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itneverendshere · 1 month ago

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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - EIGHT

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy; abortion.

MASTERLIST

Topper prided himself in keeping out of people’s business.

He hadn’t noticed anything was off with you on his own, he wouldn’t have; he didn’t do the whole “emotional radar” thing.

But Rafe had practically cornered him, demanding he figure out what was going on with you.

You were his cousin, after all.

That didn’t stop the way his stomach twisted from thinking about lying to you, or how every part of him had always silently rooted for you and Rafe. He’d loved seeing you two together. You were a mess most days, for years, sure, but it was the kind of mess that made sense in a way, and Topper couldn’t help but admire it.

You were like fire and gasoline.

But that was before the break-up, before everything got fucked.

Now, you were just… distant. He never knew how to approach you without feeling like he was crossing a line, but the way you’d passed out on Rafe at the beach had him worrying in a way that was more personal than he wanted to admit.

He wasn’t a thinker, not really, he liked simple things: good waves, cold beer, and not getting roped into drama.

But there he was, standing outside your door with Korean fried chicken. He didn’t do feelings, and he didn’t do heavy conversations. Rafe owed him big for this. The conversation had been good, even when you started talking about Sarah and Ruthie.

Topper was all in—laughing along, throwing in a dumb joke here and there, the usual. It felt nice, like when you were kids, sneaking your dad’s beers and pretending you weren’t gonna get caught.

But then he had to go and ruin it by asking if you were okay.

You went all stiff, then weirdly far away, laughing it off like he’d just asked you to explain calculus or something. You mumbled something about being fine and then bolted to the bathroom before he could even follow up with his usual Topper-brand wisdom.

He sat there, feeling uncomfortable, which wasn’t a thing he usually did. You were acting off, and it was messing with him more than he wanted to admit.

Finally, he decided he needed to move, so he got up to grab some water. Except, as he walked past the counter, his hip caught a pile of your mail, and an envelope went sliding to the floor.

“Crap,” he muttered, crouching to grab it. It was just some random envelope, but there was a phone number written on the front in messy blue ink.

Topper didn’t think about it—because thinking wasn’t really his strong suit—he just whipped out his phone and typed it in. Curiosity, man. It got him every time.

He hit call. He wasn’t trying to snoop or anything. It was just one of those things you do on autopilot, right? Call a number just to see who answers? Except this time, someone did answer.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Then:

“Women’s Health Center, how can I help you?”

His brain short-circuited, full-on panic mode. He stared at the phone like it had grown a second screen, then frantically hit the hang-up button just as the bathroom door creaked open.

You were back.

Topper, sweating for no reason, slapped the envelope back on the counter like it was about to explode and turned to you with a smile that definitely didn’t match his pounding heart.

He got out of there as soon as possible, as he drove to meet Rafe, the whole thing was still playing on a loop in his head. That phone number, the voice on the other end of the line, the way you’d acted when he’d asked if you were okay—he couldn’t stop trying to force the pieces into place.

Something was going on, he wasn't sure what, and he wasn’t exactly the guy you went to for deep insights, but he felt something was up.

When he pulled into Tanyhill, he spotted Rafe leaning against his truck, scrolling through his phone with that permanent scowl he seemed to have these days. He barely had the car in park before Rafe was pushing off the truck and heading his way.

He climbed out, doing his best to act normal—which, for him, meant cracking the same goofy grin he always did. His mind was still spinning with a dozen half-formed thoughts about that phone call, that clinic, and how the the fuck he might fit into all of it.

The only thing he knew for sure was that Rafe knowing could be catastrophic. Like, meteor-hits-earth catastrophic.

“You gotta chill,” Topper said, slamming his car door shut and giving Rafe a once-over. “Why do you look like you’re about to punch somebody?”

Rafe just glared, shoving his phone in his pocket. “What’d you find out?”

He blinked, thrown by how fast he cut to the point. “Nice to see you, too. Second, what makes you think I found out anything?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Top. Did you figure it out or not?”

“Yeah, I figured it out,” Topper shot back, crossing his arms. “But why the hell did you make me go through all this work if you already know what’s going on?”

Rafe shrugged, leaning back against the truck like this was all just some casual conversation. “Didn’t think you’d actually get it, to be honest.”

“Bro, I’m not that stupid. How did you get to the bottom of this shit? I’m still confused as fuck over here.”

Rafe’s mouth twitched like he was deciding whether to smirk or yell, hesettled on neither. “She passed out on me, remember?”

“So?” Topper shot back, frowning. “I’ve seen you pass out for, like, way less.”

“It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t a hangover or heat stroke, it was different. And she’s been weird lately, avoiding everyone.” Rafe leaned back against his truck, arms crossed, talking fast. “The hospital did blood work.”

Topper, who’d been zoning out halfway through his little doctor act, suddenly perked up.

“Wow,” he mused, dragging the word out. “Okay. So, how’d you take the news? I mean, shit, you look pretty calm for once. Didn’t think that was in your wheelhouse."

Rafe frowned, his sharp blue eyes narrowing, the crease between his brows deepening like it always did when he thought someone was wasting his time.

"The fuck are you talking about?”

Topper shrugged like this was totally normal. “I just expected you to, like…freak out or somethin'. Throw a punch, maybe.”

“Throw a punch about what?” Rafe snapped.

“About—” Topper paused, squinting at Rafe like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “Wait. What are you supposed to do?”

Rafe’s hand twitched toward his jaw, fingers brushing over the stubble there, a telltale sign that he was gearing up to lose patience. He didn’t wait for Topper to answer before shaking his head, the movement quick and irritated.

“Don’t do that, man,” he added, pointing a finger “I’ll help her figure it out. What else can I do?”

Topper tilted his head, genuinely impressed. “Damn. You really matured, huh? I mean, good for you.”

“Top, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Rafe demanded, his tone sharp now like he was finally catching on to the fact that they weren’t on the same page.

Topper blinked, “I’m just saying you’re handling it better than I thought. Especially since she’s not—uh, showing yet.”

“Not showing what?”

“…The bump?”

He immediately realized he’d said the wrong thing, or maybe the right thing, but in the wrong tone, with the wrong level of context, and—okay, maybe he should just stop talking.

Abort mission, abort mission. Topper immediately wanted to crawl into a hole. Dude, shut up, shut up, shut up.

“What the fuck?” Rafe’s voice cracked; his eyes blazing as he stepped closer. “What bump?!”

His laugh fizzled out under Rafe’s glare, it was starting to feel less like “concerned ex-boyfriend” and more like “interrogating cop.” He felt a bead of sweat slide down the back of his neck.

Cool. Stay cool.

“Wait,” Topper held his hands up, trying to physically stop the situation from spiraling. “What do you think is wrong with her?”

His brain was spinning in a way it wasn’t built for. He was a simple guy—he liked clear problems and easy fixes. But this? This was a category-five disaster, and he was stuck right in the middle of it.

Rafe let out a sharp breath through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair, the small strands sticking up in every direction.

“I think she’s got a fucking infection! Why the hell would I think she’s pregnant?”

Topper hesitated, glancing toward the house like maybe Sarah or Wheezie might miraculously appear to save him. No such luck.

“Well fucking shit,” Topper blurted, the words tumbling out in a rush. His heart was pounding, and he was pretty sure he’d just signed his death warrant. “I—I didn’t say she’s pregnant, okay? I found this number, and it was for a women’s health center, and—fuck, man, I’m dead. I’m so dead.”

Rafe grabbed him by the collar, yanking him close. “Start talking. Now.”

“I wasn’t snooping, okay? It just—happened. I wasn’t trying to get in her business, but—”

“But what?” Rafe barked. His other hand twitched at his side, curling into a fist before flexing out again, a warning of how close Topper was to eating pavement, but Rafe wasn’t the one he feared right now.

You were going to kill him.

He could already picture the look on your face when you found out—those cold, furious eyes, the way your voice would drop, he was officially dead meat. He gulped, his mouth dry as his brain scrambled for something—anything—that wouldn’t get him killed or disowned.

“You better explain what the fuck you mean by ‘happened,’” Rafe growled, his grip tightening, giving Topper’s collar a shake, just enough to make his point clear.

Topper was done, leaving nothing but pure panic and the faint, distant sound of his voice saying things he definitely shouldn’t.

“I called the number!” Topper yelped. “I didn’t even mean to, it was—dude, she’s gonna kill me, and I mean that literally. She will.”

“Not if I kill you first,” Rafe shoved him back, his grip finally loosening, his face unreadable now, which was somehow worse than when he’d looked ready to punch him. “You’re telling me you think she’s pregnant? And you didn’t remember to tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t!” Topper said quickly, panic bubbling over. “It’s not like she’s gonna tell me this kind of stuff.”

“Did she say anything to you? Anything about seeing a doctor or being sick?”

Topper shook his head so fast it made him dizzy. “I asked if she was okay, but she just brushed it off and changed the subject.”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, both of them staring each other down.

“No, no way. She’s probably… I don’t fucking know, changing her pill or something.”

Topper raised an eyebrow. “Changing her pill?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said quickly, “Or—what else do they do there? Those check-up things. Maybe she’s getting one of those.”

“Uh-huh,” Topper replied, not convinced but also not dumb enough to call him out on it outright. “Sure. Just a… routine check-up?”

“Exactly,” Rafe agreed a little too loud, his tone almost defensive as he started circling again, his hands gesturing wildly. “They don’t just deal with… y'know. They do all kinds of shit. Tests, prescriptions, all that stuff. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Topper scratched the back of his neck, his expression caught between agreement and unease. “I mean, yeah, they do other stuff… but don’t you think—”

“I don’t think anything, there’s nothing to think about. She’s fine. She’s—she’s fine.” He stopped pacing, standing rigid with his hands on his hips, glaring at the ground like it had personally offended him.

“Okay,” Topper started, his tone cautious. “I get that you don’t want to jump to conclusions, but—”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions!” Rafe barked, spinning around “You’re the one making it into something it’s not! She’s not—she wouldn’t—she hasn’t told me anything,” He muttered finally, “And if she’s hiding this… from me…”

He’d never seen Rafe like this—angry, yeah, but there was something else there, either way, it wasn’t good. His glare burned into him, but for the first time, there was hesitation behind it. He wasn’t just mad—he was scared. Topper couldn’t decide if that made him feel better or worse.

“Holy shit,” Rafe muttered, gripping the side of his truck for balance. His vision going fuzzy as his heart raced like he’d just sprinted a mile. “Holy shit, what if—what if she is?”

“Dude, breathe,” Topper said, stepping closer cautiously like Rafe was a live grenade. “You don’t even—”

“Even if—if—she was, how the hell would that even—” He cut himself off, his face twisting like he couldn’t decide whether to finish the thought or abandon it entirely.

Topper didn’t need him to finish, he understood exactly what Rafe was thinking. The timeline, the breakup, the way everything had gone down between you.

Rafe’s breath hitched as he let go of the truck and paced a few steps, his hands on his hips, muttering under his breath. “No. No way. It’s not—she’d tell me, right? She’d fucking tell me.”

Images started flashing through his mind in rapid succession, each one more ridiculous and unhinged than the last. You, standing in some clinic, staring at a test with a blank expression. You, trying to figure out how to tell Rafe.

You, holding a baby—Rafe’s baby—in your arms.

“This doesn’t make any sense. We were careful. She’s just stressed, girls go through shit. Hormones or whatever. Right?”

“You’re asking me? I barely passed bio. I’m not exactly a walking textbook on—” He stopped himself, seeing the look on Rafe’s face. “I don’t know what’s going on with her, okay? But if this is what I think it is, you gotta handle it right. Don’t screw it up more than it already is.”

“And if I don’t handle it right?”

Topper forced a shaky grin, even as his stomach twisted in knots.

“Then I guess I’ll see you in hell, man. Because she’s gonna kill us both.”

Rafe’s hands went to his hips, his thumb brushing the edge of his pocket as he stared past Topper, he was trying to work out an equation that wasn’t adding up.

“She hasn’t said a word to me,” Rafe muttered, “Not at the hospital, not since. And you think…” He trailed off, dragging a hand over his face.

Topper shifted on his feet, resisting the urge to bolt to the other side of the world.

“I guess, but I swear, it wasn’t on purpose.”

Rafe shot him a look, his brows knitting together, and Topper felt like he was under a microscope. “You called a random number. How does that ‘just happen’?”

He huffed, throwing his hands up. “I was grabbing some water, and her mail fell, and there was this number—I didn’t think! I just… acted.” He groaned, his head falling back as he stared at the sky. “I didn’t mean to put two and two together, but what was I supposed to do? You’re the one who made me go digging in the first place!”

“You really think that’s what’s going on?” Rafe asked finally, his voice quieter.

“You said she’s acting weird, and then there was that number, and…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.

“Do you even understand what this means? If she’s—if there’s a—” He broke off, “I’d have to—Jesus Christ, what would I even do? I’m not—God.”

His hands gripped the edge of the truck bed so hard his knuckles turned white, the veins in his arms standing out as he glared at the ground like it had personally offended him.

“If she didn’t tell me—” His voice was low, quiet in a way that made Topper wince because he knew what came next.

“Maybe just... ask her?”

“Ask her?” he repeated, his voice disbelieving.

“Yeah, you know,” Topper said, gesturing vaguely. “Talk to her? Maybe find out what’s going on instead of losing your shit over worst-case scenarios?”

Rafe shook his head, “No. If she wanted me to know, she’d tell me. She’s... she’s dealing with her own stuff. It’s not my place to push.”

“Since when do you not push?”

“Since now,” Rafe snapped, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“Rafe—”

“No, seriously,” Rafe interrupted, his voice rising now, the tight restraint unraveling with every word. “If she’s—if she’s going through this, if she’s pregnant, and she didn’t tell me?” He let out a bitter chuckle, “What the fuck does that say? About me.”

Topper opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. This felt like a minefield, and if anyone was good at stepping on the wrong spot, it was him.

Rafe pushed off the truck, he couldn’t physically stay still. His eyes were burning as he raked a hand through his buzzed hair.

“I was—fuck. She thinks what? That I wouldn’t show up for this. She didn’t tell me because she doesn’t think I deserve to know.”

“That’s not true,” Topper said quickly, stepping closer, but Rafe’s empty laugh stopped him.

“Isn’t it?” Rafe’s voice was hollow now, all the fire drained out of him, turning his head slightly, just enough for Topper to see his throat working as he swallowed hard. “What the hell have I ever done to make her think I’d be there? That I’d—” He broke off. “Shit. I wouldn’t blame her. I can't even fucking blame her.”

“You still care about her, right?” Topper pressed, knowing he didn’t have to ask to know the answer.

Rafe’s head snapped up, “She’s the only thing I’ve ever cared about.”

He nodded slowly, “Then prove it.”

The envelope sat exactly where you’d left it, the faintest corner of folded. You froze for a second, your pulse quickening.

No. No way.

It was fine. Fine.

The number wasn’t even labeled—just digits scrawled hastily, you hadn’t touched it in days. Still, you couldn’t stop the tiny seed of panic attaching itself to your chest. There was absolutely no way Topper could’ve seen it, let alone put two and two together.

You exhaled slowly, placing it back on the counter.

He didn’t see it. He couldn’t have seen it.

Then why had he acted so… off? The pale face, the sudden excuse, the jittery energy—it was all so unlike him.

You shook your head, trying to push the thought away, a million things could’ve set him off.

Maybe Ruthie had texted him something awful, or maybe he’d remembered he had to pick up his dry cleaning before the shop closed. Knowing Topper, it was probably something stupid and unrelated to you entirely.

Still, the nagging lingered as you cleaned up the counter and threw away the napkins. You glanced at the envelope one last time, then slid it into a drawer and shut it firmly. Whatever was going on with your cousin, it couldn’t have anything to do with that. It was impossible. And yet…

You sighed, rubbing your temples.

“Pregnancy brain,” you muttered to yourself. “Making me paranoid over nothing.”

Of course that didn’t stop your heart from jumping every time the drawer creaked, or when you saw anything even remotely similar to that envelope’s color lying around the house for the entire night. Not that he’d ask, of course—Topper wasn’t the confrontational type, especially not with you. But he noticed things. And when he noticed, he worried.

The next morning you sank onto the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest. Topper was close, but he wasn’t like Sarah. She had been able to look you in the eye and say, You know I’m here, right? and mean it without any strings attached. Topper, though…

Your fingers itched toward your phone, even though it was stupid to call her so early over this. Still, you needed someone to remind you that you weren’t losing it, that Topper’s weirdness had nothing to do with anything serious.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you found Sarah’s number, pressing the call button. She picked up on the second ring, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You could picture her, sitting in her car or probably stretched out somewhere in Poguelandia with her feet propped up on a table, looking concerned.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just…” You trailed off, fiddling with the edge of a pillow.

“Topper’s been acting strange. And I think I’m just overthinking it, but it’s making me crazy.”

She made a sound between a hum and a laugh. “So the Topper panic spiral. That’s what we’re dealing with?”

“Basically,” you muttered, trying to keep your tone light. “But this time… He was here last night, and I thought he saw this random piece of paper I had with, you know. A number on it.” You took a shaky breath, embarrassed for how paranoid you sounded. “But he couldn’t have, right? I mean, it was buried under five other things.”

“Okay,” Sarah said slowly, clearly choosing her words. “First, let’s just say that if he did see anything, which he probably didn’t, he wouldn’t assume the worst. He’s your cousin; he knows you don’t tell him everything, and he respects that. Right?”

“Yeah… I guess.” You chewed your lip, feeling a little stupid for even calling her. “But what if he does put it together, Sarah? I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“He won’t,” she reassured, like she could see right through your anxiety. “And you don’t need to feel bad for wanting to keep this private. You’re allowed to handle it however you need to. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

You exhaled, the knot in your chest loosening a little. She always knew how to talk you down, "Okay,” you murmured, and a shaky laugh slipped out. “Maybe I'm being paranoid.”

“Pregnancy brain,” she teased, and you couldn’t help but smile.

You hung up feeling marginally better.

Sarah had a way of calming you down, but the uneasiness stayed with you, the way it always did when you couldn’t fully explain something.

But the relief was fleeting, by lunchtime, the nagging voice in your head was back. Topper wasn’t malicious, but he did have a habit of talking without thinking, and the last thing you needed was for this to get out before you were ready. Not only was this a huge scandal, but it was your business.

You busied yourself with small tasks—folding laundry, wiping down the counters, pretending that everything was fine. It wasn’t until almost noon that your phone rang. The hospital’s number flashed on the screen, and your stomach dropped.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Miss Thornton?” the voice on the other end asked politely, too polite for comfort.

“This is she."

“This is Linda from the hospital. I’m calling about your recent bloodwork. We had a bit of an issue with our system, and unfortunately, there was a delay in getting back to you. We also lost some patient information temporarily—”

“Wait, what?” you interrupted, not liking where this was going, “What do you mean you lost information?”

“Oh, nothing to worry about,” Linda said quickly, as if that would make you feel better. “We managed to recover most of it, but in the meantime, we had to rely on emergency contact information to reach out. Dr. Harris called yours last night.”

Your breath caught. “Called... my emergency contact?”

“Yes.”

“Sarah Cameron? She didn’t tell me someone called.”

“She’s not listed as your emergency contact in our system, Rafe Cameron is. It might be an older record?”

Fuck.

Your heart was in your throat. “What... what did he tell him?”

“He only left a generic message asking for you to follow up about your bloodwork. Nothing specific.”

“Nothing specific,” you repeated, more to yourself than to her. Relief and panic warred within you. If Rafe knew, he’d already be there, the night before, demanding answers. Right?

“We need you to come back in. It’s possible you may have an infection, and we need to run a few more tests.”

You didn’t even hear the rest of her explanation.

Your fingers felt numb as you mumbled something that vaguely resembled agreement and hung up.

Infection, that was what she’d said. That was all it was. Not… not anything else. If it were anything else, they wouldn’t have just called—they’d have told Rafe.

“Stop,” you muttered aloud, shaking your head. “Stop spiraling.”

But your brain wouldn’t listen.

“Generic message,” Linda had said, but did it sound generic? What did he think when he got it? Had he laughed it off, or was he running his stupid pristine bedroom, piecing together clues you hadn’t even realized you’d left?

You didn’t want to text Sarah again.

You could imagine her smirking, “I told you, he’s not going to magically grow psychic overnight.” Yeah, sure, but this was Rafe.

He didn’t need magic. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on Sarah’s voice in your head. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”

Except it didn’t feel like that. You hadn’t thought about Rafe as your emergency contact in months, hadn’t needed to.

You sank into the couch, hugging your knees to your chest.

“This is so stupid,” you muttered, but your voice didn’t make it feel any less real. You weren’t even sure what you were spiraling over anymore. The envelope? The hospital? The baby?

“Okay,” you said out loud. “Okay, it’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

The sound of your voice didn’t even convince you. Your brain wouldn’t stop jumping from one thing to the next, spinning every scenario you didn’t want to think about.

What if he did know? If that was enough to set him off, to make him call someone, pull some strings...Shit, what if he did show up, and you had to explain why you were dodging everyone and keeping things from him and—stop.

Stop.

You were doing it again. The spiraling. The pregnancy brain Sarah teased you about like it was some sort of cute quirk, but wasn’t cute.

You sat up straight, squeezing the couch pillow so hard you thought it might burst. Breathe. Just breathe, you’d made it this far without imploding.

You glanced toward the drawer again, the one with the envelope. You should’ve burned it, shredded it first. No, you had to keep it—just in case. But just in case of what? Just in case you needed more reasons to feel like a lunatic.

Oh my god. What if Topper saw the stupid number, and then Rafe got the hospital call, and then—bam—suddenly, they had the whole damn thing figured out?

You could feel it already—the panic. You liked to think they were both too stupid for their own good, but they were also observant. Rafe, that bastard always knew how to put things together faster than anyone.

What if—what if it’s that simple for them? What if they both saw it, and then they were just sitting there, having some stupid-ass conversation, connecting dots you didn’t even realize were dots?

No. Stop. Stop thinking like that.

You were getting carried away, jumping to conclusions like some manic soap opera character. You weren’t that girl. Not really. But the thought of them talking—Topper with his concern and Rafe with his overbearing intensity.

Your fingers tapped a frantic rhythm against the pillow. The idea of him figuring it out? Oh, that made your skin crawl. Not because he’d be cruel—no, that wasn’t his style. He’d just be so… himself.

Overwhelming, determined to “fix” things for you, even when you didn’t ask for it.

You groaned, dropping the pillow and standing abruptly, like the movement might kill the growing dread. No, you told yourself firmly.

You weren’t spiraling over things that hadn’t even happened yet.

But the voice in your head, the one that always sounded a little too much like Rafe, had other plans: What if it’s already too late?

You paced the living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest. This was ridiculous, you were ridiculous. Nothing had happened, nothing was going to happen. The number wasn’t even that suspicious, it could’ve been anything.

You groaned again, flopping onto the couch like the dramatic mess you were currently embodying. Rafe had probably gotten the hospital call, rolled his eyes without a second thought, too busy with his new precious life.

Your stomach churned, and you pressed your hands against it instinctively. It wasn’t showing yet—thank god—but you couldn’t help the way your mind spiraled back to it, to all the ways this could go wrong.

You grabbed your car keys without thinking, maybe it would clear your head. A drive—that’s what you needed. Get out of the house, and put some distance between you and the stupid envelope, the phone calls, all of it. You turned the knob, yanked the door open—

—and froze.

Rafe’s hand was raised mid-air, clearly about to knock. You didn’t even try to hide the way your breath hitched.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Standing there on the porch like he hadn’t just derailed your entire plan. As if it was still perfectly normal for him to show up unannounced, one hand shoved into his pocket and the other gripping his phone, his head tilted in a maddeningly familiar way.

His hand hovered uncertainly on the doorframe as you stepped back, your arms folding protectively over your chest. He didn’t push past you, didn’t move his weight forward—just stood there.

He glanced down at the spare key still in his hand, turning it over like he was considering whether he even had the right to use it. “They called me last night.”

Okay, he was just here because of the hospital, a coincidence, that’s all it was.

“And? You could’ve ignored it.”

