#Lightweight Foundation

[rosemaryhelenxo]

Top Features of YSL All Hours Foundation You Need to Know | Review

When it comes to foundation, Yves Saint Laurent has long been a go-to brand for many beauty enthusiasts. The YSL All Hours Foundation is no exception, promising a flawless finish and long-lasting wear. But is it worthy of this status? The packaging of the All Hours Foundation is undeniably chic. With its sleek glass bottle and iconic YSL logo, it certainly makes a statement on any vanity. The…

[thelovebudllc]

Best Lightweight Foundations For Spring

Image Credit @ Chris Colls for Elle France Switching your full-cover face colour for a lightweight foundation for spring can help you to achieve a fresher, more radiant look for the new season. Many lighter formulas also have the added bonus of keeping your skin hydrated and comfortable, as well as offering flexibility with a buildable coverage. Select a foundation with hydrating ingredients…

[baravaggio]

sorry if this is weird but what foundation do you use?? your skin is perfect 😭😭

nars light reflecting :) I also go over it with a tiny bit of l'oreal true match powder (the kind that comes in a compact) in oily areas after I use setting spray which works fine!

[reviewsandotherstuff]

Merit Beauty Review + Swatches

    Hello, you all makeup enthusiasts! I am sure we have all heard about this wonderful makeup brand I am about to review. Many of you raved about their IG cult-favorite flush balm. But perhaps many of you, as well, have not tried their other “exceptional” products.     The Merit beauty products are a staple in many influencers’ makeup trays, and there is a big reason why. Their products are…

[perfectlystrangeangel]

[astrocafecoffee]

How to groom yourself based on your rising sign …?? 💫

✨ FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY, ENJOY ✨

~~~~~~~~~~~~~💖💖~~~~~~~~~~~~~

💖 MASTERLIST

💖 HERA PERSONA CHART

💖 BORN PERSONA CHART

💖 CAREER OF YOUR FS

~~~~~~~~~~~~~💖💖~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note : inspired by ANITA SIRENE YouTube post. I included some of her points here. Rest is mine.

Aries ascendant ❣️

Hello Aries rising babies.. let's go !

Hair: Go bold or go home! Try a fiery red hair color (even if it's just a temporary pop of color) and style those locks with some serious attitude. Think choppy layers or a sleek, angular bob that frames that gorgeous face of yours.

Face: Emphasize that natural glow with a lightweight foundation and a subtle highlighter on your cheekbones, nose, and cupid's bow. Make those eyes pop with bold eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara. And don't forget to groom those brows - angular and framed is the way to go!

Makeup: Lip color? Go bold red or coral! Blush? Subtle peachy or pink shade. You got this!

Style: Edgy, statement pieces are your jam! Think leather jackets, bold patterned shirts, or distressed denim. And don't forget to add a bold, eye-catching accessory like a chunky necklace or statement watch. Basically masculine style will fit you best. Try red, yellow or orange dresses with minimal patterns.

Taurus ascendant ❣️

Hello! Taurus rising babies 💗

Hair: You guys are all about looking polished and put-together, so go for a sleek blowout or a fancy updo. And don't be afraid to add some subtle layers to frame that gorgeous face of yours! Earthy tones are your jam, so think chestnut, caramel, or honey - they'll complement your Taurus vibe perfectly.

Face:You guys are all about that natural glow, so keep your skincare routine on point and use a foundation that enhances your complexion without looking too done-up. eyeshadow - earthy shades like terracotta, sienna, or moss will make your eyes pop! Eyeliner? Keep it subtle, soft, and brown. Mascara? Go for a lengthening formula that makes your lashes look like a million bucks! And brows? Groomed and full, please!

Makeup : Now, let's talk makeup... Lip color? Go bold with a rich shade like plum, burgundy, or a deep berry color. Blush? Soft peach or dusty rose, all the way!

Style: Style-wise, you guys are all about luxury and sophistication.Try cowboy/cowgirl theme aesthetic. Invest in quality pieces that'll last a lifetime, like cashmere sweaters, tailored trousers, or a classic leather jacket. And don't forget to add a statement piece of jewelry, like a bold cocktail ring or a quality watch.

Gemini ascendant ❣️

Hey, Gemini Rising!

Let's start with your hair.

Hair:You guys are all about looking fresh and fabulous, so go for a style that's playful and versatile. Think choppy layers, subtle highlights, or a bold new color to match your adventurous vibe! And don't forget to add some texture with a styling cream or pomade - you want to look like you just rolled out of bed and still managed to look fabulous!

Face : You guys are all about expressing yourself, so don't be afraid to try new looks and take risks! Keep your skincare routine on point and use a foundation that matches your skin tone.,,eyeshadow - bold, bright shades like blue, green, or yellow will make your eyes pop! Eyeliner-Go for a subtle cat eye or a bold graphic look. Mascara? Make those lashes pop with a volumizing formula!

Makeup: makeup wise, Lip color? Go bold with a bright shade like coral, pink, or orange. Blush? Soft peach or dusty rose, all the way!

Style: you guys are all about mixing and matching. Try academia looks, it will look good on you. Pair bold prints with neutral basics, or try a statement piece like a bright scarf or a fun hat.

Cancer ascendant ❣️

Hey Cancer Rising! let's go babies.

Hair : You guys are all about easy, breezy styles that look like you just rolled out of bed (in a good way, obvi). Think soft layers, relaxed updos, or a nourishing hair mask to keep your locks looking luscious.

Face : You're all about glowing from within, so keep your skincare routine gentle and nourishing. Use a foundation that complements your skin tone, and don't be afraid to add a soft, shimmery eyeshadow to make your eyes sparkle. Think light brown, pink, or peach - soft and pretty!

Makeup : Makeup-wise, go for soft, inviting lip colors like rose, peach, or pale coral. And don't forget to add a soft pink or dusty rose blush to give your cheeks a healthy, rosy glow.

Style: you guys are all about comfort and elegance. Think soft basics, cozy cardigans, and flowy dresses that make you feel like a queen. And tbh don't ever try the dark feminine aesthetic, I think it will not suit you the best.

Leo ascendant ❣️

Hey there, Leo Rising babies! Leshh go!

Hair: You guys are all about making a statement, right? Go for a bold, fierce style that's full of volume and texture. Think subtle layers or a sleek updo that shows off that radiant smile of yours!

Face : You guys are all about glowing up, and I am HERE. FOR. IT! Focus on enhancing your natural beauty with a fierce skincare routine and a foundation that matches your skin tone. And don't be afraid to add some drama with bold, shimmery eyeshadow in shades like gold, bronze, or copper.

Make up : Makeup-wise, you guys are all about making a statement! Go bold with a bright lip color like red, coral, or orange. And add some soft peach or dusty rose blush for a radiant glow that's totally on point.

Style: you guys are all about making an entrance! Pair bold basics with statement accessories and shoes that make you feel like a queen. And don't forget to add some drama with a statement piece like a bold scarf or a fun hat.

Virgo ascendant ❣️

Hello Virgo rising babies! Let's dive in ..

Hair: Go for sleek and polished styles that show off your attention to detail. Try smooth blowouts, precise cuts, and a hint of subtle layers.

Face: Take care of your skin with a consistent skincare routine and find a foundation that matches your skin tone. Add a touch of eyeshadow to enhance your natural beauty. Also pay attention to details like waxing your brows, trimming your nails. Take care of your skin by getting enough sleep and staying hydrated.

Makeup: Keep it natural and effortless with light foundation, defined brows, and a swipe of mascara. You want to look like yourself, just a little bit enhanced! Don't try dark themes that's all.

Style: Pair classic pieces with statement accessories and shoes that add a touch of sophistication. Mix and match textures and patterns to keep things interesting.Try light feminine looks. Experiment with different styles until you find what works best for you.

Libra ascendant ❣️

Hi,Libra Rising babies.lets see ,

Hair:Go for styles that are balanced and harmonious, like effortless waves or subtle layers.Avoid extreme lengths or volumes.Try a relaxed, natural look that frames your face and complements your features.

Face: enhance your natural beauty with a consistent skin care routine that includes exfoliating, moisturizing and protecting your skin.Find a foundation that maches your skin tone,provides light to medium coverage.Add a touch of elegance with subtle eyeshadow , defined brows and a swipe of mascara.

Makeup:Keep it classy and sophisticated with light to medium coverage foundation, subtle blush, and defined lashes.Avoid bold or bright colors.Try a soft, natural lip color that complements your skin tone.

Style: Pair classic pieces with stylish accessories and shoes that add a touch of glamour. Mix and match textures and patterns to create a look that's both elegant and eclectic. Avoid over-accessorizing , you want to look polished, not cluttered.

Scorpio ascendant ❣️

Hi, Scorpio Rising peoples.

Let's talk about your hair first.

Hair:Go for styles that are edgy and intense, like bold cuts or dark colors. Emphasize your eyes with fringe (or bangs) that create a mysterious vibe. Try a sleek, low ponytail or a messy, undone look. I know you want to look more mysterious 🙂.

Face:Try some skin care obv.You are all about dark aesthetic.Add depth to your eyes with bold eyeshadow, black eyeliner, and voluminous lashes.

Makeup:Keep it dramatic and intense with bold lip colors.Emphasize your features with contouring and highlighting.( Maddy from euphoria, look at her aesthetic)

Style:Pair dark, bold pieces with statement accessories and shoes that add an edgy touch.Mix and match textures and patterns to create a look that's both intense and intriguing. Try vampire aesthetic.

Sagittarius ascendent ❣️

Hellooo, Sagittarius Ascendant!

Hair:Try a longer, layered cut that frames your face and adds movement to your locks.Emphasize your natural texture with a sea salt spray or texturizing cream.Avoid too much heat styling - you want to look effortless, not overdone.

Face:Exfoliate regularly to keep your skin looking bright and radiant.Use a lightweight foundation that matches your skin tone and provides sheer coverage.Define your brows with a brow gel or pomade for a polished look.

Makeup:Add a pop of color to your look with a bold blush or eyeshadow shade.Try a metallic or shimmer finish to give your eyes a celestial sparkle.Keep your lips soft and hydrated with a nourishing lip balm. also yeah, witchy look will fit good on you.

Style:Pair comfortable, flowy pieces with statement accessories that add a touch of adventure to your look.Mix and match patterns and textures to create a look that's both eclectic and sophisticated. As, Sagittarius relates with teacher theme, so try academia/ teacher aesthetic.

Capricorn ascendant ❣️

Huii, huiii Capricorn Rising! Let's see,

Hair:Try a side part and a sleek, low ponytail to showcase your disciplined style.Use a hair straightener or flat iron to add a touch of sophistication to your look.Avoid too much volume or texture - you want to look polished, not puffy.

Face:Emphasize your natural features with a highlighter or illuminator. Define your eyes with a precise brow shape and a swipe of mascara. Keep your skin looking smooth and refined with a consistent skincare routine.

Makeup:Go for a natural, effortless look with light to medium coverage foundation.Add a touch of warmth with a subtle bronzer or blush. Define your lips with a precise lip liner and gloss.

Style:Mix and match textures and patterns to create a look that's both sophisticated and interesting.Pay attention to details, Try elegant accessories, make sure your clothes are pressed, your shoes are polished, and your accessories are tasteful. Try vintage style aesthetic.

Aquarius ascendant ❣️

Hoii, Aquarius Ascendant! Let's see,

Hair: Add some rebellious volume with a texturizing spray.Emphasize your eyes with a bold, swooping fringe.Try a bold, bright hair color to match your vibrant personality.

Face:Highlight your best features with a radiant highlighter.Define your brows with a bold, angular shape.Add a pop of color with a vibrant lip shade. Indeed, the weirder the better 😂

Makeup:Go for a bold, graphic look with black eyeliner and bright eyeshadow. Add some drama with false lashes or individual lashes.Try a bold, bright lip color to make a statement.

