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tikitakatia · 3 months ago

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Escape — A. Putellas x Reader

"Like A Worn Out Recording"

WC: 5.8k

Summary: Alexia´s still in the house, but she hasn’t really seen you in months. So when someone else finally listens, you don’t shy away.

You had already been awake for over an hour by the time Alexia's footsteps padded down the hall.

The kitchen was warm with the early morning light. Soft, golden and spilling through the half-open blinds. It caught the steam rising from the two mugs on the table. Hers a light tan from the oat milk she liked, yours almost black. You had even dusted a little cinnamon over the top of hers, because she said it reminded her of Christmas and sleepy mornings before away games, when life still felt manageable. When you still felt close.

You were seated at the table with your legs crossed, half reading a recipe on your phone, half pretending to. The silence in the room wasn’t peaceful, it was thick. Tense. The kind that felt like it should be filled with something else. Laughter, maybe. Conversation. Love.

She entered without looking up. Her hair was wet, dripping onto the shoulders of her hoodie. Your wife looked exhausted. Not in a sympathetic way, just.. Spent. Worn down by everything else except what really mattered. Her phone was already in her hand, thumb scrolling through whatever had replaced mornings with you.

She didn’t say good morning. She didn’t glance at the table, or the coffee you’d made exactly how she liked. She didn’t even blink at the smell of toasted bread and the faint sweetness of marmalade in the air.

You waited. One second. Two.

“Morning,” you said, gently.

She hummed. Not really a word, just a half-hearted noise that might have once been acknowledgement. She stood by the counter with her back to you, replying to a message, shifting her weight from one foot to the other like she couldn’t spare even stillness for you.

You wanted to believe she didn’t realize how cold that felt. You wanted to believe it wasn’t a choice.

But the worst part? This wasn’t new. You were used to this now. To loving someone who felt miles away even when she was in the same room. To reaching out and not knowing if your hand would be held or left dangling midair.

She took a bite of toast from the rack. Didn’t sit. Didn’t ask what you were doing today. Didn’t even pretend.

When she turned to leave, you glanced at her mug. The coffee was still steaming. Still untouched.

Just like you.

It had been your idea to surprise her. A simple thing, nothing big, nothing public. Just a little gesture to remind her she wasn’t alone in the middle of all this chaos. You knew the schedule was grueling. That the pressure was unrelenting. But you thought, maybe, she could be tired and still love you at the same time.

You packed her favorite protein shake and the knee wrap she’d forgotten three times this week. Tied your hoodie around your waist and took the metro out to the training facility, humming to yourself nervously the whole ride.

The sun was relentless by the time you reached the fence. The turf glimmered with heat. Players darted across it like flashes of color, laughing and shouting in bursts.

You stood there, watching. Waiting. Hoping.

She didn’t notice you at first. She was mid-sprint, then in a drill, then laughing. Really laughing at something that Mariona said. It made your stomach twist a little. That she still had joy in her. That she still smiled like that. Just not around you.

One of the girls saw you and waved. She tapped Alexia on the shoulder, pointed. Alexia followed her gesture, squinted toward the fence, then jogged over slowly, brow furrowed like you were an interruption.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, squinting at the sun.

You lifted the shake, tried to keep your voice light. “You forgot your wrap again. And I thought you might want-”

“I said I’d deal with it,” she interrupted, already reaching for it.

You hesitated, fingers brushing hers as you handed it over. The contact felt foreign. Like brushing against a stranger in a grocery store aisle.

“I packed your lunch too,” you added quickly. “That salmon and couscous thing you like.”

She didn’t even blink. “I have recovery and a press thing after. I won’t have time.”

“Oh,” you said. And then, because you couldn’t help yourself, “Maybe later?”

She didn’t answer. She just turned away, shaking the wrap out, already walking back toward her teammates like you hadn’t been standing in the heat for thirty minutes rehearsing ways to say I miss you without sounding needy.

You stood there for a few more seconds. Watching her laugh and smile again.

Just not at you.

You were curled up on the far end of the couch when she finally walked in.

It was a Thursday, and the week had been long. It was bruised by silence, stretched thin by missed glances and cold shoulders. You’d been holding onto the threadbare hope that maybe, just maybe, she’d want to spend a night in with you. Reconnect. Just exist in the same space like you used to, when she’d tug your legs into her lap and ask about your day with real curiosity.

So when she came home, dropped her gym bag by the door, and sighed too heavily, you sat up straighter. Waited for a cue.

“I’m dead,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck. “Please don’t be mad, but I think I need to skip date night. I just… I can’t tonight.”

You swallowed the disappointment down before it could rise.

“No, it’s okay,” you said, even though it wasn’t. “You should rest. I’ll reschedule the dinner.”

She gave you a tired smile, thin and performative. “You’re the best. I swear, next week we’ll do something.”

You offered a small nod. Watched her trudge to the bedroom like her bones ached. You assumed she was showering and crashing early. You didn’t check. Didn’t want to feel like her warden.

You heated leftovers for yourself. Ate in silence. Left her a plate in the fridge just in case.

It wasn’t until hours later when you passed by the bedroom that you noticed the silence was too complete. You knocked lightly. No answer. Opened the door.

Empty. Her overnight bag was gone. So was the small purse she only took when she dressed up.

Your heart thudded once, sharply, and then went quiet.

She had lied.

You opened Instagram on instinct, not even sure what you were looking for until you found it.

A tagged photo. A dinner table. Wine glasses raised in a toast. Her in the middle of it, glowing under string lights, hair styled, smile full. She was dressed in the top she only wore when she wanted to feel extra. The caption was some inside joke in Catalan, followed by a champagne emoji.

And she looked so happy. Not tired. Not aching. Not the woman who had sighed and leaned on your forgiveness just hours ago.

She had lied to you. Right to your face. In your shared home.

You stood there in the hallway, barefoot, the screen lighting your face with proof that you were not her priority anymore. Not even close.

You didn’t text. Didn’t call.

When she finally came home after midnight, you were already in bed, facing the wall. Her perfume lingered in the doorway like guilt.

She paused. Probably watching your still frame beneath the blankets, deciding whether or not to say something.

She didn’t.

And neither did you.

You just lay there, blinking slowly in the dark, wondering when loving her had started to feel like begging.

You planned it with your whole heart.

A long weekend. Just the two of you. No press, no team, no distractions. You even found a place right by the water. A private beach and a tucked-away villa, the kind of spot where time slows down and people remember how to love each other.

You picked the dates carefully. Avoided match days. Double-checked her schedule, then checked again. Booked the room. Called the restaurant. Even asked them to put extra roses in the suite because she used to like that. You used to know how to make her smile.

The morning you were supposed to leave, you made breakfast and set the suitcase by the door. She hadn’t packed yet, but you figured she would. You figured she just needed a nudge.

By noon, she still hadn’t come home.

You called. No answer.

An hour passed. Then another.

You sat on the edge of the couch, the kind of stillness that feels like buzzing under your skin. Her suitcase stayed untouched. Her phone stayed silent. The time ticked by, and with every second, the hope inside you wilted.

At 5:17pm, she finally texted.

“Sorry. Something came up. I didn’t think it’d run this long. I’ll make it up to you.”

There was no “I love you.”

No “I’m sorry I ruined something you cared about.”

No “I forgot because I haven’t been paying attention to us.”

Just sterile words from someone who had already mentally walked out the door.

You stared at the message for a long time.

And then you went anyway. Alone.

The beach wasn’t romantic without her. The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was suffocating.

You ordered wine and sat on the balcony with your legs tucked up against your chest, watching the sky bleed orange and pink over the sea. You tried to tell yourself it was better to be alone in paradise than invisible at home.

But it still felt like abandonment.

Like loving someone who didn’t know how to show up for you anymore.

You marked the day on the calendar in bright red. Circled it twice. Set three reminders on your phone.

You baked the cake yourself even though you hated baking, just because she said once that your strawberry shortcake tasted better than anything at a bakery.

You cooked her favorite dinner, exactly the way she liked it. Roasted garlic, buttery potatoes, perfectly seared chicken with her favorite sauce. You played the playlist from your wedding reception, slow and quiet in the background. You lit candles. You even put on the red dress, the one that made her stare like she wanted to kiss you for the rest of her life.

You set the table.

And you waited.

Every minute that passed felt like another thread snapping loose inside you. One by one, unraveling everything you’d built with her.

You called once. Straight to voicemail.

You texted. “Just checking in. Hope everything’s okay.” No reply.

You opened Instagram. You didn’t want to, but your thumb moved like it had a mind of its own.

That’s when you saw it.

A story. Someone from the team. A dinner. A private room. Champagne. Sparkling lights above the table. Her in the center of it once again, completely unaware that she was supposed to be somewhere else.

With you.

You sat at the dinner table alone, the food going cold. The candle burning too low.

She didn’t even remember.

Eight years married. And she forgot.

No message. No apology. Not even an excuse.

At 12:03am, you blew out the candle and put the leftovers in the fridge.

Took off the dress.

Sat on the edge of the bed.

And then you watched the story again.

And again.

You watched the moment she raised her glass. Froze it. Replayed it. Noticed the way her smile reached her eyes. How light she seemed, like the weight of you had been lifted from her shoulders.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. But mostly you just wanted to stop feeling like you were going crazy for expecting to be remembered.

You reached for your phone again.

Not to text her. You’d already tried that.

This time, it was the ad that caught your attention.

Bright colors. A pulsing heart. The words:

“Feeling lonely? Meet someone who really sees you. Join Chattr—where words matter more than faces.”

The irony wasn´t lost on you. It was stupid. Pathetic, even. But something about it stuck.

Not because you were looking for someone else. You weren’t.

You were looking to not feel alone.

You were looking for proof that you weren’t crazy.

That someone, somewhere, might still think you were worth listening to.

Your thumb hovered over the ad. You went to close it.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you downloaded it.

The app installed in seconds.

You stared at the icon. Pressed it.

The welcome screen glowed. Clean, simple, innocent. Just words, it promised. No pictures, no voice messages. Just usernames, profiles, chats, and the possibility that someone might care enough to respond.

You picked something neutral, “lostinthecrowd”.

Then you created your bio, something about being tired of being neglected, feeling alone even when sharing a life with someone. Quick and to the point. You didn't really have any expectations for this app after all.

Just a hollow place inside you that was too quiet to ignore anymore.

You didn’t open Chattr again until a week later.

You told yourself it was a mistake. A moment of weakness. A knee-jerk to emotional starvation.

You tried to delete it. Twice.

But every time you got as far as pressing down on the icon, you’d remember the look on Alexia’s face in that video. Carefree, drunk on champagne and laughter, her body angled toward someone else like gravity had stopped working in your direction.

And so the app stayed.

That night, you curled up on the couch with a blanket that still smelled faintly like her shampoo though she hadn’t sat here in weeks. You opened Chattr again, not expecting anything.

The first message was:

[notadoctorbutsure]: you seem like u have trauma. want to talk abt it?”

Blocked.

The second was:

[monogamyisamyth]: hiiiii gorgeous. u married too? wanna cheat 2gether?”

Blocked. So fast.

The third person told you that you “had a nice vibe.” When you said thank you and asked what kind of vibe, they replied:

[milfscanner2000]: idk. tired milf?

You didn’t even respond. You just turned your phone off and lay in the dark with your cheeks burning. Not from embarrassment, but from the realization that even strangers could sense how worn out you were. How empty you felt.

Meanwhile, Alexia was on a photoshoot in Madrid.

You knew because you saw it in real time. She was tagged in six different stories, her face front and center in a carousel post for a magazine you didn’t even subscribe to. She was smiling, hair slicked back, makeup immaculate, wearing a tailored suit that made your stomach twist.

You couldn’t remember the last time she looked at you like she looked at the camera.

She didn’t text. Didn’t call.

And the night before, when you asked her if she could be home early this week so you could maybe eat dinner together, she had just said, “I’ll try,” without looking up from her laptop.

You had made the effort. Again.

You had set the table. Again.

She hadn’t come home. Again.

So yeah, Chattr.

You tried again.

And got:

[ghostinamarriage]: hi, I’m married too. it’s like being in a room with someone who never turns around, right?

That one actually made your chest ache. You replied. Said “yes.”

They never answered back.

Then came a girl who seemed normal at first. Kind of witty. Asked about your favorite movies, your favorite way to waste time. You started to let your guard down. Told her you’d been feeling like you were unraveling.

She replied:

[lookingforsomeonenew]: damn. that’s a lot. not really looking for trauma rn lol.

You nearly deleted the app right then.

Your thumb hovered over the icon for too long.

But something stopped you.

Loneliness, probably. Or the part of your heart that was still whispering, maybe, maybe, maybe…

The night Alexia flew out for the away game, she didn’t even say goodbye.

Just a note on the counter:

Early flight. Sorry. Wish I could’ve stayed longer. I’ll call you later.

— A.

She didn’t.

You stared at your phone that evening, watching her teammates post airport selfies and hotel-room TikToks. She looked happy. Unbothered.

You told yourself you wouldn’t check Chattr.

In fact, you were about to delete the app.

Your thumb hovered over the icon, the little red X shaking like it was daring you. Daring you to admit this whole thing had been a waste of time. That you were still alone. That no one, not even strangers, could make you feel like a person again.

Then your screen lit up.

New message from: go4goald2

You barely looked at it. Probably another dud. Probably someone who would make it weird in five seconds or less.

You opened the message, expecting to be disappointed.

But instead, you read:

[go4goald2]: Hi. I don’t really know what I’m doing here, but I guess I’m hoping to meet someone who makes me feel less... alone. You too?”

Your breath caught.

Because it wasn’t clever.

It wasn’t trying too hard.

It was real.

Soft and human in a way you hadn’t felt in months.

You stared at the message.

Sat up a little straighter.

And for the first time in weeks, your chest didn’t feel like it was caving in.

You typed back:

[lostinthecrowd]: Yeah. I do.

Then, after a second:

[lostinthecrowd]: I didn’t think anyone would actually say it out loud, though.

Their reply came quickly.

[go4goald2]: It’s easier with strangers, isn’t it? Feels safer.

Just like that, the silence cracked open.

Not completely. Not in a dramatic, thunderclap kind of way. But something shifted. That heaviness in your chest that had settled slowly, over months of missed conversations and one-word replies eased up. Just a little. And it was because of a stranger with a username that meant nothing to you, who decided to say something real instead of something clever.

You weren’t expecting it. You’d been bracing yourself for another empty interaction, another awkward opener or overstep. Instead, you got softness. Vulnerability. An honest kind of hope that slipped between the lines of a simple message. And somehow, that had been enough to pull you in. Because yes. God, yes. You were tired of being alone. Especially in a marriage where you technically weren’t.

You kept the conversation going. You hadn’t meant to. You told yourself you’d respond once, then stop. But then they replied with something warm, something that made you smile. Not because it was funny, but because it felt like a hand gently placed on your shoulder. The conversation was easy. No pressure. No performance. Just curiosity, softness, and space to exist.

They asked about your day. Not in the bland, obligatory way, but like they actually wanted to know. You talked about how you'd finally cleaned out the kitchen drawer you kept putting off, and they told you they once found an unopened bag of almonds in theirs from 2017. You laughed, for real. A soft, caught-off-guard laugh that felt foreign in your mouth. When they asked what music you liked to cook to, you surprised yourself by saying you hadn’t cooked for anyone in a long time. They didn’t press. Just replied:

[go4goald2]: That makes sense. It’s hard to make something with love when no one’s looking for it.

Meanwhile, Alexia was in Valencia. You only knew because you saw it in a teammate’s story. Her with her hood up, laughing on the team bus, headphones on. She hadn’t told you she was flying out until the morning she left. No kiss goodbye. No, “I’ll call you when I land.” Just the sound of the front door closing quietly before sunrise, and a text hours later that simply said, “Made it.” That was it. You’d respond, “Okay. Good luck today.” She didn’t reply. You watched the story three times anyway.

That night, you stayed up late again. You told yourself you were just bored. That you were lonely. That you had every right to talk to someone who was, at the very least, paying attention. The app opened almost on its own. And there they were, go4goald2. You hadn’t even asked what the username meant. You weren’t ready to give this thing definition yet. But the comfort of their presence and messages filled something you didn’t realize was bleeding out.

They asked:

[go4goald2]: What’s something small that’s made you feel alive lately?

You thought about it for longer than you should have. Then typed, “Talking to you. Weirdly.” You hovered over the send button. Then tapped it before you could change your mind.

Their response came quickly:

[go4goald2]: Same.

It was terrifying, the way your body reacted. Like your shoulders had been holding tension for years and were just now learning how to let go. Like you had been starving for kindness and didn’t even realize until someone offered you a single bite of it.

At some point, you admitted something you hadn’t said out loud yet. Not to Alexia. Not to your friends. Only to this stranger, because it felt safer that way.

[lostinthecrowd]: I think I’m grieving someone who’s still alive. Someone I live with. Someone who used to be my best friend.

You sat in the dark after sending it, the glow of your phone casting soft shadows on the walls of your quiet bedroom.

Their reply didn’t come immediately. When it did, it was short. But it gutted you.

[go4goald2]: I get it. I think I’ve become that person too.

You didn’t know what to say after that. So you didn’t say anything for a while. You put your phone down and laid on your back, staring at the ceiling fan spinning slowly above you. The room felt colder without Alexia there, and you hated that you still missed her, even like this. Even as your heart slowly unfolded for someone else’s words on a screen.

But the message came again.

