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hllywdwhre · 1 month

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Revenge - Tommy Shelby

Summary: Reader takes personal offense over Sabini’s attack on Tommy

Warnings: arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, reader leaves a message written in blood, smut, creampie, light degrading, oral smut (f receiving), overstim, p in v, let me know if I missed any

Notes: I made this text post about protective reader and decided to write it lmfao. I want Tommy with a feral woman. Thank you to @slut4thebroken for proof reading, encouragement, and suggestions💖

MDNI, 18+ only

You weren’t quite sure how it had happened.

Scratch that.

You knew exactly how it had happened.

Your father and Tommy had worked out a deal when Sabini had first started trying to intimidate your father. A bride in exchange for protection and both of them walked away with extra allies when the inevitable war against Sabini broke out. You’d protested the marriage at first, screaming that you were more than just a political pawn for your father to sell when he needed help, but it went through anyway.

You had to admit, it wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened. Sure, Tommy was distant and seemed obsessed with work, but you knew you could’ve ended up in a much worse situation. He treated you with respect, never let you open a door on your own if he was around, always had a protective hand rested in the small of your back, and… the sex was great.

Perhaps the thing you appreciated the most, was that he didn’t expect you to become the housewife you had feared you would be reduced to. You were your father’s only child, meaning when he died, you would become leader of his gang. You were a gangster the same way Tommy was and he seemed to realize that and respect it. You helped out with the daily runnings of the Peaky Blinders and helped with the daily runnings of your father’s gang at the same time. They both recognized your potential and weren’t afraid to use it.

It wasn’t until you were sitting in a family meeting about a year after your marriage that you realized you had grown to feel more than just okay with the marriage.

Tommy was a closed off individual and through the entire year you had been married, you felt like you were just starting to finally get to know the real him. You never pried because he never pried in your life. If you had general questions, neither of you were afraid to ask them, but anything more was left up for the person to tell. You had more questions than answers still, specifically about the matching scars on his cheeks, but you didn’t dare ask. He hadn’t asked about the scar that ran from your right shoulder blade down to your spine, so you didn’t ask about his scars.

It was a common occurrence for Esme, Ada, and Polly to sit with you at one of the desks in the betting shop, whispering things to you during family meetings to fill in any gaps and answer any questions you may have had.

“Alfie has informed me that the Sicilians are being provided aid by Sabini, in the form of cars and housing,” Tommy started, causing Arthur to let out a loud groan of frustration.

Before you could get dragged into hearing any more of it, you turned your head to Esme who was sitting next to you.

“Sabini’s a prick, I know that, but what has he done to us?” You asked quietly, your eyes still flickering back-and-forth between Tommy and the rest of his family as they spoke about what to do next.

Esme began explaining exactly what Sabini had done. How he and five other men came after Tommy in the dark of night, how he’d ripped out a tooth, sliced his cheeks, and beat him to an inch of his life.

The rage that settled inside of you was your first hint that you had grown to genuinely care for Tommy as more than just a friend and (amazing) fuck buddy. Your jaw remained clenched and set for the rest of the meeting, but as soon as the meeting was called to end, you wiped the look from your face and forced a calm expression to take over.

You stood up and walked over to Tommy, forcing a small smile to your lips,

“I’m not really feeling all that well. You go with your brothers for a drink, I’m just going to head back home, okay?” You said, meeting his eyes so he wouldn’t have a reason to not believe you.

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to look for any sign you were lying. You had been fine that morning and fine two hours prior when you sat down for the meeting, but he had no reason to believe you were lying so he simply nodded, placed a hand on the small of your back to pull you closer to him, and kissed your forehead.

“I won’t be out long. Ask Frances for anything you need, okay, love?”

You nodded and the forced smile turned to a genuine one,

“I will, promise,” you told him before stepping away from him and waving goodbye to the rest of the family.

Yes. You had truly gotten lucky when it came to who you had been forced to marry.

The entire ride back to the Arrow House, you were silent and going over your plan in your head. You knew you’d have to earn Tommy’s trust back after this, but you didn’t particularly care. You were a force of nature on your best day. You were lethal when you were angry.

Once you arrived back, you immediately headed upstairs to yours and Tommy’s shared room. The marriage may have started off with the two of you in separate rooms, “I’m called the devil, but that doesn’t mean I’m some sort of monster. You can sleep in your own room until you’re comfortable sharing a bed,” but it didn’t take more than a couple weeks for you to eventually join him in bed.

Damn those blue eyes, full lips, and that jawline.

You grabbed a small bag and threw the first set of clothes you laid hands on into it, then, much more carefully, a dress. You grabbed everything else you needed and headed to Tommy’s office next.

I’ll be back soon. I’m sorry for lying, but I’ll be back.

You signed the note and left it in the center of his desk where you knew he would see it, held down by his ashtray.

As quickly as you had entered the house, you left it, getting right back into the car with the driver Tommy had employed for you. You told him the name of a hotel in London that you knew was just outside of anyone’s territory.

The drive seemed to pass by too quickly and soon you were saying goodbye to the driver and sending him home for the night. It was barely 7 in the evening when you got up to your room.

“If there is a God, please let me get through this. I’ll make it up to you… somehow,” you said quietly.

The beading on the dress swayed loudly around your body as you pulled the dress on. The pins in your hair seemed to be extra noticeable against your scalp. The straps on your shoes pressed into your skin more than usual. The blade held against your thigh and hidden by your dress seemed to refuse to warm up. Your left hand felt entirely too light with your ring missing.

You knew it was only your mind playing tricks on you. You’d worn this outfit before and it had always turned heads, which is exactly what you wanted.

You needed Sabini to notice you.

You greeted the cab driver politely as you stepped in and ignored the way his eyes seemed to follow you a bit too closely.

The doors of the club were held open for you and you made your way to the bar and took a seat, knowing you were just playing a waiting game now.

You could feel eyes on you. The wife of Thomas Shelby in Sabini’s club, hours away from Birmingham, far out of Peaky Blinders territory or her father’s territory. You stuck out like a sore thumb, even if you would have blended in during any other scenario.

It felt like an eternity passed before you finally saw the man that made your blood boil, but one glance at the clock above the bar told you it hadn’t even been an hour.

“You seem lost. I thought we had made it clear that your kind weren’t welcomed here,” Sabini said once he was in front of you.

A charming smile graced your lips and you looked up at him,

“My kind?” You questioned, playing innocent.

“Yes. Your kind. You’re the wife of Thomas Shelby and I don’t appreciate him ignoring the last warning I gave him and sending you-“

“I wasn’t sent here,” you stopped him, lifting your left hand and pushing a piece of hair that hadn’t fallen back behind your ear, “and I’m not really a Shelby or a Blinder, am I?”

His eyes were drawn to your hand and noticed the lack of a ring you wore and he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Is that so? I was under the impression the two of you were lovebirds.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your lips and looked away, trying to come off as shy. When you looked back up to him, you hoped the look on his face meant he was intrigued and believing you.

“Perhaps we could talk about it somewhere else… somewhere private?” You asked him, batting your eyelashes as you did so.

Gods help you. The smirk he gave you made your stomach twist and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face, but patience was something you’d adopted a lot of.

“Allow me to show you to my office then,” he said, offering you a hand which you forced yourself to take.

He guided you through the club and towards the back. Some amount of luck seemed to be on your side as his office was behind the stage and provided some cover for any noise you might make. Even more so as you noticed a window just large enough for you to be able to crawl out of.

Once the door was shut behind you, he sat down behind his desk and motioned for you to take a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side.

“Trouble in paradise, I take it,” Sabini said as he poured you both a drink.

“It was never paradise to begin with,” you replied, thanking him for the drink and taking a sip.

You had grown used to Tommy’s Irish whiskey and the bourbon he gave you wasn’t nearly as smooth going down.

“Was it not? From what I’ve heard, you two have quite the fairytale. Gang leader’s daughter married off to another gang leader, uniting two empires.”

“That’s not the way I see it,” you lied.

“And how do you see it?”

“A desperate father sold off his daughter to a desperate gang leader in an attempt for the both of them to gain more power and disregarded the woman’s wishes,” you replied simply, shrugging your shoulders.

“And so you’ve come to London for what?” Sabini questioned, wanting to hear you say it.

“Because I think we can help each other, Mr. Sabini,” you said, downing the rest of the bourbon and standing up.

His eyes followed your movements, his eyes trailing up your body before resting on your legs again.

“And how do you think we could help each other?” He asked.

You moved to stand in front of him, placing one leg over the side of his and straddled him, placing your arms around his neck.

“They trust me, Mr. Sabini. They don’t suspect me of anything,” you started. The shiver of disgust that rolled up your spine due to his hands trailing up the back of your thighs was one he apparently took as excitement as he gripped slightly at the backs of them, “I can tell you everything and, in return, I get out of my marriage once they’re all gone.”

“They don’t even realize the ticking time bomb they’ve got in their fingertips, do they?” He asked and a chuckle left your lips as a genuine smirk took over.

“They don’t…” you said, trailing your hands down his chest and then up your thigh, trying to make the move appear seductive. Your fingers wrapped around the hilt of your knife, “and neither do you, apparently.”

His eyes widened and he realized the trap he had walked into at the same time as you pressed the blade of the knife to his neck.

“I’d say that if you ever threaten my husband or our family again, you’ll regret it, but you won’t be,” you told him, unable to resist pausing for a touch of dramatic effect before adding on, “Never fuck with a Shelby.”

In the next second, you were quickly slicing the knife across his neck and flinching back as his blood coated you.

You knew your next move was morbid, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It had been morbid for him and five other men to attack your husband when he was alone. It was morbid for him to rip out his tooth. It had been morbid for him to slice his cheeks. It was just as morbid for you to quickly and quietly clear off his desk, dip your fingers into his blood, and leave a bloodied message across his desk.

Revenge is a scorned Shelby

As soon as the message was written, you grabbed one of the coats from the coat rack and slipped it on, then crawled out of the window. The coat was long enough to cover all of the bloodied mess that was now your dress.

Sabini is dead.

That seemed to be the only thing you could think of as you were driven back to the Arrow House. It wasn’t the first time you had killed a man and you knew it wouldn’t be last.

But you hadn’t told anyone about this time. You hadn’t told anyone your plan, where you were going, or why you were doing it. You had also just started a war.

You weren’t surprised to see almost every light in the house still on when you arrived, and you made sure to slip the cab driver a little extra for the long drive.

You hadn’t risked staying in London longer than you needed to. You had gone into your hotel room, grabbed your bag, and promptly left, only taking the time to slip your wedding ring back on when you were in the cab.

When you stepped into the house, Tommy was in the hallway. All he saw as you stepped in the door was you, in another man’s coat, your wedding ring still on your finger, but your hair and makeup done much differently than it had been you had left.

You stayed silent as you stared at him with nervousness written on your face.

He put out his cigarette and quirked an eyebrow at you, a silent prompt for you to explain yourself.

Your silent explanation was to undo the tie on the coat and let it fall to the floor, revealing your blood stained dress.

“I need a fucking drink for this one,” Tommy grumbled, motioning for you to follow him. He guided you to his office and poured both of you a drink, handed you your glass, then sat down in his office chair. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Do you want the short version or the long version?” You asked, a smirk on your face as he looked up at where you still stood across the room.

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but chuckle and shrug his shoulders,

“Humor me. Short version first,” he told you.

“About a year ago I got married, and tonight I started a war.”

Tommy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and running a hand over his face, “Long version.”

“About a year ago, I got married. Over the past year my husband has been nothing but a respectful gentleman, making it nearly impossible for me not to fall for him when you combine it with his fucking blue eyes that could bring the devil to his knees,” you started, feeling the hint of a blush creep into your cheeks, which you knew he noticed by the way his eyes flicked to your cheeks and then back to your eyes, “then today we had a meeting with his family where he mentioned Sabini. When I asked, his sister-in-law told me about what Sabini had done to him. About how my husband had been beaten to an inch of his life and brutalized, leaving him permanently scarred, and I knew I had to make the bastard pay.

“So, I lied to my husband and said I didn’t feel well. I went home, packed a bag, left him a note saying I’d be back, and went to London. I rented a hotel room where I changed into a fancy dress and did my hair and makeup, then I wrapped a knife to my thigh and slid my wedding ring into my bag and went to The Eden Club. News of a Shelby woman spread quickly and Sabini showed up to question me within an hour. I lied to Sabini, told him that I didn’t want to be a Shelby and that I had never wanted to be one. He took me back to his office and I sat on his lap and made him think I was about to cheat on my husband when I slit his throat and made sure he knew it was because of what he’d done to my husband. I left a message on his desk, went back to the hotel, grabbed my bag, and then headed back to our house.”

Silence filled the room for a long moment as Tommy stared at you. His eyes were unreadable as he watched you.

“What did the message say?” He suddenly asked.

“Revenge is a scorned Shelby.”

“Nothing about the Peaky Blinders?” He asked curiously, tilting his head slightly.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t Peaky business,” you answered confidently, watching him just as closely as he watched you as he stood from his chair and came to stand in front of you.

“Was it not?” He questioned, taking the untouched glass of whiskey from your hand and setting it on the desk before turning back to stare you down.

“No. It was Shelby business, but not Peaky business.”

“Explain.”

“He didn’t just harm a Peaky Blinder. He harmed a Shelby, my Shelby.” Your gaze was unwavering as you held eye contact with him. You wanted him to know you meant your words. He was yours, and the protective touches on your back when you were in public and the way he intimidated and glared at any man who tried approaching you was all the proof you needed to know that you were his.

“So I’m your Shelby?” He asked as he took a step towards you and continued to do so until you pressed against the office door.

“Yes.”

“And that means you’re mine?” He questioned, his hands now pressed against the wall on either side of your head.

You could feel that you were walking into some sort of trap, but you didn’t have a way out of it right now. All you could do was be honest.

“Yes.”

“Then you should know something about what it means to be mine.”

“What’s that?” You asked, your breathing getting shorter as he lowered his face so it was level with yours.

In a second his hands were on your waist and he had you picked up against the wall with legs instinctively wrapping around his hips.

“My Shelby is to never come home wearing another man’s coat again,” he said, pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss.

You don’t know what reaction you had expected from him, but being pinned to his office door and him kissing you hadn’t been one you had thought of. Your shock wore off after half a second and you returned the kiss as your arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close.

“You’re not mad?” You asked against his lips.

“At you starting a war?” He questioned, leaning down and beginning to trail kisses hastily down your neck.

“Yes,” you replied, leaning your head back to give him more access.

“Livid,” he said with no hint of joking in his voice.

“This is quite the punishment,” you replied sarcastically. A moan fell from your lips as he nipped at your pulse point.

“Oh, I’m livid,” he said, looking up at you, “but also extremely turned on at the thought of my wife slicing a man’s throat over me and coming home still covered in his blood.”

You weren’t given a chance to respond before he was kissing you again. Your hands came down to his tie, pulling it loose before starting to work at the buttons of his waistcoat.

He didn’t bother setting you down, only turned the two of you around and walked you over to the couch in the office. He laid you down on it and then pulled the waistcoat off before leaning back down between your legs and kissing you again once. His lips started trailing down your neck again while your hands went to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“Someone’s impatient tonight,” he teased as nipped at your skin again.

“You’re the one who pinned me to the door after I revealed I killed a man for you,” you replied in the same teasing tone as him. You undid the last button of his shirt and pushed the fabric off his shoulders, his undershirt following a second later.

He reached his hand to the side of your dress and unzipped it, pulling the fabric down your body while his hands grabbed hold of your underwear, stockings, and garters in the same move and pulled them off, leaving you completely naked underneath him.

He stared and looked over your body a moment longer before running his hands up your thighs and giving a gentle tap to your thigh,

“Up,” he said, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

You did as told though and sat up, leaving him enough room to lay on his back and pull you up to straddle him,

“Was killing a man not enough work?” You teased, not actually minding if he was going to have you ride him. At least it meant you wouldn’t be subjected to him teasing you when all you really wanted was for him to fuck you.

“That’s cute,” he said sarcastically, gripping your thighs and attempting to pull you further up his torso, “that’s not where you’re sitting tonight.”

The man was no stranger at using his mouth to make you see stars, but you’d never ridden his face before. You looked at him, the question obvious on your face.

“Seriously?” You asked even though you knew by his face that he was.

“Seriously. You were enough of a leader to go after Sabini, you’re enough of a leader to sit on my face. Up,” he repeated again while his grip on your thighs tried pulling you forward.

You did as you were told this time, shuffling forward until you were straddling his face. You weren’t given a choice of when to sit as his hands came to your hips and pulled you down, forcing your full weight onto his waiting mouth.

If there was one thing you were grateful for, it was Thomas’ ability to use his tongue and lips in more than just outsmarting his enemies.

His tongue trailed through your lips, his hands keeping your hips in place, while his tongue slowly explored you at first.

It had only taken a couple weeks for you to crack and make the first move on Tommy, joining him in bed one night when you’d decided you could trust him, and you’d been insatiable and addicted to him ever since, though he never complained. He’d spent the first couple times figuring out every move that made you tick and every name that made your cheeks flush and used them to his advantage at every turn.

His tongue was a gift with the way he knew exactly how to use it. He dragged it up and down between your folds, drinking in every bit of your arousal before focusing on your clit, alternating between quick flicks and long drags.

Tommy’s hands on your hips began guiding them, silently instructing you to take control. You didn’t hesitate in going along with what he wanted you to do and began rocking your hips. One of your hands trailed to his hair while your other went to lay on top of one his that gripped your hip. You hadn’t realized the volume of your moans until you felt the vibration of his moan against your clit.

Your hips jerked at the added stimulation and he hummed against you purposefully, his eyes never leaving you as your hips sped up, chasing your own high. Within moments you could feel it approaching and your grip on his hair and hand tightened, moans of his name falling from your mouth like a prayer.

“Please, fuck,” you cried, whimpers falling from your lips, “Tommy, Tommy…”

Your high crashed over you a moment later and you felt Tommy’s movements begin to slow down as you rode out your high, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you caught your breath.

You went to move off of him, but his grip on your hips tightened at the same time that his tongue started speeding up again.

Your moans of pleasure turned to whimpers of over stimulation and you squirmed against him, but he didn’t let up. Your hips jerked as you tried moving away from him, but all it did was add to the stimulation.

You could practically feel him smirking underneath you as he continued on, watching as your eyes clenched shut and you relented yourself to letting him torture you so beautifully.

If it wasn’t for the way your body was on edge from not being given any type of break after your first orgasm, you might have felt slightly ashamed at the way he was able to bring you to your second orgasm so quickly.

And then your third.

Tears were freely falling from your face when he finally slowed his movements to a stop and helped you to lay down on your back.

He trailed soft and slow kisses along your thighs and stomach to help bring you back down to earth. When his lips reconnected with yours, you returned the kiss, letting your eyes fall shut at the surprisingly tender moment.

“Next time you want to start a war, at least let me know your plans,” he said, causing you to open your eyes and be met with a smirk dancing across his lips, “and don’t doubt my punishments.”

You could’ve smacked the smirk off his face if it wasn’t for the fact he had turned your entire body into mush.

“Think you can be a good girl and handle one more?” He asked.

Your cheeks flushed at the praise and his hands moved to his belt and pants, pulling them off after you nodded your confirmation.

Once the rest of his clothes had been removed, he gently lifted your legs and positioned himself between them. He was gentle as he pushed inside you, but the smirk on his face from the way your voice cracked when you moaned was obvious.

The stretch was familiar at this point, but it didn’t mean you didn’t need the moment he gave you to adjust. When you nodded your head, he started moving.

Tommy knew your body like he knew his own after your time together. His hips immediately changed position as he started thrusting, making sure to hit the spot inside you that added to the ways your legs shook underneath him.

He leaned down and placed his elbows on either side of your head, capturing your lips in a kiss right as a moan parted through them. One of his hands came back to cradle the back of your head and his fingers tangled into your hair to keep you close to him.

His other hand went to one of your legs and pulled it up so it rested in the crook of his elbow, causing him to hit even deeper inside you.

The action caused you to let out a high pitched moan and you wrapped your arms around him. Your next moan broke the passionate kiss the two of you had shared while your nails raked down his back.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked, beginning to speed up the movements of his hips.

“Y-you,” you moaned out, your back arching underneath him.

“Say my name. Who do you belong to?” He repeated.

“Thomas Shelby,” you answered and dropped your head back.

“Good girl. You’re my fucking wife,” he moaned out. He sat up, using one hand to keep your leg up in the same position while his other hand went to your already over sensitive clit, “all mine. No other man gets to touch you, look at you, or even fucking think of you. It’s my cock that you’re whimpering over right now, and it’s the only cock you’ll ever be whimpering over again.”

“I’m yours, Tommy,” you repeated, your voice breaking as moan after moan fell from your lips.

“Then cum for me. Be a good Shelby wife and make a fucking mess on my cock just like how you made a mess of this war tonight,” he commanded.

You didn’t need any more encouragement from him as your fourth orgasm hit you, causing your back to arch again and your nails to run down his arms.

His moves start to become more sloppy and his pace sped up as he began to chase his own high, the feeling of your cunt squeezing around his cock only driving him closer to the edge.

“Want to feel you Tommy, please,” you moaned underneath him, “please, cum inside me.”

“Fuck,” he swore out. His hips pushing against yours as his high hit him and his arms came down to either side of your head again while he shoved his face into your neck, completely claiming you as his own while his cum filled you.

His hips slowed as he rode out both of your highs and your arms came to wrap around him, placing a gentle kiss on the side of his head you could reach.

Once the two of your breathing had slowed down to a normal pace, he moved to push himself up and your legs around his waist tightened along with your arms.

“Don’t. Not yet,” you said in a quiet voice.

“I’m going to crush you, love.” He placed soft kisses along your shoulders between his words as he tried warning you.

“I’m a grown woman. I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you replied and began running your nails softly along the shaved part of his head, knowing the motion worked on him every time.

“Stubborn,” he falsely chided, but relented and relaxed back into your hold.

“Little late to the party if you’ve just worked that out.” Your reply causing both of you to chuckle. “Remind me to start more wars if it means you fuck me like that every time.”

His hand came down and gently slapped your thigh in response while a burst of quiet giggles left your lips.

“Stubborn and a brat,” he teased, sitting up again and carefully sliding out of you.

“Too bad you’re stuck with me,” you responded with a smirk.

“I don’t think of it that way,” he said as he stood up and wrapped his arms under your waist and legs before pulling you up into his arms.

“How do you think of it?” You asked him as he carried you across the hall and into your shared room.

“I think I’m lucky enough to be married to a woman who killed for me over a years-old attack even though we’d never even said that we loved each other.” He set you down in the middle of the bed before crawling in next to you and pulling you into his chest.

A bright blush rose to your face as he pointed out that you had never even said you loved each other, even though you had admitted to him earlier that you had fallen for him. You didn’t know how to reply immediately and you turned in his arms to look up at him, his arms staying locked around your waist.

He didn’t seem to expect you to reply though, because he leaned in to you, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was tender and sweet, as if he was trying to communicate what your actions had meant to him without having the words to say it.

“I fell for you, too,” he finally admitted, “I don’t know when it happened, but I know that I realized it tonight. The panic I felt to see your note and to see you come home covered in blood. The anger I felt over seeing you another man’s jacket. The way I felt when you revealed what you had done and why…” He trailed off, looking down at you and seeming to try and memorize every part of your face, “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours and you’re mine,” you replied, leaning up to kiss him.

“I’m yours and you’re mine.”

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astraystayyh · 1 month

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The snow falls, we fall apart.

summary: when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

genre: producer student!hyunjin x reader. roommates!au. friends to lovers. acute descriptions of heartbreak and general sadness. slow burn. hurt/comfort. healing and hopeless romantic hyune. very inspired by long for you so lots of pining and yearning. (wc: 13k)

warnings: mentions of alcohol. it is implied that reader was in an a very toxic relationship but no details are shared.

a.n: happy birthday to my hyunjin, my muse, my light. thank you for being so full of love that it made me love love again in return. this is i think my most personal piece, and i hope it reminds those who need it that love should be soft and kind, that it shouldn’t hurt, that it should heal not break. i love you guys and i love you my xi, writing this collab with you has been a true honor <3 also!! please listen to long for you while reading :,)

winter falls masterlist.

You’ve only ever felt utter despair twice in your life.

First, when you were seven years old, playing hide and seek with your cousins at your grandma’s house. It was a warm summer afternoon, the air sweetened by pastries you devoured hours ago. You decided to hide in a wooden cabinet up in the attic, only to end up stuck there. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, the oxygen seeping away from the cracks underneath the door, leaving you deprived of air, of life.

Second, at twelve, when you've come to discover sorrow's new facet, clad in grief's heavy cloak. Your parents adopted a hamster for your birthday, but they did not know he had a terminal disease. You were distraught, to say the least, when you awoke to its still form, death claiming a frail heart unaware of its imminent fate.

And now, third, many many moons later, you are knocking on Hyunjin’s door a few minutes after midnight. It is cold out, tears tracing rivulets on your cheeks, your fingers tinted pink from roaming outside in the harsh winds, your heart much heavier than when you were a child. More grief-stricken, at your own hands, this time.

A disheveled Hyunjin opens the door, his blonde ash hair tousled and sticking upwards, a clear indication of the many times he had run his hands through it in fits of frustration. His gray hoodie zipped up hastily, revealing the silver cross necklace he was wearing, nestling perfectly against his honeyed skin.

You've always had an aversion to seeking comfort, saw it as revealing your deepest vulnerabilities to a world that isn't always kind. It was easier, much simpler to do so when you were a clueless child— when you sank in your cousin Lia's hold as she attempted to steady your breathing, when your mother cradled you in her lap after Pinky died.

It is much harder now, much more embarrassing because Hyunjin has never seen you this sad, never glimpsed your shadows that now swarm his doorstep, unannounced.

“What's wrong?” he quickly asks, eyes darting over your figure in a rapid search for visible wounds. He wouldn’t find any. All your injuries stem from within— blood doesn’t have to be spilled for your heart to weep.

You had rehearsed a lie as you walked up to his doorstep. You would say that your car broke down near his place and ask if you could stay over for the night. He would insist he could drive you to your place and you’d refuse, saying that it was too late and you did not wish to bother him. You’d sleep on the couch and slip away in the early hours of the morning.

Yet, it is the genuine worry etched in his eyes that dismantles the fortress you've hidden in, melts the lie in your throat, morphing it into a steel lump coiling in your throat. He looks concerned when all you’ve had directed towards you recently was anger. And you missed someone looking at you in care, not reproach.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You admit, your voice shattered, fragments of your vocal cords scattered out in the wind like a broken mosaic, the sound of it scraping against your ears.

Blow one hurt. It felt like your body turned against you as it deprived you of oxygen. The sobs that escaped you once you perceived the light pained you, perhaps more than being confined in the darkness.

Blow two was even worse, it was your first time experiencing grief. It was too hard of a concept for your innocent heart to grasp, too complicated for you to find solace in anything as adults do.

You promised yourself that you’d reserve blow three for monumental agonies— big pains and big sorrows only. That’s how you managed to keep all your tears at bay for most of your life. Would they be worth losing your third sob for? No, you've always found the answer to be.

And in all the twisted scenarios you’ve conjured up in your mind, deaths and illnesses and the haunting tale of failure, you did not imagine that it would happen on Hwang Hyunjin’s doorstep. That you’d burst into sobs at the compassionate look in his gaze, and the sad smile he sent your way. As if he knew, as everyone did around you. That you had handed a knife to a serial killer and it was only a matter of time before he stabbed you in the heart.

Two weeks ago.

