like a dream.

“I know as much as you do” Jay touched Sunghoon's shoulder, making him finally face his best friend ”It seems that only Stella and Alicia know that she's back, no one else. And a lot is going on that not even my girlfriend, Y/n's best friend, knows about.”

Sunghoon debated for a moment whether he should go to where Jay wanted to take him, because things were getting more and more confusing.

You went away and said goodbye in a letter, then you came back and only your two best friends know. At least about your return, because something is going on that even Stella doesn't know about, according to what Jay is saying. So… What was your father up to? That was the thought Sunghoon had as he forced his legs to get up from the sofa, resting his hands on the seat and standing in the middle of the room.

He didn't want to hope for anything at all, and he didn't know what your reaction would be, or even his own, seeing you so many months after your departure. Without exchanging a message, a single phone call. How would you see him afterwards? How would he treat you when he saw you face to face?

“I'm just going to take a shower” Sunghoon sighed ”I hope this doesn't go to shit, Jongseong.”

“Don't call me that” Jay pouted, which was ignored by Sunghoon as he headed for his room to shower and get ready.

Jay also hoped it wouldn't go to shit because no one knew what would happen. But he and Stella hoped that you and Sunghoon would at least talk.

If it weren't for the primal tension between your meeting with Sunghoon, Jay could easily say that he was the most nervous in that entire club. Firstly because his girlfriend trusted him enough to ask Sunghoon to leave the house, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get his best friend out so easily. So telling the truth had been the best course of action. That was why he was walking through the door of that club, the colored lights spinning back and forth and the loud sound almost piercing his insides.

He kept repeating to himself a mantra that things could go smoothly if Stella had already poured you and Alicia some drinks, while he walked in with Sunghoon and Jake. The latter was trying his best to get Sunghoon to walk around people and not turn around and go home. They both knew he could do this at any moment, so Jay led the way into the bar while keeping Sunghoon in the middle and Jake behind in case the other wanted to leave without being seen.

None of them could imagine what it was like for Sunghoon to deal with all of this, although Jay and Jake were just as curious to know what was behind everything that was happening.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon was going over in his mind what he would say to you when he saw you in the first place. Say hello and run off? Or just wave and smile as he went to the bar and got drunk? Maybe he'd do the latter – and the one that was most recommended – because he felt like he might pass out at any moment.

“Right” Jay stopped walking for a moment, turning around and almost slamming his body into Sunghoon, who stopped walking abruptly. But that didn't stop Jake from tripping and slamming into his friend, muttering curses and standing next to the taller man “Let's get a drink before we meet them.”

“I can hang around the bar and you two go find your girlfriends” Sunghoon wanted to get out of there right away and would try anything to make that happen.

“You come with us, wise guy” Jake took him by the shoulders and led him to the bar.

Ordering strong drinks wasn't a big deal for three people who owned a very trendy bar on the other side of town. This could even inspire new drinks at the establishment, Jay thought as he saw colorful liquids and completely different names on the menu. Something that pleased even the palates of the three who sat at the bar and drank three glasses in a row.

Every minute in that bar seemed like an eternity and the fact that Sunghoon didn't want to face the reality that, almost certainly, he was in the same environment as you after such a long time. It wasn't as if he knew how to act because even though he was your friend and had been hiding the fact that he was in love with you for years, he had never gone so long without seeing you. And even less had something so intimate happened that you left without giving any explanation.

“Stella's calling” Jay picked up his cell phone after a long time talking to Sunghoon and Jake, trying to find the courage to get out of there too and pretend that they were randomly in the same club.

He picked it up and chatted very quickly, neither of the other two paying any attention because they were apprehensive about what would happen next.

“Alicia texted me” Jake finished swallowing the drink in his glass ”They're bringing Y/n to the bar.”

“Is it now or never?” Jay tried to smile, knowing that it looked more like a grimace to the two in front of him.

Sunghoon didn't even dare move, leaning against the bar counter as he played with the glass between his fingers. He needed to occupy himself with something other than the fact that he was only a few minutes away from seeing you again. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his mouth and if it hadn't been for the alcohol warming his muscles, he could have sworn he was shaking right now.

“Hey, guys!” Stella's voice had a strange effect on Sunghoon, who cringed and closed his eyes tightly.

“Baby, you over here” Jay lied so badly, Sunghoon could laugh at that awful performance as he heard the kissing sounds of the couple greeting each other. Then it was Jake and Alicia's turn, the same greeting followed until his friends' voices ceased and he concentrated on the only thing that mattered at that moment.

“Y/n? You're back?” Jake was smiling, his tone a little more theatrical than Jay's. Sunghoon knew that he hadn't been the first to greet you because his best friend was so nervous that he could scream and run off with the other Park if it were possible.

“Jake, hey. Yes, I am!” you sounded excited, and cheerful and hadn't seen Sunghoon who was leaning back against the bar. He waved for the barman to fill his glass and as soon as he did, the liquid almost overflowed from the glass between his fingers.

“What are you doing here?” Alicia asked.

Sunghoon took the glass and brought it to his lips, the burning sensation going down his throat was the best in that second when he heard Jay answer.

“We came on a boys' night out. Me, Jake, and Sunghoon” he felt Jay's hand touch the middle of his back. Sunghoon almost spat out his drink out of nervousness, it was time to turn around.

Everything seemed to stop the second he laid eyes on you. Nothing seemed to have changed, except that you were even more beautiful. If that were possible. He pressed his fingers tightly against the body of the drink while keeping his gaze on yours, which, strangely, you held. Nothing on his face seemed to scream astonishment at seeing you there and Sunghoon couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. He swore he knew you well enough until a few months ago before you left. But after that, he didn't know who Y/n was standing in front of him at that moment.

“Sunghoon” you said his name so gracefully. He almost gave in to all the pressure and the nervous looks among the group of friends staring at the scene before them.

“Y/n” Sunghoon said in the same way, raising his glass and drinking the entire contents in one go.

He suddenly felt his eyes sting because the last time he'd seen you, he'd left your apartment swearing he'd see you at his bar the next night. When he could finally ask you to be his girl, as he had always dreamed. And now here you are, as someone who took his heart to Switzerland and came back without a single explanation.

He saw you open your mouth to say something as the two couples of friends disappeared to the bar to order drinks. Sunghoon swallowed, wanting to turn around and order more alcohol. It was the only thing that could keep him standing there without doing something ridiculous. But he knew that wasn't going to happen.

“We—”

“I need to go to the bathroom” he interrupted you and he didn't know why, or maybe he did, he just didn't want to feel like crying in front of you. Sunghoon had whined enough for months and the pride that engulfed him was enough for him not to do it in front of you.

Not when he'd already had too much to drink and certainly not when you were looking on with so many emotions at once.

Sunghoon hurried off towards the club toilets, stumbling a few times and apologizing to everyone he bumped into. He hadn't meant to do that, to look like a runaway and a lovesick idiot. But he knew he couldn't predict a reaction, not when he had no way of denying that his feelings for you had never gone away.

He wanted to have stopped feeling anything for you, wanted to have turned that hurt and sadness into anger, and moved on. But every time Sunghoon thought he could move on, you appeared in one of his dreams. Or Stella would comment on something nostalgic involving you, making him remember how much he loved you.

It could be a ploy by his friends to never forget you, or that your best friend somehow wanted to keep you in mind because she might know something. Sunghoon knew it was, but he also had no way of confronting Stella and asking her to tell him. He knew that you might have asked for secrecy and he wanted to respect that, but he couldn't help himself because it all came back at once. And that's why he ran to one of the bathroom cubicles and locked himself in, sitting on the toilet and taking a deep breath.

What he wanted most was for you to come back to him, but why was Sunghoon wishing he wasn't around you at that moment? Why so much conflict when all he had to do was get out of that bathroom and talk to you?

“Hey Hoon, it's me, Jake” the boy's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, making Sunghoon get up from the toilet and quickly open the door ”Are you okay?”

A moment of silence and Jake noticed Sunghoon's eyes shining brighter than usual. He knew it could happen and it was understandable why it had happened so quickly.

“You don't have to answer, it's okay, man” he said, slipping one of his arms around Sunghoon's shoulders “What do you say we get drunk until you forget your name?

“I'd love to, but—”

“But just think about the drink, at least she's back. We can think about that later, okay?”

He wanted to believe Jake's words and how they could comfort him, even if he was still nervous. So Sunghoon tried to smile, finding a little strength in the friend next to him who was slowly getting him out of the bathroom.

Doing what Jake had said that night might not be so bad. Drink a lot, talk and think later.

Sunghoon's last memory was of going to the bar with Jake and ordering three more drinks. After that, everything became a blur and now he had the biggest headache in years.

He was like a frat boy waking up the day after a party smelling of booze and with some random girl sleeping next to him. In contrast, Sunghoon smelled of soap, his pajamas were clean and no girl was next to him, but the messy bed indicated that he hadn't slept alone. Or so it seemed.

“What the fuck happened?” he muttered to himself as he groped around the bedside table for his cell phone or something, finding it practically dead.

Now the headache seemed a little worse as Sunghoon got up and sat on the bed, his back against the headboard as he sighed and tried to remember what had happened.

It couldn't be that bad or his friends would already be at the foot of the bed shaking Sunghoon and demanding explanations, so he could calm down a bit and slow down. To thought that things might not have gotten out of hand as he got out of bed and walked around the apartment looking for something that might remind him of the night before. But nothing was out of place, not even a sofa cushion.

He was alone in that place and there wasn't even a piece of clothing or accessory to make him think that someone might be there.

It was then that his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door handle. The key turning outside and the sound of bags on the other side of the door… Jake or Jay was bringing something to cure his hangover and it made Sunghoon breathe a sigh of relief to see that his friends were thinking of him.

But his smile fell when you walked through the door. Not that he didn't want to see you there, but of all the people Sunghoon imagined… You, wearing one of his T-shirts and the pants from the night before, bags hanging from your arms, and your hair loose, was the image he never thought he would see clearly.

“Y/n?” he asked, taking you by surprise when you entered the apartment.

“You're awake!” your smile almost made him shout, but he made do and ran towards you to help you with the bags, quickly picking them up and taking them to the kitchen.

The small silence in the room wasn't awkward, but you seemed a little apprehensive as Sunghoon looked at all the bags, hesitating to look in your direction.

“Feeling better?” you asked as you stopped next to him, opening one of the bags and taking out a packet of coffee and a carton of milk.

“Did you… Did you do any shopping?” he looked at the things you were unpacking, then finally looked at you.

What the fuck, why is she so close? He almost cried at the closeness when he saw you looking up, a shy little smile on your lips as you looked at him.

“I did” you replied ”You need to stock that cupboard and I thought you needed something to eat after last night.”

After last night. Right, how could he say he didn't remember anything, especially that you were in his apartment?

Sunghoon didn't know how to say something like that, especially since you seemed so casual in his kitchen as if you hadn't abandoned him months ago. As if you and he hadn't been apprehensive in each other's presence the night before.

But on the contrary, you seemed quite at ease taking food out of the bag and sorting it on the kitchen worktop. The almost familiar scene of the last time you and he had met, warmed his heart slightly and made Sunghoon feel his chest tighten. Fear and nostalgia washed over him as he watched you casually turn on the coffee machine after putting the supplies away. Every time your gaze crossed his, Sunghoon felt like shouting and asking what you were doing there. Perhaps the last part he could do.

“What are you doing here?” he asked after a long time without saying anything, just enjoying – even if fearfully – your presence in front of him.

“I brought you home after you nearly passed out in the bar last night” you smiled, even though your gaze was on the coffee machine and the sound of the liquid falling into one of the cups.

Sunghoon sighed heavily and leaned on the kitchen worktop, facing you and at a safe distance from the other side. If he were standing next to you, you knew you wouldn't be able to control yourself.

“And what happened?” he decided to ask, to be honest at least ”I don't remember anything…”

“I didn't think so” you laughed. A laugh so genuine that Sunghoon almost jumped over that counter to kiss you the way he wanted.

“So… tell me” he asked softly, almost in a whisper, but you heard him nonetheless.

Waiting for the first cup of coffee to be ready, you handed it to him while he prepared another for you. Sunghoon took it and drank the dark, bitter liquid, knowing that it could help with his hangover.

“Neither Jake nor Jay could get you to stop drinking yesterday” you began, your gaze following Sunghoon's every move as you watched him drink the hot, bitter coffee.

“And what did you do?” Sunghoon asked, apprehensive about the answer.

Suddenly a flush rose to his cheeks and he thought it might be the steam from the coffee you were preparing, but as soon as you looked away, he knew something else had happened.

“I thought on impulse and kissed you” you managed to grab the freshly prepared cup, causing Sunghoon to almost choke on his coffee.

Now he felt like a complete idiot because, after all this time, you had kissed him and he hadn't remembered?

“It was quick, enough to make you drop the glass” you said ”Then you asked me to bring you home because… Well…”

He ran his gaze all over your body, forcing himself to remember a little more of what was going on. Sunghoon doesn't remember the feeling of your lips on his again, but like a memory retrieval, he could visualize getting into your car together with you. The drive to his apartment and how you helped him undress so he could shower.

You hated that he slept smelling of booze since university… Why didn't Sunghoon think of that as soon as he woke up? Only you could make him clean himself up even when he was drunk.

“And then you asked me to sleep with you because…” your voice faltered a little, your gaze lowered to the liquid in your cup as you vividly remembered Sunghoon's words ”Because you didn't want me to escape again.”

Drunk or not, he didn't regret having said that to you. Sunghoon's only regret was not being sober enough to have enjoyed the time he had with you since you entered his apartment. But now that time could be rewarded as he left his cup on the counter and walked around to stand in front of you.

“I really meant that, Y/n” he said, smiling weakly when you also left your cup on the counter to turn to him.

You didn't have to be a genius to know that Sunghoon was leaning in the next second and capturing your lips in a slow kiss. Knowing the man in front of you well, you even thought it took him long enough to do it. Fighting his demons and fears of losing you again, but at the same time pushing it all away and concentrating only on having you in his arms again.

The way he grabbed you and sat you on his kitchen worktop, his hands sliding down your thighs – unfortunately – clad in the pants from the night before. As your lips moved against his, Sunghoon felt a spark in his body thinking that this could only be a dream. Because one night he was moaning yet again about you, being dragged out by Jay. While the next day he had you sitting on his bench, kissing him so lovingly as if you weren't the cause of the pain and fear he felt.

You were the first to break the kiss, gasping for air in your lungs from the euphoria of kissing Sunghoon after so long. He stood between your legs, foreheads pressed together as he felt your breath against his lips.

“Why did you leave?” he asked suddenly, his hands squeezing your legs without much force, but enough for you to know that he wasn't going to let you go.

You sighed once more, your lips brushing against his as your hands traveled the length of Sunghoon's arms until they reached his shoulders.

“My father,” you whispered, ”he wanted to control so much.”

“Like what?” Sunghoon lowered his face to the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent which seemed to calm him down a little. The feeling of comfort that settled over him when you sighed and pressed him against your body.

Sunghoon didn't want to leave, to stay with you forever in that position or your arms. He could forget everything that had happened and focus on the present moment while he relished the sensation of your hands against his skin or your skin against his lips. But not everything could be that simple, not when your phone interrupted the whole process.

The noise of the handset could have been ignored if it hadn't been so annoying to you. Apologizing to Sunghoon, you sneaked close enough to grab the handset from the other side of the worktop, still holding the boy between your legs as she alternated your gaze between him and the phone.

“Answer it” he whispered, smoothing your legs and trying not to kiss you while you answered.

As much as he wanted to do that, he wanted to hear you grumble while he kissed your neck or to hear you fight with him for making you make embarrassing sounds to whoever was on the other end of the line.

“Hi, Dad” well, maybe he really could do that then.

Sunghoon's lips slowly brushed against your chin, listening to you grumble as you spoke to your father. He already didn't like the older man, so it wouldn't hurt if you said Sunghoon's name out loud while he spread kisses all over your skin. Going down to your neck, tugging at the collar of his T-shirt – which you wore so beautifully – Sunghoon wanted to mark your skin.

“I… I didn't tell you I was back, I'm sorry” so not even your father knew about your return to the country? That was intriguing, it almost made him stop kissing your skin. But Sunghoon remained strong, convinced that he wouldn't stop until you said his name.

“No, I can't do that… Shit” you almost let out a moan when Sunghoon nibbled at the perfect spot on your neck, matching the exact moment when he pressed his hips against yours “Stop…” you whispered to him as you moved the device far enough away so that your father wouldn't hear.

“No” he smiled and sealed your lips, letting you go back to talking to your father.

“Dinner? But…” you faltered a little, trying to concentrate on the bullshit demands your father was trying to make of you. Without taking into account that you were going to Switzerland to try to get away from him and the way he tried to control your life, “I'm not going.”

“But we need to make arrangements for you to meet Owen, after all, his father and I still think you two should get married.”

It was careless of you to put the phone away just as your father raised his voice on the other end of the line, echoing loud enough for Sunghoon to hear. You could have waved it off, disconnected the call and pretended that nothing had happened, but you knew it was too late when you no longer felt Sunghoon's ringtone.

He moved away from you slowly, his eyes focused on your face as he tried to explain what he had just heard.

You didn't even manage to answer your father properly, disconnecting the call straight away and putting the phone somewhere else on the worktop.

“Sunghoon…”

“Getting married, then?” he took a few steps out from between your legs, but remained standing in front of you.

“I'm not getting married, I just—”

“When were you going to tell me?” Sunghoon asked, his tone wavering as he continued to stare at you “When the date is set?”

“I've already said I'm not getting married, Sunghoon. My father…”

“Did he set you up? Was he going to set you up with some business partner's son like in those shitty movies where you, rich, fall in love with a piece of shit like me, but are promised to someone full of money?”

Sunghoon never changed his tone of voice in all the years the two of you had known each other, it had been so different that you never imagined yourself in that scenario. Not even when you met him the night before, expecting him to yell at you and do something to hurt you. But no. Here you were again, hurting him as you had done.

“Sunghoon, I—”

“Please, go away” Sunghoon walked over to the sink, his hands resting on it and his body forward, staring at anything in the dishes that was interesting enough for him not to look at you.

“But—”

“I told you to leave, Y/n” the harsh, squeaky voice made your body cringe, you got off the counter and didn't dare approach him, even though you wanted to wrap your arms around him and tell him what was going on. You thought he would listen to you, but Sunghoon seemed adamant.

Your body couldn't move, although you needed to get out of there when your vision started to blur and you felt your chest tighten. Sunghoon didn't hear any movement from you, so he turned his head to find you standing there in his kitchen.

He was no longer ashamed to cry in front of you, nor did he think he'd be able to hide it when it all mixed and pooled in his eyes, trailing down his cheeks, not unlike you.

“Please, leave me alone. Please, Y/n.”

The pleading cut through your heart and you knew it was all because of you. Because you weren't able to say anything to him or even stop your father from saying all the shit he always said.

There was nothing left to do but leave Sunghoon's apartment, even though you wanted to stay. You knew that going back wouldn't be a good idea, but you didn't think you'd experience any of it either.

“You're staying with us tonight, aren't you?” Jay's voice was a little louder than the music playing in the bar. Sunghoon turned to his friend and smiled weakly, admiring his persistence in thinking he would stay there on a Friday night. Even though he knew there was a good chance you'd show up.

He still didn't know how he was feeling after what had happened, and he also avoided Stella's little requests – through Jay – for him to text you or come to your apartment. Sunghoon had no idea what to feel or think in that situation, making his mind work on various scenarios that he created himself.

Thinking that you could have gone to Switzerland with that man your father had mentioned on the phone, or worse, he thought about how long you had been promised to someone rich and disgusting who had been your old father's choice. While Sunghoon could barely provide you with a decent life. Not that you needed it, because he knew you had enough money to buy his bar if you wanted to. A decent life was all you didn't need from him. That's why maybe someone from your world, the way you lived, would be better. That's why your father seemed so convinced of this, without ruling out any possibility that you might already be with someone else.

Not that he was that other person, there hadn't even been time for Sunghoon to make a formal request or even say that you were his. There was no time at all.

“I'm going home” Sunghoon replied after getting lost in his thoughts, seeing Jay's worried look in his direction.

The tray carrying the empty glasses went straight into the sink, and Sunghoon washed and sanitized them properly before leaving them to drain and waiting for Jake or Heeseung to finish the job.

“Really?” Jay leaned against the opposite side of the sink from where Sunghoon still stood, looking at the people coming in and out of the small dance floor. They were drunk enough to wave to Jake, who was pouring them a drink at the moment.

“Really, I think I need a rest” in reality, he didn't need a rest, he was just avoiding meeting you there in case you went. And Jay knew that very well.

“Okay” he conceded, no longer wanting to push Sunghoon to say anything about it. He got up from where he was to walk over to his friend, ruffling the boy's dark, sweaty hair in front of him “Anything, call me, okay? I'm not drinking tonight because Stella and Alicia will probably want to leave here loaded,” he said, making Sunghoon laugh ”So I'll be chauffeuring you all night. Don't hesitate to call me if you need anything.”

“And neither will I” Jake appeared next to Jay ”I drove here today and I can drop Alicia off at home if you need us at your apartment…”

“Boys' night?” Sunghoon joked.

“Come on, it's only desolate, sad girls who can do that?” Jake pouted and picked up a clean glass, grimacing at his two friends as he walked away to serve another group of people who had leaned over the bar.

Sunghoon felt terrible to see his friends' efforts to make him well, even if he didn't want to be sinking like that into something that was only hurting. He wished he could stay at the bar or even accept the boys' invitation to do something, but all he wanted was to be home. Maybe cry some more – out of resentment or anger – and drink whatever was in the fridge, then fall asleep until the next morning.

And that's what he did when he got to his apartment, at least the drinking part. He took off his shoes and coat, then went to the fridge and got three cans of beer. He sat down on the sofa and opened them one by one while thinking about his life recently.

He knew that sleep would be a long time coming because with every sip of beer, he wondered why all this was happening. Sunghoon had seen movies with this theme before, he had even heard of a book that Stella read about a rich guy who fell in love with a girl who wasn't rich. The only difference was that his story with you was the complete opposite. Sunghoon wasn't rich at all.

Laughing at life's misfortunes, he finished his third beer and risked opening the bottle of wine that Jake had bought and left at his friend's apartment for the next time they were all together. Perhaps he wouldn't mind if Sunghoon drank it all, because the occasion called for a little more alcohol and until the next meeting between friends, he would certainly buy Jake another bottle. And if it was for the heartbreak reason, which it really was, he knew his friend would forgive him for taking it all himself.

“I don't think that's going to be enough” Sunghoon muttered to himself as he opened the bottle and took the first sip of wine, the strange mixture of the previous taste of beer and the smooth grapes of the current drink. He had mixed a lot of things before, but this one was strange. Not that it mattered at the moment, Sunghoon just wanted to finish that bottle.