[go4goald2]: Can I talk to you again tomorrow?

You picked up the phone. Fingers hovering.

[lostinthecrowd]: Please do.

And when you set it down again, your heart was thudding in a new way. Less ache, more confusion, and you realized something had shifted. For the first time in a long time, your emotions were tangled up in something that didn’t hurt. Not yet, anyway.

You didn’t know their face. You didn’t know their name.

But you knew how they made you feel.

And right now, that was more than you could say for your wife.

You didn’t know when the habit formed.

It wasn’t a deliberate decision, not some clean break from the life you were living. There wasn’t a moment where you said, yes, this is where I begin to fall for someone who isn’t my wife. It was smaller than that. Quieter. Like the way you could start drowning without a splash, just one breath held too long. One second too deep.

Every day now, your body moved with new muscle memory: wake up, check Chattr. Not messages from friends. Not your inbox. Not even Alexia, because she didn’t send messages anymore. Just Chattr. Just them.

And they made it so easy. They always replied. Sometimes fast, sometimes hours later, but it never felt like you were chasing them. They were just there. The way you used to be for Alexia.

You told yourself you weren’t doing anything wrong. You weren’t flirting. You weren’t being inappropriate. You were just talking. Laughing. Saying the things you couldn’t say out loud because your wife no longer listened when you spoke. Because she nodded while already typing on her phone. Because every vulnerable moment between you had slowly been replaced with noise: press, travel, interviews, headlines. Because there was no room left for you in her world. Not unless you were standing beside her in a jersey, holding a trophy, smiling for the cameras.

Alexia was in Madrid again. Or maybe Sevilla. You weren’t sure. You only knew she was gone because her travel bag had vanished from the closet and the bathroom was missing her toothbrush. She didn’t say goodbye. She didn’t kiss your cheek, or scribble a note like she used to. Just left.

She sent a single photo from her hotel window. The view of the skyline at sunset. No caption. You stared at it for a long time before typing, “Looks beautiful.” She heart-reacted it. That was all.

You had nothing left to say.

So you opened Chattr instead.

[go4goald2]: I think I’d be a much better person if I didn’t keep everything bottled up for weeks at a time and then let it explode over something stupid like getting caught on the door knob.

You laughed out loud, sharp and unexpected. You were still laughing when you typed back:

[lostinthecrowd]: I literally threw a spoon in the sink so hard last week I chipped the porcelain. It was over the dishwasher being full. So yeah. I get it.

[go4goald2]: We’re the picture of emotional maturity, clearly.

They made you feel light, even when the weight was still there. And god, the weight. You’d been dragging it behind you for months, this heaviness of being unloved while still living in the shell of love. Of sleeping in the same bed with someone who stopped reaching for you. Of having a partner who could tell the world she was committed to you, but couldn’t look you in the eyes long enough to ask how your day went.

You rolled onto your side under the blanket, your fingers hovering over the screen.

[lostinthecrowd]: Can I ask something kind of... vulnerable?

[go4goald2]: You never have to ask. Just say it.

[lostinthecrowd]: Are you... married?

There was a long pause. You watched the typing bubble flicker. Then disappear. Then flicker again.

[go4goald2]: Yeah. I am. You too, right?

[lostinthecrowd]: Yes, but with the way things are going I might as well be widowed.

go4goald2: Been married a while too, and with the same sentiments. I feel like the worst person saying that to a stranger.

You sat with that.

The admission. The reflection.

It wasn’t betrayal, you told yourself. You weren’t plotting anything. You were just trying to find someone who could meet you where you were: buried, breathless, bruised by the silence in your own house.

[lostinthecrowd]: We can be friends, right?”

[go4goald2]: I thought we already were. I was hoping for that.

And then the conversation shifted.

It turned into stories. Feelings. The kind of truths you only speak when the room is dark and no one is looking.

You told them about how the bed still smelled like her shampoo, but only on the side she didn’t sleep on anymore. You said how sometimes you played the playlist from your wedding just to remember what it felt like to be chosen. You admitted you didn’t feel wanted anymore. Not seen. Not like a woman, or a wife. Just a person someone used to love in full color, now faded into grayscale.

They didn’t run from your words.

They sent their own.

[go4goald2]: I love her. I really do. But lately I feel like I’m watching us both sink and pretending we’re still swimming. And I avoid her because I’m scared that if she asks me how I really feel, I’ll finally say the truth. And she’ll leave. Or worse, she’ll stay, and we’ll rot anyway.

You didn’t breathe for a few seconds. The words sat heavy on your chest.

[lostinthecrowd]: Maybe she’s already waiting for you to come back, and she’s not sure how long she can stand on the shore.

There was a pause. Then:

[go4goald2]: You make me feel like I’m not broken for thinking these things.

You clutched your phone tighter, like it was a lifeline.

You didn’t know who they were.

You didn’t know where this was going.

But you knew this: you looked forward to their messages more than you looked forward to Alexia walking through the front door.

And that terrified you.

[lostinthecrowd]: I don’t know what this is.

[lostinthecrowd]: But I don’t want to lose it.

[go4goald2]: You won’t. I promise.

You stayed in the chat.

And when you finally fell asleep, you did so with your phone still in your hand. Heart full, throat tight, and guilt curling up beside you like a second body in the bed.

You didn’t expect the comfort to last this long.

You thought it would fade. That eventually, the softness would dissolve or the replies would slow down, or that go4goald2 would get bored. That the connection would fray like everything else in your life had. But they didn’t leave. They never made you feel like you were too much or not enough. They just… stayed.

And you found yourself leaning into it.

Their messages were the first thing you checked in the morning and the last thing you read before you closed your eyes. You weren’t even sure when that started. It wasn’t intentional. It just became part of your day. The part that made everything else bearable.

They asked you questions no one else asked anymore. What you were dreaming about lately. What music made you feel safe. If you remembered the last time you felt truly wanted. Their curiosity wasn’t invasive, it was tender. Patient. Like they weren’t digging, just making room for you to take up space.

[go4goald2]: What’s something you wish you could hear right now?

You paused.

[lostinthecrowd]: That I matter.

Their reply came fast.

[go4goald2]: You do. So much. Even through a screen, I can feel that.

You stared at the message longer than you should’ve. It made your throat tighten. Your eyes sting. You told yourself it was just exhaustion. You’d been tired for months, maybe years. But deep down, you knew what it really was.

You were being seen. Maybe for the first time in a very long time.

Alexia was still gone.

Another away match. Another week of silence.

You didn’t even know where she was half the time anymore unless a teammate posted something on Instagram. The last photo you saw of her had her smiling with one of the new girls, arm slung casually over someone else's shoulders. She looked so relaxed. So light. Like the weight of your marriage didn’t even exist.

She hadn’t texted since the morning after she left. A short “good luck with your meeting today x.” You’d responded with a thank you. She hadn’t followed up.

Meanwhile, go4goald2 had sent you this:

[go4goald2]: I keep thinking about the way people stop touching each other when they fall out of sync. Not in the romantic way, just in the everyday stuff. Hands on backs. Brushes of fingers. Passing something without it being awkward. I miss that.

[lostinthecrowd]: Me too, I used to touch her just to remind her I was there. Now I don’t think she’d notice if I stopped completely.

[go4goald2]: She’d notice. You’re the kind of person people ache for once they realize they lost you.

That one made you cry.

Quietly. No drama. No sobs. Just tears you didn’t try to stop. You curled into yourself and pressed your phone to your chest, feeling stupid and grateful and so fucking lonely.

That same night, you admitted something you hadn’t told anyone.

[lostinthecrowd]: I’m scared I’ve become the kind of person no one wants to come home to.

The typing bubble started, stopped, started again. And then:

[go4goald2]: I think about that all the time. I feel like I used to be warm. Like people used to look forward to me. But now I get this tightness in my chest every time I put my key in the door because I’m afraid of how distant I’ll feel when I walk in.

[lostinthecrowd]: Yes,

You wrote, almost too fast.

[lostinthecrowd]: Exactly that.

[go4goald2]: We’re not broken. We’re just tired. Hurt people don’t vanish, they wait. Quietly. Until someone reminds them they’re still here.

“You remind me,” you typed. Then deleted it.

Then typed it again.

Then sent it.

There was a pause. Long enough that you regretted it. But then they replied.

[go4goald2]: You remind me, too. More than you know.

And just like that, you were full again. Not healed. Not whole. But held. And that was something.

You never talked about appearances. You didn’t ask what they looked like. They didn’t ask either. It wasn’t about that. You had no idea what city they were in, what they sounded like, what job they had. All you knew was that when they said something, it made you feel seen. And that was more than you could say for the person you’d built a life with.

Sometimes the messages turned playful. They teased you for putting pineapple on pizza. You told them they were clearly repressing joy. You argued about movie endings. They called you dramatic, and you said they were emotionally repressed. They replied with: “You’re probably right. But don’t let it go to your head.”

It was just so effortless.

So when you told them about the playlist you used to fall asleep to, the one you hadn’t touched since things went cold with Alexia, they asked what the first song was.

You sent the title.

[go4goald2]: I haven’t heard that one in a long time. It used to be on a playlist we made together. Back before everything got so... quiet.

And something tugged at the back of your mind. Just faintly. Like a breeze sneaking through a cracked window.

You shook it off.

The next day, Alexia texted you. It was short. A check-in. Nothing personal. Just, “How are you?” Three words, like she was asking for a weather report.

You stared at it, unsure what to say.

Because just ten minutes earlier, go4goald2 had said:

[go4goald2]: I keep wanting to ask how you are. But I don’t want to feel like I’m only asking to fix it. I just want to hold space for whatever your answer is.

You couldn’t believe how different the same question could feel in two places.

So you didn’t respond to Alexia. Not right away. You closed your phone and went to sit outside with your tea instead. The sky was heavy with clouds. It looked like it might rain.

You hoped it would.

That night, you told go4goald2:

[lostinthecrowd]: I feel like I’m becoming someone else. Not better. Just… different. Like I’m splitting in two.

[go4goald2]: Is it bad that I like this version of you? The one who says what they feel without flinching?

[lostinthecrowd]: No. It’s not bad. It’s terrifying.

[go4goald2]: Terrifying, yeah. But kind of beautiful too.

[lostinthecrowd]: Do you think people can fall in love through words?

A pause. Then:

[go4goald2]: I think that’s the only way people should fall in love.

You locked your phone and pressed it to your chest.

And this time, you let the tears fall without apology.

Pt. 2

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rafey-baby · 11 months ago

Text

sweet treat 4

construction worker!rafe and shy!reader spending their day off together (as one does) but rafe simply can not keep his hands off her and maybe she just really needs him...

c/w: fluff, rafe being a tease, semi-public thigh riding, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.9k

ugh i have such a soft spot for him

series masterlist

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

It’s a tranquil Tuesday; they’re strolling around town and soaking up the last lemony rays of the August sun, before autumn drops all the marmalade leaves and brings a chilly breeze along with its visit.

The balmy weather of the sunlit afternoon coaxes her to remove her cardigan; a featherlight fabric she brought in case the wind decided to pick up. However, she doesn’t need it now, not when it’s so pleasantly mellow and thermal. And without a word, Rafe reaches an arm out and plucks the piece of clothing from her, casually throwing it over his shoulder and holding it for her.

She mumbles out a soft thank you, and even if the thin material really doesn’t weigh a thing and it wouldn’t have been a bother to hold onto it herself, she still feels all gooey inside from the sentiment.

They have lunch at her favorite place; a small picturesque restaurant with leafy vines and scarlet roses trickling down the brick wall as they sit outside on a little patio, enjoying their meals with cheery bluebirds chirping and the passing laughter of pedestrians on the lively streets as their background music. And when their tummies are full of yummy food, they decide to get ice cream.

But as they’re padding along the pavement and she’s mindlessly licking her cone, some of the sweet treat drips down her chin without her noticing.

“You’re so messy,” Rafe tuts and reaches out to grab her jaw in his hand, angling her chin to face him before swiping a thumb under her bottom lip—catching the cold dessert and tucking the digit into his mouth, humming when the strawberry ice cream melts on his tongue.

Her eyes round out at the nearly obscene sight.

“Mm tha’s good, but mine’s better,” he thinks out loud before laving his tongue over his own mint chocolate chip flavor.

He notices her gaze linger, the corners of his mouth tugging up. “Want some?”

“Uh…no. It tastes like toothpaste,” she complains, trying to clear her suddenly foggy mind with a shake of her head.

“Yeah, but in a good way,” he grins.

“There’s no good way for ice cream to taste like toothpaste,” her brows crease.

“There is, alright? Here, try it,” and instead of offering his cone to her like a normal person, he dips his thumb (the one that was just in his mouth) into the frozen delicacy and pushes it past her lips before she has the chance to refuse.

A sound of surprise escapes her throat when he presses down on her tongue, letting her get a proper taste of the minty sweetness. He lingers for a moment too long because suddenly, there’s an itch in his lower abdomen, the sight of her sucking on his thumb urging him to push another digit in, make her gag around his fingers.

He clears his throat, an attempt to shake the thoughts away before he’s pulling his thumb out from her greedy little mouth, no complaints or grumbling about toothpaste following after. She merely blinks up at him, seemingly having lost the ability to speak with her doe eyes all dumb.

“S’good, right?” he asks, a mocking lilt to his tone.

“Mhm,” she manages out, brain mushy and mind clouding over with a starry haze that seems to follow her for the rest of their walk, merely nodding and humming out responses to his questions while he finds it all entirely too amusing, unable to wipe the taunting smile off his face.

When a group of people pass them by on the narrow sidewalk, Rafe settles a heavy palm on her waist, pulling her closer and preventing her from stumbling into them. However, instead of removing his hold on her after they’ve successfully bypassed them, he opts to slip a warm hand in the back pocket of her jeans; tugging her to his side once again. And she really can’t contain the stupid smile from pulling at her lips in response.

Absentmindedly, he continues on with whatever story he was telling her (she stopped listening the moment she felt his touch on her) as if this is all completely mundane for him and they aren’t walking around like an enamored couple right now.

Then, as if for good measure, he mindlessly squeezes her ass with the hand stuffed in her back pocket, causing her to look up him, but there’s merely a lazy grin hanging on the raspberry mouth she remembers kissing just the other day on his couch. Her brain nearly short-circuits and she has half the mind to scold him. After all, they’re in public and he’s practically groping her.

However, she’s unable to open her mouth when he gazes down at her— his eyes mirroring morning dew underneath the amber glow of the waking sunbeams.

“So, what do you think?” the question suddenly breaches her eardrums, making her pause.

“About…what?”

An amused chuckle tumbles from his throat. “Said your boss wanted to renovate the cafe, right? Could, uh, help with that, give her a discount ‘n shit?”

“Oh. That’d be— great, yeah. I’ll make sure to…let her know,” she barely manages out because his palm resting on her ass is making her thighs press together and it’s getting more and more difficult to inhale and exhale like a regular human by every passing second.

Once they’re back in the shelter of his truck, instead of starting the engine, he turns to look at her, causing her to shift ungracefully in the leather seat, trying to ignore the ache deep in her marrow that’s been bothering her the whole way back.

And since he’s wearing shorts, her eyes zone in on his thighs, heavy lids blinking as she tries to avoid his stare.

“You want somethin’?” he raises his brows.

“Hm? No… why would I—”

“You think I don’t see the way you keep lookin’ at me?” he rasps out. “Been feelin’ a little needy after you sucked on m’thumb, haven’t you?”

“I…um—”

“Bet you’re so sticky right now, must be uncomfortable at this point, no?” his face creases in faux concern as a faint whine leaves her.

“C’mere, yeah?” he encourages, patting his thigh before she clumsily wobbles over the console, settling on his lap.

“Didn’t tell you to sit there, did I?” he says before lifting her up and setting her back down so she’s properly straddling his thigh. “Now that’s better?”

“Rafe…someone could see us,” she suddenly remembers, turning her head and peering through the car window at the busy parking lot; girls in bikinis carrying towels, couples laughing and chatty families all thriving under the beaming sun.

“Honestly don’t really give a shit. Why don’t we just…let them see how much of a dirty girl you are, hm?” he grins, showcasing pearly white teeth and making her whine in response. She flits her eyes towards the window once more, inspecting the seas of people loitering about, but she doesn’t think anyone’s noticed them yet.

However, she doesn’t have any more time to observe before he’s yanking her back to face him once more, fingers digging into her jaw.

“Look at me,” his brows furrow, seemingly upset that her attention isn’t on him.

“Sorry, I jus’...”

“Relax, alright? They can’t even see your face, just a horny slut humpin’ me,” he reassures her before mushing her cheeks together and smudging a sloppy kiss on her lips when she drags out his name, flushing in humiliation.

“Why don’t we, uh, take these off, hm?” he mumbles, not even bothering to wait for a response before he’s dragging down the zipper of her jeans. Then, he’s tugging them down her legs, leaving her in just a flimsy pair of underwear.

She gasps when she feels his firm thigh against her drippy cunt, relieving some of the tension in her limbs.

“This shit gets you off, doesn’t it? The fact that anyone could jus’ look through the window and see how fuckin’ desperate you get for me?” he asks, something mean glinting in his eyes.

“Go on then, if you want it, you gotta work for it, yeah?” he leans back against the seat, his long legs spreading out and a smirk painting over his face as he simply gazes at her. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt more embarrassed, cheeks burning when she gives a tentative roll of her hips against him, whimpering out because the fabric between them is not only paper thin but also soaked through at this point.

