Reread - Tumblr Posts

I loved these books in middle school and recently reread them for the sake of nostalgia 😬

“He had been so many things. Seductive as silver and deadly as a cobra. And vulnerable like a hurt child underneath it all.”

— The Forbidden Game

PLEASE. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING DO. SO WE CAN RANT ABOUT EVERYTHING. CONSIDER THIS A SIGN

I need to reread Artemis Fowl. It's been, like, ten years, and good lord I don't remember ANYTHING. the last book always made me cry and I don't even remember why

The Love After (Series Masterlist) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader, ex!Yoongi x Reader

Genre/Tags: werewolf au; beta!jungkook x human!reader; angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, smut

Series Warnings: minor character death, grief and loss, depression, thoughts of one’s own death, animal attack, descriptions of wounds and injuries, heart attack, talk of death, almost fire, use of sex to cope, marking, sexual content (first times; fingering, breast play, oral (f receiving), handjob, unprotected sex) (18+)

Word count: 63,220 (main story)

Status: Completed

Mini-Series summary: Every werewolf has a fate, interpreted by Amma and guided by the Moon. In this world, there are 2 Supreme Fates fully determined by Her - serve in the Wolf Warrior Clan or find your True Mate. You and Jungkook have neither. You both lost the loves of your lives to live out their Supreme Fates and it’s why you both hold resentment towards the mating system. Until the Ceremony happens and you and Jungkook are fated to each other, connected only by heartbreak, pain, and the long lost belief that you could ever love again.

Main story

Part 01 (wc: 21.4)

Part 02 (wc: 16.3k)

Part 03 (wc: 25.5k)

Drabbles

01: You gotta hold on for me, please || Jungkook finds you in danger

02: I know you’re stronger now but maybe a little warning next time? || You go through your first transformation

03: You’re gonna be a mom || Jungkook comes home to a surprise

04: You’re making more noise than she is and you’re not even the one giving birth || You and Jungkook welcome the little ones

05: My fingers are tucked underneath their chins and they won’t let go || You and Jungkook savor your daughters’ first year

06: Do you think it’ll ever go away? The guilt of what I’ve done? || You’re reminded of your past

mutual help | index

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing | © 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 (𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝)

𓍯𝗧𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗿:

#01 | #02 | #03 | #04 | #05 | #06 | #07 | #08 | #09 | #10

#11 | #12 | #13 | #14 | #15 | #16 | #17 | #18 | #19 | #20

#21 | #22 | #23 | #24 | #25 | #26 | #27 | #28 | #29 | #30

#31 | #32 | #33 | #34 | #35 | #36 | #37 | #38 | #39 | #40

#41 | #42 | #43 | #44 | #45 | #46 | #47 | #48 | #49 | #50

#51 | #52 | #53 | #54 | #55 | #56 | #57 | #58 | #59 | #60

𓍯𝗢𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀:

No longer available on Wattpad [read announcement here] | AO3 

drabbles masterlist (in no particular order)

𓍯𝗕𝗘𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗣

#the one you and Jungkook meet for the first time

#the one where you’re on your period

#the one where Jungkook saves you from a drunk guy at the club

#the one where you get drunk and Jungkook handles you

#the one where it’s your birthday

#the one with a phone call between you and Jungkook

#the one where it’s Halloween

𓍯𝗗𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗣

#the one where Jungkook has his breakfast… you

#the one where you stay at Jungkook’s place and you kiss and cuddle instead

#the one where you and Taehyung almost kissed and have a conversation about it the next morning

𓍯𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗣

…

𓍯𝗕𝗢𝗡𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗦

#mh!taehyung drabble

Rewatching, rereading, or reliving your comfort series and then finishing it is the worst feeling. You start off alright, happy to be back. It feels as if you’re coming home, but by the time you end it, it’s like you’re leaving home. It feels so completely wrong but you cannot change the fact that the story is nearing the end. It creates an ache in your chest, you automatically miss it and wish to go back.

Arslan Senki Reread

Arslan is such a good bean. If he did have the raw power backing him to railroad the conflict into a mediation, I wonder what the result would've been.

I think it's more than just Arslan lacking the power, I don't see Andragoras and Hilmes accepting to lay their hands away from each other. Worst case scenario, Arslan dies in the middle anyways bc Assassination™. Both Narsus and Daryun are right here, Arslan himself lacks power, but also at this point neither Hilmes nor Andragoras are capable of backing off.

Farangis' dialogue here is making me feel things, dammit. Do what you can. Do what's in your power. (It's very relevant to my Wolfpack AU.)

Farangis comforting/gently advising Arslan, and then steps up to keep the project on track. She makes for a good sister-mentor figure. I love Narsus and Farangis' dynamic, her atrocious love advice aside.

I see Alfarīd as someone who ultimately values life, who fights for life even as she is a bandit. Perhaps even because she is a bandit. Rather than having your life be snuffed out for/by an ungrateful liege or king (the Zott laugh at both country and king, they answer to no one but their own, as Merlaine said) so Estelle's stubborn loyalty must baffle her a lot. It's alien to her. (Arslan is different, he's a friend, as she says.) Rather than dying for the convenience of the ruling class who would never appreciate them, perhaps to her, staying alive in spite of their best efforts to snuff them out is a form of resistance. So she doesn't understand why, why Estelle is so willing to lay their life down for a tyrannical, genocidal maniac.

The head jars.

Why yes, I cropped out the Bastard's face because I'm petty if nothing else.

The sorcerers evading death from a blow that would've, should've, killed a human being.

Saam is shaken. This is the first he's hearing of it, and he fears what this implies. What this implies for Hilmes. What's going on? What does he mean by benefactor? How is his prince tied to these unnatural beings? This can mean nothing good.

Saam's speech bubble trembles with fear for Hilmes. And Hilmes, oh Hilmes, the red flags are so vivid they're a sea of blaring neon signs now. Nay, they're neon billboards. You say so yourself, the sorcerer here is doing something morally repugnant. Open your fucking eyes, this ain't good!

Also, does Hilmes' hair seem quite long here?

Ohhh fuck you. Fuck you fuck you all the way to hell and never back. Saam was trying to protect Hilmes. And there's just something that hits so hard about that last panel. “Please believe me.” We know it wasn't Saam who said it out loud, of course, but the backdrop being a pitch black with no speaker, taken out of context it sounds like a plea and y'know, I'll bet Saam was pleading for Hilmes' faith in the deeps of his mind even if he doesn't speak it aloud. A tug-o-war, each needing Hilmes to believe in him.

I want to punt Hilmes in the sun for which side he chooses here.

[cool with you] leehan x f!reader | 3.8k words f2l, college au, smut (oral m.receiving, making out), alcohol consumption note. most graphic fic ive written so far so proceed with caution, also sorry to anon for taking so long to write this thank u sm for sending requests! hope u all enjoy :3 @onedoornet

"hey guys, this is my friend, leehan. is it cool if he sits with us?" jaehyun's chirpy voice interrupted the current discussion at your table. looking up, you saw a boy with glasses and fluffy hair smiling shyly.

"is this the guy from your health class, hyung? my name is taesan, whats up?" the long haired boy's slightly quieter presence fit into your group perfectly; you, belle, and taesan being the same age as him only made it easier for him to talk to you guys.

to be honest, with how big of a group you hung out with, leehan and your conversations often got drowned out, you being pulled over to ningning and giselle while leehan was caught up in discussions with shinyu and jaehyun.

while you had nothing against the boy, you never really found yourself with the opportunity to get to know him one-on-one, and his presence in the group was merely an afterthought to you.

…

slumping into a seat in your 9 am lecture, you yawned, already regretting taking a morning math lecture. unluckily, you'd completely forgotten to register for the class until just before the beginning of the semester, leaving you no choice but to sign up for the morning section.

as you begrudgingly pulled out your notebook, your text buzzed with a message.

leehan: is that you?

yn: huh

leehan: in mr.shin's math class

leehan: look behind you

you whipped around to see leehan sitting a couple rows back, waving at you with a small smile. he donned the same black glasses he always wore, hair messily fluffed and his figure draped in a loose hoodie. smiling back, you quickly gathered your things, moving to an empty seat next to him. his eyes widened watching you walk over.

while he was on the shyer side, you most definitely were not. plus, you were more than thrilled to see a familiar face in class.

slightly out of breath from walking over, you whispered to the boy next to you.

"hey, how are you?" you were smoothing your hair down and reorganizing your things as you spoke.

looking down at his sweats, leehan wondered how you managed to look so put together at nine in the morning.

"good, i didn't know you were in this class." the boy replied quietly.

he glanced up slightly to see if the professor had arrived yet. you sucked in a breath seeing the boy up close. his side profile enticed you, but you recovered quickly, not wanting to make a fool of yourself.

"yeah, it's a requirement for my program, i suck at math, though." you frowned slightly, fiddling with your nails.

"don't worry, i can help you out." leehan smiled easily at you, earning a surprised look back.

"what? i like math." he retorted. and with that, you finally got to know the long haired boy beyond the snippets of conversation you two shared at lunches.

the two of you frequently hung out, using the excuse of working on homework to get food together, waste time at the library, or hang out at your apartment.

despite his quieter demeanor, you found that you clicked with the boy well. the two of you talked about anything and everything, whether it was your favorite movies or some dumb prank myungjae decided to play on giselle.

sometimes, you felt like no one else knew leehan as well as you did. or rather, that you were the only one who witnessed this version of leehan -- the person he was around you. the serious and quiet mannerisms he had kept up like a wall fell quickly around you. hearing his name made you think of late nights at the uni library, cold ice cream after a difficult exam, and loud laughter at his stupid jokes.

"what does a mermaid wear on her boobs?" leehan's question pierced the calm silence of your study session. looking up from your laptop, you quirked a brow.

"huh?" you were slightly in a daze, the quick shifting of your attention and the warm air of the courtyard jumbling your thoughts together.

"an algebra!" the boy in front of you barely spat the answer out before bursting into giggles, his honey voice bringing you back to earth. you sighed in fake frustration, making him laugh even harder. he dropped his pencil and notebook to hold his stomach as his laughing fit continued.

in that moment, surrounded by the soft grass of the courtyard and hair blowing in the slow breeze, leehan was a sight to behold. your breathing faltered, lungs utterly failing you as you watched his eyes crinkle adorably and as your ears filled with the sound of his pretty laugh. you felt your heart beating in your ears, bringing a hand to cup your cheek.

it was warm, and you'd be stupid to think the sun was the only reason for it.

…

you tapped the excess powder off your makeup brush delicately, finishing the final touch ups on your makeup for the night. you were sitting in your roommate, belle's, room with ningning and giselle. the four of you were getting ready for a party, like any other friday night.

"here." you clicked the tin of your blush closed as you turned towards giselle, who handed you a shot glass with clear liquid. you grimaced slightly at the sight, looking past giselle's outstretched arm to see your 2 other friends with matching shot glasses and similar looks of disgust.

the four of you clinked your glasses together before throwing back the rancid liquid. your eyes screwed shut and you reached for the nearest beverage to chase the shot.

opening your eyes, you made eye contact with ningning, giggling as she smiled at you.

moving over to stand at belle's desk, you poured another round of shots for your friends, opening your phone to play some music in the background.

2 rounds later, you were satisfied with the level of buzz you felt, sitting next to belle on her bed and leaning a head on her shoulder.

"tired already?" she laughed at you, poking your thigh teasingly. you shook your head.

"can't sleep now, y/n, or you'll miss seeing your boyfriend." ningning's voice was singsongy as she teased you. you pulled your head off of your friend's shoulder to flip ningning off.

"he is not my boyfriend." you protested, cheeks burning at the mention of the long haired boy.

"seriously, y/n, we all see how you guys are together." giselle spoke lazily as she straightened her hair, throwing a sarcastic look at you.

"yeah, it's like you guys are in your own little bubble. it's disgusting actually." belle agreed. before you could land a soft punch on her shoulder, her phone screen lit up with a message.

it was a message from taesan. you couldn't make out the full text, only catching a glimpse of his contact picture.

"speaking of the devil, he and the boys are about to head over there. we should get going." the timing worked out perfectly as giselle had just finished doing her hair and ningning had finally picked out her outfit.

you checked yourself in the mirror one last time, doing a quick once over of your outfit. the denim shorts and white halter top complimented you well, and you smiled triumphantly as you tucked some of your hair behind your ear.

you wondered if leehan would like your outfit, stomach flipping at the idea of seeing him soon. he usually didn't enjoy these types of functions, but the boys convinced him to come for once.

"y/n! hurry your ass up!" giselle's voice snapped you out of your daze, and you ran out the door to catch up to your friends.

…

music pulsed through your veins as you pushed open the door. the party was louder than you expected, and you could barely hear belle yelling at you over the music.

"let's go to the kitchen!" her voice was almost drowned out by the music, and she grabbed you hand to pull you in the right direction.

you friends found a bit of solace in the kitchen, as well as the drinks.

"let's take a round of shots." ningning smiled deviously, pouring out four shots of some clear liquid from a bottle you didn't recognize. somehow you had a feeling tonight was going to be more eventful than usual.

a couple rounds later, you and the girls were sufficiently drunk, finally deciding to look for the rest of your friends. before you could turn and enter the crowd of bodies, you felt someone grab your shoulder and pull you in for a hug.

looking up, you were met with taesan's smiling face, making you laugh and hug him back.

"we thought you guys died!" he yelled drunkenly, moving past you to say hello to the rest of the girls. behind him, you saw shinyu and myungjae's flushed faces. the boys clearly pregamed more than you guys did.

as taesan pulled belle and ningning out into the living room to dance and the rest of your friends filed out behind them, you were left in the kitchen with none other than leehan. he was still standing near the kitchen's entrance.

you walked over to him, almost tripping over your foot in the process.

"hi." you giggled. the long haired boy's eyes widened with concern at your unstable steps, hand reaching out to grab your shoulder.

"how drunk are you?" he asked with a small smile on his face. he thought you looked so cute like this, cheeks slightly pink and eyes crinkled. you shrugged teasingly.

"dunno. did you drink?" he seemed a bit more composed than the other boys.

"yeah, i'm just tipsy though." you nodded in acknowledgement before breaking out into another dazed smile.

despite the intoxication running through your system, the two of you fell into conversation just as easily as usual. your head felt foggy as leehan rambled about his day and how he and the guys had gotten to the party. the boy could read you like a book, noticing the way your eyes looked at him but felt far away.

"what're you thinking about?" he asked curiously. you snapped out of your chaotic thoughts. not uttering a word, you brought your index finger up and lightly pressed the skin underneath the boy's right eye. leehan's eyes widened at your boldness, not knowing what you were going to do next.

"your glasses …" you mumbled. you traced your finger under the boy's eye and across the bridge of his nose, where his thick frames usually sat. it was the first thing you'd noticed when you finally approached him.

"do you miss them?" he asked with a small smile on his face, amused at the way you were so perplexed by the lack of the accessory. you shook your head fervently, confusing him.

"no, i like this." you stated, tapping the bridge of his nose. "i get to see more of you."

leehan felt his ears burning at the sweetness of the words melting off your tongue. you giggled again, he didn't know why.

before you could drop your hand back to your side, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist delicately, eliciting a small gasp from you. breathing slowly, he moved your hand so it cupped his jaw, laying his larger hand over yours.

he slid your fingers down his neck, laying the pads of them over his pulse point. you bit your lip slowly, mind still spinning. you weren't sure if you were imagining it but you swore you could feel his pulse thrumming unimaginely quick under your touch. the mere thought made butterflies erupt in your stomach, and suddenly the kitchen was too warm and too stuffy.

"can we get out of here?" leehan smiled at your timid question, intertwining his hand with yours and letting them both drop and hang in the small space between the two fo you.

craning his neck to the side, he looked to make sure your friends were okay, sighing in relief at the sight of them all dancing together in the living room. turning back to you, he grinned.

"let's go."

…

leehan’s face is flushed red, and he’s happy it isn’t from the alcohol.

it’s you sitting on his lap so delicately that's making his skin feel like it's burning and his lungs feel like he’s underwater.

your fingers comb into his fluffy hair, ruffling it gently as your lips suck on the soft skin of his neck.

you don’t know how long you’ve been here, kissing leehan all over like you’ll never be able to lay a finger on his pearly skin ever again.

the two of you stumbled into your apartment. you barely even made sure the door was locked before pushing leehan onto your living room couch. as you sat yourself down on his lap, you mentally cursed your friends for how well they knew you — your thoughts when it came to the quiet boy were all but innocent.

his hands landed on your hips easily, tilting his face up so you could capture his lips with yours.

in a drunken stupor you almost missed his lips, but the two of you settled into a rhythm easily, like you'd been doing this forever. leehan's long fingers caressed the exposed skin of your side, brushing up and down until your skin filled with goosebumps.

your arms wrapped around his neck as his tongue brushed your bottom lip, coaxing your lips open. you swore you saw stars as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, the wet muscle brushing the inside of your cheek.

the lewd noises you two were making only egged you on further, and when leehan pulled away to catch his breath you tilted your face and attached your lips to the curve where his neck met his shoulders.

the feeling of your plush lips and warm tongue against his throat pulled a loud moan out of him, and his hands instinctively pressed into your shoulder blades, pulling you into him more and more.

pulling the neck of his shirt down slightly, you moved to his collarbone, biting it softly before stroking it with your tongue. the boy threw his head back, pressing further into the couch as his heart pumped impossibly fast.

while adjusting yourself in his lap to get a better angle, you felt something hard poking your thigh. smiling against his neck, you unclasped your hands that wrapped around his neck and let them drift down. your fingers danced across his chest and abdomen, landing at the waistband of his pants. you captured his lips in another searing kiss as you unbuttoned them clumsily.

before you could get to the last button, leehan pulled his mouth away from yours, large hands landing on top of yours on his crotch.

"are you sure about this? you're still kinda drunk." leehan asked breathlessly. he wanted you, that was without question, but the last thing he wanted to do was ruin your friendship because of some drunken impulsivity.

the corners of your lips curved upward as you looked at the boy catching his breath beneath you. you slipped off on his lap to sit on the floor, hands pushing his knees apart.

"leehan, i've wanted you for so long now. let me make you feel good." you cooed at him, and he moved his hands to help you slip his pants and boxers to his ankles.

his dick sprung out, tip red and leaking, and you spit into your hand lightly before wrapping your hand around the top half. leehan groaned as you ran your thumb over the tip, spreading his slick before giving him a few experimental strokes.

the boy was already shaking, sensitive and aching for your touch. after a few more pumps, you licked your lips and grabbed his hand with your free one, guiding his hand to your neck so he could hold your hair for you.

he complied in a daze, combing his fingers through your hair and holding it back, caressing your neck with his other hand.

you smiled up at him before leaning forward to kiss his swollen tip. something in your stomach burned when you heard him hiss, his grip on your hair tightening slightly.

you delicately wrapped your lips around him, brushing the tip with your tongue once before sinking your mouth further down on him.

a moan ripped through the boy as he felt the warm expanse of your throat. you took as much as you could, wrapping your hand around the last few inches. swallowing harshly, leehan used all of the strength he had to not thrust into your mouth.

you moved languidly on his dick, swallowing more and more. your other hand rested on his hip bone, and the boy removed the hand resting idly on your neck so he could hold your empty hand.

the feeling of your mouth full made you moan, the sound sending vibrations through leehan’s body. he tensed and writhed under you, eyes screwed shut. the sight of him unraveling underneath you only spurred you on even further.

you moved up and down on his length at a quicker pace, his tip hitting the back of your throat in a way that made your name spill from his mouth over and over.

he guided your head slightly so he could keep kissing that spot with his dick, eyes nearly rolling into the back of his head.

when you swallowed around him he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from screaming your name.

you could tell he was close by the way he squeezed your hand and the way his abdomen was tensing sporadically.

"where-" the boy stuttered, almost unable to think straight.

"can i cum in your mouth?" he managed to spit out between moans. you tried your best to nod, squeezing his hand.

as his climax approached, leehan’s whole body writhed and you pressed your hand down on his hips. breathing in deeply through your nose, you sank down and took almost all of him, his tip hitting the back of your throat roughly. that was enough to send him over the edge, and his whole body stilled as his vision went white.

his cum spilled into your throat and you gagged slightly before swallowing it all. dragging your tongue on his length, you removed your mouth from him with a pop.

you looked up at leehan as he caught his breath. giggling at his dazed state, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“that was amazing” he breathed out, pulling you back onto his lap.

his hand cupped your neck as he pulled you in for a soft kiss, before pulling away and tucking some of your hair behind your ear. you smiled as you let him smooth down your ruffled hair and wipe the tears that had gathered in the corner of your eyes.

“gonna go get some water.” you lifted yourself from his lap slowly, stretching out your legs slightly before padding over to the kitchen.

you returned with a glass of water and a pair of oversized sweatpants from your room.

“do you wanna change? i think these might fit.” you asked, thrusting the pants forward in his direction. he stood up slowly, smiling at your gratefully as he nodded, grabbing the sweats and walking to your bathroom.

when he came back out, you were sitting on the couch mid-yawn, having changed into an oversized tshirt and some pj shorts.

turning to meet his eyes, you smiled and stood up. grabbing his hand, you led him to your room, slipping underneath the covers and holding them up so he could join you.

“wanna watch a movie?” your voice pierced the silence, and leehan chuckled. you were adorable. from how droopy your eyes were, he knew you wouldn't be awake for much longer, but he reached over to your nightstand and grabbed your laptop anyways.

after picking a movie, you placed the laptop on leehan's lap, snuggling against his shoulder. he wrapped and arm around you, pulling you into his side and resting his head on top of yours. you tangled your legs with his, sighing in contentment. leehan smiled down at you.

he was right -- within 5 minutes you were asleep, having shifted to lay down fully instead of leaning against your headboard. leehan smiled fondly at your sleeping form. he felt so lucky that you felt the same way about him as he did you.

setting your laptop away and plugging in your phone to charge, the boy shifted so he was laying down next to you, throwing an arm over you. you stirred slightly in your sleep, arms reaching out to hug him and cuddle into his chest.

…

you woke up before leehan, rubbing your bleary eyes. you were still sleeping against his chest, tilting your head up slightly to look at his sleeping face. he looked ethereal, hair mused slightly. as you reached a hand up to smooth down the messy strands, his eyes opened, a smile forming as he made eye contact with you.

"morning." his raspy morning voice made your cheeks burn. him leaning his head down to place a wet kiss to the side of your head didn't help either, and you were sure your ears were cherry red.

"i have an idea." the boy mumbled, and you tilted your head in curiosity. yawning, he tightened his hold on you, nuzzling his cheek against your hair.

"you should let me take you on a date today." you couldn't stop the grin from forming on your face, giggling. you nodded into his chest, pressing yourself further into him and breathing him in.

his fingers suddenly jabbed into your side, making you shriek. you laughed, pushing the boy away from you.

"i wanna hear you say it!" he said teasingly. you were trying and failing at swatting his hands away, eyes crinkling as you smiled.

"yes! yes! i'll go on a date with you." you exclaimed between giggles, sighing in relief as the boy finally stopped tickling you. he grinned, folding you back into his arms and tucking your head under his chin.

"let's sleep a little longer first."

…

while the two of you were still asleep, your friends sat in the dining hall, grabbing lunch.

"look what i have." belle spoke giddily, grabbing the attention of taesan, myungjae, shinyu, giselle, and ningning.

turning her phone around, she showed them a picture of you and leehan asleep in your bed. it was in the early morning, and you were cuddled into his chest.

"that's where he went!"

"i KNEW they were into each other."

"shinyu! you owe me $15 dollars."

it was safe to say the two of you received a plethora of text messages when you finally woke up.

but i like you! | leehan x female reader , childhood friends to lovers, college au

── warnings: kissing, cursing | wc: 2.07k

words from wam 🗯️ first written !

back to masterlist

“So what’s with you and Leehan?” Minji didn’t even give you a chance to rebut before adding on “You know everyone thinks you two are dating.” 

“Hello to you too Minji-” you sighed out before closing your phone to give your full attention to your friend “As I said, numerous times before- nothing is going on between us. We’re friends, I mean I knew the guy since I was 14, god forbid I have childhood friends..” 

“So you two are nothing?” Minji asks, still prodding curiously for an answer from you only to be met with a sigh and an annoyed nod for the millionth time

“Soo you wouldn’t mind setting me up with him?” she inquires which immediately makes you turn to face her eyes staring up at you like a desperate little puppy 

“If you wanted me to help you get with him you should’ve just started with that” you sigh out in a bit of a half chuckle. Taking a sip of your boba you glance over to see how she was still staring at you with those same pleading eyes, only to lead you to continue with “that’s a yes by the way.” which undoubtedly made her gleam on the spot 

“It’s just, you know you two are like always together and half the campus think you guys are a thing so I just was making sure-” rambling on Minji feels the need to defend herself for even asking to have you play as faux cupid for her, but is only met with a hand on her shoulder and a reassuring nod from you before saying “Minji seriously, it’s fine. I mean Donghyun doesn’t really have too much going on in his life so, he kinda needs this.” 

Minji wants to refute but instead is cut off by said conversation topic heading right your way

“Yah YN, give me back my hoodie, it's freezing in here!” Leehan shouts out despite being only a few feet away, leading you to strip off his hoodie from your body to throw it at his face before muttering “How can you be cold after practice, I can still see the sweat on your forehead.” 

Only garnering an eye roll from Leehan before biting back with “The court is always cold.” 

You were about to counter but then you remembered the task at hand, and matches weren’t going to be made themselves. “Hey Minji, do you want to come to lunch with us!” you ask before promptly turning around to be met with a very flustered face. 

“Oh you sure I won’t be intruding? It’s totally fine if I am, I really don’t mind-” 

“You’re not, trust.” you didn’t really give her nor Leehan time to answer before dragging the two of them to the dining hall making sure you subtly pushed Minji a bit to the side every so often so that her and Leehans hands could ‘coincidentally’ brush past each other. To your dismay, the dining hall seemed to be closer than you assumed, meaning you had moments to spare to find an excuse to dip. 

“Oh hey I just realised, I have a class project due like super soon and I promised yeji I would meet up with her to do it!” honestly you weren’t really buying your own lame excuse but that didn’t really matter as you rushed off immediately before calling out “You two have fun!” 

“You’re kidding” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, I mean after your years of match making successes how was Kim Minji dropping this bomb on you right now “What do you mean it didn’t go well, I thought you guys started texting?” 

“We did! But that doesn’t change the fact that he already likes someone” Minji sighed out before scooping a handful of chips into her mouth. In all honesty she didn’t seem too phased by this whole thing, which was more of a reason for you to be worried. Because Minji, your boy crazy and insanely delusional friend Minji, didn’t bat an eye to her crush rejecting her. 

“Okay now why do I sound more upset than you are?” you pry, now being the one to shovel chips into your mouth

“Because,” Minji starts before promptly tying up the bag of chips and tossing it onto your nightstand “I could honestly see it coming from a mile away, I’m surprised you didn’t catch onto it.”

“No way, that dude’s a fucking liar. There is no plausible way Kim Donghyun likes someone and I don’t know about it”

“Well he’s not lying because he told me who it is, and to be honest it’s really obvious” she says with a smirk before wiping off calbee chip dust on her shorts and promptly packing away her things 

What? How could he tell Minji and not you? Aren’t you guys supposed to be best friends, what’s so secretive about it that he can tell Minji and not his friend of years? 

“Wait what? Who is it Minji? Please, I beg you. I mean the guy’s got like 7 friends. I'd probably guess it eventually so why don’t you just tell me now!” you follow her around the room like a puppy, begging for answers whilst she packs away her things not really giving you a second glance before responding with “Then I guess you’ve gotta keep guessing!”

“Minji please!” you cry out, watching her in hopelessness as she headed towards the door 

“I’ve got class.” she replies, before flashing a mischievous grin and opening the door to walk out. And as if on cue, like a trade off, she greets Leehan with a polite smile before patting him on the back before he headed in. 