To feel nothing but sleep or for all that sensation to fade from his body, at least for a little while. Just long enough for him to recover enough so that, when he saw you again, he wouldn't act like an idiot in love. Even though you might be in the arms of someone other than him. Even if you were going to share a life with someone other than him. Sunghoon thought he was too late in proposing to you because he had wasted so much time without saying anything.

From the moment he met you at university until years after his courses ended, he was only able to talk about his feelings because you did it first. And even then you tore it all away from him in a matter of a short time. But even though it happened, if he had told you he loved you even before all that, Sunghoon could have enjoyed a little time being yours and you being his. In his arms.

And not that empty bottle of wine he was holding, hoping it would be you there.

Sunghoon usually woke up from his nap with his cell phone ringing in the early hours of Friday morning. Jake or Jay calls and he refuses to go to the bar to finish the drinks so that everyone would go home drunk. But now his nap had been interrupted by frantic knocks on the door.

The first thing he did was glance at the clock hanging on the opposite wall, showing that he had been asleep for less than twenty minutes. The empty bottle of wine was neatly placed on the coffee table in the living room and he had closed his eyes while still sitting on the sofa, without bothering to lie down or go to the bedroom.

The knocks continued and Sunghoon began to get anxious because the rapidity with which the noises were made against the door indicated that whoever was there was in a hurry. And maybe his friends needed him because something might have happened. Jay and Jake weren't drunk, as they had said in the bar before he left… So what could it be? He didn't want to think about anything else and ran the few steps from the sofa to the door, taking a long breath before opening it.

His hand trembled slightly against the handle as he turned it slowly and, with his other hand, Sunghoon unlocked the door.

He could have seen it through the peephole before opening it because the look of astonishment on your face when you stood in front of his apartment door wasn't something you could have rehearsed. You could see that Sunghoon wasn't expecting it and, strangely, you didn't care whether he liked it or not. It was as if you had already predicted that his reaction would be total astonishment.

Sunghoon couldn't say anything, amazed and even a little stunned by your presence there. Stopping to analyze the whole situation, your clothes were quite different from the ones you usually wore. No social attire, elegant clothes, or high heels. Instead, you were wearing jeans, a button-down shirt three times your size, and a completely messy ponytail. Your breathing was so ragged that you could only take deep breaths while looking at him.

“Y/n?” Sunghoon practically whispered as he stared at you trying to take it all in. Afraid he'd say your name a little louder and it was just a drunken dream he was having.

To his surprise, you just nodded and took a step forward, still panting as you walked far enough into his apartment. Facing him squarely.

Already preparing yourself for the question he would ask, such as “what are you doing here?” or whatever, you tried to act on your feelings and prayed that he wouldn't interrupt you this time. The speed with which your lips touched his even shocked you because you didn't think you'd have such good aim just by lifting your own feet high enough to reach where you most wanted to touch him at that second.

Processing the event while still half-drowsy, Sunghoon smacked his lips to yours and then pulled away. Inches away from your face just to try to assimilate that you had just kissed him, and when you grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him against you again, he let himself go.

It wasn't as if he was going to stop you from kissing him, even though he had mixed feelings. But neither was he going to deny that he was kissing the woman he loved so much.

He was the first to give the go-ahead to deepen the kiss, opening his lips to receive your tongue and feeling you press your fingers into his shirt. When your tongue tangled with Sunghoon's, he put his hand around your waist to press you against him. His free hand closed the door in the same second to push your back against the cold wood and trap you between it and the tall, slender body in front of you.

In a contest of longing and need, your tongue and his played in sync as you felt Sunghoon's hand slide under the fabric of your shirt. Touching your skin and almost sending a shock through your whole body when he ran his short nails along your hip. A screaming need to feel him in every corner of your body, you craved it as much as he did and tried to show it as you kissed him even more.

Even though it was an almost impossible mission to say everything you felt for Sunghoon because it was beyond words and all you wanted was to make him understand you. That he would listen to you because surely his thoughts about everything that was happening were completely wrong. You wanted to prove it to him. And maybe you were on the right track.

When Sunghoon ran both hands down your hips, to your ass, and down to your thighs, the two slaps there were enough for you to understand that he wanted you in his arms. On his lap. And you didn't hesitate to jump up and wrap your legs around his body when he picked you up.

“Take me to your room” you smiled against his lips, slowly sliding down when you both needed some air, going to Sunghoon's ear “We need to talk.”

“About what?” Sunghoon's breathy voice was so attractive and exciting, that you could swear you almost moaned just from the memories it brought back.

“About us” you felt Sunghoon's arms squeeze your body in his lap, but at no time did the boy show any resistance as he pulled you away from the door to take you to his room.

The whole way was done in silence, feeling his gaze on you almost the whole way, except when he paid a little more attention so that he didn't hurt you or stumble by mistake. Even more so when your lips did a great job against his cheek, going down to his jaw and neck. It bought you time between Sunghoon's slow steps and the time it took you to think about how to start that conversation once you got to his room.

Why, what would you start by saying? And how would you start? Because telling Stella, Jay, and Jake had been easy. Smooth, even, with the possibility of your friends judging you. But because it was Sunghoon, the main character in all of this, things seemed to be even more complicated.

Your thoughts were interrupted when the two of you reached his room, Sunghoon slowly standing you up as he passed the door and closed it. His eyes glazed over your figure as he waited for your next move. His mind would have to work a million different ways now. Afraid that he would kick you out of the apartment once again or not listen to you explain while you had a lot to say, something crossed your mind and you prayed that it would work out. Not least because you'd need to concentrate on every word while you did everything you wanted to do.

One of your hands went to Sunghoon's abdomen, slowly moving up to his chest and giving it a gentle push. It was nothing compared to her strength and his size, at most moving the boy's body a centimeter in front of you. Enough for him to take a slow step backward.

“Sit down” you instructed softly, slowly pushing him towards his bed. You tried your best to make your voice sound calm as you watched him nod and walk backward to the bed, sitting down and leaning against the headboard. Your smile slowly followed his, but Sunghoon held his breath as you climbed onto the bed to sit on his lap, both hands resting on his broad shoulders.

“What are you doing? Weren't we going to talk?” he asked, his voice shaky and wavering as he felt your weight on his lap. Sunghoon frowned, not because he hated having you on his lap, on the contrary, but it had never crossed his mind to have a conversation in that position.

“We will” you leaned your forehead against his ”But I'm afraid you won't let me talk, so I thought I'd do something.”

“What thing?” Sunghoon asked when he felt your breath against his face, your warm breath against his freshly kissed and still reddened lips. You smiled, but he couldn't capture the moment because he had just closed his eyes to revel in every little sensation you gave his body.

Sunghoon had completely forgotten the old feeling that he didn't want to see you anymore, that he was avoiding you at all costs. He forgot everything the moment he felt your lips on his when you arrived at the apartment, and now, feeling you holding his face between your hands. Your little fingers caressing his skin – which would have been stained with tears tonight if you hadn't been here – and trailing around his jaw to his lower lip. You didn't respond immediately, nor did he complain when he felt you kissing him again.

It was like being addicted to something and needing it to live, regardless of whether he deserved it or not. Sunghoon knew he wouldn't be able to go on without kissing you and without having you. He didn't want to think about a world in which you wouldn't be with him as you are right now. Sunghoon just wanted to feel your tongue entwining with his slowly, urgently, and intensely. Your heavy breathing against his mouth almost drove him crazy, not least when you were rocking against his lap.

It was too much torture to feel you like that, the clothes getting in the way as you slowly rolled over in his lap. His cock, once semi-hard, was now hard enough to rub against your jeans and the pants he was wearing, creating the perfect friction for both of you.

“Fuck” he moaned against your mouth, stifling another moan when he felt your nails against his shoulders. Sunghoon wasn't going to question whether that was an effective method of conversation, but if you wanted to start like that, he wasn't going to stop you.

He ran his big hands down your shirt, finding your ass very well synchronized in slowly rolling over, at the same intensity as your tongue played with his. It was as if you wanted to make him feel the same movements inside your mouth and on top of your lap, as your clothed pussy rubbed against his cock.

“Sunghoon” you moaned his name, an extremely low blow. This made Sunghoon's fingers squeeze each side of your buttocks, stopping your hip movements.

“Do you…” he sighed, his heartbeat accelerating as you pulled your mouth away from his ”Do you want to talk like this?”

He looked like a lost, needy little animal, his big eyes staring at you and his chest rising and falling in gasping breaths. Such a beautiful sight that you missed it, and having it again was something you didn't want to miss.

Releasing Sunghoon's hands from your ass, you intertwined your fingers with his and left them next to your body, on the side of your thighs. If your expression wasn't so passionate, he could have sworn it was some kind of tease as you moved back against his lap.

“I want you to pay attention only to what I say” you whispered, squeezing his fingers and letting out a low moan as your clit rubbed exactly against his jeans and the head of his cock at that moment. That was all you needed “Can you do that for me?”

There was a minute's silence as Sunghoon pondered this because he couldn't concentrate on anything other than the movements you were making. It would be difficult to focus on your words while what he wanted most at that moment was to be inside you.

“I'll try” he managed to say before he felt you slip out of his lap.

The loss of contact made Sunghoon a little dizzy because he felt his cock ache, that friction was all he needed, but losing it suddenly made him feel weak. He looked at where you were, standing next to his bed as you unbuttoned your jeans and left only your big shirt. It was a punishment that it was that big and covered half your thighs… Why couldn't you wear one of the shirts you normally wore? They were small enough to go halfway down the buttons of the pants you wore, and not nearly as dressy as that one. He also didn't think about why you were undressing, let alone why you had gone back between his legs and now it was your fingers' turn to open the buttons on Sunghoon's pants.

“Y/n, what—” he tilted his head back and leaned against the headboard, his eyes closing and his breathing completely heavy as you lowered the fabric of his pants enough to free his cock from the tightness of his jeans and hold it over the fabric of the briefs he was wearing ”Fuck, you…”

“I want you to understand that whatever I say is true” your thumb perfectly drew the line of his cock head covered in pre-cum that had already soaked through his underwear. Sunghoon moaned loudly at the touch and squirmed to try to get your hand away, feeling the slight slap you gave him before looking him in the eye.

Eye contact alone could make him come right there, without any further ministrations from you. Sunghoon could free himself in his boxers as he felt you draw circles on the head of his cock, but it couldn't be that easy. You weren't going to provoke him because he didn't deserve that at all. He deserved to be taken care of, to listen carefully to what you had to say, and, perhaps, to understand every word. He just prayed that everything would be said clearly, even if he was struggling against your touches to pay attention to the words.

You knew that the body language between the two of you was a great connection because when your fingers slid into the waistband of his pants, Sunghoon didn't even think to help you remove the fabric along with the underwear he was wearing, his cock being released in a mixture of relief and pain, slapping against the belly covered by the T-shirt he was still wearing. The garments went halfway down his thighs before he saw you move far enough away for him to pull them off and throw them on the floor beside the bed. Now with his lower half completely bare to you, exposed like that, Sunghoon knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything. Not with you kneeling between his legs again.

“I want you to believe me, Sunghoon” you whispered as you leaned in, your face close enough to his to say it, ”Do you?”

He was quiet at that moment, just staring at you and hoping that something would formulate in the back of his mind. Sunghoon would believe… But in what? What, exactly, would he have to believe? What would you say would have to be done just for him to believe? Sunghoon's mind wasn't working very well at that moment, he seemed lost and excited and just agreeing was enough for you to continue whatever you were doing. He would only accept at that moment, fighting against any greater urge before actually listening to you. Or feel you, because he didn't know what you would do first.

Watching your slow movements as you slid between his legs, your face lowering just enough to get close to his cock and your mouth touching the head smeared with pre-cum.

“Fuck you” he muttered almost as a roar of relief when he felt your hot mouth suck the tip of his cock. The pop when you released it made Sunghoon moan low and almost cry from the contact.

Your hand firmly gripped the base of his cock, the narrow veins running along the length that filled you so well last time. You made eye contact with him the second your mouth returned to spilling the mushroom, the tip of your tongue making the perfect circle before your lips slowly slid down his cock.

“Shit, Y/n” he moaned. The sensation of having his cock swallowed by your warm, soft lips was divine. Your tongue felt his vein fissures and your throat accommodating the glans when you reached the bottom. You slid his cock out once more, but without taking it out completely as you did the first time, establishing a rhythm so slow that Sunghoon might have thought he was being tortured.

The torture in your eyes fixed on his, with your mouth full of his cock as you moved your head up and down in a rhythm that you set yourself to suck it. Sunghoon knew – and anyone else in those conditions – that it would be impossible for you to say anything at that moment, so delighting in your mouth around his cock was the perfect moment. Sunghoon wrapped his already-tangled hair between his fingers, taking advantage of the ponytail hairstyle he'd done before so that he could hold onto you with one hand and the other wrapped around your jaw.

“You're doing so good, babe” Sunghoon said, his thumb caressing your cheek and spreading a little of your saliva that fell each time you took his cock deeper into your mouth until it touched your throat. He moaned your name every time you proved that your vomit reflex was in perfect condition. You took him so deep that Sunghoon knew he could come right there, in the warmth of your lips as he felt you speed up your movements.

He pressed his thumb against your jaw as you moved your mouth up and down his cock faster, your gaze never leaving Sunghoon's fucked face above you. Your name was said with each heavy breath and the moans he let out were like the most beautiful melody you could have heard in your life.

“I'm going to… Y/n, please…” Sunghoon didn't want to come so quickly, he didn't want to look so weak for a blowjob as well done as yours. And it seems that you didn't want him to come so soon either, because your mouth began to move slowly down his cock until it stopped completely. Your tongue makes the same circle around the head of his cock until you let go, again, with a pop.

How pornographic that sound could be when accompanied by Sunghoon's hoarse moan at the same moment. You knew your panties were wet enough just from the sounds and feel of his cock inside your mouth, but you didn't care anymore. Not when you also had to concentrate because your words weren't finished. You had a few more things to say to him. Before returning to Sunghoon's lap, you discarded your sticky, wet panties, almost in the same spot next to the bed where his clothes were, and it was only at that moment that you returned to your old spot – his lap.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he was visibly stunned and you secretly liked that effect, the hint that he didn't want to see you had finally disappeared and now the faint smile Sunghoon was giving you was the perfect indication that he had your undivided attention.

“In a good way?” you asked, your tone low and your hips hovering in the air so as not to touch your naked pussy to his cock just yet.

“In the best of ways” he said, tilting his head towards yours to capture your lips this time.

It was Sunghoon's turn to start the kiss a little less slowly than the two of you had shared so far. His hands held your face on either side and he could feel your jaw moving during the kiss as his thumbs made the perfect line to your chin. And you knew that this would be the perfect moment since Sunghoon's hands were busy holding your face, he wouldn't stop you.

You slid your hand between the two bodies and gripped his cock, taking advantage of the fact that your saliva would be the perfect combination of lubrication with how wet your pussy was. Then you simply slid the head of his cock between your folds, opting to tease him another time, and slid it in far enough until it found its entrance. It didn't take you long to slide his cock in effortlessly.

“Fuck, shit. I—” Sunghoon didn't have time to reason or even say anything to you when his cock was already completely inside your pussy. He wouldn't deny something like that, he wouldn't stop you, but feeling your pussy swallow his cock without any warning was one of the most delicious sensations he'd ever felt.

Sunghoon's hands left your face to grip your hips before you could start any movement. He didn't want to teach you anything, he wanted to let you guide yourself as you felt most comfortable, but he needed to feel the way you moved as well as have his cock inside you. So when you raised your hips for the first time and then lowered yourself in a not-so-slow movement, he tightened his fingers on your hips in response, moaning your name.

“Sunghoon” you moaned, but you wanted to call him out as you put your idea into action. He just grunted as he felt you move again on his lap, your pussy swallowing his cock so well that it was hard to say anything “I want you to unbutton my shirt while I talk to you…”

“Fuck, no” he moaned as you went down on his cock again, a little faster this time.

He didn't want to deny it, but it was hard to concentrate. So Sunghoon knew he had to be guided, and you knew you had to do it when you took his hands and led them to the first button of your shirt.

“Just concentrate on that and my words.”

He wanted to ask if this was how you behaved when you were the boss of the company or when you had to deal with someone from your work or even your father. The authoritative yet cautious way you spoke to him made his cock twitch inside you. And he wondered how it was possible for you to keep your tone while resting your hands on his shoulder and forcing your legs up and down on his cock.

Sunghoon leaned his head back against the headboard, the moans becoming frequent and released without any pause. The sound of slapping skin as you began to hump faster, his pelvis meeting yours, and the wet, squishing sound of your pussy every time you swallowed him. His fingers were trembling as he managed to unbutton the first button, moving down to the second and losing himself for a moment when the walls of your pussy squeezed him tight.

“I'm not going to make it with you… squeezing me like that…”

“You can do it, Hoonie” he could have easily turned you against that mattress and fucked you so hard with his hooded provocations and authoritarian requests in that situation. But he didn't have the strength, let alone the courage, to disobey your requests while you slowed down your movements because you knew it was hard for him. Sunghoon managed to unbutton the second button and went down to the next one, his eyes slowly opening to look at you.

Your smile was angelic even in the position he was in and the way you were rubbing up against him. Now, going back and forth with your clit deliciously rubbing against his pelvis and, when you moved a little more, you could rub against his cock covered in all your essence before getting just the tip inside your hole and sliding it into you again. He didn't want to ask where you'd learned it or if you'd even practiced, maybe Sunghoon was lucky enough to have been the first to feel it because you were so horny that you tried out the wildest fantasies in your mind. And that's exactly what it was, but you'd never tell him.

“Sunghoon” you called him again when your rolls and movements became less intense. You still kept them up but in a more sensual way. You wanted to emphasize your words and let him finish the buttons on your shirt. He looked you in the eye, the shine in that gaze and the intense way in which Sunghoon stared at you was the certainty of everything you felt. You leaned forward, your slightly sweaty forehead touching his and your panting breaths mingling with each other “You're the only one for me.”

“What?” he finished unbuttoning your shirt, given the circumstances of your slow movements. A respite for the poor man with a hard-on and his hard, aching cock being swallowed by your pussy.

Opening your shirt and revealing your bra, he didn't even bother to look at the lace or anything else, because your voice was the only thing he was concentrating on at that moment. The two of you kept staring at each other until you finally took off your shirt and took the opportunity to get rid of your bra, knowing that you had tortured Sunghoon enough to make him unbutton every button.

You pulled away from him to pull up his shirt, and he was quick to get the message and get completely naked, just as you were on top of him. You leaned your forehead against his again, your skin glistening against the light in the room and the sweat emanating from your shared activities.

“I don't want anyone but you” you kissed his lips slowly, moving your hips back in the same way ”I've never been with anyone but you and—”

Sunghoon knew it was enough, he knew he just needed that confirmation. Even if you'd been trying to say it all along and he was too stubborn – and jealous – to listen. He wanted to suffer in silence rather than listen to what you had to say. But after today and what you did, he could no longer have any doubts about the things that were happening.

Giving him all to reverse positions, pressing your back down on the mattress, and getting on top of you, Sunghoon lined his cock up in your pussy without wasting any time in being inside you again.

“Say it again,” he whispered as he began to thrust his cock into you. Sunghoon's face lined up on the curve of your neck as he thrust his cock into you at a slow but strong pace. The sound of his pelvis against your skin was enough to make you forget your words. Now you understood why he couldn't speak so perfectly when you were on top. It was hard to think of anything coherent while you felt his cock going deep inside you.

“I don't… Shit” you moaned softly as his cock drove deep, hitting the perfect spot inside your warm walls and making your nails slide down his back. Sunghoon kissed your neck, smiling against your skin at the effect he caused just by slowly thrusting his cock into you. “I don't want anyone else but you” saying it quickly hadn't been a mistake, not least because you knew that once he heard it, it would be enough to feel you faster.

And that's what happened. As if you knew him so well, Sunghoon raised his face to look at your every expression as he began to fuck his cock into your pussy. The fast, strong movements made your body sway beneath him and the overwhelming sound of your arousal coursed through his cock every time it moved in and out of you. Sunghoon rested one hand on the side of your body, the other gripped the headboard so tightly that his fingers might have hurt afterward from the force with which he held on. But it was all a consequence of all the sensations repressed while he fucked you as he pleased.

Sunghoon ignored the burning in your back caused by your nails in his skin, and he also ignored the fact that your thighs were squeezing him so tightly that, if it weren't for the speed with which he moved his hips against yours, you would surely have been able to stop him in a few moves. But he wouldn't give up, he wouldn't stop.

“I can't take it… I can't…” you pulled his face close to yours, mouths too close together.

“Do you want to cum?” he asked, your nod the only source of confirmation as you moaned his name against his lips.

Sunghoon nodded too, knowing he wasn't that far away from you as his cock throbbed inside your pussy. The way you sucked him so well was the perfect indication that he had to come right there to claim what was rightfully his. Your pussy and all of you.

He let you kiss him again, messy with drool, totally sloppy as he felt his hips stutter in their movements. You were getting more and more desperate and this was proven by the way your moans were swallowed by his lips and your pussy clenching him tightly.

It wasn't long before you came against his cock, the muscles in your pussy convulsing around his length. Without delay, Sunghoon knew you wouldn't be strong enough to take it, so he came straight away. The load of cum he poured into your pussy was hot and thick, every part of you squeezing him, milking his cock a little more until the last drop of cum he poured into you dried up.

Gasping and with your lips still pressed together, you gave one last loud sigh after moaning his name against his lips. Smiling along with Sunghoon as you both recovered a little from your rapid breathing.

He didn't want to open his eyes at that moment, afraid that everything would happen again. You and him having sex, and then Sunghoon found out that you were leaving for another country, and that made his heart hurt even more when he opened his eyes and didn't see you on the other side of the bed.

Sunghoon could have sworn he had hugged your waist the entire night after the two of you slept together, but you were no longer by his side. Again.

A lump formed in his throat at the thought that this was happening again, and even worse after you said everything you said. It wouldn't be indicative of anything if you spoke and still walked away like you did with him. Was that why you had asked him to believe you? So you could have another night together and now you're going to another country? Well, what would it be this time? It would have to be something further away than Switzerland because Sunghoon swore he could travel there after you again if that was the case.

Not wanting to think about it anymore, pushing away his blurred vision with a strong breath and trying not to focus on the tightness he was feeling in his chest, he stretched his hand beside the bed just to feel for his underwear and put them on, quickly leaving the room without paying attention to nothing else. It wouldn't be new for him to be left by you, but this time Sunghoon had to put an end to what he was feeling because he couldn't afford to be chased, to listen to you, to have sex with you, and then watch you leave. He couldn't allow that because Sunghoon would suffer every time, while he wouldn't know why you did all that.

He wanted not to think about those things, he wanted not to feel like crying as he walked around the apartment. But in vain, a tear had already fallen down his cheek and before Sunghoon even wiped it away, he almost felt his heart come out of his mouth when he found your figure in the kitchen.

You were wearing his t-shirt from the night before, and your eyes were focused on the small recipe book as you had some ingredients in front of you. With the sound of his footsteps, your attention was no longer on the words written by Sunghoon's grandfather in that worn notebook, but rather on the crying boy standing at the kitchen door.

