#this part was going to be longer but writing has been slow .... might split up part 3 into two parts <3

[iuwon]

X ▸ yang jungwon (part i)

▸ DESCRIPTION : what do you get when you have a stupid asshole of a bestfriend (who’s completely head over heels for you, should he add) and a fucked up ego that refuses to admit any form of defeat? you guessed it: the summoning of a jealous ex-boyfriend who dumped you two years ago, and is hell-bent on winning you back.

▸ PAIRING : ex!yang jungwon x female reader (feat. nishimura riki)

▸ GENRE(S) : angst, fluff, slow burn, exes au, college au

▸ WORD COUNT : 28.5k+

▸ WARNING(S) : this is very fast-paced for a slow burn, VERY cringe-y angst and writing (pls spare me it’s my first time😭), fake-dating with riki, JUNGWON REDEMPTION ARC ON PART 2, breakup scenes, indication of hang-ups and love triangles, jealousy, profanities, mentions of a car accident, blood, flashbacks from before and after the breakup, both reader and jungwon have issues :D, this has a second part because the fic is too long, not proofread, kindly let me know if there are any more ^-^

▸ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST : here

▸ UPDATED A/N : hello!! i finished this fic on the start of 2022 and then left it like that when i went on my hiatus, so rereading it nearing the end of 2022 .. i CANNOT take this seriously LMFAOO i was high and i dramatized everything im sawry. But. this is the longest fic i’ve written so far and for that i’m sort of :D i have little to almost zero experience of writing long fics AND angst, so i really hope to any who read this won’t have any high expectations T^T pls lmk your thoughts on this one!

▸ REQUESTED! for my scorpio twin anon :)

SOME PEOPLE ARE JUST LIKE KITES.

Someone had said that once, you remember. They’re the type of people that don’t have their two feet planted anywhere near the ground. They fly, and they keep flying. They have their mind fixated on solely reaching higher and higher up the sky just to blissfully enjoy the breeze. 

They continue to fly up once the string is held securely in someone’s hand. The thought never crosses their mind that the person holding the string might ever grow tired, or that the person would only continue to hold on because it’s hard to release the string - because it’s hard to let go.

Sometimes, the kite flies away. Either the wind current was too strong, or maybe it slipped out of your grasp. In the end, the one holding the kite is always the one to blame for carelessly losing them - it’s the person who mourns of the lost kite and suffers the consequences.

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↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ 

You were the type that always focused on studies. 

A homebody was what you were. To you, school was meant for school. The topic of boys never interested you, and Yang Jungwon wasn’t anywhere never of an exemption. 

Yang Jungwon, the notorious musical genius – the charming boy-wonder who lived in his own 4D world. People could say countless of sweet things to describe him, but you would forever see him as a person who was incapable of holding an interest for anyone for longer than his short attention span could hold – much more a romantic one.

You hissed in frustration, “Yang Jungwon, I swear to God, if you will not leave me alone -” your tone doesn’t faze him at all, as expected. He was immune to all your threats and remarks long before. A wide cheeky grin splits open his features before his hand reaches over and snatches your chemistry textbook at the mid-sentence of your threat, peeking over at it, “Chemical bonding?” he reads aloud, titling his head. 

And he irritates you further. Your mid-term finals were next week, and you were barely getting any of the subjects done at this rate. You were close to college, and you did not want to have anything, or anyone mess it up. 

You glare at him, “I’ve been at the same topic for the past half hour because of you,” trying to reach over your stolen textbook from the boy who never just seemed to leave you alone, his lips tug downwards in a musing pout. He stares at you before his eyes light up in thought. 

Without another word, he leaves his chair beside you, not before passing you your book. You immediately grip onto your textbook with relief, skeptical that he’d grab it back away from you again.

Moments pass and you have the time all to yourself to study, but it’s too quiet for you - despite being at a bustling café. You turn your head to both your sides, eyes subconsciously searching for him. You blink, where did he go? Did you manage to kick him out once and for all -?

A whisper from your left ear interrupts your thoughts, and you feel a warm figure lightly pressing against you from behind, “try to sing out the formulas, they’re easier to remember.”

You almost yelp in surprise, jumping away from him. Where the hell did he come from? “Yah, are you crazy -?” you began, but he starts to lightheartedly poke fun. “C’mon, do it. It’ll be easier to remember,” he encourages you, pulling out a guitar from behind. You didn’t even bother to question where he had the time to get his guitar. All you were thinking about were ways to make him leave.

You shot him a look, annoyed. “Do what?”

He was always so childish. So bothersome.

He randomly strums out his guitar strings before picking up a tune, “Sing the formulas out,” his eyes momentarily directed you to the textbook laid out on the table, “I’ll help you with the melody. Go on,” you were ready to throw a harsh retort at him, telling him off to how he was wasting your time and how his idea was stupid - but his eyes; his perfectly shaped eyes looking ever so purely earnest your way.

You hated it.

You weren’t a musical genius or any of that sort, that was all Jungwon. You couldn’t just whip out the best melodic high note nor could you memorize a thousand slide powerpoint discussion even with the help of music. He didn’t have to worry about his grades - hence, his carefree attitude - and he didn’t have to stress over finals week when his career in music was already made out for him. All he ever did around school was tag along and annoy you, try the most obnoxious attempts to ask you out, play his guitar, and listen to music in the earphones he never took off. 

You hesitantly look away, if you went along with him - maybe he’d go away once he got what he wanted to do. Little did you know how helpful the technique Jungwon suggested came out - or how fun it actually tuned out to be despite how awful your voice was, he was still looking at you like you were the singing like the angels. 

Barely another hour later, you remarkably managed to get it all by heart and cover the topics that couldn’t have been covered in at least three days - with the help of the one person who has been disturbing you from studying in the first place. You could only gawk dumbly at his guitar. 

Jungwon could sense your astonishment from miles away, and that made him all the more complacent with the huge beam he was wearing on his face. He wasn’t going to merely let this go. That trademark boyish look of his is back. “For my payment of very helpful service,” he starts as if you had ever asked him in the first place as he pretends to think, humming, “I’ll accept it in forms of you allowing me to take you out,” he suggests gleefully, his eyes sparkling in mischief. 

You would normally scoff at his attempt yet again, telling him off - but this time. You couldn’t keep count of the endless tries he’s pulled this trick. This time you helplessly shake your head with a roll of your eyes. You couldn’t keep count of anything anymore, nor were you going to start now.

Yang Jungwon wasn’t going to give up on you.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

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TWO YEARS LATER [ JUNGWON’S POV ]

Through the extent of his memory, you never failed to take care of Yang Jungwon.

Not once. No matter how hard you would push him aside and passively act like you didn’t care much about him, you would be there for him; you would always be there. By his side.

And then you were gone.

Jungwon was two years older now.

Checking the items in his shopping bag to see if everything was complete, he leaves the grocery store, rummaging through his purchased items when his body swiftly crashes onto something. He takes a few steps to regain his stance as he stumbles backward.

“Oh, sorry,” someone says, and it takes a moment or two before he snapped out of his daze. He turns instinctively to the direction of the voice as he tries to readjust his grip on his pile of bags.

That voice. He knows that voice. 

But for a moment, his breathing halts, body stiffening instantly at the sight of someone he’d never expected to see. Never. Never again. Because this time, it’s you.

You.

You blink, showing mild surprise. And indifference. As if you were looking straight at a stranger. Your eyes pointedly averts itself away from him while you keep the proper formalities and try to start a conversation with your composure, “Uh, hello. How are you?”

To say that he’s caught off guard is too much of an understatement.

You looked different.

You looked good.

No.

You looked beautiful.

Is he dead? No, wait. What? Air gets knocked out of his lungs and he feels like he’s been punched in the gut at the same time.

You looked more beautiful than the image that he had of you for the past years, and it breaks him.

Like nothing has ever pulled you down – as if leaving you only did you good – as if it never happened or affected you by the least. 

How could you look so well?

To say that Jungwon looked like a mess was an understatement.

He bit his tongue, cursing for choosing the greatest timing. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, subtly trying to adjust it. What should he do . . . now? How should he start? 

How were you? Why didn’t you look for him? Were you doing fine? Did you find someone else? Have you moved on? Should he move on? Did you -

In the short silence, you seemed to be relieved to receive a text message, the ding that gives you an excuse to look away and check your phone. You make a face, feeling suddenly alarmed. Expression rushed, you formally bid him goodbye, and it fucking hurts him even more. “Nice seeing you. I should be on my way now. Have a nice day.”

A strangers’ nice pleasantry. With no sincerity. 

But you walk away, leaving him – not bothering to ask him for another meet-up. Jungwon is left standing in the middle of the street, dumbfounded.

Like it ended here.

Is this it?

He wasn’t even able to get to say anything.

This was worse than being nothing to each other.

It was worse than being treated like someone you hated.

He tries to inhale. 

Jungwon has no idea, honestly. Not anymore. 

One day, he had told himself for years.

One day, he would broadly smile at you. He’d stand proudly confident, and you’d know that he’s gotten over you for good. He’d win and see that he’s no longer suffering. You would see. You would. He’d get over you.

But bumping into you for the first time in years had Jungwon rethinking if he’s ever gotten over your eyes in the first place.

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PRESENT 

You can sulk for a little, throw a tantrum - but a kite is a kite. There’s no chance of it coming back; once you let go, it doesn’t look back at you to pause and run back to your hold. There was only one thing you could do from thereon: you could always forget about it, toss it aside like a child does, and replace it with a new one; making sure it’s a much better kind. 

That. That was something you reminded yourself time and time again for the past two years. Though the line was taken from a measly television show that you’ve watched long ago, it’s been the only line of string that kept you from looking back - like a mother telling her child to stop crying over a lost kite.

But, right then and there, it was like time itself pauses for you when you stand in the same café four years ago, hearing the all-familiar voice that you could never forget. There, when you feel your heart beating out of your control and dropping dead. There, where you’re not sure of the extent of what you could restrain yourself from doing.

You don’t know how you’re suddenly transported to the direction of the soft voice - it’s familiarity greeting you, and for a brief second, the memories you’ve burned long ago painfully flash back to mind - you almost flinch.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ train wreck by james arthur ] 

“I don’t wanna lose this, but I’m not getting through this. Hey, should I pray? Should I pray? Yeah,” Yang Jungwon.

It’s him.

Him, with his stupidly beautiful voice and his damn entrancing presence dragging you back harder than you remembered, and the pain he’s trying to immerse himself in as he ignores his physical surroundings. 

And you.

You, as you’re trying to fight away the haunting flash of memories that are slowly starting to accompany you, and you, as you could do nothing but fleetingly watch him. 

This was the second time you’ve bumped into him. You snorted, why was he always everywhere you went?

And it was like after the years of methodically stitching yourself back together, you’re transported back to the same person you were two years ago. 

A fool.

“To myself? To a God? To a savior who can …” 

You admit, there were days where you forgot his face - or in other words, days where you refused to acknowledge how he used to look at you. Days where it was too painful to even think about. 

You swear to yourself that those days are long over.

Standing across the end of the room after three years of absolutely nothing from him felt suffocating, as if there was no air to breathe. You didn’t realize you were holding in a short breath, and when you exhaled - you felt pinning, and needles, and knives stabbed deep into your lungs. 

“Unbreak the broken, unsay these spoken words. Find hope in the hopeless - pull me out of the train wreck,” 

When Jungwon’s eyes slowly open, the first thing he sees is you. 

Both your eyes meet, and he freezes. All too slowly. Everything in motion. You notice how his eyes widen, and how the old memories flash in his eyes all the same. 

PainMiseryHurtDisbeliefHope-

The regret.

All this happens in front of you. A dream. A nightmare. All at once. Your face remains passive and unaffected, hard - nonchalant with ease, refusing to feel bothered. Time seems slow, but you don’t hesitate to casually walk away, being the first to break eye-contact. You didn’t want to spend another second in that room.

Your grip on the drink in hand tightens in its own accord.

You’ve moved on.

But what was this sort of feeling enveloping you in?

A teasing wolf-whistle startles you on your way out of the café, ripping you out of the lethargic trance you were warped into. “Was that an ex I saw over there?” You find Nishimura Riki with his shit-eating face and his waggling of eyebrows up beside you. Grimacing at his face, you harshly nudge your elbow to his sides in annoyance. 

Breathing is a little bit easier with him around.

But you still feel like vomiting. “Is shutting up not part of how your brain is wired?” you roll your eyes, showing no effort at all to hide your agitation. He lets out an amused laugh, his playful gaze only duplicating itself as he proceeds to brutally tease you. 

Riki isn’t an asshole. Not really. He’s what you’d call your best friend … without much other choice. Though he can perfectly embody one, he knows his limits (though you may sometimes find yourself doubting it) and the extents to where he can joke around. He can be all sorts annoying and a douche whenever food is on the line, but he’s the only one who’s stuck with you since day one of what happened two years ago - and never bothered to pressure you into questions that tormented you even further.

You lost contact with the friends you had once shared along with Jungwon. It felt embarrassing and uncomfortable to hang around them with everyone aware of what happened, until it was long months later that it just didn’t seem right to suddenly start hanging around them again after your efforts vigorously avoiding them.

You’ve lost a lot.

And you just met the man behind it all.

Nishimura Riki was sort of all you had, and he knew that too. He figured everything that happened eventually through time, by himself. Picking up the little things wasn’t too difficult to do, neither was piecing everything together with a little help and slow nudge from you over the years. 

“He’s moving in this building, you know,” he looks over to your side.

Your stomach lurches, freezing in place. Your jaw nearly drops to the floor, gaping at him like your eyes would bulge out any second. 

Over your fucking dead body. 

That building was precisely the building you lived in. “What?” you nearly yell, causing passersby walking along the sidewalks to throw the both of you looks.  

He rolls his eyes, “Geez, princess, clam down. I was kidding,” he bumps his shoulder next to yours, as if he was trying to shake you up. He starts going over about how you were showing ‘hang-ups’ symptoms before you start barking a mouthful of threatening-nothings to have him shut his mouth, running after him.

Something rings different, however.

Yang Jungwon.

The name lingers in the back of your head, no matter how hard you try to push it away. It’s been three years, but when the kite you’ve lost years ago - the kite you swore you’ve already forgotten about - comes back, what then? 

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↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ 

You weren’t necessarily the warmest type of person.

Blank faces, blunt responses, and sharp glares were all people received from you. You got others avoiding you in return, it was a give and take situation that benefited perfectly on both sides – perhaps more on your side. It worked as a repellent to kept everyone off your radar. And you liked that. You enjoyed being left alone. You found peace in your own solitude, away from other people. You were never exactly fond of people, either way.

Yang Jungwon was certainly a different breed.

Maybe it was the challenge that he liked, at first. You; the unwavering and ‘unbeatable’ challenge that provoked him – enticed him. That kept him coming. You were a brick wall, and he was someone who had the world at the palm of his hand.

But you don’t know how his intentions changed along the way.

You don’t know what made him change his mind – or what part of you that he saw that made him choose to do so, but it wasn’t of any use to figure out how.

Because he wanted you, now.

And he would ever-so-bluntly admit that.

All your efforts of shrugging him off made him fight harder for you. It was useless. The more you would curse at him with the harshest words just made him want to tag along by your side even more with that boyish grin never leaving his face.

He was a weird one.

“You know, you’re not as mean as how the people label you as.”

“And you’re more annoying than they claim you to be,” you don’t crack an amused smile. Jungwon wonders if he’s ever seen you smile – or even wear anything else of an expression that didn’t look bored, annoyed, angry, or enraged. He takes a moment to visualize how beautiful you would look when you smile and decides that he’ll do anything to see that happen. Just like that.

“You keep tossing me away,” he defended himself, the corner of his lips tugging downwards in the smallest pout.

“You keep coming back,” you retorted back, eyes shooting daggers.

By the look of his face, you realize your response wasn’t the best. “I’ll keep coming back to you,” he finishes. A lopsided grin. His brain was wired differently.

You didn’t hold back your prolonged suffering exhale.

It was a careless remark.

Such a recklessly made promise.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

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↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ 

[ JUNGWON’S POV ]

No one loves you like Yang Jungwon.

Whenever you’re blabbering about something with the biggest smile on your face, every time at that exact moment Jungwon knows that no one can ever be as fucking in love you like a dumb plain sheet of white paper like he can. Nor can they get to know you - or the 2 am you. They wouldn’t get to know how beautiful you look with the one side-lamp illuminating a side of your face - and the little things that come along with it, it’s only him. 

It’s only him.

But when he stares into your eyes, he knows it all too. No one is as bad for you as Jungwon is either, he believes, and it fucking destroys him as he holds onto you tighter, his hands slightly trembling. He can’t lose you, he doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t know the person he’ll become if he ever does. He doesn’t know if he’ll even make a day after it. 

Why didn’t he think that there would ever be an end to a sweet dream?

Yang Jungwon is your first, but someone else is going to be your last.

Someone else that wasn’t him. 

He muffles the sound of the soft cries that escape him as you peacefully sleep next to him in his tight hold, unaware of what’s to come.

He’s everything that he promised you he would never be.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

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THE NEXT WEEK

Riki must’ve placed some sort of curse on you for this to happen.

You could vividly imagine his shit-eating face with his loud laughter already.

Whatever witchcraft or shitty attempt of ‘fate’ this was, Nishimura Riki was going to be the cause of your death. Though this has barely anything to do with him, you can’t think of anyone else that brings that much bad luck to you. You’re seriously starting to think the world is unreservedly just fucking with you for entertainment.

Just when you thought you were never going to see him again.

Yang Jungwon stands at the front of the classroom, leaning on one foot with a backpack slung over his one shoulder. You almost facepalm, this was some Egyptian curse that was going to follow and haunt you, wasn’t it? Perhaps the ghost haunting you was in the form of your ex-boyfriend.

Of course, the new student had to just be him.

You never thought you would ever see him again. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice you and sits the farthest from your area. You keep your head focused on the individual work assigned to the class. If this whole thing could keep up, you could probably spend the next semester without him knowing you’re in the same class, then, you could hopefully change classes by the next - it wouldn’t be so bad. You didn’t have to acknowledge him.

That is, until the Professor starts assigning him roles and tasks. “There are the modules for you to read, and then around four individual minor projects to keep up with. The fifth individual project, however, majorly affects your grade,” he pauses, lightly smacking his lips as he scans his student list. 

He flips through papers as he continues, “since you’ve missed most of the term, I’ll be pairing you up with Lim Seoyeon,” he drags the last word, scurrying through his papers to find another name, “and Y/L/N Y/N. Both are only lacking their thesis papers, while the others are still lacking to submit three projects, so it would be most convenient for her compared to the rest.” 

Your stomach churns, feeling sick. Physically cringing, you felt like creating an uproar. Wherever Yang Jungwon goes, trouble always follows; this simply could not be happening to you. Lord, it was the least convenient to you. 

This world couldn’t hate you this much.

You wanted to curse any of the gods above you placed you in this shithole, being beyond frustrated and unwilling. Anyone but him. You could only mournfully regret passing all your projects in advance, it was ironic. You get yourself into fucked up situations for being a good student? What is this university? 

The Professor doesn’t clarify anything with you - nor does he justify the situation and the injustice, but only throws a nod in acknowledgement in your direction before he waves at Jungwon in dismissal - excusing himself from the classroom.

Your eyes could almost bulge out.

What was happening . . . ?

Jungwon’s eyes sweep over the room before he finds you, but you note how he doesn’t look the least surprised to see you. He stares, trying to discern your expression, but you once again break eye contact within a second.

You were in hell.

You had no option to stalk up to the teacher’s desk to bargain when the professor wasn’t there in the first place. You were fucking stuck with him. You felt the burning flames when he got up to make his way to you, and as he stood right in front of you. Choking to death because of a meatball in live television seemed like a much peaceful idea that kept most of your remaining dignity. 

Maybe if you kept your head buried with studies, he would go away.

“Y/N,” a voice acknowledges you.

Fuck, you could remember that voice anywhere. 

“It’s nice to see you.” Yang Jungwon. 

You made a noise in response.

The feeling was not reciprocated.

You hate the way he sounds.

Like he wasn’t the same person three years ago.

You forcefully nod curtly at him, and you’re drowning.

Suddenly, we are strangers again. An unwanted stranger. There was no other option rather than tolerating him until it was all fine. You could do this. You didn’t want to, but you had to, otherwise you’d be at the polar end of the classroom by now if you had the choice. 

But you chose to ignore him: Ignore the fact that he sat right next to you in close proximity, ignore the fact that you could smell his cologne - the familiarity of it and how it smelled like home, and ignored him like he never existed when he tried asking questions. In your defense, either they were a waste of time to answer, or they could easily be found in the textbook. 

“Hi, I was wondering if –” Ignore it.

“Do you know where the questions for –?” Ignore it.

“Don’t you think this project is pretty difficult –?” Ignore it.

And you turned a blind eye to the fact that you disregarded him because you didn’t know if you could control yourself.

Seoyeon was a lifesaver, managing to keep you sane as she voluntarily chose to step in to help Jungwon out after hearing all his questions directed to you left unanswered. You wouldn’t know what you would do if you were forced alone with him. She reads the room but doesn’t question anything. 

You tell yourself it was anger that made yourself this way.

Blind consuming anger.

You hate how Jungwon could still manage read you after all this time.

A quiet and gentle question, “Y/N, are you mad at me?”

You barely react, but your eyes squint on their own. You weren’t going to lie nor deny it, you do really wish he hadn’t chosen to interact with you. Staring blankly at your laptop screen, you don’t move. A hushed voice - a subconscious that you swore you lost long ago - in the back of your head whispers an answer before you force yourself to shove it down. You almost scoffed; are you mad at him? What kind of a dumb question is that? 

He was nothing but an ass, he hadn’t changed. 

“No, why would I be?” You answer brusquely, your tone signifying that you were keeping a distance from him without having to say it.

You hope the cue was taken.

There was no need to keep the friendliness with him – you weren’t obligated to. Formalities were all there was left. At least you would treat him with the respect that you were scraping your skin out for, right? Whatever you had with him - it was over. It was long gone. 

You refused to be controlled under the palm of his hand ever again.

You swiftly pack your belongings and left him without a work or glance to spare his way the second you hear the bell signal the end of the period right on time. You don’t even bid your classmate, Seoyeon, goodbye. You’d apologize to her later and explain things to her, hoping she’d understand and lend a helping hand.

It’s been two years and the minute he shows up, you find yourself crumbling and unable to control yourself, and that frustrates you. You’re slipping.

Being around him was a waste of energy.

You remind yourself that you feel nothing. 

He was a stranger to you now.

Once again, you walked away from him, gripping the strap of your backpack tightly in sheer annoyance and vexation. Mind racing, you try to find a reason; why was Yang Jungwon in your major and university and what in the heavens above does he want from you?

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LATER

Riki roars in laughter, his hand slapping his knee as he nearly falls off the chair. You were almost tempted to push him off. 

“You think it can’t get any funnier than that, but it does!” he pretends to wipe away a fake tear, “you ignored him all the way through!” he bursts into fits laughter once again. 

“Poor guy, getting the silent treatment from someone like Y/N on your first day at college is depressing,” he empathizes, though it doesn’t sound by any means sincere. Nothing about Nishimura Riki is sincere. “At least I’m not the only one Y/N treats like shit!” he notes positively with a beam on his face, but you’re not sure if that’s anything that’s supposed to be of positive news.

You whack the back of his head, and he whines. “When have I ever treated you like shit, you dumbass?” 

“I’m taking this as a form of harassment,” he grumbles.

You stick your tongue out at him mischievously, “Oh, boo-hoo, you big baby, ‘s not like you don’t bully the hell out of me,” you roll your eyes, “and help out and do something about Jungwon, will you?” you ask him for a favor, your tone indicating exhaustion.

He furrows his eyebrows at you, “What’d you want me to do - bury his body? Doll, I barely even know the guy.” 

You swing your arms - shooing something nonexistent away for gesturing, “Just keep him away! I don’t know, do one of those stupid ideas that you always come up with. I can’t stand seeing his face,” you complain, almost childishly stomping your feet in outrage. This was unlike you.

He lowly whistles, “I was really hoping for some real kind of exes-to-lovers type of k-drama lead coming to life,” he comments, and you muster the biggest disgusted glare at him. He only shrugs his shoulders with a mere ‘hey-what-can-you-do?’.

“However, there’s a …” he trails off, lighting up like a lightbulb with an idea in mind already. 

You raise a brow, “A what?” 

He looks at you with a grin, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows, “We can fake-date.”

You were dumb to ask him for ideas. You groan. “Not again.”

“C’mon,” he probes you, tugging at your arm. Was he really that bored with his life to want to fake-date you?

You blankly stare at him, deadpanned. “You get dumber and dumber the more I talk to you,” you don’t hold back from telling him, receiving a dirty scowl thrown at you, “I’m serious! Isn’t that what people do whenever one of their exes show up?”

Squinting at him, you ask, “Just how many fanfics have you been reading?” 

He crosses his arms, “Make fun of me all you want, but we both know that those ideas never fail,” he huffs, “you wanted him gone, didn’t you?” he tries to resonate, “Everyone thinks we’re already a thing anyway, it won’t be too hard, or would it be much of a trouble if we just went on with it. We’re basically pros at this dating thing, aren’t we?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Yes, and getting back at him would feel rightfully good as hell and all but,” you sigh in exasperation, hating to be the one to ruin the fun, “doing that would mess everything up even more, I’m sure. We’d be the ones ending up as the dumb fools in the situation. Did you already forget the time we fake dated to get that girl obsessed over you off your back? And how it backfired on us?” you stated, and Riki’s thoughtful silence justified your stance. 

You’d rather die the most undignified death than have Yang Jungwon win the second time around, and that was not happening under Nishimura Riki’s watch.

“If I could just turn into a wizard or anything like that and ‘magic’ him away,” you plopped an arm up on the desk, resting the side of your cheek at the palm of your hand, “probably turn him into a damn ugly and useless broomstick while at it, too.”

Riki lets out a humorous short laugh at the sight of you, “Cheer up, princess,” he slings an arm around your shoulder, poking your cheek, “I’ll help you too, and I’ll beat him up whenever he tries to go near you; hot sexy Nishimura Riki cares about your cute dumbass,” You bump your hip playfully toward his. I’m not leaving you alone, is what he was trying to say.

He’d excuse it as simply returning the favor that he asked from you. The time when the both of you fake-dated, and it backfired – forcing you to reach extreme measures that went on for months.

Right, you had Riki. And he wasn’t going to just ditch you, not like him. He’s stayed firmly next to you for the past two years through all the shit you put him though (and all the shit he put you through). Riki may have been a rascal, but he was nothing compared to how shitty Yang Jungwon was.

You simply just had to keep going and help Jungwon out in certain parts while interacting the least you could and ignore him (or preferably call Riki to tell him off, he’d love to finally be given the chance to annoy the shit out of someone) whenever he tries anything funny. As soon as it was over, you’d do your stay out of his way and pretend like nothing happened. After all, he was the one who left. If anyone was trying to run away, it’d be him.

Everything was going to be fine. You didn’t care.

It was no big deal; no extensive measures were needed.

A sharp inhale.

You didn’t know if you were lying or if you were telling the truth.

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[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ yellow by coldplay ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

Jungwon liked to follow you around.

He also liked dragging you along with him with whatever excuse he could come up with. You never could really decipher what that oddball was thinking, just when you thought you caught up to him, he surprises you with something new every day. 

Lee Heeseung, your senior, was discussing that week’s event that the school was holding with you when Jungwon swoops in and drags you away without second thought, “Sorry, hyung! Gotta borrow her today ~” he throws a grin, and Heeseung could only roll his eyes, staring in playful disbelief after the both of you, “ya, that’s what you said the last three times too!”

Jungwon gives the kind of pleading look you know Heeseung couldn’t resist, “I swear I’ll pay you back with free lunch, hyung!” he yells back. You were used to being dragged away or trailed around by him; it wasn’t anything of the ordinary. He winks at you. 

No matter how hard you would try to avoid him or threaten him, he was always looking at you with the most mischievous silly and crazy ideas in mind. 

On the other hand, he didn’t really enjoy the idea of you hanging out with other guys.

Could you call him delusional? You really wanted to.

And then there was this other instance, where Jungwon had sulked behind you the whole period, making noises that surely irritated you whilst you interviewed Park Jay for a class paper, who was a part of the varsity team. It forced you to spend the entire day with him for the interview, which Jungwon did not seem to like. It came to the point where you had to embarrassedly excuse yourself from the number of huffs and noises he was making. Jay was left giving confused looks, completely distracted from the whole topic that the whole interview was pointless no matter how hard her tried to ignore Jungwon.

“What is your deal?” You hissed at Jungwon in annoyance as soon as you scurried away from the varsity team, “you completely embarrassed me over there, you rascal!” He doesn’t hear you. He seemed deep in thought, as if he was battling with himself. Jungwon faced you with the biggest frown - looking more distraught than ever, “You don’t like him, right?”

Your mouth slightly hangs open, thrown off-guard. What?

“He isn’t your type, isn’t he? He doesn’t look like it. You’d never go for a guy like him.” He looked ridiculous – and it wasn’t much of a shock to you. An idiot and a loser. You figured it’d only be a matter of time before he completely lost his mind. It was as if he was talking to himself. You lightly whacked his arm, trying to get some sense into him and snap him out, “What are you talking about, you rascal?”

He bores his eyes onto yours, “Whatever. I won’t let you, anyway. I’ll stay by your side you ‘till the day I die if I have to.” His eyes were set with firm determination, yet you didn’t bother pressing on - being sure he was up to no good, as usual.

He was speaking, but you couldn’t piece together what he was trying to imply. You didn’t really care either, he was a weird guy. Still, you were frustrated at him for just having to mess everything up for you again, “I can’t believe you,” you muttered incredulously, turning your heel to start walking away from him – you were done with this boy. 

“Hey – angel, no, wait. Where are you going –?”

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

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↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

Admittedly, you didn’t hate Yang Jungwon as much when you had first met him, but the dislike started to grow at a profound rate when he started acting as a nuisance the more occasions he stuck around.

You weren’t exaggerating. Jungwon was just the epitome of overbearingly unable to understand social boundaries and your extreme dislike of having him in a 2-mile radius near you.

And you had your dignity, but Jungwon was an entirely different topic. Hiding from him in the gymnasium lockers was your last resort.

“Gotcha,” a cheery voice slides in beside you out of nowhere. Your heart almost jumped out of your body in fright, did he always have to jump-scare you out of nowhere?

“Seriously –?!”

“Stop playing hide and seek with me, angel. I’d love to play this game some other time with you but not now! We have somewhere else to go!” He has got to be shallow. Or dumb. Really dumb. You don’t know. As much as he loved blabbering endless nonsense around you that never seemed to make sense and was barely capable of leaving your side, you barely knew anything of him.

 You glowered at him, “I’m not playing hide and seek with you, you rascal! I’m obviously avoiding you –!”

He pats the top of your head before gently grabbing your hand, interrupting your nth effort to knock some sense into him. “Let’s go! It’s my turn for a Y/N day.” he points forward, leaving the library baggage hall that he found you hiding in. A Y/N day? What were you to him, an item? You groan, sounding sorrow. You really thought you got away from him this time. “Yah, we’re going to miss class!” 

You didn’t even know why you bothered.

Jungwon tilts his head, giving you a look as if to tell you to not worry, “We’re going to the river today, anyway. I brought my boombox with me,” he proudly tells you, and you aggravatedly sigh, feeling defeated. You swore you made all the measures needed to carefully avoid him, thinking you were finally left alone. 

“Why do you always bring me along?” you deadpan, trying to wriggle free from his grasp. He was probably going to insert another flirtatious line or something among those actions. Why don’t you ever leave me alone? 

You never really got it. Any of his interests, in fact. Why was he so determined to pursue you? There were countless of girls who were more of a ‘challenge’, and they were all the more interesting than you, with no doubt. What did he see in you? “Don’t you have any other friends?” you pulled a face at him. Jungwon has been by your side for such a long time that you grew accustomed to his presence, still, you weren’t going to admit that. 

“I don’t want to hang out with them, I want to go with you,” he simply explains, as if it was the most obvious answer.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, irritated, yet curious as you stress, “Why?”

He pauses, still looking ahead as he guides you forward, “Being around you makes me happy.” You simply glance at him and the look he has makes you shiver.

Jungwon was always straightforward. There was not an ounce of shame in that man’s soul. He said what was on his mind without any filter, and he also had a peculiar way of thinking, which in terms, you guess, made him intelligent. 

A beat passes, and you don’t find a retort to throw back at him.

Jungwon was like this beaming sunshine and busted in the dark hell you drowned yourself in.

Even if you enjoyed the darkness.

He always knew where to find you.

He found you.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

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.

Every year.

Every moment.

Jungwon was always there.

Yang Jungwon always knew where to find you, it was like his sixth sense. He could spot any of your bullshit or anything that you were hiding from him in a mile radius. There was no bother in hiding from him. He would always pop up by your side with a lopsided smile, carrying his guitar around and whining to you because he wanted to do something fun.

He was a bothersome child.

He was there in the times you didn’t want to see him, and he was there in the times where you needed someone but there was no one to turn to. It was as if you could summon him, you would always retort. 

Making up excuses was his specialty, he always seemed to disregard everything to tag along with you. He made crazily creative alibies that never seemed to run out just in order to be able to stay by your side.

Until one day he stopped.

Until one day he ran out of reasons.

So, where was he and what was he doing two years ago when he left you the moment you needed only him the most?

One day, you woke up and he was gone. You haven’t heard from him since. Not a trace left. Not a ghost left to haunt you. And somehow, that haunted you even more. 

Where did you go?

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↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

You liked the pastries that Jungwon used to make for you.

You remember that he made them for you a lot. Whenever you did a job well done on a simple test or if you overworked yourself, you always found a box of your favorite flavors on your desk or locker the following day. You didn’t have to question who it was from; he didn’t have to say anything.

You weren’t accustomed to having that kind of treatment. A simple job done is merely a simple job done. There hasn’t been much of a pat on a back or a congratulatory party for the little achievements, and that was completely fine you. However, that wasn’t the case for Jungwon.

Puzzled, you held up the mysterious box, “What is this?” 

“Sweets. Try them and tell me if you like them or not,” you could tell that he was anxious in anticipation. You try and hand it back over to him, “Oh, I’m not really in the mood for sweets, you can go ahead and give them to Minju though, she loves -”

“I didn’t make them for Minju,” he stands in front of you, sort of dejected and earnest. That was a new look on him. His face seemingly somewhat deflated, and somewhat embarrassed. He scratches the back of his head awkwardly, refusing to meet your gaze as he shakes his head and changes his mind, trying to reach over the box to save his dignity in the situation.

Your eyes slightly widen, processing, “Wait,” you withdraw your extended arm, looking back at the box, pointing to it, “you made this?”

“It’s not really any -” Jungwon starts, reaching out for the box for him to take back but you swat his arm away.

“You should’ve said so, dumbass! I love things homemade,” you explain lightheartedly, your eyes glittering once you open the box to reveal damn beautifully decorated chocolates. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape from the blow, almost gasping.

He did that?

“You don’t have to act all that, you know,” Jungwon adds, and when you spare him a glace, you realize he’s being serious.

You roll your eyes at him, ready to punch his arm. Acting? He wishes! Was he just wanting more compliments from you, or did he really believe that his baking didn’t look like the prettiest things ever? They looked too beautiful to eat but you didn’t know if you could manage to restrain yourself from eating something that looked so delicious. “Shut up, look at that! Are you, like, a world-renowned baker or something?” 

As soon as nearly half of the box was eaten by you, you mentally felt something hit you, like a pang. Though you couldn’t exactly discern what. You felt something, a lurch of it. A swell of happiness, a swell of being seen, a swell of not being alone, not anymore. “Jungwon?” you looked at him.

He leaned his weight against the wall in the front of you, taking one of his earpieces off, “Mm.”

“Thanks,” It was casual, but you meant it. You really did. He could read it from your eyes. He probably spent a lot of time making these, you thought. Then you realize that’s all he ever did to you; spend his time on you. 

He’s sincere. A troublesome rascal, definitely. But sincere. It’s funny how it took him to just make some homemade sweets for you to see and realize, “you’re not that bad.”

You don’t know if you left him speechless, but you walk down the hallway with him staring after you. Words left unspoken.

Something new had changed then.

You didn’t know what to call it. 

But it felt good.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

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[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ meet me at our spot by the anxiety ]

THE NEXT MORNING

[8:04 am] unknown number: hi good morning

[8:04 am] unknown number: it’s jungwon :)

[8:05 am] unknown number: i just wanted to wish u a good day

[8:06 am] unknown number: i’m really proud of u

Four text messages to ruin the start of your day.

And in addition, there it was: the exact familiar box of pastries on the desk you were at yesterday that morning.

You nearly got yourself nauseous at the sight.

Were you dreaming? 

Blinking it off, you snap out of it. You scoff, Jungwon was more shameless and a lot bolder than you thought. What was the box supposed to signify? ‘I’m proud of you’?, ‘I’m sorry’?, or an ‘I miss you’? Either way, you never knew Yang Jungwon could ever stoop so low.

Two years and the first thing he does is give you a box of sweets, was he thinking it’d pay back all the shit he pulled? Bribe you with sweets and suddenly everything would be okay?

Your resentment for him grew even more.

Anger was a better feeling to experience other than any of the other emotions.

At the side of your eye, you could see Jungwon. You pretend not to, and you try so hard. You don’t miss the glances he throws you, he was probably waiting for your response.

Surely, he should expect from you that the response was going to be nothing good. Does he know you at all?

Throwing it away seemed over the top, but you didn’t know what the rest of your options were. You hesitate, eating it would only make him believe that everything’s okay. And in case Jungwon didn’t get the memo: everything is not okay. 

This won’t hurt you.

You toss the box to someone else; your hands slightly freeze on its own for a moment when you realize Jungwon was watching. Only for a moment.

You weren’t taking his bait.

You didn’t want it.

You don’t look at him, and you don’t bother to see his reaction. Biting down your tongue, you jabbed your pen down the desk forcefully - you ignore the sense of guilt. He asked for it.

It takes a bit more effort to remain nonchalant this time.

Jungwon was getting in your nerves. Again.

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LATER

You were dragged into a library group filled with people you barely knew of by Ningning and Seoyeon. You recognized Jake Sim from chemistry class, and a few others that you weren’t entirely confident you knew the name of. Jungwon was there. Of course, he had to be.

Though you were an expert at turning invitations and confessions down, you really weren’t much of the action type. Some would call you the ‘all bark, no bite’ type, but that was mostly because people who ensued and pressed on having it their way was just stubborn.

Most of your life, people went along your bark, it was rare that anyone went against it – but not impossible. Yang Jungwon.

The name flashes by your mind involuntarily as if it was a burn.

As if your mind works on its own, you find yourself staring at him – he paid no interest in the conversation as he mindlessly scrolled through his phone, bored. The only word he had ever said was when he had assertively stated that he wanted the seat that was close to yours. He had also joined the conversation and firmly voted against Jake sitting next to you. What a problem boy.

[02:44 pm] yang jungwon: u look good today

You were bored, but definitely not bored enough to be willing to immerse yourself into that mess.

You were entirely out of the group’s topic of conversation yourself, immersing yourself all in your head and thoughts until a girl named Naeun – you think – waggles her brows at you. “What about you, ms. ‘most-popular-with-guys’?”

“How many of them did you turn down this week?” Lee adds into it lightheartedly, poking fun.

Jungwon’s attention is immediately averted to you – and you hate that you can feel his gaze boring into your face.

You feel more uncomfortable than ever, trying to argue with them, “What? That’s not true—!”

Ningning’s eyes glint in mischievousness, taking in your denial as something you were embarrassed about as she joins into the conversation. But it wasn’t, not entirely. 

You were highly uncomfortable. “Don’t deny it. You’re more than just ‘popular’ with guys. I swear I saw with my own eyes at least two guys try and hit you up on this exact library alone from the past few days.”

You could hear chortled laughter from around you.

You know none of the voices belonged to or were from Jungwon.

You’d rather suffocate.

“I heard you were pretty popular with the guys during your high school years too!” Seoyeon chirped. You felt nauseated. Where did they even hear that information? You incredulously retorted to yourself.

“D’you date any of them?” Lun from literature class pipes in, interested. You feel your face turn hot against your will. “Any hotties you can introduce me to?” someone adds into it suggestively, clearly enjoying the topic of discussion.

Your face starts to sour, reeking of irritation.

“Ooh! I remember hearing Y/N dated a guy during high school. That’s probably why she wasn’t able to date much?” Ningning suggests, and you wanted to kick her out of the room. Was anyone just not able to pick out on social cues? Was everyone not able to notice how uncomfortable you looked?

Seoyeon’s eyes enlarged in alarm, “Y/N dated before?” Despite the distressing situation, you almost slipped out a laugh, you were always known for your strong dislike towards romance and men and you liked it that way. You guess the impression still hasn’t changed.

He’s in the exact same room right now, you wanted to spit out. Your face hardens, but you don’t say anything. 

“What’s the big deal? We were barely anything anyway.”

Ningning does not get your clue, instead, she looks more confused than ever. “Huh? From what I heard; you both were pretty serious.”

“You never told me anything about him,” Seoyeon complains, grabbing your arm and repeatedly swinging it around. With everyone’s attention on you, your usual ‘i-hate-everyone’ façade falls into dust.

You snort, keeping your tone casual, “About what? He was barely anyone special, in the first place.”

A bunch of unanimous curious ‘oohs’ were heard around the room. “Oohlala, spill. What made the relationship end?”

You take a thoughtful pause, as if it was the first time you were giving it thought, “He was selfish.” A shrug.

You ensure that the whole table hears your answer, especially him. Ningning scrunches her nose in distaste at your answer, “Ugh, typical. Boys really aren’t shit.”

“You’d give your entire world to them, and they decide that it’s not enough. Discontented assholes.” Lee comments with a bunch of insults thrown away without regard, and the Seoyeon pretends to vomit at the mention of boys. “Dirtbags. His loss,” is all she says.

You really don’t have any idea of what to do in this situation.

A strangled noise escapes Jungwon, and he covers it up with loud coughs. He looked like he’s just been badly burned, and you try to casually shift in your seat. The rest of the group takes it as a cue to ask him the same question as well, figuring he wanted to be included.

“And what about you, newbie?” Jake notices, an effort to try to get Jungwon to feel included. “Ever dated before?”

He stares blankly in response. A glance your way, and it takes a fraction of a second for you to avert your eyes away. You hope no one caught that. A moment. Or two. Until, “No, never.” Casually, with a helpless shrug before his attention was back on his phone. He doesn’t even regard that you were ever a part of his past.

Your insides clenches on their own.

That was it. The signal. You were back to being notoriously known for your cold behavior, good grades, and popular game with men, while Jungwon was back into his reputation of being a cute and care-free affectionate and loveable brat that would never do anyone wrong. 

Everything was back the way it started.

Rewind. A start over. Where Jungwon doesn’t get to see the nurturing, caring, childish, and mischievous side of you, and where you never got to see the depth to him: his coolness and his silence. The eyebrow lifts, his head-pats, his reliability, his loyalty, his promises, his stories, his determination – everything about him that everyone missed, that was simply nothing now.

We’ll never be those kids again.

Your phone buzzes.

[02:52 pm] yang jungwon: i figured u didn’t want them to know.

[02:54pm] yang jungwon: are you mad?

Both your eyes meet in the midst of the others bickering with each other.

All the remnants of history erased.

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↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

[ JUNGWON'S POV: 1 YEAR AGO ]

“I’ve been looking for you all night!” she skips, twirling in front of him, “What d’you think? I figured you might like this outfit.” She had an annoying voice, and was definitely way too clingy. Black long hair or something, honestly, any of the faces he’s seen were all only just blank and empty to him.

Jungwon doesn’t even regard her existence.

“C’mon ~” The girl drags, tugging at his arm. He doesn’t even know her name. He’s probably crossed by her more than a couple times with the way she was acting.

She was annoying. Not like you at all. No one was like you.

Jungwon was already in a sour mood. “You’ve been stuck at the couch all night, you lame-dummy!” She points a dragging finger to his chest, “No one wants to be a lame-dummy, c’mon, come with me! It’ll be fun,” she tries to persuade in a sing-song voice, inviting him in.

It doesn’t shake him by the least.

He shakes his head, shortly emitting a single scoff in irritation as he jerks away the hand on his shoulder. His tense facial features say everything. Without saying another word, he chooses to leave the room quietly and awkwardly without bidding goodbye to the other friends who invited him.

These parties were useless. Everything was useless. Every day was too boring and empty without meaning.

He had no place here.

This wasn’t where he belonged.

He damn well still belonged to that person he always has belonged to.

You.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

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[09:12 pm] yang jungwon: hello bo ;]

[09:12 pm] yang jungwon: i hope u had a good day :)

[09:17 pm] yang jungwon: i’m always here if u need me

[09:17 pm] yang jungwon: just so you know 

[09:17 pm] yang jungwon: i’ll always be there

[09:20 pm] yang jungwon: and i hope i crossed your mind at least once..

read

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A FEW DAYS LATER

You were beyond thankful to have Seoyeon around him to save yourself the awkward interactions.

She was the icebreaker. The only factor that allowed you to act as if Jungwon wasn’t there in the first place and ignore his existence. Given that she was an icebreaker, she was also clueless. 

She had no idea of the hatred you had for him - or the reluctance to look his way, much more interact with him. It wasn’t her fault, but you wish you rather didn’t have to explain the situation to her as the only option for her to stop trying to get you and Jungwon to talk.

