#(also an excuse to draw his chest hehe)

[finngualart]

im gonna write my thoughts about this in the tags

[jeongin-lvr]

i’m so soaked about jeongin being a brother’s bestfriend please make a smut out of it 🥹

oh my goshhh (｡•́︿•̀｡) one of my fav tropes is brothers bsf so this is right up my alley hehe cw. jeongin is kinda a meanie, super filthy, pillow humping. also reader is Seungmin’s brother.

Brothers best friend! Jeongin who finds out you have a little (fat) crush on him and decides he wants to abuse the power he has over you! He likes the idea of you fantasizing and obsessing over him; he likes the control and the way you melt to his touches and advances. Jeongin will come over to your house under the excuse of “i just wanna hang out with Seungmin“ when in reality, the second he gets a chance alone with you he’s actively toying with your poor little heart. He’s taunting you and flirting and ultimately turning you on to no end.

To Jeongin, it’s no surprise when one night when he’s sleeping over with your brother he finds you hopelessly humping a pillow while whinily saying his name. He can’t believe it; he knew you were pathetic, but this was an entirely new thing. Your hair falling down your front with your head hung, whispering his name, your hips rolling over the plush pillow between your thighs. Its dark yet Jeongin can catch glimpses of your pretty body through the sliver of light peaking through the doorway. He takes in the image, then the audio before he’s pushing the door open with a soft creak, closing it with a thud. You obviously jump, abandoning the embarrassing act you were just committing as you stare at your older brothers best friend, horror painting your expression. Jeongin is far from surprised, honestly. And the way he stares at you, predatory, was a little unsettling to you. Red heat rushed through your entire body, silently staring in complete horror at your stupidity. He was going to tell you off— he was disgusted. There’s no other explanation for the way he was staring at you.

Until you watch him glide through the room in less than a second, tugging you to the edge of the bed by your ankles. You squeak but there’s not a single part of you that fights; you give in immediately to his eager, harsh moves. The first time he pushes his fat, leaky tip into you it’s enough to make your eyes roll, jaw slack as you cream so hard around him. Jeongin’s grin grows, his eyes dilated as he doesn’t wait for your orgasm to play out, he instead shoves himself deeper within your perfect convulsing walls. Sighing with a whine at the tightness of your pussy. There’s an urgency to the way he fucks; no breaks, it’s like he’s been waiting for this moment to fill you.

“Have you ever been fucked like this, hm? Like a slut?” Jeongin grits, pressing your tummy down with the flat of his palm, pushing you into the mattress because your hips won’t stop rising from overstimulation, “You’re so fuckin’ tight, I’m losing it…” He asks questions and speaks rambling but doesn’t wait for responses. “Gotta be quiet… don’t want your brother to hear, right? The walls are pretty thin, y’know…” He taunts you with a smirk, laughing before a moan cuts through.

“Feels better than that pathetic pillow, yeah, baby?” The nickname sends waves of pleasure you’ve never felt before through your body. You whimper, frantic as you feel some foreign knot of pleasure filling your tummy. You’re clutching his sleeves, whimpering, eyes widening. “Innie— ahh, fuck, I think I h-have to pee—“

But it’s not that! And Jeongin knows that, which is why he keeps stuffing himself into you, pecking the sweet spot inside of you whilst his thumb toys with your clit lazily. His eyes never breaking away from you as you convulse, back arching off the bed as you fight his hold… until the bubble inside of you bursts and you’re feeling liquid drench your inner thighs and Jeongin’s pelvis. Clear liquid squirts out of you, eyes rolling and chest heaving. Jeongin is prideful, continuing to overstimulate your clit with his thumb, drawing every nasty noise out of you.

You’re not quiet anymore! Any more noise and Jeongin is worried Seungmin would hear. So he removes his thumb from your clit, fucking you faster because he’s not done, and covers your mouth, pressing hard on your mouth while shushing you fervently. You’re heaving and fighting for breath, eyes wet as you stare at him pleading.

“What did I say? Shut up, or I’ll leave you like this,” Jeongin slipped out of you, his cock smacking against his tummy from how quickly he did so. You clambered, reaching with a soft cry, nails plucking into his neck as you pleaded, “N-no! Please, need more…”

His cock head taps on your clit, his hand guiding his dick up and down your sensitive, swollen folds. You’re spent, but you’ve got more to give. “Mm, pretty lil slut wants more? Knew you were a whore, baby.”

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 17/11✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: (Baby Mk trying to wake up macaque) Macaque: Wukong your son's awake Wukong: Before sunrise he's your son. Lol lion King reference

Aaaaaaahhh I love it! I was thinking the same!

Anonimo ha chiesto: I wonder if MK is experiencing any other Yaoguai urges? Besides his crush instincts and fun Monkey habits and behaviors.

mmmmm I think he mostly sometimes starts a tantrum in monkey style, where he starts to move a lot and jumps around

Anonimo ha chiesto: So like do macaque and wukong have rings or anything like now I think it would be cute if they renewed their vow.

I think I need to go study traditional chinese weddings traditions

l@ovingshadowpeaches ha chiesto: Ohhh my gosh i finally have the balls to send you this ask!! I adore your shadowpeach bio parents AU SO SO SO MUCH, your art style is so satisfying and mesmerising to look at, the plot is chefs kiss and I hope you know I LOVE all the soysauce duo content i am being fed and our Macaque introject adores it because the MK he knows is his son and your comic makes him feel a lot more valid and closer to his boy, your comic is so comforting to both him and me. I can't wait to see how it all plays out and I can't express enough how much we love love this comic!! All the love!!! GAH!!!

awww tysm for your ask!!!! :')

Anonimo ha chiesto: I think that is hilarious that macaque yoinked the great sage. Also other demons jealous Mac?!?! I need more jealous mac. I can only imagine it went like, Here is a basket of delicious peaches for your enjoyment. Excuse me while I go beat the shit out this demon for trying to take you away (Not that they could even if they got past Macaque).

hehe meanwhile Wukong's ego grows tenfold

Anonimo ha chiesto: SHADOWPEACH BIO PARENT AU The last question had me saying: what was Pigsy's and Tang's reaction to Mk's l̶o̶v̶e̶r̶ crush on Red Son? And also the court napping thing?

I think at first they didn't believe it, then they realized what happened, and didn't know wheter being shocked or not since they should have absolutely saw it coming.

@vex--lynn ha chiesto: Do you find it crazy how much you've affected the Fandom, like you've taken it by storm! It's kinda like when "Garden across our collarbone" took over the Fandom. In the end, we're left crying happy tears. I'm so happy to have found this comic while it was still being made cause I feel like I'm part of the adventure of these crazy monkies! I wish you nothing but the best for you!! <3

BRO u CAN'T JUST PULL OUT THAT NAME AND MINE IN THE SAME CONTEXT. That fic is like an atomic bomb I'm just a humble artist drawing gay monkies.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I just want you to know that your LMK comic is getting me through a really hard time in my life right now. It really helps to have something to smile about and look forward to. Thank you so much for all the recent fluff. It brings me a lot of joy. 💕 Awwww tysm!!

Aww that's so nice to hear!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Okay since mac has 6 sensitive ears... wouldn't be sometimes hard for him...? l mean what if there was very strong noises like fireworks or smt around!? U know what is the best solution for this!! Mac lying down between wukong's arms and put his head on chest and listen to his heartbeat!!! This will absolutely will calm him down right? I WANNA SEE THIS IN YOUR COMICS PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAASS

askjcbaicbasc that's sooooo cute! Maybe, perhaps, in the future, who knows....

Anonimo ha chiesto: Is it slowly building back up to shadowpeach getting back together or? 🤔 idk their relationship status rn

situationship so bad these 2 are sleeping together and have a kid but still are allergic to flirt like normal people.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Got a question about Sun Wukong being trans. I know he probably uses glamour to hide his ✨✨boobies✨✨. But like, is he also using tape or are they kinda just... Out Cause now I'm thinking about the times we've seen him shirtless so like... ???

before he learned to shapeshift he mostly used bandages since that's all he could do at the time. Now MK is teaching him what binders are and he couldn't be more grateful.

@ayrza ha chiesto: I know you may not share it, or even read it, but I need to get it out of me. Do you realize that MK has only had father figures and no mother figures? Which means that the simple word "MAMA" carries too much sentimental weight and that's... 🥹 THIS COULD NOT BE MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN YOU ALREADY MADE IT!!! MY BABY SAID MAMA!!!! 😭✨💖

o my gAAAAHHD I THINK THAT WAS UNINTENTIONAL OF ME BUT THIS CHANGES EVERYTHINGGG

@s-p-r-i-n-g-t-i-m-e ha chiesto: question: what does MK call Pigsy and Tang? Anonimo ha chiesto: I love the new post i am crying 😢 😭 But I do have a question is mac mama and wukong Baba, or is wukong Mama and mac baba this is an important question I have for you???

Pigsy is "Dad" and Tang is "Papa". Mac is "Mama" and Wukong is "Baba"

Anonimo ha chiesto: I’ve seen many many drawings and intereptations of Mac being all piecered, especially on his ears cause if you have six, you gotta use em. Does macaque have any piercings in your au or is his ears too sensitive for that in your mind? Does he like to fidigit with them or any body else?

mmmm he can perfectly have it. I think he would have a few, but only rings and like each of them is far from the others in the lobe area because I can imagine someone with sensitive Hearing wouldn't like to hear the sounds of metal or earrings tingeling every time he moves around.

@alchemical-spill-on-aisle-three ha chiesto: In your shadowpeach comic, is Mei going to help MK with his crush? I just think it would be really funny if they got into hijinks while trying to get MK and Redson together lol

Mei is the one who organized their sparring meetings in the first place. She was Spicynoodle number 1 fan since the beginning.

@straightally2001 ha chiesto: Hmm... if Kai is gonna be MK and Red Son's son does that mean that Nya is gonna be Mei's daughter?

Omg yes. But guys don't tempt me or I might make a "Spicynoodle 50 years later/ninjago crossover" comic the size of the shadowpeach one if we go down this path

Anonimo ha chiesto: If mk is a trans does he still get period?

yes

Anonimo ha chiesto: what is MK’s favorite thing about red boy?

The fact that he tries to hide his emotions but his fire powers reflects them out of his control. MK thinks it's very cute.

Anonimo ha chiesto: So, are you ever going to make a sick episode for the bio dads? I am asking because I am sick, and it would be interesting to see what they are like when sick.

nope sorry. donesn't fit in the current schedule. But MK will go at the hospital at some point if that's of any reassuring.

@sokda-lal-ashes ha chiesto: Do you have why doodles that aren't exactly in the stories but that fits your bio parents au? I love your art so much!! Especially your redson design!!!

Yes but they are spoilers. Sorryyy

Anonimo ha chiesto: Wukong: hay don't forget to eat breakfast. Macaque: what are you talking about I just ate Wukong: you had espresso & anit depressants that is not a meal. Macaque (repeats mocking Wukong) I don't need your judgement I feel like the whole being revived thinks makes macaque sometimes not realize he's hungry or thirsty

ahah how much I relate (I don't take antidepressant but a lot of magnesium bc of mood swings)

@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: Wait… if macaque gets his power from a lunar eclipse, does that mean that wukong gets his power from a solar eclipse? Bye <3

Anonimo ha chiesto: Oh so I just had a thought! Since the light hair streaks are being caused by a lunar eclipse because Macaque draws his powers from the moon, is the opposite true for Wukong? Are any of his powers from the sun and would something happen if there was a solar eclipse? Love all the world building in your comics its all so good!!!

mmm I don't think that's how it works.

Anonimo ha chiesto: wait, so since the brotherhood knew about Macaque courtnapping Wukong, did they ever have to witness the monstrosity of cuddles and affection you describe Shadowpeach when they’re together? I could only imagine the awkwardness. Or many they’re totally cool with them being open with each other right in front of them. I know th3 brotherhood won’t show up in your comic as you’ve said before but a fan can only dream.

Oh yeah. O yeah they did.

@shamelesschopshopwasteland ha chiesto: How are Macaque and Wukong? Do they spend time with each other outside of sleeping? (Also I love you AU!!! <3)

Macaque still works from time to time to the Dojo in weekdays, and also likes his alone time, but has been spendind more time with Wukong to help the other monkeys and telling stories about what happened in all those years they missed when they were still enemies.

Anonimo ha chiesto: (I LOVE YOUR ART SM IFDJKEWVJHA, make sure to take breaks!!) Considering Macaque doesn't like the cold. (I love that HC so much, especially because I like to HC that he's freezing 24/7 can only warm up with hot springs and touch but not actual heat/the sun) How would Macaque react in a snowstorm/winter. Would he just bundle up a lot or lock himself in a room or something similar?

3 layers of jackets and self-heating socks when he's going around, otherwise Hot springs every evening.

Anonimo ha chiesto: what other nicknames/pet names does SWK and Macaque have for one another beside peaches and plum?

mmm I think Sun and Moon

@patienceandpokemon ha chiesto: Okay, rip my heart out with happiness in P7 of Monkie trio with the moonlight reveal why don't you?! THANK YOU! But in seriousness, in the latest bit . . Are Mac and MK recharging their shadow powers under the moonlight? Is that why Mac never really attacked in season 1-3 in your AU of LMK, unless there had been a full moon prior? Or am I snowballing into unrelated territory? Anywho, love the comic! He's so fucking fluffy and white like a pearl! And MK, baby fluff!!!!!

Wait he actually did it in the series?? I never noticed!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Soooooo we know Macaque did the courtnapping for shadowpeach so who did the courtnapping for the demon bull family? PIF or DBK👀

I think PIF did?

@boonalina ha chiesto: Question: In your AU, when exactly did Mac and PIF become sworn siblings? Cuz we know Wuk and Mac were sworn bros with DBK, and then DBK "betrayed" them by getting together with PIF. So when exactly would Mac have become sworn siblings with her? Was it like during the time Wukong was under the mountain or smth? Cuz it does seem like Mac drifted apart from the Brotherhood when Wukong was imprisoned.

this is a fandom headcanon, but I believe it was a little after Wukong was imprisoned, and a little after Macaque was revived

[swee7dream]

Hiii, I was just wondering if I could request hc's for what cg names you think NCT would use? Thanks!

I love your blog btw, it's a huge comfort when I'm regressed or want to regress and can't :)

cg!dreamies' favorite nicknames ! cg!nct dream x f!reader

genre fluff, agere content warnings feminine nicknames, one mention of blood dni if you sexualize age regression author's note thank you so much for the request and kind words, nonnie ! leaving huge kiss on ur forehead. 127 + wayv soon ( now that i'm out of school ! cheer ! )

mark lee (ᓀ‸ᓂ)

mack ! the result of his tiny struggling with the letter r - 10/10. very cute no notes from him

also, consider: minnie

was a bit feminine for his liking at first but didn’t say anything

over time it’s a name he’s grown attached to and is lowkey overcome with cuteness aggression when you call him that

“what rhymes with heart?” mark breaks the comfortable silence in his room, notebook next to his seat on the bed as you draw with your belly to the floor, feet swinging up in the air. “um… part? bart? lart?” you think. “heart… fart. hehe.” “…part.” he repeats in a mumble, scribbling the idea down. “fart!” “i’m not using the word fart in this song, baby.” “minnie so boring!”

huang renjun ૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა

jun! specifically jun(e) bug.

likes having matching names with his tiny so he calls you lovebug! junebug and lovebug.

you also call each other just bug, for obvious reasons.

that would be his only “title” so to speak

uncomfortable with any of the traditional ones and cringes at the other ones because he is nothing if not the number one HAY TER

“bug has gotta go to the restroom, okay?” “okay!” you reply, hopping off your seat and walking down the hallway, not even noticing renjun matching your pace at your side. when you two bump into each other at the door frame, you just blink at each other. “wait, which bug gotta go bathroom?”

lee jeno ૮ .◜◡◝ა

nono :3

liked it until you began to say it nonstop as an excuse to tell him no to things like changing into your pajamas or drinking water

so used to jaemin that when you started calling him puppy he didn’t even blink

you don’t even call him that often, just when you’re in that in-between of a play pretend and not

never calls himself that though.