“Hey, Hoonie” you would smile if it weren’t for the sight of Sunghoon’s cloudy eyes and wet cheek. You quickly walked towards him and held the face of the man in front of you, wiping away the second tear that was about to fall down the middle of his cheek “What is it? What happened?"

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug and sniffling softly against your hair.

“I thought you were gone again” he whimpered, letting a few more tears fall as he felt you hug him.

Relief would be best described in the middle of that hug, over any feeling Sunghoon swore he felt after waking up. He felt your lips kiss his bare shoulder and then slowly slide down his arms until you faced him.

“I’m not going anywhere anymore” you smiled, kissing him on the lips “And that’s why we need to talk.”

“For real now, right? Without my dick inside you?”

“Sunghoon!” you slapped his arm as you walked away, hearing the boy's captivating and welcoming laugh.

He noticed you were making his grandfather's famous coffee, or trying to replicate the little details. Just like he did that day in your apartment. The nostalgic moment brings him back to the day you told him you were in love with him. You revealed your feelings and let him say them too.

As you went back to preparing coffee, you felt Sunghoon's arms wrap around your waist and hug you from behind. He rested his face on your shoulder to pay attention while you concentrated there.

“I think I'm ready to listen to you now” he said as calmly as if he hadn't been almost desperate minutes before.

He also wouldn't say that he thought about traveling to another country if the scenario repeated itself. Maybe you thought he was crazy, or not so much because you knew Sunghoon enough to know that he would be capable of that since his first feeling was denial that you came back this time. Now all he had to do was go after it if it happened. What he wouldn't do and you would say so clearly to him.

“You were right when you said that my Dad tried to set me up with a partner’s son and everything…” Sunghoon knew there was no way to hide the tightening of his muscles, the arms around your waist tightening a little more and the jaw resting on your shoulder becoming harder as he listened to you. You knew this would happen, so you had to be quick in your explanations “That’s very much a movie scene, isn’t it?”

"What?" he asked, trying to ignore the amusement in your tone. This wasn't fun at all, why were you making it out to be?

“The Dad trying to arrange a marriage for his daughter and the heiress of his company” you laughed softly as you poured some coffee powder into the machine, focusing on the mixture of sugar and cinnamon that was described on the sheet on the other side of the counter “But my life it’s not a movie.”

"What do you mean by that?" Sunghoon was visibly confused, his hands resting against your stomach.

“I mean that—” you stopped yourself, hearing the coffee machine start to make noise as it prepared the liquid that the two of you would drink right away. Turning around in Sunghoon's arms, your hands finally palmed his bare chest. “My father tried to control this in my life, but he couldn't. And that’s why I went to Switzerland.”

If he was confused before, he was even more so now. And as he listened to you calmly, everything, even though it made sense, left him shocked.

Sunghoon knew that your father always tried to control everything in your life, and it was one of the biggest reasons why you always vented to him. Having someone control almost everything for you was extremely annoying, a tremendous invasion of privacy. But as soon as you learned that your father wanted to make you marry his business partner's son, it sounded like a ridiculous joke to you. It was a movie you could see with Stella at a movie theater as they discussed how life tried to imitate art, but not when you objected to it.

“That night I showed up at your bar crying, it was because I decided to leave for Switzerland without anyone knowing. I wanted to escape yet another choice in my life made by my father” you sighed slowly, Sunghoon's fingers caressing your waist through your – his – t-shirt. You felt his lips slowly against the top of your head and you smiled because they remained there “Only you knew through that letter. I didn’t even tell Stella, but… I knew you would show her and the boys, so it was okay because I trust you all.”

He moved his lips from your head to your forehead, breathing deeply against your skin. Now that things were starting to make sense, Sunghoon swore he felt even more angry towards your father.

“This trip was to organize my mind on how I would face my father in this situation because it wasn't easy to make him change his mind” you sighed “Well, you heard it on the phone that day.”

“Unfortunately” he whispered, not wanting to interrupt you even if you wanted to hear him.

The noise of the coffee machine interrupted your thoughts for a brief moment, then you turned back in his arms to pour a good amount into the two cups in front of you. Sunghoon slid his arms around your waist again, still hugging you and not wanting to let go so soon.

“I came back because I decided to lead my own life, I didn't want him to do that for me anymore” preparing the coffee was done with a shaking hand because you felt like crying every time you thought about the fights against your father.

The harsh words he said to you while you refused to follow what he wanted for you. Of all the years he was in control of your life, it was time for things to change. You felt a feather-light kiss that Sunghoon placed on your shoulder when you signaled that the coffee was ready. He picked up the cup and walked to the other side of the counter so he was facing you.

“And also because I resigned from his company because he simply said I couldn’t get married when I was already committed to someone else.”

He almost spat out his coffee when he heard it come out of your mouth so nonchalantly. Those new attitudes from such a carefree Y/n were not something Sunghoon was used to, especially after you gave an innocent smile as if you hadn't said the craziest thing out loud.

"You're kidding, right?" he tried to catch his breath after coughing a few times, resting the cup on the kitchen counter “Y/n, you can’t do this.”

“I can and I did, Sunghoon” you smiled with your lips against your cup as you sipped your hot coffee “I talked about being in love with you since university, that I didn't want to be the boss of that shit company anymore and that I quit because I simply I wanted to have control of my own life and do what I wanted.”

As much as it was something he wanted to hear at all costs, Sunghoon couldn't be selfish enough to let you miss out on things because part of you had told your father about your feelings for him.

“Did you tell him about me?” Sunghoon asked, seeing you nod as you drank more coffee.

Possibly your father had cursed Sunghoon the moment he heard you say that he owned a bar and not the owner of a company. He knew this should have happened.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” your voice took him away from his thoughts for a while, he picked up the cup of coffee again, looking at the dark liquid now, trying not to focus on your intense gaze.

“You can’t just give up your life for your feelings, Y/n.”

“You mean the money?” he didn't see the eye roll you gave, otherwise he would scold you for it and continue saying how wrong you were for doing those things.

“I mean that—”

It hurt Sunghoon to have to think, and to be about to say that out loud. But just as you were being sincere, he could tell you what he thought too. It wouldn't be a judgment on his part and he hoped you wouldn't be offended, especially because he also had the right to think that way.

“The guy your father wants you to be with has money and a good life” he bit the tip of his tongue at the thought of another man being with you. Even if it was to make his father happy, Sunghoon just couldn't do it. “He's from your world, Y/n.”

"My world?" your shaky voice made him look up from the coffee to your face. You looked strangely sad, and he didn't want you to feel that. You should be happy, maybe, Sunghoon also didn't know what to think anymore.

“Yeah, he has money, I don’t” Sunghoon took a big sip of coffee “We’re from two different worlds, you know?”

“No” you replied quickly, the thud of the cup against the counter on the other side made Sunghoon shrug his shoulders momentarily.

"Why not?" he placed the cup back, walking around the counter ever so slowly to get closer to you again. He wanted to touch you and you would possibly hit him because of the way you were looking at him. He didn't want to see you like this either, but he risked pulling you against him and bringing your face closer to his.

“Because I don’t want a world where you’re not in it, Park Sunghoon” your pout dismantled him at that moment, matching the shape of your words “You are my world.”

Fuck your father's opinion and thoughts and Sunghoon's pride in trying to think that you should follow another path. He wouldn't be stupid enough to push you onto someone else, not when you were there, openly saying that you gave up a lot of things because of him. Much of it was because of you and your wishes, but if that included Sunghoon, he wouldn't waste it.

Sunghoon kissed you so slowly, feeling the taste of the freshly drunk coffee and your warm lips against his. Your hands quickly went to his hair and Sunghoon hugged you so tight, afraid you would run away and believe his words from minutes ago. Fuck money, fuck everything. You said he was your world, and he wanted to be your world just like you were his.

“I love you” Sunghoon whispered after kissing you, his lips still hovering over yours “I love you so much I don’t want you to leave.”

“I love you so much more” you whispered back, snuggling into his arms as you felt Sunghoon’s heartbeat against your chest as you felt him hold you in that hug. “And I’m not going anywhere without you now.”

“Promise?”

“I promise” you kissed his lips once again, and Sunghoon could scream with happiness to finally have you in his arms.

Being able to wake up every morning and feel your body on the other side of the bed with the certainty that you wouldn't leave. He knew he would have to face your father sooner or later, but he also knew that your request the night before to believe in you was what was worth it. Sunghoon would believe in you at all times because being together with you, nothing else mattered.

“By the way” you smiled slowly when he began to undo his arms around your body, moving away so he could return to the other side of the counter and drink the rest of the coffee. He would prepare food afterward because the drink alone wouldn't be enough.

“Say it, love” he encouraged you when he didn’t hear you continue. Raising an eyebrow at you as he brought the cup to his lips to finish the contents and pay attention to what you had to say.

“Is there space at your bar? I don’t want to be without work.”

Sunghoon truly laughed as he walked back behind you, leaning down enough to place the cup into the sink. He wouldn't imagine someone like you working in his crazy bar, not when you didn't behave like the people who worked there. Not even Stella would work there.

“Maybe you should ask Stella for help with this, baby” Sunghoon kissed the side of your neck, causing a slight shiver to run across your skin “I don’t want you to work in my bar because I know the type of customers I have there.”

"Jealous?" you joked.

"Jealous of you? Definitely” he nibbled your skin, watching you shiver even more.

Continued to laugh at your reaction and your protests about being a good employee, maybe even better than his three best friends. You could team up with Stella and attract more clientele to the bar, even if the establishment doesn't need it. It was Sunghoon's turn to feel a shiver run down his spine at the idea of ​​men staring at you or trying to flirt with you, just like he saw them doing with any girl who frequented his bar. Now that the two of you were together, he knew that being jealous was nothing compared to what he would experience with you.

But if it was the same way he was being, laughing at your protests, receiving your kisses as he scooped up the pancake batter, and listening to you grumble about wanting to work with Stella now, he would love to live by her side. Because you were his world, just like he was his.

© ikeuverse, 2023. do not copy, translate or steal my stories.

[dcxdpdabbles]

For Angel Brat, could we have some more focus on Bruce and Danny? Maybe Dick and Danny as well?

Bruce looks over to where Danny and Dick are each filling up their frozen yogurt cups. Dick's, is a vanilla and chocolate mix topped with various candies.

It seemed he had taken the open bar toppings as a personal challenge to drop a scoop of everything laid out into his container. Honestly, Bruce sometimes wondered if all of Dick's spontaneous flips were just a means to stay in shape, so he could keep eating the way he did.

Danny, on the other hand, had chocolate topped with only peanuts. His blue eyes- the only difference between him and Damian physically wise- kept wandering over longingly to offered sweeties but he was on a strict diet for his health.

Bruce can't believe that for all they have been searching for ways to keep Danny; they had neglected developing research for his illnesses. It felt a bitter taste in his mouth that they still could not find a cure for his boy.

Bruce Wayne was able to travel through time but make sure his son could run long periods without his heart or his lungs breaking down? Turns out he truly is just a mortal, and that was one of the worst things to realize when his son confidently bragged about being able to do two entire laps of their yard without nearly passing out.

He mentally did some calculations before stepping closer and touching Danny's shoulder. "I think you can have some chocolate chips."

His boy's face brightened in joy before he rushed to the counter, scooping the chocolate goods into his yogurt. It's another thing he noticed about Danny.

Unlike Damian, his youngest didn't bother hiding his emotions. He wore them like a badge of honor, letting them bleed across his face as quickly as he allowed sunlight to rest on them.

Bruce isn't sure if this is due to their different personalities- like the night and day of those two- or if it was because Danny had gotten out of the League when he did. Damian had broken him out to prevent him from being killed for his execution, but Bruce could not figure out where Danny had grown up.

His son's phrases and slight accent indicated midwestern. Bruce had no idea where, and every time he tried searching for him, the only thing that popped up was the already small rumors. Was this an effect of the timeline resetting? But why were there some posts and data on him left behind if it was?

It gave Bruce a headache; even Wally had no idea what was causing it. Wally, having been trapped in the Speed Force for so long, was the expert on it. Bruce shuddered to think of the alternatives if he couldn't figure out what was happening.

Bart had assured everyone that Danny was officially an anchor to their timeline, but if Wally's grim warnings that time was slowly erasing him- thus the lack of proof of childhood- then nothing they could do would save their son.

The worst part was not knowing if he would even be able to properly mourn him. Would Daniel Wayne vanish one day if no one remembered he was supposed to be there?

"Dick, I'm taking a pottery class. I'm going to make you something for your desk." Danny says, snapping Bruce out of his dark thoughts. Then he realizes he was moving on auto-polite, and the cashier was handing back his change.

He takes it with an empty smile turning to his children as Dick beams down at the youngest. "I can't wait to see it, Danny! I bet it will be the best one in class."

"I'll be the only one in the class," Danny tells him sheepishly, but a hint of sadness leaks into his voice. "I'm too sick to go to the center. Dad hired me a private teacher to come to the manor instead."

Bruce's heart squeezes painfully, and one quick glance at Dick's face lets him know his son feels the same way. Of course, nothing sows on his eldest face, but Bruce has known Dick for so long he can tell by the slight tightening around his eyes and the way the pain is tucked in his eyes.

Before he can think better of it, Bruce hears himself say, "I've always been interested in pottery. I'll see if the instructor wouldn't mind a second student."

"Really?" Danny's eyes are practically shining , which prompts Bruce to smile and shrug a shoulder.

"Yes, in fact I'm sure all of your siblings would love to take a class or two. Why don't you send a message in the group chat to see if they like to sign up?" He makes a motion that has Dick pulling out his phone to send in a different group titled "Keep our Angel."

His phone dings just a few seconds before Danny's, which the more petite boy takes as his own message coming through. Bruce never the less checks it anyway, swiping over to Dick's to read what he wrote

Dick: You are all taking a pottery class this Saturday. No excuse. Danny wants us there. I will hurt you if you miss.

His lack of emojis is bone-chilling. Bruce highly doubts any of his children will miss the event. And just as he predicted, Danny's smile grows wider when more dings can be heard coming from his phone.

"Everyone can make it!" He cheers, scrolling through the messages, looking like the world had just been promised to him. "This is going to be so much fun! Do you think the teacher won't mind?"

"I'm sure she will be happy for the raise." And if she wasn't, Bruce would quickly find someone who would. Money, to him, was never an issue.

Danny grins so brightly that Bruce wonders if he should invest in some sunglasses, but his heart does soar. Even if Dick has to reach out to adjust Danny's heart pump wires after they get stuck on the chair.

Effortlessly, Dick moves the attention away from the machine with a simple question. "Besides my gift, what else are you hoping to make Danny?"

"I'm going to make a vase for Bernard. Damian will help me buy him flowers and ask him out." Danny's words are accompanied by a brilliant blush, but he seems almost proud of his newfound courage to ask a boy three years his senior.

Did Bruce just get shot? He feels like he's been shot.

Dick's little spoon crumbles in his hold as his very famous and dangerous rage bleeds into his blue eyes. "Wow. That's so brave of you. By the way, where does Bernard live again?"

Bruce will have to postpone his deep dive into finding out where Danny was raised because if he takes his attention off of Dick for even a second, his eldest will kill that boy.

[avocado-writing]

being the worst wolverine’s wife and one day you get zapped by the TVA for whatever reason, and it looks like you completely disappeared, this is what leads logan to become depressed, start drinking and ultimately ignore the x men when they die etc etc

he goes with wade purely bc he would if you were alive- he couldn’t give less of a shit about wade’s universe but he can feel you over his shoulder like an angel telling him he needs to do this (i imagine it’s like the jean hallucinations he had in the wolverine movie)

what if you’re in the void and he finds you with the rest of the group, like being unable to believe you’re really here?

hehe i love angst and ily avo <3

I already did a “Logan meets you in the void” fic here so I didn’t wanna make this too long or I’d just end up hitting the same beats!

1.4k. rated m for excessive use of the word “fuck”

The day you disappeared you took his fucking soul with him. 

You had been out shopping. Nothing weird about that, he wasn’t some overbearing husband who demanded to know your location every single hour. But then afternoon had turned into evening had turned into night and nobody had heard from you. The unfamiliar sensation of panic had risen, queasy, from his stomach into his chest. They sent out a search party and looked for days. Not a trace of you to be found. Logan couldn’t smell you. Fuck, he’d never not been able to smell you before.

He would hunt for you every day, hoping to find you alive but trying to level with the idea of you being cold and dead because at least then he’d have closure; he’d stay awake for hours on end until he collapsed from exhaustion… then he’d wake up and repeat the whole horrible affair. Nothing. After weeks of searching, Charles had laid a hand on his arm. Logan can still remember the look of pity on his face, like a bomb to the gut. 

“I’m so sorry, Logan.”

They had to assume you were abducted and killed. Your body never turned up. And Logan just had to… keep going. How was he meant to keep going? You were his entire fucking life and then you were just…

Gone. 

To say he was left empty was the biggest understatement of his fucking life. He was a shell of the man he once was. He never laughed any more, never smiled, always trying to plug the hole your absence left in him with whatever alcohol he could get his hands on. Drink himself to a place where he could forget you.

It never really worked. At least it made him numb to the pain though. 

When he staggers home one evening, eyes bleary and head spinning, and finds the whole mansion torched? Everyone left that he loved fucking dead? Well, it takes the last vestiges of his existence and crushes them into dust. 

Oh, Logan, he hears in the back of his mind. Your voice. It breaks him. He falls to his knees, hands buried in the burning timbers, and wails. 

He survives. He does not live. Thinking about everyone he’s lost, with you haunting the corners of his consciousness, always reaching out to comfort him - but when he goes to nuzzle into the warmth of your palm he is overcome with rage and bitterness to find it’s just his own imagination playing tricks on him. 

Then a fucking idiot in red dragged him away from the shambles which was his life and forced him to be functional again, if only barely. He’s angry, so angry all of the goddamn time, even when in the back of his mind he can hear you speaking sweet, calming words to him. 

And then he hears your voice for real. 

Sees you standing across the base this pathetic resistance has made. You look older, sure, he does too - but there’s no mistaking the fire in those eyes. You’re even wearing the same fucking shirt you went missing in, he remembers it, it has a picture of your favourite band. 

His heart stops dead in his chest as you whisper his name. 

“Logan?”

“Oh shit!” says Wade, and Logan has never wanted to kill him more, “Oh shit! Is this your refrigeratored wife, coming back to throw in a third act character arc?”

Logan finishes the bourbon bottle and throws the empty at Wade’s head, where it shatters and knocks him flat. You wince at the violence and he feels like pure shit. 

“I’m fine,” Wade calls from the ground, sticking a thumbs-up into the air. 

“Logan, I…” you clearly want to say something, but you have not been met with the Logan you knew. That Logan would have spent no time running to pick you up and hold you in his arms. This one half-snarls at the man he bloodied on the floor. 

There is an agonising silence, both of you wanting to speak but not being sure how. You take a hesitant step forward. 

“I never thought I’d…”

“How do I know it’s you?”

You recoil like he’s stabbed you with his claws, confusion and hurt flooding your face. Goddamn. He is the worst man alive. He’s not sure if he’s saying it because he just wants to lash out at the nearest person, or…

… or if, because he gets his hopes up, it might just kill him to have them crash down again. 

“What?”

“All these fuckin’ timelines. How do I know? How can I be sure that you’re you?”

The sadness in your face melts away into anger. When you step forward this time, you’re on the warpath. He sees the others in the room cringe, trapped now in this caustic reunion. 

“How can you be sure it’s me? Fuck, Logan, I knew it was you, didn’t I? What do you want? You want me to show you the shitty tattoo I got after we first started dating and we were both drunk?” You lift your sleeve to reveal a little design on your shoulder. “Want me to tell you how an eighteen-year-old Marie was my bridesmaid and she cried because she didn’t think anyone would ever be that kind to her after living as a mutant again? Want me to fucking remind you that in my vows I said I would be by your side, for fucking ever, no matter what - and how when that TVA agent zapped me when I was out for the day and I ended up here, it was only the thought of fulfilling those vows which kept me going? How about all that, or do I fucking need to humiliate myself more?” At this, you gesture to the others who have lined up at the side of the room, trying to look scarce but utterly failing. 

Your shoulders are heaving with emotions, tears hot and heavy in your eyes but not yet spilling over. Logan grits his jaw. Yeah. It’s you. 

“I…” he starts, but trails off when he realises there’s nothing he can say. You shake your head, numb. 

“Fuck you, Logan Howlett,” you spit, words you’ve never ever thrown his way before, and run out of the room. 

“Wow. Aced that one, peanut,” says Wade, and Logan rips off one of his legs. 

He finds you several hours later at a campfire outside the rundown building which makes up headquarters. LeBeau has clearly been kind enough to part with some of his liquor, because you’re gulping down whiskey like it’s air. You stare at him, embers dancing in bitter eyes. 

“What do you want?” you snap. He grunts as he sits down opposite you, either from age or exertion. Stares into the flames. 

“I never stopped looking,” he manages. 

You blink. 

“What?”

“I never…” he shifts uncomfortably. It’s been a long time since he bared this much of his soul. “I never stopped. Even when the others told me to give up, that I would only make it worse for myself, I’d still search. Couldn’t face the idea you weren’t there any more.”

It’s true. If he was twelve bottles deep he’d be looking, if he was hungover as a dog he’d be looking. When the rest of the X-Men were still there and even after they weren’t. If he wasn’t sitting at a bar he was on the streets, ever a bloodhound trying to catch your scent again. 

For the first time you soften. 

“Oh.”

“So… when I asked if it was you… ah, fuck. I didn’t mean to come off as an asshole. Just couldn’t live with it if it wasn't true. Wasn’t real.”

When you stand he expects a slap. He deserves it. What he doesn’t count on is you sitting down - not on the log next to him, but in his lap. He hasn’t felt you do that for so long, and it’s so good. Your warmth on his thigh. You grab one of his hands, still larger than yours, and press it to your chest so he can feel your beating heart. 

“I’m real, Logan. I’m right here, baby,” you whisper, eyes dewy. Fuck. His are as well; he can’t help it. He’s overwhelmed by you, your feel, your gaze, your smell. He’d forgotten how much he loved it. 

Logan noses upwards against you, searching for your lips, and you let him find them. When you stroke his hair he can feel the wedding ring on your left hand. The kiss is desperate, longing, and the best one he’s ever had. 

“Right here,” you repeat, forehead against his. He grips you so tightly that it’s possible he’ll never let go again. 

[mononijikayu]

forg_tful — fushiguro megumi.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them.  Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  “Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor. You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

GENRE: alternate universe - grim reaper au;

WARNING/S: mythical beings and creatures, aged up megumi, heavy angst, romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, unhappy life, depression, illness, hurt, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, humor, guilt, pining, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, depiction of character death, depiction of illness, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of panic attack, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, grim reaper! megumi, long suffering dying! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: when i was dabbling about what to post, i did a wheel of names and megumi won so here is another megumi fic. i was talking with @midnight-138 the other day and we got in this conversation about goblin, the kdrama. and there were grim reapers there. so i ended up writing about that here. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did!!! anyway, i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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THERE IS A WONDER ABOUT HUMAN DESTINY. You heard a story about it then, at the orphanage. One of your carers would tell you about it often. How humans were born into this destiny in this new life after their old one.

