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astraystayyh · 6 months

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Echoes of love

"to love someone is firstly to confess : i am prepared to be devastated by you."

Chapter i. to forget

genre : memory loss trope. angst. slow burn. unrequited love except you were in a loving relationship and everything changes overnight.

pairing : minho x reader.

summary : if given the choice would you love minho again? yes, you would've once said in a heartbeat. but now, you aren't sure of your response anymore.

cw : depiction of a car accident. mention of blood and physical wounds. depiction of a nightmare and anxiety attack. reader has she/her pronouns.

word count : 14.8k words.

song recs : the night we met/terrible love/black friday/cover me.

a.n: she's here, she's yours, i hope you'll enjoy reading one of the most challenging things I've ever wrote :') your feedback is highly appreciated <3

special thanks to @forlix for going through this journey with me, i love you thank you, seriously, you mean the world to me. and to @dorisnumber1fan for listening to my initial rants about this fic, and all the ones i ever write. i love you and appreciate you so much, more than i could explain <3

quotes series masterlist. next chapter.

Day 1.

You're floating in a dark void, save for the specks of light swirling around you. A peculiar serenity fills your being, a tranquility unlike any you’ve ever known. It’s as though your body isn’t your own; but rather an otherworldly vessel, calmly traversing the cosmos, dancing in constellations with the stars that encircle you.

A sudden electrifying warmth surges from your hand, traveling down the contours of your knuckles, melting into the lines of your palm. It pulsates within your being as if you’re holding the Earth's very core between your fingers. You stir from your ethereal orbit, longing to break apart from the celestial lights, to reunite with your body once again.

The warmth intensifies, causing your fingers to involuntarily clench. A deluge of radiance enfolds you, drawing you into a luminous hole. You squint your eyes, drinking in the light- your first breath.

Your eyes flutter open in a daze, your throat parched, rasping like sandpaper against your vocal cords. White encompasses you yet again, from the high ceilings to the pristine bed you’re lying on. It takes you a few blinks to grasp your new environment- an unfamiliar hospital room. You wearily close your eyes, hoping for the stillness to return, aching for the peace you felt within your bones mere moments ago.

But to no avail; only the tingling sensation remains.

You tilt your head, eyebrows shooting upwards as you notice a hand clasping yours. A figure lies their forehead beside your body, black disheveled locks tickling your palm.

The warmth, you understand where it comes from now.

You attempt to slip your hand out of theirs, prompting the man to awaken with a jolt, surprise dancing across his features as his gaze meets yours. Dark circles adorn his face- testimonies to days of fatigue imprinted upon every feature of his. Yet, all of it dissipates as he gazes at you, lips slightly parted, bunny teeth peeking out. His face transforms into a radiant smile, stirring a mysterious longing within your soul- it brushes against your fingertips before slipping beyond your reach.

"You're awake," he whispers in awe, and your tiredness renders you mute. You point to your throat, hoping that he'll understand what you need. "Water? Is- Is that what you want?" he asks, a touch too eager, fingers running through his hair in sheer disbelief. You nod and he rises swiftly, pouring you a glass of water and bringing it to your lips.

You sip diligently as his hand caresses the crown of your hair, the warmth now traveling to the top of your head. You feel lightheaded as if the blood in your veins has thickened, the very life in you slowed to a faint whisper. Yet, a timid relief emerges as your thirst is finally quenched.

"I'll- I'll go call the doctor," he tells you, his beaming smile unwavering. It’s too bright, everything around you is, and you feel a throbbing headache growing at your temple’s base.

It's a mere minute before the man returns, a doctor and two nurses on his trail. You float within a haze as the nurse shines a beam of light in your eyes. The response of your pupils seems to please her.

"Do you remember what happened?" the doctor inquires and you frown. You've been racking your brain for an explanation as to why you're here, but to no avail. You shake your head.

"What's your name," he proceeds, lips growing into a thin line.

"Y/n, Y/l/n," you respond, your voice sounding foreign to your ears, as though it hasn’t left the confines of your throat for ages. You miss the darkness; you want to sleep again.

"What date are we?"

Your eyebrows knit together as you try to think of an answer. "The 20th or maybe the 21st September."

"What year?"

"2022."

An eerie silence falls upon the room, a stillness resembling the one of your dreams; but it isn’t comforting, on the contrary, it fills your being with an unsettling dread, one that trickles inside you with each second spent in silence. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. You close your eyes to avoid the sorry ones of the nurse.

"We need to run you an MRI scan," the doctor finally speaks up, tone somber. "It appears you're suffering from retrograde amnesia. But we have to make sure."

It takes time for the words to permeate your consciousness, for the syllables to settle in and start to make sense. Amnesia.

What have you forgotten?

“What…” you chuckle warily, fingers reaching up to soothe your throbbing forehead. “What year is it?”

"It's the 24th of September 2023. You were in a severe car accident two days ago, a drunk truck driver rammed into your car on your way home. You have a fractured rib and extensive leg injury, but no broken bones thankfully. We'll get you to the scan shortly, okay?" he speaks easily as if announcing that you've missed the rain while asleep. As if it’s not a year’s worth of memories you’ve seemingly forgotten, erased in the span of a blink, akin to footprints on sand washed away by the waves. Nothing of importance.

"So, you don't... remember me?" a soft voice quivers, barely above a whisper, and your eyes meet those of the man who’s been at your side, temporarily forgotten in the conversation.

His question is laced with a grave fear, evident in his dilated pupils and trembling hands. A lump blooms in your throat, its thorns pricking at your voice. You aren’t sure you want to answer that question.

"I- I don't."

"Oh."

You’ve never known that a human could crumble in silence, in an imperceptible gasp, so small you almost did not hear it. A crestfallen expression materializes on his face in the span of a heartbeat, features coming together in the rawest expression of anguish you’ve ever seen. You bite your lip.

"Who- Who are you?" you implore, urgency inflecting your tone, hoping that he's no one of importance. Someone who helped you when you got into a car accident. Someone minor who you wouldn't fault your brain for forgetting.

"I was... I-I am your boyfriend. Minho," he utters his name like a broken plea, eyes slightly widening to gauge your reaction. As though those two syllables hold within them a myriad of memories, ones you simply cannot forget.

You don't remember.

The doctor was right in his diagnosis. The scan showed unusual activity within your brain, characteristic of post-traumatic amnesia. You listened numbly as he cited the precautions you should take to heal your physical wounds- to rest, not carry anything heavy, ice your lungs, and go on walks. But you did not care for the state of your body, you’ve bruised it before and it has healed in its own time. It will do it again; it is a familiar path you’ve already undergone. But what about your memory? Your mind that robbed you of a year of your life? How do you get it back?

“There is no guarantee you’d remember. There is also no treatment for amnesia. We advise that you focus on healing first. Do not strain your mind,” your doctor smiled, before leaving the room. His silver wedding band shined mockingly underneath your eye. He doesn’t know what it’s like to forget the lover awaiting you at home.

Minho dutifully sat by your side, nodding along to the doctor’s words. He signed your discharge papers and settled your bills before you could protest, and he was now pushing your wheelchair through the hospital's corridors. You didn’t know what to say to him- how do you talk to a stranger who uttered your name with love dripping between its letters?

In the hospital’s parking lot, Minho pauses, squatting before you. His eyes are puffy, red veins contrasting against the pristine whites, betraying the tears he must have shed when he excused himself to the toilet.

You suddenly want to beg for a reprieve; it is too much pain for one day, too much for one soul to bear. But it is only six p.m. and Minho's gaze holds you captive, a new emotion dancing in his brown irises- grief. He's looking at you as though you're a phantom, gone when you are still very much breathing.

“We've been together for eleven months, and we moved in together two months ago,” he licks his lips nervously. “You have a two-month medical leave, and I- I don’t want to leave you alone, while you recover. So, you can think of us as… as roommates.” The word felt heavy on his tongue, a fresh wave of tears brimming in his waterline. He swiftly blinks them away.

Your parents are in a faraway city, so is your best friend. You were the one who decided to move somewhere so far, to flee from the skeletons threatening to spill out of your closet. You don't want to burden anyone. You just want to rest.

You nod in agreement and Minho attempts to smile. It is a useless effort; one he quickly gives up. There was nothing to be joyous about.

Minho takes your hand, gently helping you to your feet. He opens the door to his car, and you settle into the passenger seat. It smells pleasant, an apple-scented diffuser dangling from the rearview mirror. Yet, as Minho closes the door, the scent suddenly suffocates you. Your lungs ignite, consuming your oxygen to douse their rising flames. You can no longer breathe inside, panic rippling in your heart violently, pushing at your ribs, begging for an escape. You open the door, collapsing to your knees as a violent coughing fit overtakes you. You blindly clutch at Minho’s arm and he tumbles to the ground with you.

The ugly sob that had been trapped within your throat finally escapes, and passersby pay you no mind. It must be usual to hear gut-wrenching cries in a hospital parking lot. But Minho seems to care, as his hands soothingly rub your back, undergoing a steadfast path from the nape of your neck down the base of your spine. He’s not panicking and his touch appears to instinctively know how to speak to your sadness, how to soothe your sorrow with unheard words.

You imagine it's not his first time comforting you, and the thought only forces another sob from the depths of your soul, as Minho pulls you up once again. He sits your shaky figure on the wheelchair, closing the car doors.

“We can walk,” he tells you gently, and despite the quietness of his voice, it manages to break through your raging storm. A singular sun ray parting the gloomy clouds.

“It’s okay, I’ll... I’ll suck it up”

"You've been through a terrible car accident, and I won't let you sit here and panic, especially when your wounds are still fresh and your mind is trying to protect you."

His tone is resolute, eyes blazing with determination as he looks at you. You can only nod in response. So, Minho pushes your wheelchair to his house. He doesn’t huff, nor complain about the autumn sun scorching his skin, the effort to push you for the entirety of the road, and then inside his building. He only smiles when his eyes meet yours in the elevator mirror.

He’s tentative as he opens the door to his apartment, hand tightly gripping the keys before turning them, as if preparing himself for a bigger heartbreak, one that lies within what was once his sanctuary- yours too, you suppose.

Minho pushes you inside, pausing near the entrance as your eyes drink in the interior. He seems to await something, perhaps for you to remember the place you’ve called home for the past months. A few seconds pass, and he clears his throat, holding your arm to guide you forward. He avoids your gaze as you both venture in.

“This is the kitchen,” he points to a small kitchenette, where a flower bouquet seems to have wilted, much like the man near you- his emotions now diluted, eyes dimmed as they glaze over the walls. You spot your favorite mug on the racks, one that resembles a fairy mushroom. The sight of it makes your heart clench in your chest. So, this is your home, after all.

You leave the kitchen and walk down a narrow hallway when you stumble on your feet. “Easy, honey,” Minho cautions, and your hold on his forearm falters. He blinks at you before gazing up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” you reply in a small voice.

Minho leads you to the living room, cream-colored sofas with a navy blanket on top, multiple fuzzy pillows scattered all around. A tulip field painting graces the accent blue wall- your favorite flower, two matching slippers rest by the couch, racks of your novels adjacent to his collection of cookbooks, you assume.

It is all the more evident to you that you’ve both lived here, lives intertwining so seamlessly into one another. The place radiates comfort and warmth, but it refuses to penetrate your being, as if you’re harboring a shield of oblivion, ricocheting off any touch of remembrance. You’re an intruder, standing in stark contrast to the inviting coziness that envelops you.

“I like that wall,” you say in an attempt to lighten the stuffy atmosphere.

“We painted it together,” Minho smiles sadly, and your remorse seems to liquify, blending in with the blood running through your veins.

From the corner of your eyes, you spot three furry masses bolting towards you, small paws clawing at your feet. You feel another dent add to your heart, so much you are sure it would blow away at the tiniest gust of wind. Just how much have you forgotten?

“We… We had cats?” you ask breathlessly, eyes widening as you take in the two orange felines, and the gray, much smaller one.

“These are mine, but you also adopted them, in a way,” he explains, crouching down to pet his cats, scratching the sensitive spot behind their ears. He is tender with them and they appear at ease in his presence. You realize you’ve felt the same since you’ve woken up.

“Hey, my babies,” he coos softly. “Mom- I mean y/n- is tired so let’s give her some space, okay?” he quickly corrects, before gently pushing the cats away from your feet.

Minho shows you the bathroom before leading you to the bedroom- it's a bit untidy, worn clothes thrown on the ground, some of your accessories tossed on top of the vanity. As if the room was also frozen in time, awaiting your return to resume its familiar course.

“You'll sleep here and I'll just take the couch,” Minho interrupts your thoughts as he gently sits you atop the bed.

"But-"

"I’ll make you dinner so you can take your medication, okay?” he ignores your objections, adjusting two pillows behind your back to help you sit up straight, just like the doctor cautioned. His necklace, adorned with your initial, brushes against your cheek. “Try to sleep meanwhile. You need to rest.”

“Minho this is too much-"

“It’s not. If you need anything just call me over, I’ll leave the door open,” he says, tucking you in beneath the blanket.

“I don’t want to burden you,” you finally admit, voice slightly raised so he’d finally listen.

“Y/n, I love you.” He speaks so suddenly, fists balled on either side of your body. “And this is what I do for the person I love. I… I don’t know how to not care for you, don’t take that away from me, please. Please,” he repeats, voice faltering under the weight of his plea.

"Okay," you concede.

You can't quite remember that first night, the morphine injected into your veins made you ebb and flow out of consciousness, only recollecting small fragments of the hours flowing by.

But you remember the dull pain settling into your bones, one you knew would accompany you for the following weeks. You remember the thoughts swirling in your mind like a tempest- your near brush with death, how she almost trapped you into her icy hold; the year of memories gone with the wind, as if they were never yours to begin with; and the stranger whose home you are in now, the very one who took care of you throughout the night.

And you can't perfectly recall it, but you swear Minho stayed by your side until the early hours of the morning, warm hand pressed to your forehead to check your temperature, cold tears falling on your arm as he laid his head next to your sleeping body.

Day 2.

You miss being asleep the second you wake up in.

Every fiber of your being aches, as though pain has latched itself into every muscle, its grip unrelenting now that the morphine's comforting veil has lifted. You drag a hand tiredly across your face, tears of frustration welling like dewdrops in your eyes. It's only 10 a.m. Far too early for one's spirit to crumble.

A bright post-it note on the bedside table catches your weary gaze. "I went to drop your medical leave at your work. I've made you breakfast it's in the kitchen. Don't forget to drink your medicine, I'll be home soon"

What home was Minho referring to, exactly? Because this one wasn’t yours, and neither was the one back in your hometown. Were you destined to be a passerby in temporary places, always lingering near the door, ready to put your shoes back on and leave at any moment?

10:03. Still too early.

You find solace in having two months off of your work. You couldn’t bear being somewhere where everybody knew you for months, while your memories of them span but mere weeks. The expectations they would have, the pressure to conform, to mirror the footsteps of your past self was an unbearable burden. What if she was better than you? Made better choices, spoke more eloquently? What if you couldn't live up to the image they had conjured? What if you couldn't face the repercussions of your past actions?

10:07. You need to shower.

You slowly ease yourself off the bed, careful not to put pressure on your injured leg, avoiding even the slightest exhalation. You pretend as if nothing’s happening as you pick up a pair of pajamas that you recognize from the closet – a familiar relic from the life you’ve always known.

It's a charade, you’re aware of it. You're but treading on fragile ice, your pain threatening to shatter the frozen façade beneath your feet, plunging you into the frigid truth at any given moment.

You walk into the shower, attempting to rinse the day's tiredness away. But moving your limbs is a strenuous task, and you can't reach over your head to wash your hair. You let out a dry chuckle as the water runs over your back, splattering across the white tiles.

Your heart swells in your chest, an uncomfortable weight pressing against your fractured ribs. Still, it beats, and you cling with all your might to this one silver lining.

Minho has made you pancakes, not the most nutritious meal but the only one you can stomach on your sick days. He's also brewed you tea, a singular sugar cube resting at the bottom of your cup, just the way you like it. Your grip on your fork tightens, knuckles paling. You wish he had put three sugar cubes, or that he made you anything but pancakes, something to reassure you that he didn’t know you so intimately. That your mind hasn’t stolen a love where every detail of you was known.

The door opens, keys clinking on a solid surface. The sound of it tugs at your heart ever so faintly, a distant bell ringing somewhere far- it quiets down before you even realize it is there.

“Good morning,” Minho greets, the corners of his mouth curving upward although his eyes remain downcast, redness tinging its outlines. You look down at your cup, unable to hold his wounded stare.

“Good morning. Thank you for the breakfast and for going to my work. I really appreciate it,” you say.

“It's nothing. Your coworkers wish you a speedy recovery.”

“Mm,” you murmur. “That's nice of them."

“Here,” he slides a phone across the table. “I bought you a new one since your phone’s screen was smashed in the car accident, but I took it to a repair shop. Maybe they’d manage to fix it.”

You go to protest when he shakes his head, silencing you. “Don’t say It’s too much.”

A surprised giggle escapes your lips at his accurate prediction, momentarily halting Minho in his tracks. You swallow the sound down as Minho clears his throat, dissipating your laughter into thin air. “I put my phone number there. Also, the ones of your family that I have. Always call me if you need anything, okay?” he pauses, locking your eyes with his. “Anything.”

“It's okay, I really don't want to bother you. You might be busy."

“I’ll still answer,” he quickly responds. “I’ll always answer you.”

There is a certain sincerity that coats Minho's words, one that softens the edges of his letters, making them easier to permeate your being, to sink into the seas of your soul.

“Minho,” you call out gently.

“Yes, hon- " He inhales deeply, eyes looking anywhere but at you. “Yes, Yn?”

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course.”

The ensuing hours blur into a hazy dance, in which you’re only awakened by Minho’s warm hand on your shoulder, as he brings you lunch, then dinner to your room, paired with the medicine you need to take. He doesn’t talk to you, only carrying out the tray outside when he deems you asleep- as if tiptoeing near your existence, afraid he’d slip into you again, knowing you won’t be there to catch him.

It's nearly midnight when you leave your room to use the bathroom. You pause near the door when you spot Minho petting his cats. You don’t even know their names, you haven’t dared to ask, still foolishly holding on to the hopes that this is but a horrible nightmare, one clawing at your tender skin even after you rose.

“You’re sad, aren’t you?” he coos softly, and the cats respond with plaintive mewls as if understanding his words. “Mm. I’m really sad too,” his voice is barely above a whisper, as though it’s a confession he isn’t ready to speak out loud. The pain in your ribs intensifies.

“But it’s okay, she’ll remember us. We are her family, she can’t forget us forever, right?” your breathing hitches. “Right,” he adds softly, as if to reassure himself; to inflate hope in a heart deserted by you.

Day 3.

Minho threw away the wilted flowers, leaving the vase bare at the center of the kitchen table.

You almost wish he hadn't- those lifeless blooms were the sole reflection of your faded spirit within this home. Now everything in the house seemed alive, grand windows ushering in daylight to cascade upon the living space, causing the ivory walls to glisten. Everything, except for you and Minho, two ghosts skirting along the existence of one another.

There is, was, love imprinted in this house. You could sense it though you couldn’t feel it anymore. By the two cat mugs that connect through their tails, your products intermingling with Minho's in the bathroom sink, the notes you found hung on the fridge- some with his handwriting, most with yours, reminding Minho how much you loved him.

Where did all that love go? Did it dissipate into thin air, gone as if it had never existed? Has it turned into something else, lurking beneath the surface of your skin, waiting for you to remember?

You can’t find the answers, and as Minho finishes up his breakfast, you find yourself longing to ask him about the past year. Who you were and what you’ve lived. But you know it’ll feel like salt on a wound, akin to bringing a mirror before his face, reminding him of all that's been lost.

So instead, you offer to wash the dishes. He refuses, not that you expected anything else given his attentiveness to you.

“It’s only two plates and two cups, I can do it,” you insist, but he just stares blankly at you, before motioning to your ribs, and your swollen ankle. “It’ll be quick, please. I-I want to do it.”

“Fine,” he concedes, gaze softening. “But if you feel pain you'll stop.”

“Okay,” you smile tentatively, eager for the sense of normalcy that this mundane act would bring. You haven't forgotten how to wash a cup, at least.

Five minutes pass, and you suddenly freeze, plates drying in your hands. You have no idea where the dishes go.

This was your home, yet you can't even remember which cupboard holds the plates.

Silent tears flow down your cheeks and you wipe them away angrily. You clutch the plate in your hands so tightly you’re surprised it hasn’t shattered. You selfishly wish it did- you were tired of being the sole broken entity in this house.

A small whimper escapes your lips, startling Minho who was mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He rushes to your side, brows furrowed, concern woven into his face.

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Should I call the doctor?” he questions; eyes raking through your figure anxiously.

You shake your head as your tears double over. You can feel your heart constricting in your chest, longing for comfort, for a missing piece that was snatched from you, the void it left behind pulsating achingly within your being.

“I-I don’t know where the dishes go, and yesterday I tried to w-wash my hair and I c-couldn’t do it,” you admit through hiccups, plate still in your hands. Minho gently takes it from your tight hold, and your pinky brushes against his palm. He flexes his hand at the touch.

“It’s okay, it’s my fault. I should've shown you,” his voice is gentle, reminding you of how one soothes a child during a tantrum. You're embarrassing yourself but you can't find it in you to care.

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t p-put them back in their place,” you choke out, head turned down, tears ricocheting off sage tiles. You’ve always wanted a green kitchen. You’ve gotten it and you can’t remember.

“It’s okay, I’ll put them back. Shh, yn, please don’t cry.” He’s slightly panicking, hands tightly fisted near his body as if he’s afraid they’d act on their own accord, reaching out to touch you the way they’ve done the past few months. He sighs softly before taking a cautious step toward you.

“I’ll wash your hair for you,” he offers, smiling tenderly at you, knuckles brushing ever so gently against your cheeks. “Hm? You can sit in front of the sink and I’ll wash it.”

“You’d do it?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

There is a softness that emanates from every atom of Minho, flowing from his fingertips, molding everything he touches. You were sure of it as he stood beside you, pouring shampoo over your hair with you sitting on a stool, head tilted back to the sink, your favorite song playing in the background. As he dried your hair with a warm towel, and then settled behind you on the bed, gently lathering your hair with your familiar serum, brushing your strands with care, avoiding any tugs that might pain you.

Everything Minho does is not to hurt you.

You went to sleep with the ghost of his fingers lingering on your scalp, his warm breath still caressing the back of your neck. You found slumber came much easier to you that night. You account it to your hair finally being clean.

Day 4.

“Yn?” Minho calls out gently, his head peering through the bedroom door. “Should we go on a walk? Just around the block, the doctor said it’d be good.”

“Sure,” you nod, glancing at the bedside clock. 9:43 p.m. it reads.

“Dress warmly, it’s cold outside,” he advises softly before leaving.

A few minutes later, you're clad in a gray university hoodie that drapes slightly past your thighs and a pair of matching sweatpants. Minho halts in his tracks upon seeing you, his eyes racking furiously over your figure. He shakes his head, swallowing a growing lump of despair.

“Wait here,” he whispers, vanishing into his room, leaving you fidgeting in place. An orange cat sidles up to your feet and you slowly bend down to scratch its ears. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” you smile sadly and he purrs in response, as if forgiving you for forgetting.

You wished you could forgive yourself too, one day.

Minho comes back, a red scarf in his hands. He steps forward until only a few inches are separating your bodies. With attentive care, he wraps the scarf around your neck, securing it in place. His brows furrow as he loops the fabric through and you release a small, shaky exhale.

There is a fog dissipating before your eyes, a misty veil lifted off your irises. In the four days you've known Minho, you always willed yourself to not look at him for too long, afraid of the pain you'd discern brewing over his figure, the shadows cast across his face.

But now, he stands so near that you cannot help but look at him. Wispy black bangs fall on top of his forehead, framing his rich honey eyes. His long eyelashes flutter with each blink, pupils dilated like a constellation-laden night sky. The smooth bridge of his high nose, dotted with the smallest mole; a well-defined cupid's bow outlining rosy, plump lips. He’s beautiful, even in his sadness; with sunken cheekbones and darkened eye circles, the hunch of his back, and the shake in his hands as he gently frees your hair from underneath the scarf.

Was it wrong of you to find beauty in his pain?

His gaze softens when it finally meets yours, his hand still holding your scarf tightly, as if it's a lifeline tethering him to you, one with which he verifies your existence, suddenly so elusive now that it no longer entwines with his.

It must be strange, surely, to grieve the loss of someone who’s still alive, breathing in the room next to yours.

Minho smiles at you, his fingers hovering above your head, as though he wished to smooth down your hair. He retracts his hand back, burying it deep inside the pocket of his black sweatpants, physically trapping it, stopping it from reaching it out to you once again.

