#Whole would then have the entire normal silver necklace | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bellafarallones2 · 1 year ago

Text

A comedy about a unicorn. 3.8k words, implied Vincent/Apollo, Apollo belongs to @thiswasinevitableid

It was just after two in the morning, and the sidewalk was spinning beneath Apollo’s feet as he walked.

Coming to a corner, he looked up across the deserted intersection into a park. If he cut through it he could save a few minutes getting home. Normally coming home from Kayleigh’s place he walked around the park rather than through it, not wanting to pass the screaming children in the playground, but now that there were no children…

Apollo crossed the street and stepped into the park. The path across it was mostly lit, but one streetlight in the very center was dark, leaving a gap in the yellow glow. Apollo hurried towards the gap, thinking of his own bed and wondering how he’d manage to get up the stairs to it.

“Apollo,” said a voice from behind him.

Apollo whirled around and stumbled backwards, losing his balance entirely when he saw what was behind him.

A horse. A giant, gray horse, shaggy around the sides, with a thick, craggy horn protruding from its forehead.

“Greetings,” said the horse. His voice was deep and full of gravitas. Also there was a fine silver chain around his neck, holding a charm shaped like a horse, which was glowing softly. Apollo had to admire the drip.

“You’re a horse,” said Apollo.

“Technically I am a unicorn.” He sounded slightly put off. “But my name is Vincent. I am the guardian of Fairytopia.”

“Fairytopia??” Apollo started giggling.

“Yes. Fairytopia. And every hundred years, I must find a fair maiden to complete the Race for the Silver Rings.”

“Okay. What do I have to do with this?”

An awkward pause. Then Vincent said, delicately: “I need to find a fair maiden by tomorrow.”

“You put it off until the night before??”

“No! I’ve been looking for a maiden for over a year now, but everyone has been either terrified of me or unable to see me at all.

“I know some women, but I don’t know if any of them are maidens.” Also they were probably all passed out now and not likely to get up before noon.

“What about you?”

“I’m not a maiden. I’m a man.”

“Are you sure?”

“What?”

“The Parthenal amulet glows in the presence of a suitable maiden.” Vincent nodded to indicate his necklace.

“I don’t know what you think the word ‘maiden’ means, but alright.”

“Will you help us?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“…The feeling of having helped?”

“Ehhh.” Apollo would prefer the feeling of sleeping in tomorrow.

Vincent scrutinized him with one large, brown eye. “There’s a feast afterwards you’d get to go to. The food in Fairytopia is unlike anything on earth.”

“…Is there alcohol there?”

“Yes.”

“For free? And I can have as much as I want?”

“Yes.”

“Sold. Alright, take me to Fairytopia.” Apollo tried to tell his legs to pick him up, but stumbled. “Fuck.” On his second try he managed to stagger to his feet.

“Get on my back,” said Vincent.

Apollo groaned.

“Maybe get on that bench first?” Vincent shepherded Apollo over to an empty park bench. Apollo clambered onto it, balancing with a hand against Vincent’s flank, and then belly-flopped onto Vincent’s back. Gripping Vincent’s mane he managed to throw one leg over, groaning the whole time.

“This had better be a good feast,” said Apollo.

“It will be excellent.” Vincent started to walk, which made Apollo’s stomach flip-flop. He buried his face in Vincent’s mane (which smelled weirdly like the kind of cologne a hot older guy would wear) and did not look up as Vincent’s stride hastened to a canter, then a run, and then there was a roaring in Apollo’s ears and a pop and the breeze smelled like roses.

Apollo looked up. The lights of the city were gone. The city was gone. Instead they were on the edge of a forest somewhere, somewhere the ground wasn’t scattered with trash but carpeted with moss. Spots of glowing gold, just too large to be fireflies, floated between the branches.

“Welcome to Fairytopia.” Vincent came to a clear, burbling stream and followed it out of the woods.

“Great. Cool. When is this race?”

“In the morning. You will spend the rest of the night in the Cottage of the Maiden, and there are appropriate clothes there for you.”

“What, this isn’t appropriate?” Apollo was wearing a crop top and shorts and his nicest pair of sneakers.

“For a night out, yes. Not for the most important ritual in Fairytopia.”

“What does the race involve, exactly?”

Vincent sighed deeply. “You have to collect seven silver rings, and I’m supposed to be your steed. But I know where the rings are, so you don’t have to steer.”

“That sounds easy.”

“Yes. It is.” They arrived at a picturesque little cabin with a thatched roof and whitewashed walls.

“This place better have running water,” said Apollo.

“It does,” said Vincent. “I am responsible for keeping up the maiden’s accommodations.”

Apollo burst out laughing at the thought of a horse installing a toilet. Vincent came to a stop in front of the doorstep. “Here we are.”

Apollo took a deep breath and slid off Vincent’s back, landing hard. His stomach heaved, but he managed to stay on his feet. The door to the cottage swung open easily when he touched the knob.

“Goodnight,” said Vincent. “I’ll see you in the morning. Please try to be sober.”

“Sure. G’night.” Apollo staggered inside and shut the front door behind him, sliding the latch into place.

It was like a hotel room in here, a bedroom with a wardrobe and an attached bathroom with a huge bathtub with a showerhead and little bottles of soap and shampoo lined up on the rim. There was even a new-looking toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste and a drinking glass on the counter.

Apollo splashed his face with cold water from the sink, drenching his shirt. Then he filled the glass with cold water from the sink and chugged it, which made him feel slightly more human. Then he brushed his teeth. The toothpaste was minty, and he wondered if it was from the human world, or some special kind of fairy mint. He wondered if eating something meant he’d have to stay here forever, and whether toothpaste counted.

But in the meantime he had to pee, and so he sat down on the toilet, too drunk to trust himself to aim. While he was sitting there he wrestled himself fully out of his shirt and pants and threw them on the floor. Then he washed his hands and stumbled naked to bed, passing out the moment his head hit the pillow.

“Apollo.”

His eyes opened. There was sun in his face.

“Apollo.”

The world came into better focus. He was tangled in the covers, and Vincent had stuck his big dumb horse head through the window. “It’s time to get up for the race.”

“Hey! Give a guy some privacy!” said Apollo, making no move to cover himself.

Vincent sighed. “I had provided pajamas for you.”

Apollo looked around and found that it was true, there was a set of pajamas, pants and a matching button-down shirt, lying on a chair.

“There are more clothes in the wardrobe. We have to be on our way in half an hour.”

“Do you have coffee?”

“I’ll get someone to bring you some.”

“Good.” Apollo got out of bed and stretched. Then he went to pee again (Christ, he had drunk a lot last night), ignoring the pounding in his head, and opened the wardrobe.

It was full of dresses. No. It was full of tunics that fell to the knee, split in the middle for riding, and pants to go underneath, all covered in lace and ribbon and in every color of the rainbow but mostly pink. There were black and brown leather riding boots at the bottom of the wardrobe, too, and a drawer of socks and underwear in various styles, sports bras and panties. Clothes for maidens.

“Wow, you do know how to treat a maiden right,” Apollo said under his breath. Apollo picked out a plain white pair of underwear that looked like boxer briefs, though there was no fly in the front, and an outfit in pale blue and pink with minimal ribbons and gold-thread trim. The fabric felt heavenly against his skin. Some kind of silk blend? He’d have to ask Vincent.

There was a comb and brush in the bathroom, and after getting dressed Apollo went to work on his hair. He’d been putting off getting it cut, and now it fell past his chin. He looked good, and grabbed his phone to take a picture before realizing that his phone had died last night and was still dead. And of course there were no chargers in here.

He’d just put his phone down again when there was a knock on the door. He opened it to find a woman standing there with a tray, Vincent at her shoulder. The woman looked human, but had pointy ears like a Star Trek cosplayer.

“Coffee and donuts,” she said.

“Thank you!” Apollo took the tray and started dumping sugar and cream into the coffee. “Do I look like a maiden?”

“Very pretty,” said Vincent.

“Thank you.” Apollo ate a donut leaning over the sink so he wouldn’t get crumbs on himself and downed a cup of coffee.

“Are you ready to leave?”

“I think I’d better be.”

“Good answer,” said Vincent. He actually sounded amused.

It was significantly easier to get on Vincent’s back now that Apollo was sober, and in the morning light he could see much more of Fairytopia.

Even though it was past sunrise, the sky was still streaked with orange-pink clouds. He could see that the woods that they’d arrived in, the treetops cushioned by fog, blanketed the foothills of an immense mountain that stretched up past the cloud line. In the other direction he could see a town sprawled out around the base of a castle made of white stone, crowned by several soaring spires. And in between was a vast green meadow, a flock of sheep visible on one of the rolling hills nearby. Vincent was taking them towards the town, but it was not their final destination.

Apollo heard the racetrack before he could see it. He could hear the noise of a crowd, and then he saw the stands hung with colorful banners, and then smelled the delicious odor of meat and hot cinnamon sugar.

“Are they giving out candied almonds here??” said Apollo.

“I’ll get you some after the race.” Vincent lined up between the two stands next to a mounting block. “Now you need to get off so they can put a saddle on me.”

Apollo got off. Several attendants dressed in green put a saddle-blanket on Vincent’s back, and then a saddle, and buckled it tight under his belly. They also put reigns on his face. Even Apollo could tell that he bore this treatment standing stiffly. One of the attendants handed Apollo a leather shoulder bag. “To keep the rings in, my lady,” he explained.

Apollo slung the bag on his shoulder and got back on Vincent’s back. He had to admit it was more comfortable with the saddle.

“Thank you, everyone, for joining us for the hundred years’ race!” said a man in long green robes and matching green hat who was standing in an announcer’s booth on one side of the track. “This fair maiden will help guide our guardian to find the silver rings, representing how the strength of our kingdom stems from the innocence and goodness of humans.”

Apollo knew enough to keep from laughing at that.

“She will guide him through the woods and hunt down the silver rings, he will submit to her gentle command-“ Vincent’s ears flicked in irritation “-and we will enjoy a feast when she returns. Let the race begin in three… two… one… now!”

Vincent lunged forward. Apollo almost fell backwards, yanking on the reigns in the process.

“Lighter on the reigns,” Vincent growled.

“I’m trying, I’m trying.” Apollo leaned forward to give Vincent’s nose more space.

“Good.” Vincent followed the dirt track into the woods, veering off as soon as they were out of sight of the stands.

“What did they mean by silver rings?”

“Wait a minute and you’ll find out.”

The trees were widely-spaced enough that Vincent could navigate easily, their branches high enough off the ground that Apollo wasn’t at risk of hitting his head. Still, Apollo didn’t see the first ring until they were almost on top of it. It was a physical silver circle, more like a bangle, large enough to fit over his wrist with room to spare, hanging off one of the lower branches of a tree. Apollo pulled it off the branch and put it in the bag he’d been given.

“Six more to go,” said Vincent. He didn’t seem enthused.

“And you know where all of them are?”

“They’re in the exact same places every time.”

Apollo didn’t even want to contemplate how old Vincent must be if he’d been around for so many of an event that only happened every hundred years.

Then Vincent stopped, and Apollo collected the second ring.

That was assuming years were the same in Fairytopia as they were on Earth, though. Maybe it was a Mercury kind of situation and Vincent had to go looking for maidens every week on Earth and that was why he’d run out.

More rings.

There were birds in the trees, but Apollo didn’t recognize any of their calls, and he never saw them.

“Do we have all seven?” said Vincent finally.

Apollo opened the bag and counted. “Yes.”

“Then we’re done.” Vincent found the dirt track again and plodded back the way they’d come.

“That didn’t seem like much of a race. What were we racing against?”

“Nothing,” said Vincent. “I didn’t come up with the name.”

The stands were still crowded with people, but they didn’t seem to be paying attention to Vincent and Apollo as they returned, just visiting with each other and eating their turkey legs and paper bags of other things Apollo couldn’t see.

“Hey!” said Apollo. “We got the silver rings!”

A green-clad attendant rushed over, collected the bag, and counted all the rings. “Huzzah!” The cry went up across the stands, loud enough that Apollo was the only one to hear Vincent sigh.

Apollo leaned forward to talk to Vincent. “Banquet time?”

“Yes.” Vincent led the crowd of people streaming out of the stands and towards the castle. They came to a huge hall on the edge of town, the eaves strung with more colorful banners. Vincent let Apollo off at the front door. Then Vincent cantered away again, and Apollo almost called after him, but someone was talking to him.

“My lady,” an attendant said. “Right this way.”

Apollo followed him inside. The banquet hall was huge, with a vaulted roof and stained glass panels high on the front and back walls.

Apollo’s seat was at the center of the high table, and he immediately took his plate and headed for the buffet line. True to Vincent’s word, there was so much food. Mashed potatoes, some kind of meat he didn’t recognize with white flesh and a brown glaze on the outside, fruit cut into little shapes, bread rolls with butter, colorful macaroons and cookies and mini cheesecakes with pieces of strawberry on top. Apollo fit as much of it onto his plate as he could; he was always starving after a night out.

After the buffet line there was another line for the bar, which was manned by what looked like a giant bird. Apollo couldn’t resist staring at them as he stood in line. They looked like someone had poured some kind of tropical parrot into a human-shaped mold.

“What can I get you?” the bird said when Apollo reached the front of the line.

“What cocktails do you have?”

“I have mead, beer, and wine.”

“…Is mead actually sweet?”

The bird shrugged.

“I’ll have mead.”

They poured a glass for him of amber liquid and he took it back to his seat. The seats around him were either full or missing their plates, signaling that the occupants were still getting food, except for the seat directly to Apollo’s left, which remained empty. Everyone (except the bartender) had those pointy ears. The announcer from the stands was sitting on Apollo’s right, but had his back turned and was talking to the people on his other side.

Apollo didn’t care. The food was indeed excellent, and he amused himself by studying the stained glass at the front of the hall. The image seemed to depict a maiden collecting silver rings, though the unicorn she was riding was much slenderer than Vincent, and white instead of gray. The maiden had longer hair than Apollo and was wearing a pink conical hat with a piece of pink tulle coming out of the top. And the quest seemed to have taken longer than it took Apollo, with some scenes appearing at night or in the pouring rain.

A man Apollo hadn’t seen before entered the hall. Nobody paid him any mind, which seemed stupid to Apollo, because he was the most striking man Apollo had ever seen. His hair was honey-brown, graying at the temples. He was wearing a waistcoat with gold buttons and a cloak with a lining like the night sky rich in stars. As he came closer, through the crowd right up to the high table, Apollo could see that he scanned the room with sharp brown eyes.

He came to a stop standing next to the chair at Apollo’s left.

“Hello,” said Apollo, surreptitiously checking the man’s hand for a wedding ring. He was wearing a gold ring with a unicorn’s head on it, but it wasn’t on his ring finger. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Vincent,” he said, in the same voice as Vincent the unicorn.

“What?”

“I’m only a unicorn for the month immediately preceding the race for the silver rings.”

The announcer leaned around Apollo to speak. “Hey, Vince, how does it feel to be able to scratch your own balls again?”

“Very nice, thank you,” said Vincent dryly. “I’m going to get some food.” He picked up his plate and headed toward the buffet line, where some people were already getting second helpings.

Apollo turned back to the announcer. “So he’s not really a unicorn?”

The announcer laughed. “Not him in particular. The guardian of Fairytopia turns into a unicorn every hundred years for the race, or if Fairytopia is in great danger.”

“Any danger, or just the kind of danger that being a unicorn could help deal with?”

The announcer looked at him for a moment like he was confused. Then he shook his head. “Most maidens are quieter than you.”

Wow. Apollo never thought he’d experience misogyny. He’d have to tell Kayleigh about it.

Luckily Vincent came back soon with his food. “You don’t look like the unicorn on the window,” said Apollo as soon as they sat down.

“No,” said Vincent. “I don’t.”

“Is it supposed to be you?”

“No, that’s what the previous guardian looked like. Roughly.”

Apollo looked from the window to Vincent. “You’re a lot less frou-frou.”

“Thank you,” said Vincent. “When I’m finished eating I’ll take you back to your own world. We need to go back to the cottage first so you can collect your belongings.”

“...Can you turn back into a horse and carry me there?”

“No.” Vincent drank deeply from his goblet of wine.

Apollo didn’t know what else to say, and so he just watched Vincent eat. Whenever Kayleigh met a hot guy, she consulted with their whole friend group about what to say to him. Apollo didn’t have that opportunity. What would Kayleigh tell him to say?

“Do you have a phone?” said Apollo.

“No,” said Vincent. While Apollo was thinking he’d finished eating and now stood up. “Now let’s get you home.”

Nobody paid any attention to them as they left.

“You made it seem like this maiden race thing was special,” said Apollo as he followed Vincent out of the hall.

“It is,” said Vincent. “The event is special. The individual maiden is not special. Nor is the individual guardian.”

They trudged together down the path back to the cottage. Now that Apollo was walking and not on horseback, he could tell just how rough the path was, nothing more than an uneven dirt track. On the other hand, the sky was a cloudless blue, the sun just starting to descend the sky’s vault, and it wasn’t too warm to be comfortable walking. “Is the weather always this good here?” said Apollo.

“Yes,” said Vincent. “I was rather surprised when I first came to Earth to discover that it rained at inconvenient times.”

“Hey, it’s good business for the people who make raincoats.”

“I suppose.” Vincent looked over at him. “That is an interesting way to think about it.”

They reached the cottage, and Vincent waited outside while Apollo changed mournfully from the beautiful pink tunic into his clothes from last night.

“Do all those people really think I’m a girl?” said Apollo as he emerged from the cottage looking more like his regular self.

“The amulet judged you to be a maiden.” Vincent touched his neck and Apollo realized he was still wearing it, now concealed beneath his shirt except for the bit of silvery chain visible above his collar.

“What does maiden mean to you?”

“A virginal woman.”

“The amulet can tell I haven’t had sex??”

Vincent shrugged. How was he so calm about this??

“It’s not because I couldn’t have,” said Apollo quickly. “I just never met anyone I wanted to fuck. Lots of people have wanted to fuck me.”

“I don’t doubt it, looking like you do.” Vincent extended a hand. “Do you have all your things?”

“Yes.”

“Take my hand. And I’ll get you back home.”

Apollo folded his hand into Vincent’s. And then Fairytopia disappeared, and he was back in the park. He would have fallen without Vincent’s hand steadying him. But when he looked around Vincent was gone.

The distance home seemed much shorter now that it was daytime and he was fully awake and sober. Apollo hurried home and took the stairs up to his apartment two at a time. Then he plugged in his phone and changed into clothes he hadn’t spilled beer on.

The moment his phone turned on Apollo saw that he had sixty-one missed calls. “Fuck.” He’d been gone for over twelve hours. The phone started ringing again, and Apollo picked up. “Hello?”

Kayleigh’s voice was loud in his ear. “Where the fuck have you been?”

#vinlo

4 notes · View notes

emeraldenha · 3 years ago

Text

☾ SUMMARY. the only thing Lee Heeseung was capable of doing was running away, but you always loved him, to the very bitter end.

☾ PAIRING. first love!heeseung x fem!reader

☾ GENRE. lovers to exes, angst

☾ W/C. +7.6k words

☾ WARNINGS. cursing, expressed desires of disappearing or running away, themes of unhealthy relationship dynamics, major character death, sad ending

☾ ADDITIONAL NOTE. this is part of The Leftovers collab created by @dulceamar! please consider checking out all the other amazing works written by many talented writers!

『 THE TIME OF WINTER 』

you confessed to heeseung on valentine’s day.

and in your own opinion, you had never looked better in your entire life — or maybe you thought that because it was your first time spending more than an hour and a half getting ready. not a hair on your head was out of place and your lip gloss was shiner than the silver-chained necklace looped under the collar of your uniform.

you had a heart-shaped box of chocolates clutched to your chest with a crimson red rose taped to the top as you walked into school that morning. your heart was beating out of your chest and you couldn’t tell if it was the nerves or the chilly weather that left you feeling lightheaded.

overall, your appearance had earned you more compliments than you had gotten during the whole semester, considering that you'd normally never even bother to properly tuck in your shirt for starters. and it was all in the first fifteen minutes before you entered your classroom building, but that didn't change the fact that you were a frazzled mess on the inside.

upon first period, you settle down at your desk and scroll through your notifications as you wait for class to start.

“hey,” your friend sits in the unoccupied seat next to yours, taking a moment to talk to you before she has to sit in her assigned seat. she points to the chocolates on the edge of your desk. “what’s with that? planning on confessing to someone?”

you slouch onto the back of your chair, bashfully crossing your arms over your chest, “maybe.”

“oh my god, seriously?” your friend gasps, bouncing her feet in excitement. “who do you like?”

you immediately shake your head, "as if I'd tell you!”

“hey, I tell you everything!” she disputes with her shoulders slumped in disappointment. “you can trust me.”

you slowly bite the inside of your cheek, checking to see if anyone was paying attention before muttering under your breath, “lee heeseung.”

you watch her eye's widen, “no way, lee heeseung?”

“keep your voice down!”

“I was already whispering!”

you sigh at her response, realizing that you needed to stop overthinking everything. you're mind felt like it was processing a thousand thoughts at once, on the verge of exploding from stress.

“I can't believe you're into heartthrobs,” your friend says in astonishment. “your little crush is literally the pride of our high school. everyone's in love with him.”

“I know,” you tightly purse your lips together, feeling more hopeless than before.

heeseung was always an exceptional student. ever since the day you had met him back in elementary school, he was already on another level.

you and heeseung were the same age, but he was offered to skip a grade once you reached middle school, making him your upperclassman by a year.

even when you were no longer able to share any classes with him, your infatuation only grew stronger. there was an unexplainably strong aura surrounding the prodigy.

he was popular and friendly and essentially good at everything. he didn’t even commit to clubs, because why would he? he couldn’t possibly stick to one when he had so many options.

heeseung enjoyed the praise of being able to do anything he put his mind to. of course, that didn't satisfy the demand of students and teachers that wanted him to join all their school-related activities, but there was no stopping him. he hated the idea of having a limit, being tied down.

you were no where near close to his already unreachable status. you had a track record of joining lots of miscellaneous clubs in an attempt to find something you were good at, coming up short every time. your grades were acceptable but nowhere near extraordinary. you were kind and amiable but ended up making more acquaintances than real friends. the stark contrast between you and him was extremely evident. you were afraid of him only seeing you as the random second year that had merely shared a small handful of conversations with him throughout the years.

in short, lee heeseung was way out of your league.

“are the chocolates too cheesy?” you run a hand through the locks of your hair, an overwhelming amount of thoughts flooding back into your mind again. that was always a bad habit of yours. “there’s probably a lot of other girls planning on giving him chocolates, right? shit, I should’ve been more creative. what if—”

“woah, slow your roll, y/n,” your friend interjects your rambling. “just be yourself and tell him your feelings with confidence. if he turns you down, then it’s his loss.”

“his loss?” you repeat with a scoff. “yeah right.”

you slowly peel the tape adhering the rose to the top lid of the box, crumbling the tape into a jagged ball when you were done.

“I’m still ditching the chocolates,” you decide, shoving the sweets into her hands before she can say otherwise. “you can take them.”

“whatever,” she shrugs, satisfied that at least you weren’t completely giving up. “I was hungry anyways.”

you gently set the rose directly in front of you, staring at it with a longing gaze, “I just hope this will be enough.”

your friend frowns at your statement, racking her brain for a way to cheer you up.

“oh, I have an idea!” she runs off to her desk and grabs a roll of purple ribbon from the front pocket of her school bag. taking a pair of scissors from her pastel pencil pouch, she cuts a strip from the roll and hands it to you. “here, you can tie this like a bow around the stem! it’ll be super cute.”

“you’re a genius! purple’s his favorite color,” you gush, twirling the smooth ribbon around your fingers as you admire its simple yet stunning pattern. “just like mine.”

you scrunch your nose in concentration, following your friend's advice of tying a bow. you finish the job with the ends of the material prettily cascading from below the petals, the minor addition rather making all the difference.

“thanks for the help,” you smile.

your friend giggles, “any time.”

you fix your hair in the small mirror attached to the inside of your locker, taking a couple deep breaths to mentally prepare yourself. when you're done, you take a peek from behind the open door of said locker to look at heeseung standing at the end of the hallway.

he was talking to a couple other third years from his last class of the day. he was as friendly and carefree as ever, constantly acting like the only thing weighing down on his shoulders were feathers.

after a minute or two of waiting, you watch heeseung wave the other students goodbye as see your opportunity lying right ahead.

'you can do this,' you mentally encourage yourself, speed-walking towards him as you gripped onto the rose tied with purple ribbon behind your back.

you tap his shoulder, “heeseung?”

the boy immediately turns around to face you, a smile plastered on his face, “hey, y/n! what’s up?”

you feel so nervous that you could throw up, “happy valentine's day!”

you can tell he's a bit confused as to why you approached him to tell him that, “happy valentine's day to you too, y/n.”

he strikes conversation for a bit longer, asking about your day or how your classes went. the small talk luckily makes you feel a lot more relaxed. heeseung is always such a natural speaker. he cracks jokes with perfect timing and takes interest in everything you have to say. it's as if he knows exactly what you want to hear.

then, he asks why you came up to him, and it takes you a fleeting moment to gather the courage to speak again.

“can I tell you something?”

“sure, go ahead.”

you hand him the rose, “I like you, lee heeseung.”

you could practically hear a pin drop with the utter silence that emits in those next ten seconds. he was standing as stiff as a board with a lost look on his face, completely spacing out.

“so,” you anxiously rock back and forth on the heels of your feet. “what’s your answer?”

you bite your bottom lip in embarrassment. at this point, you were just waiting for him to reject you so you could flee the pitiful scene as soon as possible and sulk in the privacy of your own room.

heeseung doesn’t know exactly what comes over him in that moment. the atmosphere is cold but his heart is warm and he’s feeling generous. an unknown force just makes him inclined to take the chance.

“yes,” he accepts your rose, fiddling with the dethorned stem between his lean fingers. “my answer is yes.”

“really?” your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

heeseung nods, a soft smile playing on his peach colored lips, “yeah, really.”

you grin from ear to ear and sheepishly stare down at the tile of the school hallway. you couldn’t believe this was happening. from your knowledge, heeseung had never dated someone before. he would reject every girl that ever confessed to him and you had never caught him forming a crush on someone himself.

this felt like the impossible.

you’re still dazed with disbelief when he speaks again.

“are you heading home?” he asks, tilting his head to the side in an endearing manner.

you nod rapidly, unable to wield the words from your mouth.

“great,” he takes your hand in his without warning. “let’s go. I’ll walk you.”

you let him guide you with your interlocked fingers, making sure to sync your footsteps with his long strides.

when heeseung returns home after making sure you arrive at your doorstep safely, he laughs to himself. he wasn’t expecting any of the events that day to take place, but a sense of accomplishment swells in his chest.

heeseung liked having it all, and a girlfriend seemed to fit the bill perfectly.

『 THE TIME OF SPRING 』

when heeseung disappeared for the first time, he was gone for two days.

no one made note of it, after all, it wasn't the craziest thing for a teenage boy to be off the face of the earth for a single weekend.

that was until it happened again, and again, and again.

he always pretended like nothing happened when he'd return. it'd usually be on a monday morning when he was bright and early to class, greeting you with a hug and kiss to the side of your head before he'd see you again at lunch.

that had become a normal routine for you as he had officially asked you to be his girlfriend a few weeks after valentine's day, having properly taken you on a good amount of successful dates first until you were completely lovesick. the two of you had been going strong for over three months now.

it secretly ate you up inside every time he became abruptly unreachable. if you questioned him about where he was, what he did, why he didn't respond to a single text message, he'd deflect.

nobody at school saw a difference in the way he was acting except you. he was still riddled without a single flaw on the surface.

then, he went missing for a week.

“you know,” you start. “normally, people run away to escape their problems, not create them.”

he chuckles, distracted, “what’s with the pout?”

he causally pecks your pursed lips in an attempt to lighten the sour mood.

it was another monday morning, and instead of wondering about his whereabouts for a solid two days, those two days were stretched into seven.

“where did you even go?” you ask, leaning against the wall of the back of the school where you'd frequently go to be alone with heeseung before class.

“just somewhere,” he sighs, dodging the question.

“heeseung,” you give him a blank look.

“y/n,” he mocks, understanding the gravity of the situation but choosing to ignore it.

“I'm worried about you,” you say honestly as you release a deep breath. “it was a whole week this time. a week! don't you know how I feel when you leave me out in the dark like this? useless, fucking useless.”

“I know,” he sighs upon seeing your dejected expression. “I'm sorry.”

“you always say you're sorry, but what does that change?”

heeseung doesn't have an answer to that.

“are you ever going to tell me? do you even plan to?”

“y/n,” he says your name again, this time with a more serious tone. he pulls you into his arms for a hug and doesn't budge as he silently holds you in that position for minutes later. “I'll tell you the full story one day, I promise. it just can't be now.”

“why can't it be now?” you mummer into the sweater of his uniform, the aroma of his calming scent almost luring you to sleep.

“it just can't.”

you cage him back into the hug when you feel his arms loosening around your waist, hoping that if you hold on long enough, he'll stay.

“I've had something on my conscience lately,” he says, deciding to open up to you a little bit out of guilt. “do you want me to tell you?”

it's bait. you know that if you let him say it, there's something you owe him in return. you know that when this conversation is over, he's expecting no more questions about the matter until he's ready to mention it again himself.

'it's bait,' you remind yourself. 'but it's better than nothing.'

you slowly back away from his warm embrace in order to meet his eyes, “tell me all about it.”

“I'm thinking about taking a gap year after I graduate,” he ultimately reveals to you.

“you don't want to go to college?” you ask, suddenly taken aback. “but why? with your grades and your potential, I'm sure there's plenty of colleges that want you to apply.”

“it's not like that's the problem. I know I can get accepted into a good college,” he says. “I just don't want to make all these important life decisions just yet, you know?”

you could wrap your head around that. something you had learned about heeseung without him directly telling you was that he loved praise but hated responsibility. he was naturally gifted with talent, which was why he lacked the dedication and drive to make anything of it.

you wished he could understand how lucky he was, but you'd also try to see it from his perspective. there must've been so much pressure and expectations for him that you'd never had to experience in your entire life.

he chose not to confide in you about it, but he didn't have to. you could tell that he was struggling deep down inside.

heeseung liked being himself, and being himself was being free.

“I understand,” you nod reassuringly. “you need some time to figure things out. do what's best for you, as long as you know that it'll be worth it in the end.”

“thank you,” an infectious grin creeps up onto heeseung's lips, spitting across his face so widely that you think it'll break into halves. he cups the side of your jaw, patiently kissing every inch of your face. “you're everything. you're my everything.”

you could cry. never in a million years would you think your long-term crush would call you his everything.

“we should get going,” heeseung laces his fingers with yours. “classes will be starting soon.”

he moves to head inside but stops when he feels your hand tugging him back.

“can I say something first?” you ask impulsively, regret already gnawing on your impromptu confidence.

“sure, you can tell me anything.”

“I love you,” you blurt out. “I think I’ve been in love with you for so long.”

you feel physically sick at your own words.

‘it’s too soon. it's only been a few months. he’s going to think I’m weird and never talk to me again. gosh, I’m such an idiot!’

heeseung’s grip on your hand tightens, his doe eyes twinkling like a constellation of brightly shining stars.

“I love you too, y/n.”

you look at him in shock, “you shouldn't feel obligated to say it back just because I said it first.”

“I know,” he boasts with confidence. “I’m saying it because I want to.”

you gulp at his bold reply, “you really mean that?”

“of course,” he nods. “I don’t lie.”

“and you're one hundred percent sure?”

“I'm one hundred percent sure.”

“I’m warning you,” with your shaky breath evident, you fail to hold back the stripes of tears streaming down your face. “my heart is fragile, please don’t break it.”

heeseung plants one last tender kiss on your cheek where the tears stain, “I would never.”