And this life is determined by how good or bad that past life was. And that each and everyone must live a good enough life in each cycle, in order to have a good life in the next.

When you were a child, understanding this concept felt like a challenge. How could one’s destiny ever be decided just like that, by things you don’t even remember? Who gets to decide whether or not we are good?

Is good and bad easy to tell? You would ask the older kids at the orphanage this, and sometimes you caretakers. But they never seem to understand why you could not accept it as it is. 

After all, you were a child. And a child would always find that ridiculous, you think. You were a child. You haven’t done anything wrong. Not to anyone. Not about anything.

You doubt you could have done something in your past life that should warrant any punishment. You were someone people knew to be a good kid, you always have been. People looked at you warmly, ever so kindly. 

But now you can only say that you know better. You have grown up. You had seen the truth. And it was not good, it was ugly and rotten. It was a tragedy. And you hated it. You hated everything about it.

Because your past life, your past self — they might have been a terrible person. They must have been the worst of the worst. Because, if you weren’t, then what justifies that sad suffering? That painful existence you had lived up until now.

You sighed heavily, taking in the whiff of bitter antiseptic, that artificial fragrance. You like to think you’ve been cursed to live a sad life. And today was just another proof of it.

Every thought of it just lingers like a familiar shadow, whispering in the quiet moments when you’re too tired to fight back. It’s easier to believe in curses than coincidences, easier to pin your pain on something cosmic than accept a world so indifferent.

You were an orphan, after all. Not in the storybook sense where miracles come to those who wait, but in the raw, unvarnished truth of it. Alone from the start, without a name to cry out to when the nights felt endless.

There was no mother to call for warm hugs, there was no father to give you reassurances. Just that cold metal bunk bed, which creaks at night as you twist and turn and the dark moonless nights.

You were passed from one place to another, faceless in a system that churned endlessly, always one more lost child than it could handle. You kept being told that it wasn’t that because you were unlovable, that’s what they always said.

But it was just that they found out what love looks like when they look at someone else, at another child that they think fits in their family. That was just how they felt they said, that was just their truth. And it shouldn't be personal. 

You learned early on that love wasn’t guaranteed, that kindness wasn’t free, and that your worth was measured by how little trouble you caused. And just like that you grew up in that orphanage, being your own parent, being your own mother and father, your own sibling. Your own family.

When the kids at school found out, they immediately latched onto it. The teasing started small, barbs disguised as jokes, but it grew sharper, crueler. Just as the years dragged on, they had grown to be even crueler, even more vicious about being someone like you. 

Even as you started to have your own life and slowly became an adult, you found that people would never think to give you anything. You had expectations at one point that people would be more understanding. That they would give you more grace about it. 

But you would find yourself broken up over by your significant other because their mother didn’t like that you had no one in your family. Well, their mother never liked you from the beginning.

They thought you were difficult and had no manners, all because you never had a family, no parents to teach you all the things that would make a good person.

You would find yourself having friends and then getting into fights with them when you couldn’t show up for them at times, because you had to work multiple jobs to get through college.

Or how you couldn’t hang out with them because you had to take another shift for extra cash for your rent. They would say, what would be the need of you if you can’t be there?

Over time, you found yourself isolated from the world. No matter what you did, you found yourself alone. You found yourself unable to please people, unable to keep people. Unable to attain happiness or peace in this life. And over time too, you stopped expecting anyone to step in. You stopped expecting anything at all.

You’ve had a rough life—that’s what they’d call it, isn’t it? A neat little phrase to gloss over the thorny, jagged edges of this existence. It was as if that phrase could capture all of the nights spent crying into your pillow, the gnawing hunger for connection, for someone; the sense that the world moved on without ever noticing you.

And somehow, your misery can only continue.

It started with little things, barely noticeable at first—a name you couldn’t recall, a face that seemed familiar but unplaceable. Then it got worse and worse as time went by. Days lost to a haze of things you couldn’t explain, moments slipping through your fingers like water flowing downstream. 

You didn’t wanna worry about it that much in the beginning. Maybe you’ve been working too hard. You’ve taken so much work these past few weeks. And maybe you had forgotten to eat anything.

You had a sensitive stomach, after all. Maybe that’s what has been causing the fatigue and the headache. Maybe the headaches are the reason you’ve been forgetting a lot of things. Yeah, that’s what it could be.

Yet, it just never went away. Even with the lifestyle changes, even when you would cut back on work to take care of yourself and rest. Nothing had changed. In fact, the pain had only gotten worse.

And more and more, you would find yourself forgetting things more and more. At one point, you had cried so much after forgetting which street you lived on after work. 

You had felt your head spinning, your vision went on a blur and that night lamp began to burn against your eyes. Your breath labored over and over, and you had tried to get it controlled — but you couldn’t. Tears fell even more as you leaned against the lamp post. You felt like you were going to collapse.That you were going to throw up on the floor. 

It took some time for yourself to regain some control, you knew that much. You just stayed there, letting the tears fall. You still didn’t remember where you had lived. You were forgetting it all. And that frustrated you to no end. You knew then that this can’t continue happening. That this cannot continue on. 

That’s why you came here in this godforsaken place known as the hospital. You’ve always hated hospitals. It was such a terrible place. Even as a child, getting your check–ups with the other orphans terrified you. Nothing about this place spells any good. You were already with bad luck, with such a terrible destiny in this life and you didn’t want it to continue.

But you cannot control destiny, not ever.

You could only control yourself. 

And even that, you cannot have control.

Not anymore, not ever again.

The doctors confirmed it: a rare, terminal illness. Brain cancer, in its final stages. Not only was it going to kill you, it was going to take everything that made you along with it.

Your memories, no matter how horrible, your identity, no matter how empty, your self, no matter how broken. All of who you are — you'd fade away in pieces, becoming a hollow shell long before your body gave out.

You thought the universe had no more ways to hurt you. 

But you knew you were wrong, from the very beginning.

And then, on a night when the weight of it all felt unbearable, you saw him.

He wasn’t what you expected. No black cloak, no skeletal frame, no cold, lifeless eyes. The grim reaper was... human. Or at least, he looked that way. His dark colored hair fell in soft, dark strands over his forehead, his clothes unassuming—a rather plain and boring suit, even.

But there was something in his presence, a quiet intensity, that made your heart skip. His blue-green eyes, sharp and unreadable, pinned you in place, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“Who are you?” you asked, though deep down you already knew.

He studied you in silence for a moment, as though deciding whether you were worth an answer. Your eyes narrowed at him, as though trying to make sure that this isn’t just your brain making a mess of you. But he wasn’t. He was very much real. He was very much here. Finally, he spoke.

“Megumi.” he said. His voice was calm, steady, but there was something beneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. You hadn’t expected that from a grim reaper. You had expected something more rough. Something more….grim.

“Is that all?” you pressed, desperation clawing at your throat. You wanted—no, needed—to know more. Why him? Why now? Why couldn’t you just be left alone?

“That’s all you need to know about me.” he said simply.

His words were a wall you couldn’t scale. No matter how hard you tried, you knew there would be no answers, no explanations, no mercy. At least not until you were dead. You sighed, leaning against the bench.

This was it. The final countdown was coming soon. There was no escape. Yet, as the silence stretched between you, a strange feeling took root in your chest. Not comfort, not exactly. But something close. It was at least something. And for once, you weren’t alone.

You didn’t know what this grim reaper, this Megumi, was meant to be to you. What was he? Was he a guide, a witness, a judge? You didn’t know. And perhaps it was easier not to ask questions, to not know. 

But as you continued to sit there, staring at the one who would carry you to your end, a thought crossed your mind. At least he wasn’t judging you. At least he was just there, waiting. He was calm as can be, quiet and without any grievances towards you. 

Perhaps, maybe — at least he wasn’t as cruel as life has been. You began to think to yourself as you closed your eyes about one thing. Maybe if he was here, then maybe the end wouldn’t be so lonely after all. Maybe there will finally be some sense of peace at the end. 

You opened your eyes, your lips seeping into a small smile. “I look forward to meeting my end with you.”

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AS THE TIME GOES BY, HE WAS WITH YOU IN EVERYTHING. No one else around you could feel or see him the way you do. And he couldn’t go anywhere else. He was bound to you, until he could take your soul away and bring it with him. So, Megumi continued to watch over you as you continued to live your life, or at least what remains of it.

At first, his presence unnerves you. You weren’t used to this, being watched so closely almost everyday and every hour — especially with what remained of your miserable life. But slowly you found yourself getting used to him being around. And at the very least, he still gave you space when you did things that required privacy.

Otherwise, he’s always there, quiet and still, like a shadow you can’t shake. And as the days stretch into weeks, you begin to realize that he isn’t all bad. He does talk, sometimes. At least when he thinks you do something worth giving a response about.

He was truly quite reserved and serious half the time, yes, and almost cold in the way he speaks and carries himself, but there’s something beneath it. It wasn’t easy to notice at first, because it was ever so subtle. It was as if he never wanted anyone to notice that there was  something soft within that hard exterior of his.

Megumi didn’t seem to fit his job description—not at all. He was patient in a way you didn’t expect from a reaper. From what you’d gathered from folklore and stories about grim reapers, you imagined something far more ominous.

Shadows and sickles, maybe even whispers of death. But Megumi? He had a quiet presence that felt nothing like the foreboding figures you’d pictured.

When your mind betrays you, when a memory slips through your fingers like grains of sand, Megumi is there. He doesn’t judge the gaps, doesn’t rush you to remember. Instead, he catches the loose ends with an ease that seems effortless. 

Sometimes, it feels as though he’s more of a guide than a harbinger, steering you gently through the storm of forgetfulness. His voice is steady, grounding. His gaze is understanding, never invasive.

There’s a calmness to him, a patience that wraps around you like a soft cocoon. It’s disarming. You wonder how someone charged with ferrying souls could be so tender. Yet, when you look at him, you see no malice, no hint of the cold indifference you expected. Just the faintest trace of weariness in his eyes, as if he’s carried too many burdens that aren’t his own.

Sometimes, you forget who he is. And in those moments, Megumi doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets you speak, lets you ramble, and when the memory comes back, when you remember why he’s here—he doesn’t revel in the grief.

He simply nods, a quiet acknowledgment that this, too, is part of the process. He’s not here to rush the inevitable; he’s here to make sure you don’t face it alone.

“Your nurse’s name is Alice, by the way.” Megumi says again when you struggle to introduce yourself. 

You could feel your mouth fumbling over syllables that don’t quite fit together. Your cheeks feel red at the thought, now remembering as she smiled at your direction. You waved at her. His voice is calm, steady, like he has all the time in the world to wait for you to find your footing. You blink at him, your thoughts swirling too fast to make sense of.

 “Huh?” you finally ask, the confusion thick in your tone. 

“She takes care of you in the mornings. Alice always makes sure to bring your meds with water, no ice.” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to know. “You told her once that cold water hurts your teeth, so she makes sure to bring you water without ice.

You glance down at your hands, unsure of what to say. His eyes felt warm against your own as you nodded slowly at him, trusting his words. Those details feel foreign to you, like a story you heard about someone else. But his words fit, even if you can’t remember saying them. They were warm, they felt truthful.

“Oh.” you mumble with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He looks away from you. “No problem.”

Later, in the cafeteria, you sit in front of a tray of food that feels unfamiliar. Your appetite is as absent as the clarity of your thoughts. You stare at the carton of apple juice, its horrifically bright label somehow irritating, though you can’t pinpoint why at all.

“You liked orange juice better than apple.” Megumi says, breaking the silence. He gestures toward the carton with a small nod. “That one’s your favorite. Not too sweet, not too sour.”

The simplicity of the statement hits you like a lifeline, tethering you to something concrete. You pick up the carton, turning it in your hands before setting it back down. You smiled at him again, but this time almost a mix of relief and embarrassment. You were relying on your grim reaper to remind you of everything, now more than ever.

“Thank you.” you say again, a little louder this time, just enough for him to hear.

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you decide to pull out the small notebook you’ve been keeping. Your doctor suggested it as your brain got even sicker. You needed to remember something and so this notebook, it was your place to track your thoughts before they disappear entirely. 

You scribble furiously, trying to make sense of the jumble in your head. You’re working on a sentence about feeling forgetful, but the words tangle together, your handwriting messy and uneven. You pause, staring at it. Something feels wrong. Something feels off. Your face contorts, your eyes narrow at the page.

“You missed an E.” Megumi says softly, leaning over to glance at the page. 

He doesn’t reach for the notebook, doesn’t try to take it from you. Instead, he taps the spot with his finger, just enough to draw your attention. Your eyes blinked. Sure enough, forgetful is written as forgtful. You bite your lip, heat rising to your cheeks as frustration bubbles up. 

“I—I know that, you know?” you say defensively, though the truth is you hadn’t noticed until he pointed it out.

He doesn’t laugh or tease you. “It happens, don’t worry.” he says simply, his tone free of judgment. “You caught it now. That’s what matters.”

You glance at him, expecting pity, but his stoic expression is as steady as ever, like this moment isn’t something to dwell on. You pierce your lips in a tight line. You carefully picked up your pen again, correcting the error with a shaky hand. 

“Thanks for telling me.” you mutter, embarrassed but grateful.

“You were talking about your favorite teacher, earlier.” he reminds you a little while later, after your thoughts derail mid-sentence. 

You’d been telling him about a memory. It was a rare one, where everything about it was good. It was such a warm, fuzzy one that had felt so clear in your mind just moments ago—but now it’s slipping away, leaving you grasping at straws.

You look at him, feeling lost. “I... was?”

“You were.” he confirms with a small nod, his tone encouraging. “You said they were the first people to notice how much you liked writing. You were just getting to the part about their funny laugh.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right!” you whisper, the thread of the memory slowly weaving its way back into focus. “Right. Mr. Greene. He laughed like a seagull.”

Megumi doesn’t laugh at the description, but his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smile. That was a rare thing, you knew that. But you like to think that maybe, just maybe, if he tried — he would look even better when he smiled. He already has a handsome face, you knew that. But maybe, his smile, it would make it even better.

“That’s it.” he says, his voice carrying a quiet kind of approval.

It’s small, these moments of clarity he gives you, but they feel monumental in a life that’s slowly crumbling. For a moment, you feel like you’ve reclaimed a small piece of yourself, and you can’t help but glance at him, wondering how someone like him, a reaper, of all things can make you feel more alive than you have in a long time.

You can’t help but admit it but he was your first true friend.

He was your longest companion to boot, with that.

And perhaps, he will be the only constant you’ll ever have.

But maybe he already knew that and he just doesn’t tell you.

He accompanies you often, especially in the long, quiet hours spent tethered to hospital machines. The hum of monitors and the rhythmic drip of IVs become a backdrop to his steady, unobtrusive presence. At first, you think he’s only there to observe, to do whatever grim reapers are supposed to do as your life ticks away. 

But the longer he stays, the more you realize he’s keeping you company at every appointment. Keeping you from being so alone. Even if it was his job, he could wait elsewhere. But he sits beside you, in an empty chair no one dares sit at. 

And he stays, throughout each and every appointment. Appointments which barely keep you alive. It was only a matter of time before he had to deliver your soul to wherever it had to be.

You started to wonder if he’ll think about this time with you too. If he will find this moment to be something that will cross his mind once this job, you, were done and gone. 

It’s strange, this relationship you’ve fallen into. He doesn’t talk much unless prompted, not unless you forgot something or need anything. But you like to think that you could start to rely on his silence. Especially when doctors and nurses give you all those complicated jargons that you didn’t even need.

It fills the void in a way words can’t. When you’re too tired to make conversation with visitors, when there are visitors, probably motivated by guilt or necessity, your grim reaper Megumi is there. Unfailingly, he would be sitting by your bedside, his gaze steady, his presence grounding. As though he wants to give you strength to deal with it all. 

But of course, as  you already know, no one else can see him. Just you. At first, you tried explaining him to the nurses, the doctors,  or when you felt like talking about something you knew he would listen to — but the looks they gave you were enough to stop. They chalked it up to the illness, the stress, or the medications. 

But Megumi is real. You know he’s real. The way he moves, the way he seems to sense your thoughts before you speak them, the way he exists on the edges of your life without ever intruding.

The way a glint in his eyes would appear warmer than before. He was here. He was there with you. You weren’t going crazy. And he knew that too. He was the only one that knew that.

One day, in the suffocating stillness of the hospital ward, you finally ask him the question that’s been gnawing at the edges of your mind. The pale light filtering through the blinds casts long shadows on the sterile white walls.

And the quiet hum of distant monitors feels unbearably loud. You shift uncomfortably in your bed, clutching the thin blanket as if it could anchor you to something solid.

“Why are you here?” The words escape your lips before you can stop them. Your voice is quiet, hesitant, but the question feels monumental, breaking the fragile peace between you.

Megumi doesn’t look surprised. He’s seated in the chair by your bed, one leg crossed over the other, his posture as calm as always. His gaze lifts from the book he’s been reading, something he always seems to have in his hands.

Though you’ve never seen him get past the halfway mark. He seems to be carrying it as though it was a prayer book he was forced to hold at a sermon at church.

“To watch you.” he says simply, his tone neutral. There’s no elaboration, no attempt to soften the starkness of his answer. As though it was almost like his words were that of fact. You furrow your brow, confused.

“I know that….But why? Why do you keep on watching me this closely?” you press, the weight of his presence suddenly more tangible. He isn’t like the nurses or the doctors who flit in and out of the room. He doesn’t belong here—not in the way they do.

“Are you uncomfortable about it?” 

You blinked at him, your mouth agape for a moment. “N–no.”

“Okay, then. I’ll continue on doing what I want.”

You didn’t speak for a moment. You like to think that it was all you were going to get from him. So you just sighed, leaning against your hospital bed and closing your eyes. This was the most he’d ever talk to you, and perhaps the longest. That could be a win, right?

“For you.” He spoke again, as though he couldn’t handle the silence between you. 

“For me?” you echo, your voice almost a whisper. The words feel foreign, as though they belong to someone else. “What does that mean?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering your question. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—an emotion you can’t name. Not pity, not detachment, but something softer. “Does my reason matter?”

“You have me curious now.” You whisper to him, letting out a small laugh. “What was your reason?” you ask him again.

Though deep down, you think you already know. The thought lodges itself in your chest, sharp and unwelcome. Megumi doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. His gaze holds yours for some time, steady and unwavering. 

“I made a promise I’d like to keep.” he says finally, the words carrying a gravity that makes your breath hitch.

“What promise?”

His eyes narrowed at you, almost as though it was full of hurt. “You don’t want to know.”

The suffocating stillness of the room presses down on you, but somehow, his presence feels like a small crack of light breaking through the weight of it all. You want to ask more—how he knows, why he cares, but the words catch in your throat, tangled in the storm of your thoughts.

It’s such a brief answer, yet it lingers with you long after the words fade. There’s no pity in his voice, no judgment, just a quiet truth that settles like a blanket over your weary mind. And in some inexplicable way, that’s enough.

So, instead you nod, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. It’s not acceptance, not yet, but maybe it’s the beginning of it. And Megumi, patient as ever, doesn’t push for more. He simply stays, his quiet presence a reminder that, whatever happens, you won’t face it alone.

Over time, Megumi’s presence becomes less foreboding and more… comforting. If someone told you a grim reaper could be anything close to a friend, you would’ve laughed. But now? You’re not so sure.

He still doesn’t talk much, but the moments he does are starting to feel less like obligations and more like. Well, like he cares. His dry humor catches you off guard sometimes, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips when you grumble about hospital food or tell him a ridiculous story from your childhood that you’re shocked you even remember.

“They let you keep a pet fish in third grade?” he asks one day, his eyebrow quirking ever so slightly.

“Let me? No, I smuggled it back to the orphanage.” you reply, puffing your chest out like it’s something to be proud of. “Named him Mr. Bubbles. He lived in a mason jar by our shared windowsill until one of the staff found him.”

Megumi gives you a sidelong glance, and for a second, you think he’s about to scold you. But instead, his lips quirk into the tiniest smile. “Mr. Bubbles, huh.” he repeats, almost to himself, and the sound of it in his voice makes your chest feel light.

He’s always a comfort in the painful days of longevity treatments. You were getting even worse, not even the precious medication was working. Megumi was the one to urge you to continue, even if they were never going to do anything for you.

After all, he was here for a reason. Nothing was going to help. And yet, he still insists that having more time is better than having little.

This time, you like to think you could agree with him. With more time, you could continue to have Megumi by your side. You could continue to have conversations with him.

You could continue to see his small ghostly smiles and find him sitting there beside you, looking through pages of that book he never reads. You could have more time living, experiencing some good in your life – a good that was waiting on death’s door. 

Sitting in the chair beside you, his legs crossed casually, as though he’s simply there for the ambiance and not because you’re hooked up to an IV that feels like it’s siphoning the life out of you. Sometimes, you fall asleep mid-session, and when you wake up, you find him sitting exactly as he was, as if not a single moment has passed for him.

“I wasn’t sleeping at all.” you insist groggily one day, blinking the drowsiness away. “How could you even know I was sleeping at all? I know, it’s my body!”

“You were drooling.” he counters flatly, gesturing toward your chin. “Look, it’s still there in the corner of your lips.”

You hurriedly swipe at your face, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I was not!”

His expression doesn’t change, but you swear there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He could be a trickster when he wants to be. He could be silly from time to time. And funny enough with that dry humor that you could cry tears as you laugh so hard at what he says.

Despite his initial stoicism, Megumi starts picking up on your quirks, learning the things that make you smile. And most days now, especially now with these horrible and miserable treatments, you looked forward to them. 

Like the time he noticed you doodling on the edge of your treatment log and, the next day, casually handed you a pack of gel pens. Your face conforms to a confused daze as you look at him and then at the gel pens in your hand. There were so many that you don’t even think you could count them.

“How the hell did you get this, Megumi?” You asked him, your eyes narrowing at him. “Why are there so many?”

“They were free.” he said, refusing to meet your eyes as you stared at the colorful bundle in awe.

“From where?” you asked, skeptical at his response to you.

“Places.” He still wasn’t looking at you.

“Megumi.” you drawled, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Do you want the pens or not?” he huffed, crossing his arms in a way that made him look surprisingly boyish. “They’re really good too. I tried them downstairs. And they’re free. What? Is the security going to look at your bag when you leave? This isn’t a mall, you know.”

You looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded at his sudden ridiculous tirade. Then slowly, your tummy rumbled as you laughed and laughed. The notion of it all was silly. Still, you were entertained by it. Megumi seemed glad that you laughed. And that you went along with all of it. 