“Wasn’t yesterday fun? It was nice having new people around,” she brings up as a conversation starter. Jungwon was minding his business working on his project on the side, the both of you had your free time. You politely smile at her, and you know it looks genuine. Explaining things to her wasn’t ideal – you shudder that the possibilities that would happen once you’d confess the situation.

Maybe Jungwon was a private secret of your past that you were never meant to bring up to those in your present.

“That reminds me, who’s the group you hang out with? We really should hang out more.” She slightly frowns before adding, “You’re really fun!”

“You too,” you add with a half grin, and you genuinely mean it. You kindly nod in agreement with a laugh, desperate to end the topic – but Seoyeon doesn’t cease her intent of giving up her first question.

She smiles at you expectantly as she awaits for an answer, and though you know she’s really just trying to make friends, if awkward topics were all that she was going to be bringing up around you, you would rather not converse with her at all. “Oh uh, that question,” you forced a laugh that comes out awkward, “no one else, really.”

Her lips form a small ‘o’ shape, apologizing for intruding. She softly gasps, alarmed, “Really? To be honest, I think it’s because everyone’s intimidated of you. It was until a few seconds ago that the whole campus figured you had countless of friend groups. Me included.”

You furiously shake your head at her, making a dreadful face in which she giggles at, “Oh God, no.” you comment, “it’s really just me,” you pause, “and Riki of course. Riki. Me and Riki. No one else. Kind of a loner,” you coughed out an awkward ramble, but Seoyeon never even seemed to mind.

“That’s cool, neither way! I get to have you to myself,” she teases lightheartedly as she links her arm around yours.

You were too flustered to notice that Jungwon had heard everything.

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THAT EVENING

[10:21 pm] yang jungwon: hi love

[10:22 pm] yang jungwon: you must be tired i hope u rest up tonight :)

[10:22 pm] yang jungwon: i’ve really missed u

[11:49 pm] yang jungwon: goodnight love, sweet dreams :) ♡

read

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By the next day, at the end of class, you’re forced to work with Jungwon at the library for the afternoon. Seoyeon was running late by fifteen minutes. This was the only time you didn’t mind.

The air is cold, and the tension was cutthroat, you could suffocate, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Starting a friendly conversation? Why even bother?

You decided to ask him straightforward the moment he tries to initiate conversation by asking you a question, cutting him off, “What are you pulling at?” you blankly stared at him, pokerfaced. Maybe you went off too aggressive, but his face slacks; he was definitely accustomed to your whole act of ignoring his existence, and probably never expected you to even spare a glance his way.

A long pause before he regains his composure, “What do you mean?” his voice is a lot quieter and controlled compared to the past. Now that you notice it, he’s changed in a lot of ways. He’s no longer the bright happy-go-lucky rascal that you were once familiar with. No longer the one who didn’t care about grades, but the one sitting beside you at one of the best universities. He’s … matured a lot.

“The messages?” cutting directly into it, your eyes narrowed on him, “what are you trying to pull at?” you interrogate him. Tell me lies. Tell me the truth. Tell me you’re leaving. Tell me you’re staying.

Surprise is written all over his face, catching him off gaurd, “They’re nothing,” he clears his throat, words getting caught in the midst of it. “I just thought … I, um,” he trailed off, avoiding direct eye contact.

Your hard gaze doesn’t falter, patience running thin. “Spit it out, Yang.”

He winces at your tone, and you wished you hadn’t seen that. “I just thought that you needed it. Not needed it exactly, but, well, I assumed - I wanted to let you know -” he doesn’t finish his sentence, but starts another one instead, “I just miss you,” he states, and he’s looking at you - you remember that kind of look. The kind of look that would once tug at your heartstrings.  

Once.

You don’t know what Yang Jungwon is pulling at.

Hm. 

You stare down hard at him - eyes narrowed, prospecting, judging, and surveying. You no longer tremble at his words. You don’t falter. Have you grown immune to them? Maybe you were sincerely and truly over him after all.

He was pulling at his charms. His thoughtfulness - the little aspects that’d make you believe that he actually cared; the things you so easily fell into. Not anymore. Not after you believed, once. 

Once was enough. It’s all a simple game to him, isn’t it?

The day you break down in front of him and let him hold the strings again would be the day you would die.

Not showing a flicker of emotion, you nonchalantly tsked, irritated, “Don’t bother again, will you?” 

Jungwon doesn’t say anything, but you feel his lingering stare.

Your settling glare on the textbook in front of you could burn holes. You let him go – you dismiss him, but he never leaves his spot.

Why does he always linger behind?

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[01:03pm] yang jungwon: i don’t know if we should be alone together

read

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[02:54pm] yang jungwon: i really can’t control myself when you’re around

read

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[04:23pm] yang jungwon: i miss the old you

[04:26pm] yang jungwon: im sorry

read

How much was it going to take for you to admit that you felt the same?

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[05:33pm] yang jungwon: just so you know i didn’t mean it that way

[05:33pm] yang jungwon: i just noticed that you’ve changed

[05:33pm] yang jungwon: of course you’ve changed

[05:35pm] yang jungwon: you don’t look at me the same anymore

read

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[04:47am] yang jungwon: hi bo

[04:47am] yang jungwon: im sorry but i cant

[04:48am] yang jungwon: i really cant let you go

message delivered

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A FEW WEEKS LATER

It didn’t take much for her to piece together. She noticed the pattern of behavior from you, your sour and aggravated persona, and Jungwon’s desperate efforts, then figured you were probably his ex.

“You know,” she clicks her tongue, “the thing about love and hate is that there’s a very thin line between them.”

She squints, fingers fiddling around with a penny as she tries to explain, “they’re two sides of the same coin.”

You made a face. She’s been going about this for hours and showed no sign of stopping. Whining, you turn her way, “what are you taking about this time?”

A grin. She raises both her brows in surrender, “You guys got a lot of unfinished business.”

You give her a look, unimpressed.

“The guy nearly snapped his head yesterday the moment he heard you laugh because he wanted to know what you were laughing about,” Seoyeon stares down at you steadily, provoked that you managed to toss the fact over too easily.

You throw her a crumpled piece of paper, and she easily dodges your throw. “Sure.” you snort, barely feigning any interest.

“Cut him some slack! He was your ex for goodness’ sake, some feelings for him still have to be there at some point. You can’t hate your ex that much without actually-maybe-probably loving them,” she singsongs teasingly. This was lighthearted, you knew, but. 

You deadpanned. Feelings. 

She has got to be serious.

Some feelings still have to be there.

Your heart didn’t feel anything.

Not anymore.

She stares at you in the silence, faking astonishment.

Her mouth forms a small ‘o’, “You’ve got to be serious.”

You only blink at her.

“Stop … don’t you feel anything for him anymore? Or is it like … nothing at all?” Of course, she was talking about him, you knew that - but why were you suddenly caught off guard? This was crazy.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

No one has ever asked you this question.

How were you going to answer that?

You resented him.

You were angry. More than pissed.

You hated everything about him.

Your face scrunches up in disgust at the thought, but you answer her question after a pause, “One thing I know for sure,” you start casually, pausing in consideration, “is that I don’t want to see that annoying face of his again.”

You meant every word, this time.

You were willing to do whatever it took for that to happen.

At that moment, Seoyeon then concludes that the both of you had unfinished business. Jungwon was clearly not over you, anyone with a mile radius could see that. The boy was drop-dead crazy for you.

The more you try and repress feelings, the larger it grows.

How cliché does that sound?

She tilts her head to the side, glancing your way. But in a way, she knew it wasn’t one-sided, either.

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[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ all too well by taylor swift ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ 

“Jungwon?” you whispered incredulously. Rubbing your eyes due to your half-asleep state, you leaned your frame against your door with your worry starting to alarm you awake. “What’re you doing here?”

Standing at your apartment door, your boyfriend appeared rugged, his eyes tired and drowsy. You noticed his clothes were still of what you saw him wear yesterday morning. your heart ached to see him in such a state, concluding he had spent the whole day producing, working, and overworking himself without rest. You hated whenever he did this to himself.

Seeing you frown, Jungwon pulls you to his embrace, wrapping you around his arms with a contented sigh, “Just wanted to see my baby,” he mumbles out incoherently, fighting through sleep, “I’ve missed you.”

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You clung onto him, your face still at a cloudy state of haze – unreservedly astounded. Meanwhile on the other hand, Jungwon continues to laugh over your dumbfounded look. He pinches the sides of your cheeks, cooing over at you. As you try to wriggle yourself away, you found yourself embracing your figure back into his arms to squeeze his waist tightly in fear that he might disappear. He teases you at the action, lightheartedly calling you his little koala, but you don’t miss the endearing tone to his voice – or the way his breath hitches from your embrace.

“You’re here,” you managed to breathe out to yourself, burying your forehead against his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, you desperately hoped to the gods above that the moment you opened them, everything wasn’t just going to turn out as another dream of yours. You could barely process much more comprehend what was going on, ‘he’s here, he’s here, he’s here’ were the only notions you could formulate by the slightest, chanting through your brainwork repeatedly for you to comprehend. Humorously, you didn’t wonder how he was possibly here, or why. He shouldn’t be - he was too busy. 

You didn’t think about the fact that he’s supposed to be halfway across the world working on his production, and definitely not here. Inhaling his scent, your ongoing worries and stress had seemed to evaporate, your form relaxing almost immediately. He smelled like home.

The loud chatters and distinctive outside noise from people passing by that surrounded the both of you, along the fact that the both of you were in a public place – all had seemed to drown out and appear forgotten. You clung to his warm figure after months of being apart, out of all the days you’d secretly dreamed about him surprising you, you never figured today was going to be that day. You clasped onto him even tighter, your smile growing wider by the second, it’s been quite some time since you ever felt half this happy.

He let out a low vibrating laugh with your face pressed against his chest, engulfing you tightly around his hold whilst swaying the both of you side to side. It was little moments and acts of efforts like these that mattered most to you. You drowned yourself at the rhythm and sound of his heartbeat that spoke the words the both of you already knew; he had missed you.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

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.

.

Maybe you were always too busy for Yang Jungwon when the both of you dated.

Maybe that was it.

Maybe that was the reason why.

Or maybe he simply always seeking attention from you, constantly and childishly. He complained about you studying too much as he started sulking alone was, he wandered around the place ‘miserably’, while you were trying to place your focus on your book, refusing to give into him again.

A little later and he tossed the fact that he had to pick up some errands, and you volunteered to help accompany him since he mentioned that he’d only be out for a while.

But after picking up the things he had acquired through his errands, the rain was against your luck and poured heavily. You cursed at yourself, having brought no umbrella with you. Looking at Jungwon, you could judge immediately by then that he didn’t bring one as well.

“Running for it sounds pretty good,” you suggested with a beam on your face, but you noticed how Jungwon huffed in disagreement, not approving of the idea; worrying that the rain might get you hurt or sick as he starts pulling out deliberate excuses and reasons.

“It’s too slippery out in the rain, you might fall,”

“Car accidents happen more often in the rain,”

“You’ll get sick, can you afford to be sick at a time like this?”

You ignored all his protests when you decided to just audaciously leave the store entrance before walking into the rain without any given warning.

He doesn’t say anything, and when you glanced back at him in question, you immediately noticed how visibly irritated he was with you misbehaving and ignoring him. Jungwon was always overly protective over you.

Though you appreciated it, his over-protectiveness wasn’t something you exactly needed at this time of your mid-terms. You just needed to study, and Jungwon could simply work on his music. The place you were at wasn’t too far from home, so it wasn’t exactly too absurd to make a run for it. 

His eyes zeroed on you, giving no humor in his eyes, “Come back in here.”

You looked at him with fake-pleading eyes, “I left my notes back home,” you frowned.

“I don’t care. You are not getting sick.”

He wanted to sit the rain out, of course he did. But you didn’t know when the rain was going to stop, or if it ever showed any signs of stopping, in the first place. Just by your boyfriend’s tone itself, you knew you got yourself in trouble. That was not a good sign, he would always pull some crazy idea that would always try to teach you a lesson. 

You didn’t move an inch from your spot.

Jungwon hurdled at you once he realizes that you were being stubborn, wrapping his arms around your waist securely regardless of the hefty downpour of rain, “Step another foot further and I’ll make sure you’ll never be touching your beloved notes again.”

“Ugh, Yang Jungwon, are you crazy?” you argued, trying to untangle yourself from him but his firm grip wouldn’t let you go.

“Jungwon, I’m serious! I really need to study, I have my exams—!”

“Aish, you’d be on your deathbed, and you wouldn’t even think of me at all, you would only care about studying!” he contested nonsensically as he dramatically complains.

You scowled at his comment, your face souring as you try wriggling yourself out of his grasp even harder, “Yah, you rascal!”

“Come back inside and I’ll let you go,” he conditions, a small grin showing that he had won. You glower at him, but having no choice but to subit and wait the next two hours by the porch of the store for the rain to subside. He covers you by towering in front of you, ensuring that you weren’t going to get hit by the rain.

Jungwon was a lot of maintenance - a lot of people would say, but he was adorable.

And most of all, he was yours. 

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

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PRESENT [ JUNGWON'S POV ]

Jungwon spends the rest of his night at school fixing up your science project, without an ounce of sleep.

He finds Sunoo dropping by the room, slightly jumping in surprise at the sight of him there. He covers his chest with his hand, “What the hell are you doing here?” he lightheartedly scolds him.

But he pauses squinting at him, “Were you . . .” his eyes widen, “Dude, did you spend the entire night here?” he asks Jungwon, bewildered. “Doing . . .” he tilts his head, taking a peek, and his mouth hangs open as he finally pieces things together, “-Y/N’s science lab project . . .?”

Sunoo’s eyes almost budge out of his sockets. “Isn’t this what Y/N’s been worrying crazy about –? How did you –?”

He couldn’t exactly admit that he’s overheard you complaining about your project and begging others to help you with it miserably. He knew you always took your grades seriously, but, how could he explain this to Sunoo of all people?

Jungwon looks conflicted, immediately standing away from your project. He was finished wish it, anyway. He just needed to get here undetected by you. Kim Sunoo was a problem, however. There was no way Sunoo wasn’t not telling you about this.

“Don’t tell her I did this,” Jungwon tells him, reading Sunoo’s next moves.

His eyes dart from the project to Jungwon. He frowns, confused. “Why not?”

Jungwon hesitates with his words, being careful. “Just because. Don’t.” What the hell can he say? The bell rings, and he panics. 

“She has a hell of an ego, you know this. Tell her you fixed this or something. I don’t know. Make some shit up.”

He scurries out the lab but hangs behind at the entrance door for a few seconds.

Jungwon emphasizes what he’s told Sunoo. “I’m counting on you, bro.”

He slips away like a ghost.

Sunoo tells you that Ningning and Jake helped with your final lab project, and you believed it – eyes sparkling with relief and complete utter gratitude. You wondered how they got to finish the project in a day. They were the chemistry experts of the class, anyway – who were you to question them?

Sunoo sees Jungwon at the side of the room looking at you and your project. He watches him watch you. How happy you were with the project, and the endless showering of compliments. Was he really just . . . not going to tell you?

Sunoo takes a look at both you and Jungwon and scratches his head in utter confusion. What was going on with the both of you?

He has no idea what that boy is hiding.

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A FEW DAYS LATER IN THAT WEEK

Jungwon really was getting in your nerves.

On your way to class, you did nothing but mind your own business when he swirls out of nowhere and pushes you aside, refraining you from entering the classroom. You furrow your eyebrows in annoyance, trying to wriggle away from his grasp, but his grip stays firm. He’s holding the sides of both your arms to let you stay in place, looking anxious and rushed. “Wait.”

“Yang Jungwon, what the hell?”

He tries to find words to say, but he can’t find any. “I . . . like the color of your hair. Did you dye it?”

Your stare is blank. “What?”

“I need recommendations. I might use it too, so –“

“This is my natural hair color.” you deadpan, without an ounce of friendliness, “now if you’ll excuse me –”

“No! Gah,” he lets out a frustrated noise, rushed, “. . . the speech report! I need help in –“

He was messing with you. He had to be.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” you try to breathe in calmly, but you were talking through your gritted teeth. “You submitted your speech report last week,” you hissed, your patience running thin.

You finally wriggle yourself free from his grasp, and that was when the panic was evident in Jungwon’s features.

You barely get to move an inch before, “Do you still have hang-ups on me?” He rushes out of nowhere, an attempt of desperation.

What?

To say that you were at a loss for words was an understatement.

You freeze. Staring at him, dumbfounded.

Were you simply a joke to him?

What was he saying? He was desperate, willing to just have your attention anywhere else. You could not enter the room. That was his plan.

You were trying to regain composure. Clamping your jaw down hard, your eyes narrowed. “Please, kindly fuck off.”

You stalk away, pissed off.

As soon as he ensured that you were walking the opposite direction, and Jungwon heaves a small sigh of relief. At least.

He budges the door classroom open – the room he had noticed that a couple of asshats were trying to pull on harsh pranks on – and immediately, an old tray of leftover food spills from above, falling flat on the floor instead as Jungwon dodges it from anticipating this beforehand.

And you piece thing and thing together.

This was what he was driving you away from?

Because that could’ve been you.

His eyes settle on the group of bullies seated at the end of the room. He cracks his knuckles. Jungwon’s eyes have never been so deadly.

Jungwon comes in class later with a purple bruise coloring his upper left cheek, and a busted lip.

You don’t ask him the story, but instead, you assume the worst in him. Like you always do.

He’s up to no good.

He always was.

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[08:12pm] yang jungwon: are you going?

[08:21pm] you: ?

[08:21pm] yang jungwon: oh hi love

[08:22pm] yang jungwon: are you coming to gyeonju tower tomorrow? i wanted to tell you in person today but you seemed like u were in a rush to leave

[08:24pm] you: ? what do you want

[08:25pm] yang jungwon: i wanted to explain things

[08:25pm] yang jungwon: and explain myself

read

[08:53pm] yang jungwon: i want to make things right

[08:54pm] yang jungwon: please let me, bo

[08:54pm] you: im busy.

[08:57pm] yang jungwon: i’ll be waiting for you tomorrow at 1pm

[09:00pm] you: i said im not going.

[09:02pm] yang jungwon: just one chance, please

[09:04pm] yang jungwon: one last one

read

You didn’t care, you weren’t going.

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THE FOLLOWING DAY

You’ve decided that you wouldn’t go.

You won’t go.

You won’t go, end of discussion.

You spent the last night considering it until two in the morning. You’ve finalized your decision. “This is a no-brainer. Who does he think he is? I’m not giving him the satisfaction,” you rant morely to yourself - it was almost as if you werer trying to convince yourself instead.

You tug at the ends of your hair in frustration, hissing. Both Ningning and Seoyeon watches you in silent amusement after being told of the situation. The two were the only ones who knew about you and Jungwon, and the only two who you’ve been ranting to for the past two hours.

“I’m not going,” you repeat aggravatedly, exclaiming as you fling your arms. You pace around the room. 

Ningning languidly lazes around the chair as you frantically pace around the room, “So you’ve told us for the past forty six times,” she can’t help but comment, fighting away her grin. You scowl at her, grabbing the strap of your bag to sling it around your shoulder.

“You guys are annoying. I’m leaving.”

Both Seoyeon and Ningning stare after you, waving you goodbye at your stressed state.

Ningning props herself up with her elbows, leaning her cheek with the palm of her hands as soon as you’ve left the room. She stares at Seoyeon, who was mindlessly scrolling through her phone, “She’s definitely going, isn’t she?”

Seoyeon tosses the bag of chips that she’s been hogging Ningning’s way - which she accepts immediately, munching down on the ones on her palm with disinterest, “Yep.”

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LATER, 1 PM

You tug awkwardly at your sleeve, eyes searching for a certain figure in mind as they bunglingly dart around the place.

So, maybe you really did end up going to the tower. Just to check things out. That was it. And maybe see if he was there. If he really showed up. Hear what he wanted to say if it was important. Nothing more. You felt bad just leaving him alone - you weren’t like him, intentionally leaving someone on for hours to wait for you. 

You had a conscience. You simply showed up because you didn’t want to be burdened by it. 

You don’t know how long you waited on the first half of the period under the heat of the sun from the tower, but by the time you take out your phone to check the time, it was half past one in the afternoon.

Tick-tok.

Tick-tok.

You stare at your phone’s lock screen, expecting a text from Jungwon to pop up any second to inform you that he was probably running late. Anything.

An hour passes by.

You figure you’d give him another thirty minutes. Just another thirty minutes. If he wasn’t going to show up, you didn’t care anymore. You would leave.

It was past 30 minutes.

Another hour passes by.

Until rain starts to lightly drizzle.

Until clouds start to darken.

Until your legs start to ache.

And until you were soaking and clothes drenched with water in the pouring heavy rain.

Again.

Until it dawns on you.

Jungwon isn’t here.

He wasn’t coming.

He was never going to.

And there you were, standing alone stupidly – a fool. A fool who never learned her lesson after two years.

He was enjoying this; toying with you, he’s got to be.

You don’t know why you really expected anything else from him.

A heavy exhale.

You don’t know why you hoped you did.

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.

.

You get a call from Jungwon by the evening. You were dumbly weak enough to easily get manipulated to answer the phone.

He sounded frantic, “Hello? Y/N? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t able to attend our meet-up. I’m - I’m really sorry, I was really planning to go -” You wish you could believe him.

“Yeah. It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” you sound too monotone for your words to sound like you meant them.

“I’m so sorry that you waited on me, I promise I’ll make it up to -” No more promises. No more, Jungwon. I can’t take anymore.

You harshly cut him off, oppressive. “What do you mean? I didn’t come. I told you I won’t, didn’t I?”

You still had your dignity. Lies were all that you had left. You’d lie just for Jungwon to not get that sense of satisfaction from you. You wouldn’t let him.

He is silent, “Yeah, I know.”

You inhale, vexed. Your eyes flicker around the room, feeling flighty with apprehension. “What’s up, anyway? What held you from coming?” you made an effort to sound as casual as possible bringing it up, as if you didn’t care. As if you didn’t spend the whole afternoon drenched in pouring rain waiting for him.

A long silent pause again. You could tell he was hesitating to answer.

He tries to let out a lighthearted laugh as he waves it off, "It’s nothing.” 

It was nothing, again. It’s always nothing. Were you ever something - anything - to him?

It takes a moment for you to register his response. How effortlessly care-free he was about it. Your tone appears tight, “Okay. Well, it’s good that you weren’t able to go. I wasn’t there anyway.” You didn’t know what else to say other than stressing that you never came. That you didn’t care.

Lie.

“Oh,” is what Jungwon replies with, he sounded distracted - like his mind wasn’t in the conversation. He wasn’t interested in talking to you anyway, why did he bother calling? 

You grit at your teeth, “I’m not a fool, Jungwon.”

You don’t know if he’s even listening to you, you start to question. It takes long for him to respond, “I know.”

He was being as short with his responses as ever. Was this what he called explaining himself? You doubt if he ever cared about making it up to you in the first place. You try to hide your disappointment in your tone with impatience, “Is that all? I’m gonna go now. I’m busy.”

You don’t wait for his reply.

You immediately end the call and toss your phone as far as you could.

You hope that was worth it for Jungwon.

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[ JUNGWON’S POV ] . . . what really happened

Jungwon woke up three hours earlier that day.

When Jungwon was getting himself dressed, a boy from across the city was still sleeping through his alarm that he wasn’t able to set the night before. Meanwhile, a girl was waiting somewhere in the city’s lobby, waiting for her boyfriend to pick her up.

While that happened, Jungwon was on his way to a jewelry shop to buy you a gift. He was beyond excited to see you. The boy from across the city was still sleeping, but the girl’s boyfriend eventually came to pick her up. On the other side, Jungwon had forgotten his credit card, and had no other option to pay by cash.

By this time, the sleeping boy’s mother barges into the boy’s room to wake him up as he was late for class – and asking him if he spent another late night playing with his friends. The girl in her boyfriend’s car receives a text from her ex while her boyfriend stops by to pick up the cake they ordered for their anniversary.

Jungwon was nearly at the Gyeonju tower when the boy who was running late for class stumbled out of the house, got on his bike, and peddled as fast as he could. The girl was already texting her ex-boyfriend by this time, and before she could tuck her phone away as soon as her boyfriend got into the car, the boyfriend had caught her already.

All the while the couple slowly started to argue about her talking to her ex, Jungwon was stuck in traffic and anxiously waiting – frustrated. Though he had more than an hour to spare, he wanted to see you as quickly as possible. This was the moment of his life that meant most to him. The boy who was running late took a wrong turn because he was not on the right state of mind, still half-asleep.

The couple argued all the way to the girlfriend’s parents’ house while the boy in the bike running late was trying to find his way out of the unfamiliar place, completely flustered. Jungwon had already arrived at Gyeonju tower, parking his car before trying to fix up his hair. He never really cared about how he looked like, but Jungwon’s nerves were jittering. This was the first time he was so anxious to see you.

And finally, at the same time, the boy was too distracted to see the couple’s car in front of him – as well as the couple, as they were still too busy arguing. Jungwon had just gotten out of the car, crossing the road.

It all happened too quickly.

If the son had set his alarm the day before and wasn’t running late for his class, if the girl hadn’t picked up the call from her ex-boyfriend, if couple hadn’t been arguing while the boyfriend was driving, or if Jungwon didn’t take his time in the car mirror trying to make sure he looked good for you - then maybe he would’ve gotten to meet you that night.

Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten into that car accident.

Maybe none of this would’ve be happening right now.

Life is a series of multiple interactions, they said.

The next situation Jungwon finds himself in was lying still – unable to move – in the hospital emergency room with blood – his blood? – covered all over his clothes, and when he gains the smallest bit of energy to barely open his eyes, he feels like he’s lost everything all over again.

In spite of all the events, he remembers you.

Your smile.

And his promise.

But he blacks out.

.

.

.

The moment Jungwon awakes into consciousness, his first thought isn’t what he was doing in an emergency room hospital, all alone. It isn’t wondering why he had blood all over his clothes, or why his body physically hurt too much for him to move.

His first thought was you.

His first thought was always going to be you. Where were you? What-? He sees the small bag settled beside him, squinting at it - before realizing it was for you. For the meeting. Today. Shit. In less than half a second, he ignores the pins and needles of his skin feeling like it was being stretched out just to reach his phone and dial your number. 

“Hello? Y/N? I’m so sorry, I wasn’t able to attend our meet-up. I’m - I’m really sorry, I was really planning to go -”

Your tone interrupts him midway, seemingly clipped and tight. “Yeah. It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” were you mad? Guessing by the tone of your voice, you seemed upset. Lord, he begged for that one chance you gave him and he had to go through this out of all the occasions?

You pinches the bridge of his nose after running a hand through his hair, cursing inwardly. How many more chances could you give him? You would never believe him ever again. “I’m so sorry that you waited on me, I promise I’ll make it up to -” 

Your response hits him right in the gut, harder and more painful than any of the stitches and bandages he had being freshly reopened. “What do you mean? I didn’t come. I told you I won’t, didn’t I?”

His throat constricts, eyes lowering as the grip on the phone tightens, “Yeah, I know.” He hangs his head low. 

You shrug it off with disinterest, your tone indifferent. “What’s up, anyway? What held you from coming?”

He hesitates, glancing down at the patches of bandages and stitches. He doesn’t try to explain. He doesn’t want you to know. What could he say to cover things up? He tries to avoid sounding suspicious with a lighthearted laugh, “It’s nothing.”

God, it sounded fake.

Your indifference rings through his mind over and over again. Did you really not care about him anymore? Did you really mean it when you said you weren’t going to go? A sharp stab in the heart each time the thought rings through him.

A pause.

“Okay. Well, it’s good that you weren’t able to go. I wasn’t there anyway.”

“Oh,” was all Jungwon could respond with, he was beginning to feel dizzy - overwhelmed and exhausted. A sharp buzz rang deaf through his ears.

The room started to spin as you continued through the call – unaware, “I’m not a fool, Jungwon,” you remind him. Was it really the end?

Has he finally lost you?

He doesn’t know what to say, but he couldn’t deny the fact that it hurt. Everything hurts. Fuck. A long pause, “I know.”

“Is that all? I’m gonna go now. I'm busy,” you harshly end things, not bothering to expant the conversation or on the details. You don’t push him. You don’t care.

The line went dead.

A piece of him along with it died too.

Jungwon sits at one of the emergency room’s beds alone and he realizes that the hospital could heal all his physical wounds and scars, but he doesn’t think the internal pain he’s feeling could be treated.

A nurse that was passing by finds him passed out, unconscious, and unresponsive only long minutes later.

.

.

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A WEEK LATER

Initially, you had planned to keep away from Jungwon at all costs the moment classes started again. He could suffer all he needed.

But.

You don’t see Jungwon.

Not that you cared if he was around - it was a relief to you that you didn’t have to deal with him, but didn’t you .. deserve an explanation? 

No.

That’s right. An explanation from Jungwon for ditching you was something you would never get. That hasn’t changed, and you were a fool for believing otherwise. 

You repeatedly sneak glances by his desk - anywhere, for a sign of him. It was useless to ask anyone else. His friends? When had Jungwon ever tried talking to somebody that wasn’t you? 

Not that you ever took notice, either. 

It’s been a week.

Seconds tick by slowly, and lectures drag in what seems like hours. It comes to the point where you almost decide on texting his number and demanding where he was. It took every part of yourself to manage to not do so.

Your notifications remained empty this time.

No messages. No calls.

He’s gone again.

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.

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THREE WEEKS LATER [JUNGWON’S POV ]

With a fractured arm and multiple wounds and stitches, Jungwon had to opt to wait three weeks before he was able to attend classes again.

He only looks forward to seeing your face.

To explain everything to you.

He messed up again.

Maybe you were looking for him? It’s been three weeks, maybe you had wondered for a fraction where he went all of a sudden? Maybe you were worried? Maybe you were concerned? Or maybe you didn’t care? Maybe you were celebrating right now?

He flinches that the thought. 

He spots you by the hallways after his hour long search around the campus. You barely looked bothered at all. That was fine, Jungwon reminded himself. He walks his way towards you with the gift he had bought you weeks prior, when the accident had happened. The gift he had protected with his life to save, and had held on for weeks to give to you. If he wasn’t going to explain things, he at least wanted to give you the gift he had picked for you. 

He thinks you’d look pretty in it. 

However, as soon as he tries to open his mouth to speak to you once he was close enough for you to hear him, you coldly ignore him entirely. You pack up your things once you hear the bell, ringing just in time for classes to start. You barely even spare him a single glance.

You walk past him like was invincible.

Like you couldn’t care any less of what happened to him.

It turns out, you were never worried at all.

That fucking him hurt more than being hit by a car a hundred times ever did.

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[01:24 pm] yang jungwon: im sorry

[01:29 pm] yang jungwon: can we talk?

[read]

You blocked yang jungwon’s number that day.

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[JUNGWON . . . ]

Seoyeon made you laugh.

It was unintentional, he guessed. But she made you laugh. In a way. Other’s might’ve called it a snort. It was a goofy side-comment he made when you expanded the instructions on the chapter needed to be finished. He felt himself destructing and freezing while his heart soared and ripped itself apart. He swore he was flying while being drowned six feet under at the same time.

As someone who spent his entire life on music, Yang Jungwon has heard many sounds. Various melodies and tunes, but none of them were like yours. He’s been walking around tone-deaf for the past few years because it was like he forgot the way your laugh sounded and the way it made him feel like he could do anything.

It was like you immediately regretted it - laughing with him in the room, and maybe his emotions were written all over his face because Jungwon was losing you all over again when you disclose your emotions off once again from him. Then he’s all but greeted with a cold face - an effect of the mess he caused.

He remembers the time where you were his to call, and now, you couldn’t even stand to look at him - or be in the same room as him. He remembers the time where you would look at him and the way your eyes would light up, and now, he looks at your eyes for a fraction of a second and they’re dead. Once vibrant and easy to read - now empty and desolate. Nobody is home. They’re emotionless for him.

Your eyes only tell lies now.

You’ll never be like the way you used to be again.

To think that he ruined it. That he ruined a smile that ran so deep and had so much meaning. A smile that was always for him. A soul that had so much love and kindness for him. He shattered that. That was because of him.

He remembers the time where receiving ‘I love you’s from you were everyday like routines to you, and he compares it with the flash irritation that would cross your face and the petty tone of anger he would get from you every time he tried talking to you. 

You’ve changed.

He doesn’t know what those two years have done to you.

What he’s done to you.

Maybe he really messed it up. Maybe he should run and leave and never see you again so he would stop hurting you and fucking you up over and over again. Maybe he should let you move on and let you be happy with someone else. Maybe he should just stop hoping because the gods above know that they don’t trust him with you alone. 

It was killing him.

Jungwon couldn’t do any of that.

Getting to see you every day - it was already much of a blessing compared to the two years in the shithole he went through without you, waking up to feel nothing but empty - if it’s not endlessly torturing and tormenting himself for putting you through what he had to. 

But couldn’t Jungwon be a little selfish? Just this once? Couldn’t he ask for a little bit more?

If Jungwon could admit, he never wanted much, nor has he asked for much either. To say the truth, he doesn’t care about ninety percent of his life: fuck his gods be damned ‘career’, fuck air and water and happiness and money. 

Yang Jungwon was someone that had no interest in the world. He never really got to care about anything. But you. He met you. You were his first. You were all he cared about. You were all that really mattered.

And that was his world.

You were his world.

It’s been two years since he lost you - since he let you go for good, and that was worse than dying. Each moment was as if it was meant to come back at him and break his soul - or whatever’s left of it. All Yang Jungwon gives a damn about is you. 

He was damn well still in love with you, and he was never getting you back.

He’s lost you.

And the separating distance between the both of you proves it better than anything.

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[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ hold me while you wait by lewis capaldi ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

THE TWISTING POINT

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.

.

Jungwon wasn’t in a good mood today.

It was most likely because of work, so you didn’t want to question or pressure him into dwelling into it any further. You stayed smiling, knowing that whenever you were down, Jungwon knew exactly what to do. He needed sunshine.

You hear glass shatter, and loud clanging accompanied with it. You sprang upwards, racing to Jungwon’s aid to check yourself if he was hurt.

As you stared at the mess created, and the person who seemingly intentionally created the mess, you only stood by the doorway. 

You knew him, he wasn’t the type to let his anger consume and get the best of him, nor was he the type to physically express his anger. Especially around you. Jungwon loved the idea of you seeing him as a laid-back unique oddball, and you’ve rarely ever seen him irritated or angry. You’ve never seen him like this, however. 

You remained silent; your gaze downcast. Whatever happened in the studio today must have been seriously rough enough to affect him into a state like this. 

The room is too silent. “Won?” He loves being called that name; he’s told you. It gets him erupting with happiness in no time, but why isn’t it working now? 

Why does Jungwon’s eyes look so empty?

“Can you leave?” he asks you when you try to help clean up the broken shards of glass, finally uttering a word after the first time you’ve seen him today. 

“I don’t need you here right now.”  

Jungwon sees the way you freeze. The way confusion flashes over your face. The way your hopeful and gentle eyes crack by a fraction.

Jungwon sees it all.

You purse your lip in hesitation, worried, but you follow his request with a nod nonetheless as you quietly slip out of the room. I’m always here for you if you need me.

Jungwon feels nothing but emptiness.

.

.

.

“Jungwon, you’ve missed two meals.”

He’s stuck in his music room. Again. Your lips pull into a forming frown at his state, placing the plate of food that you’ve organized for him at a table nearest to you. 

He only gives you a glance before his attention is back at his music, “I’m kind of busy here,” he blandly reminds you the obvious, and you feel yourself mentally deflate, a bit. 

A pause. You sucked in a breath. “I know, but you shouldn’t skip meals, okay? Take some rests,” you keep your voice gentle, hopeful. 

He barely gives a grunt in reply.

Why didn’t you see that he didn’t want you anymore then?

You swallow, trying in another attempt, “Um, do you need any help in -” Jungwon swivels his chair abruptly, turning completely at you. It’s the first time you see him look at you in a while, “No,” the look in his eyes is something you’d never forget, “I’m fine, Y/N.” And when he turns his back on you, you feel a jab in the gut. 

Ah.

You get the message.

You weren’t wanted around.

“Okay, I’ll uhh … I’ll …” you don’t finish your sentence, merely signaling that you were going to leave, but well aware that Jungwon was already back facing his screen. You don’t think he notices. You don’t think he ever notices anything at all.

No response. Not even a glance your way.

You felt so lonely.

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.

.

Jungwon was going out again, as he’s all done for the past week.

Maybe you were overthinking all of this, but you felt as if he was doing whatever it took to avoid you. To avoid looking at you. To avoid talking to you. To avoid spending time with you. Of course, it was all in your head. 

He would never hurt you like that, Jungwon was just busy. He was just going through things. He had it rough, you should be considerate.

It was just you alone most of the time, and you started to wonder if he was doing fine. If he needed you, at all.

“Jungwon?”

He turns to you, his body almost out of the door. “Are you okay?” you gently ask him.

He blinks. “I’m fine,” he replies after a pause.

You wanted to help him, whatever he was going through. You wanted to go through it with him together — you wanted to be there for him. “You don’t seem fine,” you try to start, “Jungwon, I’m here for you, you can talk to me if you—”

An exasperated sound of displeasure cuts you off, like a tether piecing everything together that snaps. “Can’t you do anything else other than bother me?” he waves you off, slamming the door in visible distress. He leaves you like that, and he doesn’t have to say anything else to make the wound hurt all the more.

The words left unsaid were enough.

He doesn’t come back the next day.

You wished he’d have told you how he loved you before he left, even if he didn’t mean it.

.

.

.

The air was cold. You know that it was not because of the weather.

Your mind wanders.

Sometimes you consider the fact that there could be someone else.

You wonder where everything started to change, and somedays, the thoughts get heavy and immensely difficult for you to carry. Sometimes they hurt too much to think about. You can’t help but wonder where your love lacked for him, in where you gave him everything. Even if it costed more than you could afford, it was worth it. But was it not for him? Was it not anymore?

It’s hard to fight what was fated.

But you would’ve still ruined yourself to fix him.

Even if there was another person, you think, you just wished he told you - so you would stop foolishly hoping and trying to convince yourself that this was all a sick phase of his that would eventually pass. So, you would stop foolishly assuming that there was ‘together’ and ‘forever’ for the both of you. You wouldn’t insist on it anymore, if that’s what made him happy. Watching him torture himself like that and choosing not to say anything to you was more painful than anything else.

You knew you were not the one in his heart.

This was all going to pass, right?

Jungwon, talk to me.

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.

.

Jungwon can make it better.

He always has. You could never remember a time where he didn’t come to swoop in and save your day.

Was this the timing in where you realize that things were permanently going to change?

A simple month changes you a lot.

You believed, but you were slowly losing the light.

You gave so many signs.

So many warning signs.

He walked past every single one of them.

You couldn’t be the only one fighting for something that was already gone. Something that was thrown away and given up on. Because you have been, for as long as you can, and you don’t know if you can still continue to allow yourself to put yourself through it - because you don’t know if you can take it. Even if it was just one last time.

But still, you were willing to offer him anything he wanted the moment he needed it. You were ready to run to his side even if it killed you. Waste my time, waste it all.

The painful fake smiles, and pretending if everything was perfectly fine, as if you were okay, and the desperate pair of eyes that he always seemed to ignore.

You don’t know when it would stop.

You could only wish he would stay a bit longer to savor before he was going to make it hurt for you.

You felt the fatigue, then.

It’ll get better soon.

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.

.

THE BREAKING POINT

It was all about him.

You don’t know if you could take this any longer.

“Jungwon?” you called out to him - through the empty house, “I’m tired.” Faintly.

You were washing the dishes after immediately arriving home from your part-time job. No time for giving yourself a rest, or for catching up on the upcoming exam the next day. It was eleven o’clock at night. You heard the door slam, and you knew Jungwon was home.

He could mope around and throw things around. He was entitled to treat you harshly because he was going through a rough time. He could do absolutely nothing. That was how everything worked.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t cry. You couldn’t pause and rest. You weren’t entitled to feel angry or irritated because you weren’t going through whatever he was going through. You had to take care of him, and you had to endure getting treated that way our you could leave and walk through the door.

The shuffling of footsteps stops. You don’t move. You leave the faucet water running, eyes staring distantly - somewhere. But you don’t look over at him. You know that the courage that you’ve spent months trying to build up would come crashing down the moment you do.

There is no noise, only the running of the water. You know he’s listening.

“I can’t do it anymore,” you bat an eye, and your shoulders ease up a little. There is a certain stillness in the air.

“I feel like I’m just wasting my life in this relationship,” you’ve thought about this. You’ve tried to shrug the feeling off, but you wanted to know if you wanted to fight for him too. “I’m always looking stupid. I’m always left behind,” Isn’t it exhausting for you too, Jungwon? 

Nothing. Silence. No response. 

He wasn’t pushing you.

He wasn’t begging you to stay, like he always did.

He wasn’t going to even just try to change your mind.

He’s letting you go.

That infuriates you further, and you hate that he’s making you feel like you’re being too unreasonable without having to say anything. You hate the words he’s saying to you without even him having to open his mouth. Silence is all you’ve been receiving, hasn’t it? It’s always turning his back. It’s always the cold shoulder, whatever he had to say - he wouldn’t say it. It’s always been that way. Itwas always you that had to adjust. 

You hated this.

You hated this so much.

It was him leaving you alone to your degrading thoughts that would break you more than he ever can, “It’s all about you. It’s all just about your sufferings, isn’t it? It’s all just yours!” 

Why wasn’t he stopping you?

Why wasn’t he trying to fix this?

You wanted him to explain himself and assure you that everything was going to be okay. You wanted to work this out. Good God, you did. More than anything. But what happened to the day when you missed the most important exams for him just because he was too in his head to take care of himself? Where was he? What was he doing? Where was he when you were called to the school’s office because you were nearly falling off school? Where was he when you cried countlessly from overwhelming stress because of that?

Where was he when you were pacing back and forth at four in the morning without a wink of sleep, waiting for him to come back home and wondering to the heavens what the hell had happened to him? Where was he when you felt so isolated and alone? Where was he when your parents turned your back on you for you giving up everything for a boy who already seemed to have given up on you? Where was he to fight for you? Where was he to look you in the eye and give you a reason to keep fighting - to stay?

Jungwon was going through shit. That was something you understood. Something you wished he never went through, something you know he doesn’t deserve. And you were there for him. Every step of the way. But that didn’t mean that you had it all easy, either - did it? Didn’t he know? Or did he just not care? 

You wanted to work this out. But … did he?

Soft, too soft. You could barely hear. “So desperate,” it was murmured. A pause, a shift in movement, and he was gone. 

He was gone. He walked away. Like it meant nothing to him.

It stays, lingering. But he leaves.

You can’t believe him.

So monotone.

So emotionless.

Like it doesn’t mean anything.

He breaks you.

You crack open.

He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t fight for you. He doesn’t feel anything for you. He doesn’t find a reason to stay. 

He finds a reason to leave.

That was it. And you weren’t even sure if he said it. Maybe it was a flicker of your imagination. Maybe you were going insane, was what it was. Did he leave?

He couldn’t have.

It was the end.

End.

The end of the both of you.

After that end, there was … nothing.

It was the end?

Your weight leans against the counter table in support, breathing heavily. Your heartbeat racing, your mind processing. A minute passes by, and you still stand frozen.

No. The stillness was too much to handle, you needed Jungwon, even if the only words he was ever going to say to you would hurt. You stumbled, rushing after the door as you tried calling after him. You didn’t want him to go. You couldn’t let him, you won’t give up on him. You needed him there. You were tired, and you needed Jungwon.

“Jungwon.” Where was he off to the moment you finally told him how you were feeling? Was it a mistake? Should you have stayed quiet instead?

“I didn’t mean what I said, come back and we’ll talk this out,” you called after him. You would take it all back.

He was gone. 

You turned, and you turned, and you hoped. Nothing. Pitch black. Darkness.

“Jungwon?” you were crying now, crumbling a little. “Jungwon, I’m sorry, please come back, please.” you begged. And you kept calling him, until even the gods above could hear you. But where was he? No, he was going to come back for you. He was. 

He was going to explain that he was sorry and that he never meant to hurt you. He was going to pop up right next to you like he always used it. He was going to smile at you with a cheeky grin and make fun of how you fell for his sick joke. He was going to give you a reason to stay and you were going to be okay.

“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry,” you shouted after him, numbly trying to follow his footsteps that weren’t there. Footsteps that were erased. The footsteps of someone who promised he’d never leave your side. It was pathetic. Your desperation was pathetic.

Where did he go? Which way did he go? Please show up. Please. Please.

You shivered at the cold. Why was it raining so hard? You could barely see a thing. It was too dark. Not a single light in sight. You didn’t even realize it was raining. But it didn’t matter. You wouldn’t go home until Jungwon was back. And safe. Everything will be okay.

Moments pass and you don’t know if it took hours. Jungwon wasn’t there and you were losing him the way you were losing yourself. “Please,” your voice came out a whisper as your legs gave up on you, falling into your knees, “come back to me,” your body shakes, and that was the end. 

All you were left with was the memories. 

The both of you were nothing but memories now.

Ended because of happenstance.

He was still gone the next day.

And the next.

And the next after the next.

And the week after.

And the month after.

And after that.

You waited.

He promised.

You believed.

Ah.

You felt it, then.

The light you held onto exhaled and took its last breath.

Expired.

When things are expired - when things pass its due date, no matter how much big of a waste it is, or how much you were looking forward for it; you can only throw it away.