『 THE TIME OF SUMMER 』

upon graduation, you didn’t see your boyfriend for a month and a half.

you weren't very surprised, but deep down you were still disappointed that he left without a word.

the beginning of your summer was incredibly boring and lonely without heeseung. granted, you hadn't even been in a relationship long enough to know what a summer with him was like, but that only made you want to know more.

your friend called you every once in awhile to hang out. you'd go out to eat, shop at the mall, or just take a simple drive around town. each time, she'd ask about how heeseung was doing. you'd tell her that he was doing fine even though you weren't really sure. she was so excited and happy for you, teasing you at every chance she'd get.

that's why it hurt to lie to her. now that the school year was over, no student had much of a clue that he was missing. everyone had just assumed that he was flourishing too high to stay behind, that he was off doing bigger and better things.

and it bothered you.

he hadn't contacted you in the time he was gone, not even once. you had no idea where he was or what he was doing. you hated this feeling. you felt so co-depended and clingy.

he had promised not to break your heart, and it saddened you to feel it cracking. it made you want to scream at him.

you spent your free time picturing how an argument would play out in your head. you would articulate what words you'd say, what phrases would best convey your emotions, the perfect moment to insert a cuss word for impact. you could hear his voice in the detail of your fabricated conversations every time you were left alone in silence. to put it shortly, your thoughts were filled with heeseung.

heeseung, heeseung, heeseung.

the moment he crawled through your open bedroom window in the middle of the night, you wondered how you'd bring it up.

then, the first thing he says is, “if you've been leaving your window open for me, just unlock it next time instead. I can't have my girlfriend getting cold.”

he passes you a blanket folded over the desk chair in the corner of your room, and you know right from his sweet gesture that it's game over.

in the end, you say none of the things you wanted to tell him. you're just happy to see him again.

happy to see him at all.

“I missed you,” you find yourself resting your head on his chest around twenty minutes later, laying beside him on your bed as a movie plays from your laptop.

heeseung readjusts his arm wrapped around your shoulder, using the hand on his other arm to tilt your chin up. you're forced to temporarily look away from the movie for a moment as he pulls you into a kiss, though you have absolutely no complaints.

screw the movie.

heeseung deepens the captivating kiss, his lips gradually yearning more and more for yours. you can feel yourself getting lost in his graceful, almost ghostly touch. it's an indescribable overload of emotions to have him so physically close when his heart feels so out of reach, like a false paradise.

eventually breaking the kiss, heeseung tugs you back into his chest and focuses again on the screen of your laptop, “missed you too.”

'then you should've came back sooner,' you think to yourself, biting back your tongue.

you're incapable of concentrating back on the movie, your mind still occupied by the boy of your affections.

“you're staring,” heeseung teases without moving a muscle.

you huff, sitting up to close your laptop shut, abruptly cutting off the audio of whatever scene was playing. you couldn't care less about it.

“hey,” your boyfriend sits up as well, noticing the change of atmosphere. “what's wrong?”

“are we still going to pretend that this is normal?” you say as you lazily play with your fingers. “you've been gone for over a month. you know how much I worry when you just disappear into thin air like that. was it really too difficult to even say goodbye?”

“y/n, we've talked about this,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, aggravated. “one day I'll explain it to you and you'll understand. one day, I promise you.”

you're dissatisfied with his answer but still find yourself afraid to act on the argument you had previously mapped out in the back of your mind.

“and besides, I don't need to say goodbye,” he adds, hoping to soften the mood. “why would I when I'll always return to you?”

“it's just,” you pause for a moment, making an effort to hold back the tears swelling in your eyes, but alas, you ultimately fail. “I've been trying so hard to wait for you to be honest with me, for you to be as transparent as I've been, or for you to stop leaving. it hurts so fucking badly, hee.”

“I know. I'm sorry,” heeseung pats your head. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I hate making you cry.”

“then don't give me a reason to.”

your tears continue to unabashedly gleam down the sides of your cheeks and heeseung wordlessly begins to wipe them away with his thumb.

“anything you want to talk about? anything interesting that happened today before you got here?” you ask a slew of questions, seeking a new line of conversation.

he ponders for a handful of seconds, “I visited home for a bit.”

you weren't expecting that. you thought he'd ramble over something random or minuscule to mindlessly entertain you both, but maybe he his mind couldn't detach itself from the whole emotional state the two of you were left in.

“how'd that go?”

“my parents practically disowned me when I came back earlier this morning,” he lets out a low laugh, leaning into the swamp of your pillows. “they're still mad at me for running away or whatever. they also can't seem to let go of my decision to take a gap year and even said that I'm not welcome back at home anymore, not that I wanted to go back anyways.”

you frown, “are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” he immediately looks ready to retract his statement at the unconvinced expression on your face. “I mean, it's not the most ideal situation, but they've made their decision and I've made mine. I won't ever forgive them. it's simple, really.”

“don't say that. they probably were coming from a place of concern. didn't you mention one time that you used to have a good relationship with your parents?”

“they can go to hell for all I care.”

“but...” you contemplate pushing the topic, but do so anyways. “don't you want them to be proud of you?”

“I don’t need their approval. at least you’re proud of me, aren’t you?”

you nod silently.

heeseung's eyes light up at this, “then that’s all I need.”

silence falls.

“I'm leaving again tomorrow,” heeseung says after a bit of hesitance. “wanna come with?”

your head snaps in his direction, “you’re leaving already?”

“yeah,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “what of it?”

a frown inevitably crosses your face, “why can’t you stay?”

“you’re the only reason I come back in the first place,” he replies with a charming smile.

you hate it when he smiles.

it was always distracting and his teeth were blinding white like angel wings. it felt like a trap, some sort of deception.

you observe the way heeseung's line of sight shifts to your bedroom window, where he originally entered from. when the both of you started dating all those months ago, heeseung would wait for you by your front door, more often then not with your parents uncomfortably present, and would take you out on a date.

though ever since heeseung started disappearing every now and then, your parents didn't quite view him as the best influence. they saw how empty of a shell you quickly became whenever he'd leave for unknown amounts of time and tried to guide you with their own perspectives, but you refused to listen.

that's how heeseung became familiar with climbing two stories to your bedroom window, and the two of you have yet to be caught.

“come on, y/n,” he gets off your bed while lending his hand out to you. “run away with me.”

you take his hand and pull yourself up, telling him in a faint voice, “okay.”

because you loved lee heeseung like the world was ending, and that would never change.

the two of you end up stargazing.

it's past midnight as his car pulls into the parking lot of a small park you had never been to before. it was almost a two hour drive from your house, the area unrecognizable to you entirely.

once you get out of the car, heeseung leads you towards a small hill with beyond the playground structure and picnic tables.

“the view's amazing,” you comment, the gradient of the sky and silhouette of the cities fill your line of vision. “do you come here often?”

“I've only been here once,” he admits. “but I thought you might like it. it's really quiet and secluded, don't you think? my mind feels at peace here, like the rest of the world doesn't exist.”

“like the rest of the world doesn't exist,” you repeat to yourself, following heeseung to the top of the hill. “I like that.”

he hums in response, “knew you would.”

you talk to heeseung for hours upon hours, conversing about everything and anything, but at the same time, nothing at all.

at some point, he takes out a pen stashed from inside his jacket pocket and begins drawing on your arm down to the back of your hand. it was a common quirk of his you remembered from your first few weeks of dating. he would visit your class some days just to talk and doodle simple objects or abstract lines on your skin.

“when did you first realize you had a crush on me?” heeseung asks curiously, concentrated on the art he was now forming by your knuckles.

“it was back in middle school,” the corners of your mouth tug upward at the memory. you look up at the sky, watching the faint light peek from the clouds, early morning approaching. there was something so cathartic about all the beautiful lines of colors stringing from above you. “we were in the same class and you handed me your colored pencils when I forgot mine at home. you were kind and sweet and comfortable to be around. it was hard not to like you. everybody did. when I heard you were skipping a grade, I was so sad because that meant we'd never have classes together again.”

“so, what I got from that was you liked me because I was perfect?”

“in the beginning, I did,” you don't deny it. “but as we started dating, I just wanted to love you for you. not lee heeseung or anything, just you.”

“that's good,” he mumbles more to himself than to you. “perfect heeseung sucks.”

“what do you mean? is being perfect really all that bad?” you joke lightheartedly.

“to me it is.”

“why?”

“I hated my life here... when I was perfect,” heeseung says, clicking his pen and tucking it away as he finishes his drawing. he changes his sitting position on the grass of the hill, bringing his knees to his chest.

heeseung hates his life in the present too, but he couldn't tell you that.

you look at him quizzically, “what was wrong with your life before?”

“nothing.”

“nothing?”

there's a silence that fills the air.

“I had everything that I could ever want,” heeseung breathes out, looking ahead as he could see the sun beginning to rise. “and somehow, that has and will never be enough.”

you included.

『 THE TIME OF FALL 』

heeseung was comparable to perfume, something that daintily lingers to then fade after a day’s wear.

the moment he had taken you home when the sunrise turned to sunset, you barely heard from him for another two months.

it was already your last year of high school, and people were starting to grow worried of you. it was like all the life and energy you once had was drained to nothing, leaving you in the hallow shell of your body. your friend often expressed her constant concerns for your state but you brushed them all off, ignoring her comments that it looked like you never got sleep or haven't been eating properly.

you constantly felt on edge.

and god, if someone had even mentioned heeseung's name in front of you...

you wondered if it was worth it to love heeseung this badly that it'd affect you like this. it wasn't. you knew that deep down.

watching him leave always hurt, but in all honesty, you were hurting yourself more by choosing to still love him. to still care.

within the two months of fall, he had contacted you twice. you remember being so shocked when you saw his name and picture flash on your phone screen, in disbelief that he actually called.

however, both those phone calls ended in arguments.

you were growing tired of it. this cycle.

the two of you were like parents who would always argue about essential the same thing, or argue just to argue.

you used to fantasize about being with heeseung, and now, you fantasize about your life if he was a stranger. you just wanted to think about what was best for your life and not his for once.

when he actually managed to visit you one night, he stopped to find you at your bedroom window first before leading you to the passenger seat of his car.

in a similar fashion to the phone calls you shared with him, civil conversation doesn't last long before a dispute breaks out. the car never even moved.

“you can’t just keep disappearing whenever you want like it doesn't matter,” you repeat yourself, like you always do with your feelings regarding heeseung. “you don’t realize how much you’re damaging yourself and the people around you.”

heeseung's facial expression doesn't change, “then come with me.”

“do you have any sense of awareness for someone other than yourself?” you continue to stare at him with disbelief. “I have a life, you know? so many things I want to do, so many dreams I want to fulfill. I can’t just drop that all to be with you.”

heeseung's jaw clenches out of anger, “do you not love me enough? trust me enough? is that it?”

“I should be asking you that when you’re the one keeping secrets and leaving me in the dust," you match his aggravated tone. “what's the point of having a boyfriend that can only play the part five times a year.”

“oh, stop being dramatic,” he rolls his eyes.

you feel all your bottled and unspoken emotions building into an outburst, “don’t you want to do something besides running away for once? you’re so smart and talented yet you’re throwing that all away for nothing—”

“shut up, y/n!”

“no, because you’re so fucking careless!” you cry out.

“so what?” he yells with a booming volume to his scratchy voice. “since when did you get to fucking dictate my life, huh? gosh, you sound just like my parents. fucking hell.”

“you're so ungrateful. of course you'd say that I'm trying to dictate your life after you just did that exact thing. you can't keep living like this forever, heeseung,” you bite back in response. “and stop trying to project your anger onto your family! I can put two and two together, you know? there's no way you've be able to sustain yourself all this time unless your parents were still giving you access to your credit cards. can't you see that you're pushing away the people who simply care and want to help you?”

he doesn't deny your accusations over the whole credit card ordeal, further confirming it in your mind.

“I don't wan't anyone's help! everyone always wants something from me, even you. I used to convince myself that I could do it, but I'm tired of being put in this box that everyone's constantly forcing me into. it's so exhausting.”

“I've never forced anything out of you! no one did.”

“that's a lie,” heeseung snaps.

you mockingly tilt your head, “so what if it is? everything was handed to you because you were born a prodigy and look where you are now.”

you loath your shitty attitude, aware that you're just saying what you know will provoke him, but your anger prevails.

“and what makes you any better? talking about your dreams, the kind of life you want to live,” his voice is low and sharp like a knife, which make his words leave a bigger wound. “none of that matters when you're not fucking good at anything. the only reason I started dating you in the first place was because you wanted me and people were expecting me to get a girlfriend.”

there was nothing that could've prepared you to hear those words. you knew when you originally confessed to him that he couldn't have possibly liked you as much as you did him, but the blatant truth stung.

“sorry, that was too harsh.”

a bitter laugh escapes your throat, “you think?”

there's an uncomfortably long pause.

“you should go,” he gulps, unlocking the car for you to leave. you listen, slowly opening to door on your side and steeping out.

you almost close it shut, but hesitate.

“heeseung?” you weakly call out his name.

he turns to look at you, “what?”

“did you ever truly love me?” you sniffle, unable to meet his eyes.

you regret the question before you ask it, fearing that you'd be better off not knowing the answer.

“to be honest, y/n,” he gives you an apologetic smile. “I’m not even sure if I’m capable of understanding what love is.”

heeseung officially broke up with you the next day.

he didn’t have the courage to say it to your face, so he wrote you a farewell note and slipped it into the crack of your front door. it was written on the fancy notepad paper he carried around in his bag at all times; you recognized the dark blue ink of the pen he used to draw on the back of your hand with.

you cried silently that day, alone and with the autumn leaves crumbling to the ground, just like your broken heart.

『 THE TIME OF WINTER, AGAIN 』

heeseung didn’t come back to town until the month of february.

he spent a lot of time replaying the last conversation he shared with you. it echoed like your voice was a recording that looped through a cave of his thoughts.

life was so empty. he had truly let go of everything he once had, and you were the last thing he let slip away.

he continued on with his normal routine for countless weeks, though he found it becoming increasingly more difficult with you weighing on his mind. it took some time and lots of contemplation, but he had finally considered getting his life together.

he had hope. he had hope that maybe there really was a way to live the life he wanted without the irrational and collateral damage. he started building the excitement of not only making himself good enough for the you he had broken, but also himself.

for once, he finally worked his way up instead of expecting the world to work around him.

there was so much he now wanted to do. he wanted to explore his interests and passions, figure out what he loves versus what he just happens to be good at. he had gotten a job while he was out of town as a waiter to gain experience and earn some money of his own instead of leeching onto his worried parents.

speaking of that, his relationship with his parents was far from where it used to be, but they were slowly repairing it little by little. there were some long phone calls of constant crying and arguing before they truly solved the myriad of issues brewing between them.

he thought about repairing his relationship with you as well by asking for your forgiveness, to explain from the beginning and maybe beg for a second chance.

it was then he realized that he could never will himself into actually doing that. you deserved more than a belated apology, you deserve more than anything he himself could offer in compensation to your pain.

it wasn't fair to lead you on. it wasn't fair to keep you around because he used your sympathy to his benefit, or because he knew all those times that you wouldn't abandon him even when he did it to you, over and over again.

you probably hated him. he wouldn't blame you for it.

he parks his car on the road outside your house, mentally preparing himself to see you again. it was the first place he wanted to visit upon his return.

“don't be a coward,” he exhales, still gripping the sides of his steering wheel. “just say what you want to say and know your boundaries.”

when he exits his car and walks through your front yard, he almost feels sick to his stomach with nerves. before he can hesitate, he whispers another few words of encouragement to himself and rings the doorbell.

your mother opens the door.

“hello, mrs. l/y/n,” heeseung awkwardly greets her. he had only met your mother a handful of times, and that would in similar moments to this one where his shoes would brush against the doormat as he’d normally wait for you come downstairs. that was before he resorted to sneaking through your bedroom window in the middle of the night. “may I come in to see y/n?”

she gives him an empty look, “how long have you been back?”

heeseung gulps, fully aware that he didn’t have the best reputation in your parent’s eyes, “since this morning.”

“so you haven’t heard the news, have you?” she asks, keeping calm as she clarifies the situation.

“what news?” heeseung asks worriedly, eyebrows stitched together in confusion.

“while you were gone, y/n got into a car accident with one of her friends.”

heeseung's world shatters.

“what?”

“they were both extremely drunk and her friend ran a red light while driving at full speed.”

“is she okay? is she in the hospital? which one? I’ll go there right now—”

“she died on impact,” your mother interrupts him, losing all her patience as she was faced with the boy that broke her daughter’s heart to pieces. “her funeral was last month, so please, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”

“I’m sorry for your lost, mrs. l/y/n,” he stutters, bowing respectfully.

“thank you,” she halfheartedly accepts his condolences, going to close the door with one final nod.

“wait,” he exclaims last minute, his hand instinctively coming up to signal her to stop. “can you tell me where… where I can visit her grave. please, I just want to talk to her one last time, even if it has to be in this way.”

your mother inhales a sharp breath at his vulnerable and desperate plea, telling him to wait for a moment so she can hand him a note of the location.

“hey, y/n.”

heeseung sits down in front of your grave.

everything about this feels so surreal. he wants to imagine that this is all a dream — or rather nightmare — that can be resolved with one good nap and the hope that you're still out there somewhere in the world instead of being buried six feet under.

he takes his time gathering his thoughts, “I don't know really know what to say. I came to your house today expecting to get some sort of closure, or for you to kick me out by slamming the door on my face. either would've been understandable.”

heeseung curls himself into a ball, the same way he did that time he took you to the park to go stargazing, chin resting atop his knees.

“I didn't know you drank alcohol. was it because of me? shit, never mind, let's not go down that road or else it will haunt me at night,” he quickly begins to ramble. “but anyways, I never got to give you the explanation I said I would one day. that's something I wanted to talk to you about, since I figured I at least owed you that one. I should come back tomorrow and tell you the full story,” he says, giving himself a reason to come and see you again. plus, the sudden news had drained him of any energy to form the coherent thoughts he intended on expressing to you. “like I promised.”

he kept so many secrets and fed you with so many lies. he wishes he could redo it all, or better yet, he wishes the two of you had never met from the start. your life could've been so much better if he weren't in it.

“I missed you a lot after we broke up, which is ironic considering I had no right to be, not after everything I said and did to you. I couldn't help it though; I miss seeing you happy. I remember thinking about how nice and pretty you seemed on our first date, but it was around our second or third that I saw how truly beautiful you were. that was when you started to become more comfortable around me. your eyes were glimmering like city lights and your lips tasted like coconut lipgloss. I don't think I've ever had that much fun with someone in my life; it was kind of scary,” heeseung laughs but it's bittersweet. “you gave your heart to me so easily and without hesitation. you really shouldn't have. I didn't earn it. it was so shitty of me that I couldn't appreciate the time we spent together. we were in a relationship for how long? eight or nine months? it feels like it flashed by in seconds.”

he can visualize your face as if he saw it yesterday, and now he wonders if it's an image he'll never be able to forget.

“I’m so sorry,” he breaks out into a sob, his hands coming up to cover the entirety of his face. “what about all yours plans?” he softly continues, grief-stricken. “you were supposed to graduate high school, find your dreams, meet someone who would... who would treat you right. you had a future ahead of you.”

heeseung knew how much he cared about you underneath all the bullshit he covered it with. sure, his feelings for you weren't quite the same with your feelings for him, but there was a sense of solace he found in you.

every time he vanished into his little getaways, you were the last person he saw when he left and the first he saw when he returned.

you were the anchor that grounded him to reality.

guilt consumes him in this moment. it was as if this was the world’s punishment to make him realize the consequences of his actions.

was this what you feared? the endless nightmare of waiting for someone to come back, not knowing the day they’d stop returning.

maybe if he had listened to you, maybe if he had stayed…

maybe if he had reciprocated the love you had given him, you would still be here.

“I can’t just lose you,” tears cloud heeseung’s vision as he removes his hands from his damp cheeks to clutch at the dead grass. he could sense all his strength and composure breaking down bit by bit when he screeched out quiet strains of pain. “why did I have to lie to you? why did I have to hurt you? why did I have to always be the one that fucks up our relationship?”

his body feels like it's on fire, and his heart burned to ash.

“why did this have to happen? you didn't deserve to die.”

just when he had finally felt that his life was put together, he was too late to even witness you living yours one last time.

heeseung's shaky hands find their way to his bag, grabbing the delicate object sticking out from the side pocket. he had put the straightforward gift together right before he visited your house, and now that you're gone, the memory behind it breaks him even more.

“happy valentine’s day, y/n,” he whispers, setting a single rose on your gravestone. wrapped around the stem was a bow of pretty purple ribbon. “I want to be the one who confesses to you like this, even if I still don’t know what it means to love the way you loved me.”

lee heeseung never knew how to cherish anything in his life, but he wished he had tried with you.

masterlist

YOU CAME AND WENT, JUST LIKE THE SEASONS.

TAGLIST: @innikiwetrust @jkjkseo @enhacolor @nomy0520

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @candidupped @giyyuzz @yurazuyori @hime98 @woooooooosh8 @missmadwoman @junalator @viscoolreal @luvrjn @jungwons-rat @sunshine-skz @f4iryho0n @hiqhkey @yizhoutv @iamnotgrootforiamthor @mochisnlix @tomorrowbymoa-together @chicxxy @95sjcc @beibybtch @kyleeanne @vantxx95 @angel-hyuckie @strawbrinkofdeath @ohmy-fandoms @w3bqrl @sseastar-main @duolingofanaccount @zzwnki @lilis636 @innikiwetrust @dazzledsohn @abdiitcryy @kyyuri @yuakagi @acciomylove @nikirikienh @jaywonlix @bbakuh0e @fairybangtan @soobin-chois @lomlyeonjun @todorokiskitten @yangcica @hcenii @luvsriki @peaceout97 bolded accounts could not be tagged!

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen heeseung #heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung au #heeseung imagines #heeseung angst #heeseung oneshots

455 notes · View notes

xoxo-teddybear · 4 years ago

Text

Nothing But a Bet - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: Angst, cursing, sexual mentions

Summary: Bakugou and his friends were just joking around! Nobody expected Bakugou to fall in love! But what’ll happen when Y/N finds out she started off as nothing but a piece of a game to her boyfriend.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Pt.1 Pt.2

It wasn’t supposed to be this way, but Bakugou sure is glad with the way things turned out.

About 11 months ago, Bakugou, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Sero were messing around. The boys were making bets but once Kaminari had gone too far on the one he offered Bakugou, Kirishima called it quits and decided to back out of their little game.

Kaminari had dared Bakugou to ask out new girl on a date, be with her for a week, and not fall in love. Seemed like a simple bet. Y/N L/N, the new student, was very pretty. She was an incredible fighter but Bakugou didn’t know her enough to even call her a friend yet. All he had to do was date her for a week and not catch feelings? Seemed simple enough. And besides, if he won he would be getting Denki as a personal assistant for a month, getting him anything he wants. Bakugou was in.

The bet was simple. So simple! So how could Bakugou have failed? He couldn’t help it. Y/N was just so...perfect. She was kind and compassionate, but she also had poison on her tongue and always stood her ground. She was strong and gorgeous, and she was patient and always listened to Katsuki to help him with whatever. Throughout the first week, she was always there for Katsuki and even though she didn’t always give him what he wanted, she gave him what he needed, and that’s when he realized he needed her.

So after the first week of Bakugou and Y/N together as a couple came another..and another...and another..and another. Weeks turned to months and those months turned into almost a whole year. The couple has been dating for 11 months and was waiting for their 1 year anniversary to come right around the corner.

Bakugou was completely whipped for Y/N. He waited on her, hand and foot, and treated her like the queen she is. He loved her with his entire being and just being around the girl made him a better, happier person. He went through all the steps in a young relationship with Y/N. They were each other’s first love, first kiss, first date, first everything! Even their first time! Yup, Bakugou and Y/N had both lost their v-cards to each other and it was a night Bakugou would never forget.

And now here we are! The day of their anniversary! Y/N and Bakugou woke up in each other’s arms in Bakugou’s dorm room.

“Good morning Suki,” Y/N said with love laced in her voice. Bakugou was awake but kept his eyes shut as he pressed his forehead to Y/N’s temple and just smiled.

“G’morning Princess,” he then pecked her cheek, “happy one year,” he softly said. He pulled you in closer and you giggled at his sleepy state. You both shared a quick peck and Bakugou finally opened his eyes to stare at his beautiful princess.

“So! What’re we gonna do today?” Y/N asked with glee. As Bakugou opened his mouth to answer, his phone rang and you both looked towards it. Bakugou growled and rolled his eyes as he reached for his phone to answer. He sighed before he spoke.

“Hello?......what?! .....ugh, today of all days?” He said and looked towards Y/N with sad eyes, “C’mon! I got plans for today....no I know but-....*sigh* fine. I’ll be there in an hour.” He hung up the phone and tossed it to his night stand and he frustratingly tucked his head in Y/N’s neck and growled.

“Sooo....plans are canceled?” You said with a little hint of disappointment. Bakugou looked at you with a regretful eyes as he softly spoke.

“I’m sorry Princess, Aizawa’s calling me and Kirishima in for extra training. He planned this months ago and I told him not to put me on for today but I guess he forgot. If I don’t go in today then I don’t get to go in at all and it puts me behind. I’m sorry Y/N,” he said apologetically.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, Love. I get it, and it’s fine. We’re hero trainees, we gotta be at our best,” you said with a smile. Bakugou smiled at your grin and was thankful he had someone as understanding as you. “What time should you be back?”

“Uhh, probably around 9 tonight,” he sadly said.

“Oh wow...that’s a long time,” you said with a little sadness.

“Yeah I know, and I’m sorry, but I promise I’ll make it up to you!” Bakugou said. He felt so bad for missing your anniversary but he had to do what he had to do.

“It’s fine Suki. You said you’d be back at 9, so that’s when we’ll celebrate.” You offered.

“Baby, the dorm’s curfew is 10. What’re we gonna do for an hour outside?” He asked.

“Who said we had to leave the dorms to celebrate our anniversary? I could set something up here in one of our rooms and when you get back, we can celebrate. Just you and me, all night.” Bakugou smiled at his creative girlfriend. He was so blessed. He held you closer and covered your face in kisses as you giggled away. He loves the sound of your laugh and voice and craves to hear it all the time.

“Okay then, but I still want to make it up to you,” Bakugou bargained. Y/N only smiled and rolled her eyes at her stubborn boyfriend.

“Fine. I’m not complaining,” you laughed and Bakugou followed. He kissed you one last time before he got up and got ready. You stayed in his bed a bit longer and waited till he got out of his shower to leave to your own dorm to get ready. You both couldn’t wait for tonight!

*Timeskip*

It’s was 8:30 and Bakugou would be back soon and you both agreed to have your celebration in your room so that when Bakugou gets back, he can get ready. You set up your room perfectly. A table in the middle, a few candles, a few roses. Petals scattering the floor and his anniversary gift on your bed. You spent all day in the dormitory kitchen making spicy gyoza, seaweed salad, miso soup, and a variety of sushi. The room looked amazing and so did you! Your makeup was top notch and you wore a gorgeous maroon red dress that hugged your body. It was tightly hanging off your shoulders and the length went down to your upper thigh. You wore a skinny black choker and a gold necklace. You finished off your look with black strappy heels. It was a little chilly so you opted for a black leather jacket and honestly it pulled the whole look together.

You sat on your bed as you waited for Katsuki to come back but decided it was time to set the table. You brought the food and utensils, the plates and cups, and went back to get a pitcher of ice water. As you returned and placed the pitcher on the table, you went to close the door but heard Kaminari and Sero down the hall.

“Can you believe Bakugou and Y/N lasted this long?” Sero said. You got curious as to why they were randomly speaking of you both and listened in.

“I know right! It’s their one year today and they have me to thank for it!” Kaminari said in a boastful voice. “It was all thanks to my bet that Kacchan even asked her out in the first place.”

Your eyes went wide as you continued to listen. “What?” You whispered to yourself.

“True. And to think it all started out as a bet.” The boys laughed and joked around as they said they were happy for their friend but you shut the door and pressed your body against it. You covered your mouth with your hand to muffle your sobs and let the tears fall to the ground.

“I’m nothing but a bet.”

—

Minutes passed and Bakugou texted you that he was in his dorm getting ready. You didn’t reply. You fixed your makeup to look a little normal but nothing could hide the fury and heartache in your eyes. You waited a few for Katsuki to walk through the doors and the time finally arrived

“Happy anniversary babe!” Bakugou said as he walked through the doors. He was holding his gift for you and was wearing a maroon red button up that matched your dress. He rolled up the sleeves and unbutton the top. He wore a silver chain with black jeans and black boots. He put on his watch and you weren’t gonna lie, he looked insanely handsome, but that wasn’t gonna stop you from doing what you had to.

“You look hot,” he said as he smirked and looked you up and down. You stood and gave a quick smile before letting it drop once more but Katsuki didn’t notice. As you kept your gaze to the now very interesting ground, Katsuki made his way over to you. He stood very close and he attempted to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in for a kiss but you placed your hands on his chest to stop him. “Uh? Baby? What’s wrong?” He nervously laughed out.

“....Bakugou we need to talk,” you calmly said but held back all the anger and sadness you were feeling. You pushed Bakugou back a little and he placed the gift down on the table. He looked at you with a confused face before he spoke.

“Bakugou? Baby, it’s Katsuki. Suki? Your Suki. Are you alright?” He asked with a worried voice. You laughed at his confusion. He really didn’t get it. He really didn’t understand that this was the end for you both. An uncomfortable silence rang through the room and you bit your lip in nervousness before you spoke.

“.....How could you?....I gave you my everything and it was all a lie! You were my first everything Katsuki! My first kiss, my first love. ...Oh my god I can’t believe I actually slept with you!” You said with a soft broken voice as your arms held your body and you looked towards the ground in regret. Bakugou was confused but seeing your sad form made him so upset. And hearing that you regret the times you both made love to each other broke him. He was worried for you and he ran to you to give you a hug but you pushed him away again.

“Baby-“

“Stop calling me that!”

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

You finally snapped your eyes up to face his as you looked at him with angry eyes and pools of tears as they streamed down your face.

“I’m nothing but a bet to you!” You screamed. Bakugou’s face went into shock as his eyes went wide and an open frown appeared on his face. You found out. You fucking found out but who the hell told you. Who the fuck ruined his perfect relationship?!

“Who-...who told you?” He asked with an angry, sad, shaken voice. You rolled your eyes as you noticed that after what you told him, that was what he was worried about.

“Does it matter?! Is it true or not?! ....did you really use me for a bet?” You asked with a broken heart. Bakugou bit his lip as he contemplated lying to you and moving on from this to keep his relationship, or telling you the truth in hopes that his understanding girlfriend would understand and stay with him. Both options were risky but he went for the latter.

“Yes..it’s true. You started off as a bet,” Bakugou watched as you looked around and threw your arms, shrugged your shoulders, and let them drop again. Your body just screamed “I knew it,” as he watched you with fear but continued. “But that doesn’t mean what I feel for you isn’t real!”

“How am I supposed to trust that?!” You screamed.

“Please! Please just trust me! Y/N I love you! I do, I swear! I was an idiot to place that bet but I didn’t expect myself to actually fall in love with you!” Bakugou heard what he said and cringed as he realized he basically just said he didn’t think it would be possible for him to fall in love with you. You looked at him in offense and hurt as he quickly spoke up again. “No, no, no, no! I didn’t mean it like tha-“

“Bakugou! Stop......just get out.” You calmly said but Bakugou felt his heart shattering.

“W-what? Y/N you can’t be serious. ...Can we at least talk about this first, please!” Bakugou said as he tried to grab your hand but you quickly yanked it out of his reach.

“No! Bakugou-“

“It’s Katsuki!”

“We’re done!” And there it was. Bakugou’s felt his entire world crumbling as his tears flowed down his face like twin rivers.

“P-please! You can’t do this!” Bakugou screamed as he ran to you and wrapped you in his arms. He let his head fall into your neck but you pushed at him and demanded he let you go. “Please don’t leave me! Please! I’m s-sorry! I can make it up to you, I promise just don’t leave!”

“Bakugou, let me go!” You said as your own tears fell and you pushed at his chest. Each time you got closer to getting him off, his hold tightened and he pulled you closer.

“No! Y/N please don’t do this to us!” He begged.

“Bakugou there is no ‘us’ anymore so let me go!” You demanded.

“Please! There’s nothing I can say to fix it! You started out as part of a bet, I’ll admit it, but I ended up falling in love with you, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever done! I spent a year of my life with you and I wanna spend so much more! Please! You can’t leave me!” Another silence came upon the room. You stopped fighting due to exhaustion and Bakugou just continued to cry in your neck as he continued to hold you tight. His pleas and cried fell upon deaf ears as you already made up your mind.

“....I hate you.” You whispered as you let harsh tears seep out. Bakugou remained unphased and just assumed it was your pain speaking.

“I love you.” He quietly said. “Please just give me another chance to make this right,” he begged.

You felt Bakugou’s grip loosen and that’s when you quickly took the opportunity to use your quirk and push him off. Your quirk pressed him against the wall and kept him there.