You took the pens, of course. You put them in your bag after he handed it to you. No one checked it and for the rest of the day, you tried them and made little doodles with them on your notepad at home. And that day, for the first time in a long time, you felt genuinely happy.

As much as Megumi claims he’s only there to “watch” you as part of his job, you found that it’s obvious he’s doing more than that. He’s doing the most out of all grim reapers you like to think.

Of course, you don’t know any other grim reapers. And you doubt you’d look sane if you tried to bring it up to another dying person. But your grim reaper, at least you, was the kindest. 

As you settle into bed, the hospital room bathed in the faint glow of a bedside lamp, you glance over at Megumi. He’s sitting in his usual chair, arms folded loosely, his expression calm but watchful.

It’s become routine now. His quiet presence is a constant that you’ve come to rely on, though you’d never admit it outright.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. 

Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor.

You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or perhaps a glimmer of gratitude he’d never put into words. His lips purse into a flat line, as he looks at you. You could tell that there’s something in his green–blue orbs that you couldn’t read. But you knew better than to ask.

“Thank you, Megumi.” you say after a moment, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“For what?” he asks, his gaze steady on you.

“For being the first good thing in my life.” you say simply, your chest tightening as you force the words out. 

It feels strange to say, especially to someone like him. You know you shouldn’t be thanking the person meant to take your soul, the one who will guide you into the unknown. But it feels right. You swallow hard, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. 

“I know it sounds ridiculous. Thanking a grim reaper. But I mean it. You were... the kindest thing in my destiny. And I think that’s enough to be happy about.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything right away. He doesn’t need to. The faintest nod of his head, the subtle softening of his usually stoic expression, is answer enough. The weight in your chest eases as you let your head sink into the pillow. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you fight to keep them open just a little longer. 

“Goodnight, Megumi.” you murmur, your voice trailing off as sleep begins to take hold.

“Good night.” he says softly, his voice carrying a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

As your breathing slows, becoming steady and rhythmic, Megumi stays where he is, his gaze fixed on you. And he knows. He just knows—it’s time. Your time. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and bittersweet, but he doesn’t flinch.

This was always the inevitability, but watching you now, peaceful and free from the fear that had once gripped you, he feels something akin to relief. Perhaps even a quiet sadness.

When the time comes, Megumi will be there, as he always has been. For now, though, he lets you rest, a faint sense of solace settling over the room.

══════════════════

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, THIS MISSION WASN’T EVEN FOR HIM TO TAKE. Megumi didn’t choose this assignment at random. No, not at all. That morning began like any other in the sterile monotony of his existence. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a pale glow on the rows of cubicles where reapers sat, reviewing their tasks for the day. 

He’d been staring at the dregs of his coffee, debating whether he had the energy to bother getting a fresh cup, when the assignments for the day appeared on the board—a mosaic of names, dates, faces.

He’d glanced up, disinterested at first. It was just another day in an endless cycle of endings. Souls came and went, and reapers like him did their jobs, guiding them to whatever came next. There was no time for attachment, no reason to linger on a single name or face.

But then he saw yours.

And everything stopped.

His coffee cup slipped from his fingers, shattering against the floor in a muted crash. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He blinked once, twice, as if his eyes might be playing tricks on him. But no matter how many times he looked, it was unmistakable.

It was you.

Your face stared back at him from the board, frozen in a candid snapshot. It was a face he knew better than his own, even after all this time. A face he’d never forgotten, not even through lifetimes of distance.

It had been so long since he’d last seen you. Lifetimes ago, you had been more than just a part of his world—you had been his world. The memories were fractured and blurred at the edges, but they still burned vividly enough to hurt.

He remembered your laugh, bright and unrestrained, echoing through a life that had otherwise been far too short. He remembered the way you had looked at him, your gaze full of trust, full of hope.

He remembered losing you.

And now here you are again, pulled into this cycle of life and death that neither of you could escape. But this time, you were already dying. You were going to go and suffer again, and there would be no one to save you. He couldn’t stop it last time. And now, he cannot stop it this time. It was set in stone already.

And yet, his heart breaks over and over again. You were barely more than a child, younger than either of you had been in your shared past life. You hadn’t even been given a chance to live, and yet the world had decided it was already time to take you away.

Megumi’s heart ached in a way he hadn’t thought possible anymore. He was a reaper. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. But as he stared at your photo, the weight of it all crushed him.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that you’d been taken from him once, and now it was happening all over again. This time, there would be no miracles, no last-minute reprieves. He knew that. He’d seen it a thousand times in other lives.

But he couldn’t just let you go alone.

Without thinking, he rose from his chair, his movements mechanical as he walked toward the board. Each step felt heavier than the last, his resolve hardening with every breath. When he reached your name, he stared at it for a long moment before finally speaking.

“I’ll take this one.” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The room went silent. Assignments weren’t supposed to be chosen; they were distributed at random to avoid any emotional entanglements. Reapers were meant to be impartial. But no one questioned him. Megumi rarely spoke, rarely asked for anything. If he wanted this assignment, there had to be a reason.

As he returned to his desk, your face still fresh in his mind, he made himself a quiet promise. He couldn’t save you. The rules were clear. Your fate was already written, and nothing he did could change that.

But he could be there. He could make sure you didn’t have to face the end alone, that you wouldn’t have to feel the crushing loneliness he’d once felt when he lost you before.

Even if you didn’t remember him. Even if you didn’t know that in another life, you had been his entire world. He would carry that pain for both of you. Because this wasn’t just another assignment. It was you. And losing you again, even knowing it was inevitable, would be the cruelest fate of all.

When Megumi first appeared to you, he knew he had to keep his emotions in check. His job wasn’t to interfere, and no matter how much it hurt to see you again, he couldn’t let the truth slip. You didn’t know who he was, didn’t recognize the connection you’d once shared.

And why would you? To you, he was just a stranger. A quiet, brooding figure who had been assigned to shadow your dying days.

At first, he told himself that keeping his distance would make it easier. That if he stayed aloof, if he acted like this was just another assignment, maybe the ache in his chest wouldn’t consume him. But the moment he saw how lonely you were, trapped in a hospital bed, tethered to machines, fading faster than anyone your age should—he couldn’t help himself.

It was the little things at first. Reminding you of a nurse’s name when your memory failed. Offering a quiet presence during your treatments. Bringing you that pack of gel pens when he noticed your fingers twitching over the edges of your journal, longing to create something amidst the monotony of hospital life.

But as the days turned into weeks, Megumi found himself doing more than he should.

He started sitting closer to you, his usual stoic demeanor softening with every conversation. He started bringing you small comforts—a cup of coffee he swore he “found” a scarf on the day the hospital felt too cold, a faint smile when you told him a joke, no matter how bad it was.

“Why do you even hang around?” you asked one afternoon, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and weariness. 

You’d just finished another grueling medicinal session, your body too weak to sit up straight. He didn’t answer right away. For a moment, his gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in his dark blue–green eyes. Then, he shrugged.

“You’re interesting to me.” he said simply, but his voice betrayed the truth he couldn’t say.

You laughed weakly. “Interesting? I’m a walking tragedy.”

“No, never say that. Not ever again.” he said firmly, his tone surprising you. “You’re more than that. You are more than your tragedy.”

The words hung in the air, and you didn’t press further. But in that moment, something shifted between you. As time went on, you began to look forward to his visits. He wasn’t just a reaper to you anymore; he was someone who made the unbearable a little more bearable. 

Someone who listened when you needed to vent, who stayed when the nights felt too long, who reminded you that even in the shadow of death, you weren’t invisible. And Megumi… Megumi was breaking all his own rules. Rules he had set long after you, long before you again.

Every time he saw you laugh, even if it was just a fleeting chuckle, a part of him swore he’d do anything to keep that spark alive. But every time he saw you struggle; when your hands trembled too much to hold a pen, when your memories slipped further and further away—his heart ached in ways it hadn’t in centuries.

He hated this. Hated that you had to go through this. Hated that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t change your fate. But he stayed by your side through it all. He lets himself relive it all over again, no matter the pain. No matter what comes. Because it’s you. Come what may, it’s you.

“You know, Megumi.” you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the hum of the machines. “You’re not so bad to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips. “Not so bad?”

You smiled, your eyes heavy with exhaustion but still warm. “Yeah. You’re like... a friend. A precious friend.”

A friend. The word stabbed at him more than it should have. Because that’s all he could ever be to you in this life. A friend. A shadow. A quiet presence watching over you as you slowly slipped away.

“You think so, huh?” He asks you, as you nodded and smiled. Silence engulfs the room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been someone’s precious friend before.”

“Then we are the same. Well, almost.” 

He blinks at your words. “What do you mean?”

“If you call me your precious friend too, then we’ll finally have it. Being a precious person, at least once.”

You’ve always been a precious person to me. Megumi thinks to himself. In every lifetime, in every you — you have always been my precious person.

And even though he would never tell you the truth, that you’d been so much more to him in another life, that losing you once had broken him and losing you again was killing him all over again, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. 

Because this was his last chance to be with you, even if you didn’t remember him. Even if it would never be enough. Nothing with you would ever be enough, not even if you lived a thousand years. 

But, every moment is worth it, no matter how short it would be. When you love someone that much, it has to be enough. It has to be more than enough. He has to live through this immortal and wretched life, making those moments feel like they were as eternal as him. Even if he wanted more.

“Alright.” Megumi says to you as you perk up, your eyes shining. “You are a precious person to me.”

You giggled at his words. “Was it so hard to say? I am grateful that you said it at all.”

It was never hard to say. It never had been.

But now he has to live that memory over and over again.

He lets his lips echo a small warm smile as he looks at you.

“No, no it wasn’t hard at all.”

══════════════════

THE TREATMENTS HAVE STOPPED FULLY. And because of that your condition was getting worse and worse. The moments of clarity you once had were growing fewer and farther between. The pain in your body became an unwelcome constant, a weight that pulled you down even when you tried to fight against it. 

Every movement felt like dragging yourself through glass, and the fog in your mind thickened, stealing memories and thoughts before you could fully grasp them. Everything about it felt so fragile, and you were afraid of breaking it. Even if it was already broken, you were scared at seeing it break even more. You were scared and he couldn’t do much about it.

Megumi hated seeing you like this. He watched as you lay curled in your bed, tears streaming silently down your face, your breathing shaky and uneven. He hated the way your hands trembled as you gripped the blanket.

It was as if holding onto it might keep you tethered to something real. Something solid enough to bring you back to earth, to existence. To humanity. Hated the way your voice cracked when you spoke, each word laced with frustration and grief over what was slipping away from you.

“I hate this, I hate this.” you whispered one night, your voice barely audible. Your chest hitched with a quiet sob as you turned your face into the pillow, trying to muffle your cries. “I hate... not being able to think. To remember. I feel like I’m disappearing, and I can’t stop it.”

Megumi clenched his fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but the words felt like ash in his throat. What could he say? That it would be okay? That you’d find peace? That this agony would end? None of it felt true, and none of it would matter to you at this moment.

You didn’t want peace. You wanted your life back.When you looked up at him, your eyes red  and swollen, the sight nearly broke him. You looked so weak, one couldn’t even think you were someone with such strength at one point. He hated this. He hated how miserable you’ve been, how pained you’ve been.

“I’m so tired, Megumi.” you admitted, your voice cracking as fresh tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Megumi moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate, as if he were afraid his presence might shatter you further. He sat at the edge of your bed, his usually impassive face shadowed with something raw and unguarded.

“You’re still you, you always will be.” he said quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You let out a bitter laugh, though it came out more like a choked sob. “How do you know that? You don’t even really know me.”

He froze for a moment, his gaze dropping to his hands. He wanted to tell you that he did know you, better than anyone ever could. That he remembered you in ways you couldn’t even begin to imagine. But he couldn’t. Not now.

Instead, he reached out, his hand hovering over yours for a moment before he let it settle gently against your trembling fingers. The touch was warm, grounding, and for a moment, the chaos inside you stilled.

“I know because I saw it. I’ve seen it all, even for a while.” he said finally. “Even when you’re hurting, even when it feels like everything is falling apart, I see you.”

His words hung in the air, fragile but steady, and something in your expression slowly softened. You leaned closer to him and he didn’t mind it at all. He pulled you even closer, letting that warmth of him become even more felt.

“It’s okay to be angry about all of this.” he continued, his voice steady now. “It’s okay to cry. You’ve been fighting so hard, for so long. You don’t have to hold it all in.”

Your tears flowed freely then, and Megumi stayed right where he was, his hand never leaving yours. He didn’t try to stop your sobs or hush your pain. He simply stayed, letting you pour out everything you’d been holding back. And for the first time in centuries, in his entire lifetime — Megumi couldn’t help but feel unequivocally  helpless.

He was a reaper, meant to guide and observe, but watching you crumble under the weight of your illness was unbearable. You didn’t deserve all of this. You shouldn’t suffer like this. You had done nothing wrong, not in your previous life and not this one. But this was still your fate. 

And he hated the unfairness of it all, the cruelty of a life that had given you so little only to take it away too soon. If he could have taken your place, he would have done it without hesitation.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t trade a life for a life. The gods do not have mercy in that regard. Fate was fate. He cannot do much about it. And he hates it. He hates seeing you like this. 

All he could do was stay by your side, no matter how much it hurt to watch. Because you deserved that much. You deserve someone who wouldn’t leave, even in your darkest moments. And Megumi would be damned if he let you face this alone.

As the night deepened, the room fell into a heavy, fragile silence. The only sounds were the steady hum of the machines and your quiet, uneven breaths as you lay spent from crying. Megumi hadn’t moved from his spot, his hand still lightly covering yours.

Your fingers twitched against his, seeking more warmth. The motion was subtle, but he noticed. Carefully, he threaded his fingers between yours, his grip firm but not overbearing. You didn’t pull away. Instead, your grip tightened just a little, like you were holding on to him for dear life.

“Why do you stay?” you asked, your voice hoarse from the tears but tinged with something vulnerable. You didn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the faint outline of his hand entwined with yours.

Megumi hesitated. He wasn’t good at this—at talking about feelings. He was better at quiet gestures and staying in the background. But something about the way you asked, so small and uncertain, pulled the words out of him.

“Because you shouldn’t have to go through this alone, jot ever.” he said softly, his gaze fixed on you.

You blinked at his answer, a lump forming in your throat. “But you don’t even know me, not at all, Megumi.” you repeated, weaker this time, as if you wanted to believe him but couldn’t quite bring yourself to. “How could you stay for someone like me?”

Megumi’s jaw tightened. 

You didn’t know half of it.

“I know enough.” he said finally. “I know you’re stubborn and strong, even when you feel like you’re not. I know you don’t like hospital food, but you’ll eat it anyway because you don’t want to make the nurses worry. I know you still draw on the edges of your notebooks, even when your hands shake so much that the lines go crooked.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words and Megumi felt his heart clench at the way you were looking at him, like you were seeing him for the first time. And as though, it was the first time in a while you had known him that he truly saw you.

“I see you.” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every part of you, even the ones you think you’ve lost. They’re still there. You’re still here.”

You felt the tears welling up again, but this time, they weren’t from frustration or anger. They were something softer, quieter. You take a deep breath, to calm yourself for a moment.

And he brushes your hand against your own. He was so warm, even when your hands were cold. He warmed you enough back to life, even for just that moment. 

“You make it sound like I’m worth something.” you murmured, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips.

“You are. You always have been.” he said instantly, the conviction in his voice startling you. “More than you know. I promise you.”

Your chest ached, not from the illness this time, but from the overwhelming mixture of emotions his words stirred in you. It was almost too much, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to stop bringing you back to life. You didn’t want him to stop giving you reasons to want to live.

“Megumi.” you said quietly, finally looking up at him.

His name sounded different coming from you, like it carried more weight, more meaning than it ever had before. It was as warm as back then, when you would say his name and smile at him, like he was your world. Like he was someone you dearly loved.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer now, like he was afraid of breaking the moment.

You hesitated, your dulling eyes searching for something you couldn’t quite put into words. Then, with a shaky breath, you smiled—a real smile, small but genuine.“Thank you. For all you have done for me, for all you will ever do for me. Thank you.”

Megumi’s lips couldn’t help but twitch at your words, and for the first time, he allowed himself to give you a wide smile in return. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it was for you, only for you. And you knew that it was only for you.

“Don’t mention it.” he said, his usual stoicism creeping back into his tone, but there was an undeniable warmth beneath it.

That night, as you finally drifted off to sleep, your hand still holding his, Megumi stayed by your side. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, each breath a reminder that you were still here, still fighting. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Megumi let himself hope.

Not for a miracle, no. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe in those anymore—but for something smaller. He hoped that in the time you had left, he could make sure you knew you weren’t just a fleeting soul, a name on a list, a face on a board. 

You were everything to him, even if you never remembered why. And as he sat there, his hand still holding yours in the quiet of the night, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could carry that truth for both of you.

══════════════════

HE KNEW THAT HE CAN’T KEEP BUYING TIME. That’s not how it works in this line of work. The higher-ups had been patient with Megumi for as long as they could. They had watched from a distance as he ignored the rules, as he lingered at your side longer than necessary.

He had been told once, perhaps twice, that his attachment was blurring the lines of his duty. But no one had come forward to confront him, not until now.

The meeting room was cold, sterile—just like all the others. It was almost like the hospital. It even smells like it too. The flickering lights did nothing to soften the sharp voices of his superiors, their words cutting through him like a blade. Megumi has always hated this room. As much as you hate the hospitals. 

He has lived for a long time. He has been in the reaper department for so long, he doesn’t even remember when he had started. But no matter how many times he stays in it, the smell will always linger and he hates it. Just as much as he hates the higher-ups, perhaps. Yet, he knew he couldn’t admit it out loud.

“Megumi, this isn’t working any longer.” One of them had said it, their voice cutting through the stale air of the room like a blade, sharp with frustration.

The council sat in their cold, unfeeling silence, their dark robes blending into the shadows that clung to the room. The words echoed in Megumi’s ears, even as he sat still, his fists clenched tightly under the table.

“They are already dying,” the voice continued, each word hammering against him. “You know this, you always have. Fate cannot be changed. You cannot keep delaying it. You’re prolonging their suffering, and you know it. We cannot let this go on any longer.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His blue-green eyes stayed fixed on the floor, a storm brewing behind them. He didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself, because deep down, he knew they were right. He could feel it every time he saw you. 

In this way your body grew weaker with each passing day, as if life itself was slipping through your fingers. Each breath you took was a silent battle, and every glance you gave him carried an unspoken understanding that your time was coming.

But what they didn’t understand, what they couldn’t understand, was why he couldn’t just let go. Not yet. Not when your laughter still lingered in the corners of the hospital room.

Not when you still found the strength to smile at him, even through the haze of your pain. Not when you had thanked him—thanked him—for being the kindest thing in your life. How could he take that away from you? How could he take it away from himself?

“It’s not for your benefit that they should stay alive, you know that.” another elder said, their voice low but unyielding, like a hammer falling against stone. “Do it for their sake. The sooner you do it, the sooner they can find peace. You mustn’t prolong the suffering for your wants.”

The words cut deeper than Megumi would ever admit, a blow he wasn’t prepared for. His fists tightened until his nails bit into his palms, but he kept his gaze down, unwilling to let them see the flicker of defiance in his eyes. 

He wanted to scream at them, to tell them they didn’t understand, that it wasn’t about his wants, it never had been. It was about you. About giving you every last moment, every fleeting second that you deserved, no matter how much it hurt him to watch.

But none of that mattered to them. The rules were the rules. His mission was clear: guide souls to the other side, no matter the cost, no matter the pain. He was meant to be impartial, detached, but he wasn’t. Not this time.

As the meeting adjourned, their final words hung in the air like a noose tightening around his neck. “You have to let them go, Megumi.” the elder had said, their tone devoid of sympathy. “It’s not about you. It’s about them. Do what must be done.”

When the room emptied, Megumi remained seated, his shoulders heavy with the weight of their judgment. He wanted to argue, to push back against the inevitability they demanded he enforce. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t delay forever. 

He could feel the edges of your life fraying, could see the way the light in your eyes flickered, like a candle in its final moments. And yet, even as he sat there, alone in the suffocating silence, he made a decision.

Not yet.

Because you deserve those moments, however brief they might be. You deserved the warmth of the sun on your skin, the chance to smile one more time, the chance to feel something other than pain before the end. And if he could give you that, even at the cost of his own heart, he would.

But he also knew the truth, the one he couldn’t ignore forever. Time wasn’t on your side. And when the moment came, when the inevitability could no longer be postponed, Megumi would have to let you go.

Just not today.

Not yet.

He needs more time.

When the meeting ended, Megumi didn’t move. He couldn’t. His mind was too heavy with the weight of their demands, and yet his heart felt too torn to process it. He takes a moment to compose himself before he walks out. 

As he walked out into the hallway, he wasn’t surprised to find Gojo Satoru waiting for him, leaning casually against the wall with that ever-present, cocky grin on his face. The two of them had known each other for lifetimes, especially with how Gojo was now his boss. 

Though Gojo was the opposite of Megumi in nearly every way. Where Megumi was reserved and quiet, Gojo was loud and unapologetic. He hated the elders too, he hated the rules as much as Megumi too. 

But he had never let himself be swallowed by what he feels personally as he works. And Gojo Satoru knew that too well, when he saw that look in Megumi’s face. He had not taught him well enough to separate it all. 

“Megumi, hey.” Gojo said, his voice a little more serious than usual. “Can we talk?”

Without waiting for an answer, Gojo pushed himself off the wall and fell into step beside Megumi, leading him down a quieter hall away from the bustling administrative wing. He already knew what he was going to say.

But Megumi wishes he wouldn’t say it. Because when Gojo says it, it becomes even more real. It becomes even more true. And it’s something he can’t handle. Not right now.

“I know what you’re thinking, okay?” Gojo began, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “And I know it’s hard.”

He’s saying it. He’s talking about it. There was nothing that would stop it from being real. Not anymore. Megumi didn’t answer, he didn’t want to. He didn’t need to.

Gojo  Satoru could always read him, could always sense what was going on under the surface, even when Megumi tried to hide it. He was always going to tell Megumi the truth, even when it was hard.

“I don’t get it, Gojo–san.” Megumi said, his voice low, rough from the strain of keeping it all in. “I know the rules. I know they have to go. But… but I can’t just let them die like this. Not again. Not this miserably.” 

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to face Gojo, his face a mix of frustration and sorrow. “They’re suffering so much and miserable to boot, and I’m supposed to just… let them go? How is that even fair?”

Gojo’s expression softened, the usual smugness gone, replaced by something much more genuine. He took a step closer, his hands in his pockets as he regarded Megumi with quiet understanding. He takes a deep sigh.

“I know it’s not easy, kid.” Gojo said, his voice lower now, almost tender. “But this isn’t about what you want. You’re not their savior, Megumi. You’re their guide. You can’t heal them, that’s not part of the job description. It never was. You can’t protect them from everything.”

The words stung, sharper than Megumi expected. 

But it was the truth, the unavoidable truth.

This was a job, even if it meant the world to him.