You’ve noticed his reticence to touch you, even when he wakes you in the morning to drink your medicine. His hand never fully rests upon your shoulder, it is only his fingertips that delicately graze your skin. It's as though he’s convinced you're but a figment of his imagination, and he fears that once he touches you, his hand will pass right through your body, shattering the illusion he foolishly held onto.

You blink and Minho’s already three steps away, grabbing his keys and opening the door.

Despite cautioning you against the cold, Minho doesn't say no when you ask for ice cream, paying for it before you can reach the counter. It's an unfamiliar brand, one that he advised you to try, and you don't regret following his choice. It’s a sweet mixture of vanilla and caramelized almonds, coated in rich milk chocolate- you can't stop the happy smile that graces your lips upon tasting it.

You glance at Minho to find an unprecedented softness coloring his expression, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. It isn't a smile directed at you, but rather an uncontrollable display of his feelings, splashing across his face like paint on a canvas.

You expect him to swallow this mark of affection down, to conceal it with a placid expression, but he doesn't. He only tilts his chin forward, gesturing to the ice cream.

"Do you like it?"

You hum in agreement, a grin stretching wider on your lips. "I do."

"You did too, back then, when I showed it to you," he says, almost casually, as if referring to a childhood memory that turned out to be more important to him than to you.

"You have good taste," you reply, scrunching your nose playfully at him. The smile slips away from his face, his voice somber when he speaks again. "I really do, don't I?"

Walking with Minho isn't as awkward as you had imagined it might be. He shows you the neighborhood- the nearby playground, the hidden flower shop tucked away in a corner and you make a mental note to visit it later. You point at closed shops inquiring about them- he answers each of your questions diligently.

Your accident is never brought up, and you both tiptoe around the topic, skirting the edge of a dark forest where the light no longer seeps through and dark vines cover the sun.

You both refuse to venture into the unknown.

"Just down the road, there is a bookstore. They have really great deals and I bought most-" Shouts erupt from somewhere nearby, loud slurred voices of two men under the influence. Your hand instinctively wraps around Minho's forearm, while his hand moves in front of your body, acting as a shield.

You freeze, letting out a shaky breath. "I- I hate yelling."

"I know," he responds simply, lowering his hand.

He knows you- it is a comforting thought, to realize that you exist beyond the confines of your own mind.

Day 5.

Minho’s staring blankly at his phone, your conversation shining dimly before his eyes. You’ve just sent him a text reassuring him that you indeed took your medicine since he wasn’t home today with you- his three days off work passing by in the blink of an eye.

In his mind, the past week felt like a mirage, a nightmare woven with intricate threads of his deepest fears- losing you, never getting to see the glimmer in your eyes again, and then looking at it and realizing it is no longer directed at him.

He exhales softly, tucking his phone into the pocket of his navy trousers. The salty breeze from the nearby lake grazes his senses, and he closes his eyes, yearning for a fleeting respite.

He purposely avoids watching the sun's descent into the water, which paints the sky in hues of yellow and orange. He no longer finds the sunset unfolding before him captivating, or any other scenery, for that matter, even those he once deemed beautiful. The world, in his eyes, has become lackluster and devoid of vibrancy, overshadowed by a profound sadness he never fathomed would reside in his heart.

He still doesn’t know how he managed to remain strong until now, tending to you, holding your gaze, and breathing near you when you don’t even remember him.

You’ve survived, he reminds himself, you were lucky enough to be able to draw these breaths. The thought of any other outcome sends uncomfortable shivers down his spine. You’re alive and you’ll be home, he clings to this truth as he starts making his way back to his apartment.

For how long will this knowledge offer him solace? How long will it push him to face a new day? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t think he wants to.

It is much deeper into the night, the sound of the TV playing softly in the background. Minho has given up on slumber since the day of your accident. He was used to the feel of your fingers playing with his hair, your goodnight kisses planted on his forehead, then his on yours.

He doesn't know how to sleep without burying his head in your neck, your chest, your stomach, wherever he saw fit that day. And he was used to your warmth- the warmth of your body as he pressed it tightly to his, the warmth of your love as you whispered goodnight to him. And the living room feels immensely cold in your absence.

He fixates his gaze on the ceiling, resolute in his effort to avoid scanning the room. Since every corner he dares to inspect serves as a poignant reminder of the life you both once shared, a life whose echoes still reverberate in the air around him. The sound of your laughter, the memory of your annoyed whines when he teased you a bit too fervently. Vivid recollections unfold before his eyes- your tender kisses exchanged under the fridge's light, warm hugs by the front door after a particularly long day, none of you willing to let go first.

He remembers your delighted giggles the first time you entered the house. It was still unfurnished, save for a floatable mattress and two empty cups of ramen beside it. But you were happy, immensely so, and your joy seemed to fill every room, painting it with shades of your love. Now the house feels empty- you're here and yet you aren't, and he is still on the sidewalk where he received that fateful call from your hospital.

The moonlight filters through the window, and Minho looks at the light without truly seeing it. It's as if darkness surrounds him entirely- a bottomless sky where the stars of your affection have fizzled out, so suddenly, leaving him alone to wander blind. He can't help but feel guilty- had he not given you a love worth remembering?

Minho sighs loudly once again, trying to coax the reluctant breaths to escape his body. He pulls himself to his feet to check on you, knowing that you had to sleep upright for the first few days so your ribs would heal properly, which is why he often found himself readjusting your body at night.

He peeks through the door, the light from the hallway casting an ethereal glow on your body. He frowns when he notices you fidgeting in your sleep, eyebrows knitted together. A soft gasp escapes your lips and Minho hurries to your side. He's witnessed your nightmares before and he knows that this one must be particularly terrifying to elicit such startled sounds from you.

“Y/n,” Minho coaxes gently, but you don’t respond. He presses his palm to your shoulder, shaking you slightly. “Y/n, wake up.” You writhe in your place, fear evident in your features, and Minho grabs both your shoulders, growing more urgent in his attempts to wake you. “Y/n, come on wake up!” he speaks louder, and you startle awake, pushing his arms away.

“I’m... Where am I?” you ask frantically, hand running through your hair. A sharp pain seems to surge through your ribs as you clutch your chest, slightly doubling over.

“Take it easy, Y/n. Deep breaths,” he wills gently and you raise your head, meeting his eyes. Recognition shines in them, but not love, not anymore. He never knew affection could alter someone’s gaze this much.

“Minho… I- I remember,” you gasp, tears trailing down your face at an alarming rate. He freezes in place, tongue thickening in his mouth, unable to move it.

“What... what do you remember?” he asks carefully, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“The accident. I remember driving and I… I was going in my lane, I- I didn’t… I wasn’t driving fast, but a truck came out of nowhere and its lights blinded me, and then… it rammed into the passenger seat side of the car and-" Your hands shake as you bring them to your face. “The blood, there was so much blood coming out of me, that’s- that’s the last thing I remember, it was in my hands and my arms and-" You’re wiping frantically at your skin as if erasing remnants of the red liquid only you can see. “I bled so much but I was… I- I don’t-"

“Can I hold your hands?” Minho cuts you off, needing the panic to dissipate from your being.

“Please,” you stutter, and he promptly grabs your hands in his warm ones, intertwining your fingers together, rubbing his thumb soothingly across your palm.

“You are safe now. You are alive and you are breathing and you are safe.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, I drove safely, why… why was I hit?” you ask in a small, broken voice, overwhelmed by the unjust reality of the world. Minho swallows his own tears, throwing them down the pits of his pain. The one thing he wished you’d never remember was your accident, the sight of your unconscious body for those three days nearly driving him insane.

“He was drunk. And he’s in jail now. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t have prevented it."

You remain silent, gaze lost on the wall. “Hm? It wasn’t your fault, right?" he presses, squeezing your hand lightly.

“Yeah.” You sigh, unconvinced. Minho reluctantly drops your hand to pour you a glass of water, and you diligently drink it, before curling around yourself in a ball.

“No, you can’t sit like this,” he gently reprimands and you pout.

"My heart hurts. The pressure helps."

“I know it does,” he smiles in understanding, “but we have to make sure your ribs won’t hurt more, alright?” he explains as he pulls you upright, tucking pillows beneath your arms. He grabs a hoodie from the closet and rolls it into a ball, placing it gently on your chest.

“Here, you can hug this instead.” You giggle quietly at the makeshift plushie, but your laughter suddenly morphs into fresh tears, catching him off-guard.

“I’m so tired, Minho. And I’m so frustrated and mad and sad. Is it possible to f-feel all these things at once?" You hiccup, burying your face into his hoodie, soaking it in tears.

“It is,” he hums gently, “Do you think it’d help if you talked to a therapist?” He feels you tense up beneath the comforter. “Only if you want to, on your own terms.”

“I’ll think about it,” you whisper.

“Of course,” he says. “Try to sleep again, mm?”

“I don’t think I can,” you chuckle quietly, wiping your tears away with the sleeves of your cardigan. “Do you have work tomorrow?” you ask.

“I do.”

“What do you work as?”

“Computer programming. I’m also a dance teacher on the side,” he adds quietly, feeling a bit vulnerable at revealing this bit about himself again.

“How do you manage both?” you ask in awe and he shrugs.

“My IT job leaves me a lot of free time. And I’ve always loved dance, so it doesn’t really feel like a job, you know?”

“Mm, you must work very hard at it. That’s why your body’s so toned,” you say almost absentmindedly, as Minho lets out a surprised chuckle at your words.

“You think my body is toned?”

“I mean- I didn’t ogle you I just… you know, you wear these fitted shirts it’s hard not to notice your muscles and-"

"You are sick and yet you’re staring at my body?” he tsks. “I feel used.”

“Hey,” you hit him with the hoodie he gave you. “Forget I said anything,” you pout.

“It’s okay, I work very hard for these, thank you very much,” he flexes slightly, and genuine laughter bubbles up from you both. This might be the one thing he misses the most.

You both quiet down, silence filling the room once again, but it isn’t awkward, it’s comfortable, almost as if you're the same person he's always known.

“What’s your favorite color?” you suddenly ask.

“Purple.”

“Did my favorite color change over this past year?”

“No,” he chuckles, “it’s still that obnoxious orange.”

“It’s not obnoxious, it’s peculiar.”

“it’s weird and it hurts my poor eyes,” he whines, covering his face as if wounded by the mere thought of it.

“Hey, what if it can hear us and now you just hurt its feelings?”

“Colors have feelings now?” he asks, amused.

“Everything has feelings,” you nod matter-of-factly.

“Okay then think of the feelings of this bed we are both squishing with our weights.”

“Don’t say that. Now I’m sad for it,” you pat the comforter gently, a slight pout tugging at your lips.

“I think you should sleep,” he smiles and you fake a gasp. “Is my convo boring you?”

“Yes. Now sleep, Yn,” he brings the comforter up your body, sliding away from the bed. “You’ll be okay, right?”

“Can you… can you sleep here too? I saw the inflatable mattress in the storage room. If that’s not… too much to ask for.”

"Of course not. I'll be back."

"Thank you, Minho" you smile, lower lip slightly quivering. "Thank you for not being mad at me."

Just how many cracks can one heart bear before breaking beyond repair? Minho thinks he's close to finding out.

Day 6.

The lights of your dreams have returned, but they are no longer comforting, nor warm, they glare harshly, searing your eyes as they announce your impending doom. Each second draws out in slow-motion and you find yourself counting the breaths you inhale, fearing they may be your last. One in, one out, one in, one out. The moment you dreaded unfolds- the truck collides with your car, flipping it upside down.

However, this time, flames rage within. You know that your car wasn't burned, but they feel terrifyingly tangible as they latch onto your skin. The heat becomes unbearable, you are no longer sure that this is just a mere dream. You try to scream but smokey air fills your lungs instead, robbing you of your ability to speak.

You need to wake up. You need someone to rouse you from this nightmare. Minho. You try to utter his name, but it escapes your lips in a strangled whisper. The lights won.

A cool hand clasps your own, yanking you from the fiery dream, dissolving it like sugar in a hot cup of tea. You startle awake to find Minho hovering over you, brows knitted in concern, his hand tenderly cradling yours.

“Are you okay? Another bad dream?” he inquires and you sigh in response, nodding as your head falls back onto the pillow.

He brushes your hair back, some damp strands still clinging to your sweaty forehead. "You screamed my name. Was I in your nightmare?” he ventures carefully, afraid he was one of the sources of your fear.

“No, I… I thought of you, in my dream,” you reassure, although your words seem to have the opposing effect, making Minho pause in his tracks. You’ve noticed his habit of freezing around you as if needing time to process what you just said. You wonder if you’ve ever came to learn the meaning behind each of his silences, what his blinks convey in ways his tongue fails to.

“You are heating up,” he clears his throat, pressing his hand against your forehead. “Do you wanna shower? I’ll make you tea meanwhile.”

“Okay, yeah. I’d like that,” you nod, glancing at your phone- 3.47 a.m.

Twenty minutes later, you find Minho sitting on the inflatable bed, legs crossed, two steaming mugs of tea before him. He appears drowsy, eyes shutting and reopening as if fending off slumber. It’s almost an endearing sight- the way his bangs fall before his eyes, obstructing his vision, the sleeves of his pullover dangling over his hands, hiding them from your view. He brought the mattress without you asking him to. The attention brings a smile to your face.

“Hi,” you greet softly and Minho looks up, a tender smile on his face. “Hey. Here is your tea.”

“Thank you,” you beam at him, settling on the edge of your bed, legs crisscrossed to mirror his. “I’m sorry that I woke you up.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t really asleep, just resting my eyes.”

“Isn't that what sleep is?” you snort and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“I was still conscious, you know. I can’t really sleep these days.”

“Is the couch uncomfortable?” you ask, worried, fidgeting with your lower lip.

“It’s not the couch,” he says as his eyes lock on yours, a stare so intense it forces you to look down at your cup. ‘it’s you’, you read in his gaze. You have no answer for that.

“What's your favorite food?” you suddenly wonder.

“Pudding.”

“But that’s dessert?”

“I really like the one you used to make me.”

“I cooked for you? and you liked it?” you giggle. “I’m not really good at it, usually.”

“I taught you some basic skills,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows proudly at you.

“Too bad your effort is now wasted.”

“It’s not a waste if it was done with love,” he pauses, licking his lips. “And I remember it.”

A bittersweet fog shrouds the air- he remembers that memory, but you don’t. Perhaps you will never bridge that gap, no matter how much you want to. The room in your heart may remain forever locked, the gateway to that chamber brimming with your stolen memories. Maybe you're condemned to merely stand before the closed door, straining to hear the echoes of the love that resonates behind, forever just out of reach.

You don’t fall asleep again that night. And as Minho’s quiet snores fill the room, you rummage your mind in search of a pudding recipe, hoping to retrieve the memory he spoke of so tenderly, shaky hands holding his mug tightly. Silent tears trail down your cheeks and you try your best to stifle the sound of your cries.

You want to make pudding. You want to make him pudding so badly.

Day 7.

It’s been a week since you woke up anew. Seven days adrift in a vast sea where waves of your memories lap at the shores of your mind, unable to breach the walls guarding your recollections of the past year.

Minho took you to the hospital for your weekly check-up. He sat by your side as the doctor reassured you that your ribs were healing relatively well, but you still needed time to recover, time for your body to mend, time for your memories to return. You loathed the waiting, the wasted days slipping through your fingers. You wanted a now.

But you kept all these thoughts to yourself, thanking the doctor as he exited the room.

Minho rented a bicycle to drive you around since the thought of being in a car made your anxiety spike. He installed a little seat for you, in that bright, obnoxious orange color you love very dearly. The sight of it nearly brought tears to your eyes this morning.

Minho idly pedaled around, choosing a scenic route, one he knew by heart from the looks of it. You closed your eyes, savoring the last sun rays of the year. Autumn was fading, winter clawing its way into the seasons slowly. You weren’t sure you could handle both the cold and the grief.

Miho took time off work for your doctor's appointment, and you both spent the day around one another, side by side on the couch, a new book in your hands, and an anime playing on the TV for Minho.

You could see him casting occasional, nervous glances in your direction, as you flipped the pages of the book. You didn’t understand why at first.

But then you did.

You only brought it up at night, when it was past 2 a.m. and you knew that Minho wasn’t sleeping either, the screen of his phone illuminating his face. He left the inflatable mattress in the room, no longer waiting for a nightmare to occur. You weren’t complaining. You desperately needed company.

“Minho,” you call out gently.

“Mm?”

“How did we meet?”

You can hear Minho suck in a deep breath at your question, before placing his phone down, the only light source in the room fizzling out. It made talking easier that way, when only your voices were heard, carried around, as if emitting from two entities that weren’t you both.

“We met… near your old apartment block. I was going to the kimbap place near yours, you remember that one, right?”

You hum in response.

“And I saw you crying, crouching near an injured cat. Some car had run over her leg, and she couldn’t walk anymore. And you didn’t know what to do, so I helped you. You insisted on coming with me to the vet where I take my cats. So, we caught a cab. And you were so worried, you didn’t stop crying, so the cab driver thought I did something to you,” he chuckles faintly.

“Then, the vet put a cast on her leg and reassured us that she’d be okay. And I told him I’d take her home and bring her for check-ups. But you were so worried, you begged me to send you updates about the cat. So, you gave me your number. And we talked.”

“What happened to the cat?”

“I took her to a rescue store I trusted since I couldn’t take her in. and we still visited her from time to time. And then, she found a good family.”

“And what happened to us?” you inquire softly, hoping that if your voice was quiet enough then your question wouldn't hurt Minho as much.

“We kept in touch," he said. "And it was… easy to talk to you, I felt as if I had known you for my entire life. When you found out I had three cats, we Facetimed a lot so you’d see them, but then we just kept on calling, every day, for nearly two weeks. Being with you felt natural, you know? I didn’t overthink it. I never did."

“And then three weeks later you came over to see Soonie, Dori, and Doongie. We ended up watching three movies in a row, and you were so tired you slept on my couch.”

“That’s embarrassing,” you chuckle.

"Yes," he laughs and you reach over to swat his shoulder playfully. "But it was also cute, and endearing. Then you came over a lot, and we just cooked together. Well, I cooked and you watched.”

“Right, that sounds more like me," you instantly agree.

“We hung outside too, whenever one of us had free time. We had a lot of common hobbies and interests so we never ran out of things to talk about. We made time for each other too.”

“How did we start dating?”

“You made the first move.”

“I did?” you shoot up from your place, hissing when the abrupt movement causes a twinge of pain in your ribs.

“Take it easy,” he giggles, as he illuminates your face with his flashlight. “You did.”

“Did you put a spell on me? I swore I’d never make a first move again after I was rejected in third grade. That was my most sacred oath."

“Well… you were ranting about this book. The one you were reading today,” he adds, and your excitement fizzles out, as the pieces of the puzzle finally fall into place. “You were sad because you had no one to talk to about it. So, I bought the book and read it. I gave you my copy, complete with highlighted passages and notes. And when I did… you kissed me, without warning,” his voice is softer now, as he fiddles with the tip of his blushing ears. "You said it was the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for you.”

“It was. It is,” you whisper, heart caught in your throat. “I saw the photograph of us both lodged between the pages of the book. Did we take it that day?”

“Yes, we weren’t dating, not yet. Because I told you I wanted to take you out on a proper date. But you wanted us to take a picture holding the book… So you’d remember.”

“So I'd remember,” you repeat, voice quivering. What good was it for in the end?

“I looked so happy in the photograph,” you whisper, tears welling up your eyes. “I looked so happy with you,” your voice breaks as you utter that last part. "Did I love you, Minho?"

"You did," he nods softly, blinking away his own tears.

“And did you love me?”

“I did. I still do, very much.”

“Thank you, for loving me. It sounds like I’ve lived a happy year with you.”

Minho's pain is akin to a polite guest; it lingers by the corner, speaking in whispers, hardly ever raising its voice. You'd never really notice it, unless you strain your ears, as you're doing now. Only then would you discern the tremors of his quiet sobs- broken, stifled, determined not to make themselves known, only escaping his lips when he thinks you've fallen asleep.

Day 8.

Whenever an overwhelming emotion ran freely along the corridors of your soul, you'd often find yourself curled in a fetal position, knees drawn to your chest, like a fragile leaf.

Your teacher once explained that it reminds us of safer times in the wombs of our mothers, when the cruelty of life hasn’t yet reached us.

It is the way you’re resting now, upon the cold, hardwood floor, dozens of books surrounding you. You decided to go through each book in Minho’s library, the need to satiate your curiosity overtaking you. You didn’t know what you were looking for, exactly. Other photographs, surely, in the hopes that one of them would spark up your memory, ignite the flame of remembrance.

What you didn’t expect was to find Minho talking to you through books. Within the pages, amid the words, scribbled in small, dainty handwriting, threads of his thoughts all relating to you. Quotes he thought you’d appreciate, highlighted segments that reminded him of you. And dedications, so many dedicated lines you felt like you could drown in them. It felt as if Minho was on a quest to find love within every line, only to inscribe your name beside it.

Putting down the last book, you were left with a huge void, akin to a black hole eating away at your heart. So, you laid on the floor, one arm underneath your head, knees held tightly to your chest- as if trying to create borders for your sadness, to stop it from spilling out of your body, drowning the house in even more sorrow. Those four walls have had enough, more than they could contain. And so did you.

You suddenly longed for the very beginning of your life, when time was but a tranquil stream, when you were unaware of the hurtful years it would carve into your existence. Back to when your spine was still curled around itself; for it was never meant to be straightened. Your spine was never strong enough to bear your pain.

You wanted to talk to someone, but you didn’t know who you could turn to. You didn’t know how to articulate these emotions into words, tangible enough for someone to understand them. And you couldn’t talk to Minho about it, not when he was hurting on his own.

Because he smiled down at his cats, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. His laughter echoed around the room when he talked to his friends on the phone. And sometimes, he even hummed under his breath while making you breakfast. But this happiness never reached his eyes, behind his pupils the sadness seared itself into his veins, casting a gloomy shadow that followed him everywhere he went. It was a palpable ache, one that filled the very atmosphere with the metallic taste of grief. Making it almost impossible for you to breathe in. Even more so when you remember it was all your fault.

These are the thoughts that haunted you all day, as they have been doing for the past week. Minho must have noticed that you were feeling gloomier than usual, a silent storm raging by his side, since he put up a romcom for you. “It made you laugh a lot when you watched it months ago.”

“How do you remember all of these things about me?” you ponder, scratching the fragile skin near your nails, easily torn, just like you.

“Does it make you uncomfortable? Should I stop?” he asks quietly, deflecting your question.

“No,” you say the truth. “It'd be weird if you were an actual stranger, but… you knew me. And I knew you. and I still feel safe around you.”

He nods silently, but something in his gaze compels you to keep talking.

“I mean, I never felt uncomfortable around you these days, which surprised me too. I just… I suppose that even if my mind doesn’t remember, my heart does, in a way?”

“My heart will always remember you,” he whispers, gaze adrift in a faraway memory.

A gear shifts in your mind, a sudden light flooding your vision. You find yourself within a grand canopy bed, its pure white curtains swaying to the rhythm of a whimsical breeze, their delicate fabric brushing lightly against your cheek. It’s slightly cold from the wide-open windows, but then it’s warm, as a gentle hand finds its place on your thigh, kindling an ember deep within, setting your very soul ablaze.

The curtains sway with the wind, obscuring your view, but you can still discern the sound of your laughter, echoing like distant chimes. And a tenderness, so delicate it seemed almost otherworldly, trailing along your skin, as warmth caresses your cheek and gently traverses the curve of your collarbones, peppering it with the softest kisses. You can't quite behold it, but it is unmistakably there, an ineffable presence that threatens to burst your heart at the seams—a memory of your love for Minho.

It is a blurry sight, like peering into a worn-out photograph, its details softened by the sands of time. But you clutch to it- to your fading laughter and hushed conversation, and then your voice ringing clearly in your mind, the promise you made to Minho.

'My heart will always remember you'.

You startle back in a jolt; the light and warmth have extinguished. They are now dull, withered down, sitting next to you with their head hung low.

It takes you an inhumane effort to swallow down the lump in your throat.

Day 16.

This week has been particularly cold. Not temperature-wise, October has always harbored these same frigid temperatures and you've gotten used to them, to the relentless winds brushing against your skin. Only this time they pierced right through your soul instead.

You knew what had changed. You had felt the sadness, the frustration, the guilt- all blending into one sorrowful symphony, pulling at your heartstrings the way one does to a harp. Yet, amid these familiar emotions, a new feeling loomed large this past week- anxiety.

It arrived in sudden, icy bursts, cold beads of perspiration cascading down your spine, feet suddenly freezing no matter how fuzzy your socks were- the physical telltales, then came the emotional ones. The shadows of dread, for we fear the unseen more than that which we can touch. The growing panic gnawing at your heart, hinting that something profoundly disastrous lurked on the horizon.