“Hey! Y/N! What are you doing!? Let me go! Please!” He cried out as he watched you grab a blanket, a pillow, sleeping clothes and makeup remover. You’ll sleepover in Mina’s room if Bakugou won’t leave your room. “Please Princess! Don’t leave! I can fix this if you give me another chance! Im begging you to stay! I’m sorry! Please stay!”

“Since you won’t leave, I will. We’re done Bakugou,” you said as you got in his face. You noticed his shaky voice and frantic eyes as he searched your soul to see if you were serious. His mouth hung open slightly as he shook his head ‘no’ in disbelief. “From now on, don’t talk to me, don’t touch me, don’t even look at me! I hate you.” You said and walked out of your room and slammed the door. Katsuki fought against the restraints and once you got far enough, you released your quirk and Bakugou quickly ran out the room to look for you. But he didn’t see any sight of you and so he went back inside you room. He locked himself in there and cried.

He cried and begged that the whole thing was just a bad dream and he would wake up any minute now. But this wasn’t a dream. And Bakugou had really just lost the one he loved. He looked at the room and everything you set up. He cried as he looked around and felt so sorry for both you and him. That night, he slept in your room on your bed, crying. He didn’t even bother to change or anything. He just wanted to escape this new reality.

“Please come back Teddy Bear....I’m sorry.”

2K notes · View notes

soulmate-game · 4 years ago

Text

New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

—*—*—*—*—*

For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

--*--*--*--*--*

Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

#maribat #bio!dad au #bio!dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic jasonette #platonic dickinette #platonic timinette #platonic timari #mlb x dc #ml x dc #maribat fic #platonic brucinette #older sister Marinette

879 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

heartspace, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Min Yoongi will always be the one. The one on top, the one above all others, the one who has a space in your heart. Sometimes, Yoongi questions it. You have to remind him that no one commands you like he can, and he reminds you that no one can take you from him.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smut (fem reader, fingering, nipple play, m-receiving oral, doggy, scratching / marking, hair-pulling, cock warming); PWP; softdom!Yoongi

yes, I have been planning this ever since I released ‘headspace’. happy birthday Yoongi! <3 I would have pretty words for you, but I literally write smut about you, so how about you not practice your English here because I know you’re secretly fluent. I’ll give you the ‘I-love-you’ speech some other time XD

"I'm here."

You felt his fingers trail down your exposed arms, drumming down your skin. He took your hands, tracing your silver rings, humming satisfyingly. A familiar view, a fair skinned wrist with silver chain bracelets. He curled his long fingers around yours, caressing the inside of them. You could smell his cologne, scarcely sweet and musky woods, just a hint here and there, wisps that seemed almost imaginary.

"To remind you that you're mine."

His grip tightened around your wrists.

A swift pull, spinning you around in your computer chair, tearing you away from the keyboard. Fluffed black hair, brushing against dark brown, cat-like eyes. A pensive smile and two silver hoops on each ear. All black, turtleneck, leather jacket, slacks. Your favorite.

Your shadow.

Min Yoongi.

"I... I can explain."

The smile turned into a smirk.

"No need."

He intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing them, unforgiving metal of the rings digging into both your hands. Leaned down, pushing your rolling chair into your desk so it stopped, husky voice against your chin. He stroked one of your silver rings, spinning it around your index finger.

"Yoongi..."

He purred your name, drawing it out syllable by syllable, letting it slowly assault your ears. Your skin tingled as he pulled you up, your loose black t-shirt too thin, feeling far too much as he tugged you to him, his inescapable gravity and wicked smirk.

“You smell different today,” he murmured, your bare legs brushing against his slacks.

You did smell different. Like burning wood and roasted sweet chestnuts, a new scent you found that instantly attracted you. That’s how you were. You encountered things and you immediately loved them, intensely, addictively, forever.

Just like Min Yoongi.

“Mmm.”

His hand traveled under the hem of your shirt, grabbing your thigh and sinking his fingers into it with a soft hiss. You bit your lip, closing your eyes, falling into the touch, letting it consume you. There were not a lot of things that could make you give in, but you believed in your instincts and trusted them. Your instincts always told you where to go, what to do, who to go to. With one glance, you could pinpoint if you would like something or not, even in unfamiliar territory. Your instincts always guided you to your loves. The things you loved always became significant, always changed your life, always had your devotion through time, space, and dreams.

They became obsessions and they never stopped.

Yoongi buried his face into your neck and inhaled, moaning softly.

“Smells so good. Warm. Like a comforting memory,” he mumbled.

“Reminded me of you.”

And it had. The second you smelled it; memories of his embrace had blanketed around you.

He lifted his head and his eyes were on yours. Half-lidded, plagued by dark circles, the loveliest black-brown in the whole world. You normally hated eye contact, but not in this space, not with him. Your hands slid under his leather jacket, wrapping around his waist. Yoongi leaned in, kissing you once more, pressing your body to his, leather and softness. He reached into his jacket and possessively tucked one of your hands in his.

“Sometimes,” he muttered against your lips. “Sometimes I think I don’t have your love.” His fingers caressed yours as you kneaded his waist underneath the turtleneck. "Do you not want me around anymore?"

A small smile drifted onto your lips. You reached up with your free hand and tugged the collar of your t-shirt down, revealing your silver necklaces.

"You're always with me."

Yoongi’s dark eyes traveled down your neck, to the first one, seeing the tiny circular overlapping pendants. His name etched in the lower one, his birthstone set in the upper one. A tiny, contented smile. The others were a tangle of chains and charms, but Yoongi was the one who mattered most, so he was on top.

Always on top.

“What if you lose that?” he teased.

You chuckled. “So what? I could lose everything I own, but I would still love you, Yoongi.” You placed your forehead against his. “My head could be full of someone else, but there is always a space in my heart for you.”

The things you loved.

They are always and forever.

He raised his hand and placed a single fingertip in between your collarbones. Your spine tingled, scalp prickling as he slid it up your neck, lips parting as he watched it travel over your skin, up your chin and onto your plush lips, nail snagging on the softness.

“Such lovely words, but this mouth can do such dirty things,” Yoongi breathed, the side of his curving upwards playfully. You quirked your eyebrow and opened your mouth, licking the tip of his finger with your tongue, smiling around it.

“I can have pure feelings and a filthy mind.”

Yoongi cocked his brow to match yours, smirk widening to reveal his white teeth. “And you certainly do. I have no idea how your mind works.”

And then before you could respond, Yoongi shoved two fingers into your mouth, rubbing them against your tongue. You chuckled, wrapping your lips around them, sucking daintily, tongue swirling, slipping between them, drawing figure-eights. His eyes on you, darkening, darkening, the sparks of desire stroked to black flame, burning intensely as you placed the tip of your tongue all the way down to the skin where his two fingers connected, down to his knuckles, his fingers almost down your throat.

“You have such a tiny mouth,” he purred. “Astounded that my cock can fit in there.”

Yoongi pulled his fingers out and you gasped, strings of saliva dripping down and snapping against your chin. There was something about his expression, not trying to trick you, not trying to seduce you, simply aware of what he was going to do and that he was going to do it. There was no one to stop him.

In fact, you patiently awaited it.

His free hand closed on the hem of your pajama shirt and slipped under, pushing your panties to one side and shoving his wet fingers into your pussy.

“Ah, Y-Yoongi!”

He smiled, sliding his fingers in and out, and you raised one of your legs, hooking it around his hip, one hand on his shoulder, moaning as he rubbed the inside of your walls, feeling all of you, watching your face the entire time, your pussy throbbing at the knowledge of being observed so intently. His other hand snuck up your back, drawing patterns on the thin black fabric, hardly a barrier from his touch, and then he traveled further up, running his fingers through your hair, tangling them at the base and yanking back, neck exposed, your moans deepening, saturated with lust, the pace of his fingers inside you increasing. You clenched around them, breath hitching at the pricks of pain, viscous juices soaking his hand and coating his knuckles. Yoongi leaned forward, inhaling your scent once more.

“Cum for me,” he purred, teeth on your neck, nipping lightly, pinches of red marks.

Pulling a little harder, thrusting a little deeper, sucking on the space in between your collarbones, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, whimpering as the sensitive skin was bitten and the insides of your walls roughly rubbed, grinding into his hand to stimulate your clit and it was too hot, too much, pushing you over the edge.

“Oh, fuck, Yoongi…”

Pussy clamping around his digits, pulsating violently, your juices sliding down the back of his hand and his palm, covering him with you. A short reprieve, Yoongi letting you ride the high, sighing in satisfaction as he felt your walls shiver with the aftershocks. His other hand released your hair and you panted hard, tipping your head back up, only to be forced to raise your arms as Yoongi yanked your shirt up. You pulled it over your head, shaking your hair out, now wild and messy. He snapped a finger on your black bra strap, impatient expression telling you to take it off. You undid it with one hand and, as soon was it fell to the floor, Yoongi ripped his fingers out of you. You yelped at the suddenness, abruptly turning into a moan as Yoongi took his slick fingers covered in your cum and smeared them over your breasts, circling around your hard nipples, pinching them in between his slippery touch.

“Fuck, I love these nipples,” Yoongi muttered, dipping his head down to your chest, breathing in the scent of your orgasm. “So fucking big and soft and hard, all at once.”

He wrapped his lips around one and sucked off your juices with a moan, cleaning up his mess by licking all over your breasts. He placed his two wet fingers around the other, pinching and tugging on it, trailing his tongue up and down, up and down, matching pace, drenching your skin with his saliva before collecting it all back up and circling the sensitive hardened nub with the wetness, flicking his tongue against it, gentle, intense, continuous, until you were shaking and shivering against him.

Your hands came up and held his head, pushing back his black hair, moaning as you ran your fingers through it, over and over, his large hands pressing your tits together and playing on your nipples with his lips and fingers, sucking hard.

There were a lot of words in this world and none of them could describe exactly how Yoongi made you feel, like he could set everything on fire while also being the water rushing through you, burning and drowning, his brown orbs looking up at you, silent, but clear with his lust, reflecting you in his eyes.

A mirror, so akin to you.

And yet not, because he was Min Yoongi.

His other hand fitted in the curve of your back, forcing you to arch more, trailing his tongue over your chest, humming at your soft cries.

"You always look so good no matter what I'm doing to you," he mused, lazily licking off your other nipple.

"It's because you're the one doing it," you panted, shivering as he blew on your wet skin.

"Hm, I don't think so. I think you're just hot as hell."

He kissed up your chest, on your lips once more, sighing softly, your sharp sweet taste on his lips, both hands on your breasts, pinching your nipples with his knuckles. You whined into his mouth, and he shushed you with rough kisses as he rubbed them just as roughly, pain and pleasure, working you until you were breathless, gasping, pleading for more. He chuckled, releasing them, earning a frantic whimper, his mouth still pressed to yours. You heard him shrug off the leather jacket, dumping it on the chair. Nudging you forward to the bed, staying in stride with you, and you, grip on his turtleneck, yanking it out of his slacks, his smirk against your smirk.

"What if," Yoongi murmured, hands enveloping yours, tracing your silver rings. "One of my rings was here?" Tapping your left ring finger, mischievous spark underneath his lashes.

"Do I get to put one here?" you teased, sliding one between his and wrapping it around his left ring finger.

"Ah, they should match, shouldn't they?"

You grinned, tumbling onto the bed and dragging him with you, Yoongi quirking an eyebrow, tone rich and deep as he continued.

"You like white gold or platinum?"

You tugged his turtleneck up and off his head, letting it fall to the floor, running a hand through his fluffed black hair as you mused.

"I'll let you pick," you purred. "And then I can pick one."

"For where?"

"For here."

Yoongi sucked in a breath, narrowing his eyes and mouth at you, cheeks puffing a little, but there was no mistaking the amusement in his words.

"At least service him before you start putting him in prison."

You unlatched your grip on his clothed cock.

"What am I, but of service?"

He watched your tongue trace your lips as you slid down, unbuttoning his slacks, zipper being teased down, a pleased smile growing as his clothes were tugged off, crumpling to the floor.

"Let me help you," Yoongi drawled as you lowered your head, calm hands gathering your hair to a long ponytail, winding it around his palm before turning his hand around, fitting his hold to the back of your head. You raised an eyebrow at his smirk.

"It's going to be like that?"

His eyes darkened, black hair falling over them.

"You love it like that."

That's true. Familiar words came back to you, almost like a mantra.

What if you live like that?

Tongue sliding out, licking him all over, dripping saliva down his length, his cock already hard and insistent against your lips, hot and trembling, pleading for attention, but you nuzzled past, wrapping your lips around one of his balls and swirling your tongue around it, listening to his deep moan, smokey and raspy, your name mixed with his sounds of appreciation, hand firm on the back of your head. You switched sides, back and forth, sucking one as you licked the other, accompanied by loud slurps that made Yoongi's hips jerk, euphoric gasps filling your room.

"Fuck, that's a dangerous mouth..." he hissed. "You could make anyone fall for you with your mouth alone."

You snaked your tongue along his stiff length, side to side, tracing the contours with your wet muscle, finally coating the tip with a thick layer of warmth, seeing Yoongi watch you with hunger, his long fingers pressed into your scalp.

"Down," he growled.

You obeyed.

Swallowing it all, all the way to the base, his cock twitching in your mouth. Yoongi gasped sharply, holding you down, your throat constricting around the head, barely able to breathe, but you were in Yoongi's hands now.

Your favorite pair of hands to command you.

"Fuck... fuck..."

He tilted his hips and you fell on your side, silver necklaces jangling, steadying yourself with your elbow. Slow but forceful, sliding out and pushing back in, moaning softly as he fucked your face, your hands in his sides, nails digging in, whining around his thickness, pushing your tongue against the bottom to make it tighter, better, his strong taste coating your mouth, so good your mind was a bit hazy from it or was it the intensity of his thrusts that was leaving you breathless?

You tensed your throat muscles and Yoongi chuckled, breathing hard.

"You sure you haven't practiced on someone else? You're too good at this, fuck..."

It was impossible to reply, think, or breathe, clawing at his back, rocking your body with his, your own power intoxicating you, knowing Yoongi was close to his end by the increased speed and roughness, grip on your head unforgiving, bouncing you back and forth with the force of his hips, your wet lips smacking his balls and crotch, the head repeatedly burying itself in your throat, stretching it out just like how Yoongi would stretch you out soon.

"Fuck, I know you love it when I use your mouth like this," he snarled.

I do. I love all the things you do to me.

He clenched his jaw and a grating hiss fell from his lips, thrusting deep and spilling down your throat, you whimpering as you swallowed hurriedly, hands splayed over his back and ass, holding him there so you could drink it all, tongue pressed along his length to feel his cock throb with every spurt of cum painted down your throat. There was no time to think about breathing, completely dazed by his strong taste and the forced manner that you had to consume his orgasm, visceral and obscene.

"Time for your other hole."

You drew back, gasping for air, hair cascading around you as Yoongi let go, taking advantage of your hazy state clawing for oxygen. You barely registered him pushing you down to the sheets, hands and knees, ass up and ready, his own hands on your hips to peel your wet pussy lips apart, watching your glistening opening flexing, the reaction both your muscles and your desire.

Waiting for him.

Wanting him.

"Mmm, my pretty pussy," he purred possessively.

Your body already knew what to do even if your mind was still trying to catch up. He took the condom from your shaking, outstretched hand and ripped it open. You didn't have to wait long. He leaned forward. The swollen, hot head pressed against your opening. Not moving, chest against your back.

"Yoongi, please..." you gasped hoarsely.

"Please what?"

This fucking tease. "Please... fuck me."

His hand crawled up the sheets, deft fingers dancing, up your wrist, and onto your hand, your silver rings glinting in the low light. He placed his fingers in between yours, lips against your ear.

"My perfect plaything, aren't you?"

A swift thrust and you were moaning, fingers closing in around his, suddenly so full and so deep that you saw white for a brief moment, but there was no time, no time as Yoongi slid back and slammed into you again, crotch to ass, untangling his hand from yours so he could right himself and fuck you hard, just the way you liked, just the way you needed.

"Mmm, what a beautiful back."

You buried your face into the pillows, his fingernails scraping down your skin, sending shocks and stings all over you, helpless cries at his wonderful scratches, the exact pressure so that he left marks all over you but didn't break skin, so good paired with his harsh thrusts, making you claw for the headboard, planting your hands on it and bucking back into his hard length, heightening the pleasure and mixing it with pain, Yoongi's satisfied grunts behind you, necklaces jingling on your chest. Sensation, sound, emotion, all of it, building up inside, winding the coil, tighter, tighter.

Nothing else mattering but being fucked by Yoongi's cock.

"This body is for me, isn't it?" Yoongi growled, racking his nails down your back.

"Whenever you want, fuck, oh fuck, Yoongi!"

He kept going, the fire of your orgasm burning hot, crashing waves threatening to take you under, but still he gripped your hips and fucked you into the bed, the bed frame squeaks drowned out by the loud squelches of his rock-hard cock reentering you over and over again.

"That's what I thought," he snickered, leaning down and earning a wail, so deep it felt like he was hitting your cervix, the head swelling as your walls clenched around him. "No one can take you from me, isn't that right?"

You responded automatically, your body once again responding quicker than your brain could, the answer always there, lingering in your mind, unwavering, pure instinct.

"No one."

The words rushing out with ravenous conviction, nails curling into the headboard, so much forced pleasure, savoring in Yoongi’s roughness, pussy pulsating so strongly that you weren't sure what was an orgasm and what wasn't. All over you, through you, in you, clouding your mind and thoughts. Absolute precision, knowing exactly how to fill you, and you clenching him back, molding to him to deliver the pleasure he loved, primal needs being satisfied, everything feeling so good that you became lightheaded, and yet you still found yourself uttering between moans and gasps, declaration being ripped from you because of Yoongi’s perfect cock destroying you mentally and physically.

"It will always be you above all others, Yoongi."

His fingers wrapped in your hair and yanked back, the sudden pain making you scream his name, liquid gushing down his cock and balls, thick and viscous, sticking to both your inner thighs. Your name falling from his lips, a half-moan, half-hiss, his entire length jolting inside you, filling the condom, and Yoongi rolled his hips into you once more, feeling it all, every contour of your pussy constricting around his throbbing cock.

"Fuck..."

Two voices that sounded like one, rough, grating, instinctive, matching in time. Sparks coursing through your veins, body shivering with the aftereffects, squeezing the remnants out of him. His hand reached around; strands still tangled in his fingers.

Yoongi cupped your chin roughly, caressing your skin.

"Above all others, hm?" he breathed, the depth of his voice soothing your thudding heart. Both of you sinking down into the bed, knees giving out, and he was still inside you, gripped tight by your stubbornness, his arms around your shaking body. You closed your eyes, Min Yoongi surrounding you, invading your space with his possessive embrace, his unavoidable presence, his inescapable hold, and you, a willing captive, letting him take over.

His lips against your ear, a familiar purr, your always and forever whisper.

Your shadow.

"I like that."

masterpost

who said people are animals of wisdom? for me, obviously, we are animals of regret people change, just as I've changed there is nothing permanent in the world everything is just a happening passing through

My blog is named after ‘People’ by Agust D, the only song that I’ve ever felt every word and every line, rapped and sang with that exact pitch and emotion, describe me. I’ve always wondered, these thoughts I have, will anyone ever be able to put them into words?

so what? what if you live like that?

And you did, Yoongi, and for that, I am grateful.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

502 notes · View notes

sundaysundaes · 4 years ago

Text

Make a Wish

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff, Humor | NC-17 | College AU

Summary: It’s your birthday today and instead of giving you a box of gift, your boyfriend, Lee Donghyuck, decides to grant five of your wishes. You can’t help but feel a smirk creeping up your face. It’s time to get a little… creative.

This can be read as a stand alone but if you want to read it in order, you can start with Before Our Story Began and Jealousy.

You were having a dream. A really nice dream about your boyfriend, Lee Donghyuck, where for once in his twenty-years of living, he promised himself not to whine about anything ever again for the rest of his life. He was situated in difficult positions—got an F for the papers that he’d worked on for days, overcooked his eggs until they tasted like a pile of ashes in his mouth during breakfast, or lost a battle because Jaemin was too distracted with Jeno’s dick rubbing against his ass during the game. And even then, he did not form any complaint or whine with his head thrown back like how he usually would’ve done. It was a pleasant dream, seeing him all mature like that.

But then you woke up to the sound of that boyfriend of yours, screaming—literally screaming—directly to your ear, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY GIRL,” as if it wasn’t the middle of the night where he could wake up the whole dorm.

So now, you’re glowering at him with bleary eyes, wiping your drool away with the back of your hand. Haechan shows his phone screen, grinning when he sees you noticing with squinted eyes that it’s 00.00 am and the date written underneath it is your birthday.

“Thanks,” you flatly mutter, sinking your face back into the pillow and pulling the blanket over your head. “I’ll see you in the morning. Night, Haechannie.”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Your boyfriend is loud, too loud. You understand that Jaemin is having a sleepover at Jeno’s place so Haechan has the entire room for himself but that does not give him the right to scream right next to your ear like this. Especially when you’re this sleepy with nothing but exhaustion pumping through your veins.

“Noona~” He shakes you by the shoulder, peeling the blanket off your body and succeeding, even when you’ve tried your best to keep it tangled around you. “Come on, it’s your birthday. We have to celebrate!”

“We’ll celebrate when the sun is out. Like normal people.”

“No way, come on! You can sleep some other time!”

“You can be annoying some other time.”

He huffs loudly, puffing out his cheeks. “If you don’t get up, I’ll do things to you.”

You sigh. You know what kind of things he’s referring to and as much as you love it, you’re really drained from the part-time job you did earlier today. It’s true that you haven’t had sex with him for more than a week or so and you kind of miss doing those sort of things with him but you’re just so tired that you ended up crashing face-first on his bed earlier this evening the second you arrived in his room. You hadn’t even kissed him properly yet.

“Okay, fine.” You sit up on his bed with your shirt—or rather, his shirt—all wrinkled, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “What do you want us to do? If it’s sex, you have to wait because I’m dead tired right now.”

“I wanted to give you your present, actually.” But the way he juts out his bottom lip seems like sex was exactly what he had in mind.

“Okay, so where is it?” You ask, considering you don’t really see him carrying a box of gift with a red bow wrapped around it.

“Well, it’s kinda predictable for me to be giving you like an actual present, so I thought hey, maybe I can grant you a wish. Any kind of wish,” he emphasizes, raising that eyebrow of his in the way he knows you like it. “If you know what I mean.”

You ignore him completely, though the sight of his sexy smirk still leaves you unfocused for a good few seconds. “Only one? On my birthday? Do you even want to do this or are you just making an excuse for not buying me a present?”

“Yah!” He scrunches his nose, playfully jabbing a finger to your stomach. “I don’t see you granting me any wishes on my birthday!”

“You wanted to come inside me and I allowed you to do just that. Twice. Stop being so ungrateful.”

That wipes the playful angry look off his face almost instantly. “You’re right, fine,” he concedes, looking at you with a disinterested look in his eyes. “How many wishes do you want then?”

“I don’t know, like, fifty?”

“The hell? Do I look like Santa to you?”

“If you keep eating those samgyeopsal past midnight, your belly will.”

“Stop body-shaming me, you little—“ He suddenly leaps over, attacking you with tickles to the sides of your stomach until you fall back to the bed with his bare chest hovering over your body. You retaliate by moving your legs around, trying to kick him away but failing every time. You can barely hold back your laughter. He only stops when your face grows scarlet and your chest heaving up and down, slightly out of breath. “I’ll give you three wishes,” he offers, a bit breathless as well. “Only because you look so irresistible right now with those lips of yours.”

“Make it ten, then.” You play with his necklace, twisting it around your finger. Your other hand draws a line on his golden skin, starting from the column of his neck down to his chest. “And I’ll be even more irresistible.”

“Hmm, tempting.” His lips slowly breaking into a sultry smile. “But no. I’ll give you three and that’s final.”

“If you give me five,” you say, hooking a finger around his silver necklace this time so you can bring his face down to yours and whisper in his ear, “I’ll let you cum in my mouth later today.”

His entire face beams up almost like a kid on his first school trip. “You get yourself a deal, sister!”

You smile, caressing his cheek softly with your fingers. His gaze softens, leaning against your touch like how a kitten would. “Well then, here’s my first wish,” you speak softly as if you’re telling a secret. Your lips are just a few inches away from his, and he licks his lower lip in anticipation. “No doing sexual activities whatsoever with me on my birthday.”

That sensual, excited look he has on his face earlier? Gone, being immediately replaced by sheer horror. “What?!” He shrieks when his realization sinks in. “BUT YOU SAID YOU’D LET ME CUM IN YOUR MOUTH LATER TODAY!”

You grin at him, almost cackling out loud. “It’s not fun being on the other side of a prank, is it now, Haechannie?”

“You’re so—” But even the infamous Lee Haechan can be at loss for words. “Not even a kiss?”

“Not even a hug,” you clarify, pushing his body away with both hands so he ends up sitting on his heels, only in his boxer. “I’ll allow you to hold my hands but that’s it.”

“But why?” The way he whines the word ‘why’, loud and long, is just so him. “Hugging is like a totally normal thing to do! People hug all the time! Even kids do! It doesn’t have to be sexual.”

“It becomes sexual when you keep popping out a boner during one.”

“Screw you.”

“Not today, Haechannie. Not today.”

***

Haechan, no matter how bratty he can act from time-to-time, does keep his promise intact. He hasn’t touched you for like eight hours by now, even when you were taking a shower inside his room and ‘accidentally’ leaving the bathroom door open. You heard him groan, “Seriously? You’re doing this to me now? You’re torturing me, Nooonaaaaa~” once during your shower, but he didn’t act on his desire. You’re actually quite surprised. You know just how much this is driving him crazy.

“Let’s get some breakfast,” you say, already looking all dolled up in the red dress he once bought for you. You know how much he likes it, know how much his eyes ogle your body from top-to-toe, staring at the way the fabric hugs your body perfectly, emphasizing your every curve.

He glares at you menacingly. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what?” You play dumb, though you're sure your grin betrays you. “Come on, I’m starving. I’ll let you hold my hand as we walk, just make sure don't get a hard-on in the meantime.”

“Have I told you I hate you today?”

“And I love you too, Haechannie.”

The cafe near the dormitory you usually visit to get your daily intake of calories is closed for the day. “Why are they closed?” You ask, adjoining your eyebrows together in confusion.

“Maybe the old man has diarrhea or something.” He shrugs, hands buried deep inside the pocket of his black ripped jeans. The way they tightly hug his legs, combined with those holes, is becoming very distracting for you. “I sure as hell, hope so.”

“Will you let it go already? It was an honest mistake.”

“How on earth is putting wasabi in my cream soup an honest mistake? He totally did that on purpose!”

“Yeah, well, knowing how you just straight-up told him he looked like a walrus, I’m not even surprised he spiked your soup.”

“Now that’s an honest mistake, in which I tried to be honest but came out as a mistake.”

“You didn’t have to tell him he looked like a walrus, though.”

“But he did!” He groaned, stomping his feet on the ground. “He totally did! Look me in the eyes and tell me he didn’t look like a walrus, come on, I dare you.”

You roll your eyes. He’s always one for the dramatic. “Should we go somewhere else? How hungry are you right now?”

“For your love?” He smirked, sending you a flirty wink. “Starving.”

You make an exaggerated gesture of you vomiting your insides. “If you’re not that hungry, wanna just go grab some crepes and take a walk in the park?”

“Sure, why not.” His shoulders are relaxed as he yawns unattractively, though it still counts as adorable in your book. “Let’s drop by to that bakery you told me before on the way home. I’m gonna buy you a birthday cake.”

That earns a surprised smile from you. “I didn’t think you’d be this thoughtful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m always thoughtful.”

“Is calling a middle-aged man a walrus a form of your thoughtfulness?”

He snorts, tilting his head to the side with his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Since when did you get this sassy?” You’re about to put another retort when he suddenly kisses your cheek.

“Hey!” You abruptly step away from him, palming the side of your face. “What did I tell you about my wish again?”

He grins, eyes turning into a cute pair of crescents. “Honest mistake, babe.”

And you poke him in the abs until he drops to his knees, whining, “Whyyyyyyyy?” into the air.

There’s this park near your campus that has nice scenery—unexpectedly picturesque, even—with a huge fountain in the center of it. The green leaves of the camphor trees sway from the morning breeze, intoxicating you with a scent similar to how the pine trees smell after the rain. Children are running around, playing tags, with their parents sitting next to the fountain, busying themselves with their phones while occasionally mutters, “Be careful, don’t run too much!” from time-to-time because apparently, that’s what parents do these days.

Haechan exhales loudly as he takes a seat on the nearest bench, straightening his legs and patting a spot beside him. “Come here. I want to cuddle.”

“There are people around.”

“Since when cuddling becomes a crime?”

“It makes people uncomfortable.”

“You saying no makes me uncomfortable.”

You sigh. There’s no way of winning an argument with him. “Fine, but I’m not sitting on your lap,” you say, ignoring his pout as you take a seat next to him and hand him his chocolate-banana crepes. “Careful, you’re wearing a white shirt,” you warn, offering him his spoon. “It’ll be hard to take the stain off if—”

“I’m not a child,” he grumbles, taking the food roughly off your hand and grimacing when the chocolate syrup drips down to his shirt, staining the fabric. He blinks in surprise with his mouth wide open, before he looks back at you, only to receive a flat stare in return.

“I literally just told you that a second ago.”

Haechan shrugs. “It’s Jaemin’s shirt anyway, so I don’t care.”

With that, you bring your focus back to the food in your hand—a strawberry crepes with a scoop of vanilla ice cream—and takes a bite, almost moaning in delight when the sugary taste hits your tongue. “Man, why did I ever decide to go on a diet? This tastes so gooooood~”

Your smile and small giggle seem to be contagious because Haechan mirrors you almost in the same way though it has nothing to do with the dessert he’s holding. He observes, silently taking notes of the joyful expressions you display on your face while muttering, “How cute,” under his breath. Both of you take a moment to enjoy your so-called breakfast, sometimes taking a sip of your hot coffee to balance the sweet.

“You know,” Haechan says as he gnaws at his dessert again. “This isn’t really how I expected to go when I said I’d grant your wishes.”

“Yeah?” You decide to humor him, though you already know what he’s thinking. “Did you expect me to wish for something else?”

He nods, licking chocolate syrup off his spoon. “Something about you sitting on my face.”

You choke on a piece of strawberry you just plopped into your mouth, and you can feel it blocking your airways. “What are you—” Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes, as you begin to cough fervently.

“What are you, a kid?” Haechan pulls your hair away from your face, patting your back. “There, there.”

“Why on earth would I ask about that?!” You shout when you can properly breathe again.

“I don’t know, I just thought that maybe you wanted me to eat you out.” The way he shrugs so nonchalantly as if he’s simply talking about finding a typo in the papers he just submitted leaves you dumbfounded. “I mean, I kept teasing you about it during sex but never really did it since you were always too stubborn to beg.”

“And do you realize now how annoying you are in bed?”

“That’s not my intention, though!” He genuinely seems a bit guilty. “You just look so cute trying to hold back when it’s obvious you want my tongue inside you—”

“We’re in public, Jesus Christ—”

“It’s your pride that we have a problem with. Why can’t you just for once say, with teary eyes, ‘Haechannie, please, fuck me with your tongue’—”

“People can hear—stop it!” You try to clamp your palm around his mouth, but he dodges it perfectly and places a playful kiss on the back of your hand instead. “And are you seriously begging me to beg you for it? I don’t think that’s how it works, Hyuck.”

“It’s because I actually really want to eat you out,” he groans, sighing into the air, “But I also want to see that cute embarrassed look on your face—do you see how big of a problem this is for me?” His whine falls short when he notices the look on your face. “Wait, are you blushing?”

“I’m not!” But you know you are, you’ve never been so ashamed before. How can you not? Your boyfriend is now a) talking about eating you out, loudly, in public, b) there’s this one passerby, a middle-aged woman who dresses in way too many layers for a day as hot as this, looking at you with the most disgusted look you’ve ever seen displayed on a person’s face, and c) Haechan is still talking about it. “Shut up and just get away from me!”

“Noona, your face is so red!” He’s giggling to himself now, his crepes dribbling more chocolate syrup onto his shirt from how much he’s moving. “Did I get you excited? Does this mean you’re gonna—”

“Next wish! I’ve already thought about my next wish!” You quickly avert his attention, desperately pushing his face with one hand so he’ll stop making kissy faces at you. “I want you to perform a song.”

“What, here?”

“Yeah, you don’t have a problem singing in front of people, right?”