His hand flexed at his side like he didn’t know what to do with it. “I thought something might be wrong.”

“It’s not.” Your voice was clipped, cold. “They called the wrong number. End of story.”

He didn’t rise to the bait.

“I thought—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. “I thought you were sick.”

“Like I said, it was a mix-up.”

His jaw ticked. That tiny muscle in his cheek twitched, the one that always flared when he was suspicious.

“Funny, they didn’t sound mixed up when they said your name,” he drawled, his tone probing. “Wanna try again?”

“Mind your fucking business,” Your voice was defensive, and you hated the crackle of guilt in your chest when he flinched. “I don’t need you to pretend to care. Why are you even here?” you snapped, taking a step back. The space between you felt vulnerable. “Don’t you have someone else to worry about?"

You felt cornered with every second he stood there.

“We need to talk.”

Maybe if you acted calm, like nothing was wrong, he’d stop looking at you like that. Vulnerability wasn’t something you were good at, he’d already taken too much. He always took too much.

“I don’t owe you shit. Not explanations, not answers, nothing. Leave.”

He didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

Rafe didn’t know how to let shit go, not when it came to you, he didn’t back away.

“You’re right,” he said, surprising you. “You don’t, but I’m not leaving until we talk.”

The way he said, it wasn’t even a threat. It was worse than that. It was calm, resolute, like he’d already decided, and nothing you said or did could change it.

That scared you more than anything.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you hissed, “Whatever you think you know, you don’t.”

He arched an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to the edge of the couch where your phone still sat, “You sure about that?”

“God, you’re always like this. Always overstepping, always assuming—”

“I know."

All the noise in your head—your spiraling thoughts, your excuses, your endless denials—went silent, except for the way your heart thudded in your chest, so fast, it hurt. He hadn’t raised his voice, but those two words hit you like a kick to your chest.

No, he couldn’t—he didn’t, he was bluffing, he had to be. Air caught in your throat, and for a moment, you thought you might choke on it. He didn’t move, didn’t repeat himself. He couldn’t know.

Your tongue went dry.

“What are you talking about?” You couldn’t breathe. It felt like someone was squeezing your chest. You shook your head again, more violently this time, stepping back, “You don’t know shit.”

“I think I do.” His voice was quiet, and that made it worse, it wasn’t cold or angry; it wasn’t even accusing. He didn’t sound like he wanted to be right, he just sounded tired.

You prayed to come up with something—anything—to deflect, to deny, to keep the truth buried where it belonged.

“You’re delusional,” you took another step back, putting more space between you and the man who had always known you too well.

He just shook his head, “You don’t have to lie to me, you’re scared, you’re not even trying to hide it.”

It was the way he stared with those stupid blue eyes, he was peeling back your layers. He always did that, made you feel like he could see something in you that you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

“Oh, fuck off.” You threw your hands up. “You don’t know shit about what I’m feeling. You’ve got no right to—I’m not lying.”

It still hurt how much you missed him, hurt to even look at him.

“Don’t pull this cryptic bullshit with me, if you’ve got something to say, say it.”

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

The thing you’d been running from, denying, hiding, you simply stared at him, trying to decide if there was any way to lie your way out of this.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You tried to laugh, but it came out strangled, desperate. “T-That’s insane. You’ve lost your mind.”

Rafe wasn’t gloating or triumphant—he just looked… resigned, he’d pieced it together before he showed up.

“Don’t do that. Don’t lie to me, not about this.”

You wanted to scream, to shove him, to do anything that would make him stop looking at you like he cared. Like he knew you. Because if you stopped long enough to think about it, you knew it was over.

He’d already seen it.

“I mean it, Rafe.” Your hand tightened on the door, nails digging into the wood. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

God, this was so fucked. You wanted him gone, but wanted him here, needed him to leave you alone, but at the same time, you hated that he could just leave.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

You thought about what he’d do if he knew—really knew. Not just the vague sense he had now, but the details. Would he try to stop you?

Your lip quivered, and you hated yourself for it. “You’re wrong.”

You stared at him, at the way his shoulders hunched slightly, his usual confidence worn down. You hated him for being calm for once in his fucking life, for being here, for not letting this slide when it was none of his fucking business.

“Am I?”

Your hands clenched tighter, nails biting into your palms. “Why? Why do you even care? It’s not like you—”

“Because it’s mine.”

Your breath hitched again, and this time, you couldn’t hide it. You wanted to deny it, to throw something—hell, anything—back at him to make him shut the fuck up. But your throat felt like it had shut off entirely, and your mind had gone blank.

“I—” you stammered, shaking your head violently, “No. You don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re—”

“Hey, hey, just—just stop,” he said, his voice careful, as if he was trying not to spook you. “I’m not—Jesus, I’m not here to fight with you, okay? I’m not here to make this harder.”

Your chest heaved, a bitter laugh escaping before you could stop it. He was too late—late to care, late to help, late to fix anything. Five days, that’s all you had to get through.

Five days until you didn’t have to think about it anymore.

This is the right choice, you told yourself for the hundredth time. You couldn’t bring a baby into this mess.

“You’re doing a hell of a job at that.”

“I just want to help. If you let me—”

“No,” you interrupted, grabbing the edge of the door. “I’m fixing it.”

“Fixing—?” Rafe’s brow furrowed, his confusion almost comical He started to step forward, but you stopped him with a resentful glare that made him stop. “What does that even mean?”

“It means you can take your fake concern and shove it up your ass.”

His brow furrowed. “It’s not fake—” His face twisted in confusion, mouth opening like he was about to argue, but you didn’t give him the chance, slamming the door in his face, so hard the frame rattled.

“Of course. Of course, it’s mine,” you muttered to yourself, mocking his stupid, self-righteous tone.

You leaned back against the door, sliding to the floor, arms crossed over your knees as your brain whirred like it was trying to kill you.

It wasn’t like you had a choice.

Technically, you did, but what were you supposed to do? Keep it and become a tragic sob story? The words almost felt like you’d ripped them out of someone else’s mouth, right or wrong didn’t even matter anymore. There wasn’t space in your life for this—for him, for a baby, for any of it.

A muffled knock sounded from the front door—tentative, like he was giving you a moment.

“Go away,” you yelled, your voice hoarse.

“Open the door.”

Your thoughts taunted you with memories and possibilities you didn’t want to entertain. The way Rafe had looked at you—like he knew—it was unbearable.

How had he put it together? Maybe you'd slip up in tiny ways, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow. You hated yourself for being so careless, despised him even more for being so fucking relentless.

You wiped your cheeks roughly, not realizing you’d started crying until your sleeve came back damp.

“Please, just open the door. We can talk—just talk, okay?

“No,” you muttered to the empty room. “No, I’m not doing this.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning your head back against the door and pressing your hands over your ears to block him out.

“Don’t shut me out like this,” he begged. “I can’t—fuck, I can’t stand it when you do this. Just open the door. Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”

He had a key. If he wanted to, he could let himself in at any moment, but he didn’t, that wasn’t the Rafe you were used to.

Before, he'd have barged right in, shouted until your ears bled, and demanded answers. He would’ve tried to fix it or destroy it, maybe both.

You hated that he still acted like he cared, that he was trying to be so fucking reasonable now, when just a few months ago, he would’ve lost it, broken through any barrier to get what he wanted.

This was worse, this Rafe was wearing you down.

Another hushed plea made it through the door, but all you could think was how thin the wood felt, how it barely drowned the sound of his voice. A new door might be better, something heavier, more solid, that could drown out everything—the desperation, the crack in his voice.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and you bit hard on the inside of your cheek to keep them from falling.

“I know you’re scared,” he continued, “And I know you think I’ll screw this up—God knows I probably will. But please don’t keep me in the dark. Just tell me what’s going on.”

You pictured flipping through hardware store catalogs, weighing your options: oak? steel? soundproofing foam?

“Please,” Rafe whispered, and the rawness in his voice scraped against you like nails on a chalkboard. You tilted your head back against the door, willing yourself not to cry again.

Steel doors don’t warp as easily as wood.

You swallowed hard, your body aching as you fought the sob threatening to escape. He didn’t deserve this—didn’t deserve to sound so wrecked over you. He'd done this to himself.

Your fingers twitched against the door handle, the temptation to open it curling around you, but instead, you thought about bolts.

Deadbolts, a second lock could work, something he couldn’t get through even if he had the key.

His voice wavered again, you thought he might start crying, too, yet all you did was glance at the base of the door. A better seal would muffle the noise more. Maybe weatherstripping? That could help.

You pressed your hands tighter over your ears, as though it would help. It didn’t. Nothing would—not until you replaced the lock, the door, the memory of him standing there and breaking himself open for you.

God, you really needed a new door—and a new heart.

One that didn’t twist at the sound of his voice, that didn’t flinch every time he called your name like it was a prayer. A heart that didn’t feel for him, you told yourself, over and over, like a mantra. If you could just stop the way your chest tightened at his pleas, stop the ache in your ribs when he said he couldn’t let this go.

You wanted steel walls, that could keep everything out—his voice, his touch, the memories of all the good parts of him that had kept you hanging on for so long. Because of this heart? It was useless, too soft, too easily swayed, still willing to believe him, even when you knew better.

“Please, just talk to me,” Rafe begged. You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this calmness came from Sofia.

Perhaps she was the reason he’d changed, maybe she had somehow made him different, had softened the sharp edges of the guy you used to know. She was calm, collected—nothing like you. It hurt like a bitch, the thought that someone else could make him this patient. You wondered if she’d taught him how to handle his emotions, how to be this way—he’d learned some secret he never bothered to share with you.

You couldn't let yourself go there, couldn't let the bitterness of that thought settle in your mind for too long.

“Talk to me.”

No. Not this time.

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@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

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meo-eiru · 5 months ago

Note

Self-indulgent scenario ask! Please I am on my knees! I needed him ever since I saw him 😭

So we already established that Silas is really an airhead and would twist MC's intention to suit his narrative. What would be his reaction to an MC who runs away? And when Silas catches them I assume that he would assume that they had just gotten lost and all. But what about an MC who scratches him and bites him using all their power to escape, what would be his reaction then?

He views most of your escape attempts as temper tantrums to get his attention. He keeps you locked in his house that’s hidden in a giant tree because he thinks outside world would be dangerous for you so it’s pretty much impossible to physically get away from him for too long.

For biting and scratching, he actually loves when you bite him. He thinks your teeth are small and cute, he weirdly enjoys the feeling they inflict on him. His blood has healing abilities so he already wants you to drink it directly from him like that, if you bite him to escape he will think you want his blood or your teeth are feeling itchy like a baby and need to bite something.

Everything you do is endearing to him no matter how physically violent so there’s unfortunately no winning for you in this situation.

#asks #Silas #yandere elf

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glamourscat · 23 days ago

Note

Some general hcs about the blue lock guys? Maybe if they are a girl or boy dad? Idk, anything of the sort thx 🙏🏻

Girls dads vs boys dads BLLK BOYS EDITION

GIRL'S DAD

⁃ REO MF MIKAGE. He is the N1 girl’s dad. So much that he *will* accidentally spoil her to the moon and back (literally). And he will hit you with “but look at her and her puppy eyes? How can you resist her? Is not my fault if she asked to own a star in her name for her birthday. It’s the least I could do for my own little star “

⁃ ISAGI: I don’t think I need to elaborate on him. But I will, because i love to yap. It's canon (or i think? i am pretty sure i have read it in the egoist bible but i cannot find the link i had saved for the life of me) that he would have loved a younger sister growing up. So it just makes sense.

⁃ BAROU : he has two younger sisters to which it's canon he cares and loves them for his dear life. Barou pretty much is already wired in husband and father mode ⁃ YUKIMIYA: purely out of personal vibes.

HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE:

⁃ SHIDOU: In the eventual future where this little gremlin fixes whatever he has going on, he would make such a good girl dad. Why? vibes. He just fits the girl's dad vibes i can't explain to you why, you either see it or don't.

At the same time tho, I also see him as the unhinged, fun uncle who is everywhere at once. Living his life the most weirdly, yet oddly free, way.

BOY'S DAD (this is all about pure vibes honestly)

⁃ KUNIGAMI

⁃ CHIGIRI

⁃ GAGAMARU

BOTH

⁃ BACHIRA: My favourite Bee. He just wants a child honestly, in a very far future. He would be such a great dad. The fun, loving and just an absolute gem. He just want at least 2 kids, boy or girl doesn't matter as long as he can shower them with love.

⁃ NIKO

NONE

⁃ NAGI: I mean lmao.. self explanatory. He thinks everything is an hassle. Definitely doesn’t want kids

⁃ ARYU: I can’t personally see him having kids, he lives a stress free life and kids are definetly no stress free— he is the cool aunt that travels the world, has always some crazy stories up his sleeve and loves expensive wine and clothes.

⁃ KAISER: his childhood was everything but good. And the scars he suffered are a life time reminder of the neglect and abuse he faced. The amount of trauma cannot be healed over the course of a month nor a few years, it's a constant learning curve that will follow him until his last breath. Honestly speaking, just like Rin-- but in a more complicated way here, it would be extremely hard to get into a relationship with him alone. I cannot image how dating/ married and having a kid would work with his twisted way of seeing life and relationships.

⁃ SAE: emotional range of a tea spoon. I can’t see him settling down in a marriage, much less having a kid.

⁃ RIN: this is complicated, because I think he could settle in the “both” category and here. The thing is, objectively speaking, he is very selfish. His football career will come before anything, and like we see, he is not thinking twice before cutting people off if needed. Thus, if he doesn’t change his mindset/grow up.. if he wants a long, standing football career, I cannot see him settling any time soon. Not to mention his struggle to make friends, let alone being in a relationship. But, in the case he does change, I think he would like two kids for sure.

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firemenenthusiast · 8 months ago

Note

"WAIT THIS IS- WAIT we should get farleigh to fuck reader thinking he’ll get anything he wants, the whole sexgod privilege just cuz youre the one who asked for it but when hes about to cum you go “oh no no”. but farleigh turns into goo under your orders so"

OK SO I HAVE AN IDEA!! their academic rivals and have a bet going on that he gets to fuck you if he got a higher score on a test or smth?!?!? IDK I JUST HAVE A THING FOR ENEMIES FUCKING 😞😞 SUE ME

the day hath come. thank you for your request anon ! <3

—“me or you”

academic rival! farleigh start! x fem!reader

summary: when farleigh decided that your rivalry isn’t fun enough for him, he proposes a deal

warnings: 18+, enemies to lovers, academic rivals, smut in the second half of it, sub!farleigh, porn with plot, unprotected p in v (wrap it guys), sub! farleigh, soft dom! reader, size kink, whiny whimpery farleigh, praise kink, cunnilingus, blow job, teabagging, creampie, plot twist and fluff at the end

a/n: sorry if i took too long, enjoy !

academic validation is everything to you. you believe you’re nothing if not an overachiever. but for farleigh, it’s just an excuse for him to be contemptous towards you. everyone else in the class is obviously displeased with your feud with him, but it’s mostly just farleigh spewing vulgar insults at you. that’s just how he presents himself. you could go and ask around the campus about him-

most would comment on his attitude that he thinks he could get away with- just because he’s smart. academically smart. no one knows how he does it. its not like he spends his afternoons in the library or catching up on his studies in his free time. hell, he does the exact opposite of those things. the term party animal is a downgrade for him. the owner of the nearest pub knows him. the most elite parties on campus are known to be thrown by him.

weirdly enough, when it comes to tests and exams, he excels them like nobody else. whatever he has to do for the class doesn’t faze him. you’re pretty confident that he doesn’t even study yet somehow, he’s at the top of his class. you on the other hand, put a lot of effort to achieve your exceptionally high scores. seeing farleigh being absent for most of his class pains you, it reminds you of how bad you have to struggle while he get to trash himself. enjoy the uni life. what irks you even more is the fact that everytime he scores higher than you, he’ll make sure to flaunt it all over your face. every single time. you roll your eyes when you spot the dark curly headed figure towering almost everyone across the hall, a couple books in his hand. how pretentious. it’s not like he even reads them.

flashing a quick smirk towards you, he swiftly skips to get in front to hold the lecture hall door open. he gave everyone else before you a small smile, trying to convince them of the pure intention of his nice little gesture. “goodluck guys” his head tilted upwards for a bit, nodding at each of the students. you cant help but crack a little smile watching the boy. as you were about to step into the hall, he swings the door closed behind him.

“what the fuck ?” you blurt out, head tilted trying to look at him. “goodluck” he grins, eyebrows raised with a smug look on his face. “for the test” he continues. “for what else dumbass?” insufferable, you think. he winces mockingly at your words

the test. the one that is particularly of the toughest subject out of your course. one that you had studied your ass off for. one that farleigh couldn’t give a single fuck about and still gonna ace it. gifted son of a bitch. and you’re gonna have to sit through him making fun of you for the 2 marks difference. it’s been like this for a couple semesters now. you struggling to keep your scores high, while farleigh tease you about it. just because you give him a challenge for the top position everytime there’s a test. the first semester of the course, he scored the best in the class for the first assessment. that gave him extra unneeded ego for the next couple weeks until you beat him in other tests after. he’d acknowledged you since. he loves a pretty face that challenges him.

“yes whatever farleigh now move” you try to pay no attention to him, reaching out to pull the door yourself. he quickly adjusts his stance against the door “okay! okay-”his arms reach out to his sides, protecting the entrance.

“-i have a proposition for you”

“i dont have time for this farleigh” you really dont, the tests starting anytime now.

“hear me out first”. one of his arm is held up to convince you. you sigh, the most uninterested expression staring back at him. “you know how you always excel these tests and i always do better than you-?”. “if youre keeping me here just to ridicule me save it for after the test” you begin to move before he continues

“—so you admit i always do better ? i mean, who’s keeping the score anyways” he chuckles. your patience is getting thin. before you could move again he steps closer, towering over you. hot breath fanning over your face as he grabs your arm.

“why dont we make it more fun ?” he begins, emphasizing the last part, almost whispering into your ear. “if you score better, you get all the bragging rights and mocking pass until the next test” you begin to soften your expression, intrigued. you look up at him, eyes searching into his. he stares into you before leaning down to continue

“—and if i score better, i get to fuck you”

you ball your palms into fists at his stupid idea before shoving him to the side and storming into the lecture hall. your jaws clenching with your lips pursed shut. he’s getting out of hand if he thinks you’re just another bet felix can set him up upon. you hear him follow you before he settles in a seat rows away from you. you glance at him to see he’s already looking at you, grinning.

as you’re finishing up the final answers and re-checking the paper you’re brought back to farleigh’s proposition earlier. somehow you’re fueled with a newfound confidence that you’re gonna beat him. the test wasn’t that bad, you studied and all and there wasn’t any questions that you didn’t answer confidently. suddenly those bragging rights sound tempting. usually when you score higher than him you’d just keep it to yourself cuz whenever you do try to belittle him how he does you, he’s quicker with sharp insults that leaves you dumbfounded. a classmate once tried standing up for you after one of his rude remarks and got a disgusted look from him in return. his exact words were “who are you again ?” so you decided long ago not to indulge in his childish behaviour. but you’re getting sick of him. at this point you’d do anything to shut the raging ego of his. even if it means risking yourself

the loud sound of papers rustling and the creaking of the hall’s seats marks the end of the test, everyone’s getting up and walking towards the exit. you found yourself pushed into a corner by the crowd that seems to be chasing a leaving train. there’s no opening for you to squeeze yourself in so you decide to wait until they’re all gone. suddenly the crowd stopped and you feel a hand pulling you forward, safely getting you out of the exit with his body close behind yours. he brings you further to the nearest turn, making sure you’re out of the crowd. you look up at him, knowing it was him. you shoot him a serious look before saying,

“deal”

“wait-“ he scoffs in disbelief “really ?” he has a whole confused, disbelief look on his face. “yeah, there’s no way you’re gonna score higher, you’ve been doing what, coke all week ?” you say. “true, but i’ll come by. i always do” he shrugs before saying, “no take backs” you give him a small smile before starting to walk away. “you should smile more baby !” you hear him say from afar. his usual smug look entering your mind

the rest of next week is filled with him trying to get you flustered and nervous waiting for the result. there’s no actual reason for you to be this nervous, he’s got no chance against you this time. every class with him feels a lot longer than usual as he teases you about the deal every chance he could. telling jokes that centers you being smarter than him to the whole class got you rethinking about your decision. while you’re confident, he seems to be composed. in the class of the subject you guys had the test for, there’s a time when the professor brought up that the paper will be returned next week and you cant help but glance at farleigh. he smiles before bringing up a peace sign to his mouth, his tongue darting forward between his fingers before moving it in a licking motion. he chuckles at your reaction as you roll your eyes

your professor offers a smile to your classmate reaching her hand out to take the paper from him. “good job, keep it up” he steps down from the last flight of stairs with his hands clasped together. “congratulations to all of you regardless of your scores, theres still time and room for improvement so keep your chin up” he positively encouraged before dismissing the class. you look down at the paper in your hands, a proud smile forcing itself onto your lips as you beam at the circled number in red at the top of it. a whopping 98 for the toughest subject you’ve ever took. satisfied is the least you’re feeling right now as the familiar busy sound of students getting ready to hit the exit floods your ears, you hear the professor calling a name. “farleigh ? please see me after class” your eyebrows furrowed seeing him mouth a “yea” while picking up his books. thats the most plain you’ve ever seen him. no smug look thrown towards you either.

from his expressions you could assume that maybe he’s dissatisfied with his score but just how bad can it be ? knowing him he could’ve taken the test drunk and still be able to score atleast an A. your eyes follow him walking towards the exit, his messenger hanging low against his hips. you were waiting for some officialization from him, saying that you won, and that you get to mock him all you want yet you’re left with nothing. i mean, you certainly won right ? he could only beat you if he scored 99 or a 100. maybe you’ll try him tomorrow.

rubbing your eyebrows, your eyes scan the lesson material that you had just printed out for today. words stacked above another forming a paragraph that you’re hoping to find the point of. sound of footsteps entering fills the class when you feel someone tapping at the back of your seat. you turn your head back and to the front again to see farleigh walking past slowly to say, “your clock starts now nerd, next tests on the second week next month” as he points his finger at you

“heard you got a new daddy farleigh, got him to up your score ?” you’re near yelling at him who’s getting away. he pays you no attention as he flips you off. a smile appears on your face. no nasty remarks in return. so it begins. for the rest of the class you get to shut his sarcastic jokes with your own. the class is suprised to say the least that farleigh is the receiving end now. something must’ve happened they think, and most have their money on that you guys fucked. you shrug at your efforts on utitilising the mockery pass. you’d manage to catch him after class just to offer him another teasing “you know i can tutor you if you want. a one on one so maybe you can retire from being a boytoy” you beam at him. he gives you an unamused look, lips shut to hold himself from shooting a response to the joke. “maybe you should” he says, raising both his arms to quickly drop them before turning his heels and walking away. you watch him strut down the hall with a grin plastered across your face. until something hits you that the grin slowly wears off. you feel empty that he’s not shooting sarcasms back at you. you get it that this will only last until the next test and it’s part of the deal but you cant help feeling like, ‘this is it ?’. suddenly a part of you think that it would be better if he responded back. you’re used to that. you want him to banter.

so when you end up standing infront of his door you have no one else to blame but yourself.

you had asked students around the dorm halls and they all pointed to this door. sighing, you try to justify yourself for whats about to happen. “what are you doing here ?” you lower the knuckles that were about to knock, heels automatically turning to the source of the voice. he quirks an eyebrow at seeing you infront of his dorm. unfamiliar with the image cuz he’s never seen you around the building. “what are YOU doing here” youre quick to answer before realising how stupid it is. “i kinda need to be here. i live in the room just behind you” you scoff at his answer. he squints his eyes before saying, “wow, youre determined”.

“what ?”