Anxiety held you suspended in the air, bound by invisible ropes that compelled you to watch from above as the days drifted past you. You were a ghost haunting an empty shell, hollow and resonant with anxiety's clang, akin to an empty can's descent to the ground.

Your appetite had fled, leaving you alone to grapple with the chore of feeding yourself, mechanically ingesting food only to pacify Minho’s concerned gaze. The TV’s volume blared, since you desperately needed the voices of other people to invade your mind, to render your thoughts merciless, forcing them to put their sword-like tongues down.

And the exhaustion, not accounted to your broken ribs, for Minho had meticulously overseen their recovery. It was an emotional fatigue, a weariness that clung to your every breath, trapping them within your ribcage, far beyond their time, until they tethered on the brink of exploding in your lungs- a supernova of darkness devouring your essence. Only then did the breaths release their hold on you.

So, you patiently awaited the inevitable unraveling, because you knew this wasn’t an ordinary anxiety. Your soul whispered to you in a language your mind could no longer translate, throbbing with a message you couldn’t quite recollect, striving urgently to jog your memory of a monumental truth.

But you didn’t remember– you should have.

You should've known it was Minho’s birthday.

It is near midnight when you venture out of your room, the inflatable bed by your side unusually vacant. A dim glow draws you to the kitchen, and as you stand by its entrance, an intensified cold grips you. It chills the blood in your veins, transforming it into splintered shards that prick uncomfortably beneath your skin.

Minho is sitting by the table, a small, muted cake before him, a shoebox by his side. A solitary candle flickers in front of his face, casting elongating shadows on his chiseled features. The flame is about to fizzle out- you feel like your heart will closely follow suit.

"Minho..." you call out gently, careful not to startle him from the trance ensnaring him. He doesn't react to the sound of your voice.

"Minho, I…"

"Today was my birthday."

His tone is cold, like the darkening clouds before a stormy night. His words feel like lightning bolts piercing your core.

"It would be stupid to blow this candle out, wouldn't it? Because you and I both know my wish won't come true. Maybe it never will. And it's killing me, yn." His voice quivers as it utters your name, a slight shake taking over his lips. His cheeks are tear stained- glimmering reflections under the golden flame. You've never seen him this sad. You don't know how to comfort him in his sadness.

A rush of nausea overwhelms your being, a yearning to expel every emotion, methodically, until your heart transforms into a tranquil organ, solely pulsing life's crimson essence through your frame. Nothing more, nothing less.

"This shoe box is yours. You kept it under the bed, filled it with everything that reminded you of me. You told me..." he pauses, taking in a deep breath. "You told me that you wanted to remember everything about us, every single detail. But I... I don't care if you don't remember every date we went to. I just-" his forehead rests on his palm, as he squeezes his eyes shut. "I just want you to remember that you love me."

Hot tears are rolling across his cheeks, splattering across the table like a broken mosaic. He doesn't try to hide them or wipe them away. He's had enough.

"Minho, I’m-"

"I mean- that's not too much to ask for, right?" he finally lifts his head, locking his eyes with yours. A black abyss, a dark void. You are the one who sucked out all the light.

"You- you said you loved me. And I- I felt it, y/n, when you looked at me, when you touched me. I felt it, it wasn't- it wasn't just words, I-" he pauses, running a hand through his hair, tugging at his black locks furiously. "You loved me," his voice breaks. "Why- why can't you remember that you loved me?"

Your tongue bursts to flame in your mouth, its grey ashes choking you from within. What could you even say? How do you stop the bleeding of a heart when you carry knives for fingers?

Minho abruptly stands up, his chair scraping loudly across the floor. "We talked about marriage, a-about kids, you said- you said you'd choose me to be the father of your children, you said you wanted a big house w-with me and you-” he points at you, chest heaving, eyes rimmed red. “You said you wanted us to sit at the patio when we're eighty and you wanted us to hold hands still," he chuckles bitterly, his arms falling limp by his side incredulously. "And now you don't even remember me."

He grabs the box, rummaging through its contents furiously. "You see this?" he waves dried flowers before your eyes, their petals falling to the floor from the force of his agitation. "These are the flowers I got you for our first date. You dried them and put them here because you- you said you wanted to preserve it, to remember."

"And this, the cinema tickets from our first movie date. You were so tired you just slept on my shoulder all the time and then I- I carried you home and you kissed me." He's growing more frantic, rifling through the shoe box in a frenzy. You remain rooted by the kitchen's entrance, a sense of powerlessness holding you captive, an unbreakable vice around your being.

"This is the napkin from our favorite cat café, and look," he grabs your hand, clammy palm pressed to yours, pulling you toward the table." This is the receipt of the first time we went grocery shopping together and-" he waves it in the air, before slamming it onto the table. "And, you e-even kept this stupid rock I gave you right before I told you I love you for the first time, because you said it was the happiest day of your life, my god Yn how can you not remember?"

A broken, sob-laden chuckle escapes his lips, a sound so heart wrenchingly human, so painfully poignant that for an instant, it fills you with a bitter aversion to your own humanity- it was never meant to inflict this much pain upon someone else.

Your thoughts shatter as Minho tenderly cups your face, urging you to confront his turbulent gaze. He seeks something within your eyes, and you desperately hope he'd find it, whatever it may be, anything to stop the tremor in his hands as they anchor you in place.

"Why did you- why did you keep all of this if not to remember me.” He asks, unblinking, lip quivering. “Please, please, remember me, just- just try, okay?"

"I’m so sorry-"

"No. No. Don't- don't apologize like it's final like you could never love me again," his hands glide to your shoulders, shaking you slightly in place. "Don't you understand? I-I don't want an apology I want you to remember me."

"Minho..."

"Just look through this, it's our happiest memories y/n, okay?" he let goes of you, circling the table before shoving the box into your hands. He smiles- attempts to, it is an unnatural presence amidst his tears, so out of place it sends shivers down your spine. "Look at it, yn, please," he pleads as your hold on the box falters. "I can’t remember us alone. I’m crushing under the weight of everything we lived it’s exhausting me!"

His voice ascends pitch, the end of his words hanging into the air, searing themselves into the particles you breathe. His voice leaves a painful echo on his trail. You’re exhausting him.

You put the box down, taking three cautious step forwards.

And then you hug Minho.

He can't even hold you back, body trembling with the sobs rippling through him as soon as your chest presses to his. He sinks to the floor and you follow suit, arms enfolding his concaved shoulders tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "Im sorry, I'm so sorry Minho. I- I wish I could remember."

You want the kitchen to collapse upon itself. There is too much grief in such a small room- it stains the walls like blood droplets, absorbs his cries like a saturated sponge.

You don’t think you could ever sit at this table again.

He finally clasps your back, drawing you even nearer to him. "Can- can you pretend, just today, please? For my birthday. Pretend you still love me."

"Of course. It's okay, I’m here, honey. I'm here."

"I love you. I love you so much," he whispers, lips pressed against your neck. "And it hurts to love you, so much." He brings your hand to his heart. "It hurts so much right here."

He doesn't let go of your hand, softly caressing your knuckles. His breath hitches as his thumb hovers over your ring finger. "I... I was going to propose, you know? I even bought the ring, stored it away for when the time is right. Do you think you would have remembered if you woke up wearing it?"

He knows your answer would've been yes. You know that too, in the matching cat mugs and the book annotations and the way Minho gently held your face, even in the depths of his despair. Everywhere you look, your answer echoes back- yes, the home chants in unison, that's what you would've said. Yes, yes, yes.

Day 17.

In the cracks of concrete sidewalks, tenacious flowers manage to sprout. Just how in the depths of Minho’s pain, small joys bloomed, nestled in the vacant spaces between you and him.

You'd greet him each time he opened the door, your voice resonating through the apartment like the sweetest sonnet. And he would always pause by the doorknob, basking in the sound of your voice that hadn’t changed in the slightest. Your tone still held that same dulcet timber, a golden honey that once dripped freely upon his soul.

But today, Minho swung open the door and an eerie hush greeted him instead. He ventured in, calling after you, only to be met with utter silence. He anxiously checked the rooms, opening the doors hastily one by one. But you weren't there. You weren't home.

Minho felt the familiar tendrils of worry coiling around his heart, constricting it with each passing moment. He quickly grabbed his phone, dialing your number, only to fall into your voicemail, the robotic voice chilling him to the core.

In the past two weeks, you had made sure to text Minho each time you went outside- a precaution you took due to your fractured ribs which came with frequent fits of dizziness. It was a safety measure for one person, at least, to know where you are.

But you didn't text him today. And he had no idea where you might’ve gone to.

Minho tried to suck in a deep breath, willing the fear to relinquish its icy grip on his body so he could think properly. Maybe you had simply forgotten, he reasoned. Yet, he knew that you never back out on your promises. They were sacred for you since they were once senselessly broken.

For the second time in a mere three weeks, Minho’s deepest fears unfurl like a nightmare before him, ensnaring him in a tapestry woven with the bloody threads of everything that went wrong yesterday.

He carried his shame akin to heavy bricks on his shoulders, causing them to hunch forward- a coward, leaving the house before you even rose, and on his trail, your breakfast and a hastily written note. He couldn’t fathom eating at that kitchen table with you, not when his sobs still echoed around those sage walls, as did your quiet voice as you tried to soothe his cries, holding him between your tender arms.

Minho was scared. He was terrified you’d never come back home after everything that had happened, the words he said and the way he pleaded, nearly at your feet, consumed by a sadness grander than anything he’s ever known.

So, he storms out of the apartment in a hurry, scouring the nearby playground. But you aren’t there. The grocery store is next, the library, the flower shop, the cat café tucked in a corner that you may have stumbled on.

You were still nowhere to be found.

A dreadful sense of foreboding overcame him, akin to how he felt when his phone rang two weeks prior- the unfamiliar number of the hospital shining before his eyes. What if something happened to you, a fit of dizziness but no one was around to help? Life doesn’t grant you a second chance. No one has ever brushed against death’s shoulder twice and lived to tell the tale. What if he receives another call?

He couldn’t survive another call.

Minho stands in the midst of the road, clutching his head with a tight grip, desperately searching his memory for the places that once brought you solace during the months he spent knowing you. However, he quickly remembers that you no longer know of those places.

So where could you have gone?

An epiphany dawns upon Minho- the bridge you had pointed out to him from a distance on one of your walks, the first place you claimed as your own in the city. It towered above the ocean, suspended several meters in the air. He couldn't accompany you there that day, bound by a paralyzing fear of heights.

He prays with all his might that he's right.

He dashes towards the bridge akin to a madman, the desperate rhythm of his pounding feet mirroring the urgency in his heart. It looms tantalizingly close, a mere 15 minutes away, and Minho, in a state of disarray, knows he's not fit to drive right now. He was never fond of running, he didn't enjoy the searing ache in his lungs, robbing him of his ability to breathe. But he welcomes the pain today- it means that he's running fast enough to reach you. He hopes, he prays.

Minho spots you from a distance, a mere silhouette standing at the bridge's edge, your figure unmistakable with the red scarf tightly wound around your neck. Relief nearly brings him to his knees - you're alive.

Minho doesn't think as he sprints to you, eyes solely focused on you and not the void beneath his feet.

"Yn!" he calls out from afar, and you startle, snapping your head back to look at him. He wonders what he must look at you, disheveled hair, the wind knocking down his jean jacket. But he doesn't care.

Minho stands before you without pause, instantly pulling you into the shelter of his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling the familiar smell of your shampoo, a constant through the months of knowing you. He clings to it, to the familiarity of your scent and the way your heartbeat seems to pour from your body to his, speaking in a language only your souls can comprehend. His arms clutch at you tightly, rugged breaths escaping his body, dew tears gathering in his eyes and dropping down your shoulders.

Your arms hang limp by your side, confusion etched across your face at the urgency, the frenzy in which he pulled you to his chest, an emotion you hadn’t known in him in these past weeks.

You tentatively raise your hands, patting his back slowly. "Minho, what’s wrong?" you whisper, and he shakes his head.

"You weren't home. I- I thought something happened to you."

"No, I just went on a walk and lost track of time," you reassure him and he pulls away, warm hands cradling your cheeks.

"You're okay, right? Tell me you're okay," he pleads and you smile, nodding your head. “I'm okay, don’t worry.”

Minho drops your face, embarrassment flooding his being at his outburst. It morphs to panic as he realizes the expanse beneath—nothing but the vast ocean, the wind slamming into his body, making him lose his footing.

"Are... you okay?" you ask cautiously. "Minho, you're shaking," you point out, a frown tugging at your lips. "Are you cold?"

He stays silent, unable to place a word beyond the stutter of his lips.

"Here," you hurriedly unwrap your red scarf, enclosing it around his neck. "You're shivering, Minho," you grab his hands, rubbing his fingers, blowing warmth into them, an attempt to kindle fire into him.

"I'm not- not cold. I- I’m scared of heights," he admits through a stutter, eyes tightly closed.

"Then why are you here?" You ask, surprised.

"Because you are."

His confession comes out quietly, softened by the blow of his fear. His eyes remain closed, missing the tears gathering in your eyes, the ones you swiftly try to blink away.

"Let's go, just keep your eyes closed. Hold my hand," you entwine your fingers with his, squeezing it lightly to signal you're there, as you walk across the bridge.

You don't let go until you finally regain solid ground.

"You're safe. you can open your eyes," you say quietly.

"You're okay, right?" he inquires again, stepping closer.

"Why are you asking me this when you're the one shaking?" you chuckle, almost exasperated, nothing funny in the sound.

"I was worried about you, and I thought you left… after yesterday."

"Why would you- My god Minho why would you even come running across this bridge? Why would you do something like that when you're afraid?"

"Because I love you," his voice is resolute, soft as a whisper, as he states a simple truth. It only makes yours reach new heights.

"But why- why do you love me? Why would you still love me after everything I put you through?"

"You didn't put me through anything," he shakes his head, and you take a step back, facing away from him. He can see your body heaving up and down, the weight of unspoken words making your heartbeat race. And then you snap.

"You broke down yesterday," you pivot back, pointing at his chest. "You broke down in my arms because of me. Why would you still love me after all this Minho I don't- I don't understand."

"I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I know I probably made you uncomfortable and I shouldn't have asked something like that out of you-"

"No, no, Minho, you don't understand, you shouldn't apologize, I should. I’m the one who hurt you-"

"You didn't hurt me. It's something out of your control, you didn't choose this."

“Stop- just stop being so nice and understanding for a minute. I don’t deserve it!" you shout exasperated, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. "You can't look me in the eyes half of the time you can't even fucking breathe in your own home. It's now a- a cemetery for our memories and it'll soon become yours too because I suck the life out of you, can't you see that?"

"I'm not asking you to remember me,” he holds his hands up, in surrender, “I was wrong yesterday, you don't have to remember us."

"There is no us!” you yell, hands thrown in the air, “Not anymore, Minho, maybe never."

You suck in a deep breath, shutting your eyes, willing your voice to ebb and flow into calmness.

"I thought about it. It'll hurt less if you don't see me, time will pass and you'll get used to it, I'm not worth this."

"You are,” he interjects. “You don't get to pick for me, Yn."

"Stop- stop talking like this is normal, stop being so complacent with your pain, Minho you shouldn't love someone who hurts you!"

"Then make me stop loving you. Spare me. Tear open my heart and bleed it dry at your feet or else it won't stop beating for you. Don't you understand? If you are near or if you are far, I will still love you. The only difference is that I'd worry more about you. I'd worry if you're eating, I'd worry if you're taking your medicine, I'd worry if you're drinking out of your favorite cup or if you have a spare shampoo in your drawer because you hate running out of it. I'd worry out of my fucking mind, Yn don't leave."

It had been an encompassing sadness that made his true feelings surge yesterday, breaching the myriad of cracks in his heart. But today, it was fear that cast a revealing light upon his feelings, hidden in the recesses of his being. They surged forth in a transparency you were still not used to, the way the ocean throws on its shores the debris of sunken ships, allowing the grieving families of sailors to finally discover the terrible truth.

Still, his honesty, his soul bare at your mercy isn’t enough to make you stay.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I just... I can't- I'm sorry."

You take three steps back, before turning your back to him and walking away. A numbness, like icy talons, seizes his limbs, his gaze fixated on your diminishing figure—carrying away everything he's ever loved. Paralysis envelopes his very essence, a haunting realization that the distance between you is more than a mere physical space. You're vanishing beyond the horizon of his reach, slipping through his desperate grasp. The fear of never seeing you again fractures the stillness, snapping Minho out of his trance.

"To love someone is firstly to confess, I'm prepared to be devastated by you." He shouts, making you pause in your tracks. "Isn't that your favorite quote, Yn? You told me this is what love is about. To place your heart in the palm of the person you love. And your hands are soft, Yn. I don't mind if I'm bruised by them."

"I lied then!” You yell back, tears cascading down your cheeks akin to a waterfall, “Belcourt lied and I lied when I told you this and when I promised that I'd always remember you in that canopy bed-"

"What did you just say?” Minho quickly walks to you, chest heaving. “What canopy bed?"

“It doesn't matter now,” you speak in a small voice, avoiding his eyes, seeking refuge in the ground beneath. Yet, Minho, gentle and determined, cups your face, guiding your gaze to meet his.

“It matters to me, Yn, please. What do you mean?"

“We were in that white canopy bed, when I told you that my heart would always remember you.”

“We were,” he whispers, eyes glazed over as the memory washes over him too. “Did you remember?”

“Not clearly, it was really hazy in my mind. But I remember that the windows were open, I was supposed to feel cold but… your hands on me, and they were warm. And I…” you suck in a deep breath and Minho smiles encouragingly, running his thumb in a tender caress across your cheek.

“I remember feeling that I loved you,” you finally confess. “Even though I couldn’t see you. That's why I said that I'd always remember you. Because you filled every chamber in my heart, so much that it'd still hold your name even if you left it…that's how I felt.” You pause, as Minho forcibly swallows the lump down his throat.

“But it didn't unlock any new memories and I-”

“It's okay, it’s okay. You still remembered,” he smiles and the gesture brings you to his lips, rosy, plump. Were they still as warm? Still as soft?

“I did…” you trail off. “You also kissed me, in my memory. Your lips were everywhere and… they were soft.” You add quietly, eyes fixated on his mouth, the smile that once adorned it slipping away.

A tentative warmth courses through your being, a subtle blaze that ignites your cheeks in a shade of crimson. In this moment, a need unfurls within you, a yearning that eclipses the delicate boundaries of restraint. The memory of his lips on your skin becomes a beacon, standing tall amidst the tumultuous winds of uncertainty. You want to taste the warmth again. You want to kiss Minho.

“I kissed you.” His hands, once gentle on your cheeks, now slip down with purpose, cradling your jaw in a gesture that speaks of both reassurance and longing.

“You did.”

“And my lips were soft,” he repeats, his red scarf brushing against your throat.

"They were," you respond, breathless. His mouth stands electrifyingly close, a mere hairbreadth away, as you contemplate the simple act of tilting your head, closing the tantalizing gap. All that stands between you and the echoes of the love that was is the lift of your head, a movement that could breathe life into the dormant embers of your heart.

"Yn," Minho speaks softly, his words a gentle brush against the canvas of your shared vulnerability. His minty breath tickles your nose, as you hum, a wordless acknowledgment that hangs in the air. Your eyes remain closed, your heart beating loudly in your ears, drowning out the sound of the waves nearby.

“Use me. Use me to remember.”

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sunkissed-zegras · 7 months

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✮ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡, jack hughes

♡ ─ word count | 10.7k (WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. UM?? MB?? got a bit carried away with this one sorry y'all)

♡ ─ summary | y/n had always been in love with jack since she was a kid, but he had always chosen everyone else but her.

♡ ─ warnings | kind of mark estapa x reader as well but guess who she chooses in the end??? unedited (i'll edit in the morning y'all i just wanna get this out ASAP) SOOO MUCH ANGST OML, childhood best friends trope, unrequited love (for the most part), description of sex (like two sentences u could blink and it's gone), lots of cursing, fighting (sm of it), asshole!jack, idk they may be more but i'm lazy (promise they're not bad if i'm not mentioning them rn)

♡ ─ taglist | @valluvsu (check link in navigation for taglist form if you are interested!)

♡ ─ ev's notes | WHOOOHOOO! it's finally done yayyaa, i got this done in like two days bc i was so excited. jack hughes is very much gold rush coded, pls argue with the wall if you disagree. but anyway! this is a long one, so strap in!!! so much feelings in one fic lol i'm done, but i'm actually very proud of myself. as always, i'm open to respectful critics as i love to improve my writing for you all!! anyways, pls enjoy this fucking novel LMAOO, and let me know your thoughts!!!

Jack Hughes had always been the most beautiful person you'd ever seen.

Not just physically, he'd always been one of the sweetest people you'd ever met. He genuinely cared about how you were feeling and listened attentively when you spoke. His kindness and compassion were qualities that drew you to him from the very beginning.

But it wasn't just his sweet personality that captivated you; it was the way he looked at you with those mesmerizing eyes, filled with warmth and kindness. Whenever he gazed into your eyes, it felt like he was seeing straight into your soul, understanding you in a way that no one else ever had. But never in the way that you wanted.

Every time he smiled, it lit up the room any room he was in, and your heart simultaneously. His laughter was infectious, and being around him brought a sense of joy and happiness that was unparalleled.

He'd always been the special one in the room, with his skills on the ice or his undeniable beauty. It wasn't Jack's fault that he had such an effect on people; it was simply a consequence of his charm and charisma. What sometimes made you feel inadequate was the way other girls looked at him, with admiration and longing in their eyes.

Every time you saw him with those adoring eyes gazing at another girl, it was like a dagger to your heart. What hurt most though, was the way he looked back at them. His gaze held a attraction and desire that you craved, but it was a warmth he reserved for them, not ever for you.

You couldn't fault him for it; he couldn't control where his heart led him. You watched him from a distance, silently cheering him on in his pursuits of happiness, even when it meant seeing him with someone else.

Yet, despite the pain it caused you, you couldn't help but be there for him when he needed it. Whenever he faced heartbreak or disappointment, you were the one he turned to for comfort and understanding. It was bittersweet, being the person he leaned on while secretly thinking how you could never ever hurt him the way those other girls did. Your heart ached every time he told you about his the girls, and you would listen attentively, offering advice and consolation. You wanted to be the one to mend his broken heart, to make him see that you were right there, loving him in a way no one else ever could. But you kept those feelings locked away, hidden beneath the guise of friendship.

And you knew he loved you, he truly did. He would just never love you the way you'd always wanted. You felt selfish for wanting more. He was already yours in some regard, others would dream of being that close to the Jack Hughes. You were already an important part of his life, someone he trusted and cared about. Being close to Jack Hughes in any capacity was a dream come true for most, and you felt incredibly fortunate to have him as a friend.

But deep down, you couldn't help the longing that tugged at your heartstrings. You couldn't help the desire for something more, something that went beyond friendship. It was a complex mix of emotions, and you grappled with the guilt of wanting something that might change the dynamic between you two.

It was hard seeing him repeating those mistakes over and over again, and him running back to you wishing he had someone to love him fully and truly, for who he was. You often found yourself on the verge of screaming, wanting to shout, "What about me? Don't you see what's right in front of you?!" But you remained silent, as you always did, playing the role of the understanding friend who listened without judgment.

And each time he came to you with a broken heart, you wished he could recognize the depth of your love, the unwavering support you offered, and the fact that you were right there, ready to love him fully and unconditionally. But it seemed that he was blind to your feelings, or perhaps he was simply too caught up in his own search for love to notice what was right in front of him.

It seemed everyone else saw how much you loved him, Quinn giving you sympathetic smiles and Luke giving you advice. They saw the way you looked at Jack when he wasn't watching, the way your eyes held a mixture of adoration and hurt. They noticed how you were always there for him, ready to offer a comforting word or a reassuring hug when he needed it the most. It wasn't just your words or actions that revealed your love; it was the unwavering presence you provided in his life.

And so, you continued to sit still and listen, even when every fiber of your being screamed for him to see you, to love you, and to choose you. Your love for him remained a silent, unspoken truth, buried deep within your heart as you watched him repeat his relationship mistakes, hoping that one day, he would finally realize the love that had always been right beside him.

He was always grateful for your presence and care until he wasn't. Until he started taking you for granted, choosing his shiny new friends over you.

The pain of unrequited love was compounded by the feeling of being cast aside, as if your friendship and support no longer held the same value they once did. You couldn't help but wonder if he had forgotten all the times you had been there for him, the countless moments you had shared.

It was a painful realization that the person you loved so deeply was no longer the same person who had once cherished you. And yet, you couldn't bring yourself to walk away, holding onto the hope that one day he would remember the bond you had shared and the love that had always been there, waiting for him to see.

──

"Where have you been?!" Ellen, Jack's mom, exclaimed as you walked into the Hughes' lake house. She immediately walked over to you, embracing you tightly.