“Of course not,” he snorts loudly. “I have an amazing voice. You know, people should really be paying me to hear me sing, actually.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, though deep down in your heart, you kind of admit that he really does have an amazing voice. His vocal is unique and distinct, easily noticeable even if there are a hundred vocalists in the room. And the way he does his adlibs whenever he sings his favorite tunes actually makes the song sounds a thousand times better. There’s no way you’re going to tell that to his face, though. His ego is already big enough without you feeding him compliments.

“Well then, you’re in luck.” You grin mischievously, nodding your head toward a band that’s been playing acoustic songs near the fountain for quite some time. There are three people playing instruments, with one of them being the vocalist and you comment inwardly in your head that Haechan sounds so much better than him—but maybe you’re just biased. The band is promoting their demo album, trying to get people’s attention to recognize their self-composed songs and buy their album if they fit their taste. No crowds are gathering in front of them, and you feel kind of sorry because they actually sound pretty good. “If you follow my wish and do it right, you could probably get some tips along the way.”

“You want me to sing with the band? I don’t think they’ll allow me though.”

“They will. I’ll buy their album in exchange.”

Haechan doesn’t seem eager at the slightest. “Must we waste our money away?”

“What, are you scared?” You taunt, raising one of your eyebrows challengingly because you know how much he hates to lose. And it works as expected, because Haechan is now standing up, throwing the rest of his crepes away to the nearest trash bin, and cracks his knuckles.

“Lee Haechan never runs away from a challenge.” He has this annoying cocky grin displayed on his face. “Tell me what song you want me to sing.”

“Your favorite. Man in The Mirror.”

“Dude, I nailed that song. Is this even a challenge?” He clicks his tongue, cocking his head. “So easy.”

He already has taken a few steps away, heading toward the band, when you stop him dead on his tracks by saying, “I know you nailed it. That’s why we have to keep it interesting so here’s my wish: I want you to sing out of tune.”

Even if you said that he was turning on his heels at the speed of light, it wouldn’t be too much of an exaggeration. “NO FUCKING WAY.”

“Ah, but sadly,” you fake a pout, mocking him, “You promised you’d grant my wish.”

“But that’s just stupid! Why would I do something like that? Why would anyone do something like that?” He shakes his head furiously. “And doing this to my favorite singer?! Hell no!”

“Haechannie.”

“No.”

“Haechannie.”

“NO.”

You sigh, walking closer to him and pull him down by the hand to close the gap between your heights and murmur in his ear. “If you do that,” you breathe out, trying your best to sound as sexy as you can, “I might consider buying that customized dildo you want this weekend.”

Haechan has his jaw hanging low on his face, looking at you with his wide eyes shaking in disbelief. “Oh my God,” he whines, placing both hands on your shoulders before rocking you back and forth. “Noonaaaaa~ This is soooo not fair. You can’t do this to me!”

You chuckle at how childish he is. “So, how is it going to be, Lee Donghyuck-sshi?”

He contemplates hard about it—really hard, probably the hardest thinking he ever did in his entire life—nibbling on his lower lip as he does it. After a moment has passed, he finally ends it with his signature pout. “But you promise, right? No pranking me this time?”

“I promise,” you say with a firm nod but you have your fingers crossed behind your back.

“Fine,” he says as if it was the heaviest decision he has ever made. “Then, I’ll sing… off-key—eww!” He sticks out his tongue, clutching his arms around his stomach. “I’m about to throw up my crepes just by thinking about it.”

“Good luck.” You pat his shoulder. “Oh, and make sure you sing the first part like you always do, so people will notice and start listening to how amazing your voice is. And when they’re so into it, as you get to the second chorus, that’s when you start singing off-key.”

Haechan’s eyes are lifeless when they bore into you. “Isn’t it time for you to go back to hell, Satan?”

“Remember, Haechannie,” you press a finger to your lips, winking at him. “Customized. Dildo.”

“I hate you.”

“And I love you too.”

So both of you get into the business. After the band performed an acoustic version of their titled song, you approach them with a smile, offering your hand to the vocalist. You tell them how talented they are, making sure to bedazzle them with compliments and your charming attitudes so things can go as planned. It’s actually not that hard trying to convince them to accompany your boyfriend sing, especially when you say you’re going to buy two of their demo albums.

“What song do you want to sing, dude?” The vocalist, a friendly man most likely in his twenties with a goatee on his face, asks Haechan while offering a fist bump. Your boyfriend grimaces, bumping his fist against him like it’s the most disgusting thing he’s ever done.

“Something wrong?” The man asks. “You look kinda pale, man.”

“He just ate something bad during breakfast earlier,” you come to answer him instead, rubbing Haechan’s back soothingly. “But he’s fine now. Can you guys play Man in The Mirror?”

“Michael Jackson, right? Sure thing.”

You elbow your boyfriend playfully on the side of his stomach. “Sure thing, he said.”

“I want to die.”

“Aaw, poor baby,” you pucker your lips, having the best time of your life making fun of him. “Now off you go, I’ll be right here.” And you bring your iPhone in the air, camera-ready with a tap of your thumb. Haechan has his eyes on the standing microphone, looking at it like it’s the most horrifying thing he’s ever witnessed in his life.

Haechan just barely takes a step forward before he runs back to your spot again, all jumpy and twitchy. “I can’t—I can’t do this—this is so embarrassing—”

“On three, okay, man?” The vocalist takes a seat on one of the little stools they have placed next to the amplifiers with his Fender guitar placed firmly on his lap. And before Haechan can give him a nod or any sign in return, he begins counting and the entire band plays the song. There’s no way out of this now.

Haechan finally walks toward the mic with his soul most likely leaving his body with every step he takes.

You give him a cheer as loud as you can—not to support him, but so you can gather people’s attention. Haechan shushes you down in panic before he finally takes the mic, constantly throwing ice daggers at you with his eyes. You begin to chant his name—“Lee Donghyuck! Lee Donghyuck!”—and with every shout of it, Haechan dies a little bit more.

Haechan falls two beats behind before he finally sings into the microphone, his voice resonating through the air. He does sound amazing, albeit a little nervous and that’s probably just because he’s doing the dare. He usually sounds confident, his voice sounding strong and clear not caring if the room is empty or filled with people so this anxious version of him really makes you think that maybe you’ve forced him a little bit too far.

He completes the first part of the song rather easily and the entire band behind him nod their heads along to the music, amazement sparkling in their eyes. You can see the vocalist quietly mouths, “Damn, he’s good,” to the member sitting beside him who shortly agrees wholeheartedly. You can’t help but smile at that, looking like a proud mom.

People, one-by-one, begin to gather around you, whispering to one another, asking, “Who is he? What band is this?” or simply praising his vocal and your smile grows wider. It vanishes almost instantly, though, the second you hear some girls chattering behind your back, talking about how attractive Haechan looks—especially in that leather jacket and those dark combat boots he’s wearing. You never pegged yourself to be a jealous, overprotective girlfriend before but with Haechan, perhaps you’re beginning to turn exactly into that.

Haechan, who seems pretty pleased with how he sang the first part, suddenly begins to fidget on his feet. The more he gets closer to the second chorus, the paler he becomes and he has his eyes tightly shut when he’s finally there, singing the first two lines in the right way before forcing himself to sing off-key.

You blurt out laughing but immediately clasp a hand over your mouth. Haechan looks like he’s in pain, and the rest of the band has their eyebrows furrowed in question, looking back and forth at each other, probably asking, what the hell is wrong with this dude, he was doing so good before. The audience begins to look at one another, eyebrows knitting in concern. New visitors stop in their tracks, looking at your boyfriend with judging looks on their faces. Even the parents that were so busy with their phones before begin to lift their heads from the screen, trying to know who is this terrible singer and why is he wailing like this.

Haechan sounds so awful and you can only imagine how much this is killing him from the inside. He barely gets to the end of the second chorus before he turns to face the band, bowing his head and shouting, “I’m so sorry!” before he scrambles on his feet, running toward you.

“Wait, Hyuck, you haven’t finished—” Your protest ends in laughter when Haechan rashly hooks an arm around your shoulder, breaking through the crowd and forcing you to match his steps so you can leave the park for good.

He’s never stepping into this place ever again, you’re sure of it.

***

On the way back to the dorm, you stop by the bakery you’ve been wanting to visit and Haechan buys you a birthday cake as promised but with a permanent pout displayed on his place.

“A cake for your girlfriend?” The cashier lady asks with a friendly smile.

Haechan simply pouts harder, muttering, “Yes, my super annoying girlfriend.” And you pop out from behind his back, raising a hand in the air as you beam at her with a cheeky grin, “Yep, that’s me!”

Haechan walks next to you on the sidewalk as if he just did the longest marathon he ever did in his life—all drained out and slow on his steps. His shoulders are hunched forward, his eyes droopy and every time you take a peek and share a glance at him, he’ll start fuming again—like an angry child, upset for being left alone in his grandma’s house while the whole family went on a trip.

“Okay, knowing how fast you’re walking right now,” you mutter sarcastically, looking at the nonexistent watch you wear around your wrist for dramatic effects, “We’ll be back in our dorm at approximately eighty-four years from now.”

“Whatever. I’m still angry at you.”

“But we just started! I thought you wanted to make me happy.” You try to look as sad as possible, batting your eyelashes at him. “It’s my birthday, you know.”

“I wasn’t aware that making you happy equals giving me emotional distress.” After two seconds passed by in silence, he adds, “And physical pain.”

You smile at the attitude he’s giving, wondering just how cute can this man be by the end of the day. Maybe you should keep torturing him a little.

Just a little bit more.

“Haechannie,” you roll his name off your tongue in a playful manner, wrapping both arms around his right one. “I’m ready for my next wish.”

“Didn’t you listen to any word I just said?”

“See that old lady over there?”

“Yeah, you clearly didn’t.” Haechan follows your gaze with a heavy sigh, not quite pleased with how easily you ignore his complaints, and he sees a grey-haired woman, old enough to be his grandmother, sitting alone on a bench with a book on her hands and her glasses hanging dangerously low on the bridge of her nose. Her cane lays still on her side, and by the look of it, she appears to be waiting for someone.

“Oh come on, leave her alone,” Haechan says, already looking sorry for her even when you haven’t said anything yet. “She’s so old and she looks so frail. I am not going to do your stupid dare at the cost of her life.”

You roll your eyes.“Relax, I won’t ask something that stupid.”

“Oh, because your first wish was just so brilliant, I suppose?”

“I’m serious, I’m not that mean.” Not to her, at least. “I just want you to sit next to her on the bench and act like it’s the worst day of your life.”

“I won’t be calling that acting,” he grumbles. “I am having the worst day of my life.”

“What? I thought we’re having fun!” You try so hard to look sympathetic enough for him but it’s almost an impossible deed to do when you’re seconds away from laughing.

“You’re having fun.” He squints his eyes menacingly. “I’m having a fucking seizure.”

“You’re fine, don’t be too dramatic.” You card your fingers through his hair, pushing back the bangs from his eyes to showcase his temple exactly the way you like it. “Well, I want you to act sad—like, really sad, bawling your eyes out and everything—and when she asks you why, explain that you just found out you’re adopted.” You press something against his palm. “Here.”

Haechan has his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he takes a look at it. “What’s this?”

“A postcard with a picture of your parents. I just bought it at the minimart before when you were in the bakery.”

“But…” He stares in horror. “They’re Americans.”

“Exactly.” You know there’s a shit-eating grin blooming on your face but you cannot wipe it off. “You can walk away after she tries to comfort you or give you some advice or something.”

Haechan keeps scowling at you as if he wanted to eat you alive, but you charm him with your brightest smile until he sighs and tucks the postcard in the back pocket of his jeans. “You know I’ll pay you back for this later, right?”

“Wha—I thought you said you’ll grant me any wishes for free!”

“MAN, IF I COULD JUST TURN BACK TIME—“ He yanks out his hair, making you a bit worried because you love his soft, adorable brown locks and he’s been tugging at them for quite some time today. “Okay, fine, I’ll do it. I no longer have any shame left in my body anyway. Or soul, for that matter.” He turns on his heels, straightening his jacket as if that could give him more courage. “You better not blink your eyes.”

“It’s okay even if I do.” You bring out your phone, waving it in the air. “’Cause I’m recording it. This will go viral on Youtube.”

“I hate you.”

“And I love you too, Haechannie.”

It takes a good ten minutes for Haechan to prepare himself for the stupid dare he’s about to do, even though he previously claimed he had no shame whatsoever. He paces back-and-forth at the sidewalk, stomping his feet once or twice restlessly, and mutters quietly to himself, “Man up. Man up, you idiot. It’s just a stupid dare.” You desperately want to have a miniature size of this Haechan and keeps him inside your pocket so you can watch him being nervously cute all day long with his cheeks puffed in anger.

“Okay, I’m going.” And he finally steps forward, braver this time, and sits down on the other end of the bench, twiddling his fingers in anxiety. You bite your lip to contain your laughter and press record.

Almost fifteen seconds have passed by and there’s no reaction, not even a glance, coming from the old lady. You can see Haechan nibbling persistently on his lip, his feet tapping worriedly on the ground before he finally lets out the loudest, heaviest sigh in the history of mankind. It’s so loud that it makes the old lady jumps on her seat, her hands going to her chest, her book left abandoned on her lap. Haechan also looks surprised knowing that she’s surprised and everything just looks so hilarious that your camera begins to shake from how hard you try not to laugh.

“I-is there something wrong, my dear?” The old lady asks, shifting her body a little on her seat so she can face him properly.

Haechan takes a deep breath and begins his act by burying his face in his hands, faking a sob. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I just—” He sniffles loudly, trying to make it obvious to her that he’s in agony. “It’s the worst day of my life.”

And it’s cheesy, how he acts, but she seems to buy it—or maybe she’s just too kind. “May I ask what happened? I’m not sure I can help but…” She lands her shaky hand on his back, caressing him soothingly. “It’s always better to pour your feelings out instead of bottling them inside.”

She sounds so genuinely compassionate, unlike the maniacal laughter that currently tumbles down your lips.

Haechan lifts his head, turning towards her. His eyes begin to droop, making him look like a kicked puppy. “I just found out…” He sniffs for dramatic effects. “That… That I’m adopted!” And he loudly whimpers into his hands again.

The old lady gasps, covering her parted lips with her thin fingers. “Oh my… Did your parents tell you that?”

“No, it’s even worse. I found out on my own when they were talking in their room.” Haechan rummages his back pocket, handing her the postcard. “Here, look. It’s a picture of my parents.”

The lady takes the postcard with a pair of heartbroken eyes but they soon begin to change when she notices that the two people in the picture are straight-up Americans, while Haechan, needless to say at this point, looks like the most common—though far more handsome—Korean boy you can encounter on daily basis.

“I know,” Haechan says, wiping a nonexistent tear out of his eyes and fakes another sob. “Surprising, isn’t it? I mean, we look so much alike, there’s no way I would’ve guessed I was adopted if I didn’t hear them talking about it behind my back.”

The old lady is still pretty much dumbstruck with how bizarrely stupid everything is, but she’s too kind to call him out on it. She hands the postcard back to him, looking much less sorry this time, and takes a moment of silence. Haechan cries against his palms again, and you wonder if he’s only faking it or being real about it this time because the entire situation is just painfully awkward.

“You see, my dear,” she begins, voice gentle and reassuring but the sincerity isn’t really the same as before. “Sometimes it really can feel like the world is ending, and I know that this must be hard for you,” she stops to knit her eyebrows, “no matter how obvious this should’ve appeared to you. But maybe it’s not about having a picture-perfect family, but about finding beautiful moments.”

“You’re right,” Haechan hurriedly agrees, his eyes twinkling in delight knowing that this excruciating dare is about to end. “I’m happy with them being my family, even if they’re not, you know, really my parents.”

She smiles but it kind of looks like a grimace, and she says her next words with a gentle pat on his back. “But shouldn’t you have noticed about it sooner, though, dear? You look nothing like them.”

And Haechan winces, not sure how to react. “I could be, uhh…” He licks his lips nervously. “Quite dumb, sometimes.”

“Yes,” she nods, still patting his back. “You certainly can.”

A tall man, at least ten years older than Haechan, approaches their spot with a paper bag in his arms. “Mom, are you ready to—” he stops to take a look at your boyfriend, trying to understand the situation of why is his mother sitting way too close to a guy dressed flirtatiously in a leather jacket and boots with her hand caressing his back. “What are you guys doing?”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m adopted,” Haechan says, handing him the same stupid picture. “She’s just consoling me about it.”

He takes a look and sends him his biggest judging look. “Dude, what are you, stupid?”

***

Haechan is still fuming all the way back to his dorm and no matter how much you apologize about it, he still doesn’t want to talk to you. He throws himself on his bed with his shoes still on the second he enters his room. You’re still smiling quietly to yourself, can barely handle all the cuteness he’s emitting.

“Haechannie,” you gently call, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Are you still upset?”

No answer.

“Look, I said, I’m sorry. Talk to me, please?”

Haechan has his face pressed flat against his comforter and you secretly wonder whether he can even breathe in that position. A few seconds passed by in silence before Haechan finally mumbles, “Did it make you happy?”

“What, you doing my stupid dares?” You can already feel another laughter bubbling up your throat but you have to contain it. You can’t hurt him more than this. “Yes and I know I’ve been mean to you and I’m sorry for that, but you were so cute.” You run a hand along his spine before you carefully caress his hair as a mother would do to a child. “Please don’t be mad.”

He eventually sits up, crossing his legs on the bed, sniffling a little bit while still avoiding eye contact. “Well, I guess, as long as you’re happy.”

“Are you crying?”

“No,” he states, practically puffing out his cheeks by now. “I’m just so embarrassed with all of this. Why are you being so mean to me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, come here.” You motion him to come closer, and you know it’s breaking the rules of your first wish but you don’t care. This giant teddy bear desperately needs a hug.

Haechan immediately sighs when you stand with your knees pressed on the bed, wrapping both arms around his head. He sinks his face to the crook of your neck, lowly murmuring, “I hate you,” with his breath fanning your skin.

“You’ve been saying that a lot.”

“Yeah, because you’re mean.”

“But I love you even more today,” you softly reply, pulling away a little so you can trace your fingers along the smoothness of his cheek. “You’re so adorable, Hyuck, do you know that?”

“Is singing out of tune and harassing old lady your kink or something?”

“That’s not it.” You pinch the bridge of his nose, making him yelp a little. “It’s just the way you forced yourself to do these things—these things you hate the most—for me and asking me whether they made me happy or not, while still being all grumpy about it. You’re just so cute and I love you for that.”

The sun is setting outside his window, illuminating his face with such a warm, beautiful glow that somehow makes him appear a bit more melancholic and angelic at the same time. He finally drags his eyes back on yours, with his bottom lip still jutting out slightly. He says the next four words so quietly under his breath that you can barely hear them. “What?”

“I said, I love you too,” he repeats in a rush, before he sinks his face in the slope of your neck again, whining all the way. “Don’t make me say it like this, it’s weird.”

And you notice that this is actually the first time he truly confesses his love for you. He’s joked about it a lot, toying with your feelings at least ten times within a day, casually throwing the word love as if it meant nothing more than mere decoration for his flirtatious lines. But now that he’s saying it in all the seriousness he can muster, he can barely look you in the eyes, can barely say it without whispering, and it’s cute how the usually confident Lee Haechan, crumbles into nothing but a shy little boy facing his feelings for the first time.

“Ah seriously,” he murmurs against your hair. “What are you doing to me? I’m not usually like this.”

You can’t help but tease him. “Yes, you’re usually more satanic.”

“Yah—”

And you stop him with a soft kiss to his lips. You can feel him taking a sharp breath, his arms stiffening as they circle your waist. You’re about to kiss him again when you feel him tensing against your body. Noticing how he looks a bit baffled, you carefully tug yourself away. “What is it?”

“I thought you said we couldn’t kiss today,” he tells in such a small voice.

“I said no sexual activities,” you retort with a sly smirk, making a poor excuse because you really miss kissing him. “This isn’t sexual,” you say, pressing your lips against his again but stop before he can return it. “This is romantic.”

He’s so distracted with your lips that he can barely take his eyes off them even when he talks. “You’re teasing me again, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” You can’t help but grin but it does not stay long when Haechan suddenly hooks his arm around your hip and pulls you closer until you’re forced to climb into his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist for balance.

“Haechan—” Your protest is swallowed by his kiss, his lips chasing after yours almost frantically. You can tell how much he misses you from the way his lips move against yours, or from the way he moans softly at the back of his throat as he settles his hand on the side of your face. His other hand holds you tighter by the waist, his fingers fisting the fabric of your dress. He angles your head to the side, kissing you with parted lips and swiping his tongue along your lower one so you’ll gain him entrance.

“Noona,” he whispers between quick breaths, sounding almost needy. “Noona, I need—”

“Okay, stop.” You place your arms on his shoulders, expanding the space between you. You can’t believe you almost got carried away. “Now this is getting sexual. Let’s head over to my next wish.”

“Wait—but I’m—” He stares at you bewilderedly, not believing the fact that you just casually drag your body away from his lap, smoothen down your hair as if nothing just happened. “Are you serious? You’re playing with me again? When I’m like this?”

“Sorry.” You peck him on the cheek, hiding your grin. “So, for my next wish—”

“Yah! Listen to what I’m saying—”

“I want you to—”

“Noonaaaaaaaa~”

“—sing me a lullaby.” His whining stops abruptly at your words and you quickly explain further before he does it again, “I’m sleepy so I’m gonna take a nap. Your job is to sing me a lullaby until I fall asleep. Easy, right?”

“You really just do whatever you want, don’t you?”

“Only for today. You, on the other hand, do that every day.”

“Fair enough. Do I get to choose the song?”

“Sure.” Knocking your high heels off your feet, you lie down on his bed with a thump, contentedly basking in his scent because his pillows, the duvet underneath you, the soft sheet below your fingertips—everything smells pleasantly like him. Haechan takes off his shoes and his leather jacket—which almost earns a loud protest from you because he looks so good with that jacket on—throwing them somewhere near the bed without care and he lies down by your side, facing you.

You turn your body to face him as well. “Hey, handsome.” You smile sheepishly at him.

He seems a bit caught off guard by it, but smiles back. “Hi.”

“Can we cuddle?”

He laughs softly at that. “Come here.” He gathers your entire figure easily in his arms and you sink your nose to his chest, humming in pleasure. “Stop being so cute, you’re torturing me.” You only giggle in response.

Haechan begins to sing, slowly at first as if he suddenly feels pressured with the way the room is so deep in silence, leaving no excuse for him to make in case he fails. You notice that, so you sneak both of your arms around his waist, snuggling even closer. “Don’t be nervous, it’s only me.”

“I’m not. Why would I be?” He masks his slightly shaky voice with a chuckle. “It’s just that your hair keeps getting into my mouth whenever I try to sing.”

“Of course.” And you keep your lips tightly shut, giving him the time he needs.

Haechan takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Had a perfect picture in my head, with you in the most beautiful dress,” he sings, beautiful notes flowing down from his lips, making you feel like everything around you becomes a blur and there’s only him with his velvety voice and his soft, warm breathing. “I look happy as ever, how did I let you go again.”

He gains confidence with more seconds passing by and you can feel his arms growing slack around your waist, no longer as tense. “Now I'm standing alone in the rain, like the kinda movie that we used to hate. Wish I could take back the time, but I know this time it's real.”

You’re not sure whether it’s because of the lyrics or the way he sings, but as beautiful as his honeyed voice sounds, you can’t help but feel a tinge of sadness growing inside you. It’s as if he’s not singing the song, he’s living through it. And you wonder maybe he’s had his heart broken by someone before—or maybe he’s just so good at putting emotions to his song, you’re still not sure yet.

“Hate that I'm singing this song. Hate that I have to be strong.” Haechan absentmindedly runs his fingers up and down your spine, before he tangles them around the strands of your hair, gently stroking them. “Hate that you're gone. I hate all my flaws. Hate that you love someone else. Hate everything. Just hate everything right now.”

It’s so genuine and soft the way he serenades you, baring his soul and you’re not even looking at his eyes as he sings it. By the end of it, you can’t help but ask him a question. “Will you be singing that song if you ever break up with me?”

He curls up closer, burying the tip of his nose in your hair. “No,” he says but continues before your disappointment can sink in, “If we ever break up, I won’t be doing anything besides getting you back. I don’t like to lose, you know how I am. And I definitely don’t want to lose something—or rather, someone—this important to me.”

“Stop flirting with me,” you chime in, pulling away a little so you can take a look at his face. “You already have me wrapped around your fingers.”

But Haechan doesn’t smile or act cocky about it. He just takes his time analyzing your face, taking in your features as he trails his fingers down from your hair, to your cheek, and finally stopping at the curve of your lips. “I was so worried before though when you met your ex behind my back. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just…” He loses his words when you begin to kiss his fingertips, his eyes becoming unfocused. “I don’t know, I just got anxious about it. I’ve never had someone like you before so…”

It really just sinks in that he wasn’t merely angry because you were seeing your ex-boyfriend again, he was just afraid. He was terrified of losing you but didn’t know how to react properly. He keeps on telling that you belong to him, that he owns you and everything but he doesn’t intend to dominate you. It’s just a way for him to convince himself that you’re still with him, and not in someone else’s arms.

You can feel your lips curving up into a smile. He’s just a clueless boy, probably still as inexperienced as you are when it comes to love.

You’re sinking more into his arms, sighing as he rakes his fingers down your spine. When silence starts to hang in the air, tension growing thick, Haechan spares you a glance. “Noona?”

You’re not sure what it is inside you that drives you wild but when you’re awake from your reverie, your lips are on his again, melting against his heat, and desperately asking him to deepen the kiss.

The way he inadvertently moans against your lips indicates that your kiss catches him off guard but he soon finds back his pace. He crawls on top of you, pressing your body closer, chest meeting chest, and murmurs your name with his silvery voice against your ear, successfully sending goosebumps to every inch of your body.

“Forget my first wish.” You can barely recognize your own voice from how husky it has become. He has his lips tracing your jawline, about to map his way down but you keep him still, not wanting to erase the warmth of his lips on yours just yet. “It’s a stupid wish anyway. I don’t know why I even asked that.”

Haechan forms a space between you, just to take another look at your face. His eyes are hooded, gleaming with desire. “Well then,” he rubs his thumb along your lower lip, while his tongue traces his own. “Can I kiss you more?”

“Yes.” It sounds more like a plead than affirmation, strongly painted with urgency. “Come here.”

Haechan’s lips are warmer than how they usually felt but you can’t be certain. It’s been a while since you last shared an intimate moment with him and you just now realized that it really isn’t just him who desperately seeks attention. You crave his touch way more than he does for yours.

But maybe that’s not true after all, because Haechan has his eyebrows furrowed as he kisses you passionately, his lips keep searching for yours whenever you try to pull away to catch a breath. The way he sinks his fingers along your hips, how determined he is in keeping you close to the point you can start counting on his eyelashes—everything that he does screams his emotions vividly. How much he longs for you. How much he misses the taste of your breath on his tongue.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, your fingers pressed against his jaw. “Please…”

Haechan blinks, a bit startled and perhaps a tad confused as well, considering you stopped him from going too far earlier. But he doesn’t complain and takes every chance he can get, if it means he can be closer to you. It’s so soft, the way he kisses you now, as if he’s having his first kiss, not sure if he’s doing it right but you don’t mind. It’s rare, being kissed by him like this, and somehow it makes your skin tingle as if merely just a touch of his lips is sending electricity to your entire body.

“I love you,” you whisper as you share his breath. “I really do love you, Hyuck.”

The way he halts his action for a good two seconds, probably letting your words sink into his head, makes your own heart skip a beat or two. And you’re worried if you say too much, or if you’ve become too needy and it annoys him, but when you sneak a glance at him, you notice how his cheeks are tainted with red before he leans closer, roughly murmuring, “Just kiss me again,” against your lips.

But the way he’s holding your body makes you feel way more loved than the words he said earlier. And he’s taking his time, just gently moves his lips against yours, his tongue slipping in only slightly to steal a taste. But you sigh against his mouth either way because it’s not only his kiss that weakens you, it’s his entire presence—the way his warmth seeps through the fabric of your dress, the way he’s holding back a moan when you unconsciously tug his locks a little bit too hard, or the way he just naturally smells so sweet, almost honey-like, numbing your other senses at once.

“Noona,” he breathes heavily, tilting his head to the side so you’ll have better access to running your lips against the skin of his neck. “I want… I need…” he trails off, too busy looking at the way you’re slipping your fingers underneath his shirt, tracing his hot feverish skin with your cold digits. “I really need you now.”

“Then keep touching me,” you mumble against his jaw, searching for his lips again. “I want to feel you too. Come closer.” But even if your words speak a sense of urgency, your fingers still feel as light as a feather on his skin and he seems to notice that, because he’s keeping up the same pace, not suddenly rushing to tear your clothes apart like how he usually does.

He chants your name over and over again, almost like a prayer, his desire running thick in his veins. As he moves down, his fingers find their way to the zipper of your dress, pulling it down slowly, and he takes his time to kiss every inch of your body that’s revealed to him one by one.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting to do this to you,” he confesses, his nose skimming along the skin of your shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.” You arch your back, desperately needing to close the space between you. “I’ve missed you too.”

And you’re half-expecting him to put on a smirk and asks, “Yeah? How much, exactly?” But this time, he doesn’t. His lips are busy marking your skin, sucking gently at the spot that makes you curl your toes. He brings his eyes back to yours again when your lips moan out his name.

“Don’t do that,” he says, looking like he’s gradually losing control of himself. “You know how that drives me crazy.”

“I thought you liked it.”

“I love it, but—” He suddenly presses his lips hard against yours, as if there’s another person inside him that’s been screaming at him to latch his lips with yours before he wastes more second talking nonsense. And you try to reciprocate the movement of his lips with the same speed but he doesn’t give you much room to improvise. He knows what he’s doing, all you need to do is just relax and blend into the kiss. He already makes everything so easy for you. The problem is, he makes you feel like something is pressing against your chest and your stomach is doing crazy flips over and over again.

He finally stops again when you gasp his name.

“Ah, no, seriously.” It’s like he’s fighting a battle within himself, pulling away from you and shaking his head. “I want to take it slow today, Noona, but you moaning my name like that is not making it easy for me so please, just don’t—” He exhales, pressing his temple against yours with his eyes closed. “Don’t torture me like that.”

It’s cute how he tries to hold back, trying to be as gentle as possible. “I’m fine with the way you usually hold me, though.” It’s tempting, and he’s pretty much dazed with the sultry smirk you have on your face, but he shakes his head again, snapping him back from his own thoughts.

“No, it’s your birthday,” he says, eyes switching back and forth from your eyes to your lips as he tries to enunciate his reason. “I want to make it special.”

You raise an eyebrow suspiciously. “So you’re saying that all the sex we did before today wasn’t special to you?”

He gapes. “No, that’s not—”

“Just kidding.” You giggle, pecking his cheek. “Okay, then, do your thing.” You sit up straight so you can undress properly and his eyes are instantly glued to your chest when your bra slips down your shoulders. You don’t really intend to make it sexy, but the way his eyes grow wide when you say “I’m all yours,” and lies down on his bed again in nothing but your laced underwear seems to indicate that that’s exactly how you look in his mind.

He mutters an almost inaudible fuck under his breath before he snaps himself out of his reverie again. He stands with his knees pressed on the bed, pulling his shirt over his head before he hovers back on top of you, peppering wet kisses from your ear to your neck before he ends it with his tongue trailing down the valley of your breasts.

He stops to reach for his drawer, searching for a condom while you struggle to unfasten his belt and unbutton his jeans. You’re finished a few seconds sooner and already have your back pressed against the sheet again when he crawls on top of you with a packet of condom between his teeth.

“No, wait.” You catch him by his arm as he’s about to tear the package with his teeth. “I’m on the pill today too so you can do it without.”

“Well, fuck,” he exhales, latching his lips back to yours again. “Why are you being so nice to me today?”

“You literally just complained about me being mean to you a few minutes ago.”

“Well, now that I get to come inside you again, I’m taking all my words back.” He gives playful kisses on your nose and cheeks before he licks around your face like how a cute little puppy would.

“Stop it, you’re gross!” But your airy laughter soon begins to vanish, only to be replaced with a sense of uncertainty. You begin to feel nervous when he hooks his fingers around the edge of your underwear and pulling it down your legs, baring yourself completely for his eyes. He’s seen you naked countless times and you never really felt this nervous before so it must be because—

“You seem to be thinking about something,” he interrupts, parting your legs so he can slide in between them. “Something wrong?”