“you came all the way here to brag about the test ?—”

“no” you stop him before continuing, “its weird that you didnt return any of my insults today” you begin. he slows down his steps, pacing around before stopping infront of you. he examines the knitted material of your cardigan, his eyes trailing to find yours. “well for one, they’re mediocre at best-“ you scoff before lightly shoving him, “fuck you”. he shrugs, eyes wandering across the hall before continuing, “—and its part of the deal sweetheart” you look down at your shoes, nodding slightly. exactly, that was the deal, you admit to yourself, ignoring the pet name. you take a deep breath as he runs his hand across the back of his neck, carefully adjusting the stray curls at the side of his head. “well if you dont have anything else, im just gonna-“ his hand moves to the side of you to grab the doorknob.

you look up at him, searching into his eyes before he notices. “unless youre here for that tutoring-“ you grab at the fabric on his chest, pulling him against you before crashing your lips onto his dark red ones. kissing at his bottom lip, he returns the kiss deeper, nose bumping against each other. he pulls away slightly, puffing hot breath before pulling you closer by your lower back. his forehead rests against yours as his mouth chases your lips, returning a deeper and more eager kiss. his hands resting low at your hips as his impatient kiss pushes you back against the door. you pull away for a moment to catch your breath when a small whine escapes his lips, his eyes still closed. he’s leaning forward trying to catch your lips to which you lean into once more. his hand move from your waist to the doorknob, twisting it before catching you from falling backwards. next thing you know you’re placed on his strangely clear study with him leaving sloppy kisses down your stomach, moving towards your clothed pussy. your cardigan and shorts lying on the floor

he looks at you through his long lashes, his large hands sprawled over your hips, smoothing over the skin. “may i ?” you nearly moan at his low voice. you nod as he mouths at your clothed cunt, nose nudging against your clit, panties almost transluscent with your wetness. you let out a breathy moan as he peppers small kisses all over the thighs caging him, slowly biting at the skin. he trails kisses until he reaches where you want him the most before pushing your panties to the side. his breath hitched as he does so, timidly licking your wet folds to have a taste. you hear him moan, your hands running through his hair to pull back the parts covering his face so you can watch him sucking at your sex. his eyes shut close savouring your taste as you hear him mumble against your folds, sending shivers down your spine. “mhm- s’good…so pretty” his hands roam from the low of your back to your stomach before trailing down to rub your clit. he pulls away for a moment to run his thumb between your folds, eyes dark as he watches your pussy clench around nothing. his bottom lip between his teeth. he dives back in with half lidded eyes before laying his tongue flat against your folds. you let out a small moan as you pull at his hair, earning a groan from him. you could feel the knot in your lower stomach getting tighter.

you push him from your pussy before getting off of his study. he follows you, getting up from the floor, cock painfully hard in his sweats forming a tent with a dark patch at the top. you curse in your head seeing the view before pushing him down onto his bed. he scoots back to lean against the wall as you climb onto his lap, pulling your shirt off you. his eyes trail downwards to look at your hardened nipples, his eyes darkened with a full blown lust before reaching up to knead at them. he kisses your nipples before putting them in his hot mouth at which you arch your back slightly, your hands pushing him forwards from the back of his head. you start to grind at his hard clothed cock as you feel the wet patch you saw earlier. he moans loudly at you grinding down especially harder on the base of his cock, sitting on his balls. steadying yourself, you grab his shoulders as you lean in to nip at his earlobes. his hand moves to grab at your hips as you rub your wet panties against his bulge while kissing at his neck, slightly biting and sucking at the skin, leaving marks. he whimpers with a slight pout when you start to slow down

“please,,”

“please what farleigh ?”

“anything- fuck! please,, take it off”

you smile at his pleas, continuing to grind on his cock, the wet patch at his tip getting bigger, spreading to the base of his cock. you arch your back slightly while moving, placing your tits at his mouth which he latches on obediently. his cock twitches as he bucks his hips upwards from the pressure. he pulls away to rest his head on your chest, head tilted downwards to watch your pussy getting his sweats wetter before throwing his head back with a long moan. “feels- feel so good- wan’ you faster” he starts stuttering words between begging you to go faster and to go slower, confused to decide what he actually wants. “does this feel good farleigh ?” you grind faster as he nods rapidly in return “dont stop- fuck, please dont stop” you could feel his cock jumping slightly and twitching, threatening to spill his load in his pants before you do just what he tells you not to. “no- baby,,” he throws his head back, strained whimper escapes his lips in defeat as you giggle. his knee buckles up involuntarily. you get off his lap, removing his hands from your hips to settle on the floor, tits pressed against the edge of the bed.

you look up at him who has the back of his hand pressed against his forehead as you graze your fingers on the outline of his cock, now completely wet with his precum and your wetness. your touches making him buck his hips, his eyes shut close as he throws his head back. you pull at his waistband slowly, pressing it down so it grazes along his achingly hard cock, earning a wince from him. “slow- slower, please,,” his hand reach yours trying to get you to be careful. you nod at him giving him what he wants, not wanting him to cum just yet. as soon as the waistband’s off his thick hard cock springs upwards, slapping his lower stomach. he’s thick, and it curves slightly upwards. placing your hand at the base, you’re suprised to see the size of him. batting your lashes at him with his cock in your hand, he gives you a smug smile

“big?”

“—average” you respond, receiving a chuckle from him

he’s the biggest you’ve had.

you swipe your thumb across his tip, collecting the precum to spread on his cock. switching hands, you begin to pump his length, your fingers barely closing around his cock. you reach down your panties with your free hand to collect your wetness before using it as lube to stroke his cock. “fuck that’s so hot-” you hear him say before letting out a loud moan when you suddenly start sucking at his tip. maintaining eye contact through your lashes, you make sure to make him watch you lay your tongue flat at the base of his length, slowly dragging it upwards. you have both your hands and your mouth working on the aching tip, slobbering his cock with your wetness, saliva and precum. stroking his cock at a steady pace you adjust your position to arch downwards, your mouth leaning into the base of his cock to lick under his balls. “ah— fuck-! mhm“ his hand fisting the sheets under him, chest heaving breathlessly. he let out a whine when you put his balls into your mouth, the warmth sending him into pure bliss. sucking at the skin, you make sure to twist at his raging red tip as you do so. you pull off with a pop to collect saliva in your mouth before spitting on his balls. just as the spit starting to trickle down you catch it with your mouth to bring it to his length. he tries to contain his moan by pursing his lips yet a weak whimper leaves his lips. he shoots you a puppy look as you continue sucking him off. you can feel his already tight balls getting tighter as his cock jumps against his lower stomach. he’s painfully hard to the point that one more lick and he’ll be cumming.

so you stop working on his cock to get on your feet. his eyes filled with tears threatening to spill down his tinted cheeks. his pretty long lashes wet from the tears pooling in his eyes, making them glossy. he looks up at you, your knees pressing against his bed before you climb onto him, your hands reaching his face to cup his cheeks. the tears in his eyes that were threatening to fall trickles down as you wipe them with your thumb. “you wanna cum farleigh ?” you ask. “yes please” “you dont look it” he blinks to clear his eyes from tears, “i want to, please- let me cum please” his hands slowly creep up your body to pull you close in his embrace. his eyes pleads into yours before you pull his head towards you letting him rest on your breast. “okay” you promise. he takes the chance to mouth at your tits. throwing your head back, you feel him suck at one of your nipple and squeezing the other with his large hand making you moan. you pull at his hair to look at him, he offers you a soft smile. probably too delirious from the pleasure to even think.

you pull him off you to quickly get off the bed, taking off your wet panties before climbing back holding it. you lean down to kiss him, his head tilted upwards to return your kiss. his sucks at your tongue until he feels your lips being replaced by a wet fabric. he moans realising that you had stuffed his mouth with your panties, aiming the wet patch directly onto his tongue before kissing the top of his head. he always has his free hands to take out the panties if he wants to. he looks down at his hard weeping cock just inches away from your pussy. he buckles his hips forward in a pathetic attempt to rub his cock against your pussy. you giggle at his action before steadying your hands on hus shoulder, looking down as you lower yourself on his cock, rubbing the tip against your clit and the length between your folds. you hear him make some mumbled sound before you pull out the panties from his mouth. strings of saliva connected to the fabric as he puffs out, catching his breath.

“just fuck me,, cant anymore-“

“you cant ?” he shakes his head

“but i thought you’re the mighty farleigh start ?” you tease him. he swallows his saliva at your words.

“not with you, no- please, just make me cum baby” the tip of his nose dusted red, his lips swollen and redder than ever. his eyes glossy with some of the remaining tears at the corner of his eyes, searching into yours as he pleads

you finally give in, grabbing his cock to position it at your sex earning a loud guttural moan from him. you let out a high pitched whine from the stretch, the slide of his cock into your pussy easy thanks to all the wetness from before. you move back and forth, grinding your clit against his pelvis before starting to ride his cock. he bites his bottom lip watching you bounce on his length, fucking yourself. the pace of your hips steady with his hands grabbing at them to guide you. farleigh throws his head back from the pleasure, his mouth hanging agape. you feel the knot in your lower stomach getting tighter, feeling waves threatening to crash down. “you close ?” he asks as he feels your pussy clench around him making it harder for him to hold back. you nod at him, trying to focus on chasing your orgasm. you feel him suddenly buckle his hips into you before you let out a high pitched moan, screaming his name. he helps you ride out your high before you hear a string of curses falling from his lips, his thrust getting sloppy. “inside, farleigh”. he looks at you to make sure he heard you right as you nod at him. you let him move your hips as he wants, using you like a fleshlight before you hear him let out a loud moan. “ah-ahh—! fuck, fuck, fuck- fuuuck,,”. the curses falling from his lips gets dragged out as you feel warm ropes of thick cum shooting inside your pussy, hitting your cervix.

he struggles to catch his breath as he carefully gets you off his lap, placing your head on his pillow before joining you. sighing, his eyes blown wife while looking up at the ceiling. he props himself on his elbow to look at you, admiring your glow. you cant help but slowly let out a laugh at what the two of you just did. he shakes his head low, also laughing before leaning down to kiss you. the kiss is more passionate and sensual, unlike before. he crawls down to look at your pussy, his cum trickling down to his sheets before he wastes no time collecting and pushing them back into you. “all good” he informs before climbing back to lie beside you as you two finish catching your breaths.

you look around, scanning his room before turning your head to look at his bedside table. you notice a familiar paper, slightly crumpled. propping yourself on your elbow, you take a closer look at it. it’s the test that makes your deal, with a circled score in red at the top of it. a 62. you quickly turn to him, he’s already looking at you, a cig in his hand and a lighter in another, ready to light it. he looks at the paper in your hand and raises his eyebrow

“what ?”

“a 62, farleigh ? seriously ?”

“yeah i purposely put the wrong answers, atleast for some part of it”

he answers you, unbothered. he purses his lips around the cig, almost lighting it as he notices that you’re still waiting for some sort of explanation. he sighs before letting his head fall back onto the pillow

“i wanted you to win” he admits. your eyebrows furrowed, clearly confused

“so you can atleast see some good in me, when im not bullying you” to which you respond,

“you could’ve just stop insulting me like a normal person”

“but then everyone will realise that i was falling for you”

your face softens at his words. his eyes roam across the ceiling, trying to avoid your eyes before he continues, “—everyone knows i dont just ‘fall’ for people” you search his face for some sort of indicator that he’s trolling you but to no avail. you both sit in silence for a moment before you lean in to kiss him. his hands reach up to your face, pushing the hair covering the side of your face away. your hand reach up to cup his face, deepening the kiss. you pull away smiling at him to which he rolls his eyes playfully.“great now you have something to tease me about”. “i like you too farleigh” you quickly cut him. he cant help the smile creeping on his face. you both continue to sit in silence drinking in each others presence.

“study date ?” you suggest

“i dont study, sweetheart”

taglist: @june-ebgert @radioloom @fuckshitslover @szapizzapanda @themoonchildwhofell @love-me-pls

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tommydarlings · 10 months ago

Text

obsession at first sight | c.l

pairing: dark!stalker!perv!charles x reader

warnings: dark, stalking, obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, extremely perverse!charles???, borderline psychotic and mentally sick!charles, male masturbation, drugging, throwing up, gagging (in a non-sexual way!), mention of a panic attack, manipulation, stockholm-syndrome

w/c: 5.8k

summary: Since your school ordered you to do an internship somewhere you’d like to work at in the future, you decided to do one at the formula one Ferrari company, it was almost like a dream come true seeing everything in real life… little did you know, that from that point on, you’re life would turn into nothing more than a sick and twisted nightmare. (based off of this request)

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +65 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

It was love at first sight.

Or to describe it better, it was obsession at first sight. Because the second Charles laid his eyes upon your almost angelic and way to innocent looking figure, he knew he had to have you, one way or another, no matter the consequences, no matter the risks.

You were mindlessly wandering around the Ferrari garage while one of the not oh so important engineers explained some car related stuff to you, showing you around and simply introducing you to Ferrari.

Charles was seeing red as he watched with dark eyes how the engineer that he didn’t even bother knowing the name of showed you around and had the opportunity to talk and look at you.

And even touch you. Charles would have done absolutely anything to place his big hands onto your waist or back, feeling your delicate skin under his rough hands.

While nick — the engineer — happily explained various stuff about Ferrari to you, you caught Charles staring at you multiple times already, looking at your face, looking at your thighs covered in the black pair of leggings or starring right at your cleavage, biting his inner cheek each time you took a deep breath which made your breasts appear even bigger.

You thought it was weird since the two of you didn’t even exchange a single word yet and also probably won’t in the future but you didn’t mention it to anyone, not thinking to much about it and focusing more on the work related stuff nick was explaining to you.

Most probably, you were simply delusional. But you could sworn upon your life that you caught Charles taking a picture, or maybe even multiple picture of you, some even from different angles.

But you were probably just seeing things, so you decided to ignore it and shake it off, not thinking nor talking about it as you shook your head and removed your gaze from the weirdly–behaving monaguesque, smiling at nick again.

And oh did Charles hate the fact that you flashed this basically no-name engineer your pretty little smile that he wished to draw on your face each time you look at him from across the garage, but he could only dream.

At least for now.

“Charles! You’re needed!” One of the managers yelled at the young driver, making Charles still not remove his eyes from you.

A little smirk creeped up on his face as he watched your figure walking around next to the engineer, “coming,” he mumbled more to himself before he put his phone that contained multiple pictures of you from various angles back into his pocket, quickly walking away from you, leaving you even more confused.

—

“Don’t forget to hand in your assignments that are due until tomorrow, guys!” Your professor, Mr. Gregory, yelled through the big hall that’s filled with loud students chatting about their internships.

You smiled to yourself since you already finished it and don’t have anything to do today, so you happily left the building with your books in your hands.

Your intuition was telling you that something was off as soon as you made your way to the bus stop, multiple times checking your surroundings to see if anything seemed foul, but there was nothing.

At least that’s what you thought.

Charles — who was closely watching you the entire day already, could only chuckled as he watched you shaking your head to yourself and walk towards the bus stop you walk to every Friday at exactly 2:20 p.m with the exact same three books in your arms.

Science, literature and mathematics. Charles knew it all, he would be stupid if he wouldn’t since he’s been studying you since you left Ferrari.

The day you left Ferrari, December the 11th at around 3 p.m, Charles felt uneasy. He felt like they wickedly ripped you away from him and told you not to think to much about him.

Even though he wanted to be the only thing on your pretty little mind, just like you were the only thing on his mind.

He noticed how your feet carried your breakable, little body faster than the usual pace towards the familiar bus stop, making Charles furrow his brows.

'Why was she walking so fast?' He thought to himself before he quickly crossed the street and followed you, eyes not being able to rip themselves away from your bouncing skirt and pretty legs as he walked closer and closer to your rushing figure.

While walking behind you, Charles quickly grabbed his camera and snapped a couple of pictures of you. Some of your silky smooth hair, some of your soft legs, but most of your bottom which was covered by your white, bouncy skirt.

He bit his lips as he zoomed even further in, focusing on taking a picture in the perfect moment where the slight breeze of the wind would blow your thin skirt to the side and expose the bottom line of your panties a bit, forcing Charles to readjust his jeans.

“Fucking hell, angel,” he mumbled deeply to himself before he took a brief look at the photos he just took, “please never stop wearing that goddamn skirt, y/n baby.”

While Charles was rubbing himself over his jeans with one of his hands while the other hand held his thousand dollar camera, you were busy with your phone as you waited for the bus to come, releasing a breath of relief as he finally came.

But right when you wanted to step forward, one of your heavy books slipped out of your hand and landed onto the dirty, hard concrete floor, making you whine since you really didn’t wanted to bend down with the other heavy books in your arms.

“Wait! Here, I’ll help you,” you heard somebody yelling as a man ran towards you, taking you by surprise as you realised who it was.

“Charles Leclerc?” You laughed, not expecting to see him here… with an expansive looking camera in his hand?

Charles briefly smiled at you as he heard you saying his name, quickly trying to push the camera a bit out of your view before he bend down and picked your book back up,

“The one and only,” he joked with a kind smile, making you giggle as he handed you your science book.

Charles quickly cleared his throat as he glanced at the upcoming bus who was coming closer and closer to the bus stop the two of you were currently standing at, “You enjoyed your time at Ferrari? Did nick treat you well?” He asked with furrowed brows.

You were suprised that he even remembered you, nodding at his question, “Yep! I really liked it and nick was a great teacher, yeah!” You answered with a gentle smile.

Charles nodded even though his blood was boiling at the mention of another man’s name coming out of your pretty little but sadly empty mouth.

He shook his head with a smile as he thought about how much of his cock he could effortlessly be able to shove into your mouth before he would hear the fist gagging sound, before he would see the first tears welling up in your eyes and before he would have to wipe the first tears away from your hallowed cheeks.

“Thank you,” you quietly told him before you stepped into your bus and took off, leaving Charles at the bus stop with a growing boner and the most sinful fantasies in his head.

All of them obviously including you.

—

Charles bit his lip with a sinister smile on his face as he put some tape onto the last picture that he just printed out and sticked it to the other 49 pictures on his wall, admiring the big wall that he just proudly filled with dozens of pictures from different days and different angles.

After a few seconds of simply starring at the with pictures filled wall, he sat down onto the bed across from the covered wall and swiftly opened his pants, eagerly pulling his cock out before he slowly stared pumping his length, groaning and throwing his head back as he did so.

“Fucking shit, mon amour,” he furrowed his brows in pleasure before he groaned again,

“You make me go crazy,” the monaguesque gulped, eyes focused on the multiple pictures sticking to the wall across from his sitting figure,

“Tellement fou, tu n'en as aucune idée,” so fucking crazy, you have no idea, Charles harshly gripped the sheets with his other hand as his eyes tried to focus on one picture, but it was impossible, his gaze locked onto almost all of them, forcing more groans and moans out of him.

His knuckles were already turning red from how rough he was fisting the sheets next to his hips as his other hand got quicker, wet and slick sounds filling the hot air while Charles's eyes slightly watered from the immense pleasure he currently felt just by looking at the picture across from him.

“Oh god, oh god!” His head fell forward this time, hand that he was jerking himself off with trembling now, “I’m gonna cum for you, y/n!” He gasped loudly, deep moans and groans turning into whines, “Tu vas me faire jouir, oh mon dieu!” You’re gonna make me cum, oh my god!

Only a couple seconds later Charles was painting the various pictures with his load, eyes squeezed shut and deep, heavy breaths filling the air as his hand and legs slightly trembled from all the pleasure.

As Charles opened his eyes again and looked up at his well decorated wall, he was only able to smile at the sight on front of him.

His cum was perfectly covering a picture that he took of you yesterday. It was a bright picture that was showing your smiley face, a smiley face that was now covered in Charles's cum.

The Ferrari driver licked his lips before he buttoned his jeans back up again and laughed at the pictures.

Another one right in front of him was showing you laying on your bed in just a short top and your pink panties, some of his fresh cum now also covering your peachy ass that was facing Charles's camera since you were laying on your stomach.

Then his eyes caught a picture of you in college, nicely sitting like a good and smart girl in one of your lectures during what he guessed was German class.

He followed you everywhere. There was no place where you could possibly escape him, he knew all of your lectures and friends. When you have science or math class, when lunch break begins and ends, when you have your next German or history exam, and when you meet up after school with your friend Katie.

He knew it all. He studied it all. To the brim.

Charles slowly stood up and walked over to one of the pictures that he first sticked onto the wall since it was one of his favourite pictures — not like he got a specific favourite one since he loves every single one of them — but this one had a special place in his heart.

It was the picture of you waiting for your bus a few days ago, three books in your hands and a pretty white bow in your hair while the wind helped Charles this day and lifted your skirt up a bit, exposing the bottom of your ass cheeks to his camera.

Charles was sure that he could cum again just by looking at the picture and rubbing his fingertips over it, especially over your ass.

“Oh mon petit lapin, les choses que j'aurais pu te faire ce jour-là, mais je me suis retenu parce que je suis un bon homme, tu devrais me remercier bébé, ouais... tu devrais me remercier petit lapin,” Oh my little bunny, the things I could have done to you that day, but I held myself back because I’m a good man, you should thank me baby, yeah… you should thank me little bunny.

Then he leaned forward and gave the picture a kiss, placing his lips right there where your white skirt barely covered your bum.

Charles smiled at the picture, hand already rubbing himself through his jeans again… your body always gave him a boner.

“Hop as far away from me as you can, little bunny,” he tilted his head to the side with a tiny smile, “I will always catch you.” His smile fell before he opened his jeans back up again, urge just simple to big to resist.

—

“hurry up, little bunny,” Charles mumbled to himself before he went back to watching you through his binoculars again, “Your literature lesson begins in 20 minutes and we don’t want you to be late, now do we?”

The monaguesque watched closely from one of the windows with his black pair of binoculars as you hurried through your apartment, heavy bag strapped to your well dressed body.

But when were you not well dressed? Looking all pretty and sweet, obviously only for Charles. Exactly. Never.

“You’ve got 15 minutes left y/n, goddamnit hurry up or I drag you personally to your lesson, baby,” Charles hissed to himself before a notification on his phone caught his attention.

'Dear students of class 11B, since your literature teacher, Mr. Woolword, called in sick today… you won’t be having literature in your first period, instead you’ll be lucky and have a free period.'

And as soon as Charles read that — since he’s logged into your school schedule app with your account — he jumped up and sprinted towards one of the windows in the very back of your apartment, quietly entering your home for the hundredth time already.

“Oh god, I need to leave, shit my literature books!” You mumbled to yourself but Charles heard it, swiftly making his way to your room and taking the heavy books with him, hiding in the meantime in your closet, leaving the door a tiny bit open to get a good peek at you.

Charles caught how you cutely furrowed your brows and turned into every direction to find your literature books, but it was no use, you couldn’t find them and you were already running way to late.

The Ferrari driver who was carefully watching you with your books in his arms, grinned and bit his lip, holding the books in one arm before he grabbed his camera and quietly laid down onto the floor.

Oh you made a great choice by wearing a dress today.

With a wicked grin, Charles focused himself on being quiet but still catching the perfect moments to take a picture of your panties peeking through the bottom of the dress, smile widening each time he got the perfect picture of your bottom.

“Oh mon Dieu,” oh god, Charles groaned quietly in a raspy tone before he started rubbing his crotch against the hard floor, biting his lip and groaning and moaning in very quiet and soft tones to not catch your attention before he snapped a couple more pictures.

“Ugh, fuck it, I am already so late,” you angrily muttered to yourself before you stormed out of the room and put your shoes on, swiftly running to the bus stop… without your literature books that you — unbeknown to you — wouldn’t even need today anyway.

—

“Seriously, I’m so happy that we have a free period!” Your friend, Lydia, said with a bright smile, making you smile as well.

“Me too,” you nodded as you entered the small café that’s only a few feet away from your school. Quickly sitting down onto one of the wooden chairs in the corner of the café.

After ordering, the two of you just talked about all sorts of stuff. At first you talked about typical class drama, then you started talking about your upcoming exams and even gossiped about some of your teachers, very common stuff to talk about with your friends.

Suddenly, you heard a camera clicking. At first, you ignored it and just continued listening to Lydia explain something about the upcoming English exam to you, but when you heard the same camera click for a second time, you swiftly turned around and scanned the shop, making Lydia stop mid-sentence.

Lydia tapped your arm, “Y/n? You okay? What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, still nervously looking around the small café with wide eyes, “I-I just thought t-that I heard something… just forget it,” you mumbled more to yourself than to your worried friend.