Because your relationship wasn’t the only thing gone and lost to disappear that day. It wasn’t only him - or it wasn’t the one thing you cared most about. It was you. You came along with it. You; a simple crumpled worn-out paper thrown away. A rough draft. Scrapped and forgotten. 

He wasn’t coming back. 

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

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[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ skin by sabrina carpenter ]

PRESENT TIME, THE FOLLOWING DAY

The group was chatting with each other as usual. You were with Ningning and Seoyeon, catching up with the latest most random topics while you were making it a point to ignore Jungwon’s longing stare. Until Jake Sim takes a glance his way and points out of nowhere, “What happened to your arm?”

He immediately replies, “Nothing.”

When you sneak a glance over at Jungwon’s arm, he catches you and straight away tucks his arm away from your side’s view as casually as possible. Why did he have bandages? Your brows furrowed at him, skeptically surveying him.

What was he hiding this time? 

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.

.

It was in the middle of individual study period when Ningning queries out of nowhere, “Y/N, Is Jungwon trying to win you back?”

A few glances your way at the sudden uplifting noise through the quiet room.

You almost choke. You wish you did. “What?” Loudly whispering, you snap your head over her direction, eyes blazing down at her incredulously.

“He isn’t?” Seoyeon pipes in, questioning incredulously, all the more surprised than you. The both of them were never going to let her newfound discovery of exes that were quote “fated back together” end quote. You stare blankly at the both of them, unamused.

She shrugs innocently. “He looks like it,” she answers her own query and peeks over his way. Explaining, she heaves a casual exhale, “He keeps looking over at you every five seconds with those starry hopeful eyes as if you’d change your mind.”

Your face hardens at the mention of it. You hadn’t told what happened between you and Jungwon to anyone. Once both Seoyeon and Ningning had asked for the details of what happened, you simply brushed it off, not wanting to talk about it. They had assumed something went wrong.

Whatever Seoyeon had in mind to be out of a romantic film - this wasn’t the case. You had no idea what he was up to, but it was most probably something that would put up some entertainment to aid his boredom before he fleets away again. 

She playfully nudged you with the edge of her elbow, “So, what made you dump him?”

She laughed. Loud. She was talking quite too casually that you speculated Jungwon could hear the conversation. His head was bowed, supposedly reading. You couldn’t read his facial features. You don’t want to.

“Poor dude, he looks like he’s had it rough.” Of course, everyone would assume it was Jungwon who was dumped. That it was him who was hurting. That it was him who got the mistreatment. You were the bad guy. In the end it’s your fault.

A chill runs down your spine. You dumped him? You almost laugh aloud in sarcasm, but it comes out as a snort. Waving her off teasingly, you motion the both of them to shoo away, “Shove off.”

Seoyeon gives a toothy beam before scribbling something down her notebook, Ningning peeks over to read it and giggles. You barely catch a glimpse of it.

‘Where there is anger, there is always pain underneath.’

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LATER, AT THE LIBRARY

Another day. That meant another meeting with both Jungwon and Seoyeon in the library. After long hours, the group meeting was finished. All there was left to do was to submit the chapter’s draft for corrections to the professor; it had been decided already that Seoyeon and Jungwon were to do it.

You were leisurely taking your time packing up your stuff when Seoyeon hurriedly scurries out on her way to exit the library. “Hey, Jungwon, I’m really busy today, so I can’t accompany you to pass the papers. I just realized I have soccer practice,” she forms her lips into a pout, faking a thought. It occurs to you then that Seoyeon doesn’t have varsity. 

Your eyes narrow at where this was going. “What about ask Y/N to do it? She has nothing to do anyway!” she winks, lightheartedly hitting Jungwon’s arm. He was taken aback, looking confused and somewhat lost himself, but having no choice left other than nodding, he agrees. “Uh . . . sure.”

Seoyeon turns your way and wiggles her eyebrows suggestively at you as soon as Jungwon had himself distracted with the papers in the meantime, giving you a thumbs up as if to say ‘you can do this!’ before slipping out of the room - faster before you could protest.

You scowled darkly, clenching down your jaw. If looks could kill. That girl.

On the other hand, Jungwon continues to arrange the pile of papers with a shuffle before quietly handing them to you, he then started on packing up his things. It was suffocating. Would leaving the room make it seem like you lost this nonexistent battle between the both of you? 

He cuts you out of your trance of thoughts, “You were there that day at the tower, weren’t you?” he asks you out of the blue. He doesn’t even look your way as he stuffs a few books in his bag, and he doesn’t have to give context for you to know what he was referring to. not a look of uncertainty was evident in his eyes, “I know you were.”

Anger starts to boil inside. You have to remind yourself that this is what he wanted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you casually dismissed.

He inwardly huffs out a breath. “Was it tough for you?” he changes the topic, and you swear it was only a matter of time before he gives you the biggest whiplash.

You were raging with endless anger and fury, yet you keep your face was void of any emotions – standing in front of him as his form blocked your path, stressing you even further. You gripped the strap of your backpack tightly, “Move out of my way, Jungwon.”

“Answer me, first.” he pleads with you. “Was it tough for you, then?”

He doesn’t budge and stubbornly remains rooted to his spot.

You grit your teeth, ripping apart your poorly concealed anger bit by bit. Jungwon didn’t care. He wanted you to feel emotion. Any emotion. Even if it was blinding rage. To scream at him and punch the living lights out of him. It was better than receiving your blank emotionless stare all the time. He couldn’t take it.

He was definitely testing your patience carelessly. Was it tough for you? You laughed humorlessly. A stab to his gut. A knife filled with poison. “I don’t know what you want, but let’s be mature people here. You do whatever hell you’ve been doing the last two years, and I’ll continue do the same. Okay?” you spoke, your tone hostile. You take the folder placed beside him before leaving him there, disinterested.

It wasn’t as simple for you as it has been for him to simply walk the relationship off down the drain. 

Not when he promised the world.

Not when you believed him.

Not when he was standing there right in front of you acting as if he didn’t know anything about the shit you had to go through without him. As if he was just innocent. As if he had nothing to do with it. As if he cared. And especially not when he was the one who put you there and left in the first place. 

This is what had become of the both of you. Jungwon and you. Worse than strangers, haunted by what’s left of something that was long gone. 

All he had to do then was apologize. Actually, he just had to come back, and you would do the apologizing for him. You were always the one who gave in, in the end, anyway. 

You would’ve accepted him.

You would’ve even begged for him.

The things you would have done.

None of this would’ve happened.

But.

None of that would work now.

None of that mattered.

It was all too late.

The both of you were just so different now.

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LATER

Riki was confusing, truly.

“Didn’t you make fun of me two years ago about how much of a dumbass I was?” you rolled your eyes incredulously at Riki picking at you to how rude you were being to Jungwon, “You hated him, what’s with the change of attitude?” you snort.

Riki shifts his weight, fixing the strap of his bag, “You were a dumbass,” he agrees, pulling a face at you, “and I still hate that guy,” he continues, his expression turning sour at the thought of him, but pauses.

“But you were happy,” he looks over at you deliberately.

 A happy dumbass. You could cringe, that was the old you. The desperate old you. Long gone.

You were most definitely not having it, your facial expression hard. “Did you have a head trauma or something? A fever? Are you forgetting the past two years?” you press the back of your hand to his forehead, checking his temperature and warmth for dramatic effect.

He pushes your hand away, “I’m just saying,” he starts, talking to you as if you were a child, “he left, but he’s back, isn’t he?” he throws his hands around for emphasis.

Then he shrugs, like he doesn’t know any better either, “He’s gotta be back for a reason.”

You don’t care. You don’t care what reason he’s back, or whatever he wants from you. “He can’t just come and go as he pleases, idiot,” you forcefully shrug it off, grumbling. “that jerk made his decision that day. He made his bed and now he has to lie in it.”

And Riki gives up on how stubborn you are, “You really do hold grudges, don’t you?” he ruffles your hair up, amused. 

Strangling a sound, you kick the back of his leg, but he dodges.

Oops, your eyes slightly widen, anticipating a fall. You lose your balance, nearly tripping - but luckily, Riki notices within a half of a second and catches you before your face plants flat on the ground, hoisting you back to his chest by the grip on your waist.

You were going to laugh at your mistake, your face already breaking into a smile - but your eyes catch someone a few feet away.

You blink. Your smile slowly starts to drop at the sight of him.

Of course, it had to be Yang Jungwon.

For a split second, your shock doesn’t allow your eyes to leave his. 

Riki snaps you out of it, releasing you from his grasp and guides you to his side as he slings his arm around your shoulder - like he always does. You’re sure Riki knew well enough and had an idea of how Jungwon looked like. He recognized him straight from the café, and you never questioned how he knew. How were you going to walk out of this one?

Riki doesn’t look at you in confirmation - you have no idea what shit he’s going to pull, but you’re sure as hell it isn’t going to be good.

He nods once in acknowledgement over at Jungwon, but Jungwon pays no mind and choses to ignore him as his eyes flicker onto the arm around you.

Riki notices it.

You don’t know what to do.

“Hey, I’m Riki,” he starts - and for some crazy reason, he sounds as if he was gloating, “who are you?” he throws back casually. Too casually. You would be irritated to talk to him, if you were in his place. The dislike in Jungwon’s features is evident enough. You don’t know what Riki was playing, but he extends his hand out for Jungwon to bro-shake, whatever that could even signify.

A long pause. Jungwon barely glances at it before his attention is back on you, ignoring him beside you as a whole. 

“Why are you with him?” he tries to casually question you - as if he was trying to create small talk - his voice is calm - but Jungwon’s eyes never lie. He could never hide anything from it. You knew that look, and you didn’t like it. It made your blood boil. The guts of this self-centered arrogant asshole. 

Riki answers in your stead, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to answer. He laughs, throwing his head back a bit, “Oh, don’t mind us,” he curtly replies, “my girl over here ‘s just really clumsy.”

You forgot how much of on asshole Nishimura Riki really is.

Riki effortlessly sighs, openheartedly shrugging as if to say ‘what-can-you-do?’. It was friendly, but you understood the underlying meaning. He was testing him. Picking at him. Provoking him. You wanted to facepalm. Provoking was the only thing he was ever good at, why did you even bother? What was this, some fighting-for-the-alpha-spot werewolf shit?

Nishimura Riki, you asshole! 

Jungwon understands the message. A muscle up on his clenched cheek twitches, his eyes slightly narrow. Was he threatened already? You were in a state of disbelief, Riki was barely even doing anything. Seriously. He never changes.

“Why are you with him?” he asks you again, this time his voice comes out somewhat strained in the end. The old Jungwon would’ve probably started a fight right then and there, lacking any sort of composure. Jungwon changed, hasn’t he?

But you have, too.

Riki peeks at you, “Babe? Do you know him?” Confused. Curious. Innocent.

You had to give it to him. Riki was an amazing actor, he could’ve fooled you if you didn’t know any better yourself. 

You merely glance at Jungwon, barely a pause before you answer, “No.”

No hesitation in your tone. A ‘no’ as if he was simply a stranger standing before you. Nothing. You observe how your answer hits Jungwon. How the simple word destructs him. You could only watch. Everything was different now. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?

But where was the sense of satisfaction?

You tug at Riki’s arm, “Let’s go, you promised me to bring me home today.” 

You leave Jungwon like that. You leave him with the uncomfortable feeling that was bubbling up. Riki is surprised. And confused. You don’t know if he’s still continuing the act when he affectionately waves Jungwon goodbye before immediately following after you.

Yang Jungwon strikes again.

.

.

.

You whacked Riki at the back of his head the moment you were as far from the gods-be-damned-scene and as far from Jungwon as possible, “Idiot!” you hissed, “What the hell was that?”

He rubs the back of his neck soothingly, glaring at you. “You know, just a little ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

“’Thank you’, my ass! I told you to not pull any stupid shit!” You threaten to hit him again, vexed at the stunt he pulled. The situation was only going to get worse from there and you couldn’t take back anything at this point. You retreated your arm, groaning in horror of what’s to come.

“The moment called for it!” was his only excuse.

You scowled at him, as if your eyes could annihilate him at the spot.

You got Jungwon, you had to admit. A few more of these blows and he would leave your sights. This was a bad idea, but your mind didn’t seem to pay any care. 

Hurt him.

Right then and there, your ego allows Riki to participate in whatever crazy-sick game this was. You just needed Jungwon far away.

Riki smirks at you and flashes you a winning smile. He knows you’ve agreed to his idea without having to say anything else. You had no other option, either way.

“You won’t regret this, ___. It’ll be fun!” he singsongs, draping his arm around you.

It’ll be fun, you echoed.

You’ve been lying to yourself for two years, what’s a couple days more to you?

.

.

.

THE NEXT DAY

Jungwon finds you asleep, leaning your head on the desk with your cheek pressed up against the table. 

And Nishimura Riki was by your side, reading gleefully. Mostly watching you sleep. A fucking weirdo, Jungwon inwardly comments. His stomach turns at the sight. His mood has already dried.

He stands there for what seems like a torture of infinity before Riki sees him there. He just grins at him. Jungwon would want to do nothing more but throttle him and that shit-eating look off his face.

“Here for the thesis paper?” was all he asks, he starts collecting himself and his things, preparing to leave, thankfully, Jungwon praises.

But when Riki decides to act like the biggest fucker to piss him off all the more when he leans in to gently tuck back the hair covering your face as as you sleep, Jungwon defensively takes a step forward to you by instinct, ready with a handful of swear words.

Riki notices it, and only press his index finger on his lips, indicating to keep his voice down. Jungwon’s jaw slightly ticks as he stays in place - not risking your sleep.

He pats Jungwon’s shoulder on his way out, but he stops by the door. He motions him closer, as if he were to tell him something hugely important. Jungwon presses his lips into a thin line, walking up to him and trying to keep it as civil as possible.

He holds up a finger, as if to gesture ‘and-one-more-thing’, “Oh, and tell her to keep the hoodie she’s wearing, will you?” 

Jungwon raises both brows in question, and instantly regrets it.

Riki further explains himself, "She likes stealing them from me. God knows she has a whole rack of them on her closet.” He shrugs, a growing smirk on his face. “But eh, I like it on her, it suits her better.”

That little shit.

He was about to give him a phony nod and thumbs up to let the whole agitating conversation over with when Riki presses his luck even further, “She’s pretty.”

God. Jungwon’s patience was running thin, his jaw flexes.

“Oh, and tell her -”

Jungwon nearly slams the door on his face.

He wondered what you saw in that guy.

Walking back with his hands stuffed in his pockets - something he does when he was definitely pissed off, he yanks a chair, face displaying irritation at its finest when he arrives back at your table. He doesn’t bother to spare you a glance your way, he knows you too well.

“I know you’re awake,” he says out of nowhere, his voice tight. “Stop pretending.”

It takes several moments before you start faking a yawn. You could easily fool anyone, but sadly for you, he knows you too well. His glance is blank as you outstretch your arms as if you had just woke up, you greet him as if you hadn’t expected to see him there, “Oh . . hey.”

Jungwon had already looked sour from his encounter with Riki, his pissed off gaze averts away from yours. A muscle from his jaw ticks as he huffs, “Your boyfriend left.”

You nod, blinking as if you were slowly trying to register everything. Jungwon wanted to ask you a flood of questions: what was he doing here? Were you already awake when he was being a creep and staring at you while you were ‘asleep’? Why are you wearing his hoodie -? “Okay.”

That aggravates him even more, and his tone turns curt and strained. “I’m going to work on the thesis. You do whatever.” he dismisses you, heaving a short breath.

He stalks off, but not before grimacing at your outfit up and down - more than fumingly horrified, spitting out through gritted teeth, “And take off that hoodie. It looks horrible on you.”

.

.

.

THE WEEK AFTER

You wake up in Monday morning with aching pins and needles, not being able to move an inch of your body. Your eyelids were too heavy to keep open, weighing tons of your effort.

Of all days, you were sick.

Lord.

Releasing a cough, your hand reaches for your ringing phone. Riki, the contact label name displayed. You try to clear your throat as you answer the call, in effort to not sound as sick as possible. “Hello?” your groggy and hoarse voice could be depicted from miles away by a total stranger. Much less Nishimura Riki.

“Princess?” His voice answers through the call, perceptibly worried, “what’s wrong? You sound . . . off today.” You could tell he was squinting as he said this.

“Uh. . .” you sniffed, trying to come up of a lie, “just watched a sad film. Cried a lot.”

Riki hums, giving no humor in his voice. “Mhm. And that’s why you’re late four hours to class?”

Your stomach lurches. You were what? You had classes today, and you didn’t even remember. Were you missing on anything important in university today? Shit.  

Racing for the most reasonable excuse, “I wanted to . . . enjoy a day off?” Bad liar. You were nothing but a bad liar. You were too exhausted to create a better and more creative lie.

Riki, being way too observant on things he shouldn’t be, clearly wasn’t buying it. He clicks his tongue. “I’m coming over. Don’t go anywhere. Stay in bed,” he orders you shortly before ending the call. He doesn’t scold you or lecture you, and he leaves it at that. 

You moan at the surge of pain once again located in your stomach, you had no plans of leaving the bed even if you wanted to anyway, given your current state.

.

.

.

Riki texts you that he was outside around less than ten minutes later.

If you could complain, you’d rather have Riki come in your room to help you up. Like he always did. You found him not doing so rather odd, as he would always make the weirdest reasons to come drop by your house. Moving the slightest inch was hard as it already was. 

It takes you what seems like hours for you to get out of bed, and even more for you to bag your bag and head outside. You were ready to grumble about how efficient and less painful this would’ve been if Riki had come to help you until more than one figure greets you outside your yard. 

Riki and . . . hands stuffed to his pockets, head bowed - you know that side profile -Yang Jungwon?

Both stayed at opposite ends, standing in front of their cars, awaiting for you with the hardest glares sent the other’s way. What was happening? Jungwon was most likely the reason Riki wasn’t able to go inside your house to pick you up. That was the only factor that made sense - the rest was something you couldn’t connect the dots of. 

Both their cars parked out of your house, and you could feel the tension slicing you in half the moment you step foot outside. These two could never stay in the same room, sticking around to wait for you was strictly meant for you.

Jungwon is the first to break the glaring match as soon as he sees you, being the first to approach you while gently holding you up. 

“Love, are you okay? Let me bring you to the hospital - come on,” he pleads with you, gesturing towards his car. 

“This isn’t the time to joke about something like this in her state,” Riki forces a fake smile through his gritted teeth, irritated as he sneaks his arm around your waist, holding you up himself all the better with a single hand, “just so you know.”

Jungwon’s gaze darkens, “It isn’t about fighting for who gets her, just so you know,” he mimics, “I don’t trust her with you, you dipshit.”

Riki scoffs to himself, shifting his weight as he continues to press you tightly against him, not budging an inch of you to Jungwon, “And look who came to talk.”

Jungwon opens his mouth, his eyes ruthlessly set on Riki’s before you try and weakly cut in from your lack of energy. However, your weak knees give up on you and you almost stumble down, not before both Jungwon and Riki reaches out their hand to grab your arm within half a second. Riki half-yells your name, all the more uneasy and concerned than you were.

“Y/N? Love? Are you okay?” Jungwon’s hostile tone towards Riki not seconds ago immediately dissipates, conveying his tone of worry and panic at your weak state.

“I’ll drive you to the hospital,” Jungwon additionally suggests, trying to have you lean his weight on him for you to stand property, and in that way he could easily carry you back to his car.

“Hell no,” Riki growls, in the other hand.

You notice Jungwon’s eyes darken at the corner of your eye, “And who exactly are you to her to begin with-?”

“Her boyfriend, nice to meet you, you dipshit,” Riki retorts.

Jungwon lets out a low noise, pissed off at a topic that was seemingly sensitive to him. “Over my dead body would you ever be her boyfriend.”

He rolls his eyes in disinterest. “Still going through the stages of grief? Is this the denial stage?” he taunts, clicking his tongue with a tsk.

“Bo,” Jungwon calls you - candidly ignoring Riki’s shitty statements, but his sharp eyes never leave Riki’s, “let’s get this over with and tell us who would you want to -” 

This was getting too prolonged, you were so close to vomiting again. You definitely did not want to vomit here of all places. “Riki,” you called out faintly, interrupting Jungwon, “please take me to the hospital.” 

All parts of your body ached painfully, and you were too miserably ill to deal with this situation. You imagine Jungwon’s expression crumbling, deflating. 

Riki straightens, visibly surprised, but he doesn’t hesitate. Not before giving Jungwon a final look, he carries you with you gently, making sure you were watching your step as the both of you left the defeated Jungwon without another word. 

You were too weak to look back at Jungwon – he helplessly stares after the sight of his girl - his girl - being taken away from him when she needed help the most. 

Again.

.

.

.

You spend three days in the hospital for a diagnosed viral infection.

Thankfully but not surprisingly, Riki stayed by your side through every minute, only leaving for a shower, buying take-out, and for getting you new packs of clothes. It was Ningning and Seoyeon who came over to take care of you during Riki’s leave.

He sticked around from the moment you were submitted, to the insertion of the IV, through your countless trips to the bathroom to puke and for him to hold your hair back, and through your dischargement.

The both of you were on your way to the car to load your things. Riki had all of his hands filled. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot, thanks for the wanton noodles,” you mention immediately as soon as you remembered, “How d’you know they were my favorite?” You don’t recall ever brining it up to Riki.

Instead of bursting up his signature winning smirk, Riki furrows his brows at you, “Wanton noodles? What wanton noodles?”

You perked up a brow, “The one you left by the door earlier when you were paying the discharge bills?”

Riki had nothing. He blinks at you as if you had been hallucinating. “Why would I leave food by the door?” he shakes his head, “Doll, what in the hell are you talking about?”

“The wanton noodles that you –“ You stop mid-sentence, freezing. Realization dawns on you then. The note, you recall as you piece things back together.

Stop skipping meals. I got you your favorite. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.

Yang Jungwon.

There was no name from who it was from, you had simply assumed it was from Riki. This wasn’t your first time realizing that Jungwon had never dropped by, you had simply figured he didn’t care. Your stomach sinks, ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me’. The double implications.

Riki waves his hand in front of your face, “Earth to princess? Hello?”

Ah. Right. You blink, shaking your head – you meet his eyes with a smile, “Nothing. I just thought I remembered something.”

.

.

.

WEEKS LATER

Jungwon was a lot quieter than usual ever since you’d been discharged.

Since . . . the night he and Riki were there. You slightly wince at the memory.

You almost managed to successfully spend a thesis discussion with him without having to say much - to your great pleasure - until he just had to ruin it for you. He was filling in his part for the thesis paper while you were scanning through the pages of the book you were reading, skipping to the ending.

“Hey,” he starts, humor laced in his voice. “D’you still read the endings of books like you used to? I remember –“

Your head snaps up. You don’t smile. You don’t flush red in embarrassment. You don’t laugh like the way he’d expected you to. The way you always did. You stared harshly down to his eyes. It wasn’t the heart-fluttering kind - nor was it the passionate or the fierce or the loving kind of stare. No, it was a heart-piercing glare - so full of pure hatred, the kind that had his breath hitching up his throat in the worst way possible and his heart sinking into your stomach.

“Don’t.”

Ah.

No double meanings. Nothing else. The essence couldn’t be taken as a mere mistakable, conveyed with just one simple word that held the heaviest weight, yet it was enough for him to understand. He doesn't try to catch himself or his smile as it fades - along with the antagonizing agony that accompanied it.

The light in your eyes has gone.

They were so dark.

It doesn’t shine the way it used to.

He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He struggles. It takes him two more tries. Two more times of you opening and closing his mouth for him to finally unknot his tongue and drag the words to the surface.

“You have a …” he hesitates to say it, “boyfriend?”

It was so close. A few seconds until you would leave, and he just could wait. Stuffing your university belongings back into your bag, you exhaled, your lips tightening into a hard line. “What is it to you?”

A second or two passes, “Oh,” he replies, “I didn’t know, so -”

“What difference does it make?” you rhetorically question him, your patience running thin, “if you didn’t know or if you did?” You were being absurd - you knew that, but you wanted anything but the idea of having to talk about that subject with him and act like it was fine. 

Being snappy at him wasn’t the greatest idea, but you know Jungwon was trying to get at somewhere. You would do whatever it took to defy him. That quiets him down, only forcing a painful nod.

You needed to leave. You couldn’t stay away from him, especially whenever he was near. God knows only a few words from Jungwon would be all it would take for him to manipulate you back into his strings.

Painful silence.

Until, “Does he make you happy?”

You find yourself freezing.

A sick feeling in your stomach.

Does he make you happy?

Happy.

Why was he asking the question like he meant it?

Your eyes flicker his way, and there is no hint of humor or taunting mock in his face. Was he serious? The man who broke you to pieces and disregarded you stood before you and asked if another man was making you happy, as if he cared. As if he ever did.

You don’t say anything.

You don’t have anything to say.

Jungwon knows that.

You try to breathe.

One.

Two.

Three.

You walk away, and he lets you. You walk away because walking away was the only thing you’ve ever done. Because walking away was the only thing you could ever do around him. Because you can’t risk another goodbye from him.

You were done gnawing back at the past.

.

.

.

[ now playing ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ spring day by bts ]

↻ … ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ

AFTER THE BREAK-UP

.

.

.

And the both of you became back to being nothing.

Just like that.

You told him your secrets, and you let him in. All the good, all the bad. You trusted him and brought down your defenses. You let him know your weird thoughts or funny inside jokes and the deep insecurities. 

But he never got to know the little things, you realize the moment it’s over. The little things that infuriated you. The little things that made you laugh. Or the little things that would always put you on a better mood - the little bits and pieces of you.

You barely got to know him at all.

Was that the reason?

Was the fact of loving him just as plainly as that - nothing more, and nothing less - the root of it all?

Or was it just the big things that held the both of you together, and the small things that caused you to fall apart?

.

.

.

You don’t believe it’s over.

Because it’s not.

You’ve been stuck inside the house for longer than you could count. You’ve memorized the number of tiles on the floor and seen every miniscule crack on the wall. You know how many steps it takes to walk from here to the door.

And you know just how many steps Jungwon took to leave.

Your eyes remained fixated on the door, waiting at the dining table for him to come home.

Like every other day.

He was still finding his way back home, you reminded yourself.

Busy. He’s busy.

Tick-tock.

He’s on his way.

He'll come back. He always does. He promised.

You form hundreds of thousands of excuses for him.

But the door doesn’t swing open to reveal Jungwon in all form and glory beaming down at you, apologizing, telling you that it was a mistake, telling you that he didn’t mean it. Every day is the same.

But nothing.

Nothing.

.

.

.

Riki knows it’s one of your days.

He reaches for your hand to grab and the fact that you have no response alone proves his assumption even further. 

He doesn’t mind, Riki decides to walk you home.

You have those days where you go completely silent. Worse than ever. So quiet that he could never guess what you’re thinking or if you’d ever come back from it. Eyes empty as if there was no one home. He doesn’t know how he could help you specifically, how he could make you snap out of it.

The only thing he can do is talk. Talk and talk and talk and talk. He talks for hours about anything on the top of his head, and Riki himself is surprised he could somehow manage to not run out of topics to tell you about. 

Even if you don’t respond. Not even a flicker of recognition to any of his comments or jokes.

Riki never knows what you’re thinking.

But this time, that day, he knows it’s about Jungwon.

Someone asked you about Jungwon today. How he was doing, where he is, and what happened to him. As hard as Riki would shield you away from situations such as these, it wasn’t hard enough.

Riki was so close to making you smile the other day. He was finally doing it.

And then he’s back again to square one.

After his efforts of trying to get your attention by the food stalls the both of you passed by, Riki starts to go quiet. 

There is no noise - nothing between the two of yoou. Only the rustling of leaves. The cool breeze of air. The sound of footsteps on cobblestone. Cars driving by. Indistinct chatters. 

“Why are you still holding on?” quietly. So quietly, but you easily catch on Riki’s question. Then your hands slightly tremble.

You don’t answer him, you’re afraid of saying too much. You’re afraid. 

He never said goodbye.

That was your reason.

He never said goodbye.

Jungwon always bids you goodbye, you’d explain to Riki if you could.

What makes this time any different, right?

He won’t leave without saying goodbye. He wouldn’t. Only you could understand.

He never said goodbye.

A part of you still believed that meant he was coming back.

.

.

.

When Riki tries dropping by like any other day - a sneaky reason to check on you, from the start of early morning, he sees you there. 

You spend the whole day stuck in the kitchen.

Riki knows what day it was without having to ask.

By the evening, you bring out the cake that you’ve been preparing for and set it down the table, in front of an empty chair. The chair you never let anyone sit on. It’s still belonged to someone else. 

Riki knows who it’s for.

Your eyes are distant, as if they were caught up in a dream. Light. You were there - physically, but you were far away. Far, far away. Riki started to wonder if this was just how you were. He wondered if there was ever a time where you were really alive. 

He wondered the extent to how much this guy did to break you. 

Your eyes looked so empty.

But you were still holding on, weren’t you? You’ve never responded to him, but he knew. Riki made no noise, but he clenches his hands into fists. You don’t acknowledge him standing there.

You set the candles down the cake with the lighter.

You only stare at the cake, expectantly. Waiting. Waiting for someone to blow the candles off. Waiting to sing the cheerful ‘happy birthday’ song and make a wish. But it wasn’t just anyone. 

He doesn’t attempt to do anything - or say anything. But he stands near close to your proximity. Watching over. Silently. He doesn’t leave you that day. 

You take a seat next to the empty chair, simply and patiently letting time pass as your eyes affixed themselves with the dancing fire.

Until the candles blow out themselves hours later from the cold air. 

That night, Riki also knew who it was for when he heard your uncontrolled crying and broken whimpers pass from your room for the first time.

.

.

.

There was a period wherein you stopped leaving the house entirely. And Riki stopped pushing you to.

Everything reminds you of him.

The house has never felt so big.

Alone.

You miss the way he smells.

The overbearing feelings starts to compress, and you feel it expanding within your chest. It gets hard to breathe. You feel helpless.

Jungwon won’t like it if he sees you like this, wouldn’t he?

You keep reminding yourself.

He might come in any second, and you wanted to be at your best.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry.

You won’t cry.

You’d make it up to him.

You don’t want it to end.

He’ll come back.

He’ll come back.

.

.

.

You don’t know how many months it has been.

That’s a lie. You do.

You find one of the notes he wrote for you in an old shoe box.

It reminds you that what you had was real, that what you had wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. It wasn’t a dream. 

You picked up the first letter, your fingers tracing through his handwriting.

It was painful. A shard of glass piercing through your skin.

To my one and only girl,

You couldn’t breathe.

It was merely the first line of the long letter, and you couldn’t breathe.

This time, you don’t pretend to forget that you aren’t Jungwon’s anymore. You don’t pretend that this was all a phase. A nightmare. A joke. 

This time, you don’t pretend to wait at the living room for him to come back home, swinging the door open with a grin and greeting you from a long day like he used to. Not anymore. Even if you had so much to tell him. So much news to show off to him. So much news to be happy for. To celebrate. But you weren’t.

This time, you almost suffocate.

You torture yourself even more this time. You open the letter again and it rips your heart out. It stabs you and leaves you bleeding. You read the last line. Sealed with a promise. A broken promise that meant nothing now. 

I’ll make you the happiest girl, I promise. I love you :)

You could imagine his cheeky smile as he wrote this, sealing the promise - among with every other one that he’s made. Every single one that he didn’t claim responsibility for. 

Liar.

He was a liar.

He was reckless and a liar.

He broke you to the point where you couldn’t even manage to bring yourself to say his name.

You wish you were brave enough.

What a fool you were.

A dumb, useless fool.

.

.

.

“Kant’s metaphysics?” Riki answers, lying on the edge of your bed. He lounges carelessly with a review paper clutched on his left hand. 

You rest a hand on your hip, pacing around your room. “No, but you’re somewhat close. It’s categorical imperative.” You corrected, recalling your philosophy lesson by memory through mentally singing a tune to yourself. 

 The philosophy oral examination was this coming Thursday that next week. It was Saturday. Riki complained, saying he needed help and tutoring, and you, other than staying cooped up at home debating your life choices and burying yourself in academics, there wasn’t really anything else you did. 

He squints his eyes in confusion, “But how does that relate to the second follow up question after that?” you pause, staring hard at the desk beside you to remember the answer, you take minutes - but nothing.

You run a hand through your hair, visibly frustrated and stressed. You had all the more topics to go through. Hell, you had to go through the whole book and you couldn’t get past the second lesson yet.

Releasing an exhale, you shut your eyes tightly. Shit. Shit. 

Jungwon always knew what to do. He knew how to calm you down and rile you up and make you laugh right after like he was born with it. He’d drop everything at the sight of you overthinking and over-stressing school work, embracing you and telling you that you didn’t have to worry. That he was there. He’d let you cry it out, vent out your frustration and stay by your side through it all, running a hand through your hair soothingly to comfort you.

He knew exactly how to take care of you. 

You need him.

You needed him.

Just for this moment.

How much longer?

Biting down your lower lip forcefully, you chant the words over and over again. 

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

You know he’s not coming back. 

You know.

You’re back to pacing across your room, back and fourth. ‘”I don’t know, I really -” you cut yourself off, irritated. At this point, you’re ready to erupt from the heavy weight of his absence. At this point, you want to drop to the floor and stop time to give yourself a breath. 

Riki has sat up at this point, silently watching you. He’s probably either thinking that you were worrying and stressing over the amount of workload given to you like the usual. Or, does he know that academics isn’t what you were worrying about at all at that moment?

You try to level your breathing.

Come back.

Jungwon, please.

Come back to me.

.

.

.

To: won 😚🙄

[03:46am] you: hi i’m graduating this wednesday. i’d really like it if you could drop by. 

error. message undelivered. try again?

[03:50am] you: hey did you know my graduation is nearing?? haha you should come :)

error. message undelivered. try again?

[05:18am] you: jungwon

[05:18am] you: are you there?

[05:19am] you: you’re gone and i really need you.

message sent.

do you want to delete this message? 

message successfully deleted.

Contact user: [ENTER] 

Contact: yang jungwon

by pressing [Confirm] you are allowing the name changes to be saved.

changes saved.

.

.

.

“The sun’s so clear out. Lighten up, princess ~” a voice calls you out of your thoughts and you realize you were trapped in a dream.

Identifying reality with dreams seemed entirely difficult to you. There was something fiction in the way reality was going to you.

Reality was as crazy as dreams were.

“Your moping is bad for my skin,” Riki comments lightheartedly, scrunching up his nose.

It’s been a week or so since he came along. Since he bumped into you and started to grow interest towards you. You don’t ask him, and you don’t really care. Nothing that every happens around you matters to you as much anymore.

You only blink in regard to him. That was more than a sign of acknowledging his presence that he was used to.

Riki is used to this. He doesn’t mid this type of behavior, nor did he expect anything else. He self-proclaimed himself as your guardian angel – two days after he’d met you – who’d look after you “since you lack the ability to look after yourself” end quote. Which was true. You couldn’t look after yourself. Especially due to the past circumstances that he pieced together himself.

You were probably someone’s ex-girlfriend.

To him, Y/N was a detached-from-reality schoolmate of his who was definitely more than what meets the eye.

You were someone he wanted to get to know, until you stopped becoming that person, one day.

Until you became someone he wanted to protect.

Sliding himself into the seat next to yours, he pouts at you. “Y’know . . . I think it’s time for you to . . move on,” he struggles finding the right word for it. You know it takes a lot in him to try and be gentle, as he probably would’ve been teasing you with a bunch of insults.

Your throat encloses, and you feel like burning up.

Moving on meant accepting that he was gone. Gone from your life. Accepting a future without him, and that wasn’t something you were ever going to be ready to do.

He was long gone.

Jungwon was long gone.

The magic you once felt with him wasn’t there anymore.

He wasn’t there anymore.

And neither were you.

Waiting for someone is painful.

Letting go from someone is painful, too.

But not knowing whether to wait for someone or let him go?

It hurts more than anything.

.

.

.

You were out inside the bathroom for the first time in hours since you’ve left your seat from blankly staring at your phone.

It was all pure coincidence when Nishimura Rik stumbles upon the open phone screen that you’ve been torturing yourself endlessly with.

It was all pure coincidence.

And coincidence just happened to align with his curiosity. 

you: S.O.S. [7 hours ago]

you: come back [7 hours ago]

[Read]

Riki doesn’t have to read the contact name to see who it was.

.

.

.

It must be Riki’s professional job; being the only one around able to spot where you are when you suddenly disappear from the face of the earth.

“Princess?” Riki finally finds you along the benches, alone. He figures it weird, he’s not exactly sure what you were doing there exactly.

Until he sees your face. Your tear-stained cheeks.

Ah.

“It hurts.” Out of nowhere. He has never prepared himself for this. Your voice cracks a bit, “Riki, it hurts.” You plead with him as if he power to take it all away. Small. Helpless. That was what you sounded like.

He offers his open arms to you, and you bury yourself in them. He lifts you up from the darkness, even if it was just by a centimeter.

“I’m in so much pain, can you stop it?” you tell him in a managed whisper, your voice hoarse.

He’s afraid anything he’d say would only break you even further. He only hugs you tighter.

Fuck, why did he give too many shits about you? This wasn’t the least like him at all. What in the world have you managed to do to Nishimura Riki? He stares at you, not being able to do anything.

“Why does it hurt so much?” a small vulnerable child whimpering in pain – pain they were forced to believe was their fault. That was how you sounded. 

He doesn’t know what to say. He’s frozen, in fact. “Riki I want to –“ you pause, trying to start again, “I’m tired,” you struggle with your words, your eyes closed shut, “Please make it stop.”

His eyes flicker.

Please make it stop.

Riki isn’t much of a person who really cared about anyone else’s business. He never poked his nose around because he never bothered enough to. Everyone was black and white to him.

You were a quite peculiar one to him, though. It drove him crazy, what was so good about you? You were clearly dead hungover your past ex. Barely talked. Barely did anything, at all. 

But he saw the most beautiful and vibrant colors when he looked at you in the whole life that he’s been walking around colorblind to any other.

He was just being pulled down deeper.

For the first time, all Riki wanted from someone was just their happiness. Purely. Passionately. Their happiness for his happiness. He just wanted you . . .

He just wanted you.

Nishimura Riki is done for.

If this was what he thinks it is, he’s done for. Because Riki was ready to be anyone you wanted him to be.

You gave be something I’ve never had, he wants to tell you. And I have nothing special to give you - but I will give you everything I have.

He doesn’t break promises. Especially if it’s you.

Riki will mend what was broken.

Whatever it takes.

One step at a time.

He was getting himself into the biggest mistake in his life, God, he sure as hell knew that. But Riki was never going to regret what was to come.

He was going to make it stop. All of it.

.

.

.

… ᵉⁿᵈ ᶠˡᵃˢʰᵇᵃᶜᵏ ↺

PART TWO

#enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #kwritersworldnet #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #jungwon imagines #jungwon x reader #jungwon angst #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smau #enhypen jungwon #enhypen au #ni-ki x reader #enhypen headcannons #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen oneshots #enhypen niki #nishimura riki imagines #nishimura riki x reader #enhypen reactions #nishimura riki

[fariesoiree]

im sorry but ahh Kyojuro !!!!! he literally has my heart ! he's the sweetest most precious babyy !! can you give us some hc's for modern era Kyojuro x reader who has bpd ? >< it is kinda umm difficult and tricky to write about something like this so its understandable if you ignore this >< but ah thank you for reading this ! and have a good day! <3

hi baby! ik ik i said i was gonna be mia for a few and i still ammm. i have hella hw and exams coming up but this peaked my interest a little bit. i’m gonna approach this w caution bc i do not have bpd but i know someone who does so im gonna do my best based off what ik from her. just know that you’re always safe here. everyone is, no matter what — the bpd i’m referring to is borderline personality disorder so i’m hoping you didn’t mean the other bpd 😭

kyojuro is always and has always been a super, super patient guy. it’s just a part of him that he cannot get rid of at all. you know i think of his as the perfect partner, my little golden boy.

i think that with a partner who has bpd, this is only heightened. he has to be extra patient because you both see the world (and your relationship) differently and he knows you can’t help it. there’s probably extra emphasis on open communication, no matter what. he doesn’t care what the problem is or what the conversation would lead to, communication just has to happen and it has to be thorough. you tell him how you feel and why, he takes it into consideration and responds accordingly. you’re worried he no longer cares? okay, what is making you feel this way? you think mayb this is overwhelming and you’re pulling away? he’s going to talk to you about it.

there’s also very clearly defined boundaries. it’s part of the communication aspect but it’s a whole separate thing entirely. they’re developed in the beginning in your relationship and have grown the longer you’re together and the more experiences you have. he endures your splits, knowing that you probably don’t mean it as harshly as you do but he lets you know he doesn’t appreciate the yelling. he always waits until you’re receptive to his words and holds in tongue until you’re generally calmer. this does nawt include him telling you to calm down. he’d never utter those two words a day in his life. i think he’s more likely to take his separate space away and remove himself from the situation because he has his own feelings too. he can get frustrated as well.

also therapy!!! big emphasis on therapy, but for both of you. you both go and see separate therapists. it’s necessary for both of you, regardless of what personal diagnosis either of you might have. there’s no stigma between you two. you have bpd, that’s just who you are. so what? it doesn’t define you in any way shape or form and means nothing until you, personally, decides it does. so you both go and work through your issues separately and uphold the whole privacy thing. there’s no at home conversations unless that person wants to share their own information.

i mean, the relationship is pretty normal. you still joke, you still kiss and cuddle and have intimacy the way everyone else does. he’ll still wake up in the early mornings and make breakfast, awakening you to the smell of bacon cooking in the frying pan. he’ll still shower you in gifts and constantly reassure his love and adoration. he’ll still treat you as though you’ve crafted his world by hand. i see him as being this soothing place of comfort. he doesn’t judge you and instead, validates your emotions. you’re allowed to feel however you feel. he just hopes you hear him out too.

oh oh oh! and he takes things very very slow. he knows you can get kinda . . . wrapped up??? in the feeling of love. not necessarily obsessive but he’s aware that you want to dwell in that emotion for as long as you can. he doesn’t want you to do things you otherwise wouldn’t have or even rush before reallyyyyy processing what’s happening to he takes it very slow. it’s agreed upon by both parties and he upholds that. if he says he’s going to do something, he’s going to do it. so yeah, that generally mean limiting coupley things you do before the time that you’re officially a couple. no sex or very little sex until you’re together together. until you’ve gotten each other locked DOWN.

idk, i hope this is what you wanted??? you’re right it is a very delicate topic and i’m doing my very best to tread lightly so pleaseeeee let me know if anything i said was incorrect or stigmatizing or contributing to negativity in any way. i’m always open to learn!

#⋆ ·˚ ༘₊· ̗̀ 💌 ••• ⁀➷ 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 . . . #anon #kyojuro x black reader #demon slayer kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x black reader #rengoku x reader #demon slayer rengoku

[paper-gold-theories]

The Villainous Timeline (Part 1): Flug & Miss Heed

Made this theory to calculate, breakdown and understand the Villainous Timeline. (I will be making 2 or 3 parts as ran out of space for photos.😅)

Part 2: Demencia and 5.0.5.

Part 3: SunBlast and Miss Heed

Alan mentioned on Instagram that:

"The Villainous timeline so far followed real life (as shown on Miss Heed and Penumbra's Instagram) but when the show airs, it’ll slow down and follow its own timeline as they wait for more episodes to release, but it’ll be similar to ours. As we know, all actual real events happened in Villainous and BH even had some influence over them, so I’m sure they’ll still follow ours but at a different pace."

So 3 points to note:

The Villainous Timeline Follows our Time line but at a different pace.

The timeline slows down when the show airs.

BH has some influence over real events happening.

This is confirmed here as when the show airs in 2021, in Episode 4, the date here (in red) is shown as 14 Jul 2021.

So Given the Ages and Timeline:

Flug is 26 yrs old in Aug 2019

So in Aug 2022 Flug is 29 yrs old. (until Aug 2023, when he becomes 30 yrs old)

Flug's Journal and Demecia's Diary came out on 21st Feb 2022

Flug said in his book “I have been working as the chief scientist of the Black Hat Organization for approximately 8-10 years.” [Google Translate]

Flug's P.E.A.C.E. files mentioned he has been working in Black Hat Organization since March 10, 2011.

21st Feb 2022 - 10 Mar 2011 = 10 years 11 months, 11 days.

So, Flug has been working in BlackHat Org years for 10 years (11 months, 11 days) - (Note: round up to 11 yrs for easier calculation)

29 yrs old - 11 years = 18 yrs old.

Based on the year in the photo of Flug’s Thesis in Episode 6, we can conclude that Flug's thesis started out and was finished on the Year 2005. If it was longer there would be a time range. (e.g. 2005 - 2006)

2022 - 2005 = 17 years

29 yrs - 17 years = 12 yrs old

If they follow Mexico School System, Black Hat Institution should either start in early July or late Aug.

So Flug started going to school either in Jul/Aug 2005

So Flug was 12 years old when he met Miss Heed and started going to Black Hat Institution. (So they started at middle school age)

This was probably the class photo taken on the 1st day of school.

It's shown he was celebrating Halloween so this picture should take place on the 31st Oct, so they've known each other around 2-3 months at this time.

According to this article, It takes around 2-6 months to write a thesis

So maybe Flug has to submit his thesis at the end of the year in Dec 2005 before Christmas, as there were no Christmas decorations (I think even if BlackHat hates Christmas, the Villains would probably celebrate Christmas in their own evil way)

So Miss Heed probably stole Flug's thesis in Nov-Dec 2005 and left to become a hero at the age of 12 yrs old.

