...Or, despite everything, Nicholas still misses you.
✩ Wang Yixiang x Fem!Reader ─── Exes!AU | Pure fucking angst | No beta we die like Giri | A/N: Welcome to me projecting for 1.1k words. TW for toxic relationships and very descriptive depictions of depression. How are we coping, fellow saddies?
The world is always silent when Nicholas wakes up.
It's been this way for the longest time — dull, gray, lifeless. Maybe it was after you left, or perhaps a little bit before. The late nights you both insisted on going to bed angry and waking up with a grudge always shifted into mornings of quiet and migraines.
It pissed him off then. It makes him sick now.
Eight months. It's been eight months without you, and he's still acting like a fool over a love he no longer has. His friends, bless them, know he's still healing. There's no way he can't be; you were together for close to two years. Sixteen months and five days, to be exact (at least, that's what it says in his journal).
The truth is, though, that while Nicholas' friends know he's recovering, none of them know he's still drowning.
Your relationship was sweet, but quickly turned tumultuous. Between your family problems and fragile state, it was only natural that you began to lean more onto Nicholas for support. Hell, he'd offered it the moment you realized things were going to shit, because why wouldn't he? He was your boyfriend, and he loved you more than he could ever put into words. He would share his cup with you without even having to ask.
And then one month turned to three. Five. Seven. Nine. Nine months of giving, giving, giving — and Nicholas was run ragged. His needed moments of solitude were interrupted by endless, draining phone calls that went on for hours. He came when you called no matter how many times you asked, even if it meant that he'd be crawling to your side with half an hour of sleep under his belt.
He couldn't keep going, and yet…he did, regardless. His cup was empty, and he just kept pouring.
It was okay, at first. Then, things really took a turn for the worse.
Eventually, Nicholas — so drained and empty — began to look for any excuse just to have a moment to himself…even if it meant lying. It was awful, he knew. Avoidance is what his therapist calls it now; hiding himself away to keep himself from facing the hard things in life. It was cruel, in hindsight, but what else could he do when he was running on empty?
You noticed. Of course you did. And, eventually, you had enough.
"I just don't think," you'd said one night, staring at him blankly, "that you actually care. If you cared, you'd be trying. Why don't you want to try anymore?"
To this day — Nicholas presses his thumb into the space between his eyebrows — it makes him want to scream. What did you mean, he wasn't trying anymore? All he did was try, and give, and give, and give.
Selfishness is what you called it. "I need you. Why can't you be here now? Don't you care?"
His therapist had been the one to convince him to make the big change. "You love her," she said, staring intently over her thick-rimmed glasses. "But it's killing you. At the end of the day, what's more important? Saving someone who needs more than you can give, or keeping yourself alive?"
He'd called you a week later. Broke it off, hung up the phone, and choked out a sigh of relief.
It suffocates him now.
Laying in his bed, staring at the gray ceiling, Nicholas admits it to himself: He misses you. He misses the smell of your coffee in the morning, rich with autumn spices even in the middle of April. He misses the weight of your head on his collarbone at night. He aches for the feeling of your fingers tracing over the scar on his arm, the smell of your perfume, the volume of your laughter after one too many beers.
Your absence is heavier than your presence was. He feels it everywhere he goes.
Even bigger, though, is the emptiness. Where Nicholas' heart should be, there's a too-wide cavern of unfeeling that's split cracks into the rest of his body, tearing him apart from the inside out.
It's agony without a voice. Suffering with no name. There's nothing that Nicholas wouldn't give for it to be carved out of him and taken away.
And yet…there's a fragile sort of peace to it. He can't quite remember a time where the world wasn't this ugly shade of gray, and he's honestly grown used to it. The days that are brighter and full of hope are intimidating, to say the least. He doesn't want to get his hopes up. It's better to stay in the dead zone, under the covers and locked away where he can be left to ruminate over his poor decisions.
It's probably not the best idea. His friends are getting worried, he knows. Maki sends him strings of reels followed by a short-but-meaningful, "Thinking of you." Harua offers to take Nicholas out for dates — though the younger knows better than to call them those. Even Euijoo — sweet, bright, kind Euijoo — comes over every week to make sure that Nicholas is still alive for their movie nights.
Nicholas is more than grateful for all of them. They're more than he deserves, but…
They're not you.
It's a stupid, selfish sentiment. You were killing him, literally, and he needed to get away from you. All the same, he misses you. Your number, now blocked from his contacts, gets viewed every other day by his wistful eyes.
If his friends knew, they'd be pissed.
That's why he doesn't tell them.
Nicholas keeps his mouth shut. He does not tell them he's drowning in the weight of your absence. He doesn't cry out for the help he so desperately needs.
That would mean that he'd have to admit his feelings aloud. Frankly, he'd rather swallow his own tongue.
So, Nicholas continues to stare into his little gray world, the sun in his window doing little to brighten his world by a fraction. He is alone, drowning, suffering—
—And he takes it all with a weak smile.
On his nightstand, his phone buzzes. It's Euijoo, probably, or maybe his sister coming to check on him. He groans low in his throat and forces himself to squint into the blue light of his lockscreen.
His heart jolts.
Instagram | @myamorisms:
Hi, Weno. I don't mean to bother you, but I'd really like to talk. Can I call you?
Nicholas stares at the notification for a moment, his breath lodged in his throat.
He never blocked you on social media. He wanted to see how you were doing even after that horrible phone call, because he's nothing if not nosy.
Despite everything, even after eight months, he is still selfish.
Nicholas gazes at the ceiling one last time, stutters as he inhales, and almost throws up when he breathes out.
And, because he can't help it — he allows the tears to fall. They're quite acquainted with the skin of his cheeks, anyway.
OK ROSE…. You look pretty whipped for me, may I ask how do you feel? I’m sorry if I’m being nosy, I just really love talking with people when they’re falling in love or sum… it’s cute.
So… I’m all ears
Oh wow 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯
If this is about my reblogs as of late, it's not what it looks like 😭 It's just that time of year where I'm sick over my ex and I need to complain about it to the Tumblr void
in which maki earns his way to the top of the werewolf food chain and you are all he wants. or - the one where maki steals you as his mate.
wc: 7k | notes: smut (don't like it? don't read it), maki is a munch, he also swears a lot, rough sex, creampie, werewolf mating, size kink, minors do not interact!
Maki was convinced he was in hell.
Sitting on his bed, rubbing at his brows, he knew he could leave and then he wouldn’t be able to hear any more, but something stopped him.
Those little noises you were making.
Being a werewolf had certain perks. Like speed and stamina, but also inhuman hearing and smell. Which meant not only could Maki hear you getting dicked down, he could smell your arousal.
And he wanted it so bad he was losing his mind.
You gripped the blanket below you with both fists. It took all of your strength just to stay in place and endure Yudai’s ruthless pace. Not that you would have gotten far given the brutal hold he had on your hips.
Spreading your thighs a little farther, you arched your back even more, the way you knew he liked, and as if on cue, Yudai groaned and kneaded your hips.
“Good girl,” he purred. “Want all that dick in you, huh?”
There were a lot of things you wanted from him, but for now this would suffice. So you nodded.