“What was that all about?” he asked before plopping his bags down next to your bed and making himself comfortable on your couch

“You’re a fucking liar.”

“Oh good evening YN, it’s great to see you too! How was my day? Oh my day was great actually considering I absolutely aced my quiz. Donghyun one, physics zero-”

“Why did you lie to Minji” you cut in, now positioning yourself to face him with your arms crossed and eyes still squinting in annoyance 

“I have no clue what you’re talking about” Leehan doesn’t even bat an eye before reaching over to your nightstand before grabbing the chips Minji had previously tucked away and wrapped up shut

“Why did you lie and say that you like someone?” 

“It’s not a lie, because I do like someone” he replies, almost too nonchalantly which makes the words coming out of his mouth even more shocking 

“What? How come I never knew?” 

“Because, you don’t need to know? I wanna keep some things private” you almost can’t believe it when the words leave Leehan’s mouth. I mean you two told each other everything, you told him every one of your crushes, you couldn’t say it didn’t sting just a bit when he didn’t feel the same comfortability with you. 

“Come on I could totally fix you up with her if you just told me! Do you want to die single or something? I’ve got a clean track record for playing cupid, ask any one of my friends!” you suggest, raising your tone up one octave to try and mask the fact that you were actually pretty upset by this 

Still not sparing you a glance, Leehan only reaches into the bag of chips before quipping “Clean? Not so sure about that one…” 

“Okay well that’s your fault. If we discount your anomaly then it’s squeaky clean!” you bite back, now snatching the chips from his hand to scoop them into your mouth, which only garners a snarky glare from him.

Sighing back and adjusting himself on the couch he hesitates before finally mumbling out “Well it’s fine because she doesn’t like me anyways” his voice low and hushed, and his gaze still averted from yours 

“How do you know that, has she told you?”

“No it’s just,” Leehan pauses to finally glance up at you, but it’s only for a quick second before he drops his head down back to hands which were nervously picking at the loose threads on your couch “it’s just complicated okay?”

Complicated? How on earth could it be complicated? From your years of friendship you knew Leehan was quite the oddball at times but unlikeable? That’s far-fetched. In all honesty he was the furthest thing from it: he had good humor, was passionate in his interests, great company, a gentleman (to everyone but you), and you couldn’t deny that he was undoubtedly good looking. 

“What’s so complicated about it?” 

“She’s just-” sighing out Leehan leans back to rest his head on the wall before frustratingly running his hands through his hair “she’s her okay. She's loud, bubbly, outgoing- she’s got a personality. And I’m just Kim Donghyun, I don’t really stand a chance” 

“Trust me one moment with me and she won’t think that. I can set any girl up with you trust, unless it’s me of course” you joke, waiting for Leehan to chuckle in response

But he doesn’t. And this is where Kim Donghyun screws up. He hesitated for just a minute too long, averted his gaze far too much for your liking, and paused just long enough for you to realise who this whole conversation is about. 

Shit. 

Coming to this realisation you can’t help but immediately move yourself down to the couch so that you can stare him dead set in the eyes before muttering out “Yah, Kim Donghyun. You’re not serious are you…”

And instead Leehan doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t smile, he doesn’t crack a joke, he doesn’t even look at you. Oh so he’s serious. 

“This, this wasn’t how you were supposed to find out” he winces before finally sheepishly looking up at you; only to be met with your pupils slightly dilated, mouth agape, and a bright red hue flushing over your face. This is where Leehan screws up again. 

“Listen I know you don’t like me back, it’s fine…can we just forget about this ever happening and just move on?” he rushes to say, hoping that you could magically forget about this whole conversation happening and things could go back to the way they were, but to his surprise…

“Are you going to answer yourself for me or am I allowed to talk?”

“What?” there’s no way he’s hearing this 

“Well I don’t not like you.” you start, hoping Leehan could get the message from there to save yourself the embarrassment of having to explain yourself. But instead he just stares at you, a mirror image of how you were gazing at him earlier, except his eyes are much wider in shock, his mouth is absolutely hanging open, and his ears are burning a bright red. 

“I just- you know for years it was just always you denying that we were ever a thing. And like I’ll be honest, in highschool I had a huge crush on you so hearing that over and over again I just kinda accepted that it wasn’t gonna happen, regardless of if I wanted it or not you know? And going into college I was still trying to accept that it was never gonna happe-” 

“Why’d you set me up with Minji then?” Leehan cuts in to stop your rambling

“I guess, some stupid part of me thought it would be easier for me to get over you if you had someone already…does that make sense?” this time it’s your turn to avert his gaze. But instead of a reply you feel Leehan’s warm hands lacing between yours causing you to jolt up to face him, and the dopey grin on his face seemed to answer that question fully. 

“Is it weird if I ask to kiss you right now?”

“I think it would be weirder if you didn’t Donghyu-” but Leehan doesn’t let you finish that sentence before pressing his lips against yours. At first you’re too surprised to even reciprocate, but with his hands snaking around the nape of your neck to pull you in closer you immediately melt. As if your lips are drawn to him with a string you return the kiss, running your fingers through his hair as you get lost in this touch. 

Finally pulling away you can’t help but laugh before mumbling out “Guess my track record is pretty clean after all” 

-ˋ ✄┈┈┈ unexpected exception . ° ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . *

introducing ☏ྀིྀིྀིྀི・∘ .

selle 💌.ᐟ ⭑ 05 ⭑ her

no age accounts dni !!!

mostly just reblogging stuff i recommend/want to read !

↑ in addition, i MAINLY reblog 18+/nsfw fics, so id kindly ask anyone under 18/anyone who isn’t 18 or above - do not follow me or visit my blog.

* i also mainly reblog/read about enha, bnd and riize, but you might see me reblogging stuff for txt as well! (and maybe other groups i can’t remember😭)

multi ¡

i love my mooties hehe 😽

i sometimes write ... (dropped one wip and call myself a “writer” i’m pathetic)

made some new tags! i love making my acc cute :3

⌞ 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ⌝

DREAM RECALL “You know what I think of you?” He says, the bed squeaking as he leans forward, dangerously close. “I think you’re scared.” He drawls, eyes boring into your own with such vigor that you almost felt pity for the anger that consumed him. How miserable he must be to live like that. — “I’m not scared.” You calmly state, shifting against the pillows as you instinctively try to create distance between the two of you. Quickly taking note of your hesitant body language, he smirks, “no? Then prove it.”

“Prove that you’re not afraid of the darkness, of my darkness.”

wc -> 17k (oopsie daises)

pairings stepbrother!beomgyu x stepsister!reader warnings stepcest, daddy issues, some mommy issues, character death, emo/punk!beomgyu + he has an eyebrow piercing, major asshole!beomgyu, mentions of alcoholism, lots of arguing, angsty as shit but with a happy ending, talks of grief and letting go, smut (again, stepcest), virgin!reader, loss of virginity, softdom!gyu but he's also a menace, guilt ridden sex, unprotected + pullout, handjob + vaginal fingering, some cum eating, use of "sis" both outside and during the smut (I cannot stress this enough), might be teetering on the edge of dubious consent at some points but nothing crazy. dead dove do not eat

#serene adds ✎ I have no clue of how this happened lol. PLEASE read every single warning I am begging you. don't read this if as much as one single tag made you waver. ⎯ aside from like the fact that it's stepcest, I fucking love this whole fic. I'm so proud of it and I would actually cry if someone (who got through it) would be up to share some thoughts :>

“There’s still time to turn back..” You mutter as you lean against the leather of the passenger seat. Listening to the bustling engine slowly dying out as the car comes to a stop. “Come on princess, don’t be like that.” Your dad sighs as he retrieves the key, turning it between his fingers. “You knew that this move was coming and-“ — “Yeah, I did. But not this soon, not now.” You argue, folding your arms across your chest in defiance. “You could’ve at least waited until I was out of college, until I had gotten my own place.” 

More than anything you wished to be able to change your father’s mind, to turn things back to how they were before he met Ms Choi. But that was of course impossible, and now you were paying the price for not getting a room on campus. “But look on the bright side, it’s a mere fifteen minute drive to school, and Beomgyu has his license, I’m sure he could take you someday.” Your dad tries, a small smile on his face. — You grimaced at the name, your chest churning in disgust at the mere thought of sharing a car with that thing. 

A tap to your window makes you turn your head in its direction. There stood Ms Choi, she sends you a small wave and before you know it, your father had climbed out of the vehicle, leaving you to sulk. Their voices are muffled through the thick glass but you can see them enveloping each other in a tender hug, your dad leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. With a small grimace your gaze flickers to the small bracelet around your wrist, its fine silver glinting in the sun and your chest contracts slightly. You supposed you should feel happy for him, it had been a long time since you’d last seen your father so at ease, so in love.  

And it wasn’t like you didn’t like his new girlfriend, no you were quite fond of Ms Choi. She was nice, often bringing freshly baked cookies whenever she came over, remembering your favorite foods as she made them when you visited. Most importantly she made your dad feel things he hadn’t felt since the passing of your mother. — You just couldn’t understand how such a sweet woman had managed to raise such a being of a son. 

Beomgyu was far from anything his mother represented. He was loud, obnoxiously so, his foul mouth going off every other second, spewing his hatred for the world and the people in it. Beomgyu listened to deranged music, the kind that made your ears bleed. He blamed his father for all his problems, not to mention taking his pent up anger out on his sweet mom. — The black charcoal around his eyes represented that of the rotting darkness slowly eating away at his soul, and you wondered if Beomgyu had always been angry. Perhaps he came out like that, you were almost certain that he was a menace even as a small baby. 

You had been to Ms Choi’s house a handful of times. It was a small two story flat, neatly decorated in light and inviting shades and smelled of roses. Had it not been for the first room to the right on the second floor, you would’ve probably loved it there. — The small hallway is familiar as you stumble inside, a heavy suitcase clutched tightly in your grasp. “Oh dear, let me help you with that”, Ms Choi fusses as she reaches for your bag but you merely shake your head, “I’m fine miss, don’t worry”, you assure her. 

She turns to your dad who was carrying at least twice your baggage as he walked up the dainty pathway leading to the house. “Beomgyu ought to come down and be of some assistance”, she murmurs as she throws a glance over her shoulder, her eyes traveling up the staircase by the end of the hall. — “I’m sure we’ll be fine!” You quickly chirp, dreading the thought of having to deal with him so soon. But there was no changing Ms Choi’s mind as she immediately calls out for her nuisance of a son. 

You swallow thickly as an eerie silence follows, your dads girlfriend huffs out a short breath as she fiddles with the jewelry around her neck. “Beomgyu! Come down here!” The nervous edge to her voice was palpable and part of you took pity on the sweet lady for being stuck with such a being in her house, no less as her biological child. 

Soon the floorboards above you creak, the old house immediately giving away the presence of someone else on the top floor. You tried tearing your gaze from the stairs, but it seemed impossible as Beomgyu’s figure emerged. His step is heavy as he drags his feet across the floor, his hair had grown longer since last you’d seen him, and that was over four months ago. You often did your best in avoiding him, thus leading the two of you to meeting less than a dozen times during the two years in which your parents had been pursuing one another. Well to hell with that plan now, you thought. 

“Hi darling, why don’t you say hi to-” — “I know who she is.” He cuts her off, sparing you a mere side glance before his gaze shifts to your dad struggling with the suitcases, a look of distaste on his face. “A-Alright”, Ms Choi clears her throat as she motions toward your father, “why don’t you help bring their stuff inside.” She receives only a small huff from her son as Beomgyu pushes past the two of you to venture outside. You don’t miss the flicker of disappointment on his mother’s face. No matter what he did, she would always cherish and protect him. You couldn’t understand why. — She turns to you with an apologetic smile, “your room is down the hall to the right.” 

The stairs felt eternal as you pulled your suitcase up, intent on not needing any extra hands. And when you finally reach flat ground, you heave a sigh. Though the comforting peace was short-lived as the thumping beat of a heavy bass filled your eardrums, the sound overpowering that of the wheels on your suitcase as you rolled it along the wooden floor. With a frown you near the first door, it was slightly ajar, allowing for the ear piercing music to float out into the small corridor. Already familiar with the layout of the house, you recognized the room as Beomgyu’s, and as the owner in question was currently downstairs, you dared a small peek. 

You can’t remember actually being inside his room, merely passing it in search for the bathroom as the first floor lacked one. And it was unlike anything the rest of the house represented. It was messy and crammed. The once cream white walls were covered in a variety of posters portraying his favorite bands, one of which you guessed to currently be playing through the large speakers by his desk. — His bed looked as if it hadn’t been made in weeks, possibly months and he seemed to be making good use of his floor as an alternate wardrobe. His computer was on as well, the bright light of the screen catching your attention in the otherwise dim room as the curtains drawn prevented much sunlight from reaching through. 

Upon closer inspection your eyes widen as you realize what kind of video was playing. The almost naked woman in the footage emits a pornographic moan and your jaw slacks as you take a couple of steps back in complete disbelief. — The room was like a tainted mark left on an otherwise clean canvas. The black lungs of a smoker, rotten and decaying. The only flaw in an otherwise picture perfect home, and you would’ve probably pitied the poor soul living here had it not been Choi Beomgyu. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

The raspy voice sends a shiver down your spine as you twist on the spot, coming face to face with the inhabitant of the room you’d invaded. Beomgyu lingers in the doorway, your discarded suitcase lazily kicked to the side as his brows furrow, the glinting metal on one of them catching your eye, had he always had that piercing? — You gulp, fists clenching before relaxing again. 

“I uh…I was.. I was looking for my room..” The excuse was petty, and you knew he could tell by the way his lips pulled into a small grimace. “Well this certainly isn’t it.” He spits, taking a charging step forward and you feel yourself immediately faltering back against his desk. — “Out.” He grits, and you could’ve sworn you heard the way his teeth ground together as his jaw flexed.

Not having to be told twice, you quickly slip out of the room, the door being slammed shut on your ass in a mere second. “What a dick”, you mutter, though you supposed it was somewhat deserved as you went in his room without permission. — Your own bedroom, on the other hand, matched the rest of the house. It was small, barely fitting your bed and a study desk, but the window gazing out over the front yard was remarkable. Your fingers graze along the lace curtains as you think of the multiple ways in which you’d be able to decorate the tiny space. Perhaps living here could become somewhat bearable, you thought. 

⸝⸝

No. You quickly found that it would become most unbearable to thrive under this roof. Dinner was awkward. As awkward as it could possibly get. The air was dense, laying on top of your table like a thick blanket, enveloping your party of four in a stale silence. The sounds of silverware scraping against porcelain plates fill the dainty dining room. Every bite felt like a piece of rock sliding down your throat and no matter how hard you trained your gaze to the cut piece of meat in front of you, Beomgyu’s eyes felt like daggers on your skin. Was he still mad about earlier? 

“So, Beomgyu, I hear you’re about to start your senior year as well.” Your father clears his throat, turning to the younger male with a small smile. Beomgyu’s gaze finally shifts away from your near sweating figure and over to your dad as he sends him an almost unnoticeable nod. The statement made your eyebrows raise in surprise, he was a year older than you, shouldn’t he have graduated before summer? — Beomgyu answers your unspoken question in a bored sigh, “failed my last year.” 

“Oh but he’s worked hard to be able to retake his classes this upcoming semester!” His mother suddenly butts in as she places a hand on top of your father’s. You watch their small exchange before your eyes flit over to Beomgyu who looked almost disgusted at the close proximity your parents held. Of course he would be against it, you wondered if there was anything that didn’t make his nose scrunch up in disdain. 

“Then perhaps the two of you can study together?” Ms Choi suddenly exclaims as she looks to you with an expression best described as hopeful. “Your father tells me you do well in school.” — “Of course, my princess is in the top of her class”, your dad boasts as he flashes you a small grin. You sheepishly nod, cheeks reddening at the sudden attention directed your way. “Why, isn’t that an amazing idea, Beom?” His mother cheers to which her son grimaces, “wonderful.” 

You didn’t like Beomgyu. And you thought you had every reason not to. You had never met someone so completely disregarding of other people’s feelings. Someone so selfish and arrogant, someone who took so much for granted. Like his mom. — You supposed you envied him a little. Ms Choi was such a wonderful person, not to mention an amazing mother. You often found yourself reminiscing of what you’d lost when in her presence. But Beomgyu seemed to hold little affection for something you longed so desperately to have. — You remember the evening clearly, the first night you met, two years ago. 

Dinner was awkward even back then. 

You’re sat gathered around the very same table, in the very same seats. Back then you had a small crush on him, on Beomgyu. How could you not? He was everything you weren’t, everything you thought you wanted to be. The expressive t-shirt he wore, a band you didn’t recognize, but you guessed it to be some type of rock. His slightly baggy jeans, decorated with a few simple chains. Dark hair, though it was shorter back then, and of course, the liner around his eyes. It was impossible not to be drawn to him. But he didn’t look at you, not once. 

You helped your dad clear the table whilst Beomgyu accompanied his mom in the kitchen as she prepared dessert. “What do you think of her?” Your father asks with a hopeful smile. You knew that he was nervous about introducing someone new to you, and Ms Choi would be the first woman he’d seen since your mother’s passing. You weren’t oblivious to the fact that your approval weighed like a ton of bricks on your dads shoulders, and you didn’t want to let him down. 

“She seems sweet.” 

He sighs, a relieved sigh. “Do you like her?” You ask, unable to hide the small frown on your face. Your father remains silent for a moment, his hands busying themselves with stacking the plates on top of one another. “I do”, he nods, his face immediately lighting up as he sees your small smile. But before you get another word out, the voice of Ms Choi pierces the quaint house. 

Neither of you move, but the conversation between Beomgyu and his mother was no longer private. “Well if that’s how you really feel, then perhaps you’ll find your father’s place a more suitable living space.” Ms Choi exclaims, her voice is thick, as if on the verge of breaking at any given moment. A brief silence follows her words, and you hold your breath.

“That piece of shit lowlife?” Beomgyu suddenly seethes and his mom quickly interrupts him. “Don’t call him that.” She sounds almost pleading. — Her son chuckles and if you had been able to see him, you would guess that he was shaking his head. “You still let him get away with all the shit he’s done?” — “Oh come on, you know it’s not like that, Beom..” 

“He’s an asshole, mom.” Beomgyu finally states, his voice holds no resentment, in fact it barely holds any emotion at all. “And you, you’re both naive and stupid for thinking he’s anything else.” — Then he re-emerges from the kitchen, not sparing either you or your father as much as a second glance as he heads for the front door, it slams shut behind him, leaving the faint sobs of Ms Choi to echo through the small house. 

Your dad rushes to the kitchen, but you remain frozen in place. His small whispers of reassurance carry out into the dining room as he tries to comfort the crying mess that was his girlfriend. Your eyes flit between the small opening to the kitchen and the hallway; feeling more than conflicted as you gnaw on your bottom lip.

After a few moments of hesitation, you finally come to a decision as you tear yourself from your spot by the since long vacant table. Quietly, you retrace Beomgyu’s last steps and you, too, push the heavy door open. — The cold night air hits your bare arms making you wrap them around yourself as you begin walking down the gravel pathway. You really had no idea of where he might’ve gone, or how you were even supposed to find him. But as you push the squeaking fence gate open, you know that you won’t have to look far. 

Perched on the sidewalk, knees tucked to his chest, Beomgyu leans his chin on top of his folded arms. Drawing in a small breath, you muster up the courage to do what you had come out here for. — He doesn’t say anything as you take a seat beside him, mimicking his actions by pulling your knees to your chest as you wrap your arms around them. You weren’t exactly good at comforting people, but you knew what sadness felt like, it was all you had been able to feel for three months after your mother’s death. 

“You here to fuckin’ lecture me too?” He spits, his gaze is fixed on the asphalt road in front of him. Perhaps Beomgyu’s sadness was different from yours. You shake your head, though you’re unsure if he can even see it. And for a moment, everything is silent. There was a nervous feeling bubbling within your chest, you didn’t know if it was because of your small crush on him or because of the argument you just witnessed between him and his mom. The argument sounded stupid in your ears, and it got you wondering.. 

“Why do you hate your father?” Your words ring out in the quiet night air, and somewhere to your left, you feel Beomgyu shift against the concrete sidewalk. You guess he hadn’t expected the question. — “‘Cause he’s a piece of shit.” He huffs, though his voice lacks the spite it held when in discussion with his mom. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you frown. “But he’s still your father, isn’t he?” 

Beomgyu might as well have laughed in your face. He shakes his head, one of his hands ruffling through his dark hair before he lets it fall to his side. “That changes nothing”, he states. You were tempted to disagree, it changed everything, didn’t it? To hate someone, to hate someone so close to you, someone so important.. You don’t think you could ever hate your father. 

“Have you tried talking to him?” Perhaps it was a stupid proposal, but in truth, you were at loss for ideas. Beomgyu snorts, his worn out sneakers kicking a few small rocks as he lets them roll out across the street. “You can’t talk to someone like him, and even if I could, I would have nothing to say to him.” — He draws in a sharp breath, holding it for a good moment before he slowly lets it go. “Some people..” he begins, his fingers picking at a few strands of vegetation that had managed to seep through the cracks of the constructed road. “Some people don’t deserve to have kids, some people shouldn’t have them.” 

You’re silent after that, unsure of what to say. He was right, some people were not meant to be parents. You wondered what his dad could have possibly done to warrant such hatred from his only son. It felt wrong to pry, so you didn’t. He would tell you one day, when he was ready, at least you thought so. — “But your mom is–” 

“My mom is stupid.” He spits, his expression suddenly turning sour. You didn't like how Beomgyu spoke about his mother, or how he spoke to her. “She doesn’t understand how fucked up dad is, and she still defends him despite everything he’s done.” — He bites the inside of his cheek, his brows furrowing together as his gaze remains ahead. “She’s truly pathetic.” 

Your chest churned at the statement. And perhaps your relationship with Beomgyu would’ve turned out different, had you not said your next words. But you couldn’t help it, and you didn’t regret it either. “At least you have a mother.” It angered you. It angered you that he treated people so close to him with such hatred. Did he not understand? Not everyone had the privilege of seeing their mom everyday, not everyone got to feel her warm embrace, eat her food, have her kiss your cheek. 

Beomgyu’s hatred was selfish. He was selfish. Because you would have done anything to see your mother one last time. — He turns to you, and for the first time that night, he looks at you. “And that makes you so special?” His gaze narrows down on you, the dark liner around his eyes only makes his expression look twice as gloomy. “You think you’re the only one who’s life is shit just because your mom went and died?” 

His words stung, like salt on a fresh wound, slowly being rubbed in. You fight back the tears that were prickling in the corners of your eyes. You just wanted to help. But you were obviously not very good at comforting people, still, you thought that he might’ve been at least a little understanding. How idiotic of you. Beomgyu rises to his feet, giving the gravel beneath him one final kick as it flies everywhere. 

“Don’t think you know the first thing about me just because you’ve heard me and my mom argue once.” His expression darkens even further in the pale night, and you swallow a small sob. “And don’t for a second think that we have anything in common, or that you have the right to talk to me like that.” He snaps, hands digging into the denim of his jeans, the chains on them rattling as he does. 

“It’s not my fault your mommy died, but let me give you a piece of advice yeah?” He leans down, his face inches from your own and you resist the urge to pull back, instead blinking up at him as a nasty sneer casts over his features. “Get over it.” 

With that, he straightens himself back up, letting out a small scoff as he turns on his heel before venturing down the street. — Beomgyu didn’t come back home that night, Ms Choi told you so, you didn’t know where he went, you didn’t care. From that point on, you hated Choi Beomgyu, you hated everything that was him, everything that reminded you of him. But most of all, you hated anything that made you feel like he had made you feel that night; the night he’d left you on the street to sob in your hands. 

⸝⸝

Your first official night under Ms Choi’s roof felt weird, it didn’t feel at all like home, maybe because it wasn’t, or maybe because you laid in bed with the knowledge that Beomgyu was only a room away. — It was dark, the soft glow of the moon seeping through your lace curtains. You had yet to fully unpack, your small night lamp long forgotten about in one of the boxes downstairs. The room smelled weird too, it didn’t smell like home, like mom. 

Despite it being years since she passed you often found resolve in venturing inside your parents room, the room that smelled the most of her. How you would let the tips of your fingers trail across the smooth bed sheets as you imagined her sleeping form. — The first months after her passing you even found yourself going through her old clothes, trying to keep anything that carried her scent close. But even the house itself held her presence, her laughter echoing off the walls, her soft hum as she prepared dinner, her cheerful voice as she skipped down the stairs. 

This house did not hold a single trace of your mother, she was truly gone. Your dad had moved on, he had fallen in love, he’d stopped being miserable, he no longer cried for his deceased wife in the darkest hours of night. Did that make him a bad person? You wanted to hate him for leaving your mom behind, even though she was technically the one who had left you. You wanted to tell him that he should never love a woman that wasn’t her. But you couldn’t. And you wouldn’t. — Your father was happy now. 

Perhaps Beomgyu had been right that night. Perhaps you should get over it. Perhaps you should’ve gotten over it a long time ago. But you didn’t want to, because getting over it meant letting go, letting go of your mom, and you didn’t want that. She was your mom.

Your fingers instinctively reach for the bracelet around your wrist, fiddling with the silver anxiously. This was your last piece of her, your last line, the string that still connected you to her. — You treasured it dearly yet you couldn’t but feel almost melancholic whenever you turned the jewelry around in your hands, an immense wave of sadness washing over you as the small piece kept reminding you of what you’d lost. 

You shake the tears away, sitting up as you lean against the bed frame. You wouldn’t cry tonight, you wouldn’t allow that. Instead your mind wanders down the hall, down to the room on your left. You wondered what Beomgyu was up to, was he already asleep? Maybe he was feeling restless too.. “What the fuck”, you scoff, shaking your head at the glimpse of sincerity you cast his way. Having already gone through with that mistake once, you would be sure to not make it again. Beomgyu didn’t deserve your sympathy. 

He didn’t deserve anything. 

⸝⸝

The following weeks went by in almost a blur. Your dad and you got settled in quickly, and with the help of Ms Choi, you now had a wildflower blooming by the sill of your window. Not to mention the pink rug you had so carefully picked out as you laid it in the center of your room. — But happiest was probably your father. It was sweet, seeing how giddy he got whenever the new woman in his life was around, you liked watching him fall in love. And without you even realizing it, the small house soon began to feel like home. 

Even you and Beomgyu got along fine, if getting along was what you could call it. You had silently conducted a small routine which was to be strictly followed by the two of you. It helped ensure that you wouldn’t have to run into one another more than absolutely necessary. — First, you always used the bathroom at seven. He was never up by then and you enjoyed having free access to both the shower and toilet as you took your time getting ready for the day. 

Second, your rooms were strictly prohibited areas, under no circumstances were you allowed to step foot inside his personal space, nor was he to do so in yours. That didn’t change the fact that he would continuously blast his ear screeching music so loud that the floorboards thumped in rhythm to the beat. Nor did it change the way you threw your hairbrush against the wall in an attempt to get him to shut up, not that it ever proved successful. 

Third, and perhaps the most important one; you did not know each other outside of home. Senior year in college started about two weeks ago, and within the four confined walls of the school building, you and Beomgyu were nothing but mere strangers. Not that the same couldn’t be said for the way you treated each other back at home. Which leads you on to another unspoken rule, the rule that made your parents believe that you got along just fine. 

You think it was said last rule that made everything come crumbling down one October night. 

“A whole week?” You splutter, your fork slipping from your grasp and hitting the porcelain plate in front of you. Ms Choi makes a small grimace at your blunt shock but quickly masks it with a smile, “yes, me and your father were thinking..” — “Come on princess”, your dad interrupts, leaning forward ever so slightly. “You’re more than old enough to sit the house for a week, besides, we’ve been meaning to get some alone time.” He sends you a look that practically screams, “don’t fuck this up for me, alright?” 