Over the past couple months, you had declined numerous invitations to Hughes family events over the past couple of months. You had told them that school was taking up most of your time, which was partly true. In reality, you just didn't want to see Jack.

"Just busy with school," you replied, returning her embrace warmly. Ellen Hughes had always been like a second mother to you, and her genuine concern warmed your heart.

Ellen held you at arm's length, her kind eyes studying your face. "You know, you don't have to disappear just because of school, sweetheart. You're always welcome here, no matter what."

Her words tugged at your heartstrings. You knew the Hughes family cared about you deeply, and it pained you to distance yourself from them as well. "I appreciate that, Ellen. It's just been a hectic semester, but I promise I'll make more time for you guys."

The bond between you and the Hughes family ran deep. You had known Jack and his brothers since childhood, and your connection had only grown stronger over the years. You were there for them through thick and thin, and they, in turn, had become an integral part of your life. You'd been close with the family since you were young, you'd been there for the brothers since day one.

From building sandcastles at the beach during summer vacations to sharing secrets by the campfire during family camping trips, your memories with the Hughes brothers were countless. Ellen and Jim Hughes had always treated you like one of their own, and you felt a sense of belonging that was unmatched anywhere else.

As the years passed and feelings grew more complex, you found yourself at a crossroads. You had always been there for Jack, offering your support and friendship without reservation. However, as your feelings for him had deepened, it had become increasingly challenging to hide your true feelings. You couldn't risk damaging the close-knit relationship you had with the Hughes family, especially when you knew Jack didn't share the same romantic feelings.

So, you made the difficult decision to take a step back, to create some distance in the hope that you could regain control over your heart. It wasn't an easy choice, and it meant missing out on moments with the family that had become a second home to you.

Ellen smiled, her eyes twinkling with understanding. "We've missed you, sweetheart. And I know someone else who's been missing you too."

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, and you couldn't help but wonder if Jack had noticed your absence more than you had expected.

"Luke! Sweetheart, look who's decided to show up!''

Oh, you've gotta be kidding me. Of course it wasn't Jack.

Your heart sank as Luke, Jack's younger brother, bounded into the room with excitement. You were confused, you loved Luke equally as Jack (you tried to convince yourself), but Luke wasn't exactly the most enthusiastic person when it came to you. Now, you knew something was up.

"Hey, you," Luke said with a warm smile, giving you a bear hug that nearly squeezed the air out of your lungs.

"Hey, Lukey," you replied, returning his hug with a raised eyebrow. Luke's behavior was unusual, and you couldn't help but wonder if something was going on.

As Luke pulled away, he scrutinized your expression. "You've been MIA for a while. School must really have you swamped."

You nodded, not trusting your voice to betray the mix of emotions you were feeling. Luke was perceptive, and you wondered if he had picked up on your recent distance.

Thankfully, Ellen chimed in, rescuing you from the awkward moment. "Well, we're just glad she's here now! Dinner will be ready soon, so you two catch up while I finish up in the kitchen."

With that, Ellen left you and Luke alone, and you couldn't shake the feeling that Luke's sudden warmth and attention meant that something was amiss in the Hughes household.

"What's up?" You cleared your throat, looking at Luke with a knowing expression.

"Well we all know why you've been really gone," Luke sighed as he glared at you. "You don't have to cut us all of just because Jack got a girlfriend."

"Jack got a girlfriend?" That felt like a dagger to the stomach. Luke's expression, once irritated, softened into one of sympathy as he nodded slowly.

"He didn't... tell you?"

You shook your head, struggling to find your voice. A whirlwind of emotions swirled within you – hurt, confusion, and the sting of betrayal. Jack hadn't confided in you about something as significant as this, and it hurt more than you cared to admit.

"Who is she?" you finally managed to ask, your voice a mere whisper.

Luke hesitated, as if debating how much to reveal. "Her name's Nicole," he began cautiously. "They've been dating for a few months now. It's been pretty serious, which is probably why he didn't want to... you know, complicate things."

You listened to Luke's explanation about Jack and Nicole while a storm of emotions raged within you. The pain of knowing Jack was in a serious relationship was difficult to bear, and the fact that he hadn't told you himself only added to your hurt. You felt like an outsider in his life, someone he had pushed aside.

But then, Luke's words took an unexpected turn, and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But that doesn't matter now, you have to move on and I have the perfect guy for you," he said, his tone surprisingly enthusiastic.

Oh, now everything made sense. It was clear that Luke had an ulterior motive, and you couldn't help but feel a little exasperated. "Luke, I appreciate your concern, but I don't think I'm ready for that kind of thing right now," you replied, trying to be polite even though you didn't appreciate the idea of being set up with one of his friends.

They were all fuck-boys from what you've heard. Luke would go into great detail every time you'd call him for an update. You had heard enough stories about Luke's friends to know that they were often more interested in casual relationships than anything serious.

"They were all fuck-boys from what you've told me," you said with a wry smile. Luke had a tendency to share his escapades in great detail, and you couldn't help but be amused by his candidness.

Luke chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, well, they can be a handful sometimes, but I promise this guy is different. He's actually a pretty decent guy, and I think you'd get along. Would I ever set you up for failure, Y/N?"

You raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. "And what's in it for you, Luke? Why are you so invested in setting me up with your friend?"

Luke's expression shifted, and for a moment, he looked genuinely serious. "Because I hate seeing you like this, distant from the family and hurting because of Jack. I just want you to be happy."

His words touched your heart, and you couldn't help but soften a bit. Luke may have had ulterior motives, but it seemed that his concern for your well-being was genuine.

"And um, well, I have a thing for his cousin." Luke cleared his throat and you couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes.

A playful smile tugged at your lips as Luke admitted his own motives. "Ah, I see how it is. A bit of matchmaking for both of us, then?"

Luke grinned, his boyish charm on full display. "Exactly! We help each other out, and everyone's happy."

You chuckled, feeling a sense of warmth and camaraderie with Luke. "Alright, fine Luke. Jeez, the things I do for you."

Luke laughed, appreciating your willingness to humor him. "You're the best, Y/N. You won't regret it, I promise."

──

Dinner had been ready and Ellen decided dinner would be fun outside. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the lake, and the sound of crickets filled the air as the family gathered around a long, rustic wooden table set up on the deck, the same one they'd had a decade ago, when you were children.

You took a seat next in between Luke and Jim, Quinn across from you two and Jack nowhere to be found. Before you could ask, your question was answered.

"Where's Jack?" Ellen asked as she sat next to her husband.

"With Nicole," Luke and Quinn had mumbled in response as they both took knowing glances at you. You couldn't help but sigh, would you always be known the girl who's helplessly in love with Jack?

"Wow, you really outdid yourself, Ellen with this chicken. What did you do?" You tried to change the topic with a smile, as you ate dinner.

Ellen beamed at your compliment, clearly pleased that you appreciated her cooking. "Oh, I found it on the TikTok, it was amazing and so easy! You should start making it, it's so easy for school."

The conversation shifted towards discussing recipes and school, and you found it easier to participate in the lighthearted chatter. As the evening went on, you made an effort to focus on the present moment, enjoying the warmth of the Hughes family and pushing aside thoughts of Jack and his new relationship.

After dinner, you and Quinn helped Ellen with the dishes and you found yourself in deep conversation with them. The warmth of their company, along with the shared memories and laughter, made you realize that distancing yourself from the Hughes family wasn't the right course of action. They had been a significant part of your life for so long, and you cherished the bond you shared with them.

You were so engaged in conversation that you didn't hear footsteps that entered the kitchen.

"Hey,"

The sound of the familiar voice calling out "Hey" made your heart skip a beat. You turned around to find Jack standing there, a somewhat sheepish expression on his face. It had been a while since you'd seen him, and the mix of emotions stirred within you once more. And next to him, you assumed to be "Nicole." She looked sweet and you forced a smile at her.

"Hey," you replied, your voice friendly and polite as you acknowledged both Jack and Nicole. You couldn't help but notice the way they stood close to each other, the subtle intertwining of their fingers, and the affectionate glances they exchanged. It was a painful reminder of the gap that had grown between you and Jack.

"Hi, I'm Nicole," she introduced herself with a warm smile.

"Nice to meet you, Nicole. I'm Y/N," you replied, extending a hand for a friendly shake.

"Yeah, I know. These two don't ever stop talking about you." She laughed playfully and you felt heart start beating faster at the prospect of Jack talking about you to his girlfriend.

"Well it was mostly me─" Quinn tried to intervene before you laughed along with her, he was trying to soften the blow.

"Really? Well that's sweet," you replied with a warm smile, even though a small part of you wished Jack would stop talking about you to his girlfriend. It was a complex blend of emotions, wanting to be close to him but also wanting to distance yourself from the heartache.

Ellen smiled, "Well now that you're here, you all can finish the dishes and catch up,"

You nodded, "Okay, sure. Go relax, Ellen."

"Yep, and me." Before you could protest, Quinn left. He certainly didn't want to be there once you started "catching up." You cursed at Quinn in your head as he left the kitchen, alone with Jack and his girlfriend.

The clinking of dishes filled the kitchen as you, Jack, and Nicole worked together on the task at hand. You decided to break the silence with some light conversation.

"So, Nicole, how did you and Jack meet?" you asked, genuinely curious about their relationship.

Nicole smiled, her eyes lighting up. "We actually met at one of his hockey games. My friend had an extra ticket, and I've always been a fan of hockey, so I decided to go. I didn't know I'd end up meeting Jack Hughes in person but now, here we are!"

Jack nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it was a lucky coincidence. We hit it off right away."

"That's so sweet, right out of a book." You laughed and she nodded, blushing. You couldn't help but smile at their story, even though it felt like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be. You were genuinely happy for Jack, and yet, a part of you couldn't help but wish for a different outcome.

Nicole blushed at your comment, clearly smitten with Jack. "Yeah, it does feel a bit like a fairy tale sometimes," she admitted.

"So, Y/N, what have you been up to lately?" Jack cleared his throat, breaking the conversation away from their relationship. You both gazed at one another and you suddenly felt empty. It had never been like this between you two, he never asked what you'd been up to because he always known.

You forced a smile, your chest feeling heavy as you replied, "Oh, you know, just keeping busy with school and spending time with family." It was a vague response, deliberately leaving out the part about missing him. You didn't want to make things awkward, and you certainly didn't want to burden him with your own emotions.

Jack nodded, seemingly accepting your answer. "That's good to hear. School can be pretty demanding, I bet."

"Yeah, it keeps me on my toes," you replied, trying to keep the conversation light. It was becoming increasingly clear that the dynamic between you and Jack had changed, and it was going to take some time to adjust to this new reality.

Before he could respond, Luke came into the kitchen and he immediately looked like he regretted it. He forced a smile, "Um, is there any ice cream in the... fridge?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at Luke's somewhat awkward entrance. It was clear he was trying to give you and Jack some space, even though the tension in the room was palpable.

"Luke, you know where the ice cream is," you replied with a knowing look, amusement dancing in your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I just... thought I'd ask," Luke stammered before quickly retreating from the kitchen, leaving you, Jack, and Nicole alone once more.

As the last dish was placed in the drying rack, you couldn't help but glance at Jack, his profile highlighted by the soft kitchen light. He turned to you with a smile.

"Anyways, Trevor and Alex are coming tomorrow, you excited to see them?" Jack added with a friendly tone, trying to bridge the awkward gap that had formed during your conversation.

You nodded, appreciating the effort he was making to include you despite the new circumstances. "Yeah, it'd be nice to catch up with them. I haven't talked to 'em in a while."

All three of you exited the kitchen and you went to go find Quinn to give him a lecture. That was until you felt your phone buzz with a text message,

luke my friends are here they wanna meet u

Before you could type your answer, Luke gave you another text.

lukejack and his gf aren't here. just come 😑

You rolled your eyes at his attitude and quickly went to go find him and his friends. You quickly found them by the pool and you opened the sliding door, his friends whipped their heads to take a look at you.

"Hey, Luke," you greeted him with a smile, momentarily ignoring the curious glances. "You wanted me to meet your friends?"

"Well you said yourself you wanted to meet 'em earlier," Luke nodded and you got the memo.

You nodded and smiled, deciding to go along with Luke's plan. After all, it was a chance to distract yourself from the complicated situation with Jack and his new girlfriend. Luke's friends seemed friendly enough, and you were always open to making new acquaintances.

"I'm pretty sure you've met Ethan and Dylan before,"

You nodded politely. You had met them when you had helped him move in a few months ago and they were nice enough. "Yeah, nice to see you guys again."

"Yeah, you too." They replied in union, making you laugh.

"And this is Mark," Luke glanced knowingly at you and you instantly knew that this was the guy who had developed a crush on you.

When Luke introduced Mark, you couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in his friends' expressions. It was clear that Mark's crush on you wasn't a well-kept secret among their group. You offered Mark a friendly smile, wanting to make him feel comfortable despite the awkwardness of the situation.

"Nice to meet you, Mark," you said, extending a hand for a handshake. "Luke's told me a lot about you guys."

Mark's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as he shook your hand. "Yeah, he's talked about you too."

Luke sat back down and you took a seat next to him, right across from Mark. "Oh does he?" You teased him.

Luke, attempting to play it cool, shrugged nonchalantly. "Just mentioned how nice you are, no big deal."

Ethan and Dylan exchanged knowing glances, trying to suppress their laughter. It was evident to everyone at the table that there was more to Luke's mention than he let on.

"Nice?" You couldn't help but laugh and exchange glances with Mark, a grin on his face. He was cute, you had to admit that. He was exactly your type, he looked sweet and had a cute smile. Maybe Luke was a pretty good matchmaker, so far.

"Yeah, he told us how cool you were. And then he showed us your instagram and all of us fell in love," Ethan mentioned, quickly pausing and glancing at Mark before continuing. "Well not in love but we all thought you were pretty. Well, I mean you are but like-"

"I get it," You laughed at his nervous rambling. You took another glance at Mark and gave him a smile, his cheeks turning even redder (somehow).

The table erupted in laughter, and it was clear that everyone was having a good time. Even Mark seemed to have settled into the friendly atmosphere, and you couldn't deny the chemistry you felt with him. It was lighthearted and fun, a welcome distraction from the complicated feelings you had for Jack.

As the night wore on, you noticed that Ethan, Luke, and Dylan began to exchange glances and sharing quiet conversations. It was clear that they had some sort of plan in mind, and you couldn't help but wonder what they were up to. You decided to play along, knowing that whatever they had in store was likely meant to bring you and Mark closer and anything would help to make you forget about Jack.

"Hey, Mark, do you want to check out the lake?" you suggested, giving him a sweet smile. The lake house had always been a place of fond memories for you, and it would be a great opportunity to spend some time alone with Mark.

Mark's face lit up. "Sure, that sounds like a great idea, let's go."

You excused yourselves from the table, and as you walked towards the sliding glass door that led to the lake, you couldn't help but notice the mischievous smiles on Ethan, Luke, and Dylan's faces. They were clearly up to something, you tried to ignore their expressions.

Once outside, the two of you made your way down to the edge of the lake. The moon reflected on the calm water, casting a romantic glow.

"So, Y/N, tell me more about yourself," Mark began, his voice soft and inviting.

You smiled, feeling a sense of warmth in the cool summer night air. "Well, there's not much to tell, really." You chuckled before continuing, "Just trying to finish up school and move to Europe."

Mark's eyes widened with curiosity. "Europe? That sounds amazing. What's drawing you there?"

You gazed at the shimmering reflection of the moon on the lake, lost in thought for a moment. "I don't know, these past months have been hard. And I never thought about moving out of the states but recently, I just wanna let go and start fresh, you know?"

Mark nodded, understanding what you meant. "I get that, a change of scenery can help with that feeling."

You sighed, feeling a sense of relief in opening up to Mark. "Exactly. I just want to explore new horizons, experience different cultures, and maybe find a new perspective on life."

"I've always wanted to go to France, I know it's basic but I heard they had good hot chocolate and had to try it." Mark smiled down at you and you couldn't help but let out a soft laugh.

"That doesn't sound basic at all," you replied with a grin. "I would love to visit France, even if it is every person's dream."

Mark chuckled, his eyes locked onto yours. "Maybe we can both make our way to Europe someday. Who knows, our paths might cross in a cozy café in Paris."

The idea painted a vivid picture in your mind, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to indulge in the possibility. "That sounds like a dream."

A sudden breeze began to pick up and you felt yourself shiver and Mark noticed. Without saying another word, he took off his jacket and quickly wrapped it around your shoulder.

It was a cliche, you know that. But as you looked at Mark, you felt a sense of warmth that had nothing to do with the jacket. His kindness and consideration made your heart skip a beat, something you hadn't experienced in a while. You smiled at him gratefully, the cool breeze forgotten as you were wrapped in his warmth.

"Thank you, Mark," you said softly, your eyes meeting his. In that moment, under the moonlight by the lake, you felt a connection that was unlike anything you had experienced in a long time.

Mark smiled back at you, his eyes holding a glint of something more. "Anytime, Y/N."

As the night wore on, your conversation with Mark flowed effortlessly, you found yourself drawn further into Mark's world, and the thought of Jack and his complicated situation faded into the background even if only for that night. In Mark's company, you were starting to feel a glimmer of hope for the fresh start you had been yearning for.

──

You awoke with the sound of laughter. Your eyes opened groggily and you felt your back scream in pain and it took a minute to realize exactly where you were.

You laid on Mark's chest, a blanket laid out on the both of you. You were on the couch and the memories of last night quickly flooded back into your head.

"Aww, Marky, you got yourself a girlfriend finally!" Ethan exclaimed as Mark tried to cover your face with the blanket, an (failed) attempt to not to wake you. They hadn't noticed you were awake.

"Ha ha ha, so funny." Mark mumbled in false amusement as he yawned.

You decided to remain quiet, pretending to still be asleep, curious to hear how Mark would handle the situation. A smile stretched your lips as you continued to eavesdrop.

"Seriously though, Mark, she's pretty," Dylan chimed in. "You two looked really cozy last night."

"Yeah, yeah," Mark replied, his tone still somewhat defensive. "We were just talking. You guys are reading too much into it."

"Sure, Mark, whatever you say," Ethan teased, and you could practically hear the grin in his voice. "Just talking, my ass."

"My clothes are still on, right?" Mark groaned quietly. "Could you guys be quiet, she's sleeping."

"Awww, Marky!" Ethan let out a booming laugh and you took that as your cue to 'wake up.'

You let out a yawn and pushed down the blanket from your face and they all quieted down. "Good... morning?"

"You have a good sleep last night?" Ethan teased and you tried to ignore the warm feeling in your cheeks as you got up from the couch. Mark frowned as you got up, feeling his body get cool.

You stretched your arms and stifled another yawn before responding to Ethan's teasing. "Yeah, it was quite comfortable here, actually."

"I bet," Ethan replied as he wiggled his eyebrows and you rolled your eyes.

"Okay, well, I'm going to brush my teeth."

"Wait, let's go eat first." Mark quickly replied, making Dylan and Ethan exchange glances.

"Before... brushing my teeth?" You smiled at that. He was cute, for sure.

"Yeah, Mark, let her go brush her teeth. Knowing what you two did-"

"Shut up," Mark groaned as you let out a chuckle. "Yeah, go brush your teeth."

You nodded and walked away from the living room, quickly ascending up the stairs and into the bathroom. The smile hadn't left your face and you felt like absolutely nothing could ruin your mood.

Well, you were wrong.

As you brushed your teeth happily, you heard the familiar noise in the next room other. The rhythmic banging, the moaning─

Oh no, you thought to yourself. You felt your stomach twist in disgust as let out an audible gag. The room next to the bathroom was Jack's and the only couple in the entire house was Jack and Nicole. You connected the dots and you suddenly felt nauseous.

You spit your paste and quickly rinsed your mouth. You needed to get out of there immediately. As you walked out of the bathroom, you bumped into one person you did not want to see.

"Oh shoot, sorry."

You looked up to see Nicole. She looked tired, her red hair messy and her neck filled with marks. They were obviously busy last night and you tried to push the visual of them having sex out of your mind as you forced a smile. "No, you're totally good."

She smiled and gave your shoulder a pat before walking to the bathroom. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and let your shoulders fall as you walked down the stairs.

You smelled hash browns in the air, your favorite, but somehow you still felt sick to your stomach. The imagery was still stuck in your head, you felt disgusting.

You made your way to the dining table and took a seat next to Quinn, crossing your arms and he immediately knew what was wrong. Your disgusted facial expression, your annoyed attitude, everything.

"They're like fucking bunnies," Quinn mumbled to you and you looked back at him with a nod. He looked tired, too. It looked like they kept him up and you were suddenly grateful you slept downstairs, even with the ache in your lower back. He put a hand on your shoulder in comfort. "Hey, if it makes you better, he lasts about a few minutes. You wouldn't want that."

His unusual teasing tone still didn't make you better, you knew Quinn was trying his best to make you feel better. You forced a smile and nodded, "Yeah. That's gross."

"What's gross?"

You turned your head to see Jack; his disheveled appearance making you gag internally, knowing what you know. You made eye contact for a few seconds before averting your gaze to the table.

"Nothing, buddy." Quinn responded with a smirk and they both exchanged a laugh. Jack then, took a seat right across from you. Now you literally couldn't move your gaze anywhere else without making it obvious.

Quinn seemed determined to keep the mood light, though, and he continued with the banter. "I heard you and Mark spent the night together last night."

There was a pause and a few awkward glances before he continued, "Um, not like that."

Jack looked directly at you and he had unreadable expression on his face. Confusion? Annoyance? Jealousy? Maybe a mix of all three.

"Well, we just-"

Before you continue you heard Ethan and Dylan's booming laughter as they entered the dining room, plates in their hands. They immediately exchanged glances as they realized who was in the room before putting sitting down with their plates.

"Your mom has food in the kitchen, if you guys... want any." Ethan tried to diffuse the tension as he smiled and looked at Dylan. "Mark's in there, Y/N."

As you got up to find Mark, you couldn't help but exchange a glance with Jack. His expression was hard to decipher – there was a mix of emotions, but it was clear that the mention of you spending the night with Mark had affected him in some way. You couldn't dwell on it for too long, though, as you headed to the kitchen to find Mark.

In the kitchen, you found Mark helping himself to some breakfast. He looked up and gave you a warm smile as you entered. "Hey, good morning."

He quickly noticed your expression and he turned to you with confusion, "Everything okay?"

You nodded, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort from the dining room. "Yeah, just... things got a bit awkward in there. Thanks for last night, by the way."

Mark chuckled, handing you a plate of food. "No problem at all. It was fun."

As you both made your way back to the dining room, you couldn't help but wonder what the day had in store for you, especially with the lingering tension between you and Jack.

You sat down next to Quinn as Mark quickly made his way to the empty seat next to you. Finally, everyone started piling into the dining room and everyone started eating.

The atmosphere in the dining room remained tense as everyone continued eating. Nicole was sitting next to Jack and noticed the slight change in him, he seemed more... moody. You tried your best to focus on your plate and engage in conversation with those around you, but it was hard with Jack's presence so close.

As the meal progressed, you felt Jack's gaze on you, a burning sensation that you couldn't ignore. Finally, after a while, Jack spoke up, his tone casual as he said, "So, Y/N, Mark seemed like a nice guy. How long have you known him?"

Mark exchanged a glance between the two of you, choosing peace and continued to eat.

His seemingly innocent question struck a nerve. You knew he was deliberately bringing up Mark to gauge your reaction, and it irritated you. Trying to maintain your composure, you replied, "Just met last night."

Jack's eyebrows raised slightly, a hint of surprise in his expression as he processed your response. It seemed your terse reply had caught him off guard. Mark continued to eat quietly, not wanting to get caught up in the tension.

After a moment of silence, Jack cleared his throat, attempting to sound nonchalant but failing to hide a hint of sarcasm. "Well, you two certainly seemed close for people who just met." Before you could respond, he continued under his breath, "Didn't know you were that easy."

Quinn kicked Jack's leg under the table and Nicole seemed distressed, too.

You bit your tongue. You clenched your fork tightly, your frustration mounting. "We were just having a conversation, Jack. Is that not allowed?"

Jack's gaze didn't waver as he replied, "Of course it is, Y/N. Just making conversation here because apparently I don't know anything about you anymore."

That really struck a move. He didn't know anything about you anymore? Jack's words hit you like a dagger to the heart. The pain and frustration were evident in his tone, and you could sense the turmoil in his emotions. It was clear that your distancing had affected him more than you had realized.

The tension at the table was palpable as everyone watched the exchange between you and Jack. Quinn cleared his throat, trying to mediate. "Guys, can we not do this right now?"

You felt yourself get more heated as you heard Ellen say something but you couldn't even comprehend it, that's how angry you were. Without thinking, you pushed your chair back and got up from the table. Your voice was strained with anger as you addressed Jack.