Style:Pair bold, statement pieces with comfortable, laid-back essentials.Mix and match patterns and textures to create a look that's both quirky and chic.Don't be afraid to take risks and try new things. Nerdy aesthetic, alien type aesthetic will suit you.

Pisces ascendant ❣️

Hola,Pisces Rising!

Hair:Add some ethereal waves with a curling iron or wand.Emphasize your dreamy eyes with a soft, wispy fringe.Try a pastel hair color to match your soft, romantic vibe.

Face:Highlight your best features with a subtle, shimmering highlighter. Define your brows with a soft, natural shape.Add a touch of magic with a shimmery eyeshadow or lip gloss.

Makeup:Go for a soft, romantic look with light, natural shades. Ethereal look like , try mythical aesthetic or look at cosplayers. That type of make-up will suit you the best.

Style:Pair flowy, feminine pieces with comfortable, laid-back essentials. Mix and match soft textures and pastel colors to create a look that's both dreamy and chic.Don't be afraid to add some quirky, bohemian touches.

Thanks for reading ✨

-PIKO 💖

[rosemaryhelenxo]

If you're on the hunt for a foundation that feels like a second skin, look no further than the Yves Saint Laurent NU Bare Look Tint Foundation. This revolutionary product has taken the beauty world by storm, and after trying it myself, I can confidently say it deserves every bit of the hype. Rose xo

[melodyanqel]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄 ── ★ h.jh. (001. brighter days)

love at first sight happens between the police officer and a bright, innocent woman. they shared a deep connection that meant they needed each other more than anything, even when they experienced the same nightmare.

⤷ pairing: hwang jun-ho x fem!oc

⤷ genre/tags: fluff, angst, thriller, psychological drama, established relationship, team bonding, financial issues, games, action, betrayal, foreigner!soft!oc, protective!junho

⤷ warnings: mention of depression and trauma

⤷ wc: 2.4k words

⤷ note: the story begins during s2 and im excited when the real action happens

⤷ melodyanqel taglist: @hwallazia @rubyredish @analysisiinternet

❰ 2024, SOUTH KOREA. ❱

Truthfully, Jun-ho and Lily weren’t expecting to have a serious relationship for many reasons. 

One is that they live in different countries. Another big one is their age gap. Sure, they’re both adults and eight years apart but the public will see them as brother and sister. Some would also believe they’re uncle and niece. It could be their appearances and personalities. 

Jun-ho is more mature, stern, and brave, yet has goodwill. 

Lily is so full of life, sometimes shy, and intelligent, but she can be childish. 

Nevertheless, the string between the couple couldn’t break. Jun-ho and Lily are inseparable. Even though it wasn’t easy, they found ways to balance out the relationship.

Indeed, Lily had to confess to her family that she wasn’t lying about being in a long-distance relationship. She loved her family and everything they did, but she was afraid they would think it was all foolish, and dating someone continents away from her was absurd. One day, Jun-ho had to commit. He flew to America to be with Lily and introduce himself to her relatives. 

But then it gets more complicated. 

Jun-ho and Lily must choose which country to stay together even if they’re willing to take their relationship further. So, after discussing it for a while, Lily wanted to live in Korea. It was a bittersweet decision, but her family had never seen her so happy and head over heels for someone. Her parents and older sister may be miles apart but she thinks about them daily.

The daylight comes as such intricately woven threads of gold.

It’s morning and that means it’s a new day. Inside a studio apartment, Lily makes herself something to eat while relaxing music plays in the background. She sips her matcha latte and reads the pink calendar on the wall by the cabinets. 

September 13. Today is Jun-ho’s birthday. 

After eating her breakfast pancakes, Lily has to go to work. Most people can agree that no one wants to show up at their job that they don’t enjoy. However, Lily likes being an elementary teacher at a wonderful school. She is excellent with kids. It could just be her sister has a son who is growing up so fast and she babysits him when she used to live in America. But Lily is passionate about shaping young minds and creating a foundation for lifelong learning.

Not to mention, Lily is the kids’ favorite teacher. They love having her around and find her teaching fun. Plus, Lily has gotten better in Korean. She still has her accent and it's a bit choppy when she speaks but can read, write, and understand the language. 

In her bedroom, she picks out an outfit. Since it’s summer, she’ll wear something casual and formal. The young woman takes out a long white dress with pink flowers, a lightweight cardigan, and sandals. She added small bow clips to her hair.

Lily sometimes wishes she was taller because she is short—five feet and one inch but has the brightest energy. Of course, Jun-ho opposes it. He finds it adorable how she goes on her tippy-toes to dig her face into his chest. 

She then leaves and goes to the subway station. The school is in Ssangmun-dong which is quite far from her apartment, but she likes that it is close to Jun-ho’s workplace. Lily would wait for him outside the police station and go home together. Even though they’ve been dating for two years, they don’t share a space. 

Most couples would do it if it’s more than one year into their relationship, but Lily insists she stays in the studio apartment because it’s affordable. When first moving to South Korea, Lily lived with Mrs. Hwang and Jun-ho. Mrs. Hwang adores her almost like a child of her own. She was super glad her youngest son was proud to be with someone like Lily. 

It’s ordinary for the subway station to be hectic. Lily has the patience but won’t be nice if something or someone ticks her off. She is seen as sweet and kind, but no one should get on her bad side. 

After getting her ticket at the fare, Lily waits for her transportation. While she waits, she takes out her phone to text back her family. The time zone is different but it doesn’t mean she can’t stay in touch with her loved ones. Her parents and sister would send short and sweet messages as motivation. 

But what’s upsetting is that she hardly visits America. 

Lily would get homesick and wonder if she’d see her family more. Call it absurd for her to move out of the country, but Lily hopes to have enough money to let them travel to South Korea. 

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

“Good morning, class! Today, we’ll be doing a lot of fun activities, but the best one of them all is art.” 

In unison, the boys and girls cheered happily because they loved to do art. Even though the kids aren’t professional artists, Lily is amazed by their creativity. 

“We’ll be doing art as our last thing of the day. First, we continue with our spelling, addition, and subtraction. I also expect everyone to be on their best behavior. Understand, class?” Lily finished her instructions. 

“Yes, Ms. Lily!” They complied as wonderful listeners. 

When she first dated Jun-ho, she told him she wanted to teach kids and help them grow with strong minds and great hearts. He was impressed. Jun-ho also wanted to help society by protecting and saving the innocent, and locking up the bad guys. His brother, In-ho, inspired him because he was a police officer and taught him to see the different points of view in the world. 

Subsequently, it’s lunchtime.

Lily and her friend, Park So-eun, whom she has known for two years, are having a break together in the garden. 

“You seemed like you’re in a good mood.” So-eun noticed Lily was happier than usual. She instantly knows what's up whenever her friend acts differently. The American woman munches on her kimbap. She replies, “What do you mean? I'm still the same." A chuckle lets out of her lips. However, So-eun raises an eyebrow. Lily rolls her eyes with a smile because her friend is always in her business, which she doesn't mind.

"It's Jun-ho birthday and we'll be throwing a small party at my place after work. I baked a cake, prepared decorations, and a gift.” Lily tells So-eun about the celebration. She sometimes wonders if her friend ever gets tired of her talking about Jun-ho. But So-eun is a lovely woman—optimistic, caring, level-headed, beautiful, and has no filter. 

“Aww, that’s so sweet!” She claps her hands which makes Lily smile. Then she says, “You know, I still can’t get over how you found someone so damn hot like Jun-ho.” So-eun would be called a liar if she didn’t find Jun-ho attractive. Lily giggles blithely. “I’m the female lead of a K-drama.” She humored and they both laughed in content. 

So-eun clears her throat before responding. “I hope you both have a nice night. I can tell you two are a match made in heaven.” She gives Lily a dose of generosity. A fun fact about her and Jun-ho is that they went to the same college but never knew each other. Now, they are friends. Lily nodded, “Thank you so much.” She’ll always be thankful for everyone’s cordiality. 

So-eun opens her arms, “Come on. I know you need it.” She said. 

Lily snickers, “I know I do.” and accepts the hug. 

When lunchtime is over and the hours pass, it's close to the end of the day. Lily did promise her students about doing art as the last activity. The classroom is full of joy and excitement. Some of her students are wearing aprons to prevent the paint from staining their clothes and some are coloring away with markers, colored pencils, and crayons. She walks from table to table to see they’re all having fun. 

“Ms. Lily! I made something for you!” 

One of her students approaches to give her a drawing. The student’s name is Bo-young and she is the cutest and excellent learner. Lily turns around to see the little girl’s artwork. Her doe eyes widen. “Oh my goodness! It’s beautiful! Thank you, Bo-young!” She appreciates her and takes the paper. 

Bo-young drew Jun-ho and Lily as a royal prince and a princess. She even wrote their names to show who is who. 

The little girl sends a toothy smile. “You’re welcome! I hope Jun-ho samchon will like it.” Jun-ho had come by to the school whenever he was not on duty. The kids immediately love him because he seems like a hero in their eyes and is gentle with them.

Lily bends down to Bo-young’s level. “He will love it. This is incredible.” She assured the talented child. It’s also a perfect birthday gift.

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

Evening graces the sky once more with its ambient deep hues.

Lily is cleaning up the room so she can clock out. The day was a success. Everyone behaved, followed directions, and cooperated. But most importantly, they had fun. While organizing the colored pencils, her phone rang at her desk. Lily stopped to see who was calling her. She goes over and checks it. Her pinky lips etched a smile. Mrs. Hwang is calling. 

She picks it up. “Hello, omonim (mother). How are you?” The pleasant voice of the incredible woman who welcomed Lily into her life without hesitation. 

Mrs. Hwang answers, “I’m doing good, dear. I called you because I made dinner for you and Jun-ho to eat and you can pick it up at the house. I don't want to interfere with your guys' moment together."

Lily can feel her spirit has been uplifted.

“Thank you, omonim. Jun-ho and I will be there soon. Also, your presence makes us happy.” Mrs. Hwang is a wonderful woman. Lily will never stop appreciating her.

"You're welcome. When you reach my age, you'll be surprised how good it feels about not having to do extra dishes and purchasing more food." She raised two boys in most of her youth as a single mother. So, she knows when it's time to let them do their own things.

Lily chuckles because Mrs. Hwang once told her stories about how living with boys every day was a challenge. "But still. Jun-ho will always need you, even when he is a grown man." She reminds the older woman. A mother's love is a deep, unconditional, and unwavering love that a mother has for her child.

Mrs. Hwang says, "Yes, indeed. Well, enjoy your night, dear. Bye-bye." She bids goodbye to Lily. After the call, the young teacher continues to tidy up the classroom and turn off the lights. 

Despite the hot summer air in the daytime, the night brings a comforting breeze. All you need to do is soak in the weather.

Lily can never have enough with the city lights of Seoul. She sometimes can’t believe she lives in this country. But her homeland is just as gorgeous. 

Ssangmun-dong Police Department.

Lily waits outside of the building for Jun-ho to change out his uniform. He was once a detective and is now a traffic officer because he figures he is better at controlling road safety and not catching criminals. That’s what Jun-ho reasoned. 

In honesty, Lily didn’t mind him stepping down as a detective. He once told her it was best for his mental and physical health. Lily may not know what it’s like to be in Jun-ho's shoes when he was a detective but she’ll support any decision he makes. Also, from Lily’s perspective, and possibly others would agree, Jun-ho’s strong-willed yet kind personality is super attractive. He is the man of her dreams. 

“My love, are you ready?” 