“Heard something? What do you mean, y/n? You’re scaring me…” she trailed off, looking deeply into your eyes.

“I just thought t-that I heard a-a camera clicking… like,” you gulped, hoping that you didn’t sound to crazy, “like somebody t-taking a picture of me.”

Lydia nodded before she gulped as well and quietly stood up,

“We’re leaving, c'mon,” she took you by your hand, “I honestly can’t see anything or anyone but if you don’t feel safe or comfortable then we’ll leave,” she leaded you towards the exit while you still continued scanning the café, eyes suddenly catching very briefly another pair of eyes that way intensely looking at you.

You’ve seen that pair of eyes before, but you couldn’t put your finger on it…

Shortly after making eye contact with that familiar looking man, your friend drags you out of the café without another word.

—

You felt paranoid as you entered your apartment, Lydia closing the door behind you with a thud as she cautiously watched your pacing figure.

“What happened back there with you, y/n? You seemed so nervous and scared… did something in the past happen that you didn’t tell me?” Lydia asked you while you removed your shoes and jacket, quietly turning around.

You sighed, “I might be crazy Lydia, but… I feel like somebody has been watching me for a while now,” you whispered the last part, still nervously scanning the apartment.

Lydia gasped, walking over to you, “Why didn’t you tell me! We could have called the police by now! We'll do it now!” She said in a loud tone before she grabbed her phone but you stopped her.

“No!” You said in a louder tone, “Don’t do that, the person might be watching us now and I for sure don’t want you involved in all of this mess, okay?”

Lydia sighed before she slowly nodded, “o-okay, but please! If you notice anything shady looking again, you immediately call me, alright!” She pointed her finger at you before she made her way towards the door, slowly leaving you alone.

You gave her a tight lipped smile, “I will, I promise,” you closed the door behind her, taking a deep breath before you went upstairs.

You just really needed to lay down right now and let that all sink in, you needed to calm down for a bit.

Knock. Knock.

With a groan, you left your comfortable bed, lazily walking towards the front door again,

“Lydia!” You rolled your eyes with a tired sigh, “it’s fine! I can look out for myself, I swear-!”

But it wasn’t your friend Lydia who stood infront of your front door as you opened the it, it was formula one driver Charles Leclerc, the one you saw numerous times when you made your internship at Ferrari not to long ago.

“Oh, uhm, hey!” You smiled at him kindly, making Charles lick his lips before you spoke up again,

“What are you doing here if I may ask, mr. Leclerc?” You stopped to the side, silently welcoming him into your apartment. You couldn’t deny that he was quite good looking and charming, probably no women could deny that.

You noticed how Charles gulped and briefly smirked in a sinister way as you said mr. Leclerc instead of just Charles, but quickly replacing the smirk with a charming grin again, “I was just coincidentally in the neighbourhood for some work related stuff and thought that I personally ask you if you enjoyed it at Ferrari and if you would actually consider working there after you’re done with school!”

He told you in a happy tone, forcing you to raise your brows in utter suprise since you really didn’t expect him to ask you such question. After a few seconds, you confusingly nodded,

“Uhm, yeah! I really enjoyed it and I actually do consider working there, yep! Really loved it, was a lot of fun but also super educational which I thought was just great!” You explained to him after he entered your house, closing the door behind him,

“You want something to drink? Tea? Coffee?” You asked him, slowly walking towards the kitchen while he scanned your house… unbeknownst to you for the hundredth time already.

Charles shook his head, “just a glass of water, please,” he flashed you a bright smile before he watched you disappear into the kitchen.

While you were grabbing a glass of water for the young Ferrari driver in your living room, Charles quickly pulled his phone out of his pants and opened his notes app, proudly crossing one of the tasks on his little 'To-do List' off.

Get her to invite you into her house and make her feel comfortable around your presence.

Charles could only smile and cheekily bite his lip before he was forced to quietly throw his phone onto the small table infront of him since he already heard you coming and just a few seconds later you handed him the small glass with that infamous smile of yours.

Oh how he wanted wipe that smile off of your beautiful face and replace it with a pathetic pout while you’re desperately begging for his cock.

After taking a few sips of the cold water, Charles spoke up,

“Where’s your bathroom if I may ask?” He turned towards your smaller frame, looking down at you with soft eyes.

“Just right around the corner over there!“ you pointed towards the small hallway. Charles quietly thanked you before he left you alone in your living room.

You kindly smiled again before you noticed his slightly cracked phone laying on your small table. You know that you usually shouldn’t do that, especially not with the phone of a celebrity but your curiosity got the best out of you, so you carefully picked his phone up and ran your fingers over the cracks on the back of it, wondering why he is just not buying himself a new phone… isn’t that man like a millionaire?

But as you turned the phone around, you were suprised to see that Charles didn’t lock it, almost as if he was in a hurry and just quickly tossed in onto your living room table.

But what was even more surprising to you was the fact that his phone brightly showed a note in his notes app, a very distrusting note.

Get her to invite you into her house and make her feel comfortable around your presence.

Which is crossed out.

You furrowed your brows before you swiped further down and gulped as you read the next couple of words on his disturbing 'To-do' list,

Carefully gain her trust and use your charm on her.

Which is also crossed out.

With wide eyes, you nervously bit your lip before you glanced towards the hallway, checking if he’s not hiding behind the wall or something.

Luckily, he didn’t caught you…yet.

After taking a deep breath, you scrolled again,

Ask her if you can use your bathroom.

Crossed off as well.

Your bottom lip was already trembling in pure terror as you dared to scroll further, swallowing tears down as your eyes scanned the next terrifying words,

Force her into unconsciousness after coming back from the bathroom by standing behind her trembling figure while she’s going through your notes ;).

Before you were even able to gasp, a big wet cloth covered your mouth from behind, giving you as good as no time to fight before you heard his voice in your ear from behind,

“Shh, go to sleep, little angel… I’ll wake you up again when I need you, okay?” Gently kissing your temple before you feel not only into unconsciousness, but also into Charles arms.

He chuckled, “knew you’d be a curious little bunny, going through the phone of other people… that’s not something a typical good and smart girl like you should be doing, hmm? Guess I need to teach you better then.”

—

Slowly, you felt yourself waking up, rising from the bed that you were laying on with a groan as you tried to come to your senses again.

Your shaking hands went up to your head, checking if you’re bleeding or hurt in any kind of way.

Nothing.

You sighed in relief, but that relief was quickly replaced by pure shook and fear as you realised what the room that Charles put you in looked like, eyes widening and suddenly getting automatically filled with tears.

Pictures. Pictures of you. Pictures of you in any possible size, captured from every possible angle.

You gasped, hand immediately covering your mouth as you started helplessly crying, shaking your head as you turned your head and scanned the other pictures on the other side of the room with wide eyes, legs quickly leaving the bed that you guessed was his.

This… was his bedroom.

The walls in his bedroom were filled to the absolute brim with pictures of you. Pictures where you were walking to school, coming home from school, pictures from the small window that perfectly showed your living room, pictures that showed you taking a shower or that showed you sleeping in your bedroom.

You walked through his bedroom, eyes scarily scanning every single picture with a poor, blurry vision as your hand couldn’t stop shaking.

Pictures from inside the house. Pictures visibly taken from your closet, from a disgusting angle that perfectly showed your ass and panties. Pictures taken of you as you changed in your bedroom, showing you completed naked or pictures that showed you masturbating.

He caught every single moment, every single activity of yours, it was perfectly visible on the walls of his bedroom.

You never felt so sick before, you swiftly covered your mouth with your hand but it was already too late, quickly, you went to a corner of his bedroom and loudly threw up, emptying your stomach as your sobs only got more violent.

Suddenly, you felt a hand on your shoulder and another hand holding your hair back, helping you as you continued throwing up in disgust.

You shook your head and groaned, tears staining your red cheeks, “L-Let go of me! Now!” You tried to run away from him but Charles quietly put one of his arms around your waist and pressed you against him, other hand still holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail so that they wouldn’t be hanging in your face.

“Shhh,” he mumbled in your ear from behind, almost as if he was trying to sound comforting as the thumb of his other hand stroked your hip, “It’s okay, you can let it all out,” Charles told you quietly, “I’m here.”

You bend forward again and threw up another load as you felt him touching you and stroking your hip in a reassuring manner, making your head spin even more before you shook your head again,

“N-No!” You took a deep breath as you placed your palms on his biceps, “you’re a-” you gulped and took a deep breath, “you’re a monster! L-Let me go, p-please!” You pleaded with teary eyes and a sore throat.

Charles furrowed his brows behind you and shook his head with a giggle, “what? No! I’m helping you, can’t you see?” His voice got a bit louder, “I’ve never done anything bad to you, angel!” The Ferrari driver stated, almost sounding proud to be able to say that.

It sickened you even more.

“You’re sick!” You spat at him, gagging again as he pressed himself closer to you, your mind not being able to forget the awful pictures that are surrounding the two of you at the moment.

Your hand squeezed his biceps as you softly cried, “C-Charles, please!” You begged, “Let me o-out of here, I’m begging you. I need t-to get out of t-this room, please,” voice quiet but rough as you leaned forward and squeezed your eyes shut, trying your best to avoid looking at all of those pictures.

“You want to get out of this beautiful room, mon amour, why?” He chuckled into your ear from behind whilst he squeezed your hip with his palm, lips still running along your temple, cheek and neck. You felt it all.

He chuckled again, “I decorated it all so beautifully for you and me, do you even know how much time that took? And now you wanna leave? You’re such an ungrateful little bitch, do you know that?” The driver spat at you from behind in a harsh tone as you felt like you would choke to death on your tears any second, you never cried that much before.

You repeatedly shook your head but slowly tried to give up, letting your head hang low with a tired sigh as you tried your best to calm yourself down since you felt like you were on the verge of a panic attack.

Charles somehow took notice of that, slowly letting his grip fall around your hips but still pressing himself against you from behind, standing up straight to peck the top of your head, “you're finally coming to your senses and calming down, huh? Good girl.”

Your bottom lip trembled as you couldn’t stop to sniffle and whine, big, teary eyes scanning the pictures on the walls as if they were the scariest things you’ve ever seen.

And honestly, they were the scariest things you’ve ever laid your eyes on. No doubt.

“Yeah,” Charles whispered from behind your trembling figure as he scanned the room as well, “take a look around, my angel,” he smiled at the various pictures, “they’re so pretty, aren’t they? I’m quite proud of myself to be honest,” he admitted with an evil grin as he proudly stared at his walls.

You took deep breaths and still shook your head as you also dared yourself to look around his room, finger still unintentionally squeezing his big and muscular arms that wouldn’t let your waist go, “h-how long did a-all of that take you?” You don’t even why you asked that question, apparently you were simply curious.

Charles thought about it for a few seconds as his eyes didn’t leave 'his work'.

“Well, including the taking the pictures, printing them out, perfectly cutting them to the right size and sticking them all into a specific order onto the wall… about three months, why are you asking, sweet girl?”

You gasped before you let your head hung low again, watching how the tears started to stain his floor. Pathetically, you only whined.

Charles furrowed his brows, “what’s wrong, my angel? You don’t like it?” He asked carefully as if he would really care right now, but you only whined and cried, whined and cried and whined and cried even more, so much that you’re entire body already started to feel the pain that was consuming your mind.

You felt like you could scream. like you could cry nonstop, until you have not a single drop of a tear left anymore, like you could breakdown and pass out and wish that you’ll never wake up again. you felt so inhuman… so disconnected from yourself as you sobbed.

And then it happened, you quickly turned your body to the right side and broke down, knees and palms hitting the floor with a tiny thud as you felt like you’re breaking into a million pieces, all created because of him.

Charles immediately went down with you, arms now removing themselves from your waist before he positioned his body in front of you and picked you up, cradling you reassuringly in his embrace before he set you down onto his lap, leaning against the wall with your small, shaking figure.

“Shh,” he whispered as his back touched multiple pictures of you, “I am sorry, my sweet angel, I’m sorry,” he mumbled into your ear as you only squeezed your eyes shut and let the tears stain his shirt.

Was he actually apologising? Wow, but why now?

Your hands slowly left the floor and placed themselves on his broad shoulder, trembling fingers fisting his t-shirt as he went on in a hush tone,

“I‘m sorry that you don’t seem to like the pictures, I have six envelopes each filled with one hundred-fifty-five other pictures of you, my love… I can replace them if you’d like,” he shrugged as he kissed your temple, right hand caressing your head while the other hand went up and down your back.

You were done. You were so tired, confused and disturbed. Sadly, you let your head drop into the crook of his neck, purely out of humongous weakness, shedding those immense amounts of tears really does take a toll on the human body.

Charles sighed, “believe it or not, sweet little thing, you’re the absolute safest… only in my arms, and nowhere else, you understand that, right?” Hands suddenly trembling ever more as you heard his words being whispered directly into your ear.

After you didn’t answer for a few seconds, Charles got impatient, “right?” He spat in a rather harsh tone at you, hand now pulling your head by your hair out of the crook of his neck and forcing you to look at him with your teary eyes.

You immediately nodded, sniffling after you whined at his rough grip on your hair, “r-right, yes C-Charles,” you could have puked again the second you mumbled his name, it all made you sick. His touch. His name. His voice. His words.

He made you sick. Letting your body feel sick, but also your mind.

“Good,” he leaned forwards and kissed your wet and red cheeks, gently kissing your tears away while his hand let go of your hair and softly massaged your scalp now, “That’s the good girl I like, don’t disobey me, okay? It will only force me to hurt that pretty little body of yours and I don’t want that, alright? You’re way to pure and beautiful for that, my angel,” he mumbled.

Your hands shook unstoppably on his broad shoulders, so hard that even Charles noticed.

The formula one driver briefly looked at your soft hands shaking on his shoulder before he looked back at you,

“Oh no, you’re all shaky, sweet girl,” he looked worried, “c‘mere,” Charles told you in a soft tone before he grabbed both of your hands and raised them up to his lips, gently giving each of your palm a lightweight kiss, lips only briefly grazing your skin as he kept his eyes on you.

“It’s okay, just calm down for me, you’ll feel better then, I promise,” he whispered, thumb caressing your palms before he intertwined your hands with his, lightly squeezing them.

#fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #charles leclerc #charles #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #Charles Leclerc x fem!reader #request #classic f1 #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 ferrari

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revelboo · 5 days ago

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Hiii! Can we have an update for (any) Megatron, Soundwave or Shockwave? Whoever you’re in the mood for <3 thank you!!!

I think I’m due to update this one. Constructicons are next. Clumsy Heart, Everything Is Alright, and Worker Bee if i don’t get busy. Maybe I Can Feel You.

Point of Extinction Pt 9

TFP Shockwave x Reader

• Recreate home. You keep turning that over in your head, trying to figure it out and knowing you need more information. Remembering the deer, that twisted fusion of metal and flesh, makes you wonder if his whole world is metal, which you guess might make sense since he’s metal. Weirdly living, warm metal nothing like earth metal. And you wonder if his goal is to do to the world what he’d done to the deer. It’s hard to guess what he’s thinking, hard to follow the way his mind works. Sometimes when he looks at you, you’d swear he’s thinking about dissecting you. Something that’s occurred to you more than once. “What am I to you?”

• Head dipping slightly even though he can’t see you where you’re sprawled warm against the mesh of his neck, he reaches up to find you, muzzle of his cannon bumping against your hip with that unpleasant disconnected thought that there should be a hand there. The simple answer is as it’s always been. You’re an experimental subject. His thirteenth and the longest surviving. Because he never experimented on you. Running the edge of his cannon up your spine, that answer isn’t quite right anymore and he knows it. He’d spared you, wanted to keep you even though he can’t figure out the why. Every time he considers moving you back to the lab, that dissonance in his head grows worse. “You’re Thirteen.”

• Which is no answer at all, but vague or blunt seems to be all he knows how to be. And living every day with the fear that whenever he reaches for you it might be to carry you back to that other room. That he’s going to take you apart out of curiosity or boredom at some point. This uncertainty, the constant dread is almost worse than being physically hurt. He’s breaking you day by day and you don’t even think he realizes. “Yeah, I’m Thirteen.” Shoulders tense as he absently strokes you, your chest grows so tight it hurts. “But what are you going to do with me? Am I a pet now? Still an experiment?”

• There’s a miserable edge to your voice, an emotion he can’t identify, can’t understand but it hurts. Reaching up to catch you in his servos, he sits up and uses the end of his cannon to tip your face toward him. Freezing as he realizes you’re leaking again. Eyes welling as tears slide down your cheeks and that noise in his processor gets worse, those memories that aren’t his clawing at him. Can hear someone screaming. Thinks it might be him.

• Breath coming quick as his servos tighten around you until it hurts, until you can’t really breathe. Somehow you triggered him again, his one optic dim as he shivers with those barely perceptible tremors, lost in the grip of whatever this is. But he’s crushing you and not even realizing. Crying out, you push at his servos, clawing desperately. “Shockwave, stop!” And those antenna lift, servos relaxing around you as you collapse in his palm, wrapping your arms around yourself. Aware of him rocking slightly, frame curling forward around you. The end of his cannon hovering over you, as if afraid to touch you as you shake. “It’s okay.” Not sure if you’re reassuring him or yourself. Because he’d zoned out and nearly killed you without meaning to. “It’s okay.” Even if it’s really not as you reach up to lay your palm on his cannon and he keeps slowly rocking back and forth.

#transformers x reader #shockwave x reader #tfp shockwave

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forwards-beckon-rebound · 18 days ago

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dick grayson figure skating hcs

i swear i wasn’t searching for any skater specifically but what am i supposed to do, look at yuzuru hanyu and not use the pic?

ft mostly men’s singles but there’s bonus dick x reader pairs at the end

we’ve talked about dick grayson going to the olympics for gymnastics

what probably happened was the batfam got together and decided to watch the summer olympics and we got to pommel horse guy

and jason made some comment about how that guy’s basically just a better dick

and he took that personally

so of course he’s already calling up the us gymnastics team because what is the point of being bruce wayne’s son if you don’t have the most random connections ever (and they were probably already begging him to join anyways)

but 4 years is a long time to wait, so in the meantime, he decides to work on competing in the winter olympics too

and he just so happens to be a figure skating prodigy bc ofc he is (bruce signs them up for a lot of extracurriculars so all of the bat kids are weirdly good at random stuff)

ooooh this means that he’d be good at ballet too which pisses me off

he’s kinda like nathan chen in the sense that this guy is good at too many things and my asian parents would unfortunately love him

anyways! back on topic

unfortunately brian orser cannot be flown out to gotham every day (if you don’t know who he is, he is simply the goat i don’t make the rules) so dick probably has a different coach for day to day training

but he went to intensives a couple of times a year growing up

he kinda stopped when the titans and nightwing stuff got to be too much to handle but the two of them still keep in touch and brian’s like i can’t believe my star pupil is wasting his talents being a cop, why is he not on the ice

so you KNOW as soon as the olympics idea comes up dick’s calling brian up and bro sheds tears when he gets the call

he already had the routines planned out and the songs picked because he keeps on getting ideas and being like this is so dick grayson coded (with the same energy as somebody writing headcanons i imagine)

guys hear me out, fun jazzy short

like he gets the crowd to clap along and he just has the brightest smile on his face the whole time

yes i am thinking about kagiyama yuma’s song choice at the beijing olympics. and honestly his outfit too but i’m imagining dick’s is a brighter blue

and you think it’s all fun and games

AND HE PULLS OUT THE CLEANEST 3A + 1EU + 4L KNOWN TO MAN

and ofc he can do a quad axel who is surprised

lives were changed with the short 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

alsoooooo the ISU legalized backflips now and you know dick is gonna do one of those

ACTUALLY if you guys have ever seen malinin's raspberry twist

are we seeing the vision guys

i feel like he would choose something more emotional for his free (gotta get those performance points)

if nobody is bawling by the end of his program then i am dead

i selfishly want him to skate to yuri on ice (like the actual piece, although i can make a whole list of yuri on ice songs i think would suit him) but i don't know if he's a weeb like that

as a dancer, i feel like step sequences is where i'm the least impressed

he would not disappoint though, like everything's so clean? and so emotive?

i feel like he was built for the biellmann, especially the hyperextended and no i'm not taking notes

THE PRETTIEST OUTFITS EVER

if anybody wants to draw fanart of dick in yuzuru hanyu's skating costumes haha

at the end of his program he's going to point towards his family and bow to them ofc

butttttt he may or may not send a particularly smug look in jason's direction

and the wide grin that he has on his face when he's announced the winner is made even wider because he knows that jason's in the stands gnashing his teeth

bonus: fanfic idea? dick x reader pairs event where they grew up skating together

they had crushes on each other but never said anything

they get into a fight because dick wants to quit

but then a few years later he’s like haha wanna compete together?

and reader thinks he’s not taking this seriously and is still mad at him for leaving but brian’s like great! welcome back dick so obviously they’re stuck together now

and of course they have a very…interesting program (tumblr is not letting me add the link but just search up the tessa virtue and scott moir moulin rouge perfrormance)

at first it’s super awkward, dick’s like not even super sure why she’s still acting weird around him, they continue to butt heads

and it all culminates in their free, when they realize that these emotions aren’t just for performance points but actually genuine??

AND THEN THEY KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE

okay that’s all!

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murderofsomeone · 2 months ago

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it's probably decently obvious that my main lemon demon design was created BEFORE seeing any fandom depictions (or even really that much official art past the logo) because of how violently he stands out in comparison to other designs. it's a little obvious that my inspiration was self-contained and it granted me a bit of creative freedom along with a completely different train of thought while designing him. his three eyes however is very much a relic of 2022 because I was designing a lot of demons with asymmetrical faces at the time and well, why not make another

anyway here's a comparison of him to my most recent lemon demon original design (where it's a bit more obvious I was influenced by somewhat of a fandom culture)

extra bonus rambling under the cut

my general design process has actually stayed relatively contained with a few exceptions like soft fuzzy man's color and weirdly neil himself. yeah sorry chat neil is the first guy that was highly influenced by someone else's design you can shoot me too if you'd like. but I legitimately believe he's the only real example because every other character that has a design remotely similar to someone else is likely due to us both following a similar source material (like my cabinet design being based off polybius) or there being only so many ways to interpret the design (gef the mongoose would've fallen into this category if it wasn't for the fact I made him Joker colors)

in general I tend to follow a mindset of how "weird" I can make a design or how much I can push a lyric/implement it into a design. I also like to twist around the convention and try new things. a good example of both of these apply to my doctor amnesia design.

really the main things going through my head were "well he didn't state HOW many eyes", chosing an eye color that often is overlooked in conventional beauty standards to elevate them and cause you to think, while leaning into the somewhat otherworldly nature she's depicted in by giving her blue skin, a color I associate with the song.

another fun thing I'll do is create a "design pipeline" where I'll take an attribute and run it through a list of connections before we end up in a place long past where we started or just combining a bunch of traits that could be interpreted that way, resulting in designs like this.

though wolfgang isn't my weirdest design, he definitely did not start where we ended off. I believe before the wizard of oz theming for clown circus was set in stone (a choice that has EVERYTHING to do with oz explodes and an element I'll explain later), he was some kinda mirror object head that had absolutely nothing to do with his current namesake. since I wasn't satisfied with that design, I kept a relative aspect of the personality and shapes and thus ended up creating a really interesting take on a character who is largely depicted as... well there's no really good way to say this, but Bad.

since I was working with a new fresh aspect I started by making him a wolf... and then connecting him to "there's a robot in my head". this kind of connected the dots to ultimately make him associated to the tin man, since no one was connected to that character for the wizard of oz element and it was up for grabs (this is also how he somehow got associated with toasters via connecting the previously mentioned song to "what's in the toaster", etc etc). these pipelines of connecting songs that aren't normally related, but making them Work in a believable way makes designs more interesting for me and gives them a bit more purpose and personality. I think this is what ultimately makes people get a bit lost on my interpretations considering they aren't super simple by just being about One Song, but by being about multiple that aren't originally related in the source material. just like how I connected dr amnesia to when he died, explaining a bit of her more mildly supernatural or off-putting elements by making the man in that song her father.

the final real design element that I focus on is the strange rule I follow in terms of how these characters are shaped. there's a massive sort of "alice in wonderland" theming going on in terms of how human/humanoid designs look in contrast to designs that look less and less human. their proportions become more cartoon and shaped, their sizes are affected etc etc all while the human/humanoid characters stay relatively normal next to each other with more believable design elements.

here's the horrid long strip of nearly 100 different character renders next to each other to get a general idea on what I'm talking about

the silhouettes of the human characters "pop" less because they're supposed to contrast to their nonhuman counterparts. which isn't something I normally do, but given the source idea of a sort of "wonderland", I think it works in this specific context.

in conclusion: I'm design autistic and like to use designing to try new things, which is why I fucked that lemon up. sorry about that chat

#guy on the right is completely unaffiliated with the ncu which is why I don't think about him that much sorry ld #also imagine him with half circle black eyes like the logo design because that's legitimately the only colored art of him #nobody has ever actually asked me about this before so I will no longer wait for permission #debating whether or not I should even main tag this I want this self contained to my followers #but it's late so I'm sure no one will see this anyway erm #edit: fuck it it took like ten morbillion years to write the bonus stuff I'm main tagging #lemon demon #mos text post

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mayumml · 9 months ago

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Midori is not a good lover

The REAL Sou Hiyori relationship headcanons <3

first off, you don’t know if he genuinely likes you or not and most likely will never be sure

Maybe you’re a piece of pawn in his stupid chess game but what can you do?

