#had this in my drafts for a looong time

[muldery]

MODERN FAMILY (2009-2022) | S04E08 'Mystery Date'

[tragicotps]

Young Masriel AU: affair era

[blurreynights]

I figured out that my type is slightly depressed nerds who listen to niche doomer songs, are obsessed with photography and love brutalist architecture while also being highly avoidant and socially awkward

[chuluoyi]

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒

- sylus x reader

you suspect something’s off when you catch your lover with the hunter girl, so you decide to give him the cold shoulder. his way of winning you back? trapping you in a bet—if he wins this underground fight match, you’re back to being his

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—brief smut, comfort, total fluff, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), based on sylus' card radiant brilliance

note: this has been looong buried in my drafts since before my writer's block started :') again, a part of the assassin!reader that started with strictly (un)professional

Your lover— he is definitely hiding something.

“Mmph!” A moan escaped you mid-kiss as his palm suddenly cupped your right breast, squeezing and stroking it, while two of his left fingers thrusted inside you, getting you wet.

His fevered lips and tongue melded with yours, his wicked fingers driving you to the brink of madness—and oh damn, the devil that possessed them felt so heavenly—as he pressed you against the vanity, bending you over its edge.

A knowing gleam flickered in his eyes. “Mm, you talk too much, woman.”

Your thoughts blurred, teetering on the edge of control, yet deep within, a spark of aggravation incessantly burned, especially when you remembered the person you had caught him manhandling earlier this afternoon—

Miss Hunter.

“Sylus—! Stop!”

"Tch." He pulled away with a hiss as soon as you pushed his chest away with everything you had. Just like that, you were left high and dry; the emptiness his fingers had left behind made you instinctively cross your legs. "Why are you so uncooperative tonight?"

"You—" Gasping for breath, you clutched your slipping nightgown, glaring sharply at him despite the discomfort of the hard surface beneath you. "You really think you can shut me up... with sex?"

"I'm telling you, nothing happened." Sylus’ lips curled with a smug hint of satisfaction, only fueling your irritation. "Didn’t know my woman had such a jealous streak until now."

If there was one thing you’d learned from years by Sylus' side, it was that everything he did had a purpose. If it had been some random bimbo hanging around the casino or his resorts, you wouldn’t bat even an eye.

But this was the Miss Hunter—the very girl he had spent decades searching for, the one with whom he shared a bond so profound that he had forsaken everything just for the chance to find her again.

And compared to her, you were just his bedwarmer... who just happened to catch his eye.

"You two were kissing," you accused almost spitefully, the words laced with bitter edge.

His grin vanished, replaced by a look of distaste. "We were not."

You knew what you saw—he cornered her in the furthermost corner of the base, far away from even from the prying eyes of Luke and Kieran, and they were definitely just an inch away from each other. "Then what were you two doing?"

"Can't we talk just like acquaintances do?" The lack of viable answer gnawed at you. If there was nothing to hide, why didn’t he just say so and put your suspicions to rest?

"Will you do her like you do me?" The venom in your voice startled even you, slipping out before you could stop it. "Ha. I should’ve known..."

By now, he had this sour yet stern look in his face that made you almost shudder but you stood your ground. His tone was almost mocking, "Insecurity makes you so bitter, sweetie. Get yourself together."

It felt like a prick in the heart. Oh. As heartless as you were in the face of blood and gore, you still had it apparently when faced with your lover's conniving red eyes and sinful lips.

But more than that... as they said, heartbreak is one thing, but your ego is another.

"To hell with you!" you snapped, sitting up straight. Sylus blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the look on your face—was it showing the hurt? Or just plain defiance? Even you weren’t sure as you spun on your heel and stormed out of his room promptly.

Not for the first time, the very idea that he might be getting on with another woman twisted something inside you, the ache sharper than you expected. It suddenly saddened you to a degree that it brought mist to your eyes.

For the next three days, you ignored Sylus almost completely. He tried to get back to your good graces, but you paid him no mind, acting as if he didn't exist.

“Missus, please— just say yes!”

And caught in the crossfire, poor Luke and Kieran had become his reluctant messengers.

You unconsciously shot a sharp glare at the twins. Perhaps it was the mental strain you were putting yourself under, but you truly hadn’t meant to scare them more than they already were.

"Boss is really cranky when he isn't in a good mood," Luke pleaded, clasping his hands together. "Please just help us this time, will you?"

"He promises he’ll make it right!" Kieran chimed in with a hopeful grin. "As soon as he wins his match this weekend, you’ll see—there’s nothing to worry about!"

Sylus and his penchant for boxing. You knew these underground matches were something he indulged in now and then, and you'd let him be.

But this time...

"How are you so sure he's going to win?" You lifted your chin, a taunting smirk curling your lips. "And no, I'm not going. Tell him that."

"Missus, you have to see reason— there is no way Boss is having an affair—" Kieran insisted, shaking his head in frustration.

"Boss is whipped!" Luke cut in, throwing his hands up. "For you! Can't you see?!"

"..." For a solid five seconds, silence blanketed the room. You arched an eyebrow so high it made Luke look like he'd just spilled the world’s best-kept secret, while Kieran slapped a hand over his mask in exasperation.

And things were obviously not getting better—

"Ha. I'm what?"

You could see the twins visibly gulping the very second Sylus' voice boomed across the hall, and you rolled your eyes.

"Pfft," he let out this low chuckle as he made his way towards the three of you. "Hear that, sweetie? Luke isn't wrong."

"..."

"The little kitty's anger hasn't subsided, I see," he murmured, tilting his head to the side with a playful smirk, arms folded across his chest. "Such little trust you have in me."

You sighed. "Don't tempt me to hate you prolifically, Sylus."

"You wound me," he retorted, ruby-red eyes narrowed. "I have been nothing but honest and transparent."

You turned away, pressing your lips into a tight line. Deep down, you knew how childish all of this felt. Maybe it was nothing, after all. Maybe, just like he said, it was your insecurity twisting things.

And why are you so insecure, anyway?

"Keep your eyes on me, kitten."

Suddenly, caught off guard, you almost yelped as he tilted your chin towards him, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your heart raced wildly, but you fought to keep it in check.

"I win, and you’ll do what I say," his eyes flicking from yours to your lips, his voice a velvety whisper in your ear. "But if I lose... you can have your way—however you want."

Your pride took over. A second later, you jerked your face away, refusing to give him the satisfaction. To salvage your dignity, you let out an indignant scoff.

"Best hope you lose then."

You’d never been fond of crowds, let alone sitting in the stands of a boxing match.

And yet here you were, clutching a bouquet of fresh flowers—the twins had practically shoved them into your arms before bolting away—surrounded by the deafening roar of fans.

You would punish them later, you so would. It was humid and you were fuming. There was nothing interesting here, and to top it all off, Sylus’ turn to the ring was taking forever.

Until it didn't.

When he finally stepped into the spotlight, you caught sight of him on the big screen. And in that moment—when that devilish smirk curled his lips—you could’ve sworn he wasn’t aiming it at the crowd.

He was throwing it right at your direction.

And oh, how the rapid and traitorous thump-thump-thump inside your chest drowned out everything else, as if the roar of the crowd gradually faded at the realization.

How is it that he always manages to get your heart in his grasp?

. . .

When they said this sport wasn’t for the weak, they weren’t lying. No matter how tough you thought you were, you still flinched every time the opponent’s fist connected with your lover’s jaw.

Despite all the aggravation you harbored about him, watching him stumble and get knocked back felt like a punch to your own gut. In that moment, all you wanted was for it to end.

And when it finally was—when the referee raised Sylus’ arm and declared his victory—you exhaled a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Relief washed over you in a quiet, fleeting wave.

However, reporters and cheers quickly swarmed him, and the distance between you felt even greater then. There he stood, proud as ever, lofty as if standing atop clouds, surveying the world with thinly veiled contempt. Meanwhile, you…

You were still dissatisfied. Sylus had a way of winning everything he set his sights on, while you remained stuck with your own petty grievances and emotional baggage you subjected yourself to.

It was vexing, really. How you wanted him to win and not at the same time. How you wanted his everything and knowing you would never be able to.

“What’s the secret to winning this match?!” one reporter asked, voice brimming with excitement.

Sylus answered with a casual smirk. “I made a bet I absolutely can’t lose,” he said coolly. “So, I won.”

The girls in the stands erupted into deafening cheers at his response, their shrill voices forcing you to cover your ears.

The nerve. You scoffed, irked by his answer and by the crowd’s adoration. You decided you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of you lingering here any longer.

Snatching up your bag and that damned bouquet, you marched toward the exit with long, determined strides when—

“Ooh? And who is this special person?!”

“Ah, look, there she is.”

You froze mid-step as the spotlight suddenly pinned you in its beam. Whirling around, your breath caught as you saw Sylus descending from the arena, his gaze locked onto yours.

What the hell?

For a moment, you froze in utter disbelief as he approached you with that effortless grace, as if the crowd around him didn’t exist. Before you could piece together your fragmented thoughts, he was already standing before you.

“Are you mad?!” you murmured in a hiss, your voice barely louder than a breath over the distant roar of cheers, yet pointed enough to pierce the air between you.

Sylus, however, only let out a snort, swiftly snatching the bouquet from your arms, and pulling you by the shoulders— his breath tickled you ear as he whispered:

“Got you.”

—and before you could react, he crashed his lips on yours in a bold kiss that at sent the crowd into an instant uproar of cheers.

“Whoa, whoa! The champion! Look how manly he is!”

“He has a girlfriend?!”

“Oh, my! To be that girl!”

“—!” You almost pushed him away, only to falter when you realized his kiss was anything but forceful. It was deep but disarmingly gentle.

Sylus pulled back just as quickly, his eyes twinkled with mischief as he took in your stunned expression.

“You’re mine now, sweetie,” he said with a smug grin, giving you a light pat in the head.

The way his eyes crinkle as he looks at you... Your cheeks burned, and your heart thundered in your chest, drowning the roars of the swooning crowd—

Because in that moment, you could’ve sworn there was nothing but pure adoration in those mesmerizing garnet eyes of his.

“You've gone and done it... What if anyone recognizes us?”

Later that night, freshly showered and wrapped in silk nightgowns, you sat at the edge of the bed, towel in hand as you dried your wet hair. You cast a glance at Sylus, who had just bathed with you and now lounged nearby with an unbothered grin.

The events from this afternoon still felt like somewhat of a dream to you. You had never been under that much of a spotlight before— too used to a life shrouded in shadows, quietly biding your time, preparing to brandish your blade when the moment came.

But through Sylus, every now and then, you caught a glimpse of what it felt like to stand on the other side of that darkness. And it felt freeing— like you could finally breathe, unburdened by the scent of blood and gunpowder.

"Wouldn't that be fun? Imagine the headlines," he shrugged nonchalantly. "The Onychinus leader and his missus... masquerading as a boxer and his fan for a day."

You huffed, shooting him a stink eye. "That's not even funny."

Despite the public display that Sylus had more or less pulled and made the two of you known as lovers even in underground world, there was still a gnawing curiosity at the back of your mind, feeding your insecurity—

The sight of him and Miss Hunter replayed again in your mind's eye. It was never fun finding them together in such close proximity.

And yet, in the end... he returned to you, still. Unspoken it may be, but Sylus had always taken your side so far.

You let out a long, resigned sigh. That caught his attention as he turned to you. "What is it?"

"Nothing," you quipped, slightly grimacing. "Forget it. I'm going to sleep."

Sylus raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on you. Even when you hid it, he knew what you'd wanted to ask and if you asked it now, he would tell you.

The way your face had fallen bothered him more than he'd like to admit. He rose from the recliner and moved to your side. "No, you won't be sleeping."

"What?"

He knelt beside you, gently taking hold of your leg, and pressed a kiss to your calf, his touch warm and unhurried as he met your gaze with a sly smile.

"Sylus..." you eyed him with incredulity, feeling yourself getting warm.

His red eyes crinkled. "Don't you want to ask me something?"

Your hand reached out to caress his face, and he leaned into your touch. That simple act alone brought a small, intrigued smile to your face. "No."

"Hmph. Really?"

"What?" You traced your fingers on his sharp jaw, admiring it. "You think I'll demand you for answers about whether you're two-timing me with Miss Hunter again?"

Sylus tilted his head, relishing the way your fingers cradled his face, staying quiet, however.

You were really great at this pushing and pulling game. It irked him to see how detached you seemed now when he knew a part of you had been fazed by it days ago.

He disliked it when you tried to hide what you were feeling. He hated it even more when you doubted him for anything. But seeing how unhappy you had been lately rattled him.

"Nothing happened," he said in a low voice, catching your hand and locking eyes with you. "Would you feel better if I had told you that since the beginning?"

"Who knows?" you replied with a soft shrug, a wry smile on your lips. "You didn't tell me before."

What a vixen. The thought simmered in his mind. Mine, though.

Like a cat pouncing on its owner, Sylus suddenly moved, going straight for your lips and pinning you to the bed. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he pried your lips open with his tongue.

Yet despite it all, you felt how gentle he was. The Sylus from before would just fuck you senseless and be done with it, but the one with you now... he treated you with an unexpected tenderness, as if savoring every second with you.

He pulled away only when you were breathless, the saliva string between your lips breaking as he gave you a moment to gasp for air. His gaze softened, lingering on your flushed face, a satisfied smile curling on his lips.

"You will see for yourself tomorrow. Tonight, however..." he trailed off, his lips hovering just above yours.

But you placed one hand on his chest and another on his neck, looking up at him with bleary eyes, the vulnerability in your gaze tugging at something within him.

"Actually, I'm a bit exhausted..." You found his intense gaze and blinked slowly. "So, can you be not as rough?"

"Ha." Sylus let out a snicker at your request, taking the hand you had on his chest and pressing a soft kiss on it.

What a precious little thing you are. Your face right now... It was a look he couldn’t resist, one that made him want to protect you and ruin you, all at once.

His smirk lingered. "Of course, sweetie. I'll go easy on you tonight."

And true to his word, he didn't break his promise.

Even as he pinned both your wrists above your head, capturing your lips in a heated kiss—

—as he dived between your legs, his tongue skillfully devouring your clit—

—and as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

And later, when he pulled you into his arms and murmured softly until you drifted to sleep.

When you woke up the next morning, it was because of two things.

One— it was freezing. Your thin nightgown was definitely no match against the biting chill of a winter morning.

And two— Sylus wasn't here.

You wondered where he could have gone as it was his bedtime, but as you pulled the comforter closer to keep yourself from shivering, something caught your eye.

It took you a full three seconds to process it.

There was a ring on your finger.

"Huh...?" You were jolted awake by the sight of the glittering ruby. It was intricate, yet strangely nostalgic, reminding you of Sylus' eyes. How? Why?

You immediately turned to the nightstand, your gaze landing on a small jewelry box sitting neatly atop it. You scrambled for it, the name of the jeweler embossed on the lid caught your attention. It wasn’t from anywhere in N109 Zone.

It clicked to you at all once. So, that was why he was with Miss Hunter?

But more than that, what caught your heart was when you flipped it open and found a note inside, with a scrawled handwriting you would never mistake for anyone else's—

Because forever is too long and boring to be spent alone. So, your answer is…?

[pennyellee]

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

title: ANUBIS pairings: yandere mafia namjoon x barmaid f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: 19,7K release date: december - january

beta read by one and only @chaoticpuff17

prompt 1: “You are something I can sin for” prompt 2: An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that’s what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn’t always like that. There was a time where you’ve resented Namjoon with every fibre of your being and every word that came out of his plump lips after what he had done to prove his power. Unfortunately, you will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, reader meets namjoon young but nothing happens until she's 21, forced engagement, kidnapping, graphic violence, death, murder, blood, explicit language, misogyny, mentions of feminism, alcohol usage, mentions of religion and God, church smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, oppa-kink and so on (i'll add some if i'll forget)

author's note: so here we are! this is the story i've been thrilled to push out as it is happening in the universe and almost simultaneously with CHAMPAGNE CONFETTI. Y/N alias Peaches here, is my baby, and I cannot wait to write more for her and Namjoon after champagne confetti side B goes out. I have drafts for another fics that are happening in the same universe as champagne confetti and now anubis but step by step my faries ♥ I hope you will enjoy reading this piece I was keeping for myself for a looong time. The best thing about writing is that I get to build this world of imagination and live in it for months before it gets to you. Sooo I'm very nervous and excited to push Anubis out as a second fic within champagne confetti universe - which i still didn't name coz all the fics just have different titles so let's just call it like that for now. Without further ado, enjoy fairies! ♥ let's go back to 1996. omfg, let's call it thatttt, back to 1996!

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone. main masterlist 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

1996

"Did you sleep well?" Namjoon asked, his voice softer now, as if he was trying to breach the walls that had begun to rise between you.

You nursed your coffee in the black ceramic mug while you shrugged, keeping the answer with spice in it for yourself just yet. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you could see the cracks in his façade when you didn't answer.