The soothing, baritone voice erupts the silence. Lily turns her head to see Jun-ho in casual clothes. His raven hair has grown out and looks more shaggy yet fluffier. Lily sometimes hopes he’ll leave it that way. She replies to her lover. “Yes! But first, we have to go to your omonim’s. She made us dinner and we can spend the night at my place.” Lily is stoked because she had the whole week to set up the celebration. 

Jun-ho sees the elation glimmering in her russet brown eyes. His exhaustion has been erased because of Lily’s bright energy. Jun-ho grins, “Okay. I’m excited.” He abruptly leans close to his beautiful angel’s face. She gets astounded and immediately moves her head back with red cheeks. “Jun-ho!” Lily squeaks. She isn’t used to publicly displaying affection. Jun-ho chuckled because he was going for a kiss on the lips but he pecked her forehead instead. 

His gentle touch still makes Lily go crazy. Well, Jun-ho alone makes her go crazy. 

The lovers intertwine hands, head into the car, and drive through the city. 

“Hey, what did you prepare?” Jun-ho asked. He is curious because Lily is great at surprises. She shakes her head with a playful smile. “No! You have to wait!” She is stalling. It would annoy Jun-ho but with Lily, he’ll let it slide. 

“Fine. Ms. Lily.” He obeyed in English. His gaze glances at his girl. She stared at him all timid. He enjoys teasing her and becoming a shy mess. It’s mean of him to make her flustered. But it’s enduring for someone tough and mighty. 

“You’re suddenly chirpy. Is it because it’s your birthday?” Lily inquired about Jun-ho’s peculiar attitude. He isn’t usually this daring on his birthdays. 

Jun-ho responded, “It could be. I had much worse days but I guess I gave enough hope and nothing happened.” He sounds blunt but is sincere. However, Lily is very understanding of his mental state. 

One year into their relationship, she noticed Jun-ho wasn’t his usual self. He would wake up from nightmares which led to sleep deprivation and he had episodes. Jun-ho tried to convince Lily that he was doing fine until the people began to see the denial of being hurt on the inside.

After looking at himself in the mirror, Jun-ho attempted to smile but it automatically dropped. He did his favorite things like boxing but realized he was releasing negative emotions which made him look like he had anger issues. Jun-ho came to his senses that he wasn’t well. 

He asked the two most important people in his life and they helped in a heartbeat. If only he didn’t know what his brother had become. 

series masterlist | two

[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — golden hours, golden hearts : chapter 007 ! (wc: 1275)

the waiting room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the central heating and the soft background music filtering in from the hallway. you leaned back into the plush sofa, scrolling through your phone, only half paying attention to the emails and notifications that popped up. your mind was already on the shoot, mentally preparing yourself for what would undoubtedly be another successful addition to your portfolio.

the sound of footsteps nearing the door pulled your attention. you sat up slightly, tucking your phone away as the door opened to reveal the assistant from earlier.

"y/n," she said, her tone polite and professional. "your partner has arrived."

you gave her a small smile, curious, as she stepped aside to let him in. the man who entered first was unfamiliar. tall, dressed in a sleek blazer, and showed the calm demeanor of someone used to handling business. he's probably someone important, a manager, perhaps.

his presence was commanding, but your attention quickly shifted to the figure who followed him.

sae itoshi.

you've got to be kidding me.

he stepped in with a quiet confidence, his gaze scanning the room until it landed on you. for a moment, it felt like time stretched thin, the sound of aurora introducing him fading into the background.

"y/n, meet sae itoshi," she said cheerfully. "he's going to be your partner for today's shoot."

you kept your expression steady, the practiced neutrality of a model coming to your rescue. "it's a pleasure to meet you," you said, extending a hand.

sae's handshake was firm but brief, and for a second, you thought you saw a flicker of amusement in his teal eyes. "the pleasure's mine," he replied, his tone even and annoyingly self-assured.

the assistant clapped her hands together. "alright, let's get you both to makeup and wardrobe," she announced, gesturing for you to follow her. sae, of course, fell into step beside you, his quiet presence lingering like the faintest cologne.

in the makeup room, the team worked like clockwork. your stylist began by prepping your skin, dabbing a lightweight foundation that enhanced your natural glow. they went for a sharp yet soft look, emphasizing your cheekbones with bronzer and adding a hint of shimmer to your eyelids.

they adorned you in a structured, black puff-sleeved dress with sheer detailing, a nod to high fashion. you glanced in the mirror and caught the reflection of sae, seated across the room.

his styling was just as flawless. the team dressed him in a tailored black suit, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the top for a touch of casual allure. his damp hair framed his face in tousled waves, as though he'd just stepped off a motorcycle in the rain- unmistakably intentional. sae looked every bit the calvin klein man: refined, enigmatic, and quietly magnetic.

the room buzzed with activity, but he seemed entirely unaffected, his stupid pretty eyes glancing over at you now and then. when your eyes met, he offered a small smile.

you didn't return it.

the assistant reappeared moments later. "both of you look incredible," she gushed, motioning toward the adjoining studio. "let's move on to the set."

the set was stark and modern, with soft lighting and a neutral backdrop that allowed the clothes (and the chemistry) to do all the talking. the photographer explained the vision: bold intimacy, understated sensuality. he gestured to a chaise lounge positioned in the center of the room.

"y/n, you'll stand behind sae for this one. place your hand gently on his jaw, like you're asserting control, but keep it delicate. sae, lean back into her touch. make it powerful but restrained. got it?"

you stepped into position, your heels clicking against the polished floor. standing behind sae, you rested your hands under his jaw as instructed, tilting his head slightly upward. his skin was warm beneath your fingertips, and you felt his adam's apple shift as he swallowed.

"perfect," the photograph murmured.

sae, for his part, was infuriatingly composed, the corners of his lips twitching upward just enough for you to notice. "comfortable?" he murmured under his breath, his voice so low that only you could hear.

"completely," you replied coolly, keeping your focus on the lens.

the camera clicked, capturing the striking contrast between his relaxed posture and your commanding one. the dynamic was undeniable.

for the next shot, they had you lie on a pristine white bed, dressed in a fitted red dress that hugged your figure perfectly. sae joined you, his blazer discarded, leaving him in just the unbuttoned shirt and trousers. the photographer directed you both to rest your heads close together, your hands lightly cradling each other's faces.

the proximity was almost too much. his eyes searched yours, his gaze filled with something unclear. a challenge, maybe. or something deeper.

“try to soften your expression, y/n,” the photographer encouraged. “you look a bit guarded.”

you exhaled and forced yourself to relax, your fingertips grazing his jaw. sae tilted his head slightly, his lips curving upward as if amused by your hesitation.

“you’re tense,” he whispered, his voice a teasing murmur.

“maybe because someone keeps talking,” you shot back quietly, the barest hint of a smile betraying your irritation.

he chuckled, the sound low and rich. "relax, y/n. you’re supposed to act like you like me."

“acting is all it’ll ever be,” you countered, your voice dripping with faux sweetness.

“hmm,” was all he said, his gaze lingering on you a beat too long.

the final set was the most intimate. sae sat across from you, his dark suit contrasting sharply with the soft checkered fabric of your dress. you could feel his presence even before meeting his eyes, a calm yet electrifying energy that somehow always demanded attention.

“lean in closer, both of you,” the photographer instructed. “sae, rest your chin on y/n's hand, and y/n, mirror him. eyes locked. let it feel... natural.”

you hesitated for only a moment, adjusting your position. propping your elbow on the table, sae rested his chin lightly on your palm. you looked at him, and smiled. his face was close. so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

his teal eyes captured yours, their intensity unwavering. the distance between you felt insignificant, as though the room had shrunk to contain only the two of you. you tried to keep your expression neutral, indifferent even, but sae was unrelenting. his gaze wasn’t just looking at you. it was seeing you, disarming in its quiet persistence.

“perfect,” the photographer said, voice low but satisfied. “hold that for a moment. there’s a connection here. stay in it.”

sae’s hand shifted slightly, brushing against yours as if to test your resolve. your breath hitched at the subtle contact, but you refused to break eye contact. if he wanted to play, you weren’t going to make it easy for him.

his smirk deepened, but it was subtle; almost unnoticeable, like he knew something you didn’t. the camera clicked, but the moment wasn’t for the camera anymore. it was for you and him, a silent conversation spoken through the space between your fingertips and the weight of his gaze.

“alright, that’s a wrap for this pose,” the photographer called out, breaking the spell. but even as the room shifted back to its usual bustling rhythm, sae didn’t move right away. his eyes lingered on yours, a challenge and something softer layered underneath it.

finally, you pulled back, retreating from the unspoken tension. sae straightened as well, his movements slow and unhurried, his lips fading into something illegible.

chapter 006 > here > chapter 008

taglist is open ! <3

back to golden hours, golden hearts

a/n: alright first interaction irl yay

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© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[hokmakeupreviews]

Foundation Secrets: Unveiling the Key to a Flawless Base

Foundation is an essential element of your makeup routine, offering the perfect base for your look. Whether you want a natural glow, full coverage, or something in between, the right foundation is key. This guide will help you navigate the world of foundations—explaining the different formulas, coverage types, finishes, and how to select the perfect one for your skin.

What Is Foundation?

Foundation is a makeup product used to create an even base, covering blemishes and imperfections. It smooths the skin, evening out the complexion to provide a flawless canvas for other makeup. There are various types of foundations designed for different skin types and preferences, including liquid, cream, powder, serum, and water-based formulas.

Choosing the Right Foundation for Your Skin

Understanding your skin type is crucial when selecting a foundation. Here's a quick guide:

Oily Skin: Look for matte or oil-free formulas to keep shine under control. Powder foundations can also help absorb excess oil.

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The finish of the foundation will also affect your overall look. A matte finish keeps shine at bay, while a dewy finish imparts a healthy glow.

Foundation Coverage Explained

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Trending Foundation Formulas

In recent years, foundations have evolved to include skincare benefits, making them more than just makeup. The following types are trending:

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Clean Beauty Foundations: Made with non-toxic, natural ingredients, these foundations are great for those seeking eco-friendly products without sacrificing quality.

Lightweight Formulas: These foundations are perfect for everyday wear, offering buildable coverage while feeling light on the skin.

Long-Wear Foundations: Designed to stay in place all day, these foundations are ideal for those with active lifestyles or long workdays.

Foundation Finishes: Natural, Matte, or Dewy?

The finish of your foundation can significantly influence your makeup look:

Natural Finish: This provides a balanced, skin-like appearance—perfect for everyday use. It’s neither too matte nor too dewy, giving you a fresh, natural glow.

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Why Choose HOK Makeup for Your Foundation?

At HOK Makeup, we offer a carefully curated selection of foundations to suit every skin tone, type, and preference. Whether you’re after a light coverage serum foundation or a full-coverage product for special occasions, we’ve got something to meet your needs.

Explore our range of foundations and discover the best match for your skin tone and texture. With options that cater to all types of skin, you’re sure to find the perfect foundation to create your flawless base.

Discover the perfect foundation for your skin here.

[angelnoe9]

Love beyond Deepspace

Chapter 6: Underwater Serenade

Summary of the chapter:

A peaceful day. Shopping with friends, laughter echoing through the streets, and a visit to the aquarium, where the world feels calm and serene. The colors of the ocean swirl around you, and everything feels perfect.

Then, out of nowhere, a warm hug from behind—a surprise in the midst of tranquility. It feels like the start of something beautiful. Could this be the beginning of an aquarium date?

𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚

The soft click of your suitcase wheels follows you as you make your way through the airport terminal, the sterile lighting and distant chatter oddly comforting. You're back. Really back.

After collecting your luggage, you step out into the open air, the city greeting you with the bustle of taxis, honking cars, and people on the move. It’s jarring—this contrast between the quiet intensity of Skyhaven and the grounded, ordinary chaos of the real world.

You slide into the back seat of a taxi, giving the driver the name of your hotel. As the car pulls away from the curb, you take out your phone and dial your friends.