“There you go, sweetheart. That feel good?”

She mewls, nodding all frantic and rutting against his thigh some more. Then, he’s plucking at her panties, pulling the sodden material to the side and allowing for her to really feel the sturdy muscles there; skin to skin. She grows louder and louder as her swollen clit keeps bumping against him, making him smear his mouth over hers— muffling her whines when her thighs begin to grow sore.

“Rafe…m’tired— can you…”

“You’re tired, huh? What if I’m tired too?” there’s something in his mocking question that tells her he’s anything but.

“Rafe, can you jus’— can you help?”

“Where’d your manners go, hm? Why don’t you ask nicely?”

“Rafe please, need to…can you help me please need you to— need you to help,” her distressed eyes are turning watery when he merely chuckles, low from his chest.

“You don’t even know what you’re sayin’ do you? Get so dumb every time we do this, couldn’t even fuck you properly before you passed out on me that night in your bed, remember?”

“That’s not fair, I was so sleepy—”

“Wha’s not fair is me havin’ to do all the work while you jus’ whine like a helpless baby,” his voice is condescending, making wet droplets stain her cheeks.

“M’sorry, don’t mean to...”

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he says while gripping at her hips, supporting her weight and dragging her over his thigh, making her moan out loud.

“Can’t do anythin’ yourself, can you? Need m’help with everythin’ yeah?” his rugged paws roll her hips against him, hard, again and again.

“Mhm. Need you—” a loud noise leaves her throat when he suddenly pushes his leg up against her— forcing her puffy clit to harshly rub against the skin that her weepy cunt has made so wet, to the point where he can feel it whenever she glides against it. “Rafe, m’gonna…”

“Yeah? Gonna soak m’thigh for me?”

She whimpers when he presses her down firmer.

“Shit, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he mutters out, blue gemstones fixed on her trembling form before the knot in her stomach begins to loosen— the piece of yarn snapping as she begins to unspool in his arms, crying out because she feels so delighted she doesn’t know what to do.

“There you go, jus’ do anythin’ I ask, don’t you?” he murmurs, her head dropping against his steady chest while his blunt nails scratch at her scalp.

There are stars in her eyes, nearly a full-blown galaxy while his strong grip steadies her and makes her feel like nothing else matters; only this moment. Him and her.

And she wants to stay in the safety of his hold forevermore because she’s positive the only reason her poor heart is beating these days is because of him.

As an afterthought, she wonders if maybe she’s just in love.

1K notes · View notes

wibben · 15 days ago

Text

BIRTHDAY SUIT — NANAMI KENTO

↳ Summary: It's Nanami's 35th birthday, and he swears he doesn't want anything. This is unacceptable.

↳ CW: established relationship, suggestive, can be read as g/n

↳ WC: 1.4k

↳ AN: Happy birthday to my glorious blonde king who deserves all of the softest things in the world. My contribution to the "Happy Birthday" prompt for Nanami Week... but it's an international holiday anyway.

Kento insisted he didn’t want anything for his birthday.

“It’s not about the number,” he said. “Thirty-five is just thirty-four with slightly stiffer knees.”

Then: “I just don’t want a fuss. No gifts. No reservations. No singing, fuck — anything but the singing.”

This, as he spread marmalade over his toast at the breakfast table.

You squinted at him over your coffee. “Not even cake?”

He paused. A single breath’s worth of consideration.

“...Cake is fine,” he allowed. “But only that. And you.”

A gentleman’s compromise, you supposed.

He was never someone who wanted much. He kept his desires manageable, and the small hankerings that did emerge in the day to day were either indulged immediately or squashed as they sprung up.

And what enjoyment was there to be derived from prolonged social interaction anyway? Prolonged social interaction in which he, Nanami Kento, was the sole focus and center of attention? Where people watched him squirm, pretending to be touched while they handed him things he didn’t need and would only collect dust in the closet, and the god awful singing where he didn’t know what to do with his hands much less his face—

But that didn’t stop you from trying every tactic at your disposal: whining, bargaining, seduction, moral seduction, weaponized snuggling. You coiled around his shoulders like a lovesick python in linen pajamas, chin on his shoulder complete with wide-eyes and a wobbling lip.

“Just one present?” you asked sweetly. “A balloon? A silly hat? Come on, baby, work with me here.”

He smiled indulgently, patting your hand with firm resolve knowing damn well he wouldn’t budge but respected the effort anyway.

“Don’t waste money,” he rumbled through your ribs. “I’d rather take you on vacation soon.”

“But it’s your birthday,” you pleaded. “Don’t you want to be adored like the special little guy you are?”

Kento did not so much as blink.

You tried again over dinner. Again while brushing your teeth. Again, nuzzled into his neck in bed like a cat, hoping sleepiness would pacify him into acquiescence.

“Adulthood is a punishment,” he slurred into your hair, “and I already celebrate the only good part of it every day.”

(You elected to take that as a compliment.)

So you let it go. Kind of.

No dinner reservations or wrapped boxes, no group texts. No glittery “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” banners that would shed sequins into every corner of the house for an eternity and a half. You behaved.

Mostly.

Your rebellion was quiet. A siege disguised as surrender.

You woke early to press the coffee extra dark. You cooked him breakfast, arranged it prettily with a vase of trimmed daffodils from the garden box in your yard, and hummed your way through packing a bento — slipping in extra ginger chicken and cutting fruit into stupid little heart shapes.

When your arms looped around his neck to kiss him goodbye, you whispered Happy Birthday against his lips like it was drive safe.

He smiled, pinching your chin to tilt your face up to him in order to kiss you once more.

You pressed into him, standing on your toes to drag your body up the length of his, letting him feel every inch of you.

His hands tightened reflexively, kneading handfuls of your hips like they’d been fitted to his palms. You felt his breath hitch, then falter entirely when you kissed him deeper, tongue and teeth and a filthy little whimper in the base of your throat for good measure. He groaned into you like he’d forgotten there was an outside world out there.

You pulled away first and he made a choked, strangled sound in the back of his throat. He still hovered in the nip of your waist, stunned by the sudden absence of you.

“Gift enough for me,” he said hoarsely, sweeping his tongue across his lower lip. His pupils were blown black and hungry. “...Until I get my hands on you later.”

You let him make it to the door.

Then, just before it clicked shut, you called sweetly after his back:

“If you want, I’m more than happy to do that thing you like later, too.”

The keys in his hand paused mid-jingle.

He didn’t turn around. Kento stood there, the tips of his ears going a lovely shade of pink. He cleared his throat.

“… Yes,” he said, voice rough, like he wasn’t thirty-five years old now and hard as a rock. “Please.” *

Evening arrived with nothing suspicious. No unsolicited affection aside from your usual eagerness to clamber directly into his lap before he’d taken his shoes off.

You watched him sort the mail, and watched him unbutton his cuffs and slide off his harness in his nightly striptease for an audience of one. You listened to the water hiss, then muffle against his skin while he disappeared into the shower.

You scurried to the bedroom on the balls of your feet.

Kento emerged, towel slung haphazardly around his hips, hair wet and dark against his temples. “I was thinking,” he mused aloud, “I'd like to order in tonight. I’ve been craving that Thai place we went to—”

He was still rubbing his hair dry with one hand when he turned the corner into the bedroom.

The towel in his hand stilled. Then fell. The one at his waist gave a valiant wobble, saved only by the grace of his hipbone and a weak knot.

Because this was not where he left you. Much less how.

Back straight, legs crossed, flipping lazily through a book you absolutely weren’t reading (it may have been upside down), dressed in what could generously be described as lingerie, and more accurately described as a bow pretending to be clothing. Absolutely the sort of outfit you had to first psych yourself into buying, and then harder into keeping.

There were bows. There was lace. There was barely anything else.

Kento froze, tawny eyes fixed on you. His nostrils flared. His jaw twitched once, then locked, the herculean effort of restraint forcibly cranked into place.

His gaze swept over you like he meant to memorize it — thighs, the decadent dip of your waist, the ample swell of your chest not even pretending to be veiled by translucent lace. His throat bobbed, and his hands creaked into fists at his sides.

You snuck a glance at him and caught the faintest, involuntary shiver ripple down his spine, goosebumps raising the hair on his arms to stand at attention. (It wasn’t the only thing…)

He looked physically pained — like you were some lofty thing kept high on a pedestal, and not the gifted goddess you were laying readily in his bed. Oh yeah, you felt a lot more confident in your purchase now.

You didn't look up. You turned a page nonchalantly, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling and kicking your feet.

“...Well,” he said, his voice dry, his pupils not. “It must be my lucky day.”

You hummed. “Mm?”

Somewhere behind his eyes, Kento’s higher reasoning was being chewed to confetti by the hungrier parts of him. He was short circuiting — that sharp mind of his fatally-jammed between thighs and act civilized.

“I said no gifts,” he rasped. “You’re—this is not—”

You finally looked up, all innocent doe-eyes and fluttering lashes, liquid affection in your syrupy smile.

“This?” you echoed. “Kento, please. I wear this all the time. You’ve just never noticed.”

Kento scoffed, the towel pitched forward with visible betrayal as he stalked toward the bed, hiking up the knot at his hip with one hand.

His hand found your ankle, then curled around it softly. He dragged his touch upward, savoring the slow expression of your freshly waxed calf, knee, thigh — yeah, you even waxed, too.

“You spoil me,” he swallowed thickly.

“Uh huh,” you chirped.

“You haven’t even unwrapped your present—”

With no warning, he grabbed your foot and yanked.

Your book flew. You shrieked. Kento chuckled — low and delighted, growling menacingly as you slid like silk down the mattress.

Kento climbed on top of you, broad shoulders blotting out the light, furiously nuzzling your neck into the mattress and layering hungry, open-mouthed kisses down your throat, pinning you under the full weight of his appreciation; he growled his pleasure like a satisfied animal.

“Hush,” he murmured against your skin, grinning and nosing against the lace at your collarbone.

“Let me unwrap my gift, then.”

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sehodreams · 1 year ago

Text

a good girl's paradox

TW and Tags: plus size!coworker!reader x coworker!lee tang (he changed his name to Gyeong-su in the episode), mentions of violent acts (stalking, killing, bullying), smut, p in v (with protection), fingering, oral sex (f receiving), suicidal thoughts, trauma, related to the series but it changes the storyline for the fic purposes, unclear descriptions of the place (Busan) because I have no interest into learning more geography for a fic.

WC: 10K

Summary: Everyone goes to that province to hide, and you’re not the exception, but it’s also said that everyone wants to leave, and perhaps, you’re the exception to that.

Comment: Sorry guys I know I have a lot of requests and other drafts waiting, but I love this man so much I couldn’t help it, I started it yesterday and finished it today because I've been having so many problems finishing other fics and decided this was not going to be one of those half done. It's long so there are definitely mistakes, please be kind, again, English is not my first language.

Feeling the ocean breeze mess up with your hair and leave little particles of salt on it, you sat over the bench and watched the sun appear over the horizon. It was incredibly calm, and beautiful, and you inhaled the aroma of the sea in front of you, an aroma your mother used to love when you were younger, always carrying you in her arms to take you there and watch the sunrise together while eating marmalade and butter sandwiches.

You stopped completely going there once she passed away, and everyone knew why you tried to avoid its existence as if it woke up all the melancholic memories you had with her.

The truth was, you always hated it, and you stopped completely going only because you had no reason to do it anymore. You could make your own decisions once she wasn’t around anymore, and your father never cared enough to keep you company even on important events, so for as long as you could, you just didn’t go.

However, now that you saw it in front of you, you did remember some moments with your mother, her smile, and her excited voice telling you to wake up and watch the sun appear.

‘’Fucking sea’’ you said once the sun completely stayed up there, an orange light showering the whole scenery making it even more breathtaking, but still hating it.

You stood up, grabbed the suitcase handle, and walked alongside the sea, trying to catch a cab in that part of the countryside little city, different from Seoul, which was always awake, you saw how only a couple of people were walking around there, and most of them where fishers getting ready for work, or maybe they were coming back, but you, a city girl your whole life, didn’t know.

You found a taxi not much later and telling him where you were going, the driver rolled his window even more, and giving you a good look, he nodded for you to jump in.

‘’It’s not far from here’’ he said, and you nodded, not feeling like talking much with him. ‘’When you leave, don’t let them charge you too much, never pay more than 15 dollars for any cab, and never go to the sea at night.’’

That last sentence caught your attention, sounding like advice but with a hint of uninterest, assuming that you were going to leave one day.

‘’When I leave?’’ you asked.

‘’You’re going to a rented apartment, I know that building, we know everyone here, and you’re a city girl, I can hear it in your voice, all pretty and clear, something happened to you there so you came here to hide, it’s always the same thing, but your kind never like it here enough to stay’’ he answered sure of his statement.

You looked out the window, the sea was blue, pure, immaculate, and the sun wasn’t orange anymore, a clear sky showing the clouds up there, which you could see reflected into the sea.

But it all looked so grey to you, after all, a beautiful thing like that one still killed people every now and then, fishers who tried to make a living, tourists curious of what was deep inside, or simply people who tried to refresh themselves with the cool temperature of it in the summer, so you nodded.

It was beautiful, a dream, but you would never fall in love with it, if you never did it before even with the memories of your childhood, why would you do it now?

‘’Thank you’’ you said, agreeing with him.

You’d never like it enough to stay.

Still, you kind of appreciated his words after living there for almost a month.

Something you never forgot was how that driver, only with that short conversation, helped you so much, because it was true, you never had to pay more than 15 bucks for any cab, and every time the drivers tried to take advantage of you because of your accent, you only had to spit a short fuck off before they called you a bitch and accepted your bills before driving away.

At first, it was hard, you had never cursed in front of another person and you felt almost sick whenever you did it, but after deciding no one knew you there enough to have the right to judge you, or reminding yourself to just say what went through your mind to not punish yourself later with an I should’ve done something different, you started to feel better with your life there.

Also, he had been right about city people hiding there.

There weren’t many, but they were there, and it was incredibly easy to recognize them.

Apart from the dialect, which was pretty much obvious, there was just something about them that screamed I’m not from here that you always noticed.

Perhaps it was the way most of you were programmed to be colder than most of the countryside people, always being respectful and polite, but always lacking that warmness they had, most of them treating each other like friends or family, while all of you were from the exterior, uninvited guests that one day would leave, and knowing your place, all of you said thank you, hello and goodbye without smiling or eye contact.

It wasn’t that bad for you thought, you had already told yourself to not be involved with people at all if it wasn’t necessary to avoid useless problems, but again, you were only a girl, and Gyeong-ah was just a girl too, and girls, as much as you tried to deny it, feel easily alone.

You met while buying groceries, and you knew immediately she was from Seoul because instead of choosing the detergent almost all the residents there bought, which had a powerful, almost heavy aroma of flowers to mask the sea smell, she chose the softer version without aroma that most girls that lived alone in Seol used to not mess with your perfumes.

You didn’t wear perfume, you never liked it, but you recognized the brand as if it was general knowledge taught at school.

‘’You’re from Seoul’’ you said before you could think it, and it wasn’t a question at all, it was a fact that she, when she heard it, couldn’t even deny because she recognized you too.

‘’You too’’ she said, and suddenly you had a friend.

Just as city girls, you two knew how to talk to each other, never crossing lines and being as cordial as you could, wanting to know but never digging too deep unless you were sure the other deserved to know delicate information about yourselves.

In a month you became best friends, and you started to like to live there, the grey color the area had wasn’t as grey anymore, taking a brighter variation now, almost becoming white, as white as her ceilings, or as the smile she sometimes showed you.

Both of you had really white teeth from performing as perfect city girls before arriving there, religiously visiting the dentist to get expensive treatments at least twice a year and using the famous toothpaste that girl group promoted on TV between music shows, with the phrase ‘’a pretty smile is a pretty heart’’ pushing half the population to buy it, effective, an incredibly overpriced.

Both of you stopped using it, but you respected how it still showed its results.

‘’The supermarket is opening a new position as a cashier, you could come if you want, you receive discounts as an employee’’ she said to the air when you were rambling about almost not having enough savings.

Even if it was the countryside and rent wasn’t even half of what you paid before, with everything you spent after unsuccessfully trying to fit the beauty standards when you lived there, your savings weren’t enough to live unemployed for too much time.

Next week you, instead of waking up to take a little walk before breakfast, now got ready to go to work and be a useful human being to society again.

And with that, both of you took a step further into your friendship, being able to reveal, after drinking a couple of beers, why you escaped from the city.

Gyeong-ah told you everything, from the pretty sequence of how she and her boyfriend met, to then what he did to hurt her, and how she suffered until she had to go through all those surgeries before she moved to Busan.

You told her everything too, how your boss pushed his hand under your skirt, how you reported it and how everyone looked at you as if you were crazy, ‘’She’s the one that reported the sexual assault case? She should be grateful anyone wanted to fuck her’’, and how, being completely alone, you were bullied until you had to quit.

‘’I was the first place in my class’’ she said.

‘’I closed the best deal the company ever had’’ you said.

Both of you cried until you fell slept together on her bed, and only woke up because both of you had to get ready for work.

It didn’t take long for you to get used to your new job, you were already a seller before arriving there, you knew how to talk to people and how to fake a good smile, charming customers into buying products they didn’t need and quickly gaining the manager approbation, because, after all, as everyone said, you were a good girl.