“puppy, help.” you pout. jeno drops his head to the side, hands still balled up to his chest, immersed in his role of doggy at the vet. “got’a cut.” you hold up your pointer finger, blood beginning to gather and spill out of a slit in your fingertip. “paper cut, gumdrop?” “yeah…” “let me see, sweet girl.”

lee donghyuck ʕ˙Ⱉ˙‧:ʔ

channie

titles were an attempt. he really tried it lol

but you just couldn’t! he’s not a daddy or a mommy or a sibby ! he’s just your channie

you also tried hyuckie but when you skipped your ‘h’s it sounded like you were saying yuckie and as funny as it is to you, it always was met with haechan’s :l

you still call him that, but only when he’s being annoying and not paying attention to you!!! something about needing to sleep or something

whatever. as if

“channie!” your shout wakes hyuck in a split second, the balance he found falling asleep in his desk chair lost. his feet hit the floor with a thump as he turns to meet your eyes. “what’s wrong?” he breathes out. “lunchtime! made sammies!” you grin, acting as if you hadn't almost given him a heart attack.

na jaemin ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭

any! he honestly doesn’t care, he finds all of them adorable

nana and jaemie are a given, i feel

he’s so nana shaped! :D

he likes other names more, though.

even if you don’t call him it yourself, if you are comfortable with it he will refer to himself as daddy. ‘daddy this, daddy that’ 25/8

you considered using your washi tape to shut him up once but didn’t want to waste it

his hands have a mind of their own to pinch your cheeks to death when you’re really little and you can’t help but let a ‘mama’ slip.

it’s like a reward /ref

“meow…” still waking up from a nap, you point at luke grooming himself. “meow?” jaemin’s eyes raise from the potatoes he’s peeling at the kitchen sink to see you laying on the couch, cheek pressed into the cushion. “meow, mama.” you repeat, wiggling your fingers to encourage luke to come closer. a lazy smile appears on your face when he does. “lukey’s a meow...”

zhong chenle (ᯟ︿ᯏ)

daddy.

point blank. no other options

when you’re Little the ink on his birth certificate magically erases ‘chenle’ and writes in its place ‘daddy’

if you call him chenle he will turn around (a full 360 degrees) and then just ask: “who’s that? is somebody else here? that’s so crazy what”

he’s goofy like that

refers to himself by his title more than you do. which is saying a lot considering he likes you saying it so much he basically makes you say it every time you ask for something

chenle drops his head down do your lips brush against his ear when he heard you mumble something he couldn’t understand. “talk to me, dollface.” “sleepy…” there’s a pause in between the two syllables as you rub your cheek on his sleeve like one of jaemin’s cats. “wanna home.” “you wanna go home?” “yeah.” “okay bye.” he sing-songs, gently lifting your head off him. “no…” you sigh. “daddy, can we go home please?” “of course, princess, let me go get our coats.”

park jisung (∩˃o˂∩)

jiji/didi + sungie + bubby

where did bubby come from? jisung doesn’t know. honestly, you don’t know either. you just said it one day and it stuck.

at the very beginning of figuring out how your regression would work with jisung added to the mix, you looked up a list of cg names and just went down the list, giggling at his very physical reactions to each one

best reaction? daddy. he literally looked like a cartoon character getting hit by a giant piano

you had to take a break. bro dissociated for a solid minute

“didi okay?” you pouted, waving a hand in front of his face. his eyes were out of focus and you haven’t seen him even blink for the past few seconds. “didi, wake up!” you whine, pulling at his fingers to no avail, leaving you to stand before him with your arms crossed until you stomp away. “gonna watch pj masks by m’self!” your decision snaps jisung awake, chasing after you immediately. “no, wait! don’t start it without me!”

author's note off-topic but yves (re)debuted recently ! highly suggest for everyone to give her ep a listen :D

[robosanz]

ʟᴜᴄᴋʏ ᴍᴇ

"𝔶𝔬�� 𝔞𝔯𝔢, 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔞 𝔡𝔬𝔲𝔟𝔱, 𝔪𝔶 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔣." - 𝔲𝔫𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔫

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pairing: kuroo x fem!reader

summary: anything you draw/write on your own skin appears on your soulmate's. what happens when you need to cheat on your chemistry exam, and these formulas suddenly appear on Kuroo's arms who has to take the same test?

word count: 3,099

note: this is my first time posting something on tumblr and i'm still not completely sure how tumblr works, hehe. usually i post on ao3 and wattpad (under the same name) but i wanted to try it out here as well. I hope you like this oneshot :)

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“Are you ready for our chemistry test?”

Your best friend’s question made you stop in your tracks in the crowded hallway. A few students walked into you, complaining about you not moving and holding them up. You, however, had other concerns; the chemistry test had completely slipped your mind, despite it being the biggest test with every 3rd year having to take it. With wide eyes you looked at your friend and grabbed his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner!?”

A sheepish smile grew on his lips, his warm brown eyes not looking at you. “I forgot to tell you,” he admitted with a shy chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. He knew how you were but he had been busy and forgot to remind you. 

You clasped your hands over your face. “Hayate, what am I gonna do now?!” You always had problems remembering important things concerning school, mostly because you didn’t care that much about school. However, you still managed to get good grades and that’s why you kept not being bothered by it too much.

“Hey, you’ll manage,” Hayate said with a warm smile and put a hand on your shoulder. “You somehow always do,” he mumbled. He was just as clueless as you about how you managed to get good grades. 

You took a breath and nodded. “Yeah you’re right,” you said and rolled up your sleeves, eying your inner arm. Hayate raised an eyebrow while you tried to estimate how much stuff you could fit on them. Chemistry was one of your strongest subjects so you only needed to write down specific details that were new to you. Looking up with a smile, you nodded. “You know, I guess I’ll really manage.”

Hayate shook his head with a smile. “Your soulmate must think you’re some loser.” 

You gasped and put a hand on your chest. “Excuse me, I’m actually a genius if it wasn’t for my laziness.”

Hayate chuckled and ruffled your head lovingly. “Yeah sure, keep telling yourself that. But they sure must think you’re always cheating in school because you’re stupid.” 

You pouted and crossed your arms. It was still true what Hayate said - if school stuff would appear on your arms like that you would think exactly that. But your soulmate has never written something on their arm or anywhere else before. It was mostly you who wrote on your arm; mostly for cheating on tests. “Well, they could also write something on their arm for once.”

Hayate shrugged. “Maybe they’ll finally freak out about this much advanced chemistry and write something back.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I don’t want them to write anything,” you huffed, making Hayate chuckle. It was quite strange that you still hadn’t heard anything from your soulmate. Normally, people would go crazy to find out more about them and most of the people already found them by the age of 16. You were now 18 and had never even written a word with them. You weren’t too obsessed with finding them and they seemed to feel the same way about it.

Hayate had also found his soulmate about a year ago. She was a sweet and kind girl in your year. You got along with her a lot and she even became one of your best friends in a year. You were happy for your best friend and even if he teased you about possibly not having a soulmate, you didn’t make the effort to find them in order to prove him wrong.

The bell snapped you out of your thoughts and you gasped. “Shit, I’ll be back in five minutes,” you called out to Hayate before running down the hall towards the lady’s restroom. You needed to scribble down a few things on your arm before the exam. The brown-haired boy chuckled and shook his head before making his way to class.

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Kuroo was bouncing his knee up and down while waiting for the teacher to enter. The tense atmosphere in the classroom only contributed to his nervousness. It was unusually silent, only the clock’s ticking echoed through the room full of students. 

The upcoming test was taking a toll on everyone, and despite being one of Kuroo’s favourite subjects, the chemistry test was making him nervous as well. And when he noticed black lines appearing on his arms, he tensed even more; especially when the lines formed into exactly the chemistry formulas and definitions he needed for the test. He read the things appearing on both of his arms briefly before rolling down his sleeves with shaky hands and a quickly beating heart. He didn’t want to fail the test just because his soulmate decided to go crazy about chemistry. What the fuck? 

This was not the first time things about school subjects appeared on his arms. At first he thought that his soulmate was cheating themselves through their exams but somehow it didn’t make sense that they only wrote down a few specific things and not everything. Kuroo shook his head and the teacher came into the room.

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A sigh left your lips when the exam was over. You didn’t get caught cheating and the notes on your arms even helped you with some answers. You packed all your things and left the classroom where Hayate was already waiting for you. When you saw him, a grin grew on your face. “I completely nailed it.” 

He chuckled and shook his head, “yeah, but only because you cheated.” 

“I didn’t completely cheat,” you said and crossed your arms. He raised an eyebrow, making you glare at him with narrowed eyes. You two had a staring contest until someone bumped into your shoulder. You snapped your head over to the person only to see the school’s volleyball captain. You huffed and looked away from his retreating figure. Everyone at school knew Kuroo; he was one of the popular boys everyone swooned over. You looked at Hayate, “your captain is rude.” He didn’t even apologise for bumping into you.

Hayata smiled, amusement flashing in his eyes. “He’s actually pretty nice,” he said, making you roll your eyes. “You know, everyone is kinda waiting for him to find his soulmate. The girls are freaking out over him.”

You only hummed, not really interested in the whole Kuroo situation. You had other things to think about. The girls who were obsessed over him were stupid in your eyes; there were more important things to think about. Turning to your best friend you shrugged. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have fun at practice.” He nodded and ruffled your hair before you went separate ways. 

At home, you spent the rest of the day doing nothing in particular and when you stepped out of the shower, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Tightening the towel around you, you gawked at your arm.

'I have no idea why you’re suddenly a chemistry freak, but for once your scribbling helped me in an exam today.'

“Oh my god,” you mumbled and tightly shut your eyes, cringing at all the things you have written on your arm before. “My soulmate really thinks I’m stupid.” A part of you had secretly hoped that Hayate was right and you were one of the rare cases that didn't have a soulmate. 

Quickly putting on your pyjamas, you took a pen and sat on your bed. You tapped the pen against your chin while looking at the first ever message you received from your soulmate. “What am I doing?” You shook your head and were about to put the pen away and roll down your sleeve when another message appeared. 

'You’re not gonna tell me what you needed the notes for?'

“Screw it,” you mumbled and opened the pen’s lid with your mouth before writing down something on your arm as well. 

'I had a chemistry exam as well.'

You raised your eyebrows at the coincidence. How were the chances that you and them both had a chemistry exam on the same topics? With knitted eyebrows you watched new words appear on your skin. Could it be that we are in the same school?

'What a coincidence. So you normally cheat on your tests?'

You let out a huff and crossed your arms, considering not to answer anymore. Whoever that was seemed smug and you didn’t want to keep talking to them. Pressing your lips together, you glanced at your arm briefly. A groan escaped your lips before you scribbled on your arm. 

'I normally don’t cheat, I tend to forget a lot of my exams so I only need a bit of help.'

A few minutes passed and you were still staring at your arm, waiting for an answer. But nothing came. “Whatever,” you mumbled and rolled your eyes before laying down. You closed your eyes but let out a sigh before you angrily peeked at your arm one last time. A smile crept on your face when you read the words. 

'You still helped me today, thanks. Good night :)'

Scribbling down a good night as well, you went to sleep with a small smile on your face. Maybe they’re not that bad.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Your soulmate really did write to you?” Hayate’s eyebrows shot up as he eyed you nodding your head. A sudden knowing smirk crept on his face, making you knit your eyebrows. “This is fucking amazing,” he mumbled to himself. 

“Oi,” you slapped his arm, “what’s that supposed to mean?” He hid something from you and being the noisy person you were, you wanted to know on the spot. And the smug smirk didn’t mean anything good. Hayate only shrugged and whistled before going to class. With narrowed eyes you followed him to the classroom; for the rest of the day you didn’t get out of him what he was smirking about. 

“You’re not gonna tell me?” You crossed your arms when you both stood in front of the school building after classes. He didn’t have practice today, so you walked home together. 

Hayate smirked. “If you really want to know,” he shrugged and glanced at you with an amused expression, “Kuroo wants to find his soulmate now.”

You sweatdropped and slapped the back of his head. “Idiot, and I thought it was something important.”

He chuckled and stepped away from you. “That’s kinda important, and I know exactly who it is.” A wide smirk crept on his lips when your wide eyes snapped over to him in surprise. “I saw something written on his arm yesterday and coincidentally I saw the exact thing on someone else’s arm as well.”

“No way!” You grabbed his arm looking up at his face. “Tell me.”

Hayate pushed you away from him before walking ahead, shaking his head. “I thought you weren’t interested in him.” He laughed internally. If you only knew.

“You’re right,” you said and jogged up to your best friend, “I don’t care.” Grabbing your backpack’s straps, you bit your lip. You really wanted to know who it was and Hayate knew it. You glanced at him. “It’s Kenma, isn’t it?” It wouldn't surprise you even a bit if it was the quiet setter. You had always thought that they were too much of best friends and partners to not be soulmates.

“I won’t tell you, but maybe he’ll tell you.”

“Idiot,” you grumbled, “why should he tell me?”

Hayate only shrugged, sending you an innocent grin and a shrug. You huffed and crossed your arms, oblivious to all the hints your best friend already gave you. Just yesterday, Hayate had seen both of Kuroo’s arms in the boy’s changing room. And they were full of the notes you had taken a few minutes prior to the exam. Hayate was glad that it was someone like Kuroo that was your soulmate. The both of you were quite similar; you were good at school, mostly introverted and both of you were calm and collected people - at least if Yaku didn’t trigger Kuroo.

“You really won’t tell me, will you?” You stopped in front of your front yard and pouted slightly. 

Hayate shook his head with a fond smile, happy that his friend would soon grow up. “Get some sleep, I have a feeling that tomorrow will be a great day.” He patted your head before walking to his house, leaving you standing there with crossed arms. 

With knitted eyebrows you looked after him until he was out of your sight. Heaving a sigh, you got into your house and immediately went into your room to take a nap. However, a message on your arm made you stop. With knitted eyebrows and a small blush you sat on your bed.

'I want to know more about you. Are you free?'

You gulped and took a pen. 

'Yes I am.'

While waiting for the answer, you quickly changed into something comfortable and got under the covers, taking a pen with you. You opened your laptop to watch a movie when new lines appeared on your arm.

'Nice, you can text me. xxx xxxx xxx'

You froze, not believing they gave you their number just like this. They may be your soulmate, but you still hesitated before saving their number on your phone. For all you knew, they could’ve just given you a random number.

Biting your lip, your fingers slowly typed hi before lingering over the send button. Shutting your eyes tightly you pressed send. When your phone vibrated, you peeked one eye open and looked at the text.

'I almost thought you wouldn't text me.'

You rolled your eyes with a small smile.

'I almost didn't but whatever.'

The both of you texted for a while and you found out that his name was Tetsuroo and he was also in 3rd year high school and even in Tokyo. He liked chemistry and was therefore interested in you after he saw all the notes. If you hadn't written all these things on your arm, he probably wouldn't have contacted you. But before you could manage to find out more about him, he ended the conversation, saying he still had something to do.

With a sigh you laid down, covering yourself with your blanket completely. "He's not that bad," you mumbled with a small smile before letting sleep take over. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You huffed and put your chin on your palm while the teacher was going on and on about maths. You were good in the subject and already knew all of that, boring you to death. Beside you, Hayate was busy taking notes while you looked out of the window, not paying any attention. 

When something appeared on your palm, you felt your heart skip a beat and waited for him to complete his sentence with a small smile.

'Hi, I’m bored out of my mind right now.'

You resisted the urge to giggle and took a pen to tell him that you’re in the same position as him and that maths was killing you.

'Well, we could continue our conversation from yesterday.'

You nodded to yourself already knowing which question you wanted to ask next. After all, you wanted to know roughly in which area he was living in.

'Which school do you go to?'

He didn’t take long to answer and when he did, your heart threatened to stop right there and then. Staring at the words nekoma high school with wide eyes, you sat up straighter. Immediately, you looked around the classroom, trying to find someone who was looking or writing on his palm. When you found no one you turned back to your own palm. 

'Which class are you in?'

Your heart dropped and you jumped off your seat, scaring everyone in the room with the loud scraping sound of your chair. The teacher sent you a glare to which you quickly bowed and excused yourself. Avoiding Hayate’s questioning look, you rushed out of the classroom. 

“What the fuck?” you said to yourself, leaning against the wall beside the classroom before pressing your palm on your forehead. You only knew one person in this class that was called Tetsuro and that was Kuroo.

“You don’t seem to be too happy about me.” 

You looked up when his deep voice reached your ears. Kuroo stood in front of you with one hand in his pocket and a small smirk on his handsome face. Pushing yourself off the wall, you cleared your throat quickly. “I don’t know what you mean,” you trailed off, not looking at him.

A chuckle escaped his lips and he nodded to himself. “Lucky me, I got a really charming soulmate.”

“Hey, I can be charming,” you quickly defended yourself, making him laugh. Heat rose to your face and you huffed, crossing your arms. However, you couldn’t help but feel relieved. At least, a decent person was your assigned soulmate and not someone you couldn’t stand or was absolutely disgusting in character. Unbeknownst to you, a small smile crept on your lips at the realisation.

“You sure are a cutie.” Kuroo patted your head, making your face beet red. You swatted his hand away from your head, your smile falling quickly. “Well, since we found each other, I wanted to ask if you’re free on Saturday.”

Taking a breath, you slowly nodded. It would make no sense to reject the boy now. Why not give it a try. It can’t be that bad.

Kuroo smiled and nodded but before he could add something, Hayate put his arms around your and Kuroo’s shoulder, pulling you two closer to him. “Finally, you two found each other,” he grinned, “and here I thought you two oblivious people would take weeks to find each other.”

You pulled out of the group hug and slapped the back of Hayate’s head. “You knew and you didn’t tell me, idiot.”

He rubbed the spot you had hit and chuckled innocently. “Then it wouldn’t have been fun for me,” he admitted and shrugged, earning a glare from you. He smirked and looked between you and his captain, “but you already have a date.”

“No,” you quickly said, knowing exactly what your best friend was thinking, “you’re not coming as well.” Turning to Kuroo, you narrowed your eyes at the taller boy. “Don’t tell him where we’re going or he’ll deadass come.”

Kuroo chuckled and nodded while Hayate let out an offended cry and dramatically fell on his knees, clasping his chest. “The betrayal!”

With a blush you grabbed Kuroo’s arm, and dragged him away from the scene your best friend was causing. “If anyone asks, we don’t know him.”

[neiptune]

does shoyo let you draw him nude 👁️ and how long before it leads into something…more hehe

KICKING MY FEET okay okay okay listen yes he usually lets me (even though I suck with anatomy) because it's fun for him like he doesn't get embarrassed at all he'll literally strip himself of anything he's wearing with a SURE BABY WHERE DO YOU WANT ME HOW DO YOU WANT ME and idk it's really funny & enjoyable but he also looks gorgeous so it's obviously distracting and because we're together I can allow myself to be less professional. that's what he enjoys the most, poking and prodding at my patience and self restraint with the excuse of checking the drawing from behind me over and over again, gently taking my hand and bringing it to his neck and chest and then thigh because “you sure that's the right way to sketch these parts? I think you should double check, see how they feel, just in case” so yeah. it doesn't take long.

so obviously I think okay two can play this game and ask HIM to draw ME but that leads to absolutely nothing because he can't draw for shit and that drives him insane because when was hinata ever able to accept failure, right? so I'm just sitting there for hours. a butt naked challenge. while he aggressively sketches me into a troll

[dewdroppdraws]

Hi I’m new to tumblr so I’m not sure how you normally post on here but I wanted to try posting some sketches of earth from tsams! I’m not the best with anatomy so I won’t lie I did trace over some photos (REAL PHOTOS NOT ART) I found on Pinterest and modified the proportions to fit my design, but I’m trying to improve lol. For now I just rlly wanted to flesh out my design for earth which I couldn’t do while my anatomy looked like crap 😭 all the full body ones I used references for but the one in the right corner was all me so I’ve got that to my name at least 💪 I’ll include my “reference” pictures as well :> and below the pics is an explanation of the design because I love to gush about this kind of thing. Fair warning, it’s pretty long LMAO

Hehe now it’s time for me to gush about my lil design 😈

So the first major difference you probably noticed (aside from body shape) is the very fluffy clothing I have her in. The leg warmers and… fingerless gloves? Leg warmers that she put on her arms? Idk what the arm ones are called but yk what I’m talking about lol. When I first noticed earths little rainbow headband my brain immediately said “80’s workout videos”. The big hair, the rainbow headband, it just immediately jumped ot at me and stuck. I decided to give her oversized leg warmers in that same rainbow pattern because it made me sad that her actual design doesn’t have the rainbow anywhere else. It’s funky and I like it what can I say.