“Hey!” one of them answers almost immediately, her voice bright with excitement. “You finally landed?”

You smile. “Yeah, just got in. On my way to the hotel now. You guys there already?”

“Yep! Room’s amazing. We were just waiting for you to start the real fun.”

A flutter of excitement warms your chest—shopping, sightseeing, food hopping—it all feels like a welcome distraction. Something simple. Something normal.

“Good. I need a change of pace,” you laugh, watching the city blur past the window.

But as much as you try to ground yourself in the moment, a part of you lingers elsewhere—in a gravity-defying world, where a certain colonel still lingers at the edge of your thoughts.

The taxi rolls to a stop in front of the hotel—modern, tall, and glass-paneled, reflecting the fading light of day. You thank the driver, grab your suitcase, and make your way through the rotating doors into the lobby.

Cool air hits your face, scented faintly with something floral. The lobby buzzes with soft conversation and the occasional ring of a bell. After checking in and getting your room key, you head toward the elevator, your heart picking up a little.

A ding, sliding doors, a short ride up—and then you’re standing outside your friends’ room. The moment the door swings open, you're pulled into a flurry of excited voices and warm hugs.

“There she is!” “Took you long enough!” “Okay, spill—how was your flight? Did you sleep the whole way like you always do?”

You laugh, wheeling your bag into the room. “Yeah… something like that.”

They’re already sprawled across the beds and armchairs, half-unpacked bags, a pile of snacks on the table, and shopping brochures scattered around. The room is cozy, the kind of place that promises fun and memories.

“We’ve got a whole list of places to check out tomorrow,” one of them grins, waving her phone. “There’s a street market a few blocks away and a mall with crazy spring sales.”

“Plus,” another chimes in, “we found a café with the cutest latte art. We’re going today.”

You nod, already feeling the buzz of excitement. “Let me freshen up, and I’m all in.”

This was what you came for—new places, spontaneous plans, and time with the people who made everything fun.

After settling into your room, you grab a quick shower, eager to shake off the exhaustion from the flight. The warm water helps clear your mind, but you can’t shake the excitement buzzing inside you. It’s been too long since you’ve had a trip like this—just you and your friends, exploring new places and living in the moment.

You step out of the bathroom and slip into comfortable clothes, then sit at the vanity. Your suitcase is open on the bed, filled with clothes you can’t wait to wear. But first, a little bit of makeup to put some life back into your face.

You start with a lightweight foundation, blending it smoothly across your skin, and then reach for the blush, giving your cheeks a natural flush. You swipe on a bit of mascara to make your eyes pop and finish off with a soft pink lipstick, something casual yet fresh. You glance at the mirror, satisfied with the results, your reflection looking just the right amount of put-together without feeling overdone.

With a few final touches, you gather your things, ready to step out into the city. The buzz of your phone vibrates on the dresser, a message from your friend: "Hurry up! We’re starving over here!"

You laugh to yourself and grab your jacket, throwing it over your shoulder as you head out the door.

The hotel lobby is bustling with activity, and you can feel the energy in the air. Your friends are already waiting for you in the lobby, chatting excitedly about the day’s plans. One of them checks their watch. “Finally! We were about to send a search party for you!”

“Sorry, sorry,” you laugh, “I had to make sure I wasn’t going out looking like I just got off a plane.”

They nod approvingly, eyeing your outfit and makeup. “You look great! Now, let’s get some coffee.”

You all step outside into the warm, bustling street, the city’s charm drawing you in instantly. The sun is setting, casting a golden hue over everything as the sky deepens into soft shades of pink and orange. A slight evening breeze ruffles the leaves in the trees, carrying the scent of freshly baked bread and distant flowers through the air.

“It’s perfect,” one of your friends comments, taking in the beauty of the evening as you all walk down the street.

As you make your way toward the café, the streets come alive with the warm glow of streetlights flickering on. The hum of evening chatter, the distant sound of music from nearby stores, and the occasional honk of a car make the city feel alive in a way that’s almost magical. It’s as though the whole place is winding down from a busy day, settling into the relaxing pace of night.

After a short walk, you arrive at a charming little café tucked between two shops, its exterior decorated with colorful flower boxes and ivy. The sign swings gently in the wind, a handwritten menu on a chalkboard outside. You can already smell the freshly brewed coffee and pastries wafting from inside.

“Let’s grab a table by the window,” one of your friends suggests, leading the way into the cozy café.

Inside, the atmosphere is inviting—low lighting, soft music playing in the background, and the comforting smell of roasted beans. You order a cappuccino and a croissant, settling into the window seat with your friends as the world outside continues to move at its usual pace.

As you take a sip of your drink, the warmth and comfort of the moment settles in. This is exactly what you needed.

The conversation flows easily—catching up on old times, swapping stories, and laughing about the little things that only friends can understand. Outside the window, people stroll by, but for now, you’re content just being here, in the present, with your friends, enjoying this quiet moment before the next adventure.

The evening breeze slips in through the open window, carrying with it the soft hum of the city. Laughter fills the air as you all exchange stories, each one more ridiculous than the last. The familiarity of it is comforting, grounding you in the warmth of friendship.

"I can't believe it's been so long since we were all together like this," one of your friends says, sipping their drink. "Feels like just yesterday we were planning this trip."

You nod in agreement, the weight of the words settling in. It's easy to get caught up in the rush of life, but moments like these remind you to appreciate the simple joys of being with people who truly understand you.

For a brief moment, your mind drifts to your best friend—the one who couldn’t make it because they’re still in rehab. You hope they're doing okay, but the thought brings a quiet sadness. You wish they were here with you, sharing in the laughter, the sights, the little moments.

The barista brings over a tray of desserts, setting down a plate of chocolate croissants and a selection of cakes. You reach for a slice, savoring the delicate sweetness. It’s the kind of indulgence that feels earned after a day of travel and excitement.

"You know, we should totally hit that market tomorrow," another friend suggests, pulling you out of your thoughts. "They’ve got all these handmade goods, and I heard they’re selling these gorgeous scarves. Perfect souvenirs."

You grin at the thought of spending tomorrow exploring. “Count me in. Shopping, sightseeing, all of it. We’ve got to make the most of this trip.”

The conversation shifts to the itinerary, and as you listen to your friends, a sense of excitement fills you again. Tomorrow is another day of adventure, another chance to explore, and you can’t wait to dive in.

The rest of the evening passes in a comfortable haze of laughter, good food, and light conversation. As the last rays of sunlight begin to fade, the café starts to empty, the evening crowd giving way to a quieter, more relaxed atmosphere. The gentle hum of conversation is replaced by the soft clink of dishes being cleared and the faint jingle of a passing bicycle bell.

You glance at the time and realize that it’s getting late, though you’re reluctant to leave the cozy ambiance of the café. Still, the thought of exploring more of the city tomorrow keeps you energized.

“We should probably head back soon," one of your friends suggests, glancing at the time. "We’ve got an early start tomorrow, and we don’t want to miss out on anything."

You nod, a small wave of reluctance washing over you. The city feels so alive at night, the streets glistening under the glow of streetlights, and you’re not quite ready for the day to end. But there’s always tomorrow, and the excitement of what’s to come pulls you forward.

You all stand up, stretching and gathering your things. The cool evening air greets you as you step outside, the streets now alive with the vibrant pulse of nightlife. The city feels different at night—more intimate, somehow, as if it’s drawing you in, showing you a side of itself that’s hidden during the day.

The walk back to the hotel is filled with chatter about plans for tomorrow. The promise of new adventures makes it feel like the night is only just beginning.

Back at the hotel, you all head up to your room, the anticipation of tomorrow’s shopping spree and sightseeing making your steps lighter. You unpack your things, setting your clothes out for the next day, and settle in for the night.

As you lie in bed, the quiet hum of the city outside the window lulls you into a peaceful state. You think about how grateful you are for this trip—the opportunity to reconnect with old friends, explore new places, and create memories you’ll carry with you for years.

For now, you close your eyes and let the promise of tomorrow fill your dreams.

You wake up to the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the curtains. Stretching, you feel the warmth of the day already reaching into the room. Your friends are already up and excited, talking about the day's plans. You quickly freshen up, eager to begin the next adventure.

After a quick breakfast, you head out with your friends. The city streets are full of life, with locals going about their day and tourists like you, wandering in search of new experiences. Today, it’s all about shopping, and the boutiques and stores are bustling with energy.

You find yourself trying on new clothes—bright, colorful tops, stylish pants, and a couple of cute accessories that make you feel like a local. There’s so much to choose from, and the excitement of it all makes you feel a little more connected to the city. Laughter fills the air as you pose for photos with your friends, capturing moments of joy. You even pick out a local souvenir for your best friend, hoping they’ll love it when you finally get to see them again.

After shopping, your stomach growls, reminding you it’s time for lunch. Your friends lead you to a cozy restaurant nearby. The pizza is perfectly cheesy, and the spaghetti is a comforting blend of rich flavors. You chat about everything and nothing, enjoying the moment and each other's company.

Feeling full and content, your friends suggest going to the beach. You hesitate for a moment, remembering that you can’t swim, but the idea of the beach sounds relaxing. So, you agree to just sit by the water and enjoy the view while they splash around in the waves.

As they rush toward the water, you settle on a spot by the shore, letting the cool breeze wash over you. You pull out your phone and start browsing nearby attractions, trying to find something to do while your friends enjoy the water. A few minutes later, your eyes light up as you discover an aquarium just a ten-minute walk from the beach.

Excitedly, you tell your friends about it, and they agree to head over there after their swim. The walk is short and refreshing, and soon enough, you find yourself standing in front of the aquarium. The moment you step inside, it’s like entering a different world. The lighting is soft and magical, and the tanks are filled with vibrant sea life. You lose yourself in the exhibits—mesmerized by the jellyfish floating gracefully, the playful penguins waddling around, and the dolphins swimming in perfect harmony. The sharks and whales make your heart race, but there’s a serene beauty to it all.

You walk through the aquarium, lost in awe, until you suddenly feel a warmth press against your back. Before you can react, a hand covers your mouth, silencing the surprised gasp that rises in your throat. You freeze for a moment, your heart racing.

"Cutie," a familiar voice whispers near your ear—low, smooth, and laced with affection. "I’ve been thinking about you."

Your breath hitches. You turn slowly, heart pounding.

“Rafayel?” you whisper.

He’s right in front of you—soft eyes, a tender smile, the kind of expression that says he’s been holding onto the thought of you for far too long.

Your mind races. “H-How…?” you murmur, eyes darting around.

But something’s off.

The lighting, the layout—this isn’t the same aquarium you were just in. The displays are different. The people are gone. Even the air feels strange—almost unreal. That’s when it hits you.

You’re not in your world anymore.

You’re back in his.

Rafayel chuckles gently, his hand brushing a stray hair from your cheek. “I had this sudden urge to visit the aquarium today,” he says, almost in disbelief himself. “Didn’t think I’d find you here… but maybe I was hoping I would.”

He takes a slow step closer, his gaze never once leaving yours.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he says softly. “It’s been driving me crazy. You have no idea how hard it is to look away from you now that you’re here.”

And just like that, the world narrows to this moment—just you, him, and the quiet pull that brought you together again.

Rafayel extends his hand to you, palm up, eyes warm with unspoken emotion.

“Come on,” he says gently. “Let me show you around.”

You hesitate for only a moment before your fingers slip into his. His touch is cool but grounding, and the moment your hand finds his, everything else blurs into the background.

The soft lighting of the aquarium casts a surreal glow as you both walk side by side. Rafayel doesn’t rush—he moves slowly, like he’s memorizing every second, every step you take with him.

“This place… it’s one of the few spots that calms me,” he murmurs, glancing toward a glowing tank filled with floating jellyfish. The bioluminescent lights reflect in his eyes, painting them with an otherworldly hue. “It feels like time stops here.”