"I see... silent treatment," he gulped down, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Pouring himself a cup of coffee too, he leaned on the counter right in front of you. You took his appearance in. He got a buzz cut, creamy satin shirt tucked in leather pants. A few of the buttons were undone, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest.

"Is that really how you want to start the day?" he provoked. You set the mug down, the clink of ceramic against marble echoing in the tension-filled kitchen.

"Did you ask yourself the same question when you threatened me?" you shot back, your voice rising slightly as the memories flooded back. The anger surged within you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment you woke up in his penthouse.

Namjoon's expression shifted, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of defensiveness.

"Well, you for some reason seemed too adamant that you needed to patrol the streets of Bronx by running away from me. I know you too damn well, Peaches; I know where you were headed."

The words stung, each syllable laced with accusation and an unsettling truth. Your heart raced, the anger bubbling just below the surface.

"You know fucking shit, Namjoon—"

"Oppa," he jumped in, his voice firm, yet tinged with a note of caution.

You inhaled sharply, the familiar term slicing through the tension like a knife. It reminded you of the intimate moments you once shared. "You've lost that honorific the moment you decided to threaten me and kill that man right in front of my eyes!"

Namjoon's jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict brewing beneath his composed exterior.

"You don't understand the kind of world I'm in. We protect ours."

"Protect?" you spat, feeling the heat of betrayal wash over you.

"I'm a person who deserves to make her own choices—" He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.

"What choices are you making? Running off into the night like it's some kind of adventure? You think that's brave? I refuse to let you get hurt because you're unhappy with my decisions."

"Oh yeah, like something would happen to me—"

"You are my woman, and people know that you are, Peaches!" he declared, his voice rising with intensity, as if the weight of his words was meant to command respect from the universe itself.

Your heart raced at his proclamation, a mix of anger and something softer twisting in your gut.

"The fuck you're talking about, Namjoon?" You snapped, your voice echoing off the sleek kitchen walls. Anger surged within you, fueled by the sheer audacity of his claim.

"Not fucking once did you say that we ought to be official one day—" you shot back, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"You act like I'm some sort of possession, something you can just claim without any conversation or commitment!" Namjoon's expression hardened, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes.

"You need to stop pretending like we don't have a future because you're scared of the past," he said, smashing the mug down on the counter. Namjoon's jaw tightened, and the conflict in his eyes was palpable.

"Since we met, not fucking once have you made your intentions strictly clear, Namjoon! The fuck am I doing here then?!" The words burst from your lips, raw and unfiltered, echoing in the tense space between you.

He ran a hand over his face, visibly struggling to keep his composure.

"I thought you knew. I thought you felt it too," he replied, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I thought it was understood that it was a matter of time."

"Understood?" you scoffed, incredulity seeping into your tone. "You think that just because you've made me a part of your life, I should automatically know my place? That's not how it works!"

"I was waiting till you'll—"

"Age of consent is eighteen in this state, Namjoon, keep that bullshit to yourself." Namjoon's expression darkened at your words, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"So you would rather be wifed and knocked up as soon as we met, am I right?"

.

.

.

.

.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: if you want to be notified once the full story will be up for reading, you can write in the comments and i'll create a taglist!

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

lots of love, p.

[luvhcarly]

LET ME SHOW YOU HOW SORRY I AM.

You are a perfect student. Only A’s on your exams, the best student in class, the favourite among the teachers. But him on the other hand, fails all the exams, doesn’t give a damn about anything, just about a reputation among the girls, clubs and many other things. But when Heesung fails another exam, teacher decides to put him up with you, convincing you to tutor him… and you agree.

PAIRINGS: softdom!Heesung x fem!reader

GENRE: smut, high school AU, strangers to friends to lovers

TAGS: 18+, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t!), praising, pet names (baby, love), a lot of angst, swearing, oral (f receiving), Heesung cries, jealousy, Heesung admires reader’s beauty, they are over 18+!!, lmk if I missed anything!

WC: 11.5K

A/N: hi!! :) This one shot has been so looong in my drafts and I am finally posting it.

!reminder English is not my first language!

You were sitting with your friend behind the desk, your head gently resting on your hands and you calmly listened as your friend talked about the boy she had a crush on. Hanul always did this, she always liked someone else for a week so you didn't make much of it.

“So are you guys really going out together?” You asked curiously, because this was probably the first time she'd gone out with someone. She nodded at your question and when she was about to say something, she was interrupted by a loud voices. You both looked up and saw a familiar group of guys that everyone was crazy about and Hanul too.

“Great.” You muttered under your breath and rolled your eyes at their presence, you didn't like many of them, especially one guy right from there. Everyone else was pretty cool and you could get along with them, but him. He was unbearable. It bothered you how he never cared for anything at all. Only girls, parties, smoking... He was the complete opposite of you and you couldn't stand that.

“Ah, our top student, y/n.” It came out of his mouth as he walked past your desk and you glared at him disgustedly. He always did that, he always had to have some sarcastic remark. His friends chuckled softly at his comment and Hanul furrowed her eyebrows.

“Hanul, did you hear that?” You looked at your friend and he raised his eyebrows in confusion at your words.

“What?” Hanul didn’t understand what you were getting at, she didn’t understand it, but she decided to play this game with you. “No?”

“I heard some mumbling, it sounded like a rat?” You finished and started looking around the room, his group of friends bursting into laughter and Hanul next to you too.

“1:0 for Heesung.” Ni-ki remarked and you chuckled at that, even though your remark was cheap and stupid so at least he kept his mouth shut for a moment.

“Class sit down.” At that moment, the teacher came into the classroom, her expression serious as if something very terrible had happened. She placed the papers she was holding on her desk and let out a sigh, leaning her body against the desk.

“The exams ended up good…” everyone started to pay attention to her words and she scanned the entire class with her eyes as if looking for someone. Her eyes suddenly fell on Heesung, who had his feet spread out on the desk.

“Heesung.” The teacher said his name and he noticed, raised his eyebrows and waited for what she would say next.

“Put your legs down.” She noted and he rolled his eyes at her words, but he obeyed because he didn’t want to get another report from her, since he already had several. He felt like the teacher had him in his teeth.

“As I said the exams ended up good, expect for one.” Her words were quiet, but still sharp and she felt a little disappointed by it. Even when she started to say this, she didn’t admit who didn’t pass the exam. She had planned to discuss it in person and she did exactly that.

“Heesung.” After the class, when everyone was already packing up and starting to leave the classrooms, the teacher stopped Heesung. He knew exactly what it was about and so without another word he walked over to her desk. But then her eyes suddenly fell on you and he didn’t like that. He had no idea what the teacher was getting at.

“Y/n.” The teacher's voice stopped you as you were about to leave the classroom, you looked at Hanul with a surprised expression and told her that you would see her later. You turned around and when your gaze met his, you frowned. You slowly walked towards them both and the teacher took a deep breath, thinking about her decision.

“Heesung you failled my exam, again.” She noted warningly and seriously, but Heesung just crossed his arms on his chest and waited for him to get a lecture from her, but suddenly she said something that surprised him even more.

“Y/n, you are the top student so I picked you-” your eyes widened and you immediately interrupted her

“I don’t have time for tutoring, Ms. Reun” Heesung furrowed his eyebrows at the whole thing, tutoring? No way.

“I don’t need tutoring.” The teacher let out a sigh and looked at his paper and took it in her hand. She put it in front of his eyes and he twisted them, he knew he didn’t pass, but why was she handling it that way.

“Y/n, look it might look on your documents for college.” You shifted your gaze to her at her words because she was right. Heesung noticed how you started to pay attention and also how a small sigh escaped your lips, as if you were thinking about it all. You shifted your gaze from the teacher to him and took a deep breath. This is going to be hell.

“Fine…”

-

You were waiting in the library, books on the table and he was nowhere to be found. If he doesn’t come and you are sitting here for nothing, then he is done. You rested your head on your hand tiredly and closed your eyes for a moment. In your head, you started asking yourself why you agreed to this in the first place. But college was really important to you and your teacher was right that it could look good on your documents.

“You are late.” When you heard him sit down right across from you, you let out a sigh and opened your eyes.

“Let’s just get over this.” He said with an annoyed tone in his voice and you sighed. The fact that you both didn’t want to be here was mutual and you could feel the unpleasant atmosphere in the air.

“Okay, so what do you not understand?” He got a little nervous at your question, because he honestly knew almost nothing. He never paid attention in class, and even though he tried, he stopped paying after a while.

“Everything.” His answer was simple and you raised an eyebrow at it. What the hell did he mean by everything?

“Everything?�� You wondered. You had tutored a few students before, and they always knew at least something, but Heesung couldn’t even start. He was a lost cause, even though you tried to be patient throughout the tutoring, his stupid comments always drove you crazy. Sometimes you answered him stupidly back, but when he refused to cooperate, it made you angry. It felt like he was really doing it on purpose and wanted to keep you up as long as he could.

“Can you just concentrate?” You asked him in frustration, he frowned at your question and saw your tired expression on his face. Maybe he really went too far now, he had never seen you this stressed out. “Look, I’m not happy that I need to tutor you so… but if you are not going to pay attention and concentrate then this will never end.” You added and he remained silent. You were right, but he enjoyed provoking you. He always enjoyed how you could get angry over the smallest thing.

But he remained silent and cleared his throat a little, leaned closer to get a better look at the books and started to pay attention. For the first time in his life, he paid attention and started to understand. He watched you immerse yourself in it and try to explain it to him so that he would understand. Time went by too quickly and when the librarian came in with the words that the library was closing, you sighed.

“Tomorrow?” You were completely taken aback by his question, but you nodded and threw your backpack over your shoulder.

“Okay.”

-

The next day you met again in the library after school, this time he arrived on time, which completely surprised you. He sat down next to you, all sweaty, trying to catch his breath.

“Sorry I had practise.” He admitted it and you blinked at him but didn't say anything and opened your book. You briefly and slowly started explaining the new material to him again and it was going better than yesterday. He started to concentrate more and his intrusive comments stopped, which surprised you. Heesung started to enjoy it quite a bit when he understood it and started to enjoy your presence a little bit. You spent quite a while in the library, and when you saw that the library was slowly starting to clear out and you were almost the last ones left, you closed the book.

“I think we are done for today.” You said and Heesung nodded at your words in agreement. You packed your books back into your backpack and then slung it over your shoulder. Heesung also slung his bag over his shoulder and opened his mouth, thinking about what to say.

“Tomorrow again?” You looked at him and started to think.

“I can’t tomorrow.” Your words surprised him because he was expecting a different answer. “But do you have time at the weekend?” A small sigh escaped his lips and he wondered if he had time.

“Yeah, I have.” You nodded and nervously ran a hand through your hair as Heesung put his hands in his pants pockets. “Where? And what time?” He added when there was silence between you and you were wondering where would be a good place to meet.

“Park at 4PM?” You asked him and he nodded at your suggestion. It would be quite nice to spend the afternoon in the park in the sun.

“Okay, sounds good.”

And so you met, you were wearing a floral dress, a bag over your shoulder that had a blanket and books and some sweets in it. Heesung was already standing under a large oak tree, wearing a loose white T-shirt and blue wide pants, with a sweatshirt thrown over his shoulder. You walked up to him, but at first he didn't notice you at all, he seemed lost in thought.

“Hey.” You spoke to him and he immediately noticed and looked you up and down.

“Hi.” He swallowed loudly and scratched the back of his neck. You didn’t understand his reaction, but you didn’t say anything and took a blanket out of your bag, placed it on the soft grass and sat down. Heesung did the same and sat down next to you, his hands resting on his knees and his gaze was straight ahead. While you took books out of your bag and placed them firmly in front of you, which made Heesung flinch. You laughed at his reaction and the corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile.

The sun had already set and you were still sitting here on the last example. “You need to substitute this for this formula.” You explained to him again and Heesung furrowed his eyebrows, but then he did as you told him and finally after 20 minutes of suffering he got a good result.

“Like this?” He asked, pushing you the notebook with the result and you smiled. You happily threw your hands in the air and shouted: “Yes! Finally!!” Heesung laughed sincerely at your reaction and finally put the books aside. You put the books back in your bag, while Heesung let out a long sigh and leaned back more, his gaze fixed on the setting sun. You, took out some candies from your bag, which you opened and without a word you gave one to him. Actually, Heesung was surprised by your gesture, but he accepted the candy. It was quite strange, sitting here with you so wordlessly, no stupid teasing remarks, was it pleasant…? Even he himself didn’t know how to describe this feeling.

Then he fixed his gaze in front of him again, he was lost in thought while you looked at him. He looked relaxed, almost rested, the sun was hitting his features and highlighting every single detail, his hair was a little messy, his full lips were in a thin line and his chest was slowly rising with each breath. Heesung was really handsome, you never doubted that, but you had never looked at him for as long as you did right now. He felt your gaze and glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, but when you realized that you might have been looking at him for too long, you shifted your gaze forward and smiled. The sun was pleasant even though it was almost invisible, but it was still warm. Heesung really felt relaxed after a very long time, and he could also see it in you.

“It feels nice.” Out of nowhere he let out a sigh and you shifted your gaze from in front of you to him, uncomprehending.

“What?” You blinked and he wondered if that sounded strange coming from him.

“I mean… the sun feels nice, you know?” When he really expanded on it, you smiled and nodded, shifting your gaze back to in front of you.

“Yeah.” You admitted and he tried not to smile. Heesung always saw you as someone who was just lost in books and didn't care about the world around. You were too annoying, too smart and everything always worked out for you. Maybe that's why he always had such sarcastic remarks about you. Honestly, deep down, he envied you because he didn't care about studying at all, but rather because he didn't care about it at all.

The only thing that always bothered him was that he looked good, he was interested in clubs, but he was most interested in basketball. He basically lived for basketball, he didn't enjoy anything else at school. Unlike you, you had more things that entertained and fulfilled you, you always went volunteering, which Heesung never understood why, but he realized that it was probably because you had a very good heart. The teachers adored you, unlike him. In the eyes of the teachers, he was just another student who wasn't interested in studying but rather in basketball and other things.

Heesung never understand how you could be so yourself? You never pretended in front of anyone and you always told everyone the truth and not stupid lies. But he, he pretended quite often. He always put on an invisible mask in front of school, which he then took off again when he got home. He did it in front of his friends sometimes too, he always behaved in a way that he was on their level, but you… you never did that.

“How do you do it?” He suddenly asked, because it was starting to bother him more and more.

“How do I do what?” You turned your head to him, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“How come you’re so yourself?” He added, and you were taken aback by his question. You didn’t understand why he was asking you that.

"I mean, you always seem so… you. Like you don’t fake anything. You say what you mean. Do what you want. It’s like you don’t care what people think." You took a deep breath and started to think. Why don’t you ever pretend? It was a pretty tough question, but not at the same time. Heesung watched you as you thought deeply about your answer, your lips in a thin line, your gaze fixed on the ground, but then you lifted it and shrugged your shoulder.

“I care. I just don’t let it control me.” He nodded at your words, and swallowed loudly, his gaze still fixed on you.

"That’s what I mean. I don’t know how to do that. I feel like I’m always wearing this… mask.” He took a deep breath and then continued. “With my friends, with teachers. Even with my parents. Like I’m just performing some version of me that they all expect." You watched him silently for a moment. This version of him was different, no teasing remarks, no smirking, just a boy who’s just tired of pretending.

"So why do you wear it?" You asked in a soft voice.

"Because the real me doesn’t feel like enough. Not cool enough, not smart enough. Not anything enough. The mask, at least, makes people laugh. Makes them leave me alone." His words were sincere and it was the first time he had said this to anyone. He didn't even know why he was saying this to you. Why he was confessing everything to you. Well, he had to say it because he hoped you would understand him…

"I see the real you. And I think he's more than enough." After a while, you said and his heart skipped a beat at your words. He looked deeply into your eyes, as if searching for the truth in them. As if searching for the fact that you meant it seriously.

“You barely even like me.” He let it out of his mouth and you broke eye contact for a moment but then you looked at him again.

“That was before I knew you were a descent human underneath the idiotic remarks.” You told him with a small, gentle smile and he laughed sincerely at your words, his eyes gentle, which you had never seen before.

“Thanks I think.” His eyes followed every little detail, and it felt strange to him, he had never looked at you like that. He had always perceived you differently, but now… he perceived you as someone who understood him and perceived him differently than others.

"You don’t have to be anyone else around me…” You stopped talking for a moment, as if you were thinking about how to properly say what you were thinking. “I like the quiet version of you. The real one." He could feel the sincerity in your words, and he felt his body tremble slightly and his heart skip a beat again at your words.

You sit speechless for a moment, both of you staring straight ahead this time, the silence saying more than any words. Heesung tries not to smile and not think too much about what you said. Maybe he really should stop pretending and take off that stupid mask and just be… himself.

"This is the first time I’ve felt like I could breathe in a while." He admitted and you smiled softly at his words, your gaze shifting to him, your fingers almost touching.