"Do you have no idea what it's been like for me, Jack?" You couldn't help but raise your voice, your pent-up emotions pouring out. "You just assume things and make stupid comments, but you don't know the half of it. This distance isn't just about you, it's about me trying to protect myself too."

The room was now filled with an uncomfortable silence, and it was clear that your outburst had taken everyone by surprise. Nicole placed a comforting hand on Jack's arm, silently pleading for him to let it go. Mark, too, looked uncomfortable, not wanting to be caught in the middle of this argument.

Jack's expression had shifted from surprise to a mix of anger and hurt as he absorbed your words. He clenched his jaw, clearly struggling to find the right response. Nicole's gentle touch on his arm seemed to be a calming influence, and he took a deep breath before speaking, his voice more controlled.

Ellen, sensing that the situation had become too tense, interjected again, her voice gentle but firm.

"Let's all take a step back, please? Y/N, sweetheart, maybe you could use a little breather, and we can all reconvene when things have calmed down."

You felt embarrassed as you looked around the room, all eyes seemingly on you and Jack. Feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on you, you nodded, your initial anger having dissipated into a mix of regret and awkwardness. You understood that your outburst had been uncharacteristic and uncomfortable with everyone there. With a forced smile, you mumbled an apology.

"Yeah, maybe I do need a little breather. Sorry about that, everyone." You turned away from the table and quickly exited the dining room. Outside, the fresh air greeted you, and you took a moment to collect your thoughts.

As you stood there, lost in thought, you couldn't help but wonder if there was any way to mend the growing rift between you and Jack, or if it was time to accept that things might never be the same again.

You stayed outside and spent the most of the day alone, outside in the pool trying to get a tan. The boys had all been playing pool inside and you were glad alone.

The sun beat down on you as you lounged by the pool, trying to soak in the warmth and forget about the tension from earlier. The sound of laughter from inside the house was a stark contrast to the solitude you sought outside.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear your mind. The cool water of the pool offered a refreshing escape from the heat, and you decided to take a dip to cool off and clear your thoughts.

As you swam in the crystal-clear water, you couldn't help but replay the argument with Jack in your mind. It weighed heavily on your heart, and you wondered if there was a way to make amends and rebuild the bond you had once shared.

"Hey,"

You let out a yelp as you heard Mark's voice and he let out a soft laugh as he walked over to the pool, dipping his legs into the pool.

"Hey," you laughed, pushing a wet strand of hair out of your face. "Sorry, you scared me there."

Mark chuckled, the sound light and soothing. "No worries, didn't mean to sneak up on you. Just thought you could use some company."

You appreciated his gesture and nodded. "Thanks, Mark. It's been definitely been a... day."

He nodded in understanding, his gaze sympathetic. "I could tell. The argument with Jack didn't look fun."

You sighed, the weight of it all still pressing on you. "Yeah, it wasn't. Sorry about him throwing you in the middle of it, I don't know what's going on with him."

He stayed quiet as he listened and nodded. You looked at him, waiting for some kind of response. He looked like he was weighing something in his head. "Well... it seems like he's jealous."

Jealous? You blinked in surprise, not expecting Mark to say that. "Jealous? Why would he be jealous?" You knew why, but it hadn't even seemed like a possibility in your mind.

Mark had a thin-lipped smile as he continued, "I mean why else would be an absolute dick about me spending the night with you?"

You stayed quiet, you had no idea how to deal with this. Of course this would happen to you on what was supposed to be a peaceful lake-house trip.

"Can I ask you a question, Y/N? But you have to be 100% honest with me." Mark's tone seemed serious as he spoke and you felt your heart drop. "Have you and Jack ever hooked up? Or like, dated?"

"No," that was the true answer but it looked like Mark hadn't bought it. "Well, I've always liked him." It felt weird to admit that and Mark's expression looked hurt as you continued. "That's why I stopped talking to him. I realized it would never go anywhere and I was still living in my head, it would've never worked out with me and Jack."

Admitting it out loud hurt more than you expected. You would never work out with Jack, no matter how hard you wanted it to.

"You still like him?"

You weighed your options but as you looked at Mark and everything that could happen, you knew the right answer. "No."

──

"Y/N!"

You heard Trevor's excited shout and you turned around, you felt Trevor embrace you tightly. You let out a laugh as he continued hugging you tightly, it had been a couple months since you'd last seen him.

He was always just as close to you as Jack, he was your true best friend. He had been there for you when Jack wasn't.

"Trevor!" You returned his hug with equal enthusiasm, feeling a surge of warmth and happiness at the sight of your close friend.

He pulled away with a big smile on his face, "Wow, why do you actually look good?" He said with a playful flirty undertone, making you laugh.

"Don't know, maybe it's the lack of Jack." As you turned to look behind him, you locked eyes with another close friend, Alex. He smiled and walked up to you; he was definitely the calm one in the friend-group. He gave you a hug before Trevor continued.

He rolled his eyes, "You still on that? Come on, Y/N."

You chuckled at Trevor's playful teasing, realizing that his presence had indeed lifted your spirits. "I can't help it, Trev. It's like a curse or something."

Alex joined in with a gentle laugh. "Well, we're here now, so you don't have to think about Jack for a while."

With your friends around, the atmosphere lightened even further, and you felt grateful for their presence. It was a chance to forget about the tension with Jack and simply enjoy the reunion with your closest friends.

"Oh shit." Alex mumbled, "I forgot my phone in the car,"

"Oh no worries, I'll come with you," you offered, eager to catch up with Alex and have a moment away from the group.

As you both headed to the car, Alex spoke in a hushed tone, "How have you been, Y/N? I know things have been tough."

You appreciated his concern and gave him a small smile. "I've had my ups and downs, but I'm good now. I'm glad you decided to come to the lake house, I've missed you two."

Alex nodded, his expression thoughtful. "We've missed you too. And I know things have changed with Jack, but we're here to support you no matter what."

As you arrived in the hallway, you had no time to respond as you heard yelling in the garage. You and Alex exchanged confused glances as you tried to listen in.

"What, Jack?! What's the excuse now, she literally said she's liked you forever!" You heard Nicole's voice and you felt your heart drop. She heard you in the pool?

You and Alex exchanged concerned glances as you strained to hear the conversation in the garage. Nicole's voice had a tone of frustration, and it was evident that she was upset about something. The mention of your feelings for Jack made your heart race.

Jack's voice responded, his tone defensive. "Nicole, it's not that simple. Y/N and I have a complicated history, okay?"

Nicole sounded exasperated as she retorted, "Complicated history? Jack, she's moved on. Why can't you?"

Their voices grew louder, and you could feel the strain in their relationship even from a distance. It was clear that your presence had stirred up emotions and issues between them, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt.

As you leaned in closer to the door, it suddenly opened and you and Alex jumped.

The sudden opening of the door startled both you and Alex, and you found yourself face to face with a frustrated-looking Nicole. Her eyes widened in surprise at seeing you eavesdropping on their argument.

"Y/N..." Nicole began, her voice trailing off as he seemed at a loss for words.

You quickly glanced at Alex, who was equally taken aback by the unexpected confrontation.

"I'm so sorry, Nicole, I didn't know that you heard me and I promise you I would never, ever try anything while you were with Jack-"

She cut you off with a forced smile, "I get it. It's not your fault." She sneered at Jack before continuing. "It's not your fault Jack can't get over his childhood crush."

"Nicole, let's not do this here," Jack said, his voice tinged with frustration. He glanced at you and Alex before turning back to her. "We'll talk later, okay?"

"There is no later! I'm done." She yelled back at him, her eyebrows furrowing in utter anger. "You already made your decision, it was either me or her and we all know your choice. I won't be a second choice, Jack. I've been second to her our entire relationship and I just met her, can you imagine how I've felt?"

The raw pain in Nicole's eyes was impossible to ignore, and it was clear that she had reached her breaking point. Her outburst had laid bare the insecurities and frustrations that had been festering beneath the surface, and it left everyone in the room with a heavy sense of unease. You could see the hurt in her eyes, and it was clear that their relationship had reached a breaking point. You couldn't help but feel guilty, was it your fault?

While you knew you weren't responsible for the choices Jack had made in his relationship, it was impossible not to wonder if your presence had somehow worsened the situation. You had never intended to come between them or cause any harm.

You exchanged a glance with Alex, who looked equally uncomfortable with the situation. The unease in the room was palpable, and there were no easy answers to the complex emotions and dynamics at play.

Jack's shoulders slumped, and he looked defeated. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. It was a painful silence, and you could feel the weight of the history and emotions between Jack and Nicole.

Finally, he managed to speak, his voice soft and filled with regret. "I'm so sorry, Nicole. I never meant for any of this to happen-"

Nicole didn't respond. She simply turned and walked away, leaving Jack standing there, his face etched with a complex mix of emotions.

Jack ran a hand through his hair before he quickly pushed past you and Alex to run after Nicole. "Fuck, baby please listen!"

You and Alex exchanged looks before he sighed heavily, "Wow. What the hell did me and Trev miss."

"You have no idea," you sighed as you began walking to his car for the thing you had came in there for.

──

You sat next to Mark as you both dangled your feet in the water, everyone was outside and it finally felt like relaxing trip. It finally felt like the lake house; no drama (for the most part), cool summer air, and all your close friends in one place.

Sitting by the water with Mark, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The drama from earlier had dissipated, and you were grateful for the opportunity to unwind with your friends. The cool breeze, the soothing sounds of the lake, and the laughter of your friends created a serene atmosphere that allowed you to momentarily forget about the complexities of your relationships.

You turned to Mark and offered a genuine smile. "Thanks for being here today, Mark. It means a lot."

He returned your smile warmly. "Of course, Y/N. I'm here whenever you need someone to talk to or just hang out with."

As the stars began to twinkle in the night sky, you found yourself leaning in closer to Mark. His presence felt comforting and reassuring. You locked eyes with him, and there was a shared understanding between you.

In that moment, you realized that Mark had become more than just a friend. He was someone who had been there for you, who had listened, and who had shown you support when you needed it, something you hadn't experienced from any partner. And perhaps, in the midst of all the chaos, you had found something unexpected: the possibility of a new beginning.

As your faces drew nearer, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in that quiet, starlit moment. It was a moment of choice, a moment where you could let go of the past and embrace the future.

With a gentle, lingering touch, your lips met Mark's, and for that brief, stolen moment, it felt like the world was right where it should be.

Then it felt wrong. You pulled away and you turned your head almost instinctively and there he was. Jack, standing there, watching the scene unfold.

The shock on Jack's face was undeniable, and it was as if time had frozen in that moment. His presence shattered the tranquility that had enveloped you and Mark, leaving an awkward and tense silence in its wake.

Mark pulled away from you slowly, his expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty. You could feel your heart racing, caught between the past and the present, between the familiarity of Jack and the newfound connection with Mark.

Jack scoffed and walked away, leaving your heart shattered; like he always did. As you began to get up, Mark gripped your arm. You looked down at him and found yourself at crossroads.

Mark or Jack? Mark or Jack? Mark: the sweetest boy with the sweetest smile, or Jack: the person you'd loved your entire life.

You knew the answer. Everyone knew the answer. You moved your arm from his grip and got up, leaving him seated in the pool. You ran after Jack and it suddenly hit you. He'll always have this power over you, his beautiful smile always had this effect on you.

It made you nauseous as you tried to find where he was, like you always did. He would always pick someone else and you always had to pick him, that was just how it worked.

You ran after Jack, your heart pounding in your chest. The familiar ache of chasing after someone who always seemed just out of reach gnawed at you. It was a pattern you had repeated countless of times, a dance of longing and rejection that you couldn't seem to break free from no matter how hard you tried.

As you searched for him, you couldn't help but feel a sense of desperation. You knew that choosing Jack meant choosing the same cycle of heartache, but it was a choice you had made so many times before. His smile, his presence, his history with you—it all had a hold on you that was impossible to shake.

Finally, you spotted him by the edge of the lake, his silhouette illuminated by the moonlight. He turned to look at you, his expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty, as if he couldn't believe you had chosen him once again.

You didn't say anything as you approached him. Words felt meaningless in that moment. Instead, you simply reached out and took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and with that simple gesture, you made your choice.

It might have been the same old pattern, the same old dance, but it was your choice to make, and for now, it was the one that felt right.

As you looked into his eyes, the same ones you'd adored since day one, you felt deja vu. You felt angry; how could one person have such control over you? In the depths of his eyes, you saw a reflection of your own emotions, a turbulent mix of desire, frustration, and longing. It was a maddening feeling, to be so deeply ensnared by someone who seemed to hold all the power in your relationship.

The moonlight cast a soft glow on both of you as you stood by the lake, hand in hand, the weight of your choice settling in. It was a choice that defied reason and logic, a choice that defied the very patterns you had tried to break free from. But for now, it was your choice, and you would face the consequences, whatever they may be, with Jack by your side.

You felt an unexpected sob ripple from your chest and you ripped your hand from his, covering your mouth with your hand. You closed your eyes and you felt Jack pull you closer, into his chest.

As the sobs wracked your body, you felt Jack's arms around you, offering a comforting embrace. It was a mixture of relief and hurt, the weight of your choice bearing down on you. You had chosen to follow your heart, even if it meant stepping into the same cycle of uncertainty and longing.

Jack held you tightly, his own emotions undoubtedly conflicted, but in that moment, it was a silent understanding between the two of you. The night was still, and the moon illuminated the path you had chosen, as well as the challenges that lay ahead.

"It's okay, shh. I'm... here now, I'm sorry." He mumbled as he planted a kiss on your head.

You felt such anger in your stomach as he said those words so easily. Was it okay? Was he really here, with you? Was he truly sorry. You pushed him away and you saw him fumble back, hurt in his eyes as you fell on to your knees, taking a seat on the cold sand of the lake.

The anger, the hurt, the confusion, it all swirled within you as you sat there on the cold sand, tears streaming down your face. You couldn't make sense of your emotions, and Jack's words, well-intentioned as they might have been, didn't provide the solace you needed.

Jack remained a few steps away, watching you with a pained expression, unsure of how to bridge the gap between you. The silence between you was heavy, filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

"Do you know..." You sniffled, looking up at him with tears in your eyes. You didn't even know where to begin. "I've spent my entire fucking life pining after you. Every single moment has been dedicated to the great Jack fucking Hughes, did you know that?"

Your bitter words felt like a dagger to the heart to the both of you. You continued, "I always choose you. I always fucking choose you!" You screamed out angrily, as Jack flinched. He'd never seen you this angry in his entire life.

"Why do I always choose you? You're like every other guy in the world." Your tears streamed down your face. "But you're special to me," you mumbled as Jack's breathing became heavy with emotion. "You always choose everyone else but me. I never knew why." You were just rambling at this point but you would be lying if you said it didn't feel good.

You looked up at Jack. "I watched you fall for people who didn't see you the way I did, who didn't know you the way I did, and I stood there, invisible, as you gave your heart to them."

Your words cut deep, each one a painful reminder of the years of unrequited love and longing.

"And then," you whispered, your voice barely audible, "when I finally thought it might be my turn to finally be with someone who actually liked me, who wanted me, I choose you again." Your voice cracked as you mentioned Mark.

You wiped away fresh tears, and the pain in your eyes was palpable. "It hurts, Jack. It hurt more than I can put into words. But I still chose you, again."

A sob caught in your throat, and you continued, your words heavy with emotion. "I've cried myself to sleep, wondering why I wasn't good enough for you, why you never saw me the way I saw you. And every time you got hurt, I was right there with you, helping and being there." You paused. "And when I was hurt, where the fuck were you? Probably with some girl who never knew you like I did. Who will never know you like I do."

Jack's eyes were filled with remorse, and you could see the pain in his expression, but you couldn't stop now. You had to let it all out.

"I convinced myself that if I just kept waiting, if I just kept choosing you, someday you'd see me for who I was, you'd choose me. But it never happened, Jack. It never happened, and it broke my heart a little more every day."

Your voice broke again as you sniffled, "I've missed out on so much because of you," you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. "I've given up on amazing opportunities, on people who genuinely cared about me, all because I thought someday you'd choose me too."

Jack took a seat beside you, the weight of your words sinking in. You didn't fight it, you were too tired.

The lake's gentle waves lapped against the shore, providing a soothing backdrop to the turmoil of emotions swirling around both of you. He didn't say anything for a while, the silence between you heavy with unspoken regret.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice soft and filled with remorse. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to... hurt you."

You turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his. You saw the sincerity in his gaze, but it was accompanied by a sense of helplessness. It was as if he had finally realized the depth of the pain he had caused you.

"I couldn't like you, Y/N." It sounded harsher than it actually was as he continued. "I just couldn't. You were too good, Y/N, you are a sweetheart. I was scared to taint you, and I would've never forgiven myself if I did..."

"Taint me?" You scoffed, pain in your tone. "You tainted me the moment you met me, Jack."

Those words hung in the air as he swallowed, taking your words into consideration. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he whispered, his voice filled with remorse. "I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted any of this."

You sighed, the anger and frustration slowly giving way to a sense of resignation. It was a complicated situation, and both of you had made mistakes along the way. "I know, Jack. I know you didn't."

In that moment, you both shared a painful understanding of the past and the choices that had brought you to this point. You would always choose him, and he'd always choose them. But as he put his hand on top of yours, your body entire body felt like it was on fire.

As you looked into Jack's eyes, you saw a mixture of emotions - regret, longing, and a hint of hope. It was as if he, too, was wrestling with the undeniable connection that had always existed between you.

"I'm not saying it'll be easy, Y/N," he murmured, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of your hand. "But maybe... just maybe, we can find a way to make this work."

His words hung in the air, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to entertain the possibility of a future with Jack, a future where you didn't have to choose between him and anyone else.

Maybe all of that pining wasn't for nothing. Maybe in the end, he would have chosen you. But would you choose him? Could you finally resist him?

As you sat there, the gentle breeze ruffling your hair and the quiet waters of the lake before you, you contemplated Jack's words. The years of pining and longing, the heartaches and frustrations, all seemed to converge in this one moment.

Maybe, just maybe, this was the moment where the tides would turn, and you could choose a different path, one that didn't revolve around Jack. But the choice was yours to make, and it wouldn't be easy. You knew the allure of Jack, the history you shared, and the magnetic pull between you two would always be there.

For now, you decided to savor the night, knowing that the future held uncertainties and challenges, but also the potential for something beautiful. As you gazed at the moonlit lake, you couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead and what choices you would make when the time came.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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tetsuskei · 1 month

Text

dew mornings and the bond of eternity – tartaglia [nsfw]

synopsis: your angel of a boyfriend makes sure that you know just how well loved you are

notes: for my favorite harbinger, idk what this is but breaking my fic virginity for him with this :]

warnings: fem!reader, reader is insecure, russian pet names, mating press, childe has a foul mouth, biting and marking, slight possession, praise, childe is called by his real name, slight oral fixation, implied oral (female receiving), he is extremely lovesick

you never learned to what extent someone could go when being attentive and observant until you met your boyfriend.

you hate how ajax is able to notice the slightest changes in your mood. you would say he knows you like the back of his hand, but it’s something more than that. almost like the two of you are fused at the souls. bonded for eternity.

so in the dew morning hours when you’re just a little bit quieter, a little more somber as he makes you both breakfast on one of his rare days off, he’s able to notice right away.

he notices your eyes don’t quite catch his own as he jokes about some silly thing one of his siblings did weeks ago, how your smile falters instead of shining bright the way that he loves to see, how you pick at your fingers and gnaw on your lip in thought.

“ptichka?” he hovers over you, taking your face in his hands and pulling you from your thoughts. his cerulean eyes scan you thoroughly. “did you not sleep well?”

“it’s nothing, it was just a silly little dream.” you wave off, smiling weakly. not a lie, technically.

ajax clicks his tongue. stubbornly, he leans into you, the smell of pine and mint following him. “it can’t be silly if it has you upset like this and you’re losing sleep.”

there is no way of lying to ajax. you know this well. he’s a big brother to three siblings, and he’s too good of a detective to be deceived. but that’s to be expected of a harbinger.

after a long, apprehensive pause, you sigh.

“…i had a dream that you cheated on me.” you confess, lowering your gaze to the floor. “and that you left me for someone better.”

it’s stupid. absolutely and utterly ridiculous. ajax has shown you enough love to spill over into your next life. and the next one after that. you could die and come back a thousand times, and there’d still be traces of him left on you. so to tell him this brings you great shame.

the question is, what caused the dream? guilt? shame? maybe you feel he does so much for you, that you’re lacking as a partner. that you could do better.

you wait silently for him to yell, for some sort of outburst to come. but you’re only met with surprise when you feel his hand on your chin.

“can you please look at me?” his voice is soft, and eyes softer as he finally is able to make eye contact with you. he’s so gentle. warm. he only looks at you with love and patience. “thank you, lisichka.”

“i may not have done anything wrong, and i would never cheat—“ he continues with a stern expression, “but i still need you to understand where my feelings lie with you.”

you start to shake your head, “i already know, ‘jax, you have never made me feel like i need to doubt you. i know how much you love me. i promise. i have no idea why i had the dream…but it just made me sad when i woke up.”

you don’t mean to lie about your hidden insecurities, but it’s not a conversation you want to have at the moment. you’d rather just enjoy the time you have currently with your boyfriend peacefully.

luckily, ajax overlooks your fib. he hums, kissing your temple, “how about after we eat, i run us a bath? and we do one of those face masks that you like? something to decompress.”

and for the first time today you smile and agree.

unfortunately it appears ajax is taking your earlier sentiments much more seriously than you thought.

as all dreams and nightmares are short term memory, you long forgot about what it was that made you upset, back to your usual self after the bath.

ajax swaddled you up in a clean towel, and just like he said, did face masks with you. it always makes you giggle seeing your boyfriend using one of your spa headbands to push his hair back. soon both your faces were shiny and clean. refreshed and replenished, you felt brand new.

but little did you know you were now in the jaws of a shark.

you didn’t make it to the bedroom. well, you did, but you didn’t pick up on the ginger’s ulterior motive the minute he kissed your cheek as you sat on the bathroom counter. he carried you to the bedroom, and that’s where it all fell apart.

“‘j-jax—“ you hiccup, gripping tightly onto his bicep. your figure is trembling against his, skin damp with sweat and glued impossibly closer to his.

so much for the bath.

“s-slow down…”

your boyfriend has been at it for awhile now, pummeling your poor insides with his fat cock over and over. the room reeks with the smell of sex, wet sounds imprinted into your mind. you can never forget just how great he makes you feel.

“no,” he huffs, fingers digging into your hips, “you’re not leaving this bed until i’m sure of it.”

confusion resides in you. what exactly is ‘it’?

he’s already worshipped you plenty with just his fingers and tongue. but you don’t dare challenge the primal look in his eyes. he’s absolutely greedy, not even letting you move to take care of him in return in anyway.

you yelp once feeling your lover’s teeth nip into your skin. his tongue laves over the offended area before he kisses the skin.

“how could i find someone better, when there’s not a single person more beautiful or amazing than you?” he pants, pulling away to look at you. his thumb traces your cheek tenderly and his cobalt eyes are trained on your fucked out expression.

“especially when your pussy feels this good? that’s just a bonus.” he rambles, groaning. his hips knock into yours more harshly and you wail.

“you’d have to kill me to separate us.” he admits darkly, but something tells you that even death wouldn’t stop him.

“‘dun want that, want you forever.” you say, clinging impossibly tighter to him.

ajax coos, kissing your nose, “and you have me. because you’re enough. you always will be. you’re perfect.”

his answer satisfies you and you’re kissing him again, nearly having tears permeate at the ducts of your eyes.

he laughs, grinning against you mouth, “milaya, you’re about to cum, aren’t you?”

“i-i” your words still fail to completely return to you but you nod rapidly.

understanding, he taps your bottom lip.

“open,” he commands.

falling in line, ajax pushes his fingers in your mouth. you feel your face heat up from how you taste yourself on him.

“good girl,” he praises, “always so sweet for me, hmm?”

you’re drooling on him, nodding and humming around his fingers with a hazy look in your eyes.

there’s a certain light in his own eyes that only appears when he’s with you, and with the way he is looking at you with complete adoration, you feel absolutely special.

“oh, look how much you’re quivering, you’re almost there. come on.” your boyfriend studies your movements, fucking you with slower, deeper thrusts.

the breath from your lungs nearly escapes you, and you feel a burning feeling in your chest. you’re creaming so much on him that it’s impossible not to hear the lewd noises coming from between your legs.

every sound seems to drive the ginger crazier. “one more, just one more for me, angel and i’ll let you be.” he coaxes, fingers moving again.

“i’m…i’m tired.” you sniff.