You both pause in front of a wide tunnel tank. Sharks glide overhead, and schools of silver fish move in perfect unison around you.

“You look like you belong here,” he says softly, still watching you. “Among beauty. Peace. Magic.”

You laugh under your breath, your heart fluttering at the unexpected compliment. “You’re just saying that.”

“I never just say anything when it comes to you,” he replies, voice low, sincere.

A pod of dolphins swims by in the next exhibit, and Rafayel tugs you gently closer to the glass. One dolphin presses its face near, and Rafayel leans toward it with a grin. “See? Even they like you.”

You roll your eyes with a smile, and Rafayel watches you like he’s never seen you smile before. His fingers tighten slightly around yours.

“I didn’t know how much I missed this,” he admits. “Just being with you. Just… us.”

The aquarium continues around you, full of shimmering lights and the gentle lull of water. But none of it shines quite like the quiet moment you’re sharing now—with Rafayel, hand in hand, in a place that somehow feels like it was made just for the two of you.

As you move deeper into the aquarium, the soft sounds of flowing water and distant whale calls create a tranquil symphony around you. Rafayel never lets go of your hand. If anything, his grip grows more secure—as if afraid you might disappear again.

You pass through the dimly lit corridor where glowing tanks of deep-sea creatures pulse with bioluminescence. The surreal light dances across his features, painting his face in hues of blue and violet. He looks almost ethereal like this—like he belongs to another world.

“You know…” he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, “I didn’t come here expecting to find you. I just… had this sudden urge to visit the aquarium. I thought I needed a distraction.” He turns to look at you, his gaze steady. “But maybe it wasn’t random at all.”

“I’ve been thinking about you too much,” he says quietly. “So much that it’s like the universe brought us back together just to ease the ache.”

Your heart skips.

You watch him for a moment longer, then tug him toward another exhibit—the penguins. They’re waddling around, some swimming, others slipping and tumbling across the icy terrain.

Rafayel chuckles, eyes lighting up. “They remind me of you.”

You raise a brow. “Excuse me?”

He smirks. “Cute. Always stealing attention. And absolutely chaotic in the most endearing way.”

You elbow him playfully, but your cheeks are already warm.

As you both wander deeper into the aquarium, it feels less like you’re in a public place and more like your own quiet little world. Every soft laugh, every lingering look between glowing tanks, carries a strange magic—like the kind that only exists between people who have missed each other more than they’re willing to admit.

Eventually, you reach a final exhibit—a huge cylindrical tank filled with glowing blue fish, slowly rotating like stars in an underwater galaxy. Rafayel stops, gazing up at it, then looks back at you.

“Next time,” he says softly, “don’t wait so long to come back to me.”

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re not sure what to say.

Because somehow, it doesn’t feel like you came back to him.

It feels like he’s the one who found you.

You’re still lost in the moment when Rafayel suddenly shifts beside you, his hand tightening slightly around yours. That playful glint returns to his eyes as he turns to face you, a spark of excitement lighting up his features.

“There’s something I want to show you,” he says, voice soft but tinged with excitement.

You blink. “There’s more?”

He grins, then gestures toward a hallway roped off to the public. The lights are dimmer here, and the sound of water echoes more clearly. As you follow him, you notice something strange—there’s no one around. Not a single staff member, no other visitors. Just you, Rafayel, and the distant shimmer of blue light ahead.

He leads you to a room dominated by a massive tank stretching from floor to ceiling. Through the glass, an underwater world glows, peaceful and untouched. Coral reefs, soft rays of sunlight piercing the water, schools of fish darting between rocks—it’s breathtaking.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he murmurs, but he’s looking at you, not the tank.

You nod, unable to look away from the scene before you. “It’s like another world.”

He turns to you then, his expression shifting to something more tender. “I want to take you there.”

You blink, startled. “What?”

Rafayel steps closer, his hand brushing your cheek. “You can’t swim, I know.” His voice is gentle, reassuring. “But you remember, don’t you? If I kiss you… you’ll be able to breathe underwater.”

Your breath catches.

His eyes search yours. “Will you trust me?”

You nod before your brain can catch up.

He leans in slowly, like he’s giving you every second to pull away—but you don’t. His lips meet yours in a soft, deep kiss, and the world tilts. Warmth blooms through your chest, your skin tingling as something shifts inside you—light, weightless, like you’ve been pulled into a dream.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours. “You’ll be okay,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

He guides you to the edge of the tank and, still holding your hand, steps in first, effortlessly pulling you with him. The moment you sink beneath the surface, your panic rises—only for it to vanish the instant Rafayel wraps his arms around you.

You can breathe.

Not just breathe—feel. The water doesn’t choke you. Instead, it embraces you like silk. Your hair floats around you, the light catching on every strand. Rafayel smiles and brushes a strand from your face, his hands never straying far from you.

The sea life seems to notice your presence. Fishes swirl around you, curious and gentle, like they’re welcoming you. Jellyfish drift by in slow, hypnotic pulses. A stingray glides just inches away, and tiny bubbles rise around you like stars.

You laugh in awe, the sound soft and airy in the water, and Rafayel watches you with clear adoration in his eyes.

“You look like you were born to be here,” he says, voice echoing through the water directly into your mind.

You shake your head, wide-eyed. “This is insane.”

He leans closer, smirking. “Insanely romantic?”

You roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away.

And as he leads you deeper into the heart of this glowing dream, his hand never letting go of yours, you realize this—whatever this is—feels like magic. Not just because of the wonder around you…

But because it’s with him.

The deeper you two swim, the more at ease you become. The water is calm, the world above a distant memory as you float alongside Rafayel. Every moment feels surreal, like you’re caught in a beautiful dream that you never want to wake up from.

Rafayel’s eyes glint mischievously as he pulls you toward a large coral formation. “So, you’re not afraid of the water anymore?” he teases, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You roll your eyes, but the smile that escapes betrays you. “I’m still getting used to it.” Your voice echoes softly, surrounded by the sounds of the underwater world—bubbles and the rhythmic movement of fish.

“Oh? I thought I was the one making you feel safe.” He pulls you a little closer, his fingers brushing against yours under the water. “Don’t worry, though. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You smile, but your heart flutters at the closeness of him. “You better not. I’ve got my eyes on you, Rafayel.”

His smile turns into something more intimate. “Oh? Keeping me in check, are you?” He teases, brushing a few bubbles away from your face.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Someone has to. You’re always so full of yourself.” But the teasing tone in your voice falters when his gaze softens, and for a brief moment, it feels like time slows.

“You’ve got me all to yourself right now,” he murmurs, his voice lower, just for you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And then he does something unexpected—he grabs a fish by the tail, making a playful face at it. “See? I’ve got all the fish under control. They listen to me.” His grin is wide, and the fish seems to dart off in a flurry, as if not impressed with his antics.

You can’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of you as you watch Rafayel. His antics are so effortlessly charming, and for a moment, you forget about the world outside the water. It’s just the two of you in this strange, magical space.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, the affection in your voice undeniable.

“I try,” he replies, a smirk on his lips. “But I’m still not as ridiculous as someone who trusted me enough to dive into the water, knowing they can’t swim.”

You narrow your eyes playfully, pretending to think about it. “I wasn’t exactly planning on diving, you know.”

“Really?” His voice is smooth, teasing. “You didn’t feel the need to do something dramatic?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “No, not particularly.”

“Well, I think it’s romantic,” he murmurs, his expression suddenly serious, his voice laced with a quiet intensity. “I’ve never wanted anything more than to be with you like this.”

And for a heartbeat, the teasing stops. The world around you fades into a gentle, shimmering bubble of warmth. Rafayel’s gaze is steady, his hold on you grounding yet gentle. You can feel his heart beating just as fast as yours.

Before you can say anything, Rafayel’s smirk returns, and his voice is laced with mischief again. “But you know, I still think you owe me one for trusting me so much. Maybe I’ll collect on that favor soon.”

You blink in surprise. “What do you mean?”

He laughs, the sound light and full of teasing warmth. “I’m still waiting for that kiss. You know, the one that makes it official.”

Your eyes widen, a blush creeping up your neck as you glance away, pretending to be shy. “Oh, come on, Rafayel. We’re underwater! You’re not going to pull something like that on me now.”

But he just chuckles softly, swimming closer until he’s right in front of you, his hand gently cupping your cheek under the water. The world feels even quieter now, more intimate.

“I was just kidding,” he says, his voice so soft it’s almost drowned out by the sound of the water. “Or maybe… I wasn’t.”

And before you can respond, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that makes everything else disappear. The underwater world around you feels even more magical as his kiss deepens, and for a moment, it’s just you and him—floating, connected in a way that’s nothing short of perfect.

When he pulls away, his eyes linger on yours, filled with something that makes your heart skip a beat. “Now that,” he says softly, “was worth the dive.”

As the kiss lingers in the water, you feel a warmth spreading through you, not just from the moment but from something deeper. Rafayel pulls back slowly, his fingers still gently holding yours under the water, his gaze soft yet intense.

“I’ve been wanting to give you something,” he says, his voice calm but filled with a quiet excitement. He takes your hand, guiding you to a rocky outcrop beneath the water where you both sit for a moment, the peaceful world of the aquarium stretching out around you.

Reaching into a small pocket hidden in his clothing, he pulls out a delicate bracelet made of pearls and tiny seashells, the smooth, iridescent beads catching the faint light from the water. The craftsmanship is stunning, each shell perfectly matched, each pearl gleaming softly like the moon on the ocean. It’s a subtle yet beautiful piece, with a touch of the ocean’s magic in every detail.

“I made this for you,” Rafayel says, his voice low and a little shy, a side of him you rarely see. “I wanted to give it to you the next time we met, and now it seems like the perfect moment.”

You stare at the bracelet, your breath catching as you realize just how much thought and care he’s put into it. You never expected something like this—something so personal, so meaningful.

He holds it up in front of you, his fingers brushing lightly against your wrist as he waits for you to take it. “It’s simple, but I hope you like it. Every time you wear it, I want you to think of me. Of this moment. and of us.”

You blink, a little overwhelmed by the emotions swirling inside you. You take the bracelet gently from his hands, your fingers brushing against his skin, and feel a surge of warmth that has nothing to do with the water. “Rafayel… it’s beautiful. I love it.”

His smile softens, his eyes gleaming with something that feels so much like hope. “I’m glad,” he says quietly. “I want you to remember me, no matter where you are. Even when we’re apart. This is just a small way of saying… I’m here. With you.”

You clasp the bracelet around your wrist, feeling its smooth, delicate presence against your skin. And as the underwater world around you continues to flow, time seems to stop, leaving only the two of you—sharing something deeper than words, a connection that feels like it could last forever.

The weight of the moment lingers in the air as you both float there, surrounded by the peaceful serenity of the underwater world. You’ve been submerged for longer than you realized, the calmness of the water making time feel like it’s stood still. The gentle rhythm of the ocean, the soft swaying of the seaweed, and the quiet presence of the fish all create a sense of belonging. But as much as you’re reluctant to leave this world behind, you know it’s time.

Rafayel’s voice breaks the silence, soft and knowing. “We should probably head back soon. You’ve been under the water for a while, and I’m sure you’re getting tired.”

You nod, though part of you wants to stay a little longer, to linger in the beauty of the moment. Rafayel reaches out, his fingers brushing against your arm once more, and helps guide you back toward the surface. The water feels cooler as you rise, and the weightlessness you’ve been enjoying starts to fade as your feet find the bottom once again.

You both step out of the tank, water dripping from your clothes and hair as you make your way to the edge, where the soft hum of the aquarium begins to return to normal. Rafayel offers you a towel, and you take it gratefully, wrapping it around your shoulders as the world around you starts to shift back to reality.