“Umm—I—“ It’s not the way you stutter that betrays you; it’s the prominent blush that stains your cheeks. But you have to do this. You have to say this. Not just for your sake, but his too. “Haechannie..?”

“Yeah, Noona?”

“For my next wish…” You wet your lip anxiously, swallowing your breath, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. “C-can you eat me out, please…?”

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so startled by your action—or by anything, really—to the point that he has to remind himself to blink. “What?”

You groan, hastily grabbing a pillow nearby and use it to cover your face. “Don’t make me say it again, you idiot!” You expect him to laugh, or worse, mock you about it but instead, he snatches the pillow away, throwing it to the side, and wraps his fingers around your wrists, holding you in place.

“Noona, please,” he pleads, his cheeks turning scarlet, mirroring yours. “Please say it again. I want to see you when you say it.”

It’s actually borderline hilarious the way he’s so serious about it, and perhaps it’s really his biggest turn on—one that he hasn’t seen coming from you after all this time—so you decide to swallow your pride and indulge him further.

You repeat your words and watch as his eyes widened again for a split second before they turn gentle, looking so happy that you finally get to answer his wish. “About damn time,” he whispers against your lips, his husky voice reverberating nicely to your ears as he tastes every bit of your mouth with his tongue. He wastes no more time, heading south while placing more wet kisses down your body.

His lips are hovering above your heat, and you can really feel his breath down there. You have your eyes closed in anticipation but Haechan suddenly says, “You know what, let’s do it this way.”

He leaves you hanging and you’re about to be swallowed by shame but he suddenly lies down on the bed, his head almost touching the headboard, and motions you to come closer. “Come here.”

“What?”

“I want you to sit on my face,” he says and you almost choke on your saliva. “Come here, Noona. Please.”

And it stresses you out so much because you’ve never done this before—never even thought about it even—and you figured you just had to lay there and let him do whatever he wants with you. Crawling over to sit on his face is clearly not what you had in mind.

“Come on,” he lightly sneers when he sees how nervous you are. “I won’t bite.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, feeling a little bit lightheaded from how embarrassed you are, but when he offers a hand, you take it and follow his lead.

You have your legs on each side of his head and he’s holding you by your hips, guiding you to lower yourself down to him. “Stop being so tense,” he chuckles and you flinch because he’s so dangerously close. “It’s not like I’ve never seen you up-close before.”

“It’s different—” You gasp when he swipes his tongue against your folds, just once, before he asks, “Different how?”

You’re too occupied with sorting out your feelings and all these sensations that coming into your head at once. “I don’t know, it’s weird—” You almost whine when you feel him moving his tongue again.

“Your thighs are shaking, Noona,” he chuckles, and you clench your teeth, trying to be less conscious of how his hot breath hitting your sensitive spot.

“Please, s-stop talking.”

“I’m trying to make this casual,” he says, his voice sounding less clear as it hits your skin. “If I stop talking, you’re gonna start thinking about things again.”

“I’m not—Haechannie—” You bring your fingers to cover your mouth to stop you from moaning too loud. He’s giving tentative licks around your clit, moving agonizingly slow and you fumble with your hands, not knowing where to place them. Everything feels both terrifyingly good and painfully awkward and you’re trapped between wanting to continue and stop at the same time.

“Here,” Haechan offers, taking one of your hands and guides it down until it finds home in his hair. “Or you can lay your hands against the headboard. But I prefer you do it this way so I’ll know if you’re feeling,” he stops to licks a stripe up your folds, making you shiver, “good, or,” this time, he stops to suck hard on your clit, startling you with the amount of pleasure jolting through your veins that your body begins to tremble. “Extremely good,” he finishes, moving to the side so he can place a kiss on your thigh, letting you feel his teasing smile on your skin.

Your breathing tatters as he continues with his ministrations, now adding one of his fingers inside you to increase the pleasure. Your head hangs low, and you’re not able to tear your eyes away from his face. Seeing him between your thighs, with his eyes closed as if he’s enjoying every second of it, is just the sexiest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

“You seem to be much more relaxed now,” Haechan leans back to show you his godforsaken smirk, “Good girl. Are you starting to regret the fact we didn’t do this sooner?”

And you want to be upset about it—about how he’s still teasing you even during this moment—but the way his breath keeps fanning against your sensitive skin makes you weak. “Please just…” You’re about to sob because it’s too damn embarrassing to be put in this situation. “Stop teasing me, Hyuck…”

Haechan blinks at your expression, his gaze immediately softens. “I’m sorry,” he says, kissing you gently on the inner part of your thigh again. “You’re just so damn cute, I can’t help but tease. Forgive me?”

And you just answer with a small nod because that’s all you can offer before his lips are pressed against your entrance again, tongue slipping inside to know how you really taste.

“Wait—” You begin to panic from how good and weird it feels. “L-let’s stop for a sec—It’s too much—” The shame, the sensation, the pleasure—they’re all hitting you hard at once and you’re too nervous to function properly.

Haechan sneaks a glance at your face, taking in the way it contorts into several emotions at once. “Baby,” he calls out softly, which sends shivers down to your core. “Don’t be nervous, it’s only me.”

You notice how he’s imitating your words from earlier and that gives you the chance to think about something else. “But… What about you..?” You ask, making eye contact with him and gulping when he raises his eyebrow in question. “I mean, I can’t please you like this.”

“Oh…” He leans his head down to the bed, giving you the space you want but not exactly what you need. “Then… Wanna do it at the same time?”

You nibble at your bottom lip, slowly nodding your head and his eyes gleam excitedly in response.

“Ah, you’re the best, seriously,” he exhales, dreamily looking at you. “All right then, turn around.”

***

It’s two hours before midnight when another idea pops up in your head. “Haechannie,” you call him out, as you click off your phone and turn to him. Hearing him humming in response, you continue. “Call Jaemin and the rest of your cute little boyband.”

By the tone of your voice, he knows he’s going to go through hell again. He groans out loud, head dangling around the edge of his bed. “Why is this day not over yet, I swear to God—”

“Just call them, I’ve got something in mind.”

“Don’t tell me you want me to make-out with them or something.”

“Why, are you interested?”

He grimaces, sticking out his tongue. “I’d rather die.”

“Glad that’s not what I’m asking then.” You climb up to join him on the bed, sitting next to his body with your knee almost touching the side of his head. He shifts around, placing his head on your lap, and stares at you with tired eyes.

“Please don’t be too mean to me this time,” he begs and you snort, can’t believe that the mischievous Lee Donghyuck actually begs you to spare his life.

You card your fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes, relaxing at your touch. It doesn’t last long though, his blissfulness, because on the next second, you say, “I want you to play that online game you always play with them but be terribly bad at it.”

“WHAT—“ He blurts out, sitting upright in such a rush that he almost knocks your heads together. “WHY—HOW COULD YOU—”

“Okay, breathe.”

“But this is too much!” He whines, his eyes widening in horror. “I have a status to uphold! You can’t do this to me!”

“Look, if it matters that much to you, I’ll give you permission to explain the situation to them.” You squeeze his hand, smiling understandingly at him. “You can tell them that you’re doing this because you’re granting my birthday wish.”

That manages to calm him down a little. “So I can let them know before the game? Oh, thank God—”

“No, a month after the game.”

“WHY ARE YOU SO EVIL—”

“Just do it already!” You shout out with a teasing grin strapped to your face. “You owe me at least that much after I let you come in my mouth.”

He gapes, eyes widening in shock. “That was for this?! I feel so tricked!”

“Well, I wasn’t thinking about that before but—” You shake your head, waving the rest of your sentence away. “Come on, Haechannie, please, please, please~” You rub your hands together, batting your eyelashes again.

He grumbles, pushing you away. “Stop doing that aegyo on me, I’m not doing it!”

I’ll grant you five wishes for your birthday!” You can’t believe you’re saying this and you know you’re going to regret it later in the future but there’s still time and you hope he’s gonna forget about it when the time arrives. Hopefully.

Haechanlooks extremely tempted at that. “Any kind of wishes?”

You wince but nod eventually. “As long as it’s nothing sexual.”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that.” His smirk is back and he’s doing it so cockily that it sends shivers down your spine. Well, you can work over that problem later. “Fine, let’s go. Give me the phone.”

Haechan calls Jaemin an asswipe the first second he gets connected but by the sound of his voice coming from the other line, he’s not even bothered in the slightest. “Get off Jeno’s dick for once and log back into your account. Bring Jisung with you. I’ll be online in ten minutes and if I don’t see you there, I’ll text your mom the real reason why you didn’t show up on Christmas Day.” And he shuts off his phone with a click, throwing it randomly on his bed.

“Do boys normally make phone calls like that?” you ask, judging him.

He only shrugs, “Cooler ones do.”

“What happened during Christmas Day?”

“Jaemin got his ass drunk, went out with Jeno, and ended up having a threesome with a stripper.” He yawns, throwing himself back on the bed again. “I’m just glad they didn’t take Jisung with them. He’s been through a lot, that poor kid.” And when he sees you raising an eyebrow in question, he just waves you off. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

There’s a lot of shouting in the background when the game started, most of it coming from the other line of Haechan’s headphones that’s strapped to his ears. You lean close to him so you can hear Jeno shouting at him, “Yah! What the fuck, Lee Donghyuck?! I thought you said you were going left!”

“I am going left.”

“THAT’S NOT LEFT, YOU IDIOT!”

And you feel sorry for your boyfriend for degrading himself on purpose like this. “As you can see,” he says, wincing as his ears begin to ring from all the shouting. He mutes his headphone as he focuses back on you with his fingers angrily tapping on his keyboards. “This causes me physical pain. I hope you’re happy.”

“I am happy.” You peck him on his cheek. “You’re the best. I love you.”

Haechan snorts, looking away and tapping his headphone again to unmute his microphone. “Hey assholes, I just died again. Sorry about that.” More screaming and angry rantings can be heard from the other line and you savor the moment as long as you can. It’s not every day you can see your cocky boyfriend being bullied by his underlings.

It’s too fun watching him play with his face contorting like he’s in deep agony that you begin to lose track of time. You just realize how late it is when Haechan suddenly quits the game, puts his PC back to the sleeping mode, and turns his chair around to face you. You suddenly feel nervous as you sit on the edge of his bed, with him staring at you with a sinful smile creeping up his face, crossing his legs.

“Ten, nine, eight,” he says, tapping his fingers and you flinch in realization. “You better start running, Noona.” He walks over, chucking off his shirt on his way to you whilst continuing his countdown. His silver necklace glints under the fluorescent light of his room and he bends down, trapping you between his arms. “Because I’ll be in charge in three… two…”

You gulp, your heart thrumming loudly against your ribcages as you feel his lips hovering dangerously above yours.

“One.”

***

979 notes · View notes

alovesongshewrote · 3 years ago

Note

vamp doux x reader 👉👈

Munch Munch | Hisirdoux Casperan HCs

munch munch, tw for blood and some spice (it doesn't go too far), hope you enjoy anon!

Taglist: @furblrwurblr @sorrels-scribbling @anxious-stitcher @alive-and-afraid @animedweeb333 @douxiesdamsel @saroski05 @blixeon @mxcheese @prismarts @lady-of-a-castle

Ok, i’ve gotta be honest

If douxie was a vampire, i don’t think too much would change

What, he has to avoid the sunlight now?

He did that already

Nocturnal?

Nothing is changing there

Wears mostly black and has a home decorated with skulls?

That’s just how he lives

The only major difference between normal wizard douxie and vampire (wizard?) douxie is uh

The whole thirst for blood

Thing

It stands to reason then, that dating vampire douxie is very much the same with a few notable exceptions

1) There are fewer dates involving garlic bread

And 2) His skin feels a lot colder to the touch

Other than that, dating vamp douxie is mostly staying up late with him while he tells you to go to sleep

Cuddling with him in the summer because it’s like cuddling an ice cube

Sharing an umbrella on sunny days

Wearing silver when you’re irritated at something he’s done

(which results in vast amounts of puppy dog eyes until you forgive him)

Or… maybe that would be baby bat eyes?

Anyway

Dating vamp doux also includes:

Not getting married in a church

Learning about vampire lore and history

Cuddling with douxie, but he’s in bat form (or wolf form- because apparently that was a thing dracula could do)

Keeping douxie away from garlic

Avoiding his fangs when you kiss him

Admiring his fangs in general

And having him teach you how to fight vampires

Now

Those are some cute headcanons

But uh

I know what you’re really looking for

It’s the biting

And the blood drinking

And the being turned into a vampire by your beloved so that the two of you can live your vampire lives side by side for however long you please

I mean

Whoever turned douxie gave him those fangs for a damn reason, and i intend to write about it

Now

There are two ways vamp douxie could bite you (and drink from you)

And there another two ways douxie could turn you into a vampire, plus one where he isn’t the one turning you

We’re gonna start with the biting, because it’s fun

Way 1: you convince Douxie to bite you because you’re curious, and you want to know what it feels like to get munched

And i mean

It takes some convincing to get him to bite you

But once he agrees to do it?

Heh

You’re in for a ride

I'm thinking

You pull him into your bedroom

You lie down on the bed

(because you’re preparing for some mild blood loss)

You pull him down with you

And he lands with his hands on either side of your head, holding himself above you

His hair is in his eyes

His necklace is in your face

And it makes you laugh

And like

He would laugh, too

But uh

He’s kind of nervous about biting you

He’s afraid that he’ll lose control

That he’ll taste you, and that he won’t be able to stop

But

He looks into your eyes

And he sees how much you trust him

And

That makes him believe he can do this

He can please you without killing you

And when you sit up and kiss him

When you put your hands on either side of his face and smile against his lips

That just makes him even more confident

He kisses you back

And you lie down again

And this time

You uh

You slowly move your shirt off of your shoulder

Maybe undo a few buttons

You move it further from your neck

Exposing the skin of your throat, some of your chest

Inviting him to bite

And you maintain eye contact with him the entire time

You can see his pupils dilating

You can see how much he wants you

You run a hand through his hair

Just to torture him a little

And it works

He bows his head, kissing your neck, your shoulder

Basically everything you just exposed

He’s

He’s ready

He’s gonna bite you, he’ll do it

He just

Needs to ask

Again

“Are you sure you want this, love?”

The unheard question being- “Are you sure you want me?”

And i mean

You don’t even answer this time

You just nod enthusiastically and kiss him again

This time, he laughs

Because you’re adorable, and he loves you

He kisses your neck again

And then

He sinks his teeth into you

It doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would

But you gasp nonetheless

You dig your fingers into him

And you cling to him for a bit

But you are smiling

Does it hurt a little? Yes

But there’s more to it than the pain element

There’s something else

Something you can’t define just yet

(probably because of the blood loss)

And it feels good

You just

Lie back

Relax

And let yourself enjoy the moment

Meanwhile, on the opposite end of the scale

He’s mildly ashamed to admit it

But

Douxie is actually kind of enjoying this

It’s easier to control himself than he thought it would be

He can feel your heartbeat

It’s more than that, actually

While he’s biting you, you are all he feels

Your heart, your soul surrounds him until there’s nothing left but you

He loves it

And like

You taste pretty good

He’s satisfied

He stops drinking just as you start to get light headed

He asks if you’re alright and you’re like

“Fuck yeah I’m alright, vampire boi- let’s do that again!”

To which he responds, “I love you, but maybe later”

Because, y’know

He doesn’t really want to drain you of the liquid that’s keeping you alive

Instead

He kisses your hand

And goes to get you a snack so that you don’t pass out on him

He Does Not want that

After you’re back to where you should be medically

He just kinda

Attaches himself to you for the rest of the day

Which is fine by you, because if he didn’t

You would’ve attached yourself to him

Either way, what bliss?

Anyway, that was too sweet, get ready for some angst

Way 2: Douxie has been starved

He’s been captured, trapped, or otherwise in captivity

And wherever he is, he’s been deprived of blood

He’s starving

And quite possibly on the brink of death

That’s when you find him

He’s probably on his knees and chained to something, be it a pillar, a wall, etc

And the second he feels your presence

The second he hears your heart beat

The second he smells your blood

He goes slightly feral

He thrashes against his chains, his fangs flash

He’s terrifying

But you don’t run from him

Even when he begs you to get away from him

To save yourself

You don’t run away

Instead

You kneel in front of him

You take his face in your hands

He stops struggling, then

And he starts begging you to escape

But you don’t leave

You refuse to

No, instead, you take full notice of how starved he looks

He’s thinner, and the shadows beneath his eyes are darker

His bones are more prominent

He appears gaunt, fragile

And hungry

Rather than running away

You pull yourself closer

And you ask

“Can you control it?”

And without waiting for an answer

You roll up your sleeve

And you give him your wrist

And he just gasps out a “No”

Because he’s scared

He’s scared that he won’t be able to stop

That he won’t be able to control it

That he’ll kill you

Like, he was already afraid of it, but in this situation?

It is so much worse

You, though

You aren’t afraid

And uh

He’ll die if he doesn’t drink something soon

You tell him it’s okay

And i mean

He doesn’t have much of a choice

He’s hesitant

And at first he tries to pull away

But then you give him a “friendly” reminder that if he doesn’t do this, he’ll die

He bites

Now, uh remember

He’d never bitten you before this point

At least not with way 2

So that is an experience

You gasp and cling to him as he drinks you

You rest your head on his shoulder

You’re starting to feel light headed

And you groan a little bit

Meanwhile, Douxie

He’s starting to regain his strength

He destroys his chains, pulling himself free and wrapping one of his arms around you while the other grips your wrist

He keeps drinking

His fangs sinking deeper as you cry out his name

He has just a bit more blood

And then

He lets you go

He managed to control it

And you’re so proud of him, but also, you’re a few seconds from passing out

Douxie lies you down

He catches his breath while you catch yours

You don’t pass out

But you do need a minute

And once that minute is done, you just

Lean over and kiss him

You taste your own blood on his lips, but y’know what

You can deal with that

Doux picks you up and takes you home, and that’s the end of way 2

NOW

IN TERMS OF TURNING YOU INTO A VAMPIRE

AS I SAID, THERE ARE 2 WAYS, PLUS ONE BONUS WAY

Way 1 is kinda boring, so we’ll start with that

Way 1: you ask Douxie to turn you into a vampire, and he’s hesitant about it because being a vampire is rough, and he doesn’t want to put your immortal soul in danger

But he does it, because you’re sure that it’s what you want, and he loves you

You’re turned into a vampire, and the two of you vibe for the rest of eternity

Onto way 2:

Way 2: you’re injured on the battlefield

Douxie sees it happen and runs to your side, destroying anything that dared threaten you on his way

He gets to you as fast as he can

Which

Is pretty fuckin quick for a vampire

And yet

He still doesn’t make it in time

Actually

That’s false

He doesn’t make it in time to save you

He is in time to watch you take your dying breaths in his arms

Now, uh

I don’t know about you

But i don’t think douxie would accept that shit

You’re in the middle of telling him that you love him

And thanking him for the best few years of your life

When he just

“I can fix this. I can turn you, I can fix this. Please let me fix this.”

And

You say yes

Which is fucking valid

I mean

For one thing

You aren’t super jazzed about dying

And for another

I don’t know if he did it intentionally

But he was doing the puppy dog/baby bat eyes when he asked

And like

Who can say no to that?

I can’t say no to that

Douxie presses a quick, but intense kiss to your lips

And sinks his fangs into your shoulder

Hurts

A little more than you expected

Maybe you scream

Maybe a few tears fall

And it breaks douxie’s heart

But by the end of it

You’re alive

Undead

It doesn’t matter

Whatever you are

You’re okay

And you’re with douxie

He can keep you safe

He won’t let anything hurt you anymore

Annnnd that’s way 2

Bonus way three involves you getting turnt, but not by douxie

Way 3: you’re kidnapped by another vampire

Which like

Considering the wizards are vampires now

The vampire that takes you is probably morgana?

It could also be the arcane order

It could also be merlin

Whoever it is

they holds you for ransom a little bit

Maybe they take a drink from you, or make fun of douxie for not drinking from you, or make fun of him for not turning you

Or all of those things, i don’t know

Either way

You simply do not vibe with this

You’re a sassy little shit who’s loyal to douxie, and maybe the guardians of arcadia depending on where the hell we are in the timeline (and on which timeline it is- thanks for that jim)

And eventually

Your captor grows tired of your smart mouth

They decide to put an end to your useless blabbering

Do they kill you?

Oh no

It’s much worse

They turn you into a vampire spawn

So now

Your have all the thirst for blood

All of the drawbacks

None of the power

And, oh yeah

As their spawn, you are under their complete control

Which means they can use you to fight douxie

I mean

They know he won’t fight back

Not when it’s you that he’s fighting

Vampire spawn or otherwise, he is terrified of hurting you

As he should be

I mean

You’re your captor’s servant now, and you’re a vampire spawn

But it’s still you

You are awake

You are conscious

And you know what you’re being forced to do

You are completely aware

Both when whoever’s captured you forces you to kneel by her throne

And when they force you to fight the man you love

And

If the worst happens

You’ll be awake when they force you to kill him

But y’know what, it’ll probably be fine

Douxie’s fought morgana and the order before, he can do it again, probably

And if it’s merlin, well

He’ll figure it out

He’ll save you and the two of you can go off and live your vampire lives in peace, right?

Right?

Right

Anyway

That’s the end of way 3

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux casperan x you #douxie x you #hisirdoux x you #douxie hcs #douxie headcannons

117 notes · View notes

sondepoch · 3 years ago

Text

Lighter (3/5)

Breaking the Collar

Nine months in the human trafficking circuit has destroyed every sense of normality you ever knew. For you, it's commonplace to be ordered on your knees for your owner, his clients, anyone else Childe deems necessary—and you've reached a point where you accept it this misery, just going along with the motions of life because there's nothing else to do.

Diluc and Kaeya change that.

They enter your life on a regular workday afternoon, stepping inside Childe's massive office under the pretense of sorting out a business deal, but a single hastily written message makes it clear that they're not here to hurt you: they're here to help you.

The only issue is that you have no idea how to escape Childe.

MASTERLIST

There’s something demeaning about the outfit Childe has picked for you today. It’s nothing unlike what he had you wear when he last took you outside the apartment, when he brought you on a train to Xiangling’s restaurant, but the blouse and skirt he has you in today are looser than before, and skimpier, too.

The thought confuses you until you realize that it’s because where you were previously dressed like a regular girl, in fairly modest clothes that were designed to shy away from attention, you’re now dressed like a slave once more: like a little sex toy that can only wear thin, loose clothes so her owner, alongside all her owner’s friends, can have easy access to the pretty tits and cunt beneath.

It should make you sick.

Yet, as Childe slips his hand underneath your skirt to grip your thigh, the only thing that disgusts you is how easily you find yourself relaxing into his touch.

“Angel,” Childe murmurs into your ear, voice hovering lowly under the quiet buzz of the van you both sit in. “Angel, I have a present for you.”

That catches your attention. You turn your head to your owner, eyebrows lifted in confusion, as Childe pulls a box from his pocket.

Immediately, you know what’s inside.

The first few gifts Childe gave you were all varied: the very first was, of course, the necklace he gave you in place of the ugly, metal collar all the other girls have to wear. The second was his jacket, too tattered for him to use anymore but literal paradise for someone like you, who had already grown used to spending every waking moment naked. Then, his presents began to come in the shape of services rather than material objects—the decision to allow you to sleep on a bed, the decision to let you eat better-quality meals, the decision to spare you from being sent to Scaramouche for a beating as punishment for a stupid blunder you once made—but after a certain period, Childe had granted you all the freedom he could give.

Then, his presents had to change.

He began gifting you jewels, all of them in different colors but always unfairly expensive, to make your collar sparkle.

You make no haste in opening the black, velvet box Childe gives you, eyes bright. You don’t think twice about how embarrassing it is that he’s conditioned you to associate these little gemstones (probably worth mere pennies to a man as wealthy as Childe) with happiness, but even you can’t keep the smile off your face as you snap open the box and see a blue twinkle staring back at you.

“It’s a sapphire,” Childe explains, pulling the gemstone out by the short, silver chain it dangles from. “Since you told me that you like colorful stones.”

You remember saying that. It was true: being Childe’s favored toy meant that you were always by his side; it gave you no room for pastimes, and so you found that the most entertaining thing to do was toy with the shiny stones that dangled off your collar and angle them into the light to trace patterns into the ceiling. It’s an activity that works best with larger, colorful stones: the dainty diamonds Childe always used to gift you didn’t work half as well.

“Do you like it?” the man asks, staring down at you. “I thought you deserved a reward so behaving so well last time we went out. If you’re good this time as well, I’ll give you another one.”

I won’t be here for you to give me another one, you think.

“I like it,” you say, ignoring how your heart instinctively speeds up with—is it fear? concern? hesitation?— when that thought runs through your mind. “Thank you, Sir.”

Childe grimaces.

“I mean, Ajax.”

Calling him by his name is still a hard habit to get into, but you find that the syllables roll off your tongue much smoother now. Alas, you shouldn’t need to worry about it too much longer. Not if today’s meeting with Diluc and Kaeya goes as planned.

“Here, lean forward so I can put it on you.”

The way you arch your neck forward is familiar. You and Childe have been in this position countless times before, him always being the one to fasten his gifts to your collar, and it shows in how quick Childe’s fingers are in attaching the short chain of the sapphire to your necklace. Within seconds, you feel the task’s completion as you lean your head back and smile at your owner, the weight around your neck marginally heavier than when you both stepped inside this van.

“It looks good,” Childe says, squeezing your thigh gently. “You look good.”

“Thank you,” you say like a good little slave. Then, you decide to go the extra mile. “Ajax.”

The man doesn’t respond to that, opting to glance out the window as his driver speeds down the highway that’ll doubtlessly bring you both to the office Diluc and Kaeya share, but you can see the edges of his lips curling upward. It’s rare, after all, for you to address him by name. No matter how much he loves it, your tongue still says “sir” on instinct, a little crack in the homey picture Childe is building with you in his mind.

It’s not like it matters, you think, stopping yourself from thinking too much about your owner before you can begin to feel bad. If all goes well, I won’t ever have to see him again.

The thought instinctively brings a smile to your face, but it falls just as fast.

If.

Looking back, the message Diluc and Kaeya gave you was cryptic. ‘WE CAN HELP YOU’ provides no accurate timeline to place your hopes in. The second message, ‘COME WITH TARTAGLIA NEXT WEEK AND WE CAN FREE YOU’ was of the same nature. Up til now, you’ve been vaguely interpreting their words to mean that they would free you immediately if you managed to go with Childe to this meeting. But the human trafficking world is so complicated, and you can’t help but think that things may be delayed even longer.

All you can do is hope for the best and pray that reality won’t disappoint.

“How much longer?” you ask your owner after the view outside the window has changed from a highway to a cityscape.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” Childe chuckles. “We should be there any time soon. Keep an eye out. Their office is in one of the big buildings.”

That doesn’t tell you much, given that nearly every building this van drives past is over fifteen stories high.

You’re in the middle of scoffing at Childe’s poor description of the office when the car finally stops: and only then do you understand that when he said “one of the big buildings,” he meant the biggest fucking building in the entire city.

You’re gawking like a fool as Childe helps you out of the car, mentally overwhelmed at the sheer size of what has to be the tallest office in Snezhnaya.

“It’s…”

Big doesn’t begin to describe the grandeur of this place. It’s nothing you’d expect from two men who are working undercover to free people from human trafficking: it's got to be the most eye-catching thing you've ever seen, one hundred stories high or taller, with every inch of the exterior covered in wall-to-wall windows. It looks like an upscale version of Childe’s own office, and if you thought his building was lavish, then this is full-on opulent.

Your owner has to forcibly pull you forward to get you to move.

You almost forget to tuck your precious jacket—the one you so foolishly forgot when you last went out in public, the one Childe insisted you bring this time in case you have another episode—underneath your arm because you’re so busy marveling at the exterior of the building, though you thankfully remember to do so right before the van door closes.

“It’s nothing impressive,” Childe grumbles as he pulls you past the professional double doors. “Diluc and Kaeya are only renting the top ten floors here. They’re not even rich enough to purchase them.”

“Ten whole floors?” you ask, eyes round as you stare at the inside of the ground floor. Childe tugs you towards the elevator, and you’re just barely able to slow him down so you can stare at the marble floors, the expensive-looking paintings on the wall, the embodiment of wealth unlike anything you’ve ever seen. “Why do they need ten—”

“They’re sex traffickers, angel,” Childe tells you when the elevator doors shut. (You have to force yourself to refrain from marveling at how even this elevator seems posh and refined.) “They use the top floor for their own operations. The other nine are where they run their prostitution rings.”

Your face darkens at that. It must be the exact same as Childe’s office, where he has you and his other favored prostitutes up at the top with him, and all the girls he doesn’t want to show favoritism to are forced into the life they were meant to follow when they were brought into the human trafficking world: either as unpaid sex workers that are sold by the hour from Childe to other equally-awful clients or as human trafickees to be shipped to someone else if they prove to be too much trouble.

But then, you remember Diluc and Kaeya’s message.

‘WE CAN HELP YOU,’ they said.

There’s no way that they’re running a sex trafficking front up here. Childe must be wrong. It’s probably just a lie they told him to gain his trust so that they could best help you escape this life.

“They’re so arrogant,” Childe grumbles, crossing his arms. “I bet they chose this office just to piss me off. It’s bad business, too. They’re losing out on money by choosing such a fancy place. Not even the Snezhnayan sex work model will boost their profits.”

“What’s the Snezhnayan sex work model?”

“The system we use in the Fatui. It’s supposed to be the best, money-wise. You hand-train the elite girls as prostitutes so that the best ones become magnets for high-caliber clients. You sell off girls who don’t show promise early on. And then there’s a handful of average-quality, compliant girls you keep for the low-caliber clients that want a good fuck but can’t pay as much.” Childe folds his arms as he leans back against the elevator wall. “It's the most profitable method, even if it means that the girls you sell will always be low-quality.”

“Wouldn’t I be an elite girl?” you ask, staring at your owner. “You trained me, but I never had to work as a prostitute. And I only sometimes have to meet your clients, and—”

“You’re different,” Childe says, avoiding your eyes.

Immediately, you want to ask what he means by that. Unfortunately for you, the elevator doors open at that precise moment, and Childe leads you forward by the hand into an office that, now that you think about it, definitely was designed to upstage Childe’s own place of work.

“Come on, you can do it, baby.” A low coo from the left side of the room draws your attention, and your eyes widen in a mix of confusion, concern, and finally, horror.

“Ignore Kaeya. Focus on my fingers. Relax your throat, doll, yes, just like that…”

Even Childe stiffens when he sees the three men splayed out on a couch: Diluc and Kaeya sandwiching a youthful-looking boy between them as Diluc shoves his hand down the boy’s throat and Kaeya strokes the boy’s small cock.

For a moment, you don’t understand why the boy looks so wrecked, his braided hair dampened with sweat and his face covered in tears, but when your eyes watch as a trickle of sweat trails from the boy’s neck to his stomach, joining a copious amount of white fluid you can only imagine to be the result of countless orgasms, it’s clear that Kaeya’s overstimulating him. Add that to the way Diluc’s entire hand is slotted down the poor boy’s throat, and how the redhead is still stubbornly trying to get more inside, and it becomes clear that whatever this boy is feeling is far from pleasant.

The picture makes it irrevocably clear that this boy is to Diluc and Kaeya what you are to Childe.

Instinctively, you imagine how you would feel if you were in such a position. Your worst memory under Childe, after all, is from the time when you were handed over to four men who fucked into your G-spot so vigorously that you cried at any sensation for hours. Your second worst memory is from the time when a client forced a massive dildo so big you couldn’t breathe down your throat and left you like that until Childe intervened.

The idea of those two memories being combined into one makes you want to vomit.

“Fucking hell,” Childe grunts once he’s past processing the image before him. “Get your toy out of here. Do you have to be so disgusting?”

“Oh, please,” Kaeya responds, not an ounce of hesitation in his voice. He doesn’t stop stroking the boy’s cock. “You had your little angel out during our last meeting. Let us have a little fun now, alright?”

“Hell no. Even I don’t dabble in…” Childe sneers when he sees how young the boy seems to be. “Children.”

Diluc laughs, a deep, rich sound that reverberates through the room. “He’s older than he looks. We’re not scummy enough to deal in children, either, Tartaglia.”

“You’re scummy enough to have to share,” Childe says, scoffing. “What, did you guys spend so much money paying for this building’s rent that you couldn’t afford more than one kid to suit both your needs? The two of you look pathetic, you know.”