It cannot be more than a job, not even like this.

“I know you care about them. Hell, you’re probably more attached than anyone in this damn place,” Gojo continued, the hint of a wry smile tugging at his lips. “But your job is to make them transition to something peaceful. To comfort them. Not to prolong their suffering because you’re too scared to let them go.”

Megumi looked away, his blue–green eyes burning with the weight of his own guilt. He could feel them water ever so slowly as he thinks about you, about everything you suffered — in all your lives. And now, when you suffered the most. He bit his lower lip. How could he just let it all go?

“I can’t just stand by and watch them die, Gojo–san.” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly, betraying the deep ache inside him. “Not like this. Not when I… when I care about them this much. Not when….Not when I love them so much.”

Gojo Satoru’s gaze softened further, taking a moment to sigh at him. He’d known Megumi for so long. He’s a good kid, he’s always been the best of everyone here, if he was being honest. But even now, he was still so human. And perhaps that is his weakness. He cannot be a reaper, and be human too. He cannot have both.

“I know, kid. I know.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But this is the hardest part. You have to be strong for them now. It’s time. And you have to do your job. You have to help them let go. That’s the only way they’ll be able to be free from the pain, okay? If you do your job. They’ll be free. And it can be, if anything, the greatest act of love.”

Megumi wanted to argue, wanted to lash out and scream that it wasn’t fair, that this wasn’t right. But something in Gojo’s cerulean eyes made him stop. Gojo Satoru wasn’t just talking about the rules; he was talking about them. About the person Megumi had come to love more than anything in this world, someone who was ever so dear to him in each and every lifetime. 

He was right. He can’t do anything about death or about fate. And he was right — death was the greatest mercy, instead of suffering. This could be the greatest act of love, as it had always been in each lifetime. To be there for you, to hold your hand and whisper all the love he has in your ear as you go. To set you free.

The truth was hard to swallow, but the reality was clearer than ever. Your suffering wasn’t going to end unless he let you go. And if he truly cared about you, he would have to find the strength to be the one to guide you to peace. With a deep breath, Megumi nodded, the weight of his decision settling in.

“I’ll do it, Gojo–san.” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’ll make sure they’re at peace.”

Gojo gave him a small, approving nod. “You’re doing the right thing.”

Megumi knew it would be one of the hardest things he’d ever do. But as he turned back down to earth, to the hall toward where you were waiting, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what was to come, he also knew it was the only way to truly set you free. 

He just hoped that, somehow, you would understand. And that you would forgive him. That you would smile warmly back at him once again, when you meet him again in your next life. That you could love him again, if you can.

══════════════════

HE BRACED HIMSELF FOR WHAT COMES NEXT. Megumi stood outside your hospital room, his heart heavy in his chest. The hallway was unnervingly quiet, the soft beep of monitors and the occasional shuffle of nurses’ footsteps the only sounds that kept him tethered to reality. 

He had never been so sure of something—so certain that this moment had arrived. It was time. He swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat, before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Having done it once didn’t make it any easier. If anything, it made it harder. He’d have to relive this moment over and over again, like all the other times.

But he had no other choice. If you were to die, he’d rather it be him holding you. He would rather it be him you hurt, leave a scar only he could see. Megumi would rather that he would be the one to comfort you one last time, to tell you that he’s got you. That everything will be alright. Because you were together. Because he was the one taking you away.

You were there, propped up against the pillows, looking so small under the white sheets. Your face was pale, your features drawn and tired, but when you saw him, your expression softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"You're here again, hm?" you said, your voice hoarse but warm.

Megumi stood frozen for a moment, the sight of you sending a wave of emotions crashing over him. You looked so fragile, so close to the edge, and yet here you were, smiling at him like nothing was wrong. Like you hadn’t been battling this slow, painful decline for so long.

He forced his lips into a small, bittersweet smile. "Of course I’m here."

You sat up a little straighter in your bed, your eyes trying to focus on him. There was a faint sense of confusion in them, as if the fog in your mind was thicker than usual today. You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you sought his, and Megumi moved closer, carefully taking your hand in his.

"I didn’t know if you'd come today, you know." you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. “For the last time.”

Megumi felt the weight of your words press against his chest. You couldn’t remember everything, not anymore, but you remembered him. And somehow, that was a mercy. A small one, but a mercy nonetheless. He hated it, but it was all he had. It was all there was left.

"I’m always here when you need me, always." he said quietly, his voice unsteady despite the calm he tried to project. "You know that, right?"

You nodded slowly, as though trying to make sense of everything that was slipping through your fingers. The memory of his voice, the sensation of his presence, the feel of his hand in yours—it was enough to pull you back from the brink.

"I... I don’t remember... a lot." you confessed, your voice faltering, as though you were apologizing for something you couldn’t control. "But... I remember you."

Megumi’s heart squeezed at that, and he fought the urge to crumble. Don’t show weakness now, he told himself. Not with them. Not when they need you the most. Don’t falter. Love them, love them even if it hurts. 

“I’ll always be here.” he repeated softly, gently squeezing your hand. “You’ve always been important to me. You always will be.”

You tried to smile again, though it was faint, and the effort seemed to take everything out of you. "I wish I could remember everything... all the good stuff we did together. There was a lot, wasn’t it? Even before…..I’m sorry if I don’t remember it all. But I can remember you right now, Megumi. I hope that’s enough. I hope…I hope that’s alright."

He felt his eyes sting, but he held it back, keeping his gaze steady on yours. "That’s enough. That’s more than enough."

Your grip tightened a little on his hand, your eyes slowly drifting over his face, as if committing his features to memory, trying to remember every detail of him before the fog came back.

 "It’s always so funny to me." you whispered, a soft laugh escaping your lips despite the heaviness in the air. "You don’t look like a grim reaper."

Megumi chuckled quietly, the sound devoid of any real humor. "I get that a lot."

The silence stretched between you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt almost peaceful, like the calm before the storm. You leaned back against the pillows, but you didn’t let go of his hand.There were so many things he wanted to say to you. 

So many words that were caught in his throat, threatening to spill over. But now—now there was no time for them. No time for the confessions, for the truth he’d never dared to speak. He simply stayed there, sitting at your side, holding your hand, because that was all he could do.

When you spoke again, it was quieter, slower. "I don’t want to forget you, not ever, not now." you said, your voice so fragile, so raw. "But I know I will. I already am."

Megumi shook his head, his thumb brushing lightly across the back of your hand, as though to comfort you, even though the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come. He couldn't promise you anything, couldn't tell you that this would all be okay, because it wouldn’t be.

“I’ll never forget you.” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll remember for the both of us. Even when you aren’t here anymore.”

“Then….will you let me fall in love with you again, if I were to be reborn?” You asked him, tears in your eyes pouring down your cheeks. “Will you let me, Megumi?”

His breath hitches shakily. His lips wobbled into a small watery smile. “Of course, I will. You can love me as many times as you want. I’ll let you do it. Over and over again.”

You choked into a giggle. “Then….Then, I’m glad. I’m forgetful, after all. It’s good, you’ll remind me next time.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. Even at the end, you were taking care of him. You were making sure he wasn’t sad. You looked at him, really looked at him, and for a brief moment, the confusion in your eyes faded. 

The fog cleared, just a little, and you smiled. It was a small, soft smile, but it was there, and it was for him. All for him. As it always has been. You take a moment, a breath. He waits patiently for what you want to say.

“I wish…..” you whispered, your voice trailing off as your eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion finally taking over.

Megumi’s chest tightened as he waited.  

But the words never came out of your lips. 

As you slipped into a quiet sleep, your breath steady and calm, Megumi stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours. He knew it wasn’t enough to stop what was coming. But for now, he will hold on. He will cherish the warmth that remains. 

It was the last time. The last time he would see you, the last time he would hear your voice, the last time he would get to make you feel comforted before you let go. And somehow, it was enough. Because you remembered him. And that was all that mattered now.

“I love you.” He whispers to you as he closes his eyes, letting the tears flow. “Goodbye.”

[clarkeybabey]

❝ i wouldn't give these nobodies no sympathy ❞

# summary; somethings do really get under his skin

# playlist; luther - kendrick lamar (ft. sza)

# word count; 748

# note; ive seen some distasteful comments on our bf lately. leave my man alone, he's the chillest guy. #parasocial. lazy ending im so sorry

Arthur absolutely adores his job, who wouldn't just want to hang out with their mates all day or film themselves reacting to Reddit posts to pay their bills? None of this was on his life bingo card, but he didn't think he'd change a single thing about his current situation. That was until he started collaborating with larger YouTubers.

Their fans always found a way to make him out to be the butt of the joke 24/7. He's been on social media for a while now, and of course, he understood that being unreasonably disliked came with his job, he just wished that he could express his feelings without being seen as 'soft'. It's almost as if the more he tries to ignore it all, the more comments emerge.

Some of his friends who recently began to gain traction were nearly completely dodging the brutal comments and he couldn't figure out why. Not that he wants them to experience it, because it's awful, he wouldn't wish it upon his worst enemy, but what do they have that he doesn't?

When you return from grocery shopping, he's sat in his desk chair tapping a socked foot. You take immediate notice of the furrow in his brow he seems to be scrolling through something, "You okay, baby?" Arthur startles a bit, seemingly having not realized your presence, he hums wordlessly, not bothering to look up at you.

His lack of acknowledgment makes you frown slightly. You let your purse slide off your shoulder, landing with a thunk in a pile at the end of his desk. You place a hand on his knee, bringing his anxiety-riddled movements to a halt. Finally, he looks up at you just in time for you to speak again, "Tell me."

His reply comes out sounding almost offended, "Tell you what?" He's playing stupid, but it's not going to work, not even he's been convinced by his words. You've been to him before he even knew you were home.

Your head tilts to the side and you fold your arms over your chest and without another sound from you, he knows he lost, "Just people on the internet, that's all." He's bitter and hurt, which is very evident as he continues, "Don't think they realize I'm human too."

A glance at the glowing screen in his hands tells you what he's been doing since you left a half hour ago. You take the phone from him, setting it on top of his mousepad, taking a second to situate yourself in his lap, "Listen, I know you really wanna know how people feel about you." You pause momentarily to place a chaste kiss on either cheek, "We've talked about how bad it is for you."

"It's so difficult to pretend I don't care," He begins, stopping when he feels like his throat's going to close, uncontrollable tears dot his waterline, breaking your heart. "I wish I could understand more, but I just don't know what its like, 'm not sure if I ever will be."

Your index finger finds his stubbled jaw, stroking it as you do your best to console him, if only you could take everything he's feeling and place it onto yourself even if only for a day, he deserves a break. "Those people are nobodies, they're just jealous." He leans into your touch, "You'd think I'd be used to it all by now," he mumbles against your palm, pressing a kiss to it.

Shaking your head involuntarily as he pours out all of his thoughts, but when he says that it pisses you off, "Shouldn't have to be used to it, the internet's a joke. You're a wonderful, intelligent person with opinions and feelings that are allowed to be expressed," words tumble from your lips so fast you can't control them he just sits there, a hand on your side drawing shapes on the skin where your top had ridden up, taking in all you say.

"I'm a chronic people pleaser, but I think you have me beat," you say wagging your brows, playing with his hair, finally he cracks a smile. A sigh of relief escapes you at that, "Think we should lower your screen time."

"Yes, mum," he salutes you, and a loud laugh bubbles up through him making you giggle, he pokes your tummy, "or maybe we can just run away together," he suggests kissing the upturned corner of your mouth.

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Sorry, but I just had a thought and I’m exhausted and don’t know if I’m going to write anymore tonight.

Just Steve holding a slight grudge against Nancy after she pretty much calls his love bullshit in the bathroom. He feels lead on, he’s slightly bitter but he knows how to be discreetly passive if he needs to be. But thing is he doesn’t have the energy in him to be passive. If this had been before the monsters, and someone who he thought was the love of his life did what Nancy did and proceeded to end up dating the guy who she said not to worry about within days after getting into a fight, he would have probably done something stupid. Probably would have ruined her locker with mean words or something like that.

He wasn’t sure what he would do, he was exhausted and couldn’t think of what used to come easy to him. Or maybe he’s grown to realize how immature that was, how it didn’t even seem all that fun to do to someone. Just thinking back to spray painting slut on the theater makes his gut twist uncomfortably. Once, he used to be the one to climb up there and spray something even worst. Now the thought made him want to throw up.

And maybe the grudge he is holding against Nancy isn’t really a grudge. Maybe he has matured to realized that the grudge he held was within himself for how fast he had fallen. For how stupid he was for thinking the girl would ever end up with him. He should have seen the signs. How she defended Jonathan even after he took non consensual photos of him and her about to have sex. Which he still felt disgusted by, his skin still crawled uncomfortably around the little creep whenever he was close by.

Though when the time comes, he realizes he was holding a grudge against Nancy. When he falls harder for someone new he realizes within minutes that something was different about this one. Instead of smacking him in the shoulder and scolding him for staring to long, Eddie would pull his hair in front of his face with bright eyes. Would do something dramatic to snap Steve out of the trance he was in. Like lick his face instead of kissing him.

That was the other thing Steve discovered. In the moments where it was just the two of them, it seemed like every other minute time would stop and Eddie would be in the same bubble as him. Lost in the same spell that Steve had tumbled into, needing to kiss the other just as much as they needed oxygen to breathe.

Nancy rarely had those moments with Steve, and they had stopped right around the time she started hanging out with Jonathan.

And Steve does hold a grudge, for how she stayed with him longer than what she had to.

Eddie made him feel in love and loved. Whenever Steve watched the other man he could barely keep his hands to himself and the best part was Eddie didn’t care. Steve could bite off Eddie’s remaining nipple and the man would still let Steve do whatever he wanted to him. Nancy never trusted Steve and never earned Steve’s trust the way Eddie did within one week of knowing each other.

Eddie was the moon and Nancy had been the sun for Steve. The sun burnt his skin and left him blistered while the moon wrapped his arms around him and rocked him to sleep every night. While Steve worried about when the sun would explode, he never had to worry about the moon disappearing for to long. It always came back, no matter what happened. Even if Steve had been an asshole.

God was Steve in love. This was it for him. And maybe at one point he had loved Nancy just as much as he did Eddie.

But now, as each day passes he only finds himself falling more in love with Eddie Munson.

He slowly comes to the conclusion that his love was and will never be bullshit.

And when he finally sits down to talk to Nancy about it, he finally gets it off his chest. What had been bugging him for almost years before falling for Eddie.

“Nancy, we were bullshit. But my love, it was all real. Maybe not as strong as it is for Ed’s but I know that if … everything wasn’t such bullshit I could have gotten there.” Steve says softly to Nancy. Shortly after she confessed she still had feelings for him. He seen this conversation coming from a mile away, especially with how many one sided sparks happened between the two of them while running for their life’s on spring break.

And as he stands up, leaving her in her own shock. Letting her process that he was with Eddie, a man. He can’t help but feel proud of himself.

He didn’t intentionally hold this grudge, but he felt as if he got back at her the healthiest way he could. By maturing and moving on. And looking down at Nancy, he could tell that she needed time to do the same. Not to be with another man or date in general, but to just grow as a person. But that was no longer his problem. His problem was currently running up the steps of the trailer with what seemed to be a moving snake.

“Hey Stevie! Look what I found.”

Steve was in love, and it wasn’t bullshit.

[allfearstofallto]

"I Used to Have a Crush on You,"

Caleb x Reader

Angst (?)

Caleb sputters on the sip of his drink he was trying to take, spitting the alcohol back into his cup. He's coughing as he's trying to get words out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and looking visibly disheveled. But sure enough, when he looks upon you with wide, purple eyes, there isn't a hint of deception on your face.

“You know you're supposed to be honest during truth or dare,” he tries to sound casual as he says this, tries to coax more words out of you, more answers to the truth he asked of you, but inside he's reeling. A mixture of emotions bubbling in his gut and clouding his brain.

“I am being honest!” You retort, only making him look further off in disbelief.

He'd received the best news of his life, while playing this drunken game. Asking a simple, “Tell me a secret. Something I definitely don't know.” In hopes to learn more about you, but in being told the truth, it felt like a knife was twisting in his stomach. He was happy, but did it matter if he was in so much pain at the same time?

“I used to have a crush on you.” Used to. He could barely even hold in a bitter laugh. Not after that. A part of him hoped that maybe you were being coy, pretending that you didn't still like him now, but his attempts at flirting the entire day proved that there was nothing there anymore. No way to make you flustered, to make those cheeks flush a pretty color. You used to have a crush on him and from the way you were acting, it was long gone.

“When? Why didn't you say anything!” He had a million questions all trying to force their way out of his mouth at the exact same time, but he was simultaneously trying to hold it all in to not alert you.

You merely shrugged, looking upset, almost embarrassed about your past feelings as you admitted more, “It was in highschool. And what was I supposed to say? I didn't wanna make it weird.”

Make it weird? If only you knew. The only thing between him and you finally having the relationship he really wanted was you being shy and him not pushing hard enough? Mentally he was fighting himself over the idea. Had he really not noticed any changes in you? It was always you and Caleb against the world, he was always by your side. How could he not have figured it out?

“What-” Caleb stopped himself, words clogging his throat as he tried to think of how to phrase his next question, “What made it go away?”

Fear was clouding his mind as he watched you ponder, waiting for all the horrible things you could say to pierce his heart. Did you truly come to hate him when you noticed how possessive he was, or maybe you fell for another guy, God forbid it. A pit formed in his stomach as the worst idea crossed his mind, did you really see him as a brother, even though he fought so hard to be something else.

“Hm, I don't know,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders, “Time?”

Another bitter laugh fell from his lips as the game continued on as usual. Despite the way his heart ached, he kept up a happy facade, but every smile on your face, every laugh from your lips, everything you did that night made his chest clench tighter.

Time?

Even with all the time in the world, he'd still love you the same.

[olgiisworld]

The interview // Choi Seungcheol

summary; you and Seungcheol have been a public couple on the media, both of you big artists, him being the leader of the group named Seventeen. Things have been a little rough lately due to lack of communication. You're invited to talk on a podcast about your recent achievements, but when your personal life is mentioned as a topic, you get bitter, and you don't manage to hide it. But how about the consequences?

Y/n x Seungcheol of Seventeen, genre: angst, frustration and unfairness with a hint of fluff in the end.

Word Count; 4,476 (oopsie)

Warnings; swearing

note; it took me months to finish this (mostly because of loss of inspiration, so you might notice inconsistency), but it's nothing special. Although you might like it :) I'd love to see comments! thank you for your support on my Beomgyu one-shot <3 smoochies ♡

it's been a while i've felt like shit. it's been a while i've felt more welcome to talk to the wall than talking to Seungcheol.

talking to Seungcheol seemed so hard for some reason. all we've been doing is fighting or ignoring each other. and that would be okay, if we didn't have each other's house keys.

it is hard to maintain a relationship that happened to go public, when none of you planned it. both me and Seungcheol being public figures really sat bad, especially with his constant need of privacy.

but it is hard. we can't just not leave the house.

that's mostly the reason we've been fighting.

everyday was a circle.

i return back to his apartment, where we had a silent agreement to meet everyday after work. my body and mind exhausted from all the work i've put in the studio. frustration seeping through my body, because of the disagreements i've had with the rest of my colleagues. concern, pain, fatigue, everything coming together, creating this unpleasant expression on my face. i know i seem cold.

but he just sits there. slumped on his couch. eyes fixed on the familiar black box. he cares enough to say "hey, how's work?", but not enough to ask about how I am. so i just shrug my shoulders and walk past him.

that's my life with my 'oh-so-wanted' boyfriend.

i'm a starved woman.

starved from love, from affection, from tenderness, from touch.

just touch.

his touch.

he hasn't touched me in god knows how long. all i get are dead kisses.

the repetition of each day made me feel angry, frustrated, pained, disappointed. made me feel like i was not worthy of him.

and the worst thing is that i cannot communicate my thoughts with the person i love.

he seems so stressed with his upcoming tour, that giving him one more reason to yell will only break him.

so i suffered in silence.

last week's fight was interesting.

a photo of us shopping together started making its way around social media. Seungcheol hated social media. and we both looked quite miserable in the photos, but i don't know if he noticed.

he yelled at me for not being careful enough.

apparently, i was the reason they saw us and they took those fucking pictures. like i enjoy being on strangers' camera rolls.

and i yelled back.

and we fought.

again.

damn it.

i cried so hard and he didn't even try to comfort me.

he didn't even touch me.

he didn't.

he didn't try to reach out.

he wouldn't even touch my hand by mistake.

i was so fed up.

so fed up of not feeling desired by the only person i loved..

the week passed, the same circle repeating itself.

i started going back to my house after work. Seungcheol didn't even try to ask why. he only said "i get that you might need space".

I am the one who needs the space?

i didn't even argue back. i knew where this was going and i felt like i was finally ready.

today, i had an interview.

nothing huge, just a small podcast. friendly podcast.

i wore comfortable clothes and hid my fatigue behind foundation and blush. i was okay with pretending like everything was fine.

it only broke my heart that people assumed "i am the happiest i've ever been". because people can only make assumptions. people only see the pictures. people only see the smiles, the kisses. or even the fatigue. but, "oh, everything is okay, she's got her man".

but what about Seuncheol?

people saw that he was stressed. people saw that he's probably not happy. people really had the audacity to say "i'm not good enough for him"!

like, fuck they know? they know nothing

and he never said anything. he never addressed those comments.

why?

because he believes that "what people say are bullshit"

but it sounded more like i'm not worth a small clarification.

i grabbed my keys and phone, closed my door and headed to the podcast set up.

everything was really friendly.

Alex, a familiar face of mine, would host the show.

i've happened to meet her before, at after-parties and gatherings, so we had talked before. everything was comfortable.

the podcast started shortly after and the talk was great. we also had a drink and a girls' talk that actually helped me take my mind off of my stress.

at one point, she turned to look at me when i sipped a little of my drink.

"so, um, i just.. i wanted to ask a few things, i know you don't really talk about your personal life, and that's why the questions are quite.. generic? you know.. of course, you can tell me to stop"

i felt some concern wash over me, as to what the consequences of this conversation could be. but i shrugged it off with a soft chuckle as i fixed my posture, leaning a little closer to the microphone.

"no, don't worry about it, shoot"

she smiled and read the notes of her phone, taking a quick sip of her drink as well.

''so, what is it like to be in a relationship?"

she looked at me with a small smile.

and all i could do was huff, trying to find an adequate answer.

i leaned back to the microphone.

"honestly? really hard"

Alex shot an eyebrow up in surprise.

"really? why, girl? is it hard for two great artists to live up to everyone's expectations?''

she chuckled and i just shook my head in thought.

i tried to put my thoughts in a row. it's hard to express everything i feel to someone after being so.. alone.

but i felt frustrated and fed up at the moment.

i fidgeted a little on my seat.

"i don't know.. it's not like there are no hardships in a relationship anyway.. it's just.. you can't find a way out of a hardship without communication, or respect. or understanding. there are many elements that have to balance out the hardships of a relationship, you know? at least that's how i view it"

i shrugged, my implication clear.