His hand lingers on your arm for a moment longer, his touch light but grounding. “I wish we could stay here longer,” he says with a hint of longing in his voice, “but I know you need to go back. You have your world, and I… I’ll be here, waiting for you.”

You look up at him, and for a brief moment, everything else seems to fade. There’s just you and him, caught in a quiet moment of understanding. You don’t know what’s going to happen next, but you know this—when it comes to Rafayel, time feels like it can stand still, even when it can’t.

“I’ll be back,” you promise softly, your heart full as you look into his eyes.

With a final, lingering touch, you leave the magical world behind, stepping back into the world you know, the real one. But even as you do, you carry a piece of Rafayel with you, tucked into your heart like the bracelet on your wrist—a reminder that no matter where you are, the connection between you both remains unbreakable.

As you step away from the aquarium, the cool evening air brushing against your skin, you hear your friends’ voices calling to you from behind. Their laughter and chatter break the peaceful silence you had just shared with Rafayel, and you turn to find them approaching, their faces bright with excitement.

“Sorry we took so long!” one of them calls out, a playful note in their voice. “Are you bored waiting around by yourself?”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you as you wave them over. “No, not bored at all. I was just enjoying the quiet,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light.

As they get closer, one of them’s eyes catch on the bracelet that’s now wrapped around your wrist, glinting in the fading sunlight. "Whoa, that’s so beautiful! Where did you get it?" she asks, her gaze fixed on the delicate pearls and seashells. “It looks... special.”

You glance down at the bracelet, your fingers lightly brushing over it. The memory of Rafayel’s gentle gift fills you with a quiet sense of happiness. Without thinking, you reply, "I got it from someone precious to me." The words slip out without hesitation, and you find yourself feeling protective of the memory attached to it.

The curiosity in their eyes is obvious, but they don’t press further. One of them leans in, a teasing grin on their face. “Ooh, sounds mysterious. Who’s the lucky person?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s a secret,” you say, your tone light but firm. "I’m not ready to share just yet."

Your friends exchange glances, clearly intrigued, but they respect your silence. “Alright, alright. We won’t pry," another one teases, but there's no malice behind it—just playful curiosity.

The group’s laughter fills the air again as you head out of the aquarium, but in your heart, the memory of Rafayel’s gift lingers, warm and comforting. Even as you turn back to your friends, the bond you share with him feels more tangible than ever, and the quiet secret between the two of you is something you carry with a sense of quiet joy.

𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚𓇼🐚

Taglist below.

If you would like to be added or removed from the tag list please leave a comment or send me a message.

@beaconsxd @young-adult-summer @froleineeeee @dissociativewriter @mansonofmadness @michiluvddr @m0ss-gremlin @mephisto-with-a-knife @white-wolves-and-golden-sunrises @yoongi-tunes @ladyof-themoon @jadeloverxd @shewrites247 @sinnamon-bunn @imhere2dosomething @mysticcollectionvoid @poptrim @godoffuckedupcats @babyx91 @browneyedgirl22 @szafficat @notleclerc @crystalfay

[tipdunyasi]

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[formulaforza]

—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. winter, the first time. the start of the year, the start of it all. minors dni, nsfw warnings under the cut. 7k words part two part three part four part five

18+ because: brat taming, fingering, oral (f receiving), name calling, spit, unprotected sex, overstimulation, booty call!, masturbation (f receiving), voyeurism, mad sass, fucking porn without plot basically.

There’s nothing special about the club scene in Monte Carlo. If you’ve been to a club in any major city, anywhere in the world, you’ve been to a club in Monaco. It’s all neon lights and kaleidoscope colors and poorly lit dance floors and mid-tier DJs who think they’re the next coming of Jesus. 

Tonight is no exception. The air is thick and heavy with the scent of floral perfume and alcohol, the entire room shaking with the pulsating beat of the bass, reverberating off every single corner and shaking the liquor in your glass. Bodies move—yours included—half in sync with the music, half in step with their drunken stupor. Perched in the safety of Charles’s section, away from the swaying forms of laughter and shouting and screaming, your entire body thumps alone to the beat from the DJ booth a couple meters away. 

Across the section, Charles sits stoic on a couch, taking up a seat and a half and frozen like some magnetic force. His eyes are stuck on you in a way that pulls goosebumps from your skin, makes you irrational angry at him. You’re feeling particularly bratty today, egged on by the tequila and his visible annoyance. 

You’re on your way to interject into his pity party when your sister catches your arm, pulls you by your bicep to dance with her. Her palms are sweaty and cold and you hope that it’s the condensation from her cold glass that’s got her all clammy. The two of you have always been quite a sight after a few drinks. You get your tolerance from your mother, are both disastrous lightweights, feel the need to give any and everyone around you a show. 

The two of you twirl to the music with little effort, laughing like you’re seven and the hazard littered floor under your feet is the old brown carpet from the family room you grew up hosting dance parties in. It’s all hair and giggles and hands in the air like you just don’t care. Everytime your glance catches his, he’s staring back, nursing his drink and half participating in a conversation with your brother-in-law and Jo. 

“What’s his fucking problem?” you ask, leaning over to shout into your sister’s ear.

“He can’t dance,” she slurs. You snort. He can dance.

You whistle, loud and commanding and cat-call-ish even though he’s already watching you. “Charles! Get out here and dance, you fucking buzzkill!”

Your sister joins in on the fun, playfully swaying her hips to the music, tossing out an imaginary fishing line to her husband and reeling him over, calling along teasingly to Charles. “Yeah, show us what you’ve got, Il Predestinato!”

Charles rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “I don’t dance,” he calls back with a soft chuckle. He tries to play it cool, like always, but everyone in the room knows you’re pushing his buttons. You always are. The reason he keeps you around is the same reason you stay around; your families’ relationship predates any animosity between the two of you. That, and the friend group was founded before you loathed each other and it would be too much work to try and split it up now. You’d probably never see Joris again. 

You dance closer to him, putting on a dramatic show and a poor fight against the urge to continue challenging him. “Come on,” you tug on his arm, just out your bottom lip into a pretty little pout. “Live a little.”

He’s never been able to turn down one of your challenges, however thinly veiled they might be. It’s his own personal sore spot, the one that you poke and prod as often as you can. Competition has always been the foundation of your mutual annoyance, it’s not going to suddenly change after some eighteen years of consistency. Finally, he relents, lets you think you’re pulling him to his feet, dragging him to dance with you and your sister. 

His moves are stiff and awkward, almost hard to watch. You laugh, because he’s wound up so fucking tight in two weeks you’d have a diamond. “See!?” your sister laughs, the contagion of it spreading to even the brunt of the joke. “I told you!” she continues, slinking her arm around her husband’s neck sloppily. His arm grips her side to hold her steady. It makes you feel sick. 

A smirk tugs on his lips, and for a brief moment, there’s a hint of something more in his eyes. Not annoyance or frustration. Something seven, something innocent and childish. It’s fleeting, and you take a deep breath because the music feels quieter now. You down what’s left of  your cocktail to clear your head, to calm the sudden flutter of nerves. 

The more he drinks and the longer he’s forced to dance, the lighter and more magnetic he becomes. “You know, Charles, I never thought I’d see the day,” you tease. He’s been in a near constant state of pity-party for weeks now, ever since his dumb ass got dumped by another girl wildly out of his league. 

He rolls his eyes, but his tone is as amused as it is drunk. “Don’t get too excited. It’s the liquor,” he retorts, a piss poor attempt at downplaying how much fun he’s having. He wouldn’t dare to give you the satisfaction. You lean in closer, brush your body against his, fueled by the noise and the alcohol. 

“The liquor doing the touching, too?” you ask. 

He’s always been a touchy drunk. Since before you and your friends were allowed to drink, he’s been hands-on. And maybe it’s because this is the first time he’s grabbing your hips, the first time his broad hand is flat over your stomach, but you’d never noticed him as this touchy with his girlfriends or his girls that appear when he’s around. Whatever it is, the more he drinks, the more comfortable he is with his hands on you, and the less you find the nerve to care. 

It doesn’t matter how many times he does it, though. Every touch burns your skin. It’s a sick little game you two play. Sick and twisted and so, so unlike the two of you. 

Watch yourself—he warns, hand on the small of your back. You play with fire. Well established and well documented, though; you never back down either. No, the thrill of annoying him is enough to dive head-first, to push his buttons until they stick. “Am I?” you ask, as innocently as the tequila can muster, taking hold of his wrist and moving it so his arm is wrapped around your midsection, fighting to settle in the space between your waistband and shirt hem. 

You respond to every one of his careful touches, ever lingering finger on your arm and your waist and your back. When you close your eyes, you imagine the nonsense patterns he draws on your skin like it’s on canvas in a museum, hung front and center just for you. Your inhibitions are slipping too, and you let yourself trail wandering fingertips over his body, too.

This isn’t the Charles you’re used to, the one you go head-to-head with every fifteen minutes. This is something entirely new, so far into uncharted territory you’re not even sure which way is north. There’s something particularly intriguing about the nerves bouncing around your gut. 

Everything fades away into the dark and crowded club. You don’t know if your sister and brother-in-law are still standing there, if any of your friends are. All you know if the electric charge of this, of every teasing remark and touch that draws you closer, forces you to test the waters of the newfound layer of tension. 

Everything is building, it feels like, to some grand crescendo of emotion and desire. Before there’s room to explore it, though, to dive deeper into the unspoken shift, the moment is interrupted by the return of the friends you didn’t notice leaving. 

The night drags on, the lines between annoyance and attraction blurring into some chaotic muddle of intoxication. Nothing is clear, nothing except the sobering and unignorable pull. It lingers in the air above you, in the space between like a secret just begging to be unraveled. 

You’ve got another drink now, because you can only think of one decision that would be worse than more tequila. In due time, you’re worried you’re a lost cause when it comes to that choice as well. His eyes stay on you, even from a distance, and you revel in the glory of his attention. Embolden by it all, you continue fucking with him. “Having fun yet, Charles?” you ask, knowing smile, voice dripping in subtle suggestion. 

He raises a brow, the corners of his lips quirking up. You don’t think you’ve ever spent much time looking at them, the soft shade of pink and the softer skin. “I suppose I can tolerate it,” he replies with teasing eyes. He’s irritated by your laugh, by your proximity, by your lips brushing against his ear when you whisper; you’re not the only one here trying to have fun. His jaw tightens but he doesn’t take your bait. Instead, he pulls you closer, sways in rhythm with you and replies, “I’m here to enjoy myself, not entertain you.”

He sends your brattiness running full-tilt. Forces you to carefully consider every movement, every ounce of playfulness that you allow to seep into your demeanor and the proactive sway of your hips. You grin at him every chance you get, sly and calculated, daring him to resist.  

You lean in close, brush against his ear and can blame it on practicality, on the bass and the music and the DJ if anyone were to question your actions. You rest a hand on his chest. “I know you love my attention.”

His breath hitches at your audacity, heart racing so quick you can feel it in your palm. He pulls you closer, dangerously close to your lips and says, “you talk too much. Maybe it’s time someone shuts you up.”

You scoff, low and teasing. “I’d like to see you try.”

[18 minutes later]

You step into the well-lit lobby less than a pace behind him. Your hands are interlocked, have been for every block of the darkened streets—since he grabbed yours and pulled you out of the club. “Admit it,” you giggle. “You love having me push your buttons.”

He remains stoic, jaw set as he pushes the button on the elevator. The tension is at a boiling point. You’re either about to kill each other, to be on the news for some grand double murder, or something so, so much worse is going to unfold. 

He leads you to the apartment without a word, but as soon as the door closes behind him, all is lost. Your head is bumping into the drywall before you even realize what’s happening, his lips harsh against yours, the pent up frustration and desire snapping like a dried twig. 