So, Flug and Miss Heed knew each other for about 4-5 months.

According to Miss Heed's P.E.A.C.E. Files, she was 17 yrs old while the experiments were being conducted.

17 yrs old - 12 yrs old = 5 years.

So does that mean that Miss Heed was experimented on at P.E.A.C.E. when she was 12 years old, for 5 years before she got her powers at the age of 17 yrs old? (Unless something happened between the 5 yr gap.)

Also, According to her P.E.A.C.E. Files, she needed to train her powers, which might take a few months or immediately.

So this picture with Flug staring at the TV looking at Miss Heed, might be when he is 17 - 18 yrs old before he joined Black Hat Organization.

Conclusion:

-> Flug has been working in BHO for 10 yrs 11 months, 11 days, since he was 18 yrs old.

-> Flug and Miss Heed were 12 yrs old when they met each other for about 4-5 months.

-> Afterwards, in the same year Miss Heed left to become a hero and might have been experimented on for 5 years before she developed her powers at the age of 17 years old.

#villainous #villanos #dr flug #dr kenning flugslys #missheed #miss heed #cecilia amanda kelly #villainous theory #villainous headcanons #flug #black hat organization #black hat

[angelasscribbles]

Hinge: Homecoming Part 1

Series: Hinge.

Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairings: Drake x Riley x Liam

Word Count: 2,597

Rating: M

Warnings: Violence, medical emergency  

A/N: So I've had an interaction between Drake and Riley in the safe house in my head for probably over a year now, since before I published my first TRR fic. But once I started writing this, I realized just how crap canon is around this.

First, there is no way her security detail just drops her at the safe house and leaves. They are not needed at the palace. They are assigned to her detail, not the general guard and leaving her would be an egregious dereliction of duty.

Second, any organization with the foresight to have safe house, has emergency medical personnel on standby as well. They just can't be as incompetent as PB made them out to be or the entire royal family would have been murdered years ago.

Third, no way MC can patch up a bullet wound with alcohol swabs and gauze. Come on now.

So....Riley and Drake are not going to be alone in that safe house, and this changes my original ideas. Also, it got longer than intended, so I had to split it into two parts.

DISCLAIMER: I know plenty of other people have written this night, the homecoming ball, the shooting, the safe house. This is my take on it, any similarities to anyone's version is purely unintentional and coincidental.

Everything else: Master List.

Riley was happy. Everything was going right for a change. The news of her engagement to Liam had been very well received, both in Cordonia and abroad. Engagement photos were scheduled, wedding planning was in full swing, and she’d already picked out the perfect wedding dress. Things couldn’t have been better.

She’d spent some alone time with both Drake and Liam earlier in the day and she was feeling satiated, content and cherished. Real happiness bubbled up in her chest and lodged there, refusing to budge.

She was standing next to one of her loves while watching the other on the stage. Liam was getting ready to announce her appointment as Duchess of Valtoria, making their engagement official and airtight. She felt Drake’s hand resting comfortingly on the small of her back, his nearness calming her nerves, soothing what little bit of stage fright remained. As she watched Liam’s eyes land on her, full of love and warmth, she felt like her heart might burst from happiness. He reached his hand toward her. She reached back.

One moment, all was right with her world. More than right. Shining, sparkling, the future laid out in front of her like the promised land stretching in the distance. Then in an instant, it was all snatched away, shattered, and everything she had, everything she loved was slipping through her fingertips.

The lights went out, plunging the ballroom in darkness. The sound of boots storming through the room combined with smatterings of shouts and gasps as guests were shoved and pushed aside.

When the lights came up, all she saw was a gun pointed straight at Liam. Her heart stopped; time slowed down. She screamed his name as she struggled to push her way through the crowd to get to him. She never saw the second gunman, never saw the gun pointed at her own head. She had no awareness of her own danger until she heard the gunshot and by then, Drake’s body had already crashed into hers, sending her sprawling to the floor as his body dropped its weight onto her.

Blood. There was blood everywhere. She was swimming in it, hot and sticky, smearing everywhere as she tried to sit up. Why couldn’t she move? Drake. Drake was on top of her, and he wasn’t moving.

“Drake? Drake? Drake!” Scalding tears fell down her face, the breath ripped from her body. The blood, it was his. No, no, no, oh God, please, no, the desperate prayer repeated in her head, on loop. Her focused narrowed to her frantic pleas to a god she wasn’t sure existed.

Then Drake was gone, and she was being hauled to her feet, as a voice shouted, “Move!”

Her head twisted around, frantically searching the stage, “Liam! Where-“

“Your Majesty…Lady Riley…Riley! Look at me!” The voice barely penetrated her senses as she was pulled along toward the exit.

She slowly turned her head toward the voice as the ringing in her ears started to subside, “Marco?”

“Yes, it’s me, it’s Marco. Alec has Liam, trust him, we have to go now! Drake needs medical attention!”

That got her attention, “Drake? Drake! Where is he?”

“This way!” Marco shouted and Riley followed him without another argument.

She found herself in the back of an unmarked black SUV, Drake was sitting up, but his head was lolled back against the leather upholstery, a young guard she didn’t recognize applying pressure to the wound. “Can you put pressure on this?” He yelled at her.

“Uh..ye…yes!” She replaced his hand on the makeshift tourniquet as the young guard dove out of the car and ran back toward the chaos. Marco slid into the seat the other guard had just vacated as Bruno jumped into the front passenger seat yelling, “Go! Go! Go!” to the driver.

“Where are we going?” The driver yelled back.

“Safe house A19!” Bruno responded.

Riley was startled away from staring into Drake’s face, silently willing him to live. Panic spiked through her, “What? No! He needs a hospital! Marco! He needs a hospital!”

“No, we can’t risk it, we’ll have a doctor meet us at the safe house.”    

“What?” Nothing made sense.

“We have a cadre of trusted doctors on call for these situations.”

“But-“

Her objections went unheard as the SUV hurtled through the Cordonian night. Drake’s voice was weak and thready, barely above a whisper, “He’s right….”

“Drake! You need a hospital!” Panic laced her voice. She felt relief surge through her at the sound of his voice, but fear spiked right behind it as she registered the feebleness of it. His skin was too pale, his breathing too labored, blood was still seeping through the tourniquet. He can’t die, he can’t die, he can’t die, please God, he can’t die!

“S’ok…” He squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced in pain then he opened them again and found hers, “Not…sorry….they were…..aiming….” He grunted again then drew in a deep breath, “for you.”

“What?” Her eyes opened wide in shock.

He nodded, as his eyes searched hers, “You’re….ok?”

“I’m fine, Drake! You’re the one that got shot!” She was crying again.

“It’s ok….if I die….worth it…”

“You’re not going to die! You can’t die! Please, please, please, I love you, please, you can’t leave me!” Huge, shuddering sobs wracked her body, tears and snot streaked her face and she didn’t care, she didn’t notice. The entirety of her consciousness had narrowed to this one moment, to this one request, no, this one demand of the universe, of him: Live!

The bleeding had slowed down, but she didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Was it because she had successfully staunched the bleeding or because he was almost out of blood?

The car had barely rocked to a stop before the three guards were out of it, two of them pulling Drake from the backseat.

Drake’s body sagged between the other men as Marco and Bruno helped him from the car and into the small unassuming house.

Marco flipped the light switch, nothing. He looked over his shoulder at the guardsman that had driven them there, “Hey Wallace, go outside and find the breaker.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” The man replied as he disappeared out the door.

“Where do you want him?” Bruno asked.

Why were they asking her? Riley’s head swiveled between them in confusion before it dawned on her. Liam wasn’t here, and Drake was barely conscious. They were looking to her for answers. For orders. Shit!

She scanned the house quickly then nodded toward the back, where an open door was visible in the dim light filtering through the windows, “Is that a bedroom?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bruno answered her.

“In there then.” Riley walked with them, keeping pressure on the wound as the men moved him into the bedroom and lowered him carefully onto the bed. Bruno left the room to go keep watch out front while Marco hesitated in the doorway, his worried gaze falling on Drake.

Riley straddled him so she could use her body weight to keep pressure on his shoulder. “Where the fuck is that doctor?”

“On his way, Your Majesty, but I think there’s a first aid kit in the kitchen.” Marco answered.

“Well bring it to me!” She yelled, as if she were used to ordering soldiers around, but her fear had made her desperate.

“Drake! Drake! Wake up!” She begged.

A low moan came from the man below her, “Lemme sleep….”

“No, no, stay with me, please!”

The sound of banging cabinets and drawers filled the house, then Marco reappeared with the first aid kit just as the lights flickered on.

“What’s in it?” She asked.

“Uh…” Marco flipped it open and dug through it, “Band aids, alcohol swabs, some gauze, ace bandages-“

“Fuck, give me the-“

“The doctor’s here!” Bruno called out.

“Oh thank God!” The relief that washed through her was so strong, she thought she might pass out from it.

A young doctor entered the room, followed by a nurse carrying a medical bag. The doctor cut the shirt away from his shoulder and moved the tourniquet, “Good job stopping the bleeding, let’s clean this up and see what we’ve got.

Riley moved out the way as the medical professionals worked, but she refused to leave the room.

Marco tried, “Riley, come sit down, let me get you something to-“

“I’m not leaving him!” She snarled at him.

He nodded and stepped back, “Of course, I understand. I’ll be just outside the door if you need me.”

She watched as the doctor and nurse worked together to clean, exam and repair the wound.

“How bad is it?” She asked, “Is he…is he….”

“I’d say he’s the luckiest man in Cordonia!” The doctor said as hung a bag of blood from an IV pole. “If you’re going to take a bullet to the shoulder, this is how you do it. It went under the clavicle but above the scapula, and missed every major artery. He’s going to be fine, but there is a lot of tissue damage, and he suffered a good amount of blood loss.”

Riley gaped at him in astonishment, the IV pole had been in a closet, she’d watched the nurse pull it out, but where had the blood come from? “You just happened to have blood with you? Blood that matched Drake’s type?”

“When the call came in, they gave me a code that told me who it was. We have all guardsmen’s blood types on file, as well as members of the royal family, council members and anyone else we might be called on to treat.” He explained. “So yes, I brought blood with me. We are trained for this.”

“Who’s we?”

“Select doctors from all over the country. It’s top secret, we all have regular jobs, so no one knows, but we are always on call for the government. I’m surprised you haven’t been briefed on all this.”

“Well, I’ve only been queen in waiting for a few days. No one expected…. this.” She gestured weakly in Drake’s direction.

“Of course not. Rest assured that I reviewed Captain Walker’s full medical history on the way here, so I’d be aware of any issues, drug allergies, etc.”

“Well thank God for that! He’s really going to be ok?”

“He’ll need to get to the hospital as soon as possible, just to double check everything, but he’s stable. I’ve stitched him up and given him pain meds. Once he gets some blood volume back, he should feel a little better. He’s going to be sore as hell and a possibly a little loopy from the drugs, but I don’t see any reason for him not to make a full recovery.”

She had no words to express her gratitude, so she threw herself into the doctor’s arms, hugging him tight enough to squeeze the breath out of him. “Thank you seems so inadequate!”

The man hugged her back then told her, “No need for thanks. It’s literally my job, but you’re welcome. My name is Blake, this is my nurse, his name is Michail. We’re going to spend the night in one of the extra bedrooms, so we’ll be nearby if anything changes. We’ll monitor him throughout the night and hopefully things will be clear to transport him to the hospital tomorrow.”

“Ok, thank you again.”

Drake seemed to be sleeping peacefully and the nurse was still with him, so she slipped out to the living room to update Marco. After she’d done that, she asked about Liam.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I don’t know anything.”

“I told you, call me Riley. Can’t you call someone and find out? Something? Anything?”

“Liam’s team has gone radio silent, but don’t worry!” He warned as he saw the panic that flashed across her face, “It’s protocol. It’s so the enemy can’t monitor communications.”

“Is there anything you can tell me?”

He hesitated and she saw it. “What?” She demanded.

“It’s nothing, really-“

She surprised herself with the commanding note in her voice as she ordered him, “Don’t make me play the queen card, Marco. Tell me what you know!”

“Just that no other team has activated a trauma response unit, which most likely means that no one else was hurt.” He didn’t meet her eyes and she understood what he wasn’t saying. Liam didn’t need a doctor either because he hadn’t been hit, or because he was already dead. A chill of dread threaded its way down her spine.

“Where is he? Why isn’t he here?” She asked, more shrilly than she’d intended.

“Each security team has their own protocols, their own safe houses. For events just like this. It’s safer to scatter. And our objective was to save you, not Liam. Just like his team’s objective was to save him, not you.”

“Can’t you go back to the palace, check on things?”

“Absolutely not. We stay here until we get orders to the contrary. If I left you, I’d be deserting my post. My duty is to keep you safe, and to keep you here until I’m told otherwise.”

“But don’t you care about-“

“Of course I care, Riley. But again, my duty is to stay here and protect you!”

“So, you never deviate from orders, no matter what?” She asked bitterly.

“Technically taking time to save Captain Walker was a violation of our prime directive.”

She felt her stomach drop, “What?”

“You heard me.” He responded tightly, “My orders, my duty, my objective is to protect you, and only you, at any and all cost. I risked my job, and your life, taking time to pull a wounded man out of the middle of that melee.”

Her eyes filled up with tears, she vaguely wondered how it was possible she had any tears left, she’d already cried so much. “I’m sorry, Marco. I know you care. I’m just so scared. What if he…what if….”

Marco’s gaze softened and so did his voice, “Hey, I know. It’s ok. Tonight has been nothing but trauma for all of us, but at least some of us are trained for it. You’re not. Why don’t you go in there and try to get some sleep? I promise I’ll update you the moment I know anything.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Even if you have to wake me up?”                                 

“Yes, the moment I know anything.”

Drake was still asleep when she went back into the bedroom. The nurse left saying he’d check back in about an hour and to call him if anything changed before then. Riley wandered into the master bath, startling when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, still in a formal ballgown, drenched in Drake’s blood, now dry and stiff.

She peeled off her clothes and stepped under the shower, letting steaming hot water cascade down her body, soothing her aching muscles, but doing nothing for her jangled nerves. Visions from the evening ran through her mind’s eyes. The sound of the gunshots, the screaming, the room as it plunged into darkness. The feel of Drake’s body as it hit hers, the sticky wetness of his blood as it coated them both. How pale he’d been in the back of the SUV. Liam’s face right before the lights went out, Liam with a gun pointed directly at his head. Drake telling her it was ok if he died. It was too much. And she still had no idea if Liam was alive or dead.

She leaned her head against the cool tile of the shower and cried.   

#hinge #angelasscribbles #why choose #trr poly #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #trr #choices #drake walker #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #choices stories you play #liam rys #riley campbell #drake x mc #liam x mc #liam x riley x drake #liam x riley #drake x riley #drake x riley x liam

[lori0018]

WIP Wednesday

It's Wednesday and also the mid-point in NaNo.

I've been working (very slowly 😅) on finishing some of my WIPs for this year's challenge (like I did last year). It is very slow going because real life is not cooperating with me but I'm hopeful that I will finish at least 1 story. It has been in my WIPs folder for so long that it's almost taken roots 😆 I have about 3 scenes (more if some of them get split due to length or shifting POV) left to write and then a lot of editing to do to make sure it all ties together more or less coherently.

Anyway, on to the WIP Wednesday teaser 😉 it is a direct follow up to this scene I posted on another WIP Wednesday (don't look at the post date on that 😅). It is also part of the same story as this little snippet and other scene I posted recently.

The thing is that Kim never set out to create any kind of alternate personalities or anything like that. The paperwork identifying him as Marwin Kitichotiwong—his mother's maiden name—had been a matter of safety when he’d enrolled in the music faculty at Ananthamekha while living close to the university rather than at home. That he’d been allowed to is thanks to both of his brothers backing him up in the endeavor and he will forever be grateful for it. He thinks one of the nearby houses had been occupied by bodyguards—there to keep an eye on him—but they had been unobtrusive enough that Kim had been able to ignore them. One of his father’s conditions had been a very limited budget. Kim is sure that the goal had been to have him run back home with his tail between his legs as soon as the money ran out. The old man hadn’t counted on Kim finding a roommate he could get along with. (Kim might be biased but he’s certain that there isn’t anyone who would find it hard to get along with Tops.) And Korn certainly hadn’t counted on a global pandemic forcing everyone to stay home. During the period of lockdown, Kim had found himself relaxing more and more in Tops’ presence, and "Win" had been "born". Win was all the soft parts of him, Win was the music, Win was who he could be when his father wasn’t watching. During those few months of isolation, with only Tops as witness, Kim had allowed himself to just…be. "Win" had only grown during the months he'd spent in the US. The split in his mind between Kim and Khimhant had come later. After he’d been back "home" and his father had used his need for freedom as a bargaining chip to make Kim do whatever he wanted. The bloodier the job, the more Kim felt detached from his own body. He’d labeled that violent part of him Khimhant as a way to hide from it. If Khimhant was separate then he couldn't leave bloody handprints on Kim's guitar every time he picked it up. When he’d had to create a public persona for "WIꞰ", it is the time spent as Win that he’d poured into it. He hadn’t lied to Porchay when he’d said that part of him was his favorite. He’d enjoyed sharing it with him and had let himself forget, for just a moment, that the world was no longer kept at bay by a pandemic and that Kim couldn’t be soft. The harsh reality had reasserted itself when Porchay had been kidnapped and Kim had shut down, hurting Porchay in the process. So he never set out to do it but it’s still what came to be. Win was the dream, free to be soft, free to make music, free to love. WIꞰ was the puppet, trying to be Win but too beholden to his father to ever be fully free. (There had been moments, when it was just him and Chay, that Win and WIꞰ had started to blur. Until the dream had shattered with the sound of Chay’s sobbing cries.) Khimhant was the mafia son, violent, ruthless, bloodthirsty. (The only time Kim was ever thankful for that part of him is the day of the coup when the violence came to be used in defense of Chay.) And Kim, well, Kim isn’t sure what he is, lost amongst all the others, fractured. (Kim only feels himself at the soft call of his name by a shy, melodious voice. The way Chay called him "P’Kim" had all of Kim blurring and feeling found, fractured parts mending.) (When he runs, it's with the hope that another pair of soft hands can help put him back together. Can help finish what Porchay had started putting together like puzzle pieces and Kim had carelessly broken again with a soft-spoken "I'm sorry".)

#kinnporche the series #ingredients the series #kim theerapanyakul #kimchaytops #is the endgame for this story #kimchay #marwintops #one universe theory #wip wednesday #lori writes

[starsstruck]

strange phenomena; part two.

what happens when we meet again? you and harry have barely seen each other in almost a year. two ex-lovers find themselves in the same snowy town by strange chance, both looking for something they can’t seem to figure out. forgotten letters, painful memories, and heart stopping reunions.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language, a lot of crying, sexual content words: 15.8k

series masterlist

an: hello. thank you for being patient with me <3 i am excited (and slightly nervous) to share the second part of my little story with you <3 i hope everyone enjoys, happy reading and please do share and let me know what you think ! it truly means the world to me. happy reading <3

You couldn’t remember the walk away from Harry’s.

Stumbling through the snow, not caring as the cold air nipped at your ears and left your lips chapped. All you could think about was the look on Harry’s face when you’d told him that you were leaving, the way his shoulders dropped and his brow furrowed.

You could still feel the imprint of his mouth on yours, the way it fit so smoothly over your own and was always inviting you in for more. You could feel the weight of his hands over your waist, fingertips that gripped into your skin even through the thickness of your sweater.

Even the light tickling of his hair that had brushed over your forehead could still be felt.

Just living in the same space as him for barely an entire day, you felt full of him. His smell lingered on your clothes, the weight of his hold around you when you slept, and most glaringly the locket resting against your chest felt like it was burning your skin.

And the worst part of it all was that it made you miss him. It made you ache for him in a way that you hadn’t let yourself ache.

You hadn’t let yourself feel this much since the initial break up, and now you were fighting back tears as you stormed down the hill so quickly, you felt like you were falling instead of walking.

Tears, that you apparently were not doing that good a job at holding back because soon your vision was blurring and you realized that a trail of tears were in fact freely falling from your eyes. Wiping the back of your hand over your cheeks, you bowed your head down as you walked.

You heard your name softly murmured from behind the closed door.

Rolling your head on the pillow, you felt a small pool of tears fall from your eyes and onto the fabric.

You were crying without even realizing it now.

Hearing your name called again, a bit louder this time followed by the little rattle of knuckles over the wooden door.

Sighing quietly, you threw the heavy comforter off your body and it seemed to take all your strength, but you lifted yourself from the mattress and stood to your feet.

Wiping at your face with the sleeve of your sweatshirt, you hoped that your distress wasn’t physically apparent, although you were sure that there was no way of properly hiding it.

“Morning,” your friend, and temporary roommate, greeted you with a tentative smile. You tried your best to return her cheeriness, but doubted that you even managed to lift the corners of your mouth. “Coffee’s ready.”

“Perfect,” you’d attempted a lightness to your voice, but instead it sounded hoarse, like you’d been crying all night.

Following Molly out to her kitchen, you took a seat over one of the creaky chairs and silently watched her pour you a cup, letting you add what you wanted to it for your liking. She poured herself a cup as well, turning to face you with a quiet pause. “Did you want something to eat?”

You smiled at her from over the rim of your mug. “I’m okay.”

“Okay…” she murmured quietly, taking a seat next to you. A small silence filled the air once more – you could practically hear her thinking about what to ask you.

“How are you feeling?”

Her voice came out quietly, a calmness as she watched you stare at the steam rise from your mug. You didn’t know how to answer her without crying.

“I’m doing fine,” you managed to get out, voice a tad stronger now that your throat was no longer dry.

Molly sighed your name softly, knowing you well enough to know you were lying through your teeth. “Do you want to talk about it?”

It. The breakup. Your breakup. You were single again – you had lost your partner, your lover, your other half. It had been nearly thirty-six hours, and you felt as if you hadn’t spent a single minute of that time without crying.

Tears were pricking at your dry eyes. Letting out a shaky sigh, you tried your best to hold off the tears when you spoke. “I don’t know… I don’t know what to say.”

Your voice was wavering by the end of your sentence. Your eyes were sure to be bloodshot, and with the way Molly was looking at you, you didn’t try to hold it off any longer.

Her voice was so kind, so soft, like she was talking to a wounded animal, which perhaps she was. “What happened?”

“I – I broke up with him,” your voice rasped, looking over at your caring friend with watery eyes. Your mouth gapped open, like you were about to say something else but didn’t know what to say. You didn’t really know anything, it seemed.

“I didn’t know,” you could tell Molly was searching for the best things to say to you, but was coming up short as you didn’t give her much to work with. She moved her chair closer to yours, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I didn’t realize that things weren’t working out.”

“They were,” your voice shook, taking in a heavy breath as your tears started to fall when you spoke. “They were working.”

You fell into your friend’s arms, letting sobs shake through your body. She was quiet as you kept speaking, “There was this thing – a rough patch, I don’t know,” your voice sounded unlike your own. “We were talking, and then suddenly I was telling him we shouldn’t be together anymore.”

Molly’s hand squeezed your shoulder. “Is that what you want?”

You shook in her grasp, trying your best to even out your breathing as suddenly you were completely sobbing once again. “No – it was just – I thought we were maybe going to take some time apart, not like this.”

“But he just let me break up with him.”

Turning your head, you blinked rapidly while wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. Opening your mouth to speak once more, you needed to take a deep breath before being able to do so.

Your friend murmured your name quietly, smoothing her hand over your arm in soothing motions.

“I know I hurt him,” you continued quietly, unable to wipe the look on Harry’s face out of your mind. “And I can’t stop thinking that maybe he didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

The tears were back, quiet this time. Not breath-halting sobs but instead a silent stream down your cheeks. “And I don’t know what to do –”

You fell back into the embrace of your friend, quietly crying into the sleeve of her shirt as she hugged you. “I – I’m in love with him,” you muttered, voice sounding so unbelievably broken. “I’m in love with him and I don’t know how to stop.”

She held you close, soft circles of her hand over your shoulder while you cried. You’d never thought of yourself as someone who wouldn’t be able to live without someone else, as someone who needed and depended on anyone other than themselves.

But now you found yourself unable to say three words without completely breaking down in your sorrow.

You sat in that café, simply staring out the window.

Everything was spread out in front of you, just as it had been the other day.

Though you barely picked up your pen, and instead watched the thin flakes fall to cover the ground with a fresh layer of snow. It was calming, compared to the nonstop flurry of thoughts that hadn’t left your head.

You couldn’t even drink the coffee you had ordered, it was making you nauseous.

Everything was making you nauseous.

Everything was coming back, and you felt like you couldn’t even speak. As if when you’d open your mouth, you’d throw up all your pain. Or would break down in hideous sobs. Neither sounded great.

You kept replaying everything that had happened in your head – everything Harry had said to you and everything you had not said.

He’d told you everything you wanted to hear all those months ago, he was fighting for you, which was all you’d wanted in the first place.

But you didn’t know why it made you sad.

Everything was coming back up, everything you tried your best to forget.

Everything that you’d managed to distract yourself into forgetting. You were good at that, and just a month ago you felt okay, you felt like maybe everything was going to be okay. But all of that was forgotten now.

And the worst of it all was that you felt guilty. You felt bad for being the one to pull away first, for being the one to utter the words “maybe we shouldn’t be together”, to be the one to reject him twenty-four hours ago.

You were still at work, as far as Harry knew. He had no doubt it was the case, your overtime hours seeming to grow longer and longer with every passing day.

He felt like he was angrier about if than you were – hating to see the way you were treated and taken advantage at your office, and the way you seemed to be unable to say no to every single thing that was demanded of you.

He knew you were stubborn, he admired your tenacity although he could see it taking a toll on you.

And he felt like he was going crazy. He didn’t know what was going on, but he could feel you slipping away from right between his fingers.

There had been times like this – every relationship had them. Especially with the two of you, both with busy schedules and long periods apart.

Ever since coming back to reality, ever since you’d both returned from your extended vacation in the little French town, you were suddenly pulling away. Throwing yourself back into work, catching up on missed time.

And he knew he wasn’t blameless, the stress of trying to complete his album catching right back up to him. He knew that a partnership took work, the work of both people involved. He also knew he always threw way more of himself into relationships than his partners, but he needed you. He needed you to meet him halfway.

But a strange thing happened, a subconscious reaction to the overwhelming stress that seemed to wrap around the two of you. He was pulling away just as much – there were missed calls and unanswered texts on both ends.

He hadn’t meant to, and he knew, he hoped, that you hadn’t either. You two were serious, honest discussions of spending the rest of your lives together weren’t conversations either of you feared anymore.

Though that stress manifested into fear, and that fear took over both your systems.

Harry’s little rented apartment felt empty.

Now that you had occupied it, now that you’d touched it, eaten in it, slept in it – he could see you everywhere.

There was a dull pain in his chest, in his whole body actually but it seemed to be coming straight from his heart. Dragging his feet along the floor, he ignored the still hot coffee on the counter and fell back into bed.

Bed, where you had been lying not an hour ago. That still smelt faintly of you – where you had spent the night close against his body.

He needed to clean the sheets.

The feeling of your mouth was burned into his skin, your quiet breaths of his name going through his head like a melody he couldn’t forget.

He did what he always seemed to do when he was so incredibly upset over you. He found the flurry of words written about you, page after page of love letters and notes that he’d always thought that maybe one day, he’d send to you.

But he of course never did.

He checked the time for the thirtieth time that minute. He watched the numbers on his phone change. 9:53.

You said that you were going to be at his around ten. And he knew you well enough to know that you were going to be slightly late, just as you always were to things you were nervous about. Still, he checked the time again. 9:54.

The odd ten-something minutes that past were excruciating, but soon he heard the small rattle of a knock at his door. You’d obviously known how to get your way through the security, but the fact that you had to knock when not a over a week ago you were easily letting yourself into his place, into your place – your home – that fact made him unbelievably sad.

He jumped to the door.

Your eyes were wide when he opened the door, your lips slightly parted as if you were about to speak but you never did.

You had spent far too long deciding what to wear, knowing you needed to look good without trying too hard but also, that Harry knew you well enough to know when you were trying too hard.

The hoodie you had on suddenly felt like a bad idea, the same hoodie that was soft and warm and that he would frequently borrow.

“Hi,” he sounded breathless. He thought you looked as beautiful as always, his heart might as well have skipped a beat when he saw you.

You avoided his gaze, watching his feet step aside so that you could walk past him and into the home. You returned his greeting in a quiet “hello”, and you waited anxiously by the door while Harry shut it behind you.

This was it. This was the moment. This could possibly either be the last time you’d see him or the moment that you may reconcile.

“Everything’s where you left it…” Harry started, unsure of how to begin the conversation. He wanted to pull you into his arms, it felt unnatural to stand so far apart, to stand so frigidly with the other. He wanted to kiss you and tell you he loved you, that he didn’t want to be without you. But he didn’t know how when you’d told him that the two of you should break up barely a week ago.

“Okay,” you were nearly whispering. You were afraid you’d start to cry if you spoke too much – if you looked at him a moment too long.

He watched you turn your back to him, following the all too familiar path through the home and up to your room. To his room.

It was bound to be uncomfortable, to be messy. A breakup after over two years of being together, of living together. But he watched, he watched quietly as you rifled through your things and grabbed what was yours. He watched as you took moments too long staring at worn teeshirts – likely trying to remember who they originally belonged to.

The two of you remained fairly quiet through the entire process, quiet murmuring of asking where things had gone or of needs for help.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to scream at Harry and tell him to take you back, tell him that you never wanted this and that you couldn’t stand to be without him.

You wanted to scream at yourself for even getting yourself into this situation in the first place.

But instead, you stood on opposite sides of a room you once shared.

Harry couldn’t stand it. He hadn’t even realized that he was speaking aloud, but suddenly he was talking to you from across the room saying, “I’ve really missed you.”

You froze. You had nearly not heard him. Turning in your spot, you met his gaze with a shaky breath, and an attempt at a lightness to your tone. “Hasn’t been that long.”

“Feels long,” he murmured, mindlessly fiddling with a shirt lying on the bed.

He hated himself for the way he quieted, instead of shouting a declaration of love before he lost the opportunity.

“I know,” you were just as quiet. “It feels…” you trailed off, and Harry thought you were never going to finish the thought before your whispered to the ground. “Doesn’t feel right.”

You sighed, taking a seat on the bed as you hugged your knees to your chest. A small throbbing of a headache was starting to form, the stress of the day easily getting to you. Packing was already one of you least desired things to do, and packing up your things from your ex’s place? A place which you once shared? You were sure the headache would only grow.

You had been at his for a couple hours by this point, and this was now the most you’ve spoken.

You felt the mattress sink next to you, and when you peeked a glance you saw Harry sitting just a few inches away. His pose was tentative, as if he wanted to touch you, to wrap is arms around you but realized he couldn’t do that anymore.

The tears were inevitable. As soon as you even thought about not crying, it felt as if the prickling over your eyes grew and you needed to bow your head further, resting your forehead over your knees.

This time Harry didn’t hesitate.

Extending his arm out, he wrapped it around your shoulders and pulled himself closer to you until your sides were pressed together. You didn’t protest, rather welcomed his touch and leant into his body.

He was just as warm, smelt just the same – as if those things would change in a mere seven days.

“It doesn’t feel right without you,” Harry slowly bore his heart, voice shaking with a deep breath.

His words sent a new shudder down your spine. “I know,” you choked out a sob, refusing to look up at him, “I don’t know what to do –”

You were going through one of the many planed speeches you’d made, about telling him that this could be written up as a simple little break and nothing more, but it was coming out all wrong.

“I’m here,” was all he said, voice earnest.

You dared to raise your head, to look up at him. You felt the messy wet patches against your cheeks, the spill of tears making themselves known as your glossy eyes met his. He nearly shared your expression, as you noticed his bloodshot eyes and wet eyelashes.

Neither of you spoke.

After a moment, Harry raised his hand that wasn’t holding you close to lightly cup over your cheek, to wipe away the tears that graced your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

Again, you leant into his touch and in fact fell into his embrace.

It felt good to hold each other again.

You swore you didn’t do it on purpose, but when you spoke again you hadn’t realized you were leaning in closer to him until his breath brushed over the top of your lip.

“This past week, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” your voice was at a whisper, cracking lightly in your emotional state.

Harry’s words whispered across your skin. “I’m here. You always have me.”

You were closing the gap between your lips, mouth brushing his when you voiced a plain and simple: “Love you.”

Lips touched, a hard kiss that felt like it would bruise your mouths, built up in the sheer intensity of the moment. You breathed each other in, relaxing against the others touch while the tears got wiped away in your close embrace. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop either.”

He returned your affection, whispering that he “can’t imagine not loving you” and the two of you held onto the quiet hope that maybe things weren’t over.

But it was a quiet hope – one that was never really brought out from your hearts and into the air.

What you thought could be a kiss to start something new, a beginning, turned out to be a goodbye kiss.

You sat like that for a while, not speaking, holding onto each other.

After a while, you didn’t know how long but your feet were starting to numb from the way you were sitting, and you both stood and quietly brought your things out to your car.

Neither said a single word about the kiss, or the shared feelings of love.

You left with an awkward wave, wanting to hug him and hold him but when he took a step away from you at the door you found yourself doing the same.

You left thinking, hoping, that maybe this wasn’t the end. Hoping that he must know you well enough to know what your quiet confessions meant.

But he never reached out. And neither did you. You both avoided any social situation in which you might see the other, you both buried yourself in work and distracted yourselves with anything you could.

Harry didn’t want to be in his space alone, a space that once you shared with him. A space that you had just left for what he’d soon learn to be the last time for a long while.

He felt as if he was floating through the space, watching himself from a distant plane as he wandered back into his room.

There was still the indent in the duvet from where you had sat, still the small piles of clothes splayed out that you had left untouched. He felt as if he shouldn’t even sleep in this room tonight.

His eyes fell to the nightstand, where a little gold ring sat. It was yours; it was sitting out in plain sight – there was no way you had missed it.

You’d never admit it, at least not for the time being but you did it on purpose. The small things you left behind, you wanted Harry to have them. Whether he’d stare at them ever night, or throw them into a fire or shove them under his bed, you didn’t care. You needed pieces of you to remain with him.

He picked up the ring, lightly examining it before trying it on a few of his fingers. It fit perfectly over his ring finger – he didn’t dwell of the irony of that fact.

He didn’t even realize he had pulled out his notebook until his pens was messily scribbling over the paper. Tearing out a page, he started over, and over, as if he needed to refine the perfect letter for you.

Words of love, of anger, repeating over and over again.

“I wish I could tell you this. I miss you dearly.”

Months went by and the stack of half-written letters only grew.

He’d slip them inside of his notebooks, carrying them around with him. He’d put them with certain memories of you, days where he wrote about nothing but his love for you.

Those slips of worn paper even found themselves back in France with him, when he on a whim decided that he should return. Harry knew it was a desperate attempt to feel closer to you, and as luck, or fate, or whoever would have it, he found you there too.

Harry wondered if you’d left Annecy by now. You’d never said how long you were here for, and he couldn’t imagine you sticking along for long after the other day.

He himself considered packing everything up and leaving, a fresh start for his fresh start.

Even reconsidering it once more, he was checking the schedule for the trains that left the city when a noise broke his train of thought.

A quiet knock sounded from the door.

Harry thought he had maybe imagined it – maybe it was coming from outside, it was such a soft noise he wasn’t all that sure that there really anyone at the door.

But then he heard it again.

Louder this time, maybe even frantic.

He grew nervous, slow steps towards the door. It had to be someone else who lived in the building, because there were few people who knew where he was and even fewer who were in this very town with him.

His heart leapt in his throat when he opened the door.

You stood on the other side, wide eyes gazing up to meet his as the wooden door swung open. You had on the same thick black coat as you did the other day, same peach toned embroidered patterns running up the front and up to the collar.

He watched your mouth part open, no words coming out. One of your hands was hanging by your side, the other grabbing onto the straps of your tote back that seemed heavy over your shoulder. You had on thin brown gloves.

“What are you doing here?” Harry nearly choked out the words, gripping tightly on the frame of the door as he stared you down.

“I – I don’t know,” you responded, voice wavering slightly.

He sighed, watching as your eyes flicked down to the floor for a moment before meeting his once more when you heard his soft exhale. “I was heading to the café again – and I don’t know – I kept walking. Ended up here.”

You fell silent once more. He so desperately wanted to fill the quiet gap, but held his tongue. He didn’t need embarrass himself with any more desperate pleas.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” you suddenly said, voice louder this time as you tired to recall any of the script you had thought over on the walk up. You held his gaze, eyes steady on each other. “About everything that happened with us.

He didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.

“And I just…wanted to see you again.”

His heart leapt again, feeling like it was growing wings and trying to fly out of his chest. He parted the door open wider in his grasp, leaving a gap in the doorway. “Did you want to come in?”

You hesitated in your steps. You really did want to accept his invitation, but you also knew how easily you could get wrapped up in him if you were so much as standing in the same room.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” you started, watching his face fall slightly. You quickly spoke again. “But maybe we could get dinner?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like a date?”

“Yeah,” the corners of your lips perked slightly, softening your expression. “Like a date.”

He mirrored your smile, watching as you shifted your weight on your feet. You were making no effort to hide your nerves, something he appreciated. “Tonight?”

You nodded. “If that works for you.”

“It does, yeah,” he didn’t need to think about it.

“Okay,” you nodded once more, biting at your bottom lip. “Can I maybe get your number? I think I only have your old one.”

He nodded, of course you could have his number. He didn’t dare let his thoughts entertain how you knew the number you had was no longer his, the thought of you calling him only to be met with nothing was a little too heartbreaking to think about at the moment.

After he added himself to your phone once again and sent himself a text so he’d have yours again (he’d deleted it one night on an impulse, one night after a few too many drinks that he immediately regretted the next day).

“I’ll let you know the details for tonight,” you told him, after sliding your phone back into your pocket and readjusted the bag over your shoulder.

“I look forward to it,” he smiled at you, a newfound giddiness in his nerves. “I’ll see you tonight.”

You were off as quickly as you hard arrived, walking back out onto the street and down the newly plowed sidewalk to sit in the café once more and hopefully get some work done before you were to see Harry later that day.

All while Harry was restless all day, mind unable to turn off as he felt excited to see you again. He tried not to get overly optimistic, but it was hard not to.

You had texted him not much more than an hour after seeing him, telling him to meet you at the restaurant at seven o’clock.

The day had past for to slowly. He tried to busy himself, but nothing really seemed to work so all he could really do was wait until he was time for him to head out and meet you.

When the time finally came, he was practically sprinting down the street, happy to see the restaurant you had chosen was well within walking distance from his place. He got there early, but didn’t care. He knew that when you were nervous, you would show up just a bit late, so it was no surprised when you joined him at the table a little past seven.

He sat up straighter as you settled in the chair across from him, shrugging off the same thick black coat to hang off the back of your chair.

Immediately he noticed the locket that he’d gifted you, sitting against your skin directly between your collarbones. Your blouse looked silky, easily sitting around your shoulders with ruched sleeves that led to a form fitting front. The pale green seeming like it was glowing in the dim light of the restaurant.

“Hi,” your blush-swept cheeks rounded as you smiled up at him.

“Ordered us some wine,” he motioned to the bottle that was now sitting on the side of the table. “Hope that’s okay.”

“More than,” you smiled again, hand reaching over to grab your wine glass that had already been filled by the waiter a few minutes ago.

Small talk seemed insignificant at the moment, something that shouldn’t have to be endured by the two of you. But jumping right into an emotionally intense conversation didn’t sound like a good idea either.

“Bonne soirée mademoiselle,” the waiter interrupted the silence, greeting you before asking the both of you if you knew what you’d like to eat.

In slightly broken French you told him you both needed a minute before ordering. Both able to distract yourself as you glanced over what to order, only words shared about what looked good on the menu. But after sending off the waiter with your orders, the same silence settled once more.

“So,” Harry broke the silence, “if this is a date, are we not friends anymore?”

You smirked, a light expression that you easily hid behind your wine glass. “I don’t know,” you hummed, after swallowing the dark red liquid. “What do you think?”

“Not friends,” he affirmed. “Maybe something a bit more.”

It was incredible how easily you’d settled into this little teasing back and forth, how effortlessly seductive you could be.

You bit your lip once more, holding in whatever you were about to say. He watched you take another sip of wine, lips folding together when you swallowed the alcohol, a stray drop of red liquid staining your lips. Releasing your lips, your tongue made a quick swipe to collect any wine before you looked back up at your ex, and he had to tear his eyes away from your mouth.

Harry let out a quiet exhale. “You can’t keep me guessing,” he said, voice softer this time. “You have to give me something.”

You paused in your movement then, placing the glass back down on the table. You were glad for the wine as it helped settle the nerves that were building back up. “I was thinking a lot, about the other day. About everything really.”

He nodded, silently urging you to continue.

“Uhm well,” you blinked a few times, breaking his gaze, “– I never really let myself think about everything, you know?”

You suddenly seemed to forget everything you were planning on telling him.

“Do you remember that day – the last time we saw each other? When I picked up my things.”

Harry nodded again, eyebrows furrowing a bit as he tried to see what you were going to say.

You nearly wanted to laugh, not out of humour, at the memory of that day. You took a deep breath, forcing the confession from your mouth. “I wanted us to get back together that day,” you said, watching Harry’s expression closely. “To tell you it was all a mistake.”

Harry’s eyes widened, watching you very closely but he still didn’t utter a single word.

“And I hoped – maybe we would.” Your head was spinning at the memory, of the painful day that only led to more heartbreak.

“I thought that maybe –” Harry started, recalling that day just as well. “But I never saw you again.”

A quietness surrounded your table, even in the louder chatter of the space around you. Harry spoke again, voice wistful as his eyes held yours. “I should have kissed you longer.”

You needed to break his gaze to stare at the table, not wanting to cry. “I was hurt, I didn’t know how to handle it. After that day, I just needed to push it all away.”

“And I did – I managed for months.”

Harry felt his heart sink, fearing this conversation was going somewhere he hadn’t wanted to think about.

As timing had it, the food arrived at that moment and Harry suddenly thought he was going to be sick, the thought of eating anything the last thing on his mind at the moment.

You both offered tight lipped smiles at the waiter, quiet merci’s, and you didn’t say anything else until he was out of ear shot.

“I managed,” you repeated, voice pulling Harry out of a slightly spiraling train of thought. “But then seeing you here after all this time, and you telling me…”

You felt as if tears could break out at any second. “You telling me you want us to try again – all that pain came right back. Everything I had ignored.”

He murmured your name quietly, before you kept speaking. “But what you said, wanting to give us another shot…”

You looked back at him, wide eyes meeting his straight on. “I never wanted…”

Struggling to find your words once more, you watched as Harry took a big sip of his water.

“I didn’t think we’d actually end up like this,” you murmured quietly, watching Harry pause.

He placed his glass back down, pondering your words for a moment before looking up at you again. “What do you mean?”

“Just that,” you pushed some food around on your plate, the bravery you felt a few moments ago vanishing. “That we would actually split up. Thought it was just a rough patch or something…”

Maybe this wasn’t the conversation to be had in a public place. You felt like you could cry.

Harry’s voice was quiet when he spoke, he didn’t want to sound accusatory. “You were the one to suggest the split.”

As hard as he tried not to sound to pointed, you still flinched slightly at his words. You looked down this time, not looking back at as you trailed your finger over the condensation on your glass of water.

“It was –” you cut yourself off. It was mutual, you were going to say. It wasn’t, though. It never was. The only thing that was mutual was that neither of you really wanted to breakup with to begin with.

“I know,” you said instead after a moment. “I thought – I never thought we’d end up like this though. I thought –” you had to cut yourself off again.

This really wasn’t the conversation to be having in a restaurant where everyone else was happily eating and drinking around you. You looked up at him, willing your voice not to shake.

“I thought you’d fight for me.”

He knew you didn’t intend for your words to hit him with a sharp stab. He knew it very well, but he still felt the jab of pain through his chest.

“I didn’t know…” he breathed lightly, running his hand over his forehead, bringing it over his face before scratching at his jaw. He didn’t know you had felt that way. Maybe communication really had been your downfall. “Fighting for you now, aren’t I?”

Letting out a heavy breath, you let your shoulders relax. “Yeah, you are.”

Harry dared to ask. “Is this, I mean what we’re doing now, do you want us to try again?”

Your bottom lip slipped between your teeth, a mindless habit as you thought over his words. You hadn’t thought of it so formally, more like you were just spending time with your ex.

When you were quiet, and he momentarily started to panic once more as he feared he had misread the situation.

“I do,” you said softly, gazing up at him. He couldn’t help the leap of his heart. “I want to give us a shot.”

You both stared at each other for a moment, quiet unspoken words shared. His next words were low, as he watched every flicker of your eyes. “How about we treat this like a date then.”

When your lips curved upwards, and you glanced away playfully, he let out a relieved breath once again. “Yeah, how about we do.”

You needed to take a few quiet breaths through your nose, not a few minutes ago on the verge of tears as you thought about the prospects of starting anew with Harry. You’d talk more after.

“What do you say to desert?”

You leant forward over the newly cleared table with a forearm on the wood, only a spot of wine left in your glass that you swirled in one hand.

The remainder of the evening after your little talk had been nothing but lovely.

It was like it was back to being you, back to the dynamic you’d always had together.

Discussing everything and anything that happened in your time apart, anecdotes as minor as catching Harry up on the gossip from your now old workplace.

The wine had very likely contributed to the increasingly flirty glances, and touches. It felt good to touch each other again.