Alex caught my glimpse.

she nodded and looked at her phone shortly.

"that is really interesting, but everything can work out with love and patience"

i nodded, my smile a little bitter

"i guess.. i can't really tell you"

she tried to play it off with a small chuckle and i forced a smile

"i know you guys don't talk about your relationship, and privacy request is respected. but, not even posting moments on social media.. that's amazing. i actually admire that. it shows how strong your bond can be."

i chuckled, bitterness lingering on my laugh.

"not really. i wouldn't mind posting a picture or two. privacy is very much needed, but it's not like we have something to hide, or something to be so private about.. anyway, i really don't think it's that serious. but everyone has their own point of view."

she nodded, not wanting to pry on the matter, since she noticed my uneasiness.

she read of her notes again.

"does he inspire you to write?'

the question felt like a stab to the heart.

i couldn't say 'he used to'

and i couldn't say 'no' either

but i didn't want to lie.

i took a deep breath, trying to collect my words. i leaned on the microphone one more time.

"i don't really get inspired by real people.. mostly fictional characters, fictional situations.. nothing real. i used to find material from real life but.. i guess, my style changed"

i shrugged and forced a chuckle, trying to shake the feeling off.

Alex nodded and put a smile on her face.

"alright then, let's move on.."

i let out a breath i didn't even know i was holding. i took a sip of my drink, feeling quite relieved that we moved on from that topic.

the rest of the podcast went great, but i was tired and i couldn't wait for it to end.

as soon as we were done, i shook hands with Alex, she informed me about the slight editing she wanted to do, she thanked me and i thanked her back. she said that the episode would be out by the end of the week. i smiled and thanked her for having me. and i left.

i returned to my miserable apartment. the silence defeaning.

i hadn't seen Seungcheol in a week, but he didn't really seem to care.

i just left my shoes and coat next to the couch. i had lost my appetite completely.

i sat on the couch and took my phone in my hand.

i checked some of my messages and i saw Seungcheol's name among the notifications.

'Hey, is everything okay'

again.

not how I am. not if I am okay.

he really didn't give a damn about me.

i texted back a 'fine, no worries' and threw my phone at the end of the couch.

i started crying.

the only thing that comforted me was the sound of my own crying.

i hugged my arms around me and fell back on the couch. i was lost. i needed navigation. and he couldn't fucking give it to me.

[...]

Friday.

i headed back to my car after a long exhausting session at the studio. once i fastened my seatbelt, i grabbed my phone to check on some missed calls. a notification came in, saying that my podcast with Alex was out. i smiled excitedly, and turned it on to listen on my way back home. i texted her shortly and i threw my phone next to my driver's seat. i just concentrated on the road, the podcast being a pleasant background sound.

the drive back home was short, sadly. i just picked up my stuff, my phone still playing the podcast, as i walked back to my door.

i walked in, throwing my stuff on the couch, taking off my shoes and running to the kitchen, to grab some water.

when i walked in, i saw Seungcheol leaned against the counter, arms crossed on his chest, expression serious to mad.

my whole face went white when i saw him.

"fuck! you scared me.. what are you doing here?"

i was so shocked he was in my kitchen, probably more than i should, considering that he is my boyfriend.

he took a deep breath before i heard his voice.

"what the fuck? seriously. you're the one who's shocked here."

i looked around, confused by his words. i shrugged my shoulders.

"i guess.. i don't usually find you hiding in my house.. especially after not seeing you for a whole week.."

he scoffed. he didn't leave me any room for reaction.

"and you haven't even tried to reach out for a whole week.. but i guess, that's okay. relationships don't work without communication, like you said."

his words confused me even more.

i realized that what he quoted were my words on Alex's podcast. Now everything made sense.

i walked a little closer.

''are you seriously mad about this bullshit?''

his eyes widened

"bullshit? you say that calling me out is bullshit? telling EVEYONE how you feel, except from me, bullshit?''

my own eyes widened at his words

"what?"

his lips narrowed down, his madness more visible.

"what do you fucking mean with what? you literally let every fucking idiot know what's going on between us!"

he yelled

i looked at him in shock before processing to react with a scoff

"are you serious? what, how? by telling people that i'm having hardships in my relationship?"

he took a step closer

"you could have told me! me! not everyone! making everyone believe that we suffer!"

my head tilted in pure curiosity.

"which.. we don't?''

i asked, so simply.

he looked at me, his fingers running through his hair.

"that's not the point, the point is that you let everyone-"

i couldn't bear to listen so i yelled back

"i thought you didn't give a shit about what everyone thinks! you're such a hypocrite!"

he looked at me in shock

his eyes filled with disappointment.

"you literally implied that i don't love you."

my own eyes filled with anger and hurt.

"what do you fucking mean? you mean to tell me that i'm wrong? that everything is fine? that we don't fight every single time we try to talk? that we communicate just perfectly? that you don't ignore me? that you don't act like i am a stranger? no, i'm sorry, my mistake. you would touch a stranger, even if it was a fucking accident!"

he stayed there, in front of me, his face emotionless. he just heard what i said. or dogded my words, either way, he reacted the same.

"you implied that i don't fucking love you."

at this point, i felt helpless. fed up. rock-bottom. i just shook my head and let my tears slip from my eyes.

"Seungcheol, you don't love me. and i don't care. i have accepted it."

he cracked a hint of emotion, as he lightly flinched

"what are you even saying?"

i wiped my tears quickly.

"that you're a coward. that's what i'm saying."

he took a step closer, tilting his head confused.

"how am I a coward? you're the one who went and told everyone what we're going through! and you didn't even bother to tell ME something!"

i couldn't listen, i couldn't just stand there and listen.

I let out a cynical chuckle.

"and I thought you didn't even bother to watch my interviews.. guess i'm wrong"

I wiped my tears.

he seemed even more mad.

"of course I watch your stuff, but even if I didn't want to, everyone has been sending me this stupid podcast since it came out! everyone found a chance to make fun of me!"

i replied with the same anger.

"well, sorry, but you had to take a taste of your own medicine! do you even know what people say about us online?! do you? do you know what it's like to read that I'm not good enough for you, that I don't deserve you? do you even know how everyone fucking praises you, but all of them downgrade me? do you, Seungcheol? I've been living like this for the past 1 year and I never, ever complained to you about it. Because you always kept saying that YOU don't give a fuck about what people say! so fuck you, Cheol!"

my tears were running like a river at this point, but the mad expression on his face was driving me insane. his eyebrows relaxed a bit.

I made a move to leave, not wanting to have another fight. but, something I wouldn't expect, he grabbed my wrist and stopped me.

i pulled my hand away.

"no! don't you fucking dare touch me now! I've had enough! enough! you hear me? you're so cheap! you're embarrassed that everyone knows about your relationship not working, but you don't even care enough to fix this mess! fucking coward.."

he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before he grabbed my wrist again.

he pulled me closer.

"I'm not a coward! I'm just.. stressed! really fucking stressed! and I know that you don't care-"

I stopped him.

"i don't care? I don't care?! are you stupid?!"

he tightened his grip on my wrist.

"how do you care?! you care and you don't even call me for a week? you care, but you don't tell me what's bothering you? instead, you go and talk about our problems in a podcast?"

i took a deep breath and looked at him, trying to remain calm.

"do you understand that it's easier to talk to the wall than it is talking to you?"

he swallowed down my words.

"what the fuck, y/n?"

i let out a deep breath.

i was on the verge of a mental breakdown, feeling like this conversation is the repetition of pointless yelling and arguments that were better understood by a wall.

i just shook my head, my expression full of disappointment.

"Seungcheol, i can't do this anymore."

his expression softened and he let go of my wrist, pulling his own hand back hesitantly.

his voice almost scared.

"what do you mean?"

i sighed softly, not able to hold back anymore. it was now or never. and i, unlike him, was not a coward. it was time to finally do it.

"it's not working... it can't.. it can't work... between us.."

my expectations were simple. him getting sad and disappointed or him not even caring enough to have a reaction. i surely not expected him to get mad at me, like he did.

"and you call me a coward?"

i looked at him confused. i didn't even find the chance to talk before he interrupted me.

"you're telling me that it's easier to talk to a wall, you go all out about me in a podcast, you don't text, you don't call, you don't care. and now you're breaking up with me? so, you actually don't love me."

i heard his words carefully before rolling my eyes in frustration, my reaction getting him more mad and he threw his hands in the air.

"love is not enough to hold a whole relationship up, okay-"

he yelled back, interrupting me.

"bullshit! and you know it! i love you, and i don't care if you can't see it, i care that i feel it though!"

my eyes widened slightly in shock but i managed to yell back.

"why don't you touch me?! why do you ignore me?! what have i done to you, how can you say that you love me?!"

he looked at me, his eyes mirroring the same frustration as mine did. but there was something else. the frustration was not towards me, it was towards himself.

"I don't know! i don't know! i don't know..."

his voice softened at the last 'i don't know', and i remained silent since he seemed to have a lot more to say. he let out a small sigh.

"I've been really really really stressed. really stressed. we're on the verge of canceling a world tour, our manager keeps telling us that he wants to quit, and we've lost a lot of money because of a merch company that happened to be frauds."

my mouth opened in shock at his confession.

Seungcheol never told me about any of these.

i was trying to find a reaction but i couldn't find it. so he talked instead.

"and you breaking up with me is the cherry on top. i know that i can't defend myself, and i won't sound pathetic enough to beg you to stay. if you want to leave me, it's fine. for you. i can't tie you down anyway."

his voice came out small, weak, pathetic, like he was scared to be perceived.

i managed to get my voice out.

"why didn't you say anything?"

he looked into my eyes, dead serious as he quoted me.

"do you understand that it's easier to talk to the wall than it is talking to you?"

i clenched my jaw, feeling anger instead of sympathy building up. i hit his chest, without thinking much, but he didn't even flinch. his eyes simply pierced through me.

"you're not capable of even admitting that you need me? really? i hate you!"

i felt fed up with my own self, pathetic with how miserable i was and felt. i was sad. my whole life was sad. i built a whole career that seemed to be drowning me. and my words didn't even shake his poker face.

tears streamed down my face and i couldn't control my sobs. even if i sounded pathetic, at least i was honest to my feelings.

i knew i was the reason we couldn't communicate now that we found a chance, but i was feeling too depressed to even try it.

there had been many chances in the past, and since nothing worked, this wouldn't work either. i simply cried.

he looked down for a moment, the straight line of his lips unwavering. he took a deep breath, sighing softly through his nose. i put a few strands of my hair behind my ear, while my tears were falling down like a waterfall.

i wiped as many as i could.

i knew that nothing could shake or top the tension my three simple words just created.

or at least that's what i thought, before he grabbed my chin and he kissed me.

my crying eyes opened in shock, his hand holding my lips close as his other arm creeped around me, pulling me into his embrace. the shock wouldn't let me kiss back, and i felt like he used my vulnerability to his advantage.

i felt frustrated, confused, and i pulled my head back since he held me close by my waist, trapping my hands on his chest, the feeling both new and familiar.

"i said i hate you!"

"oh shut up.."

he simply replied before pulling me back into a kiss, a hundred times more passionate than the first one. it was the first time in months that he kissed me with so much emotion. i could feel it. i could feel that he meant it. his other arm wrapped around me as well and he held me close, months after our last hug. and his embrace was so warm and nostalgic. my mind drifted to the memories of our first dates and my lips started moving against his, by instict.

my hands gently tugged on his shirt, the tears in my eyes stopping.

i felt warm.

and i hadn't felt warm like this since forever.

he kissed me with so much meaning and passion, like i would disappear if he'd let go..

after a moment, his lips moved to my jawline, placing gentle kisses along the line of it towards the spot below my ear. he placed soft kisses on my neck and his hands moved up and down my back, touching me gently. re-exploring me.

opening old wounds.

my breath became a little heavier as my mind traveled with his touch. the feeling was so new, yet so familiar to me.

i wasn't sure of what to say, how to talk.

he touched me after god knows how long.

i heard his voice, his breath tingling my neck.

"i'm so stupid.."

he simply said, but i didn't have an answer. not an an argument. he placed soft kisses on my neck, his hands traveling down my body.

"i need you so bad.. i need all of you.. in my life, forever, and right now.."

he whispered, sending chills down my spine. i haven't heard him talk like that, probably never.

"i need you right now, i love you.. i love you so much.."

he kissed my lips, his words felt like heavy prayers.

i looked into his eyes, feeling the vulnerability reaching the ceiling.

he kissed my face gently, placing a strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek.

"you're the only tranquilizer i'll ever need.. i'm so sorry for never seeing it.."

he kissed my lips gently again.

i was so lost that words wouldn't even dare to come out my mouth.

but he didn't expect anything from me. he simply poured his heart out, like he hadn't done in months.

"i've been so stressed out and closed off that i didn't realize what i was doing to the only person that could help me."

his hands explored my body like he was searching for undiscovered spots.

my mouth formed a soft pout, my eyes glistening.

he pressed another soft kiss on my pout.

"baby, i'm sorry. i love you. and i'm a dick that doesn't deserve you. and i know it. i'll respect your choice to leave me."

he pressed a kiss on my cheek like a final goodbye and he softly unwrapped his arms from my body, but my hands grabbed them, almost like an instict, and i wrapped them around me again.

i kissed his lips a little more aggressively than expected by the both of us actually, and my hands cupped his cheeks. he kissed me back, without restraints.

my hands ran through his hair, softly tugging on his locks.

i broke the kiss for a breath and i talked.

"you're so stupid"

he nodded quickly, feeling breathless.

"yes, i am"

i kissed him again and i mumbled against his lips

"so stupid"

he moved his lips with more hunger as he repeated

"so so stupid"

i pulled back briefly, my chest carrying my heavy breaths, my fingers tracing the softness of his hair, his skin, leaving fire to their wake. my eyes locked in his.

i shook my head gently, processing the overwhelming emotion in my heart. i finally managed to express it.

"i love you, but you hurt me so bad"

i saw his face twisting with guilt. i knew he wasn't in a better position with all the stress he carried, but Seungcheol never meant harm. he was always a good guy. that doesn't justify his actions and i knew that, but i felt every crumb of love for him resurrecting, just because of his touch.

he spoke softly, his hands gripping on my skin.

"i'm so sorry.. i'm so so sorry.. i'll respect it if you want to leave me.."

i covered his mouth quickly, his eyes looking into mine with surpise. i sniffled softly before talking.

"i won't leave, you idiot"

he pulled my hand down, his expression more surprised and confused.

"but why?"

i sniffled again, a hint of smile that hasn't appeared on my face in months made its way on my lips.

"because i've made a mental promise to myself. i'm always by your side when you need me."

his expression turned into a melted one, his lips finding my cheek and leaving a couple of soft, loving kisses.

"i love you. i'm so sorry.''

he spoke softly, resting his forehead in mine.

i sighed softly through my nose, my emotions twirling inside of me like crazy.

"i love you too."

i added, and i closed my eyes.

he did the same.

at that time, everything felt a little more sure than usual. i clinged to that hint of hope he expressed through his words of affirmation.

my hand caressed his back softly.

why does every relationship have to go through a rough patch that leaves a part of you dead right after? you know it won't be the same. the only thing that gives you hope is the love inside you that can't die down. and i felt it, in his hug. i felt a little more sure.

[macsimagines]

YANDERE!SHINICHIRO SANO ONE NIGHT STAND

ok so here it is. I hope it's ok I'm kinda iffy about it let me know what you all think!! this is worst timeline btw!!!

MINORS DNIWARNINGS: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, ONE NIGHT STAND, SPANKING AND DRINKING

You had no idea what you were even doing with your life. Late at night, in a run down jazz bar, you found yourself sitting on a stool sipping a cocktail all by yourself.

The piano on stage skillfully played a tune that was just pleasant enough for you to feel yourself to start to ease slightly. Maybe the drinks and bar itself weren't anything special, but at least there was music.

"Tastes like shit," a somber voice says to your side. You look over your shoulder and your eyes meet a dark pair. Two onyx eyes that seemed to only reflect abyss.

Maybe on a different day you would have just ignored him, but tonight? You were feeling brave.

"What's wrong with it?" you inquire, suddenly finding the stranger fascinating. Dark eyes, dark hair, dark soul. You think you may have a type.

His eyes barely lift from his glass, a dark liquid swirling with his ice, "It's bitter." He answer plainly. Maybe his monotone response should make you reconsider trying to spark a connection...but something about his voice...

"It's... bourbon, right? You should've gotten a cocktail if you wanted something sweeter," you purr, pushing your own glass toward him, "Wanna taste mine?"

Finally, his eyes fully meet yours and something in the way that they analyze you has a shiver running across your skin. He's handsome, pretty even, and you find yourself feeling just a little hot under his intense stare.

A slow smirk tugs at his lips. There's the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes. Then he's sliding his hand, purposefully brushing your fingertips, and taking the glass from you. Your eyes never break contact as he brings the glass to his lips, his tongue licking at the sugar coated rim first.

You can feel your thighs clench at the erotic image this stranger makes. Something inside of you aching with a sudden need. "Well?" you say, scooting in closer, "Better?"

"Dunno," the man says leaning in closer, "I'm in the mood for somethin' much sweeter." You feel a rough hand come up and firmly squeeze your thigh.

Maybe its the alcohol, the atmosphere, or those gorgeous void like eyes of his, but you find yourself checking into a hotel with that stranger. Yes. Stranger.

His name doesn't matter, what he does for a living or why he's in this part of town. The only thing that matters is how good his hands feel around your throat and inside your aching pussy.

You don't care about all his tattoos or the fact that their was a danger slowly growing in those perfect eyes of his. A strange sort of obsession?

Tonight, you don't fight. When his hand cracks down hard against your ass, you moan and beg for more. When he makes you kiss him and devours every sound you try to make. And not even when he's plunging deep into you and pounding like a man going for broke.

As you start to see stars and get light headed, you allow this man, a man whose name you didn't even care to know, to have his sick and depraved way with you.

"Be my good-girl," he purrs a rough hand coming to wrap around your neck, "Stick out your tongue for me." You end up mindlessly doing as he says, so eager to please. And your pussy clenches and flutters around his thick girth when he meets it with his own.

Shamefully, you're just moaning when you fill him cum inside you, loving the feeling. And finally the man stops his constant praise of 'Good girl, perfect woman, mine so fucking mine,' to look you in the eyes again.

There's something different about them. Almost child like and wide. There is the smallest light in them and through the haze of your orgasm you swear there was something else...

But you're so spent and exhausted that you end up passing out in his arms. You're sure it won't matter in the morning, either one of you will be gone. Right?

You're surprised to find him still sleeping soundly next to you. You can't believe your good luck when you find he was as beautiful as you had remembered him being. The pleasant soreness of your body also told you that the sex hadn't just been the greatest wet dream of your life.

Its a shame you have to go. You two might actually be compatible, but something like that just didn't work out for you. Maybe if things were different... No. You won't let yourself fall for some stranger.

You're trying to get yourself dressed and out the door as quietly as possible but something is grabbing your wrist and pulling you back-! Right into someone's solid chest.

"Quit makin' all th'racket," he slurs, nose rubbing into your neck, "Lay back down with me, baby."

Embarrassment flushes your cheeks and his soft touches remind you of everything from the night before. Fuck you want to stay for another round- or 3 -but you really needed to leave. So you try to push back.

"S-Sorry for waking you. I'll be out in just a second. I'll leave my half of the bill-!"

"You're not fucking going anywhere, Y/N."

Ice quickly runs down your spine. You're very sure you didn't tell him your name. You were supposed to be nameless strangers after all.

You turn to glare at him seeing that he has his phone open. "I had a friend of mine do some diggin' on you after you passed out last night." He tells you calmly. Like he didn't just admit to doing a creepy back ground check on you.

"Let go of me." You demand fighting back harder, "I want to go home!"

This man only smirks from where he sits on the bed his eyes having gone back to being cold and dead. "You brought me back into the light, baby. I'm your home now."

[ashdreams2023]

Hiii, could I request a severus snape and little sister reader where she's the opposite of him and so all the students love her until someone insults him one day and she's all snarky and a miniature version of snape and everyone's like ".....maybe they are alike....." while severus looks on like a proud parent??? I love your fics so much!! Thankss!!

The same tree

Severus snape x professor sister reader 

The student body was in shambles the day you were announced as a new staff member, the name snape was enough to send shivers down some students backs.

They barely handled one snape, let alone two!

Everyone expected the worst, 2.0 snape female version then you got to your first class, it wasn’t like anything they had in mind.

Heck you gave house points and they paid attention to the lessons.

"She’s human, oh my god she’s not evil!"

It spread pretty quickly how nice and patient you were, you didn’t show any favoritism towards anyone nor did you encourage any rivalry in your class, as long as they passed it was a win for you.

Your office hours were filled with students coming to you for help, some even asking for help of topics other than what you teach, sometimes asking about stories of your youth but none dared to ask about your brother.

But there were times were kids can get way too comfortable in matters that have no business with them, unfortunately for a certain fourth year Ravenclaw he learned his lesson the hard way.

"I can’t believe that git took points because I added a point to his lesson! It’s fucking ridiculous, he’s a selfish idiot who only wants his way and everyone else is wrong"

"Jesus calm down mate, it’s only ten points you’ll live and he’s like the professor so…"

The Ravenclaw rolled his eyes "I know the book, I read it piece to piece I know my way around this stuff, he’s just one bitter old son of a bitch-"

"Excuse me you little bird" the boy froze as he felt a hand touching his shoulder, he looked up to meet your piercing dark eyes, they had the dangerously familiar feeling to those of their potion master.

"Professor i-"

"No no no…go on, continue what you were about to say so the oh so great Ravenclaw knows everything, because what? Because you read an outdated, basic, dusty ass potion book"

The boy swallowed, your tone was so different, you weren’t smiling and it reminded him of being schooled by severus snape himself.

"Why so quiet? Snake got your tongue?" You smiled proudly at the look of terror on the boy’s face "Let this be a lesson to you little bird, my brother is no idiot and without him little airheads and know it alls would be dead by now, so know your place, am I understood?" You tightened your grip on his shoulder.

"Yes ma’m!"

"And 30 points from Ravenclaw for showing disrespect to faculty staff members"

The boy’s jaw dropped but didn’t dear argue back and sprinted away with his friends, you couldn’t care less that students were watching, they call all spread rumors or whatever.

"Oh my god…she is like him…"

"Shush she’s gonna hear you! At least now we know not to overstep it"

You sighed and left the great hall, you pumped into your brother by the end of the day, he arched an eyebrow at you when you causally sat down and sipped your tea.

"I see you’ve made quite the impression today"

You shrugged "They’re just stupid kids, it was about time they learn anyways"

Severus leaned back on his armchair "You sound awfully familiar to me, I suppose I am rubbing off on you"

"The apples may look different but they all belong to the same tree" you smirked.

"You’re still terrible at potions though" He remarked knowing well how atrocious you were at his best interest.