On the other side of the wall, Maki fell back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. From what he could hear, Yudai was tearing your shit up and you were exactly where you wanted to be. It was a steady rhythm of skin meeting skin, followed by your pretty moans, and the occasional grunt from Yudai.
Maki frowned, and despite how painfully hard his cock was, he didn’t touch it. There was no way in hell he would jack off to any pleasure Yudai was having.
As far as Maki was concerned, you could do a lot better than Yudai. But he understood that your son kept you coming back to him. Yudai wasn’t a good boyfriend. Being alpha of the pack would always come first, but he was an incredible father.
And at some point, you’d decided that was enough.
No matter how much you grappled with your feelings for Yudai, he always brought you to ecstasy on his cock, never slowing his primal claiming of your body even as you shivered with sensitivity and slumped forward on the bed.
Yudai kept your hips in his hands, keeping you raised for his use, and as your cunt kneaded his walls, he released inside you with a throaty groan, burying himself balls deep in your heat.
Your body was spent and you let yourself sink deeper into the mattress, but your heart and your mind were still active. They weren’t at peace. Yudai could only satisfy your body and nothing else.
Yudai brushed his hands over your waist in appreciation before gripping your hips and sliding his softening cock from your core, hissing at the hold your body had on him. “Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath. “Can’t wait for your next heat. Gonna put another one in you.”
You set your jaw, let a heavy pause fill the air, and then said, “I don’t want that.”
Yudai was clambering off the bed to find his pants, but stopped in his tracks and looked to you sharply. “You don’t want another baby?”
“No.”
Scratching the back of his head, Yudai was genuinely confused. You used to beg him to fill you up with his babies. When you became pregnant with his son, Yudai had never seen you so happy, so radiant.
“What did I do?” Yudai asked.
You finally willed yourself to get up and start dressing. “You didn’t do anything,” you hesitated, because it was a lie. Well, almost. It’s not anything he did. It was all the things he didn’t do.
He didn’t romance you. He didn’t take you on dates. He didn’t introduce you as his mate or his partner or his girlfriend. You were just his son’s mother.
To Yudai’s credit, he thought he’d been operating in the boundaries of the relationship you had created. When Kai was born, he became your focus - your world. You and Yudai both poured everything you had into being the parents neither of you ever had.
“I just thought he’ll be two soon. You said you’d want him to have a sibling around this age.”
You nodded. “I know what I said. I’m just… rethinking some things. That’s all.”
Yudai leveled his eyes at you. His heart started beating faster, his chest filling with fire. His voice was a low, wolfish growl when he said, “You want another one - just not with me.”
Planting your feet, you pulled your shirt on and turned to him. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Yudai,” you told him sternly. “I’m not a wolf boy. You have no command over me.”
Yudai’s lips spread in a grin, a soft chuckle leaving him. “None of them will touch you. They won’t challenge me,” he warned.
It was your turn to smile. “You underestimate what men will do for pussy, Yudai. You should know that better than anyone.”
And with that, you brushed past him and marched out the door, leaving a nervous and wounded Yudai in your wake. Nothing stirred him up more than someone wanting what belonged to him.
His position or his woman.
Maki had moved from the bed to the wall joining his room with Yudai’s. He’d been more keen on the conversation than the sex, for obvious reasons.
He gathered that you were not satisfied with Yudai. And you knew you had other options. Both of these things worked to his advantage in his plan to claim you.
A week passed without incident. Then another. You and Yudai parented Kai like nothing was amiss. His home already was different than others. He lived in a house with his mother, his father, and his father’s friends. He was too young to know wolf magic was in his blood, but he would learn in time.
For Kai, he just had three different uncles that spoiled him.
The boys, on the other hand, knew something had changed. The air around you and Yudai was charged and tasted bitter on their tongues. You weren’t letting Yudai touch you anymore and he didn’t hide how much that soured his mood.
Maki watched you like he was learning your every move. Living with someone revealed a lot. Maki knew you were a romantic. He knew you were also bored out of your mind. And he knew you wanted sex, given you were pleasuring yourself at night rather than go to Yudai for release anymore.
You would catch Maki staring at you every now and then, but it didn’t bother you. He never invaded your space or made you uncomfortable. You could smell that he wanted you, but all the boys carried that scent on them to some degree. You were a young fertile female. They were hot-blooded males. It was just biology.
So long as they didn’t act on it in front of your son, you didn’t have an issue.
Then, Maki disappeared.
Suddenly, he wasn’t around anymore. You asked Nico and Euijoo about him, and they said he had personal business to attend to. Occasionally, he’d pop back up, but he wasn’t friendly so you stayed clear of him.
Then, one day, Maki was there again and he was just like the wolf boy you’d always known.
Maki came around the counter in the kitchen, holding a spoon in his hand, and said, “Try this.”
You barely had enough time to open your mouth before he slipped it inside. The sweet flavor filled your senses and you hummed. “Is that… apple pie?” you asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, I’ve been working on it all morning. You said you’d been craving it,” Maki told you nonchalantly.
You followed him into the kitchen, seeing the apple pie fresh out of the oven on the counter. It didn’t look pretty. It was kinda lopsided, but you didn’t care. It tasted delicious. “You made this for me?”
Maki nodded and handed you the spoon. “You and Kai, of course. Enjoy.”
You watched him grab his keys and leave without another word. Standing there in a bit of shock, you almost felt tears prick your eyes.
Someone had remembered something you’d said. And not only that, he’d made it for you.
Kai ate his slice of pie like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. You smiled at him as you cleaned the stickiness from his face, then kissed his chubby cheeks. When Maki returned, Kai hurried out of your lap to race over to him and hug Maki’s legs.
“He loved the pie,” you called out, bringing the dishes to the kitchen.
Maki lifted Kai up and hugged him. “Awe, you’re welcome, my guy.”
After setting your son down, Maki eyed you before joining you in the kitchen where you washed the dishes.
“I can’t remember the last time someone made something for me,” you said in a quiet voice.
“I’m sorry. I guess when there’s a cute baby around getting all the attention, people forget Mama has needs too.”
You turned your attention to him, wondering if you were imagining the little edge to his voice. The scent of him desiring you wasn’t unheard of, you’d come to expect it from the boys. But this was different. He didn’t want you in the way Yudai did.
Maki could see the storm building in your eyes and he came closer, lowering his voice to say, “Come out with me tonight.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere. It doesn’t matter to me. Wherever you want.”
You were quickly at war with yourself. Glancing in Kai’s direction, you said, “I can’t just pick up and leave my son.”
“There are three other people that live here that can watch him. If I can watch him while Yudai has his way with you, he can watch him while I take you out for some air.”
Bristling a little, because it felt like he was attacking your agency for a moment, you hissed, “Your jealousy just came out. He doesn’t have his way with me.”
“No? When’s the last time he didn’t take you on your hands and knees?”
Your lips parted. Maki knew too much about you. And your relationship with Yudai. You could sense it and it unnerved you, because Maki was an alpha too. He was just younger and eventually, Yudai would chase him out when he became a threat.
It seemed that day was rapidly approaching.