Hand falling over his on the table, his knee bumping yours under the table. It was all innocent, all completely crumbling whatever idea you’d might’ve had over the idea of ever being over Harry.

You were both completely enthralled with each other.

Harry couldn’t for a second take his eyes off of you, even following your every move until you disappeared around the corner when you headed to the toilet.

You seemed to glow the more the evening went on, a happy sheen taking over your eyes and it only warmed his heart further.

Not only that, but every lingering stare and teasing touch was only adding to the growing desire he had for you. He wanted to hold you, to kiss you, to feel your body pressed against his.

Memories of the two of you didn’t help, memories that he apparently would never forget, especially as your teeth bit down into your bottom lip and your leg extended under the table to firmly press against his own.

“And what do you suggest as desert?”

“Anything you want,” he spoke lowly, eyes flirting with yours. “Back at mine?”

You bit your bottom lip down, the offer not surprising you but still sent a familiar tingle down your spine. “Desert to go, then?”

“If your up for it.”

He turned in his chair, signaling for the check which he swiftly paid without giving you a single moment to object. You tried your hardest to bite down your smile, lips sucked in against your teeth as you watched the man in front of you push his arms through the sleeves of his coat.

You did the same, holding his eyes in a silent agreement to his offer. You were promptly walking out into the cool air outside. Harry’s hand grabbed yours,

Fingers interlocked, he kept you close to him as the both of you walked. You were glad you hadn’t put your gloves back on, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours.

Walking side by side along the familiar sidewalks, through the old town while crowds were dwindling down in the later hours of the evening. Harry’s pace slowed at one point, hand squeezing yours as you walked past the arrays of ice cream shops that would have lines through the street if it were summer.

“You want one?” Harry swung your locked hands forward, pointing to one of the still open parlors.

You turned to look at him, his cheeks reddened by the cold. “You were serious about the desert?”

He bumped his hip to yours, arm moving to instead wrap around your shoulders with your hand still holding him, his forearm against your chest to hold you close. His lips pressed over the side of your head, feeling the heat of his breath over your skin. “’Course – what did you think I meant?”

You chose not to answer his teasing words, instead just squeezing his hand in your grasp. “It’s too cold for ice cream.”

His lips moved from the back of your head, mouth lingering by your ear. “I have some of those chocolates you love so much – since you seem so eager to get back to mine.”

“You’re impossible,” you laughed, sinking back into his side as you continued your walk through the town and up the hill.

It wasn’t long until you were back in the warmth of his rented apartment, shaking the cold from your fingertips and snow from your jackets.

Harry had been true to his word, pulling out a little white box of chocolates with the familiar stamp over it. They were just as delicious as you’d remembered, indulging in the treat sitting next to Harry, each with a fresh glass of wine.

You borrowed his sweater that was hanging off the chair, and Harry couldn’t have imagined a more natural sight.

Sitting in his warm clothes, sharing sweet treats and dark red glasses of wine. Laughing together, talking, sitting pressed against each other with warmed skin and blissed smiles.

The intention to stay the night with him was an unspoken one, so when the night seemed to slow and you excused yourself to the washroom, Harry felt nearly nervous.

After a few moments, you found Harry with his back turned to you in the kitchen. You paused in your steps, watching him for a moment. He was tinkering around with something, placing mugs back in the cupboards and moving dishes around. He seemed to be only distracting himself, as if waiting for you while you were in the washroom.

He heard you coming up from behind him, but he still jumped slightly when your hand was placed over his back with a light touch. He turned to look at you, neither of you speaking for a moment as your hand slid up over his shoulder.

You looked soft in the warm lighting. Your makeup had been washed off, still in his sweater that hung around your hips. You looked just as beautiful, just as inviting as you lightly bit your lips together, watching him quietly. He wanted to hold you, to kiss you.

Harry cleared his throat. “Ready to go to bed?”

His voice came out low, scratchy, like it hadn’t been used in a while.

You didn’t say anything, holding back a smile. Your hip bumped his, sliding yourself closer to him as your hand joined the other around his shoulders.

He easily brought you in closer to him, hands finding their rightful place around the small of your back and his gaze teased over yours, a slow and obvious glance as you instinctively wet your lips. There hadn’t been a single kiss shared since the other morning, and you both deserved one, didn’t you?

A small soundless laugh left your parting mouth, you suppose it was a nervous reaction – nerves that were nearly unfamiliar to you even if this situation was anything but.

His lips found your own, after a nudge of his nose over yours and a tilt of your jaw to meet him halfway.

Although it was just the other day you had felt his mouth against yours, this was all the more different. This wasn’t an impulse decision based on confused feelings and desire, this was rather clear feelings and still a good dose of desire.

Lips soft over yours at first, he placed only a light lingering kiss over your mouth before silently pulling away. Your eyes parted open, watching him through your eyelashes as he held your silent gaze, leaning back in to press a light kiss over the corner of your mouth. He repeated the same move, leaning back and then forward once more to kiss over the other side, just at the crest of your lips.

It was with soft, tantalizing moves – of quiet brushes of lips around your face before his mouth met yours.

One of his hands raised from your hip, cupping the side of your face to hold you closer. You fully leant into his every touch, melting into his warm skin as his mouth enveloped yours. It was with slow touches at first, of breathing each other in before your tongue pushed against his and you opened up further to the other.

He tasted like the chocolate you had shared, like sweet red wine and like Harry. Your Harry. The one who you got the pleasure of calling your partner for nearly two years, the one who’d made you feel loved like never before. He tasted like home.

You were perfectly slotted between his body and the counter, your behind pushing up against the countertop as Harry pushed himself closer to you.

With your chests pressed closely, you were all wandering hands and breathy sighs as you indulged in a kiss filled with nothing but desire.

Harry’s hands skimmed over your sides, brushing over the soft fabric of the borrowed sweater. “You’re gorgeous,”

His lips found their way over your chin, silently urging you to tilt your jaw up so that he could press soft sucks over your neck. “Smell so fucking good.”

Murmuring a quiet, “shit,” over your skin, you could feel his lips turn up to a smile. “You’re everything to me, y’know that?”

Your smoothed a hand from his cheek up to his hair, light scratches over his scalp in a silent urge to feel his mouth on yours again. His words were making your head spin, a rapid beating of your heart paired with the slow burn of butterflies in your stomach.

Capturing his mouth with your own, you breathed him in with soft touches of lips that were quickly growing faster, heavier. Messy clashes of teeth, of muffled sighs and quiet calls of each others names.

His hips were pushing against yours – and although at this point you truly knew all his moves, you still had a small hitch of your breath at the feeling of his centre lightly rutting over yours. You sighed his name into his mouth, as he swallowed your quiet breaths as if to keep them at the back of his mind forever.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he breathed, lips smeared over your jaw. “Take it as slow as you want.”

You were smiling at the ceiling, hands gripping into the smooth fabric of his shirt, excitement growing at his words. You knew very well what you wanted.

“And what do you want?” You countered, feeling his lips smile on your skin.

He pulled away from you just enough so that your gazes could meet, staring you down with gleaming eyes and swollen lips. “You – it’s always you.”

The words were kissed over your mouth. “God, what’re you doing to me,” he breathed a quiet laugh. “Driving me crazy, angel.”

It was your turn to smile into the kiss, squeezing his shoulder in quiet response. “I want this. I want you.”

Harry didn’t answer, and instead just captured your mouth in another breathless kiss. It didn’t take long before he was pulling you out of the kitchen, flicking off the overhead light as you both followed the glow that came from the bedroom.

His hand clasped with yours, a quiet excitement around the both of you. As you followed closely behind him you couldn’t help the small turn in your lips, the rapid beating of your heart along with the growing desire for the man leading you to his bed.

You were both quiet, the grip of your hands breaking as Harry turned off one of the lights, only the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the room. You tugged off the thick yellow sweater, placing it on the dresser across from the bed, and you were back in only your silky blouse.

When you turned around, you saw Harry sitting on the mattress, his legs off the side of the bed with his feet planted on the floor. His eyes met yours, a soft smile gracing his features as you stood an arms length away.

“Come here,” his voice was low, the simple phrase sending shivers down your spine.

You placed a palm in his extended hand, making the few steps needed to get to standing in front of him. His other hand raised, cupping your cheek while his legs spread for you to stand between them.

Wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, you both held each other for a moment as you took the other in. You were the first to break the silent staring contest, leaning down until your forehead pressed against his and it only took a few seconds before your lips were together.

The feeling of his thumb brushing under your bottom lip was a soothing one, as he pressed one, two three sweet pecks against your mouth before pulling you in closer.

You nearly stumbled on your feet, still standing as you leant down to meet the mouth of your lover. Harry raised your interlocked fingers, placing your hand around the back of his neck to meet your other, before he placed his own hand firmly over the soft fabric covering the curve of your hip.

A soft exhale came from your nose as his lips parted with yours, licking into your mouth as the kissed deepened. Your breath mixed, the grip of your fingers tightening around him as your kiss grew a little more purposeful. His hand that rested over your cheek brushed lower, gripping your chin between his thumb and index to tilt your face even closer to his.

You were so pliable under his touch, following every motion that he lead you to. It was like getting to know each other all over again, the quiet excitement of feeling the others body, paired with the intimate familiarity of the man in front of you.

Your lips broke apart so that Harry could sponge his mouth down your jaw, breathing hotly against you with a trail of wet kisses on the sensitive skin. His hand squeezed your hip, muttering over your neck. “C’mere-“

The words were a deep rumble from his chest, moving back and slightly breaking his touch with you as he slid back further on the mattress. You easily followed him, knees dipping into the duvet as you found your place over his lap.

“Sorry – !” Your voice rose above a whisper when your chin bumped his nose as you lowered over him to press a kiss over his cheek, just as he was seeking your mouth. You felt his chest shake with a laugh, hands smoothing on either of your hips to pull you onto his lap.

“Stay –” his voice was muffled with his mouth sliding over your chin, “– right here.”

His hands held you tightly, thumbs pushing up under your shirt to rub over the bare skin that protruded over the tight waistband of your pants.  

A kiss was pressed on the corner of your lip, Harry moving back to meet your gaze for a flicker of a moment, before leaning in to press a linger kiss to your cupid’s bow. You both easily found your rhythm once more, mouths finding each other with a newfound need for the other.

Your stomach was warmed as his hands splayed over your skin, feeling the small tugs on the light fabric of your shirt when Harry pinched the material in his fingers. Your lips left his in a subtle pant, feeling his light stubble over your cheek when you titled your head to plant your mouth over his jaw.

Your name left his mouth paired with a low moan, all while you puckered your lips over his skin, sucking softly and left a trail of wet marks down the column of his neck. Your fingers were woven through his hair, light pulls over the strands as he let out shaky breaths above you.

His hands were venturing higher under your blouse, fingertips playing with the lace detail of your bra. You melted under his touch; his hands were warm and you couldn’t help but whimper lightly over his neck when he palmed over your breast.

Harry let his head hang low, tips of his hair tickling your shoulder as he mumbled quietly. “You look beautiful tonight,” he breathed you in. “Have I told you that?”

You only hummed over his skin, thighs squeezing his a little tighter when he tugged at your bra. “Let’s get this off you,” he murmured.

Pulling back from him, you met his gaze with heavy eyes and parted lips. His own lips were swollen, kissed darker and looked oh so inviting for more. You hoped you looked just as enticing. You glanced down at the miniscule gap between the both of you, as his hands raised under your blouse to pull it over your head.

Tossing it somewhere on the floor, his touch was back on your bare skin within seconds as he tugged your bra straps down your shoulders, and attached his lips on your collarbone. His mouth was soft, lips wet from swiping his tongue over them before planting them to your skin once more. He was holding you so tightly, hands smoothing flatly over your bare middle in soft circles.

Placing your hands over his chest, you blindly sought out the buttons that lined his blue shirt with fast attempts to pull them open. The skin of his chest was warm, the thin buttons slipping under your slightly shaking fingers.

Eventually successful with your task, you greedily pushed the fabric off of his skin as far as you could as he refused to take his hands off of you to help fully remove the item of clothing. His hands were spreading lower over your thighs, sliding over the soft fabric of your trousers until they held your bum with a firm grip. Kneading his fingers into the swell of skin, you keened into his touch and leant your body closer to his with a soft push of your hips.

You found yourself clenching around nothing, no doubt already making a small mess in your underwear as you felt his hardening cock pushing against your thigh. A moan made its way through his mouth, calling your name with a certain breathlessness.

Your bra straps were falling down your shoulders, sitting nearly uncomfortably as your breasts spilled out but you didn’t care, not with Harry’s mouth searching for more and more of your skin until it was circling around one of your nipples. One of his hands had found its way back over your breast, feeling the soft weight in his palm as both his mouth and hand gave your chest attention. With a rush of warmth through your stomach, you tilted your head into the crook of his neck with a sigh over his shoulder.

“This good?” He muttered over your skin, a quiet groan following his words as you arched your back into his touch.

It was the perfect mix of the quiet familiarity along with the excitement of a first time.

You answered him with a breathy “yes”, telling him that it was “so good” and that he definitely should not stop.

You could feel his lips curving into a smile against your skin, pulling away with a small nip of his teeth. The skin where he had left a wet impression of his mouth was cool when he pulled away. He raised his head with sly smile gracing his features as both your breaths were heavy and chests rose and fell in quick puffs.

You felt Harry’s other hand glide over your hips, a small dig of his fingers into your covered skin. A quiet yelp escaped your lips that same hand graced your behind with a small smack, quick motion before he was kneading his fingertips back over your bum. You fell closer against him, holding him tightly as he muttered one more “come here,” and fell back over the mattress until his head hit the pillows.

Your chest followed his as you leant down with him, your weight over him which was something he very much welcomed.

Planting your elbows into the mattress, you supported yourself up as your mouth found his once more. Kissing slowly, enjoying each other for a moment while his hands slid up your bare back and fumbled with the clasp of your bra until it was set loose and you could easily throw it to the floor.

His palms circled from your back to your front, gripping the weight of your breasts in his palms as he felt them rest over his own chest. Tugging at your hardened nipples, you whined into his mouth as rutted your hips over his, the hardness of his cock felt through his pants.

Lifting your mouth from his, he felt his neck crane as he searched to keep your mouths connected for a moment longer. You pressed a light kiss over his cupids bow, fingertips brushing over his cheeks as you watched his eyelids open with soft flutter.

His pupils were blown, quiet smile gracing his lips as his hands petted over your bare back. You returned his smile, tracing the line of his cheek down to his jaw. You mouth following the path that your fingers had drawn, small open-mouthed kisses over the sharpness of his jaw and down to his neck.

Your hands moved down to quickly push at the fabric of his shirt, doing your best to slide it off his shoulders as you urged him to move his arms up with quiet pants over his neck. You felt your heartbeat pounding in your chest.

“Hey,” Harry spoke quietly, one hand grabbing hold of your wrist. He raised your hand, placing a light kiss on the inside of your wrist. “We’re in no rush-“

You smiled down at the man underneath of you, feeling three more kisses pressed over the skin of your wrist before Harry was moving his arms from around you to tug the shirt off of his frame. Leveraging on the mattress, he pushed himself up and in a quick move as your own fingers gripped tightly into his shoulders.

“Easy,” he groaned into your skin moving to ease you over so that your back hit the mattress and he was laid half over you, face hovering by yours. “Just like that.”

With a moment of shuffling limbs, he slotted himself between your parted legs as he held himself with an arm on either side of you. All in a haze, he shot you a lopsided grin before he leant back down, open mouth against yours with a lick over your lips.

A slow, languid kiss as you scraped your nails over his shoulder blades, hugging him close to you as your mouths moved together. Touch growing sloppier, something neither of you minded that much as his wet lips trailed down your chin and down your jaw.

You could feel one of his hands smoothing down your side, holding your frame tightly as if he feared you would disappear at any moment. Although he was the on to tell you to slow down, to relax, you could feel the slight shake in his hands and the breathless pants that never ceased from his lips.

His open mouth pressed hot kisses down your sternum, making his way over with a trail of wet spots left behind before wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. A choked whimper got caught in his throat, the hum vibrating around you as you arched your back into his touch.

He licked over the sensitive nub, gaging your every reaction as a bout of pride wrapped around him when you sighed his name into the air and trailed your fingers over the nape of his neck to grab a firm hold in his hair.

“You like that?” He mumbled over your skin, one hand kneading the soft skin of your breast that he was so enamoured by.

“You know I do,” your voice was a whine, cracking mid sentence.

“I know –” you could hear his smirk, “just making sure.”

One of his hands was smoothing down your side, thumbing at the waistband of your trousers while his thighs pushed tightly against your centre. You couldn’t help the slow moves of your back, arching it up into his touch.

Desperate under his slow touches, you ran your hands down his bare back with your nails gliding over his skin. You could feel his groan over your breast, as he felt your hands move around his hips. Soft fingers brushing over his lower stomach in a way that had his muscles clenching.

“Let me touch you,” you whimpered over his hair. Harry slowly rose his head, glistening lips moving to a smile when you quietly repeated, “I want to make you feel good.”

He lifted his torso up a bit, slowly moving off of your body. He was easily giving in to what you wanted, hoisting himself up higher over you until he was sat on his knees. You easily followed, crossing your legs as you sat across from your lover.  

Never going that long without touching you, one of his hands lightly cupped your cheek to lean forward and press a lustful kiss to your mouth. “Please,” his voice was raw, “please, touch me.”

Your hands quickly found the button of his pants when he pulled back, while he watched and leant forward on his knees. You head hung low and you made quick work to pop the button and tug the zipper down, fingers brushing over the skin above the waistband as you pulled on the fabric.

“Go on,” he spoke lowly, helping you as he moved over the bed so that you could bring the fabric over his hips. Your fingers hooked under the band of his briefs as well, sliding them down along with his trousers. “Gonna get me out?”

You didn’t offer him an answer, instead gave up on fully removing his pants and instead only pulled them to the middle of his thighs. You placed a hand over his bare leg, eyes falling down to his cock, thick and hotly aching to feel your touch.

A low inhale could be heard from Harry’s parted lips, as you trailed your fingertips over the familiar outline of the tattoo on his thigh. You brought your hand up over the crest of his leg, and brushed a light touch over the underside of his cock. A shakier inhale was heard, as Harry silently watched you lazily move your fingertips over him.

You bowed your head lower, tucking your legs under your bum as you easily recalled every little move that made Harry shudder above you.

He had one hand planted on the mattress behind him, leaning back slightly in a way that exposed more of his skin to you. You easily took the invitation, leaning forward to place a flurry of kisses over his lower stomach following the little trail of hair. Soft suction of your mouth over the skin leading to his pelvis, you felt one of Harry’s hands raise to lay lightly over the back of your head.

His fingers lightly scratched over your scalp, a light and comforting action as a murmur of your name was heard from above. Your mouth was slowly making its way to where he was begging. The muscles in his stomach jumped when you licked a slow strip over the underside of his cock, lips lingering over him for a beat before circling around his tip with a light suck. Keeping your grip at his base, you dragged your tongue over his tip as you let the saliva from your mouth fall over him.

“Good – that’s good –” Harry moaned from above you, hand trailing down to your jaw. He watched as you took him into your mouth, not as much as he knew you could and just enough to get him wet – wet and wanting more as you tightened your lips around him. Sliding your hand over the wetness you had created, moving over his balls with light touches, so light he couldn’t help but groan with a buck of his hips.

You felt Harry’s thumb brush lovingly over your cheek as he seemed lost of what to say.

Your glossy eyes met his glazed ones, feeling the utter desire in his look while he watched you. Briefly pulling off of him, you murmured a quiet, “feels good?”

Harry shuddered above you, needing to ground himself as you were working him up far too quickly. You were back on him within seconds, as he choked out a broken “feels like heaven.”

Tightening your lips around him, you dipped your head lower with a slow exhale through your nose, dragging your tongue over more of him.

“Fuck,” he wheezed, “jus’ like that, just like that,” he was rambling, unable to form a coherent thought, as quiet whines broke through his words, “good girl.”

You moaned around him, soft vibrations only adding to the pleasure that was raging hot inside of him. He nearly lost it when you bowed your head, eyes looking up through your lashes to meet his heavy gaze.

If you didn’t stop soon he was going to meet his release down your throat.

Sliding his fingers under your jaw, he muttered quietly as your movements eased over him. “Y’gonna make me cum,” he spoke breathlessly.

“Lie down, yeah? Let me feel you.”’

His fingers under your jaw were gently easing you off of his cock. Your mouth left him with a heavy breath, lips still parted as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Straightening out your spine until you were more at level with him, watery eyes peering into his. Harry easily regained his grip over your cheek, kissing you slowly, lazily, while pushing you to lie down on your back once again.

Once your head hit a pillow and he was hovering over you, Harry kicked off his pants the rest of the way before smoothing his hands over the skin of your tummy. He was pulling off your belt and pulling your trousers fall down yours legs within seconds, leaving you in only a thin little pair of underwear.

He brushed a hand over your inner thigh, as you watched his every move with hungry eyes. “Can I feel you,” he kissed your cheek. “D’you want that?”

Your grip over his shoulder tightened. “Yes,” you moaned into the air, jolting lightly when his thumb brushed over your covered core. “I’m –”

You couldn’t help the way you squeezed your legs together, the soft pulsing of your core driving you crazy. He placed a light kiss over your lips, pulling back with a slow smile.

“You’re what, angel?”

You bit your lip down hard at the use of the pet name, holding back a moan. “I want you – I’m wet. I … Harry!”

You couldn’t help but cry out when his hand pushed between your thighs, slipping under the elastic of your underwear so he could brush over your folds. “You’re wet,” he repeated it like it was a prayer, two fingers sliding over you. “So wet.”

“You’ve got to open your pretty legs for me,” he watched your eyes screw shut. “Just like that – good,” he praised as your legs opened for him.

Hooking a finger under the thin band that sat around your hip, he pulled the flimsy fabric down to the middle of your thighs as his other hand held your legs down, keeping them parted for him. You turned your head on the pillow, eyes catching Harry’s as his face hovered next to yours and he watched you with lust filled eyes.

You wrapped the arm closest to him around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss while his fingers moved up to your clit. You were getting him sticky with your wetness, as he drew slow patterns over the sensitive bit of nerves. You were moaning into his mouth, teeth hitting his chin as you panted over each other.

“How’re you feeling?” He kissed the words over your skin, nose brushing your cheek as he pressed his chest over your side.

“Good,” whimpering over his skin, you ached to feel just something more. “You’re always good – always know what I want.”

You could feel his lips curve to a smile over your cheek, fingers venturing lower before he had two pushing inside of you. You gasped a breath, the slight stretch something you welcomed – something you had missed.

You were just as warm and wet as he remembered – as he tried not to think about late at night when he was missing you and was lonelier than usual. Your hips bucked into his hand, biting your lips down when he pushed his fingers against that perfect spongey spot inside of you.

The hold of your teeth over your lips didn’t last long, lips parting when Harry muttered a low “let me hear you,” and you were moaning his name. With a slow and steady rhythm inside of you, he moved his thumb up over your clit again.

His hand was getting covered in your arousal, the two fingers pumping with intent inside of you. His lips were pressing a flurry of kisses along your skin, from capturing your lips to sucking and biting into the crook of your neck. Other hand was smoothing over your skin, leaving a hot path in its wake, so hot like you could combust at any second.

Wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, keeping his lips closed to your skin as you blindly pulled at his messy strands of hair. Clenching around him, he sucked into your skin harsher at the way you felt, at the way your fingers scratched over his skin.

Harry watched your face twist in pleasure – your eyes shut tight with your lips either harshly bit between your teeth or parting to let out the most beautiful moans.

You were both thrown right back into it, right back into the familiar touches and sounds and moves. You���d both thought about it countless times, but reliving it and making it a reality once more like this was indescribable.

Small incomprehensible words were heard from your mouth, mutterings of how much you missed him and how incredible he was making you feel. He knew every move that made your moan, ever little word to mutter into your ear – always paired with a heart fluttering pet name.

He was working you up so well, every move his ins fingers over you and inside of you making you breath a little heavier, made that warm coil in the pit of your stomach grow just that much hotter.

Your hand not around his back gripped his bicep, squeezing the skin tightly as you tried to think clearly. “Wait,” your voice was hoarse, spent. “Not yet.”

He craned his neck, raising his head from the crook of your neck, and placed a light kiss over your lips. Opening your fluttering eyelids, you saw him watching you with heavy, dark eyes as if he wanted to make sure he didn’t miss a single thing. Slowly withdrawing his fingers from you, he slid them over your folds, skin slick and wet under his touch as he drew languid circles over your clit.

“Want to feel me?” He whispered, breath felt over your cheek. He trailed his hand away from between your legs, light brushes of his wet fingers over your thighs.

You simply nodded, unable to properly think and he left another smattering of kisses over your chin and over your lips. Catching his mouth with yours, your tongue slowly licked over his bottom lip as he pulled away with a groan, hoisting himself higher over you to sit back on his knees next to you.

It was all familiar, but all felt brand new at the same time. The way his hands grabbed your hips, the low raspy tone in his words when he whispered, “how d’you want me?”

Legs parting wider from either side of him, hooking your ankles around his hips as you attempted to tug him towards him. Peering up at Harry from where you laid, you took a heavy breath before asking him, “like this?”

He paused, only for a brief split-second before swallowing a dry breath and nodded his head. “However you want,” he muttered, hands back on you within seconds. Spreading his palm over your hips, he leant down over you a pressed a kiss to your sternum, “whatever you want.”

He leant down with his knees dipping into the soft mattress, while his chest hovered over yours and his hands rubbed over your sides. He raised his head, lips nearing yours with a soft mutter. “Condom?”

You hadn’t considered the need to protection until then. Thinking it over for split-second, you shook your head as you met his eyes. “No I – I haven’t,” you paused mid breath. Haven’t been with anyone since you.

He seemed to understand your silent words. “Me neither,” he murmured lightly, pressing himself closer to you. You could feel his cock right there at the crest of your thigh, an arch in your back deepening as you grew desperate to feel him.

Repositioning himself on his knees, he raised his chest and kept and firm grip over your hip while his other hand gripped the base of his cock. You pushed back against him, not really caring how eager you were for him as he cursed breathlessly.

“Relax,” his words were clipped, the head of his cock entering you in a slow thrust. “Fuck – there we go – it’s just me.”

Letting out a deep breath as he eased himself in, the stretch familiar but still caused a shiver down your spine as it was something you hadn’t felt in nearly a year. Pushing back against him, feeling more of him slip inside of you as a sputter of words left Harry lips.

“You feel too good – fuck -,” you shifted your legs around him, the rest of him pushing inside of you as his pelvis hit yours His hands smoothed over your hips. “Please tell me it’s okay, please.”

He was everywhere, the best possible way. You sank into the mattress, thighs squeezing his hips as you ground your hips up into his.

A broken, “please baby,” escaped your lips.

Harry started with slow movements, needing a second to compose himself as feeling you in the most intimate way he could was already driving him close to the edge.

“Please what?” He muttered, a shallow thrust inside of you that had both of you biting back moans.

“More,” you whined lowly. He was holding you so tightly you were sure to be bruises, and one of his hands moved down to smooth over your thigh, a sharp smack sounding through the air paired with the light sting as you moaned into your arm. You let out a dreamy breath, feeling him pump deeper thrusts inside of you.

And God he was deep. You felt a burn deep inside your stomach, the repeating motions of his hips pushing into yours was felt so deliciously inside of you. Harry was already panting from above you, sharp breaths as he leant his weight back over yours to drag his mouth over your neck.

One of his hands sneaked around your legs, palm smoothing over your lower stomach with a slow and soothing pattern, a sharp contrast to the way he was deeply pushing into you.

“Oh…!” You moaned lowly when the hand over your belly sneaked down lower, two fingers circling over your clit right above where you were connected. “Harry –”

“Tell me it’s good,” he breathed, fingers rubbing over the sensitive bit of nerves.

“Always,” you called, voice wavering unattractively. Your own moan cut you off, voice tapering away as it seemed to get caught in your throat when his fingers moved on your clit with purpose. “You feel so good.”

Harry was watching your every reaction to him, attentive to the way you reacted – he was happy to feel as though nothing had changed after all this time, he was happy to see that you were enjoying this just as much as he was.  

He found himself holding back his tongue as confessions of love were about to spill from his lips.

Whine laced breaths were caught on Harry’s mouth when he pressed it against your own in a heavy kiss. His hips were pumping into yours with a steady pace, as if each move was so perfectly calculated when really the simple truth was that you both worked perfectly well together.

Your core was clenching around him, not even realizing that you were doing so as the euphoria in your body was building right back up. You were quietly whining his name, barely aware of the way your nails dug into his back.

Your first orgasm of the night came suddenly. It was as if something quickly snapped inside of you, a sharp break as you were quickly pushing your hips into his with an arch in your back, calling for the heavens and Harry.

His lips hovered by your ear, murmuring a string of praises while your core spasmed around him in the aftershocks of your release. It wasn’t the most mindblowing orgasm of your life, but after a long time of not being properly taken care of, it was just what you needed.

Harry barely slowed as you came around him, chest heaving into yours at the sharp pleasure of feeling you come. Though that steady pace faltered when the burning pit in his stomach seemed to grow hotter. He knew he needed to take a moment otherwise he’d be coming far too soon and he really didn’t want your first time back together again wasn’t the best he could give you.

After a short shallow thrust, the feeling of being full was suddenly lost to you as Harry slipped out of you. “Oh,” he muttered, leaning back from above you. He let out a breathless laugh, small shake in his hands. “Fuck – baby you feel incredible.”

But when he didn’t push back inside of you, you looked up at him with glossy eyes with a quiet whine of “what are you doing?”

His chest shook with a breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he willed himself to calm down. “Just, give me a sec’,” he focused all his attention on the slow movement of your hand brushing down his back.

He opened his eyes as a soft giggle escaped your lips, meeting your shinning eyes as he took in every inch of your face. Your fluttering eyelids, blissed out smile that graced your swollen lips, and rounded cheeks that followed your grin.

Raising one hand to cup over your jaw, he traced every line and curve of your face with his thumb as his lips lightly followed its path. After a quiet whimper of his name, he let his mouth fall over yours and kissed you deeply. A hand slid up over the side of your face, fingers petting over your hair in repetitive motions.

“How’re you feeling?” His lips moved over your mouth as they formed the words.

“Good,” you swallowed a dry breath. “really good.”

“We always were really good at this – take care of each other,” you could hear his smirk as his hips rutted over yours, cock sliding over the crest of your thigh. “Made for each other.”

Moaning a breathless yeah, he kissed you deeply once more before you were whining his name into his mouth.

“Please – want you to come,” you kissed over his jaw. “Fuck me – please.”

Harry sucked in a breath with a hiss, your words eliciting a twitch of his length against you. He pushed his hips with your once more, telling you a cheeky “anything for you.”

Lining himself with you once more, pushing in as he kissed over your jaw. He knew it wouldn’t be long until he would be met with his release, and with the way you were clenching around him he hoped you would as well.

You were pushing your hips up to meet his thrust, back arching over the mattress as your fingertips scratched over his back, never letting go. He was still just as deep, still hitting every spot that made you clench around him and call his name into the air as you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Grabbing under one of your thighs, he urged you to hook your legs around his waist. “Right over here,” he begged, as you easily complied, feeling him fit so snug with you. “Good girl,” he kissed the words over your lips. “Keep me here.”

He was easily working you right back up. The sex was always good with him, and you didn’t know if it was because of the recent reunion, the desperateness of the act, but this seemed especially good.

Your eyes were screwed shut, focusing on every feeling of his skin against yours. You felt Harry’s lips press gently over your closed lids.

His mouth was all over you – his hands were all over you. He was everywhere. And you welcomed every bit of it.

“Wanna,” he muttered. “Want to see you,” a kiss was pressed to your shoulder, “open your eyes for me?”

A broken praise of a low “good girl” was mumbled from his lips, as you parted your heavy lids and gazed up at him. His cheek brushed yours, seeming to kiss over every inch of your face. He bowed his head, watching the way your bodies connected – the way he sunk so deeply into you.

His pace was unrelenting, fingers gripping tightly into your skin. One of his hands slid down your arm, unwrapping it from around his back to slot your fingers together and push you into the mattress. You squeezed his hand tightly in your grip, whimpering lowly from beneath him.

He moved your connected hands up over your head, driving down inside of you in deep moves. His lips latched to your neck, muttering near nonsense over your skin. “You make me feel so good,” he groaned, “heavenly.”

Choking over a gasp when Harry’s free hand smoothed over your thigh, kneading into the swell of your bum only to give a small smack over the skin. Involuntarily clenching around him, his hips bucked as his pace grew a little more desperate.

He was nearly shaking from above you. “I’m close –”

You moaned his name over his cheek.

He grunted with a sharp thrust. “Say my name like that, shit, talk to me.”

“Harry…” your voice was low, a whisper over your skin. “Come for me, please I want to feel you.”

He screwed his eyes shut, feeling it near impossible to hold off any longer. The muscles in his stomach were clenched tight, hand holding onto yours for dear life as his mouth slide over your skin.

“I’m – fuck,” his lips brushed yours as he spoke, chest heaving against yours. “Sorry fuck…I’m coming,” he groaned your name, hips hitting one, two times hard into yours as he came inside of you. He stilled for a moment, feeling his cock twitch with his release. You squeezed his hips with your thighs, feeling his weight fall completely on you with his clammy skin sticking to yours.

Repeating your name over and over against your mouth, eyelids completely shut as your hand soothed through his hair. You could feel his heart beating erratically in his chest, a few more sloppy thrusts as he came down from his high.

Seeming like it took all his strength, he pushed himself up on his forearms so that his upper body could rise over yours, he opened his eyes with a few quick blinks.

His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and you immediately noticed the small wet patch of skin under his eyes. You were unable to help the curve in your lips, moving your hand up from the back of his head to rest against his cheek. Wiping away the little trail of tears that graced his cheekbones, you craned your neck to plant a small peck over his lips. “You okay?”

You brushed a thumb over his cheek as he spoke.

“More than,” you could feel his smile over your mouth. “Just overwhelmed – missed your body, missed feeling you.”

“God,” his chest shook with a laugh this time, a small breathless laugh with a shake of his head. “It was fast… wanted to give you more.”

He kissed you once more, tongue moving with yours in slow languid moves. Slowly withdrawing from you, you were both still sensitive and he felt nearly cold without being inside of you. He remained close on top of you, kissing over your neck and down your chest.

His lips gently sucked over your collarbone, moving lower and lower with every breath. He still held himself up with one of his arms, the other falling over your naked frame to grab at wherever he pleased. Hand smoothing down your waist, down to massaged at the sensitive skin of your thighs before moving back up again.

Raising his head, you watched through strands of his hanging hair as his swollen lips circled around your nipple. You felt sensitive all over, every nerve in your body on extremely high alert due to the man hovering over you that was making your head spin.

“What are you –” your voice was quiet once again, a subtle whine laced with the words when Harry sucked darkened marks into your skin. “What are you doing?”

“Let me give you one more,” his voice came out hot, mouth now kissing down your stomach. He rested his cheek on your skin, peering up at your through his eyelashes. “Please? I want to give you one more.”

You moaned breathlessly; the subtle throbbing of your core still apparent ever since he’d withdrawn from you. Murmuring his name into the air, you let your shoulders relax back into the plush mattress as his hands felt up the warm skin of your sides is slow soothing motions. “Give me one more.”

“G’na have to open those legs for me again,” his hands fell to your hips, readjusting himself so that he could lie his body on the mattress. You easily did as he’d said, allowing your knees to fall open and hit the bed. They didn’t stay there for very long, Harry grabbing a light hold of your ankle to place on his shoulder before kissing up your thigh.

Quiet curse was heard in the room when he caught sight of your swollen folds, a mix of both your arousals leaking down your skin.

He quickly caught the salty mix with his mouth, the sudden feeling of his tongue making you gasp with a small jolt. His hands were back on you, holding at your hips as he muttered to keep your thighs close around his head.

His tongue darted over your skin, tasting both of your releases with tantalizingly slow licks. He moved over your hole, a light push inside the warmth before withdrawing just as fast. He held your hips tightly, fingertips digging into the skin to no doubt leave little crescent moon shaped marks of his nails. Barely brushing over your clit, you’re hips were twitching up in search for more of him as the sensitivity seemed to be heightened.

He was working you up the way you knew he would.

Instead of diving right in, he gave you light, barely there touches of teasing licks and hot breaths to work you right up. The tip of his tongue brushed over your clit, circling it over the little bit of nerves in a way that had you calling his name in a breathless pant.

You hadn’t even noticed that one of your hands had found its way to pull at his hair, tugging at the thick strands at ever little touch of his tongue.

And just as you knew him to, he didn’t give you much warning before wrapping his lips around your clit and gave it a harsh suck. Your hips bucked in his touch, the pleasure of his touch coursing up to your head and down to your toes. Your heel dug into his shoulder, not at all caring that much at how tightly you were holding him.

It wouldn’t be long until your second orgasm.

His fingers dragged around your thighs, pushing through your wet folds as he pulled back to watch your slickness coat is fingers.

Lips back on the fleshiest parts of your thighs, he was kissing and sucking until the skin had been completely covered by his touch.

His fingers finally pushed inside of you, two of them maneuvering with skill into the perfect spots that hade you gripping onto him for dear life. Lips back over the bundle of nerves, he licked a slow strip with an obscene sound, before offering your clit all of his attention.

Your orgasm was definitely not far off from the way he moaned over you.

Your hand locked with his again, as you sought it out from where it was holding your thigh down. You caught Harry’s gaze, as he peered up at your through heavy eyelids with blown pupils and red cheeks.

He gave your hand a tight squeeze from where it rested on your leg, doubling his efforts with harsh sucks that had your hips bucking over his mouth.

His fingers were keeping a steady pace, curling up as he wanted nothing more than to have you unravel for him. You cried out his name, knowing how much he loved to hear you moan for him.

“Want you – gonna come for me, right?” He muttered, pulling away for a slight moment as he watched his fingers disappear inside of you. He couldn’t decide where to hold his gaze – from his wet fingers, to your heaving chest, to your completely blissed out face.

“Yeah,” you moaned dreamily, clenching tightly around his fingers as your orgasm was seconds away. “Harry, oh …!”

The heat in your stomach was unbearable, and suddenly you were floating from the mattress as your orgasm took over your body.

Harry’s eyes snapped to yours, watching them fall over him with heart shaped pupils before you were squeezing them shut in pure pleasure. He watched every move of your body, fingers keeping their motions inside of you until your shoulders relaxed back down onto the mattress.

“Shit,” he breathed against your skin, meeting the heavy breaths that were puffing from your chest. “That was…”

He sucked in fingers into his mouth, catching every last taste of you with one last lick over your swollen core that had you whimper in your sensitivity. Another loud kiss right over your hip, he was quickly crawling back up your body until he laying right by your side.

You rolled your head on the mattress, facing him. “That was what?” You quietly asked, smile easily gracing your features.

“Hot,” he breathed with a quiet laugh, “you’re so – beautiful, gorgeous, sexy –”

You pushed yourself to rest completely on your side, hand slide around his shoulder so that you could lean forward and connect your swollen lips.

He was holding you close against his body, a loving and intimate touch that only Harry could give you.

Exhausted seemed to settle into every muscle of your body but a nice kind of tired, like after a long day in the sun. Simply holding each other in a soft embrace, you stayed like that for a while. You couldn’t believe you had just had sex with your ex, with your ex who you were now apparently seeing again.

A little smile grew on your lips.

You couldn’t believe how much you still loved him.

Harry was tracing the line of your shoulder, a mindless action as he enjoyed the feeling of you next to him. He could tell that you were thinking about something, but he didn’t push it. He saw a little roundness to your cheeks, a little smile pulling at your mouth and it warmed his still rapidly beating heart.

After a moment you reluctantly lifted yourself away from Harry to stand from the bed. Limbs slipping from his, you went from feeling every inch of his skin to none at all.

“Where are you going,” he called with a groan, although followed your motions until his feet were planted over the floor.

“Washroom,” you called behind you, settling down on shaky legs as you made the short walk. You peered over your shoulder and where Harry was still sitting on the bed. “Can I borrow some clothes again?”

Harry smiled. “What’s mine is yours.”

You only laughed with a little shake to your head, taking a moment for yourself as you got yourself cleaned up. Moments later harry was by your side, pulling a warm hoodie over your head.

He was unable to keep his hands off of you.

Whether it was as you did your nightly routine and he was pressing his side against your, or when he hugged you from behind to kiss over the side of your face, or when his hand gripped yours to pull you back to bed.

The best was always lying close next to him, feeling his heartbeat steady with yours as sleep easily took over your tired bodies. His lips smoothed over the top of your head, telling you a quiet “goodnight, m’love.”

It was the best sleep the both of you had in months.

more to come .. thank you for reading and please let me know what you think <3

#this part was going to be longer but writing has been slow .... might split up part 3 into two parts <3 #thank u for reading <333 #sp #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine

[maximoff-pan]

they’re not the only ones iii | benedict bridgerton

Summary: 4 times your life with Benedict changed for the better, and the 1 time it stayed the same (or, four life changing moments pre and post marrying Benedict, and one extra fluffy moment of pure domestic bliss)…

Pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warning(s): another 4 + 1??? oops I know, fluff (lots of it), mild angst, you know the drill by now

A/n: hi lovelies! The third part is finally here! I’m not sure I like it as much as the first two (I struggled a lot writing it and self doubt started to creep in as always), but I just wanted to thank you all for being so kind and so patient with me. It means the world! I hope you all enjoy and please let me know what you think! Comments and feedback are much appreciated <3

read part one & part two

i

telling the family

Bored, boring, boredom…

Anthony’s eyes trail across his mother’s sitting room, most of her eight children apart from Gregory and Hyacinth, are conversing amongst each other. He finds himself sitting idly beside Kate, Daphne and Simon across from them. He picks his nails in disinterest.

Now, not to be rude, he’s sure they’re having a lovely conversation full of important things he should be listening to, but he just can’t seem to bring himself to focus on it. Instead, their voices meld into nothing, simply static in the brainwaves of his mind.

His breathing slows into a shallow rhythm as his line of sight drifts, further and further to the left, until it hits you. You’re laughing at something Benedict has said, nearly doubled over in glee. It’s not an unusual occurrence, but it strikes him suddenly.

Everything seems to be normal, he supposes, and yet it feels oddly so. Anthony cannot for the life of him describe it, but there’s this nagging feeling in his chest that’s telling him, screaming at him: something’s different.

Benedict’s hand resting on your knee, the carefree echo in your laugh, the twinkle in both of your eyes, it’s almost regular, almost like it always has been between you, but Anthony would put his life on it, there’s been a shift. It’s almost like….

In a split second, Anthony perks up in his seat, startling his wife and causing three pairs of eyes to snap to him.

“Anthony, are you alright?” The three of them inquire. He ignores them, his revelation much too important to lose focus on.

You know. He thinks. You and Benedict, you’re together. And not just in the sense that you’re sitting beside each other, enjoying one another’s company, no. Anthony Bridgerton is no man’s fool, romance, love, desire, it’s all present in your body language. You and Benedict are no longer just friends.

A smile spreads across his face, maniacal with a hint of amusement. Equally, in his heart, he’s happy. Anthony cannot think of two people who belong together more, and yet he wonders, why haven’t you told anyone yet?

He decides, if you won’t, he’s going to. Oh, he salivates at the thought, the fun he could have with this…

Abruptly standing, he waves off Kate’s protests of concern as he edges his way closer to the other side of the room, leaving his wife and the Bassets behind in confusion. Plopping himself down on the couch where you, Benedict, and Eloise are sitting, he eyes Colin and Penelope who are sat across from the three of you.

“Brother!” Colin exclaims. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

You can feel Anthony’s amber orbs burning a hole through you, his voice utterly clinical as he says, “I’m testing a theory.” He’s observing you, and you don’t like it in the slightest.

“A theory?” Eloise closes her book in excitement. “And what might that be?”

Anthony’s gaze narrows and his jaw clicks in focus. He’s debating whether he should be forthcoming with his suspicions, or if he should keep toying with you a little longer. It could be fun to watch you squirm. But then again, outing your secret relationship, with no warning at that, might be more shocking, and even more fun.

He decides to go for the former, revealing, “Two people in this room, are recently engaged.”

Your eyes fly to Benedict’s in a brief panic. Both of your gazes read the same: how could Anthony have possibly figured it out? It’s not like either of you have been obvious about it. As far as you’re aware, you’ve kept everything the same, oblivious pining included.

Now, before he can pat himself on the back too much, Anthony hadn’t been sure of your engagement before he’d said anything. He’d simply assumed, (a dangerous game to play when one is uncertain), and decided to take the risk by voicing that assumption. But based on the premise that Benedict looks like his life has flashed before his eyes, and that he’s gone so white he could rival any ghost, Anthony knows he’d been bang on the money. He’s quite proud of himself if he’s being honest, his pat on the back now well earned.

Eloise drops her book in a haste as she exclaims, “How could you have kept this from me?” Your heart races, trying desperately to avoid her eye. Except, she’s not talking to you or Benedict. She’s directing her assertion towards Penelope and Colin.

Penelope opens her mouth to protest, but no words come out, while Colin’s jaw opens, then closes, then opens again in shock, as his brows furrow in confusion. This is making no sense to either of them.

Unfortunately for them (or fortunately depending on who you’re asking), Eloise has the wrong couple, and Anthony knows it. “Not them.” He chides, lips smirking in enjoyment.

At that, Colin releases a loud sigh of relief. “I thought I would remember proposing.”