“I wouldn’t call it pathetic,” Kaeya offers. “It’s more like we know exactly what we want. And if we both want the same thing, we’re not going to waste our time with…” The man’s single eye skirts over your figure with purpose. “Cheap replacements.”

“Really, now?” You can sense Childe getting offended for you. “You think your little toy is better trained than my angel?”

“I don’t think it, Tartaglia. I know it.” Kaeya grins. He gives the boy’s cock another few strokes, going at the same pace, the small, red-flushed thing twitching furiously in response. “Just watch.”

Kaeya abruptly pulls back from the boy, lifting his hand in the air for dramatic effect, and one, two, three seconds pass where nothing happens. The little organ he’d been stroking still quivers, either from overstimulation or from desire, but the boy suppresses his orgasm, and you can see the desperate, shallow breaths he tries to take from around Diluc’s hand.

Then, it happens.

“Cum, Venti.”

On command, the boy keens, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his hips spasm and jerk up into nothing. Venti’s cock looks abused, a thought demonstrated by how little cum actually shoots into the air and onto his stomach, the substance looking more watery than it looks healthy.

You grimace when you understand how far Venti must have been pushed to reach this point.

The boy practically melts into Kaeya’s hold after the orgasm has left his body, boneless after something so intense, and the final shreds of resistance he’d been offering Diluc’s hand disappear as the redhead’s wrist edges deeper into his throat.

“Such a good boy, isn’t he?” Kaeya says, grinning as he strokes Venti’s hair, brushing the sweat-stained bangs from his forehead. “He’s ‘Luc’s favorite. We haven’t had any discipline issues from him in years. Same goes for the rest of our merchandise.”

Kaeya’s words are a shameless flex on Childe: a reminder that your owner’s girls are so often poorly-trained and that even you, the star of his trafficking business, are secretly planning on running away.

You don’t need to look up at your owner’s expression to see the raw annoyance plastered onto his face.

“No discipline issues?” Childe grunts. “So if I bought him from you and ordered him to kill himself right now, he’d do it?”

There’s a beat of silence.

Whatever response Kaeya was expecting, that wasn’t it.

Finally, Diluc speaks up.

“Venti, much like your toy over there, isn’t for sale.” Diluc withdraws most of his hand from the boy’s mouth, leaving only the tips of his fingers in such that Venti cranes his neck forward to suckle at them. “But if you want him gone that much, it’s fine. He has to go to work now, anyway.”

You can feel your eyebrows shoot up at that. Kaeya watches your expression, and he laughs.

“Sorry, girlie. I know your master over there likes to exercise preferential treatment with his pets, but we don’t do that in Mondstadt.” Kaeya gently pushes Venti to his feet, holding his hand until the shake of the boy’s feet subsides. “All our toys have to work. Favoritism should only go so far in a world like this.”

With that, Kaeya pats Venti’s butt and sends the boy off, and you watch in a mix of awe and horror as he stumbles towards the elevator to “work.”

If it were real, you’d be mortified.

Venti was overstimulated to tears, his legs wobbling the whole time as he stumbled past you, the apples of his fair cheeks flushed a feverish red. There was saliva dripping down his chin, cum still smeared on his stomach, and the reek of sweat and sex wafting off the entirety of his stumbling, nude form.

But you comfort yourself with the knowledge that it was all just an act.

You close your eyes and hold your jacket closer to your body as the elevator releases a low ding, forcing yourself to remember the message Diluc and Kaeya left for you that filled your heart with so much hope. What happened with Venti just now looked bad, but you’re certain that it was all part of their master strategy to deceive Childe until you’re free from him.

(If there’s a sudden thump of a body hitting the ground and a low groan from behind the elevator doors as soon as they shut, you force yourself not to pay attention to it.)

“Fucking finally,” Childe mutters as soon as Venti is gone. He shuffles forward and flops down onto a couch, pulling you with him. “Listen, I don’t want to be here any more than you guys want me here. Let’s get this over with quickly, shall we?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kaeya mumbles, using a sanitized cloth to clean his hands before slipping his usual gloves back on. Next to him, Diluc does the same. “All we need to do is fix a transportation route for the merch, right?”

“Yeah,” Childe grunts. “I already have some ideas. I own a parent company that sells furniture. If we can legally frame our transactions under the branch of…”

You zone out as soon as they begin using human trafficking jargon you barely understand.

This meeting is much more civilized than the previous, if the whole incident with Venti can be forgotten. The jabs Diluc and Kaeya make towards Childe are much more subtle, popping up rarer, too, and Childe doesn’t openly taunt them with your body the way he did in the first meeting.

It takes nearly an hour before your owner even remembers you, and even then, his touches remain somewhat innocent. He only ever ghosts his fingers against your thigh, oft going down to drum his fingers against your knee while he continues to work out the logistics of his business deal. The touches honestly end up keeping you on edge with how delicate they are, and it’s right when his fingers have finally flitted up to the innards of your thigh, right when you’re holding your breath, right when Diluc and Kaeya’s eyes are fixated on where his palm has crept beneath your skirt, that his phone rings.

Immediately, Childe’s hands are off you.

“I have to take this,” he says, wrapping a protective arm over your shoulder as he beckons you to stand next to him. “In private.”

“Take the elevator down to the second floor if you want privacy,” Diluc offers. “It’s not being rented out, and there aren’t any cameras there.”

“Thanks,” your owner says, leading you towards the elevator.

“Wait,” Kaeya calls, right as you’re about to step in behind Childe. You glance behind your shoulder to stare at him, and the devious expression on his face concerns you.

Kaeya winks at you a second before Childe, too, turns to face him.

“Leave your girl here with us, will you? Give us a treat to nibble on to kill the time.”

Immediately, you think that Kaeya has said the wrong thing. Childe is a fiercely protective man, over you more than anything else. There’s no way he’d leave you in the hands of two men he barely even likes, and it’ll probably only cast suspicion in his mind to hear Kaeya ask for you so candidly.

You shut your eyes, instinctively preparing to hear Childe’s rejection.

Instead, his tone is light when he speaks, almost amused. “Finally seeing how high-quality she is, eh?” Your owner is smiling at Kaeya, not an ounce of irritation, anger, or protectiveness on his face. “Fine. This call will take a while anyway. Just make sure you don’t wreck her too much.”

With that, the redhead steps into the elevator and leaves you with nothing more than a featherlight kiss to the temple, and you’re standing there, dumbfounded, for a full ten seconds before you process what has happened.

Alone, you realize with a start. I'm finally alone with them.

Immediately, you sprint forward, grabbing Kaeya’s hand in an attempt to tug him off the couch, not caring about how you dropped your jacket on the floor in your rush.

“Come on,” you say, eyes wide. “If—if you want to set me free, we have to go now while he’s busy!”

But Kaeya doesn’t move an inch off the couch, instead pulling you onto his lap with a strength you didn’t realize he had.

“What are you—”

“Shh, baby. We have to put on a show in case Tartaglia comes back, yeah?” You feel Diluc shuffle behind you, and the redhead is quick to wrap his hands around your hips from behind.

The slowness, the casualness, the feigned normalcy of their actions dumbfounds you.

“Why aren’t we leaving?” you whisper, hands going up to grip at the fabric of Kaeya’s suit. “You said you’d free me if I managed to come to this meeting, so—”

“Relax,” Diluc mumbles into your ear, gloved hands sliding beneath your blouse to grope at your breasts. “Freeing you isn’t something we can do at the drop of a hat. It’s not just about you being here.”

“Right,” Kaeya says, his fingers slowly undoing the zipper on your skirt. “We asked you to come to this meeting to first check if it would even be possible to free you. A test, if you will. We weren’t sure you’d pass it. But if Tartaglia is willing to give you enough freedom to wander around with him, we figure you should also have enough freedom to do what needs to be done for us to free you.”

“What?” you whisper, trying to force back the tears that are pooling in your eyes. This is everything you’d feared: that Diluc and Kaeya’s idea of freeing you would be more complicated than you’d realized and that the whole process would require more time. “What do you need me to do to be free?”

“Aw, don’t cry.” Kaeya tosses your skirt to the floor right before he goes up to wipe away the tears from your face. “It’s not hard. We just need you to get ahold of Tartaglia’s fake documents on you.”

“His...what?”

Confusion is ultimately what brings a halt to your tears, and you cock your head naively at Kaeya right as Diluc speaks up.

“Fake documents,” Diluc explains, beginning to rub the front of his pants against your naked arse. “Every human trafficker has a series of documents for their merchandise that they can use for transportation and claim purposes. We need to get yours from Tartaglia.”

“Why can’t you take me away without them?” you plead, still clinging to the hope that you might be able to go free today. “Why do I have to—”

“Because, depending on how smart Tartaglia is, he can use those documents to rightfully get you back, even if we set you free.”

“What?” you ask. “How?”

“Think. If he has you listed on those documents as a minor, then the State can only do so much to protect you. Especially if he has himself listed down as your guardian. Even if you try to speak out against him, the Snezhnayan police won’t care. They’ll send you straight back to him, and you can bet that whatever freedoms you have now will be forever lost to you the second time around.”

“B-but, if I can prove that I’m not the person in his fake documents—”

“You can’t prove that,” Kaeya interrupts. “If you’re lucky, Tartaglia’s fake documents would be low-quality. But if he was smart, which we both know he is, then his documents will be of a high-enough quality that people will believe them when they see them. And unless you happen to have your official documents on you, there’s nothing you can do to protect yourself except steal the papers from Childe before he can use them.”

The annoyed, almost bored inflection of Kaeya’s voice shakes you to the core. They rattle this information off so quickly, so intuitively, so earnestly that you have no choice but to believe them.

“Okay,” you whisper, voice shaky. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll get the documents you want.”

“Do you know where he keeps them?” Diluc asks.

“I think so. He has a locked briefcase that he always keeps in his office. I don’t know the combination to open it, but I should be—”

“Good,” Kaeya interrupts. “You seem like a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Y-yeah,” you say, hesitant. The man’s words seemed like a compliment, but his tone felt much more derisive. “Um, is that all, or is there anything else I—”

“That’s all,” Diluc says. “Two weeks from now is when we’ll be ready to get you out of here. We’ll be staying in the hotel across from Tartaglia’s apartment. The two of us will be in rooms 213 and 214. Come find us at any time, and as long as you have the documents on you, we’ll be able to set you free.”

Your heart beats a little faster at that.

“Really?” you whisper, almost not believing it. The goal you’ve been given is finally real: it’s tangible, so clear that you can already see yourself using something sharp to tear into Childe’s briefcase and retrieve your documents before you’ll finally be able to live a life you can be proud of.

Kaeya smiles when he sees the look on your face.

“Really,” he whispers, reaching a rough, gloved hand up to cup your cheek with infinite care. The kiss he coaxes you into is gentle, soft, and sweet. It’s everything he is, everything Childe isn’t.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning forward to wrap the man in a hug. You don’t care about the fact that Diluc has unbuttoned and pulled off your blouse now, leaving you effectively nude as you embrace Kaeya, but he doesn’t seem to mind either. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome,” the man whispers in response, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

The next minutes are marked by more peace than you’ve felt in months. Sandwiched between Diluc and Kaeya, you feel oddly safe. The roughness of their gloves stops bothering you, the silky brushes of their hair stop tickling you, and the closeness of their bodies, the warmth and the heat that radiates off them as naturally as light off the sun, only relaxes you in their arms.

When Kaeya begins playing with the jewels on your necklace, you don’t stop him.

“Tartaglia gave you this?” he asks, tugging gently at a diamond.

“Yeah. They're all presents for being good.”

You can’t help the smile that blooms on your face as you say that: it’s like a reminder that you’re special, that you’re important, that even though you’re down in a world where your life isn’t even your own, you still have worth.

Behind you, Diluc’s fingers reach over your shoulder and begin lifting up individual stones to the light. “These are expensive,” he mutters, twisting a ruby among his leathered fingers. “More expensive than what someone would normally give to a slave.”

“I know,” you say. “It's because this is supposed to incentivize my good behavior, and—”

“No,” Diluc interrupts, voice soft. “It’s supposed to manipulate you.”

Your voice catches at that, and you glance at Kaeya for confirmation because you doubt it can be true. Not when Childe always seems so sweet when he gifts you these presents. Not when you've come to look forward to them as the one light in your life in this dark, dark world. But when the blue-haired man’s face twists into sympathy, your heart falls.

“B-but...I like…”

“You’re supposed to like it,” Diluc’s voice, rich and deep, rumbles out into your ear. ”But you need to understand that it’s not a necklace, doll. It’s a collar.”

“I know that,” you say, now wrapping your fingers around the chain protectively. “But I don’t—I don’t want—”

Kaeya kisses you, bringing two hands to your cheeks to cradle your face in his fingers.

“We’re not going to take it away from you, baby.”

He kisses you again.

“Relax.”

Those words soothe you in a way you can’t quite explain; the idea of losing your necklace, even being told that your necklace was a ploy to manipulate you (though you already knew that, to some extent), was unsettling. You much prefer the notion that it’s an innocuous gift: mainly because you’ve grown far too attached to it for it to represent human trafficking and all the pain you’ve had to endure thus far.

But, right when you’ve calmed yourself and forcibly stopped yourself from panicking, you feel a sharp tug on your neck.

“What did you—”

“Nothing,” Diluc says, holding two gemstones—two diamonds, one blue and one pink—in his palm. They still have their chain attached to them, but that's it: there's nothing connecting the diamonds to your necklace, the chains having been ripped off. You feel your expression change as you see what he's done. “Just—”

“What did you do?!” you blurt, panic beginning to overtake your heart. “Childe—Ajax—he’s going to notice! I—I’ll get in trouble, and—”

“Shh,” Kaeya whispers, trying to calm you down with a kiss, but you pull back before his lips can touch you. “It’s not—”

“Put it back. Put it back!”

You've turned around and are about to hit Diluc when the man grips both your wrists, holding you with such a force that it freezes you. The look in his eyes is fierce, fiery, red eyes shining brighter than the rubies dangling off your neck—and for a single second, you can’t help but think that the man looks furious.

Then, the expression is masked, and you’re both left calmer for it.

“Tartaglia won’t notice. Unless he makes a habit of regularly counting what’s on your neck, only you’ll be able to feel the difference.” Right. That makes sense. Childe likes to look at your necklace, but you doubt that he’ll actually know how many presents he’s gifted you. Not when he barely touches the thing, dexterous fingers always reaching out to feel your body instead.

“And besides,” Diluc says, easing you back into your earlier position with your back resting against his chest. “It’s a promise. The two diamonds.”

“A promise?”

In front of you, Kaeya smiles in understanding.

“Right. It’s a promise, baby. We’ll give you these two diamonds back once we’ve freed you, and until then, they’re our weight to bear so that every time we look at them, we remember that we’re waiting for you so we can set you free.”

“It...is?” you ask, hesitant. You haven’t been in the outside world in a while; is this how people do promises now?

“Yes,” Diluc mumbles, kissing your ear as he strokes your hair. Every brush of his fingers against your head instinctively relaxes you, until you’re almost as calm as you were before he took two stones off your necklace. “Do you trust us to return them to you?”

It’s a disguised question.

What Diluc is really asking is this: Do you trust us?

“Yes,” you breathe. It’s the only right answer.

Then, the two men go silent. They focus on relaxing you once more, running their gloved fingers up and down the sides of your body, almost massaging your skin as you sit between them.

Unfortunately for you, all you can think about is your necklace.

It’s the first time you’ve had it be lighter than before: Childe only ever adds to it; he never takes. Now, right when you’d grown used to the weight of the sapphire he attached this morning, you’ve got the odd situation of it being even lighter than it had been when you woke up.

You know that you should feel freer now: less chained down to Childe and to the Fatui.

But deep down inside, you miss the weight.

Minutes later, when you’re a little less emotionally overwhelmed and a little more relaxed as the two men gently run their arms around your body, another thought surfaces.

“A-also,” you say, hesitant. “Um, everything you said at the beginning of this meeting…”

“All lies,” Diluc says, pulling you closer against his broad chest after you slink too deep into Kaeya’s embrace. “Tartaglia had a negative impression of us coming in, so we had to play to that. Everything we said was just for show.”

Your shoulders sag in relief at that, but another thought continues to poke at your brain.

“And Venti?” you finally manage to ask, remembering how ruined the boy had looked as he stumbled away from the two men holding you.

“He’s a masochist,” Kaeya blurts. “We asked him beforehand if he’d be okay with participating. Not sure he realized how all-out we were going to go, but I’m certain that he enjoyed himself.”

That...makes sense! You’ve heard before about masochists, and looking back, everything Diluc and Kaeya did to the boy really did seem to be for the sake of his pleasure. You’ve heard countless times about overstimulation being something sexy, something desired, something liked by the select few who could bear it. Similarly, the way Diluc had his hand down Venti’s mouth...that’s the equivalent of Childe having you suck on his fingers during sex, right?

You laugh a little when you realize that everything you’d been scared about had an explanation. You should have known better than to doubt Diluc and Kaeya, two people who are saving you from hell itself. If anything, you should be on your knees thanking them instead of raising questions over what they had to say to be able to help you out.

“I’m sorry for all the questions,” you confess, sheepish as Kaeya’s fingers begin toying with your breasts. “I’m just...really nervous. And a little scared.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Kaeya asks, a tinkling laugh spilling from his lips. “We were the same way when we first came out here to save people from human trafficking.”

“Really?” you ask, eyes round. “Do you guys do this for a living? How many people do you save?”

“Uh...whoever we can, really. We use our covers as human traffickers to identify targets that would be easiest for us to free. You seemed like one. Before you, we helped that boytoy from Zhongli. Before him was some Khaenri'ahi girl, and…”

Zhongli? You ask yourself, trying to figure out where you know that name from. It’s familiar, so familiar, and…

“Wait!” You blurt, sitting up straight and nearly knocking Diluc backward in the process. “You guys were responsible for freeing Xiao? The one who’s always by Zhongli’s side?”

You remember the short little man, beautiful in his own right, from when Childe had a business meeting with Zhongli. That was the first time you learned of Xiao, the last time being just last week when you heard Scaramouche say that the green-haired boy had somehow disappeared.

Hope blooms in your heart as soon as you realize what that disappearance was: the successful removal of one more slave from the human trafficking network, something you're next in line for.

Diluc lets out a light laugh when he sees how your entire face has brightened up now that you have genuine proof that these two men are for real, that they’ve helped people escape in the past and that they’ll help you escape in the near future.

“Wait, if you guys freed Xiao, then were you also the ones responsible for setting, uhm…”

Your brain blanks out as you try to remember the second person Scaramouche mentioned when speaking to Childe. What was her name? Amine? you think, but that sounds off. Umino? Lumina? You continue to guess names in your head, brain fixating on Childe’s interaction with the other Fatui executive until finally, you remember her name.

“Lumine!” you declare with pride. “Were you the ones who set her free, too?”

Kaeya stares at you with a shocked expression. His lips part and his face freezes, eyebrows lifted comically high on his forehead, and you turn around to glance at Diluc, but the redhead is in a similar state.

“You’re telling me,” Kaeya begins, “That Lumine...”

He can’t bring himself to finish, and so Diluc steps in to complete the question: “Lumine belonged to Tartaglia?”

You glance back and forth between the two men, unsure of why they seem to be regarding this news with such shock.

“I think so?” you say, now beginning to doubt yourself. “I’m not sure. But Scaramouche said something like that to him, so I—”

You’re cut off by a sharp cackle of laughter from Kaeya. You stare at him in shock, and then behind you, Diluc has begun chuckling, and then Kaeya’s laughing even louder, and within seconds, both men are laughing their heads off at something you barely understand.

“Oh my gods!” Kaeya blurts between fits of almost-hysterical giggles. “You’re telling me that Tartaglia? Fucking Tartaglia? Was the one to lose Lumine?” He laughs some more, loud and merry and cheerful. "So I was right when I called you a—a—" Kaeya stutters in his laughter. "A cheap replacement?"

You stare at the blue-haired man in confusion, not understanding a word of what he's saying nor why he seems to find it so hilarious that Childe and Lumine are connected. You want to open your mouth to ask why, but you have to stop yourself because it's at this precise moment that your owner returns; and this is the picture that Childe sees when the elevator dings with the announcement of his arrival: you, completely nude and squashed between the two Mondstadt business partners, Kaeya in front of you, laughing his ass off as if you’ve told the joke of the century, and Diluc behind you, the most stoic man in the room losing his composure in an equally graceless manner.

“What the fuck…” your owner mutters at the sight, but seeing Childe only makes the two men around you laugh harder.

It takes a full minute for them to calm down, and in that minute, you rise from their couch and move back towards Childe like an obedient slave, only wearing your clothes when Childe nods at you that it’s okay for you to do so.

“So,” Childe deadpans once Diluc and Kaeya have finally stopped laughing, though Kaeya still releases a giggle every now and then. “Did my girl tell a funny joke or something? You guys sounded like a bunch of dying hyenas.”

“Something like that,” Kaeya says, smiling at Childe, but you sense something deadly in his eyes.

“Alright, well…” Childe awkwardly tries to steer the conversation back to what they’d been discussing before. “I guess the final details will have to be ironed out once I actually use this company as a cover to ship the girls to you, but is there anything else we need to talk about? Transportation-wise, we seem solid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kaeya drawls, a strange smile on his face. “But, real quick, I want to talk about prices one more time.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Childe grunts, annoyed. “We already agreed on five-hundred thousand mora per shipment. Don’t try to haggle with me again on this.”

“Ordinarily, you’d be right,” Diluc says, crossing his arms. “But we just learned some interesting information.”

Childe’s eye twitches in annoyance. “Right,” he blurts, leaning back. “What is it? Did you find out that I’m giving a better deal to someone else? Because that sucks, but that’s how this business works with new partners. I’m not going to—”

“It’s not that,” Diluc interrupts, lifting a hand. “It’s moreso that before, we thought we were purchasing merchandise from a valued, respected dealer.”

Diluc’s lips quirk into a cruel grin.

“Not from the infamous idiot trafficker who lost Lumine.”

You can hear the ice settle over the room before you feel it, the abrupt, chilling silence suddenly making every second feel like an hour. You’re almost scared to move, scared to pull your eyes to your owner who, for the first time since you met him, looks like the child his codename was assigned for.

Childe doesn’t try to speak, but his every thought is displayed in his eyes alone, the cerulean blues giving insight to a hurricane of emotions wilder than the sea. In his eyes is fear, horror, despair, and pain, so much pain.

Something about the look on his face makes your heart break.

Diluc and Kaeya don’t care.

“I think charging five hundred thousand mora is a tad much for a douche who almost brought the entire industry down. Hell, you should be paying us for even being willing to deal with you, but…” Kaeya glances at Diluc, a single blue eye flitting down to where Diluc extends three fingers against his knee. “We’ll settle for a drop in the price instead. Three-hundred thousand mora per shipment. That good with you, Tartaglia?”

You’re expecting your owner to bargain, to argue, to scoff, to do something other than stare into the distance with those bright blue eyes that now look more blank than anything else.

When you hear Childe mutter a meek “Okay,” you nearly recoil in shock.

Even Kaeya is surprised. “R-really? Damn. Actually, I think we should go even lower, y’know? Every trafficker in the world was scared for their life because of you, so maybe drop the price some more as reparations for that? Whaddya say, two hundred thousand? Per shipment?”

You stare at your owner, silently begging him to do something. Even you can tell that he’s being taken advantage of now, and that awful look in his eyes is something that even you’re unfamiliar with.

“Okay.”

“Fu...okay then? But also, you were kind of a dick to us last time, so how about you make it one hundred thousand? Seems more fair to me.”

“O—”

You grab your owner’s hand before he can agree, and the touch seems to snap Childe out of the awful fog that had been wrapped around his head. The look in his eyes is only less marginally troubled when he abruptly stands up, gripping your hand in a silent plea for you to move with him.

“I’m going,” Childe announces.

He begins walking away so fast that you just barely have time to grab your jacket before you’re at his heels.

The man completely ignores Diluc and Kaeya as he waits for the elevator to open with a rigid posture, seeming to feel uncomfortable or fearful or panicked or a mix of all three. Kaeya begins laughing behind you both, and you almost want to tell him to stop: tell him that yes, Childe is an awful human trafficker and yes, you hate him as well—but the poor man looks like he’s on the verge of having a panic attack, and you know first-hand how awful a feeling that is.

You’re grateful when the elevator finally opens, more grateful when the doors close and you and Childe are finally in isolation together.

Only then, in the silence of the box as it moves you both down to the ground floor, do you hear Childe’s shaky breathing. It’s jagged, uneven. Then, you take note of the way his hands are clenched into fists, palms enclosed so tight that his arms are shaking—and despite everything he’s done to you, you feel some semblance of pity for him.

“Ajax,” you mumble, hoping that the name will calm him. “Relax.”

A moment of silence.

“I am relaxed,” he responds, and when you glance over at him, he’s completely back to normal: breathing even and palms loose.

His eyes, though, are just as pained as when the two of you were sitting upstairs on that couch.

“I’m sorry,” you say. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re the one who let it slip that Lumine and Childe were connected. Even if you don’t understand the scope of what you said, it's clear that it had an impact. “I didn’t—”

“It’s not your fault,” Childe says, not looking at you. “Don’t apologize.”

More silence. It feels heavy, unlike the usual, comfortable stretches of quiet that you and Childe like to bask in.

“What...were they talking about?” you ask quietly, still staring at your owner. “Diluc and Kaeya said that—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

A moment of silence.

It feels so heavy that it seems to crush you under its weight.

“Who is she? Lumine?”

More silence.

This time, Childe is the one to break it.

“The only girl I ever loved before you.”

That’s a lie, and you know it. If Childe loved you, he wouldn’t be bringing you around to meetings, dressing you like a cheap slave, and handing you off to other men to flex how ‘high-quality’ you are. If Childe loved you, you would be long gone from the human trafficking circuit because he would have set you free. If Childe loved you, he wouldn’t force you to stay by his side because he’s your abuser, your trafficker, the monster that haunts your life.

Most importantly, if Childe loved you, he would have given you a proper answer to your question. Not some flimsy skirt-around that only furthers his attempts to manipulate you into loving him back.

Your eyebrows furrow the slightest as you feel the elevator hit the ground floor, brain still focused on everything Diluc and Kaeya said. Everything Childe didn’t want to talk about. Lumine.

Curiosity begs you to stick around and learn the truth.

Logic, reasoning, and the desire to lead a life of your own tell you that you’ll be long gone from Snezhnaya before that’ll ever happen.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 7.9k

Notes: eyyyy i'm alive! i promise i never forgot about this fic, it's just that after i missed the original due date, my mind was just like 'eh, it's already late, what's a few more days?' and that's the story of how this is two months late. thank you to all the kind commenters from the last chapter - to the people who checked in on me, ily; to the people who sent me those wholesome asks on tumblr, ily ily; and to the people who made guesses on what would happen in future chapters - guess what :D you acc helped me shape this :3 i originally meant for lumine to be a passing thing mentioned once and never again, but she'll end up being important for chapter 4 ^^ so thank you to everyone who'll still be here after i disappeared for so long. hope you liked this chapter (lmk your thoughts!) and i can't wait to see you all in the finale <3

Comment & Like

Next Update: 6/11

I do not own the rights to Genshin Impact or any of the characters within it.

195 notes · View notes

oneprompt · 3 years ago

Note

Hello? Really hope your doing well. I saw your requests were open and wanted to ask if you could please do a scenario of nami and her s/o (preferably male, but gender neutral is fine as well) spending the night together aboard the sunny. They're talking and laughing the night away until s/o says:"I can't wait to marry you." Nami is happy, shocked or however you would think she's going to react. If it's a lot of work you can ignore this request. Thanks and have a great day/night

authors note : hello ! <3 this is such a cute idea .. i’d be happy to write for it ! i kept the reader gn if that’s okay <3 and i hope you’re doing well , too. please enjoy , i hope i brought out the best of thy vision ! + i hope you don’t mind i adjusted the prompt a bit ;; ++ it takes place during the beginning of Water 7 , before all the chaos. thought it’d be cute to have them on a date .. ( can you guys tell what my favourite arc is yet ? )

Nami x Reader , “ I Cant Wait To Marry You “ Drabble

You and Nami sat together in the tiny boat that was being dragged along by a vibrant king bull. The crew had figured it’d be best to wait to find a shipwright, wait to further discuss things with that man. What did the woman at the train station say was his name, again? Iceburg? Who cares, that wasn’t what was important right now. You were all told to have fun, to split up for a few hours before going to the bank. And that was the perfect time to give you and your girlfriend, Nami, private time.

The sound of laughter echoed out of your shared water carriage as you two traded words. You couldn’t recall the last time you two, or any of the crew could do something so mundane. To others, this must be incredibly boring, just riding around in the slow water roads of Water 7 but it was special to you and the crew. Having time to act like people over pirates for even just a few hours was glorious.

You loved being a pirate, but each time you docked on an island you couldn’t help but wonder how things could’ve been if you stayed back at your home village. Perhaps it could’ve been calm but you would’ve never been so happy, if not for your crew mates. Especially Nami. She was your utopia, your rock. She always was, ever since you met the crew. Even if Nami was a thief, and a rather vulgar woman, you couldn’t help but fall captive to her heart. She was so warm, so kind to the ones she loved. Nami was the woman for you and you knew that, even only after dating since she escaped the wretched clutches of the wicked man known as Arlong.

“Hey, Y/n!” Nami said, her tone high with the upmost happy tune. You looked over at her, raising your eyebrow.

“Mhm?” You hummed, looking at her face. Her normal smile soon twisted into a smug one as she fished one of her freckles hands into her pocket.

Oh no. That face never delivered good news, always just stripping her actions to expose the nudity of her own impulsive choices.

“Look what i got you!” Nami held her hands out infront of your face, palms now decorated with the sparkling chain of silver. “It’s a necklace~! Some random geezer that passed us had it and i just knew you’d love it.” She snickered, showing clear pride in her actions.

Part of you wanted to scold her for stealing from a purely innocent person. But then again, she was a pirate. You were a pirate, your whole existence and the message you stood for was criminal, now wasn’t it? You had no right to shout at Nami for stealing, especially for your sake.

The abrupt bubbling in your throat crushed all sense to ask Nami to kindly return it to the old woman who had passed you both. You began to laugh loudly, your laughter filling the small street you two were along. She was far too much..!

Nami looked over at you, a confused smile on her face. What was so funny? She leant back slightly against the tiny boat, her navy blue tie fluttering along with the force of the slight wind that waved along the city. She twirled the valuable accessory in between her fingers, looking over at you.

“Do you want it or not? I could get a few extra berries off of this if you don’t want it,” Nami shrugged, eyes twinkling at the thought of having pocket money, as the abundance she had now was all for Merry.

You wiped your eyes lightly, swiping the slight watering of your eyes away. “Oh, Nami,” You sighed to catch your own breath from laughing, your ribs aching. “I can’t wait to marry you! You’re too-“

Crap. Your face reflected the same bright pink that coloured the king bulls scales. How could you fail at catching yourself? This was awkward. Nami probably could never imagine such a thing. Sure, you two were dating but marriage was different. Far different when placed beside the playground of dating.

“Marry me? Y/n, you want to marry me?” Nami managed to keep her cool, not including the pastel hues that dusted her cheeks. How could she be so calm? You felt like leeping out of the boat, letting the oceans of Water 7 take you far away.

“W-well, yeah..one day, at least,” You admitted sheepishly, jerking your head to the side to avoid the look in Nami’s caramel shaded eyes. “Obviously, you don’t have to. I mean, when Luffy becomes pirate king, i just figured, we could settle down and...”

“And what?” Nami egged you on to finish your sentence. “Cmon, say it! We don’t have all day!” She huffed, stomping her heels down as she grew impatient.

“A-and have days like these everyday!” You said loudly to match her own tone. “We could do all sorts of things, we could go to places like this everyday, we could talk like this all day, we could-!”

Nami cut you off as she casually applied her lips to yours, no regards for the public. You kissed back slowly, even if the kiss only lasted seconds.

“Okay,” Nami beamed. “I’ll be your bride after Luffy becomes the pirate king.” She grinned as big as possible, eyes squeezed shut from the smile that stuck to her face. Nami’s cheeks were crimson at this point.

Nami couldn’t help but wonder if Bellemare was seeing this, seeing her agree to such a thing. Nami never thought she’d get such an opportunity in life, she always thought she’d be stuck as Arlong’s right hand for her entire life. But no. She’d never have to picture the horror of the old days, not anymore.

She had Luffy, Usopp, Robin... she had everyone she needed.