“I feel the same.” Actually, you felt that way too. Heesung didn’t understand what you meant, you could see it in his blank expression. “I think I wear a mask too… It just looks different from yours.” You let out a long sigh that you didn’t even know you were holding back.

“You? Miss perfect grades and always-in-control?” he asked in surprise, and you nodded, Heesung saw something in your expression that he had never seen before. Something that told him that maybe you really do pretend sometimes, even if maybe differently than him.

“Exactly. That’s the mask. The girl who always has it together. Who gets straight A’s, never talks back, never messes up…” You bit the inside of your cheek, nervously, and then continued. “People expect that from me, so I give it to them.” You finished and leaned back more, Heesung watching every little detail of you.

"Why?" You took another deep breath, your gaze fixed on your thighs, thinking.

"Because if I don't..." He raised his eyebrows and waited for you to continue. "I don't know who I am without it. It's like I have to be perfect so no one looks too close. Like if I slip, even once, everything I've built will fall apart." Your eyes slid to him, and for the first time in his life he saw in you that you were broken. That you might not be as perfect as he perceived you to be. He knew that everyone had their problems, but he didn't expect you to be so similar yet so different.

"What are you afraid they'll see?" His voice was quiet, he was afraid of what you would say. Your eyes were starting to get a little glassy, ​​as if you were trying to hold back tears.

"That I’m not as strong as I pretend to be. That sometimes I’m overwhelmed. That I get scared…” You remained silent, searching for the right expression. “Lonely. That I don’t always know what I’m doing. That…” Loudly, you swallowed and shook your head to yourself, looking deeply into his eyes, searching for at least a hint of comfort. “Maybe I’m just faking it all.” After this sentence there was silence again, Heesung didn't know what to say. But the only thing he knew was that he didn't want you to feel that way. He didn't want you to feel alone.

"Then maybe we're the same. Just two people pretending for the world and exhausted by it." That was all he could say at that moment, he placed his hand on yours and gently stroked it. You shifted your gaze to his hand and smiled. His touch was gentle, as if he was afraid he would hurt you. Heesung had never felt like this... he felt, himself, that he really didn't have to pretend. At that, a soft drop fell. Then another. And within a second, the clouds above you gathered and a heavy summer rain began to fall.

Without hesitation, you both stood up and packed the blanket into your bag and ran hand in hand under a large oak tree together, hoping to at least you could hide from the rain a little. But it didn’t help, but you didn’t care, both of you were laughing at yourself. You fixed your wet hair from the rain back and Heesung ran his hands through it. Then he looked at you deeply, small drops of water running down your face, your floral dress completely soaked and his chest gently clenched at this look. Even though it was raining and you were completely soaked, you were smiling.

“You look… different when you’re like this.” He said in a low voice and you tilted your head to the side with a smile.

“Like what? A drowned rat?” You asked with a laugh and he shook his head at your words, but chuckled.

“No.” He said and you waited for him to continue. “Like… the real you. No perfect hair, no books. Just you. Even like this you’re beautiful.” His words caught you by surprise and if you were to tell the truth, your heart skipped a beat. A faint blush rose to your cheeks, and he noticed.

“You are not bad yourself.” You admitted with a smile and the corners of his mouth broke into one big smile. His hair was still falling out of shape so he ran his hand through it again.

“Promise me.” You suddenly blurted out and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Promise me, that you won’t pretend anymore. Be you.” You finished and he hesitated. He wanted to stop pretending, he really wanted to. And so he finally gave in to your words. He stopped pretending.

“I promise.”

-

A few weeks had passed since you and Heesung had stood soaking wet under a tree, laughing as if it was just you and no one else around. Hatred had turned into friendship, which surprised everyone around you. You spent your free time together, going to his basketball games and supporting him in everything. You sat on a bench outside during school, laughing and joking. You watched each other at every opportunity, sending notes to each other during class, smiling at each other. Long texting until late at night, chilling around in each others houses.

People around you thought you were dating because it looked like it. Everyone noticed the way you looked at each other, it was something you couldn't just see. But you both always brushed them off saying that you were just friends, but did you really feel that way? Heesung promised you that day that he would stop pretending and that's how it was. He took off his mask and was himself, not just in front of you, but in front of everyone else.

But today was different, when you passed each other in the hallway, Heesung didn’t even smile, didn’t say hello, didn’t even look at you. At first you didn’t think anything of it because you thought maybe he hadn’t noticed you, but then he didn’t even come to your usual place during break and you found it strange. He didn’t even send you any notes during class. So when you came out of school after all the classes and saw him standing leaning against the wall, laughing with his friends at something that probably wasn’t even funny, you went up to him.

“Hey, can we talk?” You spoke and then his group of friends fell silent and he exchanged glances with them. Then he looked at you and made eye contact with you, but then he broke it and looked at his friends.

“See you later, guys.” He announced to them and they nodded at his words and together you went to a quiet place behind the school building where no one could hear you. Heesung immediately leaned against the cold wall, while you crossed your arms over your chest and looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“You’ve been ignoring me all day. What’s going on?” He shifted his gaze from the ground to you and narrowed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Nothing. Just busy.” He answered with a strong tone that you didn’t like. You didn’t take it to heart. He must have been lying to you because his expression was again the same as it had been a few weeks ago. Cold, cocky… that’s not him.

“Don’t lie to me. Did I do something? Why are you acting like I don’t exist?”

“God, do you always have to make everything about you?” He snapped at you in a raised voice and you blinked. You didn’t understand what had just come over him out of nowhere.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You frowned at him, his jaw tightly clenched, his hands in his pockets as if nothing had ever interested him again.

“Ever since we started hanging out, everything’s changed.” He shook his head. “My friends barely talk to me. Everyone’s whispering. Like I’m not who I used to be. And you��you're always around, like some perfect little shadow. Maybe I’m sick of it.” His words were sharp as a knife, piercing your heart, slowly shattering into a million little pieces. “And maybe it’s easier acting like you don’t exist.” This was really the last straw, your eyes were starting to glaze over, you fought back the tears. You weren’t going to cry. Not in front of him. You repeated in your head.

“Easier for what? For you to pretend nothing happened? For you to act like I didn’t see every part of you last weekend?” He chuckled at your words and shook his head at that.

“Yeah, well maybe you saw too much. Maybe I didn’t want you to.” What he was saying hurt you. The worst part was that you really started to like him, but he decided to kick your feet and pretend nothing happened.

"I never asked you to change! You're the one who said you were tired of pretending." Your voice trembled slightly and Heesung heard it. He furrowed his brow, knowing you were right...

"Yeah, well maybe pretending was better. At least then people didn’t look at me like I was pathetic." Your breathing started to be a little heavier than usual, your hands were shaking and you were trying to hold back your tears even though it was fucking hard. You saw nothing but darkness and hatred in his eyes. Like he blamed you for everything that happened.

"You’re blaming me for your own fear now, Heesung.” You let out a sigh and he pushed himself off the wall, stepping closer to you with laughter and mockery in his eyes.

“No, I’m waking up. You made me soft… Weak. Like some charity project you could fix.” He said with a laugh and you furrowed your eyebrows, you stepped closer, your bodies almost touching and his breath almost stopped, but then he clenched his jaw tightly and stared at you.

"I never tried to fix you. I liked you, Heesung. I saw you. I liked you the way you were with me. The real you. But you’re too much of a coward to keep being him.” You were angry that he was just throwing it away. Hell, you were really stupid to think he would change and be himself.

“You are not trying to fix me, you say? You look at people like they’re puzzles you need to solve. Like if you can just make me follow your plans, everything will fall into place and you’ll feel better about yourself.” You took a step back. Damn, that hurt the most. His voice was raised, full of anger, and his eyes narrowed.

"That’s not fair—" When you started to speak, he immediately interrupted you.

“No,” He took a step forward, leaning closer to your face, so that his words would sink into your memory. “What’s not fair is you telling me to take off my mask when you’re wearing one too. Miss perfect. Miss always composed. You walk around like you’ve got it all together, like you’ve never broken a single rule or made a mistake.” Everything you said to him turned against you, and damn, it hurt. You’ve never felt so hurt as you did right now.

“I never said I was perfect—” You said defensively, but he just chuckled and shook his head at that.

“You didn’t have to. You live like it. You hide behind your grades and your routines and your stupid color-coded planner and act like you’ve got life figured out. You don’t. You’re just as fake as I am.” Heesung was very aware of how his words hurt you, he saw it in your expression. He saw how you were trying to hold back the tears that were welling up in your eyes, how your breathing was heavier than usual.

“That’s not fair, Heesung.”

"Don’t you get it?!” His voice rose again and you winced at it. “It’s easier to pretend than to admit that I have nothing figured out. That I’m a mess. That my friends are barely friends. That every time I get close to someone, they leave.” He took a deep breath and then started talking again. “So yeah, I pretend. Because it’s safer. Because it hurts less. You don’t know anything about what it’s like to be me.” You broke eye contact with him for the first time and looked down then back at him.

“I know enough. I know that the moment someone actually cared, you ran. I know that it’s easier for you to tear me down than admit that you’re terrified of being seen.” Your voice was quiet but there was something sharp in it, something Heesung had never experienced before. Well, he didn’t stop even though he saw that you were probably going to collapse right in front of his eyes.

"I gave you parts of me no one's ever seen, and now everyone's looking at me like I'm not who I was. My friends don't even trust me anymore. I don't feel like me anymore!" There was silence between you after that, both of you gasping for breath, your eyes glassy, ​​trying to hold back all the tears that wanted to rise to the surface.

"I never wanted you to be perfect. I just wanted you to be honest." You said honestly and Heesung swallowed loudly, his jaw still clenched tightly, trying to fight his own anger.

"Then maybe you should’ve started with yourself." You immediately frowned your eyebrows at that and Heesung took a step back, and when he was about to leave, your words stopped him.

“You know what? Fine. Go ahead. Be the joke, the mask, the guy with nothing real to offer. But don’t you ever come near me again and ask me to see you. Because I did. And you threw it away." Your voice was shaking, but it scared him. And then you left and he just stood there, watching your figure slowly disappear from his sight. He didn't stop you. Even though he wanted to, he didn't.

All the words he'd said to you started to come back to him and he collapsed. Tears started to stream down his face and he cried. He didn't want it to end like this. Hell, he didn't know why he was so harsh on you and blaming you for everything. You were the only one who understood him and tried to see him and he threw it away... threw you away like you didn't even exist, like he didn't feel anything more than friendship for you. Maybe that's what he feared the most.

When you left and were out of his reach, that's when you burst into tears. You cried the whole way home, you couldn't stop crying. He hurt you. He hurt you so much that you didn't feel like doing anything. His words were harsh and he used everything you confided in him in a nasty and cruel way towards you. You didn't even want to see him anymore, but that's impossible since you go to the same school and class.

You skipped school for a whole week, which was unusual for you. You told your friend that you weren't feeling well, that you were sick. You've never skipped school, even your parents found it strange, but you really weren't in the mood. You didn't even feel like seeing him, you need to pull yourself together and learn to ignore him and forget everything that happened.

Heesung noticed that you hadn't been to school all week and it felt strange. He was worried about you, but when he heard your friend tell the teacher that you were sick, he felt bad. You were never sick, he felt like it was just an excuse so you wouldn't have to see him. And he understood that. He understood that you probably hated him the most with all your heart because he hurt you. Fuck, he hated himself for hurting you.

But when you came to school the next week, with a huge smile on your face, always perfectly groomed, pretending that nothing had happened, he was surprised. Deep down, Heesung knew that you had put on a mask just like him. He knew that inside you were broken, like never before, and only because of him. If he could turn back time and do it differently. He would never have said such nasty words to you as he did then.

Weeks passed since then and your contact didn’t change. You sat on the other side of the class like him, ignoring his gaze even though you felt it every time you passed by. There were no more sarcastic remarks, which everyone found strange. People even started asking why you didn’t talk anymore? What had happened between you two, but you and he refused to talk about it. Despite everything bad and all the bad words he said to you that day, you moved on, or at least part of it.

You stood in the hallway leaning against your locker, while Jungwon stood next to you and talked to you, and you laughed. Heesung heard your laughter, which was louder than usual, it was sincere. His gaze shifted from his friend to you and Jungwon, who was talking to you and smiling from ear to ear. Jungwon was in his group of friends, they were very good friends but he didn't like the way he talked to you. Why was he talking to you and what was so funny? Why were you laughing so sincerely and why did you playfully slap him on the shoulder?

Heesung looked back at his friend, because he would do something he didn't want to do himself. He couldn't forget you, even though you probably already did. He understood it, he understood that you really hate him, but he couldn't stand it anymore. And so when after school, the hallways were empty and you were walking down the hallway, your backpack slung over your shoulder, suddenly someone grabbed your wrist tightly and pulled you into an empty classroom.

"Have you lost your mind?" You frowned when you saw Heesung standing in front of you, his hair messy and his tie on his school uniform slightly loose.

"Going after my friend now?" Without further hesitation, he blurted out and you looked at him in confusion. What the hell is wrong with him? You thought to yourself.

"What are—"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." He cut you off immediately, his voice serious and deep. "All those smiles. Laughing like you couldn't wait to replace me." You didn't like the tone of voice he spoke to you, and not at all what he said.

"Don’t do this. Don’t twist it—" The anger inside you grew because it wasn’t true at all. Heesung moved closer to you to get a better look at you.

“Are you doing the same thing to him that you did to me?” You felt like you had been slapped. You froze at his words. Your lips parted slightly, as if you couldn’t believe what he had said.

“What did you just say?” Your voice was low, shaky, afraid of what he would say next.

“You got in my head. Made me believe I was enough.” Heesung shook his head and chuckled at that. He didn’t even know why he was being so rude to you again. He wanted to fix it, but he couldn’t. It made him angry that you were acting like nothing had happened. “That someone like you could actually care. And then you left like I was nothing. So what now? He’s next?” He finished and your breath stopped for a moment. You didn't understand why he was blaming you again. Why the hell was he blaming you for everything that happened?

"You don’t get to say that to me.” You shook your head and gave him a hard slap on the chest, and he took a step back. “You don’t get to pretend like I walked away!” Your voice grew louder and louder. “You shut me out. You told me I was fake. You blamed me for you losing your friends. You used me as your excuse to keep pretending. That I only cared because it made me feel better about myself.” Heesung was surprised by your reaction.

“Because I had to push you away before you realized how messed up I really am!” Was that really the reason? Or was he doing it to protect himself more than you? He didn’t even know…

"You think that’s what a real friendship is about?” You asked him and he froze at your question. Friendship. He hadn't heard that word from you in so long and now, it sounded like something you were saying with resentment. “You think I gave a damn about your perfect grades or your plans? I cared because you showed me something real. Because underneath all that arrogance and stupid deflection, there was someone honest. And you buried him the second it got hard." Your eyes were glassy and your breathing was heavier, your heart was beating at an incredible pace. The words you said replayed in his head several times like a radio.

"I saw you with him and it felt like—like none of it mattered. Like I was just… something you were bored of." His voice was quiet, as if he was saying it only to himself.

"No. You saw me happy and you hated it because it meant you’re not the only one who gets to ignore me and shut me out.” Then there was silence between you, only the sound of both of yours heavy breathing could be heard in the empty classroom. Heesung's chest heaved at an extreme pace, as if he was drowning in his own guilt… You, wiping away a tear that was running down your cheek and he noticed, damn it, he did it again. He messed it up even more than before.

"You want the truth?" You walked up to him and he looked up at you from the ground. "You broke me. And I still waited. I waited for you to say something, to show me that our friendship meant something to you. But you didn't. And the second I tried to move on — just to breathe — you show up and throw this in my face?" This time you let the tears run down your cheek, you didn't care anymore. You couldn't keep the sadness and anger inside. "You don't get to be jealous. Not after everything. You don't get to accuse me of moving on when you're the one who let me go." Even though your voice was quiet and trembling, Heesung felt like stabbed severel times. His heart shattering into million pieces like before.

Heesung just stared at you, regret etched into his features. He didn’t know what to say, you were right. About everything. He swallowed loudly and when he was about to say something, you turned and walked to the door. When your hand touched the doorknob, you stopped and looked at him.

“Stop pulling me back just to hurt me again.” And with those words you walked away, leaving him alone again. Heesung let out a long sigh and nervously ran his hand through his hair.

“Fuck!” He angrily kicked the chair, which immediately fell and he sat down hard on the floor, hiding his face in his hands. He was like a little boy. He hated himself. Why did he mess it up like that again? Why didn’t he apologize to you when he planned it...

That night you lay in bed, his words replaying in your head over and over again, and as you were trying to fall asleep, there was a knock on the door. Once. A second time. A third time. You raised an eyebrow at that, because who on earth would bother you at this hour. You climbed out of bed and opened the door to your room, your parents were already asleep and that was the scary part. You walked slowly to the front door and nervously touched the handle, your hands shaking. You finally slowly opened the door and when you saw him standing there, gasping for breath, his forehead covered in sweat and his hair slightly wet, you raised an eyebrow. What the hell does he want again?