“Are you saying you would be any different? I can smell you too, you know. You would get me in the same position just to breed me. You wolf boys are all the same,” you said with some disdain.
Maki leaned deeper into your space, but you didn’t fold. He loved the defiance and strength in your face. “I’m not like him,” Maki whispered. “If you could really see me, you would know I would get on my knees for you if you asked.”
Your eyes widened and flickered. “I don’t believe you,” you breathed a moment later, but your heart wasn’t in it. You so desperately wanted to see him on his knees. He radiated strength and power. The idea that such a creature would willingly submit to you had your blood turning to fire in your veins.
Maki cocked his head and smirked. Then, slowly but surely he sank to his knees in front of you.
Your eyes were even bigger now and you darted them to the living room, seeing your son playing with his toys. You and Maki were behind the counter, which meant that Maki was now completely out of Kai’s view. That was a relief, because you would have fled the scene otherwise.
Maki brushed his hands up your legs, settling them on your hips just as he brought his face to your clothed sex and kissed you there. Your lashes fluttered. It was a brief, simple contact and yet you felt alive again. Like something that had been sleeping inside you for years was waking up again.
Your wolf.
Maki rose back up to full height, the warmth of his breath on your brow. You wanted to hold onto him. To feel his muscles beneath your fingertips, but you dared not touch him. You didn’t trust yourself to stop there. Everything inside you wanted to claim this man.
“Come with me and I swear, I’ll be on my knees for you all night long.”
You opened your mouth to answer, “Yes,” but you didn’t get the chance. The front door opened and you backed away from Maki instinctively just as Yudai and Euijoo walked in. Yudai, as usual since the two of you fought, ignored you completely to rush to Kai and lift him into the air. Euijoo gave you a sympathetic look before going about his business.
That was the nail in the coffin for you. You looked to Maki, who hadn’t taken his gaze off you for a moment, and said, “Okay.”
Maki grinned victoriously and slipped away.
For the first time in years, you found yourself getting dressed up. You did your hair and makeup. You pulled out your jewelry that had been sitting for almost two years. It went without saying you wouldn’t trade Kai for the world, but over the past two years of just being his mother, you lost yourself.
Today felt like seeing an old friend again.
You came out in the navy blue dress and felt the years melt away. Slipping on your shoes, they clicked across the floors as you made your way to the living room.
“Mommy, you look beautiful!” Kai exclaimed, as if seeing you for the first time. He scurried around the couch to you.
Having heard him, Yudai glanced in your direction and his heart stopped. You were stunning. To him, you were a beautiful woman always, but… you looked like the girl he’d chased all those years ago.
Giving Kai a big hug, your eyes getting watery at his compliments, you saw Yudai approaching you and smoothed out your dress.
“Where are you off to?” Yudai asked softly.
“Fresh air,” you replied. “I need to be myself again for a little while.”
Yudai processed that and nodded. After a pause, he said, “I never meant to take her away from you.”
“You didn’t,” you told him quickly. “I lost her, but today - for the first time in a while - I saw her in the mirror.”
Yudai smiled briefly. He was conflicted. Seeing the light back in your face, he wanted you all to himself, but he knew he would dim your fire. "I know things are over between us," Yudai whispered.
Emotion tensed your face. You looked at Yudai seriously then. Part of you would always love him - he gave you your baby boy. "I wouldn't trade Kai for anything. You know that," you told him solemnly.
"I know." Yudai slowly leaned in and kissed your brow, lingering there a moment before pulling away and going to the son you shared.
You stood there, watching them together. It was a weird feeling; knowing that you and Yudai weren't forever. You'd known when he courted you that he wasn't your mate, but he'd had such a strong command of your body that you knew you were meant to bring Kai into the world with him.
There was so many things you wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come.
Sensing you, Yudai looked to you and said, "Go ahead, Mama. We're okay."
At his words, Kai grinned at you and waved.
"You're an amazing father, Yudai," you said, and meant it with your whole heart. Yudai smiled, a silent understanding passing between you that maybe you were always meant to be friends that put your son first.
You said your goodbyes and left, flushing when you stepped outside and Maki was waiting. When he opened your door for you, your heart skipped a beat. You were a sucker for little gestures like that.
There was a pleasant tension in the sleek sports car as Maki drove. You knew he came from money, but you never knew how much. Maki had come to live with the boys when his wolf form woke. It had been Yudai that taught him how to control it.
You felt a little guilty then, thinking about Yudai. Looking to Maki, you were the one to break the silence. “Is this your way of challenging Yudai?”
Maki chuckled. “I’ve already challenged him and won.”
Your eyes widened in disbelief. “When was this?”
“Away from you, and Kai. You don’t tolerate violence around him. For good reason.”
You still couldn’t wrap your head around this. Maki had challenged Yudai… and won? You knew the day was coming that Maki would grow into his own role as a werewolf. Yudai knew it too. Once upon a time, Yudai had been a young wolf too that challenged his alpha.
That explained why Maki had vanished into thin air. If he’d actually beaten Yudai, he wouldn’t be allowed to live with the pack anymore.
And it explained the feeling of finality between you and Yudai when you'd left.
“H-How?” You were struggling to find the words. To you, Yudai was insurmountable. You’d accepted you would always be attached to him. No man was powerful enough to take you from him.
Maki rolled to a stop light and looked to you, a soft smile on his lips. “What do you mean how? You know how wolves make pecking orders.”
“Are you stronger than him?” That idea had your head spinning and your heart racing. You imagined two enormous beasts tearing each other to shreds for the right to claim you.
Maki reached over and took your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles as if to soothe you. “It’s not about being stronger than him. We’re pretty even in that way. But I guess I’m more… merciless.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat, realizing you were his prize, being carried back to his lair to devour. Sinking your teeth into your lip, you turned your head away, feeling heat race up your neck and into your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his eyes at the moment.
Maki watched you turn from him and cross your legs. He could smell your arousal and the wolf inside him thrummed, happy at pleasing his mate. Because that’s what you were to him - his mate, and from now on, you belonged solely to him.
The sleek car pulled into the driveway of a modern, expensive-looking condo. Much newer than the flat you shared with Yudai’s pack. Maki came around to your door and opened it for you, taking your hand and leading you inside.
You couldn’t help but feel all that you had been missing. The way Maki treated you was vastly different from Yudai. Maki was a gentleman, handling you like he knew he was much stronger than you, but you could feel the respect bleeding out of him too. It made you burn with lust, but also something mixing into adoration. You stared up at Maki with stars in your eyes like he was some kind of rarity.
Maki ushered you into his condo and watched you wander inside. You looked around as if assessing the space. Could you be happy here? More importantly, was this a safe space you could raise your babies?
Babies…, that thought made you stop. You only had one baby. Why were you already thinking of more?
“So, does it pass?” Maki asked sheepishly.
You faced him and smiled, scratching your head. “Sorry, I just… I never thought I would leave there.”
Maki made a face, something compassionate. He closed the distance between you and wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your brow. “I only challenged him for you,” Maki whispered reverently. “I don’t care about being at the top of the werewolf food chain. But I knew that was what I had to do, so I could bring you home.”