Next I decided I really wanted her to wear thigh-highs. I personally love thigh-highs and also it gave me an excuse not to think about her leg mechanics. I tend to draw Sun and Moon like ball joint dolls, but it gets a lil funky to draw when they are bending their limbs so having a fluffy excuse to hide them was ideal lol. I decided to go with the bold choice of putting thigh highs and leg warmers on her, which I don’t regret even tho it probably seems like a lot. I might change a few things about her later down the line since these were just basic sketches so don’t worry if you hate it.

I gave her shorts because a skirt just didn’t feel right for her. I feel like a daycare attendant would be very active, even if earth tends to sit with the quieter kids, and a skirt would be very awkward to climb around in. I figured shorts would be good. I drew them like jean shorts since that was the original intention but they could be cloth rather than denim gimme time to think about it 💀

I had a lot of trouble decided whether the thingies on her shoulders were stand-alone or like pieces of hair she keeps up front (probably attached cuz she’s a robot) I decided on making them attached to the bigger floor of hair cuz I thought it looked cutest on the pic with her shoulders up and in front of her face lol.

Onto her chest plate thing, I was considering making it an actual shirt but decided against it. I wanted her to have a crop top bc I love crop tops so I just made it so her chest area was painted like a shirt, and then her middle area was back to her “skin” color, so it’s almost like a crop top but not really…?

Last but not least is her face, I also made that her “skin” color and just put the blue and green as her cheeks! I thought it looked cutest that way. She also has heterochromia cuz when a character has two main colors I really enjoy putting them on opposite sides as often as possible haha. So her green cheek has her blue eye and her blue cheek has her green eye. I know her original model has two blue eyes but this was what I went with.

Anyways that was super long and I’m super nervous about posting this so I’m just gonna hit post and if I find a typo or decide my lil explanation was 4 paragraphs too many I’ll fix it later. Have a nice day whoever is still reading this! :>

[possum-quesadilla]

Chapter three of “Living” in the Present Tense, “Heaven, Heaven is a place, A place where nothing, Nothing ever happens”, is here! Sorry for the delays!

Little summary: Beetlejuice attempts to help with a cleaning day.

Extras below!

- The title is from “Heaven” by Talking Heads! It’s meant to reflect how wonderfully mundane the Maitland-Deetz-and-co. household has become, with their troubles personal and emotional rather than life / un-life threatening. Also, that’s one of Beej’s favorite bands now!

- “The demon wrinkled his nose at the pungent but familiar odor of wet paint…” - he deals with it often now since he helps out with the store!

- “… but the draw of birdwatching and a “spiritually cleansing journey” was just too much for the new retirees to ignore.” - yep, they’re retired now! Just recently.

- “The snotty, touchy-feely goodbyes would have to wait for the time of their actual departure.” - the goodbyes won’t be shown in the actual story, since it takes place between time skips, but it is very snotty and touchy-feely.

- “Beetlejuice raised his eyebrows, clacking his teeth a few times as he soaked in the tense atmosphere. “… alright. I’m gonna see what D n’ Chuck are up to.” ” - “He wanted to stay, to linger, to make conversation, to bother them endlessly, to make them shout his name in irritation, something. Instead, he loitered for just a handful of moments, watching them with a strange, tense feeling in his gut. Then, he mumbled an excuse he didn’t need about checking on his partners, heading down the stairs in search of either of them.” - despite the years of therapy and development, he’s still having trouble facing issues head-on, for the most part. Especially when he doesn’t know how to fix it, and very especially when it’s someone else having an issue. But he tries!

- “The demon narrowed their eyes at their husband, but his attention returned to his cleaning too fast to catch it. Bullshit. How many times had Adam roped them and Barbara into cleaning with him, promising it to be fun? “The more the merrier!” Playing music, making it a game to keep their attention?” - Adam is worried Beetlejuice will slow down his cleaning efforts, but doesn’t want to hurt their feelings by admitting that. Beej still picked up on it.

- “Again, their chest ached. (And burned, in a gross, new way.)” - thank you @c0zmo-writes for helping me describe heartburn!

- “Give them space. Maybe they just need time to process and work through… whatever.” - that’s how he usually wants to be treated when he’s having a struggle, so he thinks maybe that’s what they want too!

- “You’re okay. Wolf had advised them to treat their mind kindly, like it was Adam or Lydia facing down their own fears. Despite how they loathed the irrational way it clung to fear.” - based on my own struggle with treating my mind kindly, despite how irrational it can be.

- “The snow on the steps leading down to the yard crunched under their boot in a way that sent cold shocks up and down their spine.” - didn’t want to clutter the text by mentioning it, but they shapeshifted themself human-ish feet so they could fit into the boots. And also not fall.

- The snow - I love the snow, and having a character hate the snow was a wee bit agonizing. I get to show character development and describe a pretty snow landscaped, so it’s a win-win for me! Also I wanted to depict something I went through, of working through my trauma and finding beauty in the world again. Stupid sappy stuff, hehe.

- “C’mon, I only got a little bit of blood on those apple slices!” - They definitely accidentally cut a finger off and had to wait for it to reattach.

- “His hair was going grey, his beard was mostly salt-and-paprika now.” - I know the thing is “salt and pepper”, but I said “paprika” because his hair is red rather than black or brown. Made me feel smart lol

- “Beetlejuice popped back down to the basement every now and then to check on them, and to try to pull them away.” - Now he tries to go about it their way. They try to gently pull his attention away from his woes, and then help him with whatever when he calms down. He’s doing his best fr

Tag list: @raineisinkless @c0zmo-writes @musical-fiend @katslitterbox

(Want to be tagged in updates to LoopJuice / other fics? Let me know!)

[sweetadonisbutbetter]

hehe hi hi!! i’m adonis and i have a little more fanart for baby bird 💞 (i love her sm and don’t wanna stop drawing her) thank you @ships-n-giggles for giving me more of an excuse to draw her teehee

and i drew her with my oc Orabella (who you can see more of on this post💞)

them being preening buddies :D

more on the idea: i would preening is a very intimate action that only family or lovers do to one another , so when Orabella approached Cori to ask for her help with preening, Coronis was very flushed. It took some time, but it led to Orabella lying on her tummy as Coronis gently pulled at her feathers, the two making idle chatter. Once it was done, Orabella offered to do Coronis in turn, as a thank you. This is when she reveals that she has never been preened, at least on purpose. When Stella would tear out her feathers, it would get out the feathers that need to be preened but also damages them. In addition, she is far too ashamed to ask Stolas for help, especially since it is considered an intimate act. She has never had a healthy experience with it, often having to do it alone. Horrified, Orabella once again offers to preen her, while being in front of a mirror so that Cori can watch over her as she preens the feathers on her back, A bit reluctant, she does agree and Orabella sets everything up, as Corri has to do is undress into either a robe or just be fully nude (she most likely would opt for the robe and cover her chest) 😁

annnd since they would be drinking buddies i thought why not doodle then getting drunk together!! lol this would have been colored but i ran out of time and most of these are throughout a day. there will deffo be more 😁😁😁

and if you wanna know more on their dynamic or just orabella feel free to ask :DD

[fatuismooches]

SMOOCHES!! HII ML THIS IS SO LATE GOODNESS BUT MERRY CHRISTMAS!! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

I hope you spent the day filled with joy and smiling constantly and got what you wanted on your wish list! After 3 years I finally got my iPad Air and Apple Pencil!! I’ll finally be able to draw and hopefully do commissions to make a bit of money off of it! (My art rlly isn’t the best but I feel so guilty knowing my father spent so much T_T) I ALSO DID IN FACT BAKE COOKIES!!! >.< they came out amazing and I’m so happy my baking skills are improving! Just imagining fragile!reader slowly improving thanks to the help of Zandy and him making sure they don’t over exert themselves when they cook or bake. Especially since he makes sure you take breaks if you’ve been standing for a long time. Is him forcing you to sit down also a silly excuse for him to cuddle on your lap and bury his face into your chest as you softly brush your hands through his fluffy hair? Perhaps, but you wouldn’t mind it at all!

I love you so much smooches I wish I could give gifts to you because trust me I would spoil you to no end sweetheart <3 I hope you continue to spend the rest of your winter break with smiles and laughter!! m giving you so many cuddles n chu chus as a gift, despite me always giving them. Hehe!

-from your dear boo boo bear 🎐 anon! ౨ৎ

MY DEAR 🎐 ANON (LATE) MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU AS WELL!! ❤️❤️ Congrats on your gift, that sounds lovely! I wish you luck on your commissions, and keep practicing your art! No one starts out perfect, it takes a lot of time, patience, and effort to keep moving forward in any craft. So keep doing your best 🎐 anon!! 💗

I WISH I COULD SEE YOUR COOKIES!! They must have been so yummy ehehe i would love to taste them :3 AND YES!! Little Zandy being your little watch guard with hawk eyes despite his age 🥹 Always watching what you're doing and resisting the urge to taste test the food already!! I can just imagine him pulling a chair over and giving you a look with pouty cheeks for you to sit down :( (Zandy won't take no or 'just five more minutes' for an answer!! He will also be expecting lots of head pats and cuddles as you promise to let him have the first bite! [As long as he doesn't tell the other segments...] He may have learned this technique from Dottore's persistence-) In conclusion. Zandy is the bb boy.

AHAHAH YOU'RE MAKING ME BLUSH 🎐 ANON!! I too would love to give you a gift (and lots of cuddles and hugs!!) 🥹 Enjoy your winter break too! (Although there is still time until the spring semester starts I'm dreading it ALREADY 😭💥)

[justsomerandomfanfic]

hi!!! can i get a romantic match up for stranger things and supernatural?

i’m 21, female (she/her), bisexual. i’m 5’0 with curly brown hair and green eyes; i wear glasses with a thin round golden frame. i love reading, writing and drawing, and I'm majoring in early education.

i’m shy and introverted, get anxious quite easily, my favourite things to do are going on car rides with friends and movie nights together. Some of my favourite bands are Spandau Ballet and Duran Duran, but I'm mostly into 70s/80s music :). Love your work!!!<3

Hello! And thank you! <3

I really hope you like your matchups!

I'm sorry for the wait!

<333333

This was pretty fun!

Hehe <3

Romantic Matchups; Stranger Things and Supernatural

~~~

Romantic;

~~~

Stranger Things;

Steve Harrington -

You met Steve during your freshman year at college.

At first, he was the charming, outgoing - kind of awkward - guy everyone knew in your social circles, while you were a quiet, introverted student who kept mostly to herself.

You were both in a creative writing class together, and you always caught his eye whenever you'd hand in assignments or give short presentations.

One day, you accidentally bumped into him in the library, knocking over a stack of books.

You were flustered and apologized profusely, but Steve just laughed it off, offering to help you pick them up.

From that point on, you started talking, and Steve found himself intrigued by your thoughtful and creative nature.

Your friendship with Steve grew slowly but surely, starting with small conversations between classes and sharing opinions on the novels you were studying.

Steve admired how shy and soft-spoken you were but noticed that you were surprisingly quick-witted and funny once you were comfortable.

He started to appreciate your deep love for books, writing, and art, and you found his quirky and genuine nature endearing.

You both started hanging out more, whether it was grabbing coffee at the campus café or going on long drives, just listening to your favorite 70s/80s tunes.

Steve was always the one to suggest spontaneous little adventures, like going to a record store or a nearby diner, just to enjoy each other’s company.

You’d also find yourself drawn into deep, philosophical conversations with him, which always made you feel like you could talk to him about anything.

Steve would tell you all about the kids he used to babysit.

Seeing how his face would light up from the stories...

You found it endearing.

As the months passed, you both began to feel something more than friendship but were hesitant to express it.

Steve would find little ways to show that he cared about you, like picking up your favorite snacks when he noticed you were stressed about schoolwork or sitting with you during your breaks, just to keep you company.

For you, it was the way he paid attention to the details - how he always made sure you were comfortable and would listen intently to your ideas or dreams for the future.

The shift in your feelings was subtle - the way his touch lingered just a moment longer when he handed you something or the way he would always smile that little bit brighter when he saw you.

You'd catch yourself flushing more often and finding excuses to be near him.

In the very beginning when he was thinking about his feelings, he was very nervous.

Would you even like him the way he liked you?

It wasn’t until one late night when you were both sitting on the hood of Steve’s car, looking at the stars, that the confession finally came.

He was unusually quiet, staring off into the night before he turned to you with a soft smile.

"You know, I never thought I’d find someone who loves the same things I do... Who doesn’t mind being a little weird and, well, quiet sometimes."

You smiled back, heart fluttering in your chest.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, Steve glanced at you, his eyes soft.

“I think I’ve been falling for you, and I don’t know if you feel the same."

Your heart swelled, and without missing a beat, you told him that you’d felt the same for a while now.

That night, you shared your first kiss, soft and tentative, but so full of promise and affection.

As a couple, things between you and Steve were comfortable and easy.

He was always a little more extroverted, but with you, he felt more grounded.

You found comfort in each other’s presence.

Whether it was long walks after class, lazy nights in watching movies, or working on projects together, you both became inseparable.

Steve would always encourage you to share your art, whether it was your writing or drawings, and he’d never hesitate to tell you how amazing you were.

Steve would do little romantic things that made you feel incredibly special.

He’d leave you notes in your textbooks, random love letters, or little doodles that reminded you of inside jokes.

On cold days, he’d offer you his jacket, making sure you were warm, even if it meant he’d freeze.

He loved taking you to small, quaint places you’d never think of going, like a hidden little park or a rooftop to watch the sunset together, always with your favorite songs playing in the background.

When the weekends came, you’d both enjoy slow mornings together.

Steve loved making you breakfast, even if it was just pancakes with a little too much syrup.

He’d make you coffee and surprise you with your favorite pastries.

After breakfast, you’d curl up on the couch together, sharing your latest projects and dreams for the future.

Even when you were studying or working, he’d just sit beside you, content to be in the same space.

At some point, you would hear the story about the UpsideDown and Hawkins.

It was hard to believe at first, but you knew Steve would never lie to you.

And he had the scars to prove it.

Steve would go out of his way to make sure you felt loved and supported, whether that meant helping you with your coursework for your early education class, setting up a cozy movie night when you needed a break from studying, or just being a shoulder to lean on when anxiety hit.

If you ever felt overwhelmed, Steve would give you space, but always gently remind you that he was there whenever you needed him.

His constant support made you feel safe and loved.

You’d always encourage Steve to pursue his passions and take the time he needed to focus on what made him happy.

You’d be there when he needed to vent about life or just take a breather from everything.

You’d spend time making him small gifts, drawing, or writing him little things that expressed how much he meant to you.