Penelope finds her voice, laughing that bubbly laugh she often does. “I should hope so.” She narrows her eyes, focus resting solely on you. “But that would mean…” she trails off airily.

You avert your gaze from her, not quite ready to confront it, before you shift your focus to the oldest Bridgerton. He’s sitting like he’s perched, waiting for the fog to clear. You lick your lips in concentration, eyeing Anthony down. The smug bastard’s relishing in this game, but you won’t let him win. Beside you, Benedict isn’t so sure. He’s struggling to keep quiet, ready to come clean about everything, yet he’s not positive he’d be able to find the words if he tried.

“Oh…” A look of realization dawns on her face. Penelope’s figured it out, you’re fairly sure everyone has.

There’s a sudden shift in the air. Four pairs of eyes turn to you and your betrothed, three in shock, and one in utter delight. He’s ready for the fun to begin.

Benedict’s gone as white as a sheet; you’ve never seen him so pale. But you hang on with a smile on your face. You’re not about to give Anthony the satisfaction of seeing you lose your composure.

You sigh internally, you guess this is payback for trying so hard to out Anthony’s feelings for Kate before they got engaged. And for making fun of him for being so blindly lovesick. And for many other things, you’re sure. So maybe you deserve this a little bit. But only a little.

Besides, the Bridgerton’s were going to have to find out about your engagement eventually. Why not now?

“What?” You question them, hand reaching for Benedict’s. He calms under your touch, a small smile resting on his face. There’s a smugness of your own forming in your tone, “Are we to pretend that none of you saw this coming?”

Anthony chuckles at your response. You’re both taking this way better than he thought. Of course you’d have to go ruin all the fun by being mature adults about the situation. Damn you.

“You’re engaged?” Eloise splutters rather loudly, alerting everyone else in the room.

And it’s not a second later that Daphne has darted up from her seat, rushing her way towards you. “Please tell me I heard Eloise correctly.” She breathes, nearly squealing. “Because it sounded to me like you and my dearest brother are to be wed.”

“Daphne.” Simon urges, now standing beside her. He’s chuckling at his wife’s excitement. “Give the poor girl some space.”

You and Benedict share a smile, as he prepares himself for the onslaught of questions that are to come. “We wanted to wait a while before we told anyone.” Benedict turns to his oldest sibling pointedly. “But I suppose Anthony had other plans.”

“As I see it,” Anthony interjects. “It is merely reparation for old ploys. Your intended should surely understand.”

Brown eyes meet (e/c) knowingly. You more than understand; it’s all in good nature. As far as your relationship with the viscount is concerned, you’ve always held a playful rivalry with each other.

“And you were most correct (Y/n),” Eloise cuts in, one hand resting on her hip and the other resting at her side, “we all saw this coming.” She pauses. “Maybe not in this fashion, but certainly with the same end result.”

The matter of fact manner of the statement makes you smile, as you watch each of Benedict’s siblings nod in agreement. Even Simon takes part in the teasing. This feels like what a family should be like, this feels like home.

And as Anthony takes a step back from the huddled group of Bridgerton’s, he feels Kate’s hand brush against his, as she pulls him into the corner of the room. A cheeky grin adorns her face. She’s just as happy as Anthony to see you and Benedict together, finally after everything. Even more so, she’s amused with how everyone found out.

Eyeing her husband, mischief laced in her tone, she leans into him whispering, “You simply could not help yourself.” Her voice sends shivers down his spine. “You just had to meddle.”

He hums right back, careening under her touch. “That I did, my love. You know me too well.”

Kate smiles to herself, and sighs. If there’s two things she knows for certain, it’s that yes, she knows Anthony Bridgerton better than even the man himself, and equally, she’s never been more glad that he’s a meddlesome match maker with a penchant for interfering with his siblings love lives.

Because as far as she’s concerned, outside of her relationship with her husband, there’s no two people more suited for each other than you and Benedict. Of that, she is unequivocally sure.

ii

the wedding

You’ve dreamed of this day for what feels like your entire life: your wedding to Benedict Bridgerton. But now that it’s finally here, you can’t help but want it to be over. And not in a bad way. You love weddings, you think they’re positively magical, but by God do you want yours to be over.

Because if you have to wait one more second to kiss Benedict, really kiss him, you think you might die. And yes, that is definitely an exaggeration, but you just cannot wait to be his wife. The ceremony is nice, of course, although it’s really more for your families. Because if you’re being honest, you’d marry Benedict on the busy streets of London in a ratty old dress if it meant you could be his.

You’d truly do anything to marry him.

The ceremony is held at Aubrey Hall, with only your closest family and friends invited. It’s quiet and quaint like you both wanted, neither of you caring too much to make a spectacle out of your wedding.

All in all, the guest list is essentially made up of Benedict’s mother, his siblings and their significant others, your parents, and Lady Danbury of course. It just seemed right, having a more intimate and private ceremony. It’s all you could ever need, especially considering if given the chance, you would’ve just as easily run off and eloped with Benedict, to avoid the hassle of a large wedding.

And when it’s over, and you’ve finally said ‘I do’, you kiss him like you’ve never kissed him before. You kiss him with hope and passion, a glimpse of the future you are to have with him. It leaves you wanting more, wanting all of him. Because no one else could complete you like he does.

Benedict feels more than the same. Because when he’d seen you walk down the carpeted aisle, and into the garden outside of his childhood home, he’d never felt anything like it. It was as if his life with you flashed before his eyes, all those years you spent loving each other in secret, preparing him for this day. And when you leapt up to kiss him, he felt his heart soar.

You’re his wife, and he’s your husband, ‘til death do you part. It’s almost surreal to think about.

But it’s truly at the reception where you both feel most at ease. While your wedding was wonderful, you’re more than excited that it’s over. Because you’re married now. And you can act like it. You no longer have to hide your affections, hold back on your touches. You can dance as many times as you like without society judging you for it, and you can kiss your husband in glee.

It’s an utterly freeing feeling, listening to the music drift around you, as you waltze in Benedict’s arms. Everyone is enjoying the party, either dancing or simply chatting amongst themselves, plenty of food and drink to go around. The sounds of laughter and joy make you smile. This is your family now, and you couldn’t be happier about it.

A soft sigh momentarily catches you off guard. Your husband, you smile to yourself. He’s trying to get your attention, successfully so. You hum in his arms, urging for him to speak up. And when he does, his voice is angelic.

“Look at me darling.” Benedict tilts your chin upward, eyes meeting yours with so much love. “No one else matters.” He murmurs. It’s almost as if he’s trying to convince you of that fact, something he need not do.

“How could they?” Your smile is sweet, your voice airily drifting with the warm breeze. “When I have you as my husband.”

He hums, swaying you gently back and forth. “I do love it when you call me that.”

“Oh you do, do you?” You tease playfully. Jesting has always been one of the foundations to your friendship. That’s not about to change after over two decades. “I would have never guessed.”

Benedict eyes you with want, nearly growling as he pulls you into a searing kiss. “But not as much as I relish in calling you my wife.”

A light gag interrupts your moment.

“A tad possessive are we?” Eloise’s voice snaps in, gravelly and raw. You both break apart with dopey grins, the look of desire still resting on your faces. Her eyes meet Benedict’s as she mocks an expression of disgust. “I hadn’t thought you capable of it.” She finishes.

Benedict lets out something akin to a snort. “And I hadn’t thought you capable of being a meddlesome, pestering young woman.” He pauses, sarcasm running through his words. “Oh, wait…”

Eloise scrunches her face in faux distaste.

“Eloise.” Anthony chides, sauntering next to her, more than ready to continue the child like Bridgerton banter, “Leave the poor couple alone.” He’s teasing her, trying to get on her nerves. And quite frankly, you find it hilarious.

“I’m simply stating my opinion brother.” She tilts her head innocently. It amuses you because Eloise is anything but. And everyone knows it. “As a woman should.” There it is.

Anthony chuckles, brown eyes glimmering with mischief. “We’re well aware of your thoughts on the subject of marriage and public displays of affection sister, but please do allow the newlyweds to enjoy themselves. This day only happens once in a lifetime after all.”

Eloise scoffs. “Never.” She taunts with the raise of her brow. “What would be the fun in that?”

Benedict’s eyes flick between his two siblings, a wide smile growing on his face. He turns to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in closer.

You know that look, you know it well. Benedict is nothing if not a pathetic sap for pretty words, especially when he’s the one uttering said pretty words.

“It is really a shame that I find myself indifferent to what either of you think.” He starts, throwing caution to the wind. “And because I cannot find a more intelligent way to put this, I’ll simply say what is on my mind…”

Eloise and Anthony share a look of pure amusement, they too know what is to come. “Please do.” They say in unison, surprising each of the siblings. This might be the first time in a long while that they’ve agreed on anything. And it just had to be at your expense.

“Simply put,” he smiles, voice going soft. Maybe he’s had a bit too much to drink. “I love my wife. And I want nothing more than to show everyone that I love my wife, and to be insufferably enamoured with each other for the rest of my life. If that is an issue for anyone, I do not believe I could force myself to care.”

“Mm,” Anthony hums in agreement, taking a swig of his own drink as he cheers to Benedict’s half-speech.

Eloise scoffs. “Oh, is that all brother?” She asks.

A deadpan expression crosses Benedict’s face, and you giggle at the sight.

“Eloise, Eloise, Eloise.” Anthony tsks. “That, was simply the tip of the iceberg that is Benedict’s love for (Y/n). It will never be all.”

“Anthony is right.” Benedict asserts.

“As I always am.”

Eloise rolls her eyes. “Oh please. There is nothing easier to be correct about than Benedict being madly in love with his wife.”

Anthony sticks his tongue out at her, mumbling something along the lines of, regardless, I was still right. It’s immaturity at its finest, and you’re enjoying every second of it.

You let out a genuine laugh at the exchange, “Alright children. Calm yourselves.”

“Look at you.” Anthony’s eyes bore into yours, cheekily. “Not even hours after your wedding and you’re already so motherly. It’s adorable really.”

“Very funny.” Is your immediate reply.

“How mature.” Is Eloise’s.

And as the three of you continue to banter back and forth, spitting joking insults and hurling equally venomous retorts, Benedict can’t help but let out a sigh of contentment.

He’ll admit, after that night at Lady Danbury’s where you’d gotten engaged, he had been a little nervous that your relationship turning from platonic to romantic would be an adjustment not only for the two of you, but for his siblings as well. Because as long as you’d known his family, you and Benedict had simply been friends, although as he quickly came to find out, not one Bridgerton thought you wouldn’t end up together.

But seeing you and his siblings laughing together, poking fun and joking around with one another, he knows that his initial concern was sheer stupidity on his part. Because if he’s being honest, the only thing that has changed, is that instead of being simply best friends, you are now best friends who know they are in love with each other.

Best friends who are married. Yes, he smiles, he quite likes that sound of that. (Y/n) and Benedict Bridgerton, husband and wife. He would never and could never want it any other way.

iii

lady whistedown…

“Colin,” Eloise’s raspy voice is laced with sleep. It’s late, she’s tired, and she wants nothing more than to go to bed. “Whatever it is you wish to tell us, could it not have waited until the morning?”

Your gaze flicks to your husband’s, a reassuring calm passing over you. Both of you watch as the two siblings have a near stand off. And while you agree, it is extremely late, and you are quite tired, you can’t help but find yourself intrigued by the situation.

“No.” Colin’s eyes are frantic. “This cannot wait.”

It’s such an interesting turn of events, you ponder with a smile on your face. Eloise, who usually thirsts for knowledge, appearing so disinterested at the prospect of her brother’s clearly important information.

Eloise huffs, equally expectant and annoyed. “Go on then,” she waves. “If you must.”

Colin hesitates, struggling to find his words. “I—I don’t know how,” he stutters. His jaw is clenched, and his eyes dart across the room. And while his distress is only furthering Eloise’s displeasure, it causes something different for you.

A pang in your chest forms. Empathy, you recognize. Something is distressing Colin so much so that he can’t form the words. He looks like his life has been turned upside down, like the world is crumbling at his feet. And it hurts you.

You’ve never seen him like this. Neither has Benedict.

Unclasping your hand from your husband’s, you reach forward for Colin. Maybe another person’s touch will ground him; it’s always worked with Benedict.

He reacts immediately, eyes meeting yours, a sigh falling from his lips. “I’m afraid to say anything.” He says finally. “Because it’s not my secret to tell, but it hurts.” You can see he’s on the verge of tears, hear the quiver in his voice. “It hurts more than anything I have felt in my life.”

Betrayal is the one word that comes to your mind. Colin feels betrayed. And that can only mean one of a few things, one of which sticks out like a sore thumb. Penelope Featherington. It has to be her; no one else has this kind of power over Colin.

And because of that, you know exactly what is troubling him. He knows who she is, what she’s done. “Is this about Lady Whistledown?” You ask softly, already knowing the answer.

As he nods, you watch the recognition flood across his face. Colin now knows you know, something not even Benedict is aware of. His gaze darts to Eloise suddenly and then back to you, as if asking, does she know?

You can’t help but notice the subtext behind his stare that goes beyond her simple knowledge of Penelope’s identity. It’s more than that. Does my sister know her best friend is a prolific liar? Does she feel the same betrayal I do?

Benedict takes note of this silent conversation you’re having with his brother. His brows furrow, and his lips pull into a tight thin line. He’s never felt more confused in his life. Because as he can see by the softened expression on Eloise’s face, even she’s clued in to Colin’s news.

And he, for the life of him, cannot seem to read between the lines. What is he missing?

“Penelope, she—“ Colin breathes, only to be cut off by a cough from Benedict.

“Hold on.” Benedict’s hand shoots up in protest, the dots starting to connect. “Penelope is Lady Whistledown?”

The silence that ensues is all the confirmation he needs. Three pairs of eyes hit the floor. You’re avoiding his gaze. “And you knew?” Benedict’s voice is directed at you, although he’s just as pointed towards Eloise. He can’t blame Colin for any of this.

Colin’s eyes widen as he takes in Benedict’s words. He turns to you and Eloise. “Neither of you told him?” He asks.

In unison, you say, “no.” There’s apprehension in both of your tones, nervous and unsure of how Benedict will react.

“I found out a few nights ago.” Colin eyes you and his sister in curiosity. “How long have you known?”

“A couple of months.” Eloise muses quietly.

“I’ve known for about half a year.”

Half a year? The words blur in Benedict’s mind, that’s an incredibly long amount of time for you to hold this in. It must have been eating you alive.

Benedict takes one look between you and his sister, stormy eyes narrowing, lips pursed in deep thought. He wants to be mad, wants to yell at you both, wants to scream it from the top of his lungs. He wants to feel betrayed, wants to feel as if his heart is wrenching, but he can’t. Oddly, he’s more so impressed. It’s almost sickening the sense of pride that blooms in his chest. How could you have possibly managed to stay so tight lipped about this? And for this long?

Benedict had always known of Eloise’s capabilities to keep things to herself, as she is merely happy to know something everyone else doesn’t, relishing in that, but you? He thought you simply incapable of keeping secrets from him. You like to talk, love to tell him things, and even more, you enjoy hearing his opinion on matters of both monumental and little significance. Your conversations have always been full of give and take, a mix of playful banter and riveting intellectual debates, with a hint of London gossip thrown in there for good measure.

Looking back on it, you’ve always told each other everything, especially something as big as this. And this time, you hadn’t.

He’s having trouble wrapping his brain around it, but he’s not mad.

“I thought I knew everything there was to know about you my love.” Benedict’s voice finally cuts through the thick silence. He’s teasing and relaxed, no anger in his posture.

Relief floods you as a laugh falls from your lips. “I believe you were wrong, darling.”

“I suppose I was.” Benedict smiles, his eyes twinkling in utter adoration. He couldn’t be more in love with you if he tried.

And this confuses Colin profusely. Not that Benedict loves you, that much is easy to understand. But you had kept a secret from your husband for over six months, hidden something so life changing from him for so long, and the minute Benedict finds out, he’s teasing you, joking with you, as if nothing has happened. As if nothing is to change because of it.

“How can you be so alright with this?” Colin questions, turning to his brother in confusion.

“Because,” Benedict muses, “as you so eloquently put it brother, it was not her secret to tell.”

“And you think that makes it acceptable to keep secrets from the person one loves?”

“In certain circumstances, I do.” Benedict says, wisdom coursing through his tone. “Besides Colin, this was never about me or my relationship with my wife. As I see it, you are projecting.” Benedict is egging him on, daring him to bite.

And he does, “projecting?” Colin scoffs in disbelief.

“You love Penelope. That is why you are so hurt by this.” Blue gaze meets blue. Colin melts. He knows he’s right. “But sometimes, you must let past grievances die. And allow your instincts to take over.”

Colin nods, swallowing. He wants to forgive Penelope, and in his heart, he knows he already has. Tilting his head in bemusement, he challenges, “And what of your instincts brother?”

Benedict turns to you, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “My love for my wife,” he says, “is the greatest instinct I have.”

And in Benedict’s mind, truer words have never been spoken…

iv

you’re what?!

Daphne’s eyes watch you carefully. It’s a normal evening, as far as she’s aware, yet something seems off. Ever since you and Benedict got married, Daphne has insisted upon having you both for dinner at Clyvedon every couple of weeks. And so you’ve done just that, happy to spend time with her, Simon, and little Auggie.

But tonight, you appear far off, lost in thought. You’ve barely spoken, only adding little bits to the conversation when asked, and you’ve been incessantly fiddling with your hands.

The biggest indicator of your strange behaviour, was your refusal for a glass of wine. At first, it had completely gone over Daphne. You’ve never been one for alcohol, so she’s not surprised she missed it, but as she ponders herself, it makes her think.

When dinner is over, she scoops Auggie up in her arms, and with her free hand, she reaches for yours, leaving Simon and Benedict to whatever they had been discussing. It’s not unusual for her to whisk you off to their sitting room for some tea and a tad bit of gossiping, but Daphne’s abruptness leaves you a little concerned.

Shutting the door quietly, she moves to sit down on the couch, Auggie on her lap. She smiles, beckoning you over with loaded enthusiasm.

You sit down next to her, turning your body to face hers. “Is everything alright?”

“Quite.” She grins, beaming. She knows something, and you don’t like it. It leaves you tensing at her tone, hidden with several implications.

You wonder if she’s figured you out. It wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest, and though you’ve tried to hide it, Daphne’s a woman, and a smart woman at that. The clues would be all too obvious to her.

“You’re with child.” She says finally, confirming your suspicions. It’s not a question, it’s a statement, as if she could never be wrong about something like this.

All of a sudden, a wave of nausea passes over you, anxiety building in your stomach. You haven’t seen a doctor yet, but you’re fairly certain it’s true. “I haven’t had my monthly in over sixty days. And I’ve been feeling rather ill.” You say. “It’s either that, or something is terribly wrong.”

When you look back at her, the smile that has grown on her face is enormously giddy. It spreads from cheek to cheek, her eyes beaming with intensity. “Oh!” She claps her hands together in joy. “This is wonderful news.” Daphne gently spins Auggie around in her lap so he’s facing her. “Did you hear that Aug? Your second cousin.”

The word second makes you smile, thinking of Kate who’s far along with her first child, Auggie’s first cousin. For the past number of months, since he’d found out about her pregnancy, Anthony has been quite the worry wart. It’s hilarious really, for everyone but Kate, watching him hover. Because as much as everyone knows Anthony is a control freak, it is equally known how independent Kate is. She hates being told what she can and cannot do, while he, more than enjoys giving out orders. You know he’s doing it out of love, but for the life of him, the poor man cannot seem to take a hint.

You chuckle lightly in thought. It’s comforting to think about how close in age your children will be. You can only hope they’ll be great friends. And if they’re anything like their Bridgerton side of the family, hell hath no fury, you’re in for the ride of a lifetime.

“Where has your mind gone?” Daphne’s voice breaks in, tone inquisitive.

“To Anthony and Kate.” Your eyes meet hers with a soft smile.

“Ah.” She grins. “He’s become quite unbearable I hear.”

You agree, humming lightly in response. “Kate says he never leaves her side unless absolutely necessary. I suppose he’s simply worried for her, but it does seem a tad excessive.”

“A tad?” Daphne laughs. “If Simon had behaved half as crazed as Anthony when I was pregnant with Auggie, I believe I might have gone mad.”

“And I wouldn’t blame you.”

Your giggles fill the room, genuine happiness spreading throughout it. And in your distracted state, neither of you notice the door crack open, Benedict hovering gently on the other side. He means to knock, truly, but the sweet sounds of your laughter leave him dazed.

“Speaking of doting husbands,” Daphne collects herself, her brow raising in curiosity, “does Benedict know?”

And this is his cue to enter, he thinks, his own curiosity overtaking his want to continue eavesdropping.

Pushing the door open and stepping through the threshold, he doesn’t give you the chance to respond. “Do I know what?” He asks.

You freeze in your seat, eyes widening, anxiety spiking.

It’s crazy how in a matter of moments, your life can change so drastically. One second you’re a simple married woman who’s undeniably enamoured with her husband, and the next, impending motherhood is smacking you in the face. And it’s not that you’re not excited, because by god, you are, it’s just this irrational fear creeping in that maybe Benedict won’t be happy, that maybe he’s not ready to be a father, that has you reeling. You know it’s silly, stupid really, but it’s almost like this fear is primal, because as far as you’re concerned, it’s extremely difficult to shake.

In all honesty, you’re not quite sure when you decided to find your voice, nor are you sure of what you’ve actually said, because when you turn your gaze, catching Benedict’s, he’s looking at you in shock, like the air has been ripped from his lungs.

“You’re—” Benedict’s grip on reality feels quite thin, because he’s not certain he’s heard what he thinks he’s heard. “You—you’re…” He can’t bring himself to say it, too scared to get his hopes up in case he had been wrong.

You swallow, nerves bundling in your stomach as you wring your hands together. Your eyes dart, looking for anything but Benedict’s ocean like gaze, as you try to focus on your breathing. Slowly, you tell yourself, in and out. You hadn’t noticed when Daphne had left the room, so consumed by your thoughts that you can’t believe you’d missed it.

It doesn’t seem like Benedict’s noticed her absence either, and if he has, it appears that he doesn’t care much. He’s merely focused on you.

“Please tell me I’m not losing my sanity, and that I heard you correctly.” Benedict pleads, his voice cracking with hope. He so desperately wants it to be true. “Are you with child?”

You cannot find the words; none of them seem right. Instead, you nod, too overwhelmed to do anything else. Before you know it, Benedict is rushing forward, scooping you in his arms and wrapping you in his embrace. The first thing you remember hearing is his chortled laughter, and the sound of your heart beating in your ears.

Your eyes brim with tears. He’s happy, you think, and you couldn’t be more elated. Relief floods through you as you allow your body to collapse into him.

“A baby.” He whispers into your ear, his brain moving faster than he can process it.

“Our baby.” You smile.

From outside the door, Daphne and Simon stand leaning against the walls opposite each other, grins resting on their faces. As much as Simon likes to pretend he’s indifferent, his heart says otherwise, a feeling of warmth spreading across his chest. He’s always had a soft spot for children. Daphne knows just that.

Gleaning her husband’s happiness, she reaches for his hand. He pulls her gently to his side, his arm draping across her body, and she wraps herself around him.

She sighs in contentment. “I believe I recall telling (Y/n) that that would be her one day.” She pauses, thumb tracing circles over Simon’s palm. “Raising a Bridgerton baby.” She smiles at the memory. It hadn’t been long ago, merely a few months had passed since.

And she had been right of course, as Daphne Bridgerton so often was. A baby Benedict and (Y/n) Bridgerton; chuckling she thinks, she can only hope the little one takes after you…

+ i

domestic bliss

Whoever told you parenting was easy, that it comes naturally, as if it’s some kind of instinct you have, has never given birth to three boys in only a little under three years. Difficult doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Chaos runs your life, or at least that’s what it appears like to you. You’re sure your family would tell you otherwise, that you always look so calm and put together, but quite frankly, you haven’t felt like that since before your first child was born.

You wouldn’t give it up for the world, nor would Benedict, but you have to admit, it’s more than a little tiring pretty much all of the time.

“Can I hold the baby mama?” Your oldest son Charles’ voice breaks your moment of silence.

“Of course you can darling.” You smile, patting the spot beside you. “Why don’t you climb on the bed here, and I’ll place her in your arms.”

Charlie beams up at you, eyes twinkling in delight. He giggles as you place your daughter Violet down gently, resting her neck under the palm of his small hand so that he’s cradling her nicely. “She’s beautiful mama.” He says. For a seven year old, he’s mature for his age, and certainly your calmest child.

Your lips lift into a soft smile. Quiet moments like these are few and far between. “I like to think so.”

Before you can prepare yourself for it, your serene bubble is burst as you hear two little pairs of feet padding quickly into the bedroom, followed by your husband’s unimpressed stare. “Trouble, the pair of you.” He eyes your four year old twins Alexander and William.

“We wanted to see the baby.” Alex pouts.

“But papa said we had to wait.” Will finishes for him.

You let out a bright laugh, gaze turning to your husband. “I am guessing that waiting is something they could not do.”

Benedict grins sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. “They are Bridgerton’s after all.” He quips. “We’re not exactly known for our patience.”

“I suppose not.” You relent teasingly, beckoning the twins forward. You watch as they clumsily climb their way onto the bed, eager to get a look at their sister.

Violet, only days old, has been a surprisingly calm baby, taking after her oldest brother. And a nice change of pace at that.

You remember after the twins were born just how fussy they’d been. You’d practically gone delirious just trying to keep up with them, and you’ve been trying desperately to do so ever since, never quite gaining enough ground.

“Look, Charlie!” William coos from above, leaning over the baby. “She’s smiling at you.”

The interaction warms your heart, watching your boys excited about their little sister. Even though you know Violet is much too young to be smiling and it’s likely just gas, you’d never ruin their moment.

Alexander whines slightly, feeling left out of the bunch. “Let me see Will.”

As he goes to push his brother out of the way, Benedict holds his hand up in protest, releasing a cough to gain his children’s attention. “Wait your turn.” He jests, sending Alexander a coy smile.

Benedict makes his way to the other side of the bed, allowing Charlie to be cozily sandwiched between the two of you. You share a sweet smile, blue eyes meeting (e/c).

Charlie begins to wiggle his way to the centre of the bed, Violet still tucked carefully in his arms. He’s moving delicately, as if she might break in his grasp. You watch lovingly as the twins shuffle their way over, one sitting on each side of their older brother. They take turns leaning in and cooing at the baby, absolutely entranced with her.

This allows your husband to slide in closer to you, wrapping and arm around your shoulder lovingly.

Benedict sighs. “I must admit,” he begins tracing circles on your forearm with his thumb, “I did miss having a baby in our home.”

You chuckle. “Relish in it.” You advise. “This will be our last one.”

“Oh?” Benedict chides. “That is what every woman says before she’s right back having another. Besides,” he smirks. “You cannot resist me.”

“Mm,” you smile cheekily. “I will admit, it is difficult, but I am more than capable of withstanding your charm.”

“Forgive me Mrs. Bridgerton.” He leans over to place a kiss on your lips and you reciprocate immediately. It always amazes you that he can still manage to take your breath away after all these years. “If I have difficulty believing you.”

You part to the sound of a loud groan from in front of you. “Papa.” Charlie eyes his father. Your children don’t enjoy it when your affections for each other are demonstrated in front of them. “You promised.”

Benedict feigns confusion. “Did I?” He grins. “I suppose it must have slipped my mind.”

Retorting his earlier words, you say, “Perhaps it is you who cannot resist me.”

Benedict tilts his head, brow raised and eyes full of warmth. “Perhaps.”

Your banter is broken by the giggles of your children, both of your gazes turning to them. Admiring the beauty of it all, you allow your hand to find Benedict’s. You share a glance, smiling softly knowing exactly what the other is thinking.

Pride. This is what your love has created. This is how your love will live on. With a beautiful family, indeed.

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tag(s): @acmbooksandfilm @musicallisto @sweetpainterflowercalzone @sanovr @ladyincognito99 @idli-dosa @nevillelongbottton @autumn-slaves @star-flecked-soul @theresaisreading

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton x you #bridgerton imagines #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #they’re not the only ones part iii

[sluttyten]

for writing prompt 18,21,23 with Johnny :)

Johnny + “you need to use your words, love.” + “show me just how much you missed me.” + “show me exactly where you want me.”

You were the one that left Johnny, the one that called quits on this arrangement you had with him. You came to him for sex, he gave you gifts. Really, you'd been getting more out of the arrangement than he had been, but you weren't sure he ever saw it that way.

You were the one that got dicked down regularly, gifted multiple orgasms on a spectacular dick, as well as gifted jewelry and clothes and expensive dinners.

Johnny spoiled you, but you were the one that walked away from it all because you caught feelings and that's the one thing that Johnny had made clear from the start that he wouldn't give you. He wouldn't tell you he loved you, just give you sex and presents, and at first that had seemed like a good deal until suddenly you realized the sour taste in your mouth when you had to leave him.

So you'd left, but after a month away, here you were crawling back to him.

Johnny didn't even look surprised when he opened the door to his apartment and found you standing outside. You felt so small under his gaze, so desperate for him to accept you back. Your heart almost split from the relief when Johnny stepped aside and welcomed you in.

He got a drink for you, a drink for him, and you sat down across from each other in his small living room. And then you looked at each other in silence, sipping your drinks, neither of you saying a word until Johnny eventually got tired of the silence.

"You need to use your words, love. Why are you here?" He sits his glass down heavily on the side table.

You stare down into your glass. Do you tell him the truth? That you left him because you loved him, that you're back because you love him too much to be able to stay away? Does all of this just make you a masochist?

"Baby?" Johnny's voice is soft, prompting you to look up at him again.

When he looks at you as he is right now, as if you're the only person in the world to him, the words fly from your mouth without much more thought.

"I missed you, Johnny. I shouldn't have left, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Why?" He leans forward with his elbows on his knees. "The important thing is that you came back, right? Because you missed me. Do you want to show me just how much you missed me?"

This is how it always goes with him. Maybe a little brief conversation, maybe a drink or two or ten, but soon the situation turns toward sex. That is why this all started out, so you can't be surprised, and even now after a month away, you find yourself drawn into this usual pattern.

Your mouth fills with the hunger to have him.

"Come on, love." Johnny leans back in his seat, spreading his legs temptingly. "Show me just how much you missed me."

One moment you're sitting on the seat across from him, still holding your drink, and in the next you're on your knees in between his legs. Your glass is somewhere behind you long-forgotten, your hands too busy now with unfastening Johnny's pants, getting at his cock that you've missed so much over the last few weeks.

Your moans are all that you hear as you take Johnny's length into your mouth. You've missed having him fill your mouth, weighing down your tongue, gagging you as you push yourself to take him all the way in.

Soon Johnny's hand falls to the back of your head, stroking your hair as you bob on his cock, blowing him to your heart's content. You used to spend ages sucking on his cock, sitting dumbly between his legs with his cock in your mouth while he played games or worked on something on his computer.

Being back here makes you feel like no time has passed, that you've lost nothing with him.

"You're so good for me, love." Johnny tells you, his voice catching low, not letting out a moan, but letting you know that if he would let himself make such a noise in front of you, then he would have. Johnny was never one to let out sweet sounds of pleasure for you; he used his words instead, no matter how many times you'd told him that you wanted to hear him moan. "Missed your pretty lips around my cock."

His thumb traces around your lips as you pull your head up until only his tip rests between your lips.

"So pretty." Johnny's compliments have always gone straight to your head, but after being away from them for a month, this one nearly makes you lightheaded.

You sit back, letting your hand take over from your mouth, and you pout up at him. "I missed you, daddy. I couldn't stay away any longer."

"Yeah? Shouldn't have left me in the first place. No explanation or anything, just gone one morning when I woke up." He pushes his fingers into your hair, tipping your head back so you're looking him right in the eye. "You didn't answer my texts or my calls. And now here you are, back again as if nothing changed, telling me you want me."

You suck your bottom lip into your mouth.

Johnny tuts at you. "Is this all I am to you, baby? Just a cock for you to suck on until you get bored?"

But isn't that basically all you are to him too? Just a pussy to cum in with no strings attached?

You shake your head. He's more to you. Johnny is so much more than just his cock. You love him, and sitting here on your knees before him with his hand tangled in your hair and his cock in your hand, you know that more than ever. You want to be close to him. As close as can be because you want him.

"Johnny, I'm sorry."

He tugs lightly on your hair before releasing his hold. "You just want me. Well, go on, show me exactly where you want me."

It's extremely rare that Johnny lets you do what you want without you begging him endlessly for it, so for him to offer it up to you like this, it takes you a moment to kick into motion.

Johnny watches you with his cool gaze as you stand up smoothly. He watches as you strip out of your clothes, and it's only the slightest bob of his throat that tells you that the sight of you standing entirely nude in front of him is affecting him.

He drops his head back against the back of his seat when you step closer, swinging a leg over his lap to seat yourself there. His hands sit now on either armrest, unmoving even as you start kissing his throat, lightly dragging your wet pussy over his cock.

When this goes on for another minute of him acting entirely unaffected by you, a fear sparks to life in your heart, and you wonder if you're doing something wrong.

The moment you lift your head from his throat, you catch sight of Johnny's eyes closed, his lips parted, his face smooth with quiet pleasure. Then you spot one of his hands clenching the arm of his chair. Maybe he's not so unaffected.

He stays just like that even as you reach down between your body and his to angle his cock for you to sit down on him. The only change is his lips snapping shut, his throat bobbing once more. You like watching him like this, seeing these subtle details that you're sure he doesn't even realize.

Johnny lets you caress his face, only opening his eyes to watch you as you lift yourself up only to drop back down on his cock, your body moving in slow undulations. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and you can't hold back anymore.

You've missed kissing Johnny.

His lips part against yours, and the moment that his tongue touches yours, it's like a switch is flipped. His hands leave the arms of the chair to plant themselves on your hips. He takes control, and you give it over willingly, circling your arms around his neck, drowning in his kiss.

Johnny directs your hips, keeping your hips rolling, bouncing you on his cock. You've missed him so much that the need to cum rises quickly; you've been so horny without him to satisfy you when you needed him to, so you haven't cum once in the month you've been apart.

Johnny smiles as you cum, clenching around his cock and letting sweet moans of his name out.

He keeps going, knowing just how easy it is to pull multiple orgasms out of you. You cum again just a moment later, clawing at his shoulders, which only drives Johnny to fuck you down on his cock faster, loving the feeling of you cumming around him. He fucks you until you're eyes burn and tears drip down your cheeks, and he kisses at your tears, pushing you into another orgasm with his fingers on your clit.

It's the fourth orgasm when you collapse forward, fingernails digging into his skin, your lips pressed to his neck. Your body shivers and twitches, pussy pulsating around his cock and so sensitive that you think just another orgasm might be the end of you.

Johnny, who (for the record, claims) he does not moan, lets out a sound then that sounds a hell of a lot like a moan, though it's cut off a little early. And then he cums inside you, and it feels so good after so long without it, that you feel a little drunk on the feeling of his orgasm mixing with your own.

And much like when you're really drunk, you're happy and crying and the words come out of you before you can think twice about them.

"I love you, Johnny," you cry against his shoulder, your wet cheek sticking to his skin. "That's why I left. I want you, I love you, I missed you."

His hands rub soothingly at your hips. His lips brush your shoulder. "That's okay, love."

That's okay. That's all he had to say when you confessed. Like, that's okay, I forgive you for stupidly falling in love. Or that's okay, but I told you I can't feel the same. You hold still in his arms. Maybe you should leave. Maybe this could've been goodbye, because the last time before this, you didn't think it was going to be the last time, but maybe this one could be.

Johnny strokes your hips, and then he slides his hands higher until he's combing his fingers through your hair and the other hand reaches for your hand. Softly, Johnny tells you, "I missed you too, you know. I didn't like waking up alone, having you leave my messages unanswered. Like, one day I had the world, and the next, I was adrift in space."

You sit up, pushing away from his chest so you can look at his face and make sure that Johnny's actually saying these words.

You've always been under the impression that although you definitely got more out of the arrangement since you got bomb dick and gifts, that you were the one that valued it more than Johnny even though he was the one giving you everything. You thought you were just a fuck, a pretty girl for him to give things to make her look prettier in his eyes. Because he'd told you with words from his own mouth that he wouldn't love you, but now here's these new words, telling you that you were like his world.

"You can't say stuff like this," you tell him, pressing your hand against his chest.

"Like what?" Despite those sweet words, Johnny's face is still the solid, cool expression that you so often see.

You frown. "You can't say stuff, comparing me to being your whole world. Not when you told me that you couldn't or wouldn't love me."

Now it's Johnny's turn to frown. "I didn't say that. I said that I wouldn't tell you that, not that I wouldn't feel that way. I'm not.... I'm not good at saying stuff like that, but that doesn't mean I don't feel that way. I like having you in my life, in my bed. I like treating you to gifts, taking you out, making you happy. You make me happy. I thought we were happy until you vanished last month."

"What a fucking miscommunication this has all been." You slide your hands over his shoulders, thumbs resting on either side of his throat. "I could kill you for the stress you've put me through. So you love me, even if you won't say it? That sounds like a problem I can work with."

Maybe it's a bigger problem, to have a man in your life that claims to love you without using those actual words, but you're certain, as Johnny smiles at you, as that cool facade of his breaks a bit to show you the sunshine he is beneath, that you can pull him out of that shell, disappear his fear of telling you he loves you.

requests are closed now! thank you everyone for sending them in!

#asks #johnny drabbles #johnny smut #nct smut #nct drabbles #tbh i don't know what this is #it's like a johnny fuckbuddies or sug*r d*ddy kinda thing with some more complex bits #like I don't know there's definitely some red flags in there probably #but anyway i hope you enjoyed

[willadisatercrywrites]

Head injuries & passing out!!!

Some realistic aspects of whump you’re probably glossing over/conveying incorrectly Part 2

just some realistic medical accuracies that will bolster your whump writing, and the category is...

the dazed and confused:

a person can experience a lapse in consciousness or lucidity when they receive a traumatic head injury or their bodies are put under severe stress by something like an extreme condition or nasty illness. both symptoms can occur from many different injuries/ailments ranging from blunt force head trauma, drug use, inadequate sleep, malnourishment, physical exhaustion... the option are really endless and not much is out of the realm of possibility in regards to being medically accurate.

a rapid increase in blood pressure is the nervous system’s vasovagal syncope response, also commonly referred to as passing tf out. fainting itself isn’t inherently harmful or dangerous if whumpee gets themselves to the ground before its lights out. pretty much unless the whumpee is in a hostile environment where they don’t have access to food, water, or medical supplies to care for their wounds or sickness, they will be ok and should come to rather quickly!

if the whumpee is exhausted, whether it is because they have physically exhausted themselves by working too hard, not taking the time to properly recover after a fight, disregarding healthy sleeping and eating habits, ignoring a cold or viral bug because they think they can just tough it out etc. they can function in a haze for a pretty solid amount of time before their blood pressure will eventually plummet where the blood vessels relax to reduce resistance in the flow and all of the blood in their body races to their head at once to try and quell whatever is wrong. this will probably come at a breaking point or at the mention of exerting themselves intensely once more. they might be faced with a flight of stairs, or the alarms are going off for another mission, or their superior won’t end the meeting and they didn’t succeed in grabbing a seat before they were all taken. before this they would’ve been sluggish in their movements and sick or tired-looking. they would probably have to ask someone to repeat themselves because their brain is lagging and they can’t grasp whatever’s been said on the first go. they also would experience moments of lightheadedness that would stop them in their tracks and have them searching for purchase on a nearby wall or table as they ride out the blood rush in their ears that is similar to what you might get from standing up too quickly, except this would happen randomly. they might not have a large appetite that day and be uncharacteristically thirsty. there will be moments the whumpee or caregiver finds them swaying unsteadily where they’d be urged to sit down before they collapse. the whumpee would be grumpy about this but they’d listen because at this point they are aware they could very well pass out. too many moments like these and they actually do.

the textbook first aid response is to raise their feet above their heart by either lifting them or elevating them on a higher surface, this gets blood flowing on a path of least resistance to the brian and will help them recover quicker. they should stay on the ground or move into the recovery position on their side until they feel better, then they should move into a sitting position and acclimate to that before trying to stand. they will probably be weak and shakey after this and should go rest and eat something before turning in for the night.

if the whumpee has a head injury, passing out is very dangerous and a type of triage would be to keep them awake until they are evaluated properly. concussions occur when the brain quite literally rattles around in the head a tad too aggressively. this can be caused by violent shaking or what might even be considered a minor blow. think two football players clonking helmets and how when their bodies are thrown back by the force, their brains would be jolted forward in their skulls. this can result in pretty sever concussions that impede cognitive functions without drawing a drop of blood, occurring even within the confines of reinforced protective gear. confusion and disorientation as well as an unpleasant or throbbing pressure would be the first symptoms to present themselves with this type of blunt head injury. memory loss and an overall altered perception of reality could be documented for the first stage of recovery, short term events would be lost on the whumpee and they might find themselves suddenly having no clue what day it is or where they are. they would be sensitive to light and noise and any sort of intense movement depending on the severity of the concussion. and any increase in such would make them dizzy, nauseated, or even lightheaded.

the window of danger for falling asleep or fainting after getting concussed usually passes after the 24 hour mark post injury. the caregiver would likely have to wait up all night shaking awake a lethargic and possibly incoherent whumpee, maybe even taking shifts with others until they don’t think the whumpee would be at risk of not waking up. this type of injury might take months to fully heal from and is very inconvenient and uncomfortable for the whumpee leaving space for a lot of additional hurt and beautiful moments of fussing over/comforting.

head injuries that result in wounds will bleed a horrifying amount for even the tiniest of cuts, the same goes for facial wounds. this is because they are like a million blood vessels up there to get more blood to the brain. so if you have a heavily bleeding head wound... the blood flowing there will be leaving a lot quicker than the body can replenish it and can delve into a dangerous amount of blood loss pretty quickly. any blow to the head will jar you temporarily and leave you virtually incapacitated even if you don’t fall down or lose consciousness. think being paralyzed in sudden and excruciating pain after hitting your funny bone, it passes quickly, but for a solid minute you’re definitely seeing red. a whumpee that gets their head split open can keep fighting on adrenaline as long as they aren’t rendered unconscious right off the bat, but the longer they rely on energy reserves, the more blood they are going to have lost and the harder they’ll crash once they’re safe or the fight is over. the whumpee along with whoever is around them after they receive this hit might think they are relatively okay since they didn’t collapse on impact, but crashing will look like stumbling back to the mode of transport, not being able to stand up after they finish the bad guy off, staring off at nothing while a wave of malaise washes over them once they look at the blood that comes away from the wet spot on the side of their head, etc.

shock is also a silent killer and plays large part in the dazed and confused bit of a flesh wound like this. any type of wound that bleeds for more than a minute will be accompanied by an assortment of shock symptoms like trembling, becoming cold, sudden weakness, incoherence, all to varying severities that coincide with the amount of blood loss sustained, so once again the longer the whumpee pushes or avoids treatment the worse it will be. immediate triage would be to have the whumpee sit and keep them warm with body heat or a blanket as well as keep steady pressure on the wound, additionally it would be ideal to get a bit of sugar in them and have them sip water to calm them down and keep their mind level. remaining clam and warm is really the most important aspects of staving off the worse symptoms of shock like slowed heart rate and shallowed breathing, which isn’t passing out exactly, more like their body slowly shutting down. a whumpee with this type of injury also wouldn’t really pass out in the dramatic way you think of if they didn’t on initial impact, it’d look more like their legs giving out in the middle of their stride, their weight slowly increasing in a friend’s arms during a congratulatory hug, or rushing for the nearest seat after getting a head rush and suddenly very woozy.

#whumpee #whump scenario #prompts #whump things #whump inspiration #whump blog #whump prompt #whump #battle wounds #writing whump #fainting #passing out #head woun

[saltyhyunjae]

CHAPTER THREE: YOU KNOCK ME OUT COLD AND DISAPPEAR

genre/warnings: angst, fluff, slow burn, enemies to lovers (?), kidnapping, criminal!tbz, mentions of guns & knives, small mention of suicide

word count: 2.2k

summary: It’s time for y/n to carry out her escape plan.

part two

“Here’s the diary you asked for.” Kevin gives you a small notebook with a pen. “Thank you.” Tomorrow is gonna be the day. The day you finally escape. When you enter your room, you sit on your bed and write down the info you have gathered all week.

Everyone goes to their room around 2 in the morning. Eric gets his midnight snack at 2:30, and Sunwoo goes to the toilet around 3. By the time they’re all asleep it’s 3:30. Instead of leaving at 3:30 you decide that it’s better to stay put till 4. You also checked the door last night. It doesn’t have any censors and an easy lock. This should be an easy mission.

“Knock knock.” Younghoon walks into your room. You quickly close your diary and put it on your nightstand.

“That’s not how you knock.”

He laughs and lies on your bed. “I’m so bored, what should we do?” “We?” You turn around to face him and he nods. You look outside. It’s been raining all week but the sun has been shining all morning. “Why don’t we sit in the garden?” You suggest. Ever since you came back from the grocery store you’ve only been inside. You needed some fresh air.

After a couple minutes you were outside with Younghoon, sitting on a picnic blanket, eating some fruit and enjoying the nice weather.

“Ah, the weather is great today.” Younghoon smiles, laying down on the blanket and you do the same. You smile at the warm feeling from the sun, finally relaxing.