With a small groan you nod, “yeah it’s alright I suppose.” But it wasn’t, in fact it was far from it. This meant that you would have to spend a full seven days, locked up in the same house as Beomgyu, with no one to save you. “Is this what people call dark humor?” You mutter, though not loud enough for anyone to pick up on, at least you thought they couldn’t. Opposite you, Beomgyu’s lip twitches as his tongue prods against the inside of his cheek, his fingers playing with the rings on his hands; clearly not oblivious to your small comment. 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine”, Ms Choi adds in a most lighthearted tone. Your dad slowly nods as his gaze flits between you and Beomgyu, watching as you both turned to shoot him a small smile. 

⸝⸝

“And don’t forget to lock the door, oh and I’ve written down all the emergency numbers on a piece of paper plastered on the fridge, and there’s–” — “Dad, I’m fine.” You take his hands in yours, giving them a light squeeze and your father grins, “right, sorry princess.” He throws a quick glance over his shoulder to where Ms Choi was waiting by the car, having already shared a most quick farwell with her son. 

“Go, I’ll be okay”, you sigh as you urge him toward the door. “Alright, alright, just promise to call if anything happens.” He pleads as he ruffles your already disheveled hair due to the amount of hugs he had insisted on. You give him an affirmative nod as he steps out. “Love you, princess!” Is the last thing he gets out before you close the front door in his face, worried that you might never have him leave if you didn’t. The hallway quickly becomes enveloped in a near deafening silence, the emptiness of the house palpable. But the short-lived peace would soon be disrupted. 

“Fuck, are you fourteen or twenty?” Beomgyu jeers as he leans against the doorframe leading into the living room, arms folded across his torso. He’s dressed in a pair of loose jeans that hung low on his waist, and had it not been for the even baggier t-shirt thrown on his chest, you would’ve probably caught more than a glimpse of his stomach. The piece of jewelry on his eyebrow glints in the faint morning light as he sends you a small frown. 

It was too early for any of his snarky remarks, you thought as you swallowed a deep breath. Just ignore him, don’t bite back, that’s what he wants. But as you watch his conceding smirk practically double in size at your silence, you find yourself unable to hold back. “Well at least I talk to him.” It was a low blow, and you knew it. You didn’t care, for the way his face dropped, if only for a brief moment, made it all worth it. 

Beomgyu was quick to hide his initial surprise as he shifted against the doorframe, his dark eyes narrowing down on you. “It’s hardly like you’ve got anyone else to confide in”, he drawls, and you bite the inside of your cheek at his subtle acknowledgement of the lunches you spent alone in the school cafeteria. Your fists clench, your anger on the verge of slipping past the weakening brims of your control. 

“You think you’re so much better, huh?” Your angered huff is met by a low chuckle but before he gets a reply out, you cut him off. “I’m not the one retaking a whole year of college, I mean, I knew you were stupid, but this exceeds any of my previous assumptions.” The words slipped from your lips without you being able to stop them, and it felt good, really good. Beomgyu’s jaw visibly clenches at the insult thrown his way, the arms over his chest flexing as his body tensed. 

Feeling almost high off of the harsh remarks, you continue. “Let’s not even bring up your mom. You can barely look her in the eyes, you treat her like absolute shit, and at your grown age too.” — It’s his turn to flare up now, his previously stunned expression immediately morphing into a scowl as he charges forward. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about her in front of me.” He seethes, teeth grinding against each other as he reaches you, his fingers wrapping around the collar of your blouse as he shoves you against the wall with a thud. 

For the two years in which you had known Beomgyu, sorry, been acquainted with, you don’t think the two of you had ever as much as even shook hands, much less hugged. But now his face was only inches from yours, burning with so much rage that you thought you might just combust into a pile of ashes on the floor. His chest heaves, and his grip on your shirt is near deadly as he yanks the fabric up, his taller frame looming over your own. 

You scoff, trying to mask the unease that immediately surged within your chest at his close proximity. “See? Can’t even bring your mom up without you throwing a hissy fit", you jeer. — The scowl once on his lips, slowly turns into a sneer, a sly look emerging on his face, like you had just said exactly what he needed to hear, given him the opportunity he’d been searching for. 

His breath is warm on your already hot body as he speaks. “Well it’s not exactly like you’re any better.” You catch his tongue dragging across his bottom lip, as if savouring the moment, his eyes focused solely on the way your once stoic expression fell. “Can’t even mention her without you bursting out into tears.” — You open your mouth to object, your brows furrowing at the accusation but he’s quicker, shamelessly cutting you off to get his point across. “There’s no use in denying it. Don’t you think I’ve heard you? Crying in your room late at night, crying for your dead mommy.”

His gaze snaps to your wrist, hand darting out to grab ahold of it as his thumb slides across the bracelet resting there. “And this? A souvenir of her death? That’s pathetic.” He cocks his head to the side, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. “It’s like a child sleeping with stuffed toys”, he sneers, letting go of you with a small grimace before his grip returns to the collar of your shirt. 

You hated the way your teary eyes almost immediately gave you away, and you fervently tried to blink them away; much to no avail as Beomgyu chuckled. “Did I hit a nerve?” He wonders, voice laced with fabricated pity. It made you sick to your stomach. — “Sorry, princess”, he coos, but nothing about the way he gripped onto your flimsy blouse made for a convincing apology. Your eyes narrow at the familiar nickname and his smirk only widens. “Isn’t that what your daddy would say? Princess?” 

Hearing the name you treasured so dearly coming from his mouth, the word tainted with his hatred and evil, it made you bite the inside of your lip, hard. “What? Don’t like it?” He hums, his fingers on your shirt loosening, if only slightly as he leans even closer. It was easy to make out the details of his face now, the piercing stuck through the skin of his eyebrow, the area slightly red, as if irritated. The dark charcoal around his eyes, you wondered if he slept in it, probably. You will your gaze to stay locked with his, not daring to glance down at his lips. 

“Then what should I call you? Sis? Sister? Little Sister?” He looks almost as if he’s about to burst into laughter and you wanted nothing more than to slap that disgusting smirk from his face. “I’m not your sister.” You state, refusing to ever be perceived in such a way. — Beomgyu let’s his head fall to the side, his brows raising in a flicker of surprise. “But we’re family now, aren’t we?” 

You close your eyes, thinking that maybe if you just pretended that he wasn’t there for an extended period of time, he might actually disappear. But once you reopen them, you find him still watching you, his smirk stretched so wide that he almost appeared uncanny. “You don’t know the first thing about what makes a family.” You let your words linger in the now very thick air, watching with an almost gleeful expression as Beomgyu lets out a small scoff, though leaning back as he lets go of your shirt. 

“Quit trying to act like you’ve got me all figured out.” Is all he says, his voice now eerily calm, a kind of calm that makes your blood run cold. — “Then quit acting like such a terrible person, and maybe people would start seeing you for something else.” You mutter, your words not intended for his ears to catch, but they do. His gaze flickers over your body, pressed against the wall in an attempt to create as much space between the two of you as humanly possible. 

He shakes his head, his lip twitching as he runs a hand through his long hair. “How about you quit trying to act like you know what makes a terrible person.” — His words leave you silenced long enough for him to make his escape as he heads for the staircase. The last thing you see is his dark retreating figure, the sound of him trudging up the steps filling the house. You slump against the wall, letting out a shaky exhale as you let your eyes fall closed, already dreading the week ahead. 

⸝⸝

To your surprise, day one and two went by like usual, with the absence of your father and Ms Choi of course. You and Beomgyu managed to avoid one another just like normal, and whilst you ate dinner downstairs, he always brought his food to his room. Sometimes it was almost as if you were living alone, you had the whole house pretty much to yourself and you often took the opportunity to lounge by the sofa in the living room. 

After your fight two days ago, part of you had thought that things might worsen even further between the two of you. But if anything, you’d seen even less of him than you usually would and you think you could count the interactions you’d shared with him on your fingers. 

Your whole body feels heavy as your head hits the pillow that night. Four more days, you tell yourself. You could do four more days. All you had to do was keep up the role you’d been playing for the past three days. 

And as you lay in bed, you let your thoughts wander, wander to your dad. The two of you engaged in shorter calls every evening. It was a nice distraction from your otherwise plaguing reality. Your father told you about the beach, the ocean and the seashells; he and Ms Choi were staying at a hotel by the seaside for the week, and you felt your heart swell at the excitement in his voice. 

“You’ll have to come with us next time!” He exclaimed, the powerful winds surrounding him made his words come out jagged on the other end of the line. Still, you thought you were able to make out the faint sounds of waves crashing against the shore as he walked along the water. — “I’d be happy to”, you agree, a small grin playing on your lips at the thought of going on vacation with your dad again, it had been so long. 

Soon Ms Choi joins your conversation, you hear them share a quick kiss before her tender voice addresses you. “How’s Beomgyu doing dear?” She wonders and your smile immediately falters at the mention of his name. You bite your lip, unsure of what to say, did she not talk to him, not at all, not once? — In the end, you settle for something for half a lie and half a truth. “He’s doing fine.” 

Your dads girlfriend exhales on the other line as she thanks you. “Are you two getting along well?” Your father asks, a hint of suspicion following his inquiry. Even though Ms Choi was quick to defend her son, your dad still seemed to hold back when it came to him, if only slightly. “We’re doing just fine.” You lied, not wanting to address just how awkward things were and how you most definitely wanted them to return home as soon as possible. You wouldn’t ruin your dads shot at happiness just to soothe your own worries. 

But as night approaches, the faint glow of the moon seeping through your thin curtains, you find yourself unable to sleep. Though this time, it’s not because of your reeling mind, rather a faint noise coming from the room down the hall and to your left. — During your previous nights, the house had been eerily silent, almost deafening as it added to the feeling of you living there alone. And Beomgyu was not one to play music at such an hour, even though he was likely still very much awake. 

With a small frown you sit up, fingers grasping the bed sheets beneath you as you shift on the mattress. It was near impossible to make out any details regarding the noise, only a hushed sequence here and there could be heard and your frown deepens. But your desire for a full night’s sleep quickly overweighs any doubt as you’re reminded of the early morning class you had the following day, and the bed squeaks as you gingerly climb off of it, quietly venturing out into the dark hallway to face whatever awaits you. 

You’re able to locate the source of the sound as soon as you step out into the dark hall, and your throat goes dry as your eyes seize the door leading to Beomgyu’s bedroom. — The floorboards creak under your weight, making you freeze as you listen for a shift in the noise coming from his room, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed. 

Carefully you creep forward, a hand on the wall to guide you as you near your target. The closer you get the clearer the noise gets, and for a moment you wondered if he was hurt as deep grunt-like sounds slipped through the crack of the wooden door. What would you even tell him? Biting the inside of your cheek, you shake your head. Just yell at him, cause a scene, do something.

Your fingers are wrapped around the door handle when you suddenly stop, your heart practically leaping out of your chest as a small moan reaches your ears. Stunned, you remain frozen in place as you listen to the ragged breathing of Beomgyu, coming from inside his bedroom and your foggy brain slowly pieces together what he was up to. A wave of disgust washes over you, perhaps even embarrassment at having caught him doing something like that. 

It takes you about half a minute to snap out of your initial shock, eyes darting back down the hall as you plan to make your escape, because there was no way you were going to let him know that you’d heard him. But just as you turn around to head back to safety, a deep groan makes you halt. “Mhhn fuck”, Beomgyu grunts, his voice muffled by the wall separating you but you clearly catch the ragged moan following the curse. 

You thought you could make out something else in the far background, a faint whisper of someone else. He hadn’t brought someone over had he? No, that’s impossible, you would’ve known. And soon the all too familiar and almost theatrical moan of a woman pierces the air.

Teeth latching on to your bottom lip, you stand torn, your brain desperately yelling for you to leave, to forget that any of this ever happened, to not pry further and spare your last bits of sanity. But another part of you, a far more sinister one, keeps your body locked in place, making you unable to move neither forward nor back; forcing you to listen as your Beomgyu gets off to some cheap porn video in his room.

You felt dirty just by hearing him, but the other part of you felt something dangerously close to excitement, your heart thumping unmistakably faster as your gaze flickers back toward his shut door. 

“H-ah..” He breathes and you swallow a gulp, sweat sliding down your forehead at the strange feelings swirling inside of you. Your hands clench at your sides, shivers rippling through your body as you hold your tongue, terrified of making your presence known. — He should be ashamed, not you, you had merely passed by, right? So why did you feel so bashful standing here, right outside his room, in the middle of the night, like some creep. 

“Mhhn fucking hell”, he croaks and you screw your eyes shut, desperately trying to erase the images playing in front of you like that of an old film. Images of him, his head thrown back, his lips slightly parted, lidded eyes and his hand… his hand wrapped around– “Oh my god”, you breathe, bracing yourself against the wall as your head falls forward. You had to get out of here. 

⸝⸝

Disgusting. That’s what he was. Not only a loathsome person but a pervert too. And as you walk down the familiar street, your school bag flung over your shoulder, you think of ways to confront him about his behavior. He was in the wrong here, not you. Besides, your request for him to keep it down at night was reasonable. 

The wooden fence gate feels rough under the tips of your fingers as you push it open, your eyes falling on the quaint house before you. The gravel makes a crunching noise beneath your shoes as you near the front door, the lump in your throat only growing in size. — It was such a pretty house, and to think that something so dark resided within its walls made you sick. Still, you unlock the old door and make your way inside. 

The familiar scent of roses invades your senses almost immediately and you take pride in the comforting smell, allowing yourself to just stay for a moment. You knew that he was home already, having spotted his car on your way back, and it didn’t exactly take a genius to figure out where he was currently lounging at. — Discarding your bag alongside your shoes, you begin the small journey up the stairs, not planning on prolonging the inevitable conversation. 

The blaring music fills your ears as soon as you reach the top step and you heave a sigh. You could do this, you wouldn’t back down. — The first knock is petty, weak, barely audible over the heavy bass thumping on the other side. You bite your lip, raising your fist once more, this time you give the wood a harsher tap. But still, nothing. You stand there for a moment, listening to the unfamiliar song playing and you wonder why he felt the need to drown himself in music as vile as that. Perhaps it was to quiet the undeniably gruesome thoughts you could only imagine filled his mind. 

“Beomgyu!” You shout his name, knuckles near hurting as they pound the door in front of you. Finally, the loud melody comes to an abrupt halt and you can hear him shuffling about inside his room, the soft padding of footsteps approaching and soon he reveals himself. — He looks the same as he always did, as he always had. Except he looks…different. You think it might have something to do with what you had heard him do the previous night. Because something was different, something was no longer the same. 

“What do you want?” He spits, the words sound almost like an accusation and you watch as his brows furrow, dark gaze narrowing down on you. Suddenly, you feel your composure crumble, the phrases you’d gone over in your head so many times on the way back home suddenly diminishing to nothing as you stand before him. Your lips part, for whatever excuse you could possibly find but Beomgyu beats you to the case. 

“If you’re here to complain about how you miss your daddy then I don’t give a shit.” 

Your mouth closes again, your brows mimicking his frown as you peer up at him. Is that what he thinks of you? Is that how he perceives you? As nothing more but a crybaby who can’t go a day without her father, who sobs herself to sleep in the absence of her mother? — “That’s not why I–” — “Like I said”, he cuts you off, his gaze hardening, “I don’t give a shit.” 

The grimace painting your face is surely unmistakable and your fists clench as you swallow back the insults waiting on your tongue. “Well I do”, you say, masking your otherwise trembling voice with firmness as you maintain the tense eye contact. Beomgyu appears, if not surprised then at least taken aback, his lip twitching as he lets out a short huff. He folds his arms over his chest, covering the print on his black t-shirt, seemingly waiting for you to continue. 

“I’m here to…to ask you..” You find yourself stumbling over your rehearsed lines, mind fumbling for a way to approach the situation without making it awkward for the both of you. Not wanting him to know that you’d heard him but also wanting him to be aware of the fact that you knew exactly what he’d been up to. — “What I want to say is, please keep it down..at…at night, some of us are trying to sleep you know..” 

Carefully you peek up at him, trying your hardest to subtly gauge his reaction. But Beomgyu only hums, his brows raising in play-pretend surprise as he leans against the doorframe. “Keep what down? It’s not exactly like I’m blasting music or anythin’” he muses. You shake your head, “that’s not what I’m asking, I’m asking you to keep it down when…when y-you you know..” 

The smirk slowly etching its way to his lips should’ve told you everything you needed to know. That he was just looking for ways to push you further, to rile you up and get you flustered, but for some reason it didn’t, and you kept going. — “When I what?” He wonders, eyes flickering over your guarded stance as you awkwardly shift in front of him, letting your weight fall on one leg. “Come on, you know what I mean”, you practically whine, not caring about how immature and childish you sounded as you avoided actually uttering the words out loud. 

“When I jack off?” He asks, his tone nonchalant as his hands slide down the pockets of his already low hanging jeans. You meekly nod, gaze dropping to the floor as your cheeks flush with color. “Y-Yeah that…you’re kind of..loud”, you cough, anxiously crossing your arms over your chest as you clear your throat. 

Beomgyu seems to be considering your words for a moment, his attention fixed on something behind you as he quietly hums. But then he leans forward, his face landing almost inches from your own and you can clearly see the smudged liner around his eyes now. “And you’ve got a problem with that?” He tilts his head to the side, studying you expectantly. 

“Come on now, sis”, he drawls and you cringe, hating how the word sounded on his lips. “You can’t possibly tell me that you’re not twice as loud when you touch yourself.” — The statement made your eyes blow wide as your jaw slacked. Feebly you shake your head in an attempt to deny his accusations. “I- No!” You shriek, taking a small step back as your hands wave in objection. “I don’t– I don’t do stuff…stuff like that..” 

Beomgyu’s smirk widens as he watches your apprehensive response, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Stuff like that?” He repeats, the sentence sickly sweet on his tongue. “You mean you’ve never played with yourself like that? How dull.” — You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling beyond parched as you shake your head once more. Was that so bad? Did that make you so different? You’d never understood the appeal, never felt those feelings, never even had a boyfriend. It shouldn’t matter should it? 

So why did it make Beomgyu look at you like that? Like you had just become something completely different in his eyes, something prized, something desirable. “Really?” He repeats, as if unbelieving of what he was currently hearing. Your quiet “no” is met by an even more menacing smirk as his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek. 

“Why, your daddy must be real’ proud of you then”, he grins and you feel your stomach twist. — “N-No he doesn’t care about stuff like that.” Because why would he? He was your father, sure you were close but some things were better off kept private. But it seemed no matter what you said could make the hungry look in his gaze go away and you felt your heart rate increase tenfold. 

Beomgyu merely scoffs, clearly not buying your truths. “Well then your daddy doesn’t know how much of life his daughter is truly missing out on.” — You frown, straightening your back if only slightly as you regard him with a hint of determination. “I’m not missing out on anything, to be frank, I’m quite happy the way I am right now.” You give a short pause, stopping only to give him a quick one over. “Not that the same can be said for you.” 

It feels good to watch his once smug expression morph into a much more scowl-like one as he lets out a short huff. When he doesn’t say anything, you feel a proud smirk crawling its way to your lips and you barely manage to conceal it as you turn to walk back to your room. — Only when you’ve reached your door, does he speak again, and you’re surprised to find him still lingering by his own doorway. 

“Do happy people cry everyday too, or is that just you?” 

⸝⸝

You’re unable to get his words out of your mind and you spend the majority of the following night mulling over them. “Do happy people cry everyday?” Do they? Was crying necessarily a bad thing? People cry when they’re happy too, people cry for a variety of reasons. Some merely sniffle,  some sob whilst others practically scream. Could happiness really be measured in tears or was that just something he’d said to get on your nerves, to have the last word? 

You lay tossing and turning in bed, your blanket bunching up around your legs before you eventually kicked it off again. — If only your mom was still around, she would be sure to have an answer, for she always did.. You nod to yourself as you mindlessly fiddle with the bracelet around your wrist.

Perhaps you were over analyzing his words, twisting and turning something completely meaningless for hours on end. But it was the only way you’d be able to feel at ease. You had a habit of trying to understand things on a deeper level, knowledge comforted you. It was why you nearly drowned yourself in your studies, why you spent so much time indulging in literature or film. It was your escape. 

Part of you supposed you should have Beomgyu completely figured out by now, with the way you memorized each snarky comment of his. But you never did, it felt like you knew nothing about him yet everything all at once. Maybe your knowledge of him was biased. You’d been quick to snap his picture, to paint a vision of him so sinister that you found it hard to view him any differently. — In your eyes, Beomgyu was a selfish and bad person, a person who did not feel empathy nor compassion for others. And perhaps that was why your theories about him seemed to lead you down the same path each time. 

But you didn't think that you were a close minded person… Was there really something you had missed, something you had overlooked? Was there more to Beomgyu than he let on to? 

You don’t have to ponder much longer for a quiet knock to your door rips you from the deep thoughts previously consuming your mind. With a small flinch you shot up from your bed, crawling back against the headboard as your eyes trained on the entryway to your room. For a moment you think it might be an intruder, but what kind of thief would knock? — Not only knock but proceed to open the door without waiting for a reply. You only knew one person so unthoughtful. 

Beomgyu’s shadow is dark, shielded from the dim luminance of the moon mere feet away from him as he stands in the doorway. One step forward would reveal his face entirely, and you find yourself both longing and dreading for him to move. — Why was he here? You guys made sure to avoid one another diligently so why was he willingly ruining it? 

“I can help you.” 

His voice is low, but he speaks clearly. A crease runs along your forehead as your brows pull into a frown. “Help me?” You repeat, the confusion evident in your tone as you shift against the pillow behind your back. Beomgyu nods, taking a bold step forward which casts an eerie glow across the side of his face. Your gaze flickers from his intense and dark eyes to his lips, pulled into a small smirk and your stomach drops. 

You knew why he was here. Because what other motive could he possibly have? — You had seen the way he treated those around him, you had witnessed the effect he had on his mom as she fell to her knees in tears, the way his words had sliced through you like daggers of a knife, shamelessly cutting your barely healed skin. Beomgyu made things around him die, every touch of his was poison, lethal. And now he had come to kill you too. 

It wasn’t like his sudden change in demeanor was unexpected, you knew that he was capable of breaking things, breaking people. He had just never paid you much attention because he thought you were already broken. The death of your mother slowly eating you away as you cried for her each night. — But you can tell he’s had a change of heart, the way his eyes rake across your body, barely concealed by the flimsy pajamas you wore, untainted, untouched, pure. Ready for him to kill. 

“I don’t need your help.” You try to evade him off, convince him that you were no object of his affection. But it was impossible. Beomgyu shakes his head, slowly approaching your bed before he takes a seat, causing the cushion beneath him to dip slightly. — “You don’t even know what I’m about to offer you”, he muses, fingers trailing up your exposed leg and you quickly withdraw it, stuffing it beneath the blanket. 

“I know that I do not need it”, you bite back, twisting your body as far away from him as possible. He huffs out a short breath, biting the inside of his cheek, seemingly in deep thought. You peer at him through the corner of your eye, lips curling into a small grimace. — “Do you plan on living in the dark forever then?” He finally wonders, his voice a mere murmur and you frown. “I could show you, show you the light”, he hums, fingers drumming against the mattress leisurely. 

You’re unable to hide the scoff you emit before turning back to face him. “You couldn’t find light if it so much as presented itself in front of you.” Beomgyu’s jaw visibly clenches at your words, his hand stilling against the bed as his gaze flickers up to meet yours, an underlying twinge of curiosity lingering behind his otherwise cold and emotionless eyes. —  “No? And why’s that?” 

Your lip twitches, a small grimace of pure disgust threatening to overtake your entire face as you regard him with disdain. “Because something as dark and twisted as you cannot possibly seek light. You repell it.” 

The last sentence rings out in the silent air, and you watch as the intrigue in his eyes becomes put out like that of a dying fire. His expression contorted into the one you knew so well, the cruel one, the one that hurt people. “What, and you think you’re some kind of saint?” He jeers, trying to mask where your words had evidently stung. — Were you a saint? Hardly. But you didn’t hurt the people around you just because you could, just because life had treated you unfairly. That was the difference between you and Beomgyu. 

“You know what I think of you?” He says, the bed squeaking as he leans forward, dangerously close. “I think you’re scared.” He drawls, eyes boring into your own with so much vigor that you almost felt pity for the anger that consumed him. How miserable he must be to live like that. — “I’m not scared.” You calmly state, shifting against the pillows as you instinctively try to create distance between the two of you. Quickly taking note of your hesitant body language, he smirks, “no? Then prove it.”

“Prove that you’re not afraid of the darkness, of my darkness.” 

You remain silent for a moment, watching as he awaits your answer, your next course of action. Was this a bad idea? Probably. You had told yourself over and over that you wouldn’t let yourself get consumed by him, become tainted by his flawed hands. Yet you find yourself reaching for the blanket covering your body, pulling it from your legs as you discard it on the floor. Beomgyu follows the movement with an amused look, an almost wicked one before his smokey eyes snap back to yours. 

“Fine”, you say, adjusting yourself on the bed as you let your hands fall to your sides, “show me.” The simple statement makes his face twist into a look of pure smugness and Beomgyu wastes no time in scooting closer, fingers wrapping around both of your wrists as he positions himself before you. “You have no idea what you’re asking of me”, he murmurs, his lip twitching into a sinister grin as he does. It was almost as if your obliviousness spurred him on, your naivety making his mind reel. 

His breath is warm on your face as he studies you closely, from the way blood rushes beneath your cheeks to your eyelashes fluttering as you try to focus with him so close. “Have you ever kissed someone before?” He asks, the underlying curiosity in his words palpable. You try to think of any occasion in which you might’ve, but after a good moment you shake your head. “Only once…in middle school, a smell peck on the lips..” You admit, albeit a little sheepishly. 

The smirk on his face only widened, exposing his sharp teeth as Beomgyu chuckled. “That doesn’t count”, he states, seemingly pleased with your answer, with your honesty, your trust. Biting your bottom lip, you swallow before nodding slowly. “I’ll show you how to.” He then mumbles, and suddenly his nose is practically grazing yours. You suck in a sharp breath, eyes widening as you watch his confident ones. 

Then his lips press against your own, and they’re surprisingly soft. At first he remained still, completely unmoving and you wondered what on god's green earth he was doing. But soon he lets his eyes close, one of his hands letting go of your wrist as he cups your cheek. The small caress makes your eyes widen further and you resist the urge to pull back. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you hesitantly respond to the tentative kiss, letting your eyes flutter shut as well. 

You knew that you shouldn’t be doing this, that it was wrong, taboo even. He was your step brother.. at least he was bound to be once your parents got married. Guilt roots itself in the pits of your stomach, making it twist and turn uncomfortably as you try to relax in his grip. — He doesn’t push you any further and it takes you by surprise. Instead he lets his lips linger on top of yours, and when he pulls away moments later, a small pecking sound follows it. You watch through lidded eyes as his narrowed gaze studies you, the hand on your cheek moving to your chin. 

“How was it?” He wonders, as if expecting a review of some sort. Your mouth parts but you can’t seem to find the words. How could you describe the shame and the guilt? How could you ever verbalize the way his soft lips had felt on yours, such a thing was impossible. — “It felt weird..” Your hushed whisper echoes out like church bells in your ears and you remain very aware of the way his fingers reside around your chin, locking your face in place. 

Beomgyu lets out a short breath, his thumb pulling your bottom lip down as his gaze catches onto your exposed teeth. “First time always feels weird”, he states and before you get to prepare yourself, he dives right back in, except this time he goes straight for the kill. — You let out a small yelp as he pries your mouth open, immediately slipping his wet tongue inside to slide against yours. You can still taste the minty toothpaste on him and the sensation of something so wet and…alive, in your mouth, makes you cringe. 

You still allow him to kiss you, to push you back against the pillows as his hands roam your body, his poisonous touch spreading across your skin like wildfire. You knew that this was exactly what he wanted, to ruin something so perfectly pure, to take something from you that you could never get back. And for some reason, you let him. — Only when his hand reaches the waistband of your pajama shorts do you stop him, eyes wide as you push him back. 