Midori manipulates and gaslights you just like with anyone else, you’re the primary victim that receives most of it though

He seems like a man that didn’t have a heart, and he literally doesn’t

Feels like he doesn’t know how to act in a relationship or more like he doesn’t care enough to

You think he’d choose his work over you anytime

He’s so on and off with his affection

He treats you like everyone else, particularly more strict with you sometimes and scolds you more often than the other participants

This fucker is adamant about “being fair to all participants and not letting a personal relation change that” and yet you feel like he’s being the most unfair to you

Even more passive aggressive when it comes to you, he loves to bring up the past and laugh when you get pissed

But then sometimes, he would appear out of nowhere and gives you a quick peck

You’d expect him to be open to PDA, and yet he only ever initiates (and allows) any affection when it’s just the two of you

You’re conflicted, though, at certain times he’ll choose a timing where most of everyone is gathered in one place and approach you with the most affection you’ll ever receive from him

He makes sure everyone is looking, maybe it’s his way of showing his twisted sense of superiority?

Midori very quickly reverts back to ignoring you if he is satisfied

You learn that he is extremely possessive

Yes, you get fed up with his shit many times and he knows it well

Does he ever apologize? Never.

Like ever.

You could confront him, but he’ll give you the same saccharine smile and feigns innocence

“What’s wrong with me showing my lover off to everyone? Does that upset you?”

When you try to explain that’s not why you’re upset, he convinces you that you’re overreacting and somehow makes you seem like the bad guy for “not wanting to be seen with him.” (bitchass)

Weirdly loves small talk

Midori would interrogate you whenever he pleases and ask about your favorite color to wear on a rainy day

You cant tell if he really cares about your responses at all because he just stands there and blinks with his smile and throws follow up questions at you

Kind of feels like he wants to know everything about you but also nothing at the same time

Remembers small, itty bitty details about you

It’s endearing but also freaks you out because he remembers which angle you prefer to wear your collar

Very touchy when he wants to be, but acts like a jerk when he decides he doesn’t feel like it

Limited use of pet names because he prefers calling you by your name

Will call you sweetheart (mockingly most of the time), “my favorite participant,” or a shortened version of your name

Likes to receive but doesn’t give, unless he needs something

You don’t know why you’re still with him

Midori is very good at making you feel special but also worthless

Will give you overly expensive presents that you don’t need and stare at your reaction as you open them

(does he think this makes up for his neglect as a partner?)

Very likely to give you jewelry with his initials, he might have one with your initials but won’t wear it

Sucks at comforting

He actually just doesn’t comfort at all

He makes things worse when you’re upset

“You’re crying? Humans really are sentimental beings, after all. I guess crying is all that you’re capable of.”

Let you play and style with his hair in private

Gets defensive and change the subject when you mention Shin’s history with him

Avoids personal questions like the plague

Actively tries to poke into every corner of your life. Boundaries? What’s that?

Not a very good partner, he’s just not a good person in general

Midori rarely mentions your relationship in front of the other participants, but when he does, he refers to you as his lover

Will pair you with him with the red light, he knows you don’t have the guts to kill him

Urges you on to kill him way too often

He gives you a smug knowing grin and a kiss when you can’t do it

Don’t try to physically hurt him, it turns him on (he won’t hesitate to break your arm)

Remember when I said he’s very possessive?

Fucker treats you like an object

no one takes what belongs to him

Won’t be the type to defend you and won’t fight if someone hits on you

He would direct the conversation elsewhere and weird out whoever it is somehow (always works)

Shows up a few days later with news that the attacker mysteriously jumped of a building (willingly?)

His romantic side is very unconventional

“Would you love me even if I was a worm?”

“Worms are rather dirty and invasive, are they not? I’d rather not deal with a pest, thanks.”

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electrozeistyking · 2 months ago

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Poor Little Star.

Summary: Beneath the Favor Tree, Loop has a moment to think about everything. (Takes place in the Longer Than Necessary AU.)

At first, watching your stupid little stardust bumbling around had been somewhat funny.

He had gotten himself trapped in a time loop, and you were put here to help him, of course, even though it wasn’t like you would’ve had much of a choice. It’s your job, as their helpful guide Loop; you’re supposed to help them.

You gave them tips and tricks to help them get through it. You spoke with him about different things, answering his questions and occasionally interjecting to ask him some of your own. You grew used to talking a lot more and throwing theories around with him, even going so far as to test one of those theories against his will.

It’d been weirdly cathartic, in a way. You hadn’t minded helping him, but you couldn’t deny that seeing him go through something worse than what you had made you feel better about the whole thing. You got to sit back and relax, knowing you didn’t have to be center stage.

But the loop count grew.

And more.

And more still.

Your stardust had blown up one loop, lashing out at his party and at yourself. He’d wanted nothing more than to kill that stupid so-called King with his own bare hands, simply because he’d been convinced it was the only way to end the loops — even though you’d known for a fact it wouldn’t.

That was the only time you had spoken with their party. Your stardust had gone into The House alone, and you’d helped their party reach them, giving them the tools and the context they needed to do so, all thanks to some weird and cruel twist of fate... but your stardust had completely burnt out before then.

Next loop you had seen him, your stardust had looked so empty and lifeless. To this day (loop? whatever), you still find yourself wondering how he’d even managed to walk to the Favor Tree without collapsing.

And if that wasn’t enough, you still remember how they hadn’t responded when you’d tried to push their buttons and tease them. But it hadn’t worked, so you’d given up at one point; and now they’re still tired and hazy, like they barely know what’s happening anymore. You can still remember how the star in your chest sunk when he first started calling you “Loo.”

And yet you let him.

Because that was fine, wasn’t it?

You called them “stardust,” so you’d reasoned you might as well let them have “Loo.” He’d blown up in one fiery burst of mania and anger and hate, then turned himself into a heaping pile of ash and hollowness and agony. You had the feeling he was forcing himself to go through everything again because he had no idea what else to do.

Therefore, it only made sense you let them have their silly little nickname for you, in exchange for further assistance in getting out of the loops. Even if doing so felt like someone was twisting a blinding dagger in your chest.

Because they would have to break free, right? Maybe you’ll feel like you’re swallowing molten rocks when that moment finally comes, but you would have to be content with the fact you at least did your job, should they finally get out.

Not that you’re very good at that anymore.

You were meant to help him get out. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Despite knowing it was through words being twisted, you were meant to be their someone who could help free them. And yet you couldn’t even do that, could you? Now look at your stardust. They’re falling apart because you can’t help them.

You’ve been watching as more of himself slips through the cracks in his memory every loop. He grows even hazier and more forgetful the longer he’s trapped. Humans weren’t meant to have so many years worth of memories stuffed in their head, after all; older memories keep falling away to make room for new ones.

He can’t remember what the earliest loops were like, or what his life was like before they ever started. They don’t remember that you were ever called Loop, their helpful guide to help them through the loops. You sometimes wonder if they remember who they are, or if they’ve forgotten what they had left.

But you.

You’re just so special now, aren’t you? They can’t remember, but you can. Because you’re not human, is that right?

Oh, who are you kidding? Of course you’re not human anymore, just look at yourself! You’re some weird star-headed thing now, a blinding ethereal being who knows things they never should’ve been cursed to learn. You speak of wrong buttons and secret Craft signs and dialogue branches.

You can bend the rules, ever so slightly.

You helped your stardust do the same.

So why are they still here, Loop?

What have you been doing wrong? How could you have let them reach this point? Just how blinding stupid are you?

You hear footsteps and look up, torn from your own thoughts.

Ah. Speak of the devil. Here’s your stardust now.

#in stars and time #isat #in stars and time au #isat au #longer than necessary au #ltn au #in stars and time loop #isat loop #in stars and time spoilers #isat spoilers #but extremely mildly because loop refuses to think about them in depth.#do i tag siffrin. i mean this is more loop thinking about them a good portion of the time and beating themself up #and then siffrin technically showing up for one (1) millisecond near the end.#you know what. doing it anyway #in stars and time siffrin #isat siffrin #zeisty’s writings #yeah that's a new tag. whoah :D #zeisty’s heavy hitters

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charliedawn · 3 months ago

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At this point I'm livin in your asks, I even made myself a lil dumpster here in the corner<3 nO cause I have all these IDEAS and I want to share them

Ok so imagine- nurse but with.. The most psychotic, unhinged laugh ever when mad. I THINK IT'D BE STARTLING because imagine this.. you get a nice, seemingly gentle nurse with a considerable amount of patience, right? Like never losing temper. And then just one day there's this FERAL, LOUD, CRAZY, MAD laugh that's coming from the nurse while being absolutely furious. Like it starts off as a little giggle.. a little snicker then progressively gets louder and more mad, eyes all wide and everything + bonus if the smile is wide kind of like a Cheshire cat-

PERSONALLY I'd be a lil terrified..

Pennywise

Pennywise (being the older, grumpier brother) might start off annoyed by your giggle, like it’s a personal challenge to his status as the scarier clown. As your laugh becomes more wild and feral, he’d likely become sarcastic, rolling his eyes and perhaps saying something snarky about how “that’s supposed to be terrifying ? Please. That’s mildly disturbing. That’s not even scary.” But deep down, he'd recognize a kindred chaotic spirit and might even respect you for that mad laugh that he’d try to imitate, though he wouldn’t admit it. His temper might flare if he felt you were trying to steal his thunder, though.

Penny

Penny would absolutely love your laugh. Being more jovial and already in touch with his own sense of humor, he’d probably join in the madness, laughing louder than you just to outdo you. He might even mirror your expressions, eyes wide, smile growing, almost turning it into a clownish competition. Penny would feed off the energy, thoroughly enjoying your descent into insanity as it plays right into his love for chaos.

Together, the two brothers would probably create a hilariously terrifying scene, with Penny encouraging the madness and Pennywise growing grumpier but secretly impressed.

Michael Myers

Michael’s a wall of stoic terror. Your laugh would do nothing to phase him. He’d stand there, silently watching as your laughter grows more unhinged, with his blank, emotionless mask betraying no reaction. However, if you started getting in his way or threatening him, the laugh wouldn’t be enough to stop him from quietly and methodically dealing with the situation. Michael is the embodiment of relentless, silent death.

Michael *locks you up in a room during on of your episodes with snacks and drinks until you have calmed down before letting you back out.*

He does the same thing when any of the other slashers starts acting out or needs a time out.

Norman Bates

Norman would be extremely unsettled by your laugh. He’s got his own psychological issues to deal with, but he hides behind a veneer of politeness and calmness. Your sudden transformation from gentle to psychotic would make Norman incredibly anxious, especially if the laugh reminds him of his mother’s domineering personality. It could either terrify him into submission, or trigger his own psychotic break as “Mother” which would come out to deal with the situation.

Norman *smiles weirdly* : "Come here, ~honey."

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms would be intrigued but wary. Your split personality—kind and patient, then suddenly unhinged—would appeal to his own dual nature. He might watch with fascination, especially if you are exhibiting some level of control or manipulation. However, if your laugh becomes too wild or threatening, Brahms would likely retreat into the shadows, waiting or hiding until you are back to normal. He is a rather skittish boy.

Jack Torrance

Jack would probably love it at first. He is already unhinged, so seeing someone else lose their mind in such a theatrical way would resonate with his own mind. That eerie laugh would excite him. He might even encourage it with that classic Jack Torrance grin, joining in with a twisted chuckle of his own. He’s more likely to egg you on than to be intimidated.

BUT.

If that laugh is to disturb him when he is writing ? Jack wouldn’t be happy. REALLY not happy.

Jack *grits his teeth* : "Sweetheart. You know I love you, right ? But you gotta REALLY learn to quiet down, especially when I am working, yeah ? Because I really need some peace and quiet to focus. And I can’t do that when you laugh the way you do RIGHT next to my damn head ! So, please. Understand. And go take a walk, okay ?"

Freddy Krueger

Freddy thrives on chaos, fear, and nightmares. The unhinged laughter would probably make him pause, but only because he’d be sizing up the competition. Freddy’s known for his own creepy one-liners and maniacal laughter, so he'd probably start mocking you, mimicking your laugh in his own way. It would be a twisted back-and-forth, with Freddy finding you more entertaining than threatening. He would also make it a competition to know who between the both of you can be the loudest and most obnoxious.

Jason Voorhees

Jason is similar to Michael in that nothing phases him. Your laughter might momentarily confuse him, but it wouldn’t change much. Jason doesn’t react to fear or craziness—he’s a force of nature, almost mechanical in his killing spree. The laughter might momentarily take him aback, but Jason would simply tilt his head and then go on with his day.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 2017 #slashers #pennywise x reader #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #freddy krueger #norman bates x reader #jack torrance x reader

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medra-gonbites · 1 month ago

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Baldur's Gate 3 Companion Head Canon Disney Animation Edition

I think most people of my generation (I'm fairly old I suppose) and culture have a favourite disney animation film. Herego, of course I tried to guess which one it would be for our favourite weirdos.

My favourite is in there. Is yours too?

Lae’zel | Lilo & Stitch (2002)

Much like her, Stitch landed on a planet whose inhabitants won't let her murder and destroy stuff as she wishes. But she got attached and now you cannot get rid of her. Ohana means family and family means she’ll get you to that goddamn crèche.

Shadowheart | The Fox and the Hound (1981)

A story about adoption and friendship; what's not to like. Especially the friends to ennemies back to friends bit; weirdly relatable for her. Some scenes make her cry so much she needs to pause and cast restoration on herself. At least, there is a happy end.

Gale | Tangled (2010)

Yearning for something more while cloistered in a tower and being saved by a charming doofus. That's Gale right there: surrounded by sassy pets and singing by the window while brushing his luscious hair.

Astarion | Cinderella (1950)

He hates that he loves it. It’s practically his life, what with the terrible siblings and sadistic mother. Except he wouldn't need rats and mice to make a stunning dress… And he'd probably eat them… But safe from that, essentially the same.

Karlarch | Big Hero 6 (2014)

A tale of friendship, grieving and forgiveness. Being part of a little group of wannabe heroes for whom one would give everything; yeah that's what she's talking about. She might not be white and round but Baymax is her and she is it.

Wyll | The Little Mermaid (1989)

Save someone despite ones own safety? Check. Signing a very unbalanced contract that guarantees one would be screwed over? Check. Daddy issue. Check. Songs. Check, check, check! It's like he wrote the damn thing.

Halsin | Bambi (1942)

He's sad that there are no bears in this one, but other than that it's an accurate depiction of what he's seen in the forest while in wild shape (yes, even the ice skating bit! Rabbits do that).

Minthara | The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)

It's gritty, dark and twisted. She loves the music and takes great pleasure watching Frollo tumble to his death in a lava pool. Good smiting is good smiting

Jaheira | 101 Dalmatians (1961)

In a sense, isn't she responsible for a bunch of puppies and trying to save them from being skinned alive? Yes. Yes, she is.

Minsc | Ratatouille (2007)

He almost sued when he watched it the first time because he felt plagiarized: That's how he cooks with boo (except boo uses the hair on his back).

Gortash | The Great Mouse Detective (1986)

There is engineering, scheming, and disguise. Although to him it's a drama because the villain, the suave and manipulative Rattigan, who's the hero in his eyes, dies tragically and prematurely without carrying out his masterplan.

Orin | Aladdin (1992)

I have no explanation but I just know it's Aladdin.

What do you think? Any other character and their favourite Disney you can think about ?

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thatfeelinwhenyou · 2 months ago

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SMOKE SCREENS & CIGARETTES — part two

part one | masterlist

#5 - Blood ain’t thicker than peace of mind

You wake up to the sound of panicked shuffling, as if a burglar broke into your apartment except they weren’t very good at the whole stealth thing. You open your eyes to see Heeseung frantically putting on his jacket, grabbing his belongings at the same time. Weirdly enough, this whole scene feels like the aftermath of a one-night stand, as if everything that happened between you two the night before was all just a dream. You glance outside the apartment window and notice how the sky is still relatively dim, the sun only just starting to rise.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” you pipe up, causing Heeseung to jump a little, probably not expecting you to wake up so soon.

“Shit, did I wake you? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He sighs in exasperation, and you can immediately tell he’s tense.

“What’s going on, Heeseung?” you ask, sitting up and rubbing your eyes.

“I got a message from my sister.”

“Haeyi? Didn’t you say she’s out of the country?”

“Yeah well apparently she’s in Seoul right now. Her text sounded really serious. I don’t know Y/N, I’m scared.” He gulps, millions of scenarios playing out in his head, each one worse than the last. One look at him and you’re already out of bed, grabbing your own clothes. “I’m coming with you.”

Heeseung pauses, “What? No! Y/N, I don’t want you to get involved. It’s dangerous.”

“I don’t care,” you say firmly. “Did you already forget everything I said yesterday? I’m not letting you face this alone.” Heeseung considers your word carefully before agreeing to let you come along, simply because he knows you would anyway even if he insisted for you to stay. Though another part of him is thankful that you offered so quickly, frankly speaking he could barely think, and having you around might soothe his mind just enough for him to not do something stupid.

Without another moment to spare, the two of you rush out of the apartment, barely taking the time to lock the door behind you. The ride to Heeseung’s house is filled with a tense silence, broken only by the occasional sound of Heeseung’s heavy breathing. You reach out and squeeze his hand, offering him silent support.

When you arrive at Heeseung’s place, the atmosphere feels thick with tension, like the air itself is warning you of what’s to come. As Heeseung fumbles with the keys, his hands trembling, you can sense the weight of the moment. Each step down the hallway feels longer than the last, the silence between you suffocating. The house, usually quiet and calm, now feels like it's holding its breath, waiting for an explosion.

Rounding the corner into the living room, the sight before you makes your blood run cold. Heeseung’s mother and sister are huddled on the floor, both bruised and battered, their faces marked by pain and fear. The relief in Haeyi’s eyes is immediate when she spots Heeseung, but it’s quickly replaced with confusion as she looks at you. There’s a flicker of something unspoken in her gaze—a mixture of hope and disbelief that someone outside the family is here to witness this.

“Heeseung, you’re here,” Haeyi whispers, her voice shaky, barely able to mask the terror underneath.

Heeseung’s face twists with a combination of anger and grief as he takes in the horrifying sight of his family. His eyes flit between the bruises on his mother’s face and the tear-streaked expression of his sister, and you can feel his pain in the way his jaw tightens. “What the hell happened?” he demands, though his voice falters with the weight of it all. The fury in his tone betrays how helpless he feels, caught between rage and guilt.

Before anyone can respond, his father storms into the room, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoing through the tense air. His expression is dark, his presence like a storm cloud looming over everything. “So, you finally decided to show up,” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain as he steps toward Heeseung, as if daring him to challenge him.

Heeseung immediately moves forward, positioning himself between his father and his mother and sister. His protective instinct kicks in, but beneath his defensive posture, you see the heartbreak of a son facing a man who was supposed to protect them, not destroy them. “How could you do this to them? They’re your family!” His voice cracks, the anguish evident, though his fury keeps him standing tall.

His father’s eyes flash with cold, merciless anger. “You think you can disobey me and get away with it?” His tone is dangerously low, the threat clear as he takes another step closer. “I’ll show you what happens to insolent children.”

You stand frozen, the fear creeping up your spine. You always knew Heeseung’s father was harsh, but seeing this—seeing the reality of what he’s capable of—it’s a different kind of horror. Haeyi clutches their mother tighter, her small frame trembling in fear, though she tries to offer what little comfort she can. The image of them, battered yet still clinging to each other, makes something snap inside you. This is what family is supposed to be—love, sacrifice, protection—and yet here he is, destroying it all.

Before you know it, you’re trembling in rage, strong waves of emotions clouding your better judgement. Your heart pounds in your chest as you step up behind Heeseung, your voice shaking but firm. “Stop this!” you shout, surprising even yourself. “You have no right to hurt them.”

Heeseung’s father narrows his eyes at you, his gaze like a predator sizing up prey. “And who are you,” he hisses, “to tell me what to do in my own house? This is your fault, you know. I had no choice but to resort to this because of you. You’ve corrupted my son, turned him against me with your dirty hands.”

Your stomach churns with disgust at his twisted logic. “This is what you do,” you shoot back, your voice rising. “You manipulate, gaslight, guilt-trip. You treat your children like investments, and when things don’t go your way, you blame them for your own failures. But guess what?” You take a step closer, defiance burning in your eyes. “You don’t get to sell them like stocks. Your children aren’t faulty products you can return just because you can’t control them, asshole.”

The words hang in the air, and you can see the flicker of fury growing in his father’s eyes, his fists clenching at his sides. “You think you know everything, don’t you?” he growls. “You think you can waltz in here and turn my own children against me? They are mine. My blood. They owe me their loyalty.”

“No,” you reply, your voice unwavering, filled with a strength you didn’t know you had. “They don’t owe you anything. They deserve love and respect, not fear and manipulation.” You glance at Heeseung, feeling the weight of everything hanging between him and his father.

Heeseung steps forward, standing by your side, his hand brushing against yours in a silent gesture of solidarity. “She’s right, Dad. I’m done being your puppet. I’m done living in fear. You can’t threaten me into doing what you want anymore.”

The fury in his father’s face deepens, his skin reddening as if he might explode at any second. “Ungrateful brat!” he spits, his voice trembling with rage. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me? By turning on your own father?”

Heeseung draws in a deep breath, his voice steady as he speaks. “You never acted like my father. This isn’t turning on you—this is standing up for myself.” His words cut through the silence like a blade, and for a moment, even his father is speechless.

“You’ll regret this,” his father hisses, his tone venomous. “You’ll see what happens when you defy me. Everything you have—from the clothes on your back to the roof over your head—came from me. You’re nothing without me.”

The words are meant to cut deep, but Heeseung doesn’t flinch. He holds your hand tighter, drawing strength from your presence. “Maybe,” he says quietly, his gaze unwavering. “But at least I’ll be free.”

The tension snaps as Haeyi rises from the floor, her face bruised but her expression determined. “You’ve hurt us for too long, Father,” she says, her voice low but resolute. “I’m leaving.”

His father’s eyes widen in shock, as if he can’t believe Haeyi, out of everyone, would dare defy him. “You wouldn’t dare,” he growls.

“Oh, I would,” she replies, her voice steady as she helps their mother to her feet. Mrs Lee doesn’t say a word, still in shock, but she doesn’t resist. “And I’m taking Mum with me. You can go to hell for all I care. You’re not my father anymore.”

The disbelief on Mr Lee’s face is palpable as he watches his family turn their backs on him. He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ll regret this. You’ll all come crawling back, and you know it.”

Heeseung doesn’t look back, his voice cold as he speaks over his shoulder. “Like hell I will.”