Even though your eyes are closed, you can suddenly feel a shadow above you, blocking the sun. “What the-, move!” You hear Younghoon complain and you open your eyes to see Hyunjae, standing between you too. If you’re completely honest you’ve been avoiding him ever since what happened that one night. The more you hangout with him, the weirder you start to feel.

“What are you guys doing?” “What does it look like? We’re enjoying the sun.” Younghoon puts his sunglasses back on and lays down again. You’re about to close your eyes again but Hyunjae finds a way to lie between you two. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Younghoon groans. “I wanna enjoy the sun too.” “Go do that somewhere else.” “No.” You scootch over a bit and decide to just ignore him.

»»————-　➴　————-««

After you’re done with cleaning the living room and folding the laundry, Jacob asks you to have another guitar session, to which you excitedly agree. You loved his voice and you were hoping he could tell you a bit more about the boys.

He starts off by singing Paris In The Rain by Lauv. you absolutely love his voice and you automatically start smiling the second you hear him sing. You once again take your time to look at him. He has a soft smile as he sings, his hair falling just right above his eyes that are following the chords of the guitar and his head slowly nodding with the melodies.

When he finishes the song, you applaud him. “Wow Jacob, you’re so good at singing. Do you have some self-written songs?” He nods “I do, do you want to hear one?” You nod excitedly. “This one is called happy-” Jacob gets interrupted by Hyunjae storming into your room. Are you actually kidding me?

“Jacob, Sangyeon needs you to help him.” Jacob nods, stands up and thanks you for your time before leaving to help Sangyeon. You were hoping Hyunjae would leave with Jacob but instead he sits next to you on the bed, very close, leaving no personal space.

You're about to scootch away from him. But he places his hand on your thigh to stop you. Usually if a guy did this you would slap his hand away, but you can’t bring yourself to do that right now. “What’s with the distance? You’ve been avoiding me all week. Did you think I wouldn't notice?” He asks in a low voice. Your brain starts to fog up. “I-” You try to find words to say but nothing comes out. His face gets closer, never breaking eye contact with you.

“What? Do I make you nervous?” He smirks. You feel a bubble of annoyance come up. As you're about to reply with ‘no’, Eric storms in. “Y/n! ah Hyunjae, there you are!” “What do you want?” Hyunjae asks, clearly annoyed at Eric interrupting the two of you.

“Y/n, come play games with me. Hyunjae, you can come too if you want.” Hyunjae huffs and rolls his eyes. “Y/n, please.” Eric whines, now pulling your arm, trying to get you off the bed. “Okay okay.” You give in, scared to be alone with Hyunjae in one room. You would be lying if you say that your heart doesn't flutter every time you see him.

After an hour and a half of playing mario kart with Eric and Hyunjae, and you despite your sneaky protests, sitting in between them, and you beating both of them more than seven times, it’s finally time for dinner. And guess who you're sitting next to. Hyunjae.

“So guys, our break is ending. Our next group mission starts next week, so make sure you prepare for it well. I’ll tell you guys the details later.” Sangyeon announces and the boys cheer. “Finally I was so bored.” Changmin drops on his chair. “You're always bored, maybe you're just boring.” Eric laughs, making fun of him, but quickly stopping as Changmin points a knife at him.

After dinner Sangyeon and Chanhee offer to help clean up and Kevin helps you with the dishes. By the time you're done it’s late, so you decide to go to bed first. Since your escape is tomorrow, you need as much rest as you can.

»»————-　➴　————-««

Today you woke up a little later than normally so you won't be tired tonight. You really need your energy to run as fast as possible. After you guys are done with eating breakfast you watch a drama with Juyeon, Haknyeon and Eric, do laundry and clean the house and by the time you're done it's time to prepare for dinner which Younghoon and Sunwoo helps you with.

After dinner you clean up with Eric and then go to your room to prepare your outfits. You grab a sweater from your closet and a pair of leggings that would be comfortable and warm, since it would be cold at night.

While you put them under your bed with your sneakers, someone knocks on your door. Finally someone who can knock, you think. “Come in.” Jacob comes in smiling at you. “Hi, am I disturbing you?” You shake your head sitting on your bed and he does the same.

“Well I just wanna tell you I'm very happy to have you here, you’ve been helping us a lot even though I know you don’t wanna be here and I really appreciate you. I would’ve given you a present, but I don't think you would appreciate stolen stuff.” He looks down at his knees, blushing a bit, cute.

You started to feel a pang of guilt in your heart, Jacob has been an angel to you ever since you first spoke to him but you couldn’t take it any longer, you wanted to leave. You needed to leave. Trying to enjoy the time you had left with him you guys spent hours talking about Canada, his childhood, why he doesn’t swear and about how much he loves basketball. You could watch him talk for hours. You nod to everything he says, trying to ignore the butterflies you feel when you two make eye contact.

»»————-　➴　————-««

You look up at the clock in your room. 04:00. You get up from your bed and make your way to your bedroom door. You slowly open your door and walk to the stairs, quietly going down the steps and taking breaks every few steps. You mentally sigh when u make it downstairs u slowly make your way to the front door in the dark careful not to make a noise.

When you walk past the kitchen you decide to take a knife with you, just in case. When you get to the door you slowly open the door, cringing at the little squeak sound it makes in the process.

Once the door is wide enough for you to fit in, you step outside, leaving the door open, since the sound of the door closing might wake them up. You take a few quick steps till you reach further from the house.

Once you’re reaching the forest you hear the door slam open. Shit! You turn around before you start running. Sangyeon’s standing at the door. Clearly very angry. “Y/N!” You hear him scream as you start running fasters. You hear the others making a fuss as you take a turn right into the forest.

“God, she’s fast.” Kevin breathes out, taking a break from running. “Yeah, just let her go, I'm too tired.” Chanhee squats down, Younghoon doing the same. “No! she’ll report us to the police and then it’s over for us, we need to find her.” Sangyeon says before making his way to the forest, the others following behind him.

You notice the forest is on top of a hill, which makes you run down faster. You run way faster than expected, almost twisting your ankle when taking a turn left. The footsteps of the boys started to fade away but you didn’t slow down, adrenaline still rushing through your body.

“Y/N!” Sangyeon screams looking around, he stops running and waits for the others to catch up, when they do, he shares his plan. “Okay, we're splitting up in the units we use for our missions, call me when you find her.” And they all split up in their units, Sangyeon’s unit going left.

“How could she do this?” Eric sighs. “I mean we kidnapped her, this was bound to happen.” Hyunjae says. He hates to admit but he’s worried sick and hopes you're not hurt. He shrugs it off thinking it's just a normal reaction and that he’s not actually catching feelings for you.

After a while your running slows down and you start to get tired. You stumble across a huge fallen down tree and you decide to hide behind it. Cliche but you're so tired, you can barely feel your legs. Once you sit down, you bend a bit making sure your head isn’t visible. You sigh. Why did you have to be the one to get kidnapped, why did they have to rob the store you work at. You stop the tears you feel from flowing so it won’t block your sight.

“How fast is she, God.” You hear Changmin’s voice from a little distance. Shit. You're freaking out but remain in your position. You pray that they won’t see you, cause they’ll definitely kill you when they do. The voices are starting to fade and you take the opportunity to start running again, regaining the adrenaline you had earlier.

But you should’ve waited. Juyeon spots you. “There!” You hear him yell and they start running after you. You panic, taking a run right, into the darker part of the forest. You jump over another fallen tree and make your way further down. Once you lose them you slow down a bit. You can barely see anything, so you start walking.

Suddenly you feel two hands grab you. You startle and stab the person with the knife you're holding. “Ow!” Jacob. You panic as you start running again, feeling slightly bad that he was the one you stabbed. You hope he’s okay as you start running faster.

After a while you stumble over something that makes you fall down, hurting your knee and elbows. “Fuck.” You whisper, quickly getting up. Soon after you run into a tree hurting your chest and cheek. You were getting so tired, you couldn’t even focus on where you were running to. You prayed this all was just a bad dream and you would wake up in your own room again, remaining your normal life.

“Jacob what happened!” Sangyeon gives him a worried look. The boys gather around Jacob, who’s holding his arm. “She stabbed me.” He understands why you did it but it still hurts him. “God, she has a knife.” Sunwoo panics. “Younghoon and Chanhee, bring Jacob to the house and take care of his wound. The rest of us will keep on searching.” The boys nod at his order and split up again.

An hour passes and the boys still haven’t found you. Hyunjae starts to worry even more. They were all wearing a jacket, but you didn't. It was so cold around this time of the day and it would be so easy to freeze up. “Shouldn’t we just give up. The sun will start rising soon, she’ll probably show up again.” He suggests, but Sangyeon ignores him. He sighs. As much as he wants you to be free, he doesn’t want to let you go.

You’re just roaming around at this point. You have no idea how much time has passed, or if the boys have given up already. You think it might be easier to just stab yourself with a knife and just die. But you didn’t want to give up. You wanted your old life back. You finally see the end of the forest a couple meters away from you and run towards it. But something grabs you and spins you around. You look up and your eyes widen. Hyunjae.

»»————-　➴　————-««

taglist

@beauchamp-fraser @n-xrmy @givememunjang

#the boyz fanfic #the boyz angst #the boyz drabbles #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fluff #the boyz imagines #the boyz reactions #tbznetwork #tbz x you #tbz scenarios #tbz x reader #the boyz x reader #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kwritersnet #sangyeon #jacob bae #younghoon #hyunjae #hyunjae x reader #hyunjae x you #hyunjae fanfic #hyunjae scenarios #hyunjae fluff #juyeon #new #Chanhee #kevin moon

[therealvinelle]

What are vampires?

(Yes, I changed the title from “What is venom?” a week after publishing and after a whole set of sorry souls reblogged the post. I’m very sorry, but as I sat down to write the follow-up piece I realized that this meta is about vampires, not venom, and the title is no longer appropriate. My perfectionism got the better of me and I’m sorry.)

There’s been a lot of speculation on that in this fandom, here comes my take. It’ll split into four parts, this being part one where I look at what venom does to the human body. In part two I look at hybrids, part three I speculate on what venom is, part four I treat possible origins and raisons d’être of venom.

So, this first part is mostly me regurgitating facts. We won’t get anywhere if we’re not all agreed on what vampires are.

Also, I get very pseudo-scientific in this meta, but I have no education in biology or medicine so I could be wrong about everything. I tried to use good sources, though, so I can’t be entirely off-base.

With that out of the way, LET’S DO THIS.

To create a vampire, you infect a human with venom. This venom spreads throughout the body, altering every cell. The process is complete when the heart stops beating. If the human was injured at the time of infection, they will be healed, as long as the heart keeps beating.

Let’s go through that.

How does the venom spread?

When Bella was bitten by James, Edward was able to suck the venom out. Several minutes passed from she was bitten until Edward sucked the venom out, yet the burn was only reported to be in her hand. By contrast, anyone who’s ever had pharmaceutical administered intravenously knows that blood travels quickly. If venom travelled like any normal fluid, Bella would have said «My hand is on fire. No wait, my arm! No, wait, my torso! No, wait-» and Edward wouldn’t have been able to suck it out.

Additionally, Bella has that scar left by James. The venom had already altered the cells at the entry point.

To me, this sounds like the venom is like Pac-Man, spreading through the body by altering one cell at a time. It’s the only explanation for why it’s so slow. More on that later, though.

How does it alter the cells, and in turn the human body?

Physically, their skin is made impervious and perfectly even, their teeth are straight, razor sharp and white, their bodies impossibly strong, fast, and precise, their senses heightened to an insane degree yet they feel no pain from most physical injuries. Their digestive system is altered so they can only consume blood, preferably human blood, anything non-blood is regurgitated. They’re much more attractive than they were in life. They’re not reliant on oxygen, and their blood doesn’t circulate. They produce their own venom.

Mentally, their minds function at the capacity necessary to even utilize a body like this. They are able to process their heightened sensory input (for example, it’s the brain that interprets visual input from the eyes. For vampires to be able to see better than humans, both eye and brain have to improve), process though much faster than humans, they forget nothing, and they feel emotion and physical sensation more strongly than humans do.

Let’s go through these alterations one by one.

Skin

Frequently likened to marble, vampire skin is as hard as stone. When Bella becomes a vampire, she’s stunned Edward’s flesh now yields to her touch. Before, if she pressed her finger on him, his skin would not yield. The shapeshifters can kill vampires because their fangs are sharp enough to pierce their skin, without that advantage they couldn’t do it. No ordinary weapon could injure a vampire.

The stone skin is an armor, protecting them.

Teeth

As us humans get older, the enamel in our teeth is worn away, revealing the tooth’s underlying yellow color (the dentin). Vampires can live for thousands of years, yet their teeth remain that perfect blinding white. What changed? I see two possible explanations, one being that vampires still have enamel, and it’s too strong to ever be worn away, or they don’t have it because their teeth have been altered to the point where they don’t need a protective layer anymore, and their composition is something completely different from that of human teeth.

I think it’s the latter, as there are two other major changes reported. Their teeth have changed shape, they are now sharp enough to pierce through human or vampire skin. They’re also venomous (more on that later), able to inject anybody they bite, fellow vampires included, with venom.

There’s also the fact that vampires are changed on a molecular level, but more on that later.

Strength, speed, and precision

Meta I wrote on vampire strength disparity.

Vampires are ridiculously powerful, no upper limit (as in, «Newborn Emmett can carry 500 tonnes») is given, but whatever it is it’s high. Alice might just be the physically weakest vampire in the saga (Jane is physically smaller, but she eats properly. Alice lives on a subpar diet), but to Bella it makes no difference, Alice blows her out of the park anyway. Edward, a malnourished and not too strong vampire, is easily able to pick up entire trees by the roots, and then throw them at a small target.

As for speed, vampires move faster than the human eye can register, which according to this article means they can reach a speed of 38 146 mph! (61 390 km/h for us metric people) (Also, the traveling object used for this calculation was a ball, and the article specifies that it would be different for bigger objects. Alas I’m not going to bother my physicist friend with this, so we’re using the ball number.)

When it comes to precision, vampires exercise perfect muscle control. They’re so graceful their steps can’t be heard by humans,  Edward can famously stroke a soap bubble without popping it, and they’re able to perfectly mimic the handwriting of others (a task anyone who’s ever googled forensic calligraphy will know is next to impossible). Much of this appears to be instinctual, like a downloaded .vampire package. Knowing how to attack prey, where to bite, that all happens on autopilot. So too does running, jumping, walking (funny how their default mode, even Carlisle’s, is to walk too quietly for their designated prey to detect). Snarling, hissing, and growling are also distinctly non-human manners vampire adopt.

Senses

Heightened sight, hearing, and smell is extremely useful. It makes them much more effective hunters. The smell especially is useful here, but really, all their senses are invaluable in this. It’s great for dealing with fellow vampires as well, they can see, hear, and smell their kind coming from a far distance.

There’s an added advantage, though. As I got into here, and here, if a vampire’s memories of their human life is dull and washed out compared to their brilliant new existence, dismissing humans as equally deserving of life becomes that much easier to justify. Heightened emotions serves this same purpose, though considering their longevity I think this is another form of survival, that they’re wired not to grow bored with life (but this is really for a separate meta).

There’s also the fact that their senses have to be tuned up to 11 to fit their other enhanced abilities. There’s no use in super-speed if you can’t see where you’re going.

Vampires’ heightened senses make them more efficient predators, and help them become the bloodthirsty sociopaths we know and love.

Pain receptors, or lack thereof

Vampires feel pain when they are thirsty, when their limbs are torn off, when they are bitten by other vampires (it appears to be the venom that stings), or when subjected to a gift that induces pain (Jane, Kate). They don’t feel pain like humans do, nor do they feel discomfort (they can sit indefinitely in any position, never feeling the need to shift around.

Interestingly, it looks to me like pain serves the same function for them as it does for humans. The brain registers pain to tell us something, a biological error message. Don’t walk on that leg, it’s injured. Get your hand off the hot stove and don’t put it there again. Pain is useful.

Vampires, by contrast, are not going to get injured from someone hitting them. There are no blood vessels that can burst, no soft tissue that can burst nor bones that can break. So, no need for their brains to register that as pain. Humans need to change positions every now and then for the sake of our circulation and so we don’t develop pressure ulcers (and I’m sure there are more reasons), vampires have no circulation and, as mentioned above, their skin is armor. No pressure ulcers.

What they do need pain for, is to let them know to feed. That’s the big one, and in turn the strongest one. The pain of the thirst is unbearable, as it has to be to turn a human who was infected with venom into a killer. It’s survival. Same goes for feeling pain when their limbs are torn off, or their bodies damaged by a bite. Their pain receptors let them know to avoid this next time.

As for Jane and Kate’s gifts, this may not serve a purpose for other vampires, but it serves a purpose for Jane and Kate. It protects them. So, sucks for everyone else, but that’s what gifts do, they give the gift-haver a leg up on others.

Digestive system

Carlisle had spent many years attempting to understand our immortal anatomy; it was a difficult task, based mostly on assumption and observation. Vampire cadavers were not available for study.

His best interpretation of our life systems was that our internal workings must be microscopically porous. Though we could swallow anything, only blood was accepted by our bodies. That blood was absorbed into our muscles and provided fuel. When the fuel was depleted, our thirst intensified to encourage us to replenish our supply. Nothing besides blood seemed to move through us at all. (Midnight Sun, chapter Home)

Ignoring the horrifying fact that the context for this quote is Edward wondering if Bella’s tear could stay in his system forever, this here is extremely interesting and I agree. Partly because I can’t think of anything better, partly because Carlisle is an in-universe medical genius who’s had access to far more data than I have. He can run experiments, I can’t. Even if I came up with a theory I thought was better, if blood absorption through porous tissue is Carlisle’s best theory then there must be evidence in favor of this which I don’t have access to. So, porous tissue it most likely is.

(Also, my «Carlisle totally volunteered for vivisection fun times with Aro in Volterra» theory survives that first paragraph. Vampire cadavers might not be available for study, but live ones absolutely are, you just pick them apart and put them back together after, and bring in Corin and/or Alec so the guinea pig has a good time too. There’s no way that never occurred to Aro. Even if it didn’t, it’s bound to have occurred to someone over the years, and Aro touches a lot of people. And we know he and Carlisle discussed what vampires even were, that they were best friends and all about that science.

We also know that sometimes, your weird science experiments involving dismemberment and tripping on Corin in Volterra, stay in Volterra. The tissue is porous, Edward, DON’T ASK ME HOW I KNOW.)

This has huge implications. What happened to the digestive system they used to have?

It’s still there, but non-operational.

Middle solution: it’s recognizably there, but welded shut. At some point, whatever the vampire ingests hits an untraversable boundary, and from there the blood is absorbed while any other matter remains, undigested (though possibly dissolved by venom) until regurgitated.

The vampire’s inner anatomy is unrecognizable from that of a human. Vampires have no need for livers, bowels, gall bladders, and so on, and so these organs no longer exist, or have even been replaced by other organs (assuming vampires need any, more on that later).

My vote lies with the third option, though both second and third are possible. The first one, not so much, as it means that in theory, they could force something through their system. They can’t.

More, vampires are nothing if not extremely efficient and economical organisms. They don’t need to feel pain from a physical blow, so they don’t. Why carry around these organs they’re not using?

Then there’s what they even need their digestive system to do. Humans need the nutrients in our meals not just as fuel, but as- well, everything. We need the building blocks for our cells. Our bodies are constantly renewing themselves. Vampires, by contrast, don’t appear to do this. There’s no waste of any kind, and their skin doesn’t get flaky. Edward specifically says blood is fuel, and I think that’s a literal interpretation.

Now we’re veering into speculation territory, and this isn’t the place for it just yet as we’re veering into what venom is and does, but I think whatever digestive process vampires have, serves to turn their blood to venom. I don’t think there’s any particular organ for this, I think that’s just because that’s what happens when venom comes into contact with blood. We see it happen when humans are bitten, and I think it’s fair to assume that the same thing happens when venom comes into contact with ingested blood.

This also helps explain why animal blood isn’t equal to human blood. Animals can’t be turned to vampires, it’s blood but venom and animal blood aren’t on the same FM, so to say. So, with no better option, yes venom can make do with animal blood, but it won’t perform as well as it would with human blood. The vampire is now weaker, with the frankly terrifying side effect that their eyes change color. We’re so used to this that we just go «oh, yeah, animal blood means their eyes turn yellow. It’s like a LED light letting you know which diet the vampire is on!» when in any other organism, a chance of color like that is usually the sign of something being wrong. Blue lips, yellow sclera, red urine, all color changes that point to something not being not as it should be.

Now, to go further here would mean getting more into what venom even is, which is best saved for part three. I’ll say this, venom appears to be the only fluid in the vampire body. It’s moistens their eyes (and melts their contacts), pools in their mouth, is injected through their fangs, and the application of venom to a wound makes them heal faster. Venom is the substance they rely on, more so even than blood, their elixir of life. (My speculation on how Edward was able to impregnate Bella is reserved for the hybrid/what is venom metas).

Also, on what vampires carry over from their human bodies, I do think they’re economical enough to not fix what ain’t broken. I think this because the human nervous system is absolutely brilliant, and indeed Bella regains sensation during her transformation where her spine had once been broken and unable to communicate with her brain. Question is, of course, was this because her new vampire body still uses the human nervous system, or did Bella regain sensation because her transformation had gotten to a point where this was no longer the case?

Beauty

The beauty part has gotten some very valid criticism, as beauty is very subjective and venom makes it out to be an objective, empirically measurable unit.

To caveat first, we see in canon that not all vampires are gorgeous. James was an ugly human, and so as a vampire he’s no beauty. Maggie was emaciated and not particularly attractive, so she’s bony and not hot by vampire standards. The Cullens, by contrast, were attractive humans. Human Bella is a hottie, she pulls all the guys without issue. If she were as plain as she thinks she is, she wouldn’t get male attention. Being new is only gonna get her so far. Jasper was turned because Maria thought he was a cutie, and same goes for Emmett with Rosalie.

(There’s also a certain inherent bias - I imagine attractive people have a much higher chance of getting turned than uglies.)

More, understand that vampires don’t look human. They’re flawless, desirable, perfect, yes - but they are very distinctly not human, and humans know as much instinctively:

Like any normal human, suddenly standing just a foot away from a vampire would send adrenaline racing through his veins. Fear would twist in his stomach for just a fraction of a second, and then his rational mind would take over. His brain would force him to ignore all the little discrepancies that marked me as other. His eyes would refocus and he would see nothing more than a teenage boy. I watched him come to that conclusion, that I was just a normal boy. I knew he would be wondering what his body’s strange reaction had been about. (Midnight Sun, chapter 21, page 547)

Vampires are beautiful in the way the Nefertiti bust is beautiful. It’s perfect, otherworldly, timelessly beautiful, but looking at it you know this is a bust and not a living human woman.

With that in mind, I think some of the vampire’s unnatural beauty is… not circumstantial, but happy bonuses to their other qualities. Their perfect skin, for instance, goes a long way towards making them beautiful. Perfectly smooth, a glowing white, no disruptions like blackheads, scarring, or sweat. At one point Bella describes Rosalie as looking airbrushed. Their perfect teeth, impeccable grace, these features also help.

Now, I think when venom makes a human more beautiful, I think the big thing it does is make the features perfectly symmetrical. This by itself is immediately inhuman and unnatural, more computer generated than human, just perfect enough to tick off the uncanny valley box. This would explain the flawlessness Bella keeps describing in vampires. It also explains the disparity in beauty, the features Rosalie had to work with and get symmetrical were lovelier than the ones James had, and why they can look completely different from each other yet share that same kind of uncanny impeccability. It also explains how people of wildly different face types and ethnicities can all be beautiful, the venom won’t erase the features you had but rather refine them into the best they can be.

I do think that refinement, in addition to symmetry, happens. If it didn’t, the change wouldn’t be so radical from human to vampire. More, all vampires are described as having sharp features, Esme stands out for the fact that she retained some of her human softness. So, the venom appears to make features more angular and, well, sharp.

Aro’s description is in favor of my interpretation of vampiric beauty: 

I couldn't decide if his face was beautiful or not. I suppose the features were perfect. But he was as different from the vampires beside him as they were from me. His skin was translucently white, like onionskin, and it looked just as delicate (New Moon, page 234)

His features are flawless, meaning symmetrical. He should be beautiful, so it’s the skin that gives her pause.

There’s also the matter that beauty is observed in the body, not just the form. They all look strong and limber, even the tiniest of vampires. I imagine some of this is simply texture, that vampires are made hard, smooth, and perfect, but we have this from Bella looking in the mirror after waking up a vampire:

She was fluid even in stillness, and her flawless face was pale as the moon against the frame of her dark, heavy hair. Her limbs were smooth and strong, skin glistening subtly, luminous as a pearl. (Breaking Dawn, page 261)

Fluid even in stillness, her limbs smooth and strong. This woman was starving to death when she died. Combined with the fact that Edward, who was a sick 17-year-old, has muscle definition, it seems venom does body sculpting as well. Though it’s worth noting that hydration goes a long way towards muscle definition for humans, so the change in fluid composition in vampires could have something to do with it their limber appearance.

Then there’s the other vampire beauty markers.

Their voices are described quite unusually, with words like wind chimes, bells, or feathers. They’re beautiful, but, like everything else about vampires, inhuman. When Carlisle calls Billy on the phone, Billy immediately recognized the voice as somehow wrong, it’s too clear and sharp.

I mean, I think in part this is because their vocal cords aren’t made of soft human tissue anymore, but most likely stone. No matter what they’re made of, though, it’s no surprise that we’re not getting human voices out of them.

Their scent is appetizing to humans and other vampires alike, and serves a duel purpose. Humans are attracted to them (well, vampires are too), while vampires are able to use it for tracking purposes. It’s tremendously useful for keeping track of your territory, as randos can’t walk in and eat your food and sneak off again without leaving a trail. It’s also good for meeting up with friends, we see Carlisle and Siobhan use it for this purpose in Midnight Sun.

Circulation

The purpose of blood is to carry oxygen and nutrients to the cells. Apparently, this isn’t a need vampires have. All they need is venom. The theory that their tissue is porous adds to this, as it would mean blood travels through their body in a different manner. The porous tissue replaces circulation.

So, no circulation for vampires because they don’t need it.

This meta is now getting ridiculously long, so I’m putting the venom production section in the venom meta.

The transformation

The transformation is complete when the heart stops beating. The former human is now a vampire, and no longer reliant on a heartbeat, nor oxygen. In this they are different from hybrids.

As for the process itself, I think that as the venom spreads, it starts multiplying on its own. This is why it took longer for Carlisle than it did Bella, she was bitten and injected multiple times and on every part of her body while Carlisle was grazed on the arm. Bella had more venom that could work on her, Carlisle did not. These facts support my theory of the slow spread of venom.

I’ve played with the thought of the transformation happening in stages, where the first act is the spread of the venom, which then spreads throughout the body and heals the body to put it at default, the second act is the bodysculpting, and the third act the finishing touches. It doesn’t quite fit with venom transforming as it goes, though, so I’m very hm on that.

A few observations:

Activity level doesn’t appear to help spread the venom. Carlisle exerted himself, and his transformation took far more time than normal (though lying still instead of contorting in agony probably doesn’t help in that regard). Bella laid still as a corpse, and her transformation took far less time than normal. The venom spreads in its own time, regardless of what the blood circulation is up to.

Going by the accounts of the Cullens, while the pain is constant, the transformation hurts increasingly as the venom spreads.

Bella was severely injured, and needed to be healed before she could even feel all the pain. Her broken spine, for instance, meant she couldn’t feel below the waist.

Carlisle said it’s «easier if the blood is weak» (cryptic much?! Not making it easy for me, dude. Though as this was said in the context of Edward explaining that Carlisle would only turn someone already dying, I do think he’s referring to what it’s like for vampires, though, that humans are not so tempting if they’re half dead.)

Healing

Now we’re veering into the venom meta, but: the transformation fixes anything that could impede the vampire’s function. Bella would get nothing done with her post-birth broken body, and so she’s fixed up for her. Alice’s emaciation means she’s thin and less strong than others, it doesn’t physically prevent her from doing anything.

The venom, it appears, heals the human not because it’s being altruistic, nor to make the vampire more appealing to others, but to make the human into an ideal host. BUT MORE ON THAT IN THE VENOM META.

With that, my god we’re done. And this meta is  words in total, an ugly number.

Lastly, I know that putting a read more at the end of a 4k long meta is the worst joke in the world (RIP to you poor souls scrolling past this. My reason for not being a read more kind of gal to be found here)

Nothing yet, I’m afraid.

#long post #had to delete immediately after posting because i hadn't actually written anything in the skin section #so i deleted rather than having people reblog before it was ready #ops #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #twilight vampires #twilight venom #twilight biology #vampire biology #also i am very proud of the way my ship snuck into the post #sorry not sorry but it's a bedbug ship #it won't stay out of my stuff #edit: can't count. wrote five parts

[seasonschange-butpeopledont]

The Best Man

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, a few curse words

Word Count: 2,560

Author’s Note: A fun part about getting older is that all of my friends are married or engaged now, and sometimes weddings bring up some insecurities. A more than a bit of venting going on here. This is my first time writing for the love of my life Marcus Pike and I’m very nervous/excited. 

Summary: When your best friend asks you to be the maid of honor at her wedding, you’re convinced that you’ll never find your own happy ending- until you meet a certain groomsman. 

Taglist Form - Masterlist

You weren’t proud of the feelings of dread that washed over you as you sat in the parking lot of the wedding venue. You’d been sitting in your car for just a little longer than socially acceptable, given that the rest of the bridal party had likely already gathered inside. You just needed to make it through the next two days, and then you could go back to your apartment, wrap yourself in a blanket, and wallow in your feelings. 

You thought you’d be better at ignoring the green-eyed monster that was currently threatening to ruin what was supposed to be a happy occasion. 

You’d dutifully sat through dress fittings, gave thoughtful opinions on flower arrangements and centerpieces and invitations, and meticulously planned the bridal shower and bachelorette party. It was your job as the maid of honor to make sure that everything went off without a hitch on your best friend’s special day. 

You were happy for her- so happy for her. You’d never seen her like this, and you knew that she and Greg were going to have the perfect lives together. A fairytale wedding, a beautiful home, a loving family with two-point-five kids and a golden retriever in the backyard. A cliche to be sure, but you couldn’t deny the pang of jealousy that Melissa had found her perfect match while you were still decidedly and hopelessly single. You buried those feelings down deep, enduring it all with a smile. 

It would happen for you eventually. 

Probably. 

Well, you could hope, right?

When you finally made your way inside, Melissa had already worked herself into a panic. The best man, Marcus, was nowhere to be found.

Mellissa had told you a little about Greg’s best man. You knew that he worked for the FBI, that he and Greg had been in a band together in his younger days, and that he was flying in from Washington D.C. for the wedding. His flight was supposed to arrive an hour ago, and then he would take a cab from the airport to the venue. 

Clearly, that plan had derailed at some point. 

“Greg, we only have the rehearsal space for another twenty minutes-” Melissa reminded him impatiently. 

“He’ll be here, Mel. I swear, the one time he’s late for anything…” Greg sighed, shaking his head. He pulled his phone from his pocket, presumably dialing the best man’s number again before holding the phone to his ear. The silence seemed to drag on forever as Mellissa glared daggers at her husband-to-be. “Damn it, Marcus, turn your phone on...” 

You tried to deescalate the situation, placing a calming hand on Melissa’s shoulder and quietly reminding her to breathe. With patience wearing thin all around, the last thing you needed was for Bridezilla to make an appearance today. 

“Why don’t we just run through the ceremony without him, and he can follow my lead tomorrow. All he really has to do is stand there and hand you the rings, right? Does that sound okay?” You looked back and forth between the couple hopefully, and they nodded in agreement.

“Good. Happy thoughts, you two. It’s going to be the most magical day of your lives, I promise.” 

You’d woken the next morning with a tension headache from hell, and it had stuck with you all morning. As calm as you’d made yourself out to be earlier, the case of the missing groomsman was still bothering you. 

As you and the other bridesmaids got into your places for the ceremony, you ran through your mental checklist. As long as Greg’s friend was standing up there at the altar when those doors opened, you had everything under control. You’d even managed to wrangle the flower girl, Greg’s rambunctious niece, into a somewhat poised state, promising her an extra piece of cake later if she would just keep it together during the ceremony and pictures.

On the other side of the doors, you heard the music start, and one by one, the bridesmaids shuffled through the doors. When it was finally your turn, you took a deep breath, smoothing your hair to the best of your ability with your bouquet-free hand and hoped for the best as you walked through the doorway. Three thoughts always stuck in your mind during these kinds of things: 

One, you really, really hoped that you wouldn’t trip on the hem of the dress and bust ass in front of all of these people, effectively ruining the ceremony and humiliating yourself in the process. 

Two, Am I taking too long? I’m taking too long. Oh fuck, all of these people are staring at me wondering why I won’t hurry up, aren’t they? This isn’t my wedding, I should just-

Three, you wonder what it might be like if it was. For a split second, your dress is white, your heart is fluttering, and the man of your dreams is waiting for you at the end of the aisle. 

Your eyes go there without really meaning to. Greg is there, of course, sweating bullets. Idly, you wonder if the photographer can fix that in editing. God, you hope so. Poor Melissa. 

Then your gaze moves slightly to the right, and the fluttering in your chest returns. 

Whatever lingering annoyance you had with the best man and his lack of punctuality was out the window now, his warm brown eyes melting your resolve in an instant. He smiled, showing off the dimples in his cheeks and you felt yourself returning it before your brain had time to interfere. Reaching the altar and planting yourself in your designated space, your nervousness has morphed into something you can’t quite identify, but don’t have much time to linger on. The flower girl is already making her way down the aisle, distributing the petals in the way you hand practiced repeatedly last night, much to your relief, and your heart is still racing long after Melissa walks through the doors. 

Time always passes strangely during these types of things. The ceremony begins after you almost miss your cue to take the bouquet from her, and she shoots you a confused look over when it passes into your hands. As the officiant drones on and on about the bigger meaning of what is taking place here today, you find your arms aching as you try to hold both bouquets still. You wonder if you would be sore later from holding your arms this way for so long, and silently hope that everyone remembers not to lock their knees as you all try to remain frozen in place for the better part of an hour. 

Finally, the officiant arrives at the portion of the ceremony you’d all been waiting for, the vows. The words of love and commitment that made your insides all warm and fuzzy. The best part of any wedding, hands down. A guaranteed tear-jerker, and, more importantly, the signal that all of this would soon be over. 

“I, Greg, take you, Melissa, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death do us part.”

Oh, what you would give to have that... The thought brought a lump to your throat, the tears in your eyes somewhere between happy and sad. Longing. That was the word for it. You forced yourself to look away from the scene, giving yourself a moment of reprieve from your own insecurities. 

You didn’t mean to make eye contact with Marcus at that moment, but you found him looking back at you. The space between his eyebrows creased slightly as he noticed the pain in your eyes. 

Receptions always seemed to drag, especially when you were unlucky enough not to check the plus-one box on the invitation. The bridal party had gathered themselves at one long table for dinner, but the cake had been cut well over an hour ago and all that was left was smalltalk and dancing. Or, in your case, people-watching. 

You sighed, your chin resting on your hand as you watched the couple sway to the music. They looked like they were lost in their own little world, their foreheads touching as they spoke in hushed whispers that no one could hear but them. You couldn’t remember the last time that someone had looked at you like that. Actually, you weren’t sure that anyone had ever looked at you like that. 

“They seem happy, huh?” A voice said from beside you. You hadn’t noticed the chair being pulled out or the tall, tuxedo-clad body dropping into it, but you looked over your shoulder to find Marcus beside you. You hadn’t dared to speak a word after the ceremony or during photos, but you had spent a good portion of the evening mesmerized by the soothing sounds of his voice as he gave the speech for his toast. It was low and raspy and warm, like whiskey and honey, and it gave you goosebumps now that it was finally being directed towards you. 

“I would hope so,” You agreed quietly. “They did just get married two hours ago.” 

“Do you want to dance?” He asked, giving you an inviting, hopeful smile and holding his hand out to you. “No pressure, but I wouldn’t really be fulfilling my best man duties if I didn’t ask the maid of honor to dance.” You nodded gratefully, taking his hand and allowing him to help you up and lead you out towards the dance floor.

“Can I ask you something?” He wondered, his voice quiet at the pair of you swayed to the music. Marcus had, it seemed, become your unofficial dance partner for the evening. He danced like a dork during the fast songs, but the slow songs were where he really shined. 

“Go ahead,” You nodded. 

“Earlier you seemed kind of… down. Anything you want to talk about?”

“Was it that obvious?” You cringed. You hoped that Melissa and Greg hadn’t picked up on your moodiness. 

“I’m pretty good at reading people. Comes with the job, you know? Are you not a big fan of weddings?”

“No, I love weddings,” You shook your head. “Sometimes it just feels like… You know that phrase, ‘always the bridesmaid, never the bride’? Well, that’s the unofficial title of my autobiography.” 

A soft snort escaped his nose, and you narrowed your eyes at him playfully. 

“Excuse me, are you laughing at my misfortune?”

He raised his hands in surrender, temporarily pausing your dancing, and you immediately felt the absence of the warmth from your waist and hand. “Not at all. I’m sort of in the same boat, actually.” 

He took your hand once more, raising it above your head and spinning you before the pair of you returned to your swaying.

“The thing is, I’m happy for Melissa, I really am, but she’s never even wanted to get married. Not until she met Greg. But here she is, getting her fairytale wedding, while I couldn’t even find a date for tonight. I’ve always liked the idea of being married. The whole madly in love, growing old together, building a life with someone kind of thing. I know it’s stupid, but I really, really want it, and sometimes it feels like my life is always just going to be… this,” You explained, gesturing arbitrarily small corner of dance floor the two of you had cut out for yourselves. “Standing on the sidelines, watching everyone else find their soulmate and wondering what the hell is wrong with me.” 

“I know the feeling. I once watched Greg give himself a concussion trying to smash a beer can on his head,” Marcus revealed. “Not exactly a catch, but I guess there’s someone out there for everyone.” 

You laughed at that, the tension easing itself out of your shoulders. “A concussion?”

“I drove him to the hospital and everything,” He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the sound of your soft giggles. He gave your waist an encouraging squeeze, relieved that the sadness in your eyes had finally disappeared. 

“Alright, so we’ve discussed my deepest, darkest secret. Isn’t it your turn to make an embarrassing confession?” You asked teasingly. You were having more fun than you’d expected to have this evening; Marcus’ presence seemed to eclipse everything around you. 

He hummed thoughtfully, nodding. “Does it have to be embarrassing?”

“Maybe not embarrassing, but it can’t be boring,” You decided, your curiosity piqued. 

“Okay,” He agreed. “I told Greg that I was working a case and that’s why I had to catch a red-eye this morning instead of getting in last night.” 

“Mmm, I’ve gotta say. That is a bit boring,”

“Yeah? Well, it was a lie.”

“Oh? You’ve caught my interest. And what is your excuse for the stress-induced headache your tardiness caused me this morning?”

“I almost decided not to show up at all,” He admitted. “Made it all the way to the airport before I turned around and went home. Turned off my phone, completely unpacked… My fiancé left me for another man about a year ago, and I guess I still have some wedding-related issues of my own to work through. But Greg is one of my best friends, so… here I am.” 

“Oh, I’m…” You fumbled, not quite prepared for the level of honesty that he’d given you in his answer. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know-” 

“No, no,” He shook his head. “It’s okay. I just meant that… I get it. It’s like you said. A life, a home, a family… That’s everything I’ve ever wanted. I thought I did everything right and that clearly wasn’t enough, so I started thinking that maybe there was something wrong with me. But I think the truth is that she just wasn’t the right person.”

“Wow, Marcus… I know there’s an open bar, but I feel like I should buy you a drink after that. That’s horrible…” 

He chuckled, shrugging. “I was pretty relieved when I saw I wasn’t the only one here counting down the hours until I could leave and go home.” 

“So… do you still think the right person is out there, then?” You asked quietly. 

“Oh, definitely,” Marcus said confidently, squeezing the hand that was still clasped in his. His eyes were molten as they looked into yours with an earnestness that set your heart racing.  “Maybe they’re just running a little late.” 

Melissa glanced over her shoulder to look at the maid of honor and best man, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she turned back to her new husband. 

“You don’t have your wallet on you, do you?” She asked, the I-told-you-so obvious in her tone. 

“You don’t win the bet unless he asks her out,” Greg reminded her. 

“Greg, get real. You see the way they’re looking at each other. I want my twenty bucks, babe.” 

Greg glanced over at his friend, instantly recognizing Marcus’ lovestruck expression. He had to hand it to Melissa, she’s one of a hell of a matchmaker. 

“Double or nothing,” He countered. “I’m guessing…. A wedding within the next… Two years?” 

Melissa scoffed. “Bring it on. I’ll rig the bouquet toss and we’ll have that invitation taped to the fridge within the year.”

General Taglist: 

@theravenreads @marshmallowtraver @computeringturtle @adikaofmandalore @pascalisthepunkest @supernaturalcat7 @maythxthirstbxwithyou

Pedro Character Taglist: 

@coldlilheart​

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader

[krappykawa]

ಌ i mildly like you more than like (p.1)

— in which an incessant fan girl, a kiss, and a little bit of denial makes oikawa tooru realize he might mildly like you more than like

description. you’ve been in love with oikawa tooru for longer than you can remember. having known him for the better part of nearly 11 years, you’ve come to accept that you’ll never be more than a best friend to him. but with the help of a few irritatingly persistent fangirls and a kiss that was only meant to drive them away, a tale of unrequited love might just prove to be something more. 

warnings. language

word count. 4.2k

oikawa tooru x f!reader, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, some angst

parts. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

author’s note. i started writing this a few weeks ago and it was originally just going to be a one-shot but it got almost up to 10k words so i just decided to split it up HHSKFJ

Oikawa Tooru has perhaps one of the strongest drives when it comes to hard work. 

His tenacity is a thing of nature, something that awes you time and time again, no matter how many times you’ve seen him pick himself up before. It might be one of the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place. 

But despite how in-tune he is with his senses on a mental standpoint, his Achilles’ heel lies with his inability to pick up on the signs his body gives him when it's had enough. Well, he can, but he just chooses not to listen. 

His first encounter with a crack in that heel came in his first-year, where you had to stand on the sidelines and watch as he fell to the ground during a game with a resounded sweep of gasps around the gym. That injury benched him for more than half the season. 

It was from that point on that you and Iwaizumi decided that if Oikawa wasn’t going to take care of his own body, then it would be up to you two to make sure his head is still above water. 

So it doesn’t surprise you when your phone flashes with a text message from Iwaizumi during one of your shifts at the bakery. 

1 new message: iwa (´,,•ω•,,)♡

Received: can you come pick up shittykawa

“Tooru?” 

A figure sits slumped against the benches in front of Aoba Johsai high, his eyes closed as he lays back. There’s something beautiful about the way that he looks almost ethereal in this relaxed state, the most relaxed you’d seen him in months. When he hears his name from your lips, he slowly blinks and sits up, the aura of relaxation falling from him. 

You almost regret having said anything in the first place when he puts up his guard the moment he sees you.

“Y/N-chan!” An easy smile falls between his lips, one that could’ve easily fooled anyone else. He always was very good at portraying happiness and contentment, especially when he’d been followed everywhere by people that only really want to see Oikawa Tooru, popular ladies’ man with charm that could make your mother swoon. 

But you’re one of the select few that knew him before he learned that his charm was a crucial asset in his arsenal. You knew him at his highs and his lows, so the convincing smile on his lips doesn’t convince you in the slightest. That’s because you notice the way his arms seem to sit limply in his lap and the way his eyes convey fatigue rather than joy. You also know that Iwaizumi called you here for one thing. 

“Don’t Y/N-chan me. Iwa texted me.” 

Oikawa’s facade seems to fall at that, replaced with a troubled expression. He brings his right hand up to wipe at his face in frustration. “Listen, I don’t know what he may have said, but he’s exaggerating. I’m fine.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. He can’t seem to meet your eyes. “Well, that’s a lie considering that you’re out here right now and not in that gym,” you say matter-of-factly. 

“He physically dragged me out here!” Oikawa whines, throwing his hands in the direction of your school’s gym. 

A bemused chuckle leaves your lips as you move to sit beside him on the bench. Oikawa moves his bag to give you more room to sit, but you don’t move any closer. “And when has that ever stopped you?”

Oikawa getting kicked out of practice by Iwaizumi and even on select days, by their coach, is not an unusual occurrence. Iwaizumi has forcefully dragged Oikawa out of the gym before. Each and every time, Oikawa just marched right back in, despite Iwaizumi’s rage and his coach’s warnings. Even when his extra practice hours cause detrimental effects to his knee, Oikawa never seems to back down. 

It was something both you and Iwaizumi had grown used to in your years of friendship with Oikawa -- his incredibly stubborn determination to somehow work himself to the point of bad health. 

That’s how you know something different has happened today, because Oikawa is sitting out here on a bench rather than arguing with Iwa about how “a few more serves won’t hurt him!” (though they most definitely do, and Oikawa never seems to learn). 

You turn your head to look at him. He’s quiet now, though he still doesn’t meet your eyes. His gaze is instead focused on a dog that’s running in the park opposite the school. You know that he’s avoiding confirming your accusation. 

When it doesn’t seem like he’s going to talk anytime soon, you sigh. “All I’m saying is that if you really believed that you were fine, you would be using all your blood, sweat, tears in order to find a way back into the gym. Especially since the qualifiers are coming up.” You lean back against the bench as well, letting your eyes watch the dog happily run with its tongue lolling out of its mouth. “But instead you’re here, sitting on a bench in the afternoon. And from the looks of it, you had no intention of heading home.” 