Goddamnit, you were melting on the spot. You peered up at Maki with so much lust and longing, it consumed you from head to toe. As he leaned in to claim your lips, you pressed a hand to his chest and whispered, “I remember something about you being on your knees for me, Maki.”
To your surprise, your mate smirked. Then, he lifted you into the air and carried you into the living room, setting you down on the sofa.
Without hesitation, he sank to his knees between your legs.
You wanted to pinch yourself. Not only had this man defeated the strongest werewolf you’d ever met just so he could claim you, but he had every right by your kind to take you on any surface he pleased as his reward, and instead, he was on his goddamn knees.
Maki slipped his hands under your dress and returned with your panties, dragging them down your legs painfully slow. He roamed his hands over your thighs, steering them to his shoulders, touching you with patient intent like he was savoring his reward. His eyes never left yours as he brought his face to your pussy and kissed your folds.
Bolts of pleasure coursed through you and your hands flew to his hair, cradling the back of his head. Maki began making out with your sex, drawn out and languid, letting the scent and taste of you fill him. Your eyes rolled and you tipped your head back, your moans filling the quiet house. It had been weeks since you were touched and even longer since you’d had a man’s mouth on you; you were so sensitive, every kiss from him down there was torturous.
Big, strong hands kneaded your hips. The wet pops of Maki eating you out had your toes curling. “Fuck, baby,” you whined, your jaw unhinged, noises of pleasure tearing out of you at a steady pace. “Are you hard for me?”
Maki groaned against your pussy, digging his fingers a little deeper into the flesh of your hips. He was sucking you dry like it was his profession. Honestly, Maki had only planned to prep you for his dick this way, but now that he was here, Maki found he really liked being on his knees with his mouth on your pussy.
“Wanna come on your dick,” you breathed, your voice soft and pliant. Clamping your thighs on his head, you tried to push at his face with your hand, but Maki exerted a little strength and you realized he would part from your cunt when he was good and ready.
Which was not anytime soon.
Still not saying a word, Maki shook his head and ate you out greedily. His hands abandoned your hips to slip further up your dress and settled on your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers.
Your eyes rolled again and you cried out for him. You moved against him now, bucking your sex into his face. When Maki pinched your nipples, you squeaked, the pleasure pooling in the core of your body until you were shaking.
Maki didn’t stop until you came, your howl of his name filling the condo. You gripped his hair tight at the roots, making Maki growl as he lapped up at your slick, working you through the high and not stopping even when you begged him for mercy.
At long last, you slumped back into the couch. Maki brushed his hands on the outside of your legs, pressing kisses to your inner thighs before licking up your slit one more time. Seeing you twitch and shiver made him grin devilishly.
Still staring up at the ceiling, reeling from the orgasm, you heard Maki fiddling with his belt and glanced down to see him rising between your legs. He propped his arms on opposite sides of your waist and leered over you, his big hard cock rubbing against your sex.
“This what you want?” Maki teased darkly.
You tried not to gawk at his big dick, watching Maki let it lay on you, his balls flush against your folds. He was letting you see just how deep his length was going to be inside you, like he was giving you one last chance to change your mind.
Instead, you nodded and spread your legs invitingly.
Maki bit his lip, his cock twitching at your submission. You were all he could smell and taste, completely consumed by you, and Maki knew he was exactly where he wanted to be. Lilting his hips, letting the head of his cock press against your sensitive clit, he taunted, “Wondering how all of this dick is gonna fit in your tight cunt, baby.”
You grabbed his head and pulled him down for a kiss, the edge taken off of your need by the slightest bit when you felt the weight of him on top of you. Your walls ached for him, ready to be stretched and filled.
Maki scooped you up in his arms, popped your legs around his waist, and carried you to his bedroom. As he did, you pulled your dress over your head and tossed it away. You made a noise when he pushed you onto the mattress, holding onto his arms, and whimpered when the head of his cock notched into your entrance.
Swallowing to wet your throat, you whispered, “Beg me.”
“Hm?” Maki hummed, acting like he hadn’t heard you.
You fisted your hand in his hair, bringing his lips to yours. You could taste your orgasm on his tongue and you stopped stealing a kiss from him to say, “Beg me for it.”
Maki grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, raking his eyes over your body. He arched his hips back and forth, stroking his cock against your folds. “Tell me when to put it in,” he said in a low voice, but you could hear him trying to hold onto some control.
Meanwhile, you needed more control. You hadn’t had any for as long as you could remember. “That’s not begging,” you taunted, bending your knees. You looped your legs on his hips, trying to draw him into you.
A wolfish growl rumbled in Maki’s chest. He met your eyes, full of fire. There was nothing he wanted more than to submit to you. You were the one person in the world he would. Even beneath him, having made his place between your legs, your hands trapped above your head, you had the look of someone that wasn’t vulnerable, wasn’t being tamed.
“Please,” Maki coaxed, his hips doing a heat-seeking thrust a little harder. He was so hard, his cock twitched. He ached to be inside you, to the point of losing his sanity. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to fuck you.
“More.”
“Please, let me have you. Let me take you. I promise, I’ll make you feel so good. Please, baby.”
Your pussy clenched on nothing. Your whole body tightened with arousal. “Fuck me,” you whispered, narrowing your eyes on him.
The moment he had permission, Maki shifted his hips, bringing the head of his cock to your pussy. He pushed in slowly, feeling you open up for him, and watched his dick sheathe inside you.
Meanwhile, you winched your eyes closed and moaned. It seemed like an eternity passed for him to finally stop pressing into you. He was so big, you could feel him kissing your cervix. It was all worth it for the face he made at the feel of your velvet walls wrapping around his cock.
“Okay?” Maki asked, his voice shaky.
“You’re so deep,” you moaned, your legs squirming on his hips. You couldn’t stay still. It was too much.
Maki leaned in and kissed your neck, drawing his hips back and thrusting into you slowly. “Good girl,” he whispered when you moaned his name, your walls fluttering around his cock.
You were fucked out already. Every stroke of his cock had your toes curling. How he could fill you so perfectly and completely, kept your jaw slack and little nothings spilling from your lips. Maki was carving out a place for himself inside you that no man would ever be able to fill.
Maki steered your hands to his waist and wrapped his arms around you, both of you chest-to-chest, hearts beating together in sync. “Look at you. You’re so perfect. You should be worshipped every night of your life.”
“Please, come inside me,” you whimpered, digging your fingers into his back. “I need it.”
“I will, baby.”
Your sounds of pleasure filled his room. Music to Maki’s ears. At long last, he was the one buried inside you, making love to you like you deserved. The way you stared into his eyes melted him on the spot. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for you.
And he would be hell on earth if anyone tried to take you from him.
“You’re mine now,” Maki growled in your ear, pressing hot kisses down your neck.
You arched into him, trying to drag him even deeper into you with your hands in his back and your legs around his hips, but Maki was intentionally stroking inside you, lilting his hips until he found your sweet spot.
He saw your eyes flicker and knew he’d hit the jackpot. Soon your moans turned to desperate whimpers.
“There. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop, Maki.”