For Haeyi, being out of the country gave her freedom to pursue her own endeavours and that included investments and ventures that she never mentioned to her family. She knew her father wouldn’t care to find out what she’s up to anyway, afterall she isn’t the direct heir to the family business. As long as she kept her profile low and not get into any trouble, she would be left alone.

So fortunately for the now, homeless Lee family, Haeyi owns properties of her own in the city, ones that father probably never knew she owned, and thankfully relatively far away from the oppressive atmosphere of their father’s mansion. This meant they wouldn’t have to sleep on the streets like what their father probably would have hoped.

You step into the penthouse, greeted with the minimalistic decor but unlike the mansion, it feels more homely and you know Heeseung feels it too. He slowly guided their mother to the couch, but holding her only seem to make her flinch. Haeyi didn’t let this slide as she swiftly steps in front of her mother and lifted her blouse a little to show the bruises vividly edged onto her skin. Not just fresh bruises, but faded ones and also long-healed scars.

It hit the Lee siblings that without neither of them home most of the time, their mother probably endured the tyranny of her husband alone. This realisation only angers them even further, the rage shaking their irises and blurring their vision.

“I didn’t know you owned property in Seoul,” Heeseung says, his voice tinged with curiosity as he finally takes in the full grandeur of the penthouse.

“Yeah, well... I’m in Seoul more often than you’d think,” Haeyi responds casually, shrugging off her coat. She kneels by their mother, gently tending to the cut on her lip.

“Father never really cared enough to know what I was doing.” She scoffs, her voice bitter. “He can pretend I don’t exist, but that doesn’t mean I actually don’t.”

Heeseung’s expression shifts almost instantly, guilt flooding his face. Her words must have hit something deep within him. “I’m sorry I let Dad send you away like that,” he says, his voice quiet, almost regretful. “I should’ve stopped him.”

Haeyi freezes, her hand pausing mid-air as she dabs the antiseptic onto their mother’s wound. She’s been dreading this conversation for years, one that she’s been replaying over in her mind, but one that she knows she’ll never truly be ready for no matter how many times she’s rehearsed it.

“It wouldn’t have mattered anyway,” she sighs, resuming her work as their mother winces from the sting.

“No, I should’ve tried,” Heeseung insists, the weight of the years pressing on his chest. “Instead, I avoided you like the plague. I was scared you didn’t want to talk to me after what happened. I figured you hated me for taking the position you worked your whole life for. I can’t forgive myself for ruining your life.”

His words hit Haeyi like a wave, catching her off guard. She realises in that moment just how much guilt and turmoil her younger brother has been carrying all these years. It’s true—part of her had resented never being placed on the same pedestal as Heeseung, but she never wanted him to feel this kind of burden. She wanted to protect him, to give him a world where he could thrive, not one where he felt isolated and guilty for things beyond his control. Yet, without knowing that the world he yearns for is one surrounded by the people he loves.

“Hee…” she says softly, setting the cotton swab aside as she straightens up, meeting his eyes. “I would never hate you.”

Heeseung blinks in surprise, tears already welling up in his eyes. “You don’t?”

“Dear heavens, no,” she laughs lightly, shaking her head. “You’re my little brother, for fuck’s sake.”

“But you never called back,” he murmurs, his voice cracking. “After all these years, we barely talked. I thought... maybe you hated me.”

“Father saw me as a distraction in your life,” she explains, her tone softening as she steps closer. “That’s why he sent me away. If he knew I was trying to contact you, he’d have tightened his grip on you even more. I thought that if I worked hard enough, he’d see that I could be a good influence, that I belonged by your side. But it didn’t matter. He just wanted me gone.” She takes a breath, her voice laced with guilt now. “I’m sorry I ghosted you, Hee. I just... after so long, I didn’t know how to start a conversation with you anymore. As the older sister, I should’ve tried harder. I’m sorry.”

Heeseung’s composure finally cracks. The tears that have been pooling in his eyes spill over, and he quickly wipes at them with the back of his hand, embarrassed by the flood of emotion. But before he can say anything, Haeyi’s sisterly instincts kick in. She steps forward, brushing the tears from his cheeks with a gentle smile.

“Some things never change, though,” she teases, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re still such a crybaby.” Her voice is warm, affectionate, the way it used to be when they were younger. Heeseung lets out a shaky laugh, playfully pushing her shoulder.

You watch silently from the sidelines, your heart swelling at the sight of the Lee siblings finally rekindling the bond that had been lost for so long. The pain of their past lingers in the air, but in this moment, they are healing, piece by piece. They’re not just brother and sister—they are two people rediscovering the love and understanding that had been buried beneath years of silence and hurt. This is the family they deserve.

Unknowingly, a lone tear slips down your cheek, and the soft sniffle that escapes you breaks the serene silence that has settled over the room. The sound draws the attention of the Lee siblings. Haeyi, finally having the capacity to acknowledge you, shifts her gaze towards you, her eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Lee Haeyi,” she says, extending her hand politely, her expression warm yet inquisitive.

Caught off guard, you quickly wipe the tear away, offering a small, slightly embarrassed smile as you take her hand. “Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you,” you say, your voice soft but genuine. You give her hand a gentle tug before letting go.

“Really?” Haeyi raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “Heeseung actually talks about me?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve only heard good things,” you reassure her with a light chuckle. “You’d be surprised by how fondly he talks about you.”

Haeyi doesn’t seem entirely convinced, her brow knitting slightly in scepticism. But she gives you a small nod, accepting your words. It’s clear that your presence means something significant. The fact that Heeseung brought you into this intimate, painful family moment says a lot. The way he’s been holding your hand since the journey to Haeyi’s penthouse, the soft glances he keeps shooting your way—it’s obvious that something deeper has blossomed between the two of you. Whatever it is, it’s enough for Heeseung to have opened up in a way he hadn’t before.

Haeyi gives you a thoughtful look before turning her attention back to the situation at hand. “I’ll take Mum to wash up,” she says, gently helping their mother to her feet. “She’s still a bit shaken up and hasn’t said a word since... everything. One thing this penthouse doesn’t lack is rooms, so feel free to pick one and rest. We’ll meet up later in the evening to talk about what to do moving forward.”

Heeseung nods in agreement, his eyes flicking towards their mother. There’s a quiet concern on his face, a subtle mix of guilt and helplessness that makes your heart ache for him. Being the only son of the Lee family, the future heir to the Lee Group, carries a responsibility that seems to press down on him more than ever now. Even though he’s trying to remain composed, you can sense how overwhelmed he is by everything—his family’s current predicament, the burdens of expectation, and the complex emotions that come with it all.

You’re not faring much better yourself. Despite the fact that it's barely 8 AM, a wave of exhaustion crashes over you. The emotional weight of the past few hours feels heavier than the physical tiredness tugging at your eyelids. You’d slept well the night before, cocooned in the safety of Heeseung’s arms, but it doesn’t seem to matter now. The fatigue, both emotional and physical, is starting to take its toll.

As Haeyi gently helps their mother down the hallway, you catch Heeseung’s gaze. There’s a quiet understanding between you, no need for words. You can see the weariness in his eyes, the burden of all that’s happened. You squeeze his hand gently, offering what little comfort you can.

Just as Haeyi said, the penthouse isn’t short of rooms, yet somehow, you and Heeseung end up deciding to crash in one together, sharing the same bed. It’s oddly familiar, considering you found yourselves in this same position just the night before.The key difference now is that things have changed between you. So it shouldn’t surprise you that Heeseung is unapologetically showing his affection in increased frequencies now that you’re officially a couple.

You both sit on the bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the city outside.Heeseung’s arms are wrapped securely around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder blade as he holds you close from behind. You can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, his warmth grounding you in the midst of everything. Sitting between his legs, you idly trace your fingers over his, feeling the subtle pressure of his grip as if he’s afraid to let go.

“How are you holding up?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence. The question lingers in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. Heeseung doesn’t answer right away, and the silence that follows speaks volumes. It’s not just that he’s unsure of how to respond—it’s that neither of you truly know how to process everything that’s happened—it all feels too surreal, like something out of a soap opera.

You can feel the weight of the situation pressing down on both of you, the gravity of it settling in now that the immediate danger has passed. You wonder if Heeseung feels the same; lost, confused, and maybe a little scared. Heeseung’s fingers twitch slightly under yours, a small movement, but enough to tell you that he’s deep in thought.

“I don’t know,” he finally murmurs, his voice low and weary. “I keep thinking about Mum and Haeyi... what they’ve been through. I should have been there sooner.” His voice cracks slightly, betraying the emotions he’s trying so hard to keep in check.

You lean back into him, offering silent comfort as his grip on you tightens just a bit. “It’s not your fault, Hee,” you whisper, turning your head slightly to meet his gaze. “You didn’t know. And you’re here now—that’s what matters.”

Heeseung closes his eyes for a moment, resting his forehead against the side of your neck. “I just feel like I’ve failed them... as a brother, as a son. I should’ve done something sooner.” His words are filled with regret, the weight of years of guilt finally surfacing.

You turn in his arms, shifting so you can look at him fully. The sadness in his eyes is raw, unfiltered, and it pulls at your heart. You cup his cheek gently, forcing him to meet your gaze. “You’re not a failure, Heeseung. You’re doing the best you can. You’re here now, standing up for them. That’s more than enough.”

Heeseung doesn’t respond with words this time. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he takes in the comfort of your presence. You sit like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other, trying to find temporary reprieve from the chaos. Neither of you knows what’s going to happen next, but for now, this is enough—just the two of you, holding on to each other for as long as your world doesn’t fall apart.

Then, after what feels like forever, Heeseung speaks, breaking the peaceful silence but in a way that surprises you. His voice is quiet, almost hesitant, as if he’s unsure if this is the right time to bring it up. "I... got an email earlier. From our teacher," he says, his tone more serious than you expect.

You lean back slightly, giving him a curious look. "An email? What’s it about?"

He shifts a little, loosening his grip on you, but still keeping you close. “It’s about our submission,” he continues, glancing down as though he’s trying to find the right words. “You know, the song we worked on together for class? The one we submitted for the project?”

Your mind instantly flashes back to the hours you spent working with Heeseung on that project—how focused he was, the quiet determination in his eyes, the way you both collaborated so easily. It was one of the things that brought you closer, but in the midst of everything going on lately, you’d almost forgotten about it.

“Oh, right. What did the teacher say?” you ask, intrigued.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and for the first time today, there’s a glint of excitement in his eyes. “She said... we’ve been selected in the top three. Our submission was one of the best.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Wait—really? Top three?! That’s amazing, Hee!"

Heeseung nods, the smile on his face growing a little wider. "Yeah, it’s pretty insane. And... there’s more. The school is hosting the annual festival soon, and she asked if we wanted to perform it live. You know, on stage.”

Your heart skips a beat, a mix of excitement and nerves swelling in your chest. Perform it live? In front of the whole school? The idea is both thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

"Perform it?" you echo, your mind racing with the thought of standing on stage, all eyes on the two of you. The piece you worked on was deeply personal, something that reflected both of your emotions and stories. The thought of sharing that with an audience feels daunting, but also exciting in a sense that you can finally express your true self in a way that wouldn’t be judged or misinterpreted by the mass majority.

Heeseung watches you closely, as if trying to gauge your reaction. “We don’t have to, of course. I mean, it’s a big ask, especially with everything that’s going on,” he says, his voice softening. “But I thought... maybe it could be a good distraction. Something positive to focus on.”

You bite your lip, considering his words. He’s right. Things have been so heavy lately, and maybe this could be the break you both need—something to look forward to. Plus, this could be a chance for Heeseung to show his musical inclinity and prove to his father and everyone else in school that would have thought otherwise wrong. Even if it made you a little nervous, the thought of doing it with Heeseung, after everything you’ve been through together, feels like the perfect way to celebrate how far you’ve come.

"I think... we should do it," you say, meeting his gaze. "It’ll be nerve-wracking, but we worked hard on that piece. We should share it."

Heeseung’s eyes brighten at your response, his smile returning. "You really think so?"

You nod, feeling a surge of excitement now that the idea is sinking in. "Yeah. Let’s do it, Hee.”

Heeseung pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You laugh, leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace. This is the thing about Heeseung—while others made you feel like you couldn’t even be yourself around them, he does the opposite. With him, you feel completely comfortable in your own skin. Heeseung has this effortless way of calming you, knowing exactly what to say to pull you back from the brink whenever life becomes too overwhelming.

And that’s exactly why you’re so determined to understand him in return—because while the world expects so much from him, nobody really tries to see him the way you do. Where others overlook his struggles or dismiss his emotions, you’re committed to breaking down the walls he’s built, piece by piece, to uncover the person he really is.

This is the foundation of your relationship—built on trust and understanding, two things neither of you had truly known before meeting each other. It’s more than just love—it’s a deep connection rooted in mutual respect and the comfort of knowing you’ve finally found someone who sees you for who you really are. That understanding, that unwavering trust, is what sets your relationship apart from anything you’ve ever experienced.

You're pulled from your thoughts as Heeseung's warm breath grazes the back of your neck, followed by soft, feather-light kisses that send a shiver down your spine. His arms tighten possessively around your waist, and instinctively, you tilt your head, granting him more access. He trails slow, lingering kisses down the side of your neck, leading to your collarbone, the sensation causing your breath to quicken as though you'd been holding it in. Before you can even steady yourself, Heeseung flips you around effortlessly, pulling you down onto him as you both sink into the mattress.

His lips find yours, and in that moment, he takes complete control. His kisses fluctuate between soft and intense, as if he's testing the boundaries of tenderness and passion. Each touch is a careful balance, like he's holding the most delicate piece of glass in his hands. Heeseung suddenly shifts, flipping you onto your back as he hovers above you, the weight of his presence grounding you. You can’t help but smile slightly as his hands trace over your body with delicate, almost reverent, movements. His fingers land on your waist, gripping you firmly as he deepens the kiss.

The familiar scent of teakwood and cigarettes fills the air around you, intoxicating everything in your system. The way his lips brush against your skin feels like he's worshipping a masterpiece, pouring out passion in cascades into every touch. It's in these moments that you feel how much he wants to give you the world, without words, just through the way he loves you. With that unspoken understanding between the two of you, it feels inevitable that things only escalate from here.

You’re not sure what time it is, but the sun is just setting when a soft knock comes at the door. Heeseung stirs beneath you as you lie on his chest, wrapped comfortably in his arms. “Heeseung, it’s Haeyi,” you hear from the other side.

Heeseung gently shifts you, lifting your head as he carefully gets out of bed. You’re awake, but after everything… you don’t have the energy to move. Heeseung doesn’t bother putting on a shirt, casually walking to the door in just his trousers. He opens the door slightly ajar, ensuring that you aren’t in direct sight as you hide under the covers.

Haeyi, however, isn’t easily fooled. She takes one look at her brother’s state and pieces things together, though she doesn’t make it obvious.

“It’s almost 7 PM,” she says with a slight raise of her brow. “Are you two planning to get up? We still have plenty to talk about.”

You hadn’t realised you’d slept through most of the day; you don’t even remember when you fell asleep. Missing both breakfast and lunch, you suddenly feel hunger gnawing at you, your stomach quietly reminding you.

“Oh, and next time… can you keep it down?” Haeyi adds, her smile carrying a hint of playfulness. “I’m right next door.”

Heeseung chuckles, clearly amused by his own arrogance. You find yourself sinking deeper into the covers, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration. Well, this is mortifying, you think. “We better get dressed; they’re waiting for us,” he reminds you, his tone light but with a hint of urgency.

Wrapping the duvet around yourself like a makeshift shield, you pull yourself from the warmth of the bed. Heeseung’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he takes in your flustered state. “Why are you hiding? It’s not anything I haven’t seen,” he teases, his voice dripping with playful confidence. You react instinctively, almost launching a pillow in his direction, your heart racing at the sudden burst of emotion.

“Ha ha, very funny,” you retort, your voice laced with a hint of embarrassment that betrays your otherwise carefree façade. You try to maintain a defiant expression, but the playful glimmer in Heeseung's eyes makes it difficult. He really is far too handsome for his own good; the way he smiles—half teasing, half charming—sends a flutter of warmth through your chest. You feel your cheeks heat up, and despite your efforts to stay composed, you find yourself melting under his gaze, like ice cream in the sun. It's infuriating how effortlessly he has this effect on you, and you can't help but wonder how someone so alluring can be so irritatingly perfect.

Both of you hurry downstairs, your footsteps echoing softly in the quiet hallway. The anticipation hanging thick in the air. As you reach the dining room, you find Haeyi and Mrs. Lee seated at the table, picking at the dinner that the helpers have prepared. The rich aroma of grilled meats and fragrant rice fills the air, but the enticing scents do little to alleviate the tension that envelops the room. Mrs. Lee barely touches her utensils, her gaze distant and unfocused, as if she’s physically present yet mentally miles away. A tight knot forms in your stomach as you notice the weariness etched on her face; her eyes carry a heavy burden that seems to shadow the warmth that once radiated from her.

“Took you two long enough,” Haeyi teases, her smirk attempting to lighten the mood, though it falls flat against the backdrop of strained emotions. Heeseung responds with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching into a reluctant smile, but you can see the fatigue weighing on him as well.

“I’ve been doing some digging,” Haeyi begins, her voice steady but laced with a simmering anger that you can’t ignore. The change in her tone instantly captures your attention, and you lean in closer, sensing that something significant is about to unfold. “And I found something that could change everything.”

She explains that while she was working at their father’s company, she stumbled upon a hidden folder on his computer filled with documents detailing unethical business practices. Your heart races as you process her words, each revelation more shocking than the last. There are records of bribery, embezzlement, and evidence of their father exploiting workers in foreign countries. The implications of her discovery send chills down your spine, and a sense of dread creeps in as you consider what this could mean for all of you.

“This could ruin him,” Haeyi states, her expression a mix of determination and fear as she looks at her family, her eyes darting between Heeseung and their mother. “And I think it’s time we expose the truth.”

Heeseung’s gaze shifts to the flash drive resting on the table, then back to his sister, a storm of conflicting emotions playing out on his face. “Are you sure about this? It’s dangerous.”

Haeyi nods firmly, her voice unwavering. “I’m sure. He’s hurt us for too long, and he’s hurting others with his greed and corruption. We can’t let him get away with it.” You can see the fire in her eyes; it ignites a flicker of hope within you, but it is quickly overshadowed by the fear of what could come next.

You place a comforting hand on Heeseung’s shoulder, feeling the tension radiating from him. “She’s right, Heeseung. This is your chance to make things right.” Your words are intended to soothe, yet you’re painfully aware of the stakes involved. The thought of taking such a monumental step sends your mind spinning.

“No, we can’t do that,” Mrs. Lee suddenly interjects, her voice trembling but resolute. Her eyes widen in disbelief, and you can see the desperation etched across her features, as if she’s holding onto the fragile hope that things can remain unchanged.

“But—” Haeyi starts, frustration bubbling to the surface.

“I said no. How could you even bring this up, Haeyi? I didn’t raise you to turn your back on family.” Mrs. Lee’s voice wavers, a mix of fear and protectiveness flooding her words, as if she believes that exposing their father will fracture what little family they have left.

“Family? If you can even call whatever we have a family,” Haeyi snaps back, her anger flaring. It’s evident that the years of pent-up resentment have reached a boiling point, and her words cut through the tension like a knife.

“We share the same blood, the same genes, we live under the same roof; of course we’re family!” Mrs. Lee insists, but there’s a desperation in her voice that reveals her own doubts about what family means to them.

“When was the last time the four of us had a proper meal together? When was the last time Father ever took a day off to celebrate any of our birthdays? Mum, the two of you don’t even sleep in the same room! But of course we’re family; we have to tolerate all this shit!” Haeyi’s voice rises with each word, passion coursing through her as she fights for what she believes is right.

“Families are homes, Mum. Homes built on a foundation of trust and love. A toxic family can never be a home, no matter how hard you or Dad try to make us look like a happy family on the surface. Calling this a family doesn’t make it a loving home.” The conviction in Haeyi’s words resonates deep within you.

“At least we have a home to go to, Haeyi,” Mrs. Lee protests softly, her voice trembling with the weight of years of silence and compliance.

“No, Mum. Having a home isn’t just about coming back to a warm bed; it’s about where you feel safe with the people you love and who love you. Do you love him, Mom?” Haeyi's words are fierce, a declaration of her refusal to accept anything less than the truth and the love they all deserve. You feel a swell of admiration for her bravery, but you can’t help but worry about the potential fallout from this confrontation.

Mrs. Lee’s gaze drifts to the table, her hands trembling as they grip the edge, knuckles paling under the pressure. The weight of Haeyi’s words hangs in the air, suffocating and unyielding, and you can see the internal struggle playing out on her face.

Does she love him? The easy answer is—no. After everything he’s done to this family, how could she have even an ounce of love for him? Yet, she looks torn, caught between the life she has lived, steeped in denial, and the truth that threatens to unravel it all.

“Do you really think this will make things better?” Mrs. Lee’s voice is barely above a whisper, tinged with vulnerability. The cracks in her façade begin to show, revealing a mother who has long since buried her own fears and desires beneath layers of duty and expectation. “What if this only tears us apart more?”

Haeyi takes a step closer, her expression softening slightly, and you can see the empathy in her eyes. “Mum, we can’t keep pretending. We can’t ignore the harm he’s causing, not just to us, but to others too. If we don’t do something, we’re complicit in his actions.” There’s a fierce determination in her voice, a call to arms that seems to echo in the silence of the room.

Mrs. Lee looks at her daughter and then at her son, and for a fleeting moment, you can see the ghost of the woman she once was—the vibrant mother who laughed freely and cherished every moment with her children. But now, the fear of what their father could do looms over her like a dark cloud.

“Haeyi,” she begins, her voice cracking, “I just want to protect you both. I’ve spent so long trying to keep this family together. What if exposing him only makes things worse?”

You watch as Haeyi’s shoulders sag slightly, her defiance wavering for a brief moment. It’s clear how deeply Mrs. Lee cares, but it’s equally evident that her definition of protection has become tainted by the toxic environment they’ve endured.

“Sometimes protecting us means letting us fight for ourselves,” Heeseung speaks up, his tone steady, laced with conviction. “I know it’s terrifying, but we can’t stay silent any longer. We deserve to live without fear, Mum.”

Mrs. Lee’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and the tension in the room shifts, transforming into something almost fragile. She inhales deeply, her chest rising and falling as she contemplates the enormity of what Haeyi is suggesting. The thought of exposing her husband terrifies her, but so does the thought of watching her children suffer in silence.

“Alright,” she finally says, her voice quivering but resolute.

The relief that washes over Haeyi is palpable, and you feel a rush of gratitude towards Mrs. Lee. Haeyi nods, her eyes brightening as hope begins to blossom in the midst of despair. “Thank you, Mum. I promise we’ll be careful.”

Mrs. Lee wipes away a tear, her expression a mixture of fear and determination. “I’ll help in whatever way I can,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible. “But we must tread carefully. If your father finds out…”

The room falls into a tense silence as Mrs. Lee’s words hang in the air, each of you keenly aware of the risk ahead. Heeseung sits up straighter, his gaze sharpening with resolve as he looks between his sister and you. The gravity of what they’re about to undertake sits heavily, but there’s also a quiet strength that seems to unite the four of you.

“We need to be smart about this,” Heeseung says, his voice low but steady. “If we’re going to expose him, we can’t leave any room for mistakes. He’ll fight back the moment he suspects anything.”

Haeyi nods, her face set with determination. “I’ve already got copies of the documents from Dad’s computer—bribery records, offshore accounts, everything. But we’ll need more than just paperwork to take him down. We need proof.”

“Proof?” you ask, your curiosity piqued. “More than what we already have?”

“Yes,” Heeseung says, locking eyes with you. “We need proof that ties him directly to the illegal practices.””

“I know a couple of people from when I worked in the PR department,” she adds. “We’ll have to be discreet, but if we give them enough to work with, it could be explosive. Dad’s reputation is everything to him. If it crumbles, so does his empire.”