And of course, you’d always let him know how much you loved him, whether it was with a touch or a warm smile.

~~~

Supernatural;

Dean Winchester -

You first met Dean through Sam.

You were a fellow hunter, introduced to the brothers when Sam needed help with a particularly tricky case involving a vengeful spirit.

You’d been working alone on the case when Sam reached out to you, knowing you had the skills to assist.

Dean was immediately wary of you, always protective of Sam, but after watching you work and handle the situation with ease, he came to respect your talents.

It wasn’t long before you were joining them on hunts together, each of you contributing something unique to their team.

Over time, your bond with Dean grew, grounded in the shared experiences of hunting and saving people.

He respected your independence and your quiet, no-nonsense approach to hunting.

Dean would often tease you about your calm, collected attitude, but you’d always fire back with witty remarks.

You became a solid member of the team, and your friendship with Dean grew into something more comfortable as you spent more time together.

You’d share the occasional laugh or joke in between hunts, and the way Dean would always try to make you laugh during tough situations became a trademark of your dynamic.

The banter between you two felt effortless and natural.

The romantic feelings between you and Dean were subtle at first.

He had a way of looking at you that was different from the way he looked at Sam - obviously - or other hunters.

You would catch him staring at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention, his gaze lingering just a bit longer.

For you, it was the little things - how he’d protect you in the field, how he’d always make sure you were safe before he took the dangerous shots.

It was his quiet, gentle moments that made you start to realize just how much you cared for him.

One night, after a particularly dangerous hunt, you were both exhausted and nursing your wounds back at the motel.

Dean, after a long stretch of silence, finally said, “You know, you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met, sweetheart.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk playing at your lips. “Yeah? How’s that?”

“You make it all seem... Easier. Like, all this crap we deal with? I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel as bad with you around.” He paused, and when you looked at him, he took a breath and added, “I think I’ve got feelings for you. Could be more, could just be the adrenaline talking... But I don’t think it is.”

It was a rare moment of vulnerability for Dean, and you immediately smiled, leaning forward and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

It felt like everything had come full circle.

The relationship between you and Dean was straightforward but full of heart.

He was always fiercely protective of you, which you found endearing and comforting.

You'd protect him too.

You supported him during his darkest moments, offering a calm presence and a listening ear whenever he needed it.

Dean’s love for you was fierce, and you found yourself falling more for his rough exterior and kind heart as time passed.

Dean would show his love through small gestures: making you coffee during the early morning hours, putting a blanket around you when you were too tired after a hunt, and always making sure you had everything you needed.

On rare, quiet nights, he’d play your favorite 70s/80s songs on the Impala’s radio, sharing stories about the music while you both relaxed after a long hunt.

When the hunting life calmed down, you two would spend evenings cooking together, either making a hearty meal or just grabbing snacks.

Dean loved that domestic side of things, as much as he would never admit it.

You’d also spend time fixing up the Impala or planning your next hunt over dinner.

It wasn’t perfect, but those small moments of peace felt like everything to him.

Dean would always make sure you were well taken care of, even if it meant putting himself in harm's way.

He would also protect you emotionally, keeping the darker parts of the hunting life away from you when needed.

You’d always make sure he knew he wasn’t alone, especially when the weight of his family history and his life as a hunter would get too heavy.

You’d reassure him, offering comfort and love in ways he never expected.

You’d make him feel seen and appreciated in a world where it often seemed like he was forgotten.

Your kindness and patience would be the anchor he desperately needed in his chaotic world.

[choisunjaeisactuallymine]

And I think I deserve a love like that - RQ White Hair Duo x Reader

In which reality quest men really love you

a/n: NOBODY....TOLD ME. SEASON TWO WAS UP. I just caught up yesterday am I am endlessly thankful for anyone who is still here cuz I lost so much motivation for writing. not to worry tho cuz I am back and ready hehe

Choi Sunjae

you guys match swarovski jewelry, you're the white swan and he's the black swan. he got you guys matching diamond necklaces for your third anniversary :3

occasionally will switch out his earrings to wear the fun ones you gift him.

lets you pin his bangs up at home. you also always make him wear your my melody plush hairband when he washes his face, and eventually he got so used to it he started taking it before you. you ended up buying him a kuromi one.

absolutely does skin care with you. funds those horrific masks that are meant to look cute but makes the both of you look like animatronics.

spends every free moment with you. if you guys go to the same school he's in your classroom when the teacher is present. when he's working for headquarters he only has your notifications on.

spoiled you to the point you now ask him to get you boba when he's fighting 1v200s. allows you to get angry when he missed one of the 5 toppings you listed as he was holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder in a fight.

80% of his profits go to you. no budget. sometimes you push it and take 92%.

always uses the "i want to guess the chapstick you're wearing" excuse to kiss you. always ends up eating all of it off without even guessing.

likes to flaunt you HEAVY. makes you walk next to him in the school hallways or the side of the street carrying the biggest bouquet ever. likes it when you struggle to balance yourself and you have to rely on his arm to support you.

your man till the end. will fist fight a child who is competing with him for your love.

Han Eunsung:

doesn't mind the smell of garlic on your hands. only kisses it as silent appreciation of you making a meal for him (i need this man)

additionally: rubs lotion on your hands after you wash them because you always forget.

when he goes to miniso or daiso he'll always get a small keychain or trinket for you. when he walks by a Sanrio store he will stop and buy that giant plushie on display. even in the middle of a mission.

adding on to this he buys himself the matching item. if he sees a cute duck keychain he'll buy himself the other version- he doesn't even like keychains, he just knows you would want to match :((

doesn't have social media. made an account with one follower (you) used to watch the random reels you send him. follows your favorite artists and brands so he can surprise you when there's new products/concerts.

stalks your spotify so he knows your current song hyperfixations. suspiciously knows how to sing the male parts/harmonies to your favorite songs when you drag him to karaoke

also stalks your etsy+amazon viewed history. insists on sharing an account just for this reason.

keeps pads and tampons on him anywhere and everywhere.

his favorite thing is listening to you talk. keeps staring into your eyes as you yap on and on about your day. super intense with it, makes you stop mid-sentence because you're so flustered.

"no, don't stop. I love hearing you talk."

cuddles with his ear on your chest because he wants to hear your heartbeat near him. habitually draws small shapes into your skin. when you tell him he's crushing you he will pout and grunt out a little "'m not..."

push him gently and he will stare at you with puppy dog eyes. turn around 5 minutes later and he'll be in the same position he was in after you pushed him, still looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

actually does a super solid job of keeping you hidden from his work. the day your relationship was exposed is still a reoccurring nightmare for him. cries a little in his sleep, similar to how he did on the day you were targeted. kiss it away for him, please :(

[reginalusus]

Just wanted to say how in love I am with the way you draw Harvey! 💕 The dorito torso and slutty waist combo, how big/tall he is, the chest hair, his face, I just- 😵‍💫💕

When I see your art of him I have to take a moment and remind myself to breathe 🥴

I love how creative you are with the details of your art! The "objection" rocket launcher, the brass knuckles that say "jury", the "Rogue" magazine cover!!! I'm still spiraling over his Valentine pick up line, he's so precious!!! 😩💕

Thank youuuuuuuuuu, OMG, I'll cry! <3 <3 <3 Aw, this made me so happy... I draw him like that because, well- *stares nervously at Arkhamverse, BTAS and Telltale Harvey.* (Me making excuses).

I'm glad you like my silly courtroom-themed weapons for him, hehe. I kind of want to draw him with a rocket launcher again, I might do that... I have other ideas for his weapons but we'll get to those, one day.

But TYTYTYTYTY, I'm glad you like him. <3

Also I love your Harvey/Reader HCs.

[petrichorium]

hi hi Pluvi……i have a fun question for you if you wanna answer. what kind of thirst trap pictures do you think the NRC guys would take? >.> hehe

Omg okay,,,,,, tbh I’m only gonna do the ones that rlly speak to me so we’ll see how many I do LMFAOOOO also some of these chars wouldn’t have a big social media presence (or social media is otherwise complicated) so I’m also kinda discussing pics theyd send u directly idk if those count as thirst traps 🤔

Cater — this is funny bc I think he unabashedly posts thirst traps but he also takes private ones too. The ones he posts vary greatly according to what’s trending but what he sends You is Very dependent on what ur interested in. Not opposed to stealing one of his sister’s skirts for a femboy mirror pic if u like one too many of those tiktoks.

Trey — you might think plu where r u going with this but I have two words: bread kneading. The first one was accidental and the rest are 100% on purpose. His forearms are so insanely drool worthy and he Absolutely Fucking Knows It. Evil man. Will send them directly to you without an ounce of shame. Often they’re videos too, with a little caption about how he can’t wait to feed you whatever he’s making…..

Jack — ENTIRELY accidental Jack Howl is NOT a slut he does not have a slutty bone in his body and he has no idea that his post-workout pics are thirst traps. But they are. They absolutely are. If anyone told him he would take a hammer to his phone in shame. These are not public he’s just trying to keep in contact with you 🥺

Leona — absolute. Fucking. Attention whore. No shame. He can’t be assed to keep up his social media but he absolutely takes the most jawdropping and purposeful pics to send to you just to make you short circuit. Little hints of taut stomach and a happy trail under a loose shirt that he lifts to wipe his face after practice; his arm stretching up behind his head as he looks at the camera w heavy-lidded eyes; his back and shoulders and that tattoo on his arm on full display in the mirror. Inhumane. Literally going to throttle him.

Jade — SO cunning about it. Obviously. Lots of stuff that u might not think is purposeful; primo pics of the lounge but he’s in the back w his sleeves rolled up chopping veggies or reaching up to grab something from the top of a cabinet. Sends you little daily pics that are equally as subtle but then when he sees you after he gives you a little smile and asks if you liked them and u Know what he’s doing

Floyd — sporadic. You’ll get nothing for weeks at a time and then a slew of them. Usually random shit. Him absolutely drenched w his uniform shirt all see-through putting his chest and shoulders on display (“fell in a fountain LOLOLOLOLOL”) His teeth bared in an open-mouthed grin (that’s a mer thing, you realize days later) Blood? Splattered across his cheek? Is he flexing his jaw? (“Don’t worry it’s not mine”)

Vil — ofc he posts thirst traps but DO NOT call them that. And to his credit they are very tasteful, kinda artsy; always met with droves of comments drooling over him. But he sends you special ones. It’s a testament to how much he trusts you that he sends them at all (that’s a lie. They’re charmed to delete themselves if you ever showed them to anyone else). Very oddly sensual body parts—his hand holding a flower, the corner of his eye as he’s drawing his liner, the slope of his collarbone—and sent with a cheeky little excuse for sending them. He’s not fooling you at all.

Lilia — yes he takes thirst trap pics. I don’t think I can even describe them accurately bc they r absolutely dependent on you personally. He knows exactly how best to make you lose your mind and tbh accompanies them with a caption that’s subtle enough nobody but you would get but is borderline obscene to you specifically. Yk? Gets explicit in your texts though. He’s basically sending you nudes but he’s fully clothed and it’s arguably entirely sfw………

Malleus — sends you one photo. It’s blurry. It might be his ear? You can’t tell. A day later a massive portrait of him sitting on a throne in full princely regalia appears at your front door. It moves and talks; it professes its undying love for you every time it sees you. You have to cover it with a cloth to get it to shut up.

[chrispy3]

THE LEGION OF STATIONERY!!

human edition :)

sooo i had designs of them before but since i have replayed the game recently i thought i would revamp them!

design thoughts! (and pronouns)

Colored Pencils (he/him):

- Red case translated to red coat! I also wanted to include the pencil design on the ends of his coat since thats something i did in the og design and still thought was super fun!

- i added sort of a pencil shaving ‘spats’ onto his boots bc i had it at the top of the old boots but changed how the boots looked and didn’t want to lose that little detail!

- his hair is ringlets dyed different colors ofc to mimic colored pencils :)

Rubber Band (she/he/they):

- mostly i just tried to mimic the shape of rubber band in the game! so the hair loops up top, and the shape of his garments!

- i did add a cape attached to the choker around their neck, because it felt fitting for her to have a cape to whip around dramatically (and it adds to the silhouette nicely i think!)

Hole Punch (he/him):

- probably the most similar to my og design! i mostly wanted to change up the colors a bit

- i wanted to give him like a very classic looking disco outfit, because i think if someone is as into disco as hole punch is, they will go hard on the aesthetic! (btw i think his fit is probably also super shiny/glittery in some way i just didnt do that here! (omg i should do a version with tassles))

- but obviously with the twist of lots of (i forget what theyre actually called but the holes punched into his outfit)(this word always escapes me… gibberts?? gibbets… widgets? w…something…)

Tape (they/she):

- i thought it would be cool if they had a sort of biker gangster vibe so i incorporated some of that look into their design (their hairstyle, taped chest/jacket combo, loose baggy pants)

- they do have gold knuckles that are supposed to be like the tape ripper thingy :)

- i do also enjoy the idea of tape having a bike! i just didnt draw one fjfjfj

Scissors (she/her):

- i wanted her to be the tallest and Most Intimidating looking

- the ballet sort of look is something i picked up from the way scissors moved in the fight, i translated the fact scissors basically stands on a point into someone standing on their tiptoes and then i kind of based most of the rest of her look on that (which gave me some good excuses to add bows that look like the handle of a pair of scissors hehe!)

- she also has two blades that are basically If U Ripped A Pair Of Scissors In Half i just didnt draw them

Stapler (he/him):

- i picked a dog breed that i thought would fit the way stapler looks in game! so a longer bigger kind of dog with a shiny black coat :)

- he is a doberman pinscher! idk i think hes just a little guy. i may have drawn him a lil small idk i didnt properly reference like scale or anything

oh speaking of scale! in reference to real life im thinking that these guys are actually around the size you would imagine most craft supplies to be (so like scissors being several inches at the most (some of them in craft supply form are obviously more long than tall so i just improvised what i thought would be fitting)) and then mario would just probably be eeny in comparison like he is in the game haha

[xylatox]

A Lee Heeseung angst fic??? and by the lovely Rei??? THE WARNINGS???? OMG. To Fall or To Fly, I'm excited to read!!

You are a ghost among the living, a shadow in the corner of their vision. Present, yet unnoticed.— this line, oh my goodness, I felt this in my core.

You are Y/N, a shadow in the classroom, a quiet force that functions with precision, always meeting deadlines, always turning in homework on time, always sitting in the front row with your eyes on the lesson. You don’t speak much, and when you do, it’s always in a manner that is polite but detached. It’s easier this way—easier not to draw attention to yourself, easier not to stand out in a crowd of people who seem so sure of themselves, so confident. — this is already pulling at my heartstrings.

As if you were Sisyphus and his words were the boulder you had to roll for eternity. He doesn’t need to raise his voice. The way he looks at you, the way he expects nothing short of perfection, says everything.— Rei this expression is beautiful wtf :(, the comparison??

Reader and Hee being complete opposites, kind of like parallel lines thst don't touch in a sense.—He’s like a butterfly—light and free, flying wherever the wind takes him. You, on the other hand, are a moth, tied to the bright light that is responsibilities and the need to meet every expectation.— Rei, these comparisons between them are so amazing

There’s something about the way he holds your gaze that makes your insides twist in knots. It’s not a challenge, not in the way you’re used to seeing people look at you—it’s something else. You can’t explain it, but you feel it every time he looks at you. It’s as if he sees straight through your carefully constructed walls, and for a moment, you wonder if he knows exactly who you are.— I absolutely love this little moment.

Omg, the fact that Hee's nickname for reader is butterfly despite reader being compared to a moth earlier on can show the different perspectives between the two; this being highlighted by the fact that reader considers butterflies fragile and delicate ugh.

You can’t decide if you want to strangle him or… walk away. — I love that we see a taste of her personality that hides behind the facade she has up :(. I love that despite the teasing reader can't help but be curious of Hee, causing her to be similar to a moth in that sense :((

“Uh, excuse me?” you reply, a little too sharply. You roll your eyes. "Don't call me that," you murmur, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks despite yourself.  — and she has spoken!! I absolutely love her vibe despite her having up her walls.

The longer you spend time with Heeseung, the more you realize that he’s not as carefree as he lets on. He’s sharp in a way that makes you uncomfortable, picking up on things you don’t even realize you’re giving away. It starts with small things, moments that might seem insignificant to anyone else, but Heeseung notices. You wish he didn’t.— and as the relationship progresses we see Hee's true personality begin to shine as well!!

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, his smirk never faltering. “You sure? You always seem like you’re trying to disappear into the background. You’re like a ghost.”— the ghost comparison from the beginning comes back hehe, I love this

The moment where reader is wearing a sweater in 80 degree weather is relatable, I've done the same in highschool and I'm glad that Hee didn't push her further to explain, despite him having a feeling that something is wrong. Further we see Hee noticing the little things and at this point I feel like he is slowly understanding the situation behind reader.

Heeseung’s gaze softens, but there’s a determination in it that makes your chest tighten. “You always have a choice, Butterfly,” he says quietly. “You just need to take it.”— I'm already so sad :( this made me so soft what. It's so sweet that he offers to carry her home but I can't help but worry for what is to come, it's also super smart thst he drops her off a block away.

Your father steps back, glaring at you with a mix of disgust and anger. “You think you’re special? You think you’re better than this? Do you think anyone cares about your pathetic little life?”...“Don’t make me regret having you.”— I already feel sick, tears form again because this is just a shitty feeling. The entire moment just breaks my heart and even when the mother tries it just feels so hopeless

Your heart is heavy, but you don’t cry. You haven’t in years. Not since you realized that no one would ever save you. Not even yourself.— this absolutely hit home, I'm not okay.

The tears come then, but not for yourself. You’ve long stopped crying for yourself. Instead, they fall for the person you could have been, the person you’ll never be. For the girl who never stood a chance.— Rei... :((

Y/N took a deep breath, the decision feeling heavier now but also strangely freeing. "I don’t know where to start. I don’t even know what it means to live for myself."— yeah I'm absolutely crying, I feel sick. I am however so thankful that reader at least has Hee there with her.

Heeseung laughs, a deep, rich sound, his hand sliding across the table to hand you his drink. “You’ll get used to it, Butterfly.”— how can something so sweet feel so absolutely devastating?

“Maybe next time,” he says softly, his smile tinged with sadness.— the almost kiss...i feel sick.

Heeseung’s expression shifts, his eyes growing serious for a moment. “But you are. You’ve been caged in your whole life, Y/N.” He takes a step closer to you, his voice low. “But you don’t belong in a cage.”— I'm going to throw up

I'm so happy reader got to leave before the situation escalated even worse with her dad (I say while in tears) and I'm so glad Hee was there too :(

The accident??? I'm so shocked what the hell, but Hee standing up to the dad especially, my heart, I am not okay.

"I never meant for any of this to happen," Heeseung’s voice breaks as his eyes glaze over with the sting of unshed tears. "You think I don’t know that? You think I’m not hating myself for what happened? But she’s still there. I’m not going to give up on her, not like you did."— :((

You know what hurts the most? the fact that the mum chooses to speak up now, I know her situation is different and I try to empathize with her, but had she tried to stand up for her child early on things like this wouldnt have happened, if perfectionism wasn't expected of her things would've been different (I'm so angry and sad rn)