Sadly, Gyeong-ah didn’t have the same luck, and you understood her, she studied to do something different with her life, and you did it too, but she was younger and never had to learn how to make people love her before because she was incredibly gorgeous, but now that beauty wasn’t as useful anymore, and not knowing how to pretend as much as you, she couldn’t gain the appreciation you did, getting more scolds than praises.

It was on one occasion that her inexperience got her into a big argument with a client, and sadly you saw the first crack of your friendship appear.

That client was demanding a refund for a product without the receipt, and you wanted to run to her and repeat how you also couldn’t find the purchase on the system, but that woman was screaming so bad you got flashbacks of your boss’s wife screaming at you to take back the complaint, how her husband would never touch a disgusting pig like you (calling you that when she was as fat, to not say more, than you), and how you should just ruin your own life if you wanted to ruin someone’s.

She had the same voice tone, and even looked exactly like her, with dark red lipstick, a failed perm and all those cheap accessories, she was her spitting image.

You couldn’t move, watching the situation happen from afar, feet stuck to the floor and hands shaking, you repeated inside your mind to go and help her, to take her side, but you couldn’t, and making eye contact with one of the boys from the fish section when he walked in front of you, you closed your eyes to ignore the situation and not feel as pathetic as you did.

Later, when your break came, you went out to breathe as much air as you could, and trying to erase the memory of the past moment from your mind, you tried to think what could you do to apologize to Gyeong-ah.

Out there, between a couple of cars, in the middle of the immense parking lot, you tried to hide so no one saw you spiraling into a thousand thoughts, and there, almost breaking down, you stopped yourself from doing it when you saw the guy from before talking to that woman.

It looked as if she wanted to discuss with him too. He was beside her car, and she started to get closer to him while talking, you couldn’t hear it, but you saw her mouth moving as fast as before.

You were about to get closer to hear them, but you stopped once you saw a disgusting string of saliva being spit on the concrete by him.

It was so long and thick that you didn’t doubt it was a consequence of all those cigarettes he smoked every day.

You didn’t smoke, but Gyeong-ah did, and sometimes the smoke got impregnated in your clothes, so you could easily identify the Marlboro smell of the pack the two of them chose all the time, but he, unlike Gyeong-ah, had a smell a lot stronger.

Your thoughts were left aside once you saw the woman moving around nervous and he trying to take her phone. What the hell, you thought, and you were about to intervene when the woman jumped into her car and drove away.

Making eye contact with him again, he watched you for a couple of seconds before he turned around and completely ignored you, continuing to smoke his cigarette in peace.

‘’I don’t have time for this’’, you whispered to yourself and walked inside to talk with Gyeong-ah and not overthink anymore.

The first crack wasn’t deep, she said she understood it, and you hugged before finishing your shift and going back home to drink and badmouth that terrible woman, especially you, not thinking much of the woman from the supermarket, but of your boss’s wife.

She laughed while hearing all the insults you had about her appearance, going to sleep with a smile on her face and telling you that she would understand if the situation happened again because it wasn’t your fault, or hers, it was theirs for not understanding you two.

Little cracks continued to appear on the frame of your friendship, but it was still solid enough to survive everything.

At least, until Sangnim appeared, and completely smashed it to leave no trace of it.

That fucking bastard, as you used to call him, ruined everything with his existence.

The minute you saw him you knew something was off with him, you couldn’t help but notice small details when the two of them gave you a lift home, sensing the aroma of a perfume you used to smell a lot in Seoul inside his car, it was impossible Gyeong-ah was the only woman riding it, and you tried to slip a question without looking suspicious.

‘’Sangmin-ah, do you have sisters? I can’t believe how much you understand my Gyeong-ah’’ you said with a smile.

He made eye contact with you through the mirror and showed you a wide grin.

‘’I don’t have any sisters, but you’re so sweet, I really try to take care of Gyeong-ah as much as I can, she deserves it’’ he answered immediately.

‘’You’re right, she deserves it’’ you repeated, still smiling.

Shut the fuck off, you contained yourself from saying that out loud, nodding and looking around to find any other clue.

You couldn’t find anything, but he was definitely a cheater, and you, not having any solid proof, didn’t know how to break the news, so you pretended to not know anything to find the correct moment to say it.

Still, you left little comments every now and then, not blaming him, but leaving a trail of doubts around, doubts that sadly were never enough for Gyong-ah, fracturing too much your relationship.

You even thought that maybe you were exaggerating too, maybe deep inside you just tried to find a reason for her to end things with him, he was never going to stay, he said it before when you three had dinner, he’d go back to Seoul next year, and contrary to all predictions, thanks to your friendship, you liked it here enough to stay.

The future wasn’t bright at all, but it was enough for you, maybe in a couple of years you could escalate to a better position, you’d get benefits, you would walk around the beach every Sunday morning, and then you’d go and have breakfast with Gyeong-ah.

You had to apologize, for the sake of your friendship.

However, you didn’t have to, or more than that, you could never do it, because three days later Gyeong-ah passed away.

Waking up in your free day, you sent her a text to ask for an hour of her time to talk, but she didn’t answer in fifteen minutes, and you just knew something was wrong.

Taking a cab to her house, you saw the ashes all around, and how her room was the one who started it.

‘’It seems the oven was on’’ you heard one firefighter say.

Dropping to your knees, you denied it, because she always checked everything at least three times before going to sleep, it didn’t matter how drunk she was, she would check the door, the kitchen, and would unplug her phone charger from the wall.

‘’I saw on the news that chargers can get on fire’’ she said, and you laughed in her face because that only happened once every thousand times, ‘’Well, with my luck, I could be that one time.’’

‘’Shut up’’ you said while knocking three times on her wooden headboard.

It had to be him, it had to be him, it’s the only answer, she would never do it, she wouldn’t let her oven on in a million times, they didn’t know her like you did, and sadly, soon no one would remember her like you did.

Calling her mother was the hardest part, you couldn’t remember how the hug of a mother felt in real life, and when she wrapped you into her arms, you broke down with her, because even if you didn’t know her, Gyeong-ah had been telling her about you, always finishing the calls with the same sentence, ‘’Don’t worry mom, my friend’s is taking care of me here.’’

‘’I’m so sorry, I should’ve taken more care of her, I’m so sorry’’ you repeated in her arms, and her mother denied it, saying how that wasn’t your fault at all, but you felt as it was, because you could've stopped her from seeing him, you should’ve stopped her the minute you figured him out.

You didn’t, and it didn’t matter how many nights passed, you couldn’t sleep with the guilt consuming you.

Looking at the beach at night one day, not being able to sleep again, you remembered how the first day you arrived you were told to never go to the sea at night, and right there, you understood why that driver told you that.

For the first time ever, you thought that maybe, maybe, you should just get lost in it, like the fishers, like the tourists, like the innocents.

You weren’t none of them, none of them deserved it, but you were convinced you did.

And you were about to go meet her, until you realized that, there, on earth, you could continue taking care of her, because even if she wasn’t there with you anymore, you could do what was necessary to make Sangmin pay for what he did.

You wouldn’t survive another I should’ve, so you would do it, you would do what was necessary, and nothing would stop you.

Finding Sangmin’s information wasn’t hard, you just had to do a couple of clicks on the internet, and you had everything you could need.

If only you had done that before, but you refused to go back into social media, all your profiles were flooded with hate comments from people you used to work with, or your boss’s family, or people who didn’t know anything at all but felt the right to talk about your body, and she had also deleted all kind of social media for a similar reason, so none of you knew how he was about to get married, and how you had been right about the smell of her fiance's perfume and all the little comments you had left around.

It was simply impossible how they met was a coincidence, getting sex extorted just like Gyeong-ah? He knew how to get close to her and break down her walls, he planned everything, and finally, you had no doubt about doing something.

You planned to wait for him out of his job, you wanted to do it quick and easy, and no one would suspect you, you looked like a good girl, you were a good girl, you were one until he appeared and stole the little family you had, he stole your whole life, and you would do it too.

With a knife in hand, you waited for him to get out of work, and you thought that he would drive his car, but he didn’t, so you followed him down the dark street to an unknown place.

Gripping onto your weapon, you felt your heart punching your ribcage, nervous as never before.

I can do it, I can do it, you repeated inside your mind, trying to convince you again.

But you couldn’t, and entering an alley, letting him go, you started to cry while hugging your knees, apologizing to Gyeong-ah for not being able to do anything for her.

You felt a cold sensation touch your nape and you jumped away from it surprised, looking up at the sky night and watching the guy from work you never liked.

‘’Drink this’’ he pushed the water bottle to your face, almost obliging you to take it, and your heart started to beat again, knowing he had seen what you tried to do, knife on the floor easily to differentiate even in the dark.

‘’Gyeong… Su?’’ you tried to remember his name.

‘’Go home, sleep, and tomorrow go to work, the manager keeps calling you and leaving messages, your position is still yours’’ he said, almost immediately walking away, but you stopped him gripping his jeans.

‘’You saw me’’ you affirmed,

‘’I did’’ he didn’t try to lie.

‘’Don’t you think I’m bad? I tried to do something really bad.’’

Your voice almost broke, and your hand on his jeans was trembling.

He looked down at you, maintaining eye contact and scanning you, and you felt as if he was inside your mind, finding exactly what he wanted to know.

‘’You’re not bad’’, he said after a long silence.

‘’You don’t know me’’, you replied as soon as he finished talking.

He shrugged and pulling apart from your grip, he talked one last time before leaving, ‘’That’s true.’’

Completely alone there, you cried again until you felt satisfied, and looking up to the dark clear sky, you apologized one last time to Gyeong-ah, and to your mom, and to you, and after drinking the whole bottle of water, you walked to the beach, burring the knife into a hole in the sand you dug with your own hands, to then go home, take a shower, and sleep.

The next day you had to go to work, and you needed to sleep at least a couple of hours.

When you arrived at work the next day you told yourself to completely ignore Gyeong-su, not wanting to talk with someone who had seen you in such deplorable moments like the ones you had.

However, again, you were just a girl, and not having anyone around you anymore, he was the closest thing to intimacy you had.

The relationship you had wasn’t deep enough to be called a friendship, he rarely talked about himself, only keeping you company when he smoked a cigarette in his break and when his turn finished.

You can’t remember how you started to get closer to him, you just remember seeing him smoke near the plastic table behind the supermarket, near the entrance in which all trucks left the daily order of products, and sitting next to him in silence, missing the smell of the Marlboro Gyeong-ah used to smoke.

Somehow, it brought you a calm feeling, and your mind stopped thinking, becoming a blank sheet that didn’t need to be filled with anything, not memories of her, or your past life in Seoul, or Sangmin, only breathing and watching the ugly metallic green bars that surrounded the place as if it was a prison, separating it from the outside world.

He didn’t mind you staying there, and days after days, you started to notice his presence around more often inside the supermarket, and the little behaviors he had.

‘’A man of few words’’, you called him when he didn’t answer your question if he was from Seoul too, thing he never acknowledged, but it was too obvious.

He didn’t have the province dialect, he had a soft way of slurring words whenever the manager or his superior in the fish section made him questions, like most boys in the city did, especially those who worked as part-timers in convenience stores, a polite but tired tone, and you were sure he had received some kind of superior education because when you carried a copy of Justice written by Michael Sandel, he followed it with his eyes until you pushed it inside your bag.

‘’Those who insist that only bleeding wounds should count believe that post-traumatic stress reflects a weakness of character unworthy of honor. Those who believe that psychological wounds should qualify argue that veterans suffering long-term trauma and severe depression have sacrificed for their country as surely, and as honorably, as those who’ve lost a limb’’ you quoted the next day while he lighted his second cigarette and seemed more relaxed next to you.

‘’I’m too dumb for that’’ was the only thing he said before exhaling a long line of smoke.

You don’t know why, but after hearing him so sure while saying that, and after such a long time, you were able to laugh again.

Things were slightly getting better after two months, you could sleep at least four hours now, and you were doing things again, not only staring at your TV when you arrived home. You opened old books she had left at your house, cleaned your place more, and ate proper meals, and you still cried, but at least you were able to smile when you saw pictures of her in your phone.

Still, there were moments in which you crumbled, and one of them was when you heard what happened to Sangmin a long time ago, only a couple days after you tried to do… that.

You heard it from one of the clients, how weird things were happening, first the death of a former worker there in the supermarket, and then the death of her boyfriend, and how now there were other two girls dead.

‘’This never happened before those people started to move here’’ her companion, another elderly woman said, and of course they referred to the people like you, people that weren’t born or grew up there, but you couldn’t help but only think in what you had heard about Sangmin.

Sangmin was dead, and what should’ve brought you joy for fair karma, instead made you hide in the warehouse, crying and spiraling into your thoughts about Gyeong-ah, and how you didn’t even make an effort to make sure she got her real justice, cleaning her name from everyone’s mouths.

‘’What’s going on?’’ you heard Gyeong-su’s voice come from behind the shelf you were leaning to.

‘’He-He’s dead’’ you answered, you didn’t need much to think of how to phrase it, he knew who you were referring to.

‘’Isn’t that what you wanted?’’ he asked you.

You stayed silent, muffled cries hiding in your knees.

‘’I don’t know, but I’m hurting so much, and all I keep thinking about is how Gyeong-ah must have suffered more than me when she left this place, and how I’ll never be able to know if he received what he deserved, even more, how because of that I’ll never be able to clean her name, and now no one will remember her as clearly as I do’’ you then confessed.

Feeling like a sinner telling a priest all of her secrets, you felt as if something had left your chest free, your mind finally was out there, formed into words and tears, and you didn’t see his face, but that let you speak your mind even more free.

‘’I see’’ he murmured, ‘’and you’ve thought that all this time, I guess.’’

‘’Yes,’’ everything was out, your tears sliding down your cheeks and your body lighter, almost numb.

‘’Well, you shouldn’t compare your pain, or hers, or his, each of you went through things none of you three know, she doesn’t know how you’re mourning her death, you don’t know how she suffered the process of it, and none of you know how he suffered his, those are things none of you will ever know, so it’s okay if you hurt, but you don’t have to think much into what he deserved, because you’ll never have an answer, and you shouldn’t condition what you feel into an answer you’ll never receive.’’

You sniffed your tears, looking at the packages of toilet paper in front of you, wishing you could take one to clean your face.

‘’And I do remember her, not as clearly as you do, of course, no one will, she was your friend, but I remember she liked to buy fresh tuna every Friday to eat with you, she always had a blank face when the manager scolded her or when she talked to rude clients, and she would rarely smile, but with you, she would do it in front of others sometimes.’’

You exhaled.

That was exactly her, she liked tuna when you hated it, and you picked on her for having an old man's taste buds, you preferred chicken over it, but you let her win every time one of you had to choose, and yeah, she did stare blankly at others, including you, but if it was a good day, she would smiled at you with those white pearls she had inside her mouth.

Feeling as if some heavy weight was lifted from your shoulders, you exhaled and let your head fall to the shelf you were leaning into.

‘’You two were the city pair’’ he finished, making you laugh.

‘’You’re also a city boy’’ you said, and he coughed, ‘’and you’re a liar, you said you were dumb.’’

‘’I am, I never understood that book’’ he said before grabbing the box between you two, lifting it, and going out, leaving you there alone.

You felt as if finally, you had taken a step in the right direction, moving from your position, you cleaned your tears with the ugly blue vest, too hard for your cheeks, and waking you up with the pain.

A week later another girl died, and your boss had to organize a meeting.

‘’It seems the current situation is getting dangerous, especially for young girls, so the superiors have ordered all the women to leave while the sun is still up’’ he said, and you don’t know if it was because of an empathy people from where you grew up didn’t have, but you got surprised when none of the men argued with it, everyone nodding in unison.

You had permission to leave early, so you did it, not being able to share Gyeong-su’s company when your turn finished, only seeing each other in the first break.

‘’You’ll miss me’’ you said the first day, and he never made any sound to acknowledge your silly jokes, but this time he let a soft snicker, almost imperceptible, that made you smile too.

You tried to always do what you were told to, so you left before the sun went down, but that day you were in charge of counting merchandise in the warehouse, so you didn’t see how late it was until you checked your phone.

It was even later than the time for everyone to leave, so you quickly grabbed your things, said good night to your male coworkers, and left.

You tried to not get paranoid with the news, they specified that the killer only directed its attention to pretty girls, loving long legs and soft features.

Gyeong-ah and Sangmin cases were mentioned every now and then to repeat how dangerous things were getting, but they were never related to the girl’s deaths, being two different situations.

That’s why, you tried to convince yourself you would be okay, you didn’t share any of the characteristics the killer loved in their victims, and he supermarket wasn’t far from your house, but you didn’t dare to walk alone anymore between all the buildings, so you waited for a cab to appear and take you home.

You made sure to always be careful when you were alone, yes you took cabs, but you always had a pen on your hand and your phone ready to call 119 in the other, checking the routes and if the driver looked at you too much.

Everything was okay, you were already relaxed when you saw your building in front of you, so you shoved your things in your bag, pulled out the bill, and paid, walking home with an easy mind.

You never thought you would get snatched right next to your door.

With a hand on your mouth and the other on your tummy, you felt how you were dragged into the alley next to your building, darkness surrounding you while you felt a disgusting presence behind you.

The one who pulled you in was a man, taller than you, with big hands and an erection already ready to make your worst nightmare real.

You started to cry, muffled by his gloved hand, you couldn’t say anything when you heard his voice calling you sweet treat, ordering you to be silent if you didn’t want things to get ugly.