“It’s not that easy,” Mrs. Lee interjects, her voice laced with concern. “Your father has eyes and ears all over the city. That includes the media and TV stations. If word gets out to the wrong people, all our hard work will be for nothing. This could be buried without enough evidence to support our claim.”

Heeseung hums, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “There are a few journalists that comes to mind who’d jump at the chance to take down someone like our father. We just need to make sure they’re not on his payroll.” He shoots a glance at Haeyi, who nods in agreement.

Mrs. Lee shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her hands clutching the edge of the table. “And what happens to us? If he fights back—if he finds out before we’re ready—he won’t just go after the company. He’ll come after us.”

Heeseung places a hand over his mother’s, his touch gentle but firm. “We won’t let him hurt you, Mum. Not anymore.”

A spark of courage flickers in Mrs. Lee’s eyes as she looks at her son and daughter, seeing in them a strength she hadn’t recognised before. “Alright,” she says, her voice steadier now. “We’ll do it. But we need a plan—something airtight.”

Haeyi takes a deep breath, leaning forward with renewed purpose. “We’ll start by gathering everything we have—the documents, any witnesses we can trust. I’ll keep digging through the files, see if there’s anything else that could help. In the meantime, we need to be careful about who we talk to. No one can know what we’re planning.”

Heeseung nods in agreement. “I’ll reach out to the journalists, see who’s willing to work with us without tipping off Dad. And we should prepare for the worst. If things go south, we need an escape route. We can’t let him corner us.”

You watch the Lee family work together, a sense of unity beginning to take root among them. For so long, their father’s power had fractured their family, but now, it feels like they’re beginning to reclaim something that was lost.

You take a glance over the whole room, feeling the gravity of your own commitment.This doesn’t go unnoticed by Mrs. Lee as she exhales, her expression a careful blend of fear and determination as she looks at you. “This is dangerous, Y/N,” she says softly, her eyes full of concern. “If things go wrong, you’ll be affected too. Don’t feel obligated to involve yourself.”

Heeseung places a reassuring hand on the small of your back, his touch gentle but protective. “She’s right,” he murmurs, his gaze searching yours. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Y/N.”

You feel a swell of emotions rise in your chest, and you hold his gaze steadily. “Are you kidding me?” you reply, your voice filled with quiet resolve. “We promised we’d face everything together. Unfortunately for you, I’m not in the habit of breaking promises.”

A small smile tugs at Heeseung’s lips, his eyes softening at your words. There’s a deep warmth in the moment, a shared understanding that this is no longer just his battle, but one you’re willing to fight alongside him.

Over the following days, each of you moves with purpose, careful to avoid suspicion. It feels like living under a constant shadow, knowing that every wrong step could alert Mr. Lee and ruin everything.

Haeyi spends most of her time sifting through more of her father’s files, finding hidden details in encrypted folders that she carefully unearths. You often find her in the study, hunched over her laptop, her fingers flying across the keys as she meticulously sorts through every document that could potentially bring down the empire her father built.

Heeseung is busy with his own part of the plan, contacting journalists he trusts through secure channels. Each conversation is brief, coded, and without any personal identifiers. They can’t afford to leave a trace, especially with the knowledge that Mr. Lee has eyes and ears in every corner of the city. You sit beside him during some of these calls, listening as he negotiates and arranges for meetings in discreet locations, ensuring the right people are in place when the story breaks.

As for you, you stay close to Heeseung, your role more about support and being his own personal cheerleader.

The plan was nearly flawless, except for one crucial piece: the direct evidence tying Mr. Lee to his illegal practices. They had everything else—files, records, testimonies—but without something definitive, it wouldn’t be enough to take him down. And no matter how much Haeyi combed through their father’s encrypted folders, she couldn’t find it.

“We need something that puts him at the center of this,” Heeseung said, pacing the room. “It’s all buried in his office. That’s where the real evidence is.”

“He probably revoked our access after that fight,” Haeyi added, glancing at her brother. “There’s no way we can just walk in there and search his office.”

Heeseung pauses mid-step, considering the next move. His brow furrows as the weight of the situation settles over him. “We don’t need access—we need someone who can get the information for us.”

“Is there anyone else in the company who could back us up?” you ask, trying to think strategically. “Someone who’s seen what he’s been doing but might be too scared to speak out alone?”

Mrs. Lee’s gaze lifted, her brows furrowed with concern. “Who would take that risk? If your father finds out—”

Haeyi purses her lips, her mind racing through possibilities. “There’s Mr. Kim—he’s been in the company for years, but he’s always been overlooked and mistreated by Dad. He might help if he knew we had solid evidence. And maybe a few others who’ve seen too much to deny, but we’d have to be careful. If anyone leaks this to Dad…”

Mrs. Lee cuts in, her voice rising with frustration. “You don’t even know if Mr. Kim would be willing to help. He’s one of your father’s most trusted executive. Why would he risk his job, or his family, to side with us? He’s got children of his own to think about.”

Her worry is palpable, and you can sense how torn she is between her fear of what could happen and her desire to see justice done. You can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for her—she’s been living under this oppressive shadow for so long, it’s hard to imagine any way out.

Heeseung, however, remains resolute. “Mr. Kim is a good man. He’s always been righteous. If given the chance, I believe he’d choose to do the right thing.” He glances at his mother, his voice softening. “He’s not like Dad. He won’t turn a blind eye if he knows what’s really going on.”

Heeseung stands in the dimly lit café, his fingers tapping anxiously on the table, eyes flicking to the door every few seconds. The soft hum of conversation and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee fill the air, but none of it soothes his nerves. He knows this meeting could make or break everything. Convincing Mr. Kim to help them is a long shot, but they didn’t have a choice. They need him.

The door swings open, and Heeseung's heart skips a beat. His eyes lock onto the older man stepping inside. Mr. Kim, with his greying hair and tired expression, moves cautiously, his eyes scanning the room before settling on Heeseung. Heeseung can see the hesitation in his face—the reluctance. But he came, and that means something.

Heeseung rises as Mr. Kim approaches, offering a nod of acknowledgement. "Thanks for coming," he says, his voice low, gesturing to the seat opposite him.

Mr. Kim sits down cautiously, folding his hands neatly on the table. "I don’t usually get invited to meet with you outside of work, Heeseung," he remarks, a trace of suspicion lining his words. "What’s this about?"

Heeseung takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of what he's about to ask. He knows Mr. Kim won’t jump at the chance to betray his father. Years of loyalty, of being overlooked and mistreated—yet Mr. Kim has never wavered. But this is different. What Heeseung is asking for isn’t just help; it’s a betrayal of everything Mr. Kim has ever known.

"I need your help, Mr. Kim," Heeseung begins, leaning forward slightly, his voice low and serious. "And I know this is asking a lot, but we don’t have anyone else we can trust."

Mr. Kim’s expression hardens. "Help with what, exactly? I’m not sure I follow."

Heeseung hesitates for a moment before continuing. "It’s about my father. We know what he’s been doing—the bribery, the embezzlement, everything. We’ve got most of the evidence, but we’re missing the one thing that ties him directly to it. And that’s in his office."

Mr. Kim’s eyes widen slightly, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "You’re asking me to go against your father? You do realise what you’re asking me to do, right?” His voice drops, barely above a whisper. "If he finds out I helped you—""

"I know it’s dangerous," Heeseung interrupts, his voice firm but tinged with desperation. "I wouldn’t be asking if there were any other way. But this isn’t just about me or Haeyi. This is about everyone he’s hurt. The workers, the people who’ve lost everything because of him. You’ve seen it, haven’t you?"

Mr. Kim’s gaze drops to the table, his fingers twitching slightly. "I’ve seen more than I should have," he admits quietly. "But it’s not that simple, Heeseung. Your father... he’s powerful. If he finds out I helped you, it won’t just be me who pays the price."

Heeseung clenches his fists, fighting the urge to snap. He knows Mr. Kim’s fear is valid. His father isn’t someone who forgives betrayal easily, and the consequences could be severe. But there’s no turning back now.

"You’ve worked for my father for years, Mr. Kim," Heeseung says, his voice softening, searching for some connection. "You’ve seen how he treats people like they’re disposable. How he exploits anyone he can to get what he wants. Do you really want to keep being part of that? Or do you want to finally do something about it?"

For a moment, Mr. Kim’s jaw tightens, his expression hard and unreadable. Silence stretches between them, but then his eyes flicker with something—regret, perhaps. His voice cracks when he speaks. "I’ve given everything to this company," Mr. Kim says quietly, his voice strained. "Years of my life, all while knowing it was built on corruption. I’ve turned a blind eye because I needed this job. I needed to survive."

Heeseung senses the shift in Mr. Kim, the internal conflict weighing heavily on him. "I’m not asking you to do this alone," Heeseung adds, his tone softer now. "We’re in this together. My sister, my mother, Y/N... We’re all trying to take him down. But we can’t do it without you."

Mr. Kim looks away, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the decision. Heeseung waits, the seconds dragging on, heart pounding in his chest. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Mr. Kim exhales a long, resigned sigh. His gaze meets Heeseung’s again, but this time, there’s a flicker of something different in his eyes—acceptance, maybe even resolve.

"What exactly do you need me to do?" Mr. Kim asks, his voice quieter now, but steady.

Heeseung exhales, unaware he'd been holding his breath. "We just need something substantial to prove his involvement in the company’s corruption. Messages, sign-offs, anything. We suspect it’s hidden in that drawer on the bottom left of his desk. The one that’s always locked."

Mr. Kim’s face tightens at the mention of the drawer. "You want me to sneak into your father’s office and get it? Are you crazy?"

"I know it’s a big ask," Heeseung replies, keeping his tone even. "I would do it myself, but after the confrontation with my father, I’m sure he’s revoked our access. You’re the only one who can help us pull this off. If something goes wrong, I’ll take the blame. You won’t be implicated—I’ll make sure of that."

Mr. Kim stares at him, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly, he leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand across his face. "This could ruin me, Heeseung," he murmurs, almost to himself.

Heeseung’s chest tightens with hope. "You’ll be doing the right thing," he says, his voice firm. "You’ll be helping so many people."

Mr. Kim doesn’t answer immediately, but after a beat, he gives a short, sharp nod. "I’ll help you. But we have to be careful—your father will destroy us if we make one wrong move."

"I’ll contact you with the details, and we’ll figure out the best time to move."

Mr. Kim stands, his movements slow and deliberate. He looks at Heeseung one last time, the weariness in his eyes now mingled with something else—a flicker of hope, perhaps. "You’ve got guts, kid. I just hope it’s enough."

"He'll help us," Heeseung had said earlier that night, his voice carrying a mix of relief and unease. You could see the tension still clinging to him, though the weight of getting Mr. Kim on board had lifted some of the pressure. Haeyi and Mrs. Lee both let out deep breaths, visibly relieved. With Mr. Kim on board, you now have someone inside the company to corroborate the evidence Haeyi has gathered, and if all goes well tonight, he would arrive before midnight with the last crucial piece of evidence you need.

The four of you sit in tense silence, waiting. The clock on the wall ticks steadily, but your heartbeats seem to race in comparison. Every minute feels like an eternity.

"Why isn’t he here yet?" Mrs. Lee’s voice breaks the silence. It's 12:01. She paces back and forth, her worry mounting with each step. "What if he changed his mind? What if something’s gone wrong? What if he got caught?" Mrs. Lee’s voice is tight with anxiety as she paces back and forth across the living room floor, her steps growing more frantic with each passing second.

Heeseung, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, glances at his phone for the hundredth time, his jaw clenched. He hasn’t said much since the clock struck midnight, but the tightness in his posture betrays his nerves. His fingers tap anxiously against the edge of his phone, as if willing it to light up with some message from Mr. Kim.

Heeseung’s jaw tightens, his hands clasped together on his lap, knuckles white. "He’ll be here," he says, but there’s an edge of doubt creeping into his tone.

"Maybe something came up," you say, trying to sound reassuring, though the unease in your voice is hard to mask. "We shouldn’t panic just yet."

Haeyi is sitting on the edge of the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, eyes glued to the door as if she can will it to open. "What if something did happen? He’s putting everything on the line for this. He must know the risks."

You sit beside them, trying to remain calm, but the tension is thick, suffocating almost. Mrs. Lee’s pacing grows more frantic, and you can see the fear in her eyes. Every scenario, every worst-case outcome flashes through your mind: Mr. Kim being caught, interrogated, maybe even worse.

The silence that follows is oppressive, broken only by Mrs. Lee’s soft murmurs of worry and the occasional creak of the floor as she paces. "We shouldn't have involved him," she whispers, voice cracking with guilt. "If something happens to him, it's on us. I should’ve stopped this. I—"

"He knew what he was getting into," Heeseung cuts in, though his voice wavers. "He made his choice."

00:10

The knot in your stomach tightens. Every passing minute feels like a countdown to something terrible. The air in the room feels thick with dread, and no one knows what to say.

Suddenly, there's a knock at the door. It’s soft, almost hesitant.

Everyone freezes.

For a moment, no one moves, too stunned by the sudden sound. Heeseung is the first to react, standing up abruptly. His eyes flicker to the door, a mixture of hope and fear flashing across his face. Without a word, he moves toward it, his footsteps unnervingly slow, as if he’s bracing himself for what’s on the other side.

“Is it him?” Haeyi whispers, her voice barely audible.

Heeseung pauses for a second before gripping the door handle. He opens it just enough to peer out into the dimly lit hallway. Relief floods his features as he pulls the door open wider, and there stands Mr. Kim. His face is pale, beads of sweat visible on his brow, but he’s holding a small, leather-bound folder tightly in his hands.

"You got it?" Heeseung asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Mr. Kim nods, stepping inside. "I got it," he says, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "But we don’t have much time. He knows."

Heeseung’s heart skips a beat. He grabs Mr. Kim by the arm, pulling him quickly into the apartment. The door shuts with a soft click behind them, but the tension is suffocating. Heeseung’s mind races, torn between the relief of seeing Mr. Kim and the dread of knowing they’re now against the clock.

"How much does he know?" Heeseung demands, his voice low but urgent.

Mr. Kim swallows hard, wiping the sweat from his brow with a trembling hand. "Enough," he says. "He doesn’t know everything, but he’s suspicious. His office was searched after I left. I managed to get this before they could lock everything down, but they’re on alert now. It’s only a matter of time before they put two and two together."

Heeseung’s hands tighten into fists. The relief of having the evidence in front of him quickly fades, replaced by a gnawing anxiety. His father is one step ahead. He always is.

"Show me," Heeseung says, gesturing to the folder.

Mr. Kim hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. Then, with a sigh, he sets the folder on the coffee table and opens it. Inside are stacks of papers—contracts, emails, signed authorisations—all bearing the unmistakable signature of Heeseung’s father. There are financial records that detail bribes paid to government officials, money laundered through shell companies, and proof of embezzlement from the company’s funds. It’s all there, laid out in black and white.

Mr. Kim sorts them out, explaining every incriminating document as he goes. “I even found a ledger—your father’s private records. It ties him to everything. There’s no way he can wriggle out of this.”

Heeseung stares at the documents, his chest tightening. It’s worse than he imagined. Far worse.

"How did you get all of this?" Heeseung asks, his voice tight with disbelief.

Mr. Kim’s expression darkens. "I’ve known about most of it for years. I just didn’t have the courage to do anything about it. Your father… he’s ruthless. I didn’t think there was a way out. But tonight, I knew this was the only chance I’d get. If I didn’t act now, I never would."

Heeseung looks at Mr. Kim, his emotions a turbulent storm of gratitude and guilt. Mr. Kim risked everything—his career, his family, his life. "Thank you," he says softly, but the words feel insufficient.

Mr. Kim shakes his head. "Don’t thank me yet. We’re not out of this. We still need to get this to the authorities without them tracing it back to us. If your father finds out…"

"He won’t," Heeseung cuts in. "We’re going to be smart about this. We’ll get these documents to someone who can take him down without giving us away."

Mr. Kim’s hand lingers on the folder for a second before he releases it entirely. He looks at Heeseung, his voice quieter now. “I’ve done my part. But from here on out, it’s on you. If he finds out I helped… I don’t know what he’ll do.”

Heeseung meets his gaze, gratitude and guilt swirling in his eyes. “You won’t be dragged into this. I’ll make sure of it.”

Mr. Kim hesitates, then gives a short nod, the weight of his decision hanging heavily in the room. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

With that, he turns and quietly leaves, the door closing behind him with a soft click, leaving the four of you alone with the evidence that will determine everything.

There’s a long silence before Haeyi speaks, her voice steady but filled with emotion. “This is it, isn’t it? The end of him.”

Heeseung nods, still staring down at the documents in his hand. “Yeah. This is it.”

But as the weight of their next steps sets in, the relief is quickly replaced by a new kind of pressure—what to do with the evidence, and how to protect it from the reach of their father before it’s too late. It’s a maddening conundrum. If this gets out into the world, their father, Mr. Lee, will undoubtedly be labelled a criminal, his reputation shattered. But what about them? His wife, his children—they won’t be hailed as heroes. They’ll be branded as traitors, as unfilial gold diggers, condemned for betraying the empire their father built.

The bitter truth of the elite world is that family comes second—always. No matter how toxic, how broken, the image of power, of wealth, must remain untarnished. The empire must be protected at all costs. It’s a vicious cycle, one that makes you wonder if any of this is worth it. It’s as if the happiness and wellbeing of these families, their humanity, doesn’t matter. Not in the grand scheme of things. Not when there’s money to be made, power to be held. Because money, in their world, solves everything.

Except for broken, dysfunctional families. That, it seems, is the one thing all the wealth in the world can’t fix.

Heeseung knows this too well. His entire life, he’s watched as his father prioritised his empire over everything—over his children, over his wife. Even now, with everything on the line, he realises that exposing his father won’t just topple a man; it will destroy everything their family has ever known. The shame, the disgrace—it will cling to them, shadowing their every move.

But what other choice do they have? Living under the weight of his father’s corruption, his cruelty, isn’t living at all. It’s suffocating. And Heeseung refuses to let his family drown in it any longer, no matter the cost.

This realisation brings a sharp, painful clarity. The path they’ve chosen isn’t just about justice—it’s about survival.

Each of them knows the gravity of what they’re about to do. The consequences will ripple far beyond this room, reshaping their lives in ways none of them can fully predict. But there’s no turning back now. They place their trust in a single journalist—a woman with a reputation for honesty, someone who has no loyalty to their father’s empire, someone who could, perhaps, be the final nail in Mr. Lee’s coffin.

It feels like the longest few days of their lives. Every phone call, every passing hour drags on, thick with anticipation and fear. Mrs. Lee hardly sleeps, her nerves keeping her on edge. Haeyi paces constantly, biting her nails, her thoughts a swirl of emotions. Heeseung withdraws into himself, barely speaking, his mind focused solely on the outcome. You watch them, feeling the weight of their tension, knowing the truth of what you’re all doing, knowing the truth of what will come. You tell yourself it’s the right thing. It has to be.

Then, it happens.

The morning feels surreal, as though time itself has slowed. You sit together at the dining table, the family on edge, staring at the untouched breakfast before you. In the centre of the table is a single newspaper, its headline in bold black letters screaming at you:

Billionaire Exposed: Business Tycoon Lee’s Corruption Scandal Unveiled!

The world stops.

You can’t take your eyes off it. Everything’s there—the embezzlement, the offshore accounts, the bribery, the exploitation. It’s all laid out in damning detail, backed by the evidence Mr. Kim risked his life to secure. Every secret Mr. Lee had worked so hard to bury is now exposed, printed for everyone to see. The impact is immediate. News outlets begin picking up the story, and within hours, it’s all anyone is talking about. Mr. Lee’s reputation is in tatters, his empire crumbling as the scandal spreads like wildfire.

Your heart pounds, a mix of relief and disbelief. It’s real. You’ve done it. The truth is out.

Mrs. Lee trembles as she holds the newspaper, her eyes scanning the front page over and over again. Her face is pale, and she looks… hollow, as though a piece of her has been torn away. It’s one thing to know her husband was corrupt; it’s another to see it splashed across every headline, his name synonymous with greed and deceit. Her hands shake, and she whispers to no one in particular, “This… this is our life now, isn’t it?”

You say nothing. What is there to say? This is their new reality.

Heeseung sits beside you, staring at the paper with cold, unreadable eyes. He doesn’t say a word, his jaw clenched tight. His fingers twitch, and you can see the strain in his expression. This is what he’s fought for, what he’s wanted—but there’s no victory in his face. Just exhaustion. Bitterness.

But then, your eyes land on the photo plastered beneath the headline, and the weight of it hits you all at once. It’s a grainy, hurried shot of Mr. Lee—their father—caught at the airport, boarding a private jet.

He was going to leave.

The words echo in your mind, disbelief mixing with anger. He was really going to run. He was going to abandon his family, his empire, everything, and flee the country to save himself. The article confirms it in cold, brutal detail.

"Authorities apprehended Mr. Lee late last night as he attempted to flee the country. A private jet, destined for an undisclosed location, was halted at the last moment."

The silence in the room grows heavier, suffocating. No one moves. No one speaks. You can feel the betrayal thick in the air, as sharp and painful as a knife wound.

Haeyi breaks first. Her voice cracks as she speaks, a mixture of hurt and disbelief colouring every word. “He was really going to leave us. He wasn’t even going to fight… He just—” She doesn’t finish. She doesn’t have to.

Her words are like a slap to the face. It’s not just about the money, or the business, or even the crimes. It’s about family, about loyalty. Heeseung grips the edge of the table, his knuckles white, his whole body tense. You can see the pain in his eyes, hidden beneath the anger.

“He never cared about any of us,” Heeseung mutters, his voice tight with barely contained rage. “He was always going to save himself.”

You can see it now—everything Heeseung has always known, all the resentment he’s carried. He’s known this truth for so long, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Mrs. Lee, who has been silent this whole time, finally speaks. Her voice trembles, so quiet you almost don’t hear it. “What have we done?” Her eyes well with unshed tears, her whole body slumped forward as though the weight of the world is finally crashing down on her. “We’ve ruined everything…”

“We didn’t ruin anything,” Heeseung snaps, his voice harsher than intended. “He did. He’s the one who lied, the one who stole, the one who was going to leave us to deal with the fallout.” His voice softens slightly, but his anger doesn’t waver. “We did the right thing. We stopped him.”

But Mrs. Lee doesn’t seem convinced. She looks broken, her world shattered in ways that can’t be repaired. “Our name… our family… we’ll never recover from this. People will always see us as part of his empire, part of his corruption.”

You reach for her hand, trying to offer some comfort, but there’s little to say. She’s right. The world won’t be kind. People will talk. They’ll judge. But the truth is out now, and there’s no going back.

Heeseung stands abruptly, pushing his chair back. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, his voice more resolved now. “We’ll rebuild. But we’re free now. We’re finally free from him.”

The room falls silent again, each of you left to your own thoughts. The reality of what’s happened begins to sink in. There’s no easy way forward. Their lives are forever changed, tainted by their father’s choices. But there’s also a strange kind of relief—a sense that, for the first time in years, the weight of the lies and manipulation is gone.

You catch Heeseung’s eye, and in that moment, you both understand. It won’t be easy, but they have a chance now—a chance to rebuild, to start over without the shadow of their father looming over them.

“What now?” Haeyi asks quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Heeseung’s answer is firm, unwavering. “We move on. We start over. Starting with Lee Group.” His words resonate with a quiet authority, and in that moment, you see it—the Heeseung you knew before you truly knew him. The Lee Heeseung that isn’t afraid to correct the teacher if given the opportunity. The Lee Heeseung who never fails to maintain perfect posture throughout 3-hour long lectures. The Lee Heeseung who becomes unresponsive and distant when the conversation veers away from academic topics. The Lee Heeseung who, if he sets his mind on something, can do anything.

"Sis, can you arrange a board meeting with all the stakeholders?" His voice is calm, but there’s something weighing heavily on his mind.

Haeyi narrows her eyes at him, her frustration rising. "And do what? Take over as CEO? Lee Group is a guillotine right now, Heeseung. You’re basically burying yourself alive!"

Heeseung’s eyes are sharp as they meet his sister’s. There’s a calm certainty in his voice, a quiet intensity that makes you realise just how serious he is. “Haeyi, trust me.”