“Come for me, baby,” Maki purred, like you weren’t rending him inside and out with your body. For now, his focus was on you.
He kept that delicious pace, rocking into you, his hips fitting into yours, his cock dragging against your walls, making you see stars. At his command, you felt yourself clamp down on him, the orgasm ripping through you with an intensity you hadn’t felt in years.
Everything went hazy. You could hear Maki coaxing you through it. You felt him holding onto you tighter, his lips on your neck. You were soaring into some ungodly high before crash landing back into his bed.
Maki propped himself over you, going still to watch you shiver and shake underneath him, your pussy kneading his dick like it wanted to suck every drop out of him.
All in good time.
The moment you blinked to clear your eyes and met Maki’s gaze again, he was on you, crushing you under his weight and kissing you ravenously, stopping between kisses only to say, “I fucking love you.”
You held onto him for dear life as he took his pleasure from your body, chasing his own end. The mattress creaked and the frame slid a little across the floor from his pace, but you took everything he had to give, stars appearing in your vision again.
Finally, Maki groaned, the sound cut off by a whine when he emptied himself inside you, his hot load coating your walls and making you clench on him again. You panted for air, pressing a kiss or two to his shoulder, running your fingers down his hot skin. He was burning to the touch, his feelings for you filling him with fire.
The two of you slumped into the bed, the room quiet save for your heavy breathing in sync. The silence didn’t last long. You were straddling Maki’s waist like you were on borrowed time and playing with his cock until he was hard again.
His hands traced your body as you rode him, squeezing your breasts, kneading your hips. Maki stared up at you in worship and you knew when you saw the heat in his eyes that this man would kill for you.
Neither of you said much, but him confessing his love to you still echoed in your ears. As you kept arching on top of him, your hand braced on his chest, right over his racing heart, you thought about all the moments you’d had with him. How he treated you. How he paid attention to you. How you always felt so safe with him. The times he made you laugh. The days he took such good care of your son. The way he’d fallen to his knees for you without hesitation.
And the reality that Maki had conquered everything and everyone known to your kind just "so I could bring you home."
“I love you too,” you breathed out, catching a glimpse of the emotion on Maki’s face before you leaned in and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around you snugly, like he had no intention of ever letting go, and moaned into your mouth when he came inside you again.
You stayed on him this time, not ready to feel him parted from you even as he went soft. You were riding a different high, like you’d found the other half of your soul. The heart that was meant to beat in time with yours. You couldn’t let go. You kept your head on his chest, letting his warmth burn into your skin.
“We should probably stop,” Maki whispered after a moment, but his heart wasn’t in it. You could tell he was saying it for your benefit.
Already you were tapped into your mate, feeling his emotions and intentions.
You chuckled softly, still holding onto him. “Why?”
“If we keep going,” Maki said, then paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. “...I can tell I’m sending you into heat.”
“Yeah, I noticed that too.”
Maki brushed his hands tenderly up your back, cradling you like you were made of glass and turning with you in his arms until you were both back on the bed, face-to-face. He cupped your cheek, meeting your eyes, and kissed you gently.
“Put your baby in me, Maki,” you sighed, kissing him back hard.
Maki groaned. There was nothing he wanted more.
“You took care of everything else. I’m ready when you are.” You were so far gone. Your body was screaming for his seed. The thought of your belly swelling with his baby had your heart fluttering.
Licking his lips, Maki kissed you slowly. Eventually, he pulled back and said, “I kinda wanted to date you for a little while first.”
Your cheeks flushed with heat. Winding your fingers in his hair, you replied, “It’s nine months for a baby, you know. That’s plenty of time for dates.”
Maki heaved a sigh. You were winning him over. Of course, he wanted to breed you then and there, but he didn’t want to waste a moment of time that could be spent on you and him together.
“Maki,” you purred, dragging your lips over his jaw. “Every day, you’re gonna take me out. And every night, we’re going to end up right back here, having this same conversation, because like it or not, we’re mates and every time you make love to me, you’re going to send me into heat.”
“Goddamnit, you’re right,” Maki groaned, burying his face in your neck and hugging you tightly.
You grinned. He was so loving and considerate you almost wanted to cry. “Think of it this way,” you started, stroking his shoulders in comfort. “I won’t show for at least three months. All the places we want to go and things we want to do, we can. There’s plenty of time for you to romance me before the baby comes.”
Maki pulled back, something different in his eyes now. “I want this so bad.”
“I know. I do too.”
“You’re sure you’re ready?”
You nodded.
Maki pressed one more kiss to your lips in parting before gathering you in his arms and lifting you up. You weren’t surprised when he steered you onto your hands and knees on the bed, crowding behind you. You spread your legs instinctively, gripped onto the blanket with your fists, and arched your back.
When Maki grabbed your hips in his big hands and impaled you on his cock, the mood completely shifted. He didn’t fuck your brains out like you expected, he eased his length back and forth in your pussy, always to the tip, never fully pulling out of you. He did it over and over, never speeding up or slowing down.
Eventually, your upper half was down on the mattress, just your ass in the air. You kept biting down on the blanket, your howl of his name muffled by the material. Maki wasn’t working you to an orgasm, he was coaxing your body to breed.
First, you felt the cramping and you warned Maki. His hands slid up your hips to your waist, making his thrusts a little faster and much deeper. The head of his cock kept kissing your cervix, but she wasn’t receptive to it yet. You whimpered, hiding your face in the blankets again to moan. It was heaven and hell at the same time. You weren’t moving any closer to the edge and your cunt was getting sensitive and sore.
“Open up for me, baby,” Maki said softly, but there was dominance in his tone. He was talking to both you and your wolf at the same time.
You shook your head and panted, “I can’t. I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You told me you were ready.”
You remembered you did. It felt like ages ago. You’d lost track of how long he’d been stuffing you full of his cock, but you didn’t want him to stop.
The cramping grew stronger, deeper. Humans may have ovulated in cycles, but wolves could only do it under the right circumstances. And with the right partner. You were no match for a dominant male with patience.
It was the same for Maki. He wasn’t getting near the edge either, but he was so hard he couldn’t see straight. And he was hyper attuned to your every move and the changes in your scent. The more he sank into your heat, the more your cervix softened against his intrusion.
“Maki,” you whined, throwing yourself back on him.
He knew you were getting close. Bringing a hand to the nape of your neck, Maki pinned you there and rutted his big cock into your pussy, a wet slap echoing through the room each time he bottomed out. He couldn’t let you speed things up. Your body had to ovulate first.
Little nothings spilled from your mouth. You were begging him to fuck you, to please get you to another high. You were just a creature of need now, out of your mind, listening only to your body and how good he made her feel.
Maki clasped your hip with his other hand and fucked you deep, barely drawing back. “There it is,” he said almost inaudibly after a moment and you felt him reach even deeper in you than you thought possibly.
Then that familiar tug deep in your womb, sharp. The next moment, pressure, deep and heavy. Your eyes rolled back in your head and you cried out Maki’s name, feeling your insides welcoming him and his load with an eagerness you’d only felt once before.
Maki grunted and groaned, tipping his head back and moaning at the sudden grip your cunt had on his cock. He could barely catch his breath before you came, your walls kneading him.