“I’m trying to understand you but you aren’t helping me,” Seungmin is frustrated as he paces relentlessly before you from left to right like a swinging pendulum. You sit on the couch, beholding only his shoes, avoiding his gaze that would reflect the truth you dare not confront.

“He’s sucking the life out of you, can’t you see that?”

You can, out of everyone that surrounds you, you can see it the most. You feel as if you are carrying a skin that isn’t your own, weighed down by a relationship that has taken everything from you. But admitting it is admitting that you were wrong, in trusting him, in loving him. You couldn’t bear it.

“We are fine!” you shout back, the defiance in your voice surprises even you. This is a familiar script with Seungmin, a recurring conversation spurred by your puffy eyes and diminishing appetite. He tells you, begs you to leave, but where could you go? How could you leave a home where you've shed all your treasured belongings at the door— your skin, your bones, your very self.

What place would welcome you now that you're stripped bare of your soul?

“When was the last time he made you smile, huh? All he does is hurt you, and you...” he chuckles incredulously, running his hand through his hair. “You are letting him.”

Deny, deny, deny.

“This isn’t true. He loves me,” the words taste foreign in your mouth like rusty metal dragging across your lips. A small voice whispers that love shouldn't feel like this, but you quiet it down.

“Are you hearing yourself? Yn, I…” he kneels before you, his hands resting comfortingly on your knees. This is Seungmin, your best friend of five years. You know he has your best interests at heart, you are even more sure of it when his voice softens, shakes slightly when he utters your name. “Yn, please. I’m trying to help you. Please.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you push away his hands, standing up. “I don’t want your help, and I don’t need it.”

You quickly leave Seungmin’s dorm, your heart heavier than when you entered it, foolishly hoping that he'd ignore your distressed state after yet another fight with your boyfriend. But Seungmin doesn't understand, no one around you does— you’ve gambled your heart, and you cannot stop drawing the cards, even in the face of losing strikes.

❁ ❁ ❁

Hyunjin offers you a cup of tea with a gentle smile and you grab the steaming drink from his hands. The smell of chamomile wraps around your senses, and your brain fizzles out for a second before the soothing aroma. But it is a fleeting respite, the tempest of your thoughts crashes back onto you with an unsettling force, causing you to almost drop the drink as your hands shake. You place it down the table without taking a sip.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced,” you apologize, wincing at the intrusion, “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I always sleep late. Don’t worry about it,” he smiles, but you know it isn’t a genuine grin, because his eyes betray an unsubdued concern, refusing to morph into their usual moon crescents.

You’ve always thought that Hyunjin wears his emotions openly— when he laughed, he did so loudly, his boisterous giggles traveling around Seungmin’s dorm. When he hurt himself, everyone in the vicinity would know so from his loud yelps. And when something worried him, he would bite his lip, toying with the plush flesh to ease his nerves.

As he is doing now. Looking at you.

“We broke up,” you quickly say, and your words hang over you like a gloomy cloud. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Do you want me to fight him? I’ll bring changbin too,” he suggests a serious tone underlying his playful offer, and it manages to tear a reluctant giggle out of you.

“Changbin doesn’t know me well enough to fight for me,” you counteract and he shakes his head. “He’ll fight for me, I'm his princess.”

“Are you now?” The giggle escapes your mouth less forcefully, and the smile that graces Hyunjin’s face is a genuine one.

“I am. My proposal stands,” he extends his hand and you wrap your fingers around his palm. “Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind,” you smile but he frowns, flipping your hand around in his hold.

“You are freezing,” he whispers, using his other palm to rub warmth into yours.

“It’s fine,” you lie, slipping your hand out of his grasp, not feeling deserving of his kindness.

Wordlessly, Hyunjin stands, walking into what you assume is his bedroom. You only know of his place because you dropped off Seungmin here some time ago. You are too exhausted to even drink in the interior.

“Here,” he returns, handing you a navy hoodie of his and black joggers. “This will keep you warm at night.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, hesitating for a few seconds before speaking again. “Can you please not tell Seungmin, I... I can't face him right now.”

“Of course. I’ll be awake still if you do need something.”

Hyunjin’s clothing is warm, although peeling away your own garments felt like shedding layers of your skin, as if the fabric melted into your very flesh, just like memories from the day did. You have never felt this worthless before, discarded like a forgotten leaf on the roadside, one he stepped on for his own enjoyment, leaving you crushed in his wake, unable to fly away again.

Hyunjin’s rose perfume wraps around you, and you find relief in sleeping somewhere where your, his, scent was no longer around. You foolishly hope that if you close your eyes hard enough, you’ll manage to convince yourself that you’re someone else, tonight. Someone who isn’t tethered to the heartache, someone who can slip away from the clutches of a love that hurts more than hate could ever manage to do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Heartbreak isn’t beautiful, no matter how eloquently you try to dress it in the syllables of poetry, no words can soften the burn in your lungs, the searing ache that courses through your very core, reminding you that deep within, down to the fundamentals of your being and the most basic alchemy that ties your atoms together— you are unlovable. Whether you cut your hair or allow it to grow, change your heart, or leave it as it has always been, you will remain so.

You don’t remember much of the past week, blurry fragments here and there that float in your mind like a distorted water reflection. There is little room for memories when you are busy trying to remember how to breathe— one inhale in, one exhale out. The simple concept seems harder when there are unkind hands permanently lodged into your heart, squeezing it tight.

What you do remember is telling Seungmin through text the next day, because you couldn’t bear the way his eyes would soften if you spoke to him in person. No signs of surprise cast on his figure, because he knew that it was long coming, a train with one final inevitable destination— you in shambles, him okay.

You remember Seungmin cradling you in his arms when he came to see you, and you trying desperately to keep the tears at bay— too focused on pinching your arm to let Seungmin’s warmth radiate through your being, Hyunjin lingering uncomfortably by the entrance of his living room.

You remember begging Seungmin to grab your belongings from the apartment you shared with your ex because you were unable to face him, him, and everything that your old place spelled out for you. Stand in the ruins of what you once thought would be your permanent home.

And now, you watch as Seungmin and Hyunjin bring suitcases full of your stuff into the latter’s place. And you feel like an outsider in your own body, standing at the corner of the room gazing at utter destruction, unable to stop it, unable to mend it. Seungmin quickly reassures you that you could crash in his and Minho’s place until you find a new one to live in, already taking out his laptop to search for new apartments for you.

But you did not care for it, your eyes zeroed in on the satin shirt peeking out of your suitcase. The one he bought you on your first month anniversary. Back when love felt like a gentle feather running down your spine, and not a dull knife slicing away at your skin.

“This place's expensive too,” Seungmin sighs, rubbing his temple warily. Your logical best friend could not fix your heartbreak but he took it to heart to alleviate your other troubles. You would thank him for it, later, when your tongue finds enough will to move.

“What if you move in with me?” Hyunjin suddenly says and his words filtrate through the fog in your mind easily, as if he rehearsed them enough times so they’d roll out smoothly out of his mouth. “I mean, Felix is away for the next year since he went back to Australia. And I was looking for a new roommate anyway.” He shrugs and Seungmin turns to look at you, his eyes convey the question his mouth doesn’t articulate— is it okay with you?

“I don’t…” your voice is croaked, so you clear your throat. “I don’t want you to do things out of pity.”

“I’m not. If I was, I would've told you to move in with me for free. I still need you to pay rent,” he raises his eyebrows, a playful tease and you smile in relief, nodding, “Okay, I will. thank you.”

Heartbreak is ugly and all-encompassing, weaving through the roots of your heart and infecting each organ with its insidious touch. It renders you immobile, incapable of performing the simplest tasks, burdened by a weight unseen by the world. But you try your best, your very best to contain it.

You smile at the cashier as she hands back your money only to wonder if her soft, well-manicured hands would too crush a soul without remorse. You go to all your classes without fail but your mind is elsewhere, contemplating why the sun filtering through the windows no longer warms your skin. Can nerve endings perish when subjected to too much pain? What's left of life when you can no longer feel the caress of the sun?

You watch a movie at Seungmin's dorm but your mind is elsewhere, fleeting to this morning and how you refused to stay in the shower for more than three minutes because your thoughts might become haunting ghosts tempting you to follow them. You brush your hair and spray your perfume, only because you have to, because you live with Hyunjin and you wouldn’t want your sadness to taint him too. You wonder how long you’ll have to bear it. You wonder if it’ll ever leave you or if the veins in your heart have molded themselves after the pain and they wouldn’t know how to accept happiness anymore.

You greet Hyunjin as he walks past you, shaking your head when he asks you if you want to eat dinner with him, quickly retracting back into your room. You have ten unread messages and a pile of growing laundry you need to do, but all you can muster is to gaze at the empty walls, mirroring the void within you. Your mom told you to call her again and you don’t know how you’ll speak to her without bursting into a sob, how you’ll tell her that all it took was one person to break you. Or maybe it was two people, your hands and his tearing apart your flesh and bones. Maybe that’s the worst part about it. So you don’t call her.

And you only ever emerge from your room when you need to, just like now because your water bottle is finished and you need to refill it. You go to open the kitchen door when you hear Hyunjin’s muted shatter, Felix’s distinctive deep voice coming out of the phone speaker.

“Next you add the melted butter and stir it,” Felix instructs, the sounds of pots and utensils clinking in the background. You fidget slightly, mustering the strength to paint a fake smile on your lips.

“What next?”

“Sift the dry ingredients then add them to your wet mixture,” Felix explains, met with a few seconds of silence. You can almost visualize Hyunjin's perplexed expression, blinking rapidly in confusion.

“Explain it to me like I’m five years old,” he requests, prompting a small smile to etch itself onto your face.

“How are you surviving without me?”

“I’m not please come home,” Hyunjin sounds horrified as Felix’s rich chuckles fill the air. “Why do you suddenly want to make brownies anyway?” he then asks.

You go to open the door when Hyunjin’s response catches you off guard.

“They’re for Yn.”

Hyunjin's words resonate in the air, causing a hitch in your throat and Felix’s teasing whistles simultaneously, but Hyunjin is quick to stop him. “No, no, no, it’s not like that. They’re just a bit down and I remember them loving your brownies. So…”

It takes you a fleeting moment to dig the memory out of your mind, a year ago, right before your ex came to pick you up from Seungmin’s dorm. You had a bite of Felix’s brownies, a surprised gasp escaping your lips at its delicious taste, back when food had taste and happiness came easily to you. It was an insignificant memory, you did not imagine Hyunjin, out of everyone, would remember it.

But he did, and he’s now pacing before your closed door, contemplating how he’ll convince you to finally eat something with him. He throws a thumbs-up in the air for no one but himself, inhaling deeply before knocking on your door.

“Hey,” he greets with a hopeful smile, his gaze meeting your tired form. He hesitates for a second, clearing his throat. “Brownies?” You remain unmoving and he falters, “Hm? Please?”

“Sure,” you nod and a wave of relief floods through Hyunjin as you step out of your room. His joy is short-lived when he takes the brownies out of the oven, only to find them thoroughly burnt.

His mouth hangs agape, and he walks back shamefully to the oven, lowering its door only to scream inside of it.

“This will be more therapeutic,” you say, pointing nonchalantly to the fridge and he agrees, opening its doors and yelling once again in the much larger space.

Your melodic laughter fills the kitchen, Hyunjin’s embarrassment is suddenly a forgotten memory.

“I’m craving kimbap. Should we get it instead?” you propose, a touch shyly and he quickly agrees, afraid you’d change your mind and walk back to your room where he can no longer ensure you are okay.

Hyunjin absentmindedly dances along to the music blasting through the convenience store when a girl sidles up to his side, a saccharine grin on her lips as she looks up at him, “hi,” she greets and his tentative smile mirrors hers. “Hey.”

“Are you single?” she asks, her gaze briefly fleeting to the window. “I think you are really cute.”

“I’m…” he glances at you but you're suddenly engrossed in the ingredients of the tuna kimbap you are holding, pretending not to listen. “I am but I’m not interested, thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” she places a hand on his arm and he physically recoils. “Give me your insta and we could talk.”

“No,” he repeats, grabbing her hand to remove it when a loud voice startles him. “Baby, what’s taking you so— What are you doing?” Hyunjin watches in horror as the girl’s eyes grow wide, before she scrambles to the man’s side, feigning fear.

“He kept hitting on me when I said I had a boyfriend, baby.”

“What?” both you and Hyunjin gasped in comical unison. He would find it amusing if not for the escalating anger radiating from the man, who looks like he spends all his days in the gym. Hyunjin suddenly regrets not working out with Changbin.

The man strides towards Hyunjin. “Do you want to die?”

“No? there’s a misunderstanding,” he replies, swiftly standing before you and shielding you with his arm. “Your… baby,” he wiggles his finger in front of the man's face, “she was the one hitting on me!”

The man scoffs loudly, his face growing redder from the anger seething in him. “So you hit on my girlfriend and then accuse her of cheating?” His fist rises threateningly, prompting Hyunjin to step back, accidentally bumping into your chest.

“Wait, wait, wait! Let’s go talk outside, man to man,” Hyunjin pauses, his voice taking on a taunting edge, “unless you're too scared?” he smirks as he feels you pull at his shirt, whispering an incredulous- “What are you doing?” He shakes his head, grabbing your hand and leading you outside, throwing a sly wink at the man behind you now.

“Are you seriously going to fight him?” you ask, your gaze shifting towards the deranged couple who are about to step out of the grocery store. “No, of course not. I'm a lover, not a fighter.”

“You said you'd fight my ex,” you point out and his eyes soften surprisingly.

“You are an exception.” He looks back at the man, who's now walking towards you both. “But anyways, do you know how to run?” he asks and you frown, “who doesn’t know how to—” you pause as realization dawns on you. “No," you whisper furiously.

“Yes.”

“No,” you shake your head, horrified and he nods, eyes apologetic.

“Yes.” His fingers entwine with yours, he squeezes your hand once before he takes off running.

“Hwang fucking Hyunjin!” you shout and he looks back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. “I’m sorry Yn my face is too pretty to be beaten up.”

“He’s following us!” you yell, looking back horrified as the, even angrier, man runs after you.

“Well, run faster!”

“I’m wearing fucking slippers!” you curse and he giggles, tipping his head back, the wind slamming into you both, his hand never letting go of your own.

“Oh my god why is he still running!” you groan and Hyunjin picks up speed, moving you even closer to his sprinting figure

“I know, is it ever that serious?” he yells above his shoulder and you dig your nails into his palm.

“Shut up, this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so gorgeous.”

“So, you think I’m pretty too?” Hyunjin grins proudly and an incredulous laugh escapes your lips.

“Really? Is this what you’re getting out of this situation?”

“Silver linings, Yn, silver linings,” he shouts as you round a small alley, finally stopping to catch your breath. You both fall to the ground, heavy breaths escaping your chests.

“Holy shit, I’m not athletic at all,” he heaves, his eyes meeting yours. He expects to find anger lingering in your gaze but all he can grasp is your amused smile before you collapse into a fit of laughter, clapping loudly and clutching your stomach with your hand.

“Oh my god, I’m crying,” you laugh harder, wiping away at the tears falling from your eyes. Hyunjin’s weariness disappears in the blink of an eye— he did not realize how much he missed your smile until he glimpsed it again. And it is beautiful. Happiness looks beautiful on you.

“Idiot,” you hit his shoulder playfully, and his response is delayed for a few seconds, the warmth from your smile rendering him immobile.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, pulling you up. “Here, I’ll carry you home,” he squats slightly before you. “How impolite of me. How dare I make your majesty run.”

You shake your head, amused, before climbing atop his back, his warm palms holding your thighs securely. “Only because the slippers hurt my feet.”

You walk in silence for a while, your arms wound up around Hyunjin’s neck, the ghost of a smile still lingering on both your faces.

“They said it will snow tomorrow,” Hyunjin speaks suddenly and you stay silent for so long he starts to wonder if you even heard him.

“Mm? That’s nice,” your tone is melancholic, and he pauses at the peculiar sadness in it— as though you were trying to act nonchalant about something that has once meant the world to you.

“Don’t you like the snow?” he asks and your hold on his neck falters.

“I loved it. Loved ice skating and building snowmen.” Your voice is light and airy, like Hyunjin’s favorite mint chocolate ice cream. “But now it reminds me of bad times, bad memories.”

“I understand.”

Hyunjin knows what it feels like to relinquish parts of yourself you never wished to part from. For someone to grab your happiest places and to cast a gloomy filter atop them. Sometimes it is the loss of a season that hurts more than the departure of a person.

And Hyunjin loves winter.

He’ll do everything so that you’ll come to love it again too.

❁ ❁ ❁

Is it a nightmare if the person in it is one you once loved, looked forward to beholding with your gaze, hoping they’d never slip out of your reach? You don’t know, but you are growing tired of having the same dreams every night. Of waking up with an exhaustion that goes beyond your restless sleep but pleads from your soul to rest after almost a year of torment.

You sigh wearily, rubbing a hand through your face before walking to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. You find Hyunjin there, eating a cupcake while standing shirtless, scrolling through his phone. You blink at the sight.

“Hey,” you clear your throat and he startles, dropping the cupcake on the ground. He goes to pick it up only to bang his head on the table, a loud yelp escaping his lips. You barely contain your giggles as you walk to his side, rubbing your palm soothingly on his head. “I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you.”

“At least pretend you are sorry,” he mumbles, pointing to your amused smile and you chuckle, taking his hand and helping him to his feet.

“What are you doing up now?” he asks as he grabs some napkins to clean up the pink frosting smeared across the floor.

You hesitate for a few seconds before whispering, “Just nightmares. And you?” you quickly add, not keen on pushing the subject any further.

“I'm working on a song,” he explains, as his gaze lingers on your sunken eyes, weighed down by dark circles from too many sleepless nights.

“And the cupcake?”

“Some people need caffeine to function. I need flour.”

“I literally see you drink three americanos per day.”

“Okay well maybe I need both,” he admits sheepishly and you grin, drumming your fingers along the countertop.

“Can I sit with you while you work?” you ask quickly, before the words linger enough in your mouth that you no longer wish to spit them out.

The smile that Hyunjin sends you is kind, pushing the shadows of your nightmares just slightly out of reach.

“Of course, yeah you can. Don’t even need to ask.”

Hyunjin walks first into his bedroom, quickly slipping on a hoodie while you take in the interior. It is a quite simple room— a large bed with gray covers, and a desk filled with what you assume to be his producing equipment sits adjacent. But what catches your attention is the dried rose hung delicately on the wall, and the array of paintings surrounding it. You edge closer to it, drawn to the well-crafted paintings— a sun-drenched beach, a couple lost in an embrace so intimate their forms can no longer be separated, and an elderly pair riding a motorcycle, their love radiating vibrantly as if enclosed in eternal youth.

“You paint?” you ask, turning around to find Hyunjin watching you. He steps closer, enveloping you once more in the fragrance of his rose perfume.

“In my free time.”

“You are amazing, Hyunjin,” you compliment sincerely, your gaze fixed on that imagery of the old couple, one that most likely grew together. It tugs at your heartstrings, stirs a painful longing within you, a memory of a time when you too believed you’d find such boundless love.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, before brushing his fingertips gently against your forearm, for a fleeting second. “Are you okay?” he asks, a tenderness you’ve been aching for latched into his question. Your eyes refuse to peel away from the paintings and the love spilling from each paint brush stroke, a love that refuses to rest on your being as if you were harboring an armor that repels it.

“No,” you reply sincerely, turning to face him. “It’s really hard,” you say with a smile, hoping that the mechanical display of happiness would keep your tears at bay, tricking your brain into believing you're not as sad as you feel.

It fails to do so, and the tears well in your eyes like a gathering storm. Frustration twists your features as you shut your eyes, tilting your head upward in a desperate attempt to contain the flood. It pauses as Hyunjin cradles the back of your head, drawing you close to the warmth of his neck. His palm glides soothingly along your spine, before patting your back ever so gently.

Your back stiffens, hands curling into tight fists, breath catching in your throat. You've grown accustomed to pushing away comfort, putting up tall barriers to shield yourself. But tonight, Hyunjin seems to break through your defenses.

Tonight, you soften, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, head nestling deeper against his tender skin.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers and another sob wracks through you, but he only holds you tighter. “It’ll get better soon.”

“I loved him,” you hiccup, your voice breaks, “a lot.”

“I know, that’s why it hurts.” His voice is gentle, and yet his hold on you feels secure as if you could stumble and fall, and he would be there to catch you

“I want it to stop hurting.”

“It will, with time.”

Your next words are tinged with a childlike vulnerability, reminiscent of blow one, then two. But you do not care for it, in that instant, you crave the reassurance, you need someone to plant a seed of hope in your soul because your hands are too frail to dig for it.

“Do you promise me?”

His response doesn’t come hastily, carelessly thrown into the air like idle chatters. He takes his time, considering it with the gravity of an oath.

“I promise you.” He finally says, each syllable infused with sincerity. A brief pause hangs in the air before he adds. “And if it doesn’t then you can hit me.”

“On your pretty face?” you ask, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“On my pretty face,” he confirms with a chuckle.

“What an honor,” you roll your eyes playfully as you lean back and he grins, tenderly wiping away your tears with the back of his fingers.

“I can't believe it took three minutes for you to cry in my room. This isn’t good for my reputation.”

“Good thing this will never leave this bedroom, right?” you point a finger at him threateningly, and he pretends to zip his lips, tossing away the imaginary key. “You got it.”

“So what are you working on?” you ask as you settle on the edge of his bed, knees drawn up to your chest.

“It’s a pretty sad song, wanna hear?” he offers, sitting across from you on his chair.

“Yeah, I'd love to,” you smile, and Hyunjin deftly adjusts a few buttons, before his melancholic whistles weave through the air, coupled with the somber melody of a piano. Your breath catches in your throat, the music reaching into the very depths of your soul. It's as if the notes are calling out for a loved one, for a time that has long passed, for a past that will never come back no matter how much we long for it.

The instrumental continues, each piano note and each violin string echo like a bittersweet lament, springing tears to your eyes. But the melody remains beautiful, akin to the beauty always found in the sadness— in the tears that cascade down your cheeks like glistening crystals, in the tremble of your hands akin to branches swaying in the wind, in the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, mirroring the ebb and flow of the waves.

Hyunjin watches you intently as the music envelops you both, his gaze softening with each passing moment. You bring a hand to your chest, almost unconsciously, too engrossed in the melody to even blink. He feels a blush sprout on his cheeks as your teary eyes hold his with the last fading guitar strings.

“You keep on making me cry,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion, and he grins, tilting his head shyly against his shoulder.

“You like it?” he asks, a tad eager and you nod, not bothering to wipe the lone tears that are falling down your cheeks.

“I think this is what my loneliness sounds like,” you confess softly.

“As do mine.”

A silent beat runs between you both, it isn’t uncomfortable, but safe. Because you understand him, just as he understands you.

“Sometimes I long for things that have passed," he admits, “although I know I can't get them anymore.”

“The most terrible thing you can long for is yourself.”

“Because no one’s to blame for that loss but you?” he muses and you nod, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, exactly.”

You bite your lip, casting a glance back at the paintings adorning the wall. “I don't love him anymore,” you begin quietly. “I stopped a long time ago because there was no room for love anymore to grow amid weeds and thorns.”

He remains silent, sensing that this is a weight you need to unburden yourself from.

“But in the midst of it I think I stopped loving myself too,” you whisper, a confession too terrible to be uttered out loud. “That's what I long for. The things I used to love that I'm indifferent to now.”

“Like you’re a stranger before everything once familiar to you.”

“Yeah, you express it prettily,” you remark with a small smile.

“It's my job,” he grins lightly.

“I think when your heart is pure,” he begins after a while, pausing to carefully choose the words that will soothe your burn, help sleep come more easily to you. “You give love to others more readily than you do to yourself. And it takes time, patience, to redirect that love back to your own heart once again. But it's not a mistake to love, you shouldn’t hate yourself for it. Nor should you blame your past self for loving the wrong person because they did not know what you now do.”

“Think of it as a caterpillar in their cocoon,” he continues gently, “when they finally emerge from their chrysalis, they might long for who they were, where they once were because it is the only place they've ever known. But they do not realize that they've transformed into a beautiful butterfly, that they can now fly, and witness much more than their chrysalis. So maybe, your new self will love the same things as before, or maybe you’ll find new, better things to love that you would have not known before. But in either way, your heart is beautiful. That is what matters, no?”

A small pout draws on your lips, your eyebrows scrunched as you gaze at him.

“You have a very tender soul, Hyunjin.”

Your words linger in Hyunjin's mind long after the sunrise, as you lay peacefully asleep on his bed. The melody of the instrumental he produced continues to play faintly in the background, serving as a gentle lullaby that eases you into slumber, entwined in his sheets, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself, one hand cradling your shoulders and the other resting gently on your stomach. The image sears into his eyes as he sketches the outlines of a figure holding itself absentmindedly, long into the night.

Hyunjin has had his fair share of compliments, mostly pertaining to his face, and others to his craft. but it is you who seems to have sensed that a part of his soul resided in his art, that he left pieces of his heart hidden in the notes he composes and the lyrics he writes, hoping they’ll find soft hands that will take care of them, just like your own.

Five days later.

hyunjin [11:34 p.m.]: are you home?

yn [11:34 p.m.]: yeahh, do you need anything?

hyunjin [11:35 p.m.]: come downstairs, im waiting for youu

if you say no i’ll freeze to death..

hurry i can’t feel my fingers anymore (please please) ㅠㅠㅠ

“This better be a life and death situation Hwang Hyunjin,” you say threateningly as soon as you appear before Hyunjin, causing him to straighten up from the wall he was leaning against.

“It is a very dangerous life-altering situation that requires your immediate assistance, indeed,” he responds solemnly, ushering you gently to his car and opening the door for you.

“Which is?” you ask as soon as he settles inside the car and he simply grins at you, his left dimple coming forth like the very sun on a gloomy day.

“You’ll see.”

Hyunjin’s eyes fleet to your figure every now and then, but you do not seem to notice, your gaze lost into the blurring lights ahead. He can tell you're still not entirely yourself, so he was prepared to forcibly drag you along with him. He’s almost surprised you accepted to come down so easily.

“Is that… Seungmin?” you speak suddenly, pointing to a man waving in the distance, as Hyunjin parks his car near an empty field.

“And Changbin? And Minho?” you continue, squinting your eyes, “and a bonfire?” you giggle with a hint of excitement.

“You love s’mores during the winter, right?”

Hyunjin smiles, your soul softens.

“I do,” you say quietly, “I really do.”

You quickly exit the car, running into Seungmin's arms with a grin of disbelief plastered on your face. “This is insane,” you almost shout, squeezing him tight in a hug.

“It was so hard to find the perfect middle of nowhere for this,” Minho grumbles as you move to greet him, but the warmth of his embrace assures you he's only teasing.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile as you hug Changbin, who affectionately ruffles your hair. “It was Hyunjin’s idea,” he reveals, and you glance back at Hyunjin, who stands with his hands buried deep within his sweatpants behind you. You mouth a silent “thank you” to him, but he shakes his head modestly as if it is nothing to bring happiness to a bruised heart.

The night unfolds in endless laughter, with Minho and Hyunjin taking turns roasting marshmallows over the crackling bonfire, and Seungmin serving you hot coffee to keep your hands warm. Your stomach aches from the uncontrollable fits of giggles that overtook your being as Minho recounts the time he danced so vigorously on stage for his dance club that he ripped his pants, feeling a breeze where there shouldn't be one; and Changbin tells you the story of the time his voice cracked in the middle of a rap battle, and how none of the boys stopped teasing him about it for months to come.