“What the hell—did you run here?” You opened the door all the way and he was surprised, but he remained silent, thinking. His chest heaved and he rubbed his forehead gently. His lips parted slightly, but nothing came out. All the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. Then he shrugged and leaned a little against the door frame because he felt like he would collapse if he didn't.

“I’m sorry.” You blinked a few times at him, your heart starting to pound again at his words.

“No. You don’t get to show up here-“

“I know, y/n! Please-… just please let me talk.” His voice was shaky, urgent, and for the first time in your life you were quiet, waiting for him to say next. “I’m sorry. For everything. For pushing you away. For saying those things. For being a coward. For pretending I didn’t care…” At that, tears started to stream down his face and you froze. You couldn’t believe he was crying. That he was showing off what he really felt. “I-I care so much it makes me sick.” He added through his tears and swallowed loudly, as you stood there silently, disbelieving.

“I saw you laughing with Jungwon and I wanted to punch a wall because that’s what I do. I ruin things. I ruin people. And I was so afraid I’d ruin you, too… so I—God, I pushed you so far and I thought if you hated me, maybe it’d hurt less when you left.” He admitted his mistake, his voice was quiet but his words were loud and they screamed that he was sorry. Your heart was beating at an incredible pace, your breathing was heavy again like before, but now it felt different. It wasn’t from pity or anger… you didn’t even know why. Maybe because you didn’t expect him to show up at your door this late, with tears in his eyes.

“I pretended I didn’t care. Because the second I did — the second I let myself love you — I knew I’d never be the same again.” He took a step forward, as if he was afraid you would close the door in his face and leave him standing there without a word. But his words surprised you. Love you…?

"You don’t get to say that word." Your voice was soft, but there was something unusual in it. Heesung nodded his head, realizing that he really had no right to say that.

"I know.. but it’s the truth. I love you. I didn’t know what to call it before and how to handle it. And I’m sorry it took losing you to see it.” Finally, Heesung really admitted how he felt. He realized it right when he lost you, that he was worried about his feelings. That he would hurt you and himself… But he couldn’t hold it in anymore. Not anymore.

“You hurt me.” You said quietly.

“I know.”

“You shattered me.”

“I know.”

Silence.

Then-

“You’re such a goddamn mess.” You said even more quietly.

“I know.”

He let out softly, and before you knew it, you grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him closer to you. Immediately crushing your lips into his. The kiss was messy. Desperate. Full of pain and desire for each other and unsaid words between you two.

Heesung moaned softly, pulling you tighter against him. Your aggressive kiss made him realize how much he had messed up. His hands went to your hair, deepening the kiss. He pushed you against the door frame, his body pressing against yours possessively. Then you pulled away from him, placed your hand on his chest.

“It’s cold here.” With a low whisper you said and you grabbed his hand, intertwining his fingers with his, slowly leading him into your room. He without a doubt followed you inside, his hand still intertwined with yours. As soon as the door closed behind him, he pulled you back into his arms, pressing you against the wall beside your bed. His kisses became more urgent, more desperate as he realized this was really happening - you were finally in his arms.

“Heesung- my parents have room right next to mine…” You said shyly while he started kissing you on your jaw, then on your neck where did he stop.

"Shh," He whispered against your neck, his hands gripping your waist tighter. "They won't hear anything." Heesung continued kissing and sucking on your neck, leaving hickeys. "Besides, I need to kiss every part of you before I lose my mind." With a desperate eyes he looked at you, admiring you. At the feeling of his wet lips on your neck you squeezed your eyes shut for a brief moment.

Slowly, you started to run your hand through his hair, and he groaned softly, picking you up by your thighs so you'd wrap your legs around his waist again. He deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth possessively. Fuck how he loved how you responded to his kisses - like you needed his mouth as much as he needed yours. "God," he muttered softly.

“Let me show you how sorry I am, please.” His words surprised you and for a moment you stared at him speechless, startled.

“W-what?” You asked him and in his eyes you saw longing, hunger. Heesung set you down gently on the bed, his hands slowly and carefully sliding along your thighs. Like he was afraid he could hurt you, he looked at you with intense, pleading eyes, his voice low and sincere. "Let me make it up to you properly. Let me show you how much sorry I am and how much I love you, y/n"

You swallowed loudly at his words and he knelt down in front of you, his eyes fixed on you and his hands resting on your thighs. His touch was soft and loving, something you wanted to feel every day.

“Heesung-“ When you were about to say something he immediately cut you off.

"Please," he said "Let me worship you like I should have been doing all along. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved." His thumb caressed your thighs softly, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and desperation. You could hear the gentleness and love in his voice. But still you were surprised by his behavior, him on his knees in front of you. Begging you to let him make you feel good.

Without further hesitation, he began to slowly and gently kiss your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours. His soft lips touched your skin and a chill ran down your spine, a soft moan escaped your lips, making him smirk. Each kiss he pressed against your skin was a silent apology, a whispered "I love you" without words. His touch was reverent, worshipful.

"I've dreamed of worshiping you like this. Like you deserve, my love.” You blinked at his words and gently ran your fingers through his hair, feeling yourself getting wetter as he left soft, wet kisses on your thighs. Heesung's hands slid slowly up your thighs, his gaze never wavering from yours. Each inch of skin he kissed felt sacred to him, a pilgrimage of penance and devotion. "Kissing every part of you." He murmured, his voice husky with emotion. Gently, you squeezed your thighs, hoping that stupid feeling between your legs would stop.

But Heesung noticed, he watched your legs tighten together, his mind going wild with thoughts. "God," he muttered softly, spreading your thighs gently with his palms. He saw how his words and kisses were affecting you - your underwear was getting wetter by the second. He knew it.

"You're getting wet just from me kissing your damn thighs, aren't you?" he asked, his thumbs brushing against your shorts. You immediately squeezed your eyes for a second as he looked up at you with a smug look. “Can I?” He asked as his fingers gently touched them hem of your shorts and you nodded without hesitation. You needed him to do something about it. You needed him.

Heesung slowly pulled your shorts down, his eyes following your expression. Your lips were slightly parted as you watched as your shorts slowly fell to the ground, leaving your pussy full naked. Immediately the cold air touched your naked pussy, sending a gentle chill down your spine, his eyes looking down. His eyes darkened with desire as he took in your glistening, pink folds - completely bare and utterly tempting. He licked his lips hungrily, a low groan escaping him.

You had no idea what to say so you just stared silently, your breathing heavier again, your heart beating so fast you felt like it was going to jump out of your chest. Sure, you'd had sex a few times, but you'd never had a boy kneel in front of you, with pleading eyes...

Heesung admired the perfect sight laid bare before him. He leaned in closer, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, making you shudder. "Fucking beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough with barely restrained desire.

Without warning, Heesung again pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh, his hand gripping the other thigh to keep you spread wide open. He placed a trail of kisses along your thigh, inching closer and closer to your center. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a mix of love and desire. At the sound of your moan Heesung smiled against your skin, his kisses becoming more intentional and purposeful. He nuzzled his face between your thighs, inhaling your scent deeply before placing an open-mouthed kiss right above your clit. His hands squeezed your thighs possessively.

Immediately a chill run down your spine at the contact of his lips against your clit, a slight moan escaping from your lips. Heesung's warm breath fanned over your sensitive bundle of nerves as he teased you with gentle kisses and soft bites along your inner thighs, deliberately avoiding direct contact with your clit. His hands slid up to grip your hips, holding you in place as he tormented you with his teasing touches.

“P-please.” A plea escaped from your lips as he was teasing you. Fuck, your voice made him even more harder than he was right now. To make you satisfied Heesung pressed his mouth to your pussy barely but then he covered your entire pussy as he sucked and kissed your sensitive flesh hungrily. His tongue snaked out to part your folds, finding your clit and swirling his tongue around it mercilessly. When he moaned loudly against you, it had sent a vibration through your body, making you let out a loud moan.

“F-fuck.” Even though you tried to be more quiet it was almost impossible. Slowly, you roamed your hands to his hair, pulling him softly as if you were encouraging him. A satisfied growl rumbled in his chest as he continued feasting on your pussy - licking, sucking, and teasing your clit relentlessly. His hands tightened on your hips, holding you steady as he devoured you.

“You are so good for me, letting me worship you like you deserve.” He blurted out against your pussy, making eye contact with you, his mouth full of you, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smirked mischievously. His words made you moan even harder, making you close to the edge.

“I-I’m close, Hee. Fuck, please I-“ To feel his tongue even more inside you, you bucked your hips forward but he pushed your hips back down, keeping you still as he focused his attention on your clit. He wrapped his lips around it and sucked hard, flicking his tongue against it rapidly. Your muffled cries grew louder as he pushed you closer to the edge. To muffle your moans even more, you immediately put a hand over your mouth, enjoying the pleasure.

Heesung felt your hand covering your mouth, and he growled against your pussy, the vibrations pushing you over the edge. He felt your body convulse as your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. He continued licking and sucking, drawing out your pleasure until you were a shaking, gasping mess. After that, you pulled your hand away from your mouth as he licked your pussy for one last time.

You watched him pull away from your pussy, his hair messy, his eyes still full of desire. Slowly, he stood up and he put one of his hand on your cheek, cupping it softly. Then, he captured your lips deeply and you moaned into the kiss, sending shivers down his spine, making his cock twitch inside his jeans. Heesung pulled back slightly to gaze into your flushed, satisfied face. His thumb gently still caressing your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped during the intensity of your orgasm.

"You're breathtaking," At his words you blushed, which made him smile softly at you. He moved the hand that was on your cheek to your neck and gently wrapped his hand around it. But not too much, just enough to give you room to breathe. He pulled your face closer and kissed you again, the kiss dominant and messy, his tongue invading your mouth possessively.

Then he broke the kiss only to trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck again, his hand still wrapped around your throat as he pushed you back onto the bed. He touched the hem of your shirt with his free hand and took it off, for a moment he moved away from you and looked at you properly. He looked at you with hunger in his eyes, while you slowly took his shirt off too, immediately his toned abs fell into your eyes.

You started to gently run your fingers over his body, returning everything to him. His breath stopped for a moment as he felt your touch lower and lower. Softly, you pressed your lips to his and slowly and carefully left kisses on his jaw, then on his neck, and then on his bare shoulders. Heesung still had one arm wrapped around your neck gently and watched as you left wet kisses on his naked body. His abs clenched involuntarily under your exploring fingers and your wet kisses.

You started to left the kisses lower and lower, while you began to unzip his jeans with your trembling fingers. Heesung's heart swelled with affection at the loving way you kissed his body. He looked down at you with adoration in his eyes. Then he threw you back down again so you were lying on the bed and gave you a wet kiss while you were still trying to unzip his jeans.

“I need you inside, please.” You begged and Heesung growled against your lips as he felt you unzipping his jeans, his hips bucking slightly as you felt his hardness through the thin fabric. You were struggling with his jeans, you were so desperate that you couldn't even unzip them. Heesung noticed and chuckled at you.

“Eager are we?” He asked and he took his hand away from your neck and grabbed your hands that were still on his jeans and pushed them away, unzipping the jeans himself. You felt embarrassed, you were so eager that you couldn't even unzip his stupid jeans.

With your eyes you watched as he took off his jeans and his boxers at the same time.

Your eyes darkened with lust as his hard length sprang free. He was long and thick, the tip already wet with pre-cum. He caught you watching him and slowly wrapped his hand around his length, pumping it slowly. He heard you swallow hard and saw your thighs tighten involuntarily.

"You like watching?" With a sly smile he asked and you nodded at his words. You couldn't say more to him and Heesung smirked mischievously as he positioned himself between your thighs, spreading your legs wider. Then he realised something. “Fuck, I-I don’t have a condom.” Loudly, you swallowed at his words. Shit, it didn't matter, you needed him.

"Fuck I don't care, I need you." You let out and you grabbed him hard by his bare shoulders, pulling him closer. Heesung's pupils dilated at your desperate words. Without another thought, he grabbed your hips and lifted them slightly, positioning the head of his dick at your entrance. He met your gaze, his own filled with hunger and need.

"If I start, I'm not gonna stop." He started to make sure that you were okay with it, that you didn't doubt your decision.

"I don't want you to stop. Just fuck me, please, Heesung." When your words reassured him, his control snapped completely. Roughly, he crashed his lips against yours as he slowly pushed himself inside you, feeling your wet heat wrap around him. Breaking the kiss with a gasp, he whispered against your lips, "So fucking tight..." His hips started moving in slow, deep thrusts. Your mouth opened into a small 'O' and he watched it with excitement. God, he loved how you responded to him, how your pussy was made just for him.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as he started moving faster, his hips snapping forward as he buried himself deeper inside you with each thrust. His hands gripped your hips possessively, pulling you closer with every thrust, as if trying to get even deeper. You dug your nails deep into his bare shoulders and buried your face in the crook of his neck, trying to control your loud moans.

The sound of your moans vibrated against his neck, sending shivers down his spine. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent as he continued to pound into you. "You're so loud," he groaned, "Gonna make me come so fast..." You felt like you were in another dimension when he spoke to you like that, his nose buried in your hair, constantly and firmly thrusting into you.

“F-fuck… Heesung. Y-you make me feel so good.” You murmured into his neck and tears began to form, which he noticed. His thrusts became more intense when hearing your whispered words, his heart racing. Seeing your eyes welling up turned him on even more. Heesung pulled away from your hair as he felt your tears on his neck.

You moved away from the crook of his neck, looking at him with small tears in your eyes. He moved one hand from your hip to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear that fell.

"Shh... fuck, are you..." Sudden embarrassment hit you hard as he looked at you with his lips parted and with a little worry in his eyes. To suppress it, you leaned closer to him and kissed him deeply, your nails still dug into his bare shoulders, making him groan into the kiss. Your tongues intertwined and you moaned too, sending shivers down his spine. He deepened the kiss, swallowing your moans. He realized your legs tightened around his waist, pulling him even closer. He

"Baby..." He panted, and he saw another tear escape your eye. “I-I love you so so much. Fuck…” Fuck, he couldn’t even think straight he was just too lost in the feeling. Your pussy clenching around his cock, feeling every bit of you.

“I love- I love you too.” Between the whines you managed to say and he moaned again and again. The declaration made him lose it completely. "Fuck..." He moved faster, deeper, his entire body trembling with effort. One hand tangled in your hair while the other gripped your hip harder. "You're fucking perfect... so tight, so good..." He groaned, feeling himself getting closer. Only moans could be heard in your room, heavy breathing and the smell of sex.

Another tear started to ran down your cheek, the pleasure just being too much for you. Heesung knew that you were crying because of the feeling. But hell, you looked so beautiful like this. He realized he loved seeing you like this - vulnerable, beautiful, and completely consumed by him. "You're so fucking pretty when you cry..." He hissed, his thumb brushing away another tear as he slammed into you deeply. Even though his words were soft, his thrusts weren’t.

You ran your nails along his back, leaving a red marks behind, making him moan more. "So beautiful... so mine..." He whispered hoarsely, his hips moving erratically now, chasing his release.

“Y-yours.” You were moaning mess, you couldn’t even say a proper sentence without stuttering.

"Fuck... yes, you're mine..." He hissed as your nails dug into his back, marking him. He loved the feeling, the slight sting mixing with the overwhelming pleasure. He buried his face in your neck, biting down gently as he lost control completely.

“Hee-“ Your moans were like music to his ears, he wanted this moment to last forever. He wanted to be buried in your perfect pussy every day.

"Say it again..." Urgently, he let out, wanting to hear it again and again. Letting you remember only nis name, no one else’s. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you even closer as he continued to pound into you.

“Heesung~” More clearly you moaned beneath the little cries and he growled into your neck, his hot breath making you shiver. He could feel you tightening around him, getting closer.

“Again…” He demanded, his voice hoarse and desperate. He loved hearing his name fall from your lips like that, broken and needy. He could feel himself getting closer, the pressure building.

“Heesung!~” You moaned again.

“Again…” His voice breaking a little, as he slammed into you hard without mercy.

“H-Heesung.” His cock was hitting every right spot inside you as you repeated his name over and over again.

"Fuck... fuck, fuck, fuck..." As you screamed his name more louder he moaned. He felt you tighten even more around him, pulling him deeper. "I'm gonna fucking come... fuck, baby, say my name again..." He begged, his hips slapping against yours.

“H-Heesung, fuck I’m-“ At the feeling you threw your head back and he watched as little gasps left from your pretty mouth. Your hair spread out on the pillow, moaning his name like a prayer.

"Jesus..." He bit his lip hard. "You're gonna make me come..." He hissed, his thrusts losing rhythm. When he saw your legs wrap tighter around him more and more, keeping him close he knew that you were closer to the edge.

“Fuck, look at me while I fuck you so good, y/n.” Firmly, he grabbed you by your jaw, making you look at how his cock disappeared into your wet whole. “What a pretty little thing, right?” He asked softly, waiting for your answer.