“Wait.” 

The kiss breaks with a wet sound and a small string of saliva still connects the two of you. Struggling to find a suitable approach to the matter, you let your gaze drop to his chest, heaving a small sigh as you bite your lip. “I…I don’t know if…I mean I haven’t..” Honestly you didn’t even know what you were getting at yourself, you supposed you wanted to prolong the moment, if just a moment longer. 

Beomgyu regards you with an expression you don’t think you’d ever seen on him before; a mixture of both intrigue and desire. “Are you scared?” He wonders and without thinking, you nod. His lips stretch wide, the hand on your shorts moving to your inner thigh as he gives it a light squeeze and you nearly flinch at the touch. “Good”, he huffs, his fingers venturing beneath the fabric of your pajamas as he gauges your reaction closely. 

When he pulls your shorts down, you gingerly try and conceal yourself, your cheeks flushing in all shades of red as your thighs squeeze shut. “Don’t be embarrassed”, he tsk’s, his hands on your knees as he firmly spreads them. — “I’ve seen plenty of pussies before”, he merely shrugs, “yours won’t be any different.” His reassurance didn’t help ease much of your worries as you let him pry your legs open. 

He starts slow, and you’re thankful; his index and middle finger gently rubbing you through the soft cotton of your panties and you resist the urge to hide your face as you squirm against him. — It wasn’t like you’d never touched yourself, because you had…you think. Like any other young teenager you’d experimented a little with your body, but as an inexperienced 15-year old, the results had proved futile. You never had the urge you suppose, you didn’t even know how it was supposed to feel like. But as Beomgyu touches you through your underwear, a strange feeling mingles alongside the guilt and shame in your stomach. 

His eyes are on you, on only you, watching as you bite your bottom lip, your hands fidgeting with the bed sheets as you try to suppress the small noises bubbling in your throat. Not until his fingers find your clit, rubbing it deliberately through your panties, do you let out a small squeak. “Is…Is it supposed to feel like that?” — Beomgyu’s dark gaze shifts from your spread legs and over to your wide stare. He nods, “does it feel good?” 

“Strange..” You quietly whisper, though you made no move to stop him as his index finger hooks around the waistband of your underwear. “Yeah?” He murmurs, taking his time as he slowly pulls the piece of garment from your body, letting it slide along your legs before he discards it on the floor. “You’ll get used to it”, he muses, eyes shifting to your exposed cunt as they visibly darken, “it comes with experience.” 

You had no clue what to expect, what to feel, how to respond. Your whole body felt tense as his cold fingers brushed against your naked skin, inching their way up and suddenly it felt like you were under a microscope, every single part of you being presented under a stark light. Beomgyu on the other hand, seems far more at ease as he lets two of his fingers swipe across your cute folds, teasingly pushing them apart as he slowly rubs you. 

It takes everything in you not to cringe at the weird and damp feeling pooling between your legs, the consistent throb of your cunt and the small cry you emit as he flicks over your clit once more. He sighs, “virgin pussies are my favorite”, his gaze shifts to his already glistening fingers, “they get wet so easily.” — You merely let out a small whimper at his words, thigh involuntarily twitching, the movement immediately catching his eye as his lips curl into a smirk. 

“W-Wait!” You croak as you suddenly feel him prodding against your fluttering hole, your muscles taut as you shift on the bed. Beomgyu stops, hand resting against your core as he studies you with an indifferent expression. “W-Won’t that hurt?” It felt embarrassing to ask, but the thought of him pushing something inside of you…it scared you. — But Beomgyu only shrugs. “It might”, he drawls, his fingers resuming their work on your cunt as he repositions his index one right above the tight rim of muscle, “depends on how bad you want me.” 

Want him? You didn’t know if you wanted him, it wasn’t like you liked him, right? You hated Beomgyu, you’d hated him for two years. You hated how he treated his mother, how he treated you, with such coldness and such little empathy. You hated how he made you cry, how he made you feel small and weak. You hated how he made you feel bad for grieving your own mother. 

But as your gaze shifts to his face, and as you will yourself to look past the cruelty, the darkness, you can still make out the boy you met that night, the one you’d had a small and what you thought was an insignificant crush on. From the black charcoal around his eyes, to the silver jewelry bored into his eyebrow; his black hair, nearly reaching his shoulders now, and his dark eyes, his eyes that both scared and intrigued you. 

You gasp when he without warning pushes his finger past your folds, immediately curling it inside of you, making your back arch off the bed in sheer surprise. Beomgyu’s attention is solely on your flushed face, watching in contentment as you writher under his touch, as you slowly lose yourself. — “O-Oh..” Is all you manage to squeak out between the ragged breaths. It felt weird and uncomfortable, but it didn't hurt, instead the fluttering sensation in your stomach only seemed to grow. 

“Such a greedy pussy”, Beomgyu hums as he feels you pulsate around his finger, “sucking me in like a complete whore.” You shake your head, “I-I’m not..” The words die in your throat as he adds he slides a second digit past your tight rim, making you shriek as he stretches your cunt. 

His touch felt poisonous but you couldn’t find it in you to push him off, to tell him to stop. No matter how many times you told yourself how wrong it was, you couldn’t help but slowly succumb to the darkness that was Beomgyu. Wanting, no needing, more. It was as if he’d introduced you to a most dangerous drug, and you find yourself desperately seeking another fix, a stronger one. 

Your short nails have torn the bright sheets covering the mattress, and your arms tremble as you lock eyes with him. Satisfactory, that was the only way you could describe the expression painting his face. You don’t think you’d ever seen Beomgyu as anything but angry, but this…this was far from it. He looks ready to devour you whole, his brooding eyes fixating on the way your jaw slacked, your saliva coated lips parted and your eyebrows drawn together in such an endearing manner. 

“Feel good?” He wonders, his brow twitching slightly when his thumb presses against your clit, eliciting a high pitched moan from you as you squirm against him. “I’ll take that as a yes”, he drawls and before you know it, his fingers are gone, making a sloppy sound as they withdraw from your cunt. You whine, hips bucking up in an attempt to seek his touch and your cheeks flare up in color. “W-Why did you stop..?” You pathetically wonder, biting the inside of your cheek, thinking that you had possibly done something wrong. 

Beomgyu doesn’t say anything as he brings his sticky fingers to his face, inhaling your scent before shoving them into his mouth. Your jaw falls open in bewilderment, how could he just do something like that so…casually. — “Come on now princess, we’ve only just gotten started.” 

Even more? 

Your already wide eyes dilate even further, completely forgetting to be angry over the nickname he’d used as his hand dips inside the waistband of his sweats, pulling his hard cock from his briefs. It wasn’t like you were a total prude, you knew what a dick looked like, you just…had never seen one up close. — Beomgyu takes his time as he wraps his fingers around its base, languidly stroking himself as pearly beads of what you could only assume to be precum spilled from the slit on top. 

The thought of having that inside of you makes your throat go dry and you shift uncomfortably on the bed. “Come on now, sis, don’t grow shy on me”, he drawls, stifling a groan as his thumb flicks over his tip. The knot in your stomach returns and you shoot him a glare, “I am not your ‘sis’”, you state through gritted teeth. But Beomgyu only chuckles before leaning forward, his face drawing in close once more. With one hand still on his cock, the other one presses flat against the mattress as he hovers in front of you. 

“Lie down.” 

His sharp command sends a shiver down your spine and you hesitantly comply, awkwardly sliding yourself down between his parted legs until only your head remains perched on the pillow. From this angle, Beomgyu’s long hair falls in front of his face and you resist the urge to reach up and brush it away. Instead your nervous eyes flicker to his cock as he gently taps it against your inner thigh. Your gaze lingers on the way his arousal spills onto your naked skin and suddenly a wave of realization washes over you. 

“Shouldn’t we use a condom?” You whisper, biting the inside of your cheek as your attention flits back to the smug expression on his face. “Why? That takes away half the fun”, he hums, letting his tip part your puffy folds as he nudges it against your throbbing clit. “H-ah b-but isn’t it unsafe?” You whine, unable to keep from grinding against him, desperately seeking his touch. 

Beomgyu lets out an exasperated sigh, reaching a hand up to run through his slightly disheveled hair. “Don’t tell me you’re scared”, he grunts, his fingers clasping around your chin, pulling your face so that it rests inches from his. Your breath is uneven and jagged as you reluctantly meet his gaze, a quiet “no” spilling from your lips. — He grins, tongue dragging across the bottom row of teeth in his mouth, “such a terrible liar.” 

You don’t have time to think, much less act before the head of his cock pushed past the rim of taut muscle as he slid inside your warm cunt, almost immediately groaning at how you wrapped around him so deliciously. — “Fuck, you really are a virgin aren’t you?” He breathes, lips hovering above yours and you weakly nod. The stretch of his thick cock making you go near cross eyed as you grasped at his shoulders. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before and you were sure that Beomgyu enjoyed every second of it. 

He had been the first, the first one to get his hands on you, to spew his poison all over your pure and innocent virgin body, and he would make sure to do so thoroughly. His mouth is on your neck, tongue licking at your skin and you cringe away from the action but he doesn’t falter, lips immediately chasing yours as he keeps you in place. The kiss is rougher than the previous, hungry and disoriented as Beomgyu messily jerks his hips against yours. Your nails dig into the apex of his shoulders and his name echoes through in the pristine bedroom as you moan out in pleasure. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum right away if you keep that up”, he grunts, fingers digging into your cheeks as he withdraws from your lips. Your eyes widen as you feebly try and shake your head, dreading for him to finish inside. But he doesn’t, instead he redirects his focus to your neck, resuming what he’d been doing as his tongue darts out to swipe across its juncture. You squeal when his teeth graze your skin, the hands on his shoulders moving to his dark hair. 

The marks he left on your untouched skin were bound to linger for at least a couple of days, he made sure of that. Reveling in the fact that you’d let him in, let him close, allowed him to take something so precious, something that you had been clinging on to for so long. He would have you, all of you, even if only once, he would be sure to leave an impression. 

And you know that you should feel ashamed, feel guilty, dirty even. But something feels different, something about him, about Beomgyu. It’s not the Beomgyu you loathed, the Beomgyu who’d made you cry, the Beomgyu who made you feel worthless. — None of the anger, the hatred, the fire; none of that lingered right now. And had it not been for his sharp teeth on your skin and his rough pace as his cock rammed into your throbbing cunt, the moment might’ve even been tender. 

There’s an unfamiliar feeling building in the pits of your stomach and it had long since overridden the previous shame and guilt. Unsure of what to make of it, you desperately tug on Beomgyu’s hair, eventually making his head raise from your chest with a small frown, the liner around his eyes even more smudged than usual now. — “I’m…I…” your face turns beet red as you stumble over your words, not knowing how to express yourself. 

He licks his already wet lips, his pace momentarily slowing and you whimper at the discomfort soaring through your body. “You close?” He asks, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead. You open your mouth only to close it again, nodding sheepishly as your hands twist in his hair. Beomgyu groans as he lets his fingers slide down your stomach, reaching where your bodies connected like one, middle finger rubbing your clit menacingly as he watches you arch against him with a broken moan. 

Your first ever orgasm felt out of this world, your cunt clenching around his cock with such vigor that you thought you might cry, a string of incoherent and high pitched whines ripping from your throat as you pull Beomgyu close, and for the first time, you’re the one initiating the kiss as you slam your lips on his. — He groans into your mouth, letting you slide your tongue against his, albeit a little awkwardly as you had no clue of what you were doing. 

Finally, as your climax comes to an end, you find yourself relaxing against the mattress, the fingers in his hair loosening their grip as you allow yourself to kiss him slowly. — “F-Fuck princess”, he grunts, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth before letting go. You respond by eagerly raising your hips to meet his, wincing at how sensitive you felt as his cock twitched inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, wait”, he breaths, tearing himself from you as he swiftly pulls out with a small hiss. 

In your euphoric state, your eyes drift to his hand wrapped around his shaft, quickly jerking himself off as his gaze fixates on your wet cunt. Then he notices you, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he reaches for your wrist, “come here”, he urges as he guides the flat of your hand to wrap around his cock. — Blinking, your attention flits between his expectant face and his heavy dick in your grasp as you contemplate your next move. It wasn’t like you’d ever done something like this before but it looked easy enough when he was doing it. 

With determination you begin to carefully stroke him, biting the inside of your cheek at the squelching sound erupting as his arousal smeared across your fingers. Beomgyu’s hips jerk forward and your movements stutter. — “H-ah, fucking hell d-don’t stop”, he groans, his jaw slacked as his eyes tightly squeezed shut. A quiet “sorry” slips from your lips and your pace returns as you work to get him off. 

“F-Fuck go a bit faster, yeah?” He mutters, his hand joining in on top of yours as he ups the intensity. Merely following his command, you grip him tighter, drawing a strained moan from him as your fingers drag across his tip. — It made you feel oddly powerful, seeing him like this, his otherwise indifferent face completely flushed, and instead of presenting himself with a mean scowl, he looked to be in complete bliss as he let his head fall back. 

A final twitch of his causes hot liquid to spurt from his throbbing cock, the white substance coating both your hand and lower abdomen. He heaves a sigh and you feel him slowly go soft in your hand before you pull it away. Beomgyu runs his fingers through his hair, parting it before letting his arm drop back down, his gaze landing on the mess on your stomach. He tsk’s spreading the sticky fluid across your skin. “What would your daddy think if he saw you like this, hm?” He murmurs, licking his lips before bringing his cum-coated fingers to your face. 

You shake your head, without the waves of pleasure sparking through you, the shame and the guilt suddenly crawled right back. “I- I don’t want to talk about him..” You whine, trying to force the image of your father out of your mind. — “His beautiful princess, completely ruined by something so…what did you say I was? Dark?” 

Without warning he pushes his wet fingers inside your mouth, making you cringe at the salty taste of him. “I bet your daddy would hate you forever”, Beomgyu finally states, watching as you frown, lips closing around the digits in your mouth. — And when he finally withdraws them, you splutter, “my father doesn’t hate me, but yours seem to do.” 

Beomgyu’s jaw twitches, his lips curling up into a small scowl and the desire previously filling the air slowly simmers out. You knew that he wanted you to feel just as miserable as he did. But you wouldn’t let him, you wouldn’t let him get to you like that. — Half expecting an insult thrown your way, you’re surprised when he merely tucks himself back into his sweats, rising from the bed as he regards you with dark eyes. “Fine, keep living with such fantasies and we’ll see just how long it takes for them to get crushed.” 

Without as much as another word, he leaves your room, the door slamming shut behind him as the small house falls under an eerie silence once more. 

⸝⸝

Your parents came home two days later, and though you wanted to say that things had changed between you and Beomgyu after your…night together, it was safe to say that they hadn’t. At least not on his part. You on the other hand, couldn’t get the feeling of his hands off of your body, it was like he’d permanently imprinted himself on your skin. It feels disgusting, and you had spent three hours in the shower the morning after, vigorously trying to scrub the venom from your system. But it never worked, his touch lingered like that of a tattoo, forever sealed onto you. You could never take back what had happened that night. 

For some reason, a small part of you doesn’t want to. 

Beomgyu avoided you, and when he wasn’t avoiding you he was glaring. His dark and piercing eyes followed your every move whenever you were in his field of vision. But there was something else too, a sense of superiority. — He knew that you were constantly dealing with the consequences of that night, he could see the way your mind haunted you with the memories, and he took pride in watching the shame and the guilt practically eat you alive. — He was on top of the world and you were scrambling to even get by. 

So one could easily imagine your surprise when one evening, you found him in a state you never thought you’d ever get to witness. 

It was late, but your small family had yet to eat dinner, and you watched as Ms Choi darted across the kitchen, in full with preparing your meal. You helped her set the table as you laughed at a couple of your dad’s terrible and overused jokes. It had taken a whole of three days for you to be able to look him in the eye after he’d come home, and you still felt terrible whenever you caught him and Ms Choi sharing a kiss; knowing that one tiny slip of your lips could manage to ruin something so perfect. 

You trusted that Beomgyu wouldn’t utter as much as a single breath about what had transpired that night, but you still startled when his mother taps your shoulder, whipping around as you come face to face with her. — “Dear, do you mind fetching Beomgyu, dinner’s almost ready”, she smiled, that warm and comforting smile she so often gave her son, only to receive a mere huff in return. You nod, slowly making your way out of the kitchen as you head for the hallway, dreading having to speak to him, much less in private. 

The steps creak under your weight as you drag yourself up the stairs, drawing out the moment for as long as possible before you inevitably reach his door. With a small sigh, you knock. There’s no music coming from the other side and you frown, what’s up with him? — Another knock, but nothing. You bite the inside of your cheek, a wave of frustration crashing over you at the thought of having to call out for him. 

“Beomgyu?” 

A third knock. You wait for at least a minute but there’s nothing, just silence. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep, still, you should wake him and let him know that dinner was ready, Ms Choi had asked you after all. — Your hand is near trembling as you grasp the handle, twisting it before pushing the door open. Slowly adjusting to the darkness of his room, you peer inside. But to your surprise, he wasn’t there. 

Your footsteps make a thumping sound as you hurry down the stairs. If he wasn’t in his room then…Your gaze flickers toward the dining room and kitchen before settling on the front door. “Did he mention anything about going out?” You call out for Ms Choi and she soon appears in the doorway, a bowl of salad in her hands. “No, is he not in his room?” She wonders, her face quickly falling. 

Noting her worried expression you quickly shake your head as you try and reassure her. “I’m sure he just went for a walk, I’ll go check.” — Your dad’s girlfriend gives a small nod as her gaze, too, flickers toward the door. “Alright..” 

⸝⸝ 

The cool night air hits your face and you mutter a few curses under your breath, scolding yourself for offering to do something like that when the last thing you wanted was to be out in this cold. — As you walk down the graveled path you let out a tired groan, what were you even thinking coming out here? It wasn’t like he was just going to magically appear or something. Fucking asshole, had the nerve to leave without a word and now you had to go looking for him. 

But as you push the small fence gate open and turn out and onto the street, a familiar scene flashes before your eyes. Nostalgia fills your every fiber as your eyes fall on Beomgyu’s figure, perched on the sidewalk as he hugs his knees to his chest, just like he had that night, that night two years ago. — But something was different. That night, the one where you had learned to hate him, it had been a warm night, and Beomgyu had been burning with rage. Today, the air is much colder, and Beomgyu is no longer on fire, instead he’s shivering, his whole body quivering as small sobs escape his soft lips.  

You freeze at the sight, breath catching in your throat as you regard his almost pathetic frame, curling in on itself as his fingers dig into the flesh of his calves. Part of you wants to leave him there, perhaps even make fun of him, it was most tempting to finally get back at him for the way he’d ruined you. — But you weren’t Beomgyu. And you wouldn’t do that. 

Instead you find yourself slowly approaching, and just like that night two years ago, you slide down next to him on the cold pavement. He doesn’t seem to register that you’re there, and you sit in silence for a brief moment before addressing him. — “Beomgyu?” — His head jerks at the quiet whisper of his name, his usually narrowed eyes wide in shock as they flicker over to you. His cheeks are wet, stained with his tears and the liner around his eyes had run down his face in messy streaks. A few strands of hair stick to his forehead and his lip trembles as he sucks in a sharp breath. 

“Leave me the fuck alone.” He croaks, but his voice comes out weak and raspy. His hands wipe at his face, but it only spreads the mess already there even further and he lets out a frustrated groan. — You don’t say anything, because last time you tried to comfort him you only ended up getting hurt. Instead your gaze flits to his discarded phone between the two of you. The screen was broken, likely from him smashing it on the asphalt beneath. You frown as it suddenly comes to life, vibrating against the hard ground. The bright screen illuminates the dim street and your eyes land on the caller-ID. 

“Dad.” 

Beomgyu doesn’t make a move to answer, merely turning his head away as he continues to sob into his arms. “Don’t”, he mutters as he sees you reaching for the device, “he’s drunk.” — You purse your lips but your fingers still clasp around the phone, your thumb swiping to decline the call. Upon being presented with his lockscreen, you can make out at least another fifteen missed ones. Your chest churns at the scene, for whatever reason, you do not know. The bright light vanishes as you power off his phone completely, tossing it to the side as you stretch your legs out in front of you on the pavement. 

It takes him about a minute to lift his head from his arms and his breath is still uneven as he speaks. “What does he want?” — Biting your lip, you gaze ahead, tracing the outlines of each car parked down the street, memorizing their plate numbers. You didn’t know how to answer his question, so you remained silent. Beomgyu shuffles next to you, mimicking your movement of unfolding his legs. “I bet he wants money..” He then adds in a snarky tone, wiping his face once more as he snivels, “money to sponsor his fucking addiction.” 

You throw a quick glance in the direction of his discarded phone. “Why do you still have his number?” It was obvious that he didn’t like his father, so why let him bother him like that. Beomgyu shakes his head solemnly, his fingers twisting against one another as he opens his mouth only to close it again. “Wouldn’t it be better to block him?” — “I can’t.” He suddenly exclaims, turning to you with a small frown. 

Why not? Why let something like that plague you, why not just cut it off, why not just let go? 

It was then you realized that perhaps you and Beomgyu shared a lot more than you’d initially wanted to admit.. Your eyes drop to the bracelet around your wrist, the silver glinting under the moon. — When your attention returns to him, you find him already watching you, his gaze following yours as it resided by the jewelry on your arm. You think he might make another comment about it, but he doesn’t, instead he merely sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. 

“I think..” You begin, your voice a quiet whisper as you stare past him, eyes drifting off into the distance as you let the words roll off your tongue. “I think you’re stuck on what could’ve been rather than what you have.” Beomgyu doesn’t say anything, his gaze mindlessly dropping to his hands in front of him as he bites the inside of his cheek. “What I have”, he mutters with a small frown, clearly not intended for you to hear but you did. 

“You have your mom.” 

He scoffs, already anticipating your next self-victimizing rant about how yours was dead. “My mom is-” 

“A wonderful person.” Your statement catches him off guard and his attention shifts back to your face as he studies you with a look of wariness. “And you would see that if you spared her more than a glare”, you continue as you watch his skeptical expression. — You had never felt anything besides hatred for Beomgyu, and you had been so blinded by your rage that in a way, you had become almost exactly like him. But as you finally take a step back to view him completely, his disheveled frame, his slumped shoulders and runny makeup — pity washes over you, the same pity you had felt on that night two years ago; the night everything went wrong. 

“Stop holding her accountable for his mistakes.” 

You can see the twitch of his face at your words, as if he wanted to refuse them, to lash out on you, but he didn’t. Instead he looks to you with the most sorrowful look you’d ever witnessed on him. — “How do I do that?” He wonders, his voice is thick, laced with his previous tears. Biting your tongue, you hold back from saying what you thought he wasn’t ready to hear but Beomgyu clings to you, his hands wrapping around the fabric of your shirt, his grip near trembling. 

“I miss my mom.” He whispers, his voice breaking as a lonesome droplet falls down his cheek, slicing through the dark smear of charcoal on his face. Your jaw falls open, stunned by the way his resolve so suddenly crumbled. And as you heard the words leave his lips, “i miss my mom”, you could practically feel every single one of his emotions as they washed over him in thunderous waves. — You missed your mom too, you missed her terribly. 

He hiccups, his tears creating a damp spot on the shoulder of your shirt. “H-How do I get her back..?” The question comes out muffled as he grips you tightly. “Please…I want my mom back.” — Your eyes sting and you feel yourself slowly losing your composure as you draw in a ragged breath. With a small push of your hands, you manage to create some distance between the two of you, enough to where you could see his wet face, his glossy eyes and swollen lips. 

“You have to let him go.” 

You reach for his phone, powering it back on. Beomgyu looks hesitant as he wipes his eyes, exhaling shakily when you extend the device to him. “The longer you let him ruin you the more you and those around you will suffer.” — With wobbly fingers he grasps his phone, slowly finding his dad’s contact info. He wavers, thumb hovering above the block button as he bites his bottom lip. 

You don’t know why you felt the need to help him, why you felt like you had to comfort him, reassure him. — “You’ve said it yourself haven’t you? Some people don’t deserve children.” His gaze flickers up to meet yours at the statement, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. “Don’t let him have that privilege”, you say as you let your hand rest on top of his. 

Beomgyu slowly nods, reluctantly pressing the dreadful button as he erases his father from his life. He purses his lips, breathing out through his nose as he stares at the screen for a minute, as if contemplating his next move. — “He’s gone.” He finally states, the frown on his face only deepening as he swallowed thickly. 

“Sometimes it’s better that way”, you mumble, letting go of his hand as you lean back, your gaze dropping to the bracelet around your wrist. 

Your heart pounds loudly in your chest, blood rushing through your body as you reach for the small lock, carefully unclasping the piece of sacred jewelry. Beomgyu and you…You weren’t so different, you think. And if he could do something, something like that, then who says you couldn’t? 

His eyes are on you, watching intently as you with shaky hands let the bracelet fall from your skin, feeling oddly empty without it. — It feels light in your hand, and you wondered how something so significant could weigh so little. It made it easier to let go. — Beomgyu lets you grab his wrist, the frown on his face creasing further when you tie the silver around him. 

“Now she’s gone too.” 

You give him a small smile, meeting his wide eyes as they shift from the bracelet around his wrist and your relieved expression. 

It’s without thinking that you lean in, softly pressing your lips against his in a small kiss. But this time you didn’t feel guilty, nor did you feel dirty or ashamed. Instead it felt nice, it felt like closure. Letting your eyes flutter closed, feeling his warm and damp skin against your own, a stark contrast to the cold night surrounding you. Beomgyu lets you kiss him without protest and you feel the faint caress of fingers to your cheek. 

When you pull away he chases after you, only to be stopped by the palm of your hand on his chest as you shake your head. “It’s not like that. You know it too.” Your soft whisper makes his jaw clench, his fingers dropping from your face as they curl into fists. Then he nods, the corner of his lips pulling upwards, “yeah.” 

Gingerly rising to your feet, you dust some off the dirt from your jeans before your attention returns to him, still perched on the sidewalk. — Your outstretched hand is met by the raise of his eyebrow and you roll your eyes, “come on, I think there’s someone who would like to talk to you.” Beomgyu frowns but takes your hand nonetheless as he lets you pull him up. 

You walk like that, hand in hand, and it feels nice. Your heart sinks a little at the thought that it could’ve been like this from the start, had things worked out differently. But as you turn to walk through the small fence gate, and your eyes fall on Ms Choi, anxiously waiting by the front door, you find yourself smiling. And instead of grieving what you could’ve had, you would focus on what you did have. 

Beomgyu audibly swallows next to you as his gaze surveys his mother, and as Ms Choi notices the two of you approaching, her face lights up. — With a final squeeze of his hand, you let him go. It was satisfactory in itself to see him walk up to his mom, letting her wrap her arms around him for the first time in what you could only guess to be years. But they both made it look so natural as they fell into each other’s embrace. And it only confirmed what you had known for so long.

That Beomgyu was and had always been, a mommy’s boy.

taglist ✎... @jjklvr9 @beomies-world @hyukaaa @ninoshome1 @gardnhee @babymochibeargyu @lunathewritingcat @duckywuckypookiepie @naoristerling @oddracha @soohashits @junimoa03 @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @beomtasticc @gudboibeomgyu @flowzel @hwanghyunjinismybae @inkigayocamman @sthwaaberry @izzyy-stuff @silentisle @itaehynz @blossommi @sunghxxnie @plumgyu @sweetpotatogyu

(if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!)

→ want to get notified whenever a new dream is published? join my TAGLIST ᰔ © all rights reserved ─ @beomiracles 2024

I‘m rereading inkheart and I am so much in love with dustfinger…

Finds auch richtig lustig wie Basta ihn manchmal Schmutz- und Dreckfinger genannt hat, heul

THE MIRROR-BLUE NIGHT; ACT I

―PAIRING: joshua hong x fem!reader ―GENRE: SLOW burn, affair au, suggestive, angst, romance ―CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 11.2k ―CHAPTER WARNINGS: mild language, very minimal josh in this chapter (sorry), death mentions, cheating, lots of introspection ―STATUS: ongoing

―AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is act i to my entry for svthub's world tour collab. it's heavily inspired by wong kar wai's film 'in the mood for love', and it's been fun to play around with a totally different atmosphere and setting, and i hope everyone that reads this enjoys it! if you do, please consider reblogging with your thoughts and comments i would love to hear them. hopefully before long i will have the following two acts out for you to continue <3

ACT I

. . .