And as the four of them take turns making you laugh, a quiet, tender realization dawns on you—you are loved. It is something he tried to convince you was impossible, that no one around truly cared for you but him. And even then, you weren’t deserving of his love whole, only scrapes of it, as if you were a beggar tugging at the outskirts of his heart.

But Hyunjin reminded you otherwise. And if your friends found something worthy of love within you then perhaps so will you again, one day.

“Did you have fun?” Hyunjin asks as he opens the door to his, your, apartment hours later. What he doesn't expect is for you to respond by wrapping your arms around his slender torso, squeezing tight in gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whisper and he nods, though you cannot see him, returning the embrace by wrapping his arms around your shoulder blades.

Hyunjin doesn't let go first, sensing that perhaps you need this hug more than he does. He smiles as your eyes meet his again, but his grin falters when he notices your gaze flickering towards your bedroom, a hint of unease clouding your expression. It's as if behind that door lie monsters only you can grasp, wearing the faces of people you once knew, once loved.

“Wanna stay with me while I work on the song?”

“Last time I ended up sleeping on your bed,” you say a bit shamefully, recalling the morning you woke up to find yourself covered with a thick blanket that wasn’t there before, alone in Hyunjin's room.

“It's okay,” he shrugs, “I missed sleeping on the couch.”

You stare pointedly at him and he chuckles, “Fine, I did not miss it. But you needed the sleep, so it’s okay with me.”

“Fine,” you concede, though you did not need much convincing for it. “But only if you promise you’ll wake me up if I end up falling asleep again.”

Hyunjin tilts his head, thinking to himself for a few seconds before shaking his head stubbornly, a small pout drawn on his face, his eyes semi-closed. “No.”

“Hyunjin!”

“Nu-uh,” he insists, shaking his head once more as he walks back towards his room. “I'm waiting for you!”

“I'm not coming!”

But you do eventually join him, after changing your clothes and washing your face. You find Hyunjin clad in beige and white checkered pajamas, his glasses pushing back his silky hair as he hunches over his journal, scribbling away before erasing what he wrote.

“Struggling with lyrics?” you ask, leaning against the wall and he startles. “Do you float on the ground? Why can I never hear you come in?”

“Or maybe you just love being dramatic,” you sing-song, laying atop his bed, much more at ease than the previous night.

Hyunjin sticks his tongue out childishly in response, and you playfully mimic the gesture before both of you dissolve into happy giggles.

“Kind of,” he explains once you both settle down, “I have this specific feeling in mind that I need to convey.”

“You'll do well,” you reassure softly, “your lyrics are always so beautiful. Remember Cover me?” you smile and he scratches the back of his ear, a shy grin spreading across his face.

“You still listen to it?” he asks and you nod eagerly, attempting to belt into Seungmin’s ending high note. You fail horribly and Hyunjin throws a crumpled piece of paper on your face to get you to stop singing.

“My poor ears,” he laughs loudly, and you retaliate by throwing back a pillow on his head.

“You just don’t get my artistic abilities.”

“I’d get them more if you stayed silent.”

You gasp, faking offense as you stand up to tickle Hyunjin on his chair, he starts squirming immediately, his loud giggles spilling all over the room, coating it in vibrant hues of happiness, and you’re suddenly captivated by the sight of him— his head thrown back, a golden lock framing his laughter-filled eyes, his top lowering slightly to reveal glimpses of his collarbones and the delicate veins that trace enticing paths on his neck.

You pause, your hand hovering over the side of his stomach, as a long-forgotten warmth spreads through your heart, like the first rays of dawn greeting the earth after a long winter night. It doesn’t diffuse quickly through your being, but rather drapes like sticky honey on your veins, making you well aware of your growing blush, of how beautiful Hyunjin is in his joy.

“Never singing to you again,” you clear your throat, laying atop his bed once again, and quickly reaching for your phone, anything to avoid his eyes which rival the crescent moon outside his window.

Hours pass before a warm hand gently settles on your shoulder, rousing you from your slumber. Blinking away the fog of sleep, you find Hyunjin leaning over you, his grin wide and infectious. “Wake up,” he whispers, but you only groan, burying your face deeper into his pillow.

He doesn’t yield, taking hold of your wrist and guiding your drowsy figure upright, before wrapping the blanket snugly around your shoulders. Without a word, he leads you out onto his balcony, carefully putting his neon green beanie on your head to shield you from the cold.

“It’s snowing!” he smiles, and his excited tone manages to dissipate the fog in your mind. You blink repeatedly and soon enough, you too behold the fallen snowflakes, each one resembling a tiny speck of light bidding farewell to the sky to greet the earth.

“You missed the first snow so I didn’t want you to miss this one too,” he explains, and his thoughtfulness blankets you with a warmth that seeps into every crevice in your body, drips down your fingertips and makes the cold of 4 a.m. seem less harsh, less biting to the touch.

You don’t know how to say thank you, because those two words don’t encapsulate the depths of gratitude that you feel for Hyunjin. Because he is speaking to the person within you who still loves snow, the part buried underneath layers of dust from a ground heartbreak. But you still manage to hear him, and you squeeze his hand tightly, and he doesn’t let go until you finally do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Remembering has become easier for you these past two months— both the good and the bad. And each day, the scale tips towards one side or the other. Sometimes you recall the suffocation you felt with him, the feeling that no matter what you did you could never please him, that your hands were crafted to break rather than mend. And on those days your wound grows, it throbs and bleeds different emotions.

Sometimes it's anger— at him for treating your heart so carelessly as if you were a being devoid of feeling. And then at you— for staying, for giving him excuses and desperately searching for goodness within him, for the one redeeming quality that would convince you he was worth the pain.

And other days bring an excruciating sadness along, a weight that presses down upon you until you're paralyzed. Because you feel bad for yourself and for everything you went through. Because you’re unsure how to rise when unseen hands push you deeper into the abyss.

And on these days, Seungmin becomes your anchor. He buys your favorite food, skips classes with you, and takes you to your favorite gardens. He talks and he talks and you try your best to laugh because you do not wish to worry him more. It is enough to be your own burden, you do not wish to burden him too.

But when he drops you home, your facade slips away, the smile fading from your face as if it were never truly yours to wear. You are too tired to pretend so you don’t, and Hyunjin doesn’t let you, either. He brews you tea and orders takeout because he knows you lack the energy for cooking. He goes with you on walks and drapes you in pieces of his clothing— scarves and beanies and gloves because he knows you couldn’t care less about a cold when there is a frost coating your bones. He lets you sit in his room while he works on his songs, and while he paints. Sometimes you talk and often you don't need to. But he’s there. He's there with you.

But you also remember the good. You remember your movie night with the boys, Hyunjin building an entire fort for you, adorned with twinkling lights and the softest blankets. How you watched movies until 5 a.m. your bodies so closely huddled together that there was no room left for sadness.

You recall Hyunjin begging you to build a snowman with him at the crack of dawn, the two of you collapsing in fits of laughter as you threw snowballs at one another, your footsteps marking the fresh fallen snow.

You remember being so exhausted after one of your showers that you simply laid atop the couch, gaze fixed on the void, too drained to even untangle the knots in your hair. Yet, it is not the tiredness that you exactly recall, nor the salty tears you shed underneath the scorching water jet. But it is Hyunjin's tender hands as he brushed through your hair, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck, his knuckles ghosting over the slate of your shoulder. You remember whispering that it was a particularly hard day and Hyunjin understanding. You remember him watching many YouTube tutorials to prepare your favorite seaweed soup, only for it to end up being too salty. But you still ate it all, because he made it for you, to lift your wounded spirits. And that alone was enough for it to taste good.

You remember your heart hardening then softening again, breaking then stitching itself back together, closing off then blooming like flowers on the first day of spring. You remember smiling only to cry then smile again. And you remember liking snow, a bit more than you thought you would. Because Hyunjin was there, holding your trembling hand, steadying it enough for you to rewrite your memories with winter.

So, you want to say thank you.

You do not wish to spell it out, because there are too many things to thank Hyunjin for and too few words to do so. Instead, you drag him to the farmer’s market near your home, and you tell him to help you pick flowers.

“I could be in bed watching my favorite show and yet here I am bestowing you with my enchanting presence,” he sighs, not too modestly, as you both eye the array of colorful blooms.

“Okay, Shakespeare, are you done?” you roll your eyes, attempting your best to hide your grin.

“Done annoying you? Never. These are very pretty,” he adds, pointing to the white roses in full bloom, their delicate petals emitting a sweet fragrance into the air.

“I agree, what else should we add?” you ponder, picking out four roses.

“Mm, Hibiscus? The red in the center is so vibrant,” he suggests, taking out his phone to capture the flower.

“Cute. Baby breath’s would look good too,” you say as you gather the flowers, heading to the cashier with Hyunjin trailing behind, still admiring the delicate blooms.

“Can I write a note?” you ask the middle-aged man as he wraps the bouquet in a powder blue paper.

“Sure,” he replies with a smile, and you return the gesture, quickly jotting down your words.

“Are you done?” Hyunjin grins when you return to his side and you nod, exiting the flower shop.

“What do you think?” you ask, angling the bouquet towards him.

“It's beautiful.”

“It’s yours,” you smile, growing shier at the intensity of his gaze as it lands on you, then the flowers, then on you again. “Take it,” you hand it to him, your cheeks flushing like the hibiscus’s crimson core.

“Actually?” he says softly, his fingers trembling slightly as he accepts the flowers and you nod in response. You bite your lip as you watch him take out the note, his eyes softening once he reads the words inscribed in it— thank you for making my winter less cold.

“Should we go?” you say a tad too cheerfully, turning away, but Hyunjin grabs your wrist, spinning you around once more. His fingers trail up your arm, coming to rest gently on your cheek as he leans down to plant a tender kiss there.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than necessary. You think that if his soft lips grace your skin a few times more, your nerve endings might forget the harshness they were subjected to. If his gentle hands remain on your cheeks, then maybe, your heart would heal quicker, better. Maybe your past self that you long for would emerge again, maybe Hyunjin would be able to unearth it.

Your hopeful thoughts disappear as quickly as they arrive, overshadowed by a sense of helplessness that crashes over you, all of the sudden. You sense him before you hear him, the familiar anxiety that is only synonymous with your ex’s presence.

“Yn?” the sound of your name feels harsher in his mouth, the syllables spat out rather than spoken tenderly, as they are when Hyunjin pronounces it. Your veins run cold as his voice pierces the air, your heart skipping three beats at once before plummeting to your knees. You wrap your hand around Hyunjin’s forearm instinctively, and he looks down at you, his expression morphing into one of concern.

You’re unsure of what he sees in you— whether it is your pale face, the quiver of your lower lip, or the fear that has coated all your features— but his eyes harden, his brows furrowing as he gazes at the man behind you.

You refuse to turn around, bracing yourself for his next words. “Yn,” he repeats his tone laced with anger, his fingertips grazing your arm as if intending to force you to face him. But before he can touch you, Hyunjin intervenes, swiftly stepping in between you and your ex, shielding you with his own body protectively.

“Leave,” Hyunjin's voice is cold, dripping with a venomous edge you've never heard from him before, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury.

“Is this your new shiny toy, Yn?” your ex taunts and his voice cuts through your being against your will, triggering a flood of memories you've tried so desperately to suppress. Memories of his cruelty, his manipulation, and the pain he inflicted upon you—using your love as a weapon to bolster his own ego.

“What's in it for you?” you find your voice again, though it trembles when you speak. He is the very embodiment of your pain and everything you loathe about yourself. You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, for a bolt of lightning to strike the earth, anything to spare you from facing him.

“It's only been three months, I didn't know you were a whore.”

Hyunjin's fist connects with his cheek before you can register his words. It all unfolds so rapidly that you barely have time to comprehend it. Your ex staggers back, blood trickling from the cut on his lip, while Hyunjin stands before you, his chest heaving with restrained anger, his right hand clenched into a fist, the bouquet still held tightly in the other.

“Fine, I deserved it,” your ex chuckles, his voice laced with mockery as he wipes the blood from his lip. His gaze meets yours briefly behind Hyunjin's back.

“You might not be a whore but you are unlovable, keep that in mind.” He spits out before walking away, crude words that tear at every scab covering your wounds, reopening them with a brutal force. Hyunjin moves to follow him, but you grab his shirt, pulling him back.

“He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Your words seem to snap Hyunjin out of his haze as he turns to look at you, worry cast across his figure. He moves to cradle your cheeks but you step back, refusing to meet his eyes. He swallows thickly, clutching the bouquet in his hands. “Are you okay?”

You let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping as you shake your head slightly. “Let's just go home,” you whisper, eyes fleeting to his for a split second. All the lights in your gaze are muted.

You’re crumbling before him once again and he cannot stop it, no matter how much he yearns to.

It's long past midnight when you find yourself seated on the floor of your living room, a bottle of red wine placed between you and Hyunjin. You exchange it wordlessly, taking turns sipping from it, the alcohol warming your insides but doing little to ease the ache in your heart. You don’t exactly recall when Hyunjin sat next to you, but you don’t mind. You were too lost in your own thoughts to even register his presence.

“Yn,” he calls out softly and you hum absentmindedly, memories of when your ex spoke your name haunting you, each time he yelled your name, uttered it in disdain as if it was the starting point of everything wrong with you.

“Talk to me, please?” he pleads, angling his body towards your own. But you refuse to meet his eyes and Hyunjin’s heart twists in his chest. He is afraid of all the ugly thoughts that must roam your mind. He wishes he could enter it, open the windows wide, and usher the light in.

“I'm sorry you were dragged into this,” you say, your gaze fixated on the bouquet placed atop the table. The crimson painted on the hibiscus’ petals reminds you of the blood that spilled from your ex’s mouth, and your gaze fleets to Hyunjin's hand, slightly bruised from the punch.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, “there is nothing to be sorry for.”

It’s as though you don’t hear him, your fingers trailing gently across his scraped knuckles, tears pooling in your eyes the more you stare at his hand.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, voice thick with emotion, and Hyunjin’s quick to shake his head. “No, don’t worry about it. He deserved it.”

“You didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“Neither did you.”

Your disbelieving scoff that follows scares him. What if you’re slipping away into a dark place yet again, one void and barricaded, in which the only sound that echoes is your ex’s hurtful words? What if he can’t reach you again?

“If the only person I’ve ever loved says I’m unlovable then maybe I am.”

You’re drunk, you wouldn’t have said such an ugly thing otherwise, wouldn’t have allowed this sentiment to materialize into the air, to take a tangible form apart from your abstract thoughts.

“No,” Hyunjin says in a panic as though he’s trying to quickly pull the brakes on your free-railing thoughts. He cups your face between his palms, your tears falling freely atop his hands but he does not move away.

“No,” he repeats, more calmly this time. “How he treated you is a reflection of who he is. And how you see him is a reflection of who you are. And you wanted him to be loving because you’re full of love. You wanted him to be good because you are a good person. And he can’t stomach that, can’t stomach that you are happy without him so he’s trying to ruin you again.”

“Hyunjin…” you shake your head but he only inches closer to you, his thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones. “No, listen to me. Seungmin loves you so much he couldn’t eat properly for the first few days you stayed here, texted me all the time asking me how you were and if you were feeling better. He isn't good with words so instead he tries to make you laugh. He wishes he could give up parts of his happiness for you.”

A sob swells within you but Hyunjin presses on. “And Minho, he tried to memorize all your favorite recipes so he could cook them for you. It isn’t a coincidence that every time we go over to their dorm it is your favorite food that we eat. He takes more pictures of his cats these days so he could send them to you because he knows it cheers you up.”

“You told me Changbin doesn’t know you well enough to fight for you but when we saw your ex across the campus one day he wanted to get up and beat him. He always asks me if you are well and if there is something he can do for you, anything.”

He inhales deeply, tears welling up in his eyes as well. “And me…” a tender smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, “you make this house a home. I feel like my true self when you are around and loneliness doesn’t come to me as often as it did. Because you are here. You are like a beam of sunlight that lightens up every life you touch, mine first,” he’s baring his soul to you, vulnerable yet resolute. “So tell me, Yn, what’s not to love in you when you yourself are so full of love?”

“Hyune,” you speak the nickname for the first time, and Hyunjin’s heart thrashes achingly around his ribcage. “If you keep talking like this I might end up loving you,” you smile sadly at him as if it is a terrible thing to be loved by you.

“But I don’t want to love you, because I won’t know how to, not anymore. So I'll end up leaving. And I'll long for you, and I don't think I can stomach longing for you from afar.”

“So please,” you place one hand atop his own, wipe away the lone tear rolling down his cheek. “Don’t make me love you, hm? You deserve more than to be loved by someone like me.”

You leave Hyunjin in the living room, alone before the white flowers you gifted him. He doesn’t want to put them away in a vase, for as soon as he grabbed them from your hold, everything around you both crumbled. So he leaves them there for the night, the creamy white petals aglow underneath the moonlight. He spends the night painting the bouquet from memory, but the petals end up too tinged with red, perhaps mirroring the blood his heart refuses to stop spilling still.

He did not realize it before, maybe he blinded himself so he wouldn’t see what was before him all along. But it is all the clearer to him now— that in his attempts to make you love winter again, Hyunjin only ended up loving you.

A week later.

hyune [1:25 a.m.]: i miss you

You and Hyunjin spent the last seven days avoiding one another, well you more than him. He just understood your silent plea when you took a step back the one time he tried to talk to you in the kitchen, swallowing thickly before inching away, allowing you to move past him.

You did not know how to face him after what he said, partly because you were embarrassed by your own response, mostly because even in your drunken daze, his words etched themselves permanently into your memory.

It is his reassuring words that echoed in your brain for the past week, not those of your ex.

hyune [1: 26 a.m.]: and i miss sleeping on the couch

You giggle, shaking your head before replying.

yn [1:26 a.m.]: no you don’t

hyune [1:26 a.m.]: no i don’t ㅠㅠ

but i finished the song

wanna hear?

Walking to Hyunjin’s room feels as familiar as going into your own. And when your gaze finally meets his you can’t help but break into a relieved smile. It was foolish of you to punish yourself, enough people have done that for you already.

“Hey,” he greets tentatively, and you respond with an awkward wave, a moment pregnant with anticipation passes before both of you dissolve into laughter.

“What is this? Are we in middle school,” he teases and you giggle, settling comfortably on his bed once more.

“I know. We are so lame.”

“You are,” he corrects with a grin and you gasp, pretending to leave but he quickly catches your hand, stopping you. “No, please stay. I meant it when I said that I missed you,” he repeats quietly, as if afraid that his confession would make you run away once again.

Your heart aches, the knots in your stomach tightening and unraveling all at once. “I missed you too,” you admit softly, and he smiles, his thumb tracing a gentle path above your pulse before releasing your hand.

“So it's done then?” you ask and he nods, running a hand through his hair with a hint of anxiety. “How do you feel about it?”

“Good. I hope you’ll like it, mostly.”

“I'm sure I will,” you reassure him with a soft smile, and he nods once more, pressing a few buttons before his melodious whistles fill the air once again.

Nothing could have braced you for the sound of Hyunjin's voice that followed, its timbre soft as silk yet imbued with profound sorrow. It's as though he recorded the song on one of his loneliest nights, his honeyed vocals dipped in an excruciating nostalgia that seeps into every corner of the room, every corner of your heart.

In the faded photo, I come across a smile spread across a youthful face, overlapped with the seasons.

Your gaze flickers to Hyunjin as a shadow of recollection dawns on you. You remember telling him that you couldn’t stomach looking at pics of your past, ones in which you smiled so freely because you were blissfully unaware of what was to come.

The night’s so cold that it’s almost unreal.

Because you weren’t aware of the winter that will follow and the biting cold that it would bear, for everything that will go astray in your relationship, for your ex's facade to crack like a glacier succumbing to the pressure of lies and pretense.

I wake up in another silence, and I close my eyes.

You remember Hyunjin confessing that silence haunted him more than words ever could, and you had agreed, sharing how sometimes you shut your eyes, pretending that the reality you woke up to wasn't the one you were living.

The white flower we planted together has bloomed. I do not dare pick it. Now it withers away.

You gaze at the white flowers you brought him, now wilted in the vase placed on his desk, yet Hyunjin refuses to throw them still. You see the card you wrote for him hung on the wall, right next to the dried red rose. He kept it. Though it withered, he kept it all.

So I long for you. And I long for you. And I'll long for you.

You remember the longing you both spoke of, how he understood a feeling you felt so incredibly alone in. How he tried to reassure you when he too was caught in the webs of the past. How you longed for him in the past week. How you wished he longed for you just the same.

So I can keep loving you. So I could be loving you. And morе.

The violin swells and so does the emotion in your chest. You remember him asking you ‘What’s not to love in you’ and how you've spun those words in your thoughts ever since. You remember thinking that if he gave you a few more weeks, just a bit more time, you might have found it in you to believe them.

You see Hyunjin’s glimmering eyes holding yours, you see his heart atop a platter handed to you, and you see the resignation in his being. Don’t make me love you, you told him. You didn’t dare to tell him not to love you in return, deemed it too foolish of thought to entertain.

For he was Hwang Hyunjin, the quiet producer who paints in his free time and who wears his heart on his sleeve. Who remains hopeful, loving, and tender, despite the thorns pricking at his side. Who is beautiful, so much so that he allowed you to see beauty in the universe once again, through his eyes.

How could he love you?

How could you not love him?

“The song,” you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips as you stand, trembling, on your feet. Hyunjin rises too, meeting you in the center of his room.

“It is about you. For you,” he says simply as if his words don’t cause your world to burst at the seams only to mend itself once again, too eager to fix itself and exist in the same timeline as Hyunjin.

“I don't… I don’t know what to say,” you say earnestly, feeling your heart pound in your chest, its beats resounding loudly in your ears.

It is wrong of you to assume he wishes you to say something. He is Hyunjin, the one who finds words in your silences too, after all.

“I don’t need you to say anything,” he shakes his head, taking another step closer to you. “I don't want an answer, I don't wish to pressure you. I just wanted to tell you that my love is here, it is yours to take or to leave, to cherish or to discard. But it is yours, because this is who I am. I am someone who loves you.”

“So do not tell me to forget you because I don't know how to. And don’t tell me that you’ll leave because I will love you still, because you’d still be you, near or far, you are you. And you are someone I long for.” He pauses, his voice softening. “And I long for you, Yn, more than anything I've ever longed for. And I've spent all my life longing.”

His lips meet your forehead tenderly, and you feel your entire being grow limp at the chaste kiss, as if your limbs wish to liquefy and form a puddle on the floor. His touch is soft, and you miss it the moment he parts from you.

“There must be something in this room that keeps on making you cry,” he smiles and you bring your hands to your damp cheeks, surprised to find there tears you didn’t realize had fallen.

“It’s you,” you pinch his arm playfully and he squirms away from your hold, stabbing his toe on the desk in the process. A loud fuck echoes around the room, and your laughter dissipates the tension clinging into the air.

“Can you play it again?” you request softly and Hyunjin’s theatrics fade as a shy smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Is it good?”

“It's everything to me.”

“It's called ‘long for you’, by the way.”

“Long for you,” you repeat quietly. There has never been a prettier combination of words.

The title all but makes sense as you lay on the bed, your gaze fixed on the paintings hung on the wall, Hyunjin sketching quietly on his desk, the song resonating softly in the background. You've longed for many things in your life—the person you once were and the tender love you once craved—but amidst it all, nothing has weighed heavier on your heart than the longing for the man sitting just two meters away, almost in your loving grasp. Almost.

❁ ❁ ❁

It is an excruciating five days that Hyunjin spends apart from you, the both of you too caught up in your assignments to find a moment to properly speak. But you do not shy away from him when he greets you, and your grin is kind as it drapes across his being, and Hyunjin swears he has never seen a prettier sight than you smiling.

On the sixth night, Hyunjin completes the cover for the song— a figure wrapped around itself protectively, mirroring the way you hug yourself in your sleep. He hangs it on the wall, right next to your thank you card and the white bouquet he drew once again, wishing to properly immortalize its beautiful flowers, to purify that memory from the tumult that followed it.

On the sixth night, the house is quiet, the full moon high up in the sky, snowflakes falling softly to the ground. Hyunjin wonders if you too mimicked the snow’s descent— both of you falling apart with it.

But then, there’s a knock on his door.

His heart catches in his throat, his body freezing as if it forgot how to move. You are here.

“Come in,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. You push the door open, and Hyunjin's words wilt on his tongue as he sees what you're carrying—another bouquet, filled with white flowers, yet again.

“Hey,” you smile, standing by the door.

He remains silent, unsure of what to say, or how to speak. He longs for you when you are away, even more so when you’re before him.

“We shouldn't let these white flowers wither away too, right?” you smile slightly, placing the bouquet on the desk before walking to Hyunjin’s bedside. His voice falters, vocal cords refusing to move and overshadow your voice.

You sit beside him, gently pulling his hand so that you’d both lie on the pillows. Your hand doesn’t leave his own, instead, it moves to rest on his cheek, reminiscent of the many times he had cradled your face before. Inch by inch, you close the gap between you, nuzzle the tip of your nose against his own. “Hi, Hyune”, you say softly, and he swallows thickly, his voice coming out just as quietly.

“Hi, my Yn.”

“If we take care of the white flowers together do you think they’ll survive a bit longer?” you ask, your gaze never wavering from his, countless stars twinkling in the depths of your irises.

“I believe so,” he says tentatively, too aware of the warmth of your palm against his skin, of the sweet ache unfurling within his being.

“Mm, and even if they wilt we can always buy new ones. We can learn how to care for them better, with time,” you say, and he nods in agreement, laying his hand atop your own, tilting his head to bestow a chaste kiss on your palm.

“With time,” he echoes softly and you smile, vulnerable yet secure in his gray sheets, in his hold.

“Will you give me time too?” you ask, and Hyunjin reads in your eyes what you mean, understands in the shake of your voice the question you are too afraid to voice. Will he give you time to heal in order to love?

“As long as you need. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures, pressing his forehead gently atop yours, and you both close your eyes, as a running warmth encloses you both, blooms a blush on both your cheeks.

His arms wrap around your back, drawing you close until your chests are pressed together, your head resting naturally in the curve of his neck. And it is long forgotten in your mind, all the nights you slept in this very bed alone. You feel safe, safe enough to long for love knowing that it patiently awaits you behind the door, once you find enough courage to turn the doorknob. You feel serene, as Hyunjin’s warm palms glide soothingly up and down your spine, as every muscle, every nerve, every atom in your being relaxes in his hold.

You are healing, slowly, with each fleeting second that passes in which Hyunjin’s heartbeat resounds within your chest, as its melody runs through your veins, melds with your own as if it was destined to be there all along. As you rest in Hyunjin, as you find a safe home within his soul to discard your worries at the doorstep and breathe.

“It did get better,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Hm?” He leans back to look at you, and he’s so beautiful, so tender as he gazes at you, you can’t help but trace the contours of his face with your fingers, hoping to commemorate him with your eyes, with your touch.

“You promised me it’ll get better, and it did,” you smile, as your legs further intertwine with his, and his rose perfume becomes an indelible mark on your skin. “Too bad I can't hit your pretty face now,” you joke and he giggles, tipping his head back.

He's so beautiful, body and soul, and he longs for you, you alone.

“But I can still do this,” you murmur before finally pressing your lips against his like a boat finally reaching the shore after months of sailing. You both exhale, in yearning, in relief, as your mouths move together in a slow, languid dance, his hand finding the pulse on your neck, yours settling atop his jaw.

He would kiss you again, this intimately, in the coming months, when your heart expands enough to contain the love Hyunjin deserves. He would kiss you again, when your past comes to haunt you, and healing sounds like an elusive myth you’d never encounter in your life.