“Y-yes.. fuck please- Heesung I’m-“ Without a care he swallowed your words, his kiss swallowing your moans as he finally lost control. He buried himself deep inside you and came hard, filling you up with his release. His lips never left yours as he rode out his orgasm, his body shaking with pleasure.

His chest was rising and falling down rapidly, trying to catch his own breath as he still kept thrusting into you, trying to chase your high. He kissed you deeply, swallowing your moans as he felt you clench around him, your body trembling with impending release.

"Come on baby," He murmured against your lips and you came, his lips still pressed against yours, your bodies pressed against each other. He groaned softly, feeling your body pulse around him and he stayed buried deep inside you, letting you ride out every wave of pleasure. His hips moved gently now, prolonging your orgasm.

He leaned his sweaty body against yours and looked deeply into your eyes, as if searching for something in them. His chest heaved, his eyes searching yours intensely, as if trying to memorize every fleck of color, every emotion playing across your face post-orgasm. A soft, content smile played on his lips as he just... stared at you.

"W-what?" Out of breath you asked, confused and scared at the same time.

At your reaction he chuckled softly, his breath fanning over your face. "Nothing," He murmured, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "Just... you're really beautiful." He admitted, his voice low and honest, then slowly he slid his cock away from your pussy, leaving you empty.

Heesung left a soft kiss on your cheek as he pulled away from you, laying down right beside you and propping his head up on his hand to get a better look at your face. His eyes were running over your shape, your cheeks were a little red, your chest was still heaving and your lips were slightly parted.

“I want to stay like this. forever.” He broke the silence between you two and you gave him a puzzled expression.

“Like what?” At your words he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer and burrowing his face into the crook of your neck.

“Like this. Just you and me. No mask, no problems, no pretending. Just us. Forever.” He murmured against your skin, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. With a soft touch you caressed his hair, making him smile into the crook of your neck.

“Then let’s stay like this. Forever.”

[backstageinfatuationvn]

I remember seeing a lil animatic(?) on Twitter on how you worked on Kier’s design for 6 years. I can’t find it anymore tho 😭 but what was your thought process when designing him? I luv luv luvvvv his design smmmm 🥹❤️ you n your co-creator are doing an amazing job 🫶

The animatic is still on my personal twitter account! And thank you!! SUPER LENGTHY POST BUT HERE WE GO!

Originally Kier had black hair and a similar haircut to Kethan (old art from 2024)

The first one was actually him dressed as the phantom of the Opera since he is one of the main inspos (old inspo meme I did)

Kier was originally created 6 years ago actually, back then I also made many versions of him. But the most important one was Gacha (yes I was a gacha kid 💔)

I sadly don't have his gacha photos anymore since it was from a very ancient phone but if memory serves me right, he would've looked like this. Yes I installed the app again HAHAHA

He didn't originally have midnight blue eyes. That was added when I started bringing him back to my works before Backstage Infatuation.

Personality wise, he is originally a yandere! Nothing changed from there in terms of that but interestingly enough... Back then in my gacha days, I originally shipped him with another male OC. A BL gacha series was planned where it centered around Kier's obsession with the male OC but was later discontinued for reasons I cannot remember. It was a long, long, looong time ago.

I focused on other stuff so he started catching dust until I picked him up around early 2024. That's when I started planning for his comeback after remembering past memories on a random tuesday night before sleeping LMAO

I drew two pieces before his redesign (the first two images), this was when I was into the yandere vn games.

Just wanna shout out these two games because these inspired me to make my own!! YOU and HIM and TKATB really inspired me to make Backstage Infatuation (there was also Dramatical Murder). I also have a love for Idol culture and Kpop, so I based Backstage Infatuation on my interests.

It is no secret that Backstage Infatuation is a passion project of mine, most of the characters in the game are old ocs being brought back to life and new ocs being finally used. Kier was one of those OCs that were brought back to life and needed a new makeover.

Fast forward to November 2024, I started redoing Kier and originally came up with his overall face and hair.

Interestingly enough, I actually came up with his idol fit first after seeing an outfit on Pinterest!

This is the original concept of his first idol outfit draft, felt it was too plain but really liked the black and white theme.

Second try and I came up with this! Even added silver feathers to symbolize LUXE's angel theme.

I added midnight blue (with stars) accents and it really made them look ethereal and elegant, at least for me. Which fits the group's original concept!

For his casual outfit, I wanted to go with something stylish and cool at the same time. I went with techwear influence and came up with the outfit now used in the game! Originally he didn't have black leather pants, but denim... It didn't look good in my opinion. 😭

Old and New design comparison

I kinda stole Nightwing's color palette for his clothes and changed a few stuff (mostly the blue)— Sorry I just really like Nightwing 😭 HAHAHA.

Few tweaks there and there, I became satisfied with his design!

I also made different outfits for him, a easter egg outfit I plan to add, his summer outfit and spring time outfit. I do love dressing up my son and exploring different fashions for him. ❤️

I do enjoy designing clothes and outfits. (Already reached the 10 image limit so here's a poorly made collage)

Sorry if this took a long time 😭 I had to find my old gallery saves for some of the pictures but this was such a fun ask to answer! It's nice to have a memory refresh ❤️

I hope this answered everything and so SORRY IF IT'S LENGTHY 😭😭 - Ive (Creator)

[buckleyx]

OBSESSION C.L

Summary: How far is too far? What if Formula One’s loving heartthrob comes entangled with the bitter taste of success? And what if you threaten to take it all away from him.

Author’s note: This has been in my drafts for a looong time, I guess I was never sure when to post it but because of last weeks race in Vegas and Charles snapping about the Carlos overtake I decided to try and post Part 1! It just fits so well with the story! I hope you enjoy!

Charles Leclerc x Driver!Reader

masterlist

It was no secret how much Charles loved to win. He liked the thrive, the attention, the indescribable feeling in his chest. He yearned to feel it, to experience it. It was like an addiction, a thrill that he couldn't get enough off. And after winning his first Formula one race in Spa, he knew that the taste will forever leave him yearning for more.

Winning was like poison to him but a good poison. A poison that he wanted to come back to no matter the cost. So you can say that after Ferrari kept letting him down, kept taking him away from tasting that bitter beautiful drug, that something inside of Charles switched.

Hushed whispers in the garages called it an obsession, an obsession towards perfection. Something that now with Ferrari seemed almost impossible to achieve. But that didn't stop the Monegasque. You see Charles kept a promise. And he was eager to live by it. He wasn't doing this for himself, atleast that's what he kept telling himself, he was doing this to prove to the people around him that he could live on a legacy.

The longer Charles was being held back from winning his championship the more impatient and infuriating he became. Charles had a great image. Had. He was caring and kind, threated people with respected and love but that version of him was long gone, he burried it six feet under together with the idea that you could ever get something done by being nice.

And then there was you. A freshly new driver. Not yet aware of the heartbreaking, money hungry world you were about to enter because you were so blinded by promises and ideas that you blissfully ignored every sign screaming towards your direction. Just like any other rookie.

After two successful starting years at Mclaren. You were quickly the new 'hot topic' for paddock talk. Your contract was coming to an end and you were being tossed around from team to team, being offered irresistible promises and big numbers left and right. "Championship talent." Is what they called you and everyone wanted a taste. Of course they did. If you were to win a championship you'd go into history as being the first woman to ever do so and everyone wanted it to be their name that you did it with.

But the best promises seemed to be coming from the red Ferrari garage. Their iconic age old logo shinning proudly on the side, reminding you off it's legacy and power. Ferrari was a dream since your early karting days. So after the winter break you traded your old orange papaya suit in for a bright new red one.

Here you were, Ferrari's new champion. New life full of ambition and joy. Just what the team needed. You were at the top of your game, ready for your new adventure. But your happiness left as quickly as it came because no one was better at bursting bubbles than your new teammate Charles Leclerc.

He mocked the term "championship talent" with so much disgust that it almost made you embarrassed to carry it. Every person could tell he felt intimidated, afraid that the team would shift their newly found focus completely on you. You had as much ambition to win as Charles and that scared him. You were not there to play second driver, no. You demanded equal pay and every little benefit the Moneqasue got too. You knew your rights and you were not afraid to remind every one of them, especially Charles.

Your first official introduction with Charles was during a guided tour of the Italian Ferrari headquarters back in December. You got shown around and recieved all the necessary information. A group of people were busily crowded around you, reporters, interns, assistants and ofcourse the big bosses of Ferrari themselves. Flashing you charming smiles and a handfull of information about the team and it's eventful history in Formula one.

"Here we have our championship wall." One of the technical directors pointed out, proudly refering to the timeline Infront of them with framed pictures and reminders of all their wins. Year numbers marked their past victorys together with accessories of their previous drivers: Schumacher's racing gloves, Lauda's helmet, Ascari's racing suit, enc. It was beautiful looking at the people whoms footsteps you were about to follow. "Soon that will be you." He nodded, watching as you stepped closer to the end of the timeline, inspecting the picture of Kimi holding the last championship trophy for Ferrari above his head.

You looked in awe, feeling a sense of pride and confidence wash over you at the trust the team so generously put into you. The group of people chatted their way into the next room, so big into their own world that they payed no mind to your short absence while you admired your early childhood heroes.

"Beautiful, no?" A familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned around, seeing your new teammate admire the wall for himself. His arms were crossed and he had a concentrated look on his face. "Very." You smiled sincere. There was no need for first introduction, since you both were well aware of who you both where. You've seen Charles countless times on the grid but this was the first proper conversation you had with him alone.

"I admire your courage." Charles remarked after a minute of silence, sarcasm dripping clear in his tone. The peaceful tension in the room suddenly shifted to a hostile one. "Not a lot of people want to be my teammate." He said cockily as he made his way towards you. You could tell from his tone that he had the intention of intimidating you and by the way you uncomfortably took a step back as he got closer he could tell it was working.

A slight nasty smile covered his lips as he looked down on you. His eye contact was strong and uncomfortable. "I'm not afraid of you." You stated out, still taken back by his rude persona but you weren't in the least bit surprised.

Carlos warned you about him, everyone did. You met Charles before, talked to him before, but that person he was 2 years ago was nowhere near the same as the one towering over you. The Monegasque was indeed unrecognisable. His shimmer was gone. The shimmer everyone fell in love with was replaced by a heartless and mean one.

"Very cute." He mocked. "I'm sure you wont last long so I'm not worried about you. Most rookies never do. And since they only hired you to make their team more diverse, I see you more as a walking mascot, a fucking joke to promote their perfect reputation. Just,-" Your teammate laughed coldly, moving his head closer to your face before whispering: "-don't get in my fucking way."

He threatened, looking you dead in the eye before flashing another fake charming smile and leaving you again alone in the room.

[incognit0slut]

another softcore lore comes from this very very old edit sitting in the darkest depth of my drafts that i have never shared before. it was partly an inspiration to the whole idea and when i was editing this a looong time ago i got fixated by the difference in the way he carried himself in court and in prison that i had to do something with it

so i’m making this visualizer #2

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ modern!reader

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ one minute, you were at home and the next, you were gone. but now, here you are, and it looks like you're here to stay!

𖤐 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ hiiii, first post in a few months huh (╥﹏╥). anyways i’ve had this idea in my brain for a really looong time so im v happy to get this out of my drafts. also i never wrote headcanons or for spn before so i hope its okayyy <3

𖤐 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ none?  lowercase intended. gender-neutral reader unless stated otherwise. modern reader in spn. this was supposed to be shorter then i yapped a little too much oops. 1.02k words.

  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

𖤐 .ᐟ you are a long way away from home, whether you like it or not. you try so hard to maintain your composure, because in your mind, there is no point in freaking out. but you do, just a little bit in the beginning because how could you not? you’re a nervous wreck, no doubt. and the boys can’t really blame you.

𖤐 .ᐟ you are armed with nothing more than your crochet hook, your small purse, and the clothes on your back. you are lost and for right now, you feel small and alone.

𖤐 .ᐟ but you are going to be put through an interrogation. they are the winchesters and can never be too careful. it’s nothing over the top, but you are from where you are and the boys had just about enough of their lives being on display. you are on your best behavior — polite and kind, but you are still nervous and a little shaky.

𖤐 .ᐟ you, who is trying to remain calm through the initial skepticism that came with popping up out of nowhere. the assumption is witches, a curse maybe. deans got the holy water ready just in case and sams flipping through lore for any type of explanation. there is, but no one likes it. there’s a recollection of something a witch had done a week ago, mentioning something about being out of this world. it’s a reach, a long shot even, but that witch is long gone. 

𖤐 .ᐟ so, here you are. you, who knows things. too many things. things that the brothers would rather you not know. you know their traumas — their childhood traumas no less. you know about most of their hunts and their world ending drama. deans wary, though sams more open to understanding. 

𖤐 .ᐟ that's because you aren’t threatening. you aren’t weird, at least not in a bad way. you aren’t obsessive, you're respectful. you don’t pry, you don’t push, you never overstep. you ask before touching anything, you clean up after yourself — making it look like you were never even there. you never bring up anything either, nothing that would be uncomfortable. nothing that would deliberately show the knowledge you had. you stayed in their present and contributed if asked. 

𖤐 .ᐟ you didn’t insert yourself in any hunts, maybe because you knew that you weren’t a hunter. or maybe because the boys would not be receptive to having to babysit you out there. but you are helpful. you organize lore books and help with research, and cook. that certainly softens dean up a bit.

𖤐 .ᐟ you’re a sweetheart, and over time it's really hard for them to stay away though. you're crafty and witty the more you come out of your shell, and it's a wonderful sight to behold. you are many things — soft and sweet, happy like sunshine; but you do have a little bark, and a little bite, and are most certainly able to keep up. you radiate such warmth that you are the calm to their chaos.

𖤐 .ᐟ the thing about you — the thing that makes it so easy for both of them — is that you already get them. there’s no need for explanations. no need to spell out their trauma or their history, because you do in fact, already know. and not in any way that makes them uncomfortable, not in a way that feels invasive. you don’t use it against them, don’t throw their past mistakes in their faces. you just understand.

𖤐 .ᐟ for sam, he doesn’t have to explain why he does anything. he doesn’t have to explain why he hesitates sometimes. why he still believed in trying to save people, even when the world has given him every reason not to. you don't see him as just sam winchester, boy king, a tragic protagonist. you just see him. you never look at him like he’s naive for wanting more than just hunting, for being drawn to books and research and the idea of a quiet life. you remind him, in little ways, that he’s allowed to want more, even if he never really gets it.

𖤐 .ᐟ and for dean… well, it takes longer for dean to get there. because it's one thing for him to slightly like you, to even tolerate your presence. it’s another to trust you and let you in. and he does. it’s the way dean stops questioning if you’re staying. the way he smiles when you giggle at his dumb jokes without forcing it. the way his heart clenches when you hand him one of his beers without him having to ask. the way you see him — the real him. not just the reckless, self-sacrificing jackass that he presented himself to be. and you don’t try to fix him. no, you would never do that. you don’t pity him. you just stay.

𖤐 .ᐟ there’s an unspoken something you notice in the way dean always finds himself standing closer to you than necessary. or the way sam’s gaze lingers a little too long when you’re focused on a book. the way both of them instinctively check to make sure you’re okay after a hunt, even though you weren't even there. how your absence feels wrong whenever you’re not with them.

𖤐 .ᐟ you do, however, treat them the way you think they deserve to be treated. with a little bit of softness and a little bit of delicacy. not too much. oh no, but just enough to not scare them away. 

𖤐 .ᐟ you don’t make them work for your understanding. they don’t have to explain why they are the way they are. why they react the way they do. why some nights they drink too much and fall apart under the weight of everything. you already know. and because of that, they don’t have to pretend with you. they can just be. 

𖤐 .ᐟ and maybe you’re stuck, trying to find your place in their world. sometimes you think that you have no business being here. it's dangerous with everything that goes on in their lives. and… that's okay. they’ll help you. they’ll pick you up and bring you in close. they’ll bring you back when you're distant — pull you back to reality. because you aren’t alone, you’re with them.

ᝰ .ᐟ lmk if i cooked or not chat, ty (˶˃⤙˂˶)

[writingstoraes]

three words, eight letters 💌

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: written imagine

word count: 4.01k (got carried away)

notes: ok ik there are several of this prompt here but i wanted to give it a whirl :]] also in a slump with my ig imagines so i figured i should finish this since its been a draft for such a looong time lolol no warnings, this is just very fluff-coded!

about: the three times charles almost said "i love you," and the one time he finally did.

Charles wanted to tell you the three aching words he's stored in containment. All he wanted was the right time and the perfect moment, but for the love of his and his alone, he just cannot find it.

He had been racking his brain on how to tell you - because when he looks at you, it's like those three words are just going to explode out of his chest. Every time you smile, laugh, or even breathe in his direction, he realizes just how smitten he was for you. He thought about just saying it out of the blue, unplanned but also when the time felt right. But he also thought about going about it as if it were a proposal because you deserve nothing less than the best he can give.