"Hey! I was defending your honor"

You glared at him and he glared back then after a few seconds of intense looks you two snorted at each other and went back to having your regular sitting for the day.

Thank you for your kind words and glad you do 🥰

[amberlynnmurdock]

Here

Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Matt saves his wife from being held hostage by Fisk's men and helps her with the PTSD that comes from it.

From this request from an anon named melted butter!

I hope you like it, anon friend!

Warnings: brief mentions of violence, hostage situation, PTSD symptoms, heavy angst in the beginning

Words: 2.7k

Suite No. 1 in G Major, BWV 1007: 1. Prelude

There would never come a day when she wouldn’t associate that song with blood, torture, and darkness. 

There would never come a day when she wouldn’t remember the cloth wrapped around her eyes that felt like sandpaper on her skin and the way her head pounded from the tightness of the blindfold. She could still feel it sometimes—unprompted moments of weakness when she would put on a hat or earmuffs in the winter and the feeling of something being wrapped around her head transported her to that awful night. She’d rather leave the beanie and earmuffs at home and risk her head getting cold than be reminded of that torture. 

It was the way she hesitated to put on gloves because if her wrists felt too constricted she would be reminded of the way the rope burned her skin so badly it left scars. She’d leave those at home too, and risk dry and cold hands. 

“Sweetheart,” Matt said earnestly, wrapping his hands around her cold ones. “Your hands are so cold. Why didn’t you put on gloves?”

She didn’t reply—she just let Matt continue to warm her hands with his. She preferred it that way. She preferred him to feel the scars around her wrists than her to look at them. 

Ever since that night, she took the coldest showers. Every shower was an ice-cold one. The place they had her held hostage in was stuffy—hot. She remembers her own sweat dripping down her face and the salt burning her eyes even under the blindfold. She can’t feel too hot anymore or else she will again be transported back to that traumatizing night. 

And the song—that fucking song. 

She wasn’t sure if it was a torture tactic or if the Kingpin had requested it be played. The only thing that mattered was that they kept it on repeat, at a loud volume—so loud she could hardly hear her voice when they would ask her a question about Daredevil. 

“I don’t know,” she cried behind her blindfold. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I—“

SLAP!

The violins started to feel like her head was being woven in torturous ways. The sound filled her senses similarly to how cough syrup fills one's senses—bitterness from the smell to the taste on the tip of her tongue. It was nauseating to listen to the song over, and over, and over, and over again. Nauseating to be in a situation like she had just two months ago: alone, in pain, and scared. So very scared that she may not make it. 

Until he found her. He told her he would always find her. 

She didn’t know he was there until the music finally stopped playing, and the lights in the warehouse went out. She was blindfolded but the way the men started yelling about the lights told her everything she needed to know. She was shaking against the wall, sweating, trying to find that relief she should feel that Daredevil had come to her rescue—but even that couldn’t shake off her fear. 

“If you ever get taken from me,” Matt had whispered to her one night in bed as he fiddled with the diamond ring on her finger, “know I will find you. And when you know I’m there, I want you to whisper to me like I am now. Because I’ll hear you and I’ll come to you.”

She whispered to him as soon as she heard the music stop and Fisk’s men were shouting at each other. 

“Matthew,” she hushed even lower than a whisper, “Matthew. Matt…”

Matt has dealt with a lot of dark situations as Daredevil, even before he donned the name and had a red suit. Years ago, he saved a little boy from a Russian gang. He saved a group of young girls from trafficking. He has dealt with the worst criminals in this city and it never got easier. All he could do was save people. He just never bet on the fact that one day he would have to save her.

It was something they talked about before deciding to get married. After months of convincing himself he could never have a life like that, she told him that God didn’t put him on this earth to only bear other people’s burdens. God meant for him to have a life like everyone else—a life that included love and marriage. He agreed on one condition: that it be an intimate small wedding at Clinton Church. And by intimate, only Foggy, Karen, and Marci were invited. 

He never wanted to prepare for a situation like this. He never wanted this day to come. He never pondered on what protocols to teach her if someone were to take her—but after months of avoiding the subject, he thought that was still important in case the situation ever did come. And unfortunately, it finally did come. 

He remembers how still the apartment was when he came home—how silent and cold it was. She hadn’t been home since the morning, he could tell. Icicles started to form on the back of his neck when he realized he hadn’t received a call from her since she left work—which was over an hour ago. Matt felt weak in the knees suddenly. He had to support himself on the kitchen counter as he focused his senses on noises outside of the apartment. 

“Dear God,” Matt whispered, “please keep her safe until I find her. Please help me find her.”

The whispers didn’t last long, nor the prayers—soon, Matt was throwing a rage in the apartment. Shattered glass was on the floor. Broken plates. Matt’s agonizing scream when reality finally settled in him that she was taken from him—by who? There was only one possibility. 

In no time he changed into his Daredevil gear and was prowling the streets, rooftop to rooftop, to find where they had been keeping her hostage.

A warehouse by the pier. He could hear the classical music playing at an incredible volume, enough to hurt her ears and get in her head. As soon as Matt found the source of the music, he shut it off, along with the power. 

And then he let the devil out. 

He thought with his fists before using logic to fight these cronies—throwing punches and brutally throwing men over his shoulders, hitting them relentlessly with whatever weapon he found near him. His billy club wires wrapped around someone's neck so tight it made them pass out, using the metal billy club to throw right in another man’s face. Matt moved recklessly in the dark. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs so loudly it would feel like his chest was ripping apart but he didn’t because he knew she had experienced enough yelling on this night. 

And then, he heard her. 

“Matthew,” she whispered so quietly, it almost missed Matt’s senses. “Matthew… Matt…”

As soon as he made sure all of the men were out, he rushed to her side. Adrenaline pumped in his veins, he was shaking from it. He knelt before her and took off his gloves. 

“Hey,” he cooed, “it’s okay. I’m here. I found you,” and Matt’s voice was wobbly in his throat, tears threatening his eyes but no—he needed to be strong for her. He didn’t know what she endured—quite frankly, didn’t want to know—but he knew it had been a lot on her mentally. She was sobbing. He’d never heard her like this. The blindfold was wrapped so tightly around her eyes. Matt gently untied it and slid it off. He then smelt something metallic in the air—salty. It was blood. Her blood was around her wrists. Matt choked a sob in his chest as he untied her wrists. He could sense the tight friction of a bruise forming on her cheek. 

“I found you,” Matt’s voice cracked—he couldn’t help it. He was a wreck inside to find her like this. In pain, scared, alone. No—not alone anymore, he was here. “It’s okay now.” He gathered her delicate frame in his arms, holding her against his body tightly but not crushing her, and ran his hands through her hair, hushing her cries. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I have you now. They can’t hurt you anymore. I’m here.” 

Matt wasn’t sure what was more traumatizing for him—finding her in that situation or hearing her cries after, and the months that would follow. 

It made him question if marrying her was the right decision.

Despite these small things bringing her back to that dreadful night, there was one positive thing that she would never forget either: the feeling when she saw Daredevil—Matt—kneeling before her and gently pulling her blindfold off. The warm wash of relief that spread in her chest was so unexplainable, she could only feel it again if she really put her mind to it. It was like a warm, safe embrace when she knew Matt had found her like he said he would. She could describe the sensation as putting on a weighted blanket. 

The image of his red Daredevil helmet is ingrained in her mind: it was him against that dark warehouse. It was the glow of the red mask that brought so much comfort to her. She was safe. He had finally come—finally found her. God knows how hard it was to locate her. She was so relieved, that all she could do was sob into his embrace. 

It didn’t get easier when they finally made it home, it only got harder. 

She lay in his bed with tear-stained cheeks. It hurt to move. It hurt to speak. She could only whisper. Matt was still in his Daredevil suit, helmet off. He paced the room anxiously, wondering how this could’ve happened, how he could have let this happen. He was thinking of every possibility and what he was going to do next—

“Matthew,” she wheezed as she watched him pace the room. “Matthew.”

He stopped instantly, bringing his attention to her. She was in so much pain, he could sense it from where he stood. It brought a strange heaviness on his shoulders. He knelt again beside the bed and took her hands in his, kissing each knuckle.

“I’m so sorry,” Matt whispered, tears falling down his cheeks—tears of sadness, tears of rage. “I’m so sorry—“

“Shh,” she hushed him. She wasn’t crying anymore. She didn’t think she had any left. “Just be here with me. I need to feel you here with me.” 

Matt took off his Daredevil suit and silently crawled into bed next to her. He carefully brought her close to him so she was snug against his chest. Safe in his arms, nothing could hurt her now.

Months have passed. It’s a bright cold day. 

She and Matt are on their way to their favorite coffee spot uptown. They hardly ever leave Hell’s Kitchen, but she was in the mood for a specific hazelnut latte that only Rosie’s could make. And if it would make her happy to travel almost twenty minutes uptown for a cup of coffee, well, Matt wasn’t going to argue. 

He never brought up that night unless she did. So when she opted to wear a beanie and put on gloves, Matt couldn’t help but feel lighter in his step from the happiness he felt: she was on her way to healing from that experience. He felt like he could forgive himself now. 

“Ready?” She asked at the door, clearly too excited to get this cup. Matt laughed and kissed her before answering. He was so incredibly happy that she seemed to be happy again. 

“Ready.”

The coffee shop had wooden floors and matching wooden tables. In the back was a small bookstore, and on the side the place had a coffee counter. Soft jazz music was playing. Some people were already settled in: a man had his headphones on and was typing aggressively on his laptop, and a young college girl was studying her books. Matt sensed his surroundings everywhere they went to make sure there were no threats.

“Why don’t you go look at the books while I order our coffee,” Matt suggested lightly, untying the gray scarf around his neck. 

“Okay,” she smiled, squeezing his hand before letting go and exploring the back of the cafe. 

Matt waited in line at the coffee counter and sighed contently. 

She immediately was drawn to the fantasy books section. She took off her gloves and placed them in the pocket of her coat. Scanning each title, she picked one out that piqued her interest and frowned when the summary wasn’t what she expected. Another title made her laugh, but she didn’t bother to read the back. She found herself in a different section—romance. She smiled as she glazed over each book spine with her fingers. Romance books always reminded her of Matt. She often imagined what their story would look like in a romance novel. 

And then she heard it. 

Suite No. 1 in G Major, BWV 1007: 1. Prelude

The violins sounded like nails on a chalkboard, bloody fingertips leaving a trail. It sounded like a screech against the pavement. 

It suddenly felt like she no longer was standing in the middle of an aisle of books. Instead, her body was being pulled and sucked into a black hole behind her. Everything around her felt overwhelmingly large and she was small, like she was Alice. Fear crept over her heart like a spider weaving its web. She felt hot in her jacket. Her heart was beating heavily in her chest like a punching bag. 

The song got louder. And louder. And louder. 

“No,” she whispered to herself, shutting her eyes tightly. But closing her eyes and seeing darkness only made it worse. “No…” she opened her eyes and felt like she had tunnel vision. 

Matt was standing in line when he heard something pounding loudly in his ears. It only took him a second to hear the song that was playing, and he was immediately looking around for her. The pounding was coming from her—from her heart. 

In no time Matt was by her side, wrapping his arms around her and quickly walking her outside the cafe—away from the lingering glances, away from that horrible song. Removing her from the triggering situation, knowing she was spiraling. 

She was breathing fast now from panic. Matt brought her into a quiet alley and wrapped her in a bear hug, holding her tightly against him. Her hair covered his face as he turned to breathe in her scent. He took a deep breath, and at the same time, motioned for her to breathe with him. 

“I’m here,” he said into her ear softly, “I have you. Breathe with me, okay?”

“Okay,” she managed to say between breaths, feeling like her own air was choking her. She breathed with Matt and closed her eyes, his touch and warm hug bringing her back to reality. 

“Listen to my voice,” Matt guided, “I’m here. I have you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Matt’s voice was always soothing to her, but especially at a moment like this. His voice sounded like how velvet felt. 

Eventually, just standing in his arms holding her tightly, her breathing returned to normal and that song was out of her head, as were her memories of that night. A few silent moments passed. Matt kissed her head softly and held her longer. He’d hold her for as long as she needed. When she was finally okay, she pulled back and reached her lips to kiss Matt’s. He kissed her in return and placed his hands on her face. 

“I’ll always be here for you,” Matt whispered. 

Matt went inside to get their coffee while she waited for him outside. Soon enough, they were back at the apartment, finishing the last of their drinks and sitting on the couch. She rested her head in his lap and Matt drew circles in her hair, counting the breaths it took for her to fall asleep. He’d of course be there when she woke up. 

[exhaslo]

I love your stories it feels like I'm actually in it, I mostly like Mafia Miguel x shy reader.... But anyway if you seen Jennifer's body i can see Miguel being Jennifer and the reader being his friend. If you're taking requests may I have Jennifer's body au with Miguel O'Hara x reader? Thank you. 🥰😍 The ending ended up being together can add smut as well to it?

I actually never seen that movie because I am a wimp when it comes to anything horror, except animal horror. Place Jaws in front of me anyway and I'm down. But, I read a quick summary of the movie and I will make some small changes, you know, to sastify our needs haha.

Also, so sorry this was late. I'm still catching up to last month's requests!!

Warning: MINORS DNI, smut, p in v, murder, blood, possession, shower sex, oral (f recieving)

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

You knew something was wrong.

You knew that something had changed.

But, what were you supposed to do? Miguel was your best friend and he meant everything. He was your world. The two of you had been together since you were young, to leave him as he was now, would be the worst thing ever.

Rewind a few weeks ago. You and Miguel were just chilling after work at a local bar. Your cheeks were flushed as Miguel kept buying the two of you drinks. It was frustrating how much you loved your best friend. He was just so perfect, both at work and outside.

Hearing a local band start to play, you leaned against Miguel, complaining to him about work. The night was pretty vague after that, but you did recall a fire and Miguel bringing you home. After that he disappeared for the night.

When you awoke the next day, you found Miguel passed out on the couch with what looked like blood on his clothes. You thought nothing of it since Miguel would never do something drastic or crazy like murdering someone. So, you assumed it was ketchup and proceeded to help Miguel out of his clothes.

"What would I do without you?" Miguel mumbled under his breathe as you took his shirt off.

"I don't know, stay in gross clothes?" You said with a chuckle and fixed his hair, "Go wash up. The girls at work will go crazy over this bed hair of yours."

Miguel grunted and playfully used you to stand. You laughed and whined towards him, finishing up for work. The two of you shared a place only to help you with you rent. Miguel was perfectly fine with his own place, he was just helping you.

You first noticed something was off when you arrived at work that same day. Miguel was normal with you, but he had started to get flirty with some of your female coworkers. Miguel never payed any mind to any of them, so it kind of hurt to watch.

As the days went by, you couldn't help but notice some of your coworkers going missing. You tried to ask Miguel about it, but he just shrugged and reassured you that it was probably nothing. Of course, you wanted to believe him...but each of those girls who went missing were ones that Miguel flirted with.

"Miguel?" You called out, entering his lab. Miguel glanced towards you, his smile widening,

"(Y/N), climbed out of the library to see me?" He teased. You plopped yourself over Miguel, sighing heavily,

"Lemme vent for two minutes!" You whined, throwing your arms over his shoulders, "That jerk over in IT had the gal to ask me out on a date, Miggy! After he insulted my 'tiny' brain last week!" You huffed. Miguel felt his eye twitch as he pulled you onto his lap,

"Did you tell him no?" He asked, his tone getting a little harsher. You leaned against Miguel, pouting,

"Of course I said no..." You whimpered and crossed your arms, "He called me a dumb bitch after that...That all I do is..."

"Is what?" Miguel fixed you on his lap, wanting to hear the rest.

"Is...be your fuck toy..." You mumbled lowly.

Miguel felt his lips twitch into a smirk before pulling you into a hug. His warm embrace relaxing you while his mind started to race. Tonight was going to have a bitter taste compared to the rest. Once you were calmed down, Miguel stroked your cheeks,

"Don't pay any mind to him. Go home and order whatever you want with my card. I'll be there late."

"Miggy, you don't-"

"I want too," Miguel rested his forehead against yours, "We're best friends. Let me take care of you," He whispered.

--------

You should have known something was wrong. Miguel always had his barriers and lines, but he was willingly crossing all of them. It felt like you were getting closer to Miguel in a different light, and you weren't sure how to feel about it.

Waiting for Miguel to return home, you started to put away some of the food and clean. He did say that he was going to be late, but it was reaching midnight. It was nerve racking having to wait for him to return home.

"Ugh,"

You gasped upon hearing the door. Rushing over, you saw Miguel leaning over the counter, coughing into the sink. Grabbing a bottle of water, you hurried to Miguel's side and gasped at the sight. He was covered in blood and throwing up something black and icky.

"Miguel?! Are you alright?! Did you get hurt?!" You panicked, fixing his hair and checking his body. Miguel wavered in place and wrapped his arms around you,

"I'm fine...(Y/N)...Don't worry about me," He mumbled into your neck. You frowned, leading him to the bathroom,

"I have to worry about you, who else will?" You told him, setting the water, "What happened?"

"Nothing,"

"Please, Miguel. Let me be here for you," You nearly cried, using a soft wet rag to clean the blood around his face, "Please," You sobbed.

Miguel sighed heavily as he brought you against his chest. His breathing was staggered and heavy against your ear, using you as a sort of comfort. His grip tighten ever so slightly around your waist.

"I fucked up, (Y/N). I fucked up so bad," He whispered. You frowned and fixed his hair, "That night of the fire...I went after the assholes since you almost got hurt. I followed them into this alley and I don't know what the hell they were trying to do but...I ended up getting possessed by...something."

"Possessed?" You questioned. Miguel closed his eyes and nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck,

"I guess I was supposed to be a sacrifice or something? But, I didn't met the criteria and this demon took over. I'm always hungry, (Y/N), always." You felt a sudden chill run down your spine as Miguel's hands crawled up your back, "I can't stop...but when I'm with you, I can feel it relax."

"The demon?" You questioned. Miguel leaned back, fangs poking out of his teeth,

"I won't ever hurt you, (Y/N). I'll always protect you."

"Same, Miggy, but if you're in trouble...Please let me help you," You begged him once more.

Miguel inhaled deeply as you stroked his face once more. He lazily glanced towards you, leaning forward to kiss your lips. You made a small squeak as his hands kept you in place. Miguel grunted as he forced his tongue into your mouth, hungrily.

But not for flesh.

Lifting you up with ease, Miguel pressed you back against the shower wall, ignoring the running water. His groan rumbled against his throat as he started to feel your body lean into his. Miguel was hungry for you. You tasted so sweet against him.

"Miguel," You whispered, breaking the kiss. Miguel rested his forehead against yours, letting the water run down your soaked clothes,

"When I'm with you, I don't hunger for flesh," He whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist, "I want you...maybe...Just maybe, I won't have to suffer like this...if you let me have you."

You furrowed your brows with concern as Miguel spoke. Flesh? Right when you were going to ask him, Miguel captured your lips into another, rougher kiss. His hands pulling your shirt up, exposing your breasts underneath.

"Let me have you, (Y/N)," Miguel begged, kissing and sucking against your neck.

You felt your mind grow hazy as Miguel kept his antics. This was something you had always dreamed of. You tried to reply to Miguel, but moaned instead as he started to nipple and play with your breasts. You needed to ask him more about his demon.

"Mig-" You shivered as he started to rut into you, grunting and moaning with each grind.

"(Y/N), you're mine. Mine, only. I'll eat anyone who dares try to take you away from me," Miguel hissed, taking off your pajama pants.

"Miguel, w-what do you mean b-by eat?" You finally asked. Miguel glanced towards you once more, lifting your hips to his face, "W-Wait-"

You gasped and moaned loudly as Miguel's tongue started to swirl around your clit and pussy. Your hands gripped his hair as you arched your back, crying out in pleasure. Miguel's tongue was lapping up your juices hungrily, holding your hips in place.

You felt your core burn as you slowly moved your hips to Miguel's movements. Trembling as you felt his tongue enter your cunt, you cried out as you felt your orgasm approaching fast. Miguel hummed in response, slowly pulling away from your dripping pussy,

"This taste much better," He said with a groan before going back to suck on your clit.

"Ah~ Miguel~!" You cried out. Miguel watched you contort your face in pleasure, crying out his name,

"(Y/N), if I eat you like this everyday..." Miguel groaned as he lowered you, pressing your face against the shower wall, "Then I won't have to feast on others. I can feel it...the demon enjoying this too."

"M-Miggy," You whimpered softly.

"Let me devour you,"

You gasped and moaned as you felt Miguel shove his cock into you deeply. Tears began to roll down your cheeks from the sudden intrusion as he filled you to the brim. Your pussy convulsed around his dick, sucking him in as you cam heavily.

You tried to grip onto the shower wall, but it was no use. Miguel held your hips, pounding into your poor fleshy cunt. Your moans grew louder with each slap of his hips, feeling pure pleasure. The size of his dick was stretching you out, kissing every part of your pussy.

"(Y/N), you feel so good," Miguel grunted, slapping his balls against your clit with each thrust, "Thank you for this meal, I'll make sure to fill you up too," He said with a grunt.

You cried and moan as you cam against Miguel's dick. Your vision blurring as the shower water poured against your skin. Miguel's grunts and moans turning you on even more. You gasped as Miguel lifted you up, inserting himself again as he kissed you.

"Mhm~ Miguel~!" You cried, wrapping your arms around his neck. Miguel held you close, inhaling your scent as he fucked you stupid,

"I won't ever hurt you, (Y/N). Never," He repeated, watching you cream against his cock once more, "We're best friends, forever, right?"

"Yes! Yes!" You cried, trembling as you felt Miguel fill you with his cum, "Ah~ I-I help...c-control this..."

"Thank you, (Y/N)." Miguel hummed, kissing you in response.

By the time you recovered from the rapid sex session, Miguel went into more detail about what happened with him. You were terrified at first since now you knew that it was Miguel who killed your coworkers, but you also understood.

There was no curing Miguel. At least the two of you found out how to control the demon possessing him. Miguel didn't need to eat flesh anymore, all he needed was you.

"Fuck, more (Y/N), just once more." Miguel grunted as he fucked your pussy from behind, "I can't stand seeing another man get near you."

"Miguel~ Miguel~" You cried into the pillow, gripping the bedsheets under your. Miguel hissed lowly as he gripped your hips tighter, pounding your pussy a bit more harshly,

"Mine! Mine! Mine! If I can't fuck some sense into you, then I'll eat them," He hissed lowly. You cried out, cumming against his dick once more, milking him dry for his cum,

"I understand, Miggy~ Hah~ Hah~ O-Only I can ease your hunger," You whimpered lowly. Miguel kissed your back, giving you soft, gentle thrusts,

"I know, (Y/N). I know, don't mind me," He whispered, apologizing for his tone, "Thank you for the meal...now and forever."

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Like I said, never watched Jennifer's Body, but hopefully this was okay and somewhat...what the movie wanted? Idk man, maybe one day I'll grow a pair and watch some horror movies.

Hope you enjoyed!!