And he would kiss you again, over the kitchen table and under the fridge’s light, in between paintings and in supermarket aisles, while picking flowers and watching the first snow.

He would kiss you, this tenderly, in the next winter, and the ones after it, as if his longing for you never wanes. Till blow three disappears from your memory, till all you remember is the love, the true one, the kind one, the soft one Hyunjin alone could have brought you.

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demonictacobeard · 2 months

Text

Adam, coming out of his room for the first time:……Alright what the fuck do you guys even do here? Therapy, or some shit

Lucifer who had been waiting for him by the door: Charlie has activities usually, and is more then willing to talk to residents about their feelings and how they ended up in hell so that’s like therapy. I’m surprised you know about that, has heaven finally implemented it?

Adam, grumbling: No Heaven doesn’t fucking have therapy, but for the last ten years the newer winners have been asking why and the older angels had to find out what the fuck it is

Lucifer, humming: I do have to wonder how all the therapists up there don’t fall from utter frustration

Charlie, watching them come down the stairs excitedly: Hi Dad! Hi Adam! I’m so excited you came down. How are you feeling today, do you think you might be up for an activity? Or ooh, I never got to show you around the whole hotel just to your room. Whatever you feel like! Adam, stepping back: I knew she was excited during the meeting but Is she always this fucking cheery? It’s like Emily has a long lost twin from Hell

Angel Dust, from the bar: It’s the new resident joy, you’ll get used to it lambchop!

Husk, snorting: You act like you don’t adore that girl

Angel, pointing at him with three pointer fingers: You, shut up

Lucifer, beaming with pride: She’s very passionate about her work, always has been

Adam, groaning as Charlie looks at him with glimmering eyes: Dear fucking god, shit alright, fine I’ll take the tour

Vaggie, walking up to them with her spear: Good, because todays activity is Alastor’s idea and I don’t trust him not to ‘accidentally’ scar you emotionally instead

Charlie, gasping: Vaggie! Come on, Alastor wouldn’t do that

Lucifer and Vaggie, deadpan: Yes he would

Adam, crossing his arms: I don’t know the fucker, I just beat his ass, but yes the shit he would. Do you see that smile he has going on all the time? I haven’t seen one so fake since Michael’s

Lucifer, gaging: Hech Mike

Adam, nodding: Fucking Mike

Vaggie, vaguely remembering the angel: Do you mean….the Mike who was your bosses boss, the one who came around and inspected the exterminator’s once every ten years. That Mike?

Adam: That’s the bitch, Vag

Vaggie, her cheek twitching in anger: The ARCHANGEL MICHAEL?

Adam: Adding his title doesn’t unmake him a bitch

Lucifer, laughing: Nothing can

Charlie, smacking her head: Awful uncle Mike! Dad told me about him, don’t worry Adam Alastor is nothing like him. The smile is just….a tool for him? It’s harmless

Adam, rolling his eyes: The bartender just looked at you like you lied to gods face and then fucking spat on it, but whatever. I’ll do the activities and shit, later, but only ones you’re in charge of- why does your face look like that?

Charlie singing to Vaggie, after grabbing a confused Adam’s elbow and happily dragging him on the tour: He trusts meeeee!

Adam, flushing: ONLY MORE THEN THAT FUCKING DEER!

Lucifer, following them: Thats still a little, you know

Angel, laughing at Alastor when he walked in ten minutes later: Hey Alastor, guess what sheep boy trusts the devil and the devil’s daughter more then you. How’s that make you feel?

Alastor, his smile becoming more genuine: Positively ‘devastated’

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel alastor #guitarduck #adamsapple #cw cursing #sinner adam #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #Adam: Is she fucking glowing what the hell #You know how at a party you follow the one person you know?#Adam is doing that to Lucifer #He will die again before admitting it though #Hc they both hate Michael

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inupibaldspot · 3 months

Text

Sunglasses

Paring : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note: My Blue Eyed King is indeed handsome without his glasses, it even makes you who is so oblivious realize your feelings for him.

“No Shoko.” Gojo’s face had as frown on his face as he stands near the alley way. Shoko really needed a smoke break but then the closest smoking zone was still a considerable distance away so here they were, in an alleyway Shoko smoking with Gojo as company. “I think I have been very obvious by now.”

“No shit, I think even Yaga knows by now”Shoko let’s out a chuckle. “Buts it’s also funny how oblivious y/n is.”

Shoko smiles as Gojo’s face contours in a frown further. She remembers when Gojo took a sip from your drink followed by a wink and despite Shoko giving a snide remark of ‘Wow~ An indirect kiss!’, you were pouting saying Gojo was after your drinks and scrambled away, hiding behind Geto.

“Even yesterday, we were in Harajuku.” Gojo huffs as Shoko takes a final drag from her cigarette and crushes the item beneath her feet. “I won a pop-ring from the pachinko and put it in her ring finger; RING FINGER!”

The duo starts walking back to where you and Geto were sitting at, Gojo still yapping away recalling the recent incident. “You know what y/n did? That idiot pulled it from their finger, bit the candy from the handle, threw the ring handle away and said it was inconvenient to eat candy that way.”

“Well, Y/N doesn’t like having things around their fingers and wrist.” Shoko smiles as Gojo huffs in frustration. “Have you maybe tried confessing?”

Gojo looks as her as if she had grown two heads. “Why do you think I was ignoring them for 2 days last month?”

“Pfft… You sulked only for two days?”

“Yeah, they called me over to their room to play Mario kart.”

Shoko cackled thinking how Gojo really can’t ever be genuinely upset at you,ever but smiles as she sees Geto and you not too far away. You were standing behind Geto and your hands were combing through his hair, Geto sitting comfortably with his eyes closed,undoubtedly a bit drowsy. “Your love of your life is being taken away though.”

Gojo follows his friend’s line of sight and sees what’s was going on making him screech. “Geh!”

You were combing your hands through Geto’s hair. Geto who always had his bun high and tight in the morning would always start to slouch and become slightly messy towards the evening, so you being a good friend offered to help.

Geto denied it at first. Gojo would blow a fuse if he sees his crush so close to him. But on second thought, Gojo did eat the yogurt he had saved up so it was a good chance for a payback so he agrees.

“Suguru!” Gojo slides infront of him in great speed, a trail of dust behind him. “That’s breaking bro code!”

To which Geto just sticks his tongue out with a smug look on his face. You tilt your head in confusion. What’s Satoru going on about? You think as your hands still. “I’m fixing his hair,Satoru.”

“Let me help you then.” Gojo scoots your away gently, as he then takes over making Geto’s hair as his hands swiftly takes over. “Done!”

Geto stills frozen for a second as he sat with his hair in a twin tail, his bangs covering one side of his face as usual with a proud looking Gojo beside him. He looks stupid. This make you and Shoko burst out laughing.

A nerve pops from Geto’s forehead and he swiftly swings his fist.

*Smash!*

“Ah!”

That’s how you guys ended up in a glasses shop, after Geto swings his fist on Gojo his fist collided with his face which in turn breaks the Gojo’s sunglasses.

“How about this?” You stand on the ball of your feet as your outstretched your hand to put on a sunglass on Gojo.

Gojo stops breathing for a second on how close you were to him, the tip of his ears felt hot. You put him a heart shaped pink glass, stupid he know but when sees you slump back and giggle, he thinks it’s worth it.

Geto and Shoko looks away from the pair. We’ll give you two space. Shoko has whispered to him and they walk around the store keeping a distance.

“Yeah yeah.” Gojo sings and you still continue laughing; he brings his hands to the frame of the glasses and removes it. “I know I look handsome but let’s get serious.”

You nod at him, your face still had a dust of red due to laughing. “Fine I’ll pick out a good one.”

“Ah! Look at that guy~”

“The white hair one…He is so tall!”

“Kyaa~ He looks so dreamy.”

Gojo puffs his chest in pride. This wasn’t old news at all as he always knew he was a good looking guy. He may have actually missed this kind of attention since no one at Jujutsu High would react like that.

“Try this one.” Your stiff voice breaks him from his thoughts as you once again put him a glasses; another stupid one where the frame was shaped like a flower.

“Listen.” Gojo says. “Let’s pick a proper one.”

“Why?” His heart skips a beat as your lips turn into a pout, your eyes look at him as if you were a puppy. “You like the girls fawning over you?”

“Wha-“

Before Gojo could respond, you held the cuff of his shirt as you pull him towards Shoko and Geto.

“Ehh~ He had a girlfriend.”

“That’s boring.”

Gojo gulps loudly as he racks through his brain. No way? But then you- Damn I really don’t want to get too confident. He thinks as Gojo then opens his mouth.

“Hey? Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” He tries to keep his tone in his usual teasing one but there was a slight tremble at the end.

“I-“ You swiftly turn around, your eyes was nervously wandering as you try to look into his eyes, face increasingly red ; Gojo wished he could kiss you then and there. “I just- I guess I am.”

Gojo stills as he then breaks into a series of laughter. What the hell, all these time of him pinning on you, trying to make you realize the Gojo Satoru loves you and all it took was some random group of girls gushing over him?

“Fuck.” Gojo covers his huge grin on his face with his hands, and maybe the blush aswell as he then warps his hand around your waist and twirls you around . “You’re so fucking cute.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo imagines #gojo imagine #gojo satoru imagine #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo saturo

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jayflrt · 6 months

Text

golden boy

❝ c’mon, this is exactly like the bahamas if you close your eyes. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee heeseung x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, crack, best friends to lovers, summer romance au, rich kid au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, underage drinking, heeseung is the biggest simp ever, and he calls you princess, mc has a stepdad, she is also a little spoiled in the beginning, tooth rotting fluff (like might be the fluffiest thing i’ve written), mutual pining ofc because this is a jayflrt fic, friends being insufferable (mainly 02z)

SUMMARY ▸ in the summer between high school and college, lee heeseung is determined to make you fall in love with the city of los angeles after your vacation plans in the bahamas fall through. somewhere between the lines, though, you end up falling for your childhood best friend.

WORD COUNT ▸ 16,375 words

PLAYLIST ▸ youth by troye sivan • tongue tied by grouplove • ribs by lorde • sanctuary by joji • cruel summer by taylor swift • stars by duncan laurence

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i have been waiting AGES to share this one so i hope u guys like it !! ♡ also pls play stars by duncan laurence during the observatory scene if you’d like :’)

IT WAS THE FIRST DAY OF SUMMER VACATION WHEN YOU RECEIVED THE GOD-AWFUL NEWS.

“Your father and I are finally gonna have our honeymoon this summer!” your mother exclaimed, grinning excitedly as if she was expecting you to reciprocate the same energy.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t god-awful, but this was the one summer where you didn’t have to shoulder the responsibilities of being a student. Having recently graduated from high school, you were basking in the glow of finally becoming an adult and an incoming college freshman. You were finally free from AP exams, college applications, and the pressure of balancing academics and a social life. So, given all that, you were rather upset that your parents were leaving you behind before you had to fall into the routine of being a student all over again.

You didn’t mind having this talk. In fact, you were glad your mother was telling you in advance instead of just jetting away to another country and leaving a note behind. However, you didn’t understand why she had to have this conversation in front of your best friend, Lee Heeseung.

It probably didn’t help that you two had been joined at the hip since you were wearing diapers, but your families had gotten far too comfortable with each other. Just last week, Heeseung’s mom was asking you if you both had finally “tied the knot,” to which you replied by explaining that you had just graduated high school.

You were happy for your mother and stepfather, really. Your mother had experienced her fair share of bad relationships after your father left, so you were glad that she finally met someone so kind and genuine. You weren’t ever one to judge the men your mother brought home, but your stepfather always got brownie points for playing Mario Kart with you whenever he came over. Not to mention, he bought you the Nintendo Switch to play it on. He seemed to be the only man who didn’t feel insecure about your mother’s success and lavish lifestyle, so you only had good things to say about him.

While you were genuinely glad with the outcome of your parents’ relationship, that unbecoming, spoiled side of you was slipping through the cracks. Even your brain was shouting at you for complaining about having to stay in Bel Air for the summer. Yet, you were just far too frustrated with the bleak vision of your own summer to care about your parent’s honeymoon. In two weeks, you should have been vacationing in the Bahamas with a piña colada in your hand, not waiting for your parents to come back from Rome.

“That sounds so fun,” you chirped with fake enthusiasm, although you supposed it was easily detected due to your gritted teeth, “and that’s not gonna interfere with our trip to the Bahamas, right?” When she didn’t respond, you asked again, “Right, Mom?”

Your mother wore an uneasy look on her face at the sight of your displeasure, so Heeseung cut in quickly, “I think you should probably forget about the Bahamas this year, Y/N.”

“Heeseung!” you whined, sending him a sharp glare. He did not just tell you to forget about the Bahamas. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Not around your mom, dude,” he muttered.

“He’s right, Y/N.” Your mother smiled as she placed her hands on your shoulders. “I mean, it would be good for you to stay here with all of your friends for once; I don’t think you’ve ever not left the country for the summer.” When you sulked, your mother tried to encourage you by gently squeezing your shoulders. “Heeseung and your other friends are here, and you have a car now! Yeji’s family moved to Irvine now, didn’t they? You can drive down to see her.”

You nodded, a little more encouraged. You and Hwang Yeji had been close ever since you met at Choi Jisu’s birthday party in middle school. When Yeji’s parents decided to move to Irvine, finding that housing was much more expensive in Los Angeles County, you were absolutely crushed. Plus, it wasn’t like Orange County was any less expensive, so you felt even more bitter about their sudden move. It wasn’t like you could drive and see Yeji whenever you wanted, either; the one hour drive felt like three with all the Los Angeles traffic.

You hung your head, dejected. “I guess so.” You turned your head to the side, noticing the snicker that Heeseung was holding back. After shooting him a dirty look, you looked back at your mother. “When are you leaving?”

“This weekend,” she responded, eyes fixed on her phone screen now. “I have to sort out my PTO with my boss today, though.” She kissed the top of your head and started heading for the door, heels clicking against the linoleum flooring with each step. “I’ll see you later tonight, Y/N! And make sure Heeseung actually goes home tonight!”

You shot a glance at your friend, who didn’t seem to have a care in the world in reaction to your mother’s words.

Heeseung tended to be scared of everything—everything except actually scary things, like biblically accurate angels or the wrath of his mother.

You gave your best friend a condescending half-grin, which he returned sheepishly. As of late, Heeseung had become notorious for staying out late with Jay Park, Jake Sim, and Park Sunghoon. (Yang Jungwon often joined them, but he was adamant about going home before midnight. Something about not wanting to miss out on his beauty sleep.) Everyone thought this was the beginning of Heeseung’s teenage rebellion (which was rather delayed), but then you discovered that all they did was play games in an internet café and occasionally use their fake IDs to get into VIP lounges at clubs.

When you heard the door shut, you circled around the couch to sit next to Heeseung.

“This sucks,” you said flatly. “Summer means an ungodly rise in temperature—hot enough to melt the skin off my bones, and I’d rather have that happen while I’m sunbathing in the Bahamas!”

“Do you realize how spoiled you sound right now?” Heeseung snorted, looking up from his phone where he was playing Cookie Run from the umpteenth time. You swore he was addicted to the game despite the numerous times he told you he was just playing it as a joke. Your best friend continued, “You should be happy for your mom instead of complaining about your summer being ruined.”

You sank back in your seat. You hated to admit it, but Heeseung was right; you were being uptight about this whole situation. You just couldn’t help but feel disappointed about the one thing you were looking forward to all year long.

Heeseung leaned closer so that you both were shoulder-to-shoulder, and he nudged you. You looked over and were met with his dazzling grin. Frankly, you were honored that you were graced with his attention in the middle of his Cookie Run gaming session.

“You can spend the summer with me instead,” he offered.

You snorted. “That was gonna happen, anyway. You spend all your free time at my place.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Heeseung asked, brows knitting into a frown.

He looked at you so intensely that your breath caught in your throat for a moment. The proximity coupled with the shift in tone made you feel self-conscious, and you were scared that Heeseung was going to let some unspoken feeling slip.

However, his face broke into a mischievous grin. “You guys have a jacuzzi.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line and shoved him harder. This time, Heeseung was laughing as he fell against one of the cushions on his side. You grabbed one of the throw pillows and started pummeling him with it.

“You have your own jacuzzi, too, dumbass,” you retorted. “You’d know if you actually stayed at your own house for once! Also, you’ve lost your pool privileges here after you poured bubble bath in ours.”

“Come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

“You clogged our jets and we had to pay someone to get rid of the bubbles, Heeseung.”

“Jake was the one who poured the bubble bath in!”

“And who was the one who gave him the idea?”

Heeseung grimaced, and you were seconds away from reminding him how you took the fall for him when your parents asked what happened to the hot tub. Before you could, though, he spoke up.

“I was being serious, though,” he started, “do you wanna have a fun summer with me, or do you wanna stay bitter and do nothing?”

Something about Heeseung’s condescending tone was pissing you off. You stared at him before delivering one last blow with the throw pillow.

“Ow! What was that for?!” he exclaimed, rubbing his arm. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics; you didn’t even hit him that hard.

“I’ll see you later,” you told him, turning on your heel to head upstairs without seeing your friend out. “I have plans with Yizhuo now.”

You weren’t exactly sure how you became friends with Ning Yizhuo, but throughout high school, everyone knew the two of you came in a package deal. When you were in third period AP World History, everyone knew that Yizhuo would switch out of her second period section to be in your class; when you didn’t show up to calculus, it was no surprise that it was because you were ditching with Yizhuo; when Zhong Chenle asked Yizhuo out, he realized that commitment came with becoming your friend as well.

At first, you assumed that it was because your mothers were close, but that didn’t explain why you spent countless nights at her place and picked her up for school every single morning. Heeseung even once admitted that he was jealous of your friendship with her. He was drunk when he mentioned that, of course. He would never admit to that while he was sober.

When she got into a school on the west coast and you got into a school on the east coast, though, you thought your life was over. (When you figured out your meet-up plans were somewhat manageable, you felt a little better.)

On the bright side, you were stoked to attend Yale with your partner-in-crime, Heeseung.

“Wait! Let me drive you,” said partner-in-crime offered.

You turned to face him, wide-eyed. “It’s like a thirty minute drive, Heeseung. I’m going to her country club.”

Despite your protests, you knew that Heeseung would be more than willing to drive all the way over there. Hell, you could tell him you wanted to go to Las Vegas right now, and he’d somehow manage to arrange a trip for you two. You had never met anyone as spontaneous as him.

Now, though, you were trying to get away from him because you were a little bitter about his comment. On the other hand, you really didn’t want to drive alone, so you kept his proposition on the table.

“Oh, her country club? The one up north, right?” he inquired. “Can I bring Jake, too? We’ll just hang out at the mall while you do your thing.”

You mulled it over—not for long, though, because you found yourself caving easily. “Fine.”

You forgot that Heeseung bringing Jake meant that Jay and Sunghoon were coming along for the ride, too.

The three of them were squeezed in the back of Heeseung’s Tesla, with Jay incessantly complaining about how he had to take the middle seat. He even went as far as to compare heights, and Sunghoon used his one centimeter on Jay to his advantage. Jake remained silent for once.

You ran your finger along the smooth leather of your seat and snorted.

“Are you making fun of my car?” Heeseung asked with a chuckle.

“No, I’m making fun of how you dropped extra money for white seats.”

“And for the seven-seater.”

“What?!” Jay exclaimed, swiveling in his seat to look behind him. “And you still squeezed me in the middle seat?”

“Not my fault you didn’t look behind you, dude.”

Sunghoon and Jake proceeded to laugh at their friend, and you were about to do the same until you realized you had looked to see if Heeseung was laughing along with you. To your delight, he was. That, and the wind was blowing in his hair so perfectly. The golden sun shone across his face in a way that made his eyes crinkle up and his smile grow. You would always scold him for not having sunglasses on him, but, this time, you were a little distracted by how he glowed.

Heeseung then turned to you, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh. “What’s up?”

“N-nothing at all.” You coughed, tearing your gaze away to look ahead at the freeway. “Are we almost there?”

You just then registered how the backseat had gotten awfully silent, and when you turned to check on The Three Idiots (you deemed this title upon them back in high school, and it stuck), they all had Cheshire grins spread across their faces. It was a little scary, honestly. Their antics were nightmarish on their own, but what their eyes suggested was something that would haunt you. You fought down the heat creeping up your cheeks in an effort to appear indifferent, and you turned back to look at the GPS.

Ten minutes. You had to deal with them for ten more minutes. That was 600 seconds. Maybe you could tune out the testosterone if you counted down your arrival time.

To your relief, though, ten minutes passed by much faster because the four boys got into a heated argument over the superior boba shop in the Bay Area. You had to interject by reminding them that none of them were even from the Bay Area. Heeseung wound up going on a tangent about how he and Choi Yeonjun went on a day trip last weekend, which you would have remembered “if you were a better friend.”

You did remember, actually. Heeseung was texting you the entire time about Yeonjun forcing him to choose between him or a PS5. You presumed that Heeseung chose the PS5 because Yeonjun posted a black screen on his Snapchat story with the caption “dhmu” followed by a wilting rose and broken heart emoji.

(They wound up gaming all night afterward, anyway.)

The Three Idiots sensed tension from the back seat, so they started a new debate: the superior boba shop in Los Angeles.

You couldn’t believe that this was the depth of their conversations.

When you finally arrived at Yizhuo’s country club, you were being nagged by Sunghoon to get out of the car. He was eager to go to the mall and try out a new sushi place that everyone had been raving about. For someone who seemed to lack any seriousness, Sunghoon was extremely diligent about his frequent Yelp reviews; he even got promoted to the Yelp Elite Squad.

“Alright, alright, I’m going!” you complained, shooting Heeseung a withering look—a please save me from your friends, which he grinned at. “Bye, then.”

“Have fun, princess,” Heeseung called as you were closing the door, and you were grateful your back was turned so that he couldn’t see the look on your face.

(“Princess?” Jay questioned. “Did you just call her princess?”

“It’s an inside joke!” Heeseung rebuked.

“And were you just checking her out?” came Jake’s muffled voice from inside the car, and a bark of laughter followed immediately after from Sunghoon and Jay.)

You shook your head when Heeseung sped off as quickly as possible. You could picture it so vividly; he would be defending himself to his dying breath, cheeks bright red as his mouth ran. Although you found it funny, you knew that Heeseung was probably just glancing out the window to make sure you weren’t too close to the car before he drove away.

“Y/N!” Yizhuo called from the entrance. You turned to see her clad in a cotton shirt and tennis skirt, standing next to Zhong Chenle. “Did you think we were swimming or something?”

Yes, you most definitely did think you were going to be sunbathing by the poolside. With a sheer cover-up over your black one-piece, you were definitely not ready to play tennis with Yizhuo and her boyfriend. You even had your red heart-shaped sunglasses on your head.

You let out a petulant whine, taking your walk of shame over to the two. “I’m already in the racquet club, so why would I come here to play more tennis?”

Yizhuo shrugged, but the one thing you loved about her was that she was flexible with plans. “I’ll just change into my swimsuit, then. I’ve been wanting to sunbathe,” she said before handing Chenle her racquet. “Looks like doubles didn’t work out. Are you and Jisung good with playing singles?”

“I don’t mind as long as I win,” Chenle answered with a grin. “See you two later.”

He was clearly delighted because you were probably the only competition he had to worry about. You were sure Park Jisung would complain when he found out that you weren’t going to be his partner. Jisung was utterly hopeless when it came to tennis—or, rather, he was scared of anything flying in his direction.

Yizhuo grabbed her Prada leather tote bag, pulling out a white two-piece with a gold clip in the front after some digging. She excused herself to change quickly, and came back within five minutes. You were grateful she came prepared. For her, though, it was inevitable considering she drove thirty minutes most days to lounge around her country club with Chenle.

“They’re renovating the banquet room right now,” Yizhuo informed as she settled into the lounge chair next to yours. “I was going to invite you for the opening next week, but you’re gonna be in the Bahamas, as usual.”

“Yeah, about that,” you drawled, “vacation plans fell through, so I’m not going anymore.”

“What?” Yizhuo sat up, startling the server who brought over cocktails on a silver plate. “But you always go to the Bahamas!”

You gingerly took one of the cocktail glasses, mouthing your gratitude before turning your attention back to Yizhuo. “My parents wanna spend their honeymoon alone, and Heeseung thinks I’m acting spoiled.”

Yizhuo smirked against the rim of her glass. “How is it that Heeseung always manages to come up in our conversations?”

“He doesn’t!” you exclaimed. “He’s just always around, you know? Like a fruit fly.”

“Just like how Chenle’s always around?”

“Chenle’s your boyfriend; Heeseung’s just a gnat.”

“I’m telling you, Y/N, you and Heeseung are the dictionary definition of couple behavior. I swear, you two are meant for each other.”

You sighed. “Heeseung and I have been best friends since, like, forever. Our relationship is just… different from my other friendships.”

Yizhuo raised a brow, a coy smile still creeping across her face. “So how come you refer to everyone else as friendships, but with him it’s a relationship?”

“Psychoanalyze much?” You sent a mocking smile right back at her. “Can I not have a friend of the opposite gender anymore?”

“You can have one that doesn’t make heart eyes at you,” Yizhuo replied with a scoff. “I’m telling you, the guy’s head over heels.”

“Whatever.” You slipped your sunglasses down to rest on the bridge of your nose. You didn’t want to think about potential romantic feelings for your best friend that could threaten the stability of your life-long friendship. “Let’s circle back to what’s actually important: my summer.”

“Poor Heeseung.” Yizhuo tutted. “Bahamas over love.”

“Love can happen any time,” you said, “but the window of opportunity only opens once, and that golden period is the summer between high school and college. Think about it, Yizhuo! Every summer after this one is gonna be loaded with classes, internships, and work.”

“So, what’s your game plan?”

You pondered on her question. There were only so many options you had, and, clearly, going to the Bahamas was not one of them. Honestly, you hardly felt like a real Californian with the little knowledge you had about what you could even do around your area; all you could think about was the beach or Disneyland. Plus, with Yeji doing a summer program in Irvine and Yizhuo spending her days at her country club, you didn’t have much room for spontaneous activities with them.

Unless you wanted to spend every single day like you would on a regular weekend, you had to find someone who knew how to make things fun.

And, unfortunately, that narrowed it back down to Lee Heeseung.

You turned back to Yizhuo with a sheepish look on your face. “I think I have an idea.”

“Be my summer escort service.”

“Excuse me?” Heeseung nearly choked on the tea your mother made for him. You watched as he set the cup down as delicately as possible while his eyes welled up with tears. He hit his fist against his chest a few times before calming down. “I don’t think you know what an escort service entails, but I think I know what you’re getting at.” He grinned slowly. “You’re taking me up on my offer.”

You did a lot of thinking on the car ride back to Bel Air.

A lot of thinking during the time when Sunghoon wasn’t complaining about the quality of the sushi place they went to. You were almost inspired to write a negative review yourself because of how passionate he was.

“Well, it’s inevitable that I’m gonna be seeing you almost every day, anyway,” you said, “so we might as well make the most of it, right?”

“I knew you’d turn around.” Heeseung reached over and ruffled your hair. “I’ll make sure you have the best summer of your life, Y/N.”

Lee Heeseung excelled at virtually anything. You were sure he would surpass your expectations with these impromptu summer plans, too.

You deemed the nickname “Golden Boy” upon him for this very reason, and it had everything to do with the fact that Heeseung was absolutely perfect at everything he did.