There were times he thought it was too early to say.

You had just been dating a few months in, and though he felt strongly for you and he did love you, he didn't want to say it too fast or too early out of the fear that it might drive you away.

It's no secret Charles was no chef. He gets a good laugh when other drivers tease him about it but he doesn't pay it any mind. Some people are just good at other things, like how he sucks at cooking but can drive a car that goes as fast as lightning. It is also no secret that he wanted to impress you with skills other than driving - so he doesn't know what entered his mind when he realizes he's on his way to the supermarket as he decides to try and cook dinner.

He scoured the internet for an easy recipe, finally smiling to himself when he finds a simple pasta dish he thinks he can do. To an average person, the dish was really easy to make. So simple that an unsupervised child could follow it. Directions were clear and the website had pictures - he just needs to make a simple sauce, cook some pasta, and grate some cheese. He tells himself nothing could go wrong, what he was about to cook was absolutely just elementary. But he's not an average person, he was Charles, and he is a terrible cook through and through.

Having convinced himself he could cook something so simple, he had forgotten how he messed everything up. He's pretty sure he blacked out, because when he came to his senses, the pasta was overcooked, and the sauce mysteriously evaporated into the air so the pan was just red drops with charred pieces of cheese on the side. He tried to taste it, and he deems it inedible. He was so occupied with cooking it had slipped out of his mind that you were coming over, so the next thing he hears is the sound of your soft knock on his door.

The kitchen was an absolute mess and the apron he wore was extremely dirty — he almost thought about pretending he wasn't home and not answering the door. Of course, he doesn't do that, so he lets you in and the first thing you smell, is cheese.

"Were you cooking?" was the first thing you ask him.

He didn't answer, instead, he planted a chaste kiss on your lips and hurriedly walked back to the kitchen.

He had expected you to laugh once you saw the mess he made by trying to cook just to impress you, but surprisingly, no chuckle erupted out of you.

"Sorry," he says softly, taking off his apron and quickly cleaning up the pots and the bowls he used up.

"I wanted to cook you dinner. I found this recipe online and I thought it was easy," he sighs. "Cooking absolutely hates me. You're okay with getting takeout for now?"

He really did expect you to laugh.

But the second sentence that came out of your mouth: "I'll help you clean up."

It didn't take a lot of time to clean everything up. Thanks to Charles' inability to measure things, he had a ton of extra ingredients, and since he seemed to really like the dish he aspired to cook, you decide to make it for him.

Charles sat at the counter watching you calmly cook the recipe he'd intended to accomplish, your hair parted to the side while you wear the ridiculously messy apron he had worn earlier. He watches you cook the pasta and the sauce at the same time, able to keep your eye on both without neglecting the other. To your defense — the recipe really was easy. But Charles didn't seem to think so, which was why he was sitting on the counter with heart-shaped eyes.

"See, this is what it should look like when the pasta is done cooking," you hold up a piece, cutting it in the middle to show Charles it has cooked through.

"It helps if you check it from time to time if you're not sure. For the sauce, I think you just had your heat on a little too high, but that's okay — you can do it right next time." you smile softly at him, eyes squinting before you shift your attention back to the pan.

Charles had tried cooking before. But up to this day, you were the only one patient enough to actually teach him how. And it didn't help that you looked so beautiful while doing so; hair parted to the side, apron hanging a bit loose on your body, and a smile so captivating it blinds him a little. You weren't perfect, you did laugh at him eventually, but not before guiding him through the recipe he'd chosen. And quite surprisingly, he could cook this same exact dish properly for Arthur next week.

It was clear Charles was no help in the kitchen, so he resorts to hugging you from behind, head resting on your shoulder, breathing slow and steady. He gets a whiff of your shampoo and your perfume he absolutely loved. Your hands soon make their way on top of his that rested on your stomach, thumb rubbing circles on his. Charles was pretty sure you could feel him smile widely behind you, a thought he chooses to ignore because he didn't care anyway, he was at his happiest.

"I lo—" he starts, catching himself off-guard. For a moment, time stops; and he's not sure what to say next. He thought it was too early, but he wanted to say it.

"I love pasta, you know that?" Charles continues, trying to save whatever he's left with. Thankfully, you didn't notice his desperate attempt to cover his supposed mistake.

He tells himself: maybe next time.

Charles' mother had been pestering him for a long time about meeting you. Every time he came home, he was greeted with, "When am I going to meet your girlfriend?"

Even his brothers, Lorenzo and Arthur, were all so ecstatic about meeting you properly for the first time. The two see you around the track for brief periods of time, but in their defense, you haven't introduced yourself properly to Charles' family. It didn't help that Charles himself talked about you like you hung the moon and stars, and made the universe using your own bare hands, because his whole family, mother and brothers aside, all wanted to meet you.

The two of you were finally headed to Charles' childhood home, finally about to meet his entire family. And the word entire was an understatement because everybody was there. From aunts, cousins, and his nieces and nephews, all of them were anticipating your arrival. A lump forms in your throat just by the thought, but you try to battle it with a deep breath as you fixate your eyes on the mirror.

"Do you think they're going to look at this dress and think it's too revealing? Or too short?" you shout from the closet, straightening out the creases of the crisp white dress you were wearing.

Charles enters the room and he swears he could have just died right then and there. How you manage to take his breath away with minimal effort remained a mystery to him.

"I think..." he drags the second word. "I think they are going to be completely in love with you."

"Hopefully not in the same way I am, because I don't plan on sharing you." he softly chuckles, giving you a reassuring smile.

Technically he had said the l word already but to him, it didn't count, only because he didn't say it to you directly.

An hour into meeting you, the entirety of Charles' family adored you wholeheartedly. He didn't want to give credit to himself but he knew they would find no reason to not love you, though he reminds himself to tell you he told you so when you get some time alone together later. He could listen to his family members praise you all day. You had managed to meet each and every one of his side of the family present at the dinner and Charles could not help but admire how carefree you were at interacting with people he held close to his heart. His mom could not stop raving about how great you were and kept asking why he did not introduce you earlier that it makes her slightly mad, which was followed by a hearty laugh and an assurance that she loved you to bits.

You just managed to dazzle and charm every person you talked to. His brothers adored you and you managed to get along so well with them even if your most apparent common denominator with them was racing. His aunts could not stop telling Charles how beautiful you were and how you seemed to be so kind and fit so well with him. They were already asking Charles when's the next time you visit and you haven't even left his home yet. For some odd reason, you got along well with his uncles, too.

But the cherry on top, the last straw, and the tipping point that tugged the heaviest on the strings of Charles' heart were seeing you with his nieces and nephews. He was fond of children, gleeful every time he sees one on the paddock, especially when they are clad in colors of red and yellow, his team's staple color scheme. However, he never knew how disastrous it would be for him to see you with children.

There you sat on the patio, his niece behind you as she messily tried to braid your hair. You had a big smile on your face, laughing at the somewhat theatrical act his other nephew was performing in front of you. In your hands was a glass cup with gelato and a small spoon, raising the spoon occasionally to feed the little girl tying your hair. His lips slowly form a smile and he feels his chest was bound to explode any time soon. He stood there and realized that he was completely, utterly, and irrevocably in love with all that you are. In other words, he was down bad, and he wouldn't even dare deny it.

After the festivities of getting to know each member of his family, you and Charles were finally given time alone in the kitchen. Everyone else was occupied setting the table and fixing everything up for dinner. You were part of it though, he just found you getting the pies in the oven after you volunteered to do so.

"I told you so," he says, slightly taking you by surprise, not enough you drop the pies though.

You turn to him with a sheepish smile, "Told me what?"

"That they would love you," he replies.

"Well, I am very loveable. Can't blame them."

"I know you are. That's why I lov-" he transitions into telling you what might be one of the most important things he's ever going to say in his life.

"Charles, dinner's ready!" Arthur calls out, cutting his train of thought. The two of you shift your gaze to the dining area, seeing Arthur and Lorenzo waiting for the two of you.

That's why I love you. That was what he wanted to say.

Charles sighs, telling himself that maybe getting cut off was a sign that this was not the right time. He'd repeat himself, but he thinks there are other times when he could tell you he loved you without interruptions.

"What were you saying?" you ask, not wanting to hang him out to dry.

"Oh. I said I know you're loveable. That's why I love seeing you charm every single member of my family."

Charles was not having the best day. His own team had botched his home race for him once again and on top of that, he had gotten a 3-place grid penalty in Monaco. Don't get him wrong, he was ecstatic to be home. The warm welcome of the fans was unbeatable. Banners, posters, and the Monaco flag waved around the streets of Monte Carlo.

This season has not been good to him so far. So just once, he wishes to catch a break.

The two of you were walking around the paddock as Charles was headed to the Ferrari motorhome to prepare for the race. His hand was on your waist as he guided you in the sea of people. The track was entirely at capacity - engineers, celebrities, VIPs, reporters, you name it. A few meters from the garage, a reporter from a well-known sports channel calls his attention.

It was routine, and Charles was used to it. You were standing not too close beside the cameraman, just watching Charles answer the questions he was asked. The reporter's inquiries were the usual, he had asked how Charles felt about the penalty, how he thinks the car will perform, what upgrades Ferrari is planning on implementing, and all the likes. You watch intently, giving Charles a small smile every time his gaze went your way.

Though the reporter fixated on Charles' "disappointing home race", his words, Charles knew how to handle the questions and answered them composed and professionally. After all, he has been doing this for quite some time. Deep down, it stirred you slightly as it seemed like the reporter was only recognizing the lapses on Charles' side and insinuating that it was entirely his fault.

You tried to pay it no mind until he makes a passing careless and offensive commentary that you could not just let pass.

"I guess some fans were right - monegasques today have nothing to look forward to. Wonder how they feel when their only driver is not only in a horrible car but is tussling with being nothing special."

Nothing special.

Nothing to look forward to.

Something in your ears rang and your vision went dark. You could see Charles' face drop from where you were standing and your heart absolutely broke for him. He proceeds to nod his head toward the cameraman and made haste and you did not hesitate to follow him right away. If you felt distraught and angered after that comment, you wonder just how he felt after hearing it, and at his home race, nonetheless.

"Charles, wait," you jog slightly, seeing as his pace was a lot faster than you. You could tell he just wanted to get out of there. You reach for his hand, tightly grasping it and he stops walking.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," he says lowly, upset written on his face.

"Why are you sorry? It's his fault. He was offensive and careless. He humiliated you and worse, what he was saying was not true."

"C'est bon." It's okay. You two were finally at the garage, a little far from the reporter. Deep down, though Charles wanted to at least defend himself, he feels all the energy he has left had been sucked out of his body.

"No, it's not. He doesn't know what he's saying. I don't want to let him get away with that, he can't just go around telling people things like that. You may be too nice to tell him off but I'm not."

"You don't deserve this," you say with conviction, walking away from the garage and prepared to give the reporter a piece of your mind.

You don't plan to cause a scene, you knew better than that. You weren't going to shout or curse, but you wanted to get your point across. Soon after Charles follows you, clearly trying to stop you but was too late when he saw you already talking to the reporter. He had no choice but to walk closer to you, grasping on what you were saying.

Your voice wasn’t loud. From where he was standing, he could see how calm and composed you were while you gave the reporter the lecture he was probably not expecting. The track was fairly busy and noisy. You could hear engines starting, and conversations of people he doesn’t know, which caused his inability to understand and hear what you were saying. 

He just stood there - watching you defend him from the asshole of an interviewer, your hands making small gestures for emphasis. The reporter’s face slowly displayed guilt and resentment as if he was clearly affected by whatever it is you said. Soon, the noise around him subsided and the only thing he was able to hear was the last thing you told the reporter. 

“I don’t ever want to hear you talk like that about Charles ever again. If you’re only going to disrespect one of the most hard-working people I know, better to not approach him in the slightest.  He did not pour blood, sweat, and tears into this sport just for you to utter those words to him.” 

Your voice remained soft but it was steady. You turned your heel against the reporter and a cameraman who was clearly surprised by what he just witnessed. You walk back to him, giving him a small smile. 

He wanted to just stand there and stare at you. No one has ever done that for him before. He had his fair share of disrespectful interviewers and questions that downright offended every fiber of his being but he always chose to not pay it any mind. It did not help that you were the kindest person he knew — so seeing you decide right away to defend him like that just made him feel all sorts of things. 

The two of you proceed to walk back to the Ferrari garage, your hand tightly grasped by Charles. At the time, he desperately wanted to embrace you and whisper just how much he loved you. He wanted to drag you to a discreet corner and just hold your face while he tells you the three words he’d been keeping to himself. 

But he remained frozen in awe of you, and so he fails to tell you once again.

“Can I-” Charles starts, trying his best to get up from the couch. 

“I already told you. The answer is no,” you reply firmly, shifting your gaze to the man with the slightly swollen cheek. 

He huffs a little bit loudly, wanting to show his disappointment.

“Baby, the doctor said no strenuous activities. You just had your wisdom tooth extracted, so no, you can’t go skiing with Joris.” you say as you walk toward the couch, fluffing the pillow his head rested on and putting a soft blanket on top of him. 

“Please just rest. You lie down right where you are and I will be preparing dinner soon. I just have to finish something first.” 

“My favorite?” he asks, putting on the sweet tone you were always soft for.

“Anything for you, my patient.” you smile, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Okay. I’ll rest,” he sighs, adjusting himself on the couch to face sideways. “You take care of me so well.” 

Charles was under a lot of painkillers. His dentist appointment had been rescheduled hundreds of times as he claims to be too “busy” to get his wisdom tooth extracted. If it weren’t for your incessant nagging because he was already in pain, he probably wouldn’t have pushed through with it. He tried his best to look tough in front of you, but as someone who drove cars that are as fast as lightning, you could tell he was nervous. 

The doctor had to reassure him that there would be anesthesia plus painkillers to combat the pain he would be feeling after. After finding out he was medically allowed to eat a ton of ice cream after the procedure, he was more than happy to oblige.

However, the combination of Charles, anesthesia that’s wearing off, plus painkillers is not equal to a drowsy Charles. He had more energy than usual and was naughtier than normal. In other words, he was hyper. He was not muttering nonsense like the famous wisdom tooth aftermath videos on YouTube nor did he want to sleep all day. He wanted to do so many things he was about to get overstimulated. So no matter how weak in the knees Charles usually made you nor how you always give in when he asks you for something, skiing and going to the gym for a heavy workout after he just had his tooth extracted were just things you cannot say yes to. 

Not long after, the ever so fueled with energy of a boyfriend you had was deep in slumber on the couch. He probably tired himself out from listing a thousand reasons why you have to let him go with Joris and his friends today. He was ceaseless, after all. His lower body was covered with the blanket that you put on him earlier, chest slowly heaving up and down, mouth slightly apart, and lightly snoring. 

He looked so peaceful. For a while, you just sat beside him and went on to study the features of his face. The pointed nose, the tiny freckles that are most evident when the sun hits them, and the eyes that seem to contain galaxies and universes in it. 

“I know you’re staring, chérie,” he quietly says, eyes still closed. 

“No. I’m just checking to see if your face is still swollen.” you reply, playfully rolling your eyes at him. 

“Not swollen. Just say you’re looking for an excuse to study my beautiful face.” he teases, shifting himself so he’s now in a seated position. 

“That’s the anesthesia talking, Charlie,” 

“Wore off already.”

“Fine, I was staring. You’re so pretty, how could I not?” you say, shrugging your shoulders before standing up to prepare dinner. 

“I love you.” Charles says before you could even move away far from the couch where he was seated. 

I love you. 

You stop in your tracks, your back still facing the Monegasque who was clearly waiting for a response yet slightly relieved he told you what he had been wanting to say for a while now. 

“I already know what’s going through your mind,” he says, lightly laughing. “This is not the painkillers nor the anesthesia talking. I’d spent so much time debating on when to tell you.”

“So many accidental “I love you’s” thrown away. Figured there’s never a right time. I love you every single day so why wait for a perfect moment?”

“I love you. So so much.” he repeats. 

You turn to him with a smile you can’t contain, walking over to him and engulfing him in what seemed to be the tightest hug you’d ever given anybody. 

“I hope you know I’m still saying no to the skiing.” you laugh. 

Charles chuckles, and you could feel the vibrations of his laughter from his chest. His grip on you only tightens, sighing in relief. 

“That’s okay. I’d rather be with you anyway.” he says, squeezing you once more before breaking away from your embrace.

“Hmm, swaying me with pretty words, Leclerc?” you raise a brow. 

“Never!” Charles smiles sheepishly as he puts both his hands up in defense. 

“For what it’s worth — though you’re like a child hopped up on sugar earlier, I love you too.” 

-------------

tagging: @slytherheign <3

notes: i think this is my first time writing something this long! i also have a 3.5k word work in progress but i cant find the will to finish it lol very angsty though!

thank u sm for reading and lmk what u think hehe <3 also pls send requests for ig imagines for charles! will try to do it as soon as i can!