Reading the way Hee is always visiting reader and seeing snippets of those moments makes me cry more wtf. The way he goes from super hopeful to a shell of his former self?? I hate that it takes this for her parents to actually not want to give up on her

Heeseung grips your hand tighter, his body shaking as he leans in closer. Tears fall from his eyes as he whispers, “You’re finally free, Butterfly,” he kisses your forehead for the last time.— I'm going to throw up :((

“I keep thinking about all the things I never told you, all the moments we never got to share,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “We were supposed to be together. You were supposed to be here with me, laughing, living… everything we talked about. I keep replaying it all in my head—the way you smiled when we were together, the way you’d look at me like I was the only person in the world that mattered.”— I'm absolutely not okay.

I've finished such a heartbreaking piece and I've read Rei's note at the end and I've managed to cry more. Rei you always have a way with angst and seeing that you projected a bit breaks my heart even more. As someone who also related to parts of this fic, I sincerely hope that you're able to live your life for yourself and absolutely find what you love to do. This was such a heartbreaking piece.

To Fly or To Fall | L.HS

Pairing: highschooler!heeseung x fem!reader Genre: ANGST !! tiniest fluff if you squint Warnings: verbal!abuse, physical!abuse, domestic!violence, familial trauma, unrealistic expectations, familial and academic pressure, main character!death (im sorry), if any of the warnings above might be triggering for you, then please don’t continue. (let me know if i missed anything)

Summary: You were the perfect student, always silent and disciplined, blending into the background where no one can see the weight of your father's expectations or the silence of your mother.

When you're paired with Heeseung, a carefree troublemaker who seems to notice everything about you, your world begins to unravel. He sees past your mask, offering you an escape from the suffocating cage you've been living in. But when your defiance leads to consequences you never expected, you must face a choice: stay in the cage, or take a chance on freedom, even if it means risking everything.

Word Count: 16.4k

You have perfected the art of silence.

You sit in the front row, back straight, hands folded neatly on your desk, eyes fixed on the board. Your pen moves smoothly across the page, transcribing every word your professor says with precise, practiced strokes. You do not speak unless spoken to. You do not laugh in public. You do not break the rules.

Because breaking the rules is dangerous.

The classroom is alive with movement and murmurs—the scraping of chairs, the hushed whispers of classmates passing notes, the occasional sigh from the teacher when someone isn’t paying attention. None of it touches you. You are a ghost among the living, a shadow in the corner of their vision. Present, yet unnoticed.

There is a skill in blending into the background, in being so quiet that no one notices how little you exist outside of the expectations placed on you. You are Y/N, a shadow in the classroom, a quiet force that functions with precision, always meeting deadlines, always turning in homework on time, always sitting in the front row with your eyes on the lesson. You don’t speak much, and when you do, it’s always in a manner that is polite but detached. It’s easier this way—easier not to draw attention to yourself, easier not to stand out in a crowd of people who seem so sure of themselves, so confident. You don’t understand how they do it.

You’ve learned from a young age that perfection is what earns you value. Anything less, and you are nothing. Your grades are impeccable, and your quiet demeanor keeps people at arm’s length. You keep a smile on your face—small, controlled, but  never too big. It’s a smile you’ve worn for so long that it’s become a part of you, even if it never quite reaches your eyes. People call you smart, efficient, reliable—but no one truly knows you. Not the way you want them to.

At home, it’s no different. The weight of expectations is even heavier. Your father’s voice rings through the house like a constant reminder of the standards you can never afford to slip from. His words cut deeper than any physical punishment. His criticism is never loud but always precise, always calculated, always there.

“Y/N,” he’ll say in that tone of his, sharp and demanding, “you can do better than this. I didn’t raise you to be mediocre.”

The sound of his voice has become so familiar to you that it feels like an eternal echo in your mind. It’s never angry, not in the way you hear other parents shout at their children. No, his anger is cold, reserved, and often cutting. There’s always something under his words—disappointment, frustration, something that weighs on your chest like a boulder. As if you were Sisyphus and his words were the boulder you had to roll for eternity. He doesn’t need to raise his voice. The way he looks at you, the way he expects nothing short of perfection, says everything.

Your mother doesn’t speak much. You’ve learned early on that silence is her way of dealing with things. You’ll be in the kitchen, preparing dinner, and she’ll be sitting at the table, her hands folded neatly in front of her, her gaze always downward. When you talk to her, she nods quietly, but her eyes never meet yours. You wonder if she even notices the way the pressure affects you, or if she’s too tired to see. You’ve long since stopped looking for comfort in her.

There’s a strange stillness in your home, a heaviness that hangs over everything, leaving you to carry the weight alone. And so you do, in silence, in isolation. The only thing that matters is meeting your father’s expectations, keeping up the perfect image. Anything less would be unacceptable.

And then there’s Heeseung. The first time you notice him, he’s laughing. Loudly, obnoxiously, with no care for who’s listening. He’s everything you’re not—effortless, carefree, and always surrounded by a group of friends who hang on his every word. You watch him from a distance, fascinated by the ease with which he exists. He has a presence that commands attention, even when he’s not trying.

He’s the kind of person who challenges authority with a smirk, who has a way of making teachers laugh even when they’re scolding him. And somehow, despite all his rebelliousness, he gets away with it. It’s infuriating, really. But also… strange. You don’t understand him.

So, you just observe from afar, intrigued by the mystery surrounding him. Heeseung is the kind of person who seems to have a solution for everything, who always knows the right thing to say, who never hesitates to jump into any situation with enthusiasm and confidence. When he talks, everyone listens. When he moves, everyone follows. It’s the way he carries himself, as if nothing could faze him. There’s something magnetic about him, but also distant, as if he’s always just a little out of reach.

But while people are drawn to him, they also fear him. His recklessness has earned him a reputation. Heeseung isn’t the type to abide by the rules. He’ll skip class without a second thought, and when the teacher calls him out for it, he’ll flash that devil-may-care grin and smooth-talk his way out of any consequence. He’s practically untouchable. 

Heeseung doesn’t care about grades, about rules, about anything really. He’s one of those people who just does what he wants, when he wants. You can’t help but admire how free he is, how easily he lets go of the things that bind you so tightly. You wish, just for a moment, you could be like him—unburdened, carefree.

But that’s not you. You can’t afford to be careless. You don’t have the luxury of being like Heeseung. You have responsibilities, expectations. You have to be perfect. You can’t let go, even if a part of you wishes you could.

There are rumors about him, of course—some of them true, some exaggerated. He’s been seen sneaking out of parties at odd hours, showing up at school with a disheveled look that tells you he didn’t get much sleep. Some people say he’s reckless, that he doesn’t think ahead, that he’s a risk to those who get too close. Others say he’s simply misunderstood, that he’s more than what people give him credit for. It’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s just speculation.

But you can’t deny that there’s something about him. He’s everything you’re not: confident, free-spirited, and unafraid to take risks. You feel your envy simmer under the surface, though you quickly push it away. It’s a strange feeling, one that makes your chest tighten in an unfamiliar way. How can someone so reckless be so captivating?

You can’t help but compare yourself to him, even though you don’t want to. Heeseung seems to float through life, unaffected by the weight of expectations, while you feel every ounce of pressure bearing down on you.

He’s like a butterfly—light and free, flying wherever the wind takes him. You, on the other hand, are a moth, tied to the bright light that is responsibilities and the need to meet every expectation.

You’ve spent years crafting the perfect image of yourself, and yet Heeseung is the one everyone talks about. He’s the one everyone seems to want to be around. You wonder what it would feel like to be so sure of yourself, to move through the world with such ease. You wonder if he even realizes how different he is from the rest of you.

You watch him during class, and when he glances over at you, you quickly look away, feeling an unfamiliar heat rise to your cheeks. There’s something about the way he holds your gaze that makes your insides twist in knots. It’s not a challenge, not in the way you’re used to seeing people look at you—it’s something else. You can’t explain it, but you feel it every time he looks at you. It’s as if he sees straight through your carefully constructed walls, and for a moment, you wonder if he knows exactly who you are.

It’s frustrating, really.

The announcement comes as a shock. You’re sitting in the classroom, waiting for the professor to assign partners for the group project, when you hear your name paired with Heeseung’s. Your heart stops. You freeze. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve heard the professor wrong, but when you look up, you see Heeseung already grinning over at you, that same confident, devil-may-care grin that makes your stomach twist into knots.

You feel a sudden wave of panic, your mind racing. This can’t be happening. You need to do this project alone. You’re sure of it. You approach the teacher after he finishes, quietly asking if it’s possible to work solo. You don’t want to deal with Heeseung’s casual attitude, his distractions, his carelessness.

Before the teacher can even respond, Heeseung’s voice cuts through the air, an arm draped around your shoulders.

“C’mon, Professor, I’m a great helper. Right, Butterfly?”

His words are teasing, playful. You feel your stomach twist. That nickname—it feels wrong coming from him, like an invasion of your space. You don’t want to be anyone’s ‘butterfly.’ You’re not fragile, you’re not delicate. You’re strong, you tell yourself. Strong, and capable.

The teacher chuckles, clearly amused by Heeseung’s antics. “No, Y/N. You’re working with him. Make it work.”

You don’t protest. There’s no use. Instead, you turn to sit back at your desk, trying to keep your emotions in check. Heeseung sits next to you and leans back in his chair, arms crossed, flashing you that cocky grin. You can’t decide if you want to strangle him or… walk away.

“Don’t worry, Butterfly. I’ll help you get that perfect grade,” 

His words make you feel small, almost as if you’re nothing compared to him. You don’t want to admit it, but they sting. You’ve spent so long making sure you’re always in control of your life, always prepared, always following the rules, and here he is—throwing everything off balance with a single sentence. You don’t know how to handle it.

You don’t want to admit how much his teasing bothers you. How his confidence makes you feel like you’re not enough. 

But despite all of that, there’s a part of you that’s curious. A part of you that’s drawn to him, despite everything you’ve told yourself. You’ve always been the responsible one, the one who keeps her distance from people like him. But now, you’re stuck with him. For the next few weeks, you’re going to have to work with Heeseung, and something tells you that it won’t be as simple as you’d like it to be.

Heeseung leans over to you, his hand brushing yours as he collects his things from the desk. It’s a light touch, barely there, but it sends a jolt through you that you can’t ignore. You turn your head quickly, your face flushed, and Heeseung notices.

“Ready to get to work, Y/N?” he asks, his voice a little too casual, like he’s trying to be playful but there’s a deeper intent behind it. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”

But you’re not sure if you believe him. You don’t know what to expect, and the way his eyes linger on you just a little too long makes you feel like there’s something more to this than just a simple project.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Let’s just get this done,” you say, voice almost trembling, but you don’t want him to notice.

Heeseung gives a small laugh, clearly amused by your reaction. “Relax, I’m not going to drag you into anything crazy, Y/N. I promise.” He says it with such ease, like he’s been in this position a thousand times before—like he’s used to making promises he doesn’t have to keep.

The days leading up to your first project meeting are filled with a strange sense of unease. You try your best to focus on your studies, to immerse yourself in your textbooks and assignments. You tell yourself that this project with Heeseung won’t be any different from the countless others you’ve worked on over the years, but the idea of being paired with him still makes your stomach churn.  

It's not that Heeseung is particularly unpleasant, it's just that he's... well, Heeseung. He’s always been the person who stands out, effortlessly. The loudest in the room, always quick with a joke or a sarcastic remark. The kind of person who can get away with anything, and yet somehow, no one seems to care. You’ve always kept your distance from people like him. Your world has been quieter, more controlled, more predictable. And now, Heeseung is a part of it—whether you like it or not.  

You can feel his presence in class even before he says a word. The way he slouches in his chair, his feet on the desk, his easy smile that makes everyone around him chuckle. And then there’s you, sitting in the front row, quiet, trying to blend in with the background, not wanting to draw any attention. You like it that way. You’ve always liked it that way.  

It’s not that you have anything against him—he’s just... the opposite of everything you’ve built for yourself.  

You can already feel the weight of the project bearing down on you as you gather your things at the end of class. The thought of having to work with Heeseung, of having to be in close proximity to him for hours on end, fills you with a sense of dread you can’t quite explain. You push your way through the crowded hallway, trying to avoid his eyes, trying to make yourself invisible.  

You reach the door to your next class and just as you're about to step out, you hear his voice behind you.  

“Hey, Butterfly.”  

The nickname catches you off guard. You pause, half-turning to face him. He’s leaning against the wall, looking casual, almost amused by your reaction.  

“Uh, excuse me?” you reply, a little too sharply. You roll your eyes. "Don't call me that," you murmur, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks despite yourself.  

His grin widens. “Whatever you say, Butterfly. So, we’re meeting tomorrow to start the project, yeah?”  

You nod curtly, not sure how to respond. “I’ll meet you at the library after school.”  

Heeseung raises an eyebrow. “Library? How boring.”  

You bite back a sigh, not knowing how to react. "It's a quiet place to work," you say, keeping your voice even.  

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs again, not seeming bothered by your lack of enthusiasm. “I’ll see you then, Butterfly.”  

You quickly make your exit, your heart still racing. “You can do this,” you tell yourself, but it’s hard to believe. You’ve never had to deal with someone like him before. He’s too unpredictable, too casual. And you—well, you’re not exactly good at dealing with people like that.  

As the evening passes and you prepare for the meeting, your mind races. You know you’ll have to keep things strictly business—no personal conversations, no distractions. It’s just a project. A project you have to get done. That’s all.  

But even as you reassure yourself, there’s a small part of you that wonders why Heeseung insisted on working with you in the first place. Why would someone like him want to work with someone like you, someone who’s so invisible? Maybe it’s just the project. Maybe it’s just that you’re the only person left for him to work with. Whatever the reason, you can’t afford to think too much about it.  

The next day, you arrive at the library early, setting up your things in one of the study rooms. You try to focus on the notes you’ve gathered for the project, but your mind keeps drifting back to Heeseung. You tell yourself to stop, but it’s impossible to push the thought of him out of your head.  

The door opens with a creak, and you turn to see Heeseung standing there, holding a coffee cup in one hand, looking as relaxed as ever. He gives you a lazy wave before walking in and setting the cup down on the table.  

“Here’s to a fun project,” he says, grinning.  

You raise an eyebrow, unsure of how to respond. “We’re here to work, not to have fun.”  

Heeseung shrugs, not the least bit bothered. “It’s all the same thing to me. Might as well enjoy it.” He pulls out a chair and sits across from you, leaning back in it, his feet resting on the floor as if he’s lounging in a café rather than at a study table. “So, what’s the plan?”  

You stare at the pile of notes and books in front of you, taking a deep breath before speaking. “We need to go through the research, divide the work, and decide who will present.”  

Heeseung raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve already planned everything. You’re no fun, Y/N.”  

You don’t reply, focusing on your notes, determined to stay on task.  

But Heeseung doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.  

He leans forward, resting his chin on his hand. “You never let yourself have any fun, do you?”  

You force a smile, keeping your voice calm. “I’m here to do my part. That’s it.”  

“Right,” he mutters. “Because that’s so much better than actually enjoying what you’re doing.”  

You remain silent, unwilling to engage in a conversation that could sidetrack you. You try to focus, but his presence is like a constant distraction—his casual demeanor, the way he seems completely at ease, the way he doesn’t care about the rules or the expectations. You envy that in a way.  

But that’s not your life.  

You keep your attention on the work, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible. You can’t afford to let Heeseung’s easy confidence derail your plans.

The longer you spend time with Heeseung, the more you realize that he’s not as carefree as he lets on. He’s sharp in a way that makes you uncomfortable, picking up on things you don’t even realize you’re giving away. It starts with small things, moments that might seem insignificant to anyone else, but Heeseung notices. You wish he didn’t.

There’s something unsettling about the way he watches you, the way his eyes seem to linger just a bit too long, as if he’s searching for something in you. You tell yourself it’s just his natural curiosity—he’s always poking fun, always teasing, always getting into people’s personal spaces. But there’s an intensity to his observations, a certain weight to them, that you can’t shake off. Heeseung’s gaze is like a spotlight, and you’re the only one standing in it.

It happens during another project session, when he’s distracted as usual, tapping his pen against the table. You’re trying to focus on your notes, but the tension between the two of you feels like it’s thickening, turning everything into an uncomfortable weight. The silence is oppressive, and Heeseung’s gaze feels like it’s burning through your skin. You glance up once, meeting his eyes, and quickly look away.

“Why do you always look like you’re hiding something?” he asks, his voice light, but there’s a question behind it.

“Huh?” You freeze for a second. “I’m not hiding anything.” The words come out clipped, defensive, but you can’t help it.

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, his smirk never faltering. “You sure? You always seem like you’re trying to disappear into the background. You’re like a ghost.”

You tense up at the comment, your heart thumping louder in your chest. He’s wrong, isn’t he? You’re not hiding anything. You’ve been good at staying invisible, blending into the crowd, and it’s worked for you. So why does it feel like he’s peeling back your layers, even though you don’t want him to?

You force yourself to smile, even though it feels like your face is made of stone. “I’m just not like you, Heeseung. I don’t need attention.”

Heeseung looks at you for a moment longer, then shrugs, his expression unreadable. “Fair enough, Butterfly. But you’re too interesting to stay in the shadows for long.”

His words linger in the air, leaving you with a bitter aftertaste, and you push them away, returning to your notes. But the weight of his gaze never leaves you.

It’s a warm humid day when Heeseung first notices the way you frequently wear long sleeves, even in the heat. The weather is hitting the highs, and yet, here you are, sitting in the library in your thick sweater, sleeves pulled down past your wrists. Heeseung notices because it’s unusual. You’ve been sitting next to him for hours now, working through the project, and he can’t help but wonder why you’re not sweating or uncomfortable.

You reach for your water bottle, and the sleeves of your sweater bunch up slightly, revealing just a hint of your wrist. Heeseung's eyes flicker to it, then back to your face, trying to read the strange choice of clothing.

“What, you cold in 80-degree weather?” he asks, his tone teasing but with an edge of curiosity.

You stiffen, not expecting the question. You immediately pull your sleeves further down, hiding your hands, and offer a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “I just like it,” you murmur, trying to brush off the discomfort.

Heeseung looks at you, his smirk fading slightly as he studies your reaction. There’s something about your defensiveness, the way you’re trying to hide the motion, that makes him pause. He’s seen you in class, seen you move with such careful precision, always in control, always composed. But right now, in the middle of this warm afternoon, you seem a little... off.

He could push, ask why you’re wearing long sleeves in this heat, but he doesn’t. He lets it slide, but not without storing the image away in the back of his mind. He wonders if you’re just one of those people who don’t like the sun, or if there’s something else behind it. Something he doesn’t know.

But Heeseung is patient. He knows that everyone has their secrets, their little things they try to hide. And for now, he’s willing to let it go.