For a while, you even coined a theory that he had been created in a laboratory, specially designed to be absolutely flawless in every way imaginable. Of course Heeseung was born rich, smart, and handsome. Some people were just born lucky into the world, and, when you were younger, it was harder to accept that. Heeseung grew up with the world at his disposal; he got everything and anything he wanted, but that didn’t necessarily mean he took his privilege for granted.

You had to admit that Heeseung was a hard worker when it came down to it. Although he was definitely affluent as a fourth generation trust fund baby, Heeseung made sure his parents were never disappointed with his results.

Throughout high school, he consistently ranked first every single year, always coming right above you after the semester ended. Not to mention, he had even been scouted by several Division 1 schools to join their soccer team. He was even published at the mere age of sixteen for the research he did with a college professor. And, with a face and personality like his, any reasonable mother would’ve loved for their daughter to bring Heeseung home for dinner.

Another thing he never failed to accomplish was making you absolutely flustered.

“Well…” You turned your cheek. “I always have fun when I hang out with you, so don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late. It’s getting to my head.”

You groaned.

“Hey, we might as well have fun,” Heeseung tried. “It’s not like any of us are vicariously living through each other’s summer romances.”

“Whoa. You said ‘each other.’”

“Yeah?”

You shot him a questioning look. “You’re implying that you have a summer romance that I’m not allowed to live vicariously through.”

“What? No!” Heeseung frowned as he tried to do the mental gymnastics to piece together your reasoning. “I said—actually, you know what, it doesn’t matter what I said. Who cares about being cuffed? Let’s just enjoy the last moments of our youth.”

“You know what, you’re right,” you agreed, getting fired up just by his words. Maybe it was the realization that time was fleeting, but you were determined to have the best summer ever now. “This summer, I’m Percy and you’re Grover. No one’s getting in the way of our side quests.”

“Why do I have to be the half-barnyard animal sidekick?” Heeseung deadpanned. “Can’t I be Annabeth?”

“No, put some respect on a satyr’s title.”

Your best friend picked his cup of tea back up when it had cooled. He blew gently on the surface before taking a careful sip, and then confidently drank more afterward. He set his cup down again and held a finger up, signaling that he wanted a chance to speak again. You were half-expecting it to be about the damn Percy Jackson lore.

“Your parents leave soon, right?” he asked instead. You nodded in response, somewhat surprised about his inquiry, so Heeseung continued, “Do they need a ride to the airport? We could have a sleepover after.”

“I think—”

“We would love a ride to the airport, Heeseung,” your mother gushed from the staircase as she was lugging suitcases down, “but you’re going straight back to your house after taking my daughter home.”

Heeseung swallowed thickly. “O-of course, ma’am. Straight home.”

You pouted a little. “You’re not staying?”

He smirked a little at your reaction, and you were a little flustered and disappointed that you managed to inflate his ego even further.

“Nah, I’ll just—” Heeseung cut himself off quickly when he noticed your mother was suddenly towering behind where he was seated on your couch. “I’ll—I’ll go straight to my house, like I said.”

“Come on, let the kids spend some time together before college,” your stepfather chimed in, following suit with a suitcase of his own. “Y/N hardly ever gets to stay in LA for the summer.”

“We’re going to the same college, Dad,” you pointed out.

“Of course,” He walked over to ruffle your hair, and Heeseung stared up at him as if your stepfather was some respected higher power, “but you never know what could happen in college. People grow apart whether you like it or not, and the life of a college student gets busy, so you two might as well enjoy this summer.”

When all you could do was stare at your stepfather in horror, he added, “I’m not saying you’re gonna stop being friends! It’s just easier to spend time together now than it is in college.”

“That’s why I’m your daughter’s escort this summer,” Heeseung spoke up.

“Escort?” your stepfather pressed. “That’s… a little concerning. Keep it PG, you two.”

“It’s not like that!” you whined. “Anyway, Dad, don’t you have to get to the airport soon?”

He checked his watch quickly and nodded at your mother. “Y/N’s right. We should get going soon, honey. I’m gonna go make sure I didn’t forget to pack anything.”

With that, your stepfather jogged upstairs with Heeseung’s curious eyes following him suspiciously. When you nudged him, trying to figure out why he was mugging your dad for no reason, he grinned a little. He gestured for you to lean closer so that he could speak quietly.

You leaned in close so that your ear was by his lips, and Heeseung whispered, “He’s totally packing your mom’s honeymoon present.”

“How do you know?”

“Classic move. My brother did the same thing for his wife.”

You pulled away, covering your mouth with a shocked look on your face. You had to keep yourself from audibly gasping since your mother was only a room away. Your face broke into a little smile. Seeing someone care for your mother so deeply made you so happy, especially with how she was the one who usually put in the most effort in her past relationships.

All your life, you wanted a relationship that was the complete opposite of your mother’s; now, though, you aspired to find someone who loved you that much.

Speak of the devil. She was walking over as you and Heeseung exchanged mischievous grins.

“What’re you two smiling about?” she asked.

“Nothing!” You smiled and fixed her hair. “Have fun on your honeymoon, Mom. I’ll make sure Heeseung doesn’t get into trouble.”

“Hey!” Heeseung interjected. “I’m not even that bad! Honest-to-god, Jake’s worse than me—just ask Jay or Sunghoon. Actually, don’t ask Sunghoon because I think he has it out for me right now.” He paused before adding, “Now that I think about it, don’t ask Jay, either. Just trust me on this one.”

You scoffed. “Nice going, Hee.”

Your mother smiled, and you could tell that it was a little sad. “We’ll take you to the Bahamas next time, okay, Y/N?” She did a quick sweep of the room before leaning in a little and whispering, “By the way, your stepfather was really happy that you started calling him ‘dad’ the other day. I think he almost cried!”

You hated to admit it out loud, but you felt inexplicably happy at those words.

“I’m ready!” your stepfather called as he came down the stairs. “Do you have everything you need? Are we ready to go?”

“Ready as ever,” your mother answered and turned to your best friend. “Are you ready, Heeseung?”

“Yep.” He got up from the couch, spinning his car keys around his fingers. “Come on, Y/N. Time to say bye-bye to mommy and—ow! Don’t hit me!”

The car ride to the airport wasn’t too long, but you and Heeseung fell into an uncomfortable silence while your parents were gushing about their vacation plans to each other. They weren’t even sitting next to each other. Your mother sat next to you in the back seat and your stepfather sat in the passenger’s seat to accompany Heeseung, but they were still going back and forth. You nearly considered asking your stepfather to switch seats with you so that you wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire of their incessant flirting.

When Heeseung pulled up to the drop-off zone, however, your parents pulled themselves together in record time. You received two kisses on your head from each parent after they got out of the car.

“Heeseung, let’s walk together for a bit,” your stepfather called. When you exchanged a shocked look with your best friend, your dad clicked his tongue with a laugh. “Just until the gates over there. I need some help carrying my bags.”

Heeseung, floundering for words, wound up not saying anything and scrambled to get out of the car to help him out. The conversation seemed to be light and easygoing, but you were craning your neck out of the car window to get a glimpse of what the hell was going on.

“Mom,” you whispered harshly, “tell me Dad isn’t telling Heeseung something weird right now. He’s still traumatized from the time he was interrogated about being my Homecoming date last year.”

Since neither you nor Heeseung had actual dates for the Homecoming dance last year, he made you a poster and asked you to be his date at your doorstep. At the time, you two were binge watching Parks and Recreation together, so he used that as inspiration for your poster: Please don’t REC my plans and say KNOPE to Homecoming. You vividly recalled being impressed by how neat the handwriting was only to be told later that Yeji helped Heeseung make it.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Your mother waved it off. “You should be more worried about how Mrs. Lee calls us in the middle of the night and asks where her son is. That’s gonna traumatize your friend.”

Wow. Lee Heeseung was already a pain in the ass to begin with, and only now you realized how his mother had it a thousand times harder.

“Have a safe trip, okay?” you told your mother after you helped her bring the rest of her bags to the gate. “And—don’t worry—I know when the gardener's coming by, so I’ll be home to let him in.”

She smiled fondly and kissed your forehead. “I’ll text you when I land,” she said. “Have fun, sweetheart, but not too much fun.”

“Mom!” you complained, cringing at whatever she was implying.

Heeseung and your stepfather were already at the front doors, and your best friend’s eyes lit up at the sight of you. You wondered if he needed saving from your father, and you confirmed this when you noticed him cower a little after shaking your stepfather’s hand.

“Heeseung,” your mother started, “thanks for bringing us here. I made brownies in the afternoon, so make sure Y/N gives you some before you go home.”

“Brownies?” Heeseung turned to you with a grin and thanked your mother profusely. “I hope you guys have a fun trip.”

After you all exchanged goodbyes, you and Heeseung headed back to his car. You were able to watch your mother and stepfather disappear into the crowd, a strange feeling lingering in your chest. You weren’t sure what it was, but you supposed you felt a little lonely. This was the first summer you were spending without your parents, and you weren’t sure what to expect.

As if Heeseung could read your mind, he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have a fun summer.”

“It better be the best summer of my life.”

Heeseung laughed and opened the passenger’s side door for you. “Then let’s start now.”

“Huh? Right now?”

“Let’s get bingsu,” he said. Come to think of it, you were craving shaved ice; you had mentioned it to Heeseung last week. “You said you were hungry, right? And then we can go home and dig into those brownies your mom made.”

“I never said anything about being hungry.”

“But you’re hungry, right?”

The corner of your mouth twitched before breaking into a little smile.

“Alright, let’s go.”

In all honesty, you didn’t expect anything special from Heeseung. That was why you had your own plans laid out for the coming week, and first on your agenda was going shopping with Yizhuo in Beverly Hills. Since your best friend was so adamant on spending the summer with you, though, you let him tag along.

“I hate you,” he muttered through gritted teeth as you handed him yet another shopping bag—Armani, this time. Heeseung was carrying at least six of them, letting them dangle off of his arms. “I said I’d show you how to have fun, not be your butler.”

“You said you would be my summer escort service.”

“Not like this!”

“Y/N, I swear,” Yizhuo started in a low voice, only loud enough to hear (although you wished you didn’t), “he’s like your boyfriend.”

You sped up to walk ahead of Heeseung, and Yizhuo matched your pace. Your poor best friend was lagging in the back, trying to keep up with the weight of your spending spree in his hands. Even though you told him virtually everything, this was a conversation that you couldn’t let him hear.

“He’s just my escort this summer!” you defended.

“His dad’s the senior vice president at Apple. You really think Lee Heeseung would just agree to be anyone’s manservant?”

“Well, I’m not anyone; I’m Y/N, and Heeseung and I have been best friends since forever, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he wants to spend time with me.”

“I’m just saying, it’s a little strange.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved off her concerns and pulled out your phone. “By the way, is the group hanging out tomorrow or something?”

“I kept seeing it in the groupchat, but I wasn’t sure whose house it was at,” Yizhuo replied. She turned and called, “Heeseung! Do you know whose house we’re all going to?”

“Tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Mine.”

“Yours?” you chimed in. “I thought Jake said it would be at his place.”

“He backed out ‘cause his cousins are visiting this week,” he clarified, “so I offered mine. My parents are going out of town, anyway, so why not?”

You were surprised that Heeseung was willing to host. Most of the time his house was the absolute last resort because he hated cleaning up after everyone. For this reason, it was normally at Jake’s house because he was the only one who would tidy up himself without nagging everyone else (read: Jay Park).

You always went to Heeseung’s place on your own. There were never times where the entire group hung out there together, so it felt like everyone was encroaching on your space with Heeseung.

Even though it was his house, technically.

“You’re coming,” Heeseung added, pointing straight at you with narrowed eyes.

You frowned. “You can’t decide that for me!”

“You agreed to let me be your summer escort service, so it’s within my power,” he argued.

You made a frustrated sound. “Fine. It better be fun, though. I’m sacrificing my Pretty Little Liars marathon for you.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes. “We can just watch it together.”

“Lovebirds!” Yizhuo interjected. “I would’ve called Chenle if I knew I was gonna be a third wheel.” Both of you turned to her with wide eyes, watching the blonde’s lips curl up in a small smirk. “What?”

“That’s not what any of this is,” your best friend grumbled.

“Oh yeah? Then why are you blushing?”

Heeseung shook his head, completely turning his face away from you. You managed to catch the tips of his ears flaming bright red. It was rather easy to make Heeseung flustered, so this wasn’t something out of the ordinary, but, for some reason, you felt butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

He walked ahead, saying something along the lines of, “Let’s just keep shopping!”

You and Yizhuo exchanged a look before hooking arms and bursting into a fit of giggles.

Yizhuo called after him, “We’re going to Miu Miu next!”

Slumber parties with your friend group sounded cute and tame, in theory. Add six men into the mix, and they became slightly terrifying.

“This is why we need to make plans in our group chat without the men,” Shen Xiaoting muttered to you with her eyes fixed on Heeseung’s flat screen TV. “This is not the girls night I was envisioning.”

Your friend group of eleven (excluding Yeji, who was away for the summer) was currently playing their ninth round of Mario Kart 8. You were all taking turns, though, since the game only catered to co-oping with four people. Frankly, you were starting to get tired of the game after about five rounds. You were hellbent on beating Jay, who was talking smack about how terrible you were at gaming, but it turned out that he was no better. You ended up beating him in the first race itself, and now you were just waiting for them to wrap it up.

“Fuck,” Jake hissed once Choi Beomgyu used his blue shell on him. Jake had been consistently winning every game he played despite everyone trying to get him in last place; in the last round, Kim Minjeong made a valiant effort to use most of her Crazy 8 items on him.

You were surprised that Jake showed up in the first place. Everyone suspected that he would be stuck at home because of his cousins visiting, but he somehow managed to get his way out of it. Although he was late, he showed up at Heeseung’s door with a pillow and a handle of cheap vodka. It probably tasted rancid, but there was no room for anyone to complain.

“Get the item box, get the item box!” Chenle yelled. “But you’re kind of screwed if you don’t get a super horn or a super star.”

“So, when are we wrapping up Mario Kart?” Nakamura Kazuha asked, sighing in frustration after being hit with a shell for the umpteeth time.

“Uh, after this game,” Heeseung replied.

“And how many more rounds is that?”

“Three.”

“Jesus Christ.”

The only girl in your group who enjoyed gaming was Yizhuo, but even she was tired of the seemingly endless rounds. Since the boys were going along with the girls’ plans later on, though, you had to be patient. Appease them with Mario Kart, and then the rest of the night was yours.

Somehow, you managed to grit your teeth and sit through the next three rounds (won by Jake, Yizhuo, and Beomgyu, respectively). Afterward, Jake got up to grab the case of Mike’s Harder on the kitchen island. He proceeded to open it up and hand each person a can.

Xiaoting cracked open her can and asked, “How’d you even buy these? Didn’t your dad confiscate your fake or something?”

Around a few months ago, Jake’s dad had caught him wasted at one of their charity galas. Apparently, the Sims didn’t care too much about their son drinking, but they were furious about Jake acting disorderly in front of their guests. Naturally, Jake was grounded for a month and got all four of his fake IDs confiscated. He deeply missed the one from Connecticut where his name was printed as Nathan Fielder, even though Jake looked nothing like Nathan Fielder.

“I got Vernon to buy them for me,” Jake said, “and please don’t remind me about the fakes. It still wounds me to this day.”

You remembered you used to have a little crush on Vernon Chwe, who was a senior when you were a freshman. When he graduated, you almost cried actual tears, but you stayed strong when you went to congratulate him after the ceremony. You figured he would have been a little freaked out if you started breaking down out of nowhere.

Jay, who was inspecting the handle of SKYY Vodka, let out a scoff. “Vernon? Then you could’ve at least asked for good vodka.”

“We can just make mixed drinks,” you spoke up, scrunching up your nose at the memory of blacking out because of alcohol during your prom afterparties. “Plus, it’s not like we’re actually trying to get drunk tonight.”

“Yeah.” Heeseung stood up and rested his arm on your shoulder. “Y/N and I can make the drinks. The rest of you can help put snacks out. Someone can put a movie on, too.”

Since everyone was impressed with Heeseung taking the lead for once, the plan was set into motion. While Kazuha and Sunghoon bickered over which movie to play, the rest of your friends brought out different snacks for the movie. Arguably, you and Heeseung had the hardest job, but you didn’t need any extra hands for drinks. By the time it took you two to finish eleven mixed drinks, they probably would have settled on a movie.

You looked back to see Heeseung eyeballing a shot into a glass cup, and then he proceeded to down its contents. You cringed when you saw him drinking. The last time he got drunk resulted in you trying to calm him down after he went on a long rant about how he just ate sushi, and the alcohol in his system would cause the raw fish to start swimming. You had to convince him that no, vodka would not bring an already dead and sliced-up fish to life.

Heeseung’s face soured and he pushed the handle aside. “Y’know what, let’s just take something from my parents’ liquor cabinet. This shit is vile.”

“You got triple sec and decent vodka?” you asked. “We could make Lemon Drops.”

“You read my mind.”

“You weren’t even thinking about that, were you?”

“Not at all.”

While you and Heeseung were making the drinks, though, you noticed some giggles coming from the living room. You raised your head to see about five of your friends look away as fast as they could. It hit you before you had time to process what was going on; they were making fun of you and Heeseung together.

You had no clue why. Sure, Heeseung and you had some strange moments here and there. But you two were just making drinks, for crying out loud. Nothing about the situation warranted this reaction from them.

You side-eyed Heeseung to see if he noticed. Thankfully, he was just focused on pouring the right amount of vodka so he didn’t accidentally kill anyone. You, on the other hand, were fighting down the heat rising in your chest.

After a brief war between you and Yizhuo, consisting of you glaring at her and her smirking at you, you ended up setting down a glass and sighing.

“Heeseung,” you said, “go crazy with the vodka in the rest of their drinks.”

“Huh?” he asked, genuinely contemplating whether or not to do it.

“Pour as much as your heart desires,” you muttered and set down six of the Lemon Drops on a tray with a little too much force. Without sparing him a glance, you picked up the tray and went to the living room to hand everyone their glasses. While you handed Yizhuo hers, though, you whispered, “I despise you.”

She grinned. “What? Still denying you like him?”

“I don’t like—”

“You like someone?” Heeseung called from the island, completely frozen in place.

You turned and stared at him, mouth agape.

Chenle spoke up, “No, she likes y—”

You kicked Chenle’s shin with enough force to shut him up, and he grunted before he could continue his sentence. Satisfied, you turned back to Heeseung and shook your head quickly.

“They’re just being idiots,” you explained. “Hurry up with the drinks. We’re watching My Best Friend’s Wedding.” You did a double take and turned back to Yizhuo, harshly whispering, “Why the fuck are we watching My Best Friend’s Wedding?!”

Yizhuo removed Chenle’s hand from her knee and stood up to loop your arm with hers. “Come.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, but she was already dragging you away from the living room. “Is that movie supposed to be some sort of sick message?”

“Oh, good. So you’re aware.”

After making some excuse about needing your assistance to get something from her bag, Yizhuo walked with you to the foyer until she turned on you. You nearly tripped backward over one of the boys’ shoes, so you used the wall to regain your balance.

“Tell me what’s going on between you two,” she ordered.

You let out a sound of exasperation. “Yizhuo, for the last time, Heeseung and I are just friends. That’s all there is to it.”

“I’m just saying, the two of you are going to college together and all, but you have to sort out your feelings before you end up figuring them out after Heeseung finds someone else,” she said. “I mean, what’re you gonna do when Heeseung starts dating someone else? He looks decent enough to pull, so there’s no telling what’s gonna happen when he’s cut loose in Yale.”

You snorted. “He’s already cut loose. I highly doubt Yale’s gonna change anything.”

“You never know. I just don’t want you to realize your feelings too late—you know, when things get messy.”

You both were silent for a few seconds before Beomgyu called, “Y/N, Yizhuo, we’re gonna start the movie!”

“Coming!” you responded.

You chose not to respond to your best friend because you truly had no idea what to think, but it did leave seeds of doubt in your head. It almost distracted you from the fact that Heeseung grabbed your arm and pulled you to sit down next to him. This was bad; you were quickly becoming overly self-conscious of every little thing he did, and that would not bode well for your friendship.

Whatever, you told yourself. Push it down.

“Are there any more pillows?” you asked, scanning the room to see that everyone seemed to have one except you. You looked back at Heeseung and narrowed your eyes at his throw pillow. “Give me yours.”

“What? No way.”

“I wanna lay down,” you whined. He was really the only person you could act a little spoiled around. “Give me your pillow before I—”

Before you could finish, Heeseung threw his arm around you and pushed your head down so that you were laying on his lap. You were startled with the sudden gesture, but you didn’t complain. He was comfortable, after all, and you two usually watched movies like this in your house. So, you adjusted your position a little and continued watching the movie, making a mental note to scold Heeseung later for being all touchy in front of the friend group.

What you weren’t used to, though, was the way he started threaded his fingers through your hair.

You did the only thing you knew how to do in order to deflect; you showed Heeseung a TikTok of a baby otter. Your volume was all the way down, but you still bookmarked the video.

“Look,” you whispered, holding up your phone. His gentle fingers did not stop running through your hair, but at least you could hold onto his friendly hum of acknowledgement. It was the only thing that made any of this feel remotely platonic. “It’s a little guy.”

“Oh, it’s so cute,” Heeseung mused. “Kind of reminds me of you.”

Screw platonic.

He just grabbed platonic and drop kicked it to the next dimension.

That was it. You were going to put your phone away and ignore Heeseung for the rest of the movie. The rest of the movie would be watched in complete silence. In fact, you weren’t going to spare Heeseung any attention for the rest of the sleepover.

That didn’t end up happening, though. Ten minutes later, you cracked and started commenting about the movie to Heeseung. Unbeknownst to the others, you two ended up texting each other messages that threatened to make you burst into laughter. Even though you were sitting right next to each other, you felt like this made your conversation feel like a little secret, like even Heeseung wanted to keep what you two had to himself.

When the movie ended, you two were surprisingly still awake, although there were several moments where you were tempted to doze off on Heeseung’s shoulder. Minjeong, Beomgyu, and Jay were still up, and they were taking pictures of Chenle and Yizhuo to send to the group chat. You immediately separated from Heeseung, feeling a little terrified that you two would be the victims next. However, the others were so preoccupied with Chenle’s arms wrapped around his sleeping girlfriend and their foreheads pressed together.

“Should we wake them up?” Kazuha asked.

“Nah, let them sleep,” Heeseung answered and stood up. “I’m gonna brush my teeth. You guys can use the other bathrooms—just not the one in my parents’ room.”

Minjeong stretched as she let out a yawn. “Alright, I’m gonna wash up, then. I’m exhausted.”

After Minjeong, Beomgyu, and Kazuha left the room to get their bags and wash up, you stared at Heeseung. Your best friend looked confused until you pointed toward his glass.

“Chug it,” you said with mischief dancing in your eyes.

“You’re kidding. It’s bedtime.”

You mocked a pout. “You’re gonna waste the drink I made just for you?”

“Oh, come on—we made it for everyone!”

“But I definitely made this one.” You took the glass and held it out to him, which he ended up taking reluctantly. “I wanna see you finish it.”

After a wince, Heeseung tilted the cup back and downed the contents. Although his face scrunched up, he relaxed once he had finished swallowing it down.

“That was actually pretty good,” he said.

“See? When have I ever let you down?”

“Honestly? Many times.”

You elbowed him in the side. “Hey!”

“Kidding!” Heeseung held his arms up in surrender before wrapping them around your waist. Another gesture you weren’t quite used to, but you went along with it. There was something funny about Heeseung; nothing he did ever made you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable, but sometimes you weren’t sure if it was meant to be friendly. “Let’s go brush our teeth.”

“I can just use the bathroom on the second floor.”

“Huh? Just use the one in my room,” he said. “Come on.”

You hesitated before following your best friend upstairs. First of all, you were feeling overly-conscious about going into Heeseung’s room with him. Secondly, you weren’t too enthusiastic about the fact that you had to use a man’s bathroom.

To Heeseung’s credit, he kept his room and bathroom mostly spotless. Sure, there were a few sweaters piled over the head of his chair and some books left scattered across his desk, but it was definitely cleaner than Jake’s mess of a room. You remembered Yeji stepping across his piles of dirty clothes left on the floor, as if they were hazardous to her health.

As soon as you stepped into the grand bathroom, you realized that you had forgotten your toothbrush. It wasn’t the first time this happened, so you knew to just take one of the unopened toothbrushes from the drawer. However, Heeseung told you they moved some things around, so you wound up searching for the spare toothbrushes for around five minutes.

It was almost ridiculous how Heeseung needed a bathroom bigger than a living room.

You two brushed your teeth side-by-side. Heeseung occasionally cracked jokes that made you giggle and tilt your head back so that your toothpaste wouldn’t dribble down your chin. When that happened, he reached over and wiped your lower lip with his thumb, despite your complaints about how gross that was.

But, to you, it wasn’t really all that gross.

If only Heeseung knew how his actions made your cheeks burn hot under your skin.

The next week was interesting, to say the least.

Heeseung wouldn’t let you rest for a second. You were going out with him every single day, having to see his face from sunrise to sunset. Even when it was nightfall, he would just invite himself over to your place and crash on your couch.

You pointed out that you had a perfectly tidy guest room for him to use, but he insisted that he preferred your couch. You didn’t mind him sprawled out across the cushions because you could take as many pictures of him sleeping as you pleased. You would show him your collection later when he woke up, and Heeseung would get embarrassed to the point of tickling you until you were in hysterics and gasping out that you would delete the pictures from your camera roll.

At this point, it was almost like you two were living together. Even though his parents were out of town, you felt slightly anxious about one of the adults in your parents’ circle discovering what you and Heeseung were up to. Not that it was anything scandalous.

But, you had to admit, you were having fun.

On Monday, Heeseung took you to the beach. You complained incessantly about waking up at six in the morning for cold water and sand all over your clothes, but you managed to drag yourself out of bed. Still, Heeseung had to put up with your grumbles and groans until you were energized enough to stop complaining. All it took was Heeseung feeding you a granola bar and making you coffee while you did your hair.

“C’mon,” he told you, the wind sweeping his hair to the side as the first rays of sunlight shone bright against his glowing skin, “this is exactly like the Bahamas if you close your eyes.”

“Uh-huh.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but you spent the entire day at the beach with Heeseung, anyway. You finally warmed up to going into the water with him, letting him take your hands and guide you deeper until the water was up to your waist. At one point, a particularly heavy wave pushed him closer to you until you both were chest-to-chest. You had to hold onto his bicep to keep yourself from floating away. And you swore you caught Heeseung checking you out in your bikini later on, but he turned away with pink-tinged ears immediately after.

Later, when the sun was starting to set and you retreated from the water to curl up in your towel, you sat on your large beach towel and waited for Heeseung to bring over food from the food trucks. The tide was getting higher, so you had to move yours and Heeseung’s belongings further up the sand.

Heeseung returned with two takeout boxes of tacos, taking a seat next to you with a relieved sigh. Since you two hadn’t eaten a proper lunch, you had been waiting for this meal all day. You were properly tuckered out from all the swimming and beach volleyball, so you dug in immediately.

“Good?” Heeseung asked, watching you eat with a small smile on his face. He must have been impressed that you practically inhaled your first taco in under five seconds.

“Good,” you confirmed, voice muffled.

With the back of your hand shielding your eyes, you looked off into the horizon to watch the sunlight ripple across the water’s surface.

And, yeah, maybe it was a little like the Bahamas.

Just a little.

You didn’t expect Heeseung to wake you up on Tuesday morning and drag you to an empty field. Although he told you that he had a surprise for you, you didn’t think it warranted being woken up at 5:30 a.m. without a clue of where you were going.