It’s fierce and passionate and while you never, not for a single moment in your life, imagined what he would taste like, you somehow knew it would be like this, cool and fresh and drunk. He licks into your mouth, messy and intense, teeth clacking and both of you fighting for some nonexistent upper hand. 

Fireworks are going off outside. They shake the windows with explosive gravitas as you’re blindly led by his backwards steps down the hallway. You realize that in an entire lifetime of knowing each other, this is the first time you’ve been in his place. It’s not what you expected, from what you can gather—all clutter and red cars and a boy who never had to drop his dream. “They’re going to look for us,” you say between sloppy, open mouthed kisses. 

He mumbles against your skin, strong hands on either side of your jaw. “Let them look.”

You walk through a doorway, into a bedroom clad with clutter and blue sheets. He would have blue sheets. There’s another firework, loud and booming, it makes you jump. You check your watch over his shoulder, pretend your hand doesn’t shake. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Okay.” Your knees bump into his and he sits on the edge of the bed.

You laugh, climb onto his lap, your arms strewn around his shoulders, broad and strong and you laugh again–this time into his mouth. What the fuck is going on. Seriously, what the fuck is this? “Happy New Year.”

He sighs, pulls his mouth from yours long enough to roll his eyes, to speak annoyedly into the hot air between your lips. “Yeah, whatever. Happy New Year.”

“Charles,” you mutter, hand on his chest. You think he’s going to regret this more than you will. People have always told you he’s the best kind of person. You’re not held in the same regard, and you know it. Some people are made to regret and others are made to be the regret. 

“Jesus Christ,” he laughs, but it’s curt and passive. Annoyed, as always, even when he palms at your ass, traces his hands along the bottom of your hiked up dress and pulls you down against him with a bruising grip. “Shut the fuck up.” You tug at the hem of his shirt, pull it off over his head in a swift movement. 

“You’re doing a piss-poor job at making me.”

He moves you like you’re a fucking doll, like it’s lightwork, tossing you down against the mattress and swapping your positions in a swift movement. The strength and agility of it makes your head spin. He’s not supposed to make your head spin, he’s supposed to make it ache. 

But no, no. You do ache for him. All of you aches for him, for his calloused hands and the roughness of his jeans against your thighs and the soft contrast of his lips against everything else. It’s embarrassing. You can’t believe he’s got you like this, hands pinned above your head while he buries his tongue in your mouth, grinds his hips against yours. The coarse denim is almost painful on your sensitive skin, but the growing bulge pulling the fabric tight is more intoxicating than any cocktail. 

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he says, bites a bruise against the skin just above your clavicle. “Spoiled little shit.”

He sinks to his knees, big blue or green or whatever fucking color his eyes are today watching you intently, boring into you with blown, hungry pupils.  His fingers trail along your underwear, pulling the thin, lacey fabric to the side, and then removes them all together. He gloats when he runs his thumb through your folds. “So fucking wet.”

“It’s not for you,” you goad. 

“Oh?” He nods slowly, spreading your slick with the steady digit, watching you carefully for reaction. “For who then?”

Your eyes flutter shut when the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, circles it slowly, teases you. He’s unfocused, his mind lapsing and giving you a much needed in, a clear shot to piss him off. “Your teammate.”

“Fuck off.” You first. 

“You’re right, Charles,” you speak slowly, careful to control your breathing, to hide every tell you might have. “Someone should shut me up. Do you know anyone?” Without warning, he thrusts two fingers inside you, curls them like someone had given him a diagram of your body. You gasp at the suddenness of it all. Yeah, he mutters, utterly delighted with himself. Yeah, I think I know someone.

You roll your eyes, push his head down, down, mouth onto your core. There, in the midst of licking a long stripe through your cunt, he fucking laughs, shakes his head with a subtlety you’d never perceive if it wasn’t for the tip of his nose bumping your clit when he does it. At least he can follow basic fucking instructions. 

His dick must hurt pretty damn bad, all hard and swollen in his pants, because he’s unbuttoning his jeans and freeing himself from the constraints of the fabric while lapping at you, the other hand still fucking into you with steady pace and hazy curl. You can’t see it, view obstructed by the mattress and limbs and hair, but you can tell by the way his shoulders move that he’s trying to get himself off at the same time he works on you. 

You’re not going to make his job that easy. You require all of his attention, pure and undivided and hopefully just as infuriated as you are. You reach down to the apex of your legs, pull his head up by his chin. “Just fuck me, already, you prick.”

He rises to his feet, shakes his head, “you’re a needy little thing,” he remarks. Needy? You haven’t fucking seen needy. 

He guides the head of his cock through your folds, spreading slick and spit and smacking himself against your cunt. 

Your lips purse into a sharp line. “Don’t tease me.”

“Why not?” He taunts, “you’ve been teasing for hours.”

“It’s different,” you grumble. 

“How?” You could strangle him, him and all his questions. What’s a person have to do to get fucked properly around here? You already sacrified your morals by pulling tight against the navy blue sheets.  A woman can only make so many sacrifices. 

You groan, heavy and exasperated. He’s such a pest. “It just–oh, fuck you–” without warning, he plunges into you, buries himself in your cunt until he bottoms out, skin on skin and the sore sting of him stretching you. Your fingers bruise into his arms, nails scraping over his shoulder blades with a gasp. He gives you no time to adjust to him, rutting into you with deep, measured thrusts. What was that, he prodes. Somehow, you find the poise to stabilize yourself, to reply smugly. “it just is.”

His objective isn’t your pleasure, no. That would be his prerogative, a side privilege, a requirement in his quest to get you to close your mouth and stop pestering for once. Making you come is just another box to check. 

You don’t fuck someone if you’re not going to finish, though. Sleeping with Charles might be a lapse in judgment, but being someone’s play toy, letting him reap without sowing, that’s a complete disregard of your dignity

Your fingers find your clit, circle it in just the right sequence, combining with the curve of his cock to push you closer, closer, closer to the edge of the fucking world. Your entire body burns, everywhere, all over, all at once you sweat. Tell me–he insists, voice short and breathy. Tell me when you’re going to come. “I thought you were trying to shut me up?”

“Just, fuck, just tell me.” He palms over your breasts, still covered by your bra and the fabric of your dress, however thin. “So many fucking clothes,” he grumbled, stalling inside you, hands slipping under your back, between you at the mattress to pull you off the bed. You hastily pull the dress over your head, toss it somewhere onto the clothing cluttered floor. Better? You ask. “Better,” he nods, bites your bottom lip roughly, licking against your teeth. One of the hands that explore the skin of your back make quick work of the clasp on your bra, dropping the straps from your shoulders and your back is against the sheets again, his hands groping at you, pinching your nipple between his middle and ring finger, working over it until you’re humming profanities and huffing into his mouth. 

Hate and desire is such a fine, blurry line. Anyone who tells you differently is a liar. 

“M’gonna,” you choke on your words. “I’m–shit–I’m coming.”

“Yeah,” He picks up his pace, maintains a steady, toe-curling rhythm. “Come for me,” his voice heavy and growled. “Come on my dick.”

You do. You come for him, hard and long, wrapping a leg around his hip in a failed attempt to still him, to just be full of him and nothing more. He’s stronger, though, and fucks you through the whole thing, faster, harder, big hands braced on your hips for leverage. You explore the idea that a person really could be fucked in half, forced right open. 

“Good try,” you sputter, shaky and broken words leaving your lips before you’ve found a gravity that isn’t him. You lean up to kiss him, wrap your hand around the back of his neck and pull him to meet you halfway. Your fingers tickle the short hair at the nape of his neck, raise goosebumps to his skin. “Maybe next time,” you hum into his open mouth. 

He spits a long string of saliva into your mouth when you move to close the gap. You laugh around it, down it in a single gulp and lick your lips, sticking out your tongue to showcase your empty mouth, big innocent doe-eyes watching his reaction, his eye roll and devilish smirk.

“Like I said–” you start, but he’s flipping you over, tossing you around like a ragdoll.  You giggle, high on the teasing and the taunting and then he’s fucking your face into the mattress. He’s got your hair gathered up into a ratty ponytail, uses it like a handle, forcing your back into an arch, your ass to perk up into the air. 

God, he’s so fucking deep, turning you into a mess of bruises and sweat stricken skin. Your hips bounce back against him, angle in any imaginable way in an attempt to feel him deeper, to feel him in your stomach and your chest and your head. To feel him everywhere that counts. 

“Putain, taking me so good, baby” he groans, lets the praise and the pet name slipping past his lips in a moment that goes unnoticed by neither of you. He smacks your ass with a firm hand, trying to mask his words after they’ve already been spoken. Your eyes roll back into your head and you come again, without warning. You decide before you get to think about it that it was the stinging imprint of his hand that pushed you tumbling over the edge. Whatever the real reason, you’re up two-nothing, or, depending how you look at it, he’s the one winning. 

That’s all any of this is, one big game. A power struggle. You’re always fighting to win, and this is not different. If there’s a way to lose at a game where everyone is supposed to win, one of you is going to fucking find it and force it on the other. 

You’re the one doing the flipping, now. The pushing and the shoving so he’s on his back. You straddle him and he gives you this look like he’s fully pussy-drunk, sick and euphoric and floating somewhere far from here. You’re so winning at this. “Jesus Christ,” you poke, “wipe your fucking drool.”

His entire face contorts when you sink down onto him. Everytime you think you’ve reached a limit, he finds a way to hit a spot impossibly deeper than the last. His hips lift up off the bed to meet you halfway, rutting into pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had, hand moving to your cunt, thumbing lazily at your clit, leaving you fuzzy and drunk in a mess of mumbled moans above him. 

When you come for the third time, messy and sweaty, nothing that leaves your lips is distinguishable, a mess of French and English and curses and nonsensical mewls. “Fuck you,” he moans, breath shaky when he pulls himself out of you. Your body clenches around air, aches for him to return. 

He does, after he moves you back into the position it all started in. “So close,” he tells you, sinking slowly into you, his sigh hot and alcoholic on your shoulder. His pace is slow, then fast, then slow again. He’s as rapid as his breath is irregular. You better pull out–you groan, every muscle in your body strung out and exhausted and you’re coming again. It’s blinding white behind your closed lids, ears ringing and muscles flexing involuntarily. He’s wrecked you, finally, left you a mumbling mess. 

He pulls out almost in sync with your orgasm, jerks himself no more than twice between your legs before he’s coating your stomach in hot stripes of cum, loud, guttural moans leaving his lips in a way that looks and sounds practically pained. “Christ,” he heaves, watches on as your fingers dance through his orgasm, spreading it over your skin and coating your fingers. You don’t break eye contact when you stick two of them into your mouth, swirl your tongue around them tauntingly, sucking them clean and pulling them from your mouth with a pop. You hold the clean hand up for him to see, palm facing him. When you turn it, you pull down all but your middle finger, flip him off cockily. 

He swats you hand away, “Never fucking again,” he tells you. 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me,” you scoff. “I never want to see the inside of this apartment again.”

“Why are you here, then?” He remarks, turning the corner into what you assume is the bathroom, tossing a towel to you from across the room. You clean yourself up before anything dries, before coming up with a quick rebuttal. 

You don’t come up with one, mind as tired as the rest of you. This game has been exhausting. “We’re never talking about this,” you say, pulling your dress over your head, stuffing your bra into your handbag because you aren’t sure you have the strength to clasp it closed. “Ever.”

“No shit,” he says, tosses your underwear in the general direction of you. 

You bend over to pick them up, step into them with the snap of the elastic. “Promise me.” You have no idea where your shoes are, but he’s already ushering you out of the room, herding you down the long hall with wide, swooping waves of his arms. 

“I promise.”

“Pinky,” you say, spot your shoes haphazardly stepped out of in the entryway. You don’t have any memory of them ever being on.