It’s raining. You hear the patter of droplets as they fall against your windows, a symphony of sorrows cascading from gray skies. When you were a child your mother used to tell you that the rain meant the heavens were crying. That some angel high above was weeping for the sorrow of those below–for the tragedy of humankind. She made up a lot of lies when you were young, stories to either make you feel better or to just force you to stop asking her questions while she was trying to watch her favourite shows. 

It never worked, and you never believed her. 

It was raining, too,  on the day that you cremated her. A near torrential downpour that had washed out the roads on your way to the funeral home and caused a four car pile up on the on ramp. You made it, breathless and haggard, just in time to drip your way through the procession to the front of the church pews where you sat, cloaked in the black of mourning, to watch a small line of people espouse pretty stories and prettier lies about the woman who raised you. 

Were you sad about her death? Of course you were. Death was always sad, in some deeply philosophical and uniquely human way. The ending of all things–life moving onwards to something better (or worse). Leaving everyone else behind to deal with the sorrow and suffering and debt. You could feel her death around you everywhere you went. The last breath of her life sighing over you on windy streets, the final whisper of her words in the chattering of birds in the morning dew. She was omnipresent. Oppressive. Somehow even more than she had been when she was alive. A heavy shroud over your every move. 

You were sad about her death, but you did not feel the pang of it in your heart as you might have if she had been anyone else. Instead it was abstract–elusive. A fleeting thought that followed you throughout the day. A thought that you were sure would dissipate over time. Molecule by molecule as her soul moved on from this world it would dissolve and you would finally be left standing in a life of your own making, no longer bent to the will of the woman who molded you to fit neatly into her own life. Her death was sad but it also finally opened you up the hope for freedom. 

When it was your turn to speak, after the mass had ended and the few other speakers had said their peace with your mother overseeing from inside her casket, you hesitated. Standing in front of the crowd of people that had managed to crawl their way through traffic for the promise of a free lunch and a voyeuristic look at the poor, bereft daughter left to deal with this whole mess. The only remaining relative of this woman that had made everyone’s life around her a living hell. You stared out at their faces, blank with waiting, and expected the words you had prepared to come out as you had rehearsed. None ever did. You stood silent under the scrutiny of a hundred eyes and seconds ticked by into minutes as the blank expressions morphed into confusion or pity. Even your husband’s carefully neutral expression devolved into one of concern as he stared up at you from his seat. 

Thunder clapped outside the church, the rain picked up speed, buffeting the stained glass windows in its fury, and you thought that maybe your mother hadn’t been lying to you when you were a child. Maybe it was her fury that was clinging to your clothing–soaking you to the bone. 

You left the altar without a word–just one apologetic glance cast over the audience of mourners–and sat back down next to your husband. Head held high against the brewing storm. You realised finally that you had nothing to say. 

For your husband’s part, he played it well at the time. His silent hand found yours and gripped it tight as you both kept your gazes focused on the priest as he tried his best to stitch the proceedings back together after the abandoned eulogy. He kept your hand in his throughout the rest of the funeral–from the end of the mass, through the reception, and all the way to the committal he was there with you. The anchor at your side. 

When had he stopped? 

When had he stopped being there–holding your hand, playing his part as your partner through it all on this grand stage of life. When had he decided he no longer wanted to be that? 

You watch a rivulet of rain carve a line through the reflection of your face, splitting you in two as you stare out through the window in your living room and into the neon darkness of the city surrounding you. Who were the heavens sad for tonight? 

For your own part, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel much sadness. Only a hollow aching at the pit of your stomach, like a hunger long ignored. Gnawing at your insides as you stare out into some unfixed point on the horizon and wait for your husband to return home. Late, again. Always late these days. Always some excuse or another. Traffic, work, friends wanting to grab drinks, errands to run. Tonight though, perhaps, the excuse would be the rain. 

With a sigh you abandon your post at the window, floating through the apartment by the dim light of the city pouring inside. No reason to turn the lights on inside–you knew your way around. The remnants of your dinner sit undisturbed on the kitchen counter, steam long since evaporated, as they wait for a mouth to enter, a stomach to fill. You had lost your appetite when you received the text message. 

You knew it was coming, had known for months. At first it was easy to trick yourself into believing that nothing had changed at all. Everything was normal. These excuses were all truths and you were in fact in the wrong for not believing your husband when he told you. After a time this denial stopped working, however, and you moved on to believing that the changes were only superficial–temporary–that the fissure that had opened up in your marriage was not a yawning pit preparing to engulf you but an easily repairable crack in the foundation. Before long he would return to you as a ship to the shore. He would pour out his feelings and you would mend them easily, with tears of your own. Your relationship would grow in strength for enduring this storm and all would be well again. 

As the days and months dragged on, though, it grew harder to ignore the signs. You had seen them so many times before–on television, in film, in friends’ relationships, in your own parents’ marriage before it fell apart when you were 9. 

A whiff of an unfamiliar perfume in the air, breezing behind your husband as he enters the apartment after work–orange blossom, ginger, patchouli and jasmine. Cloying and heady. A scent of seduction and sex in the wake of a man that hadn’t touched you in days. He waited to kiss you hello now, waited until he had changed out of his clothes, maybe until after he had a shower. You would sit, perched on the arm of the couch, and stare out the window of your living room while he scrubbed the scent of another woman off of his skin. 

More evidence collected over the next few months. Pastel purple and blue splotches dotting the nape of his neck–just above the birthmark you used to trace over with a loving fingertip in the early days of your marriage. Lipstick stains faded on the white collar of a shirt–brick red, a shade that never painted your own lips. He was getting careless–bold. And you continued to observe without a word. Maintaining the calm on the surface of your life, letting the stains and perfume to sink deep underneath. 

Maybe you should have confronted him early on, when the days were still young and you still had lingering affection for this man that was becoming a stranger to you. You should have yelled, screamed, fought, let your tears flow freely in a torrent of anger and betrayal. Every rational thought in your mind was screaming out for you to face him down and do something. You would work yourself into a fury of anger and anxiety waiting for him to come home but the second he stepped across the threshold of your apartment, all of it dissolved. Melted away into nothingness and left only that old, hollow ache until that was all you had left inside.

You remember how your mother had reacted when she found out about your dad’s affair. The consequences were swift and brutal–a storm of emotions and rage bursting out and swallowing everyone in its vicinity. If rain was sadness, surely her rage had been a tsunami. Your dad left and you retreated–into your room, into yourself. Left alone to rebuild in the wake of this natural disaster. 

When you got married your mother warned you–warned you of your duties as a wife. To keep him happy, keep him home, and remember that marriage is work. Life was so hard after your father abandoned us, she would say, don’t let the same happen to you. She would sermonize his weakness and cruelty, and you would listen. But you loved your father, in spite of all his flaws and humanity. He was kind and soft-hearted and you never blamed him for what happened, how could it all have been his fault? This one man that bought you ice cream and tanghulu and took you shopping for school uniforms up until he died? No. You blamed your mother.

What would she say to you now, sitting alone in the dark staring at a photo of your husband with his arm slung casually over the shoulders of another woman, her head resting against him with a soft smile on her face. Pathetic, spineless child. 

You shrug off the ghost of your mother and focus back on the picture. They were in a restaurant, tucked into a corner booth. The low lighting cast soft shadows over their faces, obscuring the details of their features, but there was no doubt in your mind that  it was him.  It was the same slope of brow and cheek that you have run your fingers over so many times before. The same slight upturn in the corners of the mouth that you fell in love with. The glimmer of mischief and daring that so easily drew you in when you first started dating, now turned towards someone else. A stranger? You were sure you didn’t know her but there was something familiar about her in the photo, something about her profile that tugged at the recesses of your recollection. 

Your imagination has been running frantic circles in your mind since you opened the message. Where had he met her? Work? He wasn’t a part of any clubs, didn’t play mahjong on the weekends with friends, hadn’t been selected for any work trips where he might have brushed elbows with her in a conference. Might have snuck into each other's hotel rooms, followed each other onto the plane. She could have been a stewardess–as alluring as they are professional. An untouchable creature bending to your every whim and all you can do is look and hope and wish. Slip her your number as you disembark, pray she deems you worthy enough to contact. 

But he hadn’t been out of the city in at least a year. So that couldn’t be it. 

Maybe she had a more humble occupation. She worked at the hot pot restaurant his company frequented after work. That was how you had met so is it so out of the realm of possibilities that lightning might strike twice? 

Maybe he had always known her. Maybe you were the other woman–some twist of fate had led him to marrying you instead of his highschool sweetheart. A girl that had occupied his mind for longer than you had known him. Maybe she had traveled after graduation–moved to the US and taken his heart with her while he pined away and finally, losing all hope, he settled for the strange girl with the zealot of a mother. Turned you into a project to fill his loneliness and occupy his thoughts until she returned and he was reminded of all the things that she had been for him that you never could. 

Maybe. 

Or maybe she was just a whore. 

Your thoughts flitter back and forth; all possibilities confronting you at once, neon red  in alarm. You watch taxis and motorbikes speed through traffic on the rain soaked street 15 stories below your apartment–each one weaving a new thread of anxiety in your mind as you wait for one to stop in front of your building. Wait for your husband to emerge, shielding himself from the rain and rushing to get inside before his white-collared shirt is soaked through with the sins of his flesh. 

He arrives shortly after you give up waiting and prepare for bed. The rain has begun to let up and with it he steps through the front door of your apartment while you sit perched on the edge of your bed, running a hand over the embroidered silk duvet coverlet you had received as a wedding present. You listen as he drops his keys, briefcase, coat onto the kitchen counter. Focus on the sound of his footfall as he  walks through the short hallway to the bathroom. He doesn’t see you sitting in the dark, doesn’t seek you out to greet you. You watch as he flicks the light on to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. The sound of the shower running follows a few moments afterwards. 

You brace yourself when he enters the dark bedroom after washing himself free of the day. Body tense as he slips under the blanket beside you. The anticipation of something, anything, stiffens in your muscles and you wait for him to say something, to give you some explanation for his whereabouts. Nothing comes. He, believing you to be asleep, slips too into the arms of the night and you’re left alone–staring blankly into the dark of the room before you give into the heaviness of your eyes. 

Morning dawns, grey and overcast. You’re alone again, your husband having left for work with the tin of leftovers you had pre-packed for him, and the day stretches out in front of you–long and lonely–as you shove all thoughts of last night to the back of your mind and turn your attention to the household tasks that require it. 

The fluorescent lights of the supermarket buzz overhead as you make your way through the aisles with a basket hanging on your arm. You know what you’re getting–you’ve rotated through the same small selection of meals since you were 11 years old and started cooking for yourself–but you take your time anyway. Wandering through the rows of produce, fish, and imported goods. Enjoying the distant company of strangers, their idle chatter and routine conversations are a welcome reprieve from the oppressive silence that has dominated your apartment over the past few months. 

You drift to the fruits, letting their bright colours draw you in, and reach for a melon. It’s heavy in the hand, weighed down with the density of the flesh inside. It would be delicious–perfectly ripe, bursting with flavour and juice–you could almost salivate at the thought of slicing into it, bringing a cube of its sweetness to the tip of your tongue. You haven’t had it in ages. Your husband was not fond of fruits–he never had been. Always preferred spice and heat over sweetness, and you were more than happy to accommodate–to oblige his tastes and sacrifice your own for the sake of love. But now? 

The melon stares up at you in askance and you set it back on the stand with its brethren before you can give the temptation a second thought. As soon as you do, a hand reaches out to grab it, neatly manicured fingers wrapping around the fruit still warm from your touch. You smell her perfume before you see her face–that aroma of orange blossom, patchouli,  and jasmine (with a hint of ginger) cutting through the air of the supermarket like a knife through fruit. It’s even more overwhelming first hand. You turn your head, catching a glimpse of her face, her bright red lips, before she turns away and clacks towards the green wall of vegetables. 

You follow transfixed behind her as she weaves her way through the market, picking up an array of items as she goes. Mindlessly you fill your basket behind her, hands reaching out for whatever as you try to disguise your objective. You had only seen one blurry photo of her, clandestinely snapped with her head buried in the crook of your husband’s arm, but you would know her anywhere. In fact you did know her. Not by name, you had never been introduced, but you recognize her instantly now in the bright noonday lights of the shop. 

She lives in your building, a few floors up, you were sure of it. You had run into her in the elevator a few times, never exchanging a word, but always evaluating each other with that cold calculation of strangers destined to become rivals. Not that you knew that at the time. She had a husband. A man with kind eyes and a kind smile. You weren’t sure if it made you feel better or worse to know that you weren't alone in your suffering, that someone else was tied to the other end of this red string that entangled the four of you in its noose-tight vice. 

Does she recognize me? you wonder as you get in line a few people behind her at the register. Your eyes remain fixed on the back of her head while she pays and you tap your foot in anxious impatience as her form disappears through the doors and you’re left waiting for the elderly woman in front of you to deal out her entire coin purse to the cashier for spring onions and flour.

Finally you step out into the streets, bag of assorted groceries clutched tight in your fist, and you whip your head around to try to locate her. It doesn’t take long–she’s a flash of red in a sea of black–and you hasten your stride to catch up with her as she rounds the corner towards your apartment building, taking care to maintain a neutral expression. You trail her over the few blocks it takes to get back home, pulse quickening whenever her step halts–paralysed with the fear that she may turn around and realise what you’re doing. 

Does she  know who you are? Aa a neighbour, maybe, but as the wife of the man she’s having an affair with? Has he told her about you, have they shared jokes in confidence at your expense? Or are you some shameful secret he has kept hidden in his coat pocket. Maybe he slips his wedding band off before each meeting, spinning it around his finger thrice before tucking it out of sight, alongside his conscience. Does he know about her husband? Does her husband know about him the way you know about her? Were the same thoughts turning over in his mind as he sat at his desk at work, staring idly at their wedding photo? 

You follow her, a few paces behind, through the lobby of your shared building. Part of you–a bold, reckless part–wants to slip into the elevator with her, just before the doors can slide closed. Meet her face to face. Confront her and lay bare your knowledge of her discretion. Maybe she would cry, maybe she would yell, maybe she would laugh. Not one of the scenarios you envision ends with you triumphant, in each one your husband’s arms reach forth to comfort her and leave you standing alone, consumed with the red hot fires of rage and seething hate. 

You push that part of you away, back into the shadows, and watch as  she gets into the elevator. The numbers on the display above the doors climb higher and higher as she ascends and you hold your breath, waiting for them to halt. 22. Higher up than your own, more expensive. So it wasn’t money that had drawn her to your husband. You jam your finger against the button, calling the lift back down and wrestling between going home with this new knowledge or feeding into your curiosity and following her up to her door. Would you know the right one if you saw it? 

You press both floor numbers when you finally climb into the elevator, staring at the illuminated buttons as you slowly ascend. You stand still, staring at number 22, and wait as you move up and up–torn between the two options you’ve given to yourself. The doors finally slide open to reveal your floor, 15, and you stare out into the empty hallway, waiting for some unseen force to push you out of the lift. To make up your mind for you. Nothing does, and you just stand silent and still, frozen in time until they slide closed once more and you’re left looking blankly at your own twisted expression in the stainless steel. You keep eye contact with the twisted version of yourself reflected back at you and wait as the elevator continues its ascent. 

What were you hoping to gain from following this woman? Confirmation that she is, indeed, real? As if the brush of her arm against yours as she stretched out for your relinquished fruit hadn’t been enough to convince you. Her head bobbing through the crowds of people on the street as you kept pace behind her was just a figment of your imagination. Did you think you would find him there? Waiting for her? Eating slices of fruit from her outstretched hands in an act of worship? Your reflection purses her lips, eyebrows knit in thought, and you shake your head at her in askance, a silent plea, before the elevator finally stops at floor 22. 

The door slides open for the second time and you brace yourself to alight, but your path is blocked. 

“Oh, sorry,” he says, stepping aside to give you space to pass, “are you getting off here?” 

You freeze on the spot, standing on the threshold of a million converging thoughts as they crash through your mind. His smile is the same as you remember it, soft and kind. The smile of someone for whom life was easy, someone who hadn’t seen much strife. Or perhaps the opposite . Someone who had seen all the horrors life had to offer him and chose to remain soft despite them. You’re distantly aware that you look like a fool, standing there in the elevator with your mouth hanging slightly agape as you stare into the eyes of your husband’s mistress’ husband, but you can’t make yourself move. Paralyzed by a strange twist of fate that had, unbeknownst to him, entangled you in a web of deceit and betrayal.

Surely he didn’t know. 

“Is this your floor,” he asks again, prompting you to move or speak or do something more than just stand still as the elevator beeps its final warning. It wasn’t going to wait much longer. 

“N-no,” you stammer, trying to right your thoughts. “I was going down, actually.” In a panic you jam your finger against the button for floor 15. If he notices the obvious lie, he doesn’t say anything–instead politely skirting around you as he steps into the lift and presses the button for the ground floor.

The lift jerks as it starts to descend, and you hold your breath. Afraid that any movement might somehow reveal every thought you’re holding tight within. He keeps a polite distance, checking his phone as he stands in the opposite corner of the narrow, enclosed space. The elevator inches closer to your floor and your muscles tense in preparation to bolt through the door as soon as it slides open at floor 15. You stare up at the numbers as they transform–20, 19, 18. Eyes transfixed on the digital display as your brain whirrs with static noise. 

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?” You jerk your attention towards him as soon as he speaks, head spinning too fast to pass off your expression as casual and you’re sure that you look as panicked as you feel. “When we first moved into the building, I mean. It’s been a while but I recognize you.” 

You nod and take a second to clear your throat of the built up nerves before replying, voice trembling with a light quiver. “Yes, I uh–it’s been over a year now I think. I’m sorry but I don’t remember your name.”

He smiles–that same soft, kind smile as earlier–and shakes his head reassuringly. “It’s Joshua. Hong.” 

“Joshua?” your voice betrays a hint of curiosity–it’s not a common name here. 

“I moved here from LA years ago with my wife,” he supplies the answer to your unspoken question. Unwittingly adding a layer of intrigue to his personage that you hadn’t expected. At the mention of his wife, however, you feel the hairs on your arms rise to attention. A cold chill ripples through your body. The elevator dings, startling you out of your daze as it arrives at your floor. You turn to face the hallway as it appears between the doors, lingering astride the threshold between him and the emptiness ahead of you. Something inside of you hesitates, hanging back to remain in his presence despite the anxiety still flooding through your body. Something about the way he spoke had drawn you in, a strange curiosity taking root in your mind. You shake it loose; it’s not your place to say anything, and it’s not your place to further entangle yourself in this web. His life is his own. You take a step forward, finally clearing the door just before it beeps its insistence at you. 

You turn to say a farewell to Joshua–it wouldn’t bode well to appear impolite after he was so courteous to you a moment before–but before you can open your mouth to speak, he beats you to it. 

 “I think she and your husband know each other, actually. My wife,” he says, and you freeze again, stuck now staring at him from the hallway. He waves goodbye as the doors slide closed and you’re left standing statuesque in the hallways alone. Ears ringing with the echoes of his words. 

Does he know? 

Nothing in the way he held himself, in the casual expression gracing his handsome, well composed features would have led you to believe so but…why else would he have said that? 

You stand still, staring at the scuffed stainless steel doors of the elevator as if they might reopen and he might still be there. That he might dull the sharpness of your anxieties with some clarity . Instead you’re alone, bag of groceries cutting the circulation in your fingertips off as they hang forgotten in your hand.

You try to search the memory of his face as it lingers in your mind’s eye for any clue–any miniscule hint–as to what thought had been hiding beneath his calm facade. His face twists and contorts in your mind, swirling and transforming as you try to keep hold of the static image. Joshua, your husband, his wife, your own warped expression in the polished metal of the door. Many parts of an ever colliding whole. 

When you finally manage to get your legs moving and step away from the elevator the hallway seems to stretch out in front of you endlessly. You walk as if to the gallows, imagining all the horrors waiting for you when you open the door to your apartment. Your husband, Joshua’s wife. Limbs entangled in carnal desire. The heat of their bodies steaming the windows and fogging your vision as you stumble through the darkness. The thought overwhelms you, slows your already stuttering pace, though you know in your logical mind that no one’s there. She’s in her own apartment, and your husband is at work, and you’re alone. A state you’ve become numbly accustomed to. 

The familiar silence of your apartment is all that greets you when you finally enter, in spite of the baseless worries of your frazzled mind. It soothes the storm of worries clouding your mind as you stow away your meager haul of groceries and set out the ingredients needed for dinner. Joshua’s face fades to darkness as you slip back into routine–letting your hands take over and your mind to narrow to a single thought. 

So what if he did know. Would that change anything about your present circumstances? If he wanted a scene he had the chance to cause one and let it go. He could have held you in that elevator and interrogated you for all your husband’s many sins; pouring his hurt and betrayal out at your feet as you bear witness to your own anguish reflected in another person. But he didn’t. Instead he was polite, almost kind, and you parted without the cosmic clash the worst parts of you might have anticipated.  

The water for the noodles starts to boil and you quickly finish chopping your small array of vegetables before turning the heat down to simmer and tossing them in. Leftover shrimp lay on the side of your cutting board, ready to add in at the end. It was a lazy meal–one you never would have made early on in your marriage–but who cared about that now? You knew it would be the same routine tonight. Eating without tasting, alone in the kitchen, lit only by the light filtering in through the windows, while you stare at the clock on the wall. He’ll show up after you’re finished–maybe 15 minutes later, maybe an hour–and eat the portion set aside for him while you disappear into the bedroom and will the day to come to an end. 

Would Joshua’s night end the same or were he and his wife better at maintaining the charade of marriage? Were their hearts as distant when they lay in bed next to each other, barely touching? 

You had a hard time imagining it. You try, between mouthfuls of noodles and broth, to capture the image of them. Joshua sidestepping his wife in the kitchen, carefully avoiding her touch–her skin stained by the kiss of another man. Was his smile as soft and kind when turned upon the face of the woman who, with every breath she took, dared to remind him of the sadness that lurked beneath the surface of their life? Was the love he still held for her enough to erode all of her transgressions, even as she continued to transgress? Did he still hold her in his arms at night like no one else had ever touched her? Like he was the only one for her? Why, if he could so easily absolve her of her crimes, could you not do the same for the man you had promised yourself to? 

You shake your head, ridding yourself of the scene that was playing out. You knew nothing about this man–about his life or his thoughts. This scene you had conjured up, fleshed out with his feelings and emotions, was just a projection of some possible life dwelling within you.

But still, you couldn’t help but wonder. How different would things be if you tried?

The night drags on as all the previous ones have. You sit in front of the window, letting the TV drone on in the background, and stare down at the street below. Watching as people come and go–each with their own thoughts, their own lives, their own worries and desires. None more or less important than your own. It was comforting, in some odd way, to imagine the lives and futures of others. It took the distinct sting out of imagining our own. 

The front door opens, earlier than expected, and you glance over your shoulder to see him enter. He nods in greeting and you return the gesture before acting on an impulse you haven’t followed through on in months. You move towards him. You don’t even realise you’re doing it until his form comes into focus only a few feet in front of you. He doesn’t notice you right away, too busy reheating the noodles; you wait and you watch as he moves through the task with a slight droop to his shoulders. He’s tired. 

“How was work today?” you ask. The question spills unbidden from your mouth but you don’t rush to stop it. 

“Long,” he sighs, stirring the food as it begins to steam in the pot. There’s no hint of surprise or shock in his voice at your sudden interest in his day. He accepts it–whether from sheer exhaustion or ignorance of the deafening silence that has defined your life for the past few months. Maybe he never noticed how distant you were. How could he when he still held someone so close? “How was your day?”

“Fine,” you reply, intending to leave it at that before a thought flashes through your mind. “I ran into one of our neighbours earlier, in the elevator. Joshua Hong. We met them once or twice when he and his wife moved in just over a year ago, do you remember them?” 

“I can’t say that I do,” he shakes his head, flicking the heat off on the stove. His back is still turned, so you focus on his tone, on the micromovements of his muscles under his shirt. Searching for anything other than the polite disinterest he was feigning. Anything that might betray some feeling brewing below the surface. Fear, love, guilt. Anything at all. 

“Hmm, yeah I couldn’t remember him well either at first,” you agree, pausing to allow him the space to settle in, to pour his dinner into a bowl and sit down at the counter. He leans forward, blowing the steam away as he prepares to take a bite. “He mentioned you though,” you say finally, watching his face as he glances up at you with his chopsticks suspended above his bowl. “He mentioned you know his wife.” 

Silence. One brief, fleeting moment of hesitation. A slight lift of the eyebrow. You watch his Adam’s apple bob at the base of his throat, just above the knot of his tie. 

“That’s odd,” he replies, voice carefully neutral, he drops his gaze from yours and brings his chopsticks the rest of the way to his mouth to slurp up the hanging noodles. You stay silent, watching–waiting–as he finishes his bite before he continues. “He must be mistaken.” 

“Must be,” you nod, trailing a finger lazily over the countertop. You don’t say anything else. You don’t need to. You let the silence settle in between you–an observer of its own, interrogating him with the absence of speech. You’ve had months to become accustomed to it, to make friends of the stillness of the air in your apartment, but you can see as your husband carefully avoids your lingering gaze that he hasn’t. He’s been too preoccupied to even notice it as it slowly moved in, taking over his place at your side. 

After a few moments you shrug, straightening your posture and smoothing down the front of your dress–releasing him of the heaviness of your gaze. The atmosphere settles back into one of easy stalemate and your husband resumes eating in silence. Nothing more is said. You slip back into blue.

 You never wanted a traditional wedding. 

With your father long buried and your mother under the spell of religious fervor, you never saw any appeal in the tradition or ceremony. You felt estranged from your scattered family–disconnected from the broader world. You floated in blissful independence, living life on your own terms and only reigning it in to pay fealty to your mother when required. Then you met him. 

He was handsome–dark hair and dark airs and expertly sculpted features. The sort of handsome that was easy to overlook at first but unraveled more and more as soon as you tugged at a loose thread of it. You looked at him across the lecture hall and took your time, dissecting his profile as the lectern’s voice melted out into the distance. It didn’t take long for your introduction to follow these looks. College is like that. Friends of friends of friends, dorm rooms, study hangouts in the library. Before you could even notice, your blissful independence had given way to comfortable partnership. 

After college, still in the early days of your courtship, you had grand ideas of elopement. The last lingering strands of your individuality. Traveling to a foreign country, marrying on a beach under the stars, and not telling your families until you either came back or decided you were going to live out your wedded bliss and future marriage in the streets of Rio de Janeiro or Sydney. 

He would entertain these fantasies–feeding into them, one morsel at a time, filling you with the hope of your aligned future. Filling you to the point that when the proposal inevitably came you couldn’t see the hunger still gnawing inside of you. 

Your husband was a good son, and his family paid for the wedding. It took little effort for you to resign yourself to ceremony and cast aside your dreams for love. The story of every fool in the world. 

That should have been the moment you knew that this would not last. Or at least that the happiness and contentment that shrouded your relationship was just that–mere illusory material. If you could turn back time, redo the last years of your life, you would have taken your meager inheritance from your father and booked a one way flight to the US. Used what little connections you had from distant family to build a life and chase your dreams. Live for yourself instead of the external expectations that you had been raised to abide by. You could have sent your mother back what little extra income you had–supported her from a distance as she ruined her own life where you did not have to bear witness. 