“i know, but you look so pretty when you cum. just one more? pretty please? can’t get over how you look. so beautiful…”

his constant praise is enough to make you cum once more, so hard that it blinds you. your mouth falls open in silent awe.

ajax groans, watching you come undone and hissing at the way you’re clamping up on his cock. it should be a crime how good you feel, because he could ever get enough of it.

there’s only a moment before he remembers he still needs to cum, and then he’s pawing and begging.

“fuck, let me cum in you…please…” his face is buried in your neck and a small whimper escapes him once he grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together.

he’s shivering and hot, and his cock is extremely sensitive. every drag of himself against your walls drives him insane. he’s dizzy, nearly delirious with how much he’s holding back.

“wanna fill you up so badly, please lisichka.” he continues, pressing searing kisses to your shoulder. “want you leaking with all of my cum…want all of it in you.”

you don’t think he’s looking at you while he babbles and pleads to breed you, and you shiver at how predatory he looks at your lower abdomen. you lock your legs tighter around him, ignoring the overstimulation creeping up in you.

“yes, ajax. please. w-want all your cum. want you to fill me up!” you whine, a sound that makes his heart and cock swell all at the same time.

your next words startle him even further.

“i love you.”

and he snaps.

“hah—ah, fuck!” ajax curses, hips stuttering in their pace. he groans loudly, feeling himself spill into you. there’s spots in his vision from how hard he’s cumming and he wonders if this is what celestia is.

you gasp, jerking when warmth spreads throughout all of you. you can feel the throbbing of your boyfriends cock and his heavy load.

coming down from both of your highs, the two of you laugh.

“you surprise me every time.” you tease quietly, eyeing a bite mark on your thigh.

the ginger looks bashful, hiding his face in your shoulder. “sorry…didn’t mean to be so rough…”

“if i wanted you to stop at anytime, i would’ve told you.” you reassure, petting his head.

he plants a kiss on your skin. “good. and for the record, i love you too.” he murmurs. “feel better?”

“i felt better after the delicious breakfast you made, but you took it a couple of steps further like you always do.” you giggle, leaning into his chest.

ajax grins, kissing the crown of your head, “well, i could tell something else was on your mind, but you weren’t telling me.”

“you know me way too well. it’s terrifying.”

he puffs his chest out, “what can i say? i can and will only provide the absolute best for you.”

“i don’t like leaving you alone for as long as i do…i will try to get them to let me take work closer to home.” he adds, playing with your fingers.

and the beam on your face is all worth it. “really?”

“really. i’m not around a lot for you to do things for me, and i get why you may feel that you need to be better. but i adore you just how you are. i’m sorry for not being more present.”

“it’s okay, i understand.” you hum, kissing his chin.

ajax hums with appreciation before leaning down and chasing your lips, hungrily wanting to taste you all over again.

his demanding presence has you melting into him as you mesh together, tongues locking to consume the taste of yourselves.

suddenly he’s dragging you by the hips to the edge of the bed.

“w-what are you—“

“m’not done with you. far from it.” you barely can form another question before ajax is sliding back into you. a crude squelch follows.

the harbinger kisses your bare ring finger. “say, i think we should elope. what do you think about starting a family?”

key: ptichka = ‘little bird’, lisichka = ‘little fox’, milaya = ‘my dear’

#tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x you #childe x reader #childe x you #genshin childe #genshin tartaglia #tartaglia smut #childe smut #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin oneshot #genshin impact oneshot

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kalki-tarot · 26 days

Text

PAC - WHY SHOULD YOU FOCUS ON YOURSELF INSTEAD OF YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE RIGHT NOW ?

Just meditate and ask your guides/higher power to provide you insight.

Allow me to tap into your energy. 🧿

My readings are always honest and I don't sugarcoat things, pls read at your own risk. And try to have an open mind. 🙏🧿💕

Pile 1

Cards - 7 of wands, 6 of pentacles, 8 of wands

Are you in a hurry to meet them? Your future spouse? You are rushing things and trying to get ahead of your circumstances or the present reality. You know what pile 1? You still have a lot of parts unhealed of your soul. And this is not allowing you to fly freely as you should. You may feel like your fears are greater than you, but trust me they are not. You have all the power over your fears!

In the hurry of meeting them, you are forgetting your own self. You need to love yourself first before loving someone else. You should give yourself more time to think and process things. You should try to ground yourself in the present. Try to do root chakra and sacral chakra healing. Your fears have created some energy blocks which aren't helping you at all.

Don't worry, your desire of wanting to meet the one for you is being addressed by the universe. You will get what you want. But you need to heal yourself first. Clear your karma and self doubts.

Pile 2

Cards - 10 of pentacles, 7 of cups, 4 of pentacles

Pile 2 my loves, are going through a spiritual transformation or awakening right now. You can't miss any steps in the journey right? Please focus on healing yourself more.

Okay, so I can see that you are trying to manifest love and abundance in your life or you are just dreaming and visualizing about it. Let me tell you this one thing, that it definitely is working in your favour but you also need to break the walls of protection that surround you. You are scared to go outside and meet new people. Dear, please understand that you need to get out of your dreams and delusions and actually step out of your comfort zone to meet your future spouse.

Your future spouse on the other hand are too trying to heal their inner child wounds. They are saying that you need to get stable in life. You lack grounded energy and are underconfident about a lot of things. Please try to let go of any insecurities that surround you. Because they are hampering your growth, pile 2.

Pile 3

Cards : Temperance, 7 of wands, 5 of cups

Do you have this tendency to get depressed whenever you don't get any messages from the pick a card readings of? Don't be dependent for love on anyone, not even your future spouse. Love them, but stay away from unhealthy attachments. The reason of their no communication is because they are busy. They are working hard in their career right now. And you too should now focus on your career and goals.

Everything is well when taken in moderation. Balance love and career both logically and like a healthy human being please. You also have this tendency to run away from problems or sadness and indulge yourself in overworking don't do that.

Some of you could be in same sex relationships and you are thinking that things won't work out. Well, things would work out if you make them work out. Try to take bold decisions and stand for that decision.

Don't look back at the past, this is the final step to meet your fs. Just keep going.

Pile 4

Cards : Strength, 9 of cups, 4 of swords

You lack compassion for your own self. You are someone who gives everything to others but feels bad for giving it to yourself. You may connect well with plants and animals or just nature in general. Try to work on your self worth and don't critisize yourself too much.

You have many things to deal with right now. You have many parts unhealed. Try to relax and rejuvenate more physically as well as mentally and spiritually. It'll be good for your overall well being. Try to play with pets or just stroll in nature for sometime to refresh your mind.

You feel like there's so much competition somehow (?) And try to give yourself small rewards for accomplishing tasks. Try to celebrate your small successes please. You need to celebrate yourself more in order to attract the right partner for yourself.

You need to be in the energy of self love and good self worth to attract good partners who emit the same frequency. Do you understand? Lots of love to you.

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fairydustblossom · 7 months

Text

encroaching promises

azriel x reader

summary: based on this request "I would love if you wrote something where Azriel was a dick and he has to GROVEL. (Angst feeds my soul) please and thank you."

category: angst (i just rly love it)

word count: 4.8k

warnings: slightly nsfw in some parts, emotional (not physical) disloyalty ?? maybe ?? kinda ??

notes: umm this was so fun to write! it came to me so fast like I didn't even have to edit it?? hopefully it's good lmao anways i hope you enjoy this @liddyr03, thank you for sending in a request!!

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Something had shifted between you and Azriel. It had been a gradual shift, one you had felt coming on for some time- but you could have never expected the reason for the growing distance between you and your mate.

He had been working longer hours, waking up earlier, barely spending any free time with you and you knew the middle Archeron sister had a part in it. You had tried to ignore it, their growing closer. Azriel had taken a liking to her. At first, your heart had warmed at Azriel’s willingness to help. There had not been many opportunities in his life where he could help someone directly, not just in a battlefield or in an interrogation room. You witnessed the impact it had on him, you could feel his inner peace, the way he viewed himself, his self worth improving- and you were proud of him. You really were happy that Azriel was finally seeing himself in a way you had always seen him. You believed in kindness, in helping others, in going above and beyond for someone in need, you had always preached it to Azriel. It had been one of the things that had drawn him to you, seeing in you traits he wanted to possess. But now, it had gone too far.

You had noticed Elain and Azriel growing closer and closer. You had pushed your wariness aside, opting to be kind to her, hoping to help her in the way Azriel was doing so. Maybe she could be a good friend to you both, you thought. But Elain had not been as welcoming to your helping hand. Instead, she had treated you as she had treated all other fae, like you were a monster, personally responsible for her family's misfortune.

You tried time and time again to be graceful, to brush off her rudeness. You chose to be understanding, to put yourself in her shoes. But still, she treated you poorly. When you would join Azriel in visiting her, you noticed the difference in treatment. How she would look at him, and how she would look at you, like you had something she wanted.

Eventually, you stopped joining Azriel in his visits, finding it hard to control your feelings of jealousy and not wanting to come across as an irrational possessive mate. He was only helping her get better, you told yourself.

After you stopped going together, you noticed how his visits grew longer and longer. The longer he would be there, the more you would question it. What are they doing? Why is she keeping him there? Is it him that wants to stay longer?

The questions would run through your head until the moment he would walk into your shared chambers. You would lay your eyes upon your tired mate, but you would catch the gleam in his eyes, happy with himself for doing some good for once, and you would push aside all jealousy. How could you ever doubt your mate? The very same male that had worshiped you for years, that had vowed his undying love to you, who was bound to your soul. And so you would welcome him home with open arms, letting him fall to bed, little words spoken of his day.

It kept on like this, for months, till a whole year had passed and you no longer recognized your relationship with Azriel. You barely spoke anymore, going through your established routines around each other in silence. What had once brought you so much comfort, now left you fretting that something had irrevocably changed. You knew next to nothing about what Azriel was thinking, of where he spent his days, although you had a good idea of who he spent them with. You who had once been his closest confidant, wrapped in his arms till late hours of the night, whispering every thought that crossed through your minds to each other. You were barely having any sex. What used to be almost a daily activity, was now a hurried fuck in the dark, taking no time to explore one another's bodies, only looking for a quick release. You hadn’t actually seen your mate’s body in months. Had Azriel finally had enough of yours after all this time?

Elain’s smell had practically been imprinted on him. You never smelled any sex, no, and you thought, no you hoped, that Azriel would never do that. But it hurt all the same when you could smell her on his clothing, for that only happened when a fae was around all the time.

You had decided to take matters into your own hands. You were waiting for Azriel to come home, wearing his favorite silk slip that you had surprised him with on the night of your mating ceremony. Determination drove you- you would not let him go to bed without first feeling satiated.

And so you waited, your belly fluttering with parts equal nerves and excitement. You were excited because you knew your mate would melt at the sight of you, and love on you like you were accustomed to. You felt maybe all you and Azriel needed was one night to destress, to reconnect and everything would be back to normal.

When Azrile came home, his eyes immediately darkened at the sight of you, he recognized the slip you were wearing, images of your mating ceremony flashing through his mind. He was overcome with need for you and it only took a matter of minutes before you were pressed up against the wall, lost in a hungry kiss. You sent all your excitement down the bond and he groaned into the kiss, sending his desire right back. You were elated, nothing pleased you more than the feeling of Azriel against you and feeling the bond thrumming with need.

Azriel was quick to pick you up and carry you to your shared bedroom, tossing you on the bed. You sat up on your knees, wrapping your arms around his neck, wanting to slow this down a bit. You could feel how badly he wanted you, not only through the bond but by the bulge pressing into your flushed bodies. The mother knew you wanted him just as badly, and any other time you would have given into your needs in a desperate attempt to chase the release you were craving. But you wanted to take him in, wanting to drag this out as long as possible, to drink in the sight of his glorious body that your eyes had been deprived of.

You pressed your forehead against his, willing your breath to calm down. Azriel pulled his head back a bit, brows furrowing slightly and a look of confusion overtaking his eyes, “You alright, love?” a wave of worry flowed down the bond, his hands roamed your body, bringing you comfort and spreading warmth all over.

You flushed slightly, butterflies erupting in your belly at hearing the pet name. Your ears perked, not having heard the endearment in so many months. Gods, you had missed him. You smiled shyly at him, and gave him a slight nod. Azriel felt his knees buck, so many years later and a single look from you could make him feel like the inexperienced younglin he used to be back at the camps. You looked so so lovely in that slip, the shy look you gave him, eyes shining with love, and the pink tint on your cheeks he had elicited all warmed his heart. He brought a hand up to your face, moving a stray piece of hair behind your ear, resting his hand at the base of your jaw all while staring intently into your eyes. When he saw your cheeks flush a darker red, he gave you a charming grin, amused and delighted by the sudden shyness in you. He loved that he still had that effect on you, as if you were meeting for the first time.

“I’m alright Az, just taking you in” you murmured, your voice sounding like honey to his ears.

“You can take me in all you want Y/N, I’m all yours to look at” he murmured back, dipping down to place warm loving kisses on your neck. You were delighted by his words, breathing him in deeply, relishing in the smell of his arousal. You felt delirious and giddy all at once, yes, you thought, all mine. Wishing to remind him, you sent the possessiveness you were feeling down the bond, making Azriel growl and nip at your neck more feverishly, marking you as his. He loved when you claimed him just as much as claiming you, feeling lucky to have someone in his life that wanted him as badly as he had always wanted.

The feeling of Azriel’s nipping and sucking your neck urged you on to keep undressing him. Undoing all the clasps you had started unfurling downstairs, you removed the tight fitting top of his leathers. You ran your hands along his arms, taking pleasure in the warmth of his bare skin against your fingertips. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, trailing your gaze up his tattooed arms, to his chest, hands sliding along- when your eyes snagged on something just below his pec and you halted all your movements. Azriel buried in your neck still, stopped as well, feeling you tense up. You pulled back, taking a good look at what your eyes had seen. It was a tattoo. One you hadn’t seen before.

Your heart sank, hurt overpowering any feeling of desire you had been feeling. The unexpectedness of the moment had left you vulnerable, leaving your side of the bond wide open for Azriel to feel the sudden shift in your emotions. He froze, suddenly panicked at why you were hurting and he pulled back, grasping your arms and holding you at arms length. He tried meeting your eyes, noticing they were locked in on his torso. When he looked down he saw what you were staring at.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the rose shaped tattoo resting on his right rib. You didn't know what it meant, but you had a feeling you knew what, or rather who, had been the cause of it. You thought of Elain and her precious garden. You thought of Elain and her treasured white roses. You couldn’t fight the tears that lined your eyes and you moved out of Azriel’s grasp to the other side of the room, wanting to be as far away from him as possible.

Azriel felt his heart sink at the way you fled his touch, as if he had burned you. He saw the look in your eyes and felt his that his world was crashing down.

“What is that Azriel?” you asked, struggling to conceal the wobble in your voice, not actually wanting to hear the truth you already knew.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, looking down at the tattoo your gaze hadn’t drifted from and then looked back up at you. Forcing himself to look at you, even if it made him feel like the biggest dickhead.

“It’s… It’s a promise” he said, wishing he didn’t have to tell you and see the betrayal in your eyes. He had been avoiding this conversation, feeling disgusted at himself for having made the promise in a lapse of judgment.

He saw the fire ignite in your eyes, anger rising at his answer. You already knew it was a promise, and he was aware you wanted more of an explanation. He only hoped you could forgive him, for he did not know if he could forgive you if it were the other way around. Shame creeped up his spine and he mustered up the courage to confess his mistake. He had barely been able to look at himself since the tattoo had seared itself onto his skin and he had opted to ignore it all together- to pretend it wasn’t there. Azriel had done so much pretending, that the tattoo had been fully forgotten moments earlier when he had welcomed and encouraged you to look upon him.

At your lack of response, he cleared his throat and carried on, praying to the mother in his head, for he knew he was about to hurt you and he would hate himself for having caused you pain, “I made a promise. I-I made a promise to Elain.”

You looked up at him then, and the pain he saw in your eyes made him feel sick to his stomach, knowing he has caused it. “Y/N, I swear I didn’t mean to-”

You cut him off, your voice terrifyingly low “What did you promise her Azriel?”

His cheeks were red and his body felt hot with shame as he replied, “I promised I would always be there to protect her.”

His words, uttered barely above a whisper, felt like daggers to your heart. You flinched, unable to conceal the effect they had on you. The tears broke free, you managed to hold in your sobs by biting the inside of your cheeks, but you couldn’t hold back the tears. You were biting so hard you tasted blood, and the world felt like it was spinning. You couldn’t find any words, there was nothing to say. He had promised her something he was supposed to only ever promise you.

“I fucked up. I know I did, I’ve been working out a way to undo it.” He started to plead, taking a few steps to close the distance between you. You stepped away, not letting him get near, barely hearing his words over the rushing sound in your ears. “Rhys and Feyre have been helping me find a way to break it. We actually know how, the same way they broke their deal from under the mountain, we just need Elain to-”

You were done listening to him, his words only adding to the hurt you were feeling. Rhys and Feyre knew your mate had promised his protection to another? Did everyone know? Why hadn’t he told you?

“Leave” you hissed at him. You didn’t care to hear his excuses, you were done. Never would you have ever spent so much time with another male, never would you have ever made such an intimate promise.

“What?” he asked. He had been expecting you to react this way, for months he had been mentally preparing himself. But to hear you actually say it still caught him off guard. “Y/N, please, I can expl-”

“Leave” you said again, your voice strengthening with conviction. “Get out of my home, Azriel.” You felt if Azriel stayed any longer you would go mad, and you meant your words. This was not a home anymore, not with him in it. He had bound his soul to another, and kept it from you. If he remained here any longer, you don’t know what you would do. You could feel your power thrumming in your veins, begging for release.

Azrile looked heartbroken, like a man that had lost everything he cared about in this world. He pleaded with his eyes, pushing everything he was feeling down the bond, hoping you would take back his words. When you only looked away as a response, he knew he had to respect your wishes. It pained him unlike anything else to leave you alone after the damage he had caused but he understood there was nothing he could do at that moment to make it better. He steeled himself, calling all his shadows to him, fighting with the ones that were wrapped around you trying to comfort you, and then he vanished.

You broke down when Azriel left, letting the pain of your failed relationship consume you. The image of the rose tattoo was all you could see behind your eyes and you ran to the bathroom to release the bile that had risen up your throat. You sat there on the floor, picturing all the interactions you had witnessed between Azriel and Elain. You could have prevented this, you couldn’t help but think, if you had only stepped in sooner. If you had only kept that girl away from your mate. If you had only shown her anything other than kindness. You had in a sense, lost your mate to another woman. For how could he spend his days with you when he promised to protect another for the rest of her days?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Azriel knew he had to fix this. He honestly had already been trying to, he wanted nothing more than to be rid of the promise he had made Elain. A promise that she had coerced him into. But to be rid of it, she had to be in agreement. Rhys and Feyre had helped him contact Helion and that is what he had told them. The High Lord of day had also told them it would cause great pain, which Elain had grasped onto in her refusal to break the promise. She argued she had been through enough in the past years to willingly put herself through more pain.

Azriel blamed himself, really. For letting Elain get so close to him, for having been there at her beck and call to the point she expected, no demanded, that treatment from him all the time. He had spent the last few months attempting to convince Elain to go through with breaking the promise. He was doing everything he could for her, hoping if he did enough she would come to her senses and consent to Helion’s spell.

He kept telling himself she was only holding on to this because she had lost everything else in her life, it made her feel that she was finally in control of something- that she didn’t mean his beloved any harm. But Azriel had come to the realization that whether Elain meant to hurt others or not with her actions- she was being selfish with them. He was devoted to you and he would not let Elain cost him what he prized so dearly in his life. His mate, he kept thinking, he would not lose his mate.

Rhys and Feyre were curled against one another in the living room when Azriel winnowed in, looking distraught, wings drooped, and frantic shadows dispersing around the room- swallowing all light. He dropped down to his knees, tears lining his eyes as he looked up at his High Lord and High Lady. They were instantly alarmed, Rhys dropping to the floor to join his brother while Feyra went to Azriel’s side. Rhys grabbed Azriel’s face in his hands, quickly assessing him for any injuries, he tried peeking into Azriel’s mind and only saw your pained expression. Azriel dropped his head on his brother's shoulder, looking like a fallen angel, and he cried. “Please help me. Please, brother”.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

For the next few weeks, you had isolated yourself- putting wards around the house to prevent any of your family from winnowing in. You had felt each of them attempt to come in, to console you, but you refused to let them in.

You couldn’t forgive them, at least not anytime soon, for having kept this from you. You felt embarrassed. You didn’t know how long ago the promise had been made, you didn’t know how long they had known- all the interactions you had with your family since the time Elain came were now painted in a different light in your mind. Had they all thought you a fool? To let your mate get so close to another female, when Elains affections for Azriel had so clearly been written on her face? You couldn’t bear to face them, knowing they had kept this from you.

You had also distanced yourself because you weren’t sure of what you would do if you came across Elain. Your territorial feelings had only been enhanced and you were scared of what you would do to your High Lady’s older sister if you saw her.

Azriel had tried almost everyday to talk to you, but you remained firm in your decision, refusing to yield to his pleas. You had received countless notes from Rhys, the only one who could get past your wards, and had burned them all. Until the latest one. You had been reading when a note appeared on the page you were on. Unlike the other ones, this one did not come to you unfolded so you had no option but to read the words they said. “It is done. Azriel is recovering in the infirmary.” The note raised your heartbeat and caused dozens of questions to rise within you. Suddenly Azriel’s absence the past few days made sense. He had been resolute everyday since you had kicked him out in gaining your forgiveness, staying outside the door to your home waiting for the day you would let him back in. He hadn’t pushed or attempted to break through your wards, and you knew he could, he was the spymaster after all; instead, he had patiently waited, accepting his punishment. Every night, for weeks he had waited, until a few days ago, when he had disappeared and hadn’t come back. You figured he had gotten tired, or given up- you were still too hurt to find out why he had left.

Now, worry filled you. Was he okay? What did Rhys mean by “recovering”? You recalled the time Rhys and Feyre had faked breaking their bond, fooling everyone by breaking the promise they had made instead- you remembered their shouts of pain, and that was the High Lord and the High Lady, the two most powerful fae in all of Prythian.

You quickly stood up, pacing around the room, trying to decide what to do. Deep down you knew even if you didn’t go right now, adamant in your stubbornness, worry would eat you and thoughts of Azriel would consume you. Acknowledging you wouldn’t be able to go an hour without knowing, you made your decision and winnowed to the infirmary.

When you arrived, the sight of Azriel made you gasp. He looked awful. You could see the stark dark circles under his eyes, his ruffled hair, the pain expression etched on his face even as he slept. He looked thinner too, as if he hadn’t been eating well- he hadn’t, you learned later on, too sick at his own actions to feel any appetite at all.

You rushed to his side, grasping one of his hands, they felt cold, almost lifeless, and you reached deep within to the bond that tethered your soul to his, the bond you had buried deep down within you and ignored for weeks. You sighed with relief when you found it and tugged on it. He was still there you could feel, but the bond was dulled, as if life had been sucked out of it.

You burst into tears, never having imagined that the beautiful bond you cherished would ever be in such a weak state. This feeling you had feared, the feeling of Azriel fighting for his life, of barely being there overwhelmed you.

You cried for him, for your love, for everything that had happened until your throat felt hoarse and the tears wouldn’t come anymore. You had sat there by his side for hours, squeezing his hand and murmuring his name over and over, tugging at the bleak bond, willing it to go back to normal.

All night you spent by his side, the sun was now rising over the mountains of Velaris when you felt a hand land on your shoulder. It was firm and gentle- Rhys. You didn’t look up at him, your head pressed against Azriel’s hand, cradled within your own. When your tears had dried you had resorted to praying to the mother, you were convinced if you prayed enough he would be okay and you wouldn’t let anything interrupt the prayers that tumbled out of you.

“Y/N” Rhys mumbled, sitting down next to you, arm now wrapped around you. “He’s going to be okay.”

When he realized you would not acknowledge him until you felt satisfied with your orison, Rhys pulled you into a hug, waiting for you to finish. He does not know how long he sat there next to you, only that the sun was now high up in the sky. You slumped against him, still not letting go of Azriel's hand and started crying again. “You knew” he heard you say, and he felt a pang in his chest. He realized now that not only had you been hurt by Azriel, but he had hurt you as well.

He nodded, “I’m sorry for keeping it from you.” He said “I was only doing what I thought best. I will let Azriel explain everything when he wakes up, I want you to hear it all from him. But just know I am sorry”

He felt your body shake more violently at the mention of Azriel. “What if he doesn’t wake up?” you asked, voice small and filled with agony.

“He will, Y/N. He will.” He pulled you away to look in your eyes, making sure you were taking in his words. “Madja and Helion have both guaranteed that he will wake up, his body just needs to heal.”

You nodded, calming down slightly at his words. “How long has he been here?”