Your lips were parted, but no sound came out. The edges of your vision grew dark and blurry. You felt your body spasm followed by Maki’s cock swelling and catching inside you, his knot getting stuck right inside your opening. His cum filled your womb where it belonged and you swore you’d never felt so full.
You went slack on the mattress, pliant and satisfied. Maki’s hand lifted from the nape of your neck, his burly arms propping him above you. The two of you were locked together, completely sapped of energy and strength. Maki glanced down where your bodies connected and gave his hips an experimental shift, making you hiss through your teeth.
“Sorry,” he quickly apologized. “It’s my first time doing this.”
You reached back for one of his hands, pressing a kiss to his knuckles before bringing it around to your chest to hold like you needed something to anchor you back to sanity. “Just try to stay still,” you told him tiredly. “You did really well.”
“It’s like I was on autopilot.”
You snickered. “The wolf always knows.”
Maki shook his head, trying to get the damp hair off his brow. The sweat was beginning to cool on his skin. His cock was still throbbing inside you and it felt so good Maki didn’t know what to do with himself. Needing an outlet, he very carefully leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your shoulder.
“Maki,” you warned, shifting ever so slightly underneath him. Still holding onto his hand, you sucked in a breath when he palmed your breast, your fingers laced through his.
Your heartbeat was between your legs, your cunt pulsing on his length locked inside. With him still there, the pressure never went slack. You felt your breaths quickening again, along with your pulse, and you whimpered.
“Shit,” Maki cursed, his body suddenly shaking as he released inside you again, his eyes rolling back in his head at the height of his orgasm.
You were right there with him, ecstasy coursing through your veins. A surge of hormones rushed through your blood, making you feel like you’d reached the peak again. Pleasant cramps settled deep in your belly, your cunt milking his cock once more.
The sound that came out of you was the most incredible thing Maki had ever heard. He squeezed your breast in his hand and sucked at your neck. How he was going to leave the bedroom after this night was a serious concern of his. He didn’t want to be parted from you again for a second.
“Holy fuck,” Maki groaned, gasping for air, his breath hot on your skin. “What was that?”
“It was new for me too,” you told him, all the thunder gone from your voice. You knew you were only a few seconds away from drifting off, weirdly comforted by the thought that you would be locked tightly to your mate in sleep.
Maki paused. Then, he said, “Is it bad that I kinda hope this didn’t take tonight? Maybe we need to practice for a couple days.”
Synopsis: Your husband shows you just how beautiful your scars are.
Pairing: husband!euijoo x fem!reader
Warnings: TW CHILD ABUSE, mention of blood, reader is heavily traumatised, hurt/comfort, reader and euijoo remove their clothes but nothing nsfw happens
A/N: hi yes this is extremely self indulgent and extremely personal practically an autobiography
Word Count: 4.3k
When God made this world, They separated it into two whorls.
The people who are loved and the miserable ones.
The people who are loved walk through the world on a path of sunflowers. They are loved by all, regardless of whether they give that love back or not. They are allowed to shed their tears and they are allowed to not feel bad about it. They are allowed comfort. They are allowed sunlight. They are allowed love.
The miserable ones lie on a bed on chrysanthemums. They must ask for their love, beg for it on their knees like animals on death row. They may not let their eyes gather moisture and they may not feel anything other than a faux happiness. They are allowed anger. They are allowed darkness. They are allowed grief.
Such as you.
You are allowed grief.
You are allowed to grieve the person in an empty room you are trapped in with. You will always grieve this person because you can never save them no matter what ends you go to.
The room only contains you and a mirror within its four walls.
Your reflection stared back at you as you ran your eyes across your body, dressed in your undergarments.
They say that rain can wash away everything if you let it, but on days like this, rain only brought with it a melancholic rage as your mind kept feeding you memories of a life once lived. A life you once died in.
(You are mourning that version of you. There is no possibility of saving that version.)
Your gaze stopped at your shoulder, lingering at the healed gash that rested on the skin there.
Your fingers drifted, not quite touching the glass as your gaze fell to the soft skin of your inner arm. A thin, silvery line ran from your wrist to the crook of your elbow, a river of a moment you had drowned in.
You remembered the cold tile floor, the way the world had gone quiet. The person in the room with you—that version of you—had been so certain that silence was the only answer.
Perhaps you were mourning her certainty. Perhaps you were mourning her desperation.
Your knees—scarred and rough, the skin there thick as leather. You had spent so much time on them. Begging, praying, cleaning up shards of glass, pressed into the cold earth of a garden.
You were allowed to grieve the dirt under your fingernails, the splinters in your palms and the way you had learned to make yourself small.
Your feet. The soles were calloused and cracked from walking through so much—glass and gravel and the sharp edges of humanity’s cruelty. You had walked away from a house that was not a home. You had walked toward train stations, bus stops and the open mouths of strangers. You were allowed to grieve every mile that left you more lost.
And then your eyes met someone else’s in the mirror. The person in the empty room with you, with cold, dead eyes.
The person you could never save.
Your reflection did not blink. You were allowed to grieve her.
So you did.
You grieved the child who had been through horrors no child should ever go through.
Sometimes, late at night, when the moon comes up and shines her false light onto the world and the cicadas chirp their song for the souls of the dead, you let your mind wander to the question of why.
Why would they ever do that to a child?
The question had no answer. It never would. It was a door that opened into another door, and another, and another—a labyrinth of corridors that all led back to the same empty room.
You remembered the first time you had understood that the hands that were supposed to hold you could also hurt you. You had been so small.
So terribly small.
The memory would never be a story that began with a beginning and an end with an ending. It was a wound that had never learned to close. It was a bruise that had seeped into the very marrow of your bones, coloring everything that came after in red.
There was the time your father had backhanded you across the kitchen table because you had knocked over a glass of milk. You had been six. The milk had pooled on the linoleum like a small white lake and you had watched it spread, mesmerized, before the pain arrived like a guest who had already let themselves in. Your cheek had burned. Your ear had rung for hours afterward, a tiny bell tolling inside your skull.
You had learned, that day, that accidents were not allowed. That you were not allowed.
There was the time your mother had grabbed you by the wrist and twisted until you heard a sound like a twig snapping. You had been eight. You had been crying because someone at school had pulled your hair and she had told you to stop being so weak, to stop being such a burden, to stop making everything about yourself. The pain had been bright and sharp, a star going supernova in your joint. You had not cried after that.
You had learned to swallow your tears like bitter medicine. You had learned that your grief was an inconvenience to others.
There was the time they had locked you in the closet for three hours because you had forgotten to do the dishes. You had been ten. The closet had been dark and small and smelled of mothballs and old shoes. You had pressed your palms against the door and listened to the sound of the television in the other room, the muffled laughter of a sitcom, the clink of glasses. They were living their lives. You were disappearing into the dark.
You had learned that you were forgettable: a thing to be put away.
There was the time your father had held a lit cigarette to the back of your hand to teach you not to touch the stove. You had been eleven. You had learned not to scream. You had stared at the ceiling and counted the cracks in the plaster until it was over.