He still doesn’t turn to look at you, the only indication that he even heard you is the mild tick in his jaw. You try not to think about how perfectly sculpted his side profile is.  

When he finally does speak, he still avoids your accusation of his fatigue and instead asks, “Why did Iwa-chan call you here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be working at the bakery?”

You shrug. “Business was slow. Besides, my boss likes me enough to let me go early today. He said I’d have to work overtime this weekend though.” 

At that, he finally turns to look at you. In the split second that you glance at him, you catch the guilt in his gaze before he looks away again. “You shouldn’t have come. You already overwork yourself being the only decent baker besides your boss that works there.”

A smile spreads on your face, your tone teasing. “Oikawa Tooru wants to talk to me about overworking myself?”

“I’m serious. You work too hard at that bakery for the measly amount that they pay you. Don’t think I don’t notice the way you try to cover your under eye circles with makeup.”

You feel your stomach jump, the familiar feeling causing your lips to tug upwards lightly. Tooru has been one of your best friends ever since you moved into the house across from his when you were seven years old. You hadn’t known when it happened, but you had come to school one day last year and just suddenly knew that your feelings were no longer limited to platonic when it came to the brown-haired volleyball captain. It’s in moments like these where you wonder how he hasn’t managed to figure your feelings out, considering how observant he is of everything else about you. 

“Yes, well I’m sorry that we can’t all look like we spawn from a god like you do. It’s seriously unfair how you can still look like that when you get even less sleep than I do.”

There’s only a hint of teasing in his voice when he says, “You think I look that handsome?” He turns to face you again, and this time there’s a blink of surprise lurking in his chestnut eyes. Especially now, with the sun casting golden glows on his hair and skin, he looks beautiful to you. 

Painfully, it reminds you about how unrequited your feelings are. Not that Oikawa has ever outright rejected you or even acknowledged knowing anything of your feelings, but him reciprocating your feelings didn’t even cross your mind as a possibility most days. Not with the group of girls that are always vying for his attention; not when his ex-girlfriend was what everyone thought was his perfect match; not when he hadn’t even attempted a committed relationship since Yua-san broke up with him all those months ago.

“Y/N?” His voice drags you out of your train of thought. You realize that you had been staring at him this entire time. 

You play off your thoughts with a roll of your eyes and turn your head back towards the park. “No,” you lie. “I just hear comments like that from your fan club all the time.” 

He nods lightly, his eyebrows creasing. “Right. Right, of course.” You’re about to ask about the odd tone in his voice when he speaks again. “You never did answer my question. Why did Iwa-chan send you here?”

“He wanted me to make sure that you actually went home instead of finding somewhere else to practice,” you say. A chuckle escapes your lips. You’re happy for the change in topic. 

“I am not that hard-headed!” You raise a brow at him. He pouts. “Fine. Maybe a little.”

“A little?”

“Oh come on, Y/N. Now you’re just being mean!”

“Yeah well, it’s payback. You’re a real pain in the ass.”

“In your ass, I hope.” 

You try to keep the blush from your cheeks as your mind takes you in a completely different direction. Suddenly, the space between you two seems too small. “You might want to rethink what you just said.” You try not to stare at his mouth as it falls open, your mind still invading your thoughts with images that you should not be fantasizing about when he’s sitting right beside you. 

“Wait.” Oikawa’s eyes go so comically wide that you almost forget your own embarrassment. “Jeez, that did not come out in the right way. Not right at all.” For what seems like the millionth time, he looks away from you, though this time it seems to be out of his own mortification over what he just said. There seems to be a blush to his cheeks, but you very well might have just imagined it. 

You let out a laugh, your arms coming up to clutch at your side. “I cannot believe that you’re supposed to be the big hotshot volleyball player that every girl has a crush on. There is not a charming bone in your body. I refuse to believe it.”

Oikawa lets out a small chuckle. “I don’t have to charm you when you already love even the uncharming parts of me. But if anyone asks, I am completely perfect. There are no uncharming parts to Oikawa Tooru. Don’t you dare spread false rumors, Y/N-chan!”

An amused snort leaves you at his last three sentences, but you decide to respond on the first part of his words. “Me? Loving you? Very unlikely.” You tease, trying your hardest to keep a straight face when Oikawa begins to pout. 

“If you don’t love me after all these years I will actually start crying right now and then those girls that follow me everywhere will come for your blood for making me cry.”

You chuckle again, catching yourself before you roll your eyes again. Next to you, Oikawa has his arms crossed with a convincing pout sitting on his lips that makes him look like a child. You smile despite yourself. “Okay, okay keep the dramatics to a minimum.”

“Then say it.”

“Say what?

“Say that you love me.”

You feel a small pang as you plaster a smile on your face. “I mildly like you more than like,” you say, not really sure if you’d be able to say those three words to him at this point in time. Not when you know that they’re true.

Oikawa’s pout deepens, but you’re adamant on not saying more. 

“That’s all you’re getting from me, Crappykawa.” Suddenly you find yourself amused at the way you managed to sound exactly like Iwaizumi. It hadn’t occurred to you that you’d spent so much time with him.

“Call me pretty and I’ll drop it.”

“You’re so needy sometimes, you know that?”

“Very much aware, Y/N-chan. As if you and Iwa-chan would ever let me forget.”

An eye roll comes easy to you and this time you don’t try to stop it. At this point, an eye roll is almost like a natural reaction to anything Oikawa says. “Fine. I’ll admit you’re not bad too look at.”

“Not great, but I’ll take it,” he concludes. “I can slowly feel the crack in my ego being restored.”

“If you want to be complimented please go seek out the never-ending stream of girls and guys that come your way hoping for even an ounce of your attention.” You hope that he doesn’t notice the mild bitterness in your voice. “I’m almost positive that they’ll be willing to tell you just how pretty you are and how everyone in the world should be in love with you.”

“They should be, shouldn’t they?” Oikawa bemuses.

A laugh leaves your lips despite your efforts. “You are insufferable sometimes. I don’t understand why I’ve kept you around for so long.”

“There you go with the insults again,” he tskes. “Have you and Iwa-chan been spending time together without me?” 

“Iwa and I are friends you know?”

“Yeah but you’re supposed to be my best friend,” he pouts. 

“You already said that line to Iwaizumi yesterday when he opted to carry me instead of you.”

“Yeah, well … I met you before he did!”

“Because you threw a volleyball at my head!”

“It was an accident!”

Laugher spills from both of your lips at the memory. It isn’t until Oikawa’s hair brushes upon your shoulder during his laughter that you realize that the space between you and Oikawa had increasingly gotten smaller. He’s so close that your thighs are only centimeters apart. 

As your laughter dies down, Oikawa’s bubbly personality begins to slip once more and the fatigue on his face becomes more evident. Eventually, he rests his head on your shoulder. You feel your stomach flutter pleasantly at his proximity. Even now, you can smell the cologne he regularly wears, the one you helped pick out back in first-year that he’s worn ever since. 

Once the silence lasts for a few moments, you finally attempt to ask him about practice once more. “Are you finally going to tell me why you didn’t fight back when Iwa threw you out of practice?” 

He sighs. “I guess you can say that I’m a little bit tired. Plus my knee hurts like all hell has reigned down.” His voice is so much different from just moments before that it’s hard to believe that they come from the same person. 

“You’re exhausted,” you say. It’s not a question, but more of a definite statement. 

“More or less,” he responds quietly. 

This time, it’s you that sighs. “Just … be careful. I get that you want to beat everyone and go to Nationals, but you’re no good to your team if you fuck your knee up so badly that you can’t play.”

“This year is our last chance,” he mumbles. “I just don’t want to look back later and wish that maybe I’d practiced just a little more.”

“You can’t beat anyone if you’re sitting on the bench from an injury that you got from overworking yourself.”

Oikawa winces at the tone in your voice. You almost feel guilty. Almost. 

“You’re going to work yourself to death. Iwaizumi and I aren’t just going to stand by and watch you dig your own grave,” you say softly. “For his sake, at least. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I’ll try,” he says. For some reason, you believe him.

The two of you sit there in silence once more, the wind blowing lightly on your hair and the sounds of a busy town echoing around you. You wish that you could bottle this moment up and keep it with you forever, even if it’s only a testament to how much Oikawa values you as a best friend and nothing more. 

The thought makes your stomach drop in the slightest bit. It’s usually easy to contain your depth of feelings for Oikawa when the air around you two is lively and joking, but you’ve found over the years that quiet moments like these are the ones that really tear at your heart. 

He’ll never know the extent of your feelings for him, and you’re too afraid to wonder what would happen if he did know. 

Oikawa turns his head only slightly to look up at you while still continuing to lean on your shoulder. “You okay?” 

You give an almost imperceptible nod. “We should head home. I don’t know what Iwaizumi might do to you if he finds you out here after practice ends,” you say. 

Oikawa nods and detaches his head from your shoulder. 

The two of you have only walked a couple of meters when you hear a group of girls squeal from not too far away. Oikawa tenses from beside you. 

“Your fanclub found you,” you say.

“I’m aware.”

He doesn’t make any move to look back at them or stop. Instead, his pace seems to speed up. 

You furrow a brow. “You don’t want to talk to them? Thought you loved their attention?”

“Ouch. You really know how to wound a man, Y/N-chan,” he says with a small smile on his lips. You take notice of the weariness in his features. “But while I do enjoy them feeding my very justified ego, I am far too fatigued to deal with them.”

You nod and continue to walk beside him. The less interactions he has with his fan club, the better your mood will be. Besides, you weren’t going to fail Iwaizumi by not doing the one thing he asked you to do and not take Oikawa home. 

A giggle reaches your ears once more, and you sneak a glance behind you. The girls are talking amongst themselves, but still obviously walking in the direction you’re headed in. 

“Well, what do you wanna do? Cause they’re coming.”

Oikawa sighs and you notice a tick of irritation in his clenched jaw. You can see a million thoughts going through his mind, but before you can ask him about them, he reaches out to grab your hand.

“Is this okay? I’m just hoping that they’ll leave me alone if they think that you and I … uhm.”

Oikawa’s hands are long and calloused, but they feel nice as his fingers intertwine with your smaller ones. You try hard not to let the little gesture get to you. “Yeah … yeah of course.”

The two of you fall into silence again, mostly due to his fatigue and your inability to form coherent words that don’t have to do with his hand in yours. You’ve held hands with Oikawa before, but it was never with the intent to make you two look like a couple. You wish more than anything that he would break the silence before you blurt out something that you don’t want to. 

Your wishes are answered when Oikawa asks, “They’re still following us, aren’t they?” Oikawa still doesn’t look back as he says it.

In your short reverie you had forgotten about the girls behind you. You sneak another glance at them and find that Oikawa’s assumption is correct.

“Yeah, they are.”

Oikawa makes an incoherent noise. “Y/N-chan, could you be a dear and describe what they look like? I have a feeling I know who exactly they are.”

You turn back again, and really take a good look at them. They’re pretty. Really pretty, you think. You wonder for a second what they could’ve done to make Oikawa so adamant on not speaking with them. 

“There’s three girls. One with cropped red hair, one with long blonde hair, and one with brown hair in a high ponytail.”

“Oh, it’s them again. I don’t know what to do to get them to leave me alone at this point,” he sighs. 

“Who are they? What’s going on?”

His grip on your hand tightens. “Ichika-san and her friends. She sent me a love letter about a month ago. I tried to let her down easily, but it seems that she has yet to give up.”

“This girl is your stalker?”

“Not quite. At least, I hope not.”

The noise from behind you two gets increasingly louder. A giggle echoes on the mildly empty street and you catch Oikawa’s name being whispered between their conversations. Now that you’ve found out about what they’ve been putting him through, your annoyance spikes. 

“Not to sound paranoid or anything, but I’m not keen on these girls finding out where you live.” 

Oikawa is quiet for a moment, his brows furrowed in indecision. It seems that he makes up his mind when he turns his head to look at you. “Kiss me.”

Your step momentarily falters. 

“What?”

He shakes your intertwined hands. “We’re already holding hands. They might get the memo if we …”

“Oh.”

“I .. I mean only if you want to. You don’t have to. I just figured that .. nevermind. It’s a spotty plan. They might still not leave us alone and --”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll do it.” You weren’t going to pass up a chance at kissing him, even if it’s only for a diversion. This doesn’t seem like such a bad idea anyways — you’d long since given up on him reciprocating your feelings, and this way you can kiss him while saving yourself from the possible embarrassment of rejection. 

“You will?”

“Where’s the harm? It’s just a kiss right?” You can barely hear yourself talking over the beating of your heart. “Besides, it could work.”

Oikawa shoots you a grateful smile. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready then.”

You try to shake out your nerves and instead focus your time in looking at your surroundings. The sound of giggling is still in close range when you spot a tree nearby. It’s still pretty out in the open, but not so much that you and Oikawa might draw stares, at least not from anyone that isn’t a part of the group of girls behind you. 

Gathering enough courage to not insanely mess this up, you tug on Oikawa’s hand to drag him with you in the direction of the tree. You make sure that you’re still in the line of sight of the three girls when you snake your arms around Oikawa’s neck and pull him down. 

His lips are softer than you imagined, and you’ve imagined kissing them more times than you’re willing to admit. Pleasantly, he tastes like oranges, which you don’t quite understand, considering that you can’t seem to remember him ever being fond of oranges. But then again, you can’t quite think of anything besides the feeling of his lips on yours.

Your lips move fluidly against his, soft but not entirely without passion. It takes everything in you to not kiss him with the force that you want to be kissing him with. 

Hands come down to grip your waist as he pulls you closer to him, gently placing a hand on the small of your back. You run your hands through his hair and wonder to yourself why you hadn’t ever played with his hair before. If you ever make it out of this with your senses still intact, you’d make playing with his hair a part of your regular routine.

He makes a small noise against your lips when you make the mistake of pulling a little too hard on his hair. His grip on you tightens. 

You don’t know how long you two stand there, lips locked with each other, but Oikawa doesn’t make any move to pull away. Instead he deepens the kiss by running his tongue against your bottom lip and pulling you even closer. You stifle a noise that threatens to come from deep in your throat. One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek and tips your head so that he can slip his tongue into your mouth. He has fantastic lips, you think. 

It’s only until you feel the air in your lungs begin to dwindle that you force yourself to pull away. The kiss lasted for longer than you expected, and by the way you pant with every breath, it feels like a kiss that the rest of the world should not have been privy to. 

You keep your eyes closed for a moment more, wanting to savor the moment for just a little longer. The moment you open your eyes, you’ll have to come back to the reality that this was just a one-time thing. You’ll have to come back to reality and remember that this kiss likely doesn’t mean anything to him. 

Slowly you open your eyes, and find that Oikawa’s already staring at you intently. His breathing comes out staggered, and his eyes have turned a few shades darker. What used to be a soft chestnut brown looks almost close to black. In them, you notice a flicker of an odd emotion that looks too familiar, but you don’t want to hope for anything. 

You slide your hands down to his chest. His hands are still planted on your back and face, touching you both gently and carefully. “Did it work?” Your voice comes out small.

He seems to wake up from his trance then, and turns to look in the direction that the girls were before. You look behind you to see one of the girls running away with her head in her hands. Her two friends follow after her in an attempt to console her.

“I think it did,” he says. And what he says after is so quiet you almost believe that you imagine hearing it. “In more ways than one.”

part two will most likely be up on thursday next week :)

#oikawa x reader #oikawa headcanons #oikawa x y/n #oikawa fluff #oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #reader insert #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader

[shedobewritingalittle]

As The World Caves In

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Stark!Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve deals with the loss of his wife after the Snap.

Rating: R?

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Grief, depression, feelings of loneliness, death, graphic depiction of a death

A/N: hi yes I wanted to get this out before TFATWS got out. I have never liked the ending Steve got in Endgame, so I wanted to write a new one for him!

Steve would like to say that he lost his wife like everyone else did that day.

He would love to say that she turned into ash like the rest of his teammates. He would love to say that they had some tear-filled goodbye before she turned into nothing. He would love to have that hope that might be able to come back.

But he can't.

Because she actually died that day in Wakanda. Right before his eyes.

It had happened after Thanos had tossed Steve aside. Y/N had charged at the Titan, angry at the purple being for hurting her husband. He caught her in mid-air, his golden gauntlet shimmering in the sunlight as it wrapped tightly around her throat. Steve had scrambled to stand up, his eyes on her.

Y/N coughed and sputtered, her face turning colors as she kicked, her fingers trying to pry the large gold covered fingers off of her throat. And while it felt like hours for Steve, it had only been seconds. Seconds. Seconds he had held her in their air, seconds she had suffered as the Titan cut off her oxygen. Thanos had smirked before tightening his grip, a sickening crack filling the air. Steve couldn't breathe as her body was tossed towards him. It seemed to move in slow motion, bouncing when it hit the ground.

When her body finally came to a stop in front of him, her head lolling to the side as the cloud of dust settled. Steve still had hope somehow. He prayed to the Lord above as he looked at her, hoping that she was somehow still alive. Blood vessels had burst in her eyes and blood trickled out of her mouth. There was a darkening bruise on her throat, her neck was bent at an unnatural angle. Steve had been unable to move, unable to breathe. Within an instant, she was gone. His wife, the love of his life, ripped away from him in mere seconds.

And then his friends and teammates turned into ash all around him.

The worst moment of his life was when he watched his wife die right in front of him. The second worst is having to tell her brother that she was dead.

After Tony had come down the ramp of the ship, Steve had ran over to help him down that last view steps and over to Pepper. Stark told Steve that Peter was gone and in that moment of silence that followed, Tony's eyes scanned the small group of survivors for his adopted sister. Tears sprung up in the man's eyes as he looked back at Steve. The Captain's throat constricts with emotion, tears brimming in his eyes as he just nods, unable to get the words out. Pepper ran up in that moment, wrapping her arms around Tony just as tears rolled down his face.

Y/N is the only one they actually bury. Her funeral is a quiet affair, with only the remaining members of their team and Pepper in attendance. The couple had never talked about what might happen or what they would want if either of them died. Tony tells him that she would want to be buried next to their parents, so she is. He makes sure his baby sister has the best coffin money can buy, the best headstone-everything. Her funeral is the last time Steve and Tony talk to each other.

Steve gets an apartment she would have loved. It's right around the corner from the restaurant where they had their first date and a few streets away from the cemetery. There was those big windows that Y/N had always expressed fondness over. The apartment also had built in shelves that lined one wall of the living room area, which had been another selling point for him. One day Steve hoped that he would be able to fill them with her many books and tchotchkes, but now they stood empty, the shelves gathering dust. Her collection of novelty mugs weren't in the cabinets, no they were still wrapped up in newspapers within one of the many boxes. He had planned on unpacking all of the things that had once filled their shared room at the compound, but the boxes stay in the second bedroom, all piled up in the middle of the room. He couldn't find it in himself to go through all of her old things, didn't want to be bombarded with emotions and memories.

That first year is the hardest. Learning to live without her tears him to shreds. Steve hardly sleeps, hardly eats. He spends a lot of his time alone, dwelling over what he could've done differently. Natasha tries to reach out to him, but Steve distances himself. He tells himself that he needs to do this alone, needs to try to get through it by himself. Y/N always feels like she's just out of his grasp and he prays and begs to have her back with him. His prayers go unanswered.

Natasha appears outside his door on the one year anniversary of Thanos's snap and Y/N's death, holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and Asgardian mead in the other. They sit together in the kitchen and drink as vigils and memorials take place around the world. For the first time, Steve talks about how much he misses his wife. The two heroes talk all night about each person they missed, both of them wondering aloud how were they supposed to live without them.

By the end of the second year, Steve is getting used to living without her. He hates it. He hates how much that ache in his chest has lessened. He hates that he can see a picture of her without a lump forming in his throat. Steve is able to talk about her more and starts a grief support group. Sure he sometimes wakes up and hopes she's there, but that's getting less and less frequent. Steve's afraid that his memories of her are going to slip away from him, terrified of forgetting her.

So he starts to draw her. He's desperate to hold onto every memory of her, so he fills up page after page, sketchbook after sketchbook of nothing but Y/N. The drawings aren't perfect, but he is able to cement those memories in his mind. Steve wants to make sure that he can remember her face without having to study a picture. So when he remembers something about her, he puts it onto a piece of paper. Y/N on their wedding day. Y/N when they were on the run and she fell asleep in the Quinn Jet. Y/N brushing her teeth early in the morning, her silhouette lit up by the almost golden bathroom light. Y/N the first day they met.

Natasha sees them once when she stops by to see him. One of the sketchbooks is left open on the table and she sneaks a peek when Steve goes to the other room to get a sweater. There on the page in incredible detail is a sketch of her best friend with tears in her eyes, her mouth open in shock. She doesn't know that this is the face she made when she learned that Bucky had killed her parents and Steve knew. Natasha looks away, her cheeks burning. She feels like she saw something too personal, too raw, and she shuts the journal before Steve returns.

When the third, fourth, and then fifth year rolls around- well Y/N has been gone longer than they were together as a couple. Steve has gotten used to her being gone. He's able to walk past the room holding all of the boxes without stalling. It gets easier to talk about her, easier to share stories about her to his group. He still misses her, it's just easier for him to live now. His wedding band never leaves his ring finger, needing to have a part of her with him always. Steve still loves her and he doesn't think he can ever love someone as much as he loves his wife.

And then Scott Lang reappears.

Steve wants to reverse what Thanos did, wants to bring back his friends even if that means he cannot bring back his wife. That ache in is chest returns as they put together their heist plan. Steve feels like there's a ghost following him around while he's back at the compound. His shoulders feel heavy again and he tries to put on a brave face as the people around him get hopeful. He tries to be happy, knowing that he will be getting his friends back and fixing what had happened, but he can't help but be upset.

-

Steve gets to see her when they go back.

It's after he knocks out the younger version of himself. Steve is standing over himself, breathing hard, and holding Loki's scepter tightly in his hands.

"That is America's Ass." He comments, looking behind him before back down to the unconscious man. He needs to meet back up with the others so that they can-

"It definitely is." A familiar voice calls out from in front of him. Steve stills, his breath catching in his throat before he slowly lifts his head. There she is, standing before him with a smirk on her face. Y/N is dressed in her navy blue suit, her hair messy from the battle she just went through. Her face is dirty, her lip split and there is a long cut across her cheekbone. His mouth goes dry and he's suddenly tongue tied, like he was when they first met.

Steve remembers how nervous and awkward he was when they were first introduced to each other. Y/N gave him a million dollar smile and just like that, he knew he was a goner. Steve had stumbled over saying his name, which had then made her laugh-God, that laugh. That laugh had made him warm all over, made butterflies swarm around in his stomach. And in the past five years, those butterflies had been dormant and now, now they're wide awake.

"You're not my Steve." Y/N announces as she walks towards him, studying him. Steve's heart is beating fast and he wants to reach out and hold her close, wanting to tell her how much he loves her. My Steve. God, he misses her. He misses everything about her.

"How can you tell?" He asks, a tiny smile appearing on his face. Y/N chuckles, taking seeing two Steve's surprisingly well. But then again, she had just got done fighting aliens and a literal god so he supposes that things have been weirder.

"My Steve won't even look me in the eye. He blushes when I look at him. When I look at you...you just look so sad. That's how I know you're not Loki." She answers, stopping in front of him. Steve studies her face, taking in every little detail because he knows that this is the last time he'll see her.

"I-I'm that easy to read, huh?" Steve retorts and she laughs again, nodding. God, he misses that sound. He misses her so fucking much that it makes his chest ache. Y/N's smile falters as she looks at him, watching as his smile drops.

"I'm not going to pretend what is exactly going on here, okay? Obviously you are going through something and it's pretty clear you are on a some type of mission." She tells him, motioning to the scepter in his hands. Steve looks down to his hand before looking at her. He knows that she should be calling for back up because by the way people keep speaking through her comm Y/N must know that things are going south.

"I'll bring it back, I promise." Steve replies and the smile returns to her face. Y/N glances down to the unconscious man on the floor before looking at him.

"I know you will. I never saw you, new Steve. And don't worry, I'll make sure you don't choke on your tongue." She teases, gesturing to the passed out version of himself. Steve's smile returns to his face as she continues, "But I do expect some sort of explanation when you come back."

"Of course. I'll be back before you even know I was gone." Steve says, wanting to say so many other things that he knows that he just can't tell her. He opens his mouth again when her comm once again crackles to life. Y/N's eyes widen and she gestures for him to leave. Steve's mouth snaps shut and he nods, quickly walking away.

Tony would later tell Steve when they're in 1970 that he started crying when he saw his little sister.

-

When his teammates return on the battlefield, she isn't among them. He knows she won't be coming through a portal, but some part of him still holds out hope for some reason. Yet, there is no sadness inside of him on that battlefield. No, rage has pushed all of that sadness aside, filling him up completely.

When he fought against Thanos and his army, he did so with every ounce of strength in his body. Steve wanted to avenge the death of Y/N, wanted to kill Thanos for what he did to her. Steve has never felt so angry in his entire life. He wanted to be the one who ended the Titan's life. He ignored the large gash in his arm and tore through aliens.

And in the end, it's Tony who takes out Thanos. He is the one who avenges his baby sister's death, but the price he pays his high. And Steve has to watch another Stark die.

He feels so guilty that he is alive and both of the Stark siblings are gone, both of them buried side by side, right next to their parents.

There is just so much death in his life, so much damn loss. And he's tired. Steve is exhausted. He hoped that bringing back his friends and the half of the universe that had disappeared because of the Snap would make him feel better, but it hadn't. No, instead that hurt has returned with full force. His chest feels like its about to cave in on itself, like his ribs piercing his lungs and heart-God, everything seems unbearable. All he wants is for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

And then, he is reminded that he has to return the stones.

And while every single part of the journey is noteworthy, he saves returning the scepter for last.

Y/N is sitting beside the unconscious version of himself when he returns. She turns his head to look at him, a smile on her face. For a moment, he considers staying here with her, reliving every single moment of their life and their relationship as it happens.

But he knows that he can't.

It wouldn't be right for him to stay here with her, knowing everything that he knows. Steve has had his time with her, time that he will treasure for the rest of is life. He knows that if he returns back to his timeline, there will be a lot of hurting that he will have to go through. Steve knows that it would be so much easier to stay here with Y/N, but he won't let himself do it.

So Steve explains to Y/N why he needed the scepter, leaving out her death and the death of her brother. After he finishes, she stays quiet for a moment, processing all of this new information. He just waits and sits there.

"Don't tell me what happens, please. I want the cards to fall where they may. I-I want to be surprised." Y/N tells him suddenly, glancing at the unconscious man before looking at Steve. The Captain understands exactly what she means. She must know somehow that she ends up with him, something on his face his showing his hand. Y/N had always told him that he had a shitty poker face. A smile stretches across his face, nodding. His wedding ring-hidden under his gloves-feels so much heavier, like its weighing his arm down.

A pit of dread opens up in Steve's stomach as his time draws to an end. He thanks and apologizes to Y/N as he hands over the scepter. She just smiles, telling him not to worry about it as she puts it back into its case. He must look as upset as he feels because before he leaves, Y/N wraps her arms around him. It surprises Steve, but he quickly wraps his arms back around her. Steve holds her tightly, letting his eyes shut. He knows that this will be the last time he'll ever hold her and he just savors it, wishing that it could last forever. Wishing that he could stay here forever.

But everything has to come to an end.

When he says goodbye, he knows that Y/N doesn't understand that this is him saying goodbye to her for the last time. Steve finally gets to tell her goodbye and even though he isn't able to tell Y/N how much he loves her, it's okay. It's okay because he will be able to tell her how much he loves her one day, even if that day isn't today. They'll be reunited again. He just needs to wait.

She tells him goodbye and he takes one final look at her before he returns back to his timeline, back into a world where she's gone.

That night, he returns to his empty apartment, the silence almost deafening. That hole in his chest has reopened and he is in so much pain that everything just feels numb.

He goes through the motions of getting ready for bed, washing the day's events off of him hoping that this would also wash away the numbness, trying to pretend like nothing of importance had happened hours earlier. When he crawls into the same bed he has been sleeping in for the past five years-a bed she has never touched-he realizes how empty it is without her. He can't feel her here like he can at the Compund-No, here she doesn't follow behind him. No, this is a place she has never been so she can't be here. The apartment is suddenly too big for him-everything is too big for him. It's too big and too empty and too fucking quiet-

It's like the string that was holding him together the past five years has finally snapped and he just starts crying. The Captain's body shakes with sobs as he lays in that empty room. Steve had thought he had processed her death and grieved already, but he hadn't. Until this very moment, it had never fully set in that Y/N was dead. It was never fully real that she was gone. He knew that she was, but some part of him was still holding out hope that somehow she was going to come back. If Bucky could come back, surely she could have as well. But Y/N isn't Bucky and so she never came back.

It took until today for him to fully realize that she was gone. Y/N was gone and there was nothing he can do about it. There was no stones to gather, no traveling through dimensions for him to do. Steve had to live the rest of his life without the love of his life, in a time where he'll never belong in. That small flicker of hope that had been silently living inside of him had been snuffed out, leaving an empty dark space inside of him, leaving him cold and empty.

The only hope that remained is that they would be reunited one day in death, but until then Steve would be forced to carry around his pain where ever he went.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader

[mrpenguinpants]

Mona HCs: Self-worth

[For the Christmas Celebration Requests, please read this]

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Hey anon! I’m so sorry this is late. I hope you’re doing okay anon, wherever you are. But I’m happy to hear you like my work 💕💕 I don’t mind talking/writing about sensitive topics if it can help people, even if the comfort is coming through words it’s still comfort, but I’m never too busy to skip over a request. Just might be a bit slow haha. I’m glad you enjoy reading them and sending me an ask! Thanks for telling me I’m doing great cause damn I need that right now.

If any of you are struggling right now, even if you’re in a slump, I’m always free to talk. Sometimes it’s easier to vent to a stranger and know that you aren’t alone. We’re in this together.

I’m kinda scared to post this but that’s alright;; This was way longer than I thought it would be so I’m gonna split Barbara and Mona into separate hcs.

But, depending on the feedback (if there is any lol) I might skip Barbara. I swear I was going to make this happy but then I shot myself in the kneecap.

[taglist]  <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji​​​  @mikeysbike​​​ @unionwitch​​ @musekala​​ @twistedsunnshiii​​ @stanzastic​​ @akaasea​​ @xoneaboveallx​​ @adoring-ghost​​ @asheseiler​​ @childelover​

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Mona HCs: Self-worth

Mona Megistus was an astrologist of great skill and equally-great pride. She was both beautiful and confident and never used her astrology for profit. You were so proud of her and grateful that she was your partner. But maybe being with someone so great was when you started feeling off. You started comparing yourself to Mona and everyone else around you, seeing and thinking that everyone was doing something worthwhile. Sucrose and Albedo were great alchemists. Jean, Kaeya, and Lisa were part of the Knights of Favonius. What were you doing? Even though you felt guilt for feeling these ugly emotions towards your friends, you couldn’t stop them. You loved Mona, nothing would change that. So instead, you started hating yourself. 

You had met the astrologist when she was moraless and starving outside the walls of the City of Freedom. You knew that she had a temporary home towards the corner of Mondstadt so why was she outside the walls? It turns out that she spent all her mora on astrological devices and forgot that she was human and needed to eat and had collapsed before making it home. Out of the kindness of your heart and frankly, leaving someone to die right outside the gates of the City of Freedom would be awful, so you helped carry her back to your home and made sure she was alright. Since then Mona had attempted to return the favour but you always declined. You didn’t want to know about your fate but if she wanted to hang out as friends, you would be inclined to. It started to elevate from there and now you’re both partners. Since then you found yourself in Mona’s temporary lab and house more often than your own home. 

Being that you spent so much time with Mona, you’ve had to deal with a fair share of clients storming out the door because of Mona’s bluntness when reciting their fates. To be fair, she was blunt towards you too. In the beginning you didn’t mind, you actually enjoyed the honesty, but now you couldn’t help but second guess yourself. Trying to reason with yourself that if Mona didn’t like you, she would say it. If you weren’t good enough, she would tell you. Well, due to her astrology she took one glance at you the next time you walked in and knew all your deepest insecurity's.

“Your life is not at a standstill, it’s not hopeless. There is nothing to be sad about.” 

That made you take a step back. Slowly registering the words and repeating them over and over in your head. You knew that she was just telling you what you needed to hear. That this is what you needed and wanted to hear. That she wasn’t trying to be mean and that she was right. You wanted to live a happy life with her and if you felt useless then you should work on it. Staying holed up in your room wasn’t going to help you. You knew all of this and yet, you could feel yourself slowly breakdown.

“Breathe in. Breathe out. You’re going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Mona had her experiences of clients crying and getting angry at her predictions but when she saw you slowly breakdown. To see your eyes start to burn and get heavy, like the rim of a glass being pushed down and down. To see you slowly crumble from the inside out as you tried to hold your tears and sniffles in. She didn’t need the stars to tell her that she said the wrong thing. She was told to never offer advice, just to read what fate said when asked. 

“I want to be happy. But I just can’t. I want to enjoy these little moments. I want to enjoy seeing my friends. I want to do so many things and make so many happy memories with you. I know all of these things and I’m trying my hardest to think like that but I just can’t. I can’t. Am I just not trying hard enough? Am I enough to you? Am I worth enough to be okay?”

She called out to you but you already turned away and ran out the door. You didn’t see each other for a few days because you couldn’t help but second guess what you said. Were you overthinking it? Mona didn’t say anything hurtful so why were you so upset? You didn’t want to face her so you curled into yourself further and let yourself get swallowed whole in despair.

When a week had passed, Mona made her specialty dish “Der Weisheit Letzter Schluss (Life)” and awkwardly shuffled outside your door. She wanted to give you time to yourself but after talking with Albedo and Klee plus your absent presence from her, she felt lonely and was starting to reflect on her words. It was a insensitive to take your happiness for granted and while she usually didn’t complain about upset clients being told future’s they didn’t want to hear. You were important to her. You were worth enough to be told things were going to be okay and much more. 

As much confidence that Mona had in herself and her skills, she couldn’t manage money. She was always living on poverty line. She almost died if you didn’t find her and extended your help. She was so lonely and you were the first person that she considered a friend. More than a friend and more than a partner. You meant so much to her and she couldn’t realize that this is what you needed to hear instead. 

She softly knocked on the door to see if you were home but the door gave away. You hadn’t bothered to even lock the door. At least you were in Mondstadt so she could rely that no one had broken in. She softly opens the door and places the dish on the table and searches your little home trying to find you.

You’re on your bed, asleep even when it’s noon. She didn’t want to wake you up but she didn’t want to leave yet. Not until you were okay. She felt so much guilt and only now found the courage to come see you. She was disappointed in herself that she basically abandoned you in your time of need, what kind of partner was she? She bit her lip hard enough for it to bleed as she carefully lied down next to you and wrapping her arms around you. Even if you hate her or you don’t want to see her, she doesn’t want you to think that you’re worthless or she doesn’t care. You mean so much to her and you spent all this time not knowing.

You don’t need to be the best, even if you think that what you’re doing isn’t good, it was and she was proud of you. No matter how long it takes for you to feel okay, to feel happy, she’ll stay by your side the same way you did.

“It’s okay. It’s okay to feel like you’re not good enough. Don’t feel guilty for being stressed or sad. Things will get better. Fate has not abandoned you and neither will I.”

She had regressed to her apprenticeship, thinking that astrology could explain the laws that governed the existence of all things. That human hearts were guided by these laws, and if one had great enough powers of calculation, all the mysteries of the world could be understood. She remembered when she was starving, you had shared half your food with her. In your small but warm kitchen as you offered her your own hard work just to make sure she, a stranger, had something to eat. 

"Out here, we've gotta have each other's backs."

That was the first time she truly questioned her thoughts under the stars, she marveled that her research had been so full of holes. Mona cries silently beside you, even with all her training and how she boasts about the power of astrology, she can’t help you. No matter how many hydro graphs she makes or tells you that the stars show a glimmer of hope. That won’t help you. So she holds you and hopes that you can feel all her emotions and love. 

While you’re asleep she tells you about when she first started astrology, she accidently scaled herself. The burns are still on her as a reminder that she makes mistakes. How she was moraless for years after leaving her Master’s teachings but somehow found a job in the Court of Fontaine’s mainline newspaper. All on pure chance. She tells you how appreciative she is that you visit her everyday, to make sure she has a meal, and that she remembers to write her column for the newspaper. That she’s grateful to have met you and have you stay by her side. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s okay. It will be okay. You’re enough. You’re perfect. Everyone may seem to be exceeding but it doesn’t mean you’re slow, that you’re not worth it. You are at your own pace, working through your own steps. You’re not alone. I’m here. You’ll be okay.”  

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin mona #genshin impact mona #mona megistus #mona x reader #mona x mc #mona headcanons #mona imagines #tw depression

[haztory]

hello hello ! first, congratulations on 300 !! and if you are still taking requests, may i request the angst dialouge “Can you look at me? Please?” with nanami ? thank you & keep up the wonderful work !! :)

“Can you look at me? Please?” from my writing event! (come request something)

warnings: angst, only angst

nanami kento x gn reader

“Tilt your head upwards,” Two fingers prod against your chin, gentle yet firm pressure lifting your face and pressing a wet cloth onto the surface of your cheekbone.

It stings, worse than any regular cut that splits the skin. The wound having been laced and imbued with a cursed poison, the kind that simultaneously numbs and burns the surrounding area. Given only when you were taken off guard, caught too hastily in your preoccupation with the man currently standing in front of you instead of the fight at hand.

A foolish mistake on your part— one you understand the gravity of quite thoroughly, even without the disapproving stares and the extended periods of silence that weigh heavily onto you, imparted by the stoic man and impromptu healer.

Nanami halts his movement, his hand hovering over the injury, and his dark eyes— laced entirely too much with dismay— flicker quickly towards yours, of which you pointedly avoid. 

He waits, silent in his plaguing stare that truthfully discomforts you more than the injury itself; He waits for your sighs of pain to subside, waits for you to meet his gaze. Waits for you to understand that behind the neutrality of his stature and the calmness of his demeanor as he led you back from the mission and into the sanctity of his office at the school, lies a brewing lecture of turmoil and overwhelming disappointment.

You didn’t have to look at him to know that, though.

“Are you alright?” He asks after a minute of heavy silence fills the space of the room. He towers over your seated body, feeling miles away in superiority and physicality despite being right in front of you, his hands touching your face and your knee placed between his open legs. He couldn’t be any closer, not with the rich musk of his cologne swirling around you and the heat of him transferring itself onto you.

And yet, you couldn’t feel further from him. 

“Yeah,” keeping your eyes downturned, you mutter lowly, “‘m fine.”

His hand lowers and with it he drops the rag onto the surface of the table. He sighs, the weight of his stress and the exhaustion from the mission exhaling into the air, settling heavily on top of the already apparent displeasure with the situation. 

With you.

You can only push your head down farther and slink away from the expanse of his body in some feeble effort to minimize the extent of your burden on him, even if you may have had good intentions upon doing so.

If only you hadn’t gotten distracted; If only you remembered that out of the two of you, he was the more qualified sorcerer. There was no need to be so concerned for the likes of his safety, especially not when your own was so intensely threatened in that moment. If only you hadn’t turned your head, yelled his name, pleaded for him to move— 

“(Y/N),” Nanami says, voice soft and silky yet still. Foundational. A pillar that pushes itself into the whirlwind of your thoughts and refuses to budge, forcing you to acknowledge it. To acknowledge him and the depth of the irreparable impression you’ve made on him.

You can hear his words before he even says it, forced to sit with the impeding knowledge of the fate of this conversation and take the daggers of despair that will no doubt pierce every part of your fragile heart as he points out the obvious mistake you made. Droles on about how imperative it is to keep business and feelings separate.

Reminds you of the vow he made upon becoming a sorcerer.

Why couldn’t you have just— 

“Can you look at me?” 

You can’t. 

You can’t have him see that as much as he may be disappointed in you, you are even more so disappointed in yourself. Understanding full and well what your mistake means, even if it is something as simple as a cut on the cheek. You can’t have him see and confirm the large crack that has been made in the solid wall of duty to your occupation that can no longer be reversed. 

If you look at him, if you so much as make eye contact with him, he will know the weakness that you possess, the disadvantage you carry with you into every mission. The sharp Achilles heel that has made itself abundantly clear before the two of you and every cursed spirit that saw you stumble. 

Nanami Kento, in whatever fashion he may exist, has the entirety of your attention in the palm of his hand and the cool swing of his arm. And try as you might devote your focus to any matter at hand, you can never successfully win the battle in keeping him out of your thoughts. 

Nanami Kento is the root of your mistake and the inevitable reason behind your downfall. You’ve known it for far too long, and now, he does too. A prophecy in the making, a tragic tale playing its beginning notes before you that’s too sweet for you to try and end.

But he will. 

He will know of the taint in your commitment to this life, the compromise of your duty and the manner in which he plays an active part in it, and he will remove it in the name of safety. 

Dread fills your stomach.

“Please?” He tries again, quieter this time. 

Soft yet firm, comforting, and wrapped in the linen of silk. Lined with the scent of his musk and coated entirely in a sweet, dripping concoction that refreshed you with one word alone. The sweetest of tones that have your heart accelerating with the single word alone.

You want more, you need more for as long as you can have it. That is your prophecy, the destiny written in the fate of your stars and consolidated by the sharpness of his cheekbones and the gentleness of his touch.

He is error in your duty that you can no longer see as a mistake. You’re not sure you ever saw it as a mistake.

You look up at him, throbbing pain in your cheek no longer felt, instead replaced with the sorrows of his eyes and the slow push of the dagger in your heart. Propelled by him, his hand wrapped around the ornate handle, with your own settled on top of it, guiding its entry, because you have done this to yourself.

You fell in love with someone who could not be loved, who did not want to be loved.

And worst of all, you laid it bare before him when you prioritized his safety over your own. You bear the physical mark of your profession that swirls with draining poison that he gentle tries to patch up. A wound that he tries to heal and leave with no trace of himself in its wake.

His mouth remains closed as you finally meet his gaze, but his eyes tell you everything you need to know.

There’s the furrow in his brow and pity in his stare as he whispers, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

The malice you expected is absent, replaced with a saddened realization of the truth that you both tried so hard to avoid. You find that you would’ve much preferred a furious lecture than whatever this is.

This pathetic rejection on the basis of violated principles and foolish duty; A halting of something that hadn’t even had the chance to begin.

You should feel something, something deep and burning in you pointed desperately at him, for depriving you of the chance of a truthful embrace. But you can only hum, a wry one that punches him in the gut, even when you try to keep it void from all emotion.

“I know.”

He tries to find some consolation in the fact that you at least know that your feelings were meant to die here. He should feel less guilty in the admittance that you never bought into the enticing fantasy of living a domestic life with him, a romantic and fulfilling one in which things could end happily and your jobs weren’t the brutal forces of despair.

He should feel some relief in knowing that you knew as much as him that it was better to leave things unsaid, than to act on them, for then, he could keep you close without having to acknowledge the blurring boundaries.

It doesn’t though. Only leaves him with an aching hollow in his chest and a pain reverberating along his spine.

If only you didn’t know that this love was a tragedy in the making, then maybe he could’ve given you a reason to hate him. He could’ve broken your heart brutally, right here and now, and sleep peacefully at night knowing that you truly believed him to be an insignificant monster that ruined a chance of happiness.

Maybe you could’ve believed him to be an end of a route that would lead to a better future, one that you unabashedly deserved.

But you do know. You’ve carried the truth of that burden alongside him, and you admit it. That’s the worst part.

Nanami sighs again in some effort to exhale the heavy weight that lumps in his throat. It’s futile. His eyes drift, if only to break themselves from your own sorrowful gaze, but much like you, he finds himself inevitably being drawn back—unable to stray from the entrancing state of your eyes.

Unable to stop himself from gazing at the long-awaited happiness he finally found in your irises. The one he longed for.

His hand cups around the back of your neck, bringing your foreheads together and noses bumping gently into one another. The closest he can let you be to him, without breaking his dutiful promise.

He breathes you in shamelessly, memorizes the feel of your skin against his, closes his eyes and imagines that for just a moment, he could have you without restraint in this space. You do the same, soaking in the forbidden lifetime of forever in this brief second. You wish, that in all his empathy and compassion for those around him—that in his exorbitant effort to minimize the extent of the damage his eventual death will amass—he will give you just a minute more; Just a second more to keep him close.

Reality is never that kind.

He pulls away, stray strands of blonde falling in front of his forehead that he hardly minds as he picks the rag up once more and places it in your hand.

“Keep this on the wound. I’ll go find the first-aid.”

He turns, quick in his motion and set in his path as he makes his way to the door. Leaving you and the air of lost infinite possibilities behind. He opens it, and just as he is about to step out, he pauses.

“After tonight I will put in my request for reassignment. I’ll make sure they pair you with someone capable. And from now on, it would be best to distance ourselves. We should avoid making a mistake of this kind again.”

And then he leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him, no room for argument in the bluntness of his words. No room for interpretation. Not even a brief hesitation as he confirmed that his vow of loneliness would trump any attempt of momentary happiness he could have found with you.

A statement, strict and concise, affirming what you already knew. You could love Nanami Kento all you wanted, and you could hope and plead desperately that he would love you too, but in the end, all that would be left was the fruits of your mistake.

No.

Not a mistake.

Only a love that was lost before it could even be found.

a/n: apparently the only thing I know how to write for nanami is angst. hope you enjoyed this one anon!!! feel free to request more!! and thank you for the congrats!!

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