“Alright, close your eyes, okay? It’s a surprise,” Heeseung said, gesturing for you to cover your gaze. You found it adorable that he was fumbling so much, so you closed your eyes with a grin. “Keep them closed—hold on.”

“Heeseung, how much longer?” you whined.

“And,” he drawled, stretching out the syllable, “open!”

When you opened your eyes, towering over you was a 60-foot tall hot air balloon, its brightly-patterned nylon reflecting the bright sunlight. You boggled at its impressive size—absolutely massive. The pilot got down from the basket, walking over so that he could greet you two and provide a rundown of safety measures and procedures.

An hour later, you were in the sky, eyes sweeping over the expanse of Los Angeles. You were never that great with heights, but, somehow, you weren’t too afraid as you peered down. Heeseung stood beside you, keeping one hand on the small of your back as he pointed out different landmarks he recognized.

“I’ve never seen LA like this!” you yelled over the wind, cupping your hand around your mouth so that Heeseung could hear you.

He grinned. “Isn’t it beautiful? Makes the city actually feel peaceful for once.”

You wouldn’t dare admit it but, all the way up in the sky, thousands of feet above ground level, what made you feel like you were soaring was Heeseung’s arm slipping around your waist.

On Wednesday, Heeseung took you fishing. You absolutely hated the idea, but once you had the fishing rod in your hands, you were determined to catch the biggest fish. Heeseung ended up catching more than you, but the two fish you caught were stars in your eyes. By the end of the day, you were laughing hysterically as Heeseung’s hat got stuck in your hook and was flung into the water.

On Thursday, Heeseung took you to play mini-golf. You had gone golfing before with company executives and their kids, but this was different. You didn’t have to show off or try to be the best one there; you just had fun and laughed whenever your best friend missed the ball. You two ended the day by going to an arcade and playing almost every game inside.

By Friday morning, you were exhausted. Your limbs were aching when you woke up the next morning, but Heeseung promised to actually let you rest over the weekend. Tonight was Yizhuo’s country club’s party to celebrate the opening of their new banquet hall, so Heeseung only planned one thing for the morning so that you would have time to get ready for the party later.

Pushing your red Jacquemus sunglasses onto your head, you fixed your best friend with a puzzled stare. He was acting weird all morning, from nearly snapping at you for trying to open the trunk of his car, to staying silent when you asked where he was taking you.

For a moment, you wondered if this was the climax of a horror movie where the killer drove you to a quiet place to get rid of you. Your suspicion raised more when Heeseung parked by a marina with a hiking trail nearby.

This is where your body’s being dumped, you concluded grimly.

But, then again, this was Lee Heeseung. He cried when he was eleven because there was a spider on his backpack; he didn’t have the heart to hurt anyone, especially not you. In fact, you recalled when he nearly passed out in middle school because he thought he caused you extreme pain once. (It turned out to be your period cramps.)

“Are you gonna tell me where you’re taking me?” you asked, exasperated. “If we’re swimming, I’m gonna tell you right now that there’s no way I’m getting my hair wet before the party.”

Heeseung chuckled. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, princess. We’re just going for a spin on the lake.” He nodded his head in the direction of the yachts lined up by the shoreline. “Jog your memory?”

When your gaze landed on the gorgeous white yacht gleaming under the sun, you couldn’t help but gasp at its glorious sight. Heeseung had gotten the yacht for his birthday last year, but he never had the time to actually use it. One reason was because he didn’t trust his friends to not trash it, and the other being that he wanted his first ride on it to be special.

Your face burned. His first ride was going to be with you.

“Shut up.” You were gaping at the sight before turning to your best friend, who looked smug while he parked his car. “Shut up. You’re actually letting me go on your yacht?”

“Yeah, why not?” He tried to brush it off as something casual, but your heart was still doing cartwheels and flips. “It’s about time I went out on it.”

You two walked down to the harbor together, your hands sometimes shyly brushing and pulling away swiftly. There had been moments of thick, unspoken tension throughout the week, but you didn’t have the courage to bring it up.

Once you two reached Heeseung’s yacht, he firmly slapped his hand against the smooth, brilliant white surface. “Carver c52 Command Bridge,” he gloated. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

You snorted. “You talk about boats the same way old white men do.”

You allowed him to help you into the yacht, gripping his hand tight as you stepped onto the deck. You hadn’t questioned it before, but as soon as Heeseung let go of you, he set down the picnic basket so that he could spread out the blanket.

You helped him with the corners of the blanket. “What’s this?”

“Well, I thought we could sail out a little and then have breakfast on the deck,” he replied coolly, as if the sincerity of his words wouldn’t make your heart twist painfully in your chest. You really didn’t deserve such effort from him, and it almost made you feel guilty that you had acted so spoiled before. “I’ll go start the engine. You can just enjoy the view.”

However, you followed him to the cockpit. Heeseung raised a brow at you, but you giggled as you took a seat behind him, watching as he stood at the helm, fiddling with some controls you knew nothing about.

“You actually know how to operate this thing?” you asked.

“My dad taught me,” he explained. “I’m not licensed, though, so I don’t think this is exactly legal.”

“Not like that’s stopped you before.”

Heeseung grinned to himself. He started up the yacht’s engine by pressing a button on the dashboard. You watched his hands fly across the levers and controls before he started turning the wheel to steer out of the marina.

“You wanna head out to the deck?” he called out over his shoulder, but you just took the empty seat next to him. “Don’t you wanna sunbathe? Or you could check out the stateroom.”

“Nope,” you said, resting your chin on the palm of your hand as you watched him. “I’d rather wait for you.”

Sometimes, you’d almost catch Heeseung getting flustered. He’d always laugh and rub his nose, looking away shyly before anyone caught onto his awkwardness. The same reaction was unfolding before you right now, and you couldn’t help but smile like an idiot yourself.

You wondered if he ever felt butterflies in his stomach, too.

Once Heeseung had driven the yacht out far enough—far out enough in the water where the water was still and no one was there to disturb you two. You both headed out to the deck again. He took a seat to lay out what he packed in his picnic basket, and you removed your sundress so that you could tan a little in your bikini.

“Champagne?” he offered, holding up a bottle of Dom Pérignon that he most definitely stole from his family’s wine cellar.

You pulled out the two wine glasses in the basket and held them out for Heeseung to pour your drinks, smiling wide as he tipped the bottle. “Yes, please.”

“See, you wouldn’t be able to experience this if you were in the Bahamas right now.” He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. “We didn’t get to hang out like this any of the past summers.”

“As if we don’t hang out almost every day.”

“But this is different!” he argued. “It’s summer. It’s not like we’re making impromptu plans to New York and flying back home a day later to study for an exam. We have all the time in the world right now.”

He was right, in a sense. You and Heeseung were always together, but you two never really got to spend long days together like this. You two got to make plans without involving anyone else in the friend group for once, and it was a lot more fun than you had expected.

“Do you think we’d be this close if we weren’t rich?” you asked after a while. Heeseung raised a brow at your question, so you clarified, “I’m serious! We wouldn’t be able to do stuff like this—flying in hot air balloons, driving yachts, going to country club parties—if we didn’t have rich parents.”

Heeseung crossed his arms behind his head and pondered, looking up at the sky with a wistful expression. He hummed before answering, “I’d like to think that we’d make it work the same way everyone else does.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“What if… you were rich and I wasn’t? Or vice-versa?”

“Yeah, I mean…” he trailed off for a moment, eyes cast down as if he was trying to find the words on his tongue. Then, he continued, “I think I’d be happy doing anything with you, even if all we could do together was sit at home and watch TV.”

Whatever response you had prepared at the back of your throat had died on your tongue. All you could do was look at him helplessly, wondering why his words were making your heart beat faster than when you were thousands of feet up in the sky days ago. You wondered why such gentle words from your best friend had roused a violent storm in your heart.

The wind picked up, sending your hair flying every which way. Heeseung reached out to brush a loose strand of hair away from your face, fingers lingering on your cheek as he pulled back. You went completely still, chest frozen mid-breath as he pulled away.

“You had something in your hair,” he mumbled, quickly scrambling to offer you a caprese skewer. If you looked closely enough, you would’ve noticed that his ears were bright red. “Eat quickly before the food gets stale.”

“I don’t think food normally goes stale that fast.”

“Shut up.”

There was one thing about formal gatherings that all trust fund babies could agree on: only get drunk behind your parents’ backs.

They definitely knew what was going on, but they paid no attention as long as their children were staying safe and not embarrassing themselves. When you were much younger, you would always catch sight of the older kids sneaking away to get drunk in the bathroom, but you never understood the excitement they felt until you became a freshman in high schooler, being dragged away by Yeji to drink with the older kids.

Back then, you were doe-eyed and curious as Vernon would pour shots for you in moderation. Now, you were nearly gagging when Yizhuo handed you a shooter of Pink Whitney.

You two had locked yourselves in the bathroom with Xiaoting, Kazuha, and Minjeong as Yizhuo pulled out various shooters from her purse. It was fine for you to drink wine with the other adults, but you were all certain that the adults would frown upon you drinking hard liquor in front of the other guests. So, the five of you snuck away to get drunk secretly.

For the past fifteen minutes, as you all were downing shooter after shooter, the girls had been pressing you about something going on between you and Heeseung. After he posted you on his Instagram story, showing off his boat in the process, you were bombarded with texts that you were only able to ignore until you got to the party.

A loud knock at the door nearly scared you out of your wits, causing Minjeong to bark out a laugh at the sight of you flinching.

“Occupied!” you yelled, although the syllables slurred together strangely.

“It’s us!” came Jake’s voice. “We’re going drunk golfing.”

You frowned and stepped aside to let Yizhuo open the door for Jake. He scanned his surroundings nervously before shoving his fists into his pockets and stepping into the girls’ bathroom.

“Jake,” Xiaoting started. Although her face and neck were completely red, she focused her eyes on him to keep a serious tone. “We need you to tell us if Heeseung’s into Y/N or not.”

“Xiaoting!” you complained.

“You know what, I’d like to know, too,” Jake replied with shocking enthusiasm. He leaned against the crystal sink, folding his arms across his chest. “Screw drunk golf; this is way more fun. Y/N, do you have feelings for Heeseung? ‘Cause everyone wants to know if—”

“Jake, we didn’t bring you in here for girl talk,” Minjeong cut him off with a wave of her hand. “We brought you in here for answers.”

He let out a childish whine. “But I wanna be here for girl talk.”

“Wait, but answer his question.” Yizhuo turned to you with a wide grin on her face, handing you yet another shooter—probably to make you more honest. You seriously wished you could call Chenle over to put a leash on your friend. “Do you have feelings for Heeseung?”

Did you? You had never been so confused about where you and Heeseung stood until this week. You two had always been close—always did everything together—so why were you feeling conscious about everything now?

But, despite all of your confusion, the one thing that was clear to you was that you felt something for Lee Heeseung with every beat of your heart.

Everything he did, everything he said—you weren’t sure what it was that had you so intoxicated on his attention, but you knew you would’ve felt sick to your stomach if he did the things he did with you with any other girl.

You felt it whenever you saw him lounging around your house, digging into the brownies your mother made as if he lived there. You felt it whenever someone told a joke and the two of you made eye contact with each other first, hoping to see if the other person found it funny, too. You felt it whenever he touched your hand and called you princess, unaware that your heart was fluttering pathetically in your chest.

His smile, his laugh, his happiness—you wanted to be the cause of it all.

You caved with a defeated sigh. “Yeah, I think I might actually have feelings for him.”

A collective cheer erupted in the bathroom, the sound echoing for a few seconds after. Jake stood up just to high-five Yizhuo so hard that the impact left their palms stinging, and then Yizhuo proceeded to scold Jake for putting his full force into the high-five. You pinched the bridge of your nose with embarrassment flooding your chest.

Jake decided to abandon the boys’ plans to go drunk golfing and spent the next ten minutes discussing strategies to get you and Heeseung alone. He had integrated himself into your circle so well that he almost seemed like one of the girls. You slowly backed up into one of the stalls during their conversation, starting to feel horribly nauseous and lightheaded. You were pretty sure that Yizhuo handing you shooter after shooter was starting to have adverse effects on your body.

“How about we tell him that Y/N’s puking in the bathroom and he needs to—” Minjeong cut herself off as soon as she heard you retching by the toilet. “Oh, wow, she’s actually puking in the bathroom.” She turned to Jake after opening the door for him. “Go get Heeseung.”

“If you let me join girl talk next time,” Jake bargained.

“Are you seriously negotiating with me in this situation?”

“Yes.”

Minjeong groaned. “Okay, fine, Jake, we’ll invite you the next time we have girl talk. Now go fetch Heeseung.”

“On it!” he agreed quickly. “Don’t die, Y/N.”

“I’ll try not to” you croaked out weakly, your head hanging between your knees as you willed yourself to not barf out your guts.

“Are you okay?” Kazuha pouted as she rubbed your back in soothing circles. “This is all because you kept making her drink, Yizhuo.”

“I didn’t make her,” she retorted. “Y/N, do you need water or anything? I can ask someone in the kitchen for liquid IV, too.”

You shook your head. “No, just bring Heeseung here.”

They shared a secretive giggle, but you didn’t care. You felt way too sick to mind the girls teasing you. You even tried to distract yourself on your phone, but the bright screen just made you feel worse. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the wall, groaning miserably.

It had really gotten to the point where you didn’t care that you were sitting on the country club’s public bathroom floor. It was all fancy and sanitary, of course, but you would normally feel icky about this sort of scenario playing out.

You weren’t sure how long it had been, but eventually, you heard the door opening and the rest of the girls rushed to make sure it wasn’t someone outside the group. You heard them ushering Heeseung inside, explaining what had happened to you before they left the bathroom.

Heeseung knocked on your stall as a formality but let himself inside, anyway. The crooked grin on his face upon seeing you only made you turn your head away and sigh in exasperation.

You turned your head back to face him when you heard his shutter go off.

A scowl was plastered across your face. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

Heeseung snickered. “Yeah, I’m posting it on my story. Right after the one of you looking all pretty on my boat.”

“You’re supposed to be here to help me.”

“That’s why I brought soda,” he replied, holding up an entire bottle of Sprite. You were confident he snagged it from the kitchen, which you were pretty sure would result in Yizhuo scolding him for treating the country club like his house. “Anyway, why’d you drink so much? Just because I’m driving you home doesn’t mean you’re allowed to give yourself alcohol poisoning.”

You settled back into your previous position with your head between your knees. This way, Heeseung wouldn’t be able to see how stupid in love you were. There was absolutely no way you could tell him that you were mindlessly drinking while you were spilling your feelings for him.

“Where’d the girls go?” you asked instead.

“I told them to go drunk golfing while I took care of you.”

“Don’t you wanna go play, too?”

Heeseung shrugged. He took a seat on the floor next to you, not minding the indecency even though he was sober. You felt like your heart was going to explode if he kept doting on you like this.

“I can always go play another time,” he said. “Plus, I’d have more fun if you were there.”

You both went quiet for a moment. The weight of Heeseung’s words only made your heart feel heavier, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could go pretending that you only cared for him as a friend.

Then, your stomach started churning and twisting with the need to puke out your guts again, and the silence was filled with your retching. Heeseung rubbed your back sympathetically and held your hair back while you hunched over the toilet seat again.

This was definitely going down as one of your most unflattering moments.

“Want some soda?” Heeseung tried.

You shook your head.

“Drink some water, then—here,” he said, handing you a red solo cup that was filled to the brim. “I stole it from Hoon.”

Reluctantly, you lifted your head to accept the cup from him. When you took a sip, though, you just ended up hawking and spitting out the contents into the toilet.

Trying your best not to gag, you got out, “Not water—vodka.”

“Oh, my bad.” Heeseung frowned, inspecting the cup. “Why’d Hoon pour this much? No wonder he drove the golf cart into the lake.”

After throwing up basically everything in your stomach, you started to feel dizzy all over again, stumbling and wobbling all over the bathroom until Heeseung had to hold you upright. He had already gotten Yizhuo’s approval to drive you home for the night, but there was no way you were making it to his Tesla in your heels. Heeseung had you hang tight while he ran to his car to get your Dolce & Gabbana rubber slides, knowing there was no possible way for him to carry you out to the car without the adults getting suspicious.

You felt much more comfortable in your slides, so you walked out hand-in-hand with Heeseung while he held onto your heels. Although you felt bad about leaving Yizhuo’s grand opening party early, you figured that it would be more shameful for her parents to see you in this state.

You had greatly underestimated the power of alcohol.

After you had walked up to about three different cars that weren’t Heeseung’s (including Jay’s Mercedes Benz, which started going off once you pulled on the handle), he had finally grabbed you by the shoulders and manually directed you to his Tesla. You giggled as you got into the passenger’s seat, allowing him to buckle you in and watch over you as he called Jay to turn his car alarm off.

Heeseung shot you a glance as he drove out of the country club’s gated entrance. “You’re going straight to bed when we get home.”

“Don’t wanna.”

He surprisingly gave up fast on trying to convince you. “What do you wanna do, then?”

“I dunno.” You shrugged. “Anything. Wanna bake cookies? Or watch a show?”

“Down for a show. Don’t know if I trust you around kitchen appliances right now,” he answered. After letting out a giggle, you caught Heeseung’s smile illuminated by the moonlight. “See? Aren’t you having more fun than you would’ve had in the Bahamas?”

“I wouldn’t ask this question after I nearly got alcohol poisoning.”

“The important thing is that you didn’t.”

You snorted, but something fond unraveled in your chest. You rolled the window down and looked outside, watching the bright lights of the city twinkle and shine under the inky black sky. You remembered all the skies you watched with Heeseung this week—the hazy gray in the morning, the bright blues of the afternoon, and the faint peony glow at sunset. And, yeah, you would’ve given up the Bahamas any day for this.

“Yeah,” you answered him, though you weren’t quite sure if he could hear you over the wind, “I’m having a lot of fun, Hee.”

Two weeks flew by far too quickly.

You were dumbfounded when you realized your parents were coming back the next day. You had spent two entire weeks solely with Heeseung, and you were having so much fun that you totally lost track of time. You were so caught up in your adventures that it had completely slipped your mind that summer would eventually come to an end.

Heeseung suggested that you two spent your last night doing something special. You had no idea what that meant, but you went along with whatever he had planned.

Apparently, he had been wanting to take you to see the stars, but you didn’t realize that he meant the observatory until you were in his car, parking on the steep slope of a hillside.

“It’s so far,” you complained.

He tutted. “It’s a five minute walk, princess, and it’s worth it. Trust me.”

You hesitated before grouching again, “It’s cold.”

Without another word, Heeseung took off his sweater. You tried to peel your eyes away from his white shirt that kept hiking up as he did. He passed it to you, and you couldn’t do anything but accept it because he was already getting out of the car. You wanted to hand it back to him because you knew he would be cold (made evident by the goosebumps that pricked his arms), but he profusely refused. He seemed perfectly content at the mere sight of you joining him.

He waited as you slipped on his sweater, the biggest grin stretching across his face. You were a little blindsided by how blinding Heeseung’s smile was, especially under the glow of the moon. Your cheeks heated up a little when you smelled faint traces of his Blackberry & Bay cologne in the fabric.

“You’re microscopic in my clothes,” he teased. You started walking a little faster to catch up with your friend, but his comment made you punch his shoulder.

“Oh, shut up.” You waved off the comment, but part of you liked how the sleeves of his sweater fell past your wrists. “We used to be the same height in, like, middle school.”

Heeseung barked out a laugh. “That was so long ago! Look at our height difference now.” Before you could anticipate his actions, he stepped in front of you and compared both of your heights.

You looked up at your best friend, raising a brow at his comment. Of course you were aware. Maybe at one point you denied it, but that was when you both were in elementary school and Heeseung would tug on your hair because he sat behind you.

Being this close to him made you a little nervous. After realizing that you had feelings for him, it was becoming difficult to keep them at bay. It was very clear that Heeseung had become much more masculine over the years with his buffer chest, muscular arms, and deeper voice.

And he looked extremely attractive.

“Yeah, I know you’re tall,” you replied flatly. It was normal for Heeseung to tease you, but whenever he did so in public, you always felt your heart squeeze in your chest. Then, he’d brush it off, and the feeling would fade out like bubbles floating to the ground. “You know, giving me your sweater and messing around like this probably gives people the wrong idea, right?”

“Oh… does it?” Heeseung mumbled, voice an octave higher than usual, and he turned his face away before you could detect the dust of pink across his cheeks. “By the way, have you been to a planetarium before?”

“Nope.”

You had always heard of the large domes that showcased the night sky. People sat underneath as a narrator droned on about stories from the past and the history of the universe. However, you hadn’t ever actually been to one, although you almost would’ve if you hadn’t gotten grounded before a class trip, resulting in all of your friends going to a planetarium show without you. You remembered Yizhuo was texting you throughout the entire trip, complaining about virtually everything that was going on and telling you how much she missed you.

“You’re kidding,” Heeseung’s eyes went round. “No way! You’ve never been to a planetarium?”

“Well—”

“Oh my god,” he continued, absolutely astounded. “Have you even lived?”

“I’ve just never had the chance!” you argued. “It’s not like anyone’s ever asked me to go to one. Plus, if there’s anyone I’d go with, I’d rather just go with you.”

Silence.

You and Heeseung had been settling into a lot of awkward pauses lately. It always followed some odd comment or action between you two, like when he got extremely close to you on the yacht. You still had no idea what exactly his intentions were during that whole ordeal, but your heart had never raced so fast.

Eventually, your silence was broken by an employee ushering you and Heeseung to walk past the velvet ropes and into the observatory building. You both were still silent upon walking in, but when you saw the signs pointing to the planetarium, you nudged your best friend’s side.

“It says the next showing starts in five minutes,” you pointed out.

“Fuck.” He slapped the pockets of his jeans, feeling for something solid in them. “I have my tickets—somewhere. Give me a second.”

Thankfully, he managed to figure out that he saved his tickets to his Apple Wallet. The sign stating that the shows were sold out nearly made your heart drop, but, of course, Heeseung had planned this out well in advance.

As always.

“Where should we sit?” you asked when you walked into the room, looking up at the dome-shaped ceiling in awe.

“Anywhere.” Heeseung grinned at you. “All we have to do is lay back and stare at the sky, so wherever you wanna sit.”

You both settled with two seats in the middle. It was smack dab in the center of the dome, right where the screen curved. Heeseung made a comment about how this was the ideal spot because it felt like you were getting sucked in by the stars.

When the show started, you gazed up at the screen in complete awe. Swirling nebulas and galaxies were painted across the night sky, blinking down at you. The narrator’s soothing voice made you feel absolutely immersed, and you had to grab the arm rest whenever the animation started speeding through the universe.

Heeseung booed when they showed Earth, throwing up a thumbs-down and then quickly shoving his hand back into his pocket, as if the planet would take offense.

And you realized you were in love with him.

You didn’t know why it hit you right then and there—a person droning on about space overhead, glancing over at your best friend to see him gawking at the solar system—but you were certain you would never feel this way with anyone else again. The feeling stampeded through your body, making your blood rush and your bones feel light. You were engulfed in a fire that burned only for Heeseung.

It felt so simple, yet all the more complicated. You were in love with your childhood best friend—the person who had been with you through everything.

It wasn’t like fireworks. Not a splash of ice cold water or like you had been kicked in the chest. It was more like slowly sinking in quicksand, not even realizing how deep you were until you were completely submerged.

You had been in love with Golden Boy for a long time now.

Later, after the show was over, he took you outside to overlook the city. Apparently, it was quite the sight to behold from this high up. You were still gushing on and on about the planetarium show, but as soon as you took a glance over the railing, you forgot all about the wonders of space.

Now, looking over all the bright lights really made it feel like the City of Angels. You were completely captivated by the sight. It was different from how it looked from the hot air balloon; everything was so miniscule from that height, but you could see how far the city stretched from here. The lights blinked past the horizon, and you were certain this was your first time seeing stars down below instead up in the sky.

Heeseung folded his arms onto the railing and tucked his head in them. “You can’t get this view anywhere else.”

“It’s beautiful,” you said, hardly audible.

“Yeah,” he replied. You wondered if he was talking about the stars above or the city below, so you turned your head to catch where he was looking. There was an alarming spike in your heartbeat when you realized he was looking at you, but Heeseung didn’t look away this time. “It really is.”

You never fully appreciated how gorgeous Los Angeles—never really looked past all the traffic and smog and crowd. The bustling city was tiring to keep up with at times. You saw it more as the city of burnouts than the city of stars.

But here, where the stars weren’t in the sky but down below, you realized that the brightest star of them all was the one right next to you.

It was Heeseung.

“You don’t still wish you were in the Bahamas, do you?” he asked suddenly, which spurred you to start laughing.

You stared up at him with incredulity in your eyes. “Hee, I never once wished I was in the Bahamas when I was with you.” You nodded to yourself. “I’d say you made this a successful summer.”

Your heart flipped in your chest when you saw those gleaming eyes and bright smile of his. It almost lit up the sky brighter than the city of Los Angeles itself. The way he was looking at you made you forget everything you were saying.

“Actually,” he started shyly, “there's something else that could make this summer perfect.”

“What’s that?”

“Will you go out with me?”

The question knocked you off orbit, electrifying every nerve in your body like it was cut wire. You weren’t sure what expression you wore on your face, but the shy look on Heeseung’s face was plunging you deeper in that inescapable quicksand. Of course, your friends had suspected this all along, but hearing it yourself was entirely different. You felt like you were glowing brighter than Polaris.

“I’ve liked you since we were kids,” he started to explain after gauging that you still needed time to process his words. “It’s not like I just felt this way overnight. I was just trying to make the right choices so that I could stay by your side for as long as I could. I mean, I’ll always be your best friend, Y/N, but I also wanna be something more than that to you.”

“And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way,” he continued. “I knew that this could possibly ruin our friendship, but I also knew that if I didn’t tell you how I felt, then I would’ve been lying to you through college, too.” He sucked in a shuddering breath. “It’s only ever been you.”

Change was hard. You’d been at war with your mind for a while now over starting something new with Heeseung. Although it was unfamiliar and new, and although you were scared of things potentially not working out, you still wanted to try for him.

“You don’t have to worry about ruining our friendship.” The words were on your tongue like a pearl. Your soul leaked out of your body, straight into the Earth, then seeped back into you with newfound bravery. You blinked back tears that dared to spill and sounded so stupidly breathless when you confessed, “I’m in love with you, too, Hee.”

His eyes were as wide as saucers, unblinking. “You are?”

His voice was soft, imploring, almost desperate, so you stepped closer and cupped his cold cheeks with your warm hands. Heeseung’s gaze seemed faraway, but he placed his hands over yours, as if he was trying to make sure you were real.

“I don’t think there’s anyone else out there who would rent an entire hot air balloon just to make sure I wouldn’t miss the Bahamas.” You laughed, a moonstruck grin on your face. “And, for the record, I’d choose you over a stupid vacation any day.”

You had been waiting to see his face break into that dazzling smile of his where his eyes crinkled at the corners. Instead, Heeseung just gazed at you longingly before he placed a hand on your cheek and bent down to kiss you.

His mouth moved with yours carefully, almost like he was too scared to go any further. You moved your hands to loop around his neck, drawing him closer so that you could slowly deepen the kiss. You were grateful that Heeseung waited to match your pace, and soon he was dropping his hands to grab at your waist and pull you closer to him, too. It sent butterflies straight to the pit of your stomach whenever he smiled between kisses, mumbling something about how pretty you were or how he had been waiting to do this forever.

Sometimes, you realized, feelings didn’t need to be expressed through words. You didn’t need the confirmation because with Heeseung’s lips pressed to yours, you felt like you were glowing brighter than the stars above.