At this, he looked down, embarrassed to tell you he had kept yet another thing from you in hopes that Azriel could go to you himself and tell you he had gotten rid of the promise. “He has been here a few days, I-I didn’t take it would take long for him to wake up. I wanted him to be able to tell you.”

You only nodded, having already guessed as much, piecing together Azriel’s absence outside your door with his unconscious body. Later, you would give Rhys hell for keeping it from you, but currently you had no energy to fight. You leaned into his hug further, needing the comfort he provided and resigned yourself to waiting.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It took three more days for Azriel to wake up, Rhys had briefly explained that the impact had been greater than it should have been because they had manipulated Elain into consenting to break the promise instead of her going willingly into it. You could feel the anger Rhys felt towards his sister in law as he explained- making sure you understood they had coerced her in a way not too unlike how she had done to Azriel when he made the promise. Your anger towards Azriel had diminished, you still wanted to hear what he had to say, but you were ready to forgive him. All you wanted was for him to wake up.

You were sitting next to Azriel, head nodding off in sleep. After almost four days of little to no sleep, you were struggling to fight it off. Your eyes had fully shut and you could feel yourself drifting when you felt the hand you were holding twitch.

Immediately you gasped and sat up, watching with wide eyes as Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed. He seemed to battle with himself to wake up and once he finally did you stood up grabbing a cup of water for him. He looked at you with daze eyes and croaked out, “I’m sorry”

Your heart melted, his voice was barely there and you shushed him, raising the cup to his lips, urging him to drink some water. He gulped down the water you offered, pulling back to catch his breath, then he looked at you again, eyes filled with sorrow before he whispered again “I’m so sorry, my love”

You only nodded, too overwhelmed with emotion to form any words. Instead, you pushed everything you were feeling down the bond and in return Azriel poured all of his love. You could feel how sorry he was, his love for you, his sadness. His eyes watered at feeling the bond thrumming again, he had been convinced he would never feel it again and he thanked the mother for blessing him with such an amazing mate.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he kept mumbling, groggy from his week-long slumber and unable to form any other coherent sentences.

You shushed him and cradled his face to your body, peppering his face with kisses wanting to convey how grateful you were for your mate. You stayed there, curled up against him the rest of the night, letting him know how much you loved him, your mate, who had risked his life to make things right.

“I would do it again, for you, I would do anything” he murmured, head tucked in the crook of your neck, before drifting off into sleep again.

#azriel #fairydustblossom #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel angst

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honeybeefae · 17 days

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You're Mine (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Summary// After leaving Eris behind to fulfill your parents' desire for marriage, knowing the two of you could never be, you did your best to move on. It had been five years, and you were finally starting to settle into your life with your husband when a late-night visitor brought back feelings you thought you had long since buried.

(This idea has burrowed its way into my head and won’t leave anytime soon, so I’m dragging you all into this with me. I hope you like it <3 It's been awhile since I've wrote anything so if you have any critiques or opinions, please let me know!)

WARNINGS: Smut, Fertility Issues, Verbal Abuse (Spouse), Physical Abuse (Spouse) (A slap but nothing more), Possessive!Eris, Jealous!Eris, Cheating, Breeding Kink, Spanking

Five Years Ago

“Mother, please!” You beg, tears streaking down your hot cheeks as she gives you a look full of pity. It was a useless cause to try to convince your father against this arrangement, but your mother… she used to be a dreamer like you. She once thought of running away with a prince, of living happily ever after, so why wouldn’t she give you the same chance?

“Darling, please, collect yourself.” She urges, grabbing your hands and pulling you towards her. “Pierre will be here any moment with his family. They cannot see you like this.”

“They don’t have to! You could sneak me out the back, let me run away with-” You begin only to flinch when she grabs your face roughly, her eyes shining with a strange mixture of anger and agony.

“With you, Y/N? With Eris?” She hisses, eyebrows furrowing together. “He is the heir to the Court. He will never choose you. He cannot. He will go with whichever maiden secures more political power, and that is not you.”

Your lower lip trembles as her words cut through you like hot steel. They settle in your soul, trying to burn out any hope you might have, and yet you persist.

“No, Mother, you don’t understand. I love him. He loves me. We’ve been courting for months, dancing together and strolling through the gardens. Hells, he gave me this!” You gesture to the ruby necklace resting above your collarbone, wrapped in a gold band that resembles a fox’s tail. “Everyone has seen us together. His family, my family, does that mean nothing?”

She stares at you for a moment, her mouth turning downwards as her fury fades into sorrow. You swallow, trying to get the lump in your throat to disappear as the silence stretches on, but it refuses.

“My darling girl,” She coos, her hands now cupping your cheeks. “One’s first love is something special, an experience worth remembering, but it is one that is never meant to last. He has his duties, as do you. It was never meant to be.”

The realization of the situation hits you in waves of denial, anger, and agony. It makes your head swim, and your stomach lurch as you try desperately to find anything to keep you afloat.

“What if he does choose me, though? What if his parents see me as he does? Someone who makes him smile and laugh, who treats him well. If you could just let me speak with him one more time, keep Pierre and his father busy, I only need an hour.” You try to bargain with her, placing your hands over her own. She goes to respond, your hope hanging by a thread, only for your father’s voice to rise above the two of you.

“He has moved on, Y/N.” He sighs, clearly exasperated by your antics. “Beron has told us about Eris’s betrothed. It’s been arranged since birth. It is time for you to do the same.”

“But if he knew, why would he fall in love with me? I know what I saw, I know what I felt.” You press, wrapping your arms around yourself as your father’s jaw clenches. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

“You don’t think he would?” His scowl deepens as he glances at your mother over your shoulder before fishing for something in his coat pocket, ignoring his wife as she begins to protest. “Read this.”

“What is it?” You ask.

“Just read it.” He pushes the parchment into your hand, rolling his eyes.

Your fingers tremble as you glance at the letter, noticing Eris’s penmanship immediately. The words seem to blur together towards the end, but you realize it isn’t due to his writing but your tears. One of them splashes on the paper, staining it immediately as his voice echoes in your mind.

I regret to inform you of the ending of our courtship, effective immediately. Please know this is through not fault of your own. You were a wonderful experience. I should not have led you on, but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. Even though I am the least deserving of it.

Yours,

Eris Vanserra

A loud sound echoed off the walls, and it wasn’t until your knees hit the floor that you realized it had come from you. You felt the world collapsing in, your dreams fading with each heartbeat as your worst fear came true. Your parents watched, one with sympathy and one with indifference, as you came to grips with reality.

The silence after was choking you as the paper lay taunting you, his signature ingrained in your brain as a loud knock was heard from the front. Soft hands gingerly picked you up as your father’s footsteps led to the door, his voice booming as he greeted Pierre.

“Come now, Y/N,” She shushes you, brushing your tears away with a mother’s softness. “I know it hurts, but in time, it will fade, and you will find happiness with Pierre and your future family.”

“I cannot imagine feeling anything other than this, Mama.” You murmur, numbness starting to spread throughout your body as she smiles sadly and kisses your forehead.

“You will, sweet girl.” She assures you, pinching your cheeks to bring some color back as Pierre draws closer.

“How do you know?” Your gaze raises to meet hers, searching.

She chuckles, though you know it is without humor, watching as she seems to drift far away for a moment before the sounds of your father's throat clearing behind you brings her back.

Her arms pull you into a tight hug as she whispers into your ear, “Because I did.”

Present Day

From your wedding day to now, you have been desperately searching for the happiness your mom said would come. You threw everything into your relationship, forcing Eris into the darkest crevices of your heart so that you could move on. Pierre wasn’t an awful man. He was kind and generous, always concerned about your feelings and ensuring you were cared for.

He knew about your past with Eris and never pushed you but soothed you like a balm to your soul. Your love for Pierre was different, but it was there; you just needed something more. However, you knew better than to dream of it. You could be happy with him, will be happy with him.

Eris had made it very clear that he did not intend to return for you. He hadn’t even had the courage to come to your wedding nor send you any well wishes. You had seen him since, of course, but he always did his best to avoid you. If you did happen to catch his gaze during a dinner or ball, his eyes were always full of anger.

It was in your best interest to forget all about him.

You were torn from your thoughts as the front door opened, your husband poking his head around to look for you. A soft smile pulls at your lips effortlessly, rising up to greet him, only to stall when you see how angry he is.

“Pierre, what is it?” You ask, forehead creasing as he all but slams a letter he had been holding onto the dining table.

“The new high lord,” He scowls, jaw clenching. “He is asking myself and the other merchants to travel across Prythian to secure new deals or else forfeit our titles.”

New high lord?

“Beron is dead?” You whisper, grasping the edge of the table. “How did he…who did…was it…?”

“Eris, yes, the treasonous snake,” Pierre grunts, raising his eyes to you. “It apparently happened overnight, and he is already throwing everything out. I knew he was a bastard, but to-”

“He is not a bastard,” You say before you can catch yourself, your mind screaming at you for rushing to his defense. You owe him nothing—no loyalty, no love, nothing. So why did you speak?

The air in the room seemed to change as he cocks his head, his eyes darkening dangerously. You feel the hairs on your neck raise as you step back, trying to put distance between you. However, Pierre doesn’t hesitate to follow you as the letter is now crumpled in his fist.

“I knew it.” He snaps, nostrils flaring as he grabs your arm and yanks you to him. You let out a small yelp, trying to push against him, but he doesn’t yield. “I’ve given you everything you could ever want. I’ve built you this home, this life when I could’ve treated you like filth.”

“Pierre, please, let go,” Your voice is a whimper as his grasp tightens. “You’re hurting me.”

“Me? Hurting you?” His laugh echoes off the walls, one of his hands running hastily through his hair. “Don’t act like you don’t deserve it. I’ve put up with this teenage moping for five fucking years. I’ve played the part of the gentleman, the family man, and you still can’t get over him. Pathetic doesn’t even begin to cover what you are.”

Tears fall down your face as you sob, finally gaining the strength to rip your arm away as he turns and punches a hole into the wall beside him. You cannot stop yourself from trembling as his shoulders shake with fury, his breath coming in short pants.

“Do you know what they all tell me? Our friends and family?” Pierre asks, closing his eyes. “They tell me how sorry they are for me. How much they pity me. They’ve even suggested taking a whore on the side, so at least that way I could secure an heir.”

The last sentence strikes deep, one of your hands resting on your lower stomach as he gives you a mocking laugh. You had been trying to have a child for a while now. Under the care of a midwife, you had been drinking the teas, reducing your stress, and month after month, you failed. Pierre had been there for you throughout it, promising you that it was not your fault, and for him now to throw it back in your face…it made you sick.

“Y-you told me that it was okay, that these things take time. Going into this marriage, you knew what I had been through and who my former lover was, and you said it was fine.” You hate how your voice trembles as you keep your eyes on the floor. “I thought you understood me, that you could see I was finally starting to heal, but was it all a lie? Have I been sleeping next to someone who I do not know?”

He watches you momentarily, taking in how meek you look and the tears that now stain your face. Footsteps fill the silence and stop once you see his feet, a soft hand coming to cup your chin and force you to look up.

Pierre was there in body but not in mind. The eyes that once held so much comfort were now empty, the smile now a scowl, and his touch burning rather than soothing. He turned your face from side to side, mesmerizing your beauty before smirking.

“I guess that’s two men who’ve used you now, huh?”

You don’t register the slap you gave him until you see his pupils dilate, your eyes widening in fear as your palm begins to burn from the contact. He snarls at you, and before you can apologize or scream, you aren’t sure which one, he backhands you and sends you spiraling to the floor.

“I’ll be back in the morning, don’t wait up.” He calls over his shoulder, straightening his jacket before he walks out the door without even a glance at your crumpled body.

It takes longer than you’d like to admit to collect yourself off the floor, your face red-hot even though you know you have already healed. He hit you. He yelled at you, belittled you, and then slapped you as if it were nothing. A wolf in sheep's clothing.

Your hands dig into the wood of the table as you pull yourself up, hating how weak you feel as you cry. This wouldn't have happened if you had kept your mouth shut. Why did you even say anything? After all this time, why did you feel you still needed to speak up for the man who deserted you?

“Fuck!” You scream as your sadness turns to rage, grabbing a nearby vase and hurling it at the wall. It instantly shatters and clatters to the floor, flower petals scattering everywhere with the glass shards.

It doesn’t make you feel better. So you throw another vase and another, and then a portrait until the room looks like a tornado ripped through it. But nothing is working to fill the hole in your chest that was just violently ripped open once again.

A clock nearby chimes out twelve times, and you blink as you realize how much time has passed. Your adrenaline leaves your body quickly as exhaustion takes place, and your eyes glare at the front door one last time before you start heading up the stairs.

However, as your foot hits the first step, a loud knocking startles you. At first, you think it’s Pierre, drunk and probably without a key, but then you hear a voice. A voice that has haunted your dreams for five years.

“Y/N? Y/N, open the door. I know you are in there.”

It can’t be…

You tiptoe to the door, your heart racing as you stare down at the knob. What should you do? Why was he here? What did he want? Should you even let him in? The consequences could be deadly, especially after what he had done just last night to his own father, but your heart was winning over your head right now.

“Please, my love, let me in.”

Your hand grasps the knob and turns it before you can stop yourself, the door opening to reveal Eris.

He looks the same, damn him. His red hair was tied back in a half-up style, the rest falling over his slender shoulders covered in a thick, dark green coat. Eris’s eyes, the color of molten amber, met yours with a ferocity that made your breath catch. Your stomach fills with butterflies as the night air caresses your skin, whispering long-forgotten memories that send your heart fluttering.

“Eris…” you whisper, your voice tight with emotion. Whatever spell had taken over the two of you broke as you said his name. His hands came up to grasp your face as he pulled you in and kissed you, lips molding to yours as if they had never told you goodbye.

And, cauldron help you, you kiss him back just as fiercely. You had thought about seeing him again more often than you care to admit, about how you would scream at him for what he did to you or prove to him you were better off without him. But once again, your heart craves what your mind desperately tries to discard.

It’s only when your back hits the wall of the foyer that you pull away, gasping for air as you shove him back. He blinks, dumbfounded, and goes for you again, but you shake your head and slap his hands away, gaze hot as years of resentment flood your veins.

“How dare you come into my home and kiss me like that after all you did.” You seethe, teeth clenching as he regards you like a caged predator. “You can’t just show up and do that! You can’t come in here and ruin my marriage, my life like you have any ownership of me.”

“I don’t think I was the one to ruin your marriage, little fox.” Eris replies smoothly, standing straight and giving a pointed look behind you to the mess of a dining room.

“Don’t call me that.” You snarl, wrapping your arms around your body for comfort. “You need to leave. Now.”

“I won’t,” He states, looking you over. “I’ve defeated my father. I’m rebuilding the court and our reputation, gutting it from the inside out. I’m here to collect the last thing I need.”

Your brain goes fuzzy as he stretches out his hand, waiting for you to fall into his arms as if the past were not there. As if his letter and necklace weren’t still tucked away in a drawer by your bed. No matter how badly you missed and yearned for him, you couldn’t forgive him that easily.

“You led me on for years,” You say softly, your voice numb as you take another step back. “You courted me as if you cared. You made me believe we were real, that we would be together forever. Do you think I could just forgive and forget that after you left me with only a letter for an explanation?”

“I thought you were smarter than that.” Eris sighs and clenches his jaw, running a hand down his face as he closes the front door.

“Excuse me? Get the-”

“I didn’t write that letter, Y/N.” He interrupts you, coming to stand in front of you in just two short steps. “My father forced me. And yours, for that matter. I would never let you go. It was only under threat of your own harm that I chose to obey, but I swore to myself that as soon as I took control, I would come find you.”

The angry retort you had building dies in your throat, your head tilting to the side as if you hadn’t heard him correctly.

“You…you didn’t mean what you wrote?” Your voice has a hint of hope, like the last spark of a fire, but you can’t help it. If he was telling the truth, and you still weren’t entirely convinced he was, it meant he had been waiting for you all these years.

He grabs your face again, but it’s soft and caring this time, his thumb brushing across your cheek and collecting a tear you didn’t know had escaped. You look into his eyes, finding nothing but honesty, which only worsens it.

“It hurt that you think I would treat you that way, that I could just throw everything we had away…” Eris whispers, tilting your chin up so you can’t look away. “I’m not your husband. I take care of what is mine. Forever. ”

The mention of him makes you wince and somewhat come back to your senses, glancing towards the clock and realizing he could be back at any moment. If he caught you with Eris, there would be no telling what he would do. Eris could take care of himself; he was a High Lord now after all, but you were vulnerable.

“Pierre…he could be home any minute. Eris, you can’t be here. You need to leave.” You frown, trying to move past him, only to gasp when his hand moves down to your neck and stills you. The hold isn’t tight, but you freeze, wide eyes looking up at him in worry. “Eris, if he finds you here with me-”

“Did you not hear what I said, little fox?” He asks mockingly, bowing his head so his lips can brush against your ear. “I take care of what is mine. And you are mine.”

Eris accentuates his words with a roll of his hips, his half-hard cock pressing against your lower half teasingly. You don’t stop the whimper that sneaks past your lips or the way your neck turns so he can mouth over your pulse point.

“I’ve waited years for this moment, to see you again and take you home. I’ve watched as that pathetic excuse for a man dotes on you and brags about how pretty you sound in bed.” He growls, grabbing your hips and lifting you up effortlessly as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. “The only thing that kept me sane was knowing you weren’t moaning from him like you did for me, that he can’t fill you up like your needy little pussy begs for.”

“Please…” You whine, though you aren’t entirely sure what you are asking for. His touch was like fire against your cool skin, setting you aflame in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

One of his hands snakes between the two of you and quickly finds your panties, his lips curling back as he feels the heat of your cunt. You swear you hear him purr as he begins to furiously bite and suck on your neck and collarbone, marking you.

“Tell me what you need.” Eris commands, pulling back to look into your eyes.

Words fail you momentarily as you stare at each other, your heart threatening to explode as he refuses to drop his gaze. There were so many consequences to this decision, no matter what you choose, and so many things that need to be said before you can logically proceed.

But when the pad of his thumb presses against your clit and circles it slowly, the corner of his mouth tilting up to smirk, you know logic will not win tonight.

“You, Eris,” You moan, trying to press further onto his hand for more friction. “You’re all I’ve ever needed.”

You don’t have time to scream as he squeezes you tightly and carries you up the stairs, your body bouncing so that your lower half hits his cock with each step. He groans and looks around momentarily before kicking open your bedroom door. He then throws you onto the bed and starts to undo his belt, all while keeping those burning amber eyes on you.

“Strip. Now.” He orders, voice raspy as you hastily follow his instructions, your fingers fumbling with the laces of your corset. Eris is already naked by the time you have it halfway undone, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight as he stalks over to you and grabs both sides of your top.

“I hope you weren’t too fond of this.” Eris hums, giving no warning as he rips it in two. You shiver as the cool air licks at your skin, your nipples pebbling while he licks his lips in anticipation. “I always thought you looked better bare anyways.”

Heat runs down your body at the comment, your thighs clenching, immediately catching his eye. You try to rise up on your knees to kiss him, but he is quick to pin you down, straddling your waist as his cock rests heavily over your cunt.

“Let me touch you, please,” You don’t even recognize your own voice as you beg for him. It had been so long since you had felt this needy for someone. “I need something, anything, just please!”

Before you can babble anymore, his lips collide with yours, claiming you possessively as two of his fingers prod at your soaking pussy. He bites down on your bottom lip, and at the same time, he shoves his fingers inside, giving you no prep as he swallows your cries.

“I know, baby, I know,” He coos into your ear, moving to nibble on your earlobe. “We can make love next time, but right now, right now I need to fuck your pretty little brain out to make up for lost time.”

Your back arches as he curls his fingers, finding your spot with ease and teasing you as he kisses down your neck and to your breasts. He sucks your left nipple into his mouth, capturing it between his teeth and tugging until you moan. His cock is leaking against your thigh as he ruts against you.

Rough sex wasn’t new to you, though it had been a while. Pierre was always gentle, taking his time, and while Eris had his moments, he was quite fond of making you beg. However, when fantasizing about this, you always imagine Eris cherishing the moment. This was raw and feral.

“Eris, I’m c-close…” You groan, rolling your hips so he can get even deeper. Your walls flutter around his thick fingers, squeezing them, but right before you can fall over the edge, he pulls them out roughly. “No!”

“The only way you are cumming tonight is around this cock.” He grunts, flipping you over so that you are lying on your stomach before dragging your hips up. Both of his hands squeeze your ass before he lines himself up to your hole, rubbing his length up and down to coat himself in your slick.

“Ohhh fuck…” You moan as the head catches on your clit, your entire cunt throbbing in anticipation. “Fuck me.”

“Not yet, little fox. I want you to tell me how badly you want it.” Eris says lowly, grasping his cock and barely pressing into you before pulling away. “Tell me how much you missed me, how much you thought about me while your husband fucked you in this bed.”

Your nails dig so hard into the mattress you are sure you’ll rip it as you screw your eyes shut, already so sensitive from his teasing. It felt so wrong to speak the thoughts you have been burying for so long, to admit that you never got over the High Lord behind you.

All of your inhibitions get thrown out the window, though, as he lands a harsh smack on your ass, his fingers pinching your clit in annoyance.

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t thought about this, about me, Y/N. That whenever your husband would roll over at night after a mediocre fuck you wouldn’t rub that needy clit while wishing it was me.” He hisses, one of his hands grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking until your neck is craned up. “Give yourself to me, let it go.”

“Yes, okay, yes, I haven’t stopped thinking about you!” You sob, every nerve in your body on edge as he grins in approval. “Every time I had sex, every night in the bath, I couldn’t stop picturing your hands. Your chest. Your cock.”

Eris rewards your confession with what you had been craving, thrusting his entire length in one fluid movement as your pussy burns from the stretch.

“More. Give me more.” He demands, pulling almost all the way out before snapping his hips forward.

“I-” You swallow, your mind starting to fuzz with the ecstasy of having him back inside you. “I would close my eyes and pretend it was you. I wanted it to be you. He could never compare to you, could never make me feel this good.”

Your head drops down as he lets go of your hair in favor of grabbing your hips, hypnotized by the way your cunt swallowed him whole. His hair was starting to stick to his forehead as he truly fucked you. There was no gentleness, no tendrils of love, just pure ownership and passion.

And cauldron damn you did you love it.

“Gods damn it,” Eris swears, moving one of his hands underneath you to rest on your abdomen so he could feel just how deep inside you he was. “Touch yourself, Y/N. I want you to cum on my cock as I fill you up.”

There was a distant panic in the back of your head at the thought of him cumming inside you. You weren’t on any special tea to prevent pregnancy. In fact, you were on something to encourage it.

“Eris, wait-” You try to protest, your words dying in your throat as he starts to rub your clit for you. His hands are calloused from years of use, giving you the friction that you need to cum within minutes. “Eris, I’m not on any birth control. If you-”

“What, you think I don’t want to knock you up?” He chuckles, voice rough as he increases the speed of both his fingers and thrusts. “Oh, Y/N, did you already forget you’re mine? I came here to claim you and breed you, little fox.”

“Oh my gods,” You whimper, the image only making you draw closer to your finish as he bends over to get right next to your ear.

“You’re going to take all of my cum and thank me for it. I’m going to do what your husband couldn’t, right here in his bed for him to smell when he comes home.” Eris sneers, a tingle going up his spine as he feels his balls tighten with the need to release. “I’ll have you barefoot and pregnant for me before he can even come get you. You’re fucking mine.”

“Yours, Eris!” You repeat, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you clench around him. He gives one more circle on your bud, and you are gone, lost to a mind-numbing orgasm that has him throwing his head back and roaring.

Every muscle in your body tightens and releases as you greedily milk his own cum into your womb, your screams echoing off the bedroom walls. You don’t even register Eris biting your shoulder, the pain mixing dangerously with the pleasure as small rivulets of blood run down your back.

You feel your knees give out as you collapse onto the bed, lungs begging for air while Eris slowly pulls out of you. He is silent, and you have just enough strength to look back to see him watching his speed leak out of your gaping hole, his fingers quick to collect it and stuff it back inside you.

“Eris…” You whisper, your eyes are heavy as he gingerly lifts you up and cradles you in his arms. “Is this…did you really come back for me?”

He lets out a small huff of air in humor as he nods, kissing your forehead and smoothing away your hair. Exhausted, you lean into the touch, and he seems to hold you closer. “I’ll always come back for you, little fox.”