Begging Gyeong-ah, your mother, and God to send you help, you nodded when he said he would let you go if you were good.

‘’Promise?’’ he murmured.

‘’Promise’’ you agreed, closing your eyes and letting his hand cup your pussy with force, not making a single sound, only trembling with tears running down your cheeks.

He pushed your face to the wall and made you show him your bubbly ass, touching it as much as he wanted without an ounce of shame.

You thought this is it, my karma, repeating inside your head how this was your punishment for all the things you should and shouldn’t have done.

The man couldn’t even open the button of your jeans before you heard a loud bang and his body fell to the floor.

Staying in your position, you pressed your face to your hands and didn’t dare to turn around to see what was making all that noise, it was metallic, and it didn’t stop even when the man didn’t make a single noise anymore.

When things got silent, you, still trembling, turned your head to see what, or who stopped the man.

You never expected to see Gyeong-su covered in black clothes from head to toe, paint all over the floor, covering the man's body and face, and the can totally smashed and tossed to the side.

‘’Uh?’’ was the only thing that came out of your mouth.

‘’I knew he was going to come for you, this sick bastard’’ he said.

You didn’t understand why he thought that, and watching your white sneakers get ruined with the blood and the red paint, you started to cry even more, still in silence.

‘’It’s okay, you’re okay’’ he said, giving you your messed bag and, once again, leaving you alone.

You called the police, the number still there on your screen ready to only press the green button, and when you did it, you said your direction as clearly as you could.

‘’Did you see who did it?’’ one of the officers asked you, and you stayed silent for a good minute before answering.

‘’I didn’t’’ then you said.

The two cops keeping you company looked at each other and then the one writing things down nodded.

‘’I see’’ was the only thing he said before leaving you alone.

You didn’t have much to do, the man was dead, and now nothing could be done.

Was that justice? You thought.

They immediately recognized him as the killer, he had a patron, pretty girls who lived alone, and all the bodies showed the same signs of abuse before dying.

Perhaps he had lied to all of them, and he had lied to you, convincing you that if you did no sound you would live, but you’d have died just like them at the end.

But did he deserve to die? Just like Sangmin, wasn’t there another way to get justice for your pain? For yours, Gyeong-ah’s, and all those girls’.

Still, what you knew was that, even if it was contrary to all your values, knowing how valuable life was, Gyeong-su didn’t deserve any punishment, he had saved you, and justice for you, was that he continued free out there.

The next day before you went to work, you saw rests of the red paint still over the cement, thin layers already dry after so many hours, cracked with the breeze of the sea, and you thought how, if Gyeong-su hadn’t saved you yesterday, what anyone else would have seen in daylight was your cold body lying out there.

All your coworkers hugged you when you arrived, and your manager told you to take the day off if you needed, but you couldn’t go back home or you’d start to overthink things again, if what you did was the correct thing to do, if he deserved to die like that, if you were a killer too, taking into account how you saved Gyeong-su’s secret.

When the first break came you walked out to the plastic table, but Gyeong-su wasn’t there, and hugging your coat, you sat to wait for him, but he didn’t come.

He avoided you for days, and you thought the pseudo-friendship you had was over, until a detective arrived and started to make questions about what had happened to you that day.

‘’You really didn’t see who did it?’’ he asked, and you denied again, already used to say that lie as if it was an unchanging truth, ‘’Do you mind if I walk around here a little bit?’’

You didn’t have a reason to say no, but your eyes caught how Gyeong-su opened the curtain separating the counter from the freezer where all the fish waited to be cut and packed to be sold, and how he immediately took a step back, not letting himself be seen.

You don’t know why, but you knew Gyeong-su didn’t want that detective to see him.

‘’I’m sorry, but I really don’t want to see any more cops lurking around, he’s dead, and looking at you only brings me back the bad memories of that night’’ you didn’t know why you said something like that, it didn’t make any sense, all the older ladies loved to see the cops near, feeling a lot safer, but you didn’t know what else to say to make them leave.

His younger companion frowned and was about to say something before the detective stopped him and nodded, leaving you his card and telling you to call him in case you ever needed help or remembered something.

You didn’t answer, shoving it into one of the numerous pockets your vest had, and turned your back to continue writing down the stock you were counting.

‘’Ugly girls should learn how to talk prettily at least’’ you heard the younger say.

‘’Shut up, she’s a victim, she doesn’t have to entertain you with pretty words’’ the older quickly replied, ‘’and you don’t know what you’re saying, her face is very pretty.’’

Jand Nam-gam, you read in the card he left you.

He seemed like the kind of person who was only respected by the people who were near him, used to receive no as answers, and a bit blunt and unsophisticated, from the city, just like you, but without the calm and respectable vibe a detective from there usually had, and too honest and correct to survive there for long.

When you went out for your break a couple of hours later you saw Gyeong-su sitting on the table, smoking and waiting for you.

You sat next to him and for the first time, you showed him your palm, asking for a cigarette too.

Without looking at you, he gave you the one he was smoking, still new and ready for you to take it.

Your fingers brushed his when he gave it to you, and you tried to not think much about it, but you always thought too much, so to shut your mind up, you inhaled the cancer stick and held it as long as you could, slowly letting the grey cloud appear in front of your face.

The city had the same grey color it used to have before Gyeong-ah, and you weren’t sure how long you could stay there.

Your imagination wasn’t filled with a future there, you didn’t want to walk around the beach anymore, you had no one eating breakfast with you in your head, and you were afraid every time your turn finished and you had to go back home, running the few steps to open your building door, and only feeling safe once you checked that your oven was off and you put a chair behind your secured door.

‘’I didn’t ask for your help’’ he then said.

‘’Me neither’’ you answered.

He nodded, still looking at the metallic bars surrounding you.

‘’How did you know I didn’t want him to see me’’ he asked, breathing the air and pushing his hands inside his apron pockets.

‘’How did you know he was going to come for me’’ you asked back.

He shrugged like every time you asked him anything he couldn’t ignore.

‘’I just knew he would come for you, after all, they said he followed pretty girls.’’

It felt completely different from when the detective said it, and you bit the inside of your cheek, feeling a warm sensation reach your cold hands.

‘’I just knew it too’’ you said, tossing the rest of the stick to the floor.

It tasted like shit, and you couldn’t understand how he and Gyeong-ah smoked it every day.

‘’I won’t come to work tomorrow.’’

You felt incredibly alone again, you knew he meant that he wouldn’t come back, he would, again, leave you there on your own.

‘’Can you walk me home today? I’m afraid of going on my own.’’

He knew why you asked him that, a goodbye, a farewell, so he nodded and told you to wait for him at the front door.

Your turn finished and then you were waiting for him right where he had told you, a good girl following his words exactly like he wanted.

You stayed there, hands playing with the leather strap of your bag, the bag you used when you lived in Seoul, too noisy in the province, reason why you preferred to go around with your canvas tote bag, a lot more discreet and common, but that one had been ruined with the red paint that day, and just like your white sneakers, you had to toss it away.

When he appeared he nodded at you, indicating you with a tilt of his head to lead the way.

You two walked on silent, you couldn’t make any question or comment or silly joke, and it was obvious, by the grip on your bag, that you were nervous.

He noticed it, and pulling out his hand from the pocket of his bomber jacket, he grabbed your left hand and held it all the way to your house.

You felt incredibly calm, thinking how you shouldn’t because you knew, deep down, that he was dangerous. It was impossible, by the fear of facing the detective, that he hadn’t killed more people, and it was clear he was being followed.

That makes sense, you thought, if you weren’t sent to that province because of work, like Sangmin, you were hiding, and he was just like Gyeong-ah and you, escaping from things that had happened in the past, or perhaps, things that were still happening now.

But you hadn’t felt so safe in so long, because you knew that, with him, nothing would snatch you next to your house, and that no one would be able to enter your house, or that your oven was never going to magically explode.

With him by your side everything was okay, you were okay, and that was enough to make all those preoccupations disappear.

When you got to your entrance you let his hand go to open the principal door with your key, and he was behind you, observing you, you could feel his eyes on the back of your head, but when you turned to him, he let his eyes fall to the floor.

‘’Do you want to drink some coffee?’’ you asked, and he nodded, following you inside and walking up the stairs until you got to your little apartment.

It wasn’t amazing, but it was yours. You didn’t have an elevator, and you always had to go up to the fifth floor to let your clothes dry with a big basket, but it was okay, you liked your building, your neighbors were quiet, and you felt safe and sound there. Until that happened.

Inside your room you let him close the door for you, and you didn’t feel the need to immediately put the secure on, leaving your coat on the hanger instead, and taking off your shoes, you walked to your little kitchen, putting water in an electric kettle to boil it.

You could cook in your kitchen, but you never used the oven, and you preferred the electric kettle over the traditional one because once the water was done, it would automatically turn off.

Then you sat on the floor, leaving two cups, sugar and coffee over the little wooden table you had, and turning on the TV, you looked at him in the eyes until he sat beside you on the floor.

He was wearing an ugly grey sweater that kind of smelled like fish, mascaraed with what you identified as the cheap deodorant you sold in the store, but you were used to the fish smell he had, so you didn’t mind.

‘’Do you mind if I take a shower?’’ He said not much after.

You nodded, the news had just started, and you mindlessly changed the channel to try to find anything interesting.

‘’Sure, there are towels in the cabinet, I’ll get you some clothes, they’re mine, but I’m sure they’ll fit you’’ you said, and he didn’t waste a second to walk to your bathroom.

You gulped while changing the channels, you knew what you were going to do, but you hadn’t done it in so long, you needed a second to recognize what that sensation forming on your abdomen was.

You hadn’t done anything at all, and you felt yourself already getting wet inside your panties.

The click the jug did after the water was done caught your attention and you stood up to get the water, pulling out the cord from the plug, but knowing you had to get him his clothes, you walked to your little closet to find a t-shirt and some pants that could fit him.

He wasn’t buff at all, but he was lean, a normal guy there, not fat, not big, not small, and taller than normal, so you decided to find the biggest clothes you had.

You were choosing when you heard the door open and you felt him walking behind you, hands surrounding your waist and wetting your back with the drops that were still sliding down his chest.

‘’I chose this’’ you said, lifting the clothes so he could see them, feeling his breath touch the side of your neck and his nose brushing your skin.

‘’I’ll wear them later then’’ he answered, pushing you to your closed closet and making you turn to him.

You weren’t that short, but just then you noticed how much taller than you he was. He made you lift your eyes to him with a touch to your hands, taking the clothes from your hands and letting them fall to the floor.

‘’I- I don’t remember much how this was… it’s been years for me’’ you admitted, and he nodded.

‘’It’s been years for me too’’ he said, not as ashamed as you.

With the same hand that tossed the clothes, he made you look at him and accept his mouth over yours, taking the lead in the kiss and erasing all your thoughts.

It felt good, his lips were chapped, and he had the taste of smoke in his mouth, but you didn’t mind, it finally tasted good, and moving your hands to his neck, you let him press his body against yours, the lower half of his body only covered by one of your towels.

He wasn’t hard, but you could feel something poking at the front of your jeans, and you wanted him to lay on your bed, so after a couple of long minutes, and just after he had enough of your mouth, you murmured something.

‘’Let’s go to my bed’’ you begged with hazy eyes and weak legs, leaning onto him, who was holding you with his body against your closet doors.

He nodded, and taking your hand, he guided you there, making you sit and look up to him.

Your lights were on, and you felt nervous, you had never had sex with the lights on, you only had a couple of partners, and they always turned them off before fucking you.

‘’You can turn off the lights if you want’’ you said, looking at him in the eyes.

He didn’t answer, his hand went to your cheek, and he pressed the tips of his fingers over your skin, caressing it and then brushing your wet lips after all his kisses, slightly red and plump thanks to the way his lips covered them.

He didn’t acknowledge what you said, bending down to retake the contact between both mouths.

Full of life, unlike his usual demeanor, eager, he pushed you to your back, making you receive him between your legs.

Slightly harder, you felt the border of his boner only covered by the fabric damp your jeans, but he didn’t stop kissing you, one hand lying on your neck and the other helping him stay still over you to not let all his weight crush you.

You opened your legs as much as you could with the jeans stopping you from going too far.

‘’You know what I’ll do to you’’ he said after a minute.

You nodded.

‘’I won’t stop’’ he warned.

‘’I don’t want you to’’ you answered.

You knew no one was going to save you from that place, it wasn’t his job, so you’d accept this as enough, and you’d let him go without resentment and an I should’ve done it.

‘’Will you be okay?’’ he asked, afraid of hurting you more.

‘’I want this to happen’’ you said, making him look at you, caress your cheek once again, and give you another kiss before his hands went to your button and helped you take your jeans off.

Sliding the clothing off your legs, he pushed your thighs wide open, and feeling the texture of the towel, his now hard cock against your clothed clit made you whimper.

‘’It feels good’’ you said, to what he agreed with you.

‘’It feels good’’ he affirmed.

He did soft movements to stimulate you with his cock, only letting you feel what would soon be inside you.

Looking at your eyes flutter, he pushed up your shirt, showing him your black bra hugging your chest.

Touching the skin uncovered by your cups, he pressed his thumb to see how far it could sink into your skin.

Your chest was bigger than normal, just like your tummy, but he liked it, it looked comforting and soft, perfect for him to rest a little bit, after his exhausting life, it looked like a taste of paradise.

You pushed his hands while taking your shirt off without asking, to then unhook your bra and toss it to the floor.

‘’Touch me properly’’ you said, making him snicker.

You had forgotten how that little grin looked like, and you smiled when it appeared again.

‘’Okay,’’ he replied, unabashedly grabbing both tits and groping them, looking at how the skin flooded his grip between fingers, and feeling good with both sensations, his cock against your cunt, and his hands in your chest, you closed your eyes and moaned, moving your head to your side and cover your mouth with the back of your hand.

He didn’t let you hide yourself for long, making you open your mouth for him and pushing his tongue inside your mouth, obliging you to let the moans out.

Your panties were incredibly wet, and he left one of your tits free to sneak a hand inside them.

Juices gladly receiving him, he groaned when he felt you dripping all over his fingers.

Without asking, just like when you took your shirt, he introduced a finger.

You cried with his mouth over yours.

His finger was long, and it sent a delicious shock to your core, making you frown at how good it felt.

‘’More’’ you begged, and he gladly obliged, pushing one more finger to make scissoring motions and prepare you for him.

‘’Shit, it’s begging for it’’ he groaned when he heard how much your insides were squelching, asking for him to fill you up.

‘’Yes, yes’’ you cried, listening to his nasty approbations telling you how good you’d take him, and how much he couldn’t wait to fill that sweet pussy of yours.

Fucking you with his fingers, you moaned as much as you wanted, not caring to hide anymore, it was your only night with him, so you decided to not hold anything.

His mouth went to your nipple, tits falling to the sides of how heavy they were and shaking with his attention to your cunt.

He licked them, first with just the tip of his tongue, but then let it flat so it covered your buds and made you shake even more.

‘’Su- so good’’ you cried.

His fingers were making you dizzy, and you had to get up on your elbows to see his hand inside your panties moving to make you cum.

It was hard to see yourself like that, so naked, so exposed.

You couldn’t hide the way your tummy rolls were in front of his eyes, the marks on your skin, or the way your big tits didn’t look perfect on your body, but he seemed to not care, even liking it, guiding his mouth to your nipples again and looking into your eyes when he left soft pecks over them.

‘’You’re going to cum for me, right?’’ he murmured when you started to clench over him.

‘’I-I don’t know’’ you cried, never having an orgasm with your partners before, you didn’t know if that was an orgasm, or what the hell was it.

‘’You’re going to’’ he didn’t ask, ‘’and it’s because of my fingers, so good’’ he pushed his fingers faster and harder, stretching your panties with how brutal he was.

You couldn’t maintain your position and dropped over your back, crying with your walls pulsating around him.

‘’That’s it, so fucking good, my good girl’’ he said still moving his fingers.

You tried to push his hand away, eyes rolling to the back of your head and tears falling down your cheeks of overstimulation, and he stopped when you left a singular loud cry out, but only to take off your messed underwear and toss the towel wrapping his hips.

He let you take a second to breathe properly again, and pushing up your legs, he made you show him your glossy cunt, lips open and ready for him.

He couldn’t help it, it was all shiny and pretty, he had to taste it a little bit, and sinking to his knees over the floor, he pulled your body to the border of the bed, mouth going directly to your pussy.

Drinking your orgasm, the slurping sound was so nasty you had to put your hands over your face, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

‘’That’s too much’’ you tried to stop him, but he, mouth still stuck to your entrance, and nose poking at your clit, denied with his head, smearing your arousal over his face.

‘’You have no idea all the things I want to do to you’’ he replied, pushing his thumb to your opening, and pressing his tongue over your clit this time.

You cried, hands going to his wet hair and trying to pull him away, but he was stronger than you, and you never had a chance to stop him.

You couldn’t fight him, so you wanted to finish quickly instead, hips jolting to feel him more and grasp that sweet second orgasm you felt coming.

About to call his name, he separated and said something before going back to his work.

‘’Lee Tang’’ he said, and that was enough for you to know what he meant.

That was his name, not Gyeong-su, but Lee Tang, and you thought, that fits him a lot more.

‘’Lee… Tang’’ you said as you could, and then the only thing that came out of your mouth was a ton of Tang, Tang, repeating proudly his real name.

You were so close that you could feel your toes curling, walls ready to let your orgasm free and relax again, and your back was curving, your body needing to cum once again because of him.