Another incident happens during a group discussion in class, a moment so small that no one else notices. You’re standing at the front of the room, talking to the group about your section of the project, when Jay, being the playful guy he is, nudges you in the arm, just a little too hard.

It’s the lightest touch, and you don’t even flinch in the usual sense of the word—there’s no startled gasp, no visible wince—but it’s there. The way your body goes stiff, the way your eyes flicker to the side, the way your hand tightens into a fist at your side. It’s all too fast to notice for anyone but Heeseung. He sees it, though, and something about the way you react makes a knot tighten in his stomach.

He doesn’t say anything at first, but he watches you. You regain your composure quickly, forcing a smile that’s almost convincing. The discussion continues, and you go back to talking like nothing happened, but Heeseung can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to that brief, subtle movement than you’re letting on.

Later, when the group disperses and you return to your seat, Heeseung is quiet. You don’t look at him, but you can feel his eyes on you. Heeseung doesn’t ask about it. He never does. But he keeps it in the back of his mind, another piece of the puzzle that he’s not sure he wants to put together.

It’s late when you’re studying together again. The library is nearly empty, the only light coming from the overhead fluorescents and the glow of your laptop screen. You’re working through the final section of the project, but something feels off. Your hands are trembling slightly, the tips of your fingers tapping nervously against the table. You keep glancing at your phone, the screen lighting up every few seconds as if you’re expecting a message.

Heeseung notices it almost immediately. You’re usually so focused, so controlled. But tonight, you seem restless, like you can’t sit still. Your eyes dart from the screen to your phone and back again, a sense of urgency growing in your movements.

“What’s going on?” Heeseung asks, his voice low, but there’s a hint of concern beneath the teasing.

You flinch at his words, the sharpness of your anxiety hitting you in a rush. You barely hear his voice as you scramble to pack your things.

It’s like a whirlwind. One moment, you’re standing at the table, trying to gather yourself, and the next, the library’s warmth feels suffocating. Your hands tremble as you close your laptop, trying to focus on the task at hand, but your mind is spiraling. Every second seems to stretch longer than the last, your heart pounding with an urgency you can’t explain. The weight of the moment bears down on you, and the only thing that matters now is leaving. You need to go. Now.

You feel it—a quiet panic spreading through your chest, and it’s all you can do to push it down, to keep it contained. You try to tell yourself that everything will be fine, but there’s a gnawing fear deep inside that you can’t shake. You gather your things and stand up, walking quickly toward the exit, not daring to look back.

Heeseung’s voice cuts through the air, laced with confusion. “Hey, slow down. What’s the rush?”

You don’t answer, your footsteps quickening as you move through the doors and into the open space. Your breath hitches, and you try to keep your pace steady, but something about the way Heeseung’s voice follows you makes you feel even more exposed. Your heart beats faster as he continues to follow, his shadow falling across your path.

“Y/N.” His tone is softer now, but there’s an edge of concern beneath the teasing, something that wasn’t there before.

You glance down at your phone, and the instant the screen lights up, your hand trembles. The message—just a glimpse—is enough to send a wave of terror crashing through you. You can feel the panic rising in your throat, threatening to spill over. Your fingers shake as you type out a response, each word feeling like a burden. The anxiety gnaws at you with every passing second, and you fight the overwhelming urge to break into a run.

You don’t even hear Heeseung until he’s right in front of you, stepping into your path, blocking your way.

“Y/N,” he says again, his voice firmer now, cutting through the haze in your mind. “What’s going on? You’re acting weird.”

For a split second, you freeze. Your mind flashes to your parents, to the mess you’re about to walk back into. You can’t think, not with the growing panic suffocating you. Your breath comes in shallow gasps, and you feel like you might collapse right there. You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself, but the tears start to well up, despite your best efforts.

You force yourself to look up at Heeseung. His eyes are searching yours, and there’s a strange softness there, a genuine concern that catches you off guard. And that’s when you feel it—the tears, rising, unbidden. You bite your lip hard, trying to hold it in, but they come anyway, slipping down your cheeks before you can stop them.

Heeseung’s eyes widen in shock as he steps closer. “What’s happening, Y/N?” His voice is quieter now, more vulnerable, like he’s afraid of what he might hear.

You can’t answer. You can’t explain this. The panic, the terror—it all feels too big to say aloud.

“Move, Heeseung,” you whisper, your voice shaking uncontrollably. “I have to go. I’m late.”

Heeseung doesn’t move, though. He stays in front of you, his expression softening even more as he takes in your trembling form. “Why are you crying?”

The question is gentle, but it cuts through you. It feels like the weight of everything pressing down on your chest, the truth hanging just out of reach. You try to hold yourself together, to make him understand without saying it, but your voice cracks.

“I’m late. I need to be home. Please.”

Heeseung doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Instead, he watches you, his brow furrowing as he processes what you’ve just said. You expect him to push you away, to back off, but instead, you feel him stepping closer, his presence steadying you in the chaos of your emotions.

“What happens if you’re late?” he asks softly, his voice unusually calm.

Your heart races even harder. The words are harder to say now. You could lie, but the truth has already begun to slip from your lips. You take a deep, shaky breath, and then, you whisper it—barely audible, but it’s enough for Heeseung to hear.

“I’ll be punished.”

Heeseung’s jaw clenches, and his eyes flash with something you can’t quite read. For a moment, he says nothing, his expression a mix of disbelief and anger. You don’t know if it’s because of the words or because of the rawness in your voice, but you feel his presence shift. It’s like a spark has been lit, something igniting within him, and he’s not going to back down.

“By who?” His voice is low, measured, but you can hear the edge of something dark in it.

You hesitate, caught between the instinct to protect yourself and the strange, magnetic pull of his concern. For the first time, you tell someone. Not even your friends know the full truth, not like this. The impossible standards. The punishments. The bruises.

“My parents,” you whisper, the words tasting like poison on your tongue. “They expect me to be perfect. To never fail. I don’t want to be a failure, they won’t let me go if I do.”

Heeseung’s eyes harden, his expression shifting into something cold and furious. “That’s not a family,” he mutters, barely under his breath. “That’s a goddamn prison.”

You wipe your eyes, trying to regain control, but you can’t. The tears keep coming, and they’re so much heavier than you expected. You don’t want this, not like this, but the weight of everything—of your family’s expectations, of the fear, of the years spent trying to hold it all in—feels like too much to carry anymore.

“I have no choice,” you say, your voice barely audible.

Heeseung’s gaze softens, but there’s a determination in it that makes your chest tighten. “You always have a choice, Butterfly,” he says quietly. “You just need to take it.”

You don’t know why, but the words hit you harder than you expected. For the first time, you want to believe him. You want to believe that there’s something else, something beyond the cage your parents have built around you. You want to be free, even if it scares you.

“I’ll take you home,” he says firmly, “You’ll get there faster.”

You hesitate, but the thought of being anywhere but here, of escaping this moment, feels like it might be your only chance. You look up at him, and for the first time, you let yourself trust him. Heeseung doesn’t hesitate—he steps to the side, giving you a choice.

“What, scared?” he teases, trying to lighten the mood.

You nod, climbing onto his motorcycle, feeling a knot in your stomach loosen slightly. You try to calm yourself as Heeseung revs the engine, the roar of the bike vibrating beneath you. The second the bike speeds forward, you cling to him tightly, your body pressed against his, the wind whipping through your hair.

Heeseung smirks over his shoulder, teasing you once more. “Didn’t know you liked hugging me this much, Butterfly.”

You try to ignore the warmth blooming in your chest, focusing on the ride, on the freedom of it all. The idea that you might finally be able to escape it all, even if just for a moment, is intoxicating.

Heeseung drops you off a block away from your house. You can’t let them see you with him—not yet. Your heart sinks as you pull away from him, your gaze lingering on him for a second too long.

Heeseung watches you disappear down the street, his eyes filled with something you can’t decipher. He stands there for a moment longer, before turning back toward the bike, the sound of the engine fading into the night.

The moment you step into the house, you can feel the air grow thick with tension. Your father is waiting just inside the front door, his posture rigid, his arms crossed. The chill of his presence strikes you like a cold gust of wind. You don’t even have to see his face to know the storm is brewing.

“You��re late.” His voice is eerily calm, but it cuts through you like a blade. It’s the kind of calm that never bodes well. It sends a shiver down your spine, but you don’t flinch, don’t let yourself show any sign of fear.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, stepping inside and trying to ease the tension. Your words feel hollow, like they’re floating in the air, barely reaching his ears. You’re used to the routine, used to the cold responses, the indifference. But tonight feels different. Every word feels heavier.

He steps forward, and without warning, grabs your wrist, his fingers digging into your skin with a force that makes you wince. "Do you think you can just come and go as you please? Do you think I won’t notice?!"

Your mother remains silent, standing in the corner of the room, her eyes focused on the floor, as though she’s not even there. The room feels smaller with each passing second, as if the walls are closing in around you. You force yourself to breathe slowly, to push down the panic rising in your chest. But you can’t stop your heart from racing.

Your father’s grip tightens, and you feel the sting of it, but you don’t make a sound. There’s no point in screaming or pleading. He won’t listen. Not when it comes to you. You’re just a thing, something that needs to be controlled, kept in line.

“Do you understand how serious this is?” he growls, his breath warm against your ear. You nod, though you’re not sure you do. Everything feels foggy, like you’re watching yourself from a distance. It’s all become so familiar, this cycle of anger and control, but it still catches you off guard every time.

Your mother says nothing, her gaze still averted, her silence a constant reminder of everything you aren’t. Everything you’ve never been able to live up to.

“Your mother—” Your father spits the word as though it’s venom on his tongue. “Your mother and I expect nothing less than perfection from you, and this—” He pulls your wrist, making you stumble toward him. “This is not perfection.”

He shoves you back, and you don’t even try to stop yourself from falling against the wall. Your shoulder collides with the plaster with a sickening thud. You don’t cry out, don’t even flinch this time. You’re numb. You’re so used to this.

Your father steps back, glaring at you with a mix of disgust and anger. “You think you’re special? You think you’re better than this? Do you think anyone cares about your pathetic little life?”

The words sink into your skin like daggers. You stand there, unmoving, your mind empty but for the cold, sharp pain in your chest. It’s too familiar. Too suffocating. You want to scream, to tell him to stop, but you can’t. Not anymore.

Your father sneers, his words cutting deeper than the slap. “You have one job—be perfect.”

You flinch at his words. The ache in your chest is familiar by now, but it’s still unbearable.

“You don’t get to be weak.”

He steps closer, his breath hot on your skin, and the next words fall like a heavy weight.

“Don’t make me regret having you.”

The slap comes next, fast and brutal. It lands across your cheek, knocking your head to the side, the sting spreading through your skin like fire. You stare at the ground, feeling the hot rush of humiliation flood your face, but you don’t cry. Not anymore. You haven’t cried in years.

Your father’s words ring in your ears. “You don’t get to be weak.” They echo in the silence between you, louder than anything he’s ever said. His words are poison, and you’ve been swallowing them for so long that they’re part of you now.

Your mother finally speaks, her voice barely audible. “Stop. Don’t go too far.”

You can’t help but look up. You expect to see your mother’s eyes full of concern, or at least some semblance of empathy. But instead, all you see is the same vacant expression you’ve grown so used to. Your mother doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even acknowledge the bruises that are already starting to form on your skin. The woman who gave birth to you remains silent, a passive participant in the abuse.

Your chest tightens. You want to scream at your mother. You want to beg her to fight for you, to protect you from the world that seems determined to break you. But you know better than to expect that. It’s always been just you. Alone. With nothing but the weight of expectations pressing down on you.

Your father steps closer, his breath hot against your skin. “You’re nothing. You’ll never be anything.” The words strike like lightning, but you don’t flinch.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, though you don’t know what you’re apologizing for anymore. It’s just a reflex. A way to make the silence stretch between you.

Your father eyes you for a moment, then turns his back to you. “Go to your room. We’ll talk about this later. You’re lucky I’m letting you off this time.”

You nod, your legs barely able to carry you as you walk past him and toward the stairs. Every step feels like a weight, dragging you down, pulling you deeper into the dark space inside you that’s been growing for years. You’ve been living in this cage, waiting for the moment when you can finally escape. But you know it’s never coming. Not as long as you’re here. Not as long as they’re watching your every move.

Your heart is heavy, but you don’t cry. You haven’t in years. Not since you realized that no one would ever save you. Not even yourself.

You spend the night in your room, staring at the ceiling, your body still aching from the physical and emotional blows. The bruise on your cheek is already forming, but it’s not the pain that hurts the most. It’s the emptiness. The way everything inside you feels hollow and drained.

Your father’s words replay in your mind. You’ve heard them a thousand times, but tonight, they cut deeper. You’re tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of being the person they want you to be. But you don’t know how to stop. You don’t know how to escape.

You lie in bed, your body aching from the force of the slap, but it’s not the physical pain that keeps you up—it’s Heeseung’s words. The ones he whispered when he saw you trembling, “You always have a choice.”

For a moment, you let yourself wonder: What if he’s right? What if you could actually make a choice for once? But the thought is quickly drowned out by the fear of the consequences. The thought of leaving behind everything you’ve ever known, even if it meant freedom, is terrifying. But you hold onto those words. Just for a little while longer, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you can find a way out.

The silence in your room is deafening, broken only by the sound of your own ragged breathing. Your hands are trembling, but you don’t reach for the phone on your nightstand. You know it’s pointless. There’s no one who can help you. You’re too far gone, too deep in this cycle to escape.

The tears come then, but not for yourself. You’ve long stopped crying for yourself. Instead, they fall for the person you could have been, the person you’ll never be. For the girl who never stood a chance.

The final bell of the day rang through the school, signaling the end of another monotonous day. Y/N felt the weight of the hours dragging on her as she watched the other students file out of the classroom, their voices blending into the background. Her eyes found Heeseung at the back of the room, packing his bag with his usual nonchalance, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside her.

Today, she couldn’t stay silent any longer.

The pressure of her parents’ expectations had been building up for so long—her life dictated by their demands, their goals for her future, their vision of who she should be. She had lived in their shadow, following the rules, pretending to be what they wanted her to be. But something inside her had shifted. The walls she’d built around her heart were beginning to crack, and she couldn’t pretend anymore.

Her legs moved before she could think, the words tumbling out before she even realized what she was about to say.

"Heeseung," she called out, her voice shaky but firm.

Heeseung paused mid-step, his hand still gripping the strap of his bag. He turned toward her, his expression softening as he noticed the look in her eyes. "What’s wrong?"

Y/N swallowed hard, her chest tight with the weight of her decision. "I’m ready," she said quietly, barely above a whisper. "I’m ready to make a choice."

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. "A choice about what?"

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling her heart race as she finally put her feelings into words. "A choice about... about not living for them anymore." She paused, her gaze steady. "I can’t keep being what they want me to be. I can’t keep pretending to be the person they’ve decided I am." Her voice wavered, but she didn’t look away. "I need to stop trying to meet their expectations. I need to learn how to let go of what they want and figure out who I really am."

Heeseung stood frozen for a moment, processing her words, as though trying to understand the weight of them. His eyes softened as he took a step toward her, his usual teasing demeanor replaced with something quieter, more serious.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low, "are you saying... you want to walk away from everything? From your parents? From what they’ve planned for you?"

Y/N shook her head, the tension in her chest growing. "No. I’m not leaving them. But I need to stop living for them. I need to stop letting their expectations control everything I do." Her voice cracked slightly, but she held firm. "I can’t keep being the person they think I should be. I’ve spent so long trying to live up to what they want, and I’ve forgotten who I am in the process. I don’t want to be trapped anymore."

Heeseung’s expression softened further as he took in her words, his gaze shifting from her face to the ground as if he was considering what to say next. For a moment, there was a heavy silence, the weight of her confession hanging in the air between them.

"You know," he began quietly, looking up to meet her gaze, "it’s not going to be easy. Letting go of their expectations... it’s not something that happens overnight. But I get it. You don’t have to live for them. You don’t have to keep pretending to be who they want you to be." His voice was gentle now, sincere. "You deserve to live for yourself, not for them."

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words, something she hadn’t realized she needed to hear. "I don’t know if I can do it," she admitted, her voice shaky. "I’ve been living this way for so long. What if I fail? What if they never accept it?"

Heeseung gave her a small, encouraging smile. "You’re not alone in this. You don’t have to do it alone."

Her heart fluttered at his words, a mix of gratitude and something deeper. Heeseung had always been there for her in his own way, but this was different. This was real.

Y/N took a deep breath, the decision feeling heavier now but also strangely freeing. "I don’t know where to start. I don’t even know what it means to live for myself."

Heeseung’s eyes softened with understanding. "It means taking the time to figure out what you want, not what they want for you. It means choosing yourself, even when it’s hard. It means being brave enough to make mistakes and learn from them." He took a step closer, his voice low but steady. "And it’s okay if it’s not all figured out at once. Just... take it one step at a time."

Y/N felt the knot in her chest loosen, the fear and uncertainty starting to ebb away. Heeseung didn’t have all the answers, but his words were a lifeline, pulling her toward something new. Something real.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice gaining strength with each passing second. "Okay, I’m ready to let go. Not of them... but of their expectations. I’m ready to start living for me."

Heeseung smiled, a soft, knowing smile that made something inside her flutter. "Good. And you’re not alone. I’m here."

Y/N nodded, a small but genuine smile tugging at her lips. The path ahead wasn’t clear, and she wasn’t sure what it would look like, but she felt the first stirrings of freedom—freedom to be herself, to figure out who she really was beyond the role they had forced on her.

As Heeseung turned to leave, Y/N stayed behind for a moment, her eyes following his retreating figure. She was still afraid, still uncertain about what lay ahead, but for the first time, she felt like she could breathe. And that was enough for now.

It’s a rare moment of defiance. The classroom door slams behind you as Heeseung leads you out of the school building, the sound of the bell ringing in the distance. Your heart skips, half exhilarated, half terrified. It’s not that you’re the perfect student—it’s just that breaking the rules with Heeseung feels like stepping into a whole new world.

Without a word, he pulls you toward the staircase that leads to the roof. You can feel the weight of every footstep, the tension building with each step you take. You’ve never been up here before, and the thought of being caught sets your nerves on edge. Still, the pull of freedom is too strong. You follow him, breathless.

Heeseung pushes the door open, and a cool gust of wind hits your face. The city sprawls out beneath you, distant buildings touching the sky, the world buzzing on, unaware of your small rebellion. Heeseung turns to you, his usual smirk softened into something warmer.

“Breathe,” he tells you, voice uncharacteristically gentle. “For once, just breathe.”