You supposed you could say your parents were a little shocked to come back home and discover a major change in your relationship status.

You had to give them the rundown of what happened, of course. It wasn’t very hard to do, considering you had reiterated the same story to Yizhuo about a hundred times until she was satisfied. Thankfully, your other friends just needed to hear it once to fully grasp that Heeseung was now your boyfriend. For Yeji, you had to bring out a whiteboard just to draw everything out to her over FaceTime.

As you broke down what happened while your parents were in Rome, you noticed the silver necklace on your mother’s neck that glimmered whenever the light caught it. You smiled to yourself when you realized it was probably your stepfather’s honeymoon present, and you were grateful that your mother was able to experience such a wonderful love herself.

“See?” There was an excited gleam in your mother’s eyes as she bit into one of the chocolate chip cookies you and Heeseung made for them last night. She pointed the cookie in your stepfather’s direction. “I told you they’d get together!”

“I thought so, too!” he agreed. “That’s why I had that little talk with Heeseung when you two dropped us off at the airport.”

“That’s what you guys were talking about?!” you exclaimed, jumping up to your feet and then sinking back down in your seat with your hands covering your face. “I knew it was gonna be something embarrassing.”

“Oh, honey, don’t say that. Have a cookie.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Heeseung, who had been silent the whole conversation, spoke up. He reached over and took the cookie from your mother, but you smacked his hand lightly while he was bringing it to his mouth. “Hey! You almost made me drop my cookie!”

You huffed. “She was talking to me, idiot.”

You were honestly over-the-moon that dating Heeseung was this easy. You worried about having a boyfriend and having to go through the hassle of introducing him to your parents and waiting for them to warm up to him. With Heeseung, though, he was already like family in your household, so nothing felt too different.

Except that your parents could outwardly tease you both now.

Since you were in his parents’ good graces, too, everything seemed to click for you two. Both of your parents were planning to go out for dinner sometime this week to celebrate your new relationship, which you felt was a little over-the-top. You suspected that Mrs. Lee was hoping you would be her future daughter-in-law.

They were even planning on renting a Airbnb together for yours and Heeseung’s move-in at Yale. It was almost terrifying how everyone in your life seemed to be fully on-board for this relationship.

Not that you were complaining, though.

“Are you guys going somewhere now?” your mother asked, eyeing Heeseung’s white button-up that you were wearing over your swimsuit. “Make sure you wear sunscreen. It’s supposed to be the hottest day of the year.”

You checked your bag to make sure your sunscreen was, in fact, there. Heeseung took his baseball cap off to put it on your head, which made you crack a smile.

“Yeah, we’re going to the beach,” you said. “Yizhuo and Chenle wanted to spend the day at Santa Monica, and then we were gonna head over to Jungwon’s house.”

“Well, have fun.” Your mother moved to the kitchen to grab Tupperware to package the cookies. Your stepfather followed her in to help her out. “I’m sorry we couldn’t go to the Bahamas this year, but the beach has to be the next best thing, right?”

You shared a grin with Heeseung, and his eyes crinkled beautifully at the corners. “Yeah, it’s exactly like the Bahamas if I close my eyes.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you for reading all the way to the end if you made it this far !! :’) i have always wanted to write pure fluff without any room for misunderstandings or angst LOL and heeseung is just the perfect embodiment of bff2l ♡ i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this !!

TAG LIST ▸ @mmsriza @changmin-wrlds @13isacoolnumber @from-xero @acciomylove @nyujjan @goldenhypen @bbanggami @lvsunq @cb97curls @ily-cuz-i @jakeyuni @soobisms @rikibae @soobin-chois @sjyuniverse @outrologist @kyukittie @nabinthegardnn @viagumi @kpoplover718 @duolingofanaccount @jjongsha @teawithbucky @baekhyunstruly @mykalon @heelariously @hobistigma @ja4hyvn @candidupped @shmooooo @pr0dbeomgyu @heeyunkist @sunshine-skz @hiqhkey @baekhyuns-lipchain @fakeuwus @wvnkoi

#enhypen imagines #heeseung imagines #heeseung fluff #enhypen fluff #heeseung x reader #enhypen oneshots #heeseung oneshots #lee heeseung #enhypen

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crescentbelle · 11 months

Text

Liability

Miguel O’Hara x Fem Reader

Angst

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: After a failed solo mission, Miguel’s punishment makes you feel as if you’ve become a liability.

finished this at 4am with my botchy Spanish skills so please forgive me.

It had been two weeks since your last fight, and equally two weeks since you had stepped foot out the careful watch of your boss, Miguel O’Hara. You weren’t given the luxury to mistake his hovering. His mindset was clear, you weren’t to be trusted.

One slip of a web was all it took, the anomaly you spent the last month tracking down slipped away, snatching your travel watch on the way out. You let the time pass crying out of frustration and being pushed down by a glitch each time you rose from the cracked pavement.

Maybe it was the amount of time it took for you to muster up the courage to tell Miguel you lost him again, or the fact that he then spent the next two days cleaning up the mess the escapee made. Either way, you had committed your biggest mistake since joining the famous group of vigilantes. Not that you could say their band together was infamous to any universe, but that’s what they were to you, and you had utterly failed.

One of Miguel’s star players had let him down, made a mistake so embarrassing to his reputation, that he couldn’t trust you outside his view. Banished to the filing of any and all reports that came through; that was the dignified job you took on. The only thing keeping you sane was to believe it was all just a humiliation tactic from his end, the more you fought against it, the more he succeeded. At this point you didn’t know what to think. The man barely spoke to you, even on his rarely chipper days.

Sat crossed-legged in a chair; you continued the boredom-striking task. Click drag. Click drag. You missed the moments when Hobie came to visit, the small times where you got genuine interaction and not awkward stares.

“you’re free to go now.”

Silence strung together with tension rose thick in the air. Will that ever fade?

He didn’t turn to look at you, his broad frame still turned to his own screen, eyes cold and cruel as ever. God, he really did find you pathetic after this one.

A beat passed. You always wondered if you should thank him, but that just seemed stupid. Thank you so much Mr. Miguel O’Hara for another silent day stuck at your brooding side. You chose the silent approach, slowly uncurling from your awkward position.

Making your way to the door, you heard him call on Lyla, muttering about a mission he needed to put another man on, one that wasn’t you.

“Just take her name off as an option, I don’t want her out right now.”

The words broke you down, weirdly in a way that no other snide comment from the man had before. Since you arrived all you strived for was the acknowledgment of your skills, to show you could become useful. Now, it feels like the rug had been pulled from under you. How long until you get sent back home? How long until Miguel admits you have become a liability?

Please just say anything else, anything so I know you don’t hate-

Miguel calls your name, sharp and devoid of any readable emotion.

“you’ve forgotten your day pass. That’s the second time this week.”

You gritted your teeth, “Thank you.”

“Try not to do that again, you’re glitching has gotten worse.”

That was it, The final stroke. Storming forward, you swipe the scanner off the desk, cheeks burning red with emotion. “You don’t have to scold me like I’m a child, Miguel.”

“Trust me, I know I don't.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not doing this right now, you can leave.”

Beat.

“It was one mistake! How does that constitute shunning me away?” Your body was hot, a magma bubbling into adrenaline. With a racing heart, you refused to back down. Everyday sitting in his office like a lap dog for all your friends and accomplices to watch, you couldn’t take it.

The man’s shoulders stiffen, his body toughening to a cold, ridged stance. Slowly, his gaze fell onto you. There they were, those piercing eyes.

That silent tension melted into something thicker and harder to hide from, fear. Fear that radiated off you in waves he could sense like a strike to the face.

“You don’t get to make those choices,” His voice spoke as a mutter, like he was hiding a seething tone from slipping out. “You don’t get to tell me how I choose to keep you safe.”

“You don’t get to talk about me like I’m not right here! I’ve always been on top of things- ever since I got here. Why do I slip up once and you get to treat me like I’m in idiot? Am I that humiliating for you?”

Beat. This one is too long, his eyes shift for just a moment, caught between thoughts. It’s a second of weakness that makes you apprehensive.

“I’m not letting you on any more missions.”

No-

“You’re sending me back.”

He shakes his head, dejected. “No, I’m not- just shit. Please don't make this harder than it has to be. For your sake.”

“Are you kidding me? You're asking me to never fight again!”

“Please-”

You take another step forward. “You’re asking me to throw away what I was built for! This is my meaning, why are you doing this to me?”

With the confidence he had left to muster up, Miguel stalked over to your frame. This was the closest you had been since he picked you up out of the alleyway you pathetically collapsed in, and the desperate feeling followed. To beg and kick like a child until he let you back in. It felt horrific and you wondered if he felt it too.

“I cant help it. Por favor, no te quiero lastimar. Please don't make me risk you again.” His hand moved up, close enough to your cheek that it makes your senses tingle, before its dropped down to his side again. “Please.”

“You’re hurting me.”

Beat.

With what feels like an instant, you’re being pulled into his chest. his broad arms caught you in his embrace, a hand coming to rest against your temple. Its simple, but it makes your heart ache. Never have either of you come this close. This is that desperate feeling bubbling up again.

You wonder if you should have pushed away; told him he's pathetic and walked away from this cryptic language you now share. But you cant anymore, not with his touch like this.

“I’m sorry.” The mumble of his words reverberated through your body like a purr.

A single drop of a hot liquid hits your forehead and manages to roll down onto his thumb. You scan up to his face. That stoic stare he managed to always hold stood strong, staring off into a void like there's something better to worry about. But his eyes watered and the trail of a tear glimmered on his pronounced cheek.

He guided your head back down to lay against him again and moved his gaze to the side, anywhere to avoid the way you look at him now.

“Don't leave, okay?”

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spider-man: across the spider-verse #across the spider-verse spoilers #spiderman #angst #fanfic #fanfiction

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kurogane2512 · 5 days

Text

I can treat you better

A little concept I wanted to try for a while, I see this done with male characters a lot and I wanted to experiment on my waifus.

Game: Genshin Impact

Characters: CEO!Ningguang, Teacher!Lisa, Milf!La Signora (referred as Rosalyne) x fem!reader

Type: Fluff hcs and drabble, Modern AU

Contains: Broken marriages, infidelity (not with reader), comforting, teacher-student relationship (Lisa), age-gap (Lisa and Signora)

Marriage is supposed to be the ultimate union between lovers, a symbol of togetherness and eternal love. However, not every marriage ends as well as it began. Love shouldn't fade away but sometimes it does, or perhaps it never existed in the first place and was just a matter of convenience.....

CEO!Ningguang who owns the most successful business in the country that she started by her own efforts. A meticulous and hard-working woman who has lines of suitors but everyone knows she's already given her heart to her husband, a simple man she met in college and fell in love with. He promised to support her in her business venture and always stuck right by her side the more she built her empire.

Ningguang is highly successful in life, she has money and a loving partner- what more could one ask for? You are her secretary, her right-hand woman, who has assissted her since the beginning. The first and only secretary she has had because you are perfect for the job. You have had a crush on her for the longest time, but you knew how happy she is with her husband so you simply continue supporting her from the sidelines.

However, her marriage started becoming rocky recently. Ningguang spent too much time at work, doing overtime almost every day for the last 6 months and rarely spending time with her partner. Ningguang never stopped climbing the success ladder, she wanted more and she was determined to work for it. Her husband, on the other hand, became a stay-at-home husband because.... why does he need to work when his wife is the richest woman in the world?

Ningguang became more stressed as days passed, she was making deals with all these demanding companies all the while trying to keep her marriage at bay. Many times, you heard her arguing with him on the phone, his voice would be so loud that you could clearly make out the curses and accusations he threw at her. It frustrated you. How dare he say all that to her? How dare he think of her this way?

Ningguang was working hard for her future with him, she was not greedy for money. She wanted to give him and her eventual children the best life she could, all of this hard work was for him. Yet, he seemed to have never realized that. The more days Ningguang spent cooped in her office, the more apart she became with him. Until the day you heard her crying for the first time in your life....

"Ms Ningguang, the documents you want—" you stepped inside Ningguang's office but stopped mid-sentence as you heard her sniffle. She was seated on her table, holding her head in frustration and looking at something on her phone.

"Ms Ningguang, are you okay? What happened?" You were genuinely worried, the woman you loved was crying and you wanted to do something. Ningguang quickly wiped away her tears and switched off her phone screen before standing up and looking at you firmly, "Ah, Y/n, thank you. I had been looking for these for a while."

She avoided your question. You knew something was seriously wrong now. You wanted to ask more but decided to not pester her and continued with the work you had brought in, she came into her 'work mode' almost immediately. She always impressed you so much. The two of you finished the work for the day then you invited her to a diner for a simple meal, hoping to lighten her mood. You had a hearty meal together and drank a few glasses of alcohol to unwind, she became a bit tipsy and leaned on the bar table while you prepared to leave the place and escort her home.

"Earlier.... my apologies for avoiding your question." Ningguang suddenly spoke causing you to stop your actions and listen to her.

"N-No, ma'am, it's okay. You are not obliged to tell me everything...."

She sighed then took out her phone and scrolled to a particular photo then showed you the screen, your eyes immediately widening in shock.

"Is this.... your husband? And that woman...." Yes, it was a photo of her husband with another woman, and they looked very intimate like a couple. It could be brushed off as friends but the position was.... too intimate for friends, the woman was all over him and he was very much into her as well. Now, you realized why Ningguang was potentially crying at that time. You stayed silent and looked at Ningguang with sympathy while she simply let out a bitter chuckle.

"What do you think? They are just friends? That's what I want to believe as well but I have never seen her around him before, we know each other's friend groups well enough. Either she's a new addition during the time I have been away or...."

She trailed off and you noticed tears forming in her eyes. You felt infuriated. She did not deserve this at all.

"....I suggest you should talk to him and clear up things, having doubts and misinterpretating can lead to unnecessary conflicts between you two. You should take some time off from work, I'll handle everything for you, ma'am."

Ningguang pinched her temple and pondered for a moment before nodding, "I know, you are right. But hypothetically speaking, if this is what I think this is then.... what should I do? I....I don't know how to face him."

"You shouldn't think of that possibility, ma'am. He loves you, doesn't he? You should trust that and talk to him openly. I....don't think he would do this to you; you are amazing and so beautiful, it could just be a misunderstanding."

You wanted to comfort her and give her some hope but deep down, you weren't so sure yourself. The picture was too obvious to be misunderstood, but you didn't want to see Ningguang upset. She finally smiled a little and nodded then you helped her stand up and escorted her to her car. She was more drunk now and leaned on your shoulder, wrapping her arms around your body and snuggling into your neck.

"....It's my fault, isn't it? It's all because of how neglectful I have been, I have barely spent any time with him. Everyone says I'm married to my work now, he waits for me every day and I come home late then leave early morning without talking to him at all. This was bound to happen, it's all my fault..."

She was rambling, blaming herself for everything. You hated seeing her this way, you knew how much she loved him. "But...But I have been holding back so much as well. I also have needs! We haven't touched each other in so long....and he goes and finds someone else."

CEO!Ningguang who later talks to her husband and finds out it was a misunderstanding, the woman really was a new friend he made. The smile on her face returned and she became more relaxed, there was no greater joy for you than to see her being happy again. She thanked you for your advice and started having a better work-life balance.

You supported Ningguang even more and sent her home early so she could spend time with him; although, you never stopped doubting him because that photo was way too suspicious and you felt he was lying just to take advantage of her and her money. You became a comfort person for Ningguang, a shoulder to cry on whenever she needed it. She shared with you her personal things and regularly asked for suggestions for her love life.

You thought all things were going well until one day when you came across another photo of him with that same woman from before. Once again, Ningguang was sobbing in her office that night while holding you close and rambling. She revealed that she had planned to talk about having children with him soon and also booked a vacation to spend time together but now she could no longer go about it.

You couldn't see her this way. You comforted her and slowly told her that she should reconsider her marriage. He was cheating on her and using her money. You didn't know if his love was ever real, but you were bound to believe it wasn't. It infuriated you to see such an amazing woman like Ningguang go through this, you wanted to be there for her and help her as much as possible.

She eventually divorced and cut all connections with him and his family, even buying a separate house for herself and sending him far away. You could see her true self returning, she felt liberal and free after all this time. And she wasn't blind to ignore all the help you gave her; spending late nights in her stead to complete her work so she could enjoy.... why were you so supportive of her? She started seeing you differently and wondered if there was more to you.

"You are an idiot, Y/n." Ningguang overheard you talking with a colleague one day during your coffee break and she hid around the corner and listened in.

"Who in their right mind helps patch up the marriage of the woman she loves?! If it was me, I would have used that to come between them and taken her!" your colleague spoke with a chuckle, Ningguang's eyes widening at the statement. You loved her? You did all that.... all the while being in love with her? The time you spent advising her and helping her be with her husband.... you loved her all that time?

"Don't be ridiculous! She.... she loved him and I just wanted to see her happy, even if not with me. Besides, I'm not in her league at all. I'm fine with how things are and now that she's no longer bound to him, she can be herself and do what makes her happy."

Ningguang's heart skipped a beat, you did so much for her just to see her happy.... even her ex-husband never did that. It was always her being the giver in the relationship and she barely received anything in return from him, now she realized the true meaning of love. She realized how blind she had been, there was someone doing everything for her just the way she had been doing for him.

CEO!Ningguang who starts falling for you, seeing you as more than just a secretary or friend. She tries to be around you more, makes you accompany her to more places than before. She invites you to her house under the guise of working, just to spend more time with you because your presence is so comforting to her. She is still recovering from her broken marriage, but with you she feels loved.

She plans to confess in the near future if you don't, and till then tries to understand you better as a person. She realizes how much she has always liked you but was too blinded to see it. But what she didn't see coming was when you handed in your resignation notice one faithful day....

"Resignation? Why all of a sudden? Is the salary not up to your requirements? Is there too much work pressure? I don't see how there isn't any room for negotiation if you find something unsatisfactory here, Y/n." Ningguang was perplexed, almost on the verge of breaking down. Why were you doing this? Were you really going to bury your feelings and leave?

"No ma'am, none of that. Everything is good here; the salary and work environment, I like everything and I don't mind the work pressure either because it's very rewarding."

"Then why? I believe I deserve to hear a proper reason for this. You are one of my oldest and best employees, have you been offered a better deal somewhere else?"

Ningguang attempted to negotiate with you to make you stay; aside from how used to she was to you and your working style, she truly didn't want you to leave.

"....Are you really going to leave just like this? Without even telling me your true feelings?!" Ningguang's voice raised as she paced around the table and stood in front of you, looking at you firmly. You were confused as to what she meant, but she soon answered your doubts.

"This is how your love is, Y/n?! You'll run away without speaking a word?! You also want to leave me?!"

Your eyes widened, how did she know? And why was she being this way? You were about to say something but Ningguang grabbed your collar and pulled you into a passionate kiss, her lips kissed yours feverishly as if she wanted to own you and keep you here forever.

"Don't you dare leave me.... Is that clear?" Ningguang whispered against your lips as she pulled away from the kiss, leaving you breathless and astonished. You had no idea when she found out about your feelings but now that the cat was out of the bag, you didn't want to hold back either.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I....I love you very much, Ms Ningguang. I want to be with you and I promise to treat you well, I want to keep you happy forever."

Teacher!Lisa who is the sweetest and most beloved teacher at your university. Currently in your first year, she teaches you chemistry and let's just say the entire university has a crush on her to some extent, teachers and students alike. A kind, hardworking and sincere woman who has been teaching for 6-7 years now and has never had a complaint against her. But to everyone's vain, she's happily married for 5 years to a man arranged by her parents.

Lisa loves teaching and interacting with her students, she's always ready to put in the extra effort for struggling students and very patiently deals with problematic cases. She's usually soft spoken and pleasant to be around, but anger her and she can be quite strict and terrifying as well even if it's extremely rare to see her that way. As her student, you don't miss any of her classes due to how much you love to attend them.

Lisa eventually became your class tutor and you showed utmost enthusiasm to be the class representative in order to help her, but truthfully you just wanted to be with her more. Your classmates called you a teacher's pet but you didn't care, you genuinely wanted to help Ms Lisa and care for her just like she cares for you. You eventually grow close with her as you spend time outside of classes, doing some work or the other and chatting along.

Lisa rarely talked about her family which wasn't surprising as you were just a student, but you discovered that even with her colleagues she rarely ever shared anything and seemed to dislike the topic altogether. Everyone assumed her marriage was good considering how sweet and lovable she was, she'd make a perfect wife. But little does everyone know her dark reality....

"Ah, Y/n. Do you mind opening the window? It's gotten really warm these days...." Ms Lisa sighed and fanned her face as sweat trickled down her forehead, the two of you were sitting in the staff room during afternoon. She had called you to do some work and you agreed as it was your free lecture; coincidentally, the staff room was also empty right now as other teachers had gone for classes.

You nodded to her and stood up to slide open the nearby window and let the cool breeze flow in. You then turned around to walk back to your place when you saw Ms Lisa remove her coat and pull up her sleeves which caused you to glace at a peculiar cut on her wrist.

"Ma'am, did you get hurt?" you came closer and asked in a concerned tone. She realized where you were pointing and quickly slid her sleeve back down to hide the scar before letting out a forced smile.

"Oh, it's nothing. I accidentally brushed my hair straightener there."

"....I see, please take care of yourself."

You weren't easily convinced that's all it was but you were unable to know more. You worried about her, you hoped everything was fine.

Teacher!Lisa who actually has a toxic good-for-nothing husband living off her hard-earned money. A regular drunkard who lost his job after their marriage, she was forced to marry him because he used to be well off but in reality, he was doing illegal work that eventually got him caught and put on house arrest. She is the sole breadwinner of their household and struggles every day to make ends meet.

Lisa never let anyone know the truth about her marriage, not even her parents. She knew they wanted the best for her when they made her marry him and he did appear to be nice back then. She regularly argues with him and looks after him when she comes home, all the while managing work from the university and her basic duties.

Lisa's husband recently became violent and started hitting her during their arguments. She was coming to her breaking point but she couldn't leave him; after all, she fell in love with him after their marriage. He was handsome and gentlemanly in the beginning; despite being an arranged marriage, they got along and liked each other. She hated seeing him in this state and promised to keep supporting him even when nobody else does.

But everyone has a breaking point, and Lisa was nearing hers too. She hated having to tolerate such treatment every day, she wanted to be a good teacher and be with her students who bring her joy without having to worry about going back to a dreadful home. Then one day, her husband crossed even more borders. Now she had to live with him cheating on her as well? How could she walk into her house just to find another woman in bed with her good-for-nothing husband?

Lisa had no words and packed up her essentials then left, she did not need any explanations or excuses. How could he do that? What did she not do for him? And how is she lacking in appearance or sex drive that he'd go for some random woman? She gave him everything and he never recognized it, she had enough. She found herself at a bus stop, eyes filled with tears and no idea of what to do. That's when a miracle happened.

"Ms Lisa?! What are you doing here at this hour?!" your voice called out to her from behind, and she turned around to see you walk up to her with an excited look.

"I'm just...." she trailed off and your eyes fell on the bag she was carrying, tear stains on her face.

"What happened? Are you okay?" you asked softly and stepped closer, gently caressing her arm.

"...What about you, Y/n? Why are you out so late?" she averted your question.

"O-Oh, I'm just returning from my part-time work. My flat is nearby, would you like to come?"

"Do you live with anyone else?"

"No, it's an independent flat. I.... didn't really want a roommate."

Lisa ponders for a while and eventually agrees to come with you. A humble abode perfect for a single person, she found a strange sense of calmness and comfort in your apartment. You offered her some beverage and you found out she hadn't eaten anything since afternoon, feeling appalled and immediately went to cook for her. She trusted you, she wanted to be away from her life for now.

"Uh, sorry, I don't have too many ingredients right now. I was going to go shopping this weekend, I hope you don't mind pasta...."

Lisa looked at the plate you put in front of her, a small smile appearing on her face. "Pasta is my favorite dish, actually. But it's been a long time since I had it, thank you."

You smiled back, you knew something was up. The cheerful Ms Lisa was strangely quiet, seemingly holding back a lot of her emotions. Eventually, she finally opened up to you and told you everything about her husband- from the abuse to cheating. You were terrified hearing the horrors she faced, yet presented herself to be happy at the university, nobody could guess she faced all of that every day.

You offered her to stay at your place for as long as she wants, and that she should report him to police and talk to her parents. A divorce was the obvious couse of action, but you were in no place to advice that to her. You only hoped to comfort her and provide her a home until this passed. That night, you laid in bed together and Ms Lisa held you as she cried out, eventually falling asleep in your arms. If only she knew how much you loved her, right from the first day you saw her....

Teacher!Lisa who talks to her parents the next day and tells them everything. They feel devastated hearing what their daughter went through, and they assist her in a successful divorce where she gets maintenance claims and a secret property he had. It was a messy court case given the illegal work of the husband, but she triumphed and obtained her justice.

The case went on for a few months and Ms Lisa lived with you all this time. She helped you in your studies and enabled you to become the topper in her class, though she never used any unfair means to help you. It was sometimes hard to hide the fact that you were living together, but you both made it work. Ms Lisa wasn't open for a new relationship yet, It was true she really loved him and it was hard to move on despite all the terrible things he did.

Ms Lisa and you grow closer than ever during the time she lives with you. You act like a happily married couple more than she ever did with her ex-husband. She said she'll do all household chores to pay you for allowing her to live there, though you really didn't mind either way. You cook together, watch movies, laugh and share past memories, study, have shopping dates and what not.

Lisa did not know it yet but she was deeply in love with you, she had forgotten how it felt to be treated with love and given importance. She wondered about your love life now, if you have someone you like or wish to date. You tell her you want to focus on studies and career, but there is indeed someone you like. She becomes curious, even slightly jealous realizing the gap between you and her.

One night, you were out until late drinking with some friends. You returned home in a drunk state and Lisa was ready to tend to you. While she was surprised you had this side to herself, she was more pleased to know more about you and wanted to care for you. She was already an expert in tending to drunkards, and you were unironically so adorable acting as one.

"Ms Lisaaaa~ You are so beautiful, you know thatttt?~" you slurred as she carried you to the bed, chuckling along the way.

"You teach... so welllll.... and you are so sweettttt~"

"Yes yes, I know. You have said that even as sober~" she whispered, laying you down then going to fetch some water for you. You curled up in your pillow and when she came back, you looked so cute to her.

"I love you... Ms Lisa... I love you so much...." you slurred in a drunken state, catching her by surprise.

She smiles and gives you the water then you immediately pass out while hugging her, your head laying on her soft bosom. Lisa caresses your head and kisses your forehead in return, "Say that when you are sober, I'll give you an answer you'll like~"

It was last day of your second year, you still had 2 more years to spend at the university. You wanted to wait till graduation but couldn't anymore, you wanted to confess. And it seems, Ms Lisa was having similar thoughts. Only you both knew how much you held back when you lived under the same roof. You find her in am empty classroom waiting for you.

"I love you, Ms Lisa. I have loved you since last year, and I want to date you. But um... I understand if you don't want to, so please don't feel forced to give me—"

Your words were blocked as Lisa pulled you close and connected her lips with you in a passionate and loving kiss. Her arms wrapped around your neck as she pushed you to the wall and continued kissing, her tongue already slipping in and dancing with yours.

"Took you long enough to say that, Y/n~"

"You... knew? Since when?"

"Hehe, that's my secret~" she winked at you then jumped in for another kiss, completely devouring you this time. She knew you would treat her well, she felt at home with you and she was confident she would love you forever now.