“Absolutely not.”

“Charles,” you lean against the wall to slip your heels on, hook up at him with a sober glare. He closes his eyes like you won’t be able to see them roll behind his lids, pinches the bridge of his nose and squints before dropping a heavy breath, holding out a pinky to you. You interlock it with yours. “Thank you.”

He pulls his hand from yours, turns the lock on his front door and swings it open, fingers wrapped around the edge, other hand gesturing out into the hallway. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“With pleasure,” you say, stepping past him and into the well-lit hallway of sprawling marble floors. You stop in front of the elevator, press the button and wait for his inevitable comment. 

“The whole brat-schtick you’ve got going on isn’t as believable when your leg shakes underneath you,” he calls down the hall. You don’t turn your head to face him, just extend your arm in his direction and flip him off. You hear his chuckle as he latches the door shut behind you. 

Everything about today has been dreary–from the near constant mist that falls over the city, to the chilly temperatures, to the poor excuses for men that grace the screen of your dating app. This is not how Fridays in your twenties are meant to be spent, sulking in the dark of your bedroom after a miserable day at work. 

You’re supposed to be out, partying with friends and making drunken decisions that have you waking up in a stranger’s bed after a good night you hardly remember. 

God, you need to get fucked. It’s been months. Two months and ten days–not that you’re counting. Because you’re not. Counting. You aren’t. 

You’re just restless, basking in the loneliness of the night, unable to shake the weight of your thoughts, of two months and ten days ago. Of Charles and how infuriatingly good he’d made you feel. The complexities of your relationship, the shift in the very DNA of what you know, it makes your heart race–a messy muddle of annoyance and desire that yearns to be untangled. 

You give up on the dating apps, know that even if you do match with someone, there’s nothing that can be done to solve your problem tonight. You opt instead to scroll through social media aimlessly, searching for any distraction from the ache in your gut. Your hand unconsciously slips under the hem of your shirt, cups your breast while you scroll and scroll and scroll. It does little to quell your struggles. In fact, the game is over the moment you become conscious of your hand’s placement, the moment you start to massage your breast, to run your fingers over your nipple until it’s hard and perky. 

You switch to the other breast, fingers gently tracing over the skin, sending chills up your arms, pinpointing the ache in your core. Your hand slides down your stomach, dips below the waistband of your shorts, into your underwear. You’re so worked up–pent up, reaching a boiling point. 

Your middle finger glides through your folds, grazes over your clit, teases the slick at your entrance before dipping in, collecting enough to spread it around. Your clit is swollen, needy like the rest of you, and the pad of your fingers do little to relieve the pressure. Your fingers move clockwise, then counter. Vertical and horizontal and every combination of every direction and even though you can’t remember the last time you were this horny, this desperate to come, you can’t. 

You slip in a finger, and then another, try to find the right curl and the right spot–to no avail. Now, you’re thinking about his fingers, about how much bigger his hands are, how his nimble fingers pumped in and out of you with sheet-gripping, whimper-inducing pace. 

Your phone taunts you, his contact behind the locked screen just waiting to be messaged. 

You try to resist. You hate him. He hates you. God, he knows how to fuck you, though; veiny hands and thick cock leaving you a writhing mess. Fuck. Fuck, why can’t your fingers move the way his did?

You cave, reaching over to grab your phone and text him. Hey. What are you up to tonight? It’s a mistake, you know that it is. He’s so damn annoying, there’s nothing about him that doesn’t drive you up a wall. Frustration makes the heart go fonder, you suppose, or maybe the cunt ache harder. 

Within moments, your phone is buzzing against your palm with his reply. Chilling at home. You coming over?

You roll your eyes. No.

Ok.

You bite your bottom lip so hard you think you might accidentally draw blood. It’s phantom, almost, the way you can so perfectly imagine the sting of him stretching you out, the soreness of his bruising kisses, the swollen, wet head of his dick slapping against your clit. Come over.

You couldn’t pay me.

Door’s unlocked.

Give me 20.

You’re in the bedroom when he knocks. Three times, you wonder why he isn’t just walking in. You ignore the banging, let the universe decide for you if he’s meant to turn back and walk his happy ass out of your building. The universe decides he won’t be doing that, though, because he knocks again. Louder this time. 

You pull yourself out of bed, feet creaking on the hardwood floors as you move to pull the door open. “I told you it was unlocked,” you grumble. 

“Eh,” he shrugs, dumb fucking grin on his face. “Wasn’t up for your games.”

You internally debate just how bad you need him here, if it’s worth all the trouble that is him. It’s not, almost certainly it isn’t. You invite him in anyway. 

“So, what’s the deal? Can’t get yourself off, so you call me?” He teases. Your frustrated blush gives you away before a witty comeback can slap the smirk off his face. “Oh my god,” he chuckles. “I was fucking around, but really?”

There’s no point in trying to lie now, not when your face has already betrayed your trust and revealed the truth. “Calm down,” you groused. “The last thing this world needs if your head to get any fucking bigger.”

He continues laughing like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him. You want to smack the smile off his face, dimples and all. “The last thing this world needs is for this–” he gestures between the two of you, “–to become a thing.”

You mock his movements, the dumb look on his face. “This is not a thing. It’s just two friends–”

“–We aren’t friends.”

You sigh through gritted teeth. “Two not friends helping each other out.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, chews on the inside of his cheek while his eyes trace your finger, head to toe and back to head again. “You do know how ridiculous you sound, right?”

You breathe out in resignation, heading down the hall towards your room. “Can we just get on with it?”

“No.”

You stop in your tracks, turn on your heels. What the fuck is he here for, then? “No?” You close the gap between the two of you, plant your hands firmly on either side of his jaw and kiss him, all tongue and spit and rough lips. You knock him off balance, falling out of step when he kisses you back with a matching intensity, hands hovering over your hips. He doesn’t rest them there, you can feel the warmth in the space between your skin and his, the force that pulls you together. 

When he does settle his hands, it’s not to deepen the kiss, to swallow any more frustration. It’s to put distance between your mouths. “I want you to–”

You nibble on his earlobe, cut him off with your hushed words. “I don’t give a fuck what you want, I want–”

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he commands, voice failing to waiver to your hushed level, an air of snugness to him.

“Charles,” your voice cracks with his name, a hint of your under the surface insecurity peeking through, putting themselves on display for him. Here! Here! Look at me! 

“Show me, or I’m leaving,” he says, and it’s all throaty and husky. 

(Eleven minutes later)

Legs spread for him, two fingers moving busily against your core, circling your clit, teasing your hole. 

He stares at you like he can see your fucking soul, watches from his spot across the room, leant against the old wooden dresser, arms folded and ankles crossed. You stare back–harder, maybe–like if you win the little contest your cheeks won’t burn so bright, you won’t feel so exposed, so vulnerable, so embarrassed. 

Those feelings fade, they do, with each flick of your wrist. With every glance of his hungry eyes to your fingers, to your cunt, tracing their way up and down your body, you feel calmer and calmer. And when he runs his hand over his mouth, along the stubble of his jaw and off his chin, you’re closer and closer. 

It pulls whimpers, soft and slow and sweet, from your lips. There’s a sick thrill to it, to him seeing her like this, all needy and open and sensitive. It’s empowering, almost. 

He breaks no more than twice, watches every brow quirk, lid flutter, and lip twitch with raw, intimate eyes. He’s less interested in what you do to yourself, the curve of your fingers or the noises they create, than he is in the way you react to the movements. 

“You’re not even fucking watching,” you say, the letter sounds falling to your breath, hitching as your fingers angle just right. 

“Watching what matters.”

“Oh? And, uh–” you huff. “What’s that?”

He laughs, dimples digging deep into his cheeks. You’ve always thought they made his smile so childish, like you can’t take anything seriously when it comes from someone with primary-school dimples and giddy eyes. You don’t struggle to take it seriously, now. “You’re thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, a soft sigh parting your lips. “Says who?”

He pushes himself off the dresser, saunters over with heavy feet, stopping at the foot of the bed. “What are you thinking about?” He humors. 

Your eyes roll. You’re thinking about a lot of things. Half a dozen, atleast. About your fingers, the way they move against your swollen cunt, sticky with creamy slick, and how his fingers are that much longer than yours. About how loud he walks, how his heavy feet stand at the end of your bed, crossed arms that pull his t-shirt tight across his chest. About the fact that you’re not sure you locked the door behind him because you were so distracted by the way his sweatpants hung from his waist. About how he doesn’t bother to adjust or hide the protruding bulge under the fabric right now. About the curve of his cock, about how pathetic and full it makes you, utterly unable to spend time thinking about anything but how well he stretches you out. About his hair, flat and straight and wholly unstyled, how your hands would mess it up so nicely, tug and twist until he has something smart to say. Beyond frustratingly, he’s right. As you quickly approach a high, breath quickened and movements desperate, all you’re thinking about is him. “Things.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, ever the rake, unsatisfied with your response. 

You add a third finger, steady pace and a held stare. The muscles in your leg twitch. You’re so fucking close. “What are you thinking about?”

He sways, rocks his weight from his left foot to the right, runs his tongue over his teeth. “Things.”

A coy smile upturns the corner of your lips. “Mmhmm,” you mock. 

He moves around the bed, trails his fingers over your skin; from your ankle, along the bone of your shin, a bruise on your knee. They stall on your thigh, trace small, soft circles on the inside of your leg. “You really want to know?” 

He’s such a tease, keeps moving up, up, up, over your stomach and through the valley of your breast. “I–ah– I,” you stutter through your words, fingers working tirelessly to push you over the edge. Restless, further irritated by his delicate touch, his fingers up to your jaw now, slotting themselves there, you nod. “Yes.” 

He leans over you, your lips inches apart, open and hot breathed. “Too bad,” he whispers into the space between, closing the gap and kissing you with an insatiable kind of fervor. Your fingers still, your other hand reaching to grip the back of his neck, to pull him deeper into the kiss. It’s a kiss that’s half as good as the sex, the breaking of the unbearable tension that’s filled the room while he’s watched, the promise of what’s to come. A lustful implication. His hand leaves your jaw when you pull apart for air, moving over your stilled hand. “Let me?” He asks, and it doesn’t feel like much of a question, the way he’s already slipping his fingers under yours before you can even squeak out an answer. 

There’s something entirely different about his fingers, like the way that you can’t tickle yourself. You can’t predict his moves, every movement of every ridge of his fingerprints is something entirely surprising. “Yeah, fuck, you make, ah, make yourself…” You give up on the sentence, your body failing your mind in its ability to spit out a comeback. Yeah, you wish you could tell him. Yeah, make yourself fucking useful.  

He laughs, slides his long middle finger inside you, pumps it twice and slips in another. You gasp at his sudden movement. “You’re embarrassing yourself, baby.”

Your back arches off the sheets. “Don’t call me that,” you seethe. 

“But,” he curls his fingers against the spot you’ve been trying to reach all night. A moan tumbles from your mouth and he smirks. “It makes my job so easy.”

“Fuck you.”

“I was going to let you come first, but,” he chuckles. He’s so proud of himself it makes you ill. “If you insist.” 

His hand stills, threatens to pull out of you entirely, but you’re covering it with your own, holding him there when you look up, hips instinctively grinding against him. “I’ll kill you. I will.” 

You’re pushing him out of your apartment by the end of night, locking the door behind him. Your leg shakes when you slide down the door onto the floor. This is the last time, it has to be. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence. Thrice. Thrice would be a pattern. You won’t let it become a pattern. 

You wake up at seven-thirty and your hair is still in knots, your body still aching from him. You find a new bruise every time you look in the mirror. You can’t shake the image of his messy hair, of the feeling of the brown locks between your fingers and the sound he’d make when you’d tug on them. 

It won’t be happening again.