Instead, like the perfect picture of a good daughter, you went along with your husband and his family’s wishes. You let them arrange the entire thing and you–a mere passenger in your own life–silently went through the motions. Assured by word and by every soft kiss that all your dreams would be realised once it was all over. Your hands would reach the farthest destinations of your imagination, your feet would touch the sands of your desire. You let yourself be carried forward into this future with a smile, unaware that the only sand your feet would see would be the foundations of your own life as it crumbled and fell around you. 

You could only blame yourself. Even your mother tried to warn you, in her own way. Her own misery bearing down on your throughout your life–her inevitable cracking under the weight of everyone else's dreams bearing down on her until she simply couldn’t take it anymore. If you had been smart you would have seen it for what it was when you were 12. 

But you didn’t. You continued to simply go with it, smile waning as the years began to drag on and none of those golden promises spoken to you at night ever materialised. Business was good, now was not the time to take a break away it would only spell financial ruin for yourself and your entire family. Fine, you could wait. Were happy to wait, in fact. Dutiful and loyal and ever patient as you filled your days with the duties you had accepted in spite of yourself. Homemaking, cleaning, cooking. You had longed to work yourself, use your degree for something other than simply occupying space on your wall, then in a drawer–but no, your obligation was to the home, to your husband. Business was good. It was the right time to start trying for children. Did you want children? Did it matter? 

The flames of passion burned bright in your union early on. Your skin was on fire in the moonlight, bathed in sweat and dappled by the heated kisses of your new husband. Your body felt like a temple of worship, and he was there to pay his respects. He was the first man you had ever been with and you felt like you had won the jackpot each night as he brought you to new heights with his devotion. 

Maybe it’s true what people say about newlyweds. That passion is fleeting. The newness and excitement of having each other at the tips of your fingers would inevitably dull down until even sex simply became a part of your daily routine. A task to be completed, to stave off the questions of family and friends speculating on the growth of your family. Yours wasn’t meant to grow, though, it seemed. No matter how often you came together in pursuit of it, your monthly courses came as consistent as the full moon. Month after month until you stopped trying.

But there was love there, in the beginning. You think about it still, lying silent in the vast wilderness of your marital bed next to your sleeping husband. When you think to yourself  ‘how could I have let this happen’ your mind drifts back to those moments–wrapped up tightly in his embrace as he peppered your face, neck, shoulders, with kisses and promised you the world. How could you have known that it was built on such faulty foundations? That it would all drift away over time? 

You run a slow finger over your thigh, tracing the paths that he would take each night before. Remembering the love that you had shared. Wondering if the woman he shares it with now feels it as deeply as you had. Did he think of you when he was with her or had she eclipsed you completely in his memory? Was her back the only one that arched as he was deep inside her, spilling his love into her? 

The thought digs its barbed wires into your chest–ripping and tearing at what little tenderness you still held for the man. You let the pain sing you to sleep–weeping and burning for what once was and what might never be again as you let the darkness consume you in the dim blue of your bedroom. 

Dawn comes, as it always does, sunlight taking the place of the filtered neon of the city–streaming its way into your windows and nudging you awake long after your husband left for work. You’re alone again, and the thoughts don’t cease for the daytime. 

The flickering bulbs of the supermarket welcome you as you hunt around for a decent bunch of spring onions for dinner. Your hands find them and you add them to your basket, moving on to the next item on your list while your mind is half-occupied by the thought of the woman from yesterday. 

You wonder if she’ll make an appearance again. Standing behind you in line, perhaps, or waiting for you in the cold section–eyes scanning tanks of crabs for the perfect one. You wonder if she’ll be wearing red again. The contrast of the colour against her milky white skin as it hugs her body just so, conveying the image of someone with the world at her fingertips. 

Your own dress–emerald green, accented with black florals–suited you well enough. It was clean, well made, and fit you well even after all these years of wear, but it was just that. A dress. Function over form. It was the dress of someone who didn’t want to stand out, who wanted to blend into her surroundings and remain unnoticed as she moved throughout her day. It was the green in the shade of the bright red orchard as it shimmered in the sun.

As if summoned, a flash of red lights up your periphery–calling your attention away from the pear you had been inspecting. You lift your gaze to see her, a few stands down from you, a beacon of red just as you had envisioned her. You blink a few times to solidify her existence–not entirely convinced that you hadn’t just conjured her up out of smoke and mirrors. She remains, gathering a small selection of tomatoes before striding out of the produce section. 

The shock of her appearance from yesterday has long since faded. You’ve had time to reckon with the weight of her existence in your proximity. What was once a desperate, aching curiosity has since dulled to a cold, calculated interest. Instead of abandoning your grocery haul you stick to your list–taking the time to pick out the right ingredients–and achieve your own goals all while keeping her in your sights. You time your actions to match hers, moving on as she adds items to her basket, lingering by the teas as she stalls at the opposite end of the aisle from you. You make your way to the till, trailing her casually, and choose the cashier adjacent to her so you can pay at the same time. 

You leave the market assured with the knowledge of your mutual destination. No need to hurry, no need to chase, no need to match her pace. You let yourself fall into easy step a few feet behind her–content with enjoying the temperate weather that the day has brought. She arrives at the apartment a minute before you but you meet her in the lobby, standing silent beside her as you both wait for the elevator to descend. 

The anxieties of your trip yesterday melt away as you evaluate her through the steel mirror of the door–letting your gaze drift over her distorted figure. How long until she starts to notice your presence as more than mere coincidence? Would you be able to maintain this routine–living alongside her and watching from the peripherals as she goes about her daily tasks without so much as a second thought? 

As if in answer her eyes meet yours in the reflection. You politely avert your gaze, unwilling to be bested in this dance before it had even begun. Whether she was aware of who you are or not, you didn’t need to relinquish the satisfaction of knowing to her. 

The doors open at your floor and you alight into the hallway, leaving her to ascend the rest of the way to her own apartment where she would maintain her own charade. Your heart lurches at the thought, an odd disruption to the calm satisfaction you had been feeling up until now. You remember Joshua’s face from yesterday–the soft curve of his lips as he spoke to you. Polite, kind. You could blame yourself easily for your own husband’s infidelity but what had Joshua done to deserve this? 

Was he plagued with the same self loathing thoughts that haunted your every step? Or was his kindness, too, an illusion? Hiding some deeper malice that lurked at the heart of everyone wrapped up in this love affair.

You shake your head free of him as you enter your apartment and set your groceries down on your kitchen counter, but he returns as swiftly as he leaves. A thought circling round and round–unable or unwilling to give you a moment's peace as you unpack your bags. 

Somewhere in life you had adopted this sense of pessimism about life and the people that walked through it. It was easy to imagine cruelty at the hearts of everyone–to picture the worst case scenario, the worst intentions. But something inside of you revolted as you tried to apply it to Joshua. 

How silly, you think. I don’t even know him. 

And yet it remains, this tiny revolution inside of you. A hope for a kinder heart amidst the sea of troubles that you had been cast adrift on. Some lifeboat in the blue-black of it all. If you just reached out, maybe you could save yourself from drowning. 

Foolish, you think, casting the thought aside. No one is coming to save you. Not from your misery, not from your life, not from yourself. You had gotten married under the guise that your life would forever be tied to another person–that you would carry each other through everything–and now that that has dissolved to nothing, you know. You are alone. You have always been alone. 

The fog of winter rolls in shortly, blanketing the city in gray. For a few weeks in the beginning of December, your husband’s mistress disappears. He comes home on time, eats dinner with you, and you spend your days together like any married couple might. You’re lulled into a false sense of security and for a moment you think you could simply float back into the life you had expected to have and forget everything that has been. But only for a moment. Before long she reappears, her hair cropped shorter and  a spring in her step as she bounds through the aisles of the market. Your temporary marital utopia dissolves into the mist and you resume your post as observer. 

The weather starts to warm again, sunlight finding its way through cloud and smog to dapple the sides of buildings, and you take up a nightly ritual of walking through the streets in your neighbourhood. You never stay out too late, or stray too far, but you were starting to feel like a caged animal as you paced through your home and your thoughts night after night. 

On the nights your husband stayed out–either still at work or somewhere with her–you would forgo cooking all together, instead heading to a nearby restaurant as the sun starts to set over the city skyline. You eat slowly, relishing in each flavour and texture, and watch the rest of the patrons as they would do the same. It makes you feel less alone–or at least, less alone in your loneliness–as you would sit and watch the strangers around you bury their own miseries in the warmth of the broth steamed over countless hours. Their minds filled with thoughts and worries of their own. 

Tonight is much the same. You linger at home, straightening cushions and wiping down already clean surfaces to keep your hands occupied while you watch the clock tick down the time. Your phone lights up with a message–your husband informing you that he will be home late, telling you not to wait up. You slip on a light jacket and head out the door. Your feet know the way by now, they carry you almost mindlessly forward–down the elevator, out through the lobby, down the street, two left turns, one right turn, a few blocks ahead. You pass by some familiar faces–vendors and other denizens of the evening that you’ve become accustomed to during your walks–and you acknowledge them as a friend in your mind. Kindred spirits. 

You enter the small restaurant, blinking away the temporary fluorescent lights induced blindness, and take up your usual seat in the corner. Time ceases to exist in this place. If it weren’t for the last vestiges of sunlight forcing their way through the small, foggy window at the front, you wouldn’t be able to tell if it was day or night. 

Over the month or so you’ve started becoming a regular fixture of the place, you’ve grown familiar with a number of the other restaurant denizens. The cook and his wife–presumably the owners of the establishment–are ever silent unless yelling instructions about orders back and forth at each other. The wife, a small woman of indeterminate age, would move with efficiency between the five tables dotting the small space–taking orders, handing them to her husband in the kitchen, taking payments, refilling tea. She never appeared to be rushing, and no one was ever left for too long waiting for anything.

Occasionally a young man would take her place–likely their son or another relation roped in to help with the family business for a night. He was young–university aged maybe–and clearly disinterested in spending what little free time he had serving customers and bussing tables. The disinterest showed plain on his face even as he scribbled down your order (the usual, hot and sour soup and tea) and delivered it to his father in the kitchen. 

Tonight it was the woman, she didn’t even bother to ask you what you wanted as you had ordered the same thing every night over the past week. After a few moments she walks over with a teapot and cup in hand, setting them down with a silent nod, before turning to greet the next customer as they enter through the front door. 

You take a sip of tea, not too hot, before leaning back in the chair to settle in for another evening of people watching. The window in the front of the restaurant is clouded slightly with steam built up from the inside, and a light dusting of grime from the outside, but your eyes have adjusted to the distortion over the past month. You sit and watch as people pass by on the street outside, a few salarymen will stop in throughout for silent meals alone before returning to the streets, but often you’re the sole patron during the few hours you spend there each night. 

You watch as the new patron takes a seat at the table nearest the entrance–you haven’t seen him here before, but he looks the same as the rest. The same white button down, creased with a long day's work; the same black trousers; the same black tie and blazer thrown haphazardly over his shoulder. They were a dime a dozen in the city, these salarymen. Your husband had been one of them, once upon a time. Even with his many promotions over the years he still dressed much the same. You wonder briefly what made him stand out from the crowd to his mistress. 

The woman returns to your table a few minutes later, bearing your soup in her work worn hands. Steam billows from the top and you thank her before straightening in your seat and picking up your spoon. 

The food is not remarkable–truly nothing about this place is. Much like the salarymen that dip in and out through its front door, it’s no different than any of the other random hole-in-the-wall establishments that populate this city. The menu varies little from the usual, and the dingy white tiled walls do little to visually differentiate it. Everything about the place appears to be almost designed to blend into its surroundings. To serve its purpose without disturbing the status quo. It was solid and reliable and it's this very reliability that keeps drawing you back. 

It could be any restaurant. You could be any woman. 

You sink into the anonymity, slowly savouring the warm comfort of your food, and watch the slightly obscured figures of people as they pass by outside under the darkening sky. The man at the table by the door finishes his food quickly–in all of 15 minutes he orders, eats, and pays–with the chiming of the front door you’re left alone again as the only customer inside and the wife returns to rifling through a stack of papers spread out across the small table next to the kitchen. 

An hour passes as you sit in your chair, draining your soup and sitting silently as the scene repeats itself twice over. You glance at the clock on the wall, nearly 8:00pm, then down at your phone screen. No messages, no notifications. The light of the evening sun has all but disappeared by now, only a faint yellow clinging still to the corners of blue that construct the city at night. You push your bowl to the side and sigh–both ready and not ready to head back out into the street and begin your short walk home. As has become the routine, the woman sets her papers aside and presses a few buttons on the old till. You linger a moment longer at the table, watching a pair of women stroll by outside, before getting up and pulling out your wallet. No word is exchanged as you set down a few paper bills on the counter in front of her. 

The night air still bites with the remnants of the winter air and you tug your jacket tighter around to your chest as you step onto the sidewalk. It’s a quieter part of your neighbourhood, but still the streets are abuzz with people even aa the sky deepens with the threat of twilight. You fall in line behind a trio of women, walking a few paces behind them and letting your mind focus in on their conversation as they talk and laugh with each other.

Their conversation is nothing interesting–daily gossip about people you know nothing about, feel nothing for–but it reminds you of when you would wander around at night with your friends in University. Aimless and carefree, talking about nothing and everything that came to mind. When was the last time you had seen any of them? Not for months, surely. Maybe you should reach out.  

The women make a left turn a few blocks later, disappearing in the opposite direction that you’re headed and you let your thoughts drift off as their voices do. Would your husband be home already? Would he be upset with the lack of prepared dinner? He hasn’t mentioned anything about it up until now, but you do wonder how long that might last. You know you should summon up some excuse for why you’ve taken up these walks, why you’re sometimes not home when he gets back, but you can’t bring yourself to care enough to lie. What does it matter anyway? 

You round the final corner towards home. The building looms ahead at the end of the street, lobby lights casting yellow highlights onto the pavement out front. 

“Mrs. _____.” You don’t hear the voice at first. Your attention is far away, lurking in the recesses of your thoughts, and it takes a minute and a repeated call for you to register that acknowledgement. With a quizzical look, you turn towards the source of the voice and see Joshua Hong striding towards you from the opposite side of the street, pace quick to avoid an encroaching motorbike. 

“Mr. Hong?” you ask, wavering with confusion. Still unsure if he’s a real person or a spectre come to warn you of some impending doom awaiting you as you approach your apartment. 

“I thought that might be you,” he smiles, coming to a stop under a streetlight a few feet away. “How are you?” 

You blink him into reality, righting your attention back to alertness after it’s time away. He’s sporting a cream coloured corduroy jacket over a plain white t-shirt. Blue jeans. He looks the same as the last time you met him in the elevator–the same dark brown hair carving waves over his forehead, the same easy smile. You return the smile, sense reasserting itself enough for you to remember your manners. “I'm well, thank you. How are you?”

“Also well,” he replies, gesturing for the pair of you to resume walking towards your shared building. “We were away for a while, my wife and I. Visiting my family in LA.” 

You know this–the kiss of sun on her skin and your previous knowledge of Joshua was enough to clue you into where they had disappeared to those few months ago. Though you weren’t about to tell him this. “Ah, that sounds lovely. How long have you been back?” Polite conversation demands the question, though the answer to it is already blaring red in your mind. 

“About two months ago or so,” he replies. “It was a nice  trip, thank you.” You arrive at the entrance to the apartment complex, Joshua reaches for the door before you have the chance and you nod a thank you as he holds it open for you. “Have you ever been?” 

“To LA?” you ask, though the question is rhetorical and serves mainly to fill the empty spaces in between. He nods, affirming. “No, I haven’t.” You fall into step beside him, low heels clacking across the well worn black and white tiles of the lobby floor. You think to leave your answer succinct but reconsider it as you approach the elevator for fear of the silence that might ensue if you do. “Though, I did once have a dream to move there and become an actress,” you laugh. 

“Oh?” He looks surprised at the sudden confession and you worry you might have said too much about yourself. “Why didn’t you?” 

No one had ever asked you that before. It’s your turn to be taken off guard now as you step up to the dual elevators. Joshua presses the ‘up’ button and you consider how to reply. 

Why didn’t you? 

“I–well,” you start, fumbling through your thoughts. “It wasn’t a very serious dream, and it wasn’t like anything would have come of it. My mother preferred that I stay here and do something more practical.” 

He nods, thoughtful, appearing to seriously consider your response as you watch the numbers descend on the display above the right side elevator. “That’s understandable,” he says after a minute, “I think most parents just want security for their kids. Acting isn’t the most stable or assured career.” 

The elevator arrives, its buffed stainless steel doors sliding open to grant you access to the lift. Joshua gestures for you to step in first, so you do, lighting up the button for your floor as he steps in behind you. 

“Which floor?” you ask. Another question you know the answer to but he humours you anyway and you press the button for him as well. 

Silence steps into the elevator with you just as the doors shut. You realise you’re twisting your fingers together in front of you–a nervous habit you thought you had gotten rid of years ago–and you shake them lightly before dropping your arms back to your sides. 

“What about your father?” Joshua breaks the silence after a moment and again you take a second to register his question, too focused on the audible sound of your breathing. 

“I’m sorry?” You glance at him, not trusting that you had heard him correctly. 

“Your father,” he repeats, soft smile still lightly dusted over his lips. “What did he think of this acting dream of yours?”

“Oh, I don’t–” you pause, clearing your throat. Truthfully, you had never even told your mother about it, you just knew what she would have said if you had. “I’m not sure, he passed away when I was 14.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he apologizes, expression sombering. 

You revert to silent passengers as the lift continues to rise towards your floor. A part of you aches to say something, to break the silence again and continue polite conversation. Something about his demeanour was easy–easy to talk to, easy to be with. But you flounder for questions, comments, topics to mention. The weight of your partner’s affair presses at the front of your mind and you wonder how long you’ll be able to keep it at bay before it spills free from behind the dam of your resolve. 

“What were you doing?” he asks suddenly. Breaking the silence just as you think you might not be able to withstand it any longer. The question confuses you and it must show on your face because he clarifies, “when I ran into you outside. It was getting pretty late.” 

“Oh, right of course,” you say, “I was just out for a walk.”

He nods, understanding. “I was as well. Do you walk often?” 

“Most nights, these days,” you reply. 

“Does your husband not mind?” 

You want to laugh. “He’s not home often, these days,” you answer after a moment, casting your gaze to the floor. Dancing around the implications as the weight presses heavier in your mind. “Your wife?” you ask, flirting with the edges of truth unspoken nestled between you. 

“She’s similarly occupied,” he responds, voice softening. You meet his gaze in the reflection of the doors. A spark of understanding reverberates through you and you wonder if he feels it as well. Swelling like a bloom of light bursting in your chest. He holds your gaze steady, unwavering but silent. He knows. He must. 

The elevator dings, warning you of your arrival, and you clear your throat, tearing your eyes off his and smothering the warmth that had blossomed in your heart. “Thank you,” you say, unsure exactly what you felt compelled to thank him for but giving sound to the sentiment anyway. “For um, the chat. It was nice to see you.” 

“You as well,” he smiles as the doors slide open to let you out. You nod and step into the hallway, torn between the eagerness to be alone once more and a strange resistance at departing from his company so soon. The doors begin to slide closed behind you but you hear him call your name once and spin to see his hand blocking their attempt. “Maybe we’ll see each other again soon, on one of our walks.” 

You nod again and watch as he lets his hand fall, body swallowed back into the elevator as the doors shut and it continues its climb upwards. You stand for a minute, stock still in the hallway once more staring at the space where he was. 

It's amazing how little time it takes for your whole world to shift. It’s a fact you’ve been presented with again and again throughout life–the deaths of your parents, accepting your husband's proposal all those years ago, the photo of him sent to you by an old friend with his arms around another woman. Mere seconds of time that seemed to move entire planets–rearranging your life without your consent at a subatomic level. 

Standing in the hallway now, with the sound of Joshua’s voice lingering in your mind, you get the uncanny feeling that you’ve just lived through another of these moments. You turn away from the elevator and walk the final steps to your apartment accompanied with this knowledge, and the hope that his final statement proves true. 

© 2024, neoneun-au. all rights reserved.

please consider reblogging, i would love to know your thoughts on the story so far !

Perfect Where Her Rival Fails.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Dark!Reader, Rafe Cameron x Sofia’s Bestfriend!Reader

Summary: Rafe thought Sofia would be the one to fix him.. that was until he met her best friend and became so much worse

A/n: Rafe and reader are NOT GOOD PEOPLE! But it was so hot to write. I find Sofia’s “I can fix him” vibe kinda lame. This is kinda long too ngl.. Descriptions of Sofia and Reader are for plot purpose only and to build differences

TW: CHEATING!!! Not on reader, Rafe cheats with reader. SMUT!!! Descriptions of immoral thinking

-

Rafe should feel ashamed. He should feel sick to his stomach. Guilt and despair should be bubbling in his gut at what he’s doing. But it doesn’t, not even a little bit. Not even at all. This is what was meant to happen, and it feels so fucking good.

He’s got her on top, bouncing wildly as she chases her orgasm, beautiful body looking so erotic as it bends and curves enticingly with each of her movements. plump tits bouncing as whines, moans and airy squeak leave her pouty lips that are even more swollen with the harsh makeout session they had earlier. His back is against his bed as sheets weave around them messily. His head pressing into his pillow as he watched her with pure desire.

“Oh fuck! Rafe.. you feel s’good…” she slurs with a drawn out moan from the back of her throat. Switching to grinding her swollen clit against the trimmed-bush on his lower pelvis. A sticky, translucent mess of their mixed arousal inbetween her legs and leaving his cock drowning. “Mhmm… that’s it baby, ridin’ me so good,” groans Rafe from the back of his throat. Deep and low making her clench around him tightly and causing him to hiss from the tight hole suffocating his cock. “Fuck, gonna make me cum s’fucking hard if you keep doing that.” He warns. Bringing his hands that were behind his head, sliding them up to wrap around her back to push her down against him. Pretty tits pressed against his firm chest, skin sticking together from the sweat. He tangles his hand in her messy hair and pushes her pout against his thinner one. Immediately barging his tongue into her mouth and tasting remnants of himself from the messy blow-job she gifted him earlier. “So much better than her, you know that princess?”

Rafe should feel guilty about fucking his girlfriend’s best friend. But he doesn’t, because her knew. from the moment they met he was gonna take her and make her his, girlfriend be damned. Relationship be damned.

-

Sofia was nice. Sweet actually. She was all soft smiles and modest clothes. Sparkling eyes hiding behind wispy bangs. Voice of reason, the angel on his right shoulder. Mousy beauty, enticing in a plain jane way that is nice to admire and look at. She doesn’t stand out but she had caught his eye and he liked it. Different from snooty Kook girls and prettier than typical Pogue girls. She kept him calm, and pushed him to be better. She could change him; that was until he met her though.

Sofia’s best friend was everything she wasn’t. She was sweet as well, don’t get him wrong. But she had a fire in her eyes, a darkness waiting to be unleashed that he couldn’t help but feel would match perfectly with his. The devil on his left shoulder. She was stunning, the kind of stunning that turns heads and captivates. She was all flirty smiles and batting wispy lashes. Skimpy clothes, excessive jewelry and high heels always accessorizing her perfectly. Makeup always accentuating her enticing features.

Rafe still remembers when they met. He’d thrown a grand party, Kooks on every inch of his property buzzed and high. Some crossed and stumbling. An environment of chaos, fun chaos. He was sitting in his ‘VIP’ section with Barry. Doing lines and rolling a fat blunt to be passed between the two. Waiting for Sofia to arrive, remembering his earlier phone call with her. ‘Can I bring my best friend, she just moved in with me and it’ll be her first time on the island.’ To which Rafe replied mumbled a ‘sure, whatever.” The more the merrier right?

Oh and the more the merrier indeed. Because when Rafe laid his eyes on her for the first time he felt like he was starting the beginning of the rest of his life. Like a missing puzzle piece fit in perfectly that he didn’t even know was missing.

“Y/n this is Rafe,” smiles Sofia, putting a name to the beauty standing before him, “Rafe, this is y/n, my best friend,” boasted Sofia with a bashful smile and proud eyes. A manicured hand reaches out to him, “it’s so nice to meet you. Sofia’s always talking about you.” Pretty lips spread, exposing pearly whites and when he looks into her eyes he can see the same lust swirling around them that is most definitely sitting in his. Rafe extends his hand, immediately engulfing hers as their eyes lock and his lips spread in a small side smile with a “likewise.” Holding onto the moment till a soft voice breaks the tension, “y/n do you want anything to drink?”

They both dropped each other’s hands quickly. The tension building between them snuffing out as they turn to Sofia as she looks at them with an unassuming smile. “Oh…yes! sure! What is there?” replies y/n, turning her attention to her best friend and giving Rafe the opportunity to slyly run his gaze down her figure. Taking in the skimpy clothing accentuating it perfectly and pretty pedicured feet in heels. A stark difference to the dress Sofia was wearing that landed right above her knees, the V on the chest only exposing her collar bones. Feet sat in white sneakers. “I’m not sure…Rafe?” Sofia broke his trance, turning to him as he immediately locked eyes with hers. “What happened?” he replies, having not paid attention to anything they were taking about. Way too entranced by the beauty on display in front of him.

“Y/n asked what do you have to drink” said Sofia with a small smile. And it almost made him feel guilty at having checked out his girlfriend’s best friend right in front of her. Almost. “Uh yeah.. anything really. I’m sure I have it, what’s your poison?” he spoke to y/n, giving her a warm smile as he prepared to make a mental note of what she likes. “Vodka.” she replies back, returning his warm smile with one of her own. Rafe goes to reply when a familiar accent chimes in.

“How about I show you where it’s at doll? Give these two lovebirds a chance to be alone.” drawls Barry. Rafe snaps his head toward him, eyes darkening and lips pursing in an unamused scowl. The drug dealer making eye contact with the beauty in front of them, small smirk on his lips as lust swirls around his eyes. Rafe couldn’t blame him but he sure as hell wanted to pop him right in the face. “M’Barry,” he reaches his hand out to her, Rafe’s eyes following her pretty hand slide into Barry’s calloused grip. “I’m a business associate of Rafe’s” he says slyly, “guess you could say we’re friends too.” He finished with a smile, gold tooth glistening.

“Nice to meet you,” y/n replies offering him a small smile. “Um, yeah sure. That sounds good.” she replied to Barry’s earlier question. Shyly glancing once at Rafe, then at Sofia. Barry getting up and taking the hand in his to guide her along with him. Turning his head back to Rafe with a knowing smirk as Sofia takes her position next to Rafe, nuzzling into his side with a pleased smile. It would normally be welcomed by him, thick arm wrapped around her shoulder. But now he does it reluctantly, tips of his ears burning with heat and chest tightening. Jealousy swirling in his stomach, lips pressed into a thin line as his eyes burn holes into the pair walking away. Watching as y/n follows Barry’s lead, head turning back to look over at the couple. Her eyes landing on Sofia who’s nuzzling his cheek and kissing it with soft pecks. He can see them darken as she moves her eyes to his and catches them already on hers. The pair staring into each other before she turns around and lets Barry lead her away. Rafe’s gaze can’t help but fall to her cute butt popping out enticingly from the mini skirt she was wearing. The clack of her heels furthering with each step.

“I think Barry likes her,” giggles Sofia. The statement making his body burn and the hand not wrapped around her shoulder clench. A small hum coming from his mouth and all he’s thinking is that he’ll be damned if he lets Barry sweep away something he’s already planning on making his.

-

After that eventful night. Rafe makes it a point to be around y/n as much as possible. Whether from suggesting he and Sofia ‘stay in’ at her small place with a ‘let’s invite y/n to watch a movie’ or ‘don’t feel like being around Figure 8, mind if I hang here?’ Each and every time, making up one excuse after the other to reside in the habitat where his prey lies in. Waiting for the right moment to pounce and claim his catch.