Milf!Rosalyne, a 31-year-old who is your new neighbor. She recently moved to the apartment in front with her husband and 4-year-old son. You were 16 when the family moved in, you welcomed them along with your mother and acted as good neighbors. Rosalyne was a pleasant housewife while her husband worked in the military hence often leaving her and their son home alone.

Rosalyne used to take home tuitions and manage the entire household by herself, you eventually ended up visiting her to help around and just give her company. She was lovely and overall amazing to talk to, you discovered she did the same course you were planning to do and took some advice from her.

You often had dinner at her place on the days her husband was home. You would play with her son and secretly observe how lovey-dovey they were, it was clear they deeply loved each other and nothing could come in between. You used to watch them giggle in the kitchen, cuddle on the sofa and share small kisses throughout the day.

Rosalyne often commented how you were like a helpful big sister for her son as you helped him in studies and played together, which meant she likely saw you as a child which wasn't surprising. She found you mature for your age and admitted liking your company and it was a bonus that her son did too. She was a great mother, extremely loving and supportive.

However, you moved away to another city at 18 for studies for 4 years. Now you have returned as you found a job in your hometown and decided to live in your parent's apartment as they moved out. You harbored a crush on Rosalyne back when you regularly met her, you couldn't help but feel jealous of her husband.

You reminisced your memories of your home as you climbed the steps to your apartment. 4 years passsed yet much didn't change about the place, and you were having a sense of deja-vu. The first thing you noticed was your neighbor's door, hoping the nameplate was still the name you remembered and, it indeed was. You felt happy as well as nervous meeting her again; how was she now? would she have changed in all this time?

Once you settled your things in your apartment, you decided to finally visit the woman you have had a crush on for years. You thought being away for 4 years would make you let go of these feelings, but you never stopped thinking about her. You didn't know what she thought of you, but it was more than likely she would only see you as a friend at most.

You rang her doorbell and waited in anticipation until the door finally opened, and your breath was taken away. She looked as beautiful as the day you first saw her, it felt like you fell in love with her all over again. She scanned your figure from head-to-toe until her eyes widened as she realized who was standing in front.

"Y/n?! Oh my god, it's been so long!" Rosalyne chimed and lunged forward to hug you affectionately, hearing her call your name sent butterflies in your stomach and the hug made your heart skip a beat. You were glad to see she remembered you so fondly.

"It's been long indeed. How have you been, aunty?"

"Awh, stop that. Just call me by my name, I don't want to feel old~" Rosalyne giggled and lightly punched your shoulder before holding your wrist and pulling you inside her house. Her house mostly looked the same, but there was something strangely missing that you couldn't pinpoint. She made you sit on the sofa while she brought some water and snacks for you.

"How is Ray?" that was her son's name.

"Oh, he's been fine. He's at school right now, I'm sure he'd be delighted to see you again!~"

You chatted away as you caught up with each other, you told her you are back to living her as you found a job and she seemed really happy to have you around again.

"How's uncle been? Will he be coming back anytime soon?" you asked in a casual manner, but the answer was unexpected.

"Rostam.... passed away 3 years ago. He died on a field mission."

You didn't know what to say. You observed her looking down with a sad look and touch her wedding ring, likely reminiscing about him. You apologized for speaking that but she assured it was fine, your parents never mentioned that he died 3 years ago otherwise you wouldn't have asked. You felt deeply saddened for her and wondered how she was handling things on her own all this time.

You went back to your place with a happier remark, you offered to help her whenever she required and promised to be there for her. You later on met her son in the evening and had dinner at her place, it felt just like old times for you and you were glad she was still here and you could meet her.

Milf!Rosalyne who works multiple jobs a week to make ends meet. The military provides for the housing out of respect for her husband's service, but she has to look after everything else on her own. She takes tuitions on the weekend and works as a receptionist in a hotel during the week, also doing some additional online work whenever she can.

She had wished to find a job related to her degree but all those jobs require long working hours away from home and she couldn't do that, her son was her first priority. She was fortunate to have a pretty face and a model-like figure even at her age, but it was also a curse sometimes in this field of work.

You ended up meeting her at her place of work one day, you had come there for a meeting. You were shocked to discover she had to work this kind of job now, you really wished to help her. You tried asking your boss if there was an opening but they were not hiring, and Rosalyne also denied due to the unsuitable work hours but she appreciated your thought.

Rosalyne also faced problems in dating life now. To no surprise, not many people were willing to get together with a 37 year old single mother. Some expressed disgust without even bothering to know what happened to her husband, while some were unwilling to take on the responsibilty of a child so soon. She had not moved on from her husband but she was trying for her son's sake, to give him a father. But none of the people she met made it easy for her.

It was a Saturday evening and you were planning to stay home to rest. You had been working a lot ever since you moved here and hadn't got much time for yourself, you even weren't able to meet Rosalyne as much as you had hoped to. An unexpected ring of your doorbell called you to the front door and you find none other than Rosalyne standing with a soft smile on her face.

"Are you free by any chance today, Y/n?"

"Oh, sure I am. Do you need some help?"

"Well.... want to hangout together at my place? We can order some food and just watch some movie or show if you'd like."

Your eyes widened in surprise at her invitation, you were ready to accept right away but didn't want to appear too eager.

"Ah, that would be great. But what about Ray?"

"I sent him to my mother's place for the weekend. He had been wanting to visit for some time."

You suddenly became nervous realizing you'd be alone with her at her house. You accepted and made your way to her apartment, you offered to bring some food out of respect but she assured you it was fine and that you can order whatever you like. You ordered some pizza and snacks, while Rosalyne also bought out the wine she had and offered you a glass.

Now, here you were sitting on her couch with wine in hand and watching some random movie you both agreed upon. You had not talked much all this time, you mainly exchanged some work stories and vented frustrations. Rosalyne shared some things about her son that happened to him at school, she always appeared so happy to talk about him. She really was a great mother.

Some time passed and more wine later, she was clearly tipsy. She leaned on your shoulder and was in a soppy state now as she started venting about how hard things have been for her in finding a new partner, and the constant harrassment she faces at work yet nobody is ready for a serious relationship as soon as they hear about her son.

"Tell me, Y/n.... what am I lacking? There's all these men who flirt with me all day but the moment I set up dates and reveal the truth, they all leave.... How is it so wrong for a 37 year old single mother to find someone new?!"

She was babbling in a drunken state while holding you. There was absolutely nothing lacking in her, she was perfect in your eyes and you wouldn't even think twice about dating her, heck even marrying her. You wanted to be there for her not just as a friend but more. But you had no idea if she ever saw you that way, or if she even liked women in the first place and how her son would react to that.

"I never wanted this, Y/n.... what did I do wrong? Ray doesn't deserve this, I want to give him a complete family.... I want to have a complete family.... But Rostam... he betrayed me...."

You were caught by surprise, "Betray you? What do you mean, Rosalyne?"

"He.... he cheated on me, I found out he cheated on me years ago after Ray was born. He hid it all this time.... I discovered this at his funeral.... I don't know what to think, I can't even remember him the same way anymore.... How could he?! What did I do to deserve this....?"

She was crying while holding you now. You felt anger rise in you hearing this secret, it was quite unbelievable to you he did that when you recall how lovey-dovey they used to be and Rostam seemed like a good man. Your desire to support and love her increased even more now, you couldn't bear seeing her in this state. So much happened to her while you were away, you wished you were here.

"No! Nothing is wrong with you and you are not lacking anything! You are beautiful and strong! You are an amazing mother, Ray loves you very much! You have been so resilient all this time, I actually admire you so much for doing everything on your own. I.... Please know I'll help you! In any way! Please don't put yourself down this way, Rosa!"

You chanted before hugging her tightly, trying to convery how serious you were and really wanted her to be well. You pulled away to look at her and saw her face reddened up as she gazed at you with a needy look before placing her hands on your shoulders and leaning close.

"Any way? Then.... date me, Y/n." You were shocked beyond belief but the next thing she did was worse. She leaned in and softly kissed you, it was a gentle kiss at first then you felt her push you down and straddle you then kiss deeper. You knew this was wrong, she was clearly drunk and swept away by her emotions. But the feeling of her lips on yours made you entranced, you have wanted to kiss her for so long.

"Yes... you will be good. Ray likes you too... I can explain to him.... Be with me, Y/n, please?"

She pulled you closer by your collar and went in for another kiss, you didn't expect to make out with her this way. You felt she was being desperate by choosing you this way, you could tell she likely didn't love you and wanted you just for her son's sake as you are the only one who gave her attention and expressed willingness. Rosalyne passed out before you could answer her, and you almost felt relieved.

Rosalyne apologized to you the next day for all her actions, she genuinely felt guilty for all the things she said and did. It gave you enough indication that she really didn't like you romantically and that you stood no chance. You forgave her rather easily, you really couldn't complain experiencing that. She saw you as a good friend and you'd try to maintain that.

However, your feelings started overwhelming you and you tried to make some distance from her for some time to be able to move on and remain a friend. You ended up ghosting her texts and calls, and also rejecting all her invites to spend time together by making up some excuse for work.

Rosalyne felt you were avoiding due to that day, and she hated that so much. You were the only one she had, she didn't realize when she started liking you romantically. She knew it was wrong of her to use you but she didn't mean to, she wanted to make amends and do things right. She couldn't bear being away from you.

"Y/n, may I borrow some rice?" Rosalyne came to your house one day asking for some rice like a good neighbor.

"O-Oh sure, come in." you subsconsciously let her inside and asked her to come to the kitchen. She watched you take out the rice then silently walked up to you and hugged you from behind, catching you off guard.

"R-Rosalyne?"

"I'm sorry.... I'm so sorry for that day, Y/n. I know I did something very wrong, but please don't punish me this way..... You have become so distant, so closed off, you avoid me so much. You can hate me all you want, but please don't leave me.... not you too, please...."

Her arms tightened around you and you could tell she was weeping. You hated seeing her in this state, you never wanted to make her cry.

"....I can never hate you, Rosalyne. And I'm not ignoring you because of that. It's just.... I like you. No, I love you. I love you very much, I have loved you for years. I loved you 6 years ago too.... I want to be there for you and help you, I really do. But... I need some time to move on and forget these feelings so that I can be a true friend for you...."

Rosalyne let go of the hug and enabled you to turn around to face her. Her eyes were filled with tears, a tear rolled down her cheek and you gently smiled then wiped it away and cupped her face.

"I don't expect you to love me, it's okay. But just.... give me some time. I'm not strong enough to move on from you if you keep doing these things...."

Rosalyne's heart skipped a beat and before she knew it, her body moved on it's own to push you towards the counter as her lips relentlessly seeked yours. Her arms wrapped around your neck and she passionately kissed you, this time she was completely sober and knew what she was doing. You kissed for god knows how long, you were a panting mess by the time she stopped.

".....I love you too, Y/n. I want to be together because I love you and not for Ray's sake. I want to spend the rest of my life with you...."

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin women #la signora #signora x reader #ningguang x reader #ningguang #lisa #lisa x reader #genshin impact lisa #genshin #genshin impact signora #genshin ningguang #genshin lisa #la signora x reader

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stairain · 1 year

Text

Gun that doesn't shoot.

You've grown tired of the princess treatment from Spencer, just wishing he'd slap you around for once, so you don't stop until he does.

Warnings: Hard Dom Spencer, Bratty Reader, spanking with a belt, degrading, hair pulling, slapping, fingering, crying, orgasm denial.

WC: 3.7K

For reasons you don’t know, you were being overly bratty towards Spencer today. Actually, you had a completely valid reason. He’s gone soft, to put it simply, and quite frankly you were tired of being babied 24/7

So today, whenever he asked you to do something, it was met with a mocking grumble and hesitance to do said task. He thought it was just a one time thing, and let it slide, but now here you are again, facing the other way with a pout as he talks to you.

"What is the matter with you, Princess?"

Your heart skips a beat as you hear him call you by your favorite name, but you huff and cross your arms over your chest, as if throwing a silent tantrum.

“Don’t give me attitude, Princess. You’ve been in a sour mood all day and I haven’t done anything to you.”

Spencer crosses his own arms across his chest as his tone is one of pure disapproval and disappointment. He sighs.

“What has gotten into you?’

You almost make a show out of turning your head away from where he stood, exaggerating how much you wanted to do everything but look at him.

He slightly bends over to firmly grab your chin and force you to look in his eyes.

"What's the matter? Speak."

You suck your teeth as you look up at him with malice burning in your eyes.

“Why should I tell you?”

Spencer’s eyebrow twitches as he becomes irritated with your behavior.

"Because you're being bratty, and I'd like to know what you're upset about." His voice starts out stern, but slowly turns gentle at the end of the sentence.

“And why would you care? It’s not like you’re gonna do anything about it.” You’re still avoiding his question, wanting to see just how far you can push him before he snaps. He was always so gentle and caring with you, and for once you just wanted to see what’d it’d be like once he finally lashes out on you.

"Why wouldn't I care?" He seems genuinely lost at your response.

"Just tell me what's wrong, and I'll see what I can do to fix it, okay?" His tone is still gentle, but he seems a little confused and maybe even hurt. With a scoff, you turn your body so you’re facing away from him.

Spencer sighs heavily as he stands back upright, getting more and more frustrated.

"Look, I can't fix what's wrong if you won't tell me. So talk, or I'm going to give you something else to pout about."

You have to suppress the small smile that grows on your face, you’re finally getting somewhere. You huff once more.

“You wouldn’t.”

"Try me, Princess." He says the name in an almost mocking manner, and takes a few steps closer to you. He leans down and grabs your chin again, forcing you to look up at him. He gets just an inch or two from your face.

“That’s what I’ve been doing all day, didn’t think it’d take a genius like you to take this long to figure it out.” Your voice is sarcastic as your words bite at him.

You can see violent anger flash in his eyes for a moment, before he’s squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath. His hand slides around the back of your neck and grabs you there, dragging you like a dog over to the kitchen counter. Your back hits the edge of the island, and his voice is quiet as he speaks to you.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, but for your own sake, please tell me what's made you so angry."

You simply bite the inside of your cheek as you stay silent, despite all of his warnings and pleads for you to just talk to him. His hand slithers from the back of your neck to your throat, and gently holds it in his fingers.

"You don't give up, do you?" He asks after a moment, still holding you there against the counter. As his frustration continues to grow, his grip tightens, but he doesn't seem to realize it.

"I'm begging you, sweetheart. Just talk to me."

You push down a sound of pain at the feeling of him gripping at your throat, and swallow nervously before speaking. “Or what?”

Spencer sighs and his grip on you gets tighter and you can tell his frustration is only growing at your stubbornness.

"Or I'll have to punish you. You know how much I hate doing that, Princess." He sighs again, clearly hurt by the thought.

This time, you don’t stop the soft grunt that escapes your mouth, and you stutter when trying to speak.

“Y-You’re all talk..”

The man's eyebrow quirks up, and he shrugs.

“If you say so.." His expression is now cold and serious. "Your choice, Princess." He suddenly lets you go and takes a step back. He crosses his arms and stands in front of you, waiting to see what you will do next.

A look of confusion and disbelief crosses your face, and you’re sputtering out your words.

“W-What are you doing? You..You’re supposed to punish me, why are you just standing there?”

As you speak, you can see a cocky grin spread across his face.

Spencer looks at you for a moment before speaking, his tone coated in disdain as realization sets in for him.

"You really want to be punished, don't you? That must be it." He starts walking in circles around the kitchen island that you’re leaning against, slowly shaking his head.

"You're being bad on purpose to get my attention.” His tone is mocking and his grin is teasing, but there's still some coldness behind his words.

He knows he’s read your intentions perfectly, just as you had recited them in your head. Your heart starts to pound in your chest as you try everything in your power to not look at him, as he circles you like a shark would their prey.

He continues to circle you, his look turning more predatory as time goes on.

"Is that what this is really about? You get some sick satisfaction out of pushing my buttons until I snap at you and have to put you in your place? You just like seeing me angry." His grin grows, and he chuckles darkly. "Does it get you off, Princess?"

The tone in his voice is dark and condescending, and it sends a shiver through your senses. You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.

“I-I..”

Spencer watches you as you try and fail to speak, and his grin only grows darker. His eyes are cold and unforgiving now, looking down on you like you're one of the worst of the worst that he's put behind bars.

"Speak up, Princess. Unless you have nothing to say?" He gets even closer to you, getting right in your face and leaning a hand against the counter next to you. You can see the anger starting to boil in his eyes, despite him trying to keep himself calm.

And it’s clear by the way all your previous confidence has crumbled underneath you, that you have nothing to say. You were trembling with fear and anticipation as you could feel the huffs of his heavy breathing hitting your skin.

His eyes narrow at your silence, and his hand suddenly shoots out to grab a fistful of your hair. You are pulled forward painfully and he pulls you close.

"Speak. You don’t have a choice." He growls at you as he grabs your hair tighter and his face looks like he's just one step away from losing control.

You wince in pain at the feeling, but also moan softly. As his fist gripped at your roots, it shot a feeling of pure arousal through your body. You take a shuddering breath before you speak.

“Y-Yes.. Just-Just wanted you to put me in my place..”

His face doesn't soften at all at your confession. He seems just as cold and unforgiving as he did before you spoke, and his other hand now grabs your throat.

"And what is your place exactly, Princess? Remind me."

His gaze is piercing and his breath is as heavy as your own is.

“I-I’m yours, Sir..”

The grip on your hair and throat only tighten as you whimper out your words.

"That's right, Angel. You are mine. And you know what you do when you're mine?" He leans in even closer, so that he's nearly nose-to-nose with you, his grip becoming almost unbearable.

"You behave, Is that understood?"

Your lips drop in an attempt to gasp for air, and you manage to nod in his hold. You swallow and squeeze your eyes shut.

Reid lets go completely and you gasp for air, coughing and sputtering. You choke on your own breath as your lungs greedily fill with air.

"That's what I thought." He mutters in a low, almost whispered tone. He watches you with a sick look of sadism for another moment as you fight to breathe, then lets out a sigh and steps away. His face is blank for a moment, then his eyes quickly fill with desire.

"On your knees."

The tone he uses is colder and less forgiving now as he says that. He hasn’t moved in his place away from you, and he crosses his arms, waiting for you to obey him.

At his command, you take a few steps forward and immediately fall to your knees. You bow your head down to the floor as you await his next order.

“Yes, Sir.”

He looks down at you and reaches a warm hand out to run over the expanse of your jawline, before quickly pulling it away to slap you across the face. Your head jolts to the side and you let out a quick noise of shock.

"I don't want you to say another word unless I ask you to. Understood?" His eyes are trained on you as he withdraws his hand, waiting for you to respond and confirm that you’re actually listening to him now.

“Yes, Sir.”

You nod and say not another word afterwards. Your body was practically shaking in both excitement and fear for this, you had him exactly where you wanted him.

Spencer nods and reaches out for the belt he keeps on his waist. He pulls it out of his belt loops and holds it in his hand, seemingly taking his time to torture you.

"Look at me." His voice becomes harsher, and you can tell he's lost his patience.

Your head almost immediately lifts to look him in the eyes, and you can feel the littlest of tears brimming your wide, “innocent”, eyes as you gaze at him through your long lashes.

"You’ve left me no other choice, Princess.” He states monotonously as he holds you in his gaze.

"It won't be pretty, or gentle. You're going to leave with bruises." His voice is dripping in condescension, and the look in his eyes sends a shiver of fear through you. He holds the belt tightly in his fist, waiting for your response.

“That’s exactly what I want, sir.”

The look in his eyes doesn’t waver as he sits down on the couch and looks over at you expectedly.

"Over my knee."

There's no room for argument. His face remains unmoving as he holds his arm out, waiting for you to do as you're told. With a nod, you lift yourself from trembling knees and walk over to him, before bending your body over his legs, your stomach resting against his thighs and your ass raised in the air.

Spencer looks down at you as you do, his face blank and his expression serious again. Once he makes sure you're fully in position, he flips up your skirt and pulls back his arm.

"Don't you dare move, Princess.”

You hold your breath as you wait for the first hit and squeak out.

“Yes, Sir.”

The thick leather of the belt crashes down against your bare bottom and you hiss through your teeth. It hurt, but you knew this was as gentle as they would get, so you take it with gratitude.

"Let's see if that attitude of yours is the same after a few more, hmm?" He asks in a condescending tone, his voice having turned into a cruel whisper. He pulls back his arm again as he speaks.

"Tell me again what you are, Princess."

“I-I’m yours, Sir.. I belong to you—“ Your words are cut off as he swings the belt and lashes it against your pink tinged skin, making you cry out in pain. The tears that brimmed your eyes before fell down your flushed face now.

"Good, Princess. That's a good girl, isn't it?" He says in that unforgiving mutter as he pulls the belt back and whips it forward again, just as hard as the last.

"Tell me again, Princess. I want to hear you say it. What are you?"

Your body lurches forward in his lap and you practically scream at the pain.

“I’m yours, Sir.. Y-Yours..”

"And how should I treat my Princess? Do you think I should treat her gently? Is that what you want?" His voice is sarcastic yet menacing and it sends a shiver down your spine. He pulls the belt back and whips it forward once more, hitting you with even more force than before.

You know better than to answer him, you know he’d like you better with your mouth shut right now. But that proved to be quite difficult, as the second the rough leather slapped against your bottom, your mouth dropped in a screech.

"Shut up. Do as you're told." His voice grows brutal and he continues to spank you, his face becoming one of rage and fury as his hands turn red and white from the tight grip he has around the belt.

"I don’t want to hear a single sound from you unless I want it, Princess. Now, say it again. What are you?" He asks, his voice once again dripping in a scornful frigid tone.

You don’t even have to look back at your ass to know it’s absolutely bruised with purple and red marks, you can just feel them.

“I-I’m yours, forever..”

"Yes, that's right. You belong to me. So don't you ever behave like this again, understood?"

He stares you down and punctuates his words with a bruising hit.

“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry sir..” Your voice is wavering as tears stream down your face and your body is shaking against his. His free hand reaches up to grab a handful of your hair and he forcefully yanks on it, making you groan in pain.

“I don’t fucking care. Shut your mouth or I will make you.”

An animalistic sob leaves your lips when he tugs at your roots harder and brutally assaults your already abused bottom. It’s like you can almost feel every line and crack of the texture of the belt at this point, as with every hit he dealt to you, the pattern was being imprinted on the red raised surface of your ass.

Then, suddenly, the hand in your hair lets you go and you can hear him switching the belt from his left hand to his right. All you can do is hang your head low and pray he’ll take it easy on you. But you know better. This is exactly what you wanted. You wanted to watch him snap, break from that caring and nurturing role he always regarded you with, and ruin you.

When rough fingers take hold of the bottom of your panties, the fabric is ripped with an unforgiving tearing noise. Your eyes widen against the darkness of the couch and you clench at the feeling of being exposed so suddenly.

Above you, you can hear him let out a deep chuckle at you bent over his lap, arching in anticipation as your folds glistened pathetically.

“So pretty.. Shame you have to be so bad.”

Is all he says before you feel two large fingers prod at your hole, not giving you a moment to think before they roughly push into your plushy wet walls. Your cunt hungrily swallows what he’s given you, and he shakes his head at the sight of his fingers disappearing inside of you.

“It’s never enough for you, is it, Princess?”

The digits curl inside of you, making a scooping motion as they thrust deeper and deeper into you. Your eyes cross as they fall under heavy eyelids, and a strained whimper leaves your mouth.

“You just.. take, take, take..”

He pulls back his fingers and fucks them back into you with each word he lets leave his mouth.

“And it’s still never enough, hm?”

You shake your head the best you can, and moan out at his claims.

“N-No, Si-”

The otherwise forgotten leather belt in his other hand thwacks down against your already welted ass, cutting you off. You practically scream in shock at the feeling, before he does it once more, just to shut you up again.

“Do not fucking speak to me right now.”

A third finger joins the others inside of you in a slick motion, and the stretch has you dizzy in his lap. It doesn’t sound like he’s speaking to his girlfriend right now, not speaking at all to the woman he loves so unconditionally. No, it sounds like he’s talking to one of his worst enemies.

His tone is full of hatred, malice, and coldness. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on beyond belief. He’d never treated you this roughly before and you were getting used to it all too easily.

Usually when he opened you like this, he took his time with you. Slowly pushing in each long digit and feeling your warm liquids gush around him, making sure you’re alright before moving another centimeter.

But now, his hand was pistoning into you like he didn’t know how to do anything else, and his shaking fist held onto the belt above your ass so hard you were wondering how long it would take for him to pierce his nails through it.

He was furious with you, and you adored it.

“People would kill to be treated the way I treat you. Pampered like a princess, spoiled rotten.. And yet-”

Spencer raises his hand once more and slashes the leather against your bottom before he finishes his sentence. You hold back a cry.

“You don’t want it.”

His fingers push impossibly deeper into you and stay still against your stretched walls, giving your soaked pussy the opportunity to finally mold around them, tight like a vice.

“What happened, baby? What happened to my Princess?”

There’s a faux tone of concern and sympathy for you in his voice, but you see right through it. You simply shake your head in response and try your damndest to not squeeze around his digits to avoid him getting even madder at you, as tempting as the idea sounds.

You can hear the material of the leather hitting the couch as he drops it, and you can feel a comforting hand come around to lightly run through your hair.

His fingers start to move once again, but much slower this time, and much more gentle. The 180 turn confuses you, but you didn’t want to be ungrateful and prove him right.

The once stoic tone in his words softens, as he speaks to you in a comforting voice.

“Think you can cum, just like this, Princess?”

This time, you don’t stop yourself from squeezing around him, urging him deeper to press against your sensitive spot. When he reaches it, the pads of his fingers caress over it, and it makes you whimper pathetically. You nod, and swallow the drool that’s started dripping from your lips.

Spencer smiles down at you and brushes his hand through your hair. He can feel your arousal leaking out of your cunt, dripping from the fingers stuffed into you and onto the surface of his palm.

He twists his digits around inside of you as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge, and it doesn’t take much for him to get you there, because after he deals one last press of his middle finger against your spot, you’re crying out.

“Sir.. Sir, I-I’m.. cum..I—”

Your eyes cross and roll back into your head as you right there, and just as fast as he’d gotten you from that point, he robs you of it.

Before you can even finish your sentence, he’s pulling all of his fingers out of your drenched pussy and looking down at you with a cruel smile. The hand that was in your hair was still running gently through the strands, almost mocking you.

Your eyes widen and you’re quick to look back and up at him, a look of panic and betrayal all over you. Tears quickly fill your waterline, threatening to fall at a moment's notice.

“W-Wh..Why?”

A dark chuckle leaves his mouth before it’s stifled by his fingers dipping against his tongue. He cleans all of your slick from his skin, groaning at the taste.

You can fill your impending orgasm crashing back to square one and it takes everything in you not to scream at him to just make you cum.

“You can’t have it both ways, my love. If you want to be a bad girl, then I’ll treat you like one, understand?”

Tears finally begin to stream down your face, and even though you asked for this, you still couldn’t help the pitiful cries you let out at his cruel but deserved actions.

“Are you ready to be my Princess again, or are you still going to be a bratty little bitch?”

As he throws the insult at you, his fist tightens on your head and pulls tauntingly at your hair. You shake your head and swallow down a moan, your cunt is still painfully wet, pulsing and clenching around nothing.

“I-I’ll be good, I pr-promise!”

You weakly whine, and it’s humorous to him how quickly your little charade ended. You had planned on breaking him, but it’s clear now that you’re the only one left broken.

As you beg him for forgiveness, you feel the teasing touch of his fingers slowly pushing between your silky wet folds. An evil smile creeps onto his face, and his voice is as dark and taunting as ever.

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

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