But he was so cruel.

He stopped, and getting up his knees, he thumbed your clit, flicking the little button a couple of times before he slid his dick between your lips, making you feel his length resting over you.

‘’Please, I’m so close, please’’ you saw the light of your room above him, watching his dark eyes examine you, searching for another answer in your eyes.

You left a disappointed cry when he, instead of touching, walked away to grab his jacket hung next to yours, and sitting, you saw him pull a little box from his pocket.

So that’s why he made me wait for him outside, you thought, he didn’t want you to see what he was buying.

Opening the film package, you saw him sliding the condom over his member with experience, walking back at you and showing you how it looked, slightly jumping over the air, standing hard and thick, and pushing you to your back again, he pressed his tip on your entrance, making you clench over it, and nodded to your past pleading. ‘’You deserve it’’ he said before pushing his member inside.

He didn’t let you adjust, but you didn’t need it, you just wanted him to keep moving, and soon that soft pace wasn’t enough for you.

‘’Fuck’’ you couldn’t hold the curses in your throat.

It felt so good, the weight of his member inside, pushing the limits of your walls, taking what he wanted from you, it was so good your hands searched for something of him to grip, finding his hands over your hips to maintain you in your place for him.

‘’Tang, so good, please make me cum’’ you cried.

One of his hands interlocked with yours, helping you find comfort between all the intense sensations your insides were feeling.

You looked so good under him, your chubby torse facing him, showing him everything he wanted to see, and your thighs jiggling with each of his thrusts.

You were close, and so was he, but he needed something more, a little thing that had been wandering inside his mind since he started to see you differently.

‘’Can you turn for me?’’ he asked, needing to see your pretty ass taking him.

Not answering, you immediately crawled further in your bed, and searching for your pillow, you hugged it, pressing your face to your bedsheets and showing him your ass without any ounce of shame left.

‘’Fuck me’’ you begged again, opening your lips with your fingers and showing him your entrance gaping around nothing, ‘’Tang, please fuck me.’’

His breath stopped, he had never seen something that bold and hot before, and he admired your needy side calling for him to calm you.

Going to you, he pushed his entire length inside, bottoming out and pushing it inside in a single thrust to see your gorgeous back and thick thighs trembling with his cock.

You were crying and hugging your pillow, shoulders becoming smaller and one of your hands on your back searching for his to hold it again.

Lee Tang, not daring to ignore you, his good girl, like that, held your hand.

‘’You’re the one who wanted me to fuck you, and now you can’t take it?’’ he teased, not liking how much he was spoiling you.

‘’No, I can take it, please don’t stop’’ you implored, feeling his hard and fast thrusts pushing your sanity away.

He didn’t care how weak he was to you, feeling your walls wrapping around him like that was like nothing he had felt before, watching the curves of your waist interrupted with your little fat rolls, your ass bouncing against his pelvis with his strength, taking his cock like a gift, and your hand not letting him go even with how hard he was being with you, was everything he ever needed.

Hearing your sweet moans and cries all out when you came, with your sweet walls fluttering around him, pushed the last string inside him, and he pressed his cock inside you to let everything out in the condom.

‘’Tang-‘’ you gripped his hand harder.

‘’Yes baby, I’m cumming’’ he exhaled, letting all inside you.

‘’Okay’’ you said happy.

He wished he could stay connected to you forever, but he couldn’t, and he had to pull out of you to make sure the condom, and you, were alright.

Going to the bathroom to toss it in the trash, he looked at his reflection in the mirror, not recognizing himself with how relaxed he looked.

Tense all the time, he saw his eyes drowsy, ready to rest the whole night.

You, lying on your side to catch your breath, hoped that he could at least spend this night with you, his last night there, but maybe that was too much to ask.

When he came you didn’t look at him, and he simply accommodated behind you, spooning you with a hand over your tummy, letting his hand land there, and sighed.

‘’Let’s get inside the covers, the night is cold’’ he murmured, and you followed his request.

Under your bedsheets, a lot warmer thanks to the fabric and his skin, your mind started to drift away, so you looked at him one last time before falling asleep, closing your eyes when he left a last kiss over your lips.

When you woke up you were alone, feeling incredibly sore, and sad.

You stood up to drink a glass of water, not thinking much about how lonely you felt, concentrating on what would you do later that day to fill your head.

Would you be able to stay? You doubted it, you had too many memories here, and maybe the driver was right, all of you would leave one day.

You were about to go back to bed when you saw a little note next to your electric kettle.

I’ll come back in three weeks was written, and you closed your eyes, happy to not be abandoned again.

You had to stay so he could find you, that was your home now.

#lee tang #lee tang x reader #a killer paradox #choi wooshik #choi woo shik smut #lee tang smut #kpop smut #kdrama smut #i have no idea what tags to put #why can't i find more fics of this man #plus size reader #chubby reader #choi wooshik smut

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keen-li · 2 years ago

Text

NEW YEAR, NEW MARMALADE; new year special.

☆BEFORE

Synopsis: where all you and jungkook's shenanigans began.

2nd drabble; Part of the MARMALADE series.

MASTERLIST

Warnings: two tipsy goofies, unprotected sex ( don't be silly, wrap it before you tap it), spanking, fingering, pet names, denial, no thinks, not so affectionate, dirty talking.

Wc: 4.3k

18+, Minors do not interact.

☆

It sucks how you were spending your new year's eve at home doing nothing. But you're glad at least you were living upto you new year's resolution. No parties.

You knew that there were parties happening, were you invited? No. Would you even go if you were? No, well maybe cause home is just a little boring.

You've settled to having a loner comfort night. Curled up into your couch with a blanket in your pajama shorts and a hot pizza by your side. Nothing better than this.

Ding dong.

You knit your eyebrows at the sound of the door bell. You weren't expecting anyone nor did you order anything.

You stand walking cautiously to the door, when you get to it you peep through the tiny hole. To your surprise to you see jungkook standing infront of your door, hand in his hair waiting for someone to open the door. His tattoos are perfectly on display in his black t-shirt.

Still a little confused to why he's here you open the door. Jungkook's eyes move to you as your figure comes into frame when you fully open the door.

"Hey" he says voice sure and deep.

The porch light illuminates his features well enough for you to admire, his lips look redder than usual.

"Hey" you respond a little more unsure and timid and your eyes move to the wine bottle in his hand.

"My brother isn't around" you inform "didn't he tell you?"

Your brother decided to leave you home alone and spend new year with his girlfriend out of town. You were glad that he left so you can enjoy the new year alone. You actually hoped to go to a party but ended up not feeling like it.

"I know" his words shock you, if he knows then what is he doing here.

"I came to see you" his sure smile and demeanour takes you back more.

You hum and nod awkwardly.

"Why?" You finally ask.

"Didn't see you at the party, so I thought you'd need some company"

"Do you mean the party I wasn't invited to?" You chuckle a bit directing for him to get in.

"What do you mean? I gave your brother the invitation" he informs you "he told me he'd give it to you." He waits for your response.

"I guess he didn't want me to go... cause he never gave it to me" you chuckle "he never liked me going going parties alone anyways"

"That's why you should give me your number so we can communicate directly" you smile at his attempt, which was kinda smooth to you.

Jungkook hums.

"Kinda sad you didn't come though" he places the bottle on your kitchen counter and his eyes meet yours. "I was hoping to see you"

Your heart thumps when he says that, you aren't sure if he means what you think but whatever he means it has your heart thumping.

You want to ask what he means but you don't want to ruin whatever you think he means.

"Do you drink?" He asks his eyes pointed to the bottle.

"Yeah I do" you pull out to wine glasses from your cabinet. Your mother insisted on you guys having those just in case, she's the care-free kind.

"Is it too strong?" He asks you leaning back against your couch, legs spread as he takes in his third glass of wine.

"No i-i don't think so" you stumble on your words showing the effect of the third glass on you.

Jungkook chuckles noticing how buzzed you've gotten. He himself's kinda buzzed too, he never expected wine to have such an effect on him so early on. He guesses it's cause of how comfortable he is right now.

"Why did you come here, you should've been at the party" you turn to face him.

"I came to keep you company. Plus it was boring anyways" he plays with the wine in his glass "it's good you never came"

You both laugh at that.

The party was surely boring, mostly cause his mind was so occupied with you. He'd been thinking too much about whether you were going to come and his mind ended up slipping to other thoughts of you. Like the ones of your Instagram posts. The one's you took for your birthday. By the looks of it, and by what your brother had said, you had taken a birthday trip with your friends and those pictures were a result of it.

Jungkook couldn't stop thinking of those photos, your thighs on display in that bikini and the sun hitting you just right. And that pretty smile of yours, that warmed his heart.

He didn't even plan on lingering or finding your pictures. They just popped up on his feed and after that he couldn't stop looking. His mind wondering too far for his liking leading him to have a very hot and needy session with himself which ended with him taking a cold shower cause he couldn't seem to reach his end. He needed you.

He knew it was wrong in some way to think of his friend's sister in this kind of way but damn he couldn't help himself. You were just what he wanted, what he needed. In more ways than one. Even though he doesn't like it and doesn't even know why.

At the party his mind was so filled with you that when yuji spoke to him, he got kinda pissed. And that's one of the reasons he left the party, cause of yuji.

He never planned on coming here, he never thought it was a good idea but he thought about you all alone, bored at him. So he wanted to keep you some company.

"Some company huh?" you questioned.

"Yep" he turns to face you. His eyes momentarily fall onto your lips while are lightly stained by the wine.

"Its on my new year's resolution anyways" you say and he knits his brows at you.

"What is?" He asks curious.

"No going to any parties" he laughs at your statement "what im serious" you laugh back, you eye the way his arm flexes when he stretches it to run his hand through his hair.

"It's a good resolution" he sounds like he's teasing you.

"Okay. Seems like you have a better one" you raise a brow at him leaning your arm on the couch head. "What's your new year's resolution?"

"Me?" He places his hand on his chest. "I'm not the type to do that kind of thing"

"Oh come on" you roll your eyes. "Don't be like that"

"What?" He chuckles at you.

"I know you have a resolution. Even one" you lift your pointer to emphasise.

Jungkook chuckles at your bubblely talkativeness. He never knew you could be like this, maybe it's the wine.

"No I don't have any" he laughs and you shake your head.

"Okay okay" you pause placing a hand in his chest. You don't seem to realise what you're doing but jungkook does. He looks down at your hand that's still on him and it brings a grin on his face. Makes him feel some kind of way. But he can't seem to deduce what it is. He lifts his head to stare at you and you don't seem attentive to what you're doing to him with that small touch.

"What do you want for yourself next year" you say your voice calm and you hold eye contact with him. Your eyes are genuine as you ask that question.

Jungkook puts on a thinking face as you stare at his wine stained pouty lips.

"You can tell me" your tone is warm and welcoming. He's never thought about what he wants for himself next year. He just lives life, hoping the choices come easy, which they never do. The way your eyes watch him warmly and your tone welcomes him to be able to open up, he feels like he can be open with himself and with you.

"Uhhh" he thinks "maybe to make better choices" he tells you voice calm and still in thought. He does think he should learn to make better choices, maybe his life would be a little better.

"See thats a good start" your hand finally leaves his chest and he already misses your touch.

"Now you should keep your word" you move and reach for your glass of wine.

Jungkook places a hand on yours stopping you.

"Maybe you shouldn't drink more... you've had enough" his face is so close to yours that you can smell the wine from his breath.

"Don't you think you've had enough baby?" He says voice soft and gentle and he stares into your eyes. He doesn't know where that name came from but he said it and he doesn't regret it. The look on your face tells him you probably don't mind it too.

You don't know why but that name causes something to switch in you. With the way hes looking at you and you're currently switching to look at his lips, you can't help yourself. You're not even sure if he wants it too and you know it's probably wrong but it feels right in the moment.

With his lips so close to you you take the chance and connect your lips. Maybe it's the wine that gave you the confidence or maybe it's just the need and desire for jungkook. Your lips connect and it feels good, you've thought about this for some time now, but with the way he doesn't kiss you back makes you feel like you've pushed the limit.

"Oh my gosh, I'm sorry. I-i-i shouldn't have done that" you move back.

"Maybe you were right, I shouldn't drink more" you chuckle awkwardly. You continue to mumble apologises and jungkook smirks at your mumbles.

"Shhh" you freeze when you feel his hand on your cheek. He lifts your face so you can face him.

"I liked it" He says before connecting your lips again. "You just caught me off gaurd" he smiles against your lips and your heart relaxes when he says he likes it.

You place your hands around his neck pulling him closer into your lips and hes kinda shocked by your forwardness. His lips are soft and smooth against yours, the way he pulls your lower lip makes you release a moan.

"Never thought you were the eager kind" he says leaning you back to rest your head against the couch.

You want to tell him you've thought about this before but you don't wanna make yourself seem desperate. You trap jungkook between your legs as he hovers over you.

His lips continue to move with yours in a hurried kiss, his tongue still tastes like wine which makes you pull him in closer. You hands pull at his roots and he releases a moan.

"Baby you're gonna have to go easy on me" he releases a breathy chuckle that brushes against your lips.

"I'm pretty sure you can handle it" your hands move down his chest to grab the end of his shirt.

"I can" he grinds his growing bulge against your core and you release a needy moan.

Your hands wantingly move to his belt and before you can rip it off; his hand stops you.

"Wait" he pauses and you knit your brows. "Are you sure or maybe you're just drunk"

"I'm pretty sober and sure I don't know about you?" You raise a brow at him.

"I am too" he smiles before going back to the wet and needy kiss.

You're both pretty sober. Sober enough to know that you're about to fuck your Brother's friend and for him to know he's about to fuck he's friend's sister. But that's the last of your concerns right now, what you have in mind right now is to take off jungkook's pants.

He stands moving from you to pull off his pants fully leaving him shirtless in his briefs.

"Take those off" he nods to your bottoms and you comply quickly pulling them off. Jungkook widens his eyes when he sees you aren't wearing anything underneath.

"Commando huh?"

"It was my day of rest today" you defend as he sits himself between your thighs.

"Or maybe you were waiting for somebody?" You shake your head at his question and he smiles.

"Good" he connects your lips, immediately searching for your tongue and finding it.

Your hands caress his abs and the muscles that contract under your touch.

"Are you a..." he asks cautiously hoping you catch on.

"No. But its been a while" you tell him getting shy for the first time tonight. You haven't slept with anyone in a while, you've just been trying to pay attention to school. Maybe that's why you feel so needy for jungkook, and not that you actually feel something for him.

"Fuck" you grunt when you pull jungkook out of his briefs, hot and heavy.

"What? Are you scared?" He asks a little cheeky and proud that he had that reaction from you. Cause he knows girls can get kinda intimidated by his him.

"No. But maybe just a bit" you stroke him a bit making him scrunch his face. How he'd love to have your hands wrapped around him forever but tonight he just needs to fuck you.

"Don't worry I'll be gentle" he whispers by your ear and brushes his tip through your folds. You release a moan hoping he doesn't tease you for long.

"But I won't promise that next time" he places open kisses on your neck.

Next time? You wonder. Does he plan on making this a routine, you don't mind though.

He continues to swipe his tip in between your folds and you honestly feel like you could finish this way but its not enough still.

"Jungkook please" you whine.

"You don't want me to prep you a bit" he moves his hands and sticks two fingers in you. The stretch burns a little but pleasures more. He watches your face show many emotions by the the he pulls his fingers in and out. The squelching sounds make blood rush to his cock making it pulse even harder.

"Fuck baby, you're so fucking wet" he confesses by your ear but you're to lost in the pleasure to respond. Your whines and whimpers fall onto jungkook's ear. A melody to his ears.

Jungkook can feel your hole pulsate around his fingers and your moans grow louder. He knows you're close.

"Come on baby. Come over my fingers" he encourages.

Jungkook's words and the sounds in the air encourage you reach your end.

"Fuck" you moan breathless.

"Fuck is right baby" he kisses your lips. "You think you can take my cock, come for me one more time?" He asks and you nods.

"Please" is all you can say and you lock your lips with his. As your lips intertwine you can feel his tip at your entrance.

You gasp when you feel him push through. The stretch is wider than before and it has you gripping the skin of his back.

"Shhh. Its okay" he pushes further and your slick helps him move further. He fully settles in you and stays like that for a bit getting comfortable.

Jungkook can't help but think about how warm and comfortable you feel. He's thought about this ever since he doesn't even know when. Ever since that damn Christmas party last year. He doesn't why or when it happened but you made him feel different. Looking at you that night felt different, like he wasn't looking at his friend's sister. But he can't think about that right now, maybe later. Right now you're someone he really wants. And needs.

This is really gonna help him take his mind off things and enjoy you.

"You're so freaking warm"

He doesn't even want to move, he could stay like this forever. With his little cock sleeve to keep him warm and cozy.

"Are you gonna move or not?" You snap him out of his thoughts and he chuckles.

"Sorry got comfortable in your little pussy" you clench when he says that.

Jungkook raises a brow at that reaction.

"You like that huh?" He slips out. "You like it when I talk about this little pussy" you clench again as he moves In again. He groans at how tight you feel , the way you hold onto him for dear life.

"Fuck baby. If you hold onto me any tighter I won't last long"

You chuckle and pull his face towards yours.

"That would be a shame"

"I know, that's why you need to open up for me"

Instead you tighten restricting his movements teasingly. You see him scrunch his face then throw a warning glare and grin at you. Knowing what you're doing you smirk and tighten even more.