547 notes · View notes

hyewka · 10 months

Note

can i suggest a fic where beomgyu is helping take the reader’s mind off a bad breakup…. by fucking the living SHIT out of her NDJDNDJDJDJ

while i fuck you straight | c.bg

warnings; hard dom best friend!gyu, sub!reader, unprotected + pullout method, breeding kink, a spank or two, praise + degradation (mostly praise), slut shaming, rough marking, a tinge of possessiveness, friends w/ benefits, no romantic feelings involved (or are there?), ruined orgasm, princess pet name, beomgyus an insatiable manwhore lol, needy perv gyu with a lot of spit play, fingering, titty sucking hehe, literal messy filth and also barely proofread on my end

a/n; have to thank jazmine with all my heart for proof reading and giving suggestions, i love you so much 😭 @heart2beom this shouldn’t be a big deal as it is, but it is my first time writing full on dom beomgyu so it is this mini celebration for me and all the dom!gyu enthusiasts (i hope) 😇 reblogs are appreciated, keeps me going

You held your phone above your face, scrolling mindlessly through your socials, though subconsciously, you were really just awaiting a call from your boyfriend. Well, now ex-boyfriend. It's already been a week since you got dumped but no matter what went down that day, you couldn't get over him.

It was pitiful every time you jumped up from your bed at a notification just to find it was in fact not your ex asking to take you back and ...just a random spam email.

Beomgyu had his back against your bed, legs sprawled on the floor, also on his phone. You guys had run out of things to talk about when every conversation spun its way back to your ex- Seen that new avengers movie? You wanted to watch it with your boyfriend. That professor just got fired! You remember your boyfriend used to complain about that class. Gosh, you don’t think you’ll ever get over him.

"You're miserable." Beomgyu suddenly brings up.

You groan, as you repeatedly refresh your feed. "Gee, thanks Beomgyu. That definitely doesn't make me ten times more miserable."

He lets his head fall back on your bed, looking up at you through an upside down lens, abandoning his phone. “No, like truly miserable. I’ve never seen you so up and dry and…sober. Be young, live a little.”

You narrow your eyes at him, looking past your phone for the past time in a while. “…You talk like you’re 80 years old, about to retire and wallow in self pity, having experienced all there is to life. Thanks Gyu but no thanks.”

“I’m an old soul Y/N.” He says patting his chest, and you roll your eyes. Not necessarily refuting it, it’s his entire personality. “Where’s the chick I used to know anyway. The old Y/N would’ve been over this in a day with a quick hookup rebound.”

You finally put your phone down, staring up your ceiling. He was totally right. Who else would be right about you if not Beomgyu? But you don’t want to think about your old self, or you’d start sobbing again. Not like you were a totally great person, but that person wouldn’t be so stuck on someone. Anything but being the lovesick, doting person you would’ve made fun of just a year ago. God, he really changed you hadn’t he?

You kick your feet, whining, falling into the abyss of treasured memories. “You don’t understand, he was different, he—he was the one, you know?”

He ponders for a bit, room silent, staring at you through his soft lashes, and you think that maybe he’ll give it you; sympathize and understand that grieving was the entire process of a first love. The silence is suffocating when finally, he lets out a light scoff, cutting through it. “No, no I don’t know. Bet you just got soft.”

“God, fuck you Beomgyu.”

He grins his stupid grin that the situation definitely doesn’t call for, “You wish.”

You think if he wasn’t with you through thick and thin for the past four years, you would’ve definitely developed some sort of hatred.

You could visibly notice a lightbulb spark above his head with the way he immediately sits up straight. “Hey, hey wait.”

You tentatively watch as he turns his back away from you, laying both his arms on the soft cushion of your mattress. “I think I might’ve just had the best idea ever. Of the century. The idea of the century.”

“I highly doubt that.” You say, blindly feeling the surface for your phone already.

“Just hear me out,” he whines noticing your eagerness to dismiss him. “But also don’t freak out or anything. Promise me.”

You stare at him, hesitant before you give in to his doe eyes. Sighing, you say: “Okay. I promise I won’t ‘freak’ out. What’s your groundbreaking idea?”

“We should like… fuck.”

Your brows are slow to raise, the rapidness of your blinking at what you think you just heard—no, not think, know. Beomgyu’s voice, loud and clear with his diction, your eyes widen at the final click of it all. Before you know it, you’re reaching for the pillow behind you, flinging it at him with all strength.

It’s like he predicted it prior, dodging one… and then another as you throw all remaining pillows on your bed. Instead of missing with your last one, you decide to hold on to it, and attack him with it. His smug demeanor of successfully dodging everything just a second ago, dissipates as he takes cover for protection. “Are you fucking—are you crazy?!” you yell exapserated, more than awake with your wide eyes.

“Ya! You—you promised you wouldn’t freak out!” When that doesn’t stop your mania with the damn pillow, he decides to lay it all out with as much speed as he can’t seem to escape your wrath. “You want to forget him don’t you? I mean, you should! He dumped you, it’s over! Sulking over him is—Ow! So out of character for you—fuck—I promise a one time fuck would get your mind off him.”

Your pillow is mid air, and Beomgyu opens an eye to peek, hands still in protection mode—you sigh, landing a weak hit on his head before loosening your grip. You do want to forget. You’d do anything to get rid of what you’re feeling. But…

“It—it wouldn’t change anything for me. If that’s a worry. You know that no matter what, you’re my best friend.” He finds his footing, collecting himself, looking at you with intensity you could date back to just a few times over the course of your very long friendship. “Someone I care about. I can’t stand seeing you hurt and not being able to do anything. You know that.”

You bite down on your lip, staring at the familiar boy with his familiar brown bed of hair, and his familiar eyes, lips…How fast did he get you to actually give this a thought? Probably a minute or two. Beomgyu had a way with convincing you to do …anything. “I…know. But what if, what if I’m still head over heels in love with him? What if it doesn’t change anything for me?”

A grin gradually takes over his face, one that is once again, not fitting for the situation. “Why—why are you smiling like an idiot? This is—”

“It’ll change.”

You knit your brows together. “What?”

You don’t notice the way Beomgyu’s hand slowly inched to yours but suddenly, his palm was over your hand, squeezing it just a bit. “Having sex with me is a once in a life time opportunity. You’ll forget him. I promise.”

If you weren’t so lost in his eyes, as cliché as it sounds, you would’ve been completely taken out—probably a joke on his sheer confidence because who just says that? But he’s so …hypnotizing as you don’t even take notice of the ‘okay’ that leaves your lips.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” You exhale, “Okay. We’re adults. This won’t matter in a few weeks. Let’s do it.”

Beomgyu doesn’t hesitate for more than a few seconds before he was on your bed, crashing his lips on yours, a brief taste of strawberry lip balm, knocking a breath out of you until he slows down, testing the waters, then he stops, noses brushing against each other as he searches for something in your eyes, breathing already heavy, “Is this weird? Was that weird?”

You gulp looking down on his already glistening lips, and you nod. “The—the situation, not …the kiss. Fucking your best friend is an odd situation. The kiss…the kiss was good.” You ramble, your voice barely a whisper but he catches it anyway as you take notice of a small smile before he’s kissing you again, hands once cupping your cheeks already moving down to your tits, ministrating gently—every bit of his action seemed careful, too careful for what you know of the things your friends had told you in heated rants and swoons.

Half of the dictionary could be used to describe Beomgyu, and promiscuous was not an exclusion. You could probably say you already fucked him with the headache inducing details about what being with him in bed was like. Which is why you’re nervous as hell right now. From what you know, Beomgyu was… a lot. More than you could handle now, after an entire year of keeping yourself to one man.

“Jaehyun was worried about you. Was worried about what you’d do to me.” You blurt out randomly when Beomgyus’ moved to peppering feathery kisses along your jawline. He hums against your skin, then stops for a second to whisper, “He was?”

You could feel the smirk on his lips, opening his mouth a tiny amount to slightly suck on your neck at the process of your words—of course Beomgyu would get an ego boost from this. “Why?”

Beomgyu is practically suffocating with how little space he’s giving you, body flush against flush, your chest heaving the rougher he increasingly gets with his marking, his sly hand down to rub between your thighs, right at your core.

“Said you only wanted to get into my pants—h-ha shit, slow down, slow down Gyu.” You were getting teary eyed by his increased speed, friction against your sweats getting you wetter by the second whenever the pad of his finger teased your slit. “You know he—he asked me to stop hanging around you b-because—”

None of this was new to Beomgyu, your past boyfriends have always been worried about him for the exact reason—that he’d convince you to let him fuck you, because apparently women can’t have male best friends without it being more than platonic. But …you guess you aren’t really proving them any wrong now with the way you were letting him have his way, marking messy purple splotches all over, in hungry predatory manner, getting rougher and rougher by the second. You gasp when he abuses the same spot he just visited a few seconds ago, “Beomgyu!”

“Because?”

He presses on your aching core, pending you with the question. He didn’t seem as happy as he was with his smugness prior. “Because he thinks you’re a sleaze.”

An incredulous— mean chuckle from the back of his throat and suddenly his hand was down your panties, abandoning the long game of teasing in matter of seconds. He doesn’t touch you though, which only proves to make you more insane. “That’s dumb. Do you think I’m a sleaze?” You shiver, his deep voice so close to your ears, breath fanning against your cool skin—your eyes could go sore from how hard you’re shutting them closed.

You refuse to give it all to him, it makes you feel embarrassed and small. A new, foreign feeling you never thought you’d experience with Beomgyu of all people. “I-in some ways, yes.”

Not a satisfying response from you, he clicks his tongue like you were a misbehaving child, “You’re really annoying, you know that?”

You don’t get a chance to retort before you feel the pad of his finger prodding your pussy, then moving to gather your wetness.

Suddenly, he freezes his movement, pulling back from your neck, looking at you with an amused glint to his dark eyes. “Shit, you’re fucking drenched. And I barely did anything—”

You think he’s making fun of you so your cheeks quickly flush red, already putting up walls of defence but then he kisses you in the heat of the moment, wiping your frown away and you’re finding yourself reciprocating without a second thought—the kiss so sloppy and messy, string of saliva connecting your lips when he pulls away out of breath. “Fuck, that’s so hot princess. You’re so hot.” He breathes in awe of the spit—he truly is the biggest perv.

“Spread your legs for me.” he groans, trying to get better access to your pussy. You obey, admittedly a little slow, but who can blame you? It feels embarrassing regardless of who, but it’s ten folds with your best friend. “Moreee.” he whines, and god you wish you could slap him—can he not see that you’re trying?

“Beomgyu—“

Your voice gets cut off, gasping when he takes it upon himself to pull down your sweatpants with a quick swift motion, taking it off completely, revealing your patterned underwear—and god, now you’re hiding your face…everything was so embarrassing. He takes a second to examine the wet dark spot right in the middle, proof to what he felt earlier, but then you kick your feet. “Stop staring freak!” you shriek.

You can see through the cracks of your fingers the smirk he has on, looking at you with so much intensity you think you’d melt. He reaches out to grab your hand and put it down, even through your resistance, you couldn’t match his strength to your dismay. “I wanna see your face. Have to let me see you fall apart on my fingers like a little slut.”

You’re scandalized at his wording, your cheeks once again quickly heating up. But you let him part your timid legs anyway, big hands gripping the softness of your thighs, spreading your legs as much as he possibly could, to the point you felt yourself cramp up. But even with whines of protest he doesn’t ease up—bunching your panties to the side, impatient when finally he inserts a digit—experimental with his movement before you hear him groan out a curse. “You’re so tight holy shit, did he even fuck you?”

“Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t wanna know.”

Your senses are already overflowing, you could feel his hard on, his erection pressed on your bare skin, you’re hyper aware of the finger inside you—slender and slow with expertise as he pushes in and out, talking to you as if you could respond with anything more than restrained mewls. “Maybe dating him was good, then you had to be monogamous and not whore around with every guy you laid eyes on like you used to.”

“I-I never whored around—shit.” He suddenly speeds up, a merciless grin spread on his face—did he find messing with you funny?

“Yes you did. It was a new guy every…it was weekly, wasn’t it?”

You shake your head at his accusations, tears brimming when his mouth finds it use, suckling harshly on your nipples through your flimsy top—your body extra sensitive with the way you spasm on a singular finger. He pumps in two without warning and you yelp, hand reaching out to grab at his hair. You swear you could cum just from the stretch. “Stop denying it, you’d do anything for dick. I’m surprised you stayed so long with that bitch. Was he any good?”

One thing you won’t do is tell Beomgyu details of your sex life with your ex. You refuse. But Beomgyu is stubborn, and he isn’t one to give up so easily. Especially if he feels like you’re withholding information from him. “Tell me.”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

He raises his eyebrows in mocking shock, “No way. He never made you cum?”

Your nostrils flair from pure embarrassment and shock. How’d he know? You quickly try to control your expressions, masking it to not give him a hint that his guess was right, but he knew you too well. You hate that. Especially now.

“Can’t believe you’re hung up on a man—fuck, baby are you close? Hung up on a man that never made you orgasm—shit,” He breathes, rubbing his clothed dick on your thigh, getting off at the sight of your face. You really are falling apart. “Don’t worry princess, I’ll take care of you.”

You tighten your hold on his hair, feeling yourself get close as you grind down on his fingers, chasing your high, choosing for your sanity to ignore all his sweet talkings.

“Gyu, gyu I-I’m gonna—No—no-why? God, fuck you, you’re such a—such a dickhead!”

Beomgyu just ruined your orgasm by completely taking out his fingers, you could practically cry out of frustration and yet he didn’t seem the least bit sorry. Instead, he makes a show of licking his fingers, the ones he just had in you, swirling his tongue and sucking them clean while making direct eye contact. You cower a little but still keep your eyes on him. Now you aren’t sure if you could stay as bitter.

You blink rapidly to collect yourself, because holy shit, you’re getting weak for…Beomgyu. “Why’d you do that? I was close Gyu.” you say exasperated.

He unbuckles his jeans, “I said I’d take care of you, just trust me.” Zipping down his pants, he’s quick to drop it down to his knees before completely abandoning them on the floor.

He flings his cock out of the restrictions of his boxers and you’re practically drooling at the pretty sight. He isn’t the biggest you’ve seen but he definitely has the girth—his tip leaking pre cum down his length, hands trying to lube it with his spit. “Beomgyu, condom.”

“I don’t have one.” He breathes, already on you as he lays wet kisses down your collarbones before he gets irritated with your shirt and takes it off, revealing your bare tits. “God, you’re so sexy.” He drawls, sucking hickeys all over your chest in hunger.

You wish you didn’t have to, but you resist his touch and in turn he lets out an annoyed whine, his voice vibrating against your exposed skin. “Beomgyu, we can’t—we need a condom.”

He sticks out his bottom lip in a pout, the cutest you’ve seen him this entire day. “I’ll pull out, I promise. Please, I need you right now.”

In that moment of weakness, his tone so needy, as if he really did need you made you feel some sort of power—like you were the hottest, sexiest woman in the world. And so you bite your tongue, and trust Beomgyu to not ruin your life. You’ve done that quite a few times.

“Swear you’ll pull out.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“I do.” You say with conviction. “I do, obviously. It’s just-”

“I know. Take a breather for me. Said I’ll take care of you, didn’t I?”

You could feel him lining up to your entrance, his tip prodding your hole, and you’re already getting desperate. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” you breathe.

“Stick your tongue out.”

You do, not sure what to expect until Beomgyu spits, letting his saliva slowly fall down in your mouth. “Swallow.” he demands, his low voice making you shiver—dark eyes watching every twitch of your face intensely.

You gulp his saliva down your throat, obeying and suddenly his expression morphs into lust you’ve never been met with before. You don’t even get to process it for longer, bask in the attention you’re getting before he’s pressing your thighs to your body, pushing into you with a deep groan—filling you up to the brim, your cunt not prepared for the aching stretch. You can feel each vein against your walls, you can feel his slight twitching, you can feel everything. “Fuck, fuck you’re made for me. You’re perfect—shit, you’re perfect princess.”

“Gyu—” you cry out, gripping the sheets under you. It was too much, too much for him to already start slamming his hips. “Gyu what—” you’re cut off by your own moan the moment he hits your g-spot, your face scrunched up, hot as you let out lewd sounds with no control of your own, throat strained already. It's not a surprise he manages to find it on his first try, despite it catching you off guard with the sudden wave of pleasure.

“Should’ve fucked you sooner. Get your little pussy molded just for my dick. You would’ve liked that, right princess?” He breathes out in a long winded babble, his hips unrelenting with each thrust, already quickly building up to be in erratic speed. Through your blurry vision you could see his eyes focusing down on the jiggle of your breasts lewdly, drool trickling down the edge of his lips, the brutal slapping sounds of them from his roughness getting his head light with ecstasy. You’re more than aware of what he wanted to do when he lets your legs rest from the ache of angling them so high. Dirty pervert.

You can’t handle him playing with your tits again, you were too sensitive for anything more than you’re getting but you can’t find it in your throat to say anything before Beomgyu gives in to his lust, leaning down to attach his mouth to your sore nipple. Abusing it as he suckles harshly, muffled moans against your breasts.

His pace getting quicker, clearly getting off from sucking your nipples like a dumb baby. It was getting you embarrassingly close, your pussy clenching around his dick. “Princess. My princess is so—mmf—so perfect.”

“Stop calling me that.” You manage to squeak out. Hes been using that nickname the entire time, and though it was easy to ignore everything else, the nickname was affecting you more than you’d like to admit.

He detaches from your tits, slowing his movement, looking up at you with furrowed eyebrows. “Huh? Princess? Why?”

“He—he used to.”

He blinks a few times before his lips draw into a sneer, clearly irritated and you’re about to backtrack, but it’s too late. Your eyes fly wide open, breath stricken when he, with no mercy, picks up his speed again, drilling his dick so far into you, you think there’s probably a bulge showing through your stomach—its when you let the tears stream down, let yourself go as he fucks you dumb with each sharp thrust serving as a punishment. But for what exactly? For mentioning your ex? Did he hate him that much?

“You can replace your memories of him with me princess. I know you can do that, I’ll make sure you do. You’re my princess, and I’m the only one who can call you that. Remember that, yea?”

You nod up and down, and he leans down to give your lips a peck, one then two then three until he loses it and it starts getting heated, tongue messily intertwining, spit exchanged in desperate action. Drilling his dick in and out your sopping pussy, squelching pornographic like sounds filling the room—you think you’re screaming at this point, mind too clouded to be fully present. You’ll definitely hear a word or two from your neighbors.

“Fuck princess, are you close?” he hisses, “I’m close too, so close. Tell me when you get there baby, okay?”

You manage to nod, pressure quickly building up

Suddenly you feel him force in a finger in your pussy, stretching you out to unimaginable degrees. “B-beomgyu—I’m cumming, I’m—” your panicked hands at the intense feeling reach out to grab at his chest, crumbling his shirt’s fabric, using the last bit of your strained voice to moan his name, your orgasm so overwhelming you genuinely start seeing white, body shaking as you try to calm yourself down. “F-fuck.” you breathe out.

The way you still clutch onto his arms pushes Beomgyu to his high too, quick to pull out of your gushing pussy before a mistake happened. It takes only two strokes before he’s spurting his seed all over your tummy, biting down a groan, obsessively taking in each inch of your body’s ruined state.

He did this. He ruined you.

The only thing filling the room being the heavy breaths of you both, Beomgyu’s hair plastered onto his forehead from sweat, yours disheveled, a complete mess. Suddenly, a notification ding goes off, and your attention’s snapped to your side. “It’s my phone.” You awkwardly point out, noticing the light before reaching your arm to get it to you.

He doesn’t move from his position, still practically hovering over you. But you try not to focus too much on it, instead taking a quick look at your notification.

Your brows twitch in surprise at seeing the message on your lock screen. Fuck, it’s your ex! Did he want you back? So miraculously? After fucking your best friend?

Without any thought, you unlock your phone, trying to skim where the ellipses left off. It was a long message and—

“We just fucked. Can’t you wait a few minutes before going on your phone— Are you texting Jaehyun?” His warm smile turning to utter rage gets you stuttering.

“No I—well—yes, but—” you fumble on your words, not knowing how to explain—not knowing why you feel like you should explain, but Beomgyu isn’t one to play around clearly, as he snatches your phone from your hand and throws it to god knows where before your body’s turned around like it was nothing to Beomgyu, like you were some ragdoll. Pushing your hips up to have your ass up in the air with your face pushed into the sheets. “B-beomgyu wha..—”

Slap. Your whole body jerks at the impact of his hand, feeling yourself get teary eyed again. “Beomgyu what the hell?” You shriek, trying to squirm from your position, your ass burning. Then you get another slap, and your legs start to shake, bottom lip wobbling at the painful feeling of his rings.

“I promised you I’d make you forget him. Clearly one fuck wasn’t enough to get your mind off that asshole.”

Your panic only lasts a millisecond at feeling his tip for a second time before you’re abusing your throat again at the oversensitivity of having Beomgyu’s dick slam into your pussy, fucking your juices back in. He’s rougher now, ten times rougher. Maybe this was what all your girlfriends were describing to you, the feeling of having Beomgyu’s dick rut into you like wild feverish dog, fucking you like all you are is a pair of limbs, just for him to hound.

You can’t think straight, not a single word coming out of your mouth is intelligible, all slurred together dumbly as he ruthlessly digs his fingers in your hips, helping you find rhythm, your body reacting on its own as it syncs with his thrusts, moving your hips enough for him to let a hand go to the back of your head, further pushing you into the mattress, drool messy staining your white sheets, loud muffled wails filling the room.

“Fuck, you like this don’t you? Getting fucked like a bitch?” your hear him growl. You don’t know what comes out of your mouth, you don’t know anything right now, because you are being fucked like a bitch while thinking like one too, your nose running with your tongue uselessly out like something out of a porno. “Should I breed you like a bitch too? Huh? Will that make your pretty little head forget?”

At that, you cum again, and he sneers, a mean laugh at noticing your orgasm, “You want me to breed you princess? Make you round with my seed?” he drawls each vowel mockingly like you were a dumb kitten and he had to explain a really simple concept—still ramming your cunt, not giving you a fair chance of responding.

That’s how it goes for you’re not sure how long, Beomgyu switching positions to have your leg draped over his shoulder as he fucks you to oblivion, making you orgasm over and over again, before you really feel like you had blacken out at some point only to find yourself waking up to him still going at it—your entire body sore, down to every inch, your nipples especially swollen from all his sucking. He never cums inside you, instead emptying his load all over your body, making you basically a show of his dried semen.

You trust him, even when his tendency to go far never died down no matter how much he got older. “You awake?”

You flutter your eyes open, a dark room, and Beomgyu. His face is abnormally close to yours. “What happened?” your voice comes out very strained, your throat hard to use. Great, you entirely lost your voice.

“Think I might’ve had my balls in…too deep.”

Even a chuckle hurts every bone in your body, holy shit, how were you going to go to work tomorrow?! “Hey, don’t move around too much, I already cleaned you up. Just try to go back to sleep.”

“I don’t feel sleepy. I can’t.”

Beomgyu suddenly giggles, you could make out the cute small thing he does with his lips when he does. “What?” you ask.

“Your voice sounds funny.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. Of course he’d find it funny. Maybe next time you should peg his ass and see how he’d like to not speak for an entire week.

You feel his all too familiar hand laying on your cheek, and you subtly gulp. You don’t know if he heard. He probably did with how close you guys are, noses practically brushing against each other, his breathing all your hearing can pick up. “You know I’m always here for you, right?”

You nod, until you realize he might not be able to see you properly. “Yes.”

“Good.”

He takes his hand off your cheek, then turns on his back, folding his arms over his chest, staring up the ceiling. So the room won’t fall into an awkward silence, you say: “I have a question.”

He shuffles a little on the bed, letting out a hum in acknowledgment. “What was the I’m perfect for you thing about? We’re definitely not like, compatible or anything.”

He laughs before he turns his head to you in disbelief. “Are you serious? Is that a serious question?”

You nod, “Do I not sound serious?”

“No, you sound like you just had the best fuck of your life.” You roll your eyes in good nature, though exasperated, you were exposed to too much of his ego in one day. If you had the strength and will to come up with something to level his ego down, you would. “It’s called dirty talk if you must know the term fair maiden.”

“God, you’re so silly, I’m going to sleep.” You withstand your pain to turn your back to him, groaning with each movement. But you can’t escape his wrath it seems, because he almost immediately snakes his arm around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder, his heartbeat all you can here against your back. “Can’t I find you perfect? You know, like…my dream girl. My princess.”

You rapidly blink a few times trying to process—past the deep rasp of his tired voice that you found yourself incredibly attracted to— his words and how it brewed big unfamiliar emotions, knowing now you won’t be able to get a blink of sleep after this.

“Can I keep calling you that by the way? It really sticks.”

Oh god, the last thing you’re going to do is self sabotage yourself even more and get yourself in a stickier situation than you already put yourself in. “No, that’s definitely staying in the bedroom.”

a/n: i have no idea how this reads, its basically bare of any editing so if the flow is a little choppy i sincerely apologize, i write at the golden time of 10pm-2am 😭

#txt smut #txt hard hours #beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu smut #dom!beomgyu #txt hard thoughts

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