Most importantly, Nami had you.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece imagines #one piece fanfic #nami #nami x reader #nami x you #nami x y/n #straw hat nami #op nami #fanfic #cute #fluff #x reader #reader insert

73 notes · View notes

late-to-the-party-81 · 3 years ago

Text

Checkmate Ch17

AN: This series is un-Beta'd. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Mood-board by me but photo credits to those who took them.

Series Master list | Chapter 16

CW: Fluff, Domesticity, Swearing, Angst, Loki’s Leather outfit (yes, it's a warning), Smut (Fingering, Unprotected sex), Drugging, Alternating PoV

Word count: 3k

The suite was massive, with two king-sized beds. It felt like something out of a fairy tale, with sheer drapes and ornate furniture.

Chess and Lisa had barely got through the door before they were surrounded by palace staff, bringing swathes of fabric, jewellery, makeup and shoes. Chess was pushed towards the bathroom first, where a huge sunken bath was already full, waiting for her to sink in. Scented lotions and oils lined the sides, and as she relaxed into the water she opened and sniffed at each bottle. She ducked down under the water, enjoying the feeling of weightlessness as her hair wafted around her. She got out after about 30 minutes, as she knew Lisa would want her turn in the tub.

Wrapping herself in a sinfully soft towel, with a smaller one around her head, she moved back into the main room of the suite. One of the many hovering women rushed past her, to get the bath ready for its next occupant, and Chess was steered over to the vanity. As one person got to work on combing out and drying her hair, another started on a manicure, filing her nails and picking a silvery-grey colour to paint onto them.

Once dry, part of her hair was twisted and braided up, but the majority was left to flow loosely. When Lisa came out of the bathroom, Chess nipped in and put on the new underwear that had been brought to her, before she was then dressed in a traditional style Asgardian outfit.

The fabric was light, the main body of it a light blue colour. Layers of gossamer silver fabric lay over the top. The neckline was cowled. Her arms were bare of fabric, but decorated with silver cuffs around her upper arms and wrists. Smaller silver cuffs adorned her hair. She wore small silver stars in her ears and around her neck was her own necklace – she had insisted on that one thing. It made her feel confident and grounded – more like herself.

Her make-up was subtle, some kind of shimmering powder brushed over her cheekbones. Looking in the mirror, she recalled the time that Loki had referred to her as a fairy. She could see what he meant now, her whole ensemble giving her an ethereal, other worldly, look. She turned to look at Lisa, who was also having the time of her life.

Her friend’s short blonde curls had been dusted with some kind of golden powder, so she now looked like she was wearing a halo when the light hit her just right. Her dress, whilst made of the same type of fabric as Chess’s was a completely different style. It was red, with gold accents. High necked, fabric draping down from the shoulders, and almost entirely backless. The fabric hugged her hips, narrowed and flared out again at the knees, in a trumpet style. Her eyelids were golden and her lips were red. There was no way Lisa was going to blend in. If Chess was a fairy, then Lisa was a nymph. She oozed with sexual confidence as she sashayed forward.

“Ready to go get your man?”

“As long as you promise not to try and steal him” she joked and Lisa rolled her eyes.

“Even if he was my type, the man is besotted with you. Even with all this,” she gestured to her outfit, “he won’t even see me.”

Then she lowered her voice to a nervous whisper.

“Do you think she will notice me?”

“Lees, the woman was practically eye-fucking you the entire plane journey. And where is normal Lisa, the one who sees what she wants and goes out and gets it? Come on, let’s get this show on the road.”

Linking her arm through her friends, Chess led them both out to the waiting car.

Despite the fact that the celebration was being held in the new school, someone had gone all out on the décor for the evening. Swags of cloth hung from the ceiling of the main hall, and fairy lights and electric tea lights adorned every surface that wasn’t laden with food. As Chess and Lisa walked through the doors they were surprised to find Val waiting for them.

“By Odin, the pair of you are stunning!”

She embraced Chess and then, turning to Lisa, took one her hands and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. Chess forced back a laugh at how her friend blushed. The blush deepened as Val tucked Lisa’s arm possessively through her own and turned to Chess.

“He’s over there,” she said, pointing to the far corner of the hall. Chess craned her neck and saw his fall of black hair, his fingers holding onto long stemmed wine glass. His back was to her.

“Go and get him, I’ll make sure Lisa doesn’t get lonely.”

Chess smiled as she took in the predatory gleam in Val’s eye and the completely smitten look in Lisa’s. And then, taking a glass of some kind of sparkling wine from a passing server, and for the second time that year, walked towards her future.

Loki was restless and also bored. Restless, because he was wishing this night over. The sooner it was done the sooner he could leave. And bored, because events like this were just that, boring. Talking to scholars used to excite him, but that was when he was trying to learn. But these ones were talking budgets and economics. Not one single exciting thing would happen tonight, unless someone ended up having too much to drink and decided to make a spectacle of themselves.

A few couples were dancing in the area designated for a dance floor, a set of musicians playing a mixture of Asgardian and Midgardian music. He was trying to concentrate on what the man in front of him was saying, hoping that he was nodding along and making the right noises at the correct points, when he became aware of a change in the crowd behind him. And then the dry academic in front of him stopped mid-sentence, jaw dropping to the floor.

“Norns!” he spluttered.

“Who is that magical creature?”

Loki turned, and his heart caught in his throat. He thrust his glass into the nearest hands, not knowing who they belonged to and strode across the floor, almost pushing other guests out of the way.

And then his own hands were cupping her face, and he could feel hers on his chest, pushing into the leather of his traditional garb. Before he knew it his lips were on hers, kissing her as though he were drowning and she was air he needed to survive. Forever passed in the blink of an eye as they both drew back hesitantly, looking at each other.

“Hi…”

The greeting came out of her mouth like a whisper.

“Hi, yourself.”

He pulled her close and they wrapped their arms around each other, her face pressed to his chest and his check on her head.

“I’m sorry, idlflue, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me…”

He was silenced when she pulled her head away and pressed her fingers to his lips.

“Dance with me, Loki. Make me feel like a princess.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

He led her to the dancefloor as a new tune started. Letting go of her hand he bent low, into a formal bow. Letting out a small giggle, Chess curtsied back. He swept her into his arms and started to lead her around. The contrast between this and the first dance they had shared could not be more apparent. She smiled up at him as they swirled around the floor. She laughed uninhibitedly when he shifted his hands to her waist and lifted her in the air, her hands curling into the soft leather covering his shoulders. And when the music finished and he dipped her low over his arm, she looked up at him as if he had hung the stars in the sky.

Bringing her back up, Loki noticed how a lot of people were watching them. He chuckled to himself, completely aware of the irony of him being the one to make a spectacle. He noticed her blush as she realised they were the centre of attention, so he quickly steered her towards a pair of doors, leading to the outside, swiping a pair of wine glasses on his way.

They stepped out into the cool air and after passing her one of the glasses, pulled her to him, her back flush to his chest, his spare arm anchoring her there. They stood in silence, slowly sipping the sparkling wine, each revelling in the feeling of just being with the other.

When they both finished drinking, Loki stepped away slightly, to place the glasses in the top of a nearby planter before turning Chess to face him again. As he bent forward, she met him half way, standing up on her toes. His lips pressed against hers softly, almost chastely. Then a second small kiss, followed by another. She sighed into his lips and he deepened the kiss. He could feel his control slipping, second by second, with every touch of his tongue against hers.

Then, without warning, she was pulling back. A shadow of doubt rolled over him, until her saw her eyes. They were dark and feral, but with a hint of mischief. She smiled at him, uncharacteristically predatory. She grabbed his hand, and despite her short stride practically dragged him back into the building.

She stopped short in the face of the crowds and the bright lights, and turned to him.

“Do you know the layout of this building?”

Loki nodded at her, confused. Then she pressed closer, running her hand up his chest, round his neck and pulling his head down so her lips were brushing his ear.

“Then, my dear prince, can you take us somewhere a bit more private?”

She nipped at his earlobe, and he stifled a moan as his cock stirred inside his leather trouser. Now it was his turn to smile and pull her along in his wake, but she grinned back, before laughing. They were drawing attention again, but Loki didn’t care, pushing open a set of double doors and pulling her through.

Suddenly full of impatience, he suddenly stopped, spinning on his heel so that Chess’s momentum sent her crashing into him. He lifted her into his arms and she let out a squeal of delight as his jogged further down the corridor, shoulder barging one of the doors open. He lowered her to the floor, before pressing the door lock and flicking one of the light switches. The lights at the far end of the room flickered on and he smirked as he saw her take in their surroundings.

“We’re in the staff room!”

She clapped her hands over her mouth but her eyes still sparkled. Her joy was infectious, and he pulled her to him again.

“I still can’t believe you are here, ildflue. I missed you so much.”

She tipped her head up and looking him dead in the eyes, ripping away the last vestiges of his control.

“Show me.”

She dragged him down to kiss her with one hand, and with the other, she rubbed her palm over the front of his trousers.

“I like the leather. It’s very…you.”

Her fingers plucked at the ties, relieving some of the pressure as he swelled against the unresisting material. He growled, and moved her hand up to his neck, walking her backwards until she was flush to one of the walls. He spun her so her back was to him, moved her hair and pressed kisses to the back of her neck, and over the exposed flesh of her shoulders. His fingers moved down her back, working the buttons of her dress, and she shivered.

“You look like an angel in this dress, a fairy bought to life. We mustn’t ruin it, hmmm?”

She gasped and arched back, the curve of her backside rubbing against his groin. He nipped one of her shoulder blades before crouching down and helping her step out of the shimmering fabric that was now pooled around her feet. He picked it up and lay it over one of the chairs, before turning her again to face him. His hands clasped the backs of her thighs, lifting her up. He pressed her against the wall and captured her lips and she ground her core against his.

“Impatient, my darling?”

He pulled back far enough to take in her lust-filled expression and raise an eyebrow. Her only response was to rub against him again, a small moan escaping her mouth. He leant down again and pressed kisses to her collarbone, his tongue moving down into the small dips, tasting the slight salty flavour of her skin.

As he trailed lower she arched up to meet him. His lips fastened over one lace covered breast, sucking it deep into his mouth, his tongue rubbing the slightly rough fabric over the peaked nipple. His arousal increased as a harsh cry was dragged from her.

Shifting her weight so he could hold her with one hand, his other crept up and slipped inside the scrap of fabric covering her other breast, his lithe fingers rolling the small nub between them. As she bucked against him, he ground back. He could smell her arousal, and had to abandon his hold on her breast so he could slide a finger inside her underwear, swiping between her soaked folds and gathering her wetness.

“Loki! Please! I need to feel you!”

He growled again in understanding as she begged. She shuddered as the sound vibrated around the breast he still held captive in his mouth. He moved his hand up from her core to press his finger against her lips and she eagerly sucked it inside her mouth, cleaning the evidence of her desire from him with her tongue, the noises coming from her getting filthier by the second.

He raised his head from her breast, noting how the now sodden fabric of her bra clung to her skin. When he pulled his finger from her mouth he chuckled as she whined, but he needed his hand to fully loosen the lacing on his trousers and release his throbbing cock.

He pushed her underwear to the side, and took her mouth in his again as he pressed inside her. Her hands scrabbled against the leather on his shoulders, trying to pull him as close as possible. He ripped his lips away and his head fell back as his pelvis pressed against the backs of her thighs, seated as deep within her as he could be.

“Look at me sweetheart, let me see your eyes.”

Stormy blue met emerald green as he slowly pulled back before thrusting back into her at an equally slow and tortuous pace. Her eyelids fluttered, but she forced them open again. He pulled back again, but returned quicker. He cupped her cheek with his free hand, the tenderness of the gesture juxtaposing his increasing pace. She nuzzled into his palm and drew his thumb into her mouth, running her tongue over it and nipping it with her teeth, her eyes still fixed on his. He didn’t know how it was possible, but he felt himself grow even harder within her.

“Norns, you are perfect, little one. It’s like you were made for me. Made to take my cock.”

She nodded around his thumb as he powered into her. He could feel her muscles gripping him tighter, and knew she was close. Tugging his hand away from her face, her lips released his thumb with a pop, but she cried out when the saliva slicked digit started to rub circles on her clit. She was unable to hold his gaze any longer and her head rolled back to lean on the wall. Loki bucked his hips harder.

“Come for me, my firefly. Come on my cock and glow for me.”

He pressed harder on her clit and felt her start to spasm, her internal muscles fluttering around him, and her thigh muscles bouncing her on him. And she was crying out for him, her words and curses helping to drive him to his own peak.

“Loki! Ohfuckohfuckohfuck! Please! Come in me! I need it! Fuckfuckfuck!”

He came with an ecstatic shout, his hot cum shooting inside her, filling her. He continued to thrust slowly through both their aftershocks, until they were both resting their foreheads together, panting. Holding her firmly in both hands, still joined to her, he spun them away from the wall and took a few steps over to the sofa, before withdrawing from her and laying her down. Her eyes fluttered shut and soft smile came over her face.

Loki moved over to the small kitchen area, legs feeling like jelly. He grabbed a few paper towels, wetting a couple under the tap, and cleaned himself up and then doing his trouser laces back up. He grabbed a few more and returned to her. He chuckled to himself at how useless his legs seemed to be. His head was also feeling fuzzy. Kneeling down he cleaned Chess’s upper thighs where his cum was smeared over her smooth skin and straightened her underwear. Looking at her face he realised she had fallen asleep.

Moving to stand, he lost his balance and slumped onto the floor. He shook his head, but it wouldn’t clear. He could smell something sickly sweet in the air. Something wasn’t right. Why weren’t his legs working, why was he feeling so foggy? His eyelids felt heavy.

He could hear some kind of commotion from out in the corridor and turned his head towards the door as it burst open. Figures all in black swarmed in. Using all the energy he could muster, Loki raised himself up and fell forward, shielding Chess’s body with his own. His mouth wouldn’t work, no sound came out. He went to blink, but his eyelids wouldn’t raise again and fell into unconsciousness.

Chapter 18

Tag list: @sidepartskinnyjeans @christywantspizza @turbolisedcomet @animnerd @viva-asgardia @goldylions

#loki #loki fic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki smut #loki x ofc #loki fluff #late writes #late to the party 81

19 notes · View notes

emeraldenha · 2 years ago

Text

☾ SUMMARY. the only thing Lee Heeseung was capable of doing was running away, but you always loved him, to the very bitter end.

☾ PAIRING. first love!heeseung x fem!reader

☾ GENRE. lovers to exes, angst

☾ W/C. +8k words

☾ WARNINGS. cursing, expressed desires of disappearing or running away, themes of unhealthy relationship dynamics, major character death, sad ending

☾ ADDITIONAL NOTE. this is an edited version of an already posted work of mine! there aren't any major differences regarding the plot, but if you ever want to return to the original post, you can access it here.

『THE TIME OF WINTER 』

You confessed to Heeseung on Valentine's Day.

And in your own opinion, you had never looked better in your entire life — or maybe you thought that because it was your first time spending more than an hour getting ready. Not a hair on your head was out of place and your lip gloss was shiner than the silver-chained necklace looped under the collar of your uniform.

You had a heart-shaped box of chocolates clutched to your chest with a crimson red rose taped to the top as you walked into school that morning. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you couldn’t tell if it was the nerves or the chilly weather that left you feeling lightheaded.

Overall, your appearance had earned you more compliments than you had gotten during the whole semester, considering that you’d normally never even bother to properly tuck in your shirt for starters. And it was all in the first fifteen minutes before you entered your classroom building, but that didn’t change the fact that you were a frazzled mess on the inside.

Upon first period, you settle down at your desk and scroll through your notifications as you wait for class to start.

“Hey!” Your friend sits in the unoccupied seat next to yours, taking a moment to talk to you before she has to sit in her assigned seat. She points to the chocolates on the edge of your desk. “What's with that? Planning on confessing to someone today?”

You slouch onto the back of your chair, bashfully crossing your arms over your chest. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god, seriously?” your friend gasps, bouncing her feet in excitement. “Who do you like?”

You immediately shake your head. “As if I’d tell you!”

“Hey, I tell you everything!” she disputes with her shoulders slumped in disappointment. “You can trust me.”

You slowly bite the inside of your cheek, checking to see if anyone was paying attention before muttering under your breath, “Lee Heeseung.”

You watch her eyes widen. “No way, Lee Heeseung?”

“Keep your voice down!”

“I was already whispering!”

You sigh at her response, realizing that you needed to stop overthinking everything. Your mind felt like it was processing a thousand thoughts at once, on the verge of exploding from stress.

“I can’t believe you’re into heartthrobs,” your friend says in astonishment. “Your little crush is literally the pride of our high school. Everyone’s in love with him.”

“I know.” You tightly purse your lips together, feeling more hopeless than before.

Heeseung was always an exceptional student. Ever since the day you had met him back in elementary school, he was already on another level.

You and Heeseung were the same age, but he was offered to skip a grade once you reached middle school, making him your upperclassman by a year.

Even when you were no longer able to share any classes with him, your infatuation only grew stronger. There was an unexplainably strong aura surrounding the prodigy.

He was popular and friendly and essentially good at everything. He didn’t even commit to clubs, because why would he? He couldn’t possibly stick to one when he had so many options.

Heeseung enjoyed the praise of being able to do anything he put his mind to. Of course, that didn’t satisfy the demand of students and teachers that wanted him to join all their school-related activities, but there was no stopping him. He hated the idea of having a limit, being tied down.

You were nowhere near close to his already unreachable status. You had a track record of joining lots of miscellaneous clubs in an attempt to find something you were good at, coming up short every time. Your grades were acceptable but nowhere near extraordinary. You were kind and amiable but ended up making more acquaintances than real friends. The stark contrast between you and him was extremely evident. You were afraid of him only seeing you as the random second year that had merely shared a small handful of conversations with him throughout the years.

In short, Lee Heeseung was way out of your league.

“Are the chocolates too cheesy?” You run a hand through the locks of your hair, an overwhelming amount of thoughts flooding back into your mind again. That was always a bad habit of yours. “There’s probably a lot of other girls planning on giving him chocolates, right? Shit, I should’ve been more creative. What if—”

“Woah, slow your roll, Y/n,” your friend interjects your rambling. “Just be yourself and tell him your feelings with confidence. If he turns you down, then it’s his loss.”

“His loss?” you repeat with a scoff. “Yeah right.”

You slowly peel the tape adhering the rose to the top lid of the box, crumbling the tape into a jagged ball when you’re done.

“I’m still ditching the chocolates,” you decide, shoving the sweets into her hands before she can say otherwise. “You can take them.”

“Whatever.” She shrugs, satisfied that at least you weren’t completely giving up. “I was hungry anyways.”

You gently set the rose directly in front of you, staring at it with a longing gaze. “I just hope this will be enough.”

Your friend frowns at your statement, racking her brain for a way to cheer you up.

“Oh, I have an idea!” She runs off to her desk and grabs a roll of purple ribbon from the front pocket of her school bag. Taking a pair of scissors from her pastel pencil pouch, she cuts a strip from the roll and hands it to you. “Here, you can tie this like a bow around the stem! It’ll be super cute.”

“You’re a genius! Purple’s his favorite color,” you gush, twirling the smooth ribbon around your fingers as you admire its simple yet stunning pattern. “Just like mine.”

You scrunch your nose in concentration, following your friend’s advice of tying a bow. You finish the job with the ends of the material prettily cascading from below the petals, the minor addition rather making all the difference.

“Thanks for the help.” You smile.

Your friend giggles. “Any time.”

You fix your hair in the small mirror attached to the inside of your locker, taking a couple deep breaths to mentally prepare yourself. When you’re done, you take a peek from behind the open door of said locker to look at Heeseung standing at the end of the hallway.

He was talking to a couple other third years from his last class of the day. He was as friendly and carefree as ever, constantly acting like the only thing weighing down on his shoulders were feathers.

After a minute or two of waiting, you watch Heeseung wave the other students goodbye as you see your opportunity lying right ahead.

‘You can do this,’ you mentally encourage yourself, speed-walking towards him as you grip onto the rose tied with purple ribbon behind your back.

You tap his shoulder. “Heeseung?”

The boy immediately turns around to face you, a smile plastered on his face. “Hey, Y/n! What’s up?”

You feel so nervous that you could throw up. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

You can tell he’s a bit confused as to why you approached him to tell him that. “Happy Valentine's Day to you too, Y/n.”

He strikes conversation for a bit longer, asking about your day or how your classes went. The small talk luckily makes you feel a lot more relaxed. Heeseung is always such a natural speaker. He cracks jokes with perfect timing and takes interest in everything you have to say. It’s as if he knows exactly what you want to hear.

Then, he asks why you came up to him, and it takes you a fleeting moment to gather the courage to speak again.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

You reveal to him the rose, extending it towards him. “I like you, Lee Heeseung.”

You could practically hear a pin drop with the utter silence that emitted in those next ten seconds. He was standing as stiff as a board with a lost look on his face, completely spacing out.

“So…” You anxiously rock back and forth on the heels of your feet. “What's your answer?”

You bite your bottom lip in embarrassment. At this point, you were just waiting for him to reject you so you could flee the pitiful scene as soon as possible and sulk in the privacy of your own room.

Heeseung doesn’t know exactly what comes over him at that moment. The atmosphere is cold but his heart is warm and he’s feeling generous. An unknown force just makes him inclined to take the chance.

He had always noticed you, whether it be in long or short-lived snippets. He thought you were nice. Timid whenever he made his presence known, but now he could understand a little more as to why. However, there were other times. Other times when he’d catch a glimpse of you walking in the courtyard or passing his table in the cafeteria where he’d see you be more smiley and outgoing with your friends or classmates. You seemed too kindhearted to let down.

“Yes.” He accepts your rose, fiddling with the dethorned stem between his lean fingers. “My answer is yes.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

Heeseung nods, a soft smile playing on his peach colored lips. “Yeah, really.”

You grin from ear to ear and sheepishly stare down at the tile of the school hallway. You couldn’t believe this was happening. From your knowledge, Heeseung had never dated someone before. He would reject every girl that ever confessed to him and you had never caught him forming a crush on someone himself.

This felt like the impossible.

You’re still dazed with disbelief when he speaks again.

“Are you heading home?” he asks, tilting his head to the side in an endearing manner.

You nod rapidly, unable to wield the words from your mouth.

“Great.” He takes your hand in his without warning. “Let's go. I’ll walk you.”

You let him guide you with your interlocked fingers, making sure to sync your footsteps with his long strides.

When Heeseung returns home after making sure you arrive at your doorstep safely, he laughs to himself. He wasn’t expecting any of the events that day to take place, but a sense of accomplishment swells in his chest.

Heeseung wondered what it was like to genuinely be enticed in the thought of having it all. He was curious about the fulfilling life everyone else assumed to be his, and a girlfriend seemed to fit the bill perfectly.

『 THE TIME OF SPRING 』

When Heeseung disappeared for the first time, he was gone for two days.

No one made note of it, after all, it wasn’t the craziest thing for a teenage boy to be off the face of the earth for a single weekend.

That was until it happened again, and again, and again.

He always pretended like nothing happened when he’d return. It’d usually be on a Monday morning where he was bright and early to class, greeting you with a hug and kiss to the side of your head before he’d see you again at lunch.

That had become a normal routine for you as he had officially asked you to be his girlfriend a few weeks after Valentine’s Day, having properly taken you on a good amount of successful dates first until you were completely lovesick. The two of you had been going strong for over three months now.

It secretly ate you up inside every time he became abruptly unreachable. If you questioned him about where he was, what he did, why he didn’t respond to a single text message, he’d deflect.

Nobody at school saw a difference in the way he was acting except you. He was still riddled without a single flaw on the surface.

Then, he went missing for a week.

“You know,” you start. “Normally, people run away to escape their problems, not create them.”

He chuckles, distracted. “What's with the pout?”

He casually pecks your pursed lips in an attempt to lighten the sour mood.

It was another Monday morning, and instead of wondering about his whereabouts for a solid two days, those two days were stretched into seven.

“Where did you even go?” you ask, leaning against the wall at the back of the school where you’d frequently go to be alone with Heeseung before class.

“Just somewhere.” He sighs, dodging the question.

“Heeseung.” You give him a blank look.

“Y/n,” he mocks, understanding the gravity of the situation but choosing to ignore it.

“I’m worried about you,” you say honestly as you release a deep breath. “It was a whole week this time. A week! Don’t you know how I feel when you leave me out in the dark like this? Useless, fucking useless.”

“I know.” He heaves another sigh upon seeing your dejected expression. “I’m sorry.”

“You always say you’re sorry, but what does that change?”

Heeseung doesn’t have an answer to that.

“Are you ever going to tell me? Do you even plan to?”

“Y/n,” he says your name again, this time with a more serious tone. He pulls you into his arms for a hug and doesn’t budge as he silently holds you in that position for minutes later. “I’ll tell you the full story one day, I promise. It just can’t be now.”

“Why can’t it be now?” you mummer into the sweater of his uniform, the aroma of his calming scent almost luring you to sleep.

“It just can’t.”

You cage him back into the hug when you feel his arms loosening around your waist, hoping that if you hold on long enough, he’ll stay.

“I’ve had something on my conscience lately,” he says, deciding to open up to you a little bit out of guilt. “Do you want me to tell you?”

It's bait.

You know that if you let him say it, there’s something you owe him in return. You know that when this conversation is over, he’s expecting no more questions about the matter until he’s ready to mention it again himself.

'It’s bait,’ you remind yourself. 'But it’s better than nothing.’

You slowly back away from his warm embrace in order to meet his eyes. “Tell me all about it.”

“I’m thinking about taking a gap year after I graduate.” He ultimately reveals it to you.

“You don’t want to go to college?” you ask, suddenly taken aback. “But why? With your grades and your potential, I’m sure there’s plenty of colleges that want you to apply.”

“It's not like that’s the problem. I know I can get accepted into a good college,” he says. “I just don’t want to make all these important life decisions just yet, you know?”

You could wrap your head around that. Something you had learned about Heeseung without him directly telling you was that he loved praise but hated responsibility. He was naturally gifted with talent, which was why he lacked the dedication and drive to make anything of it.

You wished he could understand how lucky he was, but you’d also try to see it from his perspective. There must’ve been so much pressure and expectations for him that you’d never had to experience in your entire life.

He chose not to confide in you about it, but he didn’t have to. You could tell that he was struggling deep down inside.

Heeseung liked being himself, and being himself was being free.

“I understand.” You nod reassuringly. “You need some time to figure things out. Do what’s best for you, as long as you know that it’ll be worth it in the end.”

“Thank you.” An infectious grin creeps onto Heeseung's lips, splitting across his face so widely that you think it’ll break into halves. He cups the side of your jaw, patiently kissing every inch of your face. “You’re everything. You’re my everything.”

You could cry. Never in a million years would you think your long-term crush would call you his everything.

“We should get going.” Heeseung laces his fingers with yours. “Classes will be starting soon.”

He moves to head inside but stops when he feels your hand tugging him back.

“Can I say something first?” you ask impulsively, regret already gnawing on your impromptu confidence.

“Sure, you can tell me anything.”

“I love you,” you blurt out. “I think I’ve been in love with you for so long.”

You feel physically sick at your own words.

‘It’s too soon. It's only been a few months. He's going to think I’m weird and never talk to me again. Gosh, I’m such an idiot!’

Heeseung's grip on your hand tightens, his doe eyes twinkling like a constellation of brightly shining stars.

“I love you too, Y/n.”

You look at him in shock. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to say it back just because I said it first.”

“I know,” he boasts with confidence. “I’m saying it because I want to.”

You gulp at his bold reply. “You really mean that?”

“Of course.” He nods. “I don’t lie.”

“And you’re one hundred percent sure?”

“I’m one hundred percent sure.”

“I’m warning you.” With your shaky breath evident, you fail to hold back the stripes of tears streaming down your face. “My heart is fragile, please don’t break it.”

Heeseung plants one last tender kiss on your cheek where the tears stain. “I would never.”

『 THE TIME OF SUMMER 』

Upon graduation, you didn’t see your boyfriend for an entire month and a half.

You weren’t very surprised, but deep down you were still disappointed that he left without a word.

The beginning of your summer was incredibly boring and lonely without Heeseung. Granted, you hadn’t even been in a relationship long enough with him to know what a summer with him was like, but that only made you want to know more.

Your friend called you every once in a while to hang out. You’d go out to eat, shop at the mall, or just take a simple drive around town. Each time, she’d ask about how Heeseung was doing. You’d tell her that he was doing fine even though you weren’t really sure. She was so excited and happy for you, teasing you at every chance she’d get.

That's why it hurt to lie to her. Now that the school year was over, no student had much of a clue that he was missing. Everyone had just assumed that he was flourishing too high to stay behind, that he was off doing bigger and better things.

And it bothered you.

He hadn’t contacted you in the time he was gone, not even once. You had no idea where he was or what he was doing. You hated this feeling. You felt so co-dependent and clingy.

He had promised not to break your heart, and it saddened you to feel it cracking. It made you want to scream at him.

You spent your free time picturing how an argument would play out in your head. You would articulate what words you’d say, what phrases would best convey your emotions, the perfect moment to insert a cuss word for impact. You could hear his voice in the detail of your fabricated conversations every time you were left alone in silence. To put it shortly, your thoughts were filled with Heeseung.

Heeseung, Heeseung, Heeseung.

The moment he crawled through your open bedroom window in the middle of the night, you wondered how you’d bring it up.

Then, the first thing he says is, “If you’ve been leaving your window open for me, just unlock it next time instead. I can’t have my girlfriend getting cold.”

He passes you a blanket folded over the desk chair in the corner of your room, and you know right from his sweet gesture that it’s game over.

In the end, you say none of the things you wanted to tell him. You’re just happy to see him again.

Happy to see him at all.

You find yourself resting your head on his chest around twenty minutes later, laying beside him on your bed as a movie plays from your laptop.

“I missed you,” you whisper.

Heeseung readjusts his arm wrapped around your shoulder, using the hand on his other arm to tilt your chin up. You’re forced to temporarily look away from the movie for a moment as he pulls you into a kiss, though you have absolutely no complaints.

Screw the movie.

Heeseung deepens the captivating kiss, his lips gradually yearning more and more for yours. You can feel yourself getting lost in his graceful, almost ghostly touch. It's an indescribable overload of emotions to have him so physically close when his heart feels so out of reach, like a false paradise.

Eventually breaking the kiss, Heeseung tugs you back into his chest and focuses again on the screen of your laptop.

“Missed you too.”

'Then you should’ve come back sooner,’ you think to yourself, biting back your tongue.

You’re incapable of concentrating back on the movie, your mind still occupied by the boy of your affections.

“You’re staring,” Heeseung teases without moving a muscle.

You huff, sitting up to close your laptop shut, abruptly cutting off the audio of whatever scene was playing. You couldn’t care less about it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Your boyfriend sits up as well, noticing the change of atmosphere.

“Are we still going to pretend that this is normal?” you say as you lazily play with your fingers. “You’ve been gone for over a month. You know how much I worry when you just disappear into thin air like that. Was it really too difficult to even say goodbye?”

“Y/n, we’ve talked about this.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, aggravated. “One day I’ll explain it to you and you’ll understand. One day, I promise you.”

You’re dissatisfied with his answer. You feel strung along, nothing more to him than a meaningless girl he can have at his beck and call whenever he wants, yet you still find yourself afraid to act on the argument you had previously mapped out in the back of your mind.

“And besides, I don’t need to say goodbye,” he adds, hoping to soften the mood. “Why would I when I’ll always return to you?”

“It’s just,” you pause for a moment, making an effort to hold back the tears swelling in your eyes, but alas, you ultimately fail. “I’ve been trying so hard to wait for you to be honest with me, for you to be as transparent as I’ve been, or for you to stop leaving. It hurts so fucking badly, Hee.”

“I know and I’m sorry.” Heeseung pats your head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I hate making you cry.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to.”

Your tears continue to unabashedly gleam down the sides of your cheeks and Heeseung wordlessly begins to wipe them away with his thumb.

“Anything you want to talk about? Anything interesting that happened today before you got here?” you ask a slew of questions, seeking a new line of conversation.

He ponders for a handful of seconds. “I visited home for a bit.”

You weren’t expecting that. You thought he’d ramble over something random or minuscule to mindlessly entertain you both, but maybe his mind couldn’t detach itself from the whole emotional state the two of you were left in.

“How’d that go?”

“My parents practically disowned me when I came back earlier this morning.” He lets out a low laugh, leaning into the swamp of your pillows. “They’re still mad at me for running away or whatever. They also can’t seem to let go of my decision to take a gap year and even said that I’m not welcome back at home anymore, not that I wanted to go back anyways.”