She stares at him, her anger simmering beneath the surface. "You're mad," she finally says, shaking her head. "You can’t just walk into a board meeting and think you’ll fix everything. They’re going to tear us apart. They’ll expect blood, Heeseung—especially after the scandal."

"I know," Heeseung replies, his voice steady. "But we can’t let this company collapse. Too many people depend on it—the employees, their families. Lee Group is a mess right now, but it’s still our responsibility. We have to stabilise it before it implodes."

Haeyi exhales sharply, her scepticism palpable. "You’ve always been so naive," she mutters, her arms tightening across her chest. "Dad’s wrecked this company from the inside out. It’s not salvageable anymore, Heeseung. It’s toxic. He used it as his personal piggy bank, and now it’s a sinking ship. How can you possibly think you can save it?"

"I’m not trying to save it for him. I’m doing this for us—for Mum, for you. For everyone he hurt." Heeseung leans forward, his eyes burning with determination. "If we don’t act now, the board will sell it off, piece by piece, to vultures who don’t care about anything but profit. And once they’re done, nothing will be left but rubble. That’s not what Lee Group was supposed to be."

Haeyi’s expression softens just slightly, her resolve cracking, but she’s still sceptical. "You think you can convince the board to stay loyal after everything? After Dad? They’ll want to distance themselves from us as fast as possible."

Heeseung straightens his posture, that familiar sense of control and certainty in every inch of his frame. “I’m going in with a plan. A real, tangible future for Lee Group. Something that isn’t tainted by Dad’s mess."

"And you think they’ll listen to you?" Haeyi asks, her tone less biting now, more curious.

“I think they’ll listen when they see the plan we have,” Heeseung answers. “They’re scared right now. They need stability, a future. That’s what we’ll give them.”

Haeyi’s eyes flicker with doubt and something deeper—fear, maybe. “And if they don’t listen? If they laugh us out of the room?”

“They will.” Heeseung’s certainty feels unshakeable, like a force of nature. “Because we’re not just giving them empty promises. We’re giving them a way out of this mess. And they know they need it.”

That night, Heeseung suggests a walk by the river, even though the weather is far from ideal. The cold bites at your skin, the wind whistling through the streets, but something about the way he asks makes you agree without hesitation. His hand slips easily into yours, fingers interlocking, and as you walk along the pavement, he swings your joined hands gently back and forth. Despite the chill, you’re surprised to find other couples strolling by the water, bundled up in scarves and coats, as if the cold is just a minor inconvenience in the face of romance. That’s the thing about Seoul—it has a way of feeling magical, no matter the season.

Heeseung glances at you, concern in his eyes as the wind whips around you both. "Are you cold? We can head back if you want." His voice is soft, almost hesitant, like he’s worried he’s dragged you out into the bitter night unnecessarily. Without letting go of your hand, he brings it up to his lips, blowing a warm breath over your chilled skin. The warmth is fleeting, but the gesture makes your heart swell.

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. "We can stay out here as long as you want, Hee."

There’s nothing grand in the statement, nothing extraordinary, but the way he looks at you in that moment—like you’ve just given him the world—makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, you have. His eyes soften, and for a heartbeat, the world around you fades away, leaving just the two of you standing by the river under the dim glow of streetlights, the city’s hum in the background.

He stares at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real, like he’s trying to figure out how he got so lucky. "What did I do to deserve you?" His voice is barely a whisper, filled with awe and affection.

"Now that I think about it, a lot. You saved your family and now you’re going to rebuild everything you’ve lost. I might only be a small part of the future you’re about to build," you say with a shrug, trying to brush it off casually.

Heeseung stops walking for a second, his brow furrowing like he’s genuinely offended. "Small?" His voice holds an edge of disbelief. "Y/N, all you’ve been is supportive. After everything that’s happened these past few weeks, you’re anything but small in my life."

Your heart stumbles at his words. "Hee…" you murmur softly, the affection in his voice catching you off guard.

But he’s not finished. He steps in closer, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. "You stood up for me when I couldn’t even stand up for myself. You stepped in when everything with my family was falling apart, when you had no business being dragged into it. And still, you took it upon yourself to care."

"I know these past few days have been exhausting," Heeseung continues, his voice dropping, softer now, "and we’ve barely had time to ourselves. But please, don’t ever think you mean so little to me. You’re more than you realise."

You never expect Heeseung to erupt into a passionate outburst, his emotions spilling over from something you said in passing, without much thought. Yet, in that moment, it becomes evident how crucial it is for him to make sure you understand just how much you mean to him. There’s no ambiguity, no room for misunderstanding—just raw, unfiltered truth laid bare.

His words make your chest tighten, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. You’ve been there for him because it’s who you are, because you care, but hearing him acknowledge it, with such raw honesty, sends a warmth rushing through you.

To think that the two of you went from almost strangers, standing on opposite sides of a smoke screen outside a shady club on the outskirts of the city, to taking down one of the country’s most powerful businessman—who, as fate would have it, is also the father of your boyfriend. If you didn’t know better, you might think this was a twisted plot pulled straight from a movie script.

Yet, it’s this very cinematic quality that you were able to come out on top with a happy—well, decent—ending. As you gaze at him, a gentle smile spreads across your face. You rise onto your tiptoes, closing the distance between you, and place a soft kiss on his lips. “You do realise you can’t take back what you said, right?”

“Never,” he responds, his voice steady, with an unwavering certainty that makes your heart flutter.

“Even if I jam myself into every inch of your life?” you tease, a playful glint in your eye.

He laughs, the sound rich and warm, his gaze never leaving yours. “You are my life, Y/N. It’s impossible to take up more space than you already do.” His cheesy remarks elicit a giggle from you, and you can’t help but wonder how you ended up here.

“So, what are you going to do now?” you ask, curiosity piqued. “I know you have a plan, but seeing how you didn’t explicitly share that with Haeyi, you’re on to something, aren’t you?” You reach up to smooth down the unruly strands of his hair that have been tousled by the wind, and as you do, he leans into your touch, basking in your affection.

“I can’t get anything past you, can I?” He smirks, the glimmer in his eyes playful yet earnest.

“Unfortunately, no,” you reply, pinching his cheek teasingly as he pretends to flinch, his laughter ringing in the air like music.

Then, as the moment settles, he reveals his intentions with a quiet seriousness. “I’m giving up my position as next in line to Haeyi.” The weight of his words hangs in the air, and you pause, taking in the significance of what he’s just said. You know Heeseung has never coveted the CEO seat or even shown much interest in the company, but giving up his inheritance, especially at a time when it could mean so much to him, takes your breath away.

Every day, you find yourself gaining a new level of respect for Heeseung, for the depth of his convictions, and the integrity that drives him. “You really mean that, don’t you?” you murmur, your heart swelling with admiration.

He nods, the determination in his gaze unwavering. “It’s time for a new beginning for all of us. Haeyi deserves the chance to rebuild what our father destroyed. I can’t be the one to hold her back.”

As you stand there, hand in hand with Heeseung, cold biting at your skin, but it’s the lump forming in your throat that makes it hard to breathe. The gravity of stepping down from a role that was meant to be his birthright—it hits you differently now. This isn’t just about the CEO title or control of the company. It’s about shedding the expectations that have suffocated him for so long, the role he never wanted but was always forced to consider. He’s choosing to step back from a life of power, of the very thing people kill for, all because it was never his to begin with. You can see the strain in his eyes, the quiet resolve that tells you he’s made peace with this, even if it’s not easy. And he’s doing it not out of fear or resignation, but out of choice—an act of rebellion against a destiny someone else wrote for him.

He’s still going to be part of Lee Group, still fighting for what’s right, but on his own terms. No titles, no legacies, just Heeseung—doing what he’s always wanted, not what’s been expected of him.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” you whisper, knowing full well that he already knows that. He’s not doing this to prove anything to anyone—not to the board, not to his father’s shadow, and not even to you. He’s doing it because, for the first time in his life, he’s free to choose.

And in that moment, the enormity of it overwhelms you—the sheer selflessness of this decision, the way he’s choosing the harder path because it’s right, because it’s his. It breaks something in you, but it’s the kind of breaking that lets in the light, a raw mixture of heartbreak and pride swelling in your chest. You tighten your grip on his hand, silently promising that no matter where this choice takes him, you’ll be right there beside him, just as he’s chosen to stand beside you.

#6 Our Way

The boardroom is cold and sterile, a sharp contrast to the tension that’s palpable in the air. The table is lined with men and women, all in immaculate suits, all wearing expressions of scepticism and suspicion. Heeseung stands at the head of the table, his back straight, eyes focused on each member of the board. Haeyi sits beside him, her posture rigid, trying to exude the same confidence.

Heeseung begins. “I know why you’re all here. I know what you’re thinking.” His voice is calm but commanding. “After everything that’s happened, you’re questioning the future of this company. You’re worried about your investments, about the reputation that’s been destroyed.”

There’s a murmur of agreement, low but present.

"But Lee Group is more than my father’s crimes. It’s more than the mistakes he made. It’s a legacy, and it can still be saved."

Heeseung begins detailing a strategic roadmap for rebuilding Lee Group. It’s comprehensive—focusing on transparency, ethical leadership, and long-term recovery. His passion is evident in every word as he discusses restructuring, stabilising the company, and restoring the trust of their employees and stakeholders.

As he speaks, the board members listen, their expressions slowly shifting from guarded scepticism to consideration. But then, one of the older members interrupts, his voice edged with doubt.

“And you’ll be leading this, Heeseung?”

Heeseung shakes his head. “No. My sister, Haeyi, will.”

The room shifts. There’s a ripple of surprise, hushed whispers passing between the board members. Haeyi isn’t an exception as the shock on her face is undeniable. She wasn’t expecting this—none of them were. “What are you talking about?” she asks, her voice low but trembling with disbelief.

"You’re stepping down?" Haeyi repeats, her voice incredulous. "But… you’re the heir. Everyone knows it’s supposed to be you. The company—"

"I’m not the right person to lead," Heeseung interrupts gently but firmly. "Not in the long run. That’s not where my strengths are. But you, Haeyi, you’ve always had the vision, the understanding. You’ve worked alongside Dad, you know the business inside out, and you care about the people. You’re what Lee Group needs."

There’s a long pause. Haeyi’s lips part slightly, but no words come out. You can see the internal struggle on her face—disbelief, fear, maybe even gratefulness, but also a flicker of something else. A deep-rooted sense of responsibility, of loyalty to the company her father ripped away from her.

"You can’t be serious," she finally says, but her voice has lost its edge.

"I am," Heeseung replies.

"You’re giving up your inheritance," Haeyi whispers, almost as if she can’t believe it. "Your future."

Heeseung shrugs, but there’s a softness in his gaze as he looks at her. "It was never about the title for me, Haeyi. You know that. I care about the people, about doing the right thing. But I don’t need to be CEO to make a difference."

Haeyi looks at him for a long time, her mind racing as she processes his words. Then, slowly, her posture shifts. She’s not entirely convinced, not yet, but something in her is changing. You can see it, the way her shoulders relax just a fraction, the way her gaze softens.

Heeseung turns back to address the board, “She knows this company better than anyone. She’s worked in nearly every department, she understands the operations, the people. And unlike me, she’s been involved in the real decision-making, the day-to-day running of this place. I trust her to steer Lee Group in the right direction.”.

One of the older directors clears his throat, his scepticism clear in his tone. “With all due respect, Heeseung, this is sudden, and we’ve always seen you as the natural successor. Haeyi is… well, she’s brilliant, no doubt, but—”

“But she’s a woman,” Heeseung finishes for him, his voice laced with steel. “That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it?”

The man shifts uncomfortably, though he doesn’t deny it. There’s a murmur of agreement from a few others around the table, confirming that outdated thinking still lingers.

Heeseung takes a step forward, his voice growing stronger with every word. “I get it. You’re used to seeing men at the helm of companies like this. But that’s exactly why you need to listen. Lee Group needs new leadership, a fresh approach. And you all know that we can’t afford to stick to the old ways. Not now.”

His eyes sweep across the room. “Haeyi is the best option. She’s been behind the scenes making decisions for years. And, unlike me, she’s proven time and again that she can handle the tough, messy reality of what it means to run a company like this.”

There’s still resistance on some of their faces, a reluctance to break from tradition. But Heeseung presses on. “This company is bleeding. You’ve seen the reports, the figures. We don’t have time to keep playing it safe. You need someone who’s capable, someone who knows how to rebuild and lead with strength. That person is Haeyi.”

He glances at his sister again, his eyes filled with an unshakable confidence in her. “I believe in her. And I think, deep down, you do too.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion.

“I know,” he says softly. “But I trust you. And I know you can do this.”

Finally, the chairman, an older man with a stern face, speaks. “Heeseung… this is a bold decision. And I won’t lie—there are concerns. But,” he looks towards Haeyi, his expression softening just a fraction, “you’ve proven yourself before, Haeyi. You’ve been part of this company’s backbone, even if your father never gave you the credit. Maybe this is what we need after all.”

All eyes turn to Haeyi now. She swallows, her heart pounding in her chest. This is her moment. You can see the fear in her eyes, but there’s something stronger there—determination

“Lee Group is worth saving,” she says, her voice steady but growing stronger with every word. “Not because of the name, but because of what it represents for the people who’ve built it. I know the challenges ahead are immense, but I believe in this company, and I believe in the people behind it. If you give me the chance, I’ll prove it to you.”

The room falls silent. The weight of her words hangs in the air, thick with possibility. And slowly, one by one, the board members nod. Approval. Agreement. They’re willing to give her—and the company—a chance.

Heeseung exhales a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, relief washing over him. He turns to Haeyi, whose expression is still a mix of shock and disbelief.

Heeseung catches Haeyi’s eye, and for the first time in a long while, she allows herself to believe.

They might just be able to save it after all.

“Alright,” she says, addressing the board. “Let’s get to work.”

Backstage at the makeshift stage set up on the school’s football field, you fidget with your equipment, securing the mic pack tightly around your waist, nerves buzzing under your skin. The cold air nips at your face, but it’s nothing compared to the anxiety tightening in your chest. You and Heeseung had both nearly forgotten about this—the performance you agreed to do weeks ago, before everything fell apart with Mr Lee. The school’s annual festival seemed so trivial amidst the chaos of the last few weeks, yet here you are, moments away from singing the song you and Heeseung composed together.

Heeseung’s calm presence beside you feels like a lifeline. He steps in, his hands adjusting your in-ear monitors with a quiet confidence, his touch gentle but reassuring. "Hey, don’t be nervous, you’ll do great, princess," he murmurs, patting your head softly. His attempt to ease your tension helps, if only a little. You force a small smile in return, but you know no amount of soothing words, not even from Heeseung, will make the stage fright vanish.

Heeseung, on the other hand, looks surprisingly composed. His guitar rests casually in his hands, his face serene, as if he’s completely unfazed by the fact he’s about to perform live in front of the entire school. How does he always stay so calm? You wonder, glancing at him enviously as your heart races.

From the corner of your eye, you see your friends approaching. Chaewon, the first person you confided in about your relationship with Heeseung, pulls you into a warm embrace, her arms tight around you, a sharp contrast to the chill of the night air. Sakura and Yunjin follow, wrapping themselves around the two of you, their faces glowing with pride. The warmth of their bodies against yours, the quiet comfort in their hold, almost brings tears to your eyes. Nearby, Sunghoon and Jay greet Heeseung with knowing grins, their silent approval mirrored in the way they dap him up, casting proud glances at the four of you huddled together.

You think back to the moment you told them the truth. It was just a week after Heeseung had finally untangled himself from the chaos of the Lee Group, and you had sat them down, letting the weight of the secret you’d carried for so long spill into the open. Sakura was the first to shed a tear. You knew it wasn’t just for you but for the burden she imagined you carrying. She’s always been an empath, and in that moment, you could see her putting herself in your shoes, imagining how it must have felt to wear a mask, even around the people you called friends. Her pain mirrored your own, and that realisation had her wiping at her eyes, almost embarrassed to let her emotions show.

Yunjin, on the other hand, wore her regret openly for days afterwards. You reassured her over and over again that none of it was her fault, but she couldn’t shake the guilt. She had been the one dragging you out to parties, the one encouraging you to let loose, not knowing that behind your laughter was a part of yourself you were hiding. She blamed herself, even though you told her time and time again that it wasn’t on her.

Chaewon had taken the news the hardest, though. You always knew she would. Out of the three, she was the one closest to you, the one who had always tried to be your safe space. And yet, even she hadn’t known the truth. That cut her deep. She confessed to you that she’d always had a feeling you were holding something back but never pressed. Maybe she should have. She hated herself for the times she let it slide, the times you’d disappear on nights out or drown yourself in drinks. She thought, maybe if she’d pushed harder, you would have felt safe enough to tell her sooner.

But despite all the guilt and regret, the love you feel for them hasn’t wavered. If anything, it’s stronger now, standing in this moment, feeling their support surround you. You think back to how it felt, carrying the secret alone, pretending to be someone you weren’t even around your closest friends. And now, here they are, holding you close, knowing everything, and loving you just the same. It hits you then—maybe all the effort you put into concealing this part of yourself wasn’t really about them at all. It was about convincing yourself that no one could love the real you. And now, in their arms, you realise how wrong you were.

Then, the moment you’ve been dreading arrives. The MC calls your names, and suddenly you’re being ushered onstage by the crew. Panic grips you as you barely get a chance to check if your makeup’s still intact after all the anxious sweating you’ve been doing backstage. The lights are blinding as you step into the open, the cold air now mingling with the heat of the spotlight, making you feel light-headed.

"Hey Decelis, my name is Heeseung and this is Y/N," Heeseung announces, his voice steady and strong as he takes the lead. You’re grateful—your lips feel like they’re glued shut with nerves, your throat dry as you try to swallow the tension.

"Ah, Heeseung and Y/N! I hear the two of you have built quite the reputation here at Decelis," the MC smirks, there he goes again trying to start shit.

Heeseung chuckles lightly, ever the charmer. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

The MC turns his attention to you, his tone teasing. "What about you, Y/N? Any comments? Looks like the cat’s got your tongue."

"Mind your own damn business," you blurt out, the words harsher than you intended. But with the combination of nerves and now the jibes of the MC, you’re not that surprise that you snapped.

"Whoa, looks like we’ve got a feisty one here!" the MC laughs, brushing it off. "Anyway, I heard you two are performing an original song? Tell us more about it."

Heeseung steps in with a calm smile. "Yeah, it’s called ‘Our Way.’ It’s a love song, but more than that, it’s about two people who are determined to be together, no matter what life throws at them. It’s about pushing past the barriers and stereotypes that try to keep them apart, and instead, finding their own path. It’s about choosing each other, no matter how hard that might be."

His words hang in the cold night air, and for a moment, the weight of everything you’ve both been through lingers between you—false identities, family drama, corporate ruin, and yet, here you both stand, side by side. You glance at him, feeling a sudden surge of emotion. Despite the chaos, despite everything, Heeseung’s right. You’ve always found your way back to each other.

The floodlights feel blinding as you adjust your position, gripping the mic nervously while Heeseung holds his guitar with calm confidence. The crowd’s murmurs fade into the background as the two of you stand centre stage, illuminated against the dark night sky.

Heeseung glances at you, offering a small smile that speaks volumes, a smile that reassures, We’ve got this. But your heart races, pounding so hard it echoes in your ears. After everything you've both been through, this song feels like a culmination of it all, something sacred, something that’s undeniably yours.

Heeseung begins to strum the opening chords of "Our Way," the familiar melody floating through the crisp night air. It’s the same song you two composed back when the world felt like it was crashing down around you. Now, standing together in front of a sea of faces, you realise how much this moment holds, for this is the same sea of faces that both of you had to pretend to be someone you clearly weren’t in front of.

The spotlight is harsh, and the crowd feels overwhelming, but the moment Heeseung looks at you, the tension begins to melt. His gaze is steady, a silent reminder that you’re not standing here alone. As the first verse begins, your voice breaks the silence, soft but carrying the weight of your shared history.

I made a little room in my heart You, who I can't forget, are standing there I open that door, so that your voice that I long for calls me

Tears filled with regrets flow unconsciously I wish I could follow to wherever and flow somewhere In that warm sunlight, I want to let myself go so that I can meet you

Heeseung’s voice joins yours in the verse, and it grounds you, the warmth of his voice wrapping around you like a shield. The words spill from your lips with more emotion than you expected, echoing all the uncertainties that have trailed you—from confronting the darkest parts of your identity to navigating the chaos that has defined your lives. You recall those moments where you had to pretend to be someone else in front of friends and strangers alike, hiding who you truly were just to protect what little you had. You also recall all the difficult choices you both had to make to protect each other, knowing full well others may look at you differently for it.

At a slightly different time In the invisible world One star in the same room You and I have one name and one face

Even if I never see you again I walk following the same star Things that made me believe without any regrets: That one name and one voice

But it's a choice you're willing to make if it means being with Heeseung. Letting go of your personas and alter egos so you can show him your truest, most authentic self.

In the unstable world when there was no place to stand It held me from somewhere, that invisible touch Once again, I want your warm embrace I go and find you

Even when it felt like the whole world had their backs turned on you, you know the one person who will be there for you is going to be Heeseung. That despite everything—the masks, the façades, the personas—you and he have always shared something real. You were never truly hiding from each other. Even when you couldn’t see the way forward, he found you, held you in the darkness. And now, in this moment, you know without a doubt that you would always find him too.

Nothing has changed in the end We're holding our hands right now Filling the same place differently You're there, when we close our eyes We're right here at the nearest place

Your heart tightens as you sing those words. Even after everything that’s happened, after all the chaos, it feels like nothing has truly changed. You think maybe because before everything fell to shit, Heeseung was with you, and now that everything fell to shit and back, Heeseung is still by your side, holding your hand, grounding you in the same way he always has. And you realise that’s what matters most. It doesn’t matter what the world says, doesn’t matter what you’ve had to go through. What matters is that you’ve both found your place—together.

We're walking the same path We call for the same heart Dancing along the line we drew together

You know that this path you have paved—hell, this path you dug with your bare hands until they were bloody and shaking—is your own. And even with your hands, scarred and hideous, Heeseung would still hold them. For it is these very hands, flawed as they are, that pulled him out of the darkness when he couldn’t see the way forward. For you, he’d walk the line, even if it was a tightrope.

With one star, my one star So many things that you can't see Were always more beautiful You rise up by my side every day You're one star, that's your name

This song, this moment, it tells the story of everything you’ve been through together, even if only the two of you will truly understand it. You don’t need the validation of others. You don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not to feel worthy of love. Because here, on this stage, in this life, you and Heeseung are enough. You always have been.

As the last chord fades, you turn to him, your eyes locking with his, and an overwhelming sense of peace washes over you. Heeseung smiles softly, and in that smile, you see everything—gratitude, love, and the quiet promise that no matter what happens next, you’ll continue walking this path together.

This euphoric feeling is irreplaceable, and if you had the chance to go back, to do it all over again, you’d choose to walk the same path, every. single. time.

Because at the end of the day,

You and I have one name, and one face.

Somehow, you’ll find it—the delicate balance between who you wish to be and who the world expects you to be. But for now, you simply have to be satisfied with who you are. Be yourself, because everyone else is already taken. The simplicity of that idea has never resonated more deeply.

You finally understand why, despite having all the attention you could ever receive, you’ve been left feeling hollow, so starved of love. It’s because to truly be loved, you have to be known. Known in a way that pierces through your exterior, that gives you a place where you belong—irrevocably. It’s not the surface admiration or fleeting glances that matter. No, it’s the profound sense of being seen, of being understood when words fail you. It’s those quiet moments, seemingly insignificant but bursting with meaning, that remind you that you’re never truly alone, that there is someone who knows you and loves you for it.

How do you know this?

Because love, at its core, is about how every small, intricate detail speak volumes of affection. It’s in the way his gaze lingers on yours, the way he stands beside you in silence, offering his presence as comfort when words would only fall short.

Because Heeseung knows you.

And in the depth of his understanding, in the way he knows your every fear, your every vulnerability—you feel loved by him.

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