You stand there, your back pressed against the cold metal railing, and close your eyes. The rush of adrenaline fades, replaced by a strange sense of peace. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting everything in a soft, golden light. You inhale deeply, and for the first time in ages, you let go of the constant pressure—your family, your grades, your responsibilities. It all feels so far away here, with Heeseung.

You open your eyes, and there he is, standing just a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite read. Is it admiration? Something deeper? You don’t ask. Instead, you smile, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, alone on this rooftop, free from everything. You take another deep breath, and when Heeseung glances at you again, the smile he gives you feels like an unspoken promise.

The bike hums beneath you, and the wind whips through your hair as you cling to Heeseung’s back. The first time, you were stiff, a bundle of nerves pressed against his shoulders, too afraid to trust him completely. But this time is different. This time, you don’t hesitate. The world blurs around you as he revs the engine, taking off down the street with a fluidity that feels natural to him, as if he were born to ride.

“You’re getting used to this,” Heeseung grins over his shoulder, his voice barely audible above the roar of the engine.

You can feel your hands loosening their grip on his waist, just a little. It’s a small shift, but it’s progress. Heeseung’s voice, light and teasing, calls back to you, his confidence contagious. You relax against him, your body starting to move with the rhythm of the bike. You can’t help but smile, the feeling of freedom sweeping over you.

“Are you sure you’re not scared?” you ask, leaning closer to him, your voice just a whisper now.

Heeseung’s laughter fills the space between you. “Scared? Nah. I trust you.”

You glance up at the sky, the clouds racing by, and for the first time, you let go of your fears. The world doesn’t seem so heavy anymore. With Heeseung, it feels like you can be anyone—free and untethered, like you’re meant to be.

You settle into the ride, letting the wind carry away all your worries. When Heeseung pulls over, the engine dies, and the world falls quiet again. You’re still holding onto him, your chest rising and falling with the aftershock of the ride. He doesn’t let go, his hand resting on yours, a gentle anchor.

“You’re not so bad at this,” he murmurs, and you smile, the words a small victory in your chest.

The street is alive with lights, the sounds of vendors calling out, people laughing, the smell of food filling the air. Heeseung takes your hand, pulling you toward a stall lined with colorful bowls and sizzling pans. You can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by the chaos, but Heeseung looks completely at home in it.

“This is where the real food is,” he grins, passing you a bowl of tteokbokki. You hesitate, the red, steaming sauce looking much spicier than you expected.

“Try it,” he encourages, his gaze soft as he watches you. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

You take a tentative bite, and the heat explodes in your mouth. Instantly, your face turns red, and you gasp for air. The spice is unlike anything you’ve ever felt, and your throat burns as you reach for your drink.

Heeseung laughs, a deep, rich sound, his hand sliding across the table to hand you his drink. “You’ll get used to it, Butterfly.”

You take a sip, the cool liquid a sharp contrast to the fiery tteokbokki, and the relief is instant. Heeseung’s laugh is infectious, and despite the spice still tingling on your tongue, you find yourself laughing with him.

“Just wait until I bring you the next level,” Heeseung teases. “Then you’ll really regret asking for food here.”

You shake your head, still trying to get the spice under control, but the laughter in the air feels comforting. There’s something about sharing this moment with him—no masks, no expectations—that makes the world feel a little less heavy.

The carnival is a blur of lights and sounds, everything spinning around you in a kaleidoscope of color. Heeseung leads you through the crowd, his hand warm in yours. It’s easy to get lost in the excitement, but there’s something even more electrifying in the air tonight, something between the two of you that you can’t quite name.

Heeseung stops at a game booth, grinning as he wins you a stuffed bear. You take it from him, still smiling, but the weight of the moment shifts as your fingers brush against his.

The contact is electric.

You freeze, and Heeseung’s eyes flicker to yours, the intensity in them making your breath hitch. There’s a moment of stillness, like the world has paused just for the two of you. The carnival lights seem to fade as he leans in, his lips just a breath away from yours. You can feel the heat of his breath, the tension hanging in the air, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ll let him kiss you. You want to. You really do.

But then, the fear—old and familiar—rises in your chest, and you pull away, the moment slipping through your fingers like sand. Heeseung doesn’t push, doesn’t say anything. He just watches you, his gaze a mixture of understanding and something deeper, something that makes your heart race.

“Maybe next time,” he says softly, his smile tinged with sadness.

You nod, the space between you now filled with words unsaid. The carnival lights flicker around you, but in that moment, everything feels heavy with the unspoken truth between you both.

You’ve been wondering about it for days, and finally, the words spill from your lips.

“Why do you call me that?” you ask, your voice quiet, almost uncertain. You’ve heard the nickname before, but tonight it feels different. The weight of it is heavier now, and you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to it than just a cute term of endearment.

Heeseung looks at you, his smile playful, but there’s something deeper behind it. “Because you’re delicate. Fragile,” he says, his voice soft and thoughtful. You can’t help but notice the sincerity in his tone, the way his eyes soften as he looks at you.

You frown slightly, unsure how to respond. “But I’m not fragile.”

Heeseung’s expression shifts, his eyes growing serious for a moment. “But you are. You’ve been caged in your whole life, Y/N.” He takes a step closer to you, his voice low. “But you don’t belong in a cage.”

The words hit you harder than expected. For the first time, you feel like someone sees you—not just the perfect daughter your parents want, but you, as you really are. Someone who’s been trapped, fighting to break free. And Heeseung, in his own way, has always understood that.

You swallow, the weight of his words settling deep inside you. “Then maybe I’m ready to fly,” you whisper.

Heeseung’s grin returns, but this time, it’s gentler. “I think you already are, Butterfly.”

The house feels suffocating as soon as you step inside, a weight pressing on your chest. Heeseung had dropped you off with a quiet promise to be there if you needed him, but you didn't tell him what you were walking into. You could never find the words to express how much you feared your father’s anger. Tonight, though, you sense something is different. Something feels off in the air—too tense, too heavy, like the calm before a storm.

The front door clicks shut behind you, and you already hear the heavy footsteps from the hallway. You don’t have to look to know it’s him. Your heart races as your father emerges from the shadows of the hallway, his gaze sharp, already calculating.

“Where have you been?” His voice, usually controlled and cold, is tight with something more dangerous tonight. You’ve never heard him like this before. His eyes search you with an intensity that’s almost too much to bear. “Out with him again, huh?”

You freeze. For a split second, your mind is blank. How did he find out? You hadn’t told him, hadn’t given him a reason to think anything was wrong. Had he been watching you? The idea is enough to send a chill down your spine. But you force yourself to stand your ground, even though your insides are twisting in panic. You’ve dealt with his anger before, but this feels different.

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breath. “Heeseung is my friend. I—”

“Friend?” He spits the word out like it’s venom. His lips curl into a cruel smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. “That boy is nothing but trouble. You’re wasting your time with him.”

You feel a pang in your chest, a mix of anger and hurt. How can he say that? Heeseung is the one person who’s ever made you feel like you’re more than just a tool in your father’s games. He’s the only one who’s ever treated you like you matter.

“Don’t talk about him like that,” you say, your voice shaking but strong. “You don’t know him. You don’t know anything about him.”

Your father’s eyes narrow, and you can see the darkness brewing in them. For a second, it’s like he’s calculating how far he can push you before you break. “You’re nothing but a child,” he sneers, taking a step toward you. “You think I don’t know what’s going on behind my back? I saw you two. I saw you with him today.”

Your stomach drops as you try to make sense of his words. “What do you mean? How did you—”

The realization hits you like a slap in the face. Your heart starts pounding as the pieces fall together. He’s been watching you. Somehow, he’s figured it out, and you have no idea how long he’s been doing this. How long he’s been waiting for you to slip up.

“Don’t look so surprised,” your father growls, his voice low and dangerous. “I know everything that happens under my roof.” He steps closer, his breath hot against your face. “And you think you can get away with seeing that boy? With disrespecting me like this?”

Before you can respond, he raises his hand, the sharp sting of the slap hitting you so fast you barely register it. The force of it throws you off balance, and you stumble backward, your cheek burning. It’s not the first time he’s hit you, but this time it feels different—harder, more violent. There’s no restraint in his movements, no attempt to mask his anger.

“You’re nothing,” he spits. “You think you’re special because of that boy? You’re just a child who doesn’t know what’s best for her. I gave you everything, and this is how you repay me?”

The sting of the slap is still raw, but something inside you snaps. You’ve been living under his thumb for too long, and you’re finally done with it. You’re tired of being controlled, tired of being used as a pawn in his game. Your heart races as you take a step back, your voice trembling with fury.

“You don’t get to control me anymore,” you say, the words forced out through clenched teeth. “You’re not my world anymore.”

His eyes widen in shock for a split second, and for the briefest moment, you think you might have gotten through to him. But then, the anger in his face deepens. “You think you’re leaving me? You think you’re just going to run off with that boy and everything will be fine?”

He steps forward, slamming you against the wall with surprising force. The wind is knocked out of you, but you refuse to let him see your pain. He leans down so his face is inches from yours, and his voice is low, almost a hiss. “I’ll make sure you never see him again. You won’t run away from me. Not while you live under my roof.”

You struggle to breathe, but your voice is steady. “You can’t keep me here. You can’t control me forever.”

For a moment, you think he might strike again, but then his expression hardens. “You’re nothing without me,” he snarls, before shoving you aside roughly.

You stumble, catching yourself before you fall. Your heart is pounding so hard in your chest, you can barely hear anything except the blood rushing in your ears. The anger and fear mix into a cocktail of adrenaline, for the first time in your life, you feel like you’re not bound by his rules anymore.

And then, you do the only thing you can think of: you get up and run. You bolt for the door, your hands shaking as you open it, and you’re out in the night air before you even realize it.

The cool night wind hits your face like a slap, but it’s not painful. It’s a relief. For the first time in your life, you feel like you can breathe. You don’t look back, not even once. You know your father is behind you, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except getting away from him, getting away from the cage he’s built for you.

And then, you see him—Heeseung, on his motorcycle, just about to drive off.

He sees you before you see him, and the moment you meet his gaze, something inside you shifts. The fight, the anger, the fear—all of it fades into the background, replaced with something softer, something more freeing. Heeseung doesn’t say a word as you run toward him, but you can feel the weight of his presence, his arms opening to you like a lifeline.

“Let’s go,” he says, his voice steady and comforting. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t hesitate.

You don’t need to say anything either. Heeseung reaches out and pulls you onto the motorcycle, his hands warm against your skin. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’ve made the right choice.

“Where are we going?” you ask, your voice breathless, but there’s a hint of hope in it now.

“Anywhere but here,” Heeseung replies, revving the engine.

And as the motorcycle roars to life, you realize that for the first time in your life, you’re free.

The wind rushes through your hair, wild and free, like the feeling that blooms in your chest as you cling to Heeseung’s torso. The motorcycle hums beneath you, a low, steady rhythm that mirrors the quickening beat of your heart. You had never felt more alive than this—riding through the streets with Heeseung, feeling his warmth seep through the fabric of your clothes, his presence anchoring you to the moment.

Heeseung’s grip tightens on the handlebars as you weave through the traffic, but there’s a tenderness to it, like he’s holding onto more than just the bike. He’s holding onto you, your smile, your laughter, the promise of something better beyond the confines of your sheltered life. The city streets blur around you, but you don’t care. You’re not worried about what’s ahead. In this moment, it’s just you and Heeseung—two souls, drifting free, away from the expectations, away from everything.

“You look like you’re enjoying this too much,” Heeseung teases, glancing over his shoulder at you with that half-smirk of his. His eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint, and you feel a flutter in her stomach, a heat spreading through your cheeks.

You grin back, letting the wind whip your face. “It’s perfect,” you breathe, the words carried away by the wind, but he hears them. You can tell by the way his shoulders relax, how his grip loosens slightly. The tension that had always hung between you is fading, replaced by something new, something tender.

Heeseung leans into the turn, expertly guiding the motorcycle down the winding road, and you can’t help but laugh. It’s carefree, light, a laugh that rings with happiness. You hadn’t known you were capable of this kind of joy, the kind that comes with complete abandon, no thought of tomorrow, no fear, no judgment. Only the present. Only Heeseung.

As you ride along the road, the city falls away. The skyline recedes into the distance, replaced by the open road and endless possibilities. Heeseung’s face is alight with the same feeling you’re starting to recognize—the feeling of freedom. The feeling of no longer being bound by the past, of letting go of the weight that’s always pressed on your chest. For once, you’re not weighed down by expectations. You’re not a daughter, a prize to be controlled. You’re just yourself.

You lean your head against his back, your heart light, breath shallow from the exhilaration. "This is amazing," you whisper, half to yourself, half to him. You don’t need to say more. He feels it too.

Heeseung’s laughter bubbles up, rich and full. "Glad you think so," he says, his voice warm in your ear. "I told you I’d show you the world outside that cage."

The words make you pause, a small pang of something—maybe guilt, maybe fear—lurching inside of you. But it’s fleeting, gone before it can take root. This moment is too perfect to ruin with worries about what comes next. You push the thought aside, clinging to him tighter, as if holding on could stop time itself.

And for a moment, it does. Time slows to a crawl. The world around you blurs, fading away. There’s just you, Heeseung, and the road.

But then, the moment shatters.

A bright light flashes in the distance, too bright, too sudden. It cuts through the night like a knife, an unexpected surge of blinding brilliance that makes you freeze, makes your stomach drop in terror. You don’t have time to react, don’t have time to scream before everything changes. The world tilts, the motorcycle jerks violently, and you’re thrown from it, your body flying through the air as if it’s weightless, detached from the reality you know. Heeseung’s scream echoes in your ears, but it’s distant, muffled by the rush of air and the sharp sting of panic.

Then, nothing. Silence. Blackness. Cold.

It’s as if the world has swallowed you whole, and you disappear into its depths, the darkness taking over.

The sharp beeping of the machines pulls Heeseung from the blackness, pulling him back to reality, to the pain. His eyes flutter open, his head heavy, his body aching in places he didn’t know could hurt. His hands are bound to the bed with medical wires, IVs running through his arm, and for a moment, he’s disoriented, unsure of where he is. His mind feels foggy, and his thoughts scatter like smoke, each one slipping away before he can grasp it.

But then, it hits him.

You.

His heart lurches painfully in his chest, the panic setting in like a cold wave crashing over him. He jerks in bed, ripping the wires from his arm, his breath quickening, every movement frantic as he struggles to sit up. His eyes dart around the sterile hospital room, searching, begging for an answer. He sees nothing but white walls, the dull hum of medical equipment, the sound of the air conditioning kicking on.

"Where is she?" he gasps, his voice raw, desperate.

His mind races, but the silence in the room is deafening. There’s no one here, no one to tell him what happened, no one to answer his questions. His fingers tremble as they reach for the button to call the nurse, but his hand falters. His thoughts are racing so fast now that he can barely breathe.

Suddenly, the door opens, and a nurse walks in, her expression neutral, professional. Heeseung barely registers her presence, his focus solely on the question burning in his chest.

"She’s here, right?" he asks, his voice shaky, his eyes wide with fear.

The nurse’s face hardens, and she looks away. She doesn’t speak for a moment, but her silence is enough.

Heeseung’s stomach drops.

"Where is she?" he demands again, louder this time, his hands shaking with anxiety.

"I’m sorry, but you need to calm down," the nurse says softly, but the words feel like a punch to the gut. "I’ll get the doctor."

And then she leaves, disappearing as quickly as she came, leaving Heeseung alone in his confusion, in his pain.

He doesn’t have time to wait. He needs to see you. Needs to know you’re okay.

Heeseung struggles to stand, his body fighting against him, but the only thought in his head is you. You. You.

He bursts into the hallway, ignoring the startled glances of the hospital staff. His breath comes in shallow gasps as he looks around frantically, searching for any sign of you. But all he sees are doctors, nurses, patients—none of them are you.

He doesn’t stop. He can’t. His legs carry him forward with a mind of their own, driven by the fear that tightens in his chest with every step.

Then, as if fate had a cruel sense of timing, Heeseung rounds the corner and comes face to face with your parents.

Your father is pacing, his face twisted in frustration and worry. Your mother is standing by the door, her arms folded tightly across her chest, her expression unreadable but tight, as if she’s holding something in. When they see Heeseung, their eyes narrow, and there’s an immediate shift in the air, an undeniable tension that hangs between them.

Heeseung feels the blood drain from his face. He stops in his tracks, but his heart races faster. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. His voice is caught somewhere deep in his chest, lodged there by the suffocating weight of their gaze.

Your father is the first to speak, his voice hard and accusatory. "What are you doing here?" he demands, his tone like a slap in the face. "You’re the reason she’s in there in the first place. If you hadn’t been so reckless—"

Heeseung flinches, as if the words are physical blows. But the pain is nothing compared to the guilt that surges through him. He wants to scream, to deny it, to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, that he never meant for this to happen. But the words are stuck in his throat, choked by the weight of everything.

"She got hurt," your mother says, her voice quiet but sharp, laced with anger and fear. "This is your fault."

Heeseung’s eyes burn with unshed tears. His heart feels like it’s being ripped out of his chest. They’re blaming him. They’re blaming him for everything. And maybe they’re right. Maybe it is his fault. If he hadn’t taken you on that ride, if he hadn’t been so careless, if he hadn’t been so—

"Enough," Heeseung finally forces out, his voice raw, cracking under the pressure. "Enough."

He takes a step toward them, his chest heaving, his hands balled into fists at his sides. He’s shaking, his legs unsteady, but his anger fuels him. He feels like he’s on the edge of something, about to shatter.

"None of this would have happened if you had treated her like your daughter instead of your personal trophy!" he snaps, his voice rising with every word. "She’s not some prize you can mold and control. She’s a person. You never saw her. You never saw what she was going through, what she needed. All you ever saw was your image, your status—"

Your father steps forward, his face red with rage, but Heeseung doesn’t back down. He doesn’t care anymore. He’s past caring.

"You don’t know anything!" your father yells, his voice booming in the hallway. "You’re just some boy who thought he could save her. You don’t even know what she was really like. What we had to do to make her who she is—"

"You made her a prisoner!" Heeseung screams, the words coming out in a flood of emotion. "You trapped her. And now she’s like this because all she wanted was to escape the pain and torture you had her endure for all her life!!"

There’s a long, heavy silence between them. Heeseung’s chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, his body trembling with the aftermath of the outburst. He feels exposed, as if every fragile part of him has been laid bare for them to see.

He takes a step toward them, his fists clenched at his sides. "This isn’t helping. Blaming me won’t change anything."

Your father scoffs, his expression twisted in disdain. "It won’t bring her back, will it? Nothing will fix what you’ve done."

"I never meant for any of this to happen," Heeseung’s voice breaks as his eyes glaze over with the sting of unshed tears. "You think I don’t know that? You think I’m not hating myself for what happened? But she’s still there. I’m not going to give up on her, not like you did."

Your father flinches as if the words cut deeper than any physical wound. Your mother finally looks up, but her gaze is colder than Heeseung has ever seen it. It’s the same expression she’s always had—detached, cold, distant. Heeseung feels like he’s being suffocated by the weight of her disapproval.