You frown. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He immediately looks ready to retract his statement at the unconvinced expression on your face. “I mean, it’s not the most ideal situation, but they’ve made their decision and I’ve made mine. I won’t ever forgive them. It’s simple, really.”

“Don’t say that. They probably were coming from a place of concern. Didn’t you mention one time that you used to have a good relationship with your parents?”

“They can go to hell for all I care.”

“But…” You contemplate pushing the topic, but do so anyway. “Don’t you want them to be proud of you?”

“I don’t need their approval. At least you’re proud of me, aren’t you?”

You nod silently.

Heeseung’s eyes light up at this. “Then that’s all I need.”

Silence falls.

“I’m leaving again tomorrow,” Heeseung says after a bit of hesitation. “Wanna come with?”

Your head snaps in his direction. “You’re leaving already?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “What of it?”

A frown inevitably crosses your face. “Why can’t you stay longer?”

“Honestly, it’d be hard for me to. You’re the only reason I decided to come back in the first place,” he replies with a charming smile.

You hate it when he smiles.

It was always distracting and his teeth were blinding white like angel wings. It felt like a trap, some sort of deception.

You observe the way Heeseung’s line of sight shifts to your bedroom window, where he originally entered from. When the both of you started dating all those months ago, Heeseung would wait for you by the front door, more often than not with your parents uncomfortably present, and would take you out on a date.

Though ever since Heeseung started disappearing every now and then, your parents didn’t quite view him as the best influence. They saw how empty of a shell you quickly became whenever he’d leave for unknown amounts of time and tried to guide you with their own perspectives, but you refused to listen.

That’s how Heeseung became familiar with climbing two stories to your bedroom window, and the two of you have yet to be caught.

“Come on, Y/n.” He gets off your bed while lending his hand out to you. “Run away with me.”

You take his hand and pull yourself up, telling him in a faint voice, “Okay.”

Because you loved Lee Heeseung like the world was ending, and that would never change.

The two of you end up stargazing.

It's past midnight as his car pulls into the parking lot of a small park you had never been to before. It was almost a two hour drive from your house, the area unrecognizable to you entirely.

Once you get out of the car, Heeseung leads you towards a small hill beyond the playground structure and picnic tables.

“The view’s amazing,” you comment. The gradient of the sky and silhouette of the cities fill your line of vision. “Do you come here often?”

“I’ve only been here once,” he admits. “But I thought you might like it. It’s really quiet and secluded, don’t you think? My mind feels at peace here, like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”

“Like the rest of the world doesn’t exist,” you repeat to yourself, following Heeseung to the top of the hill. “I like that.”

He hums in response. “Knew you would.”

You talk to Heeseung for hours upon hours, conversing about everything and anything, but at the same time, nothing at all.

At some point, he takes out a pen stashed from inside his jacket pocket and begins drawing on your arm down to the back of your hand. It was a common quirk of his you remembered from your first few weeks of dating. He would visit your class some days just to talk and doodle simple objects or abstract lines on your skin.

“When did you first realize you had a crush on me?” Heeseung asks curiously, concentrating on the art he was now forming by your knuckles.

“It was back in middle school.” The corners of your mouth tug upward at the memory. You look up at the sky, watching the faint light peek from the clouds, early morning approaching. There was something so cathartic about all the beautiful lines of colors stringing from above you. “We were in the same class and you handed me your colored pencils when I forgot mine at home. You were kind and sweet and comfortable to be around. It was hard not to like you. Everybody did. When I heard you were skipping a grade, I was so sad because that meant we’d never have classes together again.”

“So, what I got from that was you liked me because I was perfect?”

“In the beginning, I did.” You don’t deny it. “But as we started dating, I just wanted to love you for you. Not Lee Heeseung or anything, just you.”

“That's good,” he mumbles more to himself than to you. “Perfect Heeseung sucks.”

“What do you mean? Is being perfect really all that bad?” you joke lightheartedly.

“To me it is.”

“Why?”

“I hated my life here… when I was perfect,” Heeseung says, clicking his pen and tucking it away as he finishes his drawing. He changes his sitting position on the grass of the hill, bringing his knees to his chest.

Heeseung hates his life in the present too, but he couldn’t tell you that.

You look at him quizzically. “What was wrong with your life before?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Nothing?”

There's a silence that fills the air.

“Technically, I had everything that a guy could ever want,” Heeseung breathes out, looking ahead as he could see the sun beginning to rise. “And somehow, that has and will never be enough.”

You included.

『 THE TIME OF FALL 』

Heeseung was comparable to perfume, something that daintily lingers to then fade after a day’s wear.

The moment he had taken you home when the sunrise turned to sunset, you barely heard from him for another two months.

It was already your last year of high school, and people were starting to grow worried about you. It was like all the life and energy you once had was drained to nothing, leaving you in the hollow shell of your body. Your friend often expressed her constant concerns for your state but you brushed them all off, ignoring her comments that it looked like you never got sleep or hadn’t been eating properly.

You constantly felt on edge.

And god, if someone had even mentioned Heeseung's name in front of you…

You wondered if it was worth it to love Heeseung so badly that it’d affect you like this. It wasn’t. You knew that deep down.

Watching him leave always hurt, but in all honesty, you were hurting yourself more by choosing to still love him. To still care.

But if you chose to stop loving him for his true self, then who would?

Who else would be able to understand that he was misunderstood? That he was handed everything in life he didn’t ask for and was miserably searching for a place he could find happiness in.

You had told yourself to support him, even if it was painful to acknowledge that the place he was seeking was far away from you. Though now you were beginning to think it’d be better to let him go, cut the string tethering him to his hometown of misguidance and discontentment.

Within the two months of fall, he had contacted you twice. You remember being so shocked when you saw his name and picture flash on your phone screen, in disbelief that he actually called.

However, both those phone calls ended in arguments.

It was a tiring pattern. A vicious cycle.

The two of you were like parents who would always argue about essentially the same thing, or argue just to argue.

You used to fantasize about being with Heeseung, and now, you fantasize about your life if he was a stranger. You just wanted to think about what was best for your life and not his for once.

When he actually managed to visit you one night, he stopped to find you at your bedroom window first before leading you to the passenger seat of his car.

In a similar fashion to the phone calls you shared with him, civil conversation doesn’t last long before a dispute breaks out. The car never even moved.

“You can’t just keep disappearing whenever you want like it doesn’t matter,” you repeat yourself, like you always do with your feelings regarding Heeseung. “You don’t realize how much you’re damaging yourself and the people around you.”

Heeseung’s facial expression doesn’t change. “Then come with me.”

“Do you have any sense of awareness for someone other than yourself?” You continue to stare at him with disbelief. “I have a life, you know? So many things I want to do, so many dreams I want to fulfill. I can’t just drop that all to be with you.”

Heeseung's jaw clenches out of anger. “Do you not love me enough? Trust me enough? Is that it?”

“I should be asking you that when you’re the one keeping secrets and leaving me in the dust.” You match his aggravated tone. “What's the point of having a boyfriend that can only play the part five times a year. If it’s so hard for you to stay, then don’t come back at all!”

“Oh, stop being dramatic.” He rolls his eyes.

You feel all your bottled and unspoken emotions building into an outburst. You were fuming, and you craved a chance to finally talk back against everything you’ve dealt with, no matter how much you tried to make excuses for his behavior.

You didn’t care if you had to lie. You didn’t care if you had to pretend that you never saw where he was coming from in order to hit him where it hurts. You just wanted to put an end to things.

You wanted to let go.

“Don’t you want to do something besides running away for once? You’re so smart and talented yet you’re throwing that all away for nothing—”

“Shut up, Y/n!”

“No, because you’re so fucking careless!” you cry out.

“So what?” he yells with a booming volume to his scratchy voice. “Since when did you get to fucking dictate my life, huh? Gosh, you sound just like my parents. fucking hell.”

“You’re so ungrateful. Of course you’d say that I’m trying to dictate your life after you just did that exact thing. You can’t keep living like this forever, Heeseung,” you bite back in response. “And stop trying to project your anger onto your family! I can put two and two together, you know? There’s no way you’ve been able to sustain yourself all this time unless your parents were still giving you access to your credit cards. Can’t you see that you’re pushing away the people who simply care and want to help you? Even when you push them away?”

He doesn’t deny your accusations over the whole credit card ordeal, further confirming it in your mind.

“I don’t want anyone’s help! Everyone always wants something from me, even you. I used to convince myself that I could do it, but I’m tired of being put in this box that everyone’s constantly forcing me into. It’s so exhausting.”

“I’ve never forced anything out of you! No one did.”

“That's a lie.” Heeseung snaps.

You mockingly tilt your head. “So what if it is? Everything was handed to you because you were born a prodigy and look where you are now.”

You loathe your shitty attitude, aware that you’re just saying what you know will provoke him, but your anger prevails.

“And what makes you any better? Talking about your dreams, the kind of life you want to live.” His voice is low and sharp like a knife, which makes his words leave a bigger wound. “None of that matters when you’re not fucking good at anything. The only reason I started dating you in the first place was because you wanted me and people were expecting me to get a girlfriend.”

There was nothing that could’ve prepared you to hear those words. You knew when you originally confessed to him that he couldn’t have possibly liked you as much as you did him, but the blatant truth stung.

“Sorry, that was too harsh.”

A bitter laugh escapes your throat. “You think?”

There’s an uncomfortably long pause.

“You should go.” He gulps, unlocking the car for you to leave. You listen, slowly opening the door on your side and stepping out.

You almost close it shut but hesitate.

“Heeseung?” you weakly call out his name.

He turns to look at you. “What?”

“Did you ever truly love me?” You sniffle, unable to meet his eyes.

You regret the question before you ask it, fearing that you’d be better off not knowing the answer.

“To be honest, Y/n,” he starts, giving you an apologetic smile. “I’m not even sure if I’m capable of understanding what love is.”

Heeseung officially breaks up with you the next day.

He doesn’t have the courage to say it to your face, so he writes you a farewell note and slips it into the crack of your front door. It’s written on the fancy notepad paper he carried around in his bag at all times; you can recognize the dark blue ink of the pen he used to draw on the back of your hand with.

And even though you were preparing yourself for the day when one of you would finally be able to let go, it doesn’t make any bit of the process easier.

You cry silently that day, alone and with the autumn leaves crumbling to the ground, just like your broken heart.

『 THE TIME OF WINTER, AGAIN 』

Heeseung didn’t come back to town until the month of February.

He spent a lot of time replaying the last conversation he shared with you. It echoed like your voice was a recording that looped through a cave of his thoughts.

Life was so empty. He had truly let go of everything he once had, and you were the last thing he let slip away.

He continued on with his normal routine for countless weeks, though he found it becoming increasingly more difficult with you weighing on his mind. It took some time and lots of contemplation, but he had finally considered getting his life together.

He had hope. He had hope that maybe there really was a way to live the life he wanted without the irrational and collateral damage. He started building the excitement of not only making himself good enough for the you he had broken but also himself.

For once, he finally worked his way up instead of expecting the world to work around him.

There was so much he now wanted to do. He wanted to explore his interests and passions, figure out what he loves versus what he just happens to be good at. He had gotten a job while he was out of town as a waiter to gain experience and earn some money of his own instead of leeching onto his worried parents.

Speaking of that, his relationship with his parents was far from where it used to be, but they were slowly repairing it little by little. There were some long phone calls of constant crying and arguing before they truly solved the myriad of issues brewing between them.

He thought about repairing his relationship with you as well by asking for your forgiveness, to explain from the beginning and maybe beg for a second chance.

It was then he realized that he could never will himself into actually doing that. You deserved more than a belated apology, you deserve more than anything he himself could offer in compensation to your pain.

It wasn’t fair to lead you on. It wasn’t fair to keep you around because he used your sympathy to his benefit, or because he knew all those times that you wouldn’t abandon him even when he did it to you. Over and over again.

You probably hated him. He wouldn’t blame you for it.

He parks his car on the road outside your house, mentally preparing himself to see you again. It was the first place he wanted to visit upon his return.

“Don’t be a coward,” he exhales, still gripping the sides of his steering wheel. “Just say what you want to say and know your boundaries.”

When he exits his car and walks through your front yard, he almost feels sick to his stomach with nerves. Before he can hesitate, he whispers another few words of encouragement to himself and rings the doorbell.

Your mother opens the door.

“Hello, Mrs. Y/l/n,” Heeseung awkwardly greets her. He had only met your mother a handful of times, and that would be in similar moments to this one where his shoes would brush against the doormat as he’d normally wait for you to come downstairs. That was before he resorted to sneaking through your bedroom window in the middle of the night. “May I come in to see Y/n?”

She gives him an empty look. “How long have you been back?”

Heeseung gulps, fully aware that he didn’t have the best reputation in your parent’s eyes. “Since this morning.”

“So you haven’t heard the news, have you?” she asks, keeping calm as she clarifies the situation.

“What news?” Heeseung asks worriedly, eyebrows stitched together in confusion.

“While you were gone, Y/n got into a car accident with one of her friends.”

Heeseung's world shatters.

“What?”

“They were both extremely drunk and her friend ran a red light while driving at full speed.”

“Is she okay? Is she in the hospital? Which one? I’ll go there right now—”

“She died on impact,” your mother interrupts him, losing all her patience as she was faced with the boy that broke her daughter’s heart to pieces. “Her funeral was last month, so please, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, mrs. l/y/n,” he stutters, bowing respectfully.

“Thank you.” She halfheartedly accepts his condolences, going to close the door with one final nod.

“Wait,” he exclaims last minute, his hand instinctively coming up to signal her to stop. “Can you tell me where… where I can visit her grave? Please, I just want to talk to her one last time, even if it has to be in this way.”

Your mother inhales a sharp breath at his vulnerable and desperate plea, telling him to wait for a moment so she can hand him a note of the location.

“Hey, Y/n.”

Heeseung sits down in front of your grave.

Everything about this feels so surreal. He wants to imagine that this is all a dream — or rather nightmare — that can be resolved with one good nap and the hope that you’re still out there somewhere in the world instead of being buried six feet under.

He takes his time gathering his thoughts, “I don't really know what to say. I came to your house today expecting to get some sort of closure, or for you to kick me out by slamming the door on my face. Either would’ve been understandable.”

Heeseung curls himself into a ball, the same way he did that time he took you to the park to go stargazing, chin resting atop his knees.

“I didn’t know you drank alcohol. Was it because of me? Shit, never mind, let’s not go down that road or else it will haunt me at night,” he quickly begins to ramble. “But anyways, I never got to give you the explanation I said I would one day. That's something I wanted to talk to you about, since I figured I at least owed you that one. I should come back tomorrow and tell you the full story,” he says, giving himself a reason to come and see you again. Plus, the sudden news had drained him of any energy to form the coherent thoughts he intended on expressing to you. “Like I promised.”

He kept so many secrets and fed you with so many lies. He wishes he could redo it all, or better yet, he wishes the two of you had never met from the start. Your life could’ve been so much better if he weren’t in it.

“I missed you a lot after we broke up, which is ironic considering I had no right to be, not after everything I said and did to you. I couldn’t help it though; I miss seeing you happy. I remember thinking about how nice and pretty you seemed on our first date, but it was around our second or third that I saw how truly beautiful you were. That was when you started to become more comfortable around me. Your eyes were glimmering like city lights and your lips tasted like coconut lip gloss. I don’t think I’ve ever had that much fun with someone in my life; it was kind of scary.” Heeseung laughs but it’s bittersweet. “You gave your heart to me so easily and without hesitation. You really shouldn’t have. I didn’t earn it. It was so shitty of me that I couldn’t appreciate the time we spent together. We were in a relationship for how long? Eight or nine months? It feels like it flashed by in seconds.”

He can visualize your face as if he saw it yesterday, and now he wonders if it’s an image he’ll never be able to forget.

“I’m so sorry.” He breaks out into a sob, his hands coming up to cover the entirety of his face. “What about all your plans?” he softly continues, grief-stricken. “You were supposed to graduate high school, find your dreams, meet someone who would… who would treat you right. You had a future ahead of you.”

Heeseung knew how much he cared about you underneath all the bullshit he covered it with. Sure, his feelings for you weren’t quite the same as your feelings for him, but there was a sense of solace he found in you.

Every time he vanished into his little getaways, you were the last person he saw when he left and the first he saw when he returned.

You were the anchor that grounded him to reality.

Guilt consumes him in this very moment. It was as if this was the world’s punishment to make him realize the consequences of his actions.

Was this what you feared? The endless nightmare of waiting for someone to come back, not knowing the day they’d stop returning.

Maybe if he had listened to you, maybe if he had stayed…

Maybe if he had reciprocated the love you had given him, you would still be here.

“I can’t just lose you.” Tears cloud Heeseung's vision as he removes his hands from his damp cheeks to clutch at the dead grass. He could sense all his strength and composure breaking down bit by bit when he screeched out quiet strains of pain. “Why did I have to lie to you? Why did I have to hurt you? Why did I have to always be the one that fucks up our relationship?”

His body feels like it’s on fire, and his heart burns to ash.

“Why did this have to happen? You didn’t deserve to die.”

Just when he had finally felt that his life was put together, he was too late to even witness you living yours one last time.

Heeseung's shaky hands find their way to his bag, grabbing the delicate object sticking out from the side pocket. He had put the straightforward gift together right before he visited your house, and now that you’re gone, the memory behind it breaks him even more.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/n,” he whispers, setting a single rose on your gravestone. Wrapped around the stem was a bow of pretty purple ribbon. “I want to be the one who confesses to you like this, even if I still don’t know what it means to love the way you loved me.”

Lee Heeseung never knew how to cherish anything in his life, but he wished he had tried with you.

masterlist

YOU CAME AND WENT, JUST LIKE THE SEASONS.

43 notes · View notes

akumaalert · 3 years ago

Text

Medical Log Sixty-nine

Karl Heisenberg x AFAB Reader (Uses She/Her); Explicit Content, 18+ ONLY

CW: Medicplay, medical kink, medical examination, voice kink, roleplay, consensual voyeurism

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31802593

"Medical log...this is my...sixty-ninth attempt."

You rolled your eyes. Of course he would go for a sex joke the second the recording snapped on.

Staying still was a difficult task. The steel table was chilling your back and your muscles screamed at you to purse away from the cold.

The warmth between your legs, however, demanded that you stayed.

Heisenberg began exactly as he said he would - listing off your name and age with that ever lilting voice that made your cunt clench in delight.

"Body is in...fuck...the most gorgeous condition..."

Playing dead was so hard when he was out of view. Heisenberg was so expressive and you were missing all the nuances you so adored. You could only picture him studying you - licking those delectably thick lips that you loved to nip. The fact that he was fully clothed and hovering over your naked body was as thrilling as it was nerve wracking.

Part of you willed stillness on the sheer fear that if you moved, the spell would be broken and Heisenberg’s role of doctor would be traded for actual work. Convincing him of doing this had not been the simplest task. The first time he caught you listening to one of his medical logs, he had raised a quizzical eyebrow and chuckled lightly at your blush. When you laid in his arms after making love one morning, you had shyly admitted the desires that had been ignited simply by listening to his voice.

"I think they umm...I think it's technically called medical play..."

The swiftness with which he cut you off still made you feel shame. "I'm not experimenting on you."

It took all the strength you could muster to look at him despite your cheeks absolutely burning. You placed a hand on his own cheek to rub the pad of your finger over one of his scars. "No. No...that's not what I meant. It's pretend. For fun. Roleplaying basically..."

You loved when his glasses were missing from his face. Green eyes flickered - studying you intently - before his lips stretched into an attractive smirk. "Would that turn you on, buttercup?"

And so the two of you had planned. It was convenient that the toys you needed were inconspicuous medical equipment. Most you already had and the others were obtained from the Duke without suspicion. At least you hoped. He was always a jovial fellow and at least didn't question the use for the pinwheel. Where the rest came from, you did not question. It wouldn't do to dwell on the purpose or origin when living in the shadow of Miranda's clutches.

When Heisenberg's hand ghosted near your head in the present, you repressed the want to moan.

"Proceeding with inspection..."

One leather clad hand cupped a cheek while a bare, calloused fingertip lined your lips. You could not entirely make him out like this, but you could see his green undershirt in delightful detail if you rolled your eyes high enough. His trench coat and his outer shirt had been discarded and the thought made your skin prickle. The spirals of his chest hair peeking from his shirt made your fingers tent with a want to touch him.

But cadavers couldn't move. So you swallowed and resisted the temptation to dart your tongue to meet his caress.

"Subject has the softest lips...prettiest damn thing I've ever studied."

Heat and the ever lingering static that was Heisenberg radiated just a breath behind you. If you had any courage to move just so, you imagined that his crotch sat just above your line of sight.

Would he already be hard? Heisenberg had held his typical swagger when you had mapped out your wants and respected his limitations. But you could tell that hesitancy still sat not so lightly on his shoulders. Perhaps he would need to drag things out - let his pleasure build as yours boiled in every limb.

Eyes half lidded, you nearly missed the scalpel floating gingerly through the air. As Heisenberg had insisted, only the handle touched your skin. Beginning at the curve of your jaw, it traced ever so slowly down your throat like a breath. Despite the lack of danger, the sensitive skin pimpled and your throat constricted.

"It's as if I built her myself...everything I could ever fucking want. Absolute damn perfection," he muttered. Feeling drunk off his words, you struggled to keep up with them all. After all, you were not sure how sensitive the recording would be. Heisenberg was a loud man - a grand man - and so rarely whispered as he did now. "A lovely neck...if only I had found her sooner...might have given her a necklace of teeth marks to wear."

When the scalpel slipped to your chest, your gasp could not be stifled. But instead of stopping, Heisenberg simply removed his fingers from your face to set both hands in a frame on either side of your head. He was adjusting and leaning and soon his eyes met with yours. Though you could not see anything below the rugged slope of his nose, you imagined his mouth as slightly parted.

His eyes were normally flecked with golds and browns, but the darkness there now was not an uncommon sight. You saw it when he was angry - returning from family meetings or trips to the Dimitrescu castle. Whenever his facade had been tested for too long with his "mother" and the walls came crashing down the moment the doors to the factory were closed.

You also saw it when he was lost to lust - when he used arms as steady as steel to hold you to him until you were both limp messes on the floor or the desk or the shower or the bed.

It was a color you so treasured - especially when the hints of softness clouded them as they did now.

Heisenberg's voice careened and curled just like the scalpel's handle around your breast. So light but so heavy.

"I don't need any damn notes for these tits...have them fucking memorized. Fuck what I wouldn't give to put my mouth on them. What a damn waste. Body is so cold and those nipples are perked up so nicely. Inspecting..." He audibly swallowed, clearing his throat. "Inspecting chest in detail now."

While the scalpel handle swirled against one of your nipples, Heisenberg's gloved hand went to your ignored breast in a firm squeeze. You were already so worked up by the mere prospect of your play. To have it as a reality with Heisenberg towering over you and switching his attention from your breasts to your eyes to your lips and back again was absolute torture. The leather on his fingers did nothing to help you. The gloves were old and worn into a fibrous texture that made every hair on your neck stand on end.

Your lover was a cruel man, but not a patient one. With his pointer finger and thumb, he twisted your nipple. Eyes clapping shut, you shook when you realized a tremble in the scalpel. A telltale sign of his passions rising and his powers thrumming along with them.

"Color?" he asked in a voice of gravel.

It took you a moment to understand his inquiry. Your stoplight system. That Heisenberg was already checking in with you filled you with a whole new type of warmth. Nodding with flushed cheeks, you ran your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

"Green," you muttered.

So he continued.

"Nipples are extremely responsive." The scalpel and his hand pulled away but for a moment before the sides were switched. But with them came the feeling of his bare hand on your equally bare chest. "I could stand here all day just admiring the view. Not a damn thing to say to do it justice."

He flitted between a tender touch and a rolling, twinging pinch. The scalpel rolled along with it all, though there were intervals when it remained still against your skin. As if his mind could not keep up with it all. It would start back again with a lurch and small grunts of frustration from its master.

"Moving to the lower torso..."

Your body arched when he moved and broke contact with your skin. The scalpel's trail became steadier as it looped around your breast to slide so terribly slow down the middle of your chest. Down it slipped and once again your fingers were fidgety. The skin of your stomach felt particularly sensitive, especially when the scalpel began to dance in patterns too quick and too slow for your mind to process.

"These hips of hers...the legs...hard not to get too ahead of myself..."

Though you could not see him at all now with your head locked in its position, it made the situation all the more welcome to your growing need. In your mind he studied you - watched your body with all the appreciation he was so fond of giving it. He might pay attention to your stomach - to the invisible designs he was tracing there. But his eyes would inevitably flicker to look between your legs. There was no gown or sheet to protect you from his hungry gaze. There was nothing at all preventing him from doing the myriad of things that you longed for him to do.

By the sound of his breathing, you knew Heisenberg was not left unaffected.

"Subject...is gonna fucking pay for making part of my work part of her play," he growled. "Do you have any idea how distracted I'm going to be every time I go in for an actual log? But you don't care, do you? It's all about you."

Tension hung in the air and one of your legs stretched upward, suddenly aching.

Heisenberg's hand came down fast to push it back into place.

"Didn't say I wasn't gonna indulge you," he said, playfulness in his voice. He gripped your knee still held in his hand with a soft touch. "Just that you'll pay for this later."

Lightly nodding, you felt his hand leave you. Your entire body tensed when the scalpel - ever streaming down your skin - began a descent that told you just how impatient Heisenberg had become.

It didn't help that a series of items - familiar and agreed upon in advance - floated over you on a glinting silver tray. You could not tell if they moved slowly due to his powers flitting with his emotions or if he simply was intent on you seeing them.

A bottle of lube. A bullet vibrator and its controller. The Wartenberg pinwheel. Another scalpel for the hell of it.

If the scalpel on your skin ran near your aching cunt, you never felt it. The next thing you knew, it was landing on your thigh and stalling.

As if he could not help himself, his hands were on you again. This time instead of pushing a leg onto the table, he pried both of your legs open with a prodding touch.

Though it broke your play, you took a large inhale of air. You could not recall ever being so wet or so ready.

Heisenberg let out a low whistle.

"You're soaked, buttercup." A pause. The telltale sound of buckles being clicked and dropped to the floor.

You could not take it and spoke with a whine.

"Not fair...I can't see you."

The chuckle he gave was dark. "A shame. It's like someone asked for this. Ironic. You're such a whore that your little game is preventing you from watching me. And I know how you love to watch."

The asshole took his time to slowly unzip his pants. The heat in your body was palpable and painful. A small gratified groan told you all you needed to know about where his hands had gone.

"Pretty, pretty girl..." he cooed. "Show isn't over yet. You had some requests and what kind of a lord would I be if I was to ignore one of my subject's pleas?"

The knowledge that he was stroking himself - languid even as your longing screamed through your very soul - made the pit of your stomach pulse with delayed pleasure.

Trying to even your breathing, you focused on the ceiling laid brown and bare above you. Or at least you tried. Heisenberg chose the absolute worst moment to bring both the second scalpel's handle and the brand new pinwheel onto the scene.

Huffing heatedly, you scrunched your face into a grimace. What a sight you must be - a scalpel on each thigh and a pinwheel hanging dangerously close to your cunt. You pushed the thought aside, unable to bear the image in your head.

"To the main event," he announced, voice returned to a rumbling purr. "Planting the 'control device.' Inserting now."

When he had added lube to the bullet, you did not know. Probably somewhere between your embarrassment and the blood pounding in your ears. Small and sleek, it entered your folds gently but awkwardly. Heisenberg's powers going on the fritz would never cease to endear you. He was so strong - so normally loud and wearing whatever mask that a situation called for. But in these moments with you, he was raw and his powers were unhinged in the most intimate of ways. It made you feel powerful - the ability to bring this lord of metal to timid movements when he could likely destroy the whole village with enough metal and mental will.

Rounding its way deeper and deeper inside of you, the bullet suddenly stilled. The sensations of the scalpels skating up and down your legs combined with the threat of the pinwheel overwhelmed you. If you had wanted to speak in that moment, it would have been quite out of your ability to remember how.

"Insertion complete."

Babbling during sex was another staple of Heisenberg's. But he was eerily quiet and controlled in the seconds that followed right up to the click of the controller.

The jolt to your core was immediate and you gasped in hurried breaths against the most exquisite pleasure you had ever felt. The fight to keep your fingers extended was lost as all ten fisted. You were so wet that the lube had been a moot point. The bullet buzzed inside of you and your hips shook with the herculean effort of staying still.

Heisenberg exhaled, voice faraway and dreamy.

"Ausgezeichnet...excellent. Progressing faster than expected."

You choked on air. Beyond your control, your body flinched against the hum of the bullet.

"Fuck," bit out Heisenberg. "Have a proposition for you...since you're going to be punished for making me work, I'm going to go back to the recording-"

"Oh God!"

"I'm going to go back to the recording," he repeated gruffly, ever incensed at being spoken over. "And I'm going to count the seconds that it takes for you to come. And however many seconds that is...that's how many spanks you'll be getting. Right on that luscious fucking ass of yours."

Another click of the bullet's controller made your eyes roll to the back of your head. Fingernails bit into your palm with the want to hold onto something - anything. How could you be so stimulated yet so far from release at the same time?

"I can see everything from where I'm standing," he continued. "Can you feel that wetness of yours? Dripping into your ass...pussy such a pretty pink shade. It'll go so nice with a red ass. One, two, three...you're building up to quite the spanking. Might want to hurry it along."

He was indeed a cruel man.

But not a patient one.

The pinwheel's weight was noticeable, but not deep. It pinched and rolled its way directly down and over your clit and the sensitive flesh splayed and shaking from sensation.

How you hated the gargle that you let out. It was ugly and incoherent.

"Too much!" you cried.

"Scheisse!" The pinwheel flew to the floor as the scalpels stopped. Even the bullet seemed to rumble ever lighter. "Color?"

It took you several breaths to gather the ability to nod. When Heisenberg remained quiet, you grunted. "Green...green...fucking green. Floor it."

Heisenberg laughed - all throat and no breath. "Floor it. Gotcha."

Making a strange sound - somewhere between a groan and a grunt - Heisenberg returned his hands to your body.

The hand free from leather stroked your thigh. The leather, however, fondled your mound and found your clit with practiced speed.

Barely able to keep up with the bullet and the scalpels and the trembles and the sound of Heisenberg's guttural encouragements, you closed your eyes and focused on the circles he made against that sensitive bundle of nerves.

You could not open your eyes or close your mouth. You could not do anything but chase a high approaching as sure as any sunrise.

Apparently taking pity on the mess you had become, Heisenberg only took one swift last round on your clit before speaking.

"Now to pass a current...through the body...using six volts..."

The words had no time to settle in before the action was done with his gentle hand on your quivering thigh.

Screaming, too, was beyond your control.

"Come on," he said through the return to your clit and the massage in your cunt and the swirls of scalpel handles on your legs. "Come on, come on, come on."

"KAR...k...kah..."

Your orgasm knocked the very air from your lungs. Pins of light erupted as your eyes squeezed with every furious flutter of pleasure. Your cunt was actually twitching and the glove on Heisenberg's hand felt so exquisite as it barely pressed down on your clit.

"Yes! Yes!" Egging you on with a happy laugh, Heisenberg uttered praises that registered in a haze. "At last...wonderful...what a good girl."

As the absolutely mind-numbing orgasm faded into your very bones, you lay there exhausted and beyond satisfied. Breathing became a chore that your throat seemed unused to performing.

Heisenberg moved as efficiently as ever to complete his work. The bullet was removed with care by his own fingers. When it had turned off, you had no recollection. The scalpels clattered to the table with a metallic hiss.

Sweat built on your brow and dragging down your temple, you swallowed and swallowed again. The sound of rushing water perked your tired body. You were slow to rise, testing fingers and a palm burning with indents of your nails. Soon, however, you had sat up. A swirl of satisfaction still sat low in your belly.

As satiated as you were, you could not help but enjoy the sight of Heisenberg standing before you. In one hand was a glass of water begging to be brought to your parched lips. In the other he held the recorder. You watched with hooded eyes as he clutched at the recorder before dropping his hand to adjust his pants.

Pants that hung low on his hips with the zipper pulled wide. The adorable swell of his lower belly was visible underneath his shirt. His cock was curved at such a beautiful angle above silver hair. It was blushed a dark pink with veins reaching up to a head that was nearly purple with need.

Bringing the recorder back to his mouth, Heisenberg eyed you before huffing.

"...ending recording."

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg #resident evil #re village #ao3 #smut #kinks with karl #x reader

89 notes · View notes