You had learned to leave your body when it became unbearable. You had learned to float above yourself, a pale and distant moon.
There was the time your mother had told you, with perfect calm, that you were the reason her life was so hard. That you had ruined her body, ruined her marriage, ruined her dreams. You had been twelve. You had believed her. You had carried that belief like a stone in your chest for years, decades, until it had become a part of your anatomy, a second heart that beat only guilt and shame.
You had carried it in that deep scar that ran across your back, your mother had always been amazing with a kitchen knife and a bit of scarless skin—a carver of muscle when she wanted to be.
There was the time they had both stood over you, a united front of fury and told you that you were worthless. That you would never amount to anything. That no one would ever love you because you were fundamentally unlovable. You had been thirteen. You had looked up at them from the floor where you had fallen and you had seen monsters and a hunger that could never be satisfied.
You had learned that love was a transaction. That love was a leash. That love was a weapon.
All these years later, you did not talk to them anymore.
You had severed the cord, cut the thread and burned the bridge. You had moved to a city where no one knew your name or your history. You had built a life from the rubble of that childhood, brick by brick, with hands that still trembled. You had told yourself you were over it. You had told yourself that the past was the past, that water was under the bridge, that time heals all wounds.
Time is a liar.
Because every scar on your body that they had made still lingered—portals, thin places where the past could leak through. And when you spiraled, as you were doing now, the scars began to bleed.
Rotten honey—golden, viscous ooze that smelled of decay and nostalgia and all the love you had never received.
You could feel it now from the map of bruises that had long since faded but never truly disappeared. It dripped down your arms, your legs, your torso, pooling at your feet. It was warm and sticky and it clung to you like a second skin, like the embrace you had always wanted and never gotten.
The rotten honey filled the room. It was the sweetness of the lies they had told you. It was the amber of your own preserved trauma. It was the slow, suffocating truth that you would never be free of them. That they lived inside you now, in the architecture of your bones, in the wiring of your nervous system, in the way you flinched at sudden movements and apologized for existing.
You looked at your reflection through the haze of golden rot.
The child you had been was still in there somewhere, pressed against the glass of the mirror, her small hands flat against the surface.
She was waiting for you to save her.
Your reflection stared back at you, patient and understanding.
The fetus shaped adult—ripped from the womb still covered in candy and the innocence of a childhood never lived—within you knew already.
You were not capable of anything but grief.
As all the miserable ones are.
_____________________
For someone who didn't quite understand what love meant yet fully (for he was still young), Byun Euijoo knew that his definition of love would certainly have your name.
He loved you.
God, he loved you so much that sometimes it frightened him, the sheer size of it, the way it pressed against his ribs like an additional set of lungs.
Euijoo had known, from the beginning, that you came with shadows.
He had known about the childhood that had left you scarred in ways both visible and invisible. He had known about your parents who had taught you that you were meant to be broken. And he had known, too, that you had expected him to leave.
In the early days, you had waited for it.
He had seen it in the way you held yourself at a distance, the way you apologized for taking up space, the way your eyes would flick to the door whenever the conversation grew too soft. You had been braced for the moment he would realize his mistake, the moment he would see the rot beneath the skin and walk away. You had been so certain that he would.
Euijoo had stayed.
He had stayed through the nights you woke up screaming. He had stayed through the days you could not get out of bed. He had stayed through the silences that stretched like winter fields, the tears that came without warning, the times you pushed him away because it was easier than waiting for him to go.
He had stayed and he had learned the geography of your pain the way a cartographer learns a new land—with reverence for every contour and crevice.
Euijoo loved you.
He loved your scars. He loved the way you laughed when you forgot to be sad. He loved the way you held his hand in crowded places, as if tethering yourself to him.
He loved the way you looked at him sometimes, like you were still surprised he was there. He loved you in the morning when your hair was a mess and your breath was stale and you were slightly grumpy (though he could erase that with a silly joke and a smile that made his cheeks seem inflated).
He loved you in the evening, when the light made you golden and you seemed like a divine dream he would never have again. He loved you in the dark when the world fell away and it was just the two of you breathing together.
Tonight, he came home later than usual.
The city had kept him, as cities do, with their traffic and errands and the slow crawl of evening. He had texted you to say he was on his way but you had not replied. He had not thought much of it at first—you were sometimes bad at answering, lost in your own head.
But as he turned the key in the lock and stepped into the apartment, he felt something wrong in the air—a kind of stillness he was not used to. Sure you were silent most of the time but even on your worst days you'd say a little “Hi love” before going back to whatever you were doing.
He set down his bag, calling your name softly, once, then twice. He furrowed his brows when he heard no answer..
He heard it then—a small sniffle from the bedroom, a breath caught and released.
Euijoo’s heart clenched.
The bedroom door was ajar and through the gap he could see you. You were standing in front of the mirror, dressed only in your undergarments. Your shoulders were shaking. Your hands were pressed against your thighs, fingers curled into your palms. You were staring at yourself with an expression he knew too well—the look of someone drowning in the past.
Euijoo knew what you were doing. He knew of the ghosts that came calling in the moonlight, the past that always reminded you that time once flowed and it did not stay stagnant. He had held you through it before, and he would hold you through it again.and again and again, for as long as you would let him.
Euijoo stepped into the room. He did not speak at first. He simply walked up behind you, his footsteps soft on the wooden floor and wrapped his arms around you from behind. His chest pressed against your back. His chin came to rest on your shoulder. His arms crossed over your stomach, holding you gently.
In the mirror, your reflection was now framed by his. Two bodies, one embrace. Euijoo met your eyes in the glass.
"My love.” He said, his voice a balm for wounds that would never heal. “I'm home.”
The sound of his voice, the warmth of his arms, the safety of his presence—it was too much. It was the thing that finally cracked the dam you had been desperately trying to hold together.
A sob tore from your throat, so animal-like that it reminded you humans are animals—stupid stupid emotions. It was unfortunately not the kind of crying you did in polite company, the kind where tears slid silently down your cheeks and you apologized for the inconvenience.
No, this was the kind of crying that came from somewhere ancient, somewhere that had been holding its breath for years and could no longer pretend.
You turned in his arms, your body folding into his as your legs gave out beneath you. You sank to the floor together, a tangle of limbs and grief. You buried your face in his chest as the sobs wracked through you like earthquakes.
Your fingers clutched at his shirt, twisting the fabric, holding onto him as if he were the only solid thing in a world that had turned to water.
"I'm sorry.” You gasped between sobs, the words tumbling out of you like broken glass. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"
You could not stop saying it, the apologies spilling from your lips like the only language you had ever known.
You apologized for crying. You apologized for being weak. You apologized for needing him. You apologized for existing, for taking up space, for being a burden, for all the ways you had failed to be the person you thought you should be.
Emotions had always been useless.
That was what you had been taught. They were like fragile flowers, delicate and perishable, things that wilted under the slightest pressure. They were weaknesses to be eradicated, luxuries you could not afford. You had learned to bury them so deep that sometimes you forgot they existed at all.
They always found their way back to the surface though, pushing through the soil of your carefully constructed composure and when they did, they came with the force of a flood.
And every time, you apologized for it.