"Behave yourself Y/n" he says your name pleading and desperate. You don't seem to want to obey him so he does the only thing he knows.

You gasp when a smack lands on your thighs. It stings and falls hards.

"Ouch"

"I wanted to go soft on you, but you dont seem like you deserve it" another smack lands on the same spot.

"Huh?Do you think you deserve it?" You suck in a breath as he rubs the stinging area.

"Huh?" Another one lands and the fact that he's still in you makes you clench around him. Though it feels good you just want to feel him move.

You shake your head answering his question.

"So you like being spanked as well" he moves to your ear "you're not the good girl i thought you were" he chuckles "but I don't mind."

He grips your thighs spreading them roughing and you groan. And like a maniac starts to frantically rock into you.

You can barely hold in your moans and whimpers as he drills into you mercilessly.

His name casually falls from your lips in between moans.

Jungkook wants to confess how much he's thought about this and about you. But he doesn't want to seem desperate or like he just came here to fuck you. He didn't plan on it but he couldn't say no. He just wanted to talk to you, little did he know you also seemed to share the same thoughts. Or maybe you were just looking for a quick fuck cause you haven't had the chance to in a while. He doesn't want to think about it. Whether you're fucking for the sake of it or whether you actually feel something, he doesn't care. It'd be better if you don't think much of this anyways.

You move your hands to reach were you're both connected. Your hands start to rub circles on your bud and jungkook smacks your thigh drawing your attention.

He shakes his head. "Jungkook please" you whine.

He knows what you want, and jungkook doesn't like to take orders but he'll do it for you.

Your moans grow stronger as you feel his fingers rub circles where you need it the most. Your head beings to go dizzy with pleasure as jungkook starts to speed up.

"Fuck I'm so close" he says grunting.

"Me too" you inform.

His hips don't halt as you clench feeling your high reach.

"Fuck I'm not on birth control" you remember and inform him worriedly at the last minute. You got carried away.

"Fuck y/n" he sounds a little mad.

"Sorry"

"I'll pull out" he tells you his face scrunched up.

You grip the couch as the knot snap in you. "Shit" you moan.

"Where do you want it?" He asks rushed, you can't even think or ponder on his statement cause your brain gets foggy from the overstimulation from him chasing his own high.

"Fuck Y/n. SPEAK!" the way he grips your thighs pulls your attention. You don't get the chance to respond as he pulls put and spurts on your stomach.

"Fuck" he runs his hands through his hair. "When I ask you something, respond quickly"

He slaps your thigh.

"Otherwise next time I'm gonna put a baby in you" he grits his teeth as he stands to put on his trousers. He doesn't seem mad but maybe just a little annoyed about it.

"And we both don't want that" he throws you a tissue he got from the kitchen.

You wipe him off you and put on your bottoms.

You watch jungkook put on his shirt and the lack of a little more care and affection or even eye contact aches you in some kind of way. You shouldn't care but you can't help but to, you hug your frame as you stand. There's still a little discomfort in between your legs but its still bare able.

You watch jungkook walk to the door and you raise your brows.

"You're leaving?" you ask timidly no longer feeling so confident. He turns his head in question.

"I mean we could finish the movie" you say trying to convince him.

"That movie's long gone y/n" he chuckles as he holds the door open and steps on the porch, you follow and place your hand on the door.

"Plus, I'm not sure when when your brother will be back so I better get going. "

You want to tell him that your brother won't be here tonight or even tomorrow but you decide to let him leave. If he wants to he can leave you're not gonna hold him. Even though it does kinda make you feel used. Maybe it's the lover girl in you.

Jungkook notices the sad look on your face and that you're now shielding yourself from him, which makes him frown. He doesn't want to make you feel like he was using you, that's not what he was doing. He just knows that it's not best for him to stay. He knows your brother won't be here tonight, he just used it as an excuse, he can't stay any longer that he should've. Now that he thinks about it he shouldn't have even fucked you, but he doesn't regret it still.

"I enjoyed tonight" he says hoping that lifts your spirits up. It seems to only do half of it, and you give him a half smile.

"Me too" you say voice still shallow.

"Uhh"

He wants to say something but is interrupted by a loud pop and flash in the sky. You both watch the brightly coloured sparks spread in the sky, and the loud sound makes you jump a little but he doesn't noticed.

Jungkook hums pulling out his phone to check the date. You watch a smile pull on his face as he turns to you.

"I guess it's new year" he says trying to sound jolly and you give him the most genuine smile you have.

"Happy New year Y/n" he approaches you and places a kiss on your forehead, which he'd never do but he's just trying to make you feel better and let you know he wasn't using you.

Somehow it does give you some comfort as you take in his scent one more time, you're sure this scent's gonna linger for the rest of the night.

"Happy New year jungkook" you smile sounding a little happier.

Jungkook walks away as the fireworks still blare in the sky. You stay outside watching the sky a little longer as you wonder what the heck you just did. Did you really just fuck your Brother's friend. What makes it worse is that it was the best fuck of your life. What a way to start the year, your friends would tap your back for this. But you don't think its anything to cheer you on for.

As jungkook drives back home he hopes you dont get carried away with this. It would make the situation even worse. He doesn't regret it, he just doesn't want to drag you along. He kind of wishes he never slept with you, maybe he shouldn't even have visited you. But it's not your fault its his.

It's been like 5 days into the new year and you couldn't stop thinking about new year's eve. You still don't regret it but you're just kind of concerned whether your brother would find out.

You've tried to act like yourself and not awkward like jungkook told you to.

"Just act cool otherwise he'll notice" he says through the speaker of yaour phone.

"I'm trying" you say.

"Try harder" he chuckles and so do you.

"But what if he finds out?" you nervously say mentally biting your nails.

You hear jungkook sigh.

"Y/n" his voice drops an octave as he says your name and he gives you flashbacks of that night.

"Your brother won't find out, I promise you. That's if you don't give it away"

You hum and feel kind of reassured that jungkook won't tell. Its all up to you to not give it up.

"Do you kind of regret it" you ask softly and he seems taken aback by your question.

"Do you?"

You've been thinking about that and you're pretty sure of your answer now.

"No I don't" you bite your bottom lip. "Do you?"

Do you feel nervous asking him that? YES. Cause what if he says yes, what will you do then. You kind of don't want to hear his answer now, but it's too late you've already asked.

"No." Your heart thumps.

"But maybe I would if I couldn't still feel your pussy wrapped around my cock" you can hear the smirk as he says that.

You smile as he says that, some how even through the phone he has you clenching around nothing.

"Good night Y/n. See you when I see you" you can literally hear him smile it's crazy.

"Have a good year jungkook" you say before cutting.

This is gonna be an interesting year for you.

☆

I hope you all have a lovely and pleasant New year. hope you'll be with MARMALADE even next year:)

Happy new year.

I'm not a professional at writing smut, hope this was digestible.

#fanfic #jungkook #jeon jungguk #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook au #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkoooook #jungkook jeon #jungkook smut #jeon jeongguk #jeon jeongkook #jeongguk

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wooahoe · 4 months ago

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hold my hands and tell me not to leave while i’m jumping out of bed

i just wanna call you and say 사랑해

orange marmalade; boo seungkwan x reader

silly lil drabble bc i’m avoiding caratland rn lmao (wc: <150)

mlist — 🎧 saranghey❕ryn’s playlist — @maestro-net

—

his finger traced down your nosebridge and over your lips, making you laugh. you turn over onto your side from your spot next to him, and kiss his nose before questioning his behavior.

“kwan, what’re you doing?”

he just grins back in response, tracing shapes into your cheeks, shoulders, and places a kiss on your forehead.

“you’re so pretty.”

“you’re prettier.”

it’s seungkwan’s turn to giggle, and a light flush spreads across his cheeks.

“yah, you can’t say these things to me.”

“oh really? why not?”

he doesn’t seem to have an answer to this, and huffs in mock frustration.

“그냥.”

because.

“그거 대답 아니여 바보야.”

that’s not an answer, silly.

“조용.”

hush.

—

a/n: diverseddie my glorious king

taglist: @sousydive @dreamingofpcy @junplusone — wanna join my taglist?

#maestro-net #boo seungkwan #seungkwan #seventeen seungkwan #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan x you #boo seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan x you #wooahoe writes❕#🎧 saranghey! — dory’s playlist #우아우아우아호🤍

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self-shipping-doll13 · 7 months ago

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#3 - Pantry

A Peak At What’s Inside Their… Prompts

Wc: 472

The pantry was a nook, really, barely big enough to step into without your elbows grazing the walls. But since when did I get the chance to raid one?

I thought only rich people had them. Rich people with big houses! Liam’s flat hid many secrets that I was only uncovering now, gradually. The door groaned loudly when I opened it, the kind of sound that felt fitting for something this old and well-used.

Inside, it was all shelves, mismatched and slightly bowed under the weight of jars, tins, and packets crammed together. A tiny flickering lightbulb dangled from the ceiling, its glow dim yet warm, and I couldn’t help but smile as I leaned in for a closer look.

These were preserves. Dozens of full up containers, their lids gleaming faintly in the dim light. Dark reds and yellow golds and emerald greens, with handwritten labels on each one—blackberry jam, apple butter, marmalade. It made me imagine Liam sitting at a table, scrawling on scraps of paper with a leaky pen that probably didn’t work half the time.

I reached for one of the jars, turning it over in my hands. It was heavy, the glass cool against my palms, and I noticed a tiny bubble of air trapped in the amber syrup, like it had been caught mid-dance.

“Were you hoping for a free sample?”

A voice startled me, and I nearly dropped the jar.

Liam stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with both hands stuffed in his pockets. His lips tugged into a smirk at my exaggerated reaction.

"You made these?" I asked, holding up the jar like proof.

He shrugged, the smirk softening into something less smug. "Aye, some of them. My ma showed me how, back when I was a kid. Kept me out of trouble for a few hours."

I set the jar back on the shelf, glancing over the rest of the pantry. There were tins of beans, packets of soup mix, and a loaf of soda bread shoved into a tin to keep it from going stale. A bottle of whiskey stood sentinel in the corner, half-hidden behind pickled onions.

"You’re secretly wholesome, you know that?" I teased, running a finger along the edge of a jar of strawberry jam.

He gave a low, throaty laugh. "Don’t go spreading that around. I’ve got a reputation to uphold."

"I like it," I said, smiling as I turned back to him. "It suits you."

"Good," he said, his voice quieter now. He stepped closer, his hand brushing against mine as he reached past me to grab a jar of marmalade. “Because if you’re staying for breakfast tomorrow, I’m making you try this."

And just like that, the thought of marmalade on toast in this tiny flat became the coziest thing I could imagine.

Dividers by @/the-aesthetics-shop

#🥃🔫

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transhetanybodys · 3 months ago

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I just remembered that it's canon in my Warriors AU Russetpaw and Pixie that Marmalade is from the Tribe of Rushing Water (Hal murders him to get the position of second in command of the Featherpaws, the cats of the Twolegplace that are led by Jay before they become Bloodclan, from him and passes off his absence as him 'going to visit his sister in the mountains' which isn't true but the part about him being from the mountains is) (also yeah the 'going to visit his sister in the mountains' thing is a reference to Little Shop of Horrors and Mushnik 'going to Czechoslovakia to visit his sister')

I only included this lore to make the Little Shop reference but I like the idea of a cat from the Tribe of Rushing Water leaving and joining the Featherpaws/proto-Bloodclan/Jay's group

#warriors #warrior cats #wc #jay warriors #hal warriors #russetfur #pixie warriors #marmalade warriors #little shop of horrors #lsoh #mr. mushnik

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elementclangen · 10 months ago

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Moon 306-Leaf-fall

Creekstar (160) is shaken. Something happened this moon that took her straight back to when she was a kit, almost out of the nursery: a badger attack. Badgers raid the camp and, when Creekstar sees them, she freezes. All she can see is Songkit’s broken body falling to the ground. That leaves the rest of her Clan to jump into battle without her guidance. Downgaze (87) protects his mother and gets her to safety before leaping back into the fray only to find. . .Sweet Marmalade (91) and Alderflight (62) lying dead in a pool of blood. Brightmouse (81) is a fury of fire in the center of camp, fighting back against the badgers trying to get into the nursery and at Bluestripe (81). She manages to take down the badgers attacking her, but not before one deals her a fatal blow. With this being their first battle, the young warriors are shocked, but are able to rally under Hatchswipe’s (51) instruction to drive back the attack. Although neither of them are as powerful as a star-blessed cat, Echoarch (24) and Embershell (24) work together to drive the badgers back into Burdockbeam (22) and Boulderflood’s (22) trap. The two of them collapse a hunk of earth on top of the remaining badgers and kill them. The battle is won, but at the cost of three lives. Downgaze is especially shaken. He just can’t get the image of Sweet Marmalade’s and Alderflight’s bodies out of his mind. He never even had a chance to confess his love to Alderflight. And he can’t imagine life without Sweet Marmalade by his side. They’ve been together for so long, and through so much loss. He struggles-no, refuses-to accept their deaths. Sweet Marmalade’s kits huddle together and take comfort in each other. Echoarch comforts Hatchswipe and reassures her that she’ll see her father again in StarClan. He cared about her, even if she didn't always feel like it. Kestrelcreek (95) lies next to Brightmouse’s singed body as the Clan sits vigil for her. Her world has ended with Brightmouse. She can’t help her bitterness and rage as Brightmouse’s life is recalled at the vigil and she coldly turns away from Almondback (77) when he offers comfort. She and Brightmouse had so little time together. They should have had more. And Brightmouse should have had more time with their kits, who are only apprentices. Mitepaw (7) and Hollowpaw (7) are a little less energetic with the loss of their mom. Hollowpaw can’t even think of any pranks to pull. And then there’s Bluestripe. When she sees Brightmouse’s body and realizes that she died protecting her, she screams at the sky, cursing the stars who took her sisters too soon. Before the senior warriors can bury Brightmouse, Bluestripe lights her sister’s body aflame, giving her a pyre worthy of the greatest heroes. With the new losses in the Clan, Creekstar is feeling a bit ill. But, in some much needed good news, Hopcurl (24) has announced that she’s expecting kits. It looks like Creekstar will have even more great-grandkits. Downgaze appreciates his kits and grandkits. He’s also glad that Burdockbeam has toned down her pranking during this time of grief and appreciates how nice she’s being to him. Greenrapid (62) did not get the memo and still hasn’t grown up. She complains that Copperheart (22) never does anything helpful and should be more like her sisters. Because that’s not hurtful at all. Bumble (83) thinks that pregnancy suits Hopcurl and is jealous of how shiny her pelt looks. Aphidkit (3) decides to be a pain and asks Bluestripe where kits are from. She makes up a story about eagles dropping them out of the sky. It’s a way to get her mind off of Brightmouse, at least. But the Clan is not done with loss yet. In another blow to Kestrelcreek, Creekstar and Almondback run into a gang of rogues on patrol. The two fight bravely but are badly outnumbered, and the rogues had dark-cursed cats with them. They kill Almondback and take a life from Creekstar, leaving before she is revived. She now has six lives left.

Healer’s den: Bluestripe (recovering from birth, infected), Petalfrost (claw-wound), Nettlestripe (mangled tail), Hopcurl (pregnant), Kestrelcreek (grief stricken), Downgaze (shock, grief stricken), Hatchswipe (sore), Hollowpaw (stomachache)

New personalities: Skymoon (thoughtful, keen eye, and a fast runner)

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tikitakatia · 3 months ago

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Escape — A. Putellas x Reader

"Getting Caught In The Rain"

WC: 3.8k

Summary: Alexia’s trying again, but it only makes you realize that it’s been a long time since you felt like you were seen and understood.

Pt. 1

Alexia didn’t say anything when she got home. Just dropped her bag by the door, kicked her shoes off with the practiced heaviness of someone trying not to wake anyone up. Even though it was 5:42 p.m. and the hallway light was still on. You were in the kitchen, pretending to read, pretending to care about the last email from work, pretending you weren’t holding your breath for her footsteps.

She walked past you without a word, without eye contact, and you thought, same old story. The sting had dulled by now, like pressing on a bruise out of habit.

Until you heard her voice.

“You, uh… you moved the plant.”

You blinked at the book in your lap. Took a slow breath.

“Yeah.”

“It looks good there,” she added. You could hear the words straining. Trying to sound casual. Normal. Like conversation was still a thing that lived in this house.

You didn’t answer.

“I was thinking,” she tried again, stepping further into the room.

“Maybe we could get a new one for the windowsill? Something low-maintenance. Like… a cactus or whatever.”

A cactus.

You turned the page. “We already have one.”

“Oh,” she said, and you didn’t even need to look to know she was scratching the back of her neck. “Right.”

Silence stretched long and thin.

You looked up. She wasn’t looking at you, not directly, just sort of gesturing toward the counter with a weirdly shy motion.

“I saw this at the airport. Thought you might want it.”

That made your eyes flick up.

She stepped forward, sheepish. Like she didn’t quite know how to be here anymore. She held out a small paper bag, wrinkled from travel.

“It’s dumb. I just saw it and… yeah.”

You took it carefully, like it was a bomb that was about to explode in your face. Inside it was a snow globe.

Small. A little cheap. Inside, a tiny, glitter-dusted coastline and a red kayak.

You stared at it for a beat, then another, your fingers going loose around the base. It was the same coastline you’d kayaked on together four summers ago, the time she got sunburned and made you stop every ten minutes to reapply SPF like a paranoid grandma. The one trip you still couldn’t think about without smiling, even if everything after it had unraveled.