"I don’t know what kind of person you are, but I know one thing," your mother says, her voice low but sharp. "You should have just stayed away from her."

Heeseung feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. The words cut deep, deeper than any of the harsh words your father has thrown at him. His body trembles as he fights the tears that burn in his eyes. He wants to scream, to tell them they’re wrong, to say that if anyone is to blame, it’s him. He’s the one who drove you into this situation. He’s the one who—

"I’m sorry," Heeseung whispers, his voice barely audible, but it’s enough to stop the conversation. "I’m sorry. I wish it had been me."

Your parents stand in silence, their expressions unreadable. It’s like they’ve turned to stone, frozen in time, unable to comprehend what’s happening.

And then, from the corner of the room, a voice breaks the silence.

"Her condition has not improved."

Heeseung turns to see the doctor approach, his face filled with the same grim expression as the others. The words he’s about to speak feel like a physical punch to Heeseung’s gut, and it’s as if the floor has dropped out from under him. His breath catches in his throat, and his heart thunders in his chest.

"She’s on life support," the doctor continues, his voice heavy with sorrow. "We’ve done everything we can, but her brain activity remains minimal. We’re not seeing any signs of recovery. It’s too soon to say anything for certain, but..." The doctor falters, searching for the right words. "We’re looking at a very difficult decision in the coming days."

Heeseung doesn’t hear the rest of the doctor’s words. They’re muffled, distorted, like he’s underwater. All he can focus on is the heaviness in his chest, the fact that you might never wake up. He might never see your smile again, never hear your laugh, never hold you close.

His hands shake, his body numb with disbelief. "No... no, there has to be something more you can do," he mutters, his voice raw with emotion. His heart cracks as reality begins to settle in, each word breaking him more. He can’t lose you. Not like this. Not after everything you’ve been through.

Your father’s voice breaks through the fog, harsh and accusatory. "It’s your fault."

Heeseung recoils as if struck, the sting of his words worse than any slap. The anger surges in him again, but it’s swallowed by a deeper, more suffocating grief. He can’t breathe. He can’t think. All he can see is the cold, sterile hallway, the sound of working machines, and your parents standing there, as if waiting for him to give up and leave.

But he can’t. He won’t.

"I’m not giving up on her," Heeseung says through gritted teeth, his voice shaking but filled with determination. "Not now. Not ever."

The words echo in the cold silence that follows, heavy and final. His heart aches, but he knows one thing for certain—he’s not walking away. He’ll stay here, by your side, until the end.

Your parents don’t say anything more. They just stand there, their faces twisted with grief, with regret, and with an anger that Heeseung can feel but doesn’t fully understand. He feels like he’s sinking, drowning in his own guilt and helplessness.

But he refuses to give up. He can’t. He won’t leave your side, not now. Not when there’s still a chance, no matter how small.

The soft hum of machines, the steady beeping of the monitors—these sounds are the background music to the bleak reality he faces every day. He doesn’t mind it though. In fact, he’s grown to find a strange sense of peace in the routine. It’s something familiar, something that keeps him tethered to you, even though you were not here in the way he needs you to be.

Heeseung’s routine starts the same way every day: he wakes up early, dragging his exhausted body out of bed with no real motivation other than the thought of seeing you, even if you can’t respond. He’s been doing it for a week now, visiting you every day without fail, even though every visit feels like a painful reminder of how fragile and fleeting your time together was.

But he needs this. He needs you.

Each day, he brings something new, something small to keep the connection alive between the two of you. Something that makes him feel like you were still there with him.

The first thing Heeseung does when he walks into the room is place a bouquet of fresh flowers on the table beside your bed. A familiar bouquet of wildflowers, just like the ones you two used to pick together by the riverbank. It’s a gesture that feels almost foolish, but it’s one that gives him a sense of normalcy, like you two were still living in a world where everything isn’t falling apart.

“Hey, Butterfly,” he whispers as he arranges the flowers carefully, his fingers brushing the soft petals. His voice cracks slightly, but he pushes through it. “You always liked these, didn’t you? I almost had to fight the florist to get you freshly cut ones.”

He stands there for a moment, his hand lingering on the edge of the vase. His gaze moves slowly over you, tracing the lines of your face. You look so peaceful, so still. But it’s not the kind of peace he wants for you. It’s the kind of peace that only exists in a place between life and death, in a space where there’s no room for movement, no room for growth. No room for him.

Heeseung can’t help but let his fingers gently caress the edge of your hand, still warm, but lifeless in its stillness. He wants to believe you’re still there, somewhere deep down, that the girl he loves is just waiting for the right moment to wake up.

But he’s learned not to get his hopes up too much. Every day feels like the last time. Every conversation, every touch, feels like a goodbye.

“I think you’d have laughed at how hard I had to work for something so simple,” Heeseung continues, his voice tinged with an emotion you can’t quite name. “You always had to have the best of everything, right? But I swear, I’m doing okay without you...”

His words trail off, leaving the space between you thick with the weight of all the things he can’t say, all the things he doesn’t need to say. You know. You always knew.

He’s been bringing you food, too. Anything he can think of to keep some semblance of your life together intact. Today, it’s tteokbokki, a dish you used to eat on late nights when you would run to the corner shop for some snacks. You would sit together on the curb, laughing and sharing the spicy, chewy rice cakes. Heeseung smiles as he places the container of warm tteokbokki beside you, just like he’s done a hundred times before.

“I bet you’d complain about the spice so I made sure to get the mild one today,” Heeseung says, his voice soft, the familiar teasing tone in his words bringing a small ache to his chest. “You know how you’d always whine about how I get the tteokbokki way too spicy for you. Well, this time I actually listened. See? I’m improving,” he forces a chuckle out.

His smile fades as he watches your face, hoping, praying, for some flicker of recognition. He’s not sure why he keeps doing this—bringing food, talking to you, pretending that everything is normal when nothing is. But that's all he can do. It’s all he has left.

He chuckles softly to himself, a bitter sound that mixes with the tears threatening to spill. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to eat all of this myself. Don’t tell anyone though, okay? I know how you are about sharing. If you wake up now, you might still be able to stop me.”

He picks up one of the rice cakes and takes a bite, savoring the familiar flavor that used to bring him comfort. He wonders if you can hear him. He wonders if you’re even aware of his presence, if you could even feel that he’s here. But the thought is fleeting, drowned out by the weight of everything that’s happened. The weight of what’s not happening.

The most difficult part about these visits was the talking. Heeseung doesn’t know what to say most of the time. He can’t bring himself to speak about the things he’s feeling, the overwhelming grief that sits heavy on his chest. Instead, he talks about the little things. The stupid things. Anything to fill the silence. He wishes he could take your hand and tell you how much he loves you, how sorry he is, how much he needs you back.

But instead, he shares his day with you.

“Jake did something stupid today. You would’ve laughed,” he says, his voice coming out with a soft chuckle despite himself. “He got stuck in the vending machine trying to grab a bag of chips. Can you believe that? He tried to push it and got his hand stuck, and I had to help him out. I swear, sometimes I think he’s a walking disaster.”

Heeseung chuckles to himself, remembering the ridiculousness of the situation. His heart aches as the sound of his own laugh echoes in the empty room. It feels so hollow, so lonely without you responding.

“I got it on video,” he continues, his smile faltering as the thought crosses his mind. “Remind me to show it to you when you wake up, okay? I’m sure you’ll love it. You always used to say how much you loved it when I filmed any of the stupid moments the guys do. You’d laugh so hard at him.”

He sets the phone down on the table beside you, showing you the video. It’s ridiculous, really—showing you a video of Jake being an idiot when you were just lying there, unresponsive. But it’s the only thing he can do to keep the illusion alive, to make it feel like everything is normal. Like everything was still the same.

The video plays in silence, the laughter in the background a stark contrast to the stillness of the room. Heeseung’s eyes drift back to your face, to the steady rhythm of your breath as you remain unmoving. Oh, the things he would do to hear your laugh once more. His heart breaks again, but he swallows it down, shoving his feelings aside to keep going.

“Please wake up,” he whispers softly, voice breaking as his eyes well up, leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead. “Please.”

But nothing changes. You don’t move. It makes him look down, holding your hand as he tries to stop the tears. The machines beep steadily, like a cruel reminder of the things he’s lost.

The days drag on like this—each one heavier than the last. But Heeseung keeps coming back. He keeps bringing the flowers, the food, the small moments of humor and normalcy that keep him grounded. He tells you about his day, about the boys’ latest antics, about how much he misses your smile. Every time, hoping against hope that one day, you’ll hear him, that one day, you’ll open your eyes and smile again.

But he’s not sure if he’s waiting for you to wake up or if he’s waiting for himself to wake up from this nightmare.

Either way, he’s here. He won’t leave. He can’t leave.

Not yet. Not when there’s still a chance.

Was there still a chance? The room feels colder today. The sterile scent of antiseptic lingers in the air, but there’s something else—something heavier, like the weight of the decision that looms over you both. Heeseung walks into the room, carrying the familiar bouquet of flowers. The ones that smell of freshly cut stems, a small comfort in this place that’s so full of emptiness.

He doesn’t smile anymore. There was a time, not so long ago, when his visits were full of laughter, of teasing remarks, of warmth. Now, it’s all silence between the two of you, the kind of silence that presses in from all sides, suffocating and hollow. The only sound is the soft beeping of the heart monitor, marking the time that continues to pass without you.

Heeseung places the flowers gently on the table beside your bed. His hands tremble, a subtle shake that betrays the strength he tries so hard to show. He stands there for a moment, just staring at you—at your still form, your unmoving chest. His eyes are red-rimmed from exhaustion, from the constant worry that clings to him like a shadow.

“Hey, Butterfly,” he whispers, his voice strained, cracking at the edges. “It’s been a month now. Please come back. Please wake up. I can’t do this without you.”

His words are desperate, but they hold a raw honesty that cuts through the silence. He’s said these words a hundred times before, each one heavier than the last, but they never seem to make a difference. You still lie there, unresponsive, unable to hear him, unable to answer.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I just want you back, Y/N. I need you. Please…”

There’s a small pause, a quiet stillness that stretches on. Heeseung doesn’t move. He simply stands there, his hand gripping the edge of the bed as though holding on for dear life. His tears fall, one by one, dripping onto the floor like raindrops on a quiet afternoon.

And then the door opens.

Your parents enter, their faces expressionless. They’ve been distant ever since the accident, as though they’ve been trapped in a state of disbelief, unable to accept what’s happened. But now, as they walked into the room, he could feel the tension between them. There’s something fragile in their gaze, something that has begun to crack under the pressure of their grief.

The doctor follows them into the room, his steps hesitant, his presence heavy. He speaks gently, but his words still manage to cut through the air.

“It’s been a month now,” he says softly, looking at the machines keeping you alive. “And there have been no improvements. The signs are clear. The brain activity… it’s just not there.”

Heeseung’s breath catches in his throat, and he looks up at the doctor, his expression raw with fear. “What does that mean?” His voice shakes, but he forces the words out. “What… what are you saying?”

The doctor hesitates for a moment before continuing, as though unsure of how to phrase it, unsure of how to say something so final. “I’m sorry, but it means that Y/N isn’t waking up. The chances of recovery are practically nonexistent. The machines you see around her are the only things keeping her body alive.”

Your parents exchange glances, and he can see the conflict in their eyes. They don’t want to let go. They can’t. They’ve spent years expecting their daughter to be their perfect little trophy, a reflection of their success. Letting you go would mean acknowledging that everything they’ve built their lives around is falling apart.

“We can’t make this decision,” your mother says quietly, her voice trembling. “We can’t just let her go. Maybe we should wait longer. There’s still a chance, isn’t there?”

Your father nods, his expression a mixture of frustration and sorrow. “We’ve waited this long. We can’t give up now.”

Heeseung watches them, his heart breaking as he listens to them speak. The words feel so distant, so detached from the reality of what you’re going through. He knows what needs to be done, but how does he say it? How does he tell them that holding on any longer would only prolong your suffering?

He steps forward slowly, his feet heavy as though every step is another burden he has to bear. He stands beside your bed, looking down at your motionless form. His hands shake as he reaches for yours, taking it gently in his own. His thumb brushes over your fingers, a small comfort in this moment of anguish.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore,” he says quietly, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I can’t watch her suffer like this. We’ve been waiting, but we’re not helping her. We’re just keeping her trapped here.”

He turns to face your parents, his eyes meeting theirs with a quiet intensity that makes them flinch. “Have you ever thought about how she felt? What she wanted?”

Her parents open their mouths to speak, but Heeseung doesn’t let them. His voice rises, sharper now, filled with a mixture of pain and frustration.

“She wasn’t happy,” he says, his eyes never leaving theirs. “She was hurting. Every day. She hated what you made her become, hated how you treated her like some… trophy. And now she’s like this, unable to escape, unable to speak for herself. Do you really think this is what she would’ve wanted?”

Your mother’s face crumbles, tears streaming down her cheeks as the reality of Heeseung’s words sinks in. Your father looks away, his expression haunted with guilt and regret.

“She didn’t deserve this,” Heeseung continues, his voice breaking. “She didn’t deserve any of it. But we have a chance to give her something—freedom. If we don’t let her go, she’ll stay like this forever. You’ve seen it, haven’t you? This isn’t living. It’s just surviving.”

Heeseung’s grip on your hand tightens, his knuckles turning white. “She deserves more than this. We owe it to her to set her free.”

Your parents stare at each other, their faces crumpling under the weight of their decision. They wanted to keep you with them, to hold on to the idea of their perfect daughter, but they see now that they’ve been selfish. They were blinded by their own need for control, and now they’re faced with the truth that it’s too late.

They begin to cry, their sobs filling the room with the heavy sound of regret. It’s too late for apologies. Too late for redemption. They failed you, and they know it.

Heeseung doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to. His silence speaks louder than any words could. He moves to the side, his back stiff, as the doctor begins to adjust the machines.

The moment is unbearable. The quiet beeping of the monitors becomes a countdown, a reminder of how much time has passed, and how much of it you’ve already lost. Heeseung leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, as if trying to share a final moment with you, even if you can’t feel it.

The machines click, the rhythm of life slowing as the doctor presses a button, and then…

Silence.

Heeseung grips your hand tighter, his body shaking as he leans in closer. Tears fall from his eyes as he whispers, “You’re finally free, Butterfly,” he kisses your forehead for the last time.

The room is still, the weight of the moment sinking in. The hardest thing he’s ever had to do, the last thing he could give you, was to let you go.

And so, you fly free.

It’s been weeks since the funeral. The day is gray and overcast, the kind of day that mirrors the heaviness in Heeseung’s chest. The pain still lingers, a quiet ache that never seems to fade, no matter how much time passes. He doesn’t know if it ever will.

Today, like every other day, he finds himself at the cemetery. The place feels different now—distant, foreign, and yet, somehow familiar. It's where you rest, where the world keeps turning, but without you. Without the one person who had made him feel alive, the one person who had brought him comfort when the world felt too overwhelming.

He kneels in front of your grave, the earth freshly disturbed, a constant reminder of the hole that’s been left in his life. A bouquet of white lilies rests in his hands, their soft petals a stark contrast to the sorrow he feels. He places them gently on the grave, his fingers brushing the cold stone.

“Hey, Butterfly,” he says quietly, his voice shaky as he talks to you, though he knows you can’t hear him. "I’m here again. I know it’s been a while since I last came, but I still think about you. Every single day."

His words catch in his throat, and for a moment, he can’t speak. He forces himself to take a deep breath, wiping the tears that have begun to fall.

“I don’t know how to do this without you,” he confesses softly, his voice breaking. “I thought I could keep going. I thought I could keep pretending like everything was fine, like I was okay... but I’m not, Y/N. I’m really not.”

He stares at the gravestone, his hand trembling as it rests beside the flowers. His eyes drift to the small inscription etched into the stone—your name, your birthdate, and the date you were taken from him. He wishes it could all be a dream, a nightmare he could wake up from. But this is real. You’re gone, and no amount of wishing will bring you back.

“I keep thinking about all the things I never told you, all the moments we never got to share,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “We were supposed to be together. You were supposed to be here with me, laughing, living… everything we talked about. I keep replaying it all in my head—the way you smiled when we were together, the way you’d look at me like I was the only person in the world that mattered.”

A sob catches in his throat, and he covers his face with one hand, trying to hold it all in. His chest aches as the realization sets in—he’ll never get to see you again. Never get to hear your voice or feel your touch.

"I wish it had been me instead," he whispers, his voice so soft it’s barely a breath. "I wish I could’ve taken your place. I wish I could’ve protected you. I should have… I should’ve been there. But I wasn’t. And now you’re gone."

The words hang in the air, an apology he’ll never be able to deliver to you, no matter how many times he says them. Heeseung can’t help but feel like he failed you. He should’ve done more. He should’ve protected you better.

But the truth is, he never thought he’d lose you. You were supposed to be his forever.

“You finally spread your wings, huh?” he says with a small, broken smile, his eyes looking upward to the gray sky. "You always wanted freedom. You wanted to fly away from everything that held you back. I didn’t understand it then, but now... I get it. I understand why you needed to go, why you couldn’t stay here anymore. I just wish I could’ve been the one to give that to you."

The wind picks up, rustling the leaves around him. It’s almost as if it’s answering him, a soft breeze that wraps around his shoulders, offering him a fleeting moment of comfort. He closes his eyes, breathing in the air, letting the gentle breeze brush across his face.

A tear slips down his cheek, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. He doesn’t try to hide it anymore. The grief is raw and overwhelming, but there’s something cathartic about letting it out—letting it all go in this moment, with you.

Heeseung stands, his knees protesting as he slowly pushes himself up. He takes one last look at your grave, the bouquet of white lilies resting in front of it, a symbol of the purity and fragility of the love you shared. His heart aches, but there’s a faint sense of peace that settles over him, something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

“I’ll never forget you,” he whispers, his voice a soft promise. “I’ll carry you with me every day, in everything I do. You’ll always be my Butterfly.”

With that, he turns and walks away, his footsteps heavy but determined. The wind continues to blow, and for a brief moment, it feels like you’re still there, watching over him. The world keeps turning, and though he knows it will never be the same without you, Heeseung holds onto the love you gave him, a love that will never fade, a love that will stay with him for as long as he lives.

And as he walks away, the wind seems to carry one last whisper. It’s quiet but unmistakable, like your voice on the breeze.

“Fly high, my Butterfly.”

And in that moment, Heeseung smiles through his tears. He knows you're free now. And maybe, just maybe, you'll be waiting for him on the other side when his time comes.

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Rei's Notes ✎: Another enhypen fic mweehehe, the angst agenda is back once again. This might be one of my faves so far, I hope it makes your eyes sweat like it did for me. It's been a while since I wrote this long again (other than red poppies cuz that was prepped for a while already) and this is the longest one i've written so far!! I might’ve projected a bit from real life experiences so it kinda hits home 😔🤚 As always I'd love to hear your thoughts and how this made you feel so leave a reblog or reply!! <33