[darkdemeter]

OLD DRAFT CONCEPT : " GUARD DOG "

—- not my gif, credit to original poster! -—

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader (x slight Natasha Romanoff)

A/N — Here's a little bedtime story for ya'll. Old draft concept for an upcoming and looong oneshot for Wanda in a mafia au setting. Bits and pieces may be recognised in the published column plot wise but overall, we're taking an alternate route, my babbies.

WORD COUNT — 2.2k

READER DISCRETION — Alcohol consumption — mafia business and semi dark themes — profanity — mention of death and murder — mention of black market and auction — reader and Nat have some history — player reader Tony is so proud — Alexander Pierce is of course an arsehole, what else is new? — Rumlow is a bad guy (duh) — I think that's it?

An expensive investment. A broad term to use for a werewolf broken in by the system at a young age. But it’s true. 

Alexander Pierce, the finance manager and ringleader as a whole, did all he could to break you in, and to say he did is an understatement. He exceeded the limits you once believed you had and once you were ready, he put you out in the field to garner your reputation. 

You had no limits. Ruthless in your endeavour to complete whatever task was required of you, prepared to do whatever it took, your peers could only look at you with both fear and admiration. 

When all was said and done, you were given your collar, then sold through the underground hub for criminals: the black market. 

That’s when you learnt in the span of the few minutes that the auction lasted for, that you were either a trophy to those of the higher class of crime, or a very wanted source of security and war. From black funding operators that had their hand in the military’s pit on the hunt for a war hound, to the gangster overlords who controlled territories in the differing states and countries, requiring some form of high end security, there was a very rapid increase in the price they were each willing to pay. 

At a total of twenty-five million, your collar and services were sold to Mr. Tony Stark. From the sleek fit of a light grey, three piece suit and bright pink tie, Stark had a brighter outlook on the window of his underhand activities. He was the type that lounged back in the severity of his criminal dealings.

Unlike his fellow company who each wore darker palette suits of either navy blue or jet black. He stood out for sure as his auburn tinted glasses did little to hide the one question on his mind: Was his money well spent?

Well, to say at the very least, you wouldn’t be here tonight if you weren’t every single cent he spent on you three years ago. 

Thinking about the memory now, this is a different tone entirely. Dark and neon is how you remember the black market scene, stalls and cube stores with an assortment of supplies anyone in the business would need, whether that be for the amateurs - which were the usual target customers - or the smaller businesses which belonged to small cluster gangs. 

The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs. 

Here, the scene is warm, lavish and made for those who seek the comfort in living in marble halls and pristine white pillars, short cut grass and elaborate parties such as this one. 

“Shit, this party is awfully chipper for someone who died last week,” you huff, eyes scanning the crowd from the smooth, darkly polished bar, which you incidentally found very comfortable to lean back on when told for the hundredth time, “Just sit tight, just a little bit longer.” 

You didn’t have the time nor patience to sit around getting older by the damn minute. Thankfully, Tony put his card behind the bar so that meant an endless river of drinks. Because you needed the alcohol. A lot. 

Not a moment too late is your glass refilled with your refreshment.

“Please, Y/N,” sighs Steve from your right side, arms folded over his chest, navy blue suit straining just a bit too tightly against his body, “have some respect for the Maximoff family. They lost their only male heir to a deal gone wrong. They need our support.”

Your shoulders rise with a particular deep inhale before falling lax, you swirl the sliver of whiskey left in your glass and with a jerk of your wrist you finish it. Ice rattles in your glass as you shimmy it, indicating you need a refill and pronto. 

“People live, people die. You cross someone and you get shot in the back. It happens.” 

“He was gunned down in the streets with a fucking machine gun, Y/N. You consider that a mere oopsie?”

You shrug in response to Sam’s question with a pout of your bottom lip. “Pietro thought he was the shit. That’s what got him killed by Rumlow.” 

Sam runs a hand over his face, now distressed by the lack of sincerity you show for the grieving family. “For fuck sake…”

In the three years of your loyal work to the Stark family and those of his brotherhood - his allies - your colours shone through immensely to reveal a shining personality. Excluding the fact you’d become something of a playful rogue with the women. 

You simply chalk it up to your animal magnetism. Something that leaves them wanting more whenever in the presence of your company.

In fact, that was how Tony came to own unclaimed establishments and clubs in the boroughs, ones he wasn’t able to get his hands on before, but after he had you as a playable card in his fold, you provided club goers the relief of being harassed and drinks being spiked. Territorial take over schemes from rival gangs were second guessed when they saw you watching over the joint.

The after hour visits for your libido were just the perks. But you left a lot of lustful and broken little hearts in the wake of your work. 

For a werewolf, you were always assumed to be a means of security, and that much was true. Didn’t mean it excluded you from taking on other odd jobs for the families from time to time. Debt collection, assassinations, tailing and blackmail ops, the list is endless. 

When Steve casts a hardened stare your way and you mockingly raise your hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll offer my condolences to the heiress, but I ain’t weeping at her feet for her brother who got himself into that mess because he thought he was too big for his own shoes.”

“Just behave yourself, alright? The last thing we need is the entirety of Europe at war with us.” You roll your eyes and salute the captain. “Yessir.”

You bring the glass rim to your lips and draw a small gulpful of your refurbished liquor, the fiery taste rolls over your tongue, you savour it to keep your sanity intact lest you go insane from the waiting. Where was the heiress? 

“Well, well, I thought I wouldn’t see any of you again. Especially you.” Your head, as well as those of your group, direct their gaze to the new voice. The corners of your lips twitch up and you flash her a wolfish grin, chin tilting up slightly in your relaxed position against the bar. You looked like a cat happily laying in the sun. 

“Miss Romanoff,” each of the men greeted with a nod of their heads. You, however, pat your thigh as an invitation for her to sit. “I had work to do the next morning.”

“Mm, that’s what you tell the other girls, I’m sure.” You clap a hand to your chest with a wince. “You wound me, Sweetheart. If I had the chance, I would have stayed.” 

She hums but it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you by the rise in her brow. 

Natasha Romamoff is a hard fish to catch. One of the more established families that control practically the entirety of Europe, alongside the Maximoff family, the two were partners and crafting an empire strong enough to stand on their own without any dire need for support. 

Yes, her family had prior dealings with the brotherhood. The Starks, Wilsons, Barnes and Rogers and more, whether to collaborate on a bigger criminal project to the smaller portioned deals. Smuggled goods and weapons, blackmail intel deliverance, international bribery to keep the feds off your backs. But she never committed to joining forces. 

You suppose it’s a good power move on her part. She doesn’t have to abide by any of the family creeds, in the end, you’re all loose ends that may potentially be severed if need be. She had the ball in her court and the mysterious Maximoff heiress. 

Even your animal magnetism wasn’t enough to charm her into joining forces with Stark and his powerhouse of families, but they were surely enough to charm her into a wild one night stand. 

But as you told her. You had work to do. And now she appears to spurn you with her eyes and cruel words, but still entertains your flirtatious advances and indulges the empty space of your thigh.

For a well respected mob boss such as herself, she definitely liked to play it risky; dressing included. 

Last you saw her, she was dressed in a more professional manner. But here at this funeral party, whatever the fuck it was, she chose to wear a black, spaghetti strap cocktail dress that’s short enough to be skimming the mid of her thigh. The slit riding the dress up higher is just plain dangerous. 

She’s facing you, back arched and ass resting on the cliff of your knee. Your clawed hand supports her at the small of her back. Her perfume is strong and complimenting, the sweet bouquet of lavender rolls over the exposed tops of her breasts from her even more exposed neck. Her plump, red lips move in a way that’s hypnotic. “So I hear you’re going to be a bargaining chip for Wanda Maximoff.”

“Where’d you hear that?” you scoff with a flick of your chin. 

“I have spies who whisper to me,” she answers with a swift quirk of her brow. 

Of course she overheard the news. She then chuckles softly, and all eyes watch her with a level of suspicion. “She won’t take any deal you offer her. She’s determined to steer clear of your little gang wars over in the states.”

“Rumlow killed her brother and he has bases around our territories. Wouldn’t she appreciate the extra hands in catching the rat?” Bucky poses the question with a dark brow angled high and clenched jaw, the muscles in his cheeks flex harder when Natasha offers no affirmative response; a mark to hopefully land you in the door and good graces with the heiress. 

“You really think she wants a guard dog?” 

“Hey,” you growl with a wrinkle of your nose, fangs on the precipice of baring at her. How she used the term in a condescending manner made the fur beneath your skin bristle. Sam claps a hand to your shoulder, somehow able to sense the seething anger within you. 

“We just want to help. Offer support for her loss and bring Rumlow down.”

“No. You want a foothold in Europe. And I’m sorry but…” She looks you up and down, drinking in the sight of you and you know she can see you without your clothes on. “You’re not going to cut it, babe.”

She turns her body to make her getaway but you don’t let her slip away just like that. She gasps and looks to you with a furrowed glare when your arm circles her waist and tugs her back until she’s flush against you, the men in your company watch with trepidation of your next course of action.

“I will cut it because whether she wants to admit it or not, she needs us.”

Natasha’s eyes, true to her fashion, darken with a challenge. “You’re wasting your time. She’ll get Rumlow herself.”

“And if Rumlow plans to get her first?” For a moment you see the doubt cross her face. “That’s where she needs me.”

“Tony Stark.” Each of the men turn to the voice behind them and their once cool and collected selves turn rigid, nervous under the power one woman can hold so absolute, her green eyes scan each of their faces before they land on you. 

You finally look and meet her stare, still holding Natasha against you even as she tries to push away from you. 

“Unhand her,” the woman commands with an accented tongue. 

At first, you wanted nothing more than to play this out a little, see what makes this woman tick. But both Tony and Steve look at you, silent in their order, you sigh heavily and release Natasha. Once you do, she wastes no time in joining Wanda’s side with a bow of her head. 

“I hear that you wished to have an audience with me.” 

Wanda is the sole survivor of this ordeal. Her parents were assassinated two years ago and now her brother was killed. This is the stressed matter at hand, her empire could crumble to the ground, all that hard work put into the grave, because she’s being so fucking stubborn with this deal.

“I will not sign my family, nor any of my shares, to Stark Industries. Enough have I done to keep you out of the hands of law enforcement. I will handle Rumlow myself.”

This isn’t how any of you hoped this would go. The grief has made her stronger than before. It wasn’t exactly you were waiting for the chance for her to have a weak spot and try your luck, but you all had thought she might even be at least a little desperate for extra help. 

Natasha’s face says it all: I told you so. You can only roll your eyes and resume with what you’re doing. 

“Miss Maximoff, we only wish to help you. All we ask in return is that you grant us some territory to work with for our trade deals as payment for support lent to you to catch Rumlow.”

Thank you for Reading! (◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST — (Even though I doubt this is worth putting the taglist on, here it is anyway)

@alexawynters

[sfehvn]

new religion part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

A/N: Thank you all for being so patient! This has been sitting in my drafts half-done for a looong time. Hope you enjoy! Xx

Rating: M (18+ minors DNI)

CW: Pregnancy

Word count: 2,347

Characters: soft!ascended!Astarion x fem!au!Tav

━─━────༺༻────━─━

The agony that coursed through cold veins was not unfounded. Astarion watched on with helpless eyes as you lay in bed, your condition only worsening through the days that had passed. Skin that had previously whispered the touch of light seemed much paler than it had before this sickness befell you. Hadn’t it? Yes, he was certain of it. Deep bags kissed under your eyes like bruises of a cruel fate, hair once silken to the touch had become brittle and flat. An emaciated picture of what you had been just days prior lay curled on the bed. If Astarion hadn’t known better, he would assume you hadn’t moved at all from your position since climbing into that bed after returning from the boutique. He had been the one to force you to bathe and stroll through the garden; of course you’d moved. The pain hung deep in his stomach but he refused to let it take him prey. What you were experiencing was far worse than any discomfort he may be feeling.

Three days.

It had only been three days, yet it felt like an eternity. It felt as if he had borne witness to your undoing in such a mercilessly short amount of time. A sadistic reminder of how fragile mortals were. Of how fragile his flower was. How barbarous the outcome; Astarion finally felt so deeply for a being other than himself, only to have it ripped away from tightly grasped hands. He had restrained the urge to maim and destroy you, allowed his love for you to flourish in its haste, yet had still proved to be your inevitable downfall. The wretched thing dwelled in your womb. The disgust ebbed and flowed deep in his gut. All the while he knew the culprit of your condition; he wouldn’t dare utter a word until it had been confirmed. An unspoken battle; should he be forthright with the circumstance? No doubt you would wish to brave the godsforsaken gestation, your longing for motherhood had been made abundantly clear. Stubbornness had been one of the many traits that had made Astarion’s unbeating heart grow fonder of you; in this plight, it very well may be your undoing.

From Astarion’s peripheral, a chambermaid enters the room, awaiting permission to address him. He nods silently in approval, eyes never leaving your debilitated form. “Master, he is here. Shall I see him here?”

His eyes falter from you to glance at the thrall. “You may. Clear the halls on your way out. I expect not a single interruption from anyone while he works. I trust you’ll let the others know of the agonizing centuries to follow if my request is disobeyed.” Though his voice was firm, there was a hint of fear masked beneath the threats. Fear of what fate awaits his lover, fear of what has yet to come, fear of the unknown.

“Yes, master.” She agreed before swiftly seeing her way out. There were no games when it came to Astarion and she did not wish to be in his line of fire if the matter at hand didn’t resolve to his liking.

Astarion steps up to the bed, stroking disheveled pieces of hair from your sunken face. “He is here, my treasure.” Soft words were met with a weak nod, eyes shut in an attempt to stop the spinning you felt in your head. An unwelcome thought made its way into his mind, which he hastily pushed down as far as he could. A corpse you began to resemble.

A tall lanky man makes his entrance. Dressed in a robe that looked centuries too old, wiry hair wisped from the sides of a misshapen ignoble hat, and shoes that seemed to be worn through the soles. He looked every bit a beggar who Astarion would pay no mind to under typical circumstances. Magic radiated in powerful lulls from the stranger, an aura of importance despite his unseemly appearance. “Sir Ancunin, a pleasure.” The man regards him nasally, though his eyes are fixed on you. They seemed to scatter over your frail body in assessment. “May I?”

Edvund Luoguarde. Every piece of unbiased literature regarding dhampirs Astarion had managed to scrounge up had been written by the man in front of him. Not a stone was left unturned in search of the scholar; all the while he had been holed up in a makeshift home on the edge of Rivington. The notoriety Edvund possessed had not affected his simple way of life. It was something Astarion might have found humor in if he had come across the strange man under different conditions. The man slinks towards the bed once Astarion approves, lips pursed as he looms over your unmoving figure.

“Poor child, barely hanging by a thread.” Edvund muses out loud. While there is empathy in his words, the firmness spoke to the weight they held. Astarion eyes his hand cautiously as it comes to hover over your midsection. “I will need her on her back.” He states. “Are you able to move, dear?”

Your eyes open barely a sliver in response. You open your mouth to respond but your voice is lost to the dry ache in your throat and on your tongue. Looking to Astarion in a silent bid for help, he obliges by carefully moving your body into position.

“This will do nicely. You’re doing wonderful, dear.” Edvund reassures. He places his hand on your clothed stomach, a pale blue light illuminating from his palm. His eyes bear the same blue light as he stares distantly at the wall. “Very interesting.” He murmurs after a few minutes pass, but does not remove his hand. It shifts purposefully from your sacrum up towards your ribcage. It was a brief moment of relief, as if whatever magic he yielded offered numbing to the visceral blows you had been experiencing.

Edvund removes his hand and the light in his eyes flickers in tandem. “You would be wise to rest while you can.” He pats the hand that lay lifelessly at your side. Unsure if it was a trance or from the fleeting comfort you finally had after three days of torture, you drifted away. The man turns his attention to Astarion once he’s sure you’re asleep. “A dhampir of not one, but two.” He riddles. “To be born of fruitful womb and abject seed. To shed light as great as thee.”

“What in the hells are you saying?” Astarion’s brow creased. It seemed more likely that Edvund was reciting poetry rather than providing a diagnosis.

“A dhampire of not one but two; to be born of fruitful womb, abject seed. To shed light as great as thee. Cast darkness into light, and light into lead. A union thick as thieves.” His hands move in an unfounded performance, fingers coming to lock in front of his chin once he is finished. “A prophecy greater in age than you or I.” He clarified, bringing his hands to rest on the edge of the bed. “It was foretold a pair of dhampirs would be born to a pure soul and a heinous….” He trails, eyeing Astarion before continuing. “They will materialize to our plane of existence. The gods have willed it so and so it will be.”

“Are you suggesting there are two?” Astarion’s jaw clenched as he eyes Edvund. “Remove them.”

“I cannot.” Edvund was unphased by Astarion’s aggressive demand, instead he stared him down with the same determined look in response.

“You will. This will kill her. Are you mad?”