“I remembered it made you laugh,” she said, voice so quiet you almost missed it. “That trip.”

You ran your thumb over the plastic base. “You remember that?”

Alexia shrugged. “I think about it more than you’d think.”

Your chest twisted. Not in pain. Not relief either. Something more complicated, and heavy and unsure.

You didn’t say thank you. But you didn’t hand it back. And that was maybe the biggest thing you’d done all week.

That night, you left it on the kitchen counter. You didn’t know why. Maybe so she’d see you hadn’t ignored it. Maybe so you’d believe it was real.

And in the morning, she was gone again. Off to training. But there was a small plate waiting on the counter. French toast, your favorite marmalade, a halved orange with the rind scored for easy peeling. A mug of coffee with a splash of milk, and whipped cream in the shape of a heart like she used to do.

And a note, scribbled in her hurried handwriting:

Hope today’s kind to you, take care.

— A.

You stared at it for a long time.

Then sat down and ate the toast.

She was in Bilbao this time. Another away game. Another cold bed, another text that never came. The trinket still sat on the shelf, the whipped cream heart a fading memory. You didn’t know what you were supposed to feel. Grateful? Guilty? Hopeful?

So instead, you opened Chattr.

[go4goald2]: Important question: would you rather fight one horse-sized duck or a hundred duck-sized horses.

[lostinthecrowd]: It’s 11pm and this is how you start???

[go4goald2]: You say that like it’s not the most vital debate of our generation

[lostinthecrowd]: I’d take the duck. 1v1. Eye contact. No mercy.

[go4goald2]: Bold. Disrespectful to the mini horses. But bold.

You laughed into your blanket, curled up on your side like a kid at a sleepover.

[lostinthecrowd]: They have tiny hooves. I’m not getting stomped to death by a barbie pony.

[go4goald2]: Tiny hooves, BIG ambition. Don’t underestimate ponies. They´re evil.

[lostinthecrowd]: I feel like there's a story behind this. Also can’t believe this is how I’m spending my night.

[go4goald2]: I can. And it’s perfect. Admit it.

You grinned. Tucked your phone closer like it was a secret you wanted to protect.

The conversation spiraled into weird snack combos, irrational childhood fears (yours: mascots, theirs: escalators), and an intense five-minute tangent on the politics of sock-and-sandal combos.

Your cheeks actually hurt from smiling. And somewhere between their rant about pineapple pizza and your confession that you once tried to cook pasta in a kettle, something softened inside you.

You typed, slower now:

[lostinthecrowd]: My partner did something nice for me today. Out of nowhere.

[go4goald2]: Whoa, plot twist. What kind of nice?

[lostinthecrowd]: Just… a small gift. Not flashy. Thoughtful.

[go4goald2]: You’re being suspiciously vague and I’m incredibly nosy. Spill.

[lostinthecrowd]: It’s tied to a memory. Something small, but really specific to us. A moment we shared years ago.

[go4goald2]: Okay wow. That kind of gift hits like a freight train.

[lostinthecrowd]: Yeah, it really did. Caught me completely off guard, I didn’t know how to react.

[go4goald2]: Because it reminded you what it used to feel like to be known?

[lostinthecrowd]: Exactly that. Like someone woke a part of me I forgot was still there.

[go4goald2]: Do you think it was intentional? Like… a real attempt?

[lostinthecrowd]: I want to think so, but then it just made everything feel more fragile.

[go4goald2]: It’s weird how one small thing can make your whole chest ache.

[lostinthecrowd]: It made me remember how much I miss her, or who she used to be. Or maybe who I used to be when we were still okay.

[go4goald2]: You still deserve those moments even if they’re rare. Even if they confuse the hell out of you.

[go4goald2]: And for what it’s worth… I'm really glad you told me.

You let your phone rest against your chest, pulse kicking up a little. It felt too good. Too soft. Too dangerous.

Because it wasn’t just that they cared. It was that they cared in real-time. Gave you space to unravel and didn’t shy away when the threads got messy.

Your lips tilted into a smile. Tiny, involuntary, like a reflex from some version of you that hadn’t been used in months.

Alexia hadn’t texted once. Not even after the match. Not even a “night.”

But this stranger had stayed up with you.

Held space for you.

Made you feel like a person instead of a ghost someone used to love.

And that flutter came back. Not a rush, just a flicker. A warmth that settled behind your ribs like the beginning of something.

You didn’t push it away.

But god, the guilt that followed.

You weren’t doing anything wrong. You told yourself that. Over and over.

But the truth was, your smile hadn’t looked like this in months.

And your wife hadn’t been the one to cause it.

You didn’t expect anything when you unlocked the door. Maybe a quiet hallway. The faint hum of the fridge. Your own footsteps echoing against the tile. It had become a rhythm now. Come home, drop your bag, exist in silence. You had stopped hoping to be greeted. Stopped wondering what mood she’d be in.

So when the smell hit you: sharp, burnt and unmistakably wrong, it made you pause mid-step. There was a bitter tang in the air, like overcooked garlic and something else. Something sour. A hint of lemon buried under the scent of a meal gone wrong.

You followed it to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway.

Alexia was standing in the middle of it, barefoot, her hoodie sleeves rolled up, her hair pulled back in that messy twist she only did when she was stressed. There was a pan smoking on the stove. A cutting board covered in unevenly chopped herbs. The sink was full of pots. And her face, her face looked wrecked in the most human way.

She glanced up when she saw you, startled. “Shit. You’re home early.”

You weren’t.

You said nothing.

“I was trying to…” she gestured vaguely to the chaos around her.

“Dinner.”

You stepped further in. Looked at the pan. Something once resembling chicken was stuck to the bottom, blackened and curling at the edges like it was trying to leave the scene of the crime.

“It’s your favorite,” she added quickly. “That lemon-herb thing. The one I used to make after we went to the farmer’s market on Saturdays. Remember?”

You did. Back when the kitchen smelled like warm citrus and clean herbs, when she’d dance barefoot to whatever song was playing, bump your hip and kiss your neck while the chicken rested. That version of the dish smelled like comfort. This one smelled like frustration and something sour unraveling.

“Something went wrong with the sauce,” she mumbled. “Or maybe I forgot how to… I don’t know. I was trying.”

And god, she looked so small at that moment. Not physically, Alexia was never small, but emotionally. She looked like a little kid caught drawing on the walls, holding out sticky fingers and hoping it still counted for effort. It knocked something loose in your chest.

Your heart didn’t break. It cracked. Just a little.

You stepped in. Reached past her and turned off the burner before the fire alarm could make things worse.

“We can save it,” you said quietly, even though you knew it wasn’t true.

She stayed where she was, arms hanging a little helplessly at her sides while you opened the fridge and scanned for solutions. There was a half-used tub of ricotta, a jar of pesto, and some leftover stock. You pulled them out without speaking. It was easier this way, fixing things with your hands and not your voice.

“I thought it might be nice if you didn’t have to cook tonight,” she said softly, somewhere behind you. “You’ve been working so much, and I wanted to do something.”

You kept your back to her. “You could’ve just asked me to cook with you.”

“I didn’t want to make you do more work.”

“I don’t want to feel like a guest in my own kitchen.”

There was a long pause. Then the quiet sound of her setting down a spoon.

You poured a little cream into the pan, scraping at the burnt edges while the sauce hissed and fought you. You could feel her watching you closely and carefully. Like if she stared hard enough, she’d understand how to fix it all.

She moved to stand beside you. Too close. Her arm brushed yours lightly, and you flinched. Not because you were scared. Just because you weren’t used to being touched anymore. Not by her. Not kindly. Not like this.

She froze. You saw it from the corner of your eye. Her shoulders tensed. The guilt bloomed across her face. But you didn’t say anything. And she didn’t try again.

Instead, she grabbed plates and set the table while you boiled pasta and tried to coax the ruined sauce into something edible. It wasn’t good. But it was something.

By the time you sat down, the steam had mostly settled. She watched you take a bite, searching your face for any kind of reaction. You chewed. Swallowed. Didn’t make a face.

“It’s fine,” you said.

And she smiled, almost like that was a win.

Not a real smile. But something tired and tentative. Something that said thank you for not hating me tonight.

The two of you sat in that dim kitchen, eating a salvaged dinner that tasted like memory and ash. And for a moment you could almost remember what it was like to share a life that didn’t feel so quiet.

Even if you didn’t trust it just yet.

You didn’t go to bed after dinner.

Alexia did though. She didn’t say it directly, but you saw the way her shoulders slumped after the dishes were done, the way her fingers lingered awkwardly near your elbow like she might touch you and thought better of it. She murmured something like “I’m gonna lie down”, then disappeared down the hall with slow footsteps and a closed door that didn’t quite latch.

You couldn’t follow her. You weren’t ready to share a space that intimate. Not yet. Maybe not ever again.

So instead, you took a half-full bottle of wine from the fridge, grabbed a throw blanket off the back of the couch, and slipped outside. The balcony used to be your favorite spot together. Just two chairs, some tangled fairy lights strung along the railing, the soft hum of the city below. You used to sit out there for hours, her legs tangled with yours, music playing low from your phone while she pointed out constellations she made up on the spot. There was always laughter. Always warmth. That soft, lived-in kind of love.

Now it was just cold metal and silence. One chair is empty. The lights were still up but never turned on. Like the memory of joy had been boxed up and left to fade in the wind.

You curled into the blanket, set the wine between your knees, and stared out at the city that didn’t notice you anymore. This was your nest now. Quiet. Still. Full of grief that didn’t ask for attention, just stayed perched and waiting.

And then, like muscle memory, you opened Chattr.

There was already a message waiting.

[go4goald2]: I tried tonight. Made an effort and still fucked it up.

You exhaled, soft and surprised. A strange flutter of recognition sparked in your chest.

[lostinthecrowd]: That’s more than a lot of people do.

[go4goald2]: Doesn’t feel like enough.

[lostinthecrowd]: What happened?

[go4goald2]: I wanted to do something good, something small. I thought it would matter, but all I did was remind her how long it’s been since I got it right.

You rested your chin on your knee, letting the blanket shift around your shoulders. The night air was cool against your skin.

[lostinthecrowd]: The effort counts even if it’s awkward and late.

[go4goald2]: I don’t know. Sometimes I think it just makes things worse. Like I pop back up trying to play house and she’s already rewritten her life without me in it.

You hesitated before responding.

[lostinthecrowd]: What made you pull away in the first place?

The reply didn’t come fast. A full minute passed. Then two. You thought maybe they’d closed the app.

But then the typing bubble appeared.

[go4goald2]: I got busy. I know it's not an excuse, but it started with wanting to give her everything and to make things easier. Pay the bills, say yes to every work gig and be someone she could be proud of.

[go4goald2]: But then it became… noise. So many meetings, late nights planning the next steps at work, connecting with investors and people wanting things from me all the time. Every time I came home, I felt like a shell. But she was still there, always waiting patiently. I didn’t know how to face her.

[go4goald2]: So I stopped showing up. Told myself I'd come back when I was less tired and more present. But I kept putting it off until it became normal to be gone.

You swallowed hard. Something about the rhythm of it, and the way they said “be someone she could be proud of” twisted in your chest.

[go4goald2]: And now I don't know how to come back. Not without her seeing everything I let fall apart.

[go4goald2]: I'm ashamed.

You stared at the screen.

Because how do you comfort someone whose regret sounds so familiar it might as well live in your house?

[lostinthecrowd]: It’s not too late, not if you mean it. Not if you’re willing to rebuild instead of rewind.

Another pause.

[go4goald2]: What if she doesn’t believe me anymore? What if I waited too long?

[lostinthecrowd]: Then show up anyway, consistency is louder than promises.

A breeze caught your hair, lifting it off your forehead. You tilted your head back and closed your eyes, breathing through the weight in your ribs.

[go4goald2]: I want her to know I see her. Really see her. Not just when she’s upset, not just when she’s slipping away, but every day.

You didn’t respond right away.

Your thumbs hovered, useless, the words sitting heavy on your screen.

There was something about the way they phrased it, quiet and earnest. Like they meant it, even if they didn’t know how to say it out loud to the right person yet.

You sipped your wine and stared out over the city. The lights blurred softly against the dark, the breeze tugging gently at the frayed edges of the blanket in your lap.

You used to be seen like that. Or maybe you just liked to think you were.

You put your phone down for a second, face tipped to the sky, letting the silence settle where something like comfort should’ve been.

And when the tears came, they weren’t loud. Just slow. Private. The kind that don’t ask to be noticed. The kind you wipe away quickly, just in case someone walks out and asks if you’re okay.

But no one did.

The effort started showing up in little things.

Alexia folding the laundry before you got to it. Running to the store to pick up oat milk without being asked. Saying “Want to watch something?” instead of disappearing into the bedroom with her headphones and going on a call with her agent. She didn’t get it all right, she brought home the wrong brand of oat milk, folded the sheets inside out, and picked a movie you’d already seen twice. But she was trying. God, was she trying.

It wasn’t the kind of effort that made your heart swell. It made it ache. Because it felt like watching someone fumble through a routine they used to know by heart and now had to relearn from scratch.

On Wednesday night, she came home with takeout from that noodle place near your old apartment. The one you used to walk to in the middle of summer, sweaty and stupidly in love. She placed the bags on the counter like a peace offering and said, “Thought we could eat together tonight?”

You nodded. She brightened like it mattered.

She talked through most of dinner. Nothing serious. Just training, the new physio, the girl on the team who always forgot her cleats. You let her talk. Let her fill the space. She was trying to be light. Normal. Like maybe if she kept talking, she could talk you back into caring.

And for a second, you let her believe it was working.

After dinner, she hovered. You were rinsing dishes and she leaned against the counter, fingers tapping nervously against the edge. You knew that look. That “I want to say something but I’m scared of the words” look.

“I’ve been thinking…” she started, voice quiet. “About us. About how I’ve-”

Her phone buzzed. Loud. Jarring.

You saw the hesitation. The flicker of conflict.

But she answered it.

“Yeah?” she said, already walking toward the hallway. “No, it’s fine. I’ve got a minute.”

And just like that, the moment shattered.

You turned back to the sink, slowly rinsed out the last bowl. The water ran too hot, but you didn’t adjust it.

She didn’t come back in. You heard the bedroom door click closed a few minutes later.

The next night, she showed up with your favorite wine. The one you used to save for anniversaries or good news. She held it up like a trophy. “Got this on the way home. Figured we could split it and hang out a bit.”

You stared at the label. Something in your chest twisted.

“I can’t drink,” you said, keeping your voice even. “I’m on antibiotics.”

She blinked, thrown. “Oh. Since when?”

You shrugged. “Couple days. I’ve been sick.”

“Oh,” she said again.

She looked like she wanted to say more, but didn’t. Just set the bottle down and muttered something about putting it away for later.

You stood there for a moment after she walked off. Letting the silence settle over your shoulders like a too-heavy coat.

She hadn’t noticed.

You’d been in bed for two days. Tired, congested, barely eating. And she hadn’t noticed.

Not until you said it out loud.

Still. You weren’t made of stone.

There were moments where her effort chipped at something soft. The way she offered you tea that night without you asking. How she turned off the hallway light so it wouldn’t bother you when you tried to nap. How she lingered a little longer at the door when she left for training, like she wanted to say something.

But the thing that hurt most was how she still couldn’t say the one thing that mattered: I miss you.

She tried everything else. But not that.

Later, once the house had gone quiet and the wine sat untouched in the cabinet, you curled up on the couch with a blanket and opened Chattr.

[lostinthecrowd]: You ever feel like someone’s knocking, but it’s on the wrong door?

[go4goald2]: Jesus, yeah. All the time.

[go4goald2]: Weird coincidence… I always feel like I'm on the other side of that.

You smiled. A small one. Just for yourself. Sad. Quiet. The kind that doesn’t touch your mouth, only your chest.

[lostinthecrowd]: Someone brought me something today. Something they thought I'd love, but they didn’t realize I couldn't have it.

[go4goald2]: Ouch. That's… rough.

[lostinthecrowd]: Yeah, it’s like they remembered the old version of me. Not who I am now.

[go4goald2]: I get that. It's like when someone keeps reaching for the person they think you are, and you’re standing there, changed, wondering if they’ll ever notice.

[lostinthecrowd]: Exactly.

[go4goald2]: They probably meant well, doesn’t make it hurt less though.

[lostinthecrowd]: No. It doesn’t.

There was a beat of silence. Only the glow of your phone, the buzz of the city outside the balcony, and the heaviness in your chest that had nowhere else to go.

[go4goald2]: I think I want to want them again but I don't know if that’s the same thing as actually wanting them.

[lostinthecrowd]: I think that’s the loneliest kind of love.

The typing bubble appeared. Vanished. Appeared again.

[go4goald2]: What are you doing right now?

[lostinthecrowd]: Talking to you. Not sleeping. Being dramatic. The usual.

[go4goald2]: Good. Stay.

And so you did. Talking about nothing and everything. How certain smells always bring you back to childhood. How you hate the sound of ticking clocks. How lately, someone’s been trying to come back to you and you want to believe it matters. You really do. But there’s a part of you that keeps wondering if effort can still mean something after the silence has settled in too deep.

You didn’t mean to say that last part out loud. But you did. And they didn’t mind.

Alexia was down the hall. Lights off. Door closed.

You were somewhere else entirely.

Pt. 3

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