If he thought style-wise they were different. It’s only confirmed by the undeniable difference in their shared home. Elements placed by both of them in the space contrasting starkly. Sofia’s bedroom was nice. Clean and always well kept. Neutral, earthy tones and the definition of minimalistic. Clothes organized neatly and folded perfectly in her dresser, and hung up in her small closet. A few pairs of shoes lined up neatly under the hanging clothes. Her room smelled like clean laundry and the ocean breeze. Her bed with a basic black duvet and primped white, cotton sheets always fresh. Smelling of her whenever they’re rolling around, tangled together.

Whereas, y/n’s space was the epitome of girly-girl. Clean but an organized clutter of cute trinkets and decorations. Clothes and lingerie on a rack next to her vanity because the small closet couldn’t fit all her clothes. Heels lined up against the wall, white and black leopard print bedding with satin pink sheets, full of fluffy pillows. Her vanity is orgqnized but full of makeup, and products that she rummages through on her day to day. Jewelry sprawled all over her night stand. All things maximalism. Which he was only able to see after sneaking out of Sofia’s bedroom one night while she slept soundly and stalking over to the other beauty’s bedroom to satiate his need to know more about her. Pressing the door open lightly and watching as she sleeps with pouted lips in her array of pillows and satin sheets. The sweet aroma of Vanilla filling his senses. And lulling him to sleep after he gets back into bed with Sofia, dreaming of the girl down the hall.

Even in their shared bathroom, the pink loofah and sparkly decorations contrasting to Sofia’s white loofah and minimal decorating. And sometimes when Rafe is desperate he pops open her expensive Vanilla-scented shampoo and inhales deeply to consume just a piece of her, so different from the fresh-soap smell of Sofia’s. God and don’t get him started on the loungewear.

Sofia preferred comfort and modesty. She had a cute body that hid under baggy sweats, yoga pants, gym shorts and oversized sweaters or shirts. Maybe even some of his shirts here and there. Rafe liked it don’t get him wrong, it’s cute and she feels comfortable. But when he saw y/n’s loungewear, he didn’t know how he could ever accept anything less. Micro sleep shorts in an array of different pinks, black, grey, whites. Low-rise and always risen up, stuck inbetween her cute butt, giving him a good view of those pretty legs and that gorgeous tummy. Tiny tank tops, shirts that exposed her pretty midriff and so tight on the chest he could always see her nipples poking through. Fluffy pink slippers or cute leg-warmers and fluffy socks on her feet. Thought he prefers when she’s barefoot because then he can see her pretty pedicured toes that he imagines pressing kisses onto.

Rafe wasn’t delusional. Well, he was. But not about this, no way. When he’d first started infiltrating their space, making himself a consistent figure he’d made sure he was extra observant and helpful. In guise of being a good boyfriend to Sofia ‘it’s so sweet that you’re being so nice to her, I know she really appreciates it. The move was hard.’ To which Rafe replied with ‘do it all for you baby.’ A bold-faced lie. He does it because he wants to, he wants to know everything about her. Take care of her. He knows that her and Sofia aren’t rolling in dough the way he is. Especially with her struggling to get a job after he made sure to put in a word not to hire her at the country club with Sofia. Coming up with some excuse that she’s got no work ethic; in reality it’s just him not wanting her to work around other men. Or work in general, she’s far too precious for that. He knows she’s a girl who deserves nice things and gestures. A girl he wants to provide for. And he also knows that the more he provides, he can basically Pavlov her. Make her depend on him and keep a smile on that pretty face he wants to press kisses all over.

So it started with simple things. Foods and snacks she likes; asking Sofia what she prefers to nosh on. To which she happily replied giving him a good list, and he made sure to get Sofia something too. Not to raise suspicion. It made his chest warm when they’d have a movie night, another insistent ‘let’s invite y/n.’ Paying more attention to how she happily snacked on the food he provided, giving him thanks and a shy hug. Offering him some every few minutes while he replied with soft, “m’okay, enjoy it. It’s all for you.” Neither her and Sofia realizing how deep that sentiment actually was.

But then it began escalating… they started hanging out more. Sofia giving Rafe a spare key to let himself into their home since he was there so often, and he took full advantage. Letting himself in when he knew Sofia wasn’t there; insisting on inserting himself into y/n’s life and heart. They spent so much time together; getting to know each other. Rafe becoming a consistent figure in her life; making himself her whole world. Slowly but surely infiltrating and separating her away from Sofia as he reeled her closer to him. Even going as far to find solace in her company when he and Sofia fought; not letting her know he began each and every one to slowly but surely push her away. Making sure Sofia was never there as he forced himself into her best friend’s life.

Sofia had picked up more shifts at the Country Club; making her presence more sparse as she noticed distance from her best friend and her boyfriend. Losing herself in work to not think about the dread building in her chest and the suspicions building in her mind. As for Rafe, it was another normal day of pushing himself into y/n’s life and going to her shared home with Sofia. Which has been almost every day of the week when he wasn’t busy doing business with Barry or making time for Sofia as to not raise suspicion. And today he brought breakfast, setting it out on their small kitchen island. One thing on his mind that today was the day. He was in the middle of setting up when he heard soft footsteps padding towards the kitchen from the small hallway.

“Rafe?” questioned a meek voice; gritty with sleep and sounding oh-so precious. He immediately turns around with a warm smile, running his eyes over her scantily clad figure and down to her pretty toes on display. “Good morning,” he said in a slow drawl, taking in the way her thighs clenched together subtly at that. His warm smile slipping into that familiar smirk. “I brought breakfast, thought we could spend some time together and go to the mainland today to show you around.” He continued, keeping his eyes on her as her gaze moved to the food set out on the island. Shuffling over and rubbing the sleep out of her pretty eyes.

“You got all this .. for me?” she spoke softly, gazing up at his towering figure with soft doe-eyes. Lips frowning in a slight pout that he wanted to kiss away. “Mhmm,” he hummed. He raised a strong hand to grip her chin and run the tip of his thumb slightly over the bottom of her lower lip. Moving his gaze from her eyes to her lips, back to her eyes, “just for you,” he whispered lowly. Watching as she kept staring into his eyes and leaning her body into him slowly. He very much liked that, giving her chin a quick pinch before he pulled away. Turning to grab a glass of orange juice and setting it down in front of the plate he set out for her. Watching as she moved to sit in front of it; eyes dashing between the arranged food. “Eat whatever you want, need that tummy full for today.” He spread his hands on the island, holding his body up as he leaned over and watched as she began adding pieces of her desired choice of food all over the plate. A satisfied hum coming from her as her eyes closed at the taste.

“What do you mean we’re going to the mainland? Why? Without Sofia too?” she questioned after she finished chewing; taking a sip of the orange juice he set out for her while keeping eye contact. “Thought I could show you around, I had nothing to do today and thought it would be nice to take you out so you’re not cooped up in here all day while Sofia’s working.” He said with his usual charm; popping a grape into his mouth and biting into it with a harsh crunch. Watching as she nodded her head in understanding. “After you eat, go get ready and put on something pretty. It’ll be hot today so be sure to dress for it. But make sure it’s something nice, taking you out for a nice lunch.” He continued. Praying she put on one of those cute, short sundresses or mini skirts she’s so known for wearing. He continued to munch on small pieces of fruit while she finished her breakfast. Taking her plate when she finished and giving her a dismissive wave; signaling to her to begin getting ready.

He watched as she happily skipped away, his eyes lowering to her cute butt as if jiggled with her movements. He wanted nothing more than to bite into it; too caught up in his dirty thoughts when he heard a, “can I wear heels?” He immediately popped his eyes back to her face, which is turned around to look at him. Back still facing him. “If they’re comfortable enough, absolutely.” He smiled, watching as she nodded with a smile and continued back to her room as Rafe finished cleaning up and sat onto the small couch. Head leaning back onto it and staring onto the ceiling with a devious grin of all the things he planned to do today. Dozing off slightly as he waited for her to get ready.

“Rafe,” a slight nudge to his shoulder. “Raaaaafe,” drawled out the prettiest voice; a soft hand coming to cup his cheek lightly and caress it as that sweet voice whispered another soft “wake up Rafe, m’ready to go.” She said delicately with excitement in her voice. Rafe’s eyes opening up from dreamland to look at the absolute goddess in front of him. Quickly rubbing the sleep from his eyes as she stepped back in front of him. When his vision came back into focus he couldn’t help but run his gaze over her figure. His heart beating in his chest and his pants feeling tighter by the second as her took in the little number on her gorgeous body. Down to the heels on her feet showing off those pretty toes. Her hair done up a a messy up-do with wisp framing her face perfectly. Makeup dewy and fresh, making her look so ethereal and pretty lips slathered in a gloss he wants to kiss away. Silver hoops sitting in her pretty ears.

“You like it?” she asked, giving him twirl. The expanse of her pretty back showing. The sheen material giving him a view of the pink thong nestled inbetween the cute butt he’s been dreaming of marking with his teeth. Watching as her front view came into view, his eyes immediately drawn to the low V and the way her pretty tits looked so erotic hidden between a thin layer of sheen material. Her nipples poking through and her cleavage sitting so nicely.

He let out a low, soft whistle; his gaze which was leaving no inch of her body undiscovered looks back up to her beautiful face. Her eyes already on him through wispy lashes that made them looks so flirty and alluring. An amused smile on her face as he stated, “you look like you should be on the cover of a magazine. Beautiful. You look beautiful. You are so beautiful.” With full sincerity, his eyes holding onto hers to convey all the emotions and want he’s been holding back. He rose up slightly, hand holding out for hers as she placed hers into his. His large grip immediately engulfing her pretty hand as he began dragging her to the front door. “We’re gonna have a ball, believe that.” He looked back at her with a smirk; her head tilting back to meet his gaze and a small giggle falling from her lips as she let him lead her away.

-

Rafe doesn’t think he’s ever wanted someone so badly in his life, not even Sofia. After they left the girls’ small house, taking his truck to which he boldly put his hand on her thigh while she sat in his passenger seat; feeling it tense. Testing the waters and feeling satisfied as she relaxed into his touch; thighs slightly spreading to which he gave a small squeeze in approval. His hand caressing her smooth skin the whole way to there. He his head to the side to look at her through his peripheral vision to see her looking out the window, biting those pretty lips and closing her eyes when he would dare to raise his hand a bit higher. Bringing it back to its original spot in a way to tease her every-time, having expected her to push him away. Tell him he’s crossing a boundary, but she never did. Not even when her helped her off the truck, his hand pulling her into his side with it running down her smooth back to sit right above her butt. Not even when he stood behind her on the ferry; his body pressed into hers and arms spread out onto the railing to cage her in as she watched the water with a lip bite and excitement in her eyes. Leaning her head back a bit to expose her neck to him, his immediate response to ghost his lips up her neck and take in her Vanilla scent that’s been driving him crazy. Wanting to lick her smooth skin but refraining, just hovering his face over where he wants to mark her up.

They spent the whole day wrapped up in each other. Rafe had planned on taking her shopping, wanting to spoil her then quickly realizing he didn’t have his truck to hold the influx of items he’s sure she would love to have. Settling for taking her to a jewelry shop, buying her an 18k white gold-diamond necklace that had her eyes widening and a smile spreading on her pretty face. Words of “no Rafe I couldn’t it’s too much,” to, “what about Sofia, wouldn’t you want to get this for her?” Which he quickly shut down with a firm, “Sofia isn’t the kind of girl you buy such pretty, expensive things for, beautiful. You know this isn’t her thing.” His words having two meanings. Watching as she bit her lip in consideration at them, knowing how non-flashy her best friend was and how intimate this gesture was. Ultimately accepting the expensive gift he paid a pretty penny for and letting him clip it onto her neck with a “only girls like you deserve such nice things.” Admiring how it glistened beautifully against her flawless skin-tone. Hoping by tonight that it’s all she’s got on besides the heels on her pretty feet.

After that he took her to his promised lunch, watching as she admired herself in any reflection they walked past to see the diamonds glistening against her. Giddy with happiness and wondering how she could re-pay his kindness. Envy building in her stomach that someone as non-materialistic and plain as her best friend ended up with such a pretty boyfriend whose pockets were loaded. They both sat and chatted over expensive lobster and glasses of Dom Périgon; him feeding her pieces of her food and watching as her lips wrapped around the fork. Praying that he would get to feel them wrapped around his solid cock. His restraint for her slowly dwindling the more they got drunk off champagne.

And fuck -was he glad he splurged on good drinking. Watching as she became more loose, more touchy. Pretty eyes hazing over from the bubbly running through her. Those wispy lashes batting at him as she bit her lip; eyeing him with pure lust. It’s when he felt her right foot begin to slide up the inner-side of his right leg did he know; he had her. Leaning back in his chair slightly and widening his legs to give her more access. The two staring into each other eye’s, lust and intense want swirling around as she slid her foot higher. Eventually reaching his thigh and then the prominent bulge in his dark grey slacks. Rafe clenching his fist and huffing from his nostrils when she begin pressing her toes into it sensually. Massaging him with them as she bit her lip seductively and kept eye contact. Rafe let her tease him till he couldn’t handle it anymore. Getting up from his chair abruptly and tossing down a few hundred dollar bills onto the table before grabbing her by her upper arm. Giving her a chance to put her heel back onto her foot before dragging her out of the restaurant and pinning her against the wall of the alley right next to it. Breathing deeply and watching as she stared into his eyes with that doe-eyed expression that makes him want to ruin her. Pressing his body against hers, his hands spread out on both sides of her head and pushing his face till they were mere inches apart. Their breaths mingling as their breathing became harsher, the restraint between both of them breaking as their need for each other began to win.

“You’ve been driving me crazy. From the moment I saw you; I knew I needed you.” Rafe said lowly, his voice thick with desire as he broke the silence. Watching as she pondered his words, then continuing, “I’m gonna take you home, back to Tannyhill.” He whispered lowly, pushing his head closer to her and brushing his lips against hers as he spoke of everything he planned to do. “M’gonna slip this sexy little dress off and leave you in nothing but those sexy heels and that necklace I bought you.” He drawled, feeling her press closer into him. Her hands that were pressed by her side now sliding up his lower back and up to his shoulders as she held onto him; listening to his every word. “Then m’gonna take what I’ve been waiting too all damn day. Ever since I met you actually. I’m marking my claim on you tonight, and you’re gonna let me because I know you want me as bad as I want you. Know you need me baby, because I need you too.” With that he pressed his lips onto hers. The pair making out harshly with moans and whines falling from her pretty lips into his mouth; harsh groans and breathes falling from his into hers. Their teeth clacking and tongues fighting for dominance as they consumed each other. Any thought of how this might hurt Sofia quickly slipping from their minds. It felt right, right in a way that he didn’t feel with Sofia. Right in a way that she knew any friendship with Sofia wasn’t worth the feelings he gave her.

The pair made out harshly, hands running all over each other as they took each other in. Weeks of tension build up, exploding passionately between them. The sun casting an orange haze over the environment as it slowly went down. Her makeup now ruined and pouty lips swollen. Rafe’s right hand snaking into her pretty up-do and gripping her hair, tugging harshly to expose her neck. Pressing kisses and marking her as she spoke a soft inquiring, “What about Sofia?” Making Rafe’s incessant kissing come to a halt, his head lifting away from her neck as he moved his left hand to cup her cheek; not bothering to remove the hand tangled in her messed up hair. His eyes caught her own, watching as guilt built up in them. Ready to reassure and squash away those feelings because no way was he gonna let Sofia get in between them now. Not anymore than she already has.

“Don’t worry about her,” he said slowly. Watching as she opened her lips to retaliate and immediately shushing her. “Hey -no. Listen..” he continued, rubbing his thumb soothingly on her cheek. “What she means to me is nothing compared to the feelings I’ve developed for you. I need you y/n; it’s driving me insane. I know deep inside me that this feeling I have for you isn’t anything simple.” He spoke seriously, spilling his thoughts to her. Her eyes tearing with emotion as he continued, “and I won’t try to figure it out or stop it. Some things are meant to happen; we’re one of those things. You and me. What we can have together is way too good to give it up for a girl I know I don’t want a future with, but you? We can build a life together. I want to build a life with you. You deserve to be taken care of, provided for. Treated and loved like the goddamn goddess you are. And I wanna give all of that to you baby, wanna give you everything. All of me; I wanna be yours. It’s been weeks of holding myself back to finally make this moment happen and I’m not gonna let anyone ruin it. Especially not her.” he spoke. Soft tears running down her smooth cheeks that he kissed away; cradling her to him. “It’s me and you baby; no one else. Not even Sofia.” He finished, watching the hesitation and guilt wash away in her eyes as she submitted herself to him. Removing her arms from being wrapped up his back to wrap them around his neck. Pushing her lips onto his and kissing him passionately as Rafe immediately welcomed it. Wrapping his arms around her and pressing her body tightly against his.

“Take me home Rafe,” she whispered when she pulled back. “Take me home and make me yours, wanna be all yours too.” She said against his lips, causing him to groan deeply and recapture her lips with his passionately before pulling her away. Scooping her in his arms and dragging her to the ferry bridal style as she giggled and kicked her legs in excitement. The two knowing this was the beginning of a passionate, twisted love story. Sofia be damned.

-

When they made it back to Tannyhill, it’s like a veil lifted over them. Encasing them in their own little world of passion and burning desire. Giggling into each other’s mouths as her heels clacked against the floors of Tannyhill, Rafe consuming her. He took the sheen material sitting over her left shoulder and slipped it off; watching as it fell off her shoulder erotically. The smooth skin of her shoulder, arm and now her left breast being exposed to his eyes without a layer in between. He immediately swiped the right sleeve, the flowy material sliding off with ease. The entire dress dropping as she was left standing in her matching pink thong that came with the dress. Plump tits and gorgeous body on full display for his eyes only. The faux-diamonds on her heels glistening and the real diamonds on her neck shining even brighter. Her flawless skin-tone glowing from the lotion she slathered all over it while getting ready and sparkling from the body glitter she applied to add to her appeal.

Rafe’s gaze ran over the entirety of her body. His eyes full of burning want and need for her. Wanting to ravage and defile her; looking at her with the same hunger a predator looks at its prey. He was gonna make sure she never wanted anyone other than him. He was gonna make sure she belonged to him in her entirety from body to heart and soul. He was gonna make her the queen of his mansion and Kildare. Ruling alongside him in a way Sofia never could. A placeholder and stepping stone for him to find the one he truly wanted. He almost felt bad about Sofia’s role in this situation; feeling like he only met her to be able to meet the love of his life. But his desire for the beauty standing in from of him squashed any feelings that weren’t the ones he had for her.

Rafe immediately grabbed her, throwing her over his shoulder as her shocked gasp turned into realizing giggles. Stomping his way upstairs and smacking her butt; turning his head to bite into it making her squeal as he smirked in satisfaction. Finally reaching his room -their room. Shoving the door open and walking to his bed, tossing her on it roughly as she bounced with delirious girly giggles. Immediately spreading her legs and bringing her pretty manicured hands to massage her beautiful tits. Her eyes full of want and need as she watched him hastily pull his clothing off his body. His belt buckle hitting the floor with a thunk as he pulled every last piece of clothing off.

Once Rafe was fully bare, his hard cock up-right and bobbing with his movements as he moved onto the bed on his knees. Slotting himself between her open legs, his big hands on both sides of her head and pressing his body to hers till they were skin to skin. Her tits pressed tightly to his chest; feeling as she began to whine her hips under him after feeling his hard cock rest itself on her covered pussy. Her hands immediately ran up the huge expanse of his back; feeling his smooth skin under her them as he kissed her roughly. Dominating her mouth immediately, strings of spit exchanging between their messy movements. Rafe beginning to grind his hips to match the rhythm of hers. His cock rubbing on her thong-covered pussy as they made out.

“Needed this so bad. Needed you,” he pressed another fervid kiss to her swollen lips covered in their shared spit. Rafe leaned his weight onto his left hand next to her head, pushing his upper body up as his knees bent to stabilize himself. Her thighs draped over his as he spread them wide with his position. Right hand reaching in between them and moving her soaked through thong to the side. Exposing her perfect cunt to him as he groaned deep in his chest at the sight. “So fucking wet for me huh, princess?” He inquired, clearly already knowing the answer. Rubbing his fingers through the silky folds of perfect pussy. Her legs immediately spreading wider as she whispered, “have been since the moment I met you.” Admitting that she’s needed him just as badly he needed her. Her words sexual but the emotion in her eyes sentimental.

Rafe smiled warmly at her, his eyes portraying the same emotion as he leaned down to get her a quick peck. Using his right hand to bring his leaking tip to her entrance dripping with her arousal. Sliding his tip against her hole before he slid it up to her clit, circling the swollen bud a couple times before guiding his tip back to her entrance. He popped it in, an airy gasp falling from her lips as a deep moan fell from his. He pushed slowly, breaking her cunt in around his thick cock, her legs beginning to tremble. Rafe pushed in till he was he was kissing her cervix, pressing soothing kisses all over her face as she whimpered and whine at the stretch. His big body pinning hers to the bed; chest pressed together while his thighs spread hers open. He brought his right hand back next to her head, beginning to grind slowly to get her use to the feeling of him breaking her open. Ruining her for everyone else but him.

“Mhmmm… s’fucking tight baby fuuuuck,” he emphasized the last word with a drawn out groan. Pushing his head into her neck that was exposed to him as she turned her head to the side to whimper about his deep grinding. Pressing kisses all over it and licking up her neck before sinking his teeth in harshly. Grinning into her skin when she cried out, hips beginning to match the rhythm of his as he stretched her to the brim. Rafe marking her neck with love bites as a declaration of his ownership over her. He brought his lips to her left ear, licking her lobe before giving it a light bite and then whispering, “can’t fucking wait anymore, m’taking what I fucking want, alright?” Beginning to snap his hips into her at a brutalizing pace. Her whimpers quickly turning into loud whines and cries, tears building up her in her pretty eyes and ruining her makeup.

“Yeah…that’s it,” Rafe groaned deeply before continuing, “cry for me baby, get use to the rest of your life. M’gonna fuck this sloppy little hole till my dick is imprinted into you.” He finished, grabbing her arms that were now flailing around to grasp onto something from his harsh pounding. Holding her wrist in his large left hand, using it as leverage to pound into her harder. A wicked smile on his face as he took what he wanted. “Never gonna leave you alone, keeping you next to me for the rest of my damn life. Fuck Sofia, this is the shit I’ve been waiting for right here -ah fuck!” He spoke harshly, voice gritty with desire and affected by his efforts at destroying her for any other man besides him. He meant it when he said he was going to fuck his print into her. “It’s me and you baby, remember that.” He reminded her, “just me n’you.”

-

They’d been going at it for hours; taking each other apart in the most primal way. Rafe fucked her stupid till she passed out. Her heels long gone and thong ripped as he bent her into every position impossible; stretching her open and abusing her sopping hole with his fingers, tongue and cock. Whispering phrases of “that’s my good little cumslut. Doesn’t even care that she’s fucking over her best friend. As long as she gets daddy’s dick breaking her open, huh?” He spoke menacingly, his thick bicep wrapped around her neck as he pounded into her from behind. Face buried in her hair as she dug her manicured nails into his forearm. Her left arm bent back and held against her lower back with rafe’s left hand. Choked gasp of “yes daddy” and “just for you” falling from her swollen pout. Leaving Rafe satisfied as he replied a hushed “that’s right baby, ain’t gotta worry bout a damn thing aside from taking this dick.” Or “Got the sheets fucking soaked, maybe I should fuck Sofia one last time and press her face into the mattress so she can taste what real top-tier pussy tastes like.” His back against the pillows, her back pressed to his firm chest. Large hands hooked under her thighs and spreading her out while he bucked up with non-stop harsh strokes into her already filled and leaking pussy. Their mixed arousal dripping all over his balls as she had her arms laid next to his head; letting him take whatever he wanted. Crying out “no! mine!” when he dared even teased her with the thought of fucking Sofia again after this. Making Rafe chuckle as he spoke out a “that’s right baby, m’all yours. Just yours.”

After so many hours of fucking her stupid, she passed out immediately after the last round. Rafe holding her shaking body to his, her face pressed into his neck. His right arm under her head as his left caressed her hair; keeping her safe in dreamland while they lay on their sides. Kissing her hair every so often the hour she was passed out. He was about ready to get up and go to the restroom; attempting to slowly remove her right arm wrapped around his waist when he heard her whine. Her eyes blinking open, wispy lashes clumped together from the tears of passion he caused. “Don’t leave me,” she pouted, regaining strength to pull him back into her. The action causing a warm feeling to spread through his body like wildfire. He adored that she wanted him just as bad.

“Gotta clean you up m’love.” He whispered against her lips after pressing a soft kiss to them to soothe her. Watching her look at him with sleepy eyes; lust beginning to swirl in them again. “Nuh-uh,” she replied, pressing her right hand to his chest to press him into the mattress flat on his back. Straddling his body immediately, her hands on both sides of his head as she bent down to give him a kiss. Her leaking pussy settled over his cock, pressing down against it. Rafe immediately relaxing into the mattress and shuffling slightly to get into a more comfortable position in middle of the bed. When they pulled back he brought his right hand to cup her left cheek, running his thumb over it soothingly as they held the silence, staring into each other’s eyes. “What do you want, hm?” He questioned, though he already knew the answer. “If you want something, take it. I know I did.” Smiling as he watched her lift herself up on her knees slightly, hand reaching between them. She gripped his already hard cock in her soft hand, teasing his tip against her clit making them both lightly moan. She didn’t do it for too long, already way too built up after weeks of tension between them. Needing him again even after the hours of sex he put her through already. She brought him to her soaked entrance, popping his tip in as she watched his face. His brows furrowed and bottom lip between his teeth as he watched her cute cunt swallow him.

Rafe immediately put his hands on her hips and positions his legs. Ready to immediately begin giving it to her and giving her a couple harsh thrust before her dainty hands smacked onto his chest and pushed him back into the sheets, shaking her head side to side to say no. Rafe’s brows furrowed with confusion his lips opening to say something before she interrupted his questioning with, “wanna take care of you daddy. Wanna be good for you.” Rafe’s body immediately relaxing as a satisfied smirk spread across his face. “Yeah? Well alright,” he smacked her left ass cheek with his right hand; then removing both his hands from her hips and laying them crossed behind his head. Ready to let her do all the work. “Get to it princess; daddy’s got a fat load waiting for you.”

Her hips began grinding back and forth, rubbing her overstimulated clit across the trimmed hairs at the base of his cock. Hands pressed into his chest and whines falling from her lips as she worked herself into it. Rafe biting his lip while darting his eyes between her body grinding against him and to her pretty face contorting in pleasure. When she finally felt ready she removed her hands from his chest; reaching her hands behind her to stabilize herself on his strong thighs. Wet plops of their arousal and skin smacking as she began bouncing herself up and down. Working herself on his dick as she cried out his name; Rafe entranced by the goddess on top of him. He didn’t know where to look, from his dick breaking in her pussy to her beautiful body moving sensually to that gorgeous face with messy makeup and swollen lips. He clenched his eyes from the overwhelming pleasure and feelings running through him; head turning to the left as she leaned down to start kissing and sucking marks into him the way he did her. When he opens his hazy eyes just a bit that’s when he sees it …

A picture of him and Sofia on his nightstand. Her face smiling brightly as she looked so happy. Half his face hidden in her hair as he gave a soft smile to the camera. A moment in time at the beginning of their relationship when Rafe felt like he could actually see himself building something long term; feeling that Sofia could fix him. A feeling that was now long gone. Rafe should feel ashamed; he should feel sick to his stomach. Guilt and despair should be bubbling in his gut at what he’s doing. But it doesn’t, not even a little bit. Not even at all. This is what was meant to happen, and it feels so fucking good. He turns back to the one he truly wants and doesn’t regret his actions in the slightest. This was his woman.