“She will recover.” Edvund muses, looking back down at your sleeping form; no doubt the most divine rest you’ve had in your life with the help of his own magic.

Astarion steps around the foot of the bed, making his way toward the man with a fire blazing in his red eyes. Edvund glances at him, whispering a quiet incantation that seemingly relaxed every nerve in Astarion’s body. In a daze, he sits limply in the chaise at the end of the bed. He felt powerless. For the first time in his many years, he was indeed. Completely, utterly, entirely not in control.

Edvund steps in front of him, crouching until he is eye-to-eye with him. “You’ve felt this is destiny, yes? You and the girl?”

Astarion feels that blaze return, but it is quickly simmered once more. Edvund effortlessly defies his rage, pouring his own magic into keeping Astarion sedated. “Get out of my head.” Astarion murmurs, gritting his teeth uncomfortably.

Edvund proceeds; he already knew the answer to his question. “You do not want to anger the gods, Sir Ancunin. This has been foretold. Of course, nothing is stopping you from finding someone else to get the job done; I for one will have no part of it. I’d rather not deal with the wrath of any all powerful deity, let alone all of them. I suggest you heed this warning. It will not be pretty if you interfere.” He purses his lips tightly, furrowing his fluffy brows together as he speaks.

Astarion’s mind felt convoluted as the reality of the situation weighed heavy on his shoulders. This was bigger than you or him, but he refused to stand by and watch you crumble.

The air in the room hung heavy with the weight of destiny as Astarion grappled with the revelation. Edvund's cryptic warnings and the ominous prophecy left Astarion torn between the fate dictated by higher powers and the desperate need to protect you. The clash of emotions within him mirrored the conflict that unfolded in the dimly lit chamber.

Astarion's eyes, once ablaze with defiance, now flickered with uncertainty as he considered the implications. The revelation of a dual heritage, the prophecy, and the insistence on non-interference pressed upon him. Yet, the fierce love he felt for you surged as a counterforce, compelling him to challenge the preordained path.

The room bore witness to a silent struggle—one man navigating the treacherous waters of divine prophecy, the other tethered to the mortal realm by love's unyielding grip. As Edvund continued his mystical work, Astarion's internal turmoil mirrored the external tension, a tempest brewing in the shadow of fate.

In the midst of this cosmic chess game, your frail form lay suspended, caught between realms. A pawn in a game played by unseen hands, her fate intricately woven into the fabric of prophecy. The dichotomy of despair and determination etched across Astarion's face painted a poignant picture of a soul at war with itself.

The room, once a sanctuary for quiet moments and stolen glances, now bore witness to a profound struggle that transcended the mortal and the divine. It was a clash of wills, a dance of destiny, and a tableau of emotions that would shape the course of lives entwined in a tapestry woven by forces beyond mortal comprehension.

“The gods have orchestrated this all, Astarion.” Edvund loosened the invisible grip he had on Astarion, allowing a sliver of distance between them as he stood. “I’d heard of you, you know. The ruthless vampire lord.” Edvund quirks his head. He didn’t need to say it aloud as it was unspoken; love had made Astarion soft in a lot of ways. Specifically for you, but for the way you lived life as well. The way you simply loved.

For a brief moment, Astarion wondered if you would have been anything more than a meal and quick fuck without the interference of higher powers. He couldn’t dwell on the thought, though. It made him sick to think about.

Edvund's words cut through the tangled web of Astarion's conflicted thoughts. The acknowledgment of his reputation as a ruthless vampire lord served as a stark reminder of the life he led before you entered it. The juxtaposition of his past and the vulnerability that love had brought forth in him loomed over the room.

As Astarion grappled with the unsettling realization, Edvund's gaze lingered on him, a silent understanding passing between them. The enigmatic scholar seemed to grasp the intricacies of Astarion's transformation, not just as a vampire but as a being touched by the profound force of love.

“I hope you don’t mind, I’m not really in the mood for chit chat.” Astarion replied back coldly, his eyes stone as he looked at Edvund. Edvund held his hands up in a show of understanding.

“I’d better get going. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, but see to it that she rests adequately. There will be days where she feels like she can conquer the world, but she mustn’t overexert herself.” Edvund states as he walks towards the door. He leaves with a parting reassurance. “She will live. The gods are not as cruel as you would believe them to be right now.”

With that, Astarion sat alone. The air hung thick with magic and tension.

Astarion's gaze remained fixed on your slumbering form, the delicate rise and fall of your chest a comfort amidst the tumult within him. The cold, stoic exterior he had worn for centuries cracked, revealing the vulnerability that love had etched into his undead heart.

As he sat in the quiet chamber, a myriad of emotions churned within Astarion—fear, love, defiance, and an unsettling acceptance of the cosmic forces at play. The room, once a witness to stolen moments of intimacy, now bore witness to a solitary figure grappling with the intricacies of mortality and the influence of gods.

Time seemed suspended in that moment, the force of the future pressing down on Astarion. The journey ahead, fraught with uncertainties and divine machinations, loomed large. Yet, in the hushed solitude of the room, Astarion found a quiet resolve to face the impending challenges.

The vampire lord, once driven solely by self-preservation, now stood on the precipice of a destiny entwined with love and sacrifice. As the shadows deepened and the room embraced its newfound solitude, Astarion remained a sentinel, guarding not only the frail form on the bed but also the fragile threads of a fate spun by gods themselves.

[lovedrruunk]

'Mango Letters ♡⸝⸝💌⊹˖➴

Venture (Overwatch) x GN Reader

[Established Relationship!]

Authors note!!!; DID U MISS MEEE??? also...IM SO SORRYYY!!!! BUT I THINK IM JUST GONNA START WRITING WHAT I WANT :((( i realized im sososo bad with requests like genuinely ughhhh!! Ill def do some every now and then tho! Anyways im just clearing out my drafts cuz I’ve come to the realization that this is literally tumblr and my posts don’t have to be perfect lmao, enjoy!!

75 days 18 hours 46 minutes and 3 seconds. That's how long it had been since you've seen your partner Sloan. Being with them you knew how devoted they were to their work and how much it required them to travel but on pretty days like this one when the weathers just right and the flowers are in full bloom and the sunset is the perfect hue of orange, you couldn't help but wish they were by your side.

And although they were thousands of miles away they always made sure to send you physical manifestations of their love.

Through love letters of course!!!

It had been a tradition ever since they had started going on longer expeditions for them to send you things in the mail. So there in your shared closet in a cute little shoebox on the top shelf, laid all their feelings on coffee stained papers. Little crystals the same color as your eyes, maps with all the places they wanted to take you, polaroids of them doing silly faces, and your favorite part, the sweet scent of mango that came with it all.

And so although they weren't by your side, their feelings were. Their longing, their excitement, their thoughts, all in the palm of your hands covered in all types stickers and doodles.

Sitting outside on the porch of your shared home enjoying the calm breeze you smile holding the most recent letter delivered. Inhaling deeply catching the hints of mango as you carefully open it.

Dear Beloved,

It's been so looong!!! I can feel myself aging without you! Hope this letter finds you well! Notice how I used "beloved"? Fancy huh? Arn't I just the most romantic partner ever? (don't answer that.) This is my fifth time trying to write this and it's annoying the crew so this is my last chance before they jump me... It's just so hard y'know!? It has to be perfect. Perfect for you. Is that cringe? That was cringe sorry! I miss you lots and I think about you all the time... You'd love Petra! A camel ate my shemagh... but It's whatever. I'll buy a new one tomorrow, I'll get one for you too so don't worry! Now that I'm thinking about it the days seem to be going by pretty slow and I'm not sure if I like it much. Like I said I miss you a lot and it stinks being away from you for this long. Can't you just book a flight over here? Can't you do that for me pretty pleaseee? That's ridiculous? Okay just say you hate me and never want me to come back, just say you don't love me at all and want me to get stuck in a cave foreva. Just kidding! or am I?... (I am! >ᴗ<)

I like to imagine you’re missing me really bad counting down the seconds till I get back, which by the way I am too so don’t feel the need to deny it! I can see it now… You all shriveled up like a raisin crawling on the floor going “sloannn… sloannnn…” because of how bad you miss me hehe. Just kidding again! It’s probably the opposite let’s be real… I’m going insane without you seriously, I started talking to the hieroglyphics yesterday and the crew even caught me tasting some rocks earlier (sos!!!!)

But speaking of, they’re rushing me to “turn the lights off already” what a bunch of buzzkills ammarite? Promise to show up in my dreams okay? Who am I kidding, you’re always there regardless. Sweet dreams ᥫ᭡ᥫ᭡

p.s they really wanna meet you!

p.p.s take care okay? I’ll be home before you know it!!!

Yours truly,

(so romantic!!!)

“(๑´>᎑<)~*”

[reality-warp]

Hi Rella. Super super longtime reader and lurker. Thank you so much for the recent updates - I’m so in awe with your ability to write the battle scenes. Given how difficult they are, I honestly think they may be some of your best work - thank god we’re back to some dialogue though 😂 Anyway, I was wondering if you have time if I could please ask a few questions while you’re in the RB universe:

1) Way back when in LM, it felt like the acorn might become an important symbol for Eleanor and Legolas - is that still the case?

2) I remember you sharing the following quote on your tumblr page years and years ago: “It is true, you are not demure, passive, or submissive by any stretch of the imagination. But I have no need nor desire for a demure, passive women at my side. Pray the day never comes, but if I were ever to assume rule in my father’s stead, I would need more than just a loving wife and friend. I’d need one who I both love and trust to share in my burdens and responsibilities, as well as trust with my heart. One who knows me, both the good and the bad, and will not shy away from either. And one who I can rely on to tell me bluntly when I am being an insufferably, prideful fool.” (I had to dig deep into the tumblr archives for this one!)

Will we get the chance to see this in CM, or will this follow in the third book?

3) Final question, I think I read that you are a big planner when it comes to writing. Does that mean you have much of the third book planned out or will you be seeing where the writing takes you?

Thanks again for the updates (and everything, frankly).

Hello longtime reader and lurker, you are very much welcome! I also just want to say thanks so much for your compliments around battle and fight scenes specifically. I think I’ve shared in author notes before that they’re one of the trickiest things I find to write (at least compared to dialog). So to hear that you find them some of my best work is so deeply rewarding. <3

In answer to your three questions:

1) Oh yes, the acorn mentioned in LM is absolutely going to be an important symbol for E&L. Just wait until the next chapter is up to see what comes of that (hopefully soon, as at 11,000 word I’m about 85% done with it now). 2) That line of dialog has been saved in my notes for a looong time, and I’ve known for almost as long exactly where it happens in the story, right down to the conversations that trigger it. Unfortunately it’s not going to be in CM (a few more things need to happen to get there) but it will be about midway through the third book. 3) You’re correct, I’m absolutely a planner when it comes to writing, even for short pieces. I’ve tried pantsing before when it comes to writing, but it’s never worked well for me. I had almost all of RB planned out in broad strokes by the time I was at chapter 6 of LM, but I deliberately left some things vague just to see where they went (a lot of the relationship development with the Fellowship, minor characters, and the romance between E&L for example). I had all the key story beats and revelations in CM planned shortly before finishing LM, and as of Boxing Day just gone (2024) I now have all of the third book properly outlined too. I’ve also taken a lot of the notes and dialog I’ve had prepped for years and put them into order in the draft doc that will eventually become the next book. So if we’re being pedantic; technically I have both the third book fully outlined as well as about 8,000 words of the narrative already down on paper.

Thanks so much for such an insightful set of questions, and for reading and enjoying this fic for so long. I still have a hard time wrapping my head around how beloved it’s become to some folks, especially when I started it so long ago when I feel like my writing style was far less developed. 

I really hope you enjoy the next chapter (24) once it’s finally done and posted. 

Much love,

Rella x

[blysse-and-blunder]

in lieu of a spring storm

may 4, 2025 ~ 9pm

bonsoir, tout le monde! (spoken like a drunken bon vivant coming in from the rain)

i haven't done one of these since february? before february? which might as well be another lifetime at this point, and it's been on my to-do list specifically, being rolled over to the following week, for at least a month now. but i cleaned a bit earlier and i'm leaning into the whole springtime fresh start thing lately, so let's begin.

reading i find that i like having one long-term project read going which i can chip away at while alternating with lighter/faster/escapism/fantasy romps etc. i had two or three different candidates for 'project book' this spring and part of the problem has been that they're all libby holds, so i keep only getting so far with one before it's gone again (!) but i've made decent progress on this one: after getting started with the audio book of a different translation, my hold on the new katz translation of the brothers karamazov (many thanks to @witcheryen for the rec!) finally came in. loving the footnotes! i'm fifty-three-ish percent through and The Thing Just Happened which i will not describe because it is, notably, not described in the text (and also i managed to get this far in life without knowing What Happens, i guess i hadn't read a blurb or summary even a little? and i'm glad of it actually, it added to the sense of mounting suspense), but now we have a lot of book left to get through and i am Concerned about what happens next. i'm not at all sure what to make of the various personalities, including the titular family, but i want good things to happen for alyosha.

Now for the fun stuff. the opposite of a project read is something i dash through almost too quickly, excited to see what happens next at the expense of sometimes savoring every detail. for better or for worse, that's what happened with becky chambers' a psalm for the wildbuilt, which i got as an audiobook and devoured this weekend-- i started listening as i left the house to run errands, and then walked around my city neighborhood in an increasing daze of pleased wonder, buying cat food with only half my attention as i thought about listening for crickets, and making tea for anyone who might need an hour's break, and why having a Good Life can still leave you feeling tired when you wake up in the morning. once again, i didn't really know what to expect from this book-- i went into it thinking it was going to be one thing (i'd had the premise of the robots in the wild explained to me) but Sibling Dex and their character, storyline, and indeed the human society aspects of the world building were a total surprise. and a total gift. i had not expected...optimistic scifi. if anything, i had expected melancholy, or vaguely instructive scifi, based on what i thought i'd heard about it. i didn't expect, but it turns out i desperately needed, to meet splendid speckled mosscap.

watching along with the rest of the world, conclave, i guess. caught up on conclave a few weeks ago, again with @witcheryen (!), and then turned around and immediately watched it again with my housemate to watch him watch it. great flick, not what i was expecting at all based on the first five-ten minutes at least. spoilers for conclave i guess: it's not a murder mystery! the mystery of how the previous pope died isn't a mystery that needs to be solved. apparently. it also went by much faster, i thought they'd be in there for weeks, i thought we were in for a looong haul. big fan of what it actually is and what it actually said, though. i also am constitutionally unable to join in with everyone on here having wild conclave fandom fun, but i'm glad you are all having a nice time, carry on and god bless. check out this rad alternative poster i found by @mrtheodorepeng.

listening this is the category where i got stuck when drafting this post, because i feel like i've been cycling through several good things lately but without truly wanting to analyze / talk about any of them in quite the depth i ordinarily would here. woke up a few days ago already humming eliza rickman's cover of 'riches and wonders', which is a mountain goats track originally but which i have been enamoured by in this new guise. noteworthy: the strings richly chugging along with this very satisfying edge, her voice soaring in the third phrase of each verse, and the lines:

I am healthy, I am whole, but I have poor impulse control. and I want to go home. but I am home.

regularly return to angie mcmachon's 'serotonin' for all the obvious reasons. noteworthy: the subtle drums + bass in the background, leading to this gorgeous slow build, and the lines 'lost my sense of being an ocean' and 'to find my sistine chapel ceiling,' which both caught me off guard and hooked me to listen to this song again. and again. apparently it's in heartstopper??

oh yeah and i saw lucy dacus live last weekend with @cerebralsilhouettes ! pictures to follow

playing @spoonierbard and partner sat me down and coaxed / lightly coached / patiently enjoyed me playing through the first half-ish of undertale, more than a full decade after my cousin first bought it for me on steam. having been on tumblr for most of that time, i have picked up a thing or two, but it's funny to me the things that i didn't know or that the cultural osmosis didn't prepare me for at all! enjoyed this guy:

making started some seeds. they're all from at least 2020, and i'm not taking especially good care of them, so we'll see if anything results. the garden bed-bed (raised bed cobbled together during lockdown out of the assorted scraps of an ikea bed frame abandoned by a former roommate) needs some tlc before anything can be planted in it, e.g. there's a tree growing up through the middle of it that i'll need to dissuade, but at least i'll be mostly around this summer and able to do more active gardening than i did last year, hopefully.

working on realized today how behind i am on grading, and therefore on moving from grading back to the writing i was going to pick back up 'at the beginning of may' after taking the end of april to just knock out these last few quizzes (narrator voice: there are at least 30 remaining quizzes as we speak), and got briefly overwhelmed. started a new sport (?) this week, and am therefore going to bed early tonight so that i can be at my best for Swords tomorrow night, and also for making the most of tomorrow after my meeting with my welsh professor. also! my translation project of the welsh plays is going well! we did the cold read with a rough draft, i have shared it with the prof who's going to direct and also collaborate on putting some poetry back into the translation, and we have our performance dates >:)