Euijoo did not let go.
He neither pulled away nor told you to stop crying nor that everything was fine, that everything could be fixed with words.
He simply sank down with you and held you. One hand cradled the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair with a tenderness that made you cry harder. The other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you as close as physics would allow. Euijoo would absorb the pain through the sheer proximity of everything if he could.
Your lover held you the way one would hold a crying child with the certainty that this was where he was supposed to be. That your tears were not an inconvenience, that your grief was not a burden, that you were allowed to fall apart in his arms, because he would be there to catch the pieces.
His own heart was breaking.
He could feel it, a splintering in his chest, a crack running through the center of him. Your pain had been so heavy and you had been carrying it alone for so long. He felt the injustice of it all—the cruelty of a world that had hurt you, the cruelty of people who should have protected you, the cruelty of a child who had learned to apologize for her own suffering.
Euijoo pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there, warm and soft.
"I’ve got you." He murmured against your hair. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You don't have to apologize to me."
His voice was steady, even as his heart ached. He held you tighter, rocking you gently, a rhythm as old as humanity itself.
"Let it out, my love. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
The storm passed as storms always do. The sobs quieted into hiccups, then into shaky breaths, then into a trembling silence.
Your body was heavy against his, drained of all the tension that had held you upright and you felt like a shipwreck washing ashore, grateful for the sand beneath you.
Euijoo's hand never stopped moving. It traced soothing circles on your back, reminding you that you were here, in this room in his arms and not back in that closet or that kitchen floor or in any of the places that still haunted you.
"Are you okay?" Euijoo asked softly, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "Well, no. That's a stupid question. Let me rephrase." He pulled back to look at your face, his eyes scanning you with gentle concern. "Would you like to lay down for a while?"
You nodded, too exhausted for words. Your throat was raw, your eyes swollen. Your entire body ached with the effort of having felt so much.
Euijoo helped you up, guiding you to the bed. He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it aside. His skin was warm and bare and when he climbed onto the bed and held out his arms to you, you went to him without hesitation.
You buried your face in his chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close and he pressed another kiss to the top of your head. His skin smelled like something that had come to mean safety in your mind.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of breathing. Yours, still ragged. His, deep and even, a metronome for your recovery.
His hand began to move.
Slowly, Euijoo traced the line of your spine, following the curve of your back until his fingers found the first scar. His thumb brushed over it, featherlight and he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the raised tissue.
"I love your hands.” Euiioo said, his voice soft and sincere. "I love the way they hold mine. I love the way they gesture when you're excited about something. I love the way they cup my face when you kiss me."
Your breath hitched but you did not pull away.
He moved to the next scar. The silvery line on your arm, the one you had gotten from a piece of broken glass when you were fourteen. He kissed it, his lips lingering.
"I love your arms.” He murmured. "I love the way they wrap around me when we sleep. I love that they are strong enough to hold me, even when you feel like you are falling apart."
Tears pricked at your eyes again. These were different—they did not burn.
He found the scar on your ribs, the one that had come from the days when you had learned to take up less space, to need less than you deserved. He kissed it and his hand splayed across your stomach, warm and protective.
"I love your body.” He said, his voice cracking just slightly. “I love that it carried you through everything you survived. I love that it lets me hold you. I love that it is here, with me.”
He shifted, finding a bruise on your thigh. He kissed it too.
"I love your legs.” He said, a hint of a smile in his voice. "I love the way they carry you through the world. I love the way they tangle with mine under the covers."
He kissed your scarred knees, one after the other.
"I love your knees.” He said, and you let out a broken laugh at the absurdity of it. "I love that they let you kneel in the garden when you're planting things. I love that they let you curl up on the couch when you're reading. I love that they have never given up on you, even when you wanted to give up on yourself."
Euijoo paused, his lips hovering over the scar on your chest, the one that was not visible to the eye but was there all the same. The one that had been carved by the absence of love where love should have been.
Euijoo kissed the place directly over your heart.
"I love your heart.” He whispered, his voice breaking at last. "It is the bravest, most beautiful heart I have ever known."
He pulled back to look at you, his eyes glistening, his cheeks wet with tears he had not let himself shed until now.
"And I love you.” Euijoo said. "All of you.” You knew he meant every scar and every broken piece you deemed unlovable. “I love you, and I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you if that's what it takes."
He pressed his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your lips.
"You are not too much, my love. You are just enough. You have always been just enough."
You let him wrap you in his arms, pull you against the warm expanse of his chest and tuck your head beneath his chin. You let him hold you as the night pressed against the windows and the city hummed its distant lullaby.
You did not apologize for taking up space.
His hand found yours in the dark, fingers lacing together like they had been made to fit. His breathing slowed, becoming the rhythm that your own breath began to follow. The tension bled out of your body like water through open hands.
Outside, the moon traced silver lines across the floor. Inside, there was only the sound of two hearts beating in tandem, a duet that needed no words.
When god made this world, they sculpted it into two whorls.
The Loved and The Miserable.
Here is what they do not tell you, lest you get intoxicated on the poetry of life.
The two whorls are conjoined twins from the same heavenly womb, that cannot be separated without high risk. If one went, so did the other.
The Loved cannot exist without The Miserable and The Miserable cannot withstand the weight of the world without The Loved.
And yes the transitions do occur, winter into spring, spring into happiness, happiness into an acceptance of love. What good is love anyways if it doesn't make your heart swell like a yellow balloon?
You had spent so long lying on chrysanthemums, begging for love that felt like alms, believing that you were made for grief and not for grace.
To be loved is not to walk on sunflowers, untouched and untouchable.
To be loved is to be seen in the dark and still be chosen. To be loved is to fall apart and be caught. To be loved is to have someone trace the map of your pain and call it home.
To be loved is neither a destination nor a reward for being whole.
To be loved is to be held, broken and bleeding, and told that you are enough.
To be loved is this.
Your breathing evened out. Your hand went slack in his.
Byun Euijoo, who still had so much to learn about love, pressed one last kiss to your hair and held you a little tighter, as if to say: I will keep learning. I will keep loving.
I will keep staying.
Outside, the moon kept watch. Inside, you dreamed of chrysanthemums blooming into sunflowers. A world where the two whorls danced around each other in the wind.
Love is simple, really. God would not have fashioned something so complex for the noble mind.
Love is to look up at the heavens, to behold the silent majesty of the stars scattered across the night and to choose them even over divinity.
For what is heaven if not the promise of perfect communion?
And what is love if not that promise made tangible in this life?
fin.
A/N: Honestly, i debated for a long time whether or not to post this fic because it's just such a big part of my soul and im not one to really talk about my past (yes im a coward) but i think if there's even a 1% chance that somebody out there will read this and think 'yeah this provided me comfort' then im glad to have posted this.
I'd like to give a shoutout for all my people who have been through any similar experience, not just from your family members but from a partner, a friend or literally anybody. I need you to know that whatever you went through was absolutely not your fault and never will be your fault. You deserve to live your life full of stars and colours and happiness and nobody can take that away from you. I love you all so much and when you think your scars are starting to look a little ugly, I want you to remember that they represent your strength, which I am so so proud of :))