He’s got her on top, bouncing wildly as she chases her orgasm, beautiful body looking so erotic as it bends and curves enticingly with each of her movements. plump tits bouncing as whines, moans and airy squeak leave her pouty lips that are even more swollen with the harsh makeout session they had earlier. His back is against his bed as sheets weave around them messily. His head pressing into his pillow as he watched her with pure desire. Sex was never this good with Sofia, she wasn’t wild. Wasn’t adventurous, as plain in bed as she was outside. She never made his body burn ablaze or his nerves go haywire. She never consumed his heart, body and soul the way the girl on top of him does. Even with Sofia he felt something incomplete inside him. He didn’t know what he was missing to be found it. Till he found her …

“Oh fuck! Rafe.. you feel s’good…” she slurs with a drawn out moan from the back of her throat. Switching to grinding her swollen clit against the trimmed-bush on his lower pelvis again. The overwhelming feeling of his tip hitting her cervix becoming too much. A sticky, translucent mess of their mixed arousal inbetween her legs and leaving his cock drowning. He’d hurt Sofia again and again if it meant having this sight in front of him and these feelings running through him all the time.

“Mhmm… that’s it baby, ridin’ me so good,” groans Rafe from the back of his throat. Deep and low making her clench around him tightly and causing him to hiss from the tight hole suffocating his cock. “Fuck, gonna make me cum s’fucking hard if you keep doing that.” He warns. Bringing his hands that were behind his head, sliding them up to wrap around her back to push her down against him. Pretty tits pressed against his firm chest, skin sticking together from the sweat. He tangles his hand in her messy hair and pushes her pout against his thinner one. Immediately barging his tongue into her mouth and tasting remnants of himself from the messy blow-job she gifted him earlier. “So much better than her, you know that princess?”

Rafe should feel guilty about fucking his girlfriend’s best friend. But he doesn’t, because her knew. From the moment they met he was gonna take her and make her his, girlfriend be damned. Relationship be damned. Sofia would be okay, eventually. But he wouldn’t if couldn’t have his girl, he’d rather crush Sofia’s soul then let anything get inbetween them. Any softness he felt for her fading away quickly at the thought of her becoming an obstacle between them.

“Dadddyyy,” she whined into his mouth when his hips began bucking up. He took over control, his need to reassert dominance overtaking him. He was gonna make sure she would never leave him. She was stuck here with him and he was going to ensure it in anyway possible. Little ‘uh uh uh uh’s’ falling from her as he pounded up into her; his legs tense with stabilizing his movements. His right hand came to the back of her head to keep her lips pressed to his. Hips jackhammering into her as she took everything he gave her. Her arms beginning to flail around again to stabilize herself until he grabbed them in his left hand and pinned them to her back with her wrist in his large hand. He pulled his lips back, a string of spit connecting his to hers as she whined and tried to reconnect them. Rafe shook his head and nudged her nose with his as he spoke against her mouth. “Take it m’love, daddy needs you to take it. Need you to know you’re never gonna leave me. We’re in this together. You n’me.” Watching as her eyes looked into his with full sincerity as she nodded and choked out “you n’me. Don’t wanna leave you daddy. Never.” With that Rafe pressed his hips up on more time, groaning out her name repeatedly. His cock all the way inside her and tip kissing her cervix as ropes of cum dribbled out and filled her up for the what feels like the millionth time that night. His orgasm triggering her own as her legs shook in their straddling position; crying out into his mouth as she squirted around him again.

Rafe fell back into the mattress, her collapsing on top of him as they both were breathing harshly to catch their breathes. Rafe’s right hand came up to rub her back soothingly as she came down from the high he gave her; soft little cries leaving her that turned into almost inaudible whimpers. The two so wrapped in each other and the aftermath of their love-making that they didn’t even hear the harsh steps stomping up the stairs to Rafe’s bedroom.

When they’d gone out on their date, Rafe put his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ and ensured she did too. Not wanting any interruptions for their day together. And ever since then it hasn’t come off, the pair never realizing that Sofia was blowing up their phones with incessant text and calls. Questions of where they were, if they were together. Until she couldn’t handle it anymore and drove straight to Rafe’s in the middle of the night; praying the gut feeling she’s had for weeks wasn’t going to be confirmed tonight. Oh how she wishes she was wrong. She’d known for weeks, a gut feeling stabbing in her for so long. She’d been suspicious when Rafe had become so kind, tender to her best friend. Chalking it up to him wanting to make Sofia happy by being so welcoming and be a good boyfriend. When he started coming over everyday she was a little surprised, he usually called her over to Tannyhill. She knew he wasn’t a fan of the cut. When he began insisting on staying in for dates, always asking for y/n to intrude on them. It bothered her but she didn’t say anything, too worried about Rafe’s softness sizzling out and making her best friend feel bad. She was even hesitant to give him a key but did it anyway because she convinced herself she was being paranoid. ‘He’s finally man’ing up,’ she’d told herself. Only not knowing it wasn’t for her but her best friend.

She knew when Rafe became cold, distant. Starting fights over anything and everything; never wanting to talk it out and just leaving her wallowing in her own sadness. She knew when her best friend started acting the same, cold. Her distance deepening by the day. And when she came home one day to find them laughing together and eyes sparkling at each other, not even noticing she walked in. The two chatting away on the couch. It pushed her to pick up more work, needing to numb the nagging feeling and ignore the suspicions growing in her mind. But she knew, a woman always knows. And she most definitely knew when she walked straight into Rafe’s house. The scrape of pink fabric laying at the bottom of the staircase, one she knew belonged to her best friend. Sofia knew yet she needed to see it, needed to finally know that she wasn’t feeling crazy. But nothing could have prepared her for shattering of her heart as she slammed Rafe’s bedroom door open. Two people she loved so much, wrapped around each other as they pressed soft kisses to each other’s lips. In their own world till she screamed out an “I knew it!” and only then did their veil lift.

Y/n and Rafe turned to look at Sofia standing at the entrance of the bedroom, tears running down her cheeks. Rafe was quick to act, turning his body along with y/n’s to shield her. His back turning to Sofia as y/n fell to the other side; her right leg wrapped around his waist as she looked at her best friend over Rafe’s shoulder. A scowl now etched on his face as he looked back at Sofia through a side eye, “yo! what the fuck is your problem?!” He fumed, as if Sofia was a stranger intruding on their intimate moment. As if she was never his girlfriend, as if she was never anything to him. Sofia’s teary eyes darted between Rafe’s scowling face, to her best friend. Oh her best friend, someone she’d know for so many years. Someone who was practically a sister to her, someone she let into her home and around her boyfriend. She trusted her. “How could you?” she spoke to y/n, the pain in her chest almost debilitating. “How-how could you?! I trusted you! I let you into my home! I let you around my boyfriend and this is how you repay me! BY FUCKING MY BOYFRIEND!” She screamed, overwhelming feelings of anger and despair radiating off of her. “You’re a fucking slut! A whore!,” she stepped forward more into the room ignoring the ‘hey!’ from Rafe as she continued, “I should have known. You always begged for attention, just look at the way you dress. You’re a stupid attention seeking whore!” She raged at her best friend whose eyes full of guilt now turned into equal rage.

Rafe went to open his mouth and defend his woman when y/n spoke up first, “save me the fucking pity party Sofia! You’re just a sad case of another girl getting way to ahead of herself because a cute guy finally gave her attention,” she retaliated. Sitting up now, not caring about her state of undress or the cum leaking down her thighs as she pushed herself up to her knees on the bed. Finger pointing at Sofia as Rafe’s eyes darted between the two girls. “You’ve always made me feel bad! Like i’m someone who needs to be fixed and is full of faults. Always telling me where I went wrong or what I’m not doing good enough. You act so high and fucking mighty all the time like you aren’t trying to compensate for your own inadequacies!” She yelled, rage flowing through her and continuing when Sofia went to open her mouth, “I’m sick of the patronization hidden behind care. I’m sick of you making me feel bad for who I am,” y/n stepped over Rafe’s legs to stand on the floor and face her ex-best friend. Stalking toward her, “you’re always trying to fix people to make up for your lack of personality. Like everyone is in the wrong for being themselves just bc you’re too pathetic to know who you are. I’m done letting you do it to me. And I won’t let you do it to him,” she screamed pointing at Rafe who was on his back and holding himself up on his forearms as he watched the two ex-friends at each other’s throat. Turned on and feeling satisfied that the kitty claws he’s been working so hard to expose are finally out. A sick smirk on his face as he stared at Sofia. “For months, you complained about him to me before I came here. How he was ‘unhinged’ and how you could help him. Make him better. And it wasn’t until I met him that I realized how wrong you were! Maybe he’s not perfect, maybe he’s rough and mean and fucked up! But that’s what makes him, him! And i love it! For the first time in my life I don’t feel like I need to put on an act, like I need to be perfect. He loves me for who I am not what he feels he can make into and I feel the same about him. So maybe we’re fucked up! But at least we’re not a miserable cunt who’s hellbent on fixing people because she can’t fix herself.” Finished y/n, her arms crossed against her bare tits as she stared Sofia down whose tears were running down her cheeks, face red with emotion and chest heaving. To add to insult Rafe let out a low whistle at y/n’s words and a small chuckle with an “ouch.” Watching as Sofia’s eyes left her staring contest with her best friend to him, not making any effort to move from her spot.

“You can leave Sofia, we don’t want you here. Ever.” taunted y/n, turning on her heels to walk back to bed and climbing in it while Rafe shuffled over to the other-side. Right arm widening to encase her with it as his left forearm held him up. Immediately wrapping his arm around y/n as she got near, the two smashing their lips together with a passionate kiss to add salt to the wound. Not letting up until they heard footsteps stomping out of the room and down the hallway. Rafe pulling back with that sick smirk on his face as he yelled out for Sofia to hear “don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” Both of them turned to the doorway and listening as they heard her sobs deepening and steps become quicker. The glass door slamming shut and letting them know she’d left.

They turned to face each other with wicked smiles as they smashed their lips together, Rafe using the arm wrapped around her to push her body onto the mattress and press himself flush to her. “That was so fucking sexy, you mean it? You love me? Flaws and all?” he smiled into her lips, chest feeling warm with love as she giggled and nodded. Kissing him again before saying, “as long as you love mine.” Eyes staring into his for confirmation that he quickly gave her, “baby Imma love all of you for as long as you let me. I don’t want some faux-perfect bitch, I want my girl who’s freak matches mine.” Capturing her lips again and ready to go for another round. Grinding against her till she pulled back with worry in her eyes, “wait! what about my stuff she’s gonna wreck it!” y/n whined and kicked her leg into the mattress.

“Don’t worry about it princess, I’ll replace it all and more.” He chucked and went to recapture her lips when she pushed against chest that slipped inbetween them, crying out a, “but Rafey some of that stuff is vintage! Irreplaceable!” Whining and pouting her lips as Rafe rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed both her hands in his large one, pinning them to the bed as he dominated her once more.

“Shuddup and let me love you. Such a brat. You’re lucky I love you so damn much.”

A/N: Damn I almost feel bad for Sofia ngl. The way i described Sofia was just for plot purposes! I just feel like Rafe needs a bougie baddie idk! and I really think Sofia is boring!

Rereading 'The Outsiders' for the first time since middle school, god this book is good.

The true deadly sins

Lust

Not a sin- feeling sexual attraction, sex with consenting partners, masturbation, consuming pornographic media, having several sexual partners, sex before mariage. IT’S A SIN WHEN- the person projects lust onto an unwilling recipient person and does not take into account their wants or consent. Rape, harassment, sexual assault, catcalling, dick pics.

Gluttony

Not a sin- food, enjoying food, cooking, eating sweets, eating meat. In the larger sense, accumulating material things you enjoy, like books or collectibles or whatever.  IT’S A SIN WHEN- It deprives other people of what they need.

Envy

Not a sin: Wanting things you see other people have, like money, power, fame. IT’S A SIN WHEN: This is how you define people, and stop respecting them as humans. It’s a sin when you use them for what they have and what they can bring you.

Greed

Not a sin: Wanting financial security, working hard for the things you want.  IT’S A SIN WHEN: Your own financial growth depends on keeping other people impoverished and suffering.

Pride

Not a sin: Being proud of your accomplishments, liking your looks, dressing up IT’S A SIN WHEN: It stops you from accepting your faults and seeing how you can be wrong, not admitting that you can better yourself. 

Wrath

Not a sin: Righteous anger at situations, being mistreated, seeing other people suffer, at the injustice of the world. Self-defense. Revolution.  IT’S A SIN WHEN: Violence towards defenceless people, hitting your partner or your kids,.  Violence fuelled by intolerance and bigotry. 

Sloth

Not a sin: Resting. Sleeping. Taking a day or a year off. Being unproductive. Playing videogames. IT’S A SIN WHEN: You stay inactive when action is required. When people need you and you’d rather do nothing.

write, write, write: the “sprint” method

hello fellow writing compatriots in creative crime! i’ve been trying to figure out how i want to kickstart the major writing aspects of this blog, and i figured one of the best ways i could would be to share the writing method i’ve been utilizing for almost two years now known affectionately as “sprinting.”

i’ve shared this with a few of my writing friends and they’ve said it does wonders to help break writer’s block, and i know it has helped me get through some of my most difficult scenes and projects by breaking it down into manageable chunks without literally breaking the scene apart. i’m sure a method like this has existed many a time before, and i wouldn’t be so bold as to claim myself the sole divisor – in fact, my own method was somewhat inspired by a method lauren graham referenced in her memoir, “talking as fast as i can.” so check that book out because it was a fun read, but also read on if you’re feeling frustrated or unproductive with your writing my friends. we shall tackle the struggle together!

the other really nice thing about sprints are that you can do them alone OR with a friend, and both methods are relatively effective. i tend to do sprints with my darling friend emma ( @stevesharrigton ), and the fun part about that is not only do you have someone actively writing with you so you don’t feel so alone in the process and have someone to bounce questions or brainstorm roadblock fixes with, but part of the process involves sharing your favorite part of what you just wrote so there’s immediate gratification and feedback which can help combat the overwhelming feelings of needing to “finish” something in the writing world to be at all acknowledged. so without further ado!

the sprint method in it of itself is actually very simple.

the goal of the sprint is to dedicate all of your concentration towards your wip for a little bit of time again and again until it builds up to a significant amount of effort without even realizing. emma and i always start with one 15 minute round, and usually on a good day we end up spending about 2 hours working on our projects without it feeling like so much at all.

firstly, choose your workspace, as well as set up your desktop / writing workspace. i recommend choosing locations where you feel comfortable writing (at this point i can write anywhere, but my bedroom used to be my sacred spot), and a place with limited distractions as that’s a big part of this methodology.

when it comes to setting up your writing workspace, what i mean by that is you want to create an environment with as little exterior distraction as possible. if you’re working on paper with pen, put all of your devices far away from you, like face DOWN on the table, or even all the way across the room so you’re not tempted to look at messages or scroll mindlessly. if you’re on desktop, you should have only two things open and active on your screen – your wip document, and a “scratch” document (like notes or stickies, etc.).

set your amount of time for your “round.” this can change by round, but i usually start with 15 minutes, and then additional rounds range from anywhere from 15 - 30. for whatever amount of time you end up setting, you will only be focused on the document in front of you. the scratch doc is helpful for if you get other story thoughts and don’t want to forget them, or just want to write “AHHHHHHHH” for all 15 minutes. the point is you’re dedicating ALL your attention to your project for that time: no messaging, no tumblr, etc. give your devotion to that project! it deserves it, and so do you!

write, write, write. spend that set time doing what you said you would do when you set out to sprint – writing. it doesn’t have to be brilliant, you don’t even have to make substantial progress. sprints are a no pressure entity, and their whole purpose is to put something on the page.

take note of your progress. see how many words you managed to write in that time allotment. if you’re writing with friends, share your word count. then, take a moment to find a piece of your work from that sprint that you are really proud of – it can be a whole little exchange, or as minor as a word choice that just seems to really fit. this is where doing this method with friends is really fun, because each of you get to share your work with immediate reactions. it’s also a great way to support each other’s progress!

if you’re feeling energized, sprint again! keep sprinting until you run out of steam by doing those manageable 15 - 20 minute chunks.

if you’re thinking “but can i really disconnect for 15 minutes with no distraction??” trust me, i know its hard to believe, but you certainly can. if you’re worried about missing a text or someone getting worried, you can even explain to them that you’re writing for a set amount of time and won’t be available. writing is part of your day just like anything else – no one will be upset with you if you dedicate some of your time to it!

all this to say, i will note that the sprint method will not magically fix writer’s block or feelings of ennui. you have to be willing to to try the method at all and actually commit to the rules: it’s guaranteed to be ineffective if you sit down to “sprint” and spend 10 of your 15 minutes looking at the phone that isn’t supposed to be part of your world for those 15 minutes, you know what i mean? if you give it your all and it just doesn’t work for you as a writer then that’s totally okay, but you’ll never know unless you truly try!

i’m personally one of those people who believes writer’s block is a myth blah blah blah, but whether that’s true or not, the thing that works about this method is just by putting SOMETHING down, you will already feel a lot better. the way that writer’s block and inactivity in writing is so effective at holding us back is because we get into cycles where the sheer act of writing again can feel intimidating because we haven’t done it for a hot minute. this method serves to break that by just encouraging bit by bit fixes. it won’t knock your mental block down like a sledgehammer, but rather tackles it brick by 15-minute brick.

okay now that i’ve rambled your ears off, crack those knuckles and let’s get writing!!! happy sprinting, y’all! :)

Sometimes I tear up and my hair raises on end (in goosebumps, in an awed, pleasant way) when I think about how the life of one man, J.R.R. Tolkien, and his desire to write and share with the world all the lessons he'd learn, all his beliefs and faith in love, to hope in uncertain times, to healing, that he weaved all this beautiful tales bigger then himself, timeless and true, that would outlast his dying breath and breathe ever after for him, in his name, has touched so many. Continues to.

Sometimes I think about how, almost 100 years later, hundreds of millions of us, countless people, are still learning from his life's work, are still touched and moved by his art, are creating and carrying on his legacy, imbued in our own life experiences;

Sometimes I think about how our stories for his world evolve as our world evolves, will always. Sometimes I think about the power of his heart, of his loving intentions, that he has healed so many people and I think about how he's just a regular guy.

J.R.R. Tolkien was just a regular human being. For all the wonder that he created and shared, in spirit he is truly no different then you or me. He had a calling and he answered to it, and we all are born with that same great potential, if only we have intention, if only we act on that intention, and if only we act in love.

No matter the form, create. That's Tolkien's biggest takeaway for me. To just create, create because you can't not, create because your are driven to, because it fulfills you, releases you. Because it touches you and moves you, because it makes you happy, makes you feel. We are all born creators of our own stories, and we are all born equal in capability to be great authors, and craft beautiful ones.

“I don’t know much about global warming but it’s stressing me out and I don’t know what to do!”

My post about how “12 years to save the planet” is an oversimplification has taken off a little bit, and a few people have messaged me expressing sentiments similar to the above. First and foremost: you are not alone! Feelings of worry, stress, and/or helplessness are totally normal reactions to a problem this big and unprecedented, and there are a lot of people around the world who are in exactly the same boat. Let’s dig in!

First of all, who am I? I’m an earth science student who does environmental research, writes and edits for a student earth science publication, and intends to continue doing research and teaching for her career. I spend a lot of time talking about climate change in class, at work, and with my peers. It’s something that I’ve had to learn how to face head-on, and something that I am reasonably knowledgeable about. That being said, I’m not infallible or all-knowing, and I definitely recommend that you check out these sources for yourself and form your own opinions. This is me posting in an informal capacity with some things that have helped me and might help you.

Resources for learning about climate change:

This Crash Course Kids playlist is a very accessible introduction to earth science. It covers such topics as the difference between weather and climate, global air circulation, extreme weather events, and more, all in videos under five minutes long. If you want to start a conversation with your family or in your classroom—or just watch them for yourself as a good primer for more complicated subjects—they’re a great resource!

Bill Nye did a Climate Change 101 video for National Geographic that’s also under five minutes. From the video description: “In this video Bill Nye, the Science Guy, explains what causes climate change, how it affects our planet, why we need to act promptly to mitigate its effects, and how each of us can contribute to a solution.”

An introduction to climate change in 60 seconds by the Royal Society and the National Academy of Sciences (two prestigious scientific organizations from Britain and the US, respectively). Learn about how the greenhouse effect works, rising emissions, sea level rise, and more.

If you want something a bit more substantial, have specific scientific questions you want answered, or are curious about different models for the future based on different emissions paths, check out the IPCC reports. The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change is the UN’s climate change branch, and their reports are considered the absolute gold standard for synthesizing the best research worldwide and presenting it to policymakers and the public.

Related to the above, this video from NASA shows how climate models work! It also walks through some of the expected changes in global temperature and precipitation.

You can also follow climate scientists, communicators, and educators on social media. For example, you can find Dr. Michael E. Mann on Facebook and Twitter, Dr. Katie Wedemeyer-Strombel on Twitter, and many more. It might also help to see people having serious conversations about this issue if you’re frustrated that no one around you seems to take it seriously.

When you’re looking for information on climate change, be careful of what sources you’re reading. Information from universities, NASA, the EPA, the UN/IPCC, and similar are often the most accurate. When you read news coverage of climate change, keep in mind that the journalist who wrote the article may or may not be interpreting the original research in the most accurate way, so it never hurts to click through to the research paper they’re discussing and at least read the abstract to get a summary of their findings from the researchers themselves. Some journalists and educators are trained for reporting on climate issues and do a really wonderful, nuanced job.

Resources for getting involved

If you don’t think that just one person can make a difference, let me introduce you to activist Greta Thunberg. She’s a 16-year-old Swedish activist who started the School Strike for Climate movement (“an international movement of school students who are deciding not to attend classes and instead take part in demonstrations to demand action to prevent further global warming and climate change”) by striking every Friday outside she Swedish parliament every Friday. The movement eventually led to a 1.4-million person climate strike in March 2019. She’s spoken at the UN and participated in protests all over the world, and as of August 2019 she still protests in front of parliament every Friday! She’s almost singlehandedly responsible for so much climate action across Europe and the world.

That being said, not everyone needs to be a Greta Thunberg. The wonderful news is that there’s a whole bunch of us on this lovely dang planet, and we’re strongest together! Here are a few organizations you should consider learning about, following on social media, donating to, and getting involved with:

School Strike for Climate “are school students from cities and towns across Australia [and the world]. Most of us have never met in person before but are united by our concern about our planet. We are striking from school to tell our politicians to take our futures seriously and treat climate change for what it is - a crisis.”

“Extinction Rebellion is an international movement that uses non-violent civil disobedience in an attempt to halt mass extinction and minimise the risk of social collapse.”

The Sunrise Movement is “building an army of young people to make climate change an urgent priority across America, end the corrupting influence of fossil fuel executives on our politics, and elect leaders who stand up for the health and wellbeing of all people. We are ordinary young people who are scared about what the climate crisis means for the people and places we love. We are gathering in classrooms, living rooms, and worship halls across the country. Everyone has a role to play. Public opinion is already with us - if we unite by the millions we can turn this into political power and reclaim our democracy.”

350 is “an international movement of ordinary people working to end the age of fossil fuels and build a world of community-led renewable energy for all.”

“The Union of Concerned Scientists is a national nonprofit organization founded 50 years ago by scientists and students at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology who sought to use the power of science to address global problems and improve people’s lives. The Union of Concerned Scientists puts rigorous, independent science to work to solve our planet’s most pressing problems. Joining with people across the country, we combine technical analysis and effective advocacy to create innovative, practical solutions for a healthy, safe, and sustainable future.”

From the Environmental Defense Fund site: “In our strategic plan, we look ahead to 2025. Working together, we can move to stabilize the global climate, build defenses against extreme weather, ensure food security and abundant oceans, and reduce exposure to air pollution and toxic chemicals.”

You can also find groups that are more local to you! I recommend turning to your hometown universities, zoos, aquariums, parks, agricultural organizations, and local government to find people who need support (in the form of volunteer time/signal boosting/donations) for their research and activism.

Sign this pledge to talk about climate change with your peers and get sent some resources to help you! One of the biggest things we can do is be an example for other people by caring and talking about the environment.

“But individual behavior changes are just a drop in the ocean! They don’t make any real difference!” Look, me eating less meat to be eco-friendlier isn’t going to solve climate change, and my own health problems probably mean that I have to go back to my previous diet after a year and a half anyway, but you know what did make a difference? Me talking to my family and friends about carbon footprints every time I explained why I wasn’t eating beef. They’ve started to adjust their diets in response and be more aware of their carbon impacts in general. I didn’t switch to a reusable coffee cup until my friend talked to me about how much she loved hers. The action may be small, but the ripples can be big! You never know who you’ll reach!

That being said, PLEASE don’t hound strangers about their individual dietary choices or accessibility needs (cough cough plastic straw ban). Climate change is a big issue, which means that we need to focus on the big picture—and a safe, sustainable future MUST be an inclusive one, where people are able to pursue their own health and accessibility needs.

Talk about climate change on social media! You don’t just have the ears of your family and friends; you can also @ businesses, politicians, schools, etc. and make them hear just how important this issue is.

Resources for dealing with the emotional weight of climate change

If my posts about climate change read as peppy and optimistic, it’s only because I know that just showing the scared, helpless-feeling part of me isn’t productive. We all have days when climate change feels so big, scary, and unavoidable that we feel paralyzed and panicked. But this is a marathon, not a sprint, and to make the biggest difference you can make, you need to make sure you’re taking care of your own emotional needs. (This section has the fewest links and the most personal advice, from this anxiety-ridden scientist to you.)

Climate grief is a recognized phenomenon. From this blog post by Dr. Lorna Gold on how she deals with such heavy emotions, “Fear is a double edged sword. Manufactured fear can drive propaganda, mis-information and manipulation of the masses. It can lead to diminished freedoms and ‘emergency measures’. Dialling up the fear is currently drives many political regimes, leading to what Naomi Klein has called the ‘shock doctrine’ politics. Disaster capitalism thrives on fear. Collective fear can spill over readily to mass panic. Fear very often spills over into blame, anger and even conflict. It is the most potent of human emotions, being a powerful flip side of love. For deep fear is intimately connected to losing what we cherish most. Yet pretending there is no fear and denying it the space it needs, burying it deep down, is the worst of all possible worlds.” We need constructive spaces to talk about the emotional impacts of climate change; you can help by starting that conversation.

Please talk to other people about how you feel. Cannot emphasize this one enough. Conversations with your peers can be cathartic, and you can also bring this issue up with your therapist.

“Look, I don’t want any of this fluffy hope stuff, I just want a totally matter-of-fact assessment of exactly how screwed we are.” Okay! If that’s what you find helpful, here’s the case for pessimism and for optimism, laid out quite well. (A note from me—the more optimistic you are, and the more you use that optimism to drive action, the more cause for optimism there is! It’s self-fulfilling!)

Something that helps me: if there was really no hope for humanity on earth, wouldn’t people be leaving the environmental science profession as soon as they got into it? Wouldn’t they learn the situation, realize nothing could be done, and immediately go blow their life savings on an expensive vacation? But that’s not what’s happening. The people who study our environment and our planet (myself included) are almost always more invested the more we find out. The people who know the science best are some of the ones making the most noise, both because they know how bad things are, and because they know how much of a positive difference can be made by speaking up!

No one can deal with an issue as big and upsetting as climate change all the time. We all will have different strategies that work best to keep us productive and focused but mentally healthy. Since my “day job” is geoscience, I try not to let climate change stress distract me from my friends and other hobbies when I’m “off the clock.” Conversely, if you feel stressed because you feel like you’re not doing enough, you may find it helpful and fulfilling to get involved with some climate action on your down time. Whatever works for you, make sure you’re taking breaks and allowing yourself to look away from time to time. If you’re burned out, depressed, hopeless, and overwhelmed, you’re not going to see and take the opportunities around you to make change.

Keep telling stories and making art and singing songs of hope! That’s not just fluff! That’s helping! That’s important! I’m still plugging away because I love my fellow humans and this little blue planet we call home, and because I know that together we are loud, strong, and determined to make collective change.

Here is an ultimate funny cats compilation as a tool for your well-being and to thank you for your attention.

I recently started journaling and for some reason I feel a lot